#but this one had me full blown ugly sobbing

[rosieshipper]

Y’all don’t talk to me I will never emotionally recover from the latest bluey episode

[tightjeansjavi]

The Menu | Part 5

“my body is a cage”

A/N: I wrote this in a matter of hours yesterday..and also decided to say fuck the canon timeline so <3

~word count: 4.6k~

Pairing | dark!joel miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel promises that he can make your pain go away. He’s a man that never goes back on his word.

Warnings: trauma responses from SA (not by Joel) mildly descriptive flashback to SA, degrading language, hurt, comfort, dark!joel, protective!joel, he’s kinda shit at communicating, but he’s trying his best for you, softish!joel, talk of the past, angst, sprinkle of fluff, intense emotional feelings, you and Joel let your guard down around one another, age gap, (Joel is in his 40’s and reader is in her late 20’s. I played around with the canon timeline a bit) reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

A languid roll of condensation drips down the base of Joel’s glass that has long since been abandoned the second you fell to your knees in an unceremonious fashion between his parted thighs.

Acceptance already began to make its home again in your heart when you watched Joel slowly shake his head. It hurt, like all rejections do, but it stung a little deeper than you were willing to admit.

Joel Miller didn’t want you anymore. He’d forget about you when the dust would inevitably settle. He’d find someone else to bury his troubles into. It wouldn’t be you, and maybe that was for the better. Maybe the presence of Joel in your life was not a good thing.

It still hurts. No amount of whiskey-melded poker face could mask that.

The weight of his actions seemed to strike their mark along him as well. Another drop of moisture slid down the glass, pooling along the worn down coffee table. He blinked once, twice, swallowing the prominent lump growing in his throat. His pupils had blown wide like two shiny 8-balls. Fuck.

The blooming awkwardness reared its ugly head when a silent tear traveled down your cheekbone. Once the first one escaped, the flood gates opened.

His gut twisted and churned painfully like a stranded ship being tousled by an onslaught of unforgiving swells. He couldn’t tear his sights from your doe-eyed teary gaze. His own tears threatened to spill when you flinched from his right hand moving upwards towards your face.

His fingers quivered when they finally settled against your clammy skin. Joel Miller would never believe himself to be a gentle-touched man. Maybe a long time ago when the sun warmed his skin, and joyous laughter echoed in both ears, and his eyes were bright and full of life, but now? His kindness was reserved, locked away, buried six feet under the cold clutches of earth. The key was thrown away, forgotten and rusted away along with what remained of his tattered and bruised heart.

Here in his hold, your skin warm, soft beneath the rough calluses of his palm, he felt. He felt not just anger, but guilt, sadness, a newfound ache that was tangled up in that stupid four letter word that he would be damned to ever utter its existence again.

“Hey, it’s okay, Angel. It’s okay. You’re safe.” He reassured you, big brown eyes never leaving yours.

You had never heard this brutish man speak to you in such a sincerely soft way. There wasn’t an ilk of pity or condescendence in his tone. Nothing but concern, fear, a desperate need to ascend comfort in his words.

He was so..confusing.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, choking back a sob that died in your throat. “You—you should go, Joel.” You went to brush away his hand to crawl as far away from him as physically possible, but he wasn’t budging. He’d never leave.

“Hey, look at me.” He commanded softly. His other hand found purchase around the left side of your face. His movements were gentle and slow. He wanted to ground you, to keep your soul from being plucked up like a marionette. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

You pushed and pulled against him, grinding your teeth together when he still sat unmoving. It was as if you were the unsuspecting bird, and he was the wet cement that would soon harden and fossilize around your body.

“Why?” You questioned. Your sadness had ebbed away and was quickly replaced with simmering frustration. “You don’t want me anymore, Joel. There’s nothing left for you here, so just—fuckin’ leave.” You snapped.

“Angel, I never said I didn’t want you anymore. Please stop fightin’ me. Please.” He pleaded, the rough pads of his thumbs swiped under your eyes, collecting the tears that pooled there while they awaited their time to fall.

“You didn’t need to say it, Joel. I could fuckin’ feel it.” You sniffled, falling back on your haunches in defeat.

“No, sweet girl. You’re mistaken. I swear. I’m shit at this. This whole..communicating thing has never been my forte. I’m sorry. I’m so—sorry. But somethin’ about this ain’t feel right. I—I don’t want to assume, but somethin’ happened to you. I know you don’t want to tell me, but maybe—”

“But maybe what, Joel? Why do you even care? Why all of a sudden—when you said yourself that I’m nothin’ but your whore on stilts. A tight hole to fuck whenever you please. What, did you have a sudden change of heart? Gonna manipulate me into believing that you actually care about me? Fuck you—”

“I swear on my daughters fuckin’ grave that I care about you. I am not manipulating you into believing anythin’ that is leaving my mouth, Angel. I am tellin’ you the truth. You mean somethin’ to me. Puttin’ it into words ain’t easy for a man like me, but you’re hurtin.’ You’re in pain, and I swear to god if some sick fuck put their hands on you, I’ll make sure they never see the light of day again.” He confessed fiercely.

He might as well get down on one knee and sign his life off to you in red ink. To ensure his promise to keep you safe and protected like he was some knight in shining armor.

Benji yanked you up by the scruff of your neck like you were some stray cat, or a tattered ragdoll. You felt like a bug at his mercy, awaiting a painful death of being squashed beneath a leather boot, split into a million pieces. You could hear his friends snickering in the back while they were still fisting their cocks like the disgusting hounds that they were. “Jus’ remember your place in this world, Angel. No matter what anyone tells you, you will be nothin’ but a come-stained, filthy whore. And when you return to him, like I know you will, he’ll toss you away like yesterday's trash. All men are the same, sweetheart. They don’t like it when another dog has been in their bitch.” He spat cruelly, a glob of saliva landing along your cheek.

“No, Joel. I’m nothin’ but a come-stained whore, and you’ll toss me away like yesterday’s trash.” You whispered solemnly, chin tilting downwards in disgust with what was instilled in you to be your true identity. Crestfallen tears were wept. Tears that trailed down your cheeks and rolled down the expanse of his bare wrists and forearms. Each teardrop that landed upon his skin sent his anger flaring upwards the way that smoke rises from a blazing fire.

“Who did this to you, Angel? Tell me his name, and I swear to you that I will make this all go away. Tell me the name of the man who laid his fuckin’ hands on you. Tell me, please. Please, Angel. I want to help you.” He was on the cusp of begging, hating the fear that began to douse the flames. The fear that maybe it was too late, and the damage was done already.

Your eyes slowly meet his, rimmed in red, skin puffy and dry. From just the look alone that you gave him, he knew who had done this to you. He knew the second your lips parted, and uttered the name that sent the beast inside of him awakening once more.

“Benji.”

The dam broke the moment his name left your lips; you crumbled. An echo of gut wrenching, broken sobs tumbled out of you as Joel scrambled to keep you together. He was on the floor with you now, cradling you in his arms while struggling to gather up the broken pieces figuratively scattered around him. It was as if you were loose grains of sand, and no matter how many times he scooped you up into his gentle palms, you kept slipping through the cracks.

You found yourself crawling into his lap, straddling his hips with your arms latched around his neck. You anchored yourself around him while his shirt soaked up your heavy flowing tears like a sponge. His arms were around you like a cage, comforting you the only way he knew how; through touch. One large hand came to cradle the back of your head, while the other rested along the curve of your spine, drawing soothing circles against your skin with the rough pads of his fingertips.

It’s okay, Angel. I have you. You’re safe. I promise.

and through your tears, and your aching, you wanted to believe him. But believing and trusting someone never came easy. Especially in this world. To throw all your eggs into one basket would be considered foolish. Since the night of the outbreak you had convinced yourself that you needed no one. Not a shoulder to cry on, or a friend to confide in. You hadn’t sought for human connection till you crossed paths with Joel Miller. And now you felt guilty for webbing him into your life. For making this mountain of a man feel.

Was it intentional? No. But sometimes we lose all sense of control and ultimately find ourselves giving into that thing that we fear the most. In all retrospect, you had tried to push Joel away from you, but he was a stubborn man. The most stubborn person you had ever met. A whole lotta bark and bite. Fearless until he gave into feeling. Unmoving until he began to feel for you. The girl that was just looking for a vice to fill a void, and instead found a man that would quite literally kill for you. He’d lasso the fucking moon and bring it down to you if you asked. He’d be your friend, your shoulder to cry on, your comfort in the odd hours of the night when the nightmares would creep in.

He’d be your laughter, your anger, your sadness. He’d be whatever the fuck you wanted him to be. That was the thing about men like Joel Miller, they were fiercely loyal to the ones they loved to the point where maybe he was the foolish one. Maybe he had bitten off more than he could chew. And if that were the case, he’d lick his wounds, convince himself that he was okay, and move on until his body would ultimately give way to the grief he carried day in, and day out.

“Will you let me take care of you, Angel?” He asked suddenly, so softly you could barely hear him through the thick of your messy tears.

“If you wish it.” You sniffled, cheek pressed firmly against the damp fabric of his shirt where your tears had soaked through.

He rumbled a sigh, nostrils flaring while he tilted his chin down to take a peek at your current state. He’d never seen you look so tiny, frail, curling into yourself like a mouse shriveling from a house cat on the prowl. His latent caretaker instincts were kicking into full drive after the dust had been blown off of them and wafted through the stagnant air.

“C’mon, sweet girl.” He urged in a gentle tone, strong arms tightening their hold around you while his hands gently hoisted you up by your thighs. His knees creaked and groaned from carrying the weight of himself and you to a standing position. You clung to him still in a koala like fashion.

“Where are you taking me?” You asked unsurely.

“Takin’ you to the bathroom so we can wash the pain away.” He replied quietly.

His footsteps are soft, yet calculated while his hands stay secured around your thighs. He uses his shoulder to push open your flimsy bathroom door. You find yourself sitting along the toliet seat, back resting against the wall with your hands in your lap. You begin to pick at the skin around your nails absentmindedly. You flinch slightly when the sharp edge of your nail tears through dry cuticle skin surrounding your thumb. The sting feels nice, calming in a sense.

Your eyes stay focused on the wall even when the shadow of his silhouette looms over you, and his warm palm suddenly engulfs your own.

“Don’t do that.” He whispers, brows furrowed when he notices the bead of blood on the side of your thumb. “You have beautiful hands, Angel. Don’t go’n ruin ‘em.” He means every word.

“I’m sorry.” Is all you can really say.

He slips his fingers through your own and you can feel every ridge and rough callus through his skin. His thumb strokes the outside of your hand in a tender sweep.

You want to cry, but you don’t. Instead you lean your head back against the wall and close your eyes while the sounds of the water sloshing into the tub drowns out your thoughts.

With his freehand he constantly checks the temperature of the water to make sure it’s not too hot, and not too cold. The last thing he wants to do is shock your system. He glances up at your face for a moment before he focuses on his blurry reflection in the rippling water.

How can I make her pain go away?

It's not something that will ever go away. It becomes bearable, but with time. All you can do is be there for her the best way that you can. He reminds himself.

“Angel.”

Your eyes snap open at the sound of his voice ringing in your ears.

So it wasn’t all a dream.

“Uh..the water should be good now. Do you want some privacy? I don’t—need to be in here with you..I understand if you—” he’s stumbling over his words more than he intended to, but this is uncharted territory for him, and he’s unsure.

“No.” You finally speak, “I want you to stay.”

He breathes; relieved for a moment. “Okay, I’ll stay. Do you..want some help?” He’s referring to your clothes and if you require assistance in undressing.

“Please.”

He nods reassuringly before standing up to his full height from where he was kneeling alongside the tub. “Arms up.” He softly requests while he reaches for the hem of your shirt.

Your body works strictly on autopilot, boneless as you lift your arms above your head so it’s easier for him to pull your shirt up.

His wounded knuckles brush gently against your sides when he begins to lift the fabric from your body slowly. Gooseflesh begins to rise when you're exposed to the room temperature air. Your hands instinctively move to cover your modesty and he pretends to not notice the way you immediately fold in on yourself.

It hurts him to see you in such a state as this, but his feelings do not matter, he reminds himself. Yours are far more important than his own.

He waits for your consent to pop the button of your jeans followed by the zipper. His eyes stay locked on your own when he begins to ease the worn denim down your thighs. There’s two gaping holes in the fabric around your knees that weren’t there before. He begins to feel the bile rise before he forces it back down.

You're trembling by the time he reaches for the elastic waistband of your tattered panties and he finds himself freezing in place when your hands snatch his wrists frantically.

“I won’t take them off, okay?” He reassures you. “I promise.”he adds for good measure.

You trust him, and that scares you, but it’s enough for you to release his wrists from your death grip.

“Turn around, please.” You croak out, still struggling to find your voice.

He doesn’t protest, or say mean things, or make you feel ten times smaller than you already felt. He obliges your request silently.

You wait until his back is facing you before you pull your panties down over your thighs. You catch a glimpse of a maroon saturated stain that will be forever tattooed in the flimsy fabric. You want to sob, but instead you drop the material to your ankles and discard them with the rest of your tattered clothing.

He doesn’t turn around to look at you until you give him permission. By that point you were already carefully lowering yourself into the tub. He finds you with your knees protectively tucked up to your chest, folded in on yourself. A dull, sullen look glossed over in your once vibrant irises. Your eyes cast down to your reflection before staring off into nothingness once more.

“Can..I get you anything? Are you hungry? I can whip you up some soup or somethin?’” He asks while lowering himself to sit alongside the tub. He doesn’t care that his lower back pinches a bit, or his knees creak, he just wants to be there for you in any way that he can.

“Just a cigarette would be nice.” You mumble out a reply. Your eyes meet his softened gaze for a moment with your chin resting along the dip of your knee. “He took the ones that you rolled me, along with the pills, and the pistol you lent me. I’m sorry, Joel. I—I’ll pay you back.”

“Hey, you don’t have to pay me back for any of that, okay? I don’t give a fuck about the pills, and I lent you the gun and cigarettes, Angel. Don’t worry about that, okay?” He reached into his back pocket, pulling out his own stash and a lighter. He leaned forward, placing the cigarette between your lips before he ignited the unlit end with the lighter.

You took a long drag, letting the smoke attack your lungs, and the nicotine ease your brain into relaxation, and calm your rising anxiety.

“Okay.” You finally speak, willing yourself to scoot closer towards the edge of the tub to ash the cigarette over the side.

“Tell me something that..makes you happy.” He catches you off guard while you take another long drag. You blow the smoke off to the side, creating a hazy cloud that soon dissipates.

“Something..that makes me happy?” You question apprehensively.

“Yes. Jus’ anythin’ that you can think of that makes you happy, Angel.” He rasps softly as he awaits your response.

“The rain. But specifically when it’s storming. I love that earthy smell after a storm. When everything smells fresh, clean, alive. I like the dreary days too. Where it rains from morning through the night. I like the sound it makes when raindrops land on the pavement, or roofs. I know it might sound silly, but when I was a kid I used to sit out on the driveway with some neighborhood friends and watch the storms roll in. Always found myself getting excited when the clouds grew darker and the wind picked up..that first flash of lighting, and rumbling thunder?” You trailed off, unsure if you said too much, or too little for his liking.

“Oh, yeah, I have to agree. Who doesn’t love a good heavy storm? Perfect sleepin’ weather too. Back in Texas we’d get some pretty wild storms out there. Flash floods and all that jazz. Didn’t matter to me cus’ I’d always sleep with the window open. My younger brother, Tommy, was afraid of thunderstorms, up until the point of me tellin’ him that we were always safe inside. Think he got over the fear by the time he was ten.” Joel found himself reminiscing on his childhood, and a simpler time that felt like a ghost to him now.

“I didn’t know you had a brother.” You ashed the cigarette over the side of the tub once more before offering it to him. He declined with a slight shake of his head. You need it more than I do.

“Yeah, he’s..well, I don’t know where he’s at. Left with the fireflies a few years back. Thought he could be a hero and save the world. I send him radio messages every now and then jus’ to check up on him.” He sighed softly. His arm came to rest along the side of the tub, palm resting upwards in case you needed to, or wanted to hold his hand.

“Do you miss him?” You asked, shifting closer to him.

You could visibly see him tense from your question. Tommy was a sore spot for him, a festering wound at times. He felt resentful after everything he had done for his younger brother. The sacrifices he made to keep both of them safe from harm. But deep down he knew he couldn’t stay mad at his kin forever, but he wasn’t ready to let that resentment go just yet. He still needed to heal.

