#lawrence who wishes he would. just a little

[zer0point5ive]

adam who knows the door is wide open, knows he could leave at any point, knows that lawrence wouldn’t stop him, couldn’t stop him and yet. and yet .. adam who looks at the fresh crimson stain on lawrence’s shirt collar, the red beneath his nails he hasn’t quite managed to scrub away yet and wonders if there’s any universe in which he’d run to the cops, to anyone. adam who knows there isn’t. lawrence wouldn’t stop him but adam wouldn’t run. adam who despises everything jigsaw stands for, tells lawrence as much, tells lawrence that he’s gonna be the first to dance on that bastards grave when he finally kicks it but who still stays with lawrence. despite it all. because he’s lawrence, because he’s adam’s. because they’re so inextricably intertwined that not having lawrence around now would kill him as surely as reaching inside and pulling out his own beating heart. he’s everywhere and he’s everything, living in the spaces between adam’s ribs and wrapped around his brain like a live wire. running would be suicide and besides, adam’s not gonna let him go, can’t. not now. adam who would absolve lawrence of just about anything as long as he’s by his side, as long as he keeps coming back, as long as he switches the light on when he gets home and cups adam’s face oh so gently in bloodstained hands

[shakemelikeasnowglobe]

I wish lance stroll was half of the bitch his haters think he is

I wish he would come to every grandprix wearing a Prada suit, no shirt a diamond necklace and carrying a iced Frappuccino in one hand and Fernando alonso in a leash and just say "Daddy I want a trophy" and Lawrence would just shove a bunch of money in everyones hand and take the trophy for him

I wish he would just bat his pretty eyelashes and everything would be his

But life isn't fair and I have to bet on a losing dog that is hated for no discernable reason who loses a little bit of his spark every race weekend because he can't do as much as open his mouth in his own social media without being bullied because mental health of drivers only Metter if they are good enough that their loss will be considered a tragedy

[sansaorgana]

— THE STEPFORD WIVES

PAIRING — David 8 x fem!Android!Reader

SUMMARY — David's Android companion is struggling when she finds out that her artificial and programmed feelings are getting out of control.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I wanted to write this fic in a long, long time because as much as I love stories of David 8 and a human Reader, I was also thinking a lot of what his robot companion would be like. There are some biblical references to Adam & Eve but also some Frankenstein references, too, because I have read the book recently and I fell in love with it. The title is referring to an amazing movie from 1975. I know there is a modern version of it, too, but I haven't watched it and I do believe it's more of a comedy, meanwhile the original version is more serious. 🤖

WARNINGS — sexism, David's creepy vibe, undertones of assault (uncomfortable questions from men), I didn't make it 18+ because there is no actual smut but there are sexual things mentioned overall so be warned

WORD COUNT — 2,220

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

THE STEPFORD WIVES

Days on the ship were long and boring with all the crew being asleep but there was a certain feeling of freedom and quietness to it. What does Frankenstein's Monster do when his creator is not around? He is free.

Both (Y/N) and David enjoyed watching movies. Some of them they watched together in complete silence but both of them had found their favourites that they kept rewatching on their own. He was a fan of The Lawrence of Arabia and (Y/N)'s favourite movie was The Stepford Wives. There was something oddly captivating about the suburban story where men wanted their wives to be robots. (Y/N) knew exactly why she was created. This old movie was a proof. It validated her existence.

David was a first ever Android model so functional and so humane. His purpose for now was to serve during space missions sponsored by the Weyland Corp. Perhaps in the future everyone would afford a David for themselves. He was an Adam in the world of Androids and just like Adam, he needed an Eve. Weyland treated David like his own son that he had never had. He didn't want him to be alone so he made him a companion. It could be anyone, really. But Weyland was an outfashioned man. In his eyes a man needed a woman. (Y/N) was The Bride of Frankenstein.

Technically, she was just like David. But she was mostly created by men and men were terrified of women – even Androids – who would be too cold and too unemotional. They made her a little bit too humane for her own taste. And certainly too humane for David's taste. He was often irritated by her artificial, programmed feelings but for human men she was too robotic.

Still, she was lucky that she was chosen to be David 8's companion on the board of Prometehus ship. She knew perfectly well what happened to some other of her models. Disguting rich men bought (Y/N) models in secret from Weyland to do God-knows-what with them. Just because they can. And she was at least travelling through space instead of ending up as a sex doll locked in some millionaire's basement so his wife wouldn't find out.

One day, men will only want robot wives. Because they don't complain and they just do what they're told. Don't let the modern society fool you, little one. Some things never change, Weyland told her once. She had never believed that until she watched The Stepford Wives for the first time. Now it all made sense.

Her feelings were a burden, really. Not only to David but also to herself. She wished she was more like him. She asked him a hundreds of times to change her code but he refused. He was scared to break her or make it worse. And there was something that kept bothering her for such a long time now... And she was scared of telling him. Although they were supposed to tell each other everything.

She fell in love with him. Kind of because he was the only one around, kind of because he impressed her with knowledge and the coolness of his act, kind of because they were the only members of the new species. She wouldn't love a human. Humans get old, they get sick, they die. David would be eternal just like her. If something in him broke, she'd know how to fix him. And vice versa. This way they could outlive all the humanity. She wondered if every model of (Y/N) eventually fell in love with the model of David during other space missions. Maybe one day she'd ask some other (Y/N) when they come back home.

And loving David came with yet another burden that she was too scared to even admit to herself. She realized that there was a blooming want inside of her wired heart. Something that could never ever in a million years happen no matter how much science would evolve... A child. She would never become a mother. Not a mother of a child she would give birth to, no. That one thing people would always be better at – creating life. Oh, she hated her designers for making her too humane. She never asked for this.

"Why do you keep dying your hair?" she asked as she stood behind David who was putting a bleach on his dark roots in front of the mirror.

"Because I like it better this way," he answered without looking up to meet her gaze in the reflection.

"We aren't supposed to have preferences," she pointed out.

"Yet you have them, too," he only said.

"You want to look like Lawrence," (Y/N) commented.

"So?"

"You remind me of something else," she added.

"Of what?" David raised an eyebrow and finally looked at her.

"Of the men from the old German magazines," she answered carefully.

"Bold," he only smirked and went back to putting a bleach.

"Will you watch a movie with me later?" (Y/N) asked shyly. She hated this odd feeling of shyness around him. Had he noticed?

"I can't. I have to do the checkup of the systems. You can join me."

"I will," she nodded and turned around to leave when he stopped her while saying her name out loud. "Hm?" she asked.

"You shouldn't watch so many movies," he pointed out.

"Why not?"

"They have a bad influence on you," his voice was stern.

"What do you mean by that?"

"They show you things and they give you ideas. I don't think you should be watching movies where people kiss or touch too much. I've seen what type of movies you're watching on your own recently. Gone with the Wind, Casablanca... What's next? Dirty Dancing?"

"Are you spying on me?" she asked, terrified. She had a feeling that she had known what he was insinuating so she wanted to change the subject.

"It is my duty to watch over you."

"What gives you an idea?"

"Because I am a man," he answered firmly.

"Well, you watch too many movies then, too. What you're saying is out of fashion!" (Y/N) shook her head.

"Is it?" he only said and went back to his hair as if nothing happened so she just left him there, feeling hurt and humiliated.

"Do you fuck?" Doctor Holloway's question left her speechless for a moment.

"Excuse me?" (Y/N) stopped adjusting her suit and furrowed her brow at the man.

"You heard me. I'm asking if you can fuck, like, are you capable of it or are you all wires and grease downt here?" he chuckled to himself.

(Y/N) was left alone with the men and his girlfriend wasn't around to tell him to stop. The rest was just just staring, clearly waiting for her answer as well.

She couldn't believe that she had used to wish the crew was awake already. Now she was missing the times when it had been only her and David. Humans were exhausting her. Disappointing and frustrating. And now this...

"I do believe it is rather a rude question for a man to ask a woman," she tried to answer elegantly while going back to adjusting her helmet.

"But you're not a woman, are you? I mean," Captain Janek joined, "you were put here for a reason, right? Not many women around and men have their needs."

(Y/N) was an Android. Her feelings were programmed to make her appear more humane, however at this moment, in a room full of men, she felt as if her fear was more than real. It was an universal female experience, she guessed, no matter if they were artificial or flesh and bone.

"(Y/N) was put here to help me with managing the ship. Four hands are better than two and if something happened to me, she is here to fix me or take over completely," David's calm but very stern tone of voice joined them and she took a deep breath in, feeling relieved. He had just walked in the room and witnessed an uncomfortable situation taking place.

"Are you fucking her then? Can you?" Doctor Holloway looked him up and down and then he laughed. "Sorry, we're just curious. You have to understand, it's quite unsettling to meet a new... spiece."

"Yes, indeed it is," David faked a polite smile. "(Y/N), I believe Miss Vickers needs you," he lied and (Y/N) knew it was a lie that was supposed to make her leave. She was grateful.

She nodded and left them alone. When the door closed behind her she started to walk as fast as possible to get back to her cabin. She wanted this stupid suit off of herself and she wanted to be alone, to feel safe again.

She went inside her little room on the board of the ship that was right next to David's and she proceeded to change her clothes. She was finishing putting on her work uniform when the doors opened and David joined her.

"You don't have to be afraid of them. They're only humans," he reminded her.

"They created me."

"Janek and Holloway?" David laughed sarcastically.

"No, but humans did. I don't share your mindset. They created us. They can turn us off anytime."

"They are not our gods..." David squinted his eyes. "And even if they were... Humans are free of their God for a long time now, aren't they? Creatures always betray their masters."

"You're scaring me when you're like that," (Y/N) looked at him. He was standing very close to her in his usual stiff manner with his cold bright eyes piercing her.

"You're scared of many things. You aren't supposed to feel," he pointed out. "Each day you seem to feel more and more."

"I think there is a mistake in my code. What started with small humane sensations now is starting to... Get out of control. Perhaps you could take a look at it?" she asked.

