#is the worse thing anyone ever said to me i felt so betrayed

[kurokonobrainrot]

The 'gifted child' to 'depressed adult/teenager who want to kill themselves' pipeline is too real.

"They have good grades so obviously everything is fine with them and they don't need help" What about you shut the fuck up and jump of a bridge please 🥰

The damages from this are unfortunately very long lasting into adulthood.

Y'know, if a formerly well-behaved straight A student suddenly starts almost not passing their classes and crying all the time and getting into trouble, maybe the default conclusion from every authority figure should not be that they are lazy and simply need to pull themselves together. Maybe instead you should give them stimulants or HRT or let them kill their parents and see if one of those three things resolves the issue.

[theetherealbloom]

You Got Me So In Love, I've Never Been This Possessive

Summary: While on a scenic boat trip along the coasts of Malta, you bask in the crystal-clear waters, and laughter with Pedro’s cast and crew. Despite his injured arm keeping him on the boat, Pedro can’t keep his eyes off you.

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Nudity, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Swimming, Bikini, Flirting, Teasing, Cast, Pedro Fell Down The Stairs, ER visit, Hurt-To-Comfort, Mild Spice, Banter, Idk Spanish so the terms might be wrong but I'm trying my best

Word Count: 5K

A/N: GOOD MORNING CHICKENS!!! Y’know how I said there would be a part two? Yup. Also, I know no one asked, but back in High School, I fell down the stairs… A LOT. Like every year for six years. No major bones were broken, only a sprained ankle every time I fell down the stairs, so in a way I guess I was lucky. PSA to always hold the hand railing, and like Pedro said, it can happen to anyone!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Te Quiero by KISS OF LIFE

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PASCAL RESIDENCE, CHILE — AFTERNOON  

The sun bathed the Pascal family home in a golden glow, the air filled with the scent of freshly baked empanadas and the gentle hum of conversation. You were seated on the patio, your legs tucked under you, watching as Pedro animatedly retold a story from his teenage years. His siblings—Javiera, Lux, and Nicolás—listened with rapt attention, their laughter bubbling over when Pedro’s dad chimed in with his version of events, insisting Pedro had exaggerated again.  

“Exaggerated?” Pedro placed a hand on his chest, feigning offense. “I would never! Everything I say is 100% true and scientifically proven.”  

“Scientifically proven to be full of nonsense,” Nicolás teased, earning a round of laughter.  

You couldn’t help but grin, soaking in the easy camaraderie of the family. Pedro’s hand found yours under the table, his fingers lacing with yours in a way that felt like second nature. He glanced at you, his dark eyes soft with a love so deep it made your chest tighten.  

“Tell them,” Pedro said, turning to you with an exaggeratedly serious expression. “Tell them I’m not lying.”  

You bit back a laugh, tilting your head in mock consideration. “Well… the story did sound a bit too good to be true.”  

“Et tu, mi amor?” he groaned, but the corners of his mouth quirked up in a smile.  

Javiera, ever the ringleader, stood and declared, “Enough storytelling! Let’s put her to the test. If she’s going to be part of this family, she needs to learn brisca.”  

Pedro leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Fair warning: They’ll gang up on you.”  

“Good thing I’ve got you on my side,” you murmured, a soft blush rising to your cheeks.  

“I’ll always be on your side,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple that sent a shiver down your spine.  

A FEW HOURS LATER…  

The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the yard. Pedro had wandered inside to grab more drinks for everyone while you stayed on the patio with Lux, discussing her latest project.  

The sound of a crash shattered the peaceful air. You froze, the glass in Lux’s hand slipping and shattering on the ground.  

“Pedro!” you gasped, bolting toward the house.  

Inside, you found him crumpled at the base of the stairs, his face pale and contorted in pain. Nicolás was already at his side, his hands hovering uncertainly as if afraid to make things worse.  

“Call an ambulance!” you shouted, your voice shaking as you knelt beside Pedro.  

He looked up at you, his breaths shallow and uneven. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” he said through gritted teeth, but his wince betrayed him.  

“You’re not okay,” you said, your hands trembling as you gently brushed the hair from his forehead. “What happened?”  

“I missed the last step,” he muttered, trying to manage a weak smile. “Guess I’m not as graceful as I thought.”  

“Pedro, this isn’t funny,” you whispered, tears pricking your eyes.  

Javiera appeared with the phone pressed to her ear, speaking rapidly to the emergency dispatcher. Lux crouched beside you, her face pale as she reached for Pedro’s uninjured hand.  

“Help’s on the way,” Javiera assured you, her voice steady despite the panic in her eyes.  

Minutes felt like hours as you waited for the ambulance. You kept your focus on Pedro, your hand gripping his tightly. “Just breathe, okay? I’m right here. You’re going to be fine.”  

THE ER — EVENING

The antiseptic smell of the hospital hit you as you paced the waiting room, your heart pounding in your chest. Pedro had been whisked away for X-rays, and you felt helpless, the absence of his hand in yours leaving you cold.  

When the doctor finally emerged, you rushed to meet him, Javiera and Nicolás close behind.  

“Mr. Pascal has a broken arm,” the doctor explained. “It’s a clean break, but he’ll need surgery to set the bone properly. We’re scheduling it for late January.”  

Relief and worry collided in your chest. “Can I see him?” you asked, your voice small.  

The doctor nodded, and you followed the nurse to Pedro’s room. He was sitting up in bed, his arm in a temporary sling, his face pale but his smile still intact.  

“Hey, troublemaker,” he said, his voice softer than usual.  

You crossed the room in a few quick steps, perching on the edge of his bed. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” you said, your voice breaking as tears spilled over.  

Pedro reached for your hand with his good arm, his thumb brushing soothing circles over your knuckles. “I’m sorry, mi amor,” he murmured, his eyes glistening.  

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his. “I thought… I thought something worse happened. I couldn’t breathe until I saw you.”  

“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice steady despite the pain. “And I’ll be fine. Especially with you by my side.”  

You kissed him gently, pouring every ounce of love and relief into the touch. As his lips moved against yours, you felt the fear begin to fade, replaced by the overwhelming gratitude that he was still here with you.  

“I’ll take care of you,” you promised, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “Whatever you need, I’m here.”  

Pedro smiled, his gaze tender. “I don’t deserve you.”  

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you said, brushing a tear from your cheek. “You deserve the world.”  

And in that moment, surrounded by beeping monitors and the sterile walls of the hospital, it felt like nothing else mattered but the two of you.

FORT RICASOLI, MALTA — DAY  

The sun was high over Fort Ricasoli, the Mediterranean breeze carrying a salty tang as waves crashed against the nearby shore. The reconstructed Roman Colosseum loomed grandly in the fort, its grandeur a perfect backdrop for the epic Gladiator II production. You stepped out of the transport van, sunglasses shielding your eyes from the bright Maltese sun, a bag slung over your shoulder filled with Pedro’s essentials—medication, snacks, and a cold water bottle you knew he’d try to avoid drinking unless reminded.  

As you walked toward the set, Pedro spotted you first, his face lighting up in a way that made your heart ache with affection. He was seated in the shade near the makeup tent, his left arm encased in a royal blue cast that made him look both ridiculous and endearing.  

“Hi,” you called, setting your bag down beside him. “I’m here to be your nurse.”  

Pedro’s grin widened, his dark eyes softening. “You’re more than my nurse. You’re my lifesaver. And I love you so much.”  

You rolled your eyes playfully, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his forehead. “How’s the arm?”  

“It’s humiliating,” he muttered, holding up the cast as if it were a mark of disgrace. “Everyone keeps staring at it. Or laughing. Or both.”  

“There’s nothing humiliating about needing help once in a while, my love,” you said gently, brushing a curl from his forehead. “Besides, it’s a great conversation starter.”  

“Oh, yeah. Real smooth. ‘Hi, I’m Pedro Pascal, and I fell down a flight of stairs like a medieval jester.’”  

You smothered a laugh just as Joseph Quinn sauntered by, pausing dramatically to give Pedro an exaggerated salute. “How’s the mighty warrior today? Still battling gravity, I see.”  

“Go away,” Pedro groaned, waving his good arm dismissively.  

“You’re a walking PSA now,” Fred Hechinger added as he passed. “Don’t text and walk down stairs, kids!”  

Denzel Washington approached next, shaking his head with mock solemnity. “And here I thought I was the one who’d pull a stunt like that.”  

“Traitors,” Pedro muttered, pulling you closer as if you could shield him from the teasing.  

Coco, his ever-sassy hair stylist, smirked as she fixed his curls. “Just make sure she doesn’t trip over your ego next.”  

“Coco!” Pedro whined, but his cheeks flushed, his pout making him look boyish and undeniably adorable.  

Ridley Scott ambled over, his tone a mix of concern and exasperation. “Take it easy, Pedro. You’re not 25 anymore.”  

“Gee, thanks, Ridley,” Pedro huffed, pulling you against him as if seeking comfort.  

The day pressed on, the heat making Pedro’s clinginess somehow both unbearable and heart-meltingly sweet. Despite the steady teasing from the cast and crew, he stuck close to you like a second shadow whenever he wasn’t on set, his blue cast drawing as much attention as his ever-present pout.  

During a break, he tugged at your hand, a soft whine slipping from his lips. “Go with me?”  

You glanced up from the book you were pretending to read. “Go where?”  

“Craft services,” he said, gesturing toward the shaded area where snacks and cold drinks awaited. “I’m starving, and I need moral support.”  

“You literally just had a protein bar,” you teased, but stood anyway, slipping your hand into his.  

“As long as you hold my hand,” you added with a smirk, letting him lead the way.  

His good hand entwined with yours, his thumb brushing lazy circles over your skin as you walked. “You know I’m not letting go, right?”  

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”  

Reaching the craft services tent, Pedro made a beeline for the iced lemonade, his cast making the process comically awkward. You reached over to help him hold the cup steady as he poured, ignoring the amused glances from the crew around you.  

“I got it,” he insisted, though his pouty tone betrayed his frustration.  

“Sure you do, Mr. Dexterity,” you teased. “Here, let me.”  

As you steadied the cup, Paul Mescal appeared beside you, a mischievous grin plastered across his face. “What’s it like being Pedro’s personal assistant and cuddle therapist?”  

Pedro narrowed his eyes, his body shifting slightly as if to shield you from Paul’s teasing. “She’s an angel,” he declared, his tone defensive. “Unlike all of you degenerates.”  

Paul laughed, grabbing a handful of chips. “Touché.”  

Connie Nielsen joined the growing group, her warm smile softening the teasing atmosphere. “An angel with the patience of a saint,” she agreed. “He’s lucky to have you.”  

You squeezed Pedro’s hand, glancing up at him with a playful glint in your eye. “Oh, I know.”  

Pedro leaned down, his voice low and sweet in your ear. “Remind me to buy you something shiny and expensive later.”  

“I’ll hold you to that,” you whispered back, brushing a kiss to his cheek just as Coco walked by, her ever-present smirk firmly in place.  

“Are we making out by the lemonade now?” she quipped, adjusting Pedro’s wig as she passed. “Just don’t knock over the drink dispenser, Casanova.”  

Pedro groaned, but you could see the corner of his mouth twitching, betraying his amusement.  

When Pedro was shooting, you stayed nearby, perched under an umbrella with a bottle of water and a timer set for his next dose of medication. He’d been restless all morning, constantly checking in between takes to make sure you were still there.  

The moment the director called cut, Pedro scanned the area until his eyes landed on you. A small smile tugged at his lips as he made a beeline toward you, his costume slightly dusty from the action sequence.  

“Hydrate,” you ordered the moment he reached you, holding out the water bottle.  

He wrinkled his nose but took it, his good hand struggling to unscrew the cap. You wordlessly reached over to help, earning a sheepish look from him.  

“You know,” he said after a long sip, “you’re bossier than Ridley.”  

“You love it,” you countered, wiping the sweat from his brow with a small towel you’d tucked into your bag.  

Pedro’s lips curved into a soft smile, his gaze lingering on you. “I do,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “A little too much.”  

Your heart squeezed at the tenderness in his tone, and you reached up to brush a stray curl from his forehead. “Good. Now go back to work. Ridley’s glaring at us.”  

He glanced over his shoulder, spotting the director gesturing for him to return. “Fine,” he grumbled, but not before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.  

As he walked back toward the set, Ridley shook his head, a faint smile on his face. “That woman of yours has you wrapped around her little finger.”  

Pedro shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “Don’t I know it.”  

THE XARA PALACE RELAIS & CHÂTEAUX, MALTA — EVENING  

The day had taken its toll on both of you, but by the time you returned to the cozy luxury of the hotel suite, Pedro’s exhaustion only seemed to amplify his need for affection. As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, he flopped dramatically onto the small couch, casting a forlorn look your way.  

“Come here,” he said, his good arm extended toward you like a lifeline.  

You chuckled, slipping off your sandals. “I thought you were tired.”  

“I am,” he replied, his lips twitching into a pout. “But I’ll sleep better if you’re right here.”  

Shaking your head fondly, you joined him on the couch, only to be pulled down against his side the moment you were close enough.  

“It’s too hot for this,” you teased, trying—and failing—to push against his firm hold.  

“Don’t care,” Pedro murmured, nuzzling into the curve of your neck as if you were the only source of comfort in the world. “You make everything better.”  

You sighed softly, your resolve melting as your fingers found their way into his curls. They were still slightly damp from his post-shoot shower, and you gently combed through them, marveling at how they always seemed to spring back into place.  

“I think that’s the heatstroke talking,” you quipped, though your voice was warm with affection.  

“No,” he said, his voice muffled against your skin. “That’s the love of my life talking.”  

Your hand stilled for a moment, the weight of his words settling over you like a gentle wave. You pulled back slightly to look at him, but Pedro didn’t let you get far. His warm brown eyes met yours, brimming with sincerity that made your breath catch.  

“You’re insufferable,” you said, though the tremor in your voice betrayed how deeply his words had affected you.  

“And you’re perfect,” he countered, his tone so soft and certain it made your heart ache in the best way.  

Your cheeks warmed, and you leaned down to press a tender kiss to his temple. “You’re lucky I love you,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his skin.  

Pedro grinned, his good arm tightening around you as he pulled you even closer. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”  

For a while, the two of you sat in a comfortable silence, the soft hum of the air conditioning blending with the distant sounds of the Maltese evening outside. Pedro’s breathing began to slow, his head resting heavily against your shoulder as he drifted off. His cast was awkwardly propped up on his chest, and you carefully adjusted a pillow beneath it, not wanting him to wake up sore.  

As you gazed down at him, his face relaxed and peaceful in sleep, your heart swelled with a familiar ache—one born of overwhelming love. He might’ve been clingy and dramatic, prone to complaints about his cast and the heat, but he was also tender and selfless, with a way of making you feel like the most cherished person in the world.  

You traced the curve of his jaw with the tips of your fingers, marveling at how even in his sleep, his hold on you never loosened. He was steady and constant in a way that made you feel safe, loved, and utterly at home.  

He might’ve fallen down the stairs, but it felt like you were the one falling—deeper in love with him every single day.  