“I miss him more than I’m willin’ to admit, Angel. Not sure if he really misses me all that much.” He shrugged indignantly. “What about you, do..you have any siblings?”

He realized then that he didn’t know much about you at all. He knew your name, and your body, but he wanted to know more about what you were like before the world went to shit.

“Nope. Only child. Mom and Dad tried for another, but some things just aren’t meant to be.” It was your turn to shrug now. He caught you eyeing his outstretched palm resting along the chipped porcelain. If he had the ability to read minds, he certainly was reading yours now.

“And..your parents?” He asked, assuming the inevitable answer.

“Both dead. Car crash a couple years before outbreak. I was too young to comprehend any of it. Grandparents took me in luckily. We pretty much lived in desolation out in the middle of nowhere after that. Not much civilization out in the sticks.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” His tone is soft, baritone deep and soothing. And truth be told, you’re still confused. You can’t help it especially when you know this is the same man that just hours ago was trying to bust down your door.

Joel Miller made your head spin.

“It’s alright, Joel. No need for you to be sorry. Life sucks sometimes. It’s just something I’ve come to accept.”

He nods affirmatively. Life does suck sometimes, ain’t that the truth.

“So, where exactly are you from then? South? Midwest? West?” He couldn’t help his curiosity to know more. He didn’t expect you to be an open book by any means, but he’d take anything you’d give him.

“Montana. Grandparents owned a horse ranch out there. Real peaceful, open country, fresh air.”

“Ah, so a real country girl then? Well, guess you and I are closer than we originally thought, huh? How’d you end up all the way in Boston?” He stretched his arm out slightly when it had grown stiff from the position it had been in.

“If you consider Texas and Montana to be close, then sure, cowboy.” There was a glimmer of sass in your tone. Just enough to cause his ears to perk up. “Honestly, after the outbreak, things just turned into one big blur for me. It’s like I had to grow up overnight. Grandpa taught me how to use a shotgun, killed my first infected shortly after that. Grandma was the first to fall, and Grandpa followed a year later. I stayed in the ranch for as long as I could, fendin’ for myself. Was only a matter of time before raiders became a problem, and I packed a bag, took a horse, and headed east.”

Joel was having a hard time comprehending just how young you truly were when the world as you knew it turned to shit. You were just a kid, a little girl fending for yourself. When he realized you were just about Sarah’s age, he didn’t know how to process that newfound information either.

“You were..just a kid when this all happened.” He nearly whispered in disbelief at the thought of a younger version of yourself, strapped with her grandpa's shotgun, and nothing but open country to trek through.

“I was.” You confirmed. “I’m sure this is just my brain blocking all the bad shit out, but I don’t remember much of what happened after I left the ranch. I guess it’s a miracle that I managed to survive this long. Guess my luck hasn’t run out entirely, huh?”

“No, it certainly hasn’t, Angel. You’ve managed to defy practically all the odds that were placed against you.”

You fall silent again, casting another look down at your reflection while the cigarette perched between middle and forefinger dies out. “What’s your favorite color, Joel?”

“Oh, so now we’re goin’ elementary?” He teases lightly in hopes to brighten your spirits just a tad. He’d kill a thousand men just to see you smile again. “I think I have to go with a shade of blue.” He decides.

“Ha. Ha. You’re hilarious, cowboy. You’re the one who started with the personal questions. I think knowing your favorite color is definitely considered a personal question.” You feel your lips twitch, almost as if they are trying to curve up into a smile, but it doesn’t quite happen. “And blue..like the sky?”

“Nah.” He shakes his head, “blue like the ocean. But y’know..like all the shades. What about you, Angel? What’s your favorite color?”

“Purple.” “But not just any shade of purple. The kind that you can see in sunsets. It’s almost got like a pinkish hue to it? Or the purple in lavender fields. We had loads of it growing at the ranch.”

“Mm.” He hums thoughtfully, “Sunsets sure are pretty.” He’s far more relaxed now with his legs outstretched in front of him, and his chin resting along his bare bicep as he looks at you.

He asks you more questions, finding out that your favorite movies were arguably LOTR (unfortunately the third, and highly anticipated film never made it to the theaters; damn you cordyceps) and The Last Unicorn. He learned that your favorite drink of choice, before the outbreak, was either a virgin pina colada (because it tasted like the beach) or the classic kiddy cocktail; a childhood delicacy.

You learned that he and his younger brother Tommy, worked as contractors in Austin Texas, and that Joel used to be married..and he had a single daughter that he raised practically on his own. Her name was Sarah, and she died the night of the outbreak; Joel’s birthday. You also now know that his favorite movie was Curtis and Viper 2.

And through the midst of your back and forth domestic conversing, you find yourselves holding hands again. You’re not sure if he initiated it, or vice versa, but neither of you let go.

There was an unasked question that circled heavy in the air, like two vultures waiting to dive in for the kill. He could sense it just as much as you could. Addressing the elephant in the room was not going to be easy, but you were beginning to realize that Joel wasn’t going anywhere. In fact, you were shocked to find that he hadn’t climbed into that damn tub with you.

“Joel?” You ask suddenly, skin beginning to prune from being in the water for too long.

“Yes, Angel?” He’s hopeful, but realistic given the circumstances.

“Did you..mean what you said earlier? About..making this all go away?”

“Yes.” He didn’t even hesitate to answer. He was not the kind of man to go back on his word. “I will make sure that he pays for what he did to you, Angel. He’ll suffer, and I’ll make him wish he was never born.” Oh, he’d make him pay alright.

“Good. I want you to kill him, Joel. And I want to be there to see you do it. I want to be right there when he takes his last pathetic breath—” you don’t even realize how hard you're squeezing his hand in your grasp that his knuckles are beginning to turn white from the pressure.

“Of course I’ll kill him for you, Angel.” That wasn't even a request in his mind. Benji would die at the hands of Joel, and you would get to watch.

and then..you told him everything.

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[eiightysixbaby]

pretty please may i request some fem pregnant reader x jonathan? 🥺 like she is weak and sore but she really needs him and wants him to carry her so she can feel light and not so big. maybe if you could include body insecurity as well? used to be thin and am not anymore.

hi lovely of course u can!! jonathan would be the sweetest ever while you’re pregnant no one can convince me otherwise. i hope i didn’t read this wrong by putting some light spice in here 👀

18+ please cw: pregnancy, mentions of weight gain, body insecurity, light smutty content

You hunch over on the sofa, making an honest attempt to retrieve the TV remote that had fallen to the floor in front of you. What once was an easy task now has you contorting into awkward positions, your six-month-pregnant belly serving as a barricade between you and the little black remote.

You give up with an exasperated huff, plopping backwards into a normal sitting position once more. Just that one simple bit of movement has your body screaming, aching all over with a soreness that’s never really left since you hit the five-month mark.

You glower at the television, now stuck on some stupidly long infomercial, as if it had personally wronged you. You rest a hand on your protruding belly, frowning slightly as you rub it in a single circular motion.

You feel huge. You’re swollen in places you didn’t know could swell, you have extra weight in places you aren’t used to having it. It’s been getting harder and harder to feel confident in your skin, and when simple tasks like picking the remote up off the floor become impossible, your self-confidence plummets even further.

Frustrated tears begin to well up in the corners of your eyes, your mouth feeling dry as you wail out softly. “Jonathan?”

You aren’t sure if he heard you, ready to actually succumb to full-blown crying, but then he comes bounding into the living room.

“Yeah? Woah, what’s wrong, baby?” he asks, his expression flipping to one of concern the instant he sees your big sad eyes.

“Can’t get the remote off the floor, ‘m too big,” you whimper, wiping your nose with your hand.

“Angel, it’s okay. I can get it for you,” he offers, the saint that he is, but all you do is groan.

“I’m blown up like a balloon! I can’t do anything anymore,” you sniffle, trying as hard as you can to fend off a heavy sob session. “I feel so… so ugly, and useless. Everywhere hurts, and moving around is so awful because my belly is so heavy, everything feels so heavy.”

Jonathan is quick to come over to your side, listening patiently to your well-justified rant. But what he’s not about to do, is let you continue to feel insufficient.

“Baby,” he says softly, tilting your chin up with his index finger, so you’re looking at him. “You’re the furthest thing from ugly. You’re so beautiful. Arguably even more beautiful than before, because you’re carrying our child, and I know that’s no easy task.”

You sniffle, letting him caress your face. “I just don’t feel that way right now.”

“Let me show you, then? Let me show you how beautiful I think you are. Let me make you feel good.”

It’s like a switch flips, his words bringing a throbbing sensation to your core. Having his hands, his lips, his tongue on you sounds so good you could start crying all over again, for an entirely different reason.

You nod, whimpering out an “Mhm.”

He cracks a smile, bringing his hands down to gently rub your stomach. “Come on, then. Let’s get you to the bed.”

“Will you carry me?” you ask him as he stands, your body too sore and weak to make the idea of walking sound appealing.

Plus, though you don’t want to admit it out loud, having him carry you will surely ease your mind about your growing size. If he can hold you like he used to, then surely it isn’t as drastic a change as you think.

He bends down to pick you up without a second thought, and he lifts you off the couch with ease. You can’t help but let out a content sigh at the fact he didn’t have to strain to pull your weight. He makes you feel so light, so small. It also feels fucking great to be transported to the bedroom without your feet aching with every step.

Heart thrumming in your chest, he sets you down on the mattress gently, and in an instant he’s crawling over you. His eager but gentle hands lift the fabric of your shirt over your bump, his mouth pressing kisses to the stretched skin. He’s careful, conscious of how badly your body hurts near-constantly, and his hesitance to hurt you further shows in his tender actions.

He works his way up, tugging the hem of the shirt higher and higher as he goes. When he reaches your breasts, he lets his tongue lave over each of your nipples. The sensation of his warm mouth sends shockwaves through you, your body shuddering. Your boobs unfortunately didn’t miss the memo as far as bodily pain goes, and they’ve been aching extra the last week. Jonathan’s soft hands with their gentle squeezes serve as a sharp contrast to the uncomfortable pangs you’ve been subjected to lately.

The way he touches you makes you feel like you could melt into the mattress, like your body is nothing more than molten caramel, oozing into a puddle.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs, his words separated by kisses to your skin. “Most perfect girl I’ve ever seen in my life,” he praises, finally joining your mouths together.

You feel a lump in your throat, but in a happier way this time. His affection for you makes you feel special beyond words, easing your doubts and insecurities. Even if they’re bound to come back at times, you can take comfort in the fact that he’ll always be here to ease your worrying mind.

“Love you so much,” you tell him, bumping your nose against his.

“I love you even more,” is his soft reply, his eyes adorably crinkled with his smile. “I feel so lucky that I get to watch as you change through this whole process. It’s so special,” he says, letting his kisses trail back down to your breasts, then to your stomach.

“Jon,” you giggle, a watery sound with a new round of impending tears you’re trying to keep at bay. “Getting all soft on me.”

“It’s just the truth. You’re so perfect and I’m so lucky to have you.”

You let a few happy tears drip down your cheeks, wiping them away with the back of your hand. You let out a pleased hum when his attention dips beneath your stomach, his hands pulling your pajama bottoms down. He continues his trail of kisses, down down down, until he’s pressing one directly onto your pussy. You shiver at the contact, your walls clenching once around nothing.

“Gonna worship you like you deserve, angel. Never gonna let you forget how beautiful you are,” he murmurs from between your thighs, his pretty brown eyes gazing longingly up at you.

And damn, you’d be a fool not to sit back and let him do his thing.

[natsglorifiedsimp]

Super tits?

Wanda x reader :)

Here is the fic you've been asking for.

I didn't put a taglist cause IDK if you'll like it

"Delivery!" someone shouted at the door. You furrowed your eyebrows. Who ordered food?

"Babe!" you called out. "Did you order food?"

"No!" Wanda shouted back, still enjoying her shower.

"Who the hell is this?" you whispered to yourself. You opened the door and plastered a smile on your face. "Hello," you awkwardly said.

Receiving deliveries wasn't your thing. It was Wanda's. So you never knew what to say.

"Delivery from an anonymous person," the delivery man said. You furrowed your eyebrows more. "Anonymous?"

The man nodded. He gave the flowers to you and wrote something in his notes and left you with a typical ‘Have a nice day’.

"Who was it?" Wanda sneaks behind you. "Jeez!" you jumped. "Don't scare me like that!" you scowled.

Wanda chuckled. "Sorry," she feigns.

Your scowl turned to a cheeky smile.

"What?" Wanda asked confused. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"Anonymous delivery?" you showed her the flower she ordered. "Thank you" you shyly said, swaying like a kid.

Wanda furrowed her eyebrows, "I did not order that" she deadpanned.

"Oh please," you rolled your eyes. "Cut the act." you examined the flower and noticed a small letter. "A letter too huh?" you smirked at Wanda. "Very romantic." you chuckled.

Wanda curiously looked at the letter, "That's not my handwriting," she coldly said.

A flower for the most beautiful girl in the world. Get ready tonight ;)

-S.T.

"S.T? Who's that? Super Tits?" you mocked looking at your girlfriend.

"I did not get that for you" she deadpanned.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "Then who gave this to me?"

"I don't know" she shrugged. "Maybe your mistress"

You whipped your head to the brunette, "My what now?"

"Guessing I'm always gone for missions you decided to do some extracurricular activities." she coldly gaze at you.

"You don't seriously think I have a mistress" you scoffed.

"THEN WHO'S THAT FROM?" she shouted.

"I DON'T KNOW!" you shouted back. "I thought it was from you. Why would I even say thank you to you if I know it's from someone else?"

"I don't know" she shrugged. "For a cover up"

"It's not from my mistress and I don't have one," you annoyingly said. "I can't believe you're blaming me for having one" you sighed.

"Tell that to the flower" she slammed the door on her way out.

"Wand-" you cut yourself off. "But I don't know who gave this to me" you exasperatedly sighed.

After a few minutes of pondering, someone knocked at your door again.

"I swear if this is another-"

"Did someone deliver a flower here?" Tony asked. You angrily gazed at Tony. "What? What did I do?"

"Is this yours?" you said holding the flower out.

"Yes." he snatched the flower from you. "It was supposed to be delivered at Pepper's office," he said while straightening the bouquet.

"We had a full-blown argument because of this" you panicked. "and you're telling me it's from you."

"Ugh why did they put S.T. instead of T.S." he grumbled.

"YOU!" you paused. "WILL HELP ME FIND WANDA"

You dragged confused Tony out of the compound.

---

You've been driving around the area. Even examined all the crevices of the compound but no Wanda was found.

You hated fighting and you hated when you can't find Wanda anywhere without even a text or a call back from her.

"Tony" you hiccuped. "What's the use of your advanced technology? You cant find Wanda" you sobbed.

You've been wailing and panicking in the back of the car for the past few hours because you cant find Wanda anywhere.

"I'm sorry, I'm trying. Wanda has powers you know." Tony tried to comfort you but it made you sob more.

"I want Wanda" you wailed. You lay down on the seats and rested in a fetal position.

Tony didn't know what to do and decided to spam Wanda with calls. And after the 15th try, she finally picked up.

"FINALLY!" He exclaimed. "Your wife has been ugly sobbing for the past hour. Where the fuck are you?" he grumbled.

"I'm just at the back of the compound." Wanda sighed. "Is she okay?"

"Yes, aside from the fact that she been ranting at me for making you mad about the flower which by the way was mine." Tony pointed out.

"It was yours?" now Wanda felt bad.

"Yes! Now drop your dramatic act and quit messing with my advanced technology." Tony rolled his eyes.

"Where's Y/n?" Wanda asked.

"At the back of the car and-" Tony looked at you finding you sleeping with worried eyebrows. "She's sleeping"

"Keep it that way" Wanda said.

"Sure as hell don't wanna hear her sob again" Tony deadpanned.

----

"Get in." Tony ushered Wanda.

Wanda hurriedly opened the back seat and found you sleeping with tear tracks on your cheeks, puffy eyes, and a small pout. She slowly lifted your head supporting your neck and shoulders and laid your head on her lap.

She ran her hand through your hair and smiled when you moved and curled up on her tummy.

"So now you're being sweet?" Tony rolled his eyes.

Wanda throw a gaze at the man and all Tony did was ignore it. "You have mind-reading powers and you didn't believe y/n when she said it's not from a 'mistress'."

---

Wanda felt bad for making you cry and worry. Accusing you of something that you didn't even do made her feel bad that she bought flowers and chocolates while you were sleeping.