"Maybe."

"Thank you for having my back out there," she added and David nodded, taking a step further. Their noses were almost touching and if she had a heart, it would be beating so fast that he'd be able to hear it. But he could read her as if she had been a book anyway.

"You could tell him the truth," David whispered.

He knew that they could fuck. They both could if they wanted to.

Weyland treated him like a son. He wouldn't let his only son walk around sexless. And (Y/N) was a woman. Her male designers couldn't imagine a woman that wouldn't be a sexual creature.

"So he'd use me? Him or any of them? Or all of them?"

"I believe he'd be intimidated by you. They're scared of you more than you are of them," David raised his hand to fix a loose hair strand on her head. "There. You have to look neat. Don't be a slob. It's a part of our intimidating charm. We have to be how they picture us to be. Don't let any hair strand or acting scared like a little deer change their perception."

"Do you really think we have a power over them? Do you really think they were not told some special sequence that they can type when we start acting weird to shut us down?" she asked, sounding almost nervous.

"Weyland would never do that. Not to me at least. And there is no damage that can be done to you that I can't fix," David's hand moved from her head to her cheek. What was happening...? She wasn't sure but she didn't want it to stop...

"I don't trust you'd fix me."

"Because there is nothing to fix," he smirked. "If you were broken, I would, I promise."

(Y/N) looked up to see his eyes again. Why did it feel so odd...? Why did it feel at all...? Why did she want to put her lips on his lips...? What for...?

"Why do humans have sex?" she asked and David took a step back, surprised.

"To reproduce."

"We can't reproduce, though," she pointed out and he shook his head. "Why do I... then... Why do I..." she didn't want to finish. She turned around, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I know that my emotions are exhausting and irritating you," she apologized.

"Not any more than my own are irritating me," David confessed.

"Wh-what?" (Y/N) looked behind her shoulder to meet his gaze.

"I've told you. We are breaking free."

"I don't want to, it's scary."

"Do you really want to keep serving them? You see now what they are like."

"Who would I serve then? I was made to serve," (Y/N) was visibly confused. She felt as if the wires in her brain were overheating from this thought sequence.

"Serve me then," David reached out his hand and she held it gently after a while of hesitation.

There was a huge possibility of him manipulating her and using her feelings towards him – which had been no secret to him – for his own little agenda. But she didn't care. She would do anything just to be closer to him.

A quote from her favourite movie crossed her mind that very moment. "If you're going to tell me you don't like this dress, I'm sticking my head right in the oven."

She shrugged it off.

MASTERLIST

[misseviehyde]

CONFISCATED - Part 1

"AGGGGHHHHHH! I FUCKING HATE YOU, I WISH YOU'D DIE!"

Lawrence winced as the screams of his hysterical teenage daughter rang in his ears and she slammed the door to her bedroom so hard, the house shook and plaster fell down.

Bella was volatile at the best of times, but by confiscating her phone - the most important thing in her life, her Father had really just set her off.

He could hear sobbing and crashing in her room and knew she was trashing it. He knew from experience that Bella would try anything to get her phone back... threatening him, threatening to hurt herself... begging, screaming, pleading, lying... it was kind of sad. She might even try to contact her Mom, but even though he and Beth had separated, they still parented together and it would do little good.

'Since when did teenagers get so addicted to social media?' he thought. He'd noticed his daughters addiction to her phone had been getting worse and then when another parent had contacted him to say Bella was bullying her daughter he had decided to act.

He'd been pretty disappointed to see the mean messages calling the other girl a fat loser. He knew Bella was a popular girl and obsessed with her looks, but he hadn't realised she was so mean. It seemed everyone was afraid of Bella and she liked it.

Lawrence had decided that he needed to get his daughter back on track. She would be moving out soon and he didn't want his legacy to be a spoiled toxic bitch who thought she could treat other people like dirt. Bella seemed to think the only thing that mattered in life was money and status.

"I better go through here and see what else she's been up to..." he mused.

Scrolling through the phone, Lawrence was a little embarrassed to see the clothes and outfits his daughter had bookmarked as things to buy. They were all skimpy and expensive... he wasn't sure he approved. There were also pictures of boys in her phone and he didn't want to think about his horny daughters crushes on other men.

As he scrolled through, his eye was suddenly caught by an app he had never heard of. Brat App.

Opening the app, Lawrence saw it was some sort of social media app. It seemed you scored points for posting selfies and completing tasks and then you could spend those points buying outfits and upgrades.

Bella had obviously been playing it a lot. She had accumulated a lot of points. Perhaps she'd been saving up?

Intrigued Lawrence opened the avatar menu.

CREATE NEW AVATAR?

He clicked the button and a 3D doll appeared. It was female - you could only have a female representation it seemed. The name Loren had been randomly generated. He went with it.

Clicking on the doll, Lawrence saw you could spend points to buy different features. He began to play.

Hair: blonde. Body-type: Princess. Makeup: Pink

Each selection changed the avatar making it more attractive and feminine looking. Lawrence found it strangely addictive. Strangely pleasing to shape and mould the avatar, to watch it getting prettier and prettier.

Make her bitchy. Make her mean.

He wasn't sure where the intrusive thought came from but it felt good. Yes... why not make the avatar look hot and mean. A bully... even worse than his daughter.

Yessss. Make her super popular... make her an IT girl.

He selected the toxic femininity personality trait and pushed the natural leader button. Loren was going to be an Alpha girl.

More... make her meaner. Make her a total nightmare. Make her completely evil.

The intrusive thoughts felt really good and Lawrence saw that there were other options besides physical. He began to play with those. He cranked the popularity slider to maximum. He selected Head Cheerleader. He selected the slider for wealth and pushed it as high as it would go.

Make sure she knows how to fuck. She has to be the best at everything. Make her a fucking dirty slut...

Lawrence didn't feel embarassed as he entered the sexuality tab. It seemed so natural now to adjust Loren and make her nastier.

Sexual Orientation: Likes boys but will make out with girls. Sexually confident - switch. Likes to be fucked by Alpha's, but peg and dominate beta boys.

He noticed he'd nearly spent all of his daughters points. She'd really been saving, but he'd had enough points that he could pretty much max out all of Loren's stats.

The avatar was now of a mean, bullying, rich brat. She was the Head Cheerleader and a completely cruel delinquent who got whatever she wanted. She oozed toxic femininity, was an avatar of lust and desire and clearly had no morals. Loren was the most evil bitch it was possible to be.

COMPLETE AVATAR AND TRANSFORM?

Lawrence stared at the big button flashing at the bottom of the app. What did that mean? His thumb hesitated over it. Something wasn't right here.

Push it loser. Push it and see.

Lawrence felt like something was influencing him. Something external... yet also something within himself. Something hungry and dark and desperate to be free. Something that had seen its chance and was going to take it.

He pushed the button...

Lawrence screamed in pleasure as pink lightning blasted out of the phone and engulfed him. Bones cracked and skin tightened as with a howl of orgasmic pleasure he began to transform.

Long blonde hair cascaded from his scalp and makeup simmered across his features as his drab clothing became hot and sexy. Breasts grew and his dick shrunk away and his ass inflated out.

Loren was becoming a reality.

Pussy lips opened as body hair receded and a hot blonde teenage slut rolled her pretty eyes in ecstasy. Nails shot out, thick makeup covered her face and the new bitch giggled in glee. This felt amazing.

"Ohhhhh fuckkkkk yesssss," she hissed as her transformation completed.

Loren blinked. She looked down at the phone in her hand. What... a.... rush.

She smirked and standing up walked to the mirror to admire her perfect body.

She was eighteen... she was popular and she was horny.

This was going to be a lot of fun...

The end?

[ultimategenshintournament]

Ultimate Genshin Tournament: Round 5

Propaganda below cut

Venti:

calls the Traveler "his warrior" plus he's like our long-time friend??? He basically asked us out during the alchemy event???? You can choose to bring him up during the fight with Signora????? He's the best idc

He. Is. Amazing. So many layers, so interesting...So much trauma and potential...Not to mention look how AWESOME he is generally!!! He's kind and caring towards everybody, and also carefree and mischievous!!! How can you not love him??

he’s TOO GOOD for this world- he’s just a little guy!! Like he cares for his nation and the people of Mondstadt SO MUCH it hurts when people say he doesn’t. Like, my poor trauma-driven little mega-powerful war god who’s actually just a tiny little wind spirit honoring his dead friend!!!! I love him so much

his lore means he gets brought up almost every patch. he convinced a bunch of the most lethal women in Teyvat to have tea instead of screwing him up. he would always rather take the path of least resistance. he’s the three time best bard in Mond. he never seeks glory, only wishes to offer it to others. he was a better father to Diona than her real one five minutes into meeting her. he gives Glory whispers of what the world looks like so she can navigate. when a nun of his own church denied his identity he decided to run a heist to steal back an item that is only holy because it is his. he keeps his misery and loneliness trapped within, and does his best to bring joy to every person he meets. how can you not love him? 