Later that night, as the two of you lay tangled together in the king-sized bed, Pedro stirred, his voice groggy but laced with warmth.  

“Are you still awake?”  

“Barely,” you murmured, your head resting against his uninjured shoulder. “Why?”  

He shifted slightly, his fingers grazing over your arm in lazy circles. “Just wanted to say… thank you.”  

“For what?”  

“For taking care of me. For putting up with me being clingy. For loving me even when I’m ridiculous,” he said, his voice soft but earnest.  

You smiled in the darkness, pressing a kiss to his chest. “It’s not putting up with you, Pedro. It’s just loving you. And it’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”  

His breath hitched, and he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his words carrying the weight of unspoken emotion.  

“You deserve everything,” you replied, your voice firm despite the tears prickling at your eyes.  

Pedro’s arms tightened around you, and in that moment, the world outside the four walls of your suite seemed to fade away. There was only the two of you, tangled together in love and gratitude, the promise of another day together stretching out before you like a gift.  

And as you drifted off to sleep, cradled in his embrace, you couldn’t imagine a place you’d rather be. 

COASTS OF MALTA — MORNING  

The morning sun bathed the harbor in a soft, golden glow as you and Pedro stepped onto the pristine deck of the yacht, greeted by the lively chatter of his castmates and the crew. The day promised adventure—an exploration of Malta’s dazzling coastlines, including the famed Blue Lagoon, Crystal Lagoon, and the secretive caves on Comino. The air smelled of salt and freedom, and the water, impossibly blue and inviting, stretched out like a gem-laden carpet before you.  

Pedro lingered close to you, his blue cast slung in a casual sling, though it didn’t stop him from giving your hand a light squeeze. He leaned down, his voice low and teasing.  

"Don’t get too excited," he murmured with a grin, his dark eyes gleaming. "You’ll make me look bad."  

You bumped your shoulder into his, rolling your eyes. "I can’t help it if I’m more fun than you."  

"More fun? Or more distracting?" His gaze flicked briefly to the bikini peeking out from your cover-up, his expression bordering on predatory before he quickly masked it with a playful smirk.  

“Behave, Pascal,” you teased, your cheeks warming under his intense stare.  

As the boat cruised toward its first stop, the Blue Lagoon, the mood was light and cheerful. Connie and Fred lounged near the bow, animatedly swapping stories with the crew, their laughter carrying over the soft sound of the waves. Coco flitted around like a hummingbird with her camera, capturing candid shots of the lively group. Near the railing, Paul was attempting to teach Denzel a ridiculous dance move, the two of them tripping over their own feet and causing more chaos than rhythm.  

You stood near Pedro, feeling the sun’s warmth on your skin, the gentle breeze teasing at your cover-up. A playful grin spread across your face as you untied the knot at your waist, sliding the fabric off and tossing it onto a nearby lounge chair. The vibrant bikini beneath was perfectly chosen—bright and bold against your skin, hugging your curves in a way that made you feel confident and beautiful.  

Pedro, seated comfortably in the shade with his injured arm resting on a cushion, froze mid-sip of his drink. His gaze locked onto you, his eyes darkening as they traced every inch of your form. Appreciation was clear in his expression, but it was the simmering heat in his stare that sent a thrill down your spine.  

You stretched your arms over your head, feigning oblivion to his attention as you joined Coco and Paul in their antics. The movement made your waist curve just enough to draw a quiet groan from Pedro’s lips, which didn’t go unnoticed by Coco. She smirked, leaning down to whisper as she passed him.  

“Subtle,” she teased, her voice dripping with amusement.  

Pedro didn’t even attempt to hide his grin. His eyes stayed glued to you as he shrugged, unapologetic. “Can you blame me?”  

Coco snorted. “Not one bit. But maybe cool it unless you want everyone else to notice how thirsty  you are.”  

“Let them,” Pedro muttered, mostly to himself. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he watched you laugh with Paul, the way your body moved under the bright sun making it nearly impossible for him to look away.  

When you caught his eye and shot him a playful wink, his good hand flexed against the armrest of his chair, the urge to pull you back to him almost too strong to resist.  

Later, as you leaned over the edge of the boat, peering down at the water with Paul pointing out fish, Pedro’s voice rumbled low behind you.  

“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”  

You turned to find him standing close, his cast resting awkwardly at his side. “I am. The water’s beautiful,” you said with a smile, but his eyes weren’t on the water.  

“They’re not the only thing,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist.  

Heat bloomed on your cheeks, but you couldn’t help the grin that tugged at your lips. “Pedro Pascal,” you teased, stepping closer. “Are you flirting with me on a boat in front of all your castmates?”  

“Flirting?” He scoffed, his voice rich with amusement. “I’m just admiring. Can’t a man admire his girlfriend?”  

“Girlfriend?” you repeated, arching a brow.  

He smirked, leaning in just enough for his breath to ghost over your skin. “The girlfriend,” he corrected, his voice dropping into a tone that sent a shiver racing through you despite the heat.  

You bit your lip, glancing around at the others, who were too distracted to notice the charged moment. “Behave yourself,” you whispered, though your heart raced at the way his good hand brushed lightly against your hip.  

He grinned, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh. “I’m trying, but you’re not making it easy, sweetheart.”  

The way he said it, rough and low, had your stomach doing flips. The teasing sparkle in his eyes told you he knew exactly the effect he was having on you—and he wasn’t the least bit sorry about it.

When the boat anchored near the Blue Lagoon, you practically bounced with excitement. “I’m going in!”  

Pedro chuckled as you grabbed your snorkeling gear, pausing to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Try not to miss me too much,” you teased before hopping off the boat with an elegant dive.  

“Not possible,” he called after you, his voice tinged with laughter.  

The water was cool and crystal clear, every ripple catching the sunlight like scattered diamonds. You swam alongside Coco and Paul, laughing as he tried to outswim everyone only to splash clumsily when Coco teased him about his lack of grace. Schools of fish darted around you, their silvery bodies glimmering in the lagoon’s shallows, and the thrill of the moment made you forget the world beyond the sparkling blue waters.  

Pedro watched from the deck, his good hand cradling a drink as his cast rested on his lap. He smiled softly, his heart swelling at the sight of you. You were so effortlessly kind, so radiant, laughing and splashing with his friends as if you’d known them your whole life.  

“She’s really something,” Ridley remarked as he joined Pedro at the shaded table.  

“Don’t I know it,” Pedro replied, his voice warm with pride.  

“She’s good for you,” Ridley said simply, his tone laced with a rare softness.  

Pedro glanced at the director, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. She’s my soulmate.”  

Later, you clambered back onto the boat, droplets of water clinging to your skin, sparkling in the sunlight as they traced lazy paths down your arms and legs. Your grin was infectious, the kind of radiant joy that could light up an entire room—or, in this case, the deck of the boat. Pedro’s eyes were glued to you, as though the rest of the world had faded into the background.  

“Having fun?” he asked, his voice tinged with amusement but warm with affection.  

“The best,” you replied breathlessly, grabbing a towel and wringing out your hair. “You should’ve come in with us. The water is incredible.”  

He raised his cast dramatically, pulling a mock grimace. “In case you forgot, I’m a bit handicapped here.”  

“Oh, poor baby,” you teased, crouching beside him. You leaned in to press a playful kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering just long enough to make him sigh. “Next time, I’ll stay on the boat with you. We can sulk together.”  

Pedro’s good hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer before you could stand. “Don’t you dare,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “Watching you have fun out there is the next best thing to being in the water myself.”  

You arched a brow, motioning to your bikini with a teasing grin. “You mean you like the view.”  

Pedro’s lips curved into a slow, devilish smirk. His mouth brushed your ear as he whispered, “I love the view.”  

The heat of his words sent a shiver down your spine, making your cheeks flush. You swatted at his chest playfully before standing and tossing the towel over your shoulder. “Careful, Pascal. You’re not supposed to overheat with that cast on.”  

The boat anchored near the caves on Comino, the turquoise water shimmering like liquid glass. Pedro waved you off with a mock sternness, insisting you go explore while he stayed behind.  

“I’ll hold down the fort,” he said, settling back into his chair with a small smirk. “Don’t get lost in there.”  

You rolled your eyes, blowing him a kiss before diving into the water with Paul and Fred. The group swam toward the darkened entrance of the caves, their laughter echoing off the limestone walls. Inside, the sunlight filtered through cracks, casting dancing patterns on the rocky surfaces.  

Pedro, stuck on the boat, didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. His gaze followed you like a shadow, lingering on the curve of your body as you moved effortlessly through the water. Every so often, you glanced back at the boat, catching him watching you. He didn’t even pretend to look away, his expression soft, adoring, and entirely unguarded.  

When you returned, dripping wet and exhilarated, you plopped down beside him with a dramatic sigh, leaning your head against his shoulder.  

“You’ve been staring at me all day,” you teased, your tone light but your heart pounding at the intensity of his attention.  

Pedro turned his head slightly, brushing his lips against your temple. “Can you blame me?” he murmured. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”  

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. You tilted your head to meet his gaze, your hand finding his on the armrest. “You’re laying it on thick today,” you joked, though your voice wavered just slightly.  

“It’s the truth,” he countered simply, his thumb brushing across your knuckles.  

Your moment was interrupted by Paul’s exaggerated wolf whistle from across the deck. “Get a room, you two!”  

Fred chimed in with a loud groan. “Some of us are single and fragile!”  

You laughed, your head falling back briefly before you turned to Pedro, lowering your voice so only he could hear. “They’re just jealous.”  

“Damn right, they are,” Pedro said, leaning in close. “You’re all mine.”  

The possessiveness in his tone was playful but sent your pulse racing nonetheless.  

Later, as the boat rocked gently in the open waters, you sat on Pedro’s lap, his good arm wrapped securely around your waist. The sun had begun its descent, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold.  

“Pedro,” you said softly, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his thigh. “Can we stay like this forever?”  

His eyes softened as he looked down at you, his smile tender. “I’d stay here with you forever if I could,” he replied, his voice filled with quiet certainty.  

The weight of his words settled over you, grounding you in the moment. You bit your lip, leaning in closer until your noses brushed. “Please just kiss me already.”  

Pedro didn’t need to be asked twice. His lips captured yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, full of unspoken promises and a depth of feeling that took your breath away. His hand splayed across your back, pulling you impossibly closer as the world around you seemed to disappear.  

When you finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against yours, and he let out a soft laugh. “I think you might be my soulmate,” he said, his voice a mixture of awe and certainty.  

Your eyes searched his, and for a moment, the noise of the others and the gentle lapping of the waves faded entirely. “I think you might be mine too,” you whispered, sealing the moment with another kiss.  

Laughter and chatter echoed around you, the boat a hub of joy and togetherness, but for you and Pedro, time seemed to stand still. In his arms, surrounded by the beauty of Malta and the warmth of his love, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[sanakiras]

TIDAL WAVE OF LOVE

PAIRING — choi seungcheol x reader

WORD COUNT — 1.3k

SYNOPSIS — even the strongest of people break sometimes. you’re used to hiding your feelings; your boyfriend is there for you when everything gets too much.

TAGS — angst, self-esteem issues, fear of failure, mc has a bit of a breakdown :(( but also a lil comfort

NOTE — cleaning out the drafts! this is wayyyy shorter than my usual works but i still felt like posting it <3 i had a very stressful semester in uni before the summer break and i came across this video on twt of coups giving wonwoo a little comforting squeeze which i found very endearing sooo that kinda became the inspo for this!

the moment he calls out a greeting to you from his kitchen, you close your eyes for a moment. it would’ve probably been wiser to have gone home instead of his place.

you greet him the same way, hoping he doesn’t hear the crack in your voice.

“how was your day?” he asks you once he’s returned to the living room, giving you a kiss.

you press your lips together. “fine. nothing special.”

the first thing he notices is the lack of eye contact you make with him. you’re also being considerably less touchy with him than usual, which he finds strange.

“everything okay?”

“yeah.” you put up a smile that doesn’t appear genuine in the slightest.

he figures you could just be in a bad mood — but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

he knows for a fact that it’s not with the way you’re trying real hard to hide your face from him. you only do that when you’re upset about something.

“baby, talk to me.”

“about what?”

the response comes out snappier than you meant it to. you two have been together quite a while — so he’s come to know that you tend to get a little colder and distant before the dam breaks.

you look at him so briefly to the point where he’d miss the motion if he blinked. the expression equals a silent apology.

of course he always does his best to give you whatever space you need. that being said, he’s also come to know you get into your own head a lot, and sometimes there’s someone who needs to pull you out of it.

you bite your lip in a pathetic attempt to hold back your tears. “it’s fine, cheol, just let it go.”

“well, i care about you, sweetheart. what’s going on?” he’s persistent but gentle about it. you have a habit of keeping your feelings to yourself and hardly ever letting anything out, which leads to everything just piling up and making things worse.

“i don’t wanna talk about it.”

the lump in your throat begins to rise.

“i can see that, but you’ve clearly got something you need off your chest. are you okay?”

you don’t show anyone when something’s wrong unless they mention it first. and even when they do, you’re hesitant.

it’s an exhausting way to live, but you still choose to do so.

it’s one of the reasons why you hate crying. your glossy eyes always betray you.

then you make — what you consider to be — the mistake of looking into his big, worried eyes once more, and you just completely fall apart in front of him.

the tears begin to flow before you can even comprehend it.

“it’s just—god, i don’t even know why i’m so fucking emotional, i just—” your breath shudders, the mildly angry expression that was previously on your face now nowhere to be found, “everything’s been so stressful recently, and i’m scared i won’t pass my classes, and i feel like such a slow learner compared to everyone else—”

he’s rubbing your back, just allowing you to you let everything out. he keeps quiet.

“i feel fucking fragile. and weak. every little thing is just too much right now. i’m sorry, i feel stupid.”

he lets you cry into his chest as his arms are wrapped around you, one hand softly rubbing the back of your head. “don’t feel stupid, baby. you can vent to me, always.”

the sound of your heavy sobs hurt him, because he feels like you’re always so hard on yourself, but he’s glad you’re releasing them. it’s healthier to let it all out than to keep it in.

“it’s just like i can’t breathe, y’know?” you mutter in the crook of his neck, subconsciously wetting his shirt with your tears, “i can’t take a single break ‘cause i’ll fall behind. i’m so tired. i feel like i’m not even smart enough to take the damn course, let alone pass the fucking test—”

once he feels like you’re about to start hyperventilating, he moves back to let him look at you. “long breaths. you’re okay, just breathe with me.”

he purposefully takes long, deep breaths, counting the seconds out loud to guide you, and it works. your breathing is steadying bit by bit, sobs faltering, melting into soft hiccups and numbness.

with dried tears and a slightly hoarse voice, you let out a sigh. “i just hate feeling so incompetent. for once, i’d love to feel smart. i wanna feel like i’m able to keep up as well as everyone else does, y’know? i’m… i’m procrastinating everything and i don’t know how to change it. it all sucks.”