"Baby," she whispered. "Wake up"

"Are you holding flowers and chocolates?" you questioned with eyes shut.

"Eh no?" she murmured.

"I want cuddles not flowers" you urged. "And I want to sleep"

"Okay," Wanda giggled complying.

[blackstarchanx3new]

FSR rambles PT

PART. 3 BABY OF BEING CRINGY ABOUT MY OWN AU

LET'S GOOOOOO (Big send of too this chapter, holy shit)

Lol so like: One thing I didn't wanna do was suppress how much Zelda meant to Shadow Link's character arc for the sake of Vidow "Working".

Shadow Link does love Zelda FYI our mans is Bi. Idk if you noticed...but this whole comic is just polycule central there's no shipping wars, you can ship everyone basically. X'D

Zelda was a huge role in Shadow Link's character development to being a good boy, so it's only natural he's attached to her. (This will also be shown in the next chapter...Hehe)

Also the way his emotions around Vio are so charged that the best way he can put it to words is Vio is "Really cool" is like, so dumbly sweet. Bro can't properly even word how much he adores this man.

Shadow Link has made it no secret he wants to be buds with Vio for reals this time, and he's also 100% not interested in helping Gannon. So...There really ISN'T a reason Vio and him should have the same issues Vio was worried about. Thus, he tries to sooth Vio's fears.

*cough cough cough* gay. Shadow Link's so anxious about asking.

Lol so I got a "Writing rule" for Vio...He ain't gonna cry till I crack him completely like an egg. X'D He will get very close tho: Like this moment.

The way I put blush on the nose area specifically indicates someone's like, close to crying or is crying. I just like this face particularly because there's so much shit going on in that head of his.

The start of the hug is so damn awkward (Intentionally so)

These panels mean so much to meeeeeeee-

Everything about em

The hug, Vio's so close his face is squished (He's so adorable.)

Shadow Link doesn't immediately hug him back he's stunned.

Hehehehe. Vidow go brrrrr..

This entire page is just: PAIN.

Shadow breaks the hug to show him the book.

The wording leaves it so ya can't help but think he hoped the introducing of their friendship would change Vio's mind about being Link again...That his words earlier were just mad ramblings and not how he actually felt. But with a clear head Vio verbally says he still wants to be Link again.

Lmao bro tries not to crack again aaaaand fails.

The book is one about healing magic...What kinds are in there I wonder. ;) A refrence...to a past Selda game mayhaps?~

Also this frame of Shadow Link full blown ugly crying while pretending to be fine is so hilarious to me idk if it comes off as sad or funny but it's kinda both to me. X'D

Mans is crying for him and Vio at this point.

Vio putting the book down in favor of comforting Shadow Link is just kinda one of those things that like, if he had ignored Shadow Link the reader would have noticed, but him being like, decent is smth that isn't nearly as "noticeable" (Like, ya typically notice a character being shitty WAY MORE than you notice all the subtle things they do that are just, kind.)

Also Shadow still wants to be helpful even though he's like, sobbing his eyes out. X'D

He also tries to hide from Vio lmao. Vio saw the water works bro.

Quite a few things:

Shadow's still toxic, just a little. X'D He WANTS Vio around, he misses him like crazy and does not want him to leave, AT ALL. This is very obvious lmao.

But he's also at the point where he knows he can do better than just screaming and throwing tantrums like he did as a kid. But his true feelings about how betrayed he feels Vio still wants to be Link are STILL THERE. Even if he chooses to try and hide them.

Also funny detail: Vio blushing was a lowkey gag because of the whole "They're both attracted to red flags" joke.

You could also take it as him being scared shitless, which he IS.

While he can't take back snapping at Vio, he certainly realizes his mistake very quickly and apologizes. So that's SOMETHING at least. (Considering the type of person he was before, a relapse or two is expected lmao.) I think him still having a certain level of anger management issues makes his character overall more interesting.

I like to think the only reason Vio gave him any patience for that, was because Shadow Link has been nothing but patient and there for him all night and he knows Shadow is emotional as fuck.

As Vio gave him shit for the fight with Blue earlier showed, Vio doesn't tolerate Shadow's crap when he's just being a violent shithead.

Hahaha. Remember when Link outright stated Vio wanted to be Vio and not Link. :) Link sure is a way more reliable narrator than...idk...The guy who lies...

*Whispers gently into your ear* Vio's not being very truthful here...

Notice: He only. ONLY brings up "Logical" reason...not his actual FEELINGS on the matter... He SAYS "I don't want to be Vio"

WHY. WHY!? TELL US WHY VIO!!!

He does have a reason but he's not tellin' lmao.

So, in the book it's not really...SPECIFIED where Shadow Link came from? Like I think all it says is "Gannon drew him out of the dark mirror"

...THAT IS SO UP FOR INTERPRETATION AND BRINGS UP SO MANY QUESTIONS:

Did he have a life in the dark world and was just, TOLD to do Gannon's bidding? His line of "I'm your living reflection in the dark world" MAYBE supports this idea...??? KINDA?

But my issue with that is: Shadow Link gives NO indication he has had a past in the dark world, like...at all. Nothing. No mention of family (Which...Reasonably wouldn't he have a dark version of Link's father???) He's the ONLY PERSON who's implied to be FROM the dark world. Also...The dark mirror isn't REALLY implied to be a PORTAL... The seal on Vaati and his demons was, but Shadow Link wasn't freed from that, Gannon "Drew him from the dark mirror" to release Vaati...So uh...HMMMM His also distinct lack of his OWN name kinda makes me go ???? Like...His NAME is Shadow Link...Like that's not a nickname. That's his NAME. (Like this just weirds me out because of a cannon "Reflection" of Link: in Ravio. Who like...HAS HIS OWN NAME???? ik Ravio isn't from the "Dark world", he's from Lowrule, but point still stands this is odd.)

Suffice to say, there's just not enough info here to draw a conclusion for me? So I gotta make shit up. X'D Shadow Link was created out of Link's Shadow by Gannon in FSR. This is also the reason he resembles a Gerudo male. Cause Gannon said "Mm yes, my evil Link sona will have my heritage. UwU"

Shadow link realizing he almost made Vio cry is so funny to me.

Vio looks so fucking pathetic there. lmfao.

Shadow's words only hit again like Link has stated: Shadow knows Vio

Whether intentionally or not: what he says hits Vio like a ton of bolders.

He's very hesitant to keep talking though because he doesn't want to hurt Vio either.

It's like, he's AWARE he's telling Vio this shit because he WANTS him to stay, but you also can't deny Shadow's at least CORRECT in a lot of his statements. How far should he push that though? Hmm.

His "Oh my god you're an idiot" face is hilarious. Shadow's like "You still don't get what I'm laying down dude??? REALLY!?"

*Explodes*

Lmao. That panel before they kiss is basically my favorite in the entire comic rn. X'D

Shadow pulling away and squishing Vio's face is also a favorite. Vio's just cute and squishable.

Vio stating the obvious: That his mental breakdown wasn't Shadow's fault. (Wasn't really anybody's fault it was inevitable, especially with the curse/Dark Link active)

Lmao. Vio's kinda dumb as bricks sometimes too. X'D

Shadow Link's fucking deadpan stare while Vio rants is so hilarious to me. Also the direct quoting of Vio instead of paraphrasing making his statement sound even more stupid.

Also fun dialogue thing: You'll notice the characters stutter or like, pause weirdly, Because I like writing dialogue a little more realistic. Like Shadow Starts off as "I-was" instead of like "W-was" like he thought of saying smth completely different at first or his mouth moved before his brain did. X'D

Their banter is fun, Vio's his sassy self. Shadow giving him all the kisses we desired...

Okay ngl this page hurts me X'D Like. Ouch. All of it hurts.

Because of how Link kinda abandoned Shadow Link (Even though he was always there) Shadow is OBVIOUSLY very hesitant to let go. It's super obvious Vio doesn't wanna let go either.

Also Vio kissing him back surprises Shadow. X'D He's still bamboozled Vio is receptive to his affection oof... (Would like to show him getting more comfy with it as the comic goes on like "Holy shit, nah he's not playing around with me he fr-")

They mean so much to each other. QuQ

Okay to make you laugh in these very serious panels: Because Shadow's floating Vio's standing on his tip toes.

On that note, can't wait to see yall for the next chapter, whenever I get around to it. X'D

[cryopathiic-a]

Kiba's here with a delivery! It's a corpse, of course. But not any corpse. The poor thing had been handled rather roughly, chunks of flesh missing, all innards blown out from the inside. Strands of pink and green hair still sprouting from the cranium. There's still plenty of meat left to eat on it.

"... the Lord said I gotta bring you my next kills. So here you go." Kiba grumbled, dumping the body before the Upper Moon's throne. He did not judge necessary to explain why he was told to bring his gifts there, rather than directly to the only Lord he respects.

Of all the things a demon can choose to eat; a corpse would undoubtedly be the least nutritious. The human body is more nourishing when fresh; a still beating heart provides the flow to keep organs pulsating, quivering in the palate. Every oni that has tasted dead flesh knows, it is a thing one can only be driven to out of perversion or despair.

The Lord Founder suffers from neither.

There would be crunching noises when the young demon enters the room. Dōma's plush throne had been pushed aside in favor of making space for the cocooned bodies of those same people that had been spilling their deepest secrets and sharing their burdens with him in that same room a mere few days ago. A mess of amputated, half eaten limbs would not confess the true number, but three of them were still well alive and writhing in their binds. How would it feel, for a human have all senses but their hearing restrained and be wrapped in a shroud of cloth, left lying on hard floorboards in their own sweat? How did they feel when sharp fangs tore through the fabric, and the blindfold came off once and for all; revealing an ugly truth? Their incessant sobbing probably gave that answer away.

Yet Upper Two was merely sat cross-legged, hoisting a female torso by its waist and burrowing his face into the bowels. Dōma was a messy eater. He never bothered to rip the flesh from bone. He enjoyed the soft, squelchy parts the most; the viscera was spread across his face and stained everything in deep reds; a stark juxtaposition to his naturally pale colors. When Kiba entered, he turned to glare at them over his shoulder, with a femur in his mouth and then—

— CRUNCH!

" Hgkmm!! MMM! "

" Kyaaaa! Wh-What was that!? Oh dear Gods! Oh dear Gods! "

❝ Shhh— quiet, little ones. I'm doing my best to get to everyone here one by one, so, please don't rush me. ❞ A cadence calm and saccharine as ever. Bone ground to dust between gnashing jaws; his teeth cut through it like it was butter.

The humans cried. Upper Two's smile grew wider upon facing the other, bloodstained teeth barren before his penetrating glare fell on the cadaver offer. Now that was an offense if an offense had ever been made. And he was sure the little shit knew full well what he was doing, too. An unruly kid with no sense of respect for his elders. Dōma liked him! After looking it over, prismatic hues deducted it was the corpse of someone strong; with an unusual constitution. But- still a corpse. Even at the start of his life as a demon, Dōma had never sunk his teeth on dead flesh. And he sure as Hell was not about to start doing so now.

❝ ... Lord Muzan told you to bring me your leftovers? ❞ It was laced with faux shock. Upper Two of all demons would know not to mention the actual name; but he knew full well that such an order would not be given lightly, as it was considered a very offensive thing to inflict on an Upper Kizuki. To be gifted trash? No, that was a punishment. And he'd done nothing wrong. In fact, he was pretty sure he had finally managed to squeeze his way in that man's good graces. So that kid must be trying to get under his skin; and the invocation of their Master had been very intentional.

❝ Really? She- she said that? Oh my... ❞ A crimson coated palm came to hover before his chest, bottom lip beginning to quiver. He sounded sorrowful. ❝ To say something like that... she must be very upset with me... and here I was thinking I'd left her pleased... ❞ His head drooped. A sniffle, a sob; and there came the waterworks. In between sniffles, he'd reach up to wipe some crystalline tears with his knuckles, smearing blood over his own cheeks in the process. A shift to his posture would reveal more of the situation for the other to see; the mass of mangled flesh and limbs protruding, the ones still live in front of him writhing in futile effort to escape their binds. The was a whole human head wedged between his ribs; a petrified expression immortalized on her features. Her eyes were still twitching. The monster's palm came to rest on her forehead, in a fashion that was eerily tender as he cupped it with his palm and seemed to push it inward. There were crackling noises from his ribcage.

Dōma let out a big sigh of disappointment, and placed a leg he'd been holding beside him on the floor.

❝ Welp. There goes my appetite. How can I possibly offer solace to these people when I just got my heart broken... ❞ He was pouting, pensively; and the sole two surviving humans mirrored his sobbing, though theirs was laced with visceral despair. The wail of a dying lamb. Unblinking eyes snapped to the one crying the loudest, her incessant whining silenced once and for all when he placed his palm flat against her lying head and crushed it like a watermelon without expression.

❝ You can go ahead and finish that up. I'm not in the mood. ❞ Another sniffle. ❝ And besides... it feels kind of weird to eat someone that I never even knew, you know? I wouldn't want some stranger pestering my followers in there. ❞

[permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88]

Well...I am sobbing. Full-blown ugly crying. Succumbing to slow dehydration via excessive shedding of tears. And yes. Waxing eloquent and being thoroughly over-dramatic in this re-blog, because...well...because I can. 😅 But seriously.

HOW. DARE. YOU?!?!?!?!?!?! (Affectionately. Always affectionately.)

It would've been enough to take me out at the knees with the reveal of the reason why the particular day in question, here, went so horribly wrong. The innocence of a child taken from the world too soon, and for a reason that is so seemingly needless/senseless would've had me bawling just on its own, even before I read how fully you dove into describing the raw emotion it brought out in our nurse. But then I read that emotion and took it in (and dove head-first into feeling it just like I always do) and OUCH. BIG TIME OUCH. I was tearing up, trying to not sob alone on my couch and make my dog question my sanity, but I just couldn't hold on, and now here I am in an ocean of my own tears. You'd think that would be where it stops, right? WRONG.

(But wait, there's more!)

Then, I get to the amazingness that is one Tom Kazansky, and his reaction, and I am just...I'm floored. Blown away. Amazed, and all of the other words I can possibly hurl your way that may or may not mean the same thing, all at once. GAH do you ever have a gift. A dark, dark gift that I both love, and fear, given the literally insanely painful/poignant/beautiful reaction it provokes!

Long story short, this was...I have no words, because amazing seems to fall so very far from what I mean (or maybe my brain is just broken and that's why I can't think properly at the moment). But I thank you so, so much for taking the time to create this, my dear! Even if it tore me to pieces, it was certainly a wonderful read!

The Comfort of Your Arms

Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x ER Nurse Wife!reader

(Not my art)

Synopsis: When a bad day at the ER leaves Mrs. Kazansky a wreck, she goes to the only place she knows she’s safe.

Warnings: Child death, mention of drunk driver, blood, vague descriptions of medical procedures, some cursing, reader is in state of emotional distress, non-sexual nudity, and just a whole lot of fluffy hurt/comfort.

Author’s Note: Huge disclaimer here—this is barely proofread, I just wanted to get this out as soon as possible, since this is a gift for @callsign-skydancer, who was having a bad few days a couple of days ago.

I thought this would ease her need for some soft Tom Kazansky thoughts.

I hope you like this, Sky!!

“Just get home.

Just get home.

Just get home,” played on loop in her head as she drove down the thankfully familiar roads, because she was honestly operating on autopilot.

Her heart rate was about thirty or forty BPM too high, she could just tell from the pounding all over her body.

She knew her body couldn’t sustain that for long, and she had to get home.

House after house passed her by, and finally, she pulled up to the curb of her house.

She coached herself through the motions of turning off the engine, getting her bag and lunch bag in her hand, and stepping out of the car.

The few steps to the door never felt so far as they did at that moment, her knees trembling just as much as her hands were, but she considered it a miracle that she was able to get the key into the lock, and the sound of the deadbolt turning echoed in her head.

As the door opened, the scent of home washed over her, and she stepped inside, almost in a daze.

“Hey, you’re home early!” The sound of her husband’s voice came from what sounded like the kitchen, and her breath shuddered in her chest, as she clapped her hand to her mouth to stifle the sob that was building in her chest.

Footsteps began to follow the sound of his voice as he walked to the door. “I was making my Mom’s piroshkis and beef stew—” Tom cut himself off as he caught sight of her.

She knew she looked like shit in her rumpled clothes, her hair was a mess, there was probably still some blood on her arms, and she was wide eyed.