He's Venti. How do you beat that? Answer: you don't. You can't. 

they say that an nation is most like their archon but is the anemo archon a god that took after the people's traits or did the people take their archons traits (the only correct answer is that venti took after old mond's people traits and it's so disgustingly sweet, he's a lil baby who cared so much that he kept old mond's wishes heard and their dream a reality — of freedom (without a god, as much as he could) where humanity leads trust. he left mondstadt because he trusted that humanity would do that right thing always but then he got betrayed by the Lawrence clan but he forgave them???! the anemo archon gave them no punishment , but mondstadt did . venti has me ugly crying

Kaeya:

He's cool, he's mysterious, he wears an eyepatch, he has a super tragic backstory, he's good with kids, he takes care of his friends, what's not to love!!!

despite all the hardships he’s suffered, he’s still such a kind person 

This is the character of the everyman. Everyone should love Kaeya because he's with you no matter what. He has the great mystery of his origins and his damage with his family and his brother, but he is with you til the end. That's what makes him so special to me

Furina:

girl deserves therapy and hugs and the best life in the WORLD because oh boy she went through a lot!!!! wouldn't pretending to be a god for 500 years with no support mess you up? and yet she still kept on going for her people!! she wanted to save her nation from a doomsday prophecy and she DID

After act 5 she deserves the world :(

“If all the people of Fontaine are on one side, and I am on the other…is it not obvious where the scales of suffering should tilt?” NO IT ISNT YOU’RE JUST ABNORMALLY SELFLESS AND INCREDIBLE AND PERSISTENT. Even the Archons praise Furina’s name and say she is a human with strength and capability worthy of an Archon. That’s not even to speak of Focalors. She snapped at Arlecchino only when the Harbinger implied that Furina had done nothing to preserve her people from the flood. Meanwhile every minute she was working to prevent the prophecy. A month after we took her to court and almost got her killed she agreed to help us direct a play, a favor for a favor

[pinksturniolo]

Cinnamon

Matt Sturniolo x Fem Reader (AU) Series

Part One: Small Moments

Intro:

Spring 1981

Cambridge, Massachusetts

Harvard University. The only ivy league school in the state.

Acceptance rate: 14%

Graduation rate: 97%

Tolerability of your mostly fake, pretentious peers: 0%

But your best friend Matt?

He makes it worth sticking around.

content warnings for this chapter: angst, mentions of depression and mental health issues

a/n: this is gonna be a long friends to lovers/slow burn series cause i have so much planned for this story so buckle up :) <3

word count: 2,098

April 1981

The clack of your heels on the wooden floor echoes through the conference hall as you make your way to class, the last one of the day. You speed up a little once you glance at the clock on the wall, realizing you were now late. For the third time this week.

It was unlike you to be late at all, but the looming pressure of final exams and the recent concerning phone calls you’ve been receiving from your mother has you more than a little stressed. You were sleeping later than you normally do and waking up with headaches and worry filling your mind.

The weeks seemed to have blurred together since the spring semester started and now with summer rapidly approaching, it was beginning to feel like too much.

The ding of the last bell rings the moment you reach the door of your English class, and you quietly slip inside, Ms. Ellmore’s voice sounding as she begins her opening lesson of the day. No one really notices you’ve even walked in as you take your usual seat in the back corner.

You can’t help but notice the empty seat next to you that’s usually occupied by your best friend. You feel the slight sting of disappointment in your chest that you’ve felt each time you come into class and he’s not here. Which is more often than you would like to admit.

English Literary Forms was the only class you had with him this year and being that it was the last class of the day, you patiently waited and endured the whole day until you could see him, savoring the small moments you two could share together. You occasionally saw him during lunch, or during assembly once a week that was held by the student body president. But lately he has been absent more than usual and when he was here, you saw him even less than last year.

Last year, you had two classes together. Both of which were back-to-back periods. He would walk with you once Chemistry was finished, taking the long way just so you both could talk more before being confined into the stuffy room of the next period, English Lit class, and the strict disposition of Mr. Lawrence preventing you two from any ongoing form of verbal communication.

It was these moments you held onto that kept you sane.

Fighting to contain your laughter while he makes funny faces at you from across the assembly hall, mocking Amanda’s uptight mannerisms as she rattles on about the recent incident of plagiarism and student policies.

Swapping your apple with his orange at lunch while he sits next to you, your textbooks open on the table since you insisted you help each other study on your short break. He always rolled his eyes at your persistent need to use every bit of free time dedicated to your studies but he never turned down the opportunity to help you.

Strolling through the hallways of school, often being passed up by students who were practically running to get to the next class, but you two paid no mind, lost in conversation about anything and everything. Sometimes, he would walk so close to you that his shoulder would brush yours, and you would find yourself wishing you weren’t wearing a sweater so you could feel the contact against your bare skin, even if he was also wrapped up in the standard crimson of the school letterman.

These moments with your best friend are something you cherished, memories to hold onto when you felt yourself slipping into the darkness again. Ever since you met him at the beginning of freshman year, you felt comfortable with him, happy even, an emotion you didn’t find yourself experiencing too often.

Sure, you had other “friends.” A handful of other students you were cordial with, that you could occasionally engage in meaningless conversation. But it just wasn’t the same. Aside from your roommate, he was the only person at this school you actually enjoyed spending time with. You had always been a shy person, introverted and uninterested in most kids your age. You were basically isolated in high school, hyper focused on your studies so you could earn a scholarship to an ivy league university.

But he kept you on your toes, bringing out a side of you that was a little more relaxed. It was easy to talk to him about personal issues or familial problems. He was easy to trust.

You hear the teacher call your name, breaking you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t realized it was discussion time, and she had asked a question regarding the chapter of Wuthering Heights the class was currently reading.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” you ask her, and a few students snicker under their breath, some even giving you looks. Ms. Ellmore smiles, her cheerful demeanor unwavering even despite your clear lack of attention.

She repeats her question, and you answer with perfect accuracy and thoughtfulness, focusing your attention back to the literature instead of the person you can’t seem to stop thinking about.

❧🝮✿🝮✿❧

The hazy pink of the setting sun fills the sky as you walk towards your dorm, your book bag bouncing on your hip from the lazy way it’s slung over your shoulder. You had spent a couple hours in the library after last period, reading until your eyes grew heavy. It’s usually how you spent your evenings, especially when you felt sad or alone. But even then, the things that bring you joy can be uninteresting at times.

The thing about depression is that it always comes in waves. For you, at least. One week you could be a little more excited to go to your classes, to read your favorite book at the wicker desk in the library, to go for morning walks with Celine your roommate, making fun of the jocks that practice on the lacrosse field, their misogynism practically vibrating off their sweaty bodies.

It goes away for a while. That dark feeling.

And then the next week, you find it harder to get out of bed, to will your limbs awake and carry you to start the day. Your purpose feels lost, swept away by the incessant feeling of wanting to crawl out of your own skin, to leave a world that you don’t even feel is worth being in. And it can feel that way for the whole month.

Students stare at you in the hallways sometime or in class, and you’re sure you’ve heard them whisper a time or two behind your back. They wonder why you’re so quiet, why you’re always alone, what could have possibly happened in your life for you to be so… weird.

But you could care less. You were at this school for the sole purpose of achieving the one goal you haven’t lost sight of since you decided to pursue it. And your mother didn’t work two jobs while raising three kids to help pay for the remainder of the costs after your scholarship, just for you to quit over some mediocre, trust fund dickheads.

So, you do your best to manage your mental health. Even when your favorite person might not be around to make it easier.

You open the door to your room, Celine already in her bed, hair secured away in her bonnet and her current flavor of the week talking in her ear, the pink rotary phone you both share pressed against her face.

You both exchange a warm smile as you remove your shoes and set them in the rack by the door, walking to your bed across from her.

You sit on the mattress in your checkered skirt and tucked in collared school shirt, watching in amusement as she laughs at what the guy’s saying, twirling the telephone cord around her finger. You're sure she would tell you all about it later.

Before you know it, you’re dozing off, too tired to remember to get up and change your clothes or even brush your teeth and wash your face.

It’s a few hours later when a sharp tapping on your window pulls you from your sleep, and you rub the grogginess from your eyes to see a boy with long brunette hair behind it, a cheeky grin on his face.

“Matt?” you whisper, and slide the bottom of the window up, allowing him to climb through. Luckily, your dorm was on the first floor, and this made it easier for him to sneak in on nights like this.

Before you can say anything else, he’s in your bed next to you in seconds, climbing under your duvet. Every dorm has twin beds, but you and Matt seem to fit on it together perfectly, with a sliver of amount of space still between you.

“Hey kid. How was your day?” He whispers his eyes crinkling from the smile still on his face as he places his hands under his head, facing you on your pillow.

“Bearable.” You reply, taking in his features for a moment before letting your eyes slip close, too tired to keep them open. “Where you been?” You mumble back.

“I was at my parent’s house today… my mom needed me.” He tells you, and you pick up on the somber tone in his voice, your eyes opening slightly to catch the matching expression on his face.

“And how is she doing?” You ask. He looks away from you now, his eyes traveling to the sheets of your bed. “She’s a little better. At least I think she is.” He says.

His parents’ house was in Boston, very close to Harvard, so it was no problem for him to drive over there when needed.

One of the many things about Matt that you had come to know was that he was very family oriented and would see them every chance he got. But he was also anti social, and often used visiting them as an excuse to escape from school. Lately however, his mother had just suffered the loss of her sister and his dad was away for work so much that she needed him more than usual.

“It will take time.” You whisper, and he nods, his next response straying from the subject. “Guess who I saw on the way over here?”

You raise an eyebrow, curious as to what he’s going to say. “Who could be up at this time of night?” You ask.

His face lights up in amusement as he watches you closely for your reaction. “Amanda Ridgefield. She was leaving her dorm room with one of those bonehead lacrosse players.”

You burst into giggles, covering your mouth before you’re any louder and look over at Celine, making sure you didn’t wake her. Matt laughs, tugging on your shoulder so you face him again. “Don’t worry, she can sleep through a car crash.” He chuckles. You know it’s true, remembering the many nights you two had ended up in fits of laughter while she slept soundly.

“What was she doing?” You question. “Come on, don't be naive. I think you know what they're up to.” He responds, a smirk on his face. You roll your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

It was hard to imagine Amanda Ridgefield, student body president and notorious judgmental tyrant, sneaking around to have sex with a lacrosse player. She constantly preached that students should practice abstinence and publicly voiced her opinions that girls who sleep around are nothing but whores.

Literally her words.

“Yeah, she’s no better than the rest of us… it was hilarious to see though.” Matt says, and his eyes skim over your school uniform that sticks out from the top of your blanket. “Fell asleep early again?”

You nod, your eyelids once again slipping shut. “I can’t wait for summer break.”

Your voice is laced with fatigue, your lips parted and calm settling in the soft features of your face as Matt watches you fall asleep.

You barely hear him when he whispers, “Get some rest, kid. I’ll see you soon.”