“it’s not easy, baby. don’t be too hard on yourself.” he presses a swift kiss to your skin, and you hold him tighter, as if he were to slip out of your hold if you didn’t.

“it’s not easy for me. it is for them.”

“there’s nothing wrong with that. would you think differently if someone in your class had to put more effort into passing the course? you wouldn’t, right? because at the end of the day, you both make it to the finish line. that’s what matters.”

deep down, you know he has a point. you put the pressure so high on yourself, yet don’t apply the same logic to your peers.

you don’t really understand why.

“and you say it’s easy for them, but i know for sure that they put more effort into it than you might think. trust me. you’ll get to where you want to be, one way or another. if you take a little longer to do that than a classmate, who cares. it’s your life. i know you’ve worked so hard—” he twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers, “even if you don’t pass that class now, it won’t be the end of the world, and there’ll be another chance. you’ll get there.”

now there’s just a few last tears running down your cheeks. “except i’m worried that i won’t.”

“you will. and once you do, you’ll be happy that you got to that point because you worked hard and deserve that success. if not today, then tomorrow. yeah?”

you take a deep breath, exhaling slowly, the last shudders of your breakdown bubbling to the surface as your heart rate finally slows back to normal. “yeah. thank you.”

to show your gratitude, you give him a hug, which he happily embraces, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“anytime. i’m here for you.”

even the strongest of people break — but they can still pick up the pieces and start over.

do your best (but maybe not sometimes) <3

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

[goblin-jr]

And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you.

part 3 of 12

Synopsis: rafe apology, wheezie is the best cameron, rainy confessions

Pairing: unrequited JJ x Reader, Eventual Rafe x Reader

masterlist

---

The afternoon was steady at the country club. Y/N’s shift had been busy enough to keep her distracted, and with her coworkers absorbed in their own tasks, she’d managed to slip away a few times to shake off the throbbing pain left over from the boat incident. The last thing she wanted was pity—or worse, anyone worrying about her.

But when she turned around to restock a pile of guest towels, she froze. Rafe Cameron had just walked in with his family. She could see them through the grand glass doors of the club’s dining room, his parents trailing behind him, polished and imposing as ever. He looked over and spotted her before she had a chance to slip away, and his eyes narrowed as if he had something to say.

Y/N tensed. She still couldn’t shake off the anger from that night. Her bruises had faded, but her loyalty to the Pogues hadn’t. Whatever Rafe thought he had to say, she wasn’t interested. She busied herself with folding the towels, pretending she hadn’t noticed him watching her.

It didn’t work.

“Y/N,” Rafe’s voice was quiet but firm as he approached, hands shoved in his pockets, his posture almost… unsure. She’d never seen him like this—reserved and even a bit hesitant.

She didn’t look up. “I’m working,” she said bluntly, hoping he’d take the hint and leave. But Rafe didn’t budge.

“Just wanted to talk. About the other day.”

Y/N clenched her jaw. “No need. You said enough then.”

He sighed. “Look, I know things got out of hand. I’m… sorry, okay? I didn’t mean for it to go like that. I didn’t know my friends were going to—”

“Yeah? And what did you think would happen?” She finally looked up, her expression steely. “You show up, insult us, throw a few things around, and expect everything to be fine?”

Just then, a younger girl joined them, glancing curiously between Y/N and Rafe. It was his sister, Wheezie, her wide eyes betraying the same curiosity and innocence that Rafe seemed to lack. The irritation in Y/N’s chest softened just a little as she watched the younger Cameron—a reminder that not everyone in Rafe’s family carried the same smugness or sense of entitlement he did.

“Rafe!” Wheezie chirped, tugging on his arm. “Did you get the book I asked about?”

Rafe’s face softened as he looked down at his sister. He ruffled her hair lightly, which made her wrinkle her nose but also grin up at him. “Yeah, yeah, I did. I had to go to three stores to find it, but it’s waiting for you in the car.”

Y/N watched the exchange in silence, surprised to see this side of Rafe. He spoke to Wheezie with a gentleness she didn’t associate with him. Gone was the antagonistic, arrogant guy who had pushed her friends’ buttons time and again. Here, he was just… a big brother.

“Really?” Wheezie’s eyes widened in excitement. “You didn’t have to do that!”

Rafe shrugged, as if it was nothing. “It’s not a big deal, Wheeze. You asked, so I figured why not.”

Watching him interact with Wheezie, Y/N felt her defenses waver, if only for a moment. There was something unguarded in his expression, a hint of someone who wasn’t just the entitled, reckless Kook she’d come to know.

Wheezie turned her gaze to Y/N, her brows knitting together. “Hi. Do you work here?”

Y/N managed a small, polite nod. “Yeah, just part-time.”

The younger girl’s face lit up with interest. “Oh, that’s so cool. Do you like it?” 

Rafe ruffled Wheezie’s hair, his face easing into an unexpectedly gentle expression. “Not everyone loves work as much as you do, Wheeze.”

Rafe turned back to you and let out a resigned sigh and nodded, stepping back with his hands still tucked in his pockets. “I really am sorry, Y/N.” Rafe’s face softened, but he didn’t defend himself. “I get it. You don’t have to believe me. I just… wanted you to know.” 

“Well, I’d better get back to setting up,” Y/N muttered, sidestepping Rafe and allowing the Camerons to reunite with Ward and Rose. 

After Rafe walked away, Y/N kept herself busy around the dining room, making sure the place settings were perfect and double-checking that every glass sparkled. She glanced up as she heard Wheezie’s cheerful voice down the hallway, joking with one of the waitstaff. Rafe was still nearby, now talking with his younger sister.

Y/N watched from a distance as Rafe bent down slightly, giving Wheezie his full attention as she animatedly told him some story. He smiled at her, nodding and even laughing a little. It was such a simple, everyday thing, yet it felt oddly intimate—a glimpse of Rafe’s life that Y/N hadn’t expected to see.

Why was he… kind of sweet? She hated the thought as soon as it popped into her head, but she couldn’t shake it.

He looked up, and their eyes met for just a second. Flustered, Y/N busied herself with a table setting, heart pounding, wishing she hadn’t been caught watching him like that.

—

A few hours later, Y/N found herself in the storage room. /N made her way to the back, feeling the familiar ache in her ribs from the altercation on the boat. She needed to restock the shelves with glassware for the evening setup, but as she reached for the heavy box, a sharp pain shot through her side, forcing her to stop and catch her breath.

She steeled herself, attempting to lift the box again despite the discomfort. Just as she was bracing herself, a familiar voice interrupted her struggle.

“Need a hand with that?”

She turned, caught off guard to find Rafe leaning casually in the doorway, hands in his pockets as if he owned the place—which, she reminded herself, wasn’t far from the truth. The Camerons had invested heavily in the club, and Rafe’s family essentially had free rein over the entire building. Still, seeing him there felt strange.

“I didn’t ask for help,” Y/N replied, her voice edged with defiance as she let go of the box.

Rafe didn’t seem fazed by her tone. He walked over, looking her over as he reached for the box himself, easily lifting it and placing it on the upper shelf she’d struggled to reach.

“There. Now you don’t have to break a rib over it,” he said, a faint smirk crossing his face. But he softened, giving her an earnest look. “Look, about the boat… I really am sorry. Things got out of hand, and my friends—they can be idiots.”

Y/N raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re telling me.”

Rafe looked down for a second, his expression almost sheepish. “You have every right to hate me for that.”

She paused, watching him with guarded curiosity. “Why do you care, Rafe? I mean, it’s not like we’re friends. You’ve got your whole Kook thing going on with Topper and Kelce.”

He shrugged, shifting uncomfortably. “Doesn’t mean I want you to get hurt. I don’t know… Wheezie always says I could be better about that kind of thing.” He scratched the back of his neck, as if realizing he’d said too much.

Y/N couldn’t hide her surprise at the mention of his little sister. “Wheezie? So she’s the voice of reason?”

Rafe chuckled softly. “Most days, yeah. She keeps me in check.” He leaned against the shelf, his gaze thoughtful. “She liked meeting you, you know. Thinks you’re cool for working here. She’s a weird kid, but she’s got good instincts.”

A faint smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. The last thing she’d expected was to see Rafe’s protective side, let alone hear him talk about Wheezie like this. She softened, just a little, feeling the defenses she’d thrown up after the incident on the boat begin to waver.

“Your sister’s pretty sweet,” she admitted reluctantly, shrugging. “I guess you got lucky there.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his tone almost wistful. “Guess I did.”

There was a beat of silence between them, the unspoken tension from their past encounters ebbing, if only for a moment. Rafe glanced at her again, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“Anyway, I didn’t mean for any of that stuff on the boat to happen. I get it if you still don’t trust me. But I really am sorry.”

Y/N studied him, the frustration and resentment from the boat incident lingering but softened by his sincerity. After a long pause, she exhaled, crossing her arms.

“Fine. Apology accepted,” she muttered, trying to sound casual. “But don’t think this changes anything.”

Rafe shrugged, a hint of that familiar smirk returning. “Didn’t expect it to. But maybe it’s a start.”

As he turned to leave, Y/N watched him go, her feelings unsettled. She couldn’t shake the impression that, for once, Rafe didn’t seem like an enemy, and the realization left her with more questions than answers. 

—

Y/N’s shift ended later than usual, and by the time she left the country club, the sun was already dipping below the horizon. She started down the familiar path toward home, her footsteps echoing in the quiet of the evening. The air was cool, and as she walked, her thoughts drifted back to the strange encounter in the storage room.

Rafe Cameron. Of all people, he was the last person she’d expected to see there, let alone be willing to lend a hand. His apology, his quiet mention of Wheezie—none of it matched the person she thought she knew. He’d always been a Cameron, a Kook, someone she’d learned to keep her distance from. But today had left her feeling unsettled, like there was something more beneath the surface she hadn’t anticipated.

Despite herself, she couldn’t deny that she was a little curious. What Wheezie saw in him, maybe, or how the two of them interacted away from the glaring reputation he carried. For a moment, she even entertained the idea that Rafe wasn’t as bad as she thought.

But then her mind went back to the people who mattered most to her—JJ and the rest of the Pogues. They’d been her family through every up and down, no matter what. And there were things about JJ, memories she could never share with anyone else, that tied her to him in a way no one else would ever understand.

Her pace slowed as a particular memory of JJ surfaced. She could picture it as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.

---

They were twelve, maybe thirteen, and it had been one of those stormy nights on the island when the rain fell in heavy sheets, and thunder rattled the windows. Y/N had been curled up on the couch, reading, when a faint knock sounded at the door. She knew it was him before she even looked. JJ always came to her when things got too heavy at home.

That night, he’d been soaked through, his clothes clinging to him, hair plastered against his forehead. She’d let him in, wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, and led him to the old beanbag chair in her room. He was quiet, almost too quiet, and she knew better than to press him for details. His father, Luke, had always been a volatile presence in JJ’s life—a shadow that loomed over him, especially when things were bad.

They’d sat there together in silence, listening to the rain and the distant rumble of thunder. After a while, he’d finally spoken, his voice barely a whisper.

“I wish I didn’t have to go back,” he’d said, his tone full of something both broken and resigned.

Y/N had reached out, taking his hand in hers. She didn’t have to say anything. The promise was there in the silence: I’m here, and I’ll always be here.

It was moments like those, when JJ had shown her pieces of himself he’d never let anyone else see, that had woven an unbreakable thread between them. They weren’t just friends—they were each other’s safe places.

---

As Y/N walked, she was jolted out of her memories of JJ by a soft drizzle that quickly built into a steady downpour. She pulled her jacket tighter, hunching her shoulders against the chill as the rain soaked through.

She picked up her pace, hoping she could get home before she was completely drenched. Just as she turned a corner, headlights swept across the path in front of her, and a sleek, dark SUV slowed to a stop. She squinted, wiping rain from her eyes, as the passenger window rolled down.

Rafe leaned over from the driver’s seat, brow slightly raised as he took in her soaked figure. “Need a ride?” he asked, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the rain.

Y/N stifled a sigh, a wry smirk pulling at her lips despite herself. “Thrice in one day, Cameron?” she called out. “Are you following me now?”

Rafe chuckled, leaning one arm over the wheel. “Guess I can’t shake you, huh? Or maybe you’re the one following me.” He glanced out at the rain. “C’mon, get in before you catch a cold. You’ll ruin the club’s good towels.”

She stood there for a moment, watching the rain hit the ground in heavy sheets, then glanced at him through the window again. “You know, I could be stubborn enough to walk home in this,” she said with a teasing glint in her eye.

“Then you’ll be stubborn and wet,” he shot back with a grin. “Get in. I’m not leaving you out here.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, feeling the warmth of the car surrounding her immediately. She closed the door with a soft click, the sound of the rain intensifying for a moment before the windshield wipers kicked into motion.

She looked at him as he shifted into drive, silently grateful for the warmth, but still skeptical of the conversation that was about to happen. “Thanks for the ride,” she muttered, brushing water from her hair as she settled in.

“No problem,” Rafe replied, glancing over at her with a faint smile. The tension in the car was subtle, but Y/N could sense it. The day had been strange, and she wasn’t quite sure where she stood with him—if she was just another face, another person he had to deal with, or if maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than he let on.

The car was quiet for a while, only the sound of the rain and the soft hum of the engine filling the space. Y/N didn’t mind it, though. There was something oddly comforting about being alone in the car with Rafe, despite all the history between their families and the awkwardness lingering between them.

Eventually, Rafe broke the silence. “You know, you’re pretty hard to get a read on.” His voice was low, almost like he was speaking to himself. “It’s like… you’re always in your head, trying to figure things out.”

Y/N glanced at him, surprised by the observation. She shifted in her seat, slightly uncomfortable with the truth in his words. “I’m not really the open book type,” she replied after a moment, her fingers absently tapping on the seatbelt.

Rafe chuckled softly, the sound easing some of the tension. “Yeah, I figured. But you’re not the only one who keeps things locked up. I get it.” He paused, looking out at the rain-slicked road. “But it’s exhausting sometimes, you know? Trying to keep everything together.”

Y/N turned her head to study him, her curiosity piqued despite herself. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

Rafe exhaled slowly, keeping his eyes on the road. “I mean, we don’t always get to choose how things turn out. Like, with my family. Everyone expects me to be… I don’t know, something I’m not. They put all this pressure on me to be perfect. To do things a certain way.” He glanced at her briefly before returning his attention to the road. “It’s like no one ever really sees me. Not for me. Just the image they want me to be.”

Y/N studied him carefully, noting the weariness in his voice. She didn’t respond immediately, unsure of how to react. Was he being genuine? Or was this just another side of Rafe Cameron who liked to keep people at arm's length?

Finally, she nodded, the words coming out more carefully than she expected. “Sounds like you don’t get a lot of room to breathe.”

He glanced over at her with a small smile. “That’s one way to put it.” His eyes lingered on her for a moment, and there was a brief pause in the air between them, charged with something unspoken.

Y/N shifted in her seat, her mind spinning with his words. “Well, I guess I get it,” she said softly. “We all have our own stuff. No one’s life is as easy as it seems.”

