#less than a week but this shit is brutal

[jen-with-a-pen]

Dear God my pre-op appointment can't come soon enough 😭 I want this Endo fucking OUT of my body ASAP

[silverselfshippingchaos]

big fan of how my party set-up is just. j.oongi and the girls <3

[cavaliersecondary]

god. the little quiet/relaxation/meditation room that my school has maybe actually makes this fucking tuition worth it.

[prythiansprincess]

baby, won't you be my girl?

pairing: theodore nott x reader. song inspiration: only girl by stephen sanchez. author’s note: theodore nott, the man that you are. please enjoy my favorite flirty yummy slytherin boy 🐍 part two: stop the world i wanna get off with you.

Theodore Nott was not the jealous type. 

Jealousy required emotions, which Theo found so terribly unrefined. He was a Slytherin, for Salazar’s sake. Not some hotheaded Gryffindor incapable of keeping his anger in check. But as he glared daggers at the back of some pathetic little beater who was currently flirting with you across the common room, Theo couldn’t help but feel downright murderous. 

The worst part was that he could’ve prevented all of this. If he had just manned the fuck up, Theo would’ve been the one pressed close against you, whispering his signature suggestive comments in your ear and making you smile. 

But Theo—absolute tosser that he was—didn’t realize his blunder until it was too late. 

Earlier that week, the two of you had been studying in his room. Well, you were studying. Theo, on the other hand, was smoking enough pot to sedate a hippogriff. He inhaled deeply, watching with a slight smirk on his face as you frowned into your Charms textbook. You were laying on your stomach at the edge of his bed with notes strewn all around you. The combination of your slightly unbuttoned white blouse, dangerously short black pleated skirt, and green and silver high knee socks affected him more than the drugs he was currently inhaling. 

There was something incredibly sexy about a beautiful woman laying in his bed and completely ignoring him in favor of a dusty old tome. Or maybe it was just you. To be fair, Theo found everything about you quite sexy. Even your infamous lectures regarding his drug habits, which you were due to give him in three…two…one….

You huffed indignantly, the action ruffling the feathers on your quill. “I will never understand why you voluntarily choose to put that rubbish into your body.” 

Theo shrugged, blowing a puff of smoke towards the ceiling. “It’s relaxing.” 

“What could you possibly be stressed about, Teddy?” 

He smiled at the nickname. If anyone else called him that, Theo would’ve hexed the life out of them, but he liked the way it sounded when you said it. Especially when you were a little bit annoyed at him. 

“I’ve got a lot on my shoulders, love.” He took another drag and sighed dramatically. “Being rich and handsome is incredibly tiring work.” 

You snorted. “You’re an absolute twat, you know that?” 

Theo held the blunt between his slender fingers and plopped down next to you. “A rich and handsome twat.” 

“A rich, handsome, and dead twat if you don’t get that blunt away from my textbook.” Theo smiled sheepishly before putting out the cigarette on the ashtray by his bedside table. You rolled your eyes and tapped the end of your quill against his chest. “You should really quit. That shit’s terrible for your lungs.” 

Theo turned, cocking his head at you. His watercolor eyes bored into yours as a smirk curved against his lips. “What will you give me if I do?” 

“Theodore Aurelius Nott,” you chided. Despite the blush creeping into your cheeks, you managed to keep your voice steady as you glared at the perfectly coiffed prick. “Do not make me stab you with my quill.” 

He grinned. There was nothing Theo enjoyed more than making his best friend flustered. “I’ll take a light stabbing if it means that you’ll start paying attention to me again.” You laughed at his childish pout. “What are you studying so hard for anyways?” 

“We have a Charms exam on Friday and you know how brutal Flitwick is.”

“Scheduling an exam on the same day as a quidditch game should be a crime punishable by wizarding law.” Theo complained with a groan. “A game against Gryffindor, no less.” 

“Not everything revolves around quidditch, Theo.” 

“Try telling that to Malfoy,” he said with a sigh. “The bloody git’s been running the whole team ragged. For the past three weeks, Draco’s been forcing all of us to wake up before sunrise. I’m losing my precious beauty sleep, Y/N.” 

You pouted, pinching his cheeks. “Poor Teddy bear. How will you ever recover?” 

"Smartass," Theo said with a smirk.

"Top of the class, baby." You rolled over and winked at him. "I really am that witch."

"I think I'm rubbing off on you, love."

"In your dreams, Nott."

He chuckled. "Oh, I'm definitely rubbing off on you." Theo snatched the quill out of your hands. "Enough studying. I'd rather talk about how I'm going to crush those Gryffindor brutes, which I can only do with you cheering me on from the stands."

You took the quill back, tapping its feathery edge against Theo's nose. “You know that watching all that flying makes me nauseous. Plus, I can’t even enjoy myself because I’m too worried about you taking a bludger to the head.” 

“I promise not to let anything ruin my pretty face. I know how much you enjoy the view, after all,” Theo said with a wink. “If you promise to come.” 

“I don’t know, Teddy…”

He pouted, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. “Please, Y/N. I need my good luck charm. Plus, you look cute in my jersey.” 

“My eyes are closed half of the time from sheer terror,” you pointed out. Theo watched as you fiddled with the end of your quill. “Besides, wouldn’t it be weird to wear your jersey and cheer you on?” 

Theo’s brows furrowed. “Why would it be weird?” 