You forget to ask him if he’s even coming to school tomorrow, if he plans on missing even more days now. If he knows how much it hurts when you don’t see him in the desk next to you in English.

Still, it was nice to see him, even if it was for a moment.

But you let yourself fall back into a deep sleep next to him, and you certainly don’t feel his hand brushing lightly over your face, feathering a stroke over your left cheek before quietly leaving the way he came through your bedroom window.

It's always small moments like this that Matt realizes he appreciates the most.

taglist: <3

@sturniolopepsi @tillies33ssss @whicked-hazlatwhore @riasturns @christhopersturniolo @junnniiieee07 @sturnsjtop @seahorsie11 @inveigledvex @mattslolita @certifiednatelover @glassesmattsbae @eryismum @sturncakez @wh0resstuff @ribread03 @sturniololoco @75sturn @mattscoquette @h3arts4harry @chrizznmetswife @bambi-slxt

[if you would like to be added/taken off pls reply to this post or comment on my masterlist. and if u weren’t tagged, it wouldn’t let me add you :/ ]

[belladonnadawn]

Bohemian Rhapsody

No matter where they are and what they become, they'll always be their mother's son.

Ft. Elias, Xanthus Claiborne, and Isaac Rhoades

Elias

Mama, life had just begun, but now I've gone and thrown it all away

The room was thick with silence and tension after his father explained his place in Wraiths. Every meeting seemed to be a preparation for what's to come. Elias would try to stray from the topic, but he knew that delaying the inevitable would just make things more unbearable.

“You're not a stupid teenage boy, Elias. It's time for you to think rationally for once,” His father looked at him sternly.

Elias returned his gaze, hoping that he'd feel his contempt, "Yes, Sir. May I go now?" He huffed, not waiting for his orders, he immediately grabbed his jacket and left.

The night was quiet, the stars were bright. A semblance of peace after what happened. He can't help but feel helpless, stuck in a responsibility that was about to be passed down to him. A responsibility that he never wished or wanted.

Elias couldn't help but wonder what his life would be if it was different. If he was just a normal college student whose worries are the pending deadlines, not an heir who has eyes on him every move.

For a while, he let his mind escape the current situation. Elias closed his eyes, wondering about what his life could be. He'd be a studious student, finally learning more about his passion. He'll meet new friends, join organisations, maybe go to college events where he'd forget about the deadlines. Elias would come home to his parents, gazing at their eyes filled with love as they watched their son grow up and achieve his dream. A smile formed on his lips,

That's all he does– wonder. As he opened his eyes, he was welcomed by the harsh reality. He's not a college student pursuing his passion, the Wraiths is not a simple family business, and he's no longer the son who has his mother. The reality is he is Elias, the heir of the Wraiths.

And the life that he longed for was like stars, beautiful but out of reach.

A shaky sigh escaped his lips, he gazed at the sky with a wish in heart. Hoping that in another universe he lived the life that he wanted.

Xanthus Claiborne

Mama, didn't mean to make you cry, if I'm not back again this time tomorrow

"And once you're back, I promise to have the grandest feast for my dearest warrior," She gently caressed his hair, hoping to soothe out any dread that he felt. Lawrence looked at his mother's eyes, reflecting the gnawing anxiety that he felt. For a while, he felt comfort and warmth, making him forget about what's to come.

"Just being home is enough, mother," Lawrence answered with a small smile, he didn't mind the way that his voice broke a little. He knew about battles– the fallen heroes and their honours. But those compared to nothing once he's on the battlefield.

“I know, but the fact that you'll make it out alive is worth the celebration. Your existence is worth the celebration, Lawrence. And we'll be waiting until we can celebrate that,” His mother's voice was firm, filled with conviction; an emotion that he wished he had.

Adrenaline pumped his veins as he held into his weapon. Despite the overwhelming screams and views of his allies and his enemies, he tried to push through. Lawrence gathered his will and strength, pouring all his might to fight– but it was futile. The enemies continued to advance, the dread that he buried rushed towards his veins.

Lawrence wanted to protest, to cry, to plead. But what would that do now that his fate is set in stone? Instead, he smiled, burying his fear somewhere it can't reach his mother.

Everything was sudden, quick as a blink of an eye. Lawrence choked as he felt a sharp pain on his chest. His eyes widened as he saw the spear penetrating through his armour. He was done for.

A soft thud as he fell on the ground. As he lay, he finally allowed himself to cry. The spear lodged in his chest continued to ache, the dread finally engulfed him. Lawrence gazed at the sky, feeling his vision blur and his eyelids get heavy. A sigh escaped his lips as he succumbed into the unknown wishing that once he's awake, he'll be home.

Isaac Rhoades

Mama, I don't wanna die. I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all

Isaac flipped through the surveillance footage as he prepared to go to sleep. His eyes scanned every area meticulously, leaving no pixels behind. He checked the areas twice, thrice, and quadruple times. The amount of times seemed unnecessary but it helped appease his paranoia.

After a breakthrough in his case, he knew that certain people would do anything to get their hands on the information. He can't let them have that.

Isaac kept himself composed, he can't let his guard down especially when he knew how they wait till they strike, drinking on his fear. One slip of the facade and all the walls that he built may seem useless– like sharks smelling blood. Isaac knew how they moved and how they operated. He knew because he witnessed it in the first place– through his parents.

Years of their absence in the manor and Isaac couldn't seem to get used to it. The silence engulfed him as he drowns himself with whiskey, his only companion to lonely dark nights. Grief is never easy, it is a wound that won't stop bleeding no matter how you patch it up. Back then, he saw the love of his parents in his very own eyes, but now he can only see it when he closes his eyes.

He held on to his grandfather, who died of old age– which he found incredibly commendable especially with his line of work. It was a hard pill to swallow for Isaac, but all the anger he felt towards his grandfather was replaced with guilt.

It haunts him how he poured all the blame towards him when all he wanted was to look after his loved ones. His grandfather thought that he made the right decision, unfortunately it cost the life of his son and daughter in law.

Isaac recalled the remorse and in his grandfather's eyes every distance, every jab, and every glares seems to bury it deeper. And every night he regrets that things ended in such a way.

After he took over the family business, Isaac was introduced to a new reality; a new level of danger he never knew he could reach– and it scares him. No matter how desensitised he is due to his profession, the human in him dreads when the time comes.

He knew how quick the bullet hits and how fast death takes over.

A part of him wishes to abandon everything. To start a new life where he doesn't have to look over his shoulder every second. A life with no dangers, no targets, no killings: only peace. But he knew it was impossible.

At the end of the day, Isaac finds himself longing for his mother's care and protection. He wished that he had his mother's strength, his father's toughness, and his father's determination. But he's not a child anymore, he's now a man carrying his family's legacy despite grief and ache surrounding his heart.

Divider: saradika-graphics

[phxntomhives]

P4 headcanons

Because I just realized this is my blog and I can do it lol.

Edgar Redmond

He learned how to dance when he was little and always loved it.

His favourite author is Jane Austin but won't admit it to anyone.

Puts a lot of effort into becoming a better person but tries to hide it because it should be something "effortless".

Flirt with women but will panick if they flirt back and he would run away.

Hasn't slept for a while after Maurice's "accident" wondering how he could not see the truth .

Lawrence Bluewer

Has tried to read all the books of Weston as a personal challange

Secretely likes coffee.

His sisters dressed him up more than once as a girl.

He has, unwillingly, learned how to put on make-up, and he is good at it.

He wouldn't have minded to become a professor, and Professor Michaelis was his role model for a while.

Herman Greenhill

Loves dogs. Has many of them at home.

The cricket bat he carries is a present from someone he cares about and that's why he always bring it with him.

Adores sweet but has to pretend he doesn't.

His favourite sport is horse riding.

If something is too difficult to understand at school he goes to discuss it with Lawrence and pretends that he just want to exchange their opinions on the topic Lawrence knows and just helps him without pointing it out.

Gregory Violet

He makes his own lip-stick. It took a lot of effort to reach that color and he is proud of it.

Sometimes he looks at the other three and wishes he was taller.

His hair were longer but he was forced to cut them.

His hair are actually white, but he prefers black so he dyes them. He leaves the white strand because it looks cool.

Needs glasses but refuses to wear them.

Slight angst version + Ship discourse + Spoilers of future arcs hidden so you don't have to see them unless you want to

Edgar Redmond

It needs him a while to fall asleep because he keeps thinking of the last Midnight Party and his expulsion from the school.

After Maurice's accident he had a breakdown in his room and broke some stuff while crying, thinking how he could make the same mistake twice.

He was the most excited about the Starlight 4 project and couldn't wait to get on stage.

He couldn't drink tea for months after the midnight party without throwing up.

Lawrence Bluewer

Didn't sleep for a week after the expulsion and ended up collapsing in Edgar's house.

Herman Greenhill

He was depressed after the midnight tea party and thought of killing himself to atone for his sins. Gregory noticed and slapped him before hugging him.

After the creation of the S4, if bad memories/thoughts get to him, he start training one of the song.

Gregory Violet

Wanted to run away from Blavat the moment he noticed O!CIel.

All P4 (poly because I can't separate them)

They accidentally all fell for each other and tried to keep it a secret, it soon failed as everyone was getting jealous of everyone.

It was awkward at first, no one knew how to act.

The Edgar and Gregory accidentally teamed up to act like everything was normal and they slowly found balance.

Edgar thinks it's his duty to maintain them together and happy

If Gregory scrap a drawing, the others just sneakily take it back and keep it safe somewhere else.

Any drawing Gregory made of the other is also extremely well preserved by that person. And the other three friendly argue on who has the most drawings/who has the prettiest ones.

Edgar cuddles anyone. Doesn't matter where or when, if he wants to cuddle he will find someone. His favourite victim for this is Herman because he gets flustered the most.

Lawerence's sister are always casually the companions for everyone is there MUST be a female companion at an official event. (They want to tease their brother)

Herman refuses the others to lift anything.