Rafe nodded, the faint smile still on his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. Exactly. Anyway, you’re almost home.”

The ride felt quieter after that, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Y/N looked out the window, her thoughts a mix of confusion, curiosity, and something else that she couldn’t quite name. She wasn’t sure what to make of the sudden vulnerability she’d seen in Rafe, but there was a part of her that was intrigued. Maybe he wasn’t just the entitled, spoiled Kook she’d always assumed.

The car slowed as they reached her house, and Rafe turned off the engine. Y/N hesitated, not immediately unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Thanks again, Cameron,” she said, looking over at him with a small but sincere smile.

“Don’t mention it,” Rafe replied, his tone easy. “You sure you don’t want me to walk you to the door?”

Y/N’s lips curled up slightly, though she shook her head. “I’m good. Don’t want to ruin your streak of being a decent person.” She opened the door and slid out, but before she closed it, she turned back. “Take care, Rafe.”

“You too,” he said, his voice steady.

As the car pulled away, Y/N stood there for a moment, watching the taillights fade into the rain. She couldn’t help but wonder—maybe there was more to Rafe than she’d originally thought.

[threepandas]

Bad End, Hidden Heir: Part 2

Prev <-

A pounding headache and cave air, that's what I woke up too. The air was being choked, though, by familiar scents. All trying desperately to make the cold, wet, and softly echoing quiet, hospitable. It was nauseating in my current state. Weak and... drugged? Had I been drugged? I certainly hadn't been drunk.

So why did my head hurt so much?

Why did every motion, make my stomach want to rebel?

My limbs felt so WEAK. Heavy and useless. Barely budging when I try to lift them. To rub my head? Adjust the blanket? Sit up? I can't tell. Thinking... thinking is so hard past... the pounding in my head. The fog. I struggle to concentrate. God, that SMELL.

Like a perfume store combined with... with... ugh. Everything!

I could pick out individual scents I knew I liked, on their own, added to the nauseating chaos. My favorite potpourri was there. But so was the one I like for winter? Fall? That one I liked as a kid until I found Mrs. Tianna's blend...

And perfumes! Colognes! The clean products and scents I preferred the maids used. God it... it blended together like a trash heap. As though someone drove a carriage through a perfume shop at speed. Cloying and musk and spice and fruity and-!

I sucked air through my teeth, trying not to smell it, hoping to god I wouldn't TASTE it.

Finally I managed to pry my eyes open. Either hunger or thirst giving my the strength to push past the nauseating pain. I NEEDED to move. Find out what was happening. Survive.

My gaze... met the most elaborate embroidery I had ever seen. Tapestries had less art. Almost to the point of gaudiness. Possibly past it. It was...

It was everything I had ever said I liked.

Too anyone.

Puppies and flowers, history and art, books scenes and more. It kept GOING! Hideous and magnificent. Chaos. Unhinged. Flowing down from above me, along the rest of the curtains, for the canopy bed upon which I rest. So I would be surrounded by it all. Even the blanket... it was a sea of my favorite flowers, made eternal through string.

This wasn't something people just DID. Could just FIND. I could feel my panic under the muting pain and exhaustion. This was the work of YEARS. Obsessive, continuous, YEARS. Some of these threads cost more then certain house hold make in WEEKS! And for what? A secret canopy bed?!

I struggled, body barely able to obey me but trying desperately to assist. The blankets were heavy. The curtain around the bed equally so, thanks to all the embroidery. I.. I manage to roll. Squirm. Wriggle my way, undignified, to the edge. Flop over it and out from under the blanket. Too freedom.

The air is cold.

The scents WORSE out here. Now, I can see why.

It is a museum to all that I am. Every like carefully gathered in one place, every preference. Stacked and shoved together, with no regard for if they fit. Hoarded like a collection.

I can not even tell... if I am sitting, flopped down, on my favorite winter bedside carpet or just an exact copy. My entire life is shoved together and suddenly... suddenly I do not like any of these things at all. They feel dirty. Dangerous. Like they have betrayed me. I want to cry.

But I am nauseous. Hurting. Tired and thirsty. So very hungry dispite it all. I just... I just need to know what's going ON! This isn't... this isn't how the Game goes! Not for Protag-chan. Not for me! I know I changed my "character's" behavior... but...

I... I don't understand...

Try not to cry. It's... it's really hard.

I was right. I'm pretty sure this is the Caves of Spring in the northwest of the Duchy. The offical Heir has an estate near them. The stone looks like the cliffs I'd seen in passing.

Crawling is hard. My legs keep getting tangled in my fucking nightgown. My... my f.. favorite.. nightgown! I'm not gonna cry. Damn it. I'm NOT GONNA CRY. How dare he? How DARE he ruin even that? What did he DO to me!? When I was... was...

No, don't think about it!

Move.

A decanter. Needlessly pretty. I probably loved it as a girl, fresh into this world. Everything was so FANCY and I wasn't used to having money yet. Hadn't developed any real class or taste. It looks so fucking gaudy to me now. But God, it has water. Please... PLEASE let that be water!

I drag myself up on badly shaking limbs. Nothing wants to hold. Wrists buckling, knees giving, legs shaking like a new born lamb. My arms are so weak. But thirst... oh thirst is a powerful motivator.

I force myself to move.

The water is not enough. It is everything. Cold and perfect, I force myself to go slow. To not spill a single drop, as I collapse against the dresser it was placed upon. Letting my eyes explore my cage in the way my poor abused body can not.

There are thick bars buried deep into the bedrock, separating the "room" I'm in from the hall that leads away from it. And it IS a "room". Made in cruel mockery to resemble the luxury of the dukes estate. Perhaps even more aggressively decadent in certain aspects, though that isn't a good thing. It makes it border on a storage room, for how crowded with luxury it has become.

It is the reflection of an unwell mind.

And staring up at the portraits of myself I KNOW I never sat for? The countless sketches pinned up beyond the bars? I am in trouble. I... I should have run. Not sent Creep away. I should have been the one to run. Before it was too late.

I think... I think it might be too late.

Footsteps.

I want to escape. But where can I run? I am caged. I feel close and far away. My head hurts. My body hurts. Everything stinks and I am cold. Why? Why did you do this? The foot steps are calm and commanding. Even. They do not break stride.

I do not bother to watch my hunter approach me. The monster I can not escape.

I close my eyes to spare myself the pounding in my head. Drink more water.

He makes a softly dismayed sound, as though he was not the one to drug me, to leave me here. The door to my cage opens. Closes. Ah... such a heavy lock. Should I be flattered?

Crisp steps, the rustle of fabric.

"My lady, the floor is so dirty! You shouldn't be out of bed yet. I was just about to make you tea."

The AUDACITY.

Tea? TEA! Ha ha! After DRUGGING my tea? He actually expects me to accept a cup from him again?! He truely IS insane, isn't he?

I am scooped up without my consent, unable to so much a truely struggle. Placed gently on a plush chair, a tea table moved in front of me. A familiar cup. My favorite blend. Pretty little snacks laid out deftly on lovely little plates. I grit my teeth. Slowly tip my head up to glare.

He pauses when our eye meet... then shudders, some terrible look of pleasure dancing across his face.

"That's right... look at me~" he whispers, leaning entirely too close. "I'm all that you have now. So you'll HAVE too now! No more others. No more distractions. No more sending me away! People trying to get between us. Trying to take you away. I'm all that you need, My Lady. All you'll EVER need."

"Just look at ME, your loyal dog. And I'll take such good care of you. I promise~♡"

[throwaway-things]

In the silence

The gentle hum of the BAU office buzzed around you, blending with the rhythmic typing of keyboards and the occasional murmur of conversation. You sat at your desk, your heart betraying a steady pace as you stole a glance at Spencer Reid. He was absorbed in a file, his brows furrowed in concentration, fingers tapping lightly on the edge of his desk. You admired how his mind seemed to race, faster than anyone else’s, solving problems in a way that felt almost magical. And yet, as brilliant as he was, you could never imagine him knowing your secret.

You had been harboring feelings for Spencer for longer than you cared to admit. The connection, at least on your side, had grown deeper over time. He was kind, intelligent, and so utterly unaware of the effect he had on you. You were careful—so careful—never to give any hint, knowing that revealing how you felt could change everything. Your heart was fragile enough without risking his rejection.

But Spencer Reid was not like everyone else. He saw things others missed, read people like they were open books. And though you had perfected the art of hiding, you knew, deep down, that no secret was safe from him forever.

One afternoon, while working together on a particularly difficult case, you noticed Spencer watching you out of the corner of your eye. It wasn’t the usual friendly glance, but something more intense. You tried to ignore it, focused on your work, but the sensation of being scrutinized sent your nerves into overdrive.

"Are you okay?" His voice startled you, gentle yet probing. You looked up to find his eyes—those deep, observant eyes—studying you. He wasn’t just asking if you were tired or stressed. It felt like he was asking about something deeper, something unspoken.

"Yeah," you replied quickly, too quickly. "Just focused on the case."

But Spencer didn't let it go. "You've been… different lately," he said softly, almost to himself. "Your body language, the way you avoid eye contact sometimes, the way your voice changes when you're talking to me— its noticeable"

Your heart stopped. He was analyzing you. You’d been so careful, so guarded, and yet, in that moment, you realized it was pointless. Spencer Reid had already figured it out.

"I… I don’t know what you mean," you lied, trying to hold onto the last vestiges of control. But the tremble in your voice gave you away. Spencer leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.

"You don’t have to say anything," he said, his tone so calm, so gentle. "I know."

It was like the world shifted beneath your feet. The secret you had carried for so long, that you had convinced yourself could never be known, was out in the open. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly terrified. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you forced them back. You refused to cry in front of him.

Spencer shifted awkwardly in his seat, his face flushed with discomfort. "I'm sorry," he began, his voice soft but laden with regret. "I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression. If I’ve done anything to make you feel—" He hesitated, clearly trying to find the right words. "I care about you, but… not in the way you might want."

The words hit like a physical blow. You were mortified, frozen in place as the blood rushed to your cheeks. Your worst fear had just materialized—he had figured it out, and now he was apologizing. It was worse than any rejection you had ever imagined.

"I—" you stammered, the words dying in your throat as shame engulfed you. You had never meant for him to know. You had never intended to put him in this position, to make things awkward or uncomfortable. But now, there you were, standing in the aftermath of something you had desperately tried to avoid.

Your heart broke, a quiet shattering that left you feeling hollow. Spencer was kind, as you always knew he would be, but it didn’t soften the pain. If anything, it made it worse. His apology wasn’t cruel, but it was final. You wished you could disappear, that you could take back every lingering look, every subtle sign you thought you had hidden so well.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, voice barely audible. You couldn't bear to look at him, the embarrassment too overwhelming. "I… I never meant for you to find out. I never wanted you to know."

Spencer’s brow furrowed, and for a brief second, you thought you saw a flicker of empathy in his eyes. "You don’t have to apologize," he said gently. "I just don’t want you to feel hurt because of me."

But you did feel hurt. Hurt, ashamed, and humiliated. You swallowed hard, willing yourself not to cry, not to let him see how devastated you were.

Before you could respond, the door to the conference room opened abruptly. Hotch stood there, clipboard in hand, looking between you and Spencer with a slightly raised eyebrow. "Briefing in five," he said, his tone all business as usual. "We’ve got a new case."

You felt a wave of relief wash over you. This was your escape. The interruption couldn’t have come at a better time.

"Thanks, Hotch," you mumbled, quickly rising from your seat and gathering your things. You didn’t dare look back at Spencer, afraid that any more eye contact might make your carefully held composure shatter completely.

As you stepped past Hotch, you could feel Spencer’s eyes following you, but you kept walking, grateful that the professional nature of the job had given you a way out. You needed distance—space to breathe, to process what had just happened without falling apart in front of him.

The hallway seemed longer than usual, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the silence. You blinked back the burning sensation in your eyes, your breath unsteady as you hurried toward the briefing room. There was no time to fall apart now. Work was calling, and you had to focus.

When you entered the room, you were greeted by the usual buzz of the team preparing for the case. Morgan, Garcia, and JJ were already seated, chatting about something you couldn’t quite focus on. You forced a smile and took a seat next to JJ, trying to look as though nothing was wrong, as though your heart wasn’t still aching from the conversation with Spencer.

“Hey, you okay?” JJ asked quietly, giving you a gentle nudge.

You nodded quickly, too quickly. "Yeah, just... a long day."

She smiled sympathetically, but thankfully didn’t press further. You were grateful. The last thing you needed was more questions when you were barely holding it together.

Moments later, Spencer entered the room, taking a seat across from you. You could feel his presence immediately, your pulse quickening as you glanced down at your notes, doing everything you could to avoid looking at him. He, too, seemed more reserved than usual, his expression unreadable as he set his file down.

Hotch began the briefing, and for the next hour, you did your best to focus on the case. It was difficult—your thoughts kept wandering back to Spencer, to his apology, to the crushing embarrassment of knowing that he was aware of your feelings. Every time he spoke, the sound of his voice sent a pang of sadness through your chest, a reminder of what could never be.

The following days passed in a blur. You immersed yourself in the case, using work as an escape from the overwhelming swirl of emotions you were struggling to contain. You avoided Spencer as much as possible, though it became increasingly difficult with every passing moment. The BAU was a tight-knit team, and it was impossible not to interact with him. Each time you had to speak to him or work alongside him, the tension was palpable, the weight of your unspoken feelings hanging between you like an invisible barrier.

Spencer, for his part, remained kind and professional. He didn’t treat you any differently, but the subtle shift in your dynamic was undeniable. He seemed more cautious, more distant, as if he, too, was trying to navigate the awkwardness without making things worse. You wondered if he regretted saying anything at all—if he wished he had kept his analysis to himself.

But it didn’t matter now. The damage was done, and you were left picking up the pieces of your broken heart in silence.

--

Late one evening, after another long day of avoiding eye contact and burying your emotions in paperwork, you found yourself alone in the office. The dim lighting and quiet hum of the computer were a welcome respite from the chaos of the case, but your mind kept drifting back to Spencer. You had tried to push your feelings aside, to forget about that conversation, but it was impossible. The pain lingered, raw and unrelenting.

Just as you were about to pack up and leave, the sound of footsteps approached from behind. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Hey,” Spencer’s voice was soft, tentative.

You inhaled sharply, your heart racing. "Hey," you replied, keeping your eyes fixed on the papers in front of you, pretending to be busy.

There was a long pause. You could feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy. Part of you wanted him to leave, to let the silence stretch between you until things faded back into some semblance of normalcy. But another part of you—one you hated to admit—wanted him to stay.

“I, uh… I just wanted to check on you,” he said quietly, stepping closer. "I’ve noticed you’ve been… distant lately."

You let out a bitter laugh, finally turning to face him. “Distant? Yeah, well… I guess I thought that might be for the best.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed, his expression filled with concern. "I don’t want things to be like this," he admitted. "I never wanted to hurt you."

Spencer looked at you, his eyes filled with that same empathy, and it only made things harder. "I understand if you need space," he said softly. "But I don’t want you to feel like you have to avoid me."