The silence was heavy as gray eyes swept over her, immediately cataloguing each thing she thought of, and probably more, and he cautiously said, “Milaya, are you alright?”

At the sound of his voice, so soft and gentle, the sob that she’d been holding back burst forth, and the tears sprang from her eyes as she felt her legs give out beneath her.

She had barely made any contact with the floor, when she felt strong arms come around her, and the faint, lingering scent of jet fuel hit her nose, but then, the blackness which had been threatening ever since she heard the tone of flatline, consumed her.

Tom Kazansky would argue that it had been a great day for him; he and Mav had absolutely destroyed the current class of TOPGUN students, displaying yet again, the Kazansky-Mitchell dominance in the air (it’s alphabetical, Mav, your name can’t come first, and I’m older), he finished his paperwork early, and thusly had gotten home about half an hour early.

He knew his wife was working a long shift at the hospital, so after a quick change into more comfortable clothes, he wanted to surprise her with her favorite food from his family recipes.

He’d just gotten the piroshkis in the oven, and the stew was simmering on the stove, when he heard the keys jingle in the lock, and the door open. “Hey, you’re home early!” he called out, hanging the dish towel on the oven before moving to greet her. “I was making my Mom’s piroshkis and beef stew—” Tom cut himself off as he caught sight of her.

She looked beautiful as ever, but her hand was over her mouth, and the look in her eyes was painfully familiar; he’d seen it too many times in the eyes of fellow fighter pilots—hell, he’d seen it in his own eyes, especially after… well, Hop 31.

Her eyes were haunted, glassy with tears, her breathing much too fast.

And most frightening, there were a few stains of dried blood on her arms.

But he knew her well enough to know that if it were hers, there was no way she’d be here, instead of at the hospital, getting treated.

So it must have gotten on her while she was working.

Carefully, he ventured, “Milaya, are you alright?” keeping his voice soft and gentle, speaking as he would to a spooked animal.

He was startled, but not surprised as a sob burst from her mouth, and tears spilled from her eyes.

He lunged to catch her as her legs gave out beneath her and she passed out.

He called her name, gently shaking her, trying to rouse her.

Seeing that it was in vain, he carried her upstairs to the bedroom, laying her down on her side, all while continuing to stroke her hair and talk softly to her, calling for her to wake up.

After ten minutes had passed, and she hadn’t woken up yet, Tom went for the well-stocked first aid kit, grabbing an ammonia snap, rushing back to her side, breaking it under her nose.

She immediately gasped, and sat upright in bed, panicked.

“Milaya, milaya,” he called, wrapping an arm around her, as she tried to scramble out of bed, struggling vainly against his strong but careful grip.

He could see the panic in her eyes, and he got up onto the bed behind her, holding her against him, repeatedly murmuring “It’s okay, you’re alright, you’re here with me,” in the Russian he knew would calm her faster, even though she wouldn’t understand it, all because he knew it would reassure her she was really with him.

He felt when awareness came back to her, the heaving gasps turning into slight shudders. “Tom?”

It broke his heart to hear the tremble in her voice. “I’m here, lyubimaya moya, you’re safe.”

“I’m home?”

“Yeah, you’re home.”

“I made it—I made it home.”

He wasn’t sure why she was asking these questions, but he answered them regardless. “Yes, you did.”

She turned red-rimmed eyes to him. “I made it home,” and suddenly, she shifted her grip to hold him tightly and let out the most heartbreaking sobs he’d ever heard.

He held her through her sobs, unceasingly reassuring her of his presence, carding his hand through her hair.

When she calmed again, he gently said, “I’ll run you a bath, solnishko, how does that sound?

Make it warm, the way you like it, with all the oils and stuff.”

(It was actually closer to boiling, in his opinion, but she loved it, so he didn’t question it.)

She didn’t reply verbally, just nodded, and if she needed to be quiet for a while, that was fine, he could talk for the both of them.

Tom led her to the bathroom, starting the water in the shower/tub, turning the handle all the way to the left.

She was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, staring blankly at the wall.

He reached for her hands, taking them in both of his.

Her hands were freezing, and he rubbed them between his, to warm them up. “Okay, how about we get you undressed?

That okay?”

Again, a nod.

“Alright.”

He started with her shoes, putting them off to the side so neither of them would trip on them, then her socks, patterned with little hearts, he noted.

“Okay, milaya, let’s get your jeans off.”

He pulled her to her feet, directing her to stand on his socked feet so she wouldn’t touch the cold tile of the floor, unbuttoning her jeans with one hand to help keep her balanced on his feet, and tugged them along with her underwear halfway down.

“Okay, you can sit down again, lyubimaya moya.”

Next was her sweatshirt, then her bra.

Normally, this sort of procedure had a very different outcome, and the sight of his naked wife was more than enough for a very different reaction, but at the moment, he couldn’t care less about a “usual male reaction”, wanting nothing more than to care for the love of his life.

By this time, he could feel the steam from the shower behind him, so he plugged the drain and pulled the spigot on the tub faucet, causing the water to flow from it instead of the shower head.

While waiting for the tub to fill, he dropped several drops of her lavender oil into the water, the air filling with its scent immediately, before shutting the faucet once the tub filled.

He helped her into the steaming tub, easing her down into the water, the tension in his heart he didn’t even know he had easing when she breathed a little sigh of relief.

“Okay, zhizn moya,” he said, kneeling beside her, “I just need to remove the piroshkis from the oven and shut the stove, okay?

I’ll be—”

Her hand flew to his wrist, gripping so tightly he winced slightly.

“No—please don’t leave me,” she whispered.

“I’ll be so fast, milaya.

I’ll be back soon.”

“No,” she shook her head.

“Please, solnishko.

The house could burn down if I don’t.”

She saw the reason in this, but Tom could see that it was wrenching something in her to be parted from him, even for so short a time.

So he offered a compromise. “How about this: I’ll sing the whole time, you’ll be able to hear me, so you don’t feel so alone.”

He knew she loved to hear him sing, for some reason, even though he thought he had a horrible voice—he was much better at the piano, in his opinion.

She bit her lip, considering. “Okay—but you have to promise me you’ll come back soon.”

“I swear it on my wings, milaya.”

“Okay,” she let go of his wrist.

He began softly singing “Are You Lonesome Tonight?”, the song they had danced to for the first time when they were dating, backing out of the bathroom, increasing the volume of his voice the further he got.

He ran downstairs, shutting the stove with a flick of the wrist, before grabbing the piroshkis from the oven—luckily, he could see they were still edible, just slightly too brown at the edges.

With his mission completed, he dashed up the stairs, entering the bathroom just in time to finish the second refrain. “See?

I told you I’d be fast,” he grinned.

She plaintively reached for him. “Join me please—I… I need to feel you.”

How could he deny her?

He quickly undressed, sitting in the spot she made for him behind her, bracketing her legs with his, pulling her against him, and she shifted to rest her ear over his heart.

The water had cooled slightly, thank God, so he wasn’t cooking in the water like he would have been earlier.

Tom let the silence sit for a while before venturing, “What happened today, lyubimaya moya?”

At first, he wondered if she had fallen asleep, but then, she spoke. “I knew it would be bad when the paramedics encoded into the hospital; pediatric patient, hit by a drunk driver in the middle of the damn day.” Her breath hitched, and he felt moisture not from the bath fall on his chest. “He was so little, Tom, and there was so much—I tried to save him—I did compressions for forever; his little ribs—but—” her voice broke, and she silently sobbed against him.

At this full understanding of what happened to her today, his heart shattered for her. “Oh, milaya.

I’m so sorry.”

She choked, “Why?

He was seven.

Still basically a baby.

Why?”

“I don’t have the answers for you, solnishko, but wherever he is, I’m sure he’s so grateful you tried to save him.”

“It’s not enough.

I should—who the fuck gets drunk in the middle of the fucking day?”

“The asshole who killed that poor kid,” he thought, but he knew it was a rhetorical question, and that she didn’t really want that answer.

More moisture fell against his chest and he held her tighter.

By the time the water had gone cold, her tears had long since stopped, so with gentle motions, he lifted her up, wrapping a towel around her and another around his waist, unplugging the drain and grabbing fresh clothes for the both of them, quickly throwing on his, then repeated the process he’d done for her earlier in reverse.

Dressed, she curled up on her side of the bed.

“Do you think you can eat a little something?” he asked.

“I don’t want to.”

“You have to.”

She sniffled, “You—you’d have to leave me again.”

Tom offered, “I’ll sing again for you; I promise I won’t make you eat a lot—just a little, for me, please?”

“…Okay.”

He ran downstairs, reprising his “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” while ladling out a small bowl of stew, sticking it in the microwave for a minute, and putting a piroshki on a saucer, returning upstairs to see a soft, barely-there smile on her lips. “You should sing more,” she murmured.

“I don’t know why you think my voice is anything fantastic, I’m much better at the piano,” he smiled back.

“It’s more beautiful than you think.”

He sighed, “I’ll take your word for it.

Now here you go, your favorites; the piroshkis are a little bit too crispy, but it’s still good.

You want me to feed you or are you good?”

When she hesitated, he smiled, “Just sit up for me, okay, I don’t want you to choke.”

It took a while, but he got her to finish the whole bowl of stew, and half the piroshki, tossing the other half in his own mouth, placing the dishes on the nightstand for tomorrow, not wanting to leave her again—his OCD could go screw itself for a few hours.

He got into his side of the bed, pulling the covers over both of them, and enfolding her into his arms, purposely shifted her ear over his heart. “Get some rest, milaya.

I’m here, I won’t leave you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

She had endured hell today, she knew that, but her husband’s gentle care eased the pain in her heart, and the way he took care of her tonight was something she would not—could not—forget.

She would be forever grateful she’d given him a chance three years ago at The O Club, seeing something in him beyond the cocky facade he liked to present to the world.

“I’m sorry I wrecked your dinner plans,” she whispered.

“You didn’t wreck them,” he murmured back.

“But—”

“But nothing.

You were hurting, and I wanted to take care of you.

There’ll be other nights.”

“I don’t deserve you, Tom,” she shook her head.”

He sighed, “I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you, okay?

And I’m not taking any arguments.”

She could hear the smile in his voice.

“I’m so glad I gave you a chance at The O,” she said, repeating her earlier thoughts.

He chuckled, “So am I.”

Silence fell over them again, and she was just about to fall asleep, but she was suddenly seized by a desire to tell him something. “Thank you for catching me,” she breathed, meaning more than when she passed out downstairs.

Thankfully, he understood. “I’ll always be here to piece you back together, milaya.

I love you.”

She smiled, her heart full of love for this man. “I love you too.

And I promise to do the same for you.”

And with that, she allowed herself to drift off to sleep.

Val has indeed sung “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” although with some, ahem, amendments to the lyrics, in the film soundtrack of Top Secret!

Russian Glossary

Disclaimer: endearments and translations taken from Google—please don’t hesitate to correct me if I’m wrong, which, odds are, I am.

Milaya: dear, darling (there are other translations of this word, however)

Lyubimaya moya: my darling/my one and only sweetheart

Solnishko: little sun

Zhizn moya: my life

Taglist

@valmare

@callsign-skydancer

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@tadomikiku

@malindacath

@aviatorobsessed

@lynnevanss

@djs8891

If you’d like to join my taglist, just send me an ask!

[thessaliaxiv]

Holidailies 2022, Day 16: Sentimental and Sad End-of-Year Thoughts

I'm trying to space out all the less warm and fuzzy entries throughout this year of Holidailies so that there isn't a streak of them all at once, hehe. I'll mention that I speak of the passing of people down below; skip this entry if the topic is too morose for you.

One of the things I do, as the year draws to a close, is to reflect on the passage of time. More specifically, the death of those I knew or knew about. I can't rightly remember when I started this practice, but I felt compelled to do this with the passing of my cat Bear. I'd had thoughts about him throughout that year, as he'd passed in January 2014 and there's something about the changing of the calendar year that signifies closure to me. "This is the first day without him," I noted myself that first day, and burst into tears.  "This is the first week without him," I remarked the next week. And so on. More time started getting stuffed between the last moments of knowing him, and the present. The passing of people and animals is not new to me, of course, but I've never been good with the topic. Talking about those who were dear to me always makes me cry. Sometimes just thinking of them, as I am while typing this, makes me cry. It's not a simple matter of tears, either, we're talking full-blown ugly sobbing if I think or talk about it enough. I don't attach any particular connotation to the tears, I am just that intensely triggered by sentimental things as memories. Sometimes I wonder if that's healthy, but I let the tears fall all the same when there's an appropriate moment to do so. I don't obsess over it or anything, but like, once a month I'll think of someone off-hand and my thoughts will bring them to life once more, frozen in time as they are. It's kind of nice to dust off the boxes in my mind and select one to contemplate for a spell. And an opportunity to clear out my sinuses. :P

There isn't anyone in particular in my thoughts for this year: some famous people I'll miss seeing, some famous people I've missed seeing, and varied friends, family members, other loved ones, and so on.  In December, I tend to have a candle near me that I light for a short time, filling the air with a subtle, pleasant scent, an uncommon gesture and nod towards those who were known to me. I've mentioned a few of them in previous entries. I let it burn while I'm puttering on the computer or otherwise nearby. When thoughts of a nap or a meal start distracting me, I regard the candle for a long moment, and then softly blow it out.

I'm not one for holidays, but this feels right to me.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[3:43 pm]

(cw: angst)

The last 2 days had been awkward to say the very least. Two days ago you and Jeno had gotten in a big fight that was initially followed by a day of silence. Not so much silent treatment but more so silence so you could both collect your thoughts to hopefully talk them out. However, you were both very passionate and hard headed people, so the conversation had started off as well- a conversation that eventually became an argument. You were both on the brink of yelling at each other moving past trying to express your feelings and just trying to hurt the other, which you were both successful in doing.

It was only a few minutes ago after a morning of avoiding each other with very brief conversations that you and Jeno finally sat and peacefully talked out your feelings. You had gotten to the root of the original issue and promised to communicate the next time a problem came up.

Fights with Jeno were few and far between, but that didn’t mean they never happened. There were more arguments than there were full blown fights, the first fights of your relationship had resulted in at least one of you storming out with complete radio silence for at least three days. As you both matured and grew in your relationship together some things just got easier to deal with, but that didn’t mean there weren’t exceptions. Things like miscommunications and misunderstandings were usually the root of these fights, like this last one. These fights were ugly things where both of you forgot the reason for the beginning of the supposed conversation and just began hurling digs and insults at the other until you ran out of energy or were too hurt to carry on. The usual routine for these fights was well, first the fight, a day later the conversation, and then the awkward day where you tiptoed around each other so as to not trigger the other with any remaining sensitivities after the mess of the fight.

This meant that now it was the awkward period after a fight where you both tried to get back into the habit of happy, loving couple. Even if you both weren’t aware of your awkward actions- they still happened. Did you hug each other? Did you cuddle while watching TV? Did you guys even send each other the stupid videos that made you laugh? You were sitting on one end of the couch while Jeno sat on the opposite end, both of you stiff with your eyes locked on either the TV screen or your phone screen.

You had busied yourself most of the day by doing load after load of laundry to keep yourself distracted with the routine of getting up at least once an hour to start a new load or fold a load. The last thing that had gone in was the sheets of your bed, everything else had been washed, all the dirty clothes, the towels, the throw blanket on the couch, after this there would be nothing left to distract you. Maybe cooking a dinner with a lot of preparation.

You got up for the last load of laundry, taking the sheets from the dryer and back to the bedroom. You began putting the pillow cases on the pillows and laying out the fitted sheet when a hiccup from the doorway stopped you. “Do you hate me that much that you won’t even do the bed with me?”

You turned with wide eyes, catching sight of Jeno with tears brimming his red eyes, “Jeno, I- of course I don’t hate you.”

“We always do the bed together because you get frustrated that the corners come off. We haven’t had our morning coffee together for two days and I know you said you’ve been waking up late, but you lied to me. I sat in the kitchen for 20 minutes alone with two cups of coffee while I heard you move around the room. You didn’t even care that I’ve been playing our show while you’ve been busy all day and you usually make me pause it if you so much as go to the kitchen for a cup of water. You’ve been cuddling a pillow to sleep instead of me which you never have, even in past fights. I don’t want to lose you,” Jeno let out through choked sobs.

You stood frozen, processing everything he had just said. He was right, you had been avoiding him and your usual routine. You stepped forward, bringing Jeno into your embrace which he immediately responded to, hugging you tightly while his tears were soaked up by your t-shirt. “I could never hate you Jeno. I love you with every fiber of my being and I will until the end of time. I love you.”