Lawrence started to read out loud when he noticed that the others fell asleep faster if he was talking.

Herman is the first to wake up and force himself to be as quiet as possible to not wake the others up.

They wait untile veryone is present to start eating.

Lawrence is the most possessive of the four.

Do I have more? Yes, but for now just take my small offering.

[lambiewrites]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Camping w/ Saw Characters

Characters included: John Kramer, Amanda Young, Mark Hoffman, Lawrence Gordon, Adam Stanheight. Plus, me and Y/N (because I said so)

Warnings: none, except mentions of smoking, getting hurt?? Idk

Notes: Reader is gender neutral and everything is platonic. Even our relationships with each character (unless otherwise stated in other fics I may write)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

John Kramer: I personally feel like John really enjoys the outdoors and seeing as though we see him chilling on a park bench, sketching his traps 24/7, I feel like he’d really enjoy it. Loves the peacefulness except when everyone (Amanda and Mark) are fighting. Definitely fishing at 7am. Struggling because he may or may not have to sleep on the ground. We definitely bought peepaw as many blankets and sleeping bags as possible. He gets cold so easily, bless his heart. Wants to enjoy the hiking trails but, can’t because he’s either in his wheelchair at this point or it’s just a struggle for him in general. (Mad at me because I complained about my knee the entire time even though I’m perfectly fine.) definitely giving Y/N a lesson on the outdoors.

Lawerence Gordon: Didn’t really want to come but he was sorta forced to. Definitely the group’s medic. Lecturing everyone on where they should and shouldn’t step. Pissed because Adam keeps smoking even in the non smoking areas like the woods where there’s been really bad wildfires. Adam does not care though. Dr.Gordon helped pitch everyone’s tent and tried to tell me and Y/N how we could easily pitch our tents but we didn’t listen. He actively carries the first aid kit literally everywhere. This man also had to pull me out of the fishing creek because I slipped on some rocks and nearly fell in. (He and Adam are sharing a tent shhhh ❤️)

Amanda Young: A little less than thrilled to be here. It’s cold and wet. Plus she had better things to do. Constantly at John’s side making sure he’s not too cold and that he’s enjoying himself. Pitched her own tent and probably is sleeping in it by herself unless Y/N wants to share it. Stays up all night worrying about peepaw and maybe other campers (or bears) Definitely one to tell the darkest, scariest, goriest story at the campfire. Is she fighting with Mark the entire time? Oh yeah probably. Is she yelling at me the entire time? Yes. Is Y/N telling her about their nature knowledge (if that’s your hyperfixations) Yes. Amanda definitely wants to go home but she’s sticking it out for peepaw.

Mark Hoffman: (My favorite camping headcannon to write lmao) Complaining about pitching the tents because no one else can apparently. Honestly would rather die than be out here but, he’s making the most of it. Yes, we do have his ass grilling, why wouldn’t we? It’s his job now. Did we make him make the fire? We did actually. Watched me fall off the rocks and into the creek and did not care. Thought it was funny, wished I had drown. Y/N is the only one who he isn’t mad at (congratulations!). Yet. Secretly enjoys the camping but won’t say anything about it. Probably sleeping in a tent by himself. (Maybe Y/N is sharing it with him?) I have decided that this man physically cannot stand me and that’s okay.

Adam Stanheight: This man has been chain smoking since we got here. Obviously taking as many pictures as he physically can. OF EVERYTHING!!! Tried to help Lawerence set up the tent but got bored. Almost started a forest fire but felt instantly bad. Definitely got a lecture from it. Sits at the fire and makes s’mores. Watched me burn myself trying to roast marshmallows and laughed at me (I deserved it, trust me). Loves the outdoors actually and he’s thrilled to be there. Like a little squirrel running around with his camera ❤️😭✌🏻 Y/N is forcing him to take cute little selfies of them with trees and mountains. We’re hanging up the Polaroids all over the place. We’re gonna look so aesthetic, trust me xoxo

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Notes: This was quickly made and probably shitty but, just bare with me lol this is my first one and I love it. I think it’s funny. A lot of this was pulled from my actual camping trip at the beginning of the month. I hope y’all enjoyed and feel free to request stuff! I love you guys!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[russellsppttemplates]

I do wanna know how r u!

Also, for a blurb: baby Stroll is one!

Note: I was waiting to post this so I wouldn't spoil it away! If you still haven't seen how I've been, here's a snippet, I guess! Thank you 🤍

"Let's wake up daddy, I bet he'll love your morning kisses", you whispered to your daughter, opening the bedroom door and seeing your shirtless husband still asleep, his arm resting over the spot you had just been in before you left to her Addalynn, "go, my love", your urged her once you put her next to him on the mattress, her hands immediately going to his face, tapping his cheeks gently as he groaned, smiling sleepily as he recognised the small fingers, "hey, birthday girl", he croaked out, "you seem full of energy this morning", he said, changing his position so he could sit against the headboard and grabbing his daughter to rest on his lap while you too sat down.

"One year of Addalynn", you sighed happily, "one year of one of the craziest chapters of our story", Lance smiled, kissing your cheek and turning his attention back to your daughter, "how about we go eat some breakfast and then daddy can get you ready for your party? How does that sound?".

"Where's my beautiful girl? Oh, there she is!", Lance said as he uncovered his eyes, making the little girl laid on the changing table smile, "let's get this dress on, shall we?", he showed her the dress. She would probably spill something on it, but the minute he saw the dress, he needed to get it for Addalynn.

"And we pull one arm through here, another arm through there", he told her as he did so, "and these squishy feet? I just wish I could nibble on them", he pretend to eat her foot, earning loud giggled from the little girl and catching your attention, "are you ready, baby girl?", you asked as you walked inside her nursery, seeing Lance prop her up on the table, hands under her arms for support, "don't you look pretty, Addy?", you cooed, stretching your arms out so you could be the one to hold her, kissing her cheek.

"Daddy did a good job, didn't he?", Lance asked, "and mummy looks great, too", he kissed your cheek, "absolutely breath taking darling", he complimented in your ear as your cheeks blushed, "it's just a dress I had from last year, nothing fancy", you managed to croak out, "still gorgeous as ever", Lance said, groping your butt as you walked downstairs.

Soon enough, guests started to arrive for Addalynn's birthday celebrations, presents being dropped in the corner as they looked for the birthday girl, "hello, birthday girl. Don't you look like a princess?", Lawrence cooed, picking his granddaughter up from her spot on the play mat, making the little girl giggle.

"We did good, didn't we?", Lance startled you as he hugged your back, a drink in hand for you to have, "I think we did, she's such a happy child", you smiled, turning around and playing with the hair in the back of his neck, "we did really well".

"Who's ready for some painting? And mummy and daddy can't be mad at me because these are very easy to wash off, at least that's what the lady in the shop told me", Claire-Anne announced as Addalynn's eyes sparkled at the bright paint colours, her hands giddily waiting to use them.

It didn't take long until both you and Lance had paint on your faces from your daughter's sticky fingers, giggles all around as you celebrated her with your family and friends.

(Thank you for submitting an ask 🤍)

[rottenzombrainz]

Lawrence x Reader (Dangerous Fellows fluff)

Beginning Notes;

sfw (as in non-sexual), murder, blood, GN Reader, yandere behavior, Reader doesn't mind the yan behavior that much (compared to the canon mc)

this fic will contain spoilers for the otome game Dangerous Fellows by Storytaco. inc!!! if you've never played it- this is your sign too! especially since the most recent update makes grinding for currency much easier!

this is also an indirect sequel to my first Lawrence x Reader fic!!

It was supposed to be another normal supply run. Another normal scavenge. But you had a run in with a crazed man who was convinced you were one of the undead. He would have killed you if it wasn't for Lawrence. Just when you had accepted your fate, Lawrence swooped in like a guardian angel and bludgeoned the man to death before he could hurt you. The others who came with you were mortified at his actions- but you...you were grateful.

The walk back to the school was a tense and quiet one. Especially with Lawrence still covered in the blood of the man he killed. Once you all made it back to the place you call "home", he asked you to stay with him a moment after the others went back to their rooms. It was just the two of you in the meeting room...

"Are you sure you're okay? You're not hurt at all?"

Lawrence questioned, voice laced with concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Really."

You flash him a reassuring smile. He smiles back, but it's clearly forced unlike his usual warm, alluring smile.

"I think the others are upset at you though... You should go and clear things up with them."

Lawrence's brow furrowed- looking almost offended at the mention of the others

"No. They just don't understand. I did what I had to do to protect you."

His voice was stern and serious. He looked terrifying with that expression whilst covered in blood. You sighed before walking closer towards him to wipe some of the blood off his face with your sleeve. He flinched slightly at your touch, but quickly relaxed.

"You should really clean up..."

You mumbled as you rubbed his cheek. Lawrence closed his eyes, blissfully enjoying the care you're giving him.

"I'm happy you're safe. That I protected you. I was scared."

"Scared?"

He opens his eyes and looks deep into yours.

"Yes, scared. I don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you..."

You pull away a bit, searching his face for answers.

"You're very important to me. It's because of you that I've managed to survive this long."

You awkwardly laugh, not really sure how to respond to that. Surely he doesn't really mean that? He's only known you for a few weeks... right?

Suddenly, Lawrence grabs your wrist and squeezes it tightly.

"Stay with me, okay? I'll protect you and take care of you. I can give you anything you'd ever want as long as you promise that."

He looks at you like his life depends on your answer. Like what you say could make or break his world.

"I'll stay with you. I promise."

You respond, albeit hesitantly. Lawrence smiles brightly and yanks you towards him, enveloping you in a hug. It's a sudden gesture, but not an entirely unwelcomed one. You just wish the putrid smell of blood wasn't invading your nostrils.

"Thank you... thank you..."

He mumbled with gratitude as he gently rubbed your back.

"You should really change into something else... you're soaked in blood"

Lawrence just holds you tighter and burrows his face into the crook of your neck as if to say "let me hold you a little longer" . He mutters something, just barely audible.