But you weren’t ready for this conversation. You weren’t ready to confront the tangled mess of emotions that had been suffocating you for days. You couldn’t handle Spencer’s kindness, not now. Not when the wound was still so fresh.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, your voice a little too sharp, a little too defensive. You turned back to the papers on your desk, pretending to be engrossed in work. "There’s nothing to talk about."

Spencer hesitated, clearly not buying your attempt to brush things off. "I know this has been difficult—"

“Spencer, I said I’m fine.” The words came out harsher than you intended, and you winced at the coldness in your tone. You couldn’t look at him, not now, not when the shame was still burning in your chest.

There was a long, tense silence. You could feel his eyes on you, searching for something, but you kept your gaze glued to the papers in front of you, refusing to meet his. You wanted this conversation to be over, for him to stop trying to dissect your feelings like they were just another puzzle to solve.

"I don’t want to push," Spencer said quietly, taking a small step back. "But I can tell you’re struggling. If there’s anything I’ve done—"

“Spencer, please,” you cut him off, your voice almost pleading now. "Let’s just leave it."

You didn’t want to elaborate, didn’t want to give any hint of what was really going on. You were desperate to keep everything vague and impersonal, to avoid the emotional discussion that was weighing on you. You needed him to walk away, to let the moment pass without probing further.

Spencer stood there, clearly not fully convinced but respecting your wish to drop the subject. "Okay," he said softly, his eyes filled with concern. "If that’s what you need."

You nodded, still avoiding his gaze. "Yes, that’s what I need."

There was a heavy silence between you, the weight of your unspoken truth hanging in the air. You could feel his disappointment, the unspoken tension that lingered, but you couldn’t bring yourself to face it. Admitting how you really felt would only make things worse. It would only prolong the pain, and you couldn’t afford that.

Spencer lingered for a moment longer, as if he was about to say something else, but then he nodded quietly. "I’ll let you get back to work," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. You simply kept your eyes down, waiting for the sound of his footsteps retreating as he left the room. When the door finally closed behind him, you exhaled sharply, the tension in your body releasing all at once.

You felt sick. Sick with the weight of your own unspoken truth, sick with the realization that you had just pushed him away. The idea of him knowing—of him seeing how much it hurt—was unbearable.

And so, you sat there in the empty office, your heart heavy with the truth you couldn’t bring yourself to say, knowing that, in the end, you were only hurting yourself more.

--

The following days were still a struggle. You continued to immerse yourself in work, using it as a way to avoid confronting your feelings. Spencer was courteous but distant, respecting your need for space. Every time you saw him, the old familiarity was tainted by the unspoken tension.

One afternoon, as you were sorting through case files in the bullpen, you felt a presence behind you. You turned to find Spencer standing there, a hesitant look on his face.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Do you have a minute?”

You nodded, though your heart was pounding. “Sure, what’s up?”

Spencer took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m here if you ever want to talk. I don’t want you to feel like you have to go through this alone.”

You felt a lump form in your throat. The sincerity in his voice was both comforting and heartbreaking. You had spent so much time trying to distance yourself from him, but here he was, offering support in the most genuine way.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I really appreciate that.”

He smiled, though there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Anytime.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with a mixture of relief and melancholy. You realized that while you couldn’t bring yourself to discuss your feelings openly, knowing that Spencer cared enough to offer support was a small comfort. It was a reminder that even though things had changed, there was still kindness and understanding between you.

As you went about your work, the ache in your heart was still there, but it was slightly eased by the knowledge that you didn’t have to go through it entirely alone. The journey of healing would take time, but Spencer’s gesture gave you a glimmer of hope that, perhaps, things might eventually find a way back to a semblance of normalcy.

[vmpivory]

but you're still a traitor.

౨ৎ﹒ [ 양정원 ] ☆ female reader / angst + cw. skinship + 0.8k wc - ( library ) now playing.. traitor by olivia rodrigo

raindrops hit the window slowly as you sat there, knees pulled to your chest. you were doing your favorite thing ever, listening to music with your earphones on a rainy day. favorite activities are supposed to make you feel better. but now it wasn't helping.

"brown guilty eyes and little white lies yeah, i played dumb but i always knew"

it was olivia rodrigo's 'traitor'. you know she didn't, but it felt like olivia herself wrote this song for you and jungwon. it explained everything happened between you two. 

sad songs make you feel better, they say. then why are tears rolling down your face now? ─ more under cut!

"that you'd talk to her, maybe did even worse i kept quiet so i could keep you"

no, you shouldn't be crying over a boy now, you keep telling yourself. but the harder you tried to convince yourself, the harder it became to stop the tears.

you stood up and walked to the mirror right beside your desk as the song continued. you looked at your reflection in the mirror, your eyes puffy and cheeks red. your makeup was also ruined.

"and ain't if funny how you ran to her the second we called it quits?"

you quickly took your makeup bag, trying to fix your makeup. your friends were gonna come over in a few hours for a sleepover and you couldn't show up like this. 

as you tried to fix your mascara, your hands trembled slightly. you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

why was this so hard? jungwon wasn’t worth it. at least, that’s what your best friend giselle always said. "you’re too good for him, anyway." maybe she was right.

"and ain't it funny how you said you were friends? not it sure as hell don't look like it"

you heard a loud knock on the door. you froze, mascara brush still in your hand, eyes locked on your reflection. you hadn't expected anyone so soon. you wiped your eyes quickly, swiping away the last traces of tears and taking off your earphones. you walked over to the door, your heart pounding in your chest for reasons you didn't understand. you opened it and there he was, yang jungwon. standing there in a hoodie you bought for him, his hair messy and soaked because of the rain. he was holding a cup of your favorite coffee in his hand. "can we talk?" he asked, quietly. you know you turned off the song before opening the door but you could still hear it.

"you betrayed me and i know that you'll never feel sorry for the way i hurt, yeah"

"there's nothing to talk abou-"

"have you been crying?"

you quickly wiped your cheeks again, even though you knew it was pointless. "no" you muttered, voice shaky "i'm fine."

jungwon stepped closer, his eyes scanning your face, searching for the truth. "you don't look fine," he placed the coffee cup on the table beside you and reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "i'm really sorry, y/n"

you flinched slightly at his touch, not sure if you were ready to hear those words coming from him. the last time he apologized, it felt empty. he promised change, but it never came.

"you'd talk to her when we were together loved you at your worst but that didn't matter"

"you're sorry?" she repeated, "are you serious? you hurt me, jungwon. twice." his expression softened, guilt taking over him. "i know i messed up and i hate myself for it. i shouldn't have done those things, i was such an ass and-" "aren't you dating her now?" jungwon pauses, avoiding your eyes for a moment. "yeah but.." he muttered "i regret how we ended and what i did" you shook your head, holding back tears. "that's not how this works, jungwon. you can't just show up here, apologize, and expect things to go back to normal. did you do the same with me too? did you go up to her and apologized while you were dating me too?"

"it took you two weeks to go off and date her"

jungwon looked taken aback by your words, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the right thing to say. "i-i didn't know how to fix it" he said, "i'm really sorry, y/n. i wasn't fair to you. i wasn't fair to either of you and i really regret it." you wanted to yell, to tell him how much he hurt you, how much you cried when you found out about him and her, but all of that felt like it would break you even more. no, he wasn’t the boy you once knew, the boy you once loved. he changed. "i'm done talking. goodbye, jungwon," you said, your voice steady but your heart aching. he didn’t respond, just nodded, turned and walked towards the door.

"guess you didn't cheat but you're still a traitor"

.vmpivory    ©    all rights reserved    ━    2024

i wrote this in an hour bc i was so bored and its not proofread TT hope ygs like it tho ! <3

PERM TAGLiST: @woniesprincess @orimuraa @heeaara

[rekino2114]

How did the " I am a devil/ one of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse" for Makima and Fami and how long did it take

I was curious about how this situation played out ever since the Asa/Yoru relationship headcanon, given it was a requirement for the relationship to continue/start and anyone who has a speck of emotional intelligence involving romance would tell you honesty is key to a long lasting healthy relationship not to mention dating one of the most powerful devils in the world is something you should be given a heads up about going forward.

Makima revealing her identity to you

A/n:sooooo I might have gotten a bit too much into writing this for makima and wrote more than usual i feel like what I had in mind for fami was kinda shorter than this and that it wouldn't have been fair in my head (also I didn't have that much time to finish it anyway) I'll do the fami part of this tomorrow in another post. Sorry for the inconvenience and if that's not what you wanted.

As much as she hated to admit it, makima was scared.

Fear was a rare but not new emotion to her, the only times she felt it was when you were fighting a strong devil like a primal one or when you were close to death in general. But all of those instances of her fear had something in common: she was scared that you would die that you would be ripped away from her in an unfair way, she never consider the fact that you would leave her of your own volition.

Makima took for granted the fact that you would love each other and be together forever, after all she loved you more than anything she could ever do could describe and you loved her too, she would literally give you the world if you just asked for it, as long as you would be with her you would get anything you could have possibly ever wanted in exchange of just continuing to love her. She had never thought you would have a reason to leave her...until now.

She had tried to delay this conversation as long as possible, only deciding to tell you after months of you dating (close to a year),the reason why she decided to reveal her identity to you was simple: it was better to tell you than you finding out some other way, you would have felt betrayed by her if you had found out without her telling you beforehand, the last thing she wanted to do was make you feel like she didn't love you.

The reason she waited so much before telling you was because she had no idea what would happen to her if you left her. Maybe she would have gone back to her old self, but she doubted it, the her from before was someone who had never loved and never been loved, and the hypothetical her was someone's who had that loved torn away from her because of nothing but herself. She would either become an even worse version of the emotionless control devil or she would have just asked denji to eat her to end her pitiful existence.

"Hey makima you called me right?"

You entering her office snapped her out of her thoughts, she put on a fake smile and started talking to you

"Yes darling,please sit down"

You did as she said and looked at her, the way she was smiling felt forced and you could see that.

"Is everything alright? You look worried"

".....you really understand me... I have to tell you something it's....really important"

"Sure what is it?"

Seeing you smile so innocently and warmly at her made her heart skip a beat. She could never hurt you, and that included lying to you.

"I want to tell you something that will definitely change your view of me in many ways but before I do that please know that I love you I always have and I always will, none of the loving words I told you were lies and none of the actions I have done have been made to manipulate you in any way, what I feel for you Is love at the purest state"

Makima stopped and you nodded at her as a sign to continue

"I.........am the control devil"

She gave you time to process what she said before starting to speak again with her head lowered as to not see your reaction.

"I am one of the four horseman of the apocalypse, some of the strongest devils that exist, I have the ability to control anyone who I feel is beneath me, please know that I have never used it on you as I both can't and despise the thought of"

Makima could feel her heart sink deeper and her face sweating more with every word she uttered she was so afraid of your reaction she still could bring herself to confront you face to face.

"I-i have just one request for you, I understand if you hate me for lying to you but let me explain myself, I have never been truly loved in my life until I met you you have made me feel emotions for the first time in my life and.....I can't lose you it would mean losing the part of me that i value most...s-so-"

Makima finally raised her head to look at you, tears that she never even realized were there ran through her cheeks.

"Please don't leave me"

Makima had never cried tears that were of true sadness all of the times that tears were present in her eyes they were ones of happiness caused by you, she had never felt sad enough to cry.....until now, she also felt very embarrassed that you saw this vulnerable side of her so she quickly lowered her head again expecting you to insult her or run away. What greeted her were not harsh words but your warm hands wrapping themselves around her body.

"It's fine I forgive you, what you did just now proved to me not only that you love me but that you are as much of a human as everyone else"

Makima was so shocked at your answer: You not only forgave her but considered her a human? She opened her mouth to speak, but as if you could read her mind, you answered her question even before she could ask it.

"You were worried I was gonna leave you, so much that you cried, you were worried that the person who showed you what love and emotions truly are was going to reject you just because of something you were born as and that doesn't define who you are now. That's an incredibly human thing to feel. Your tears were real, I'm sure of that, I've known you for enough time to know when you're faking emotions and that....was probably the most real display of feelings I have ever seen, you are a person makima, a person that I love and will continue to love forever"

Makima fell silent for a moment she needed a moment to fully realize what was happening but as soon as she did she hugged you just as you were doing to her, she raised her face to look at yours and even if the tears were still in her beautiful ringed eyes, a wide smile was now present on her face.she was crying tears of joy

"Thank you, just thank you so much, i promise i will treasure you forever I can't tell you how incredibly happy I feel right now"

"It's nothing, you treated me with nothing but love ever since I met you, I would never leave you"

You kissed her lips to once again affirm your love to her, she did the same and what resulted was a kiss filled with nothing but pure unfiltered love between the two of you.

"I love you"

"I love you too, more than words can describe, just....thank you for loving me"

[klarolinexluv]

It really bothers me when people say stuff like “when people hate Peter but love Barty, Evan and Regulus.”

Like, I love Peter. Hogwarts era Peter. I have nothing against him. I don’t like the person Peter grows into.

I love Barty and Evan and Regulus. I also don’t like that Barty and Evan grow into Death Eaters.

BUT REGULUS?! I will NEVER hate that man. He made some terrible decisions but at the end of the day he tried to do good, he tried to help defeat Voldemort. I don’t care what anyone says, Regulus was given a bad lot in life and at the end of it, tried to be good.

Peter, Barty and Evan (WHO WE KNOW LITERALLY NOTHING ABOUT) these three characters have no character development (towards being good or better people.)

In my opinion, Regulus and Peter have opposite story’s. More so than people might think.

We have no idea how Peter grow up but as a fandom we have mostly agreed that his home life is kind and good (of course, some people believe his mum has expectations for him that he can’t quite live up to but that’s up to you.) He fell in with James, Sirius and Remus. He became a Gryffindor.

We have some idea how Regulus grew up. His home life was cruel and strict, oppressive. His mother had very set ideals and expected her children to act accordingly. From canon, or at least from Sirius’ POV, Regulus believed it all, he was as devoted as any death eater.

Peter, during Hogwarts, showed no signs of being or becoming a death eater. In actuality, we have no idea why he became one.

With Regulus, it’s the opposite. He showed every sign of believing in pureblood supremacy and later, a death eater.

It’s after Hogwarts where these things switch. Peter becomes an Order member and a death eater. He is a spy. He feeds Voldemort information and it gets his friends killed. We have no idea how he truely felt about this, only what Harry saw and thought.

After Hogwarts, (or even during, in 1979) Regulus defects. From what we know, it can be inferred that Sirius knew that Regulus was going to or was trying to leave the death eaters. We all know that he did, or at least he tried, he went against Voldemort in an attempt to make him mortal.

These characters, to me are opposites. Peter grew up surrounded by good and kindness and still he became a death eater and got his friends killed. Regulus grew up surrounded by cruelty and racism and all these bad things that came with being born into an abusive supremists household, and he chose to try and do the right thing in the end.

What we know is that both these characters changed, one for the better, one for worse. Really, we don’t know much about them and their experiences, what lead them to these positions.