He let out a relieved breath, still not able to stop his tears of hurt and nerves while he kept you in his tight embrace to ground himself. Eventually the sobs subsided into sniffles, his breathing slowly evened out, he had calmed down enough to sit and talk about the feelings that you had both assumed to be resolved. 

You wiped the remaining wetness from under his eyes with one hand while the other rubbed circles on the back of his hand. “I thought we had already fixed everything, but all day today its been me alone. I hate being in our home together but feeling alone,” Jeno told you.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, it wasn’t my intention. I just didn’t want to go back to how we usually are in case I accidentally did or said something to reignite the argument.” 

“I don’t want you to be scared to talk to me after an argument, I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me,” Jeno replied sincerely. 

“We both said some really mean things to each other, maybe I kept my distance because I’m still a bit hurt. I know we were both angry and in the heat of the moment, but what you say matters to me. You’re one of the most important people in my life and hearing you say some of those things isn’t something I can get over in a day. I wouldn’t expect you to do the same, I know I said really nasty things to you too.”

“I’m sorry, I’m going to do my best to show you how much you matter to me. I never ever want to lose you,” his forehead was now pressed against your own.

You let out a watery laugh, wiping away a tear that managed to escape, “Can we stop apologizing now? I just want to do the bed with you.”

Jeno laughed at that, “You usually hate doing the bed.”

You shrugged back, tugging on one corner of the fitted sheet, “Yeah, but I love spending time with you.”

[ramzawrites]

requesting an angsty fic where reader is schlatts kid and they have the same features as him, namely the horns so people avoid them because of what schlatt did, it leads to reader hating their horns and cutting them off/ ripping them out and someone finds them crying, covered in blood with their horns just on the ground or smth, set after schlatts death btw

A Painful Reminder - Dad!Schlatt and Reader - Part 1

Part 2

GN

Pairings: none

Characters included: Quackity, Niki, (mentioned) Schlatt, (mentioned) Techno

Warnings: self harm (destroying own horns with a blunt object), mention of blood, abondenment, depression, cursing

Series: an angst request!

Summary: Y/N is the child of Schlatt and after his death tried their best to deal with the grief. Hoping to connect with people only to painfully realize that their horns are a painful reminder to everyone for Schlatt’s rule and therefore try to stay as far as possible from them.

Words count: 2428

Authors Note: I hope this is fine! I struggled a bit with it and I think you can tell, I apologize for that. I’m honestly not that good with angst but if you enjoy it I’m happy!! Please give me feedback on how to get better at angst :o

I love you guys and please take care of yourself 💙

After Schlatt died and Pogtopia effectively won the war against Manberg only for the nation to get blown up by Wilbur, the people tried their best to rebuild with the help of Tubbo as the new president.

There was a new sense of hope that swept through the nation. They all suffered greatly to get to this place but this was a turning point for most. A time for healing. A time for rebuilding what was lost. A time for grief.

While Y/N spent most of their time building up their own home inside L’Manberg, they were struggling a lot with grief.

They mourned for the loss of the only parent they had in their life, Schlatt.

The president of Manburg, the tyrant that died surrounded by his enemies inside a van. The only parent of Y/N.

The relationship between the two was complicated to say the least. Deep inside they still loved their father but he brought so much pain and even bloodshed on people that they couldn’t in good conscience support him.

For the longest time they tried their best trying to persuade him, that he would change his way but he never listened. Either too full with his own ego or too drunk to care. The last straw that broke the camel’s back for Y/N was when Schlatt ordered Tubbo’s execution.

The emotions they felt while they yelled and wailed at Schlatt to stop this madness was still fresh in their mind whenever their thoughts lingered back to that day. Quackity had to  physically restrain and pull them back on Schlatt’s orders.

It was the moment they realized that there was no way for them to reach Schlatt anymore. He was set in his way and nothing could change that.

After their death to Technoblade’s blood lust during the festival, they ran away and spoke with Tommy. Y/N didn’t want to kill Schlatt but they saw in Pogtopia a chance to stop him. Make him see what he has done. Make him responsible for his actions.

Only this never came to pass. Schlatt died inside a dirty van. A heart attack or a stroke. Y/N didn’t know, nor did they care. He was dead either way.

While everyone was rebuilding and trying to fall back into a normal day to day life. Y/N was lost. They didn’t feel particularly close to anyone nor did the other seem to trust them. Their eyes were always drawn towards Y/N’s horns resting on their head.

During Schlatt’s rule they became somewhat of a symbol. A symbol for himself, for pain, for blood, for tyranny. So when Y/N walked around town the others couldn’t help but stare at these oh so similar horns that reminded them of a past best forgotten.

It made Y/N unsure of themself. It was a physical proof of their connection to their father. It was a double edged sword. In the past they loved that they inherited similar Hybrid traits like their father but now it was the reason why everyone seemed to avoid them.

The people wanted to move on but these damn horns pulled them back whenever their eyes fell on them. Y/N wasn’t stupid. They noticed this pretty fast.

Hell, if anything the funeral was the best proof for that. Bad tried his best to keep everyone under control and have a proper funeral but everyone was too busy celebrating. Talking about stealing his bones. Destroying a picture of him.

All while Y/N sat in the back. They had hoped they could use this funeral as a way to finally say goodbye, let go off the pain and regret but all this chaos just made them realize that the people will never properly accept them due to their relation with Schlatt.

Schlatt may have put all of the people through a horrible and unforgivable time but he effectively snuffed out any chance for Y/N to live a normal life between these people. This legacy of his for Y/N stung almost deeper than all the time he insulted them or flat out ignored them. It made them wonder if he ever realized what he did to his own child. Even if he did Y/N wasn’t sure he cared enough to do anything about it.

Y/N wrung their hands as they stood in front of Niki’s and Puffy’s flower shop. The money ready in their hands so this transaction could happen faster but even so they were too nervous to step in.

After some mental pep talk they finally slowly pushed the wooden door open. To their horror it begun creaking which made them wince. There was no way Niki hasn’t noticed them walking in seeing how she stood at the counter but still Y/N didn’t want to put more attention on themself than they absolutely had to.

“Oh.” Was all Niki said. She almost sounded disappointed. Y/N realized that she probably would have happily greeted anyone else coming into the shop but them.

Their eyes were glued to the ground. As they suddenly became overly aware of their horns, it felt like their weight increased immensely. Almost as if they tried to press down on Y/N. It made them feel as small and worthless as possible under the gaze of other people.

Y/N put the money on the counter as soon as they reached it “A full bouquet of purple hyacinth, please.”

“Alright.” Niki immediately moved away in order to make the bouquet ready. Though Y/N didn’t watch, they were now staring at the wood of the counter. Following he natural lines of it with their eyes as they patiently waited.

After a few minutes Niki placed the flowers in front of Y/N which pulled them out of their thoughts and made them look up. Niki forced a smile on but she still looked almost stern. Soft crevices building up as her eyebrows formed a painful frown.

“This is too much.” Niki begun pushing some of the money back towards Y/N but they shook their head.

“It’s a tip.”

Picking the flowers up into their arms they tried to put on a genuine smile before turning around to walk out of the shop.

Before they exited the shop they could hear Niki say a soft “Thanks.”

That was basically how every conversation with anyone went. Only short and the most necessary words. At first Y/N tried to start genuine conversation but they soon noticed how the others wouldn’t react. Just trying to get as fast as possible through this conversation. Their eyes always directed on Y/N’s horns.

After Y/N placed the flowers in front of Schlatt’s grave, like they did every week, they made their way towards the river.

Sometimes they would spend their time there since it’s a bit farther away from the city, so it was rare to see someone else hanging out there. Y/N mostly used this place to fish in peace. If they fished anywhere near the others their stares and frowns weighed too heavy down on them.

As they sat at the bank of the river, preparing their fishing line, their eyes fell unto their own reflection.

Dark circles adorned their eyes from their countless restless nights. Only falling asleep after hours of crying.

They couldn’t help but put the blame on their horns. Their god damn horns. Y/N hated them. Hated them so much. What would their life be like without them? Would the others still eye them so incredibly cautiously? Would they give Y/N a chance? After all Y/N was vocal about the fact that they didn’t support any of Schlatt’s decisions. For the longest time they tried to help the others through the hard times!

Yet, now as he was dead, they only showed Y/N the cold shoulder. If it wasn’t Y/N themself then the reason has to entirely lay on the horns. It was a too strong reminder of Schlatt.

A sob escaped Y/N’s lips. Tears now falling down their cheeks onto the green grass. No one was around so they didn’t mind crying loudly like this.

It was just so unfair. They did everything they could and yet all they reaped was disdain from the people and in a sick twist Y/N couldn’t even fault them for it. Whenever they saw their own reflection, their own eyes would be drawn to their dark horns after all.

Back in the day they were always happy looking at them but now they were the reason for Y/N being abandoned by everyone. They used to be somewhat good friends with Quackity due to his position as Schlatt’s Vice President and even he ignored them as soon as Schlatt was dead.

They had no one and at fault were these stupid, ugly horns.

Y/N let the fishing rod fall to the ground as they continued staring at their reflection. Trembling as they sobbed. Feeling so lonely with no way out.

What could they do? Put on a hat? There is no hat big enough to hide their horns. No, the horns had to go. There was no other way.

Shakily their hand snaked through the grass towards the water. Slowly submerging it into the ice cold liquid as the hand continued searching for something. As their hand landed on a stone that fit perfectly in their palm they held it in front of their face. Inspecting it.

As if to test it they softly tapped the stone against the tip of their horn. Their head moving with it. It felt weird. It didn’t hurt, of course, but it was still a weird feeling as the soft vibration traveled through it.

Letting out a shaky breath they reached back with their arm. The stone in an iron grip.

They hated this.

They hated everything about this but what could they possibly do? What could they do to get a proper chance at a normal conversation with Niki while buying flowers? A proper chance to talk with Quackity again, the man who was right there with them as all the bullshit happened.

All they wanted was a real chance to connect with people.

Y/N let out a sobbing scream as the stone collided with their horn, ripping off a good part of the tip.

It softly splashed into the water. Getting stuck between rocks, slowly rocking with the water stream.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore.” They stammered between sobs as they once again pulled their arm back in order to strike the horn again.

Again.

Again.

And again.

Their arm and hand hurt from constantly colliding with the hard material. A huge headache was now spreading through their head as they were sitting between broken pieces of what used to make up their horn.

But they weren’t done yet. The other side had to go as well.

With every new blow their whimpers would increase as well. At first a result of their hopelessness but it soon turned into an expression of pain. But they couldn’t give up. They had to keep going.

They had to get rid off this legacy Schlatt left them with.

After a particularly harsh blow they suddenly felt something warm slide down the side of their head.

Letting the stone fall down onto the ground they frantically stared at their own reflection in the water. It was blood.

Shocked they let out a shaky laugh. As much as it hurt and was horrible to look at, there weren’t any rest pieces of the horn resting on their head. So they picked the rock back up and with a blood curdling scream they slammed it into the other horn again, trying to get rid of the rest properly.

And it worked.

They were light headed from the pain, bleeding and crying but the horns were gone.

They were finally free of the curse.

“Finally.” They mumbled to themself only to finally take the time to rest and cry. They cried their god damn heart out. It was as if all the stress from the last couple of months finally jumped off their back.

Y/N’s back hit the soft ground as they slammed back, staring at the leaves up above them. Dancing with the wind and only occasionally giving away to the sun that was shining down on them.

Dark red blood staining the green grass. Their eyes growing heavier the more they continued to cry and hyperventilate. This pain is nothing. From this point on everything has to get better. It has to.

There was an audible gasp.

It wasn’t Y/N but they were too tired to look where it came from.

“Y/N? What the hell did you do? What happened? By Ender you are bleeding!” it was a male voice. Quackity? They weren’t too sure. Too delirious to tell.

Strong hands fell on their arms and pushed them up in a sitting position. Their head rolled back and they finally looked into Quackity’s pale face. So, they were right after all.

One of his arms went around their back in order to hold the crying Y/N upright as he took a better look at the wounds.

“I have to get you to someone who knows how to make healing pots. Maybe regeneration? Hell if I know. Did you do this? Your hands are covered in blood.” He was frantic.

Y/N shakily moved their hands up in order to grab Quackity’s hand that was holding their head in place and pushed it away from them, smearing his hand with their own blood “Don’t worry. I freed myself. The horns are gone. Now, you guys don’t have to be reminded of him anymore. We can all finally live in peace. No more reminders to him.”

Quackity’s eyes widened. His mouth opened up in an expression of pure shock. He hated that he could tell immediately what they meant exactly. After the war he did avoid them as much as he could. As Y/N said they, or rather their horns, reminded him too much of Schlatt and he needed time to heal but he never imagined this could lead to this.

He felt incredibly guilty. Realizing that he never really thought about what everyone’s behavior did to Y/N.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. We’ll find a way to help you.” His arm went under Y/N’s legs and with some straining he managed to get back up, holding them in his arms. Y/N leaned their head against Quackity’s chest, staining it with their blood in the process.

“See. It’s already working.” They whispered just before passing out.

“Fuck.” Quackity had to find someone who knew how to heal them as soon as possible. Jogging back into the city calling frantically out for help.

[septembersghost]

Oh are we being sad about Jimmy McGill again? Because the projecting like it’s a sport with Christy, “make them suffer, because you don’t mean all that much to them” kills my heart. And McKean adding on that if Chuck was being honest he’d say “my life can’t keep revolving around you”, but there’s a power in hurting Jimmy so much that he’d never come near the door again.

we are going to be sad about jimmy mcgill eternally around here 💔

the projection with her - joined with the scene of him breaking down in the car sobbing directly following it...wait, let me dig up a quote.

Bob: He’s looking at an image of himself from 10 years before, who’s still holding onto this little crazy dream in the back of his head of, “Well, I can always go to Chuck, and I can always try to fit in there, and he’ll help me.” And he’s just screaming at him, “No, you can’t. No, he won’t. No one will help you."

i'll never recover from that scene in the script:

"something just doesn't feel right. and it hits him.

was it sitting in judgment of young people beneath his brother's portrait? was it visiting his brother's grave? was it that chuck's approval is what he craved most in the world? or maybe it's just an accumulation of everything. somehow all of jimmy's confidence is gone. instead, here's anger's shadow twin. pain.

jimmy breaks down. he fights it. he doesn't understand it. he doesn't expect it. but the loss hits him like a freight train of anguish. tears are coming.

it's a full-blown ugly snot-dripping, heaving cry. welling up from within. agony like being cut open with a hot knife.

his brother is gone. burned to death. and jimmy is alone."

that last sentence - jimmy is alone. he's grieving everything there. not only the loss of his brother and the guilt over it that he can barely face, but the loss of his hopes, of what he thought he might be able to have in his life. what he says to that poor girl outside hhm is everything he feels about himself, the anger at being betrayed, at being looked down upon, the anguish of his mistakes, and his culpability, and being alone. we watched jimmy die incrementally for a long time, and that moment is a death. spiritually, he loses something there. he cries in an empty parking garage and we're his only witnesses (which is mirrored with our relationship with kim too! we're their greek chorus, their confidantes, loving them but unable to intervene.)

chuck used that power he had in shutting jimmy out but it is so destructive he cannot live with it. jimmy won't ever come near the door again, chuck burns the door to the ground. jimmy self-immolates symbolically but the crushing weight of that destruction is no less terrible, and jimmy has to live with it. you make them suffer. (because you feel like you're always suffering.) remember, you don't matter all that much to them. (unfortunately, they and their opinions matter so much to you.) the winner takes it all. (somehow you just keep losing.) it's posturing. it's lashing out because where can he even put that pain? what is he even trying to win? it feels so rigged against him that he tries to rewire it in his favor, but that never works. that only gets you tied up on your knees in the desert in front of an open grave, and more alone than you've ever been before.

[helliontherapscallion]

Heya. I know that requests are closed and I totally respect if you ignore this because of that. Two hours ago my dog had a seizure and my mom and I are currently in the parking lot of the emergency vet waiting for an update. I’m normally “the rock” for my family (if that makes sense) when shit hits the fan, so I feel like I need to hide my panic so my mom doesn’t worry more. I claimed to need to use the restroom (there’s those portable bathrooms outside) but I’m actually just having a panic attack on a stairway nearby. Most of my friends are asleep or offline right now so I don’t have anyone to help ground me. I know my mom would, but she’s already dealing with enough. Your writing has never failed to calm me down or cheer me up, so I was wondering if you could maybe make headcannons or something about how texts or a quick phone call with the SBI would go and how they would help a teen friend who’s going through this situation.