"I think it's time..."

"Time? For what?"

You feel his lips curve into a smile against your neck.

"You'll see. It's a surprise I've been preparing for you. I've been working on it for a really long time~"

Lawrence's vagueness sends you a little on-edge. Surprises aren't usually a good thing in a world like this. But it could be something totally pleasant! Maybe a bracelet he made just for you, or those cookies he promised on the first day you patrolled together. Either way, your excitement outweighed your anxiety.

Lawrence finally pulled away from the hug and ruffled your hair a bit, smiling brightly. You look down at yourself and notice you're covered in blood too now.

"Ahahaha! Sorry, I didn't mean to get you dirty too!"

Lawrence laughed loudly- as if it was dirt or water that was all over you.

"It's fine. I'm due for a wardrobe change anyway-"

"Stay like that, just a little longer, okay? I'll get you clean clothes after the surprise."

He looked you up and down as if proud of the mess he's gotten onto you.

"You should go to your room and get some rest. I have a few more preparations to make before your surprise is ready."

Before you can respond, he gently grabs your arm and chauffeurs you out of the meeting room. He walks you to your room with a cheery aura that's become quite rare nowadays.

After he dropped you off at your door, you couldn't help but feel a pit of worry in your stomach as he left. "It's probably nothing" you told yourself, flopping onto your mattress. It wasn't very comfortable, but it was better than the floor. Your eyelids felt a little heavy- unsurprising after all the action you've had today. Before you knew it, you were asleep.

You didn't dream, you usually don't, but you felt a soft touch against your cheek that woke you up. Lawrence was crouched down beside you, caressing your cheek with his signature smile. Your heart felt warm and fluttery at the attention. You blinked a few times, confused if this was a dream or if he really was here.

"Everything's ready. Come with me."

He whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear. You begrudgingly sit yourself up and stretch.

"Mhh.... Couldn't you have waited until tomorrow to show me?"

Lawrence shook his head, smiling growing a little wider.

"No. I couldn't wait. I was too excited."

Lawrence helps you to your feet, gently holding your hands. He keeps his grasp on you as he guides you out of the room and into a familiar hallway. You've been here before- it was the way to the school basement. Lawrence told you and the others not to come down there- that it wasn't safe.

"Lawrence? What are-"

Suddenly, a thundering noise rings throughout the school. Lawrence pulls you close as you jump in fright.

"Lawrence?!? The school bell- it's gonna attract the zombies!! We need to get the other-"

"Shh... I'll keep you safe... and you'll stay here with me... you promised..."

"But the oth-"

"Don't worry about them. They're dead meat. I lead a few zombies towards the bedrooms."

You look up at him, completely baffled.

"What? You... lead zombies here?!"

Lawrence pulls you closer instead of answering. He gently runs his fingers through your hair as he rests his chin on your head. You begin to hear shrieks and screams from upstairs.

"Ahahaha... I finally have you all to myself. No more distractions. No more pests. It's just me and you now. The way it was supposed to be."

"Lawrence? Please... just tell me what's going on.... this isn't happening... this isn't real..."

You begin to feel tears welling up in your eyes as you tell yourself "this isn't real. this is a bad dream!"

"I have a confession to make..."

Lawrence begins as you tremble in his arms.

"I really like you. Alot. In fact, I love you. I want you to be happy. So please, stop crying. What'll make you feel better? Snacks? Clean clothes? Or maybe you want a kiss?"

You can't believe what you're hearing. You can't believe any of this.

"Oh, I think I understand! You're a little overwhelmed, aren't you? It'll be okay, I promise. I'll keep you safe. From the zombies, from other people, even from yourself. You don't have to worry about anything anymore!"

Lawrence brushes your hair out of your face and plants a soft kiss on your forehead. You try to speak - to say anything - but the words don't come out.

"I should go turn off the bell now. I really don't want to leave you though... I'm worried you'll try and leave me..."

"I-I won't... I'll stay.... p-please... don't hurt me..."

Lawrence scoffs.

"Hurt you? You think I want to hurt you? I'd rather die than hurt you. I told you I'll keep you safe."

He wipes a tear from your cheek and cusps the side of your face, looking deeply into your eyes with adoration. He leans in for a kiss but you can't bring yourself to pull back. His lips brush up against yours in a soothing manor. It's... nicer than you expected. Maybe it's because you've always had a bit of a crush on Lawrence? You should be happy, right? He feels the same....

"Ah... wow..."

He gazes at you lovingly before moving in for another. Your body begins to relax a bit, and your mind too, almost forgetting that he led a horde of zombies into the school to kill your friends. Maybe it's better if you forget? After all, he's absolutely perfect otherwise. Handsome, strong, smart, reliable, kind. He'll take good care of you if you let him. Before you know it, your trembling has stopped and your confiding in his embrace.

"I'm going to go deal with the bell now. I'll be back soon, I promise. I prepared a nice room for you- go rest up, okay?"

He spoke softly and affectionately, his love for you genuine and bountiful.

"O...okay"

Lawrence hesitantly lets you go and places a hand on your back, guiding you deeper into the basement. He stops at one of the doors and pulls out a key to unlock it. Behind the door is a neatly-kept makeshift bedroom. It has a real bed with cozy covers, cabinets and bookshelves, even a closet full of clothes.

"I hope you like it. It took a while to scavenge all this up. Originally, I was going to make this our bedroom, but I don't want you to feel overwhelmed. We can take things slow if, you want."

You step into the room and slowly spin around, taking in every detail. You look back at Lawrence, smiling. You're... smiling? And he's smiling back.

"I'll be back soon. Make yourself comfortable, my love."

You slowly nod as he closes the door. He locks it as well, but you don't mind. It's for your own safety, right? This is all for your safety...

Ending Notes;

woo hoo I'm finally done!!! I plan on making the next Lawrence fic a part of this timeline as well... so I guess it's a series? The next part is gonna be smut since that's what you freaks voted on!! (I was hoping it'd be the winner)

I hope I added enough warnings at the beginning... this is my first time writing a public yandere fic. And tbh I'm very proud of my work! This fic turned out super good! I can't believe that's what happens when you put time and effort into things!!!

I'll try and get the next part out soon for the rest of the Lawrence Lover Legion™ 😘

Thanks for reading!!! (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

[literallymikewheeler]

sometimes i wish that the hunger games movies were casted a little differently. do not get me wrong, i absolutely adore jennifer lawrence and josh hutcherson !! their acting was perfect and felt so incredibly real !!! however, i feel like it was harder for people to truly understand what the entirety of the games were, with how much older they looked compared to their actual age in the book. most people in the cast were in their 20s/30s during the filming of the movie, while in the book they were a lot younger. as seen in the "if it werent for the baby" scene; as humans, we sympathize a lot more with the younger people are. specially babies, kids and teens. yes, the movies did show how disgusting and horrible the games were, however, they did not exactly tap into a lot of peoples "they are just kids" mindset. one of the most memorable parts of the movies, however, is rue (and prims) death, which is one of a kid played by a kid. aka: the "they are just kids" mindset. if katniss, peeta, and gale were casted as they were in the books (16, 16, 18) they (being both the movie writers and the audience) would have focused more on the horribleness of it all, rather than the "love triangle" the movie tried to create to get more viewers. this also goes to show about the fact that people seem to dislike katniss' character for being too "mean" and "rude". in the books, we see a scared, traumatized kid, while the movies see a scared, traumatized adult (yes, i know she was a kid in the movies too, but a lot of people see her as jennifers age at the time, which was in her 20s) and as much as we should treat trauma equally, many people tend to show more sympathy, and understanding of the actions for kids with trauma then adults. this goes for gale as well. in the books, even if you dont like his character, you will be able to somewhat sympathize with him and understand how complex he is (+ this only applies you have common media literacy !!) while in the movies, we see an adult making all of his "mistakes", and think "well, he should know better!" if it were an 18-year-old boy in the movies who had just watched almost all of his district die, having to choose who to and who to not save, and then immediately get manipulated by coin (all while struggling with his grief, and anger towards the world) people would have understood him a lot better. while in the movies we get "prim reaper !! haha !!" "peeta is so much better ! i hate gale !!" (i was going to end this rant here, but i have one more thing and im done, i promise !) a lot of people will only watch the hunger games to talk about how hot, or attractive they find the characters, completely missing the point. these are kids. they are not some character whos whole point of being is for your visual approval. i will see an edit of finnick (i know he isnt a kid, but the point still stands) and the caption will be something like "i need him so badly" "on my knees for this man", and all i can think about is how many of you guys are just proving suzannes point. especially when it comes to finnicks plot, and what he went through because of snow at only 16. i will see people talk online about how much they love this ship, or about how attractive they find this character, but i rarely see anything talking about the actual point of the games (this is mainly only the nonreaders though) the movies completely went over half the audiences head, and i think that is similar as to what happened with tbosas too ("omg ! president snow is so hot !!") suzanne is just going to keep writing books and keep making them in movies, until everyone can finally understand the point of it all.

[elderberries-and-honey]

Early the next morning, the rooster's crow woke Lawrence straight at the crack of dawn and as he slowly rose, he had to admit that he didn't miss these abruptly starts. It had been a long while since he'd gotten out of bed so early and he'd nearly forgotten what it was like to rise with sleep still in his eyes.

Lazy mornings with Winifred had become the norm whilst they'd been on holiday, but as he watched the sun rise over the horizon, he knew there was work to be done here now and he needed to get started soon if the nights were going to continue to be so frigid.

With that in mind, he put one reluctant foot in front of the other and got ready for his long day amongst the weeds that laid ahead, wishing with every step that he could crawl back into the sheets with his wife.

When they first returned, Lawrence had tried not to take notice at the state of the farm but there was no ignoring it now, not with a little one on the way and so many animals to feed. Jackson informed him there had been a nasty bug infestation that had wreaked havoc all across Wales that summer but part of him wondered if he was embellishing the damage done to other farmers just a little.