Was Peter ever really good or was he just in the wrong place at the wrong time? Was he afraid for his life and that’s why he did what he did, out of survival?

Did Regulus ever truely believe in the pureblood bullshit his parents and peers spewed? Was he a victim of circumstance? (Was Peter?) Why did Regulus choose to betray Voldemort? Was he always going to?

I fear I’ve gotten a little off track but that’s just my thoughts on the Peter and Regulus front.

With Barty. We know a bit about him. He was a good student. Smart. He was on his way to be exactly like his father. We know that he must have snapped and he joined the death eaters. We know he went on to be one of the worst. (This is just my knowledge of him, if I’m wrong please tell me) anyway- I don’t like the person Barty became but we don’t know anything about him at school so yes, I love Barty, I love him as a character. I don’t like the person he becomes but I still love his character.

Evan is different. We know next to nothing about him. We know he became a death eater, dueled Moody and then died. That’s literally all we know about him. So yes, I love Evan as a character, I don’t like that he became a death eater but I love what fanon has done to develop him.

Regulus. I’ve said what I’ve said about him. Nothing could ever change my opinion about him. He serves cunt.

Peter. We probably know the most about him but at the same time we don’t. He was a marauder, an order member (then ex order member) and a death eater. We don’t know his motivations, or reasons.

In fact we don’t know any of these four characters motivations or reasonings. Not really. We know what Harry thinks and what Sirius thinks, what Remus thinks. We know what Hermione and Ron think, what every other character that was close to Harry, what they think but we have no idea how Barty thinks, how Peter thinks, how Evan thinks or how Regulus thinks.

Which brings me to my final point, we know nothing about these characters or at least we know so LITTLE about them. Most of the fics I read are set at Hogwarts before all these characters have to make that life changing decision. And all the fics I read do these characters the justice I think they deserve.

So yes. I love Peter and Barty and Evan and Regulus. Yes I also hate them sometimes. These things don’t have to be mutually exclusive. All of these characters are complex and it’s okay to love them just as it’s okay to hate them.

THEY ARE FICTIONAL.

Thank you.

[to-the-stars8]

Just One More Time

Jason Todd x Reader Ao3 Summary: Jason sees you everywhere and thinks there will never be a chance for the two of you to be together again.

As Jason lit another cigarette, he found himself thinking of you again, and it made his stomach churn. Just when he thought he’d forgotten you, you snuck in through the back doors of his mind. You'd be there, whether it be someone who vaguely looked like you or the way the sun fell through the trees. It made him regret not trying harder to keep you, loving you better. Staying in the constant push and pull of love he had put you two in would have been better than dealing with the loathing reminiscing of it. 

You had been nice when you broke it down that it was over. Using the sweetest words to break his heart. Jason didn’t know what was worse, that he denied ever not loving you enough or that he had expected the end from the very beginning. 

“I’m sorry, Jason,” You said, and he couldn’t believe those were the same lips that declared that you loved him. When you left his place, you kissed him one last time and he thought of getting on his knees. He'd grovel, pray, and kill for you to come back to him now. 

Staring out into the city, he thought of how you’d sit there on his window sill watching cars and people go past. Then, his mind betrayed him suddenly as he asked himself the one thing he’d rather die than think of; did you ever miss him? Jason put up little resistance to delving deeper into the hole that would eventually bury him alive. 

He pictured you sitting on your bed looking at your phone as you decided whether or not it would be a good idea to call him. He desperately answered the question that wasn’t asked—That it would be a good idea because he would love you so well now that he knew you were more than the air he breathed. Hell, he thought, there weren’t gods he’d worship more than you. 

Jason hated himself more so than when he first returned from the dead. He’d made stupid mistakes, but letting you go was one of the dumbest. You brought kindness, sunlight, and all things good to him just when he thought that it all would have been a dream. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he remembered the nights when you made him yours and the moments after. They had been everything he dreamed of, and he wondered if there would be any kind of redemption for him in your eyes. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to believe that you’d come back. He knew you were too smart to ever go through the trouble he put you through again. 

Jason was pulled away from the sweet thought of your face by a knock on his door. He hadn’t been expecting anyone and assumed it was his brother coming to comfort him again. With a sign and putting his cigarette out on the fire escape, he got up. 

He could hear the shuffling of feet on the other side of the door, and more so when opened it. Adrenaline ran through Jason and he felt like he’d seen a ghost. You were there frozen in place like you were about to step away. 

“Jason,” You said his name like it had been stuck on your tongue since the two of you parted ways. 

He said your name in return and it felt like he could breathe for the first time in forever. 

“I,” You stopped, looking down at the space between the two of you. Jason wanted to lift your chin to look at him because it had been too long since he last saw such a pretty face. “I can’t stop thinking about you Jason.”

You stepped forward and he could smell the familiar scent of your perfume and butterflies erupted in his stomach. Looking up at him, your eyes wandered down to his lips and he prayed that you would kiss him. 

“I could say the same,” He said. “And then some.”

You cracked a smile, but it quickly faded. “I want you, Jay. I’ve never stopped wanting you—Needing you.”

Jason nearly fell to his knees in ecstasy. Leaning forward slightly, he whispered, “You're killing me.”

He could see in your eyes that you had a mission being there, and he’d be damned before he stopped you. You ignored him, continuing, “I want to give us another try, Jason. Just one more time, but it can’t be like it was before. I…I can’t handle it.”

Jason nodded, reaching out to cup your cheek. “I swear it won’t be.”

Smiling, you leaned up and kissed him. Jason swore on his own grave that the one more time you were giving him would be the last. He didn’t want to expect the end this time.

[holdmymallowsweet]

Inside

For Gaunting Salloween day 19: Parasite.

Words: 1,723, also on AO3

Warnings: body horror, nausea, suicidal thoughts, minor character death, implied cannibalism, implied underage sex (it’s really barely there but I didn’t want to upset anyone by not mentioning it)

...I just felt like writing something really disturbing and fucked up, please mind the warnings.

Ominis would always say, the next time he’d go to Gaunt Manor it would spell the end of him.

“Don’t go then,” Sebastian told him, as he always did. “Just stay with me.”

“It’s my father’s birthday dinner, they want the whole family there. You know I have no choice.”

“‘Course you do. Tell them they can shove it.” 

“I’m not seventeen yet, they can still pull me out of school.” Ominis leaned down, kissed Sebastian’s knuckles to make the anger melt away.

“Take me with you then.”

“I think that might make it worse.”

“Fine.” Sebastian took his hand away, stood up long enough to almost break Ominis heart a little, before he cradled him in his arms. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

“Of course I will.”

He’d told himself not to eat or drink anything, not to fall asleep or be caught alone in a room, to nod when he was spoken to and clap politely along with everyone else as the birthday toasts were made.

To leave as soon as propriety allowed.

But he couldn’t find a good enough reason to refuse the glass of wine that was pushed on him, that made him drowsy and not realise he’d started to eat until the fork was in his mouth for the third time. 

And he was betrayed by his eyes, the useless, stupid things, falling shut as he rested on a chaise in the parlour after dinner.

If only he’d taken Sebastian with him, after all. 

He came to with a jolt of panic, in silence, until he heard his brother's voice from behind him. 

“I suppose it’s good to know you still feel comfortable in your own home.”

Ominis didn’t. Not ever, as far as he could remember. And he’d long stopped thinking of this place as his home, home was where Sebastian was.

“Why not stay overnight, now that it’s come to this? You do so rarely grace us with your presence.”

“I’m expected back at school tonight,��� Ominis said impassively, through the sudden lump in his throat.

“Well,” His brother answered, striding past him close enough to make him shudder in revulsion. “You better hurry along then.”

As Ominis left, he felt it moving for the first time. Just the tiniest little thing, sitting in his throat like the soreness after one screamed too much.

Ominis kept his promise. The problem was, he didn’t come back alone.

The tiny thing had started to grow, since then. 

Ominis could feel it, writhing inside him, stretching out underneath his spine, filling his throat.

He didn’t know what it was, or how it had gotten inside of him, only that it was there. That it felt wrong.

And that it wouldn’t leave on its own.

It became hard to force food down, there was no space, it rejected it. When he managed, he threw it up minutes, on good days hours later. 

And it became harder to hide. 

Sebastian was the first to notice something was wrong. Of course he was. 

“Ominis, you need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” 

“Don’t lie to me, I can’t even remember the last time I’ve seen you eat.”

“I do eat,” Ominis lied. 

“When?” 

“At mealtimes in the Great Hall, like everyone else.”

“No, you don’t. I see you, pushing food around on your plate until you find some excuse to leave. I’m not stupid.”

“It’s just stress.”

“...Stress,” Sebastian echoed.

“Over exams.”

“Exams are months away.”

“I know,” Ominis said desperately. It stretched again, made him feel sick. “I know. Perhaps I’m coming down with something. It’ll pass.”

So he managed to hide it for another few weeks.

Sometimes it seemed to sleep. Those were the better days, the ones where he could almost pretend nothing was wrong, where he could hold Sebastian’s hand and laugh at his jokes wholeheartedly, instead of pretending. 

As time went on, it seemed to need less and less sleep.

He knew, instinctively, that there was nothing to be done. The thing inside him grew day by day, chipping away at his essence, his mind, until there’d be nothing left of him.

One day it would seamlessly fill out his skin.

But he would hold on, as long as he could, would try his best to make another few good memories before it was over, and he wouldn’t let Sebastian find out. 

Never. 

He’d witnessed how Anne’s curse had almost destroyed him, how far Sebastian was willing to go to save someone he loved, and Ominis wouldn’t be the one to lead him down this path again.

Because of course he’d go just as far for Ominis, of course he loved him. That thought was what made him want to try, to live, but it was also what made him break down and sob uncontrollably behind the greenhouses, when it all became too much. Sob and heave, because the thing made it hard for him to draw deep breaths.

But the day came when Ominis wanted to stop trying.

“I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong,” Sebastian said, taking Ominis’ hand. For comfort. Or perhaps to stop him from running away.

Ominis gave him a feeble smile. “What makes you think something would be wrong?”

Sebastian stepped closer, holding onto him as Ominis tried to flinch away.

“You’re not yourself lately. We hardly talk at all anymore, and when we do, you’re not all there. And you look horrible. Nothing but sunken cheeks and dark rimmed eyes, almost like Anne, before she-” 

Ominis’ heart broke then.

“You feel different. You even taste different.”

“I- taste ? You mean when we-”

“When we kiss. We haven’t done anything else for months now, and I didn’t want to say anything, because I thought maybe you just…” Sebastian sounded close to tears.

Ominis wanted to tell him. With every fibre of his being, he wanted to scream, wanted to beg Sebastian to pry open his jaw and rip it out of him.

He’d already opened his mouth when he felt it stretch, more than ever before. It wouldn’t let the words come out, it pressed up against his brain and made his ears ring.

“It’s nothing,” Ominis heard himself say, dully through the fog in his mind. “I’m stressed about exams, that’s all.” 

And just as quickly, it contracted again, shrinking to its normal size.

Hiding it from Sebastian was no longer his choice.

Sometimes he wished he could open his mouth and look in the mirror, to see if it would stare back at him.

The worst part of it was the pain.

Ominis was no stranger to pain. Even after years, the memories of the Cruciatus curse were etched into his mind, but this was something else entirely. 

It always came suddenly, usually at night, starting just slow enough to let him cast a silencing charm so his screams wouldn’t wake Sebastian. Then it would feel like he was being eaten from the inside out, like it was suddenly made of thousands of tiny spikes and thorns and teeth, ripping him apart.

Growing pains.

Somehow he knew, even if he were to go to the Hospital Wing, they wouldn’t find anything. It knew how to hide. They’d only hurt him, say it was his family’s insanity finally catching up to him, and he’d lose Sebastian.

But there were moments where the remnants of his common sense flickered to life, and he realised those thoughts weren’t his own, that he should try harder to tell someone- but then just as suddenly, the moment was over.

It was getting harder to hold on.

One night, he found himself at the top of the astronomy tower.

It would be quick. It would be over. He was well past the age where accidental magic would save him.

Sebastian would be devastated, but he’d lose Ominis anyway.

The thing inside him would die with him, though, and it wanted to live.

There was no holding on anymore. There were no more happy memories to be made. Most days now, he couldn’t remember anything at all.

But he remembered where it had started, and at last, he made the choice to go back.

And just like when it had started, he found his brother in the Manor’s parlour again.

“We need to talk.”

Ominis heard hissing. For the first time in his life, he didn’t understand it.

Silence.

“Did my little toy break your brain?” His brother asked, in mock concern.

“You did this to me.”

“I sure did.”

“Why?” Ominis asked desperately. “Does father know?”

“No, and I don’t think he’d be too happy if he found out, so I won’t tell him.”

His brother’s steps came closer, and Ominis fought the urge to step back in turn.

“And neither will you.”

Ominis wasn’t sure how he knew his brother had drawn his wand, or that his life was in danger.

The thing did. And it refused to let him die.

There was a scream, then silence. Then the overwhelming stench of blood. Ominis lowered his wand, shaking, drawing laboured breaths. He didn’t even know what spell he’d used.

He should have left then. Instead, he took a step forward, then another, until he heard and felt the squelching when he reached his brother’s corpse. Slowly, he bent down, and dragged his fingers through the puddle of blood.

Then Ominis smiled.

When he left, his stomach was full for the first time in weeks. The thing had finally found something it wanted to eat.

“Damn it, Ominis, where have you been?”

Ominis crossed the room, wordlessly. He didn’t need his wand, hadn’t needed it on the journey back. It knew where it wanted to go.

Sebastian felt nice when he hugged him. So warm. 

“I missed you,” Ominis said, and squeezed a bit tighter. “I want you.” Finally, he didn’t have to lie anymore.

Sebastian hesitantly hugged him back, careful, as if afraid he’d break something. “Merlin, I thought you’d gone off me.”

“Rubbish, as if I’d ever.”

Time stopped as they held each other, until Sebastian softly started to speak again. “So… how do you feel?”

“Hungry.”

“Really? That’s great,” Sebastian sighed.

It was. And as Ominis nuzzled his face in Sebastian’s neck, savouring the warmth and the way his own breath fanned out between them, he thought he’d never smelled anything so delicious.

[yoomiwrites]

Salty Rush¹³

Summary: Some time ago, Reader was a partner of Akainu, a comrade he could rely on. Reader betrayed the navy, became part of a pirate crew...And finally the two face each other again

Note: So, now two chapters of Salty Rush as well!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The days had blended into weeks, and before I knew it, a month had passed. Life in the Navy wasn’t like I remembered it—it felt stifling, artificial. I wasn’t really one of them anymore, no matter what they said.

The tasks they gave me weren’t hard, just routine missions meant to keep me busy. Escorting cargo, overseeing training, or sitting in on strategy meetings. But I wasn’t stupid. These were things they could’ve handed to anyone. It felt like busywork, a way to keep me from causing trouble—or maybe to see if I’d break.

And, oh, I was tempted to break.