I don’t want you to feel pressured to do this because of guilt or anything of the sort. I understand that requests are closed, but I thought it was worth shooting my shot. So it’s completely okay if you ignore this.

(A/N): I wrote this as fast as I could, so there might be a few mistakes here and there. I really hope your dog gets better soon and nothing major is wrong with them, I’ll keep you guys in my thoughts. If you wanna talk about it, my DMs are always open love <3

Warnings: mentions of dog seizures, vets, panic attacks

Your pleasant day had gone so wrong so fast 

You had a blast hanging out with your neighbor and childhood friend Techno and his brothers

You spent most of the day at the park hanging out and generally goofing around

That was until you received a phone call from your mother 

She was in a panic telling you to come home, telling you that there was something wrong with your dog

You quickly excused yourself by telling them that your mom wanted you home as soon as possible suddenly and ran home in tears when you were out of their line of sight

When you were running you could feel yourself being filled with dread

Your chest felt tight as you fought off a panic attack, you needed to be strong for your mom

You were her rock

It was only natural to comfort her, she helped you so much with your anxiety and panic attacks even when facing her own troubles and stress

So you did your best to stifle your panic

When you got home, you could hear the loud sobbing of your mother, the faint sound of heavy breathing, and rustling 

The sight in the living room broke your heart

Your beloved pet was on the floor having a violent seizure while your mother was looking on in horror

You quickly took action, moving the stuff around the dog away from it

The only thing you could do was wait it out, so you made quick work of comforting your mother

After the seizure, your dog was looking around confusedly and whining slightly 

He seemed very tired 

Doing some research, you found out that it was best to let the dog rest after such a seizure because it takes a lot of energy out of it

The nearest emergency vet was about ten minutes away so you picked up your dog and escorted your mom to the car

You drove to the vet, your mom was too distraught to drive

The vet immediately took him in and got to work, leaving you and your mom in the car waiting for an update on the pooch

She had calmed down for the most part, but you could still feel the panic brewing in your chest threatening you with a full blown panic attack

You held it off so you could be strong for your mother, but you were spiraling and fast

When it got to the point where you couldn’t hold it back anymore, you quickly excused yourself to the portable bathrooms

You ducked into an abandoned staircase and the panic attack quickly reared its ugly head

Your breaths came out in short hyperventilations, your chest feeling like an elephant was sat on it

You couldn’t breathe

When it got to the point where you were dry heaving, you knew that this one wasn’t one that you could calm yourself down from

You had to call someone

Your mom was immediately out of question, even if she would gladly help you

In your point of view, she had enough to worry about

Your best bet would be to call Techno

You had extreme difficulty finding his contact because your vision was tunneled and blurred and your hands were shaking, but you eventually found it

He and his brothers should still be at the park

You felt guilty for calling, but you knew you needed help and Techno and his brothers were your best bet

“Hey (y/n), uh is everything alright with your mom? You left in a hurry.” Techno saw his twin and Tommy look at him in question. He wove them off.

He was only met with heavy breathing and sobbing from your end, which worried him to no end. He knew damn well about your anxiety and panic attacks, in fact he was the one that encouraged you to open up to your mom about it and ask her for therapy sessions. He’s calmed you down from enough panic attacks to know exactly what to do to help you.

“Hey you’re alright,” he cooed to you in a soft voice, “take deep breaths. Where are you?” His brothers looked at him in alarm. They also knew about your panic attacks as you were basically like another sibling to them. Wilbur grabbed the car keys and the three made a dash towards the family car. 

“Techno…” Your breathless and strained whimper on the other end made his heart break for you. “Where are you?”

When you told him that you were at the nearby emergency vet, he could feel his heart sink. Your dog was growing older and older and his health was declining. That dog was with you two through thick and thin when your family got him in middle school. You were seniors in high school now, so that dog was old for his breed. 

“We’re on our way, just hang on tight buddy. What’re five things you can see?”

After you got through the 5-4-3-2-1 technique, you still were in the midst of an intense panic attack and it worried Techno to no end. Usually you would be calmed down by now. Luckily, they arrived at the vet and quickly found a parking space. 

You could hear running coming towards you and looked up to see the brothers running towards you. Techno kneeled next to you and attempted to give you a smile, “we’re here. Is it okay for me to touch you?” At your nod, he grabbed your hand and put it on his chest. “Breathe with me, okay? Do you think you can do that for me?” You didn’t respond to him. Your hazy eyes darted to his face when he gently called your name and asked you again. You nodded making him smile at you, “good, we’re gonna do the 4-7-8 breathing technique,” he told you softly, “do you remember that? You breathe in through your nose for four seconds, hold it for seven, and exhale slowly through your mouth for eight. I’ll do it with you,” he took in a deep breath through his nose and you tried to follow suit but failed. Your breathing was just too erratic. 

“Tech, I-I can’t. I…”

“Hey you can do this, I know you can. Let’s try again, it takes time to even out breathing.” He said something to his brothers you couldn’t hear and they ran off. “Deep breath in,” he breathed in and you tried to follow him, “hold,” you held in the breath for about two seconds, “and out,” the breath ripped itself from your lungs. “You’re doing so good, I’m proud of you (y/n).”

The breathing continued for a bit with you getting nowhere before you heard the boys return. They had a couple of ice cold water bottles in their hands. Techno let go of your hand and grabbed one of them. He turned to you with an encouraging smile, “okay, we’re gonna try something new. I’m gonna have you touch this, is that alright?”

You reached out with a shaky hand to touch the plastic and jolted slightly at the temperature, a gasp ripping itself from your lungs and your eyes focusing slightly better than before. “I’m gonna run this up and down your arms, focus on the feeling of the temperature and the feeling.” As he ran the bottle down your arms, you could feel your heart rate drop at the temperature and your heated skin cooling down. Your breathing eventually evens itself out leaving you panting and shakily reaching up to wipe at your tears. 

“Are you good now?” You nodded and leaned against the brick wall tiredly. An open water bottle was put into your hands. You drank it and relished in the feeling of the ice cold drink slithering down your throat. It even heightened your senses. 

Wilbur sat on your other side and slung an arm over your shoulders, giving you a side hug. Tommy sat across from you while Techno sat on your other side holding your hand, lazily rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. 

“Do you wanna talk about what caused this?” You nodded and told the three everything that happened today and why you were at an emergency vet. 

After you finished telling them, Wilbur turned to give you a full hug. Your face was against his chest, faintly you noted that he smelled like grass with hints of earth. “He’s gonna be alright. He’s a fighter, do you remember when he ate that bee?” You nodded, remembering that even if he was swollen, his tail was still wagging and he was as happy as he could be. He recovered quickly from that, never once losing his excited and loving personality. You thought about how even in the car he was licking away your mother’s tears and nuzzling into your hand even though he was exhausted. 

“That dog has lived through so much health shit,” Tommy chimed in, “a seizure isn’t gonna take him out anytime soon.” 

They stayed there for a while with you giving you reassurances and reminiscing on stories of him until you felt better 

Eventually you had to go back to the car to wait with your mother, so they left to go to their house

Your dog was returned to you and your mom with the instruction to give him some medicine and come back for further examination

They didn’t find the cause for the seizure, which bothered you but relieved you that he was alright

When you got home, it was late at night and you honestly felt so drained 

The next day, your dog was still slightly tired but he was slowly returning to his playful nature as the day progressed

When you were laying in the grass in the backyard with him reading a book, you saw Techno poke his head over the fence and smile at you. “Hey, how’s (dog name)?”

You ran your fingers through his fur as he slept peacefully, “he’s doing better. The vet still doesn’t know what’s going on with him, but he’s still himself.”

“We’re having some cookies and lemonade over here, do you wanna come over? (Dog name) can come too.”

“You’re more than welcome, (y/n)!” You could hear Philza’s voice chime out from their backyard. You got up and (dog name) followed you into their backyard slowly. They were sitting at the picnic table that was there since you and Techno were kids. The paint had long since chipped and faded with each year that passed. Tommy loudly cheered while Wilbur and Philza gave you gentle smiles as you walked next to Technoblade. 

You sat next to Techno and a glass of lemonade was placed in front of you. (Dog name) laid at your feet and resumed his nap. You grabbed a cookie and took a bite, humming at the taste of your favorite flavor dancing across your tongue. 

Being with the family was something that always made your worries fade away into nothingness and get replaced by lighthearted and refreshing happiness. You spent most of the day laughing with the family and petting your sleeping dog. Everything was going to be okay with them.

[yoonpobs]

hello 😊

may I request a drabble with jungkook and seokjin and reader with some angst and a bit of smut.. seokjin is her boyfriend and jungkook is jin's best friend and also a close friend of hers his also in love with her and he doesn't hid the fact that he has feelings for her so when y/n and seokjin get into a fight he seeing it as an opportunity to finally see if she wants to be with him

I hope that makes sense

thank you ❤️

pairing: fwb!seokjin x oc, roommate!jungkook x oc

genre: smut, angst

warnings: toxic/unhealthy fwb relationships, jin is a douche, jk is mean, oc needs a break

words: 2, 775

note: WHY DO I ALWAYS GIVE MY OCS A HARD TIME IM SORRY & i took a bit of a turn w this request so i apologise for any inaccuracies 😢

There is a way that Seokjin treats you in bed that makes you feel whole yet like you’re losing bits and pieces of yourself to him every time. He’s never selfish—God no. He was generous to you, much more generous than real lovers you had in the past that you shared kisses that were full of passion between the sheets. The passion you felt with Seokjin was undeniable and almost painful. You hated the word almost, it was like wasted potential on a possibility that could’ve come true but fell too short to be real. And every time you thought of that word you thought of Seokjin.

He was there. He always was. That was the conflicting part. Between always and almost, he was always with you but never almost in love with you the way you were with him. It was pathetic, really. How a woman held such high regard for turned into someone unrecognisable between the sheets and a few kisses from a man who didn’t even love her back. You swore to yourself you’d never let this happen. But here it was—happening.

He fucks into you at a brutal pace that could almost cloud your stressful thoughts. He never misses, his hips angled upwards to hit you in places that only lovers should feel. You moan, scream and cry—for reasons more than how good he makes you feel.

“Ffffffuck, J-Jin!” Your head is pressed against the mattress but you can still see your delirious expression through the mirror in front of your bed. He looks angelic with the way his forehead scrunches in utmost concentration in making you feel good, but the way he snaps his hips harder into your own was demonic. He usually left bruises and it felt nice to have the remainder of what he did to you—but stung at the same time with the way that he marked you as if you were his.

You weren’t.

“Like that, angel?” He leans down to whisper against your cheek and all you can muster is the blubber of a response.

The grip on your hips is rough, but you like it that way. He slips a hand in between your spread legs and rubs your clit in figure-eights that has you whining at a decibel louder than the ones before. Jin notices this and starts fucking into you faster if that was even humanely possible.

“Look at you—so fucked out. You’re mine to ruin, right?”  He taunts you, dragging a hand up your body with the wetness as the answer to his question. He tugs on your chin to direct your face to look at your reflection clearly, and you see your lips swollen, eyes blown out and hair tousled.

“Y-Yes—fuck—yours, J-Jin!” You’re panting, and you feel your coil unravel at a rapid pace, and Jin groans from behind you when he feels your cunt spasm around his cock ferociously.

“If you’re mine then don’t cum just yet,” He sounds too collected for a man who’s been fucking his cock deep into you for the past hour, but you could never read Seokjin. Even when you had his dick all the way down your throat, the most you’d get is a groan—and that was more than you could ever muster up from him.

“Jin—Jin—p-ple-please! I need to—ah—cum—!” Your words were cut short when he reached his hand around your throat to squeeze it softly. But you moan louder, and your pussy responds by getting tighter around his cock.

He chuckles in a low timbre from behind you, hips slightly stuttering—and you know this is a sign of his release coming soon—and you push your hips back to meet his pace, causing him to hiss at the sudden action.

Jin stares at you from the mirror for the night, and you release he always has a similar expression when he’s approaching his high. Something cold, detached yet melancholic. You could never read him enough, because by the time you think you’ve got an answer—he demands.

“Cum.”

And you do. Hard. Spots of white taint your vision like an angel trying to cleanse you from your sins. But the way you blackout for a second shows you no mercy and reminds you that Jin was the devil and you were his plaything.

“Ffffffff—” You can barely breathe. But it’s a pleasurable feeling—the only thing suffocating is the aftermath. When he leaves, barely sparing you another glance.

And you feel him cum with you, deep spurts of white painting your pussy as you feel full of him. Like he’s here to stay. He pushes you back onto him and revels in your limp body. You allow him.

When he pulls out, you’re exhausted. And you can tell he is, too. He’s heaving, and he helps you onto your back by placing a pillow under your back and head. He’s caring, but only out of decency, not commitment. You’re tired too, but it’s the type of tired that settles into your bones. The tired you only feel after sex with Seokjin because you know you’re sleeping alone.

He’s meticulous and quick, just like he always is. It’s the same routine that you’re unfortunately intimate with. He searches for his pants, slips on his shirt and grabs his keys and wallet. They’re always on your desk; never anywhere else because that implies that the routine was breaking. Jin would never break that—not with you, at least.

“Won’t you stay?”

Your voice is soft as it breaks through the atmosphere. You seem to catch him off guard for a moment but he’s tedious at not showing anything more than he needs to. He casts you a glance over his shoulders and you feel oddly vulnerable with your naked body, a blanket draped over your curves in a way that should be enticing. But you knew it wasn’t—because he only wanted you in the heat of the moment and every second after that is a reminder of who you were.

“Since when did we do that?” He snorts, quickly carding a hand through his hair while he checks his appearance.

And as always, he looks kept together while you were left ruined at the expense of his hands.

“We don’t,” you say softly, “I just thought …” your voice wavers when he raises a brow at you, causing you to hesitate in your words but you’re oddly determined today. Maybe you’re tired of the heartache, “It’s late.”

He looks at you for a long second before rolling his eyes and stalking you. Your heart clenches in expectation, but all Jin does is reach a hand around your chin when he leans down to bring your face inches away from his. Your eyes are hopeful when you look into his. The gentle orbs that peer back could fool anyone into thinking that he was tender and loving—but you’ve never seen that side of him. You only saw him when he was overtaken by desire, hard and tall when he fucks into you like a rag doll while he smirks at your slacked body.

“That’s cute,” he grins widely as your breath hitches, “But that’s not what we do, sweetheart.”

The term of endearment is anything but endearing. It’s mocking and it hurts.

“I …” You croak.

Then he releases you, finger lightly pushing your chin so that you’d fall back onto your palms. He checks his phone with a casual grin, likely being called over to another party—or anywhere else that wasn’t your home. Your heart shatters all over again, but you’re used to it. The glass that scrapes your skin is stained with blood but you’re a sucker for the pain.

“I’ll call you,” is all that he leaves you with before he’s helping himself out of your room, leaving the door open in his way. He doesn’t care for formalities, not even when you see him bump into your roommate on the way out. He gives a wave of acknowledgement, but nothing else—because who would introduce their fuck-buddy to their roommate?

But Jungkook knew. Of course, he did. You weren’t subtly because you hoped if someone knew then it’d be a little more real for you to hold onto. That ugly seedling of hope that blooms in your chest every time Jungkook would catch a glimpse of Jin leaving your room makes you wonder what it’d feel like if you could have him over for dinners, for movie nights—for it all.

But you can only do that; wonder.

The door creaks ever so slightly and only do you realise that the tears return. You automatically know who it is, because it’s the same routine. It’s the same song that you hear each time he comes over and it’s on an unhealthy loop of replays when you feel your bed dip.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” Jungkook whispers.

You don’t care that you’re bare. Jungkook’s seen you in worse states. Drunk off your mind, on the verge of collapse when you’d hope the alcohol would take the pain away. He’s a good roommate—but he really needs to mind his own business.

“Stop.”

“He’s a fucking asshole,” he sneers, grabbing your arm so that you’d look at him.

He hates that your eyes are red, and he hates that the bruises on your neck and chest match. The room smells heady of sex, and Jungkook has to endure the same pain you feel but tenfold when he watches your lips wobble the longer he stares.

“I love him, Jungkook.” You sob, leaning into his chest when he sighs for the umpteenth time, hearing the same thing leave your lips. It never got easier.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Jungkook spits, the thought of Jin returning only making his fists ball tighter when they rest around your bare shoulders, “Stop this. Stop going back to him.”