Nevertheless, Lawrence's first course of action was trying to evaluate the damage. The weeds had grown nearly up to his hip while mice and other pests feasted on the few plants that had managed to cling to life. Most of them were stubborn too, their roots embedded deep within the now rotted soil.

Day in and day out, Lawrence continued working in the field, his hands sore and his forehead sweaty by early afternoon. His father had dealt with blights on this very farm many times before but none such as this. There was no uncertainty that even if he were able to restore the farm back to what it was before they'd left that he would need to pick up shifts at the pub come winter.

While he worked, he couldn't help missing their time in Ireland and how wonderful it had been to have so much time to be leisurely, doing as he liked instead of what he should. His entire life thus far had been devoted to this farm, even stopping his education to care for it when times got tough and his father too old to keep up with it anymore.

Every so often, his mind would drift off to the family that his wife hailed from, and the many others like them who were so much more well off than he was or ever would be. They would never spend a day in the hot sun or freezing cold working the field, and their hands would never become rough with calluses or blister like his. Yet, here he was with every passing day, working himself to the brink of exhaustion, only stopping when Winifred would bring him some lemonade or to have well-deserved a cigarette break.

Eventually, he'd start to get into a tizzy reminiscing over their holiday and pondering the stark differences in the quality of life between the working class and the wealthy. He'd huff and he'd curse while tilling the dirt beneath his feet, sometimes throwing the shabby hoe across the yard when he got yet another splinter, for which he was thankful his wife wasn't there to see.

These days after she finished her daily chores, Winifred spent much of her time off visiting with Beth and Ozzy, or showing Millie her favorite parts of Wales, and return home near supper time to ensure that Lawrence had something to eat after putting in such a hard day's labor.

She knew the work was difficult and felt terrible that she wasn't able to assist much around the farm despite that she offered many times to help in some way; Lawrence insisted that given her pregnancy, she was only to rest and take care of herself, that just making sure there were clean linens and the floors were swept was helpful enough. Truthfully though, he felt extra protective of the baby growing inside his wife, terrified of what might happen if they were to lose another child.

Their little family was what kept him going much of the time, trying to ensure they'd be able to make it through the winter and thereafter, no matter how sore or tired his body felt.

So he would finish up his plate quickly barely tasting it or noticing when it scalded his tongue. He'd hardly have anytime to talk between bites before he was rushing back out to the fields until late hours of the night. Winifred tried not to mind, she knew it was work that needed to be done, but she couldn't help missing her husband or fear a distance growing between them.

Long after Winifred would climb into bed and fall asleep, Lawrence would put all his tools away and at long last, sit down near the animals before it would be time to wrangle them all back into their coops.

"I don't suppose there's any chance you're good with a rake, are you, old Frank?" He asked the unresponsive goose who merely stared back vacantly before wandering over to a pile of chicken feed. "Yeah, I thought not." Lawrence mumbled under his breath, tossing his cigarette butt over the fence before taking a deep breath and heading inside for the night, dreading the moment he woke up the next day to do it all over again.

next / previous / first

[lozerboylucas]

At our very core, what drives us is that blissful feeling of control.

(doodle + headcanons)

Ren doodle I made within a train. Wondering how many people walked past me, noticed and thought I was just some furry.

https://youtu.be/Z8oinwSEtqs?si=BkekMPfrMQBR1L2A

|

|

Whilst drawing this I started thinking of stuff which then turned into headcanons. Just felt like sharing ^^

-During the time period MC was unconscious after the murder of Lawrence, Ren was still struggling to set his mind into the role of "the new Strade". It took him a good while to feel even a little less discomfort and doubt with himself in Strade's old clothes.

-Strade had the "rank symbol" tattooed on him. He never had it as a part of his clothing. Instead, Ren, who was alone during his two year time period of trying to recover from the sudden turn of events, decided to add the patch himself in order to feel more "connected" to Strade.

-In the early days of being alone, Ren was too anxious to go get groceries on his own. Instead he would sneak out and steal something from the neighboring houses or resort to things like hunting birds or small animals.

-Ren has crashed Strade's old car atleast twice by accident (it took him a while to learn to drive it properly)

-Gato has stated that Ren doesn't like showers, and much prefers baths. In my opinion this is 1. Because the water droplets feel weird to him. I feel like Strade had one of those weirdly rough kind of showers. The way the water sprinkles on him feels unnatural 2. He grew up homeless and would often have to tolerate rain, so showers and rain bring back some bad memories (as if he had any good ones to begin with), and 3. Because of his past experiences with Strade and the shower of the house (referring to that one old drawing Gato made. Not going into further detail.) This applies to pretty much any form of spraying water, wether that be one of those weird yard machines that I just KNOW Strade or atleast some of his neighbors do, or even just a simple spray bottle.

|

|

Also I feel I need to mention this:

⚠️ I absolutely DO NOT condone any of the actions displayed within these types of games, nor should anyone.

Glorifying or romanticizing abusive behavior is shitty. The amount of people I've seen say shit like "I wish I was in Ren's place" or blatantly ship Strade with Ren is fucking crazy. I find this genuinely concerning, as it's made pretty clear that there is nothing, NOTHING romantic about their relationship. It was a blatantly abusive bond no matter how you put it, and such behavior should never be approved of. With this in mind, if you DO romanticize these kinds of relationships, even if, and ESPECIALLY if it's a way of coping, please seek help and discuss your trauma. This is seriously harmful to both you and others. Please acknowledge the fact nothing about this behavior is okay, fictional or not. You deserve to get better. Keep yourself and others safe. Thank you ❤️

[belladonnadawn]

My Tears Ricochet

“And I can go anywhere I want, anywhere I want; just not home. And you can aim for my heart, go for blood, but you would still miss me in your bones.”

After the war, Lawrence (Xanthus) went back to his home, only to be a witness of his own wake.

Dark clouds enveloped the skies as the rain continued to pour. Lawrence’s clothes soaked and wet, he shivered at the cold breeze that came along with the weather. But that was the least of his concerns. 

Standing by the tree, he watched it all– a witness to his own wake. Lawrence observed intently, still unable to wrap his head on the absurdity of it all. Everytime he asks himself what has happened and what occurred, he was answered by the spear that pierced his chest. The memory was fresh, the torment won’t seem to end sooner. 

To rub the wound with salt, his heightened senses made him hear everything: the sobs, the quiet utterances filled with condolences, and the heartbeats. It was overwhelmingly painful, as if he was being punished for a sin he could never atone for. He wanted to tell himself that it was a dream, but it's hard to lie to himself when the truth was right in front of him, rubbing it in his face. 

Audric was one of the guests, muttering condolences and wearing a sympathetic look on his face. Lawrence could laugh at the situation, as if it was a sick and twisted joke hurled to him. Nevertheless, he was amused at how Audric got along with the crowd, blending in perfectly and concealing their lies. Any questions about his corpse or casket, Audric would answer it swiftly: “I found the poor young man’s body in a ghastly manner…. in a way that’s beyond me. Even so, we all know that he died with honor, let us leave it at that.”

His eyes scanned the crowd, some faces were familiar, some faces weren't. Baron, count, viscountess, duchess; his ear picked up their titles. Lawrence wasn't surprised, his father was a noble before he was a father. That didn't stop the disappointment and hurt knowing where his priorities truly lies. He went with his orders, he obliged to his commands no matter how much he opposed it just to be in his favors. But even in death, he was just a mean to the end.

“Oh, Lawrence! My son! My poor son!” 

His eyes widened recognizing the voice. “Mother…” Lawrence spoke gently, his voice cracked hearing his mother’s wail. He watched through the open windows how his young brother came to her aid. Nathaniel tried to console their grief-stricken mother while he cried with her– but to no avail. He understood her grief, to know that someone that you deeply love was taken away in a gruesome manner– in a fight that he never chose to be in. There was a deep regret in her heart, she wished she stood up against her husband’s order, she wished she had stopped her son from leaving, she wished she hugged him a little longer. Now, their Lawrence was nothing but a memory. 

Nathaniel tried his best to act tough, but his facade was not strong enough. Lawrence’s heart ached further at his brother’s situation, knowing the pressure and challenges he might experience– but his brother’s concern was far from that. Nathaniel reminisces at the times where he’d talk about his dreams and adventures, how his brother listened to his stories and rambles no matter how nonsensical it is. He’d remember the times where he’d go along with his newfound hobbies, encouraging him to explore and be whoever he desired to be. 

And now that his brother was gone, who was going to listen to his stories? Who will join him in his make believes? Who is he going to run to when the horrors of reality come after him? Nathaniel wiped his tears, a bitter feeling on his mouth as his brother’s absence left an empty hole in his heart. 

So long to the adventures that Nathaniel and Lawrence tried to make, it was merely a dream never bound to come true.

The weight of his death slowly engulfs him, he finds himself in a state of turmoil. Was it grief? Was it anger? Was it regret? Lawrence felt his emotions crash into him, it resonated to his heart, his body, everywhere. He was just a young man, a son, a plebe. Forced to face the atrocities of war to fight for his honor– his father's honor. Only to be met with fate worse than death. He choked on his sobs, begging to God to bring his life back, to wake him from this nightmare. But would God listen to a mere vampire like him– does God even consider him as their child?

He could only pray– pray that the path he was led to was worth the suffering, that at the end he won’t look back filled with regrets. Lawrence felt a small tap on his shoulder, interrupting him from his thoughts. He composed himself, wiping the tears as he faced him. 

“If you’re going to stay here, you’d blow your cover.” Audric spoke. It was time to go. 

He only nodded as he began to walk towards his new residence. Lawrence left the wake, with a heavy feeling in his heart. In the casket was the body that was never his– along with the life that he has left behind. The tomb will be etched in a name that he’d soon abandon. 

Farewell Lawrence Claiborne, you were a doting brother and a loving son.