The first few missions, I did exactly what I was told. I executed orders to the letter, even when they made my stomach turn. But after the third or fourth time, I couldn’t help myself. I started making changes—little ones, at first. Ignoring certain commands, taking the side of civilians when it was obvious they were being exploited.

One time, I even set an entire group of prisoners free. They weren’t criminals; they were starving fishermen caught poaching in waters the Navy had no right to control.

I braced myself for the fallout. Each time I made a decision that directly contradicted their orders, I waited for the hammer to fall. For Sakazuki to show up, fiery rage in his eyes, and strike me down for daring to defy the system he cherished.

But nothing happened.

No reprimands. No punishments. Not even a slap on the wrist.

Instead, it was as if no one cared what I did. Like I was invisible.

The indifference burned worse than any punishment ever could.

It was Sakazuki’s silence that hurt the most. I’d barely seen him since the day Sengoku told me the truth about his lie. The few times I did catch a glimpse of him, he either turned and walked the other way or ignored me entirely.

It was maddening.

I’d once thought his silence was a sign of his respect for me, his way of letting me find my place without interference. But now, it felt like a punishment of its own. A cold, calculated reminder that I wasn’t important enough to warrant his attention anymore.

And yet, the leash they kept me on was so loose, it might as well not exist.

I could’ve walked away. I could’ve fled in the night, stolen a ship, and returned to the freedom of the sea.

But I didn’t.

Because as much as I hated to admit it, part of me was waiting. Waiting for him.

That’s what made it so unbearable. The not knowing. The constant swirl of emotions I couldn’t pin down. Anger, frustration, hope, and something else—something I didn’t want to name.

One night, after a mission that had gone just as sideways as I’d intended, I returned to my quarters, threw my gear onto the desk, and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed.

My fists clenched as I stared at the floor.

What did he want from me?

If he hated me, he should just say it. If he wanted me gone, he could make it happen with a single word. But instead, he did… nothing.

The thought gnawed at me, festering like an open wound.

I wanted to scream. To storm into his office and demand answers. To force him to look me in the eye and tell me why he’d lied for me, why he’d saved me, only to treat me like I didn’t exist.

But I didn’t move.

Because deep down, I was afraid of what I’d see in his eyes.

I sank deeper into my thoughts, the quiet hum of the headquarters at night doing little to calm the storm inside me.

Sakazuki.

The name felt heavy in my mind, like a stone dragging me into a dark, endless abyss. I hated him. Hated him for what he stood for, for his unyielding dedication to the Navy’s twisted sense of justice.

But I also loved him.

I loved the man I’d trained with, the man who had once laughed with me—however rare it had been. The man who, despite his iron exterior, had moments of quiet vulnerability that he probably thought I’d never noticed.

That love was maddening, a knife twisting in my chest every time I thought about what could never be. He had saved me, lied for me, protected me. And yet, he had been the one to walk away, to shut me out, as if doing so could erase everything we’d been through.

Why?

Why save me if he was just going to pretend I didn’t exist? Why give me that sliver of hope only to leave me dangling, unsure of where we stood?

The contradictions ate at me, clawed at my mind until I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed answers, and if he wouldn’t come to me, then I would find him.

I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. The night outside was pitch black, but the HQ was never fully asleep. There were always patrols, always soldiers moving between shifts. I didn’t care.

Pulling on my coat, I stepped into the hallway, the dim lights casting long shadows against the walls. I didn’t know where he’d be. Maybe he wasn’t even here—maybe he’d been sent on some mission or retreated to whatever private place he called home.

But if he was here, I would find him.

My boots echoed against the cold, sterile floor as I walked, my steps quick and purposeful. The anger and frustration simmering in my chest felt like a fire, guiding me forward even as doubt tried to creep in.

What would I say when I found him? Would I yell at him? Demand an explanation?

Or would I break?

The thought made my stomach churn, but I shoved it aside.

No. I wouldn’t break. Not this time.

I passed the barracks, the officer quarters, the strategy rooms. Each space was dimly lit, quiet, but not deserted. Soldiers gave me wary looks, no doubt wondering what I was doing wandering the halls so late.

I ignored them.

I didn’t know where my feet were taking me, but something in my gut told me to keep going. That I’d find him, eventually.

And I would.

Because this had to end. One way or another, I couldn’t keep living like this—caught between love and hate, between hope and despair.

If he loved me, I wanted him to say it. To admit it, no matter how impossible it was for us. To let us feel. I wanted him to let me in. To not throw me out again and again.

And if he didn’t…

Well, at least I’d know.

The halls grew quieter as I ventured deeper into the HQ, the faint hum of activity fading into the background. My pulse quickened, a mix of anticipation and dread building with every step.

Soon, I told myself.

Soon, I’d have my answer.

Would I stay?

Or would I run away once more?

[noroi1000]

Nyan XV - Not now. Just love me, f*cking fluffy heads.

Nyan Chapters List

Summary: Time for Truth

Satoru: "Bb" "Come back" "It's getting late" "Come home with us"

Suguru: "Honey" "Please come back inside" "Something will happen to you if you drive this far alone."

Satoru: "What you saw is not what you think!" "She only thinks about money!" "We only love you!"

Suguru: "That woman from earlier is our senpai" "We've been working with her since we were in school." "We only love you" "I know what it could look like" "But we wouldn't invite you here just to find out we're cheating on you. We've never cheated on you!"

Satoru: "Bb! I'm not unfaithful!"

Suguru: "Please read our messages and reply to us!" "We're worried about you!"

Satoru: "Bb! Don't ignore us! Please just listen to us!" "She's nothing to us!" "The only thing attractive about us to her is that we have money."

"So I'm with you for money too? Just kidding..." You whispered, wiping your nose with a tissue. "You don't need me. If you have so much money, you must have better houses than mine. Yuki was right... You guys are so damn weird and unpredictable..."

You knew that when you came down from this mountain, you would reach a bus stop nearby. That's why you wanted to go there to get home. Because you don't want to spend much time in this place.

You were supposed to get an explanation here. They were supposed to tell you the whole truth.

And you received the truth.

They didn't tell you everything about them because they didn't want you to know about their affairs...

You understand everything.

Everyone has the possibility of being betrayed. But everyone's situations are different. Some people love each other so much that they don't look for someone else.

Others are bored and will look for something more than one person.

You bored them. They are special and you are normal and boring. You don't have an interesting job. No matter what you may be doing, you look normal. That was always enough for you. But now you think you're worse...

You had handsome boyfriends... But Yuki once told you that when your relationship isn't what you want, he will wait for you...

„I don't want this for you (y/n), but if you ever feel bad for these guys, I'm here for you. I understand that your relationship is special. But if you ever get tired of such weirdness, I'm here for you and I'll wait. You'll feel normal with me, remember? There is nothing interesting about being unique! Just other people's glances at you. Isn't it better to have a peaceful and normal life with happiness? If they no longer want normality and you no longer want uniqueness, come to me. I'll help you feel better!"

Even though you once felt that these words were hiding some meaning and weren't so sweet, now you think that everything he said was true.

You're fed up with this uniqueness. You are a gray human between white and black.

Black and white contrasts. While gray may not be visible as much.

Even though gray goes well with black and white, gray looks best next to gray.

You want to listen to them so much and hear from them everything they wrote. You want a lie detector. Because anyone who betrayed someone could say the same to protect themselves from punishment...

You want to come home so much and hear the whole truth from them.

You want to know everything down to the smallest detail. Whether you believe them quickly depends on what they say...

You: "You have to tell me everything at home" "The Whole Truth"

Satoru: "Let's go now! Bb thank you!!!"

You were sitting in a dark room on your bed. The windows were covered even though it wasn't even evening. You came back from work early to go there later. Now you're back home but the sun is still in the sky. Even though it's getting lower and lower.

You waited for them to come home.

But you didn't hear any sound of the door opening.

Just when you were starting to think that they were avoiding you and decided not to show up, you felt something rub against your legs.

You saw white and black fur as two cats cuddled up to you.

Normally you would reach into their fur and pet them. However, not this time. Even if their fur is temptingly soft.

"Don't play around... Just say what you need to say." You said, moving your legs away from them while sitting cross-legged.

Thanks to their cat eyes, they saw how red your eyes were.

They sat in front of you as cats and suddenly black and white smoke appeared, showing that they were changing.

You looked at your purple and blue collared hands. Have you ever bought this small thing?. But they probably replaced it with the same one but bigger without asking. Because it fit around their human necks.

You saw two tails lying on the sheets.

You looked at their faces and the ears on their heads.

"Do you think it will distract me from what you did?" You asked calmly.

"No. We don't think so. We know you might have understood it differently since you didn't see what was there before..." Suguru said, looking at your hands sadly.

Satoru looked at the blue collar in your hand and reached out for it.

You let him take it.

"I don't think I need it anymore. It's yours, so do with it what you want..." you said, handing the purple collar to the dark-haired man.

The white-haired man put it around his neck. The second one did the same.

"What are you doing?"

"If we're going to tell you the whole truth right now, we need to show you that no matter what you think, we are your cats. Your boys. Only yours. We are yours."

"You–."

"So hear us out as yours." Suguru cut you off by placing your hand on his chest.

"We are teachers at the school you were at. The woman you saw is our senpai from our school days. Mei Mei. She's not a teacher, but when she heard that we were going to bring our girl there, she got curious and since she was nearby, she just came. She drank the wine we bought for dinner." Satoru said in a serious voice.

"We are Jujutsu sorcerers." Geto added.

"Have you drink?"

"I hate alcohol." Gojo laughed. "We are sorcerers. We studied at the Jujutsu school you saw. Now we teach young sorcerers there. There are so few of us, that's why people haven't heard of us."

"And what? Do you make magical infusions of herbs and sell them to older people who believe in their power?"

"Don't make fun of us..." his white ears fell back for a moment but then rose again.. "Jujutsu sorcerers have been around forever. But we don't make magical herbal infusions... We fight curses... Creatures born from people's negative emotions. Invisible to normal people, most visible to us."

"You can't see anything. Yet it surrounds the whole world. It's everywhere. Without sorcerers, people would die excessively. Death after death. Even though I don't like saving people, I do it." The dark haired man said. "I am a user of Cursed Spirit Manipulation. Satoru is a user of techniques called Limitless and Six Eyes. That's why you saw him floating in the air..."

"I can also teleport."

"Yes... He can do it. I can show you that curses are real. I know you don't believe. But here's the proof."

You saw him raise his hand and snap his fingers. A thin dragon flew out of the black hole above him and began to slowly fly around your body until it suddenly wrapped itself around the dark-haired man's hand.

You've never seen a snake with bird wings and lizard legs...

"This is an example of a curse. There are smaller ones, the same ones, or bigger ones. Gigantic."

"I'm dreaming, aren't I...?"

"No. This isn't a dream, honey. This is reality." The white-haired man's fingers came together and he pointed upwards with both of them. Suddenly you started floating in the air and you were pulled onto his lap. "When people are unaware of the danger around them, they are calm. When they become aware of the curses, it makes it difficult to work there because panic sets in. We will protect you from this, understand? We will always be with you."

When you started to truly believe them because you loved them so much, you remembered one more thing.

You haven't learned the Truth about one thing.

"Why are you cats?"

"It's a long story... We fed a cat that turned out to be a good spirit and in return we were given the opportunity to turn into cats!

"You once said that you could choose what you would be, but you prefer a cat than, for example, a dog... So you can choose him."

"I joked! Honey, you know I like to joke!" Suddenly his goofy smile disappeared. "But seriously, we love you so much that we could never lie to you..."

"We would do anything for you." Suguru's hand was placed on your back.

Tears came to your eyes and you hugged Satoru.

You felt his soft tail against your leg. You hugged him tighter as your tears began to soak into his shirt.

Your back was pressed against Suguru's chest as he hugged you from behind.

"I love you...!" you moaned, pressing into their warmth.

"We know. We love you too."

You just want them to love you. These fucking fluffy heads... You want to love them and be loved!

[yoonyia]

ok guys, is anyone's favorite enderverse book children of the mind

because I'm reading it and it's just

bad

like the writing quality is slightly worse

like the wording and structure itself

but also I feel like im talking to an AI

it just remembers stuff wrong and then like rehashed everything ever so slightly but not in a subtle recon way its just flat out stating information that's contradictory

like in the first 2 chapters I nearly died of a stroke because miro said "long years spent with a crippled body" or something along those lines

and I'm sorry if I'm getting the timeline a bit wrong here

miro got hurt at the wall

then got treatment for a few days or months (let's say 3 months to be generous but it really just sounded like 4 to 6 days)

then he stopped getting better

and let's say he spent another 3 months being crippled with his family (which he didn't, he said he didn't but let's just say he lost track of time) then he left on a 3 week space trip then he came back and the time between when he came back and when he got his body back is probably about 6 months (or less cause the pacing of orson Scott's writing, if there isn't a wide jump in time over weeks usually goes rather slowly or like day by every other day)

so even being incredibly generous it couldent possibly have been years, plural

giving him what I think is an extra 6 months still only makes it 1 year

and I know that even a year can be long and it can effect you completely yes but the writing is making it sound like when miro got his body back he also got back his youth??? (which I guess is true cause he said he had the body of a 90 year old and there was stuff about Jake having the build of a 20 year old so when orsonscottcard is referring to youth it isn't just age) but it's framed as if he reversed several years of his life???

not so much in xenocide, in xenoxide it sounded like he's having the worst few months of his life and is being an angsty adolescent about it (which he is and boy is he justified for it)

but in children of the mind it sounds like he got jaded and was fundamentally changed to be miserable?

he was always not very happy I dont know where this sudden simplification of his character came from

all the characters feel like 2 steps removed from what they actually are (except for ender but I'll get into that)

valentine being so uncomfortable with this child version of her also feels off

like I get it, it's supposed to be weird but her first reaction and her continued reaction has such a disconnect that dosent feel like a development and more like a sloppy paste over that's being stapled on top of the old and holding on with hopes dreams and memory loss

because her reaction initially was "ender you poor soul, you kept with you the one thing no one in this world could ever be, perfect morality that you compared you me and everyone against it" and ofcourse she was weirded out but it felt more weird because she was perfect rather her being a val

like she felt sad about it sure but less betrayed and disturbed and more sorry? sorrow? disappointed? understanding?

and like that can develop into being disturbed sure but we don't see that?

and it feels out of character for Val to be so disturbed while saying she's not

there's so much telling

but like yes it's showing us she's shuddering yea but it's like shoving "she's scared" down your throat with people EXPLAINING why she would feel that way

I remember when I first speedran through the series that I felt the children of the mind was the weakest (mostly because I couldent remember shit from it) and while reading children of the mind thought the writing degraded starting from xenocide

but I think for xenocide the writing didn't actually get worse at all it was just a complicated book with a lot of moving elements that just makes it harder to write and read

and reading back on it it was done pretty well even while being a lot of things all at once, it felt like I was actually in the crisis situation with everything slowly pulling together

but children of the mind just feels wrong

like it was slapped together

it feels like it was orson scott card loosing interest in the story and doing all his favorite story beats and relationships he wanted to happen and rushing them in

but then he kept talking and found out he had more to say so it's just awkward

there's so much romance in this book that's such a sudden shift to the duo and partnership aspect when it so far have been

children in a school, soldiers

a family

a community of ramen

duo love interests???? (with a love triangle in there for miro??)