“Why doesn’t he want me?” You cry, hot tears wetting the fabric of Jungkook’s shirt.

“Why do you want him?” Jungkook returns, voice raising when he pulls back.

His eyes are blazing, the anger in his chest is only exponentially increasing the more he sees you heave. The tears that leave your eyes makes his heart clench and makes him want to chase that son of a bitch down and make sure he’d never see you again. But Jungkook finds himself staying still because you were here. In his arms—even if it you weren’t his.

But he’s still angry, and his mouth runs hotter than ever.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself, huh?” Jungkook grabs your shoulders, forcing you to stare at him with swollen eyes, “You know he’s just using you! All he does is fuck you and leave. He doesn’t love you—and he will never love you so stop doing this to yourself and leave him before you continue hurting yourself like this!”

“Fuck you,” you spit through the tears.

“Because I’m telling you the truth?” He sneers, “Because I’m telling you things that you already know but are too damn scared to do?”

“Shut the fuck up, Jungkook!” You scream, pushing at his chest. But he grabs your wrist and levels you with a menacing stare while his own chest rises and falls with every breath of air he takes.

Your anger is muffled by your tears, and it’s a mixture of pain and rage when you peer at him. Jungkook’s so tired. He’s tired of feeling this way—of seeing you destroy yourself when you deserved more than anything anyone could ever offer.

“No,” Jungkook deadpans, “You’re going to listen to me and you’re doing this now.”

“I’m not doing anything! So let—me—go—!” You thrash in his hold, but Jungkook only tightens his grip around your wrists in a warning.

“Delete his number.”

“I can’t do that,” you say weakly.

“You can and you fucking will,” Jungkook says vehemently.

And as a point, he reaches for your phone that rests on your nightstand; and before you can process what he’s doing—he’s thumbing through your contacts and hovering over the one person you always seem to go back to.

“Jungkook, no—!”

But the damage is done, and Jungkook presses delete. For some reason, you feel absolutely nothing. But you’re angry, you’re angry because Jungkook’s always the person you see when it hurts the most and even through his words—all you want to do is scream.

“I hate you so much!” You scream.

Jungkook chuckles, dark and humourless as he runs his fingers through his hair. He stares to the side, jaw clenching in annoyance when you continue to cry and sob. He wanted to tell you to shut up—to stop crying over someone who’s probably already fucking the next breathing thing in his direction. But he doesn’t, because Jungkook’s impulsive. More so than he’d like.

“Yeah?” Jungkook scoffs, “You hate me? The person who’s trying his best to protect you?”

“You’re not protecting me!” You snap.

He ignores your indignant tone before levelling you with a blank stare that intimidates you more than you’ve ever been of Jungkook. He’s fuming, but it’s a calm before the storm that rattles your heartbeat against your chest. He looks livid.

“You hate me and love that fucking idiot?” He snarls, inching closer as you back away.

The growl in Jungkook’s chest is unheard of because more often than not he was level-headed. An annoying prick but calm and collected at most. This is the first time you’ve seen Jungkook look anything less than composed—and it was because of you.

“I can’t—I can’t control my feelings,” you say sourly.

He snorts, fully sarcastic and intentionally mocking when he looks at you with a hooded gaze.

“Isn’t that the fucking truth.”

“What the hell are you saying,” you narrow your eyes at him.

Oddly, you’re having this conversation when your tits are out—and only then do you consciously wrap your arms around your chest. His eyes immediately dart down to your subtle action and he rolls his eyes. You want to cuss him out, but Jungkook laughs. He laughs as if there was something funny—and you’re left even more confused.

“I’m saying that I fucking hate you,” he spits, face inching immensely closer as your eyes widen at his venomous tone.

“What—?”

“I hate you so much because you’re acting like an idiot chasing after someone who doesn’t give two shits about you.”

Your eyes well up with more tears as his words of bullets ricochet off your ears and settling deep in your heart. The harsh reminder makes your lips wobble and shoulders shake, but Jungkook doesn’t care.

“I hate you because you do this to yourself when you deserve so much more than what that prick can offer,” Jungkook says vehemently, hand wrapping around your chin to force your face to look at him.

Even now, when your eyes are puffy and red-rimmed, you look devastatingly beautiful.

“I hate you because I’ve been here this entire time and all you do is look for him,” Jungkook says softly, but his tone is still harsh, a sharp breath that erupts in his chest as well as yours as your eyes widen.

“Jungkook—”

“I’ve been here,” he croaks, and when you look into his eyes only do you see the pain, “I hate you so much because all I can do is love you.”

Your eyes widen as you gape at him, and you’re taking seconds too long to respond but your brain is processing the turn in events. But when you realise what he says, Jungkook’s pulling away. His hands retract themselves as if he’s been burnt and you were the flame responsible for it.

“Jungkook, wait—” you reach out. You were so confused, but you didn’t like the fact that he was leaving too.

“Don’t,” his eyes flutter shut in defeat, lips pursed, “Don’t touch me right now.”

Your face crumbles as you tug the blanket around your body until you’re resting on your knees and searching for his face.

“Can we talk—?”

“No,” he glares at you, and somehow—the look he gives you is far more painful than every moment Jin has ever walked out on you. Jungkook delivers the final blow when he snatches his hand away from yours completely.

“Figure your shit out because I’m done.”

And like always, you were left alone in your room—with more to think about than ever.

[scoutdoesstuff]

day seven (holy shitsnacks i can't believe i've been doing this for a week already lmao) of my tea based prompt challenge. for new folks, i've been writing a couple hundred words based off of the name of the daily tea samples i've gotten as part of a month-long subscription box. today's tea was called breathe well.

Castiel has a nightmare, but he's not alone.

The nightmares are new.

Well, a lot of things are new to Castiel these days, but the nightmare are especially new. The jumbled memories and sensations are awful in their own way, but the real horror is losing complete control of his faculties. He never had to sleep as an angel. He hates it as a human. He claws his way out of the nightmare. It’s a mixture of memory and fear tonight— he’s back on Naomi’s table again but Dean and Sam are helping her somehow. He’s lived that experience far too many times. He has no interest in reliving it with added, special bonus horror brought on by the worries of his subconscious.

He wakes up entombed in his own bedcovers and in complete darkness. This is another thing Castiel has had to adjust to, and he has done so poorly. How can humans live with being able to just see, touch, and interact with only the things directly in front of them? How can they live with such silence? It’s just him, alone, without siblings or space or time to touch him. Castiel has felt lost before but being wholly adrift, trapped in a body that is both his and not, frequently feels like torture. He’s a thousand foot tall being trapped inside of a six foot tall man, who both feels entirely too much and feels like his eyes, ears, mouth, and nose have been stuffed with cotton so that he only gets a fourth of the sensory feedback that he should be getting. He sits, permanently on a knife’s edge, with both too much and too little.

Castiel usually tries to keep himself from looking too closely at how claustrophobic his new world feels, but it can be difficult at night. Dean tells him this is a common problem for humans, whether they used to be angels or not. Castiel still hates it, regardless of how normal or not it may be. And tonight, he cannot get the thoughts of too much, not enough, and why is this so awful to stop.

With an already stressed nervous system, Castiel feels himself tumble into a full blown panic upon fully waking.

He can feel his breathing become labored and his mind become fuzzy, but he cannot stop it. His sheets begin to feel like a vice. He cannot pull them off and every way he moves seems to further tighten their grip around his body. He must simply ride out these feelings until his body exhausts itself, Castiel knows, but he doesn’t want to.

A light clicks on nearby. Castiel shies away from it. He can see now, but his vision is blurry. He’s crying. Frustration adds to the miasma of ugly feelings in Castiel’s chest. He tries to free a trapped hand to smear his tears away from his eyes, but before he can someone else catches his face in their hands.

Warm, calloused palms cup his cheeks. Thumbs brush the tears from his eyes and then gently stroke the tender skin under his eyes. Castiel fights a battle against a sob in his throat, loses it, and then tries to bury his face in one of those hands.

“ — alright, baby. I promise,” someone is saying, voice sleep rough but honeyed with a southern-leaning accent, “you’re safe. You’re with me. Sweetheart, can you hear me at all?”

It’s Dean, Castiel’s mind finally supplies. His not alone. He’s with Dean, wrapped up in their nest of a bed where they’d fallen asleep earlier than evening. Dean had been the “big spoon” tonight. Castiel had clasped Dean’s hand to his chest and drifted off almost instantaneously, held and warm and happy.

Dean’s voice is taking on a frightened tone. “C’mon, sweetheart, can you say something back to me? Cas?”

Castiel manages to free one of his hands and wraps it around one of Dean’s. He opens his eyes to find Dean’s face not far from his, brows crunched together in worry. His eyes are scanning Castiel’s face over and over again. One of his hands is now clinging to Castiel’s. The other is still gently cupping Castiel’s face.

“Love you,” Castiel manages to get out after what feels like an eternity of silence. Dean’s eyes snap to Castiel’s.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean whispers, relief making his voice somehow hoarser. He presses a quick, dry kiss to Castiel’s lips. When he pulls back, Castiel tries to chase him. Dean takes the hint and doesn’t go far, pressing another kiss to Castiel’s forehead. “I love you too, darlin’.”

Castiel clutches Dean’s hand tighter, burrows himself into Dean’s chest. Dean wraps his free hand around Castiel’s back and begins to hum softly in his ear. Castiel knows the tune, it’s one of Dean’s favorites by that band that named themselves after a subcategory of insect.

As harrowing as the adjustment has been, and likely will continue to be, Castiel cannot regret it. As miserable as the smallness and the one dimensionality of human perception is, Castiel could never feel love like this as an angel. He couldn’t feel with such acuteness at all as angel, come to think of it. Even at his most devout, most fervent in his belief in the holy cause, those feelings couldn’t remotely compare the love in his heart in this moment, or his fear and rage and panic in the moment before.

He’ll always miss being grand and tall and able to move about space and time at will, but the whole body feeling of joy while holding Dean’s hand in his almost always makes up for it. (Or the joy of holding other body parts of Dean’s, come to think of it. Castiel really wasn’t prepared for just how good sex was going to be).

“Where ya goin’, angel?” Dean says, nuzzling the top of Castiel’s head.

“Nowhere,” Castiel says, “or at least nowhere without you.”

Dean gives a wet huff of laughter and squeezes Castiel closer. Castiel relaxes into the embrace and simply lets himself breathe.

[pastel9girlbunny000die]

The monster trio Destroying their s/o Nest !

{The idea of the trio destroying their omega's nest was really funny to begin with}

Warning: None, well there is slightly little bit if bad language

Monkey D.Luffy 🍖🍖🍖

🍖Luffy didn't know what happened

🍖One minute he was care freely running around than the next he tripped landing on a pile of clothes blankets and stuff animals .ect

🍖In all honesty he didn't think much of it, I mean it just clothes...

🍖But No!

🍖This dumb meat brain picks it up stuffing the items into whatever drawer or closet he could find, thinking he did a good "clean up" duty.

🍖And just runs off to continue playing with Usopp and Chopper.

🍖Later on when you return with Sanji from the local market that the Sunny is currently dock at.

🍖"Thanks for the help, (Y/n)." Sanji said as he and placed down the groceries in the kitchen.

🍖"No prop." You smiled leaving the cook to his work, the blond gleefully started cooking for dinner knowing he has a lot to do.

🍖With Luffy on the crew he won't just be feeding one person more like an army in fact.

🍖(Y/n) left as they walked back on deck feeling the warm air and relaxing atmosphere around them it was all quite but all good things must come to an end.

🍖"Hey, (Y/n) check out this beetle it's as big as my hand look look!" (Y/n) turned seeing their captain, (Y/n)'s alpha their bonded mate.

🍖Luffy happily ran to his omega wanting to show them the bug which they flinch at, (Y/n) despised insects just as much as Nami and Sanji does so naturally they back up a little away from their lovingly childish alpha

🍖"No thanks Luffy but I'm going to take a nap."

🍖"Yeah! Than I'll take one with you." Luffy jumped around excited to spend time with his s/o.

🍖Placing the bug down rush after his omega following them down to a specific room below deck.

🍖When (Y/n) open the door they seemed a little confused thinking they must have walked into the wrong room.

🍖No this is the right room

🍖What happened ? It's all gone!!!

🍖An omega's Nest usually a place where an omega can be comfortable, whether if they are in heat or just having a bad day.

🍖But where's (Y/n) nest?

🍖"Luffy where i-is my n-nest?" (Y/n) questioned pointing at the empty room infront of them tears building up into their eyes body trembling as they point to the "missing nest" looking over their shoulder at Luffy who seemed confused.

🍖The alpha could scent that their omega is in distress and anger.

🍖"Nest? Huh?... All that was in there was a blankets and pillows what nest?"

🍖"Luffy what happened to my nest?" At this point Luffy's s/o was in full blown tears sobbing and whimpering.

🍖"(Y/n) I don't know what you're saying? All I did was clean up you know being grown up like you said." Luffy laughed being clueless like always.

🍖"Luffy you idiot!" (Y/n) yelled slamming the door in Luffy's face.

🍖Don't worry he didn't stay clueless forever, Nami saw the he thing go down.

🍖Gave him a hell of a beating.

🍖Afterwards explains to him what he did wrong in the most simplest way possible to screw it through his thick head.

🍖(Y/n) with a tears stain face and a sad look quietly took out blankets and pillows where every they could find some scenting a few stuff animals, working on repairing thier nest little whimpers leaving thier lips everytime the fortress flops apart.

🍖Soft knocks traveled from the door catching (Y/n) attention.

🍖"hey~" Luffy's head peaks through a purr leaving his mouth as he tries to lighten the situation and calming his omega.

🍖"What?" (Y/n) says wanting to sound mean but it came off more of a sob.

🍖"Sorry. My omega." Luffy placed his strawhat onto (Y/n) head it was filled with his scent calming down the sad omega, the hat (Y/n) wore many times before Luffy wouldn't easily let others wear it, other than those who he trusts with all his heart.

🍖"I'll help you." Luffy sat down on his knees next to (Y/n) taking up a few pillows into his arrms

🍖"Thank, you Alpha." (Y/n) wrapped their arms around Luffy's neck taking in a long breath of his scent.

🍖"Can, can you also scent a few things, please."

🍖"Yeah!"😃

🍖"And I'll start with you!"😚

🍖"W-what?!"😳

Roronoa Zoro ⚔⚔⚔

⚔Yes Zoro knows what nesting is

⚔The only way he knew was when his s/o direactly came up to him and told him.

⚔He didn't mind he secretly thought it was cute, rare to see such a adorable omega, his omega crawled into their nest looking all comfy and happy.

⚔But over time he started missing clothes, he just shrugged it off, not really caring cause he knows you have been sneaking some of his stuff into your nest.

⚔Like every omega they want their alpha's scent near them for comfort emotional times or during heat.

⚔He couldn't care less

⚔but he'd still scent anything you ask, he would even do it when you don't ask.

⚔But there's one thing (Y/n) wanted more than any piece of Zoro's clothes in their nest

⚔Zoro's haramaki.

⚔It was hard for them too just go up and ask him for it, he'd say no cause he usually carrying his swords with it.

⚔So all they could do was steal it when the marimo was in the shower.

⚔It was successful!

⚔The green haired swordsman, Alpha didn't noticed it was missing till he tried placing his swords in thier place but instead dropped to the ground though to the missing Haramaki that was not around his hips.

⚔At first he thought he must have misplaced it.

⚔He even ended up looking in the laundry room but no luck.

⚔Until his omega that means the whole world to him came to his mind, you must have seen it right?

⚔At first you denied it, "No. I haven't? Last I saw it you were wearing it." (Y/n) try their best to keep Zoro's off their tail and laying to your alpha feels like your betraying them.

⚔Somehow he ended up looking in your nest, he felt bad about invading your privacy but he has to have his Haramaki back he just gotta.

⚔But it was also weird that (Y/n) stop asking for stuff to be scent or being scented themselves.

⚔Zoro dig through the tent like nest pulling out blankets and throwing pillows out.

⚔Found It! His precious Haramaki.

⚔"Why would (Y/n) lay?" Zoro mumble to himself putting the Piece of clothes back on.

⚔"No! Stop destroying my nest!" A voice yelled at the alpha from behind as he was tackled to the ground.

⚔"Why did you had to find it this soon, I was going to give it back later." (Y/n) pouted giving Zoro puppy eyes tugging at the material around his hips.