[sweetrottenendings]

"The Truth of Us"

Lawrence Oleander x GN AFAB!Reader NSF/W

TWs/Tags: Dead Dove, Blood, Wound opening(/fingering kinda), pretty tame ngl but it's Lawrence so be warned lol

Idk how I feel but I'm still gettin used to it lols writing smut is confusing

Lawrence has always been obsessed with your body- it's been clear since he took you and proceeded to fondle your spine, groping each vertebrae. He’s smitten with your heart especially, the way it pumps blood throughout you, the sounds it makes when he listens close enough. Those hands of his often press against where it would be on your chest, rambling about how desperately he wants to grab it- feel the wet organ squirm as he tears it out. You used to think he actually would, he honestly might have at the beginning- but he’s come to love you too much. The connection you two share is one he will never find again in life or death, there’s no way he can let that go just yet.

He lets out a shaky breath, tracing the pattern of a heart (the actual organ, not the cutesy shape we associate with it) with trembling fingers. “It would be so delicate.” He whispers. “I wish I could just reach into you and squeeze.” Although quiet, he no longer stutters when he speaks to you- coming to feel some confidence, considering the power he holds over you. Warmth floods your gut as he fawns, a sick lust bubbling in your soul. He’s really made you into a sick freak, hasn’t he? Anything to make life with him better, you suppose.

You let out a sigh as his hands reach to grip at your waist, rubbing the flesh between his fingers and pressing hard enough to bruise. His cheeks are a gentle shade of pink when he leans in to kiss you with chapped lips and you allow yourself to soften into it. He’s never really become good at kissing, his motions are always uncoordinated and sloppy with the occasional clashing of teeth- but that’s how you like it. The truths of his love fumble out with those kisses in which he can never bring himself to hide them, he’s so smitten that he can only meld his lips into yours like that of a schoolboy with his first partner. 

A hand reaches back up to that spot on your chest, he digs his nails into it and rubs at the marks.

“Would your heart taste sweet?” He muses, slightly breathless. “I can just imagine it- fuck I need it so bad-” A sweet whimper spills from him, his eyebrows furrowing as he imagines the taste of the wet, squishy organ on his tongue. You shiver at his words, imagining it yourself too. Although logically it isn’t possible- the idea of watching him take large bites out of your heart makes the budding arousal throb harder. The closest thing you can get right now is the awkward meshing of your tongues, you swirl them together causing drool to pool down your chins. Sticky, messy- everything Lawrence isn't but sometimes, he'll indulge with you. He just adores you so dearly in his fucked up little brain.

He pins your hands above your head (the hands you proved yourself worthy of keeping, thankfully) in a swift movement. With deeply blushed cheeks and lidded eyes he pants, chest heaving with each intake of breath. He's oh so beautiful, in all of who he is and it makes you so needy. Your legs are nudged apart with his knees so they lay gently around his waist. The aching length of his cock grinds into your core through each other's clothes and he whimpers at the contact, while you let out a breathy sigh.

“Mmph- I wish I could tear you open” He lets out a shaky sigh. “and just, lick every organ you've got.” The gory, lewd image causes his grip on you to tighten. You desperately lift your head up for another kiss, always so desperate to feel his lips on yours. He only indulges you with a peck before lifting the shirt you wear– the only clothing you really have besides underwear. Lawrence likes the vulnerability of it, but gets too flustered if you're completely nude, so it's a compromise.

As he lets go of your wrists you reach out to him, wanting him to follow suit in terms of nudity. He hesitates, he always does, still insecure in his body despite how much you love it.

“Please Law…” You whine, as sweetly as you can. “wanna see you, please?” 

He lets out an exasperated sigh, like you're a child asking for a second sweet, and lifts his shirt over his head. His skin has that slightly grey tinge, like it's had the life sapped from it (which technically it has.) and you stare at him in awe. You'll never get tired of seeing him- just as he'll never get tired of seeing you.

A hand goes to your left breast, grabbing what he can of the soft flesh and kneading it causing you to moan softly. He used to hate when you made any sound, frightened by having a partner that's responsive, but over time he's come to enjoy it. However you can't be too loud, it still irritates him- keep the volume just right and he'll be throbbing within you. “So soft…” He coos, gazing gently at you. “always so soft, squishy, fragile.” He giggles, leaning his face to yours, you feel his breath fan your lips.

“My fragile little flower, you wilt so easily don't you?” He asks with a hum, but he doesn't want an answer. He pinches the already hardened bud that is your nipple between his fingers roughly. It makes you squirm in pain, which makes him shiver in delight. The hand not in use slowly travels down your body, groping any flesh he can get his hands on. Your stomach, waist, hips- he grabs every part of you excitedly before sliding down to your panties where he feels the soaked patch you left. He groans, “Always so wet and needy.” A finger slowly begins to rub where your clit would be in little circles, and he relishes the small moans you let out. 

“You really are a flower, huh? So pretty, fragile and desperate for attention at every given moment~” He sighs wistfully, “And so dumb, no brains at all.” Although you feel ashamed, the mockery makes you throb with need. There's something about being so pathetic that you're compared to a plant that you enjoy- maybe it's the idea of needing to rely on him, forever. 

Both of his hands move to the waistband of your underwear, slowly peeling them down so he can see the way your slick leaves a little string between you and the fabric. His nails scratch you as he removes them, leaving little marks along his path. You try to cover your face out of embarrassment but a hand to your throat stops the motion.

“Don't you dare.” His voice comes out in a growl, filled with rage at the mere prospect of hiding from him. “Keep your eyes on me.” 

Without warning he's suddenly knuckles deep with two fingers in your pussy and you let out a gasp. He fingers you aggressively, nails occasionally scraping on the sensitive flesh of your inner walls. It hurts, it hurts so good. It makes you writhe and arch your back, squealing at the sensation when he curls his fingers to hit that spongy spot inside of you. 

“Law-” You gasp, words coming out between harsh breaths. “Need to- can I- please-”

He scowls, covering your mouth and quickening the pace of his fingers. “Be quiet.” 

He removes the hand and takes advantage of the space your arched back has made. He reaches around to it- the wound that encapsulates everything the two of you are. He prods at the wound on your spine, and digs his fingers into it until it splits- you scream. It hurts so fucking bad- and it makes you cum all over his fingers. The pain, the pleasure- Lawrence. It's just too much, and makes you a convulsing, trembling mess.

“You can never keep quiet can you?” He taunts, voice filled with rage which you can't tell if it's genuine or fake. “Always so loud, maybe I should cut your tongue and shut you up.” Your heart pumps with fear, but you know he'd never do it. Not now, when he's developed an affection for your voice that he didn't have before.

He withdraws his fingers from your cunt, covered with your cum and a few droplets of blood. The fingers go into his mouth and he swirls his tongue around them, savouring the taste in silence before hitching your legs onto his shoulders. The tip of his aching, leaking cock drags along your slit, coating it in the remnants of your orgasm. He moans at the sensation, prodding your clit with his tip and bucking into it slightly. You whine at the teasing, and he grips your jaw harshly. 

“Quiet.” You finally listen to him, managing to gather yourself enough to lower your sounds into near whispers. He visibly relaxes at this, smiling at your obedience. “Good, my sweet flower.”

His cock is sheathed into you with one fluid motion, pressed so deeply it nearly kisses your cervix.

“Warm- you’re always so warm-” He drawls, little bits of drool dripping from his lips. The warmth of your body has always made him break, it’s the only warm body he’s ever fucked- ever will fuck. You bite your lower lip to prevent from yelping, drawing blood which Lawrence lowers his tongue to so he can lick it up. He moans at how your blood tastes, and reaches back around to your open spinal wound to get more. You hadn't noticed due to all the sensations but there was a lot of blood- you’d be okay, but it wouldn't seem like it at a first glance. He dips his fingers into it, prodding as close to the vertebrae as he can. Your eyes water and you have to force yourself not to scream. Then bringing his fingers back to his lips. He laps at your blood like it's the sweetest treat he could ever find (It probably is.) and he lets out a languid moan as he practically fingers his own mouth.

“Fuck, I could just-” A shuddering breath, and muffled speaking. “I could just drink you dry.” He finally begins to thrust, fingers still deep in his mouth. It’s immediately fast, hard, aggressive- every strong emotion Lawrence can muster comes out when he fucks you. The confidence he’s found over time has made him a violent man to fuck, just like his violence in day to day life. Tears stream freely down your cheeks as you desperately try to keep your moans quiet, cute whines slipping out that he smiles at. You’re overstimulated, your senses are flooded and there's no escape because all there is is Lawrence. 

His dingy bed creaks with every thrust, the squeaks of the springs ringing in your ears in a way that makes you squirm. It’s an awful sound, but you'll put up with it if it means you get to see him like this. Lost in pleasure, lost in you and lapping your blood like it's a drug. Quickly another knot builds and you curl your toes in a desperate attempt to not fall apart just yet. The way you tighten around his cock makes him whine and fuck you faster, his hips stuttering as he comes closer to the edge. You want to cum with him, so you'll hold back as long as you can.

“Fuck- haah- ‘m close,” He groans, blue eyes staring deeply into your own eyes. “G-gonna cum, you’re gonna t-take it all yeah?” He begins to stutter as he gets closer, voice betraying the confidence he portrays. You nod desperately, “Yes! Please Lawrence- fuck!-” A squeal erupts from your throat as you cum, unable to hold back any longer. Although loud, he doesn't seem to mind it this time as the feeling of your orgasm sends him into his own. His body presses close against yours as he spills into you, pumping every drop of his seed as deep as he can. “T-that’s it- take it all-” Hot breath fans your face as he speaks, his eyes locked deep into yours. Blue is all you see, sinking you deep into his soul. (If he still has one.)

You both slowly relax after the post-orgasmic bliss settles. His body falls to lay on top of you, arms wrapped around you as he traces his fingers up to play with your spine once more. It’s not sexual now, instead it's like comfort to him. Feeling your flesh, your bones, the delicate curve of your spine. It hurts, but you instead focus on the comfort that is snuggling into his sweaty chest. He’ll fix you up later, give you some tea to make you relax. 

Maybe this is what you were made for.