like the entire series so far have been focused more on the collective and how 1 person effects them

and as the books go on that one person gets less important then eventually he's not needed anymore which make the story less decentralized, WHICH SHOULD MAKE IT MORE EXPANSIVE BUT IT DOSENT it feels like we got to a point where the issues are so big and complicated that no one person can solve it and we have to give everyone the attention and then we're sucked back into a centralized perspective between like 3 groups

it feels like a simplification

there's nothing inherently wrong with it it just dosent follow the message or the flow or the plot of the other books

it kinda grabs you by the collars and shoves it into the plot of dirt and hope you don't realize it was actually sand before

before the issue felt real

even if one thing was solved there were a hundred other things that needed to be finished

and when smaller things or huge things get solved the tension eases a bit (which it should) but I feel like the urgency disappears

like there is still a time limit (rather artificial one but it does add tension to the story) where they can't take all the humans off of lustania before the fleet comes

but there's no impending doom there was before

yes there Is a shorter list of things that needs fixing

but there's also an ever closer deadline and the big problems that most people or worried about aren't solved yet

but the story dosent have the urgency to make it feel real

I love peter and Wang mu in an isolated bubble

but in the story they kinda go a bit off the rails and kinda deus ex machina things

and Wang mu dosent care about the people in lustania enough to share the impending doom and peter 2 is stressed out and miserable but he's that always so it dosent show a heightened sense of anxiety or tension

he was also born yesterday I feel like the book thinks it has to explore what he us before putting him in a proper contextual emotion or motive

which it does but it's but it could have been done better

it feels like a first draft

I'm working on the rewrite now because I genuinely want to (not make the story better persay) but atleast more consistent within themselves because it's getting disjointed

I dont know tell me your thoughts

[triforceangel13]

A Service to the King Ch. 20 (A SidLink Omegaverse Story)

Chapter 20: Run

Link's lungs burned as he ran as hard as he could. He was exhausted and he wasn't feeling right he had to get away from there as fast as possible. He had to put as much distance as he could. He knew this was dangerous. When Sidon's scent left the little necklace he had he knew that he would grow ill and subcome to the illness.

He didn't undesrtand that. Why was he the punished for putting distance between them after what Sidon had done?

Being so close to Zelda like that, pinning her to the wall like that, the way Link wanted in some sort of way.

And his best friend. How could she do that to him? They have been through so much together. Twice he had saved her life and twice he had saved her kingdom.

And she stabbed him in the back by being with the one man he ever loved in his long life. Now he was cold and alone.

He had no one to talk to on a personal level like this. The two that he used to talk to were the ones that had been the one to harm hm.

All he knew was he had to get out of his area. Get out of this territory.

He stopped running near a column on the bridge out of the Domain. He was nearly free but he couldn't go on foot.

It was near mid day. If he kept going now he could get to the stable and grab Epona. He didn't really want to be around anyone right now. The wilds seemed to be the only thing to comfort him.

But of course that caused a bunch of danger to come by. He didn't have his weapon or his pack and he wasn't about to run back into the domain to get them. Not with Sidon being on his heels.

He had ultra hand but that only did so much right now. He'd have to make do until he was able to get to the stable for the night.

Pushing himself up he moved away from the column and away from Domain. He felt his purah pad on his leg and he grabbed it.

There was a shrine nearby that he could teleport to to get closer. It was still a heft walk from there however.

He rest his hand on his stomach, it still sour. He wished he hadn't run from the meeting with his family about his future. He had trusted Sidon and had been about to come back when he had caught Zelda and Sidon together.

He winced from the pain in his backside still. He was still sore and tired from the night before but he had to keep pushing himself. To keep going.

He had been through much worse at this point. He had been through it all and nearly lost his life in different situations.

He could do this.

Poking the buton on the Purah pad he felt the familiar warmth of warping travel come over him, letting his eyes fall shut.

“Link!” came Sidon call. Link opened his eyes, tears welling up in them as he saw the king and Zelda coming after him in a panic.

“Link wait!” Zelda called out but Link turned his back to them. He didn't want to let them see him cry right now.

He confirmed his choice and let the warping take him away.

“No!” Sidon cried out as he was nearly grasping Link but his fingers went right through where he had once stood. He let out a growl, his head falling back in aggrivation.

“Why can we not have anything so simple,” he said, turning to look at Zelda. She had tears running down her cheeks.

“Where did he go?” he asked her. They had to put their differences aside. They had to find Link.

“I don't know,” Zelda said. “My time away from him when I was a beast really had me not know where Link tended to go when upset.”

Sidon let out a heavy sigh, running a hand down his face. He didn't know what to do. His mate was upset, thinking he had betrayed him and he was also pregnant.

They were on the brink of telling their people the plans for their lives and Link was gone. He couldn't do this without him.

And now the heir to the Domain was involved while in Link's womb.

“We need to find him as soon as we can. And quickly. I do not know if he has any of his weapons or if he has his necklace with my scent,” Sidon said worried. “Is there a way to fast travel or anything?”

Zelda's eyes softened a bit as she looked to Sidon. She had been rather angry before but she could clearly see that he was desperate to find him.

She would need to apologize later.

“Yes I have my own Purah pad,” she said. “We can fast travel that way. But you need to stay behind-”

“Not a chance,” Sidon said. “He is my mate. He is carrying my child. I will not sit by and let someone else do something like this.”

“Sidon-”

“No.”

Zelda sighed. She knew she was not going to win. He was going to go find his mate no matter what. And she couldn't stop him.

“At least tell your father,” She sighed. “That way they know where you are this time instead of disappearing on them again. Your Domain needs their king.”

Sidon was silent a moment and then sighed heavily.

“Fine. I'll go talk to him really quick,” he said.

*

Link stepped into the stable, adjusting the hood of his cloak and he smiled at the man in the front. He tipped his hat to him.

“Good to see you Link. Want to take out Epona?” he asked.

“Just want to see her right now if you don't mind. I'll crash here for the night and then head out in the morning with her,” Link said.

“Sound good. You know where she is,” the guy said.

Link smiled and he stepped into the stables, finding his horse in her stall munching on some hay quietly. At the sight of him her ears perked and she knickered softly.

“Hey girl,” Link said, pulling an apple from one of the tables and held it out to her. She happily took it and nudged her head against his when he came closer.

Link wrapped his arms around the horse's neck and closed his eyes, letting his body relax as he leaned into her.

“I missed you girl. I gotta stop using the fast travel to spend more time with you,” he said. She let out a noise which he took as her agreeing and he couldn't help but laugh a little.

He leaned back, patting her neck as he snuggled to keep some tears out of his eyes. He wiped his eyes and gave her a smile.

She nudged him again, wanting to help and he pat her nose.

“Don't worry. I'll be okay,” he said. “How about I brush you, hm?”

She let out another knicker and went back to her hay, munching away happily. Link relaxed, taking off his cloak and he went about to grab the brushes nearby.

He started to brush her quietly. He always found the motion soothing. And she enjoyed it quite a bit. Usually never let anyone else do it but Link.

“You know,” Link said to her, despite that he was sure she didn't understand him at all. “If I ever have a pup one day I think you will be one of the first to meet them.”

His smile fell however.

“Who am I kidding...I don't think we could ever have one,” he said sadly.

She let out a small knicker and turned her head, nudging Link with her head. He smiled softly and he leaned into her, hugging her again.

She always tended to make him feel better.

“Thank you,” Link said softly, feeling his tears coming again. “Thank you for being here for me.”

She was the only one that would never judge him, never betray him. His true best friend.

She nudged him again and he felt himself crying, clinging to his horse. He didn't understand. Why was he crying so much?

Sure what he saw hurt but he was never one to cry this much at all.

The love of his life had been close to his best friend. Two people he cared for the most had been close to...something?

Unless he read it all wrong and his emotions sent him over the deep end. Plus his exhaustion from the night before.

His body was ready to give out on him but still he clung to his horse.

He wasn't sure how long he clung to her. He wasn't sure how much he had cried. Now he felt numb and he felt cold. He just wanted to sleep now. Surely the stable hand wouldn't care if he took a nap in her stall with her.

She wasn't going to hurt him.

It wasn't the first time that he had slept with her standing guard near him. She always made sure that he stayed safe.

“You deserve like fifty apples after that,” he said, pulling back to wipe his eyes. He gave her a smile and pat her softly. “Sorry I didn't finish brushing you. I'll finish it later. I promise.”

She let out a knicker and nudged him, walking him towards the large clean stack of hay that she was munching on. He stared at her confused until she nudged him again with her nose.

She was attempting to get him to lay down.

Link smiled gently and he pat he nose.

“What did I ever do to deserve a good friend like you?” he asked her softly, petting her again and then with one more nudge he settled down on the hay.

Despite being a little pokey he found it surprisingly comfortable. He settled there, letting out a sigh as he started to close his eyes.

Most people would find this uncomfortable but he had slept on rocks before. This was nothing compared to that.

He watched as Epona laid down next to him, laying flat on her side and rest her head on his lap as he relaxed.

He snorted a bit, threading his finges through her mane as she was there to give him some form of comfort.

It was rare for a horse to lay down. They did randomly but most of the time they remained on their feet.

And she chose now to lay with him and to snuggle and keep him company.

“You really are such a sweet girl,” Link said to her, petting her and watching as her eyes closed. “Maybe after this I should see about making sure I don't fast travel anymore. Or if I do I'll take you with me. You'll probably hate it.”

She gave a snort and he laughed a bit, continuing to pet her head.

“Yeah you'd hate it,” he said, letting out a yawn.

He relaxed further into the hay and felt himself dozing off. He felt safe with his horse companion and even the little bottle around his neck helped.

He did miss Sidon and maybe whenever he calmed down he would give him and Zelda a chance to speak.

But that could be far off.

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[yanderecrazysie]

Yandere Deku who falls for the UA traitor darling ~ bonus if you add how he reacts to the news!( Darling can be female or gn)

I tried to make this as different from the Shinso x traitor as possible! And I always do female reader, sorry if that disappoints anyone >3<

Title: How to Pretend

Pairings: Izuku x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, hints at future violence, no spoilers, Izuku honestly creeped me out in this

Summary: Izuku doesn’t want to believe the awful truth, not when it’s coming out of your mouth.

“When I look into your eyes I see

A façade, you are not trustworthy

You are my enemy, faking your empathy

I was right to be wary when you know

How to pretend”

- from “How To Pretend” by VocaCircus

“Tell me you’re not the traitor.”

Izuku’s eyes are blown wide and it’s clear from his tone that’s he’s not looking for the truth. He’s demanding you say it, not asking a question.

Yet, your eyes fill with tears as you’re consumed by the guilt that’s been filling you for nearly a year now. You break down, crying too hard to answer him. He has every right to hate you now that he’s somehow found out.

You’re going to jail, aren’t you? For how long? Doesn’t matter, you deserve it, after all.

Izuku should be furious, rightfully angry about all you’d done to betray him and your classmates. You want to tell him why you did such a thing but even the best of reasons no longer seem to hold any water. How could you be so cowardly?

“Don’t cry, (Y/n), it’s okay…” Warm fingers slide across your cheeks, disturbing the flowing tears and cupping you gently. You stare blurrily at Izuku, watching him come into focus.

It’s not a pretty picture.

He’s crying too, even harder than you. But other than his tears, there’s no sign that he believes you’re the traitor. An unnaturally wide grin is stretching his cheeks apart, teeth shining in the hallway light. His eyes are shining too, and his pupils are going from pinpricks to enveloping the green iris and back to little black dots. He’s trembling from head to toe, almost as if he’s holding back from doing something. You’re not sure what that “something” is, but you’re not sure you want to know.

You’re frozen, terrified by this sudden, unnerving sight, but Izuku strokes your cheek gently with his thumb and mouths something over and over. It takes you a minute to catch what it is he’s mouthing: “Not the traitor”.

This wasn’t how you pictured his response to be. You just pictured your friends looking horrified and betrayed as you’re hauled away into a cop car, not… not this. This was almost worse than what your nightmares had plagued you with.

“I’m sorry, Izu-”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Izuku’s voice is suddenly deathly cold, a stark contrast from the cooing he’d been doing before, “What do you have to be sorry about?”

He let out a small, harsh laugh that turned into a slight giggle at the end, “What would you ever have to be sorry about? You’ve done nothing wrong. You’d never do anything wrong. You’re perfect! Perfect!” He burst into hysterical giggles.

You felt sick. This was your fault. You’d broken him with what you’d done. You were a real horrible person, weren’t you?

“I’m sor-”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” The way he said it sent chills down your spine. It was so forceful and harsh, like he was threatening you somehow.

You kept your mouth shut and instead searched for a way out of this situation. There’s the elevator on one end, but it’s far away and probably won’t close quickly. That’s if you could even make it there with a pro-hero-in-training like Deku on your heels. The door on the other end is closer, but Izuku stands between you and it, and you didn’t want to try to squeeze past a broken man in a narrow hallway.

Izuku had gone still, mumbling something to himself at top speed. You couldn’t catch his words since they were so quick that they ran together. He was staring, unseeing, at the ground. His hands retreated from your face, and one grasped his chin in deep thought.

You weren’t sure what to do. Should you run or would that be like resisting arrest somehow? You didn’t want to get in more trouble than you were already in.

But you also didn’t want to stay here, with Izuku.

“You aren’t the traitor,” Izuku said, his eyes lifting from their gaze on the floor to stare into your own startled ones, “Which means, someone lied.”

A chill shot down your spine and, suddenly, you felt afraid not only for yourself but for whoever had found you out.

“Let’s go back to my dorm room. You can lie down for a little bit while I take care of some things.” Izuku was smiling again, but this time it was… almost normal. Like it was just an average day and he was greeting you with that cute freckled grin that always made you melt a little.

“Um, why don’t I just go back to my own dorm room?” You suggested quietly.

You immediately regretted it because Izuku’s smile froze and his eyes glazed over once more. Softly, to the point it was almost hard to hear, he replied, “(Y/n). Follow me.”

Did you really have a choice? You nod, hesitant and reluctant.

The coldness melts from him like ice on a hot day. He’s all sunshine and smiles once more, grabbing your hand and tugging you along. But you can tell he’s hurrying and trying to stay quieter than normal. You have no doubt that he’s desperately hoping that everyone stays inside their rooms and doesn’t poke their head out to stop him. You’re desperately hoping the opposite.

When you get to the dorm room, you’re relieved that all he does is make you lie down and pats your head gently a few times. But, as he leaves, he says something that makes your blood run cold.

“I’ll go take care of those liars now, don’t worry. Just sleep well and I’ll be back in a little bit.”

You try to get up and protest but he just closes his eyes and smiles, grasping the door handle tightly and pulling it hard.

SLAM.

Left in complete and utter darkness.

Why couldn’t you just get what you deserved?