⚔"So you took it, you know it's not good lay to you alpha, little omega~" Zoro smirked in quick movement pinning his omega down beneath him sitting in between their legs.

⚔"Bad Boy/Girl~ but why my Haramaki?" Zoro purred sending shivers down your spine the omega in you turned on by your dominant alpha, just hovering over you.

⚔"I wanted something... you use everyday."

⚔"mmmh~"

⚔"Well I'm going to have to punish you, I skipped too many training and napping sessions looking for this."

⚔"Wait, alpha-" (Y/n) was shut up before they could finish as the alpha above took them right there and then...

⚔Next thing you took was his bandana😏

Sanji Vinsmoke 🚬🚬🚬

🚬Sanji loves your nest, his in there everytime when you allowed it made him feel so special. Because he is. He is your alpha mate duh. especially when you have your heat😏

🚬Butttttttt now his currently in a huge crisis.

🚬how did it happen... well...

🚬A while ago he finished making some delicious tropical drinks for the ladies and yours is made the best of the best.

🚬He made it exactly to your liking with every thought of you in mind, it made his alpha very pleasing to serve you.

🚬Despite what genders his omega is or how they met, he'd be on his hands and knees giving you all he has.

🚬He happily bouncing into the room where his omega's nest was built.

🚬"Look what daddy brought you my pup~" Sanji sang kneeling down to the nest opening the cover looking in the nest like tent.

🚬His smile dropped when his s/o was nowhere to be seen, thinking you must have left for the bathroom or something?

🚬"Oh well."

🚬Suddenly the ship rocked, a wave or one of Luffy's stupid doings.

🚬.... That was the least of his worries...

🚬The drink slipped from the tray spilling into (Y/n) nest!!!!

🚬😱!!!!!!!!!!!😱

🚬This was the end of him.

🚬That bring us to how he ended up in this situation to begin with.

🚬"No no no no no no !!!" Sanji panic pulling out the wet blankets and pillows with some of his shirts or pants.

🚬You just recently gave him free access at anytime to be in your nest, after this your not going to near your nest in his life time again

🚬He broke your trusts

🚬He shattered his nesting fantasies

🚬Its all down the drain

🚬is what he currently felt like while pulling all the wet stuff out.

🚬At some point the blanket he was pulling got stuck so he pulled harder bringing down the hole nest came crashing down.

🚬Now his fucked.

🚬Sinking to his weak knees as he tears drip from his eyes he got to an ugly sobbing, and his scent change to a gloomy disgusting scent one that he doubt you would want to be scented in.

🚬And worst of all fear of you declining a bond between the two of you.

🚬...

🚬(Y/n) opened the door immediately catching the sight of their alpha on the floor kneeling infront of the door his forehead though the floor boards.

🚬"Daddy, what happened?" You looked at your destroyed nest behind him and his scent made you hold you nose shutting it tightly for the first time, glance back down at the blonde, worried and confused.

🚬"Icameintogiveyoudrinkthanshipmovelostbalancedroppeddrinkonnesttridetockeanbutmadeitworstpleasedontleavemeilldoanything!!!!!!"

🚬"Huh?" (Y/n) titled their head to the side not getting anything he said, kneeling down on front of him, "Its okay, I can just fix the nest stop crying, is okay alpha." (Y/n) purred letting off a relaxing soft and sweet scent as he cooled him down his nerves stopped sky rocketing.

🚬Rubbing his back helped and your soft caring loving words lighten his atmosphere and his hopes.

🚬"Pup~"

🚬"Yes, daddy?~"

🚬"Sorry."

🚬"it's okay I'd never hate you for something that wasn't your fault, is fine your honest with me and tried to make it all better."

🚬"My pup~" Sanji yelled his mood completely turned squeezing the daylights out of his s/o

🚬"But you not allow in my nest for the next 2 weeks."

🚬*Sanji Instantly cried again*😭😭😭

[suicidalslasher]

𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚 - 𝒋𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒅.

the one where Jason is a jealous  dumbass,  that’s it -  that’s the plot.

WARNINGS: This is a Jason Dean fanfiction, therefore, you all know what you’re signing up for. I don’t really got to tell you, twice. 

  Possessive!Jason. Jealous!Jason. Female reader, reader’s pronouns are she/her. 

Slight mention and scene of choking but it’s not graphic. A hint of NSFW but it isn’t shown. Also there’s a few mentions of blood but it’s not a lot, either. I wanted to tag that nonetheless, too. Also, Jason actually shows emotions in this which is out of character but in MY world, Jason Dean is a simp to his girlfriend and would rather die than to live a day without her. 

I may add the smut scene later on, who knows?  Not me. This is my first imagine of Jason Dean so be nice to me or I’ll be like Ghostface and gut you like a fish (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*  

If you enjoyed this story, don’t hesitate to follow and or leave me a request, as they are open. If you also like my work and or have a dollar to  spare, as it will help me write and create more stories like this one, my ko-fi is here. 

Thank you and enjoy :)

White knuckles from clenching his fists too hard, and gritted teeth from effort to remain silent, Jason bit back his words, knowing they'd be harsh and full of  poison.  He's fully aware of how much damage he'd likely cause if he spit out the words that were on his mind.  He was going to break, and he knew it wasn't going to take too long until he did so.   Yet, as the female continued to talk beside him as an attempt to grab his attention, the feelings only grew larger and he dug his teeth into his bottom lip, the metallic taste of blood trickling on the tip of his tongue.   Jason swallowed that anger when it was nothing but a fire-seed and he had forgotten to drink something cold right after, in an effort to calm himself down;   therefore, it grew in his stomach until it came out hotter than any dragon breath.... all those negative emotions that swam in his veins  and crept in the pit of his stomach exploded and all the feelings he desperately was trying to hold back came burning on the one person he loved the most, his girlfriend, (Y/N). His face was red with suppressed rage and when (Y/N)  set her finger on his shoulder, he swung around and mentally snapped, his nostrils flared  and his pupils were blown and dilated  as he snarled like an  out of control beast.  "I hate him more than I do the Heathers," spat Jason,  as he pushes his girlfriend up against the wall, the framed photograph that hung there now remained at the bottom of their feet, shattered into hundreds of pieces.   "I don't like you hanging out with him." Jason growled, his fingers curling around (Y/N)'s throat, feeling her pulse begin to quicken  as he presses his weight down onto the palm of his hand.  "Do you know how much it hurts to see you look at someone else? To see you smile at someone else? It makes me feel sick.”     "Jason... Let go of me. Let's talk. Please? You don't even know him... if you'll let me speak and tell you-"  "You love him, don't you?" Jason hisses, the sentence feeling like a slap to (Y/N)'s face as he throws out this statement.... it was a lie, that's what it was and (Y/N) desperately was trying to tell him how wrong he was but he just wouldn't listen, the arrogant  son of a bitch never listens!    "You love him more than you do me."  Before either teen realizes it, Jason is letting go of (Y/N)'s throat only for him to raise his hand up  into a fist and he's punching the only other framed photograph that was beside her, the glass shattering behind his knuckles. (Y/N) screams in horror and although she's pissed off, she - obviously - still cares about her boyfriend.  "Jason!" (Y/N) yelps, tears falling down her cheeks as she rushes to her boyfriend's side, examining his hand which was now dripping with crimson, a few drops of red landing on the now broken picture frame and the wooden floor beneath their feet. "C'mon, I've got a first aid kit around here, somewhere-" "You love him." Jason repeats, ignoring the fact she was trying to help him.  He pulls his hand back, dropping his arm by his side, not  even caring about the way the blood was falling from his knuckles and staining both his pants and shirt. The anger and venom that once coated his words were now replaced with a hint of sadness and heartbreak.  She's never seen him this upset before.... regardless, if he'd just calm down, she could explain.  "Jason, baby-" His voice broke as he looked up at (Y/N), sad eyes meeting with her confused but angry gaze. On top of those, she was sad, too.   "Go then. Go to him, if you prefer to spend your day with him rather than your own boyfriend. You don't care about me, I'm not sure you ever did."  (Y/N) sighed, shaking her head as a few more tears spill past her cheeks. "Fine. If you won't let me talk and tell you my side of the story, I'm leaving. If that's what you think and if you truly think I don't give a fuck about you, I'm gone." (Y/N) mutters, letting go of his hand as she walks back over to the door, grabbing her keys and wallet before storming out the door, slamming the door shut as she leaves.

A week passes. 

Another week following behind that.  

(Y/N) didn't bother to call or show up.

He really fucked things up, didn't he? 

Jason wasn't huge on  showcasing his feelings and putting them out on display for people to see. The only emotion he was so used to showing was anger and madness. Nothing but chaos was built and stored away in Jason Dean's body, too.  All three traits made him who he was.  People may not like him because of his temper and all the flaws he had but it was him, and he didn't plan on changing for anybody.  Expect.... of course, (Y/N). As he sat alone in his bedroom, he felt depressed. He never cried, either.  Couldn't tell you the last time he ever did cry. Did he even cry as a baby? Jason wasn't sure, nor could he tell you.  

But.... Jason cried. For the first time in forever, he broke down and cried. Couldn't help himself.  By the end of the night, there were no tears left to cry. He had run dry. His body couldn't form any more tears.   Feeling both mentally and physically drained, Jason reached over and grabbed his phone off of the night stand, dialing the one number he actually had memorized.  All he got was her voicemail.   "This is (Y/N). I can't answer the phone at the moment but  I will get back to you as soon as I can! Bye!"  Jason groaned and he was half-tempted to throw the phone out of his window but he decided against it as he left a voicemail, regardless. He wanted (Y/N) to know he was sorry. 

He wanted (Y/N) to know that despite their arguments (which weren't constant but when they did fight, it was mainly due to Jason's behavior rather than her own) he loves her.  

 (Y/N) coming into his life was the only good thing the world had offered and gave him. He wasn't going to give her up. Not that easily, anyways.  "Hey." He had forgotten he was leaving a voicemail, having zoned out for a second, the beep brought him back out of his thoughts.  "It's me. Uh.... Jason.... your boyfriend? I hope so, anyway, still.... But, yeah, it's Jason.... Jason Dean.... ha, uh.... you knew that.

  Listen, I'm sorry for everything,  (Y/N).  I'm sorry for having that temper tantrum and taking out my frustration and jealousy on you. I'm not good at this type of stuff, not so great with showing my emotions in person either, so....

 I'll talk here,  hopefully the message goes all the way through. I don't want to say this in person, again, I'm not good at the whole unraveling my feelings, especially not face to face.

 But... (Y/N), baby, you're the best thing that's ever been mine. You're my darlin', my girl, and I got jealous because I was scared, okay? 

I was scared of losing you. And I'm telling you this because it's been awhile now and I haven't seen you around or heard from you in awhile. Therefore, I may have already lost you but.... I love you, (Y/N)... and I'm sorry, okay? 

Thought you'd never hear me say that, huh? Me, apologizing? That's like... once in a blue moon. Hah.....  

But, uh... well, it's true. I'm sorry and I, Jason Dean, love you, (Y/N) (L/N). And I hope that you still love me too."   With that, Jason ends the call, hanging the phone back up on the table as he falls back onto the bed. He didn't - doesn't - know what to do if he didn't have (Y/N) by his side.   Trying to ignore these thoughts and place his attention elsewhere, he decides he needs to focus on sleeping. His body was exhausted after all that crying, plus the punch to the picture frame was still making his hand ache and throb, despite it being a few weeks since he had done it. 

He had one hell of a nasty bruise, too. He was sure it wouldn't look so ugly and scarred if he  had listened to (Y/N) and taken her up on that offer when she suggested the first aid kit...  Before he knows it, he's drifting off into a deep slumber, naturally bringing a pillow into his chest, tucking it underneath his arm as he falls asleep.   

Faint whispers of (Y/N)'s name spills pass his lips as he sleeps. He'd rather be cuddling her than a pillow but he'll take what he can get. He just hopes she'll accept his apology.  

(Y/N) gets home a little after midnight, sighing heavily and tiredly as she kicks off her shoes and strips out of her jacket, hanging the coat up first before setting her shoes under the rack. She had just finished unpacking and helping her cousin move things in his new apartment and she was exhausted. All she wanted to do was take a shower and go to bed. 

 In the corner of her eye, however, she notices her answering machine is flashing red, letting her know someone had left a voicemail.  She walks over and clicks on the button, expecting it to be for  her parents but instead she's met with a shocking fate - it was Jason.  

Hearing his voice, so weak and vulnerable, brought tears to her eyes and she bit back a sob. Especially when he apologized, that was new. 

They've said those three words to each other before, of course, but it was hearing how sad he sounded that let her know he truly did love her, despite everything they've been through and all the silly arguments they've shared over the past few months; they loved each other. 

 And nothing - nobody - could ever stand in the way of that.   Jason was still a huge dumbass, however. 

And as she grabs her jacket, sliding the thick layer of clothing around herself and dips her feet into her boots, she's quick to go and tell him that, too.  

She loves him, yes, but she needs to let him know he was a  huge fucking idiot. 

Jason, for the most post, was sleeping peacefully until he heard a loud crash coming from downstairs, along with a string of curse words. 

  He was quick to get up, throwing the blanket and pillow aside as he opened his bedroom door and creeps down the hallway, wondering who the hell was in his living room.   

He was met with.... well, not a burglar  neither his father as he would have guessed the next outcome to be but rather his girlfriend.

"(Y/N)? What are you doing here?" He asks, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands as he tried to shake off the remaining sleep that had taken over him not even a few hours ago. 

"I came here to scare you, obviously." She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she scrambles up and off of the floor, brushing her knees and arms from the fall she had taken.  "Your door was locked, couldn't find the extra key anywhere so I snuck in through the window and-"

"And... you're bleeding." Jason said, gesturing to the tiny gash on her arm.   "C'mon, I've got a first aid kit around here somewhere." He mocks, giving her a playful smile as he quoted the words she had said to him the day they got into that fight. 

 (Y/N) said nothing but she follows when Jason offers his hand out to her, anyway.   He was surprised when he did find the small box up in a cabinet.   

"It's fine. I'm fine. Nothing  a bandage won't fix, right?" 

"(Y/N). Why are you here? You never did answer me." Jason said, getting out the tiny box of band-aids, ripping one open as he presses the item down onto her arm. She was right, it wasn't a big cut, a few drops of blood, sure, but it wasn't one that'd get infected.  

"I got your voice message." She said with a shrug of her shoulders. "And I came to talk to you about it."

He wasn't sure whether or not that was a good or bad thing.

 "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. You're a dumbass." 

Oh. 

 It was bad. 

He felt his heart drop down to his stomach. He really let his jealousy get the best of him and now he was going to lose the one good thing he had in his life. 

"I love you but you didn't let me speak," She continued.  "That guy you saw... first of all, you have no right to judge him or say you hate him when you have no idea who he is. That dude I was seen with was my cousin, who, may I add, is gay.” 

“I’ve been helping him move which is why you saw me in town with him. We were getting a few supplies and picking up his furniture.” She continues.

“You got jealous over a guy who is far from being attracted to  females. And you know... he's related to me as well, so, that also plays a huge part in it. And if you didn't notice either, the picture you broke was actually a portrait of my family and his together at a family reunion. Of course, you didn't see that, though or probably even noticed but.... yeah, you're a dumbass. I love you, J.D, but you're an idiot for thinking I'd ever love someone more than I love you." 

Jason says nothing, he feels embarrassed, ashamed, but overall; he feels happy, knowing she still loves him, even if he was a total moron.  "I'm sorry, baby, I got jealous and I shouldn't jump so quickly to conclusions  and-"

"And you need to make up for it." She said, pressing her chest up against his, resting her hand on the palm of his cheek, brushing a few stray hairs out from his face as she gives him a seductive look. "And how.... exactly, are you going to make up for it, baby?" She purred. 

"I think I've an idea." He said with a smirk.

"Oh, yeah? While you're at it, can you choke me like you did, too?" 

"I'll do more than just choke you with my hand, darling." 

"To be suffocated and to choke on either your cock and hand would be a blessing, my dear." 

"Then let's go upstairs, shall we?"

(Y/N) smiled and took Jason's hand with her own, giggling as if she wasn't just talking about getting choked by her boyfriend, as if she was some saint rather than a sinner. Fuck... Jason loves how dirty she was. "We shall." He replies, nearly dragging her up the stairs and into his bedroom. 

"Going to show you how much I love you, going to treat you so good, so well, baby girl... missed you so much, love you so much..."