“Because,” you said matter-of-factly. “Those are things a girlfriend would normally do.” 

“Well, yes, traditionally. But you’re my best friend,” Theo explained. “It’s not like that between us.” 

The minute the words came out of his mouth, Theo knew it was the wrong thing to say. You stiffened beside him, your body language turning as tense as a bowstring. 

“Right,” you said in a tight tone. “It’s definitely not like that between us.” 

“No, that’s not what I meant. I just—I mean you’re not like the other guy’s girlfriends. We’ve known each other for ages. We just don’t see each other that way.” 

Theodore Nott, idiot extraordinaire. If looks could kill, he’d be at the bottom of the Black Lake waiting to become a delicious feast for the merpeople. 

“Of course not,” you said with humorless laughter. “We’re just friends. It would be mental for anyone to think that we’d ever be in a relationship, right?” 

There was a challenge behind those words. Despite the fact that his dorm was deep within the dungeons, Theo could hear a slight ringing in his ears, like the howl of the wind as he raced past on his Nimbus, heart beating against his chest as he prepared to hurl the quaffle with all his might. Only now his target wasn’t a goal hoop.

It was you. His best friend. The girl he had been head over heels in love with since the moment you pushed Adrian Pucey into a bush at Malfoy Manor for making fun of five year old Theo’s lisp. 

He should say something, anything, but for once in his life, Theodore Nott had no witty comeback in his arsenal. Stupid, pathetic coward that he was, all he could manage was a nod. 

“Right,” he licked his lips nervously. “Just friends.” 

The disappointment in your eyes felt like a punch to the gut. Worse than when he’d broken his arm in third year. Worse than when Mattheo dragged him into a brawl with those brawny Durmstrang guys in fourth year. He would have gladly taken another meaty Bulgarian fist to the face rather than face you right now.

Theo watched helplessly as you rolled off the bed and stuffed your studying materials into your leather satchel. “Wait, Y/N. Are you leaving? I thought you wanted to study?” 

You slipped your shoes on, averting his gaze. “I do, which is why I’m gonna head to the library. I’m more focused there, anyways.” 

Theo was still utterly confused as he scrambled after you. “Let me at least walk you to—”

“That’s really not necessary,” you said, cutting him off. “I’ll see you later, Theo.” 

Theo, did not, in fact, see you later. 

If avoiding him was a sport, you would’ve won the bloody Triwizard cup. The fact that you memorized his schedule for him since he couldn’t be trusted to actually remember to show up to class probably helped. Theo didn’t realize how accustomed he had grown to having you around until you weren’t there. 

When Enzo obliviously rebuffed a Hufflepuff’s attempt to flirt with him at breakfast, Theo turned to your usual spot beside him to nudge you only to find the space empty. When Potter & Co. prattled on about whatever martyr cause they’d picked up that week, Theo found himself searching for you across the Potions classroom to share an eyeroll, but caught a glimpse of your retrieving back instead. The last straw had been when Elizabeth Burke’s portrait refused to let him into his own dorms because Theo couldn’t remember the passcode. He never had to since you always came in together.

In other words, Theo was absolutely fucking miserable. Even the team’s win against Gryffindor failed to lift his spirits. He knew that it had only been a week, but he missed you so fucking much that it actually hurt. 

The sight of you walking into the common room filled him with instant relief. For about half a second. Until he saw that you weren’t alone. 

Then, Theo had reverted back to his sulky self, choosing a shady spot amidst the raging party to drown his sorrows with a bottle of firewhisky. He had gone through at least half of the Ogden’s while chain smoking like a Hungarian Horntail. 

“Oi, what’s got your wand in a twist?” Mattheo asked while snatching the cigarette out of Theo’s mouth. He took a deep inhale and blew a puff of smoke directly into Theo’s face. “Aren’t you supposed to be celebrating our victory? Why’d you look like someone pissed in your soup?” 

“Fuck off, Riddle,” Theo muttered in response as he took back his cigarette. The smoke made the room hazy, but not enough to block you from view. 

The beater—the fucking twat—leaned in to whisper into your ear. Whatever he said made you burst into laughter, which once again filled Theo with pure, unadulterated rage. 

“Someone’s in a mood,” Enzo remarked, plopping down on the sofa beside Theo. A circle of third years hovered at the edge of their group, but as usual, Berkshire remained utterly oblivious to their presence. Bloody hell, he was even worse than Theo. 

“I bet ten galleons that Nott bashes Murdock’s head in before the end of the night,” Draco said.

“Murdock, is it?” Theo grunted. “What do we know about the prick?”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Absolutely nothing. He’s not even worth gossiping about,” he announced dismissively while sipping his drink. Imported French wine, probably. Zabini would never partake in something as common as beer. 

Mattheo’s lips curled in amusement. “Besides the fact that he’s making a move on Theo’s girl.” 

“She’s not my girl,” Theo said defensively. 

“Really?” Malfoy drawled, raising a pale blonde brow. “So you wouldn’t mind if I asked Y/N to dance?”

“Don’t even fucking think about it, Malfoy.” 

The Slytherin boys laughed. For them, the week had been amusing as all hell. They had never seen Theo this wound up before. A few days without Y/N and their usual sassy, sarcastic mate had turned into a complete basket case. 

Pansy sighed. “For Salazar’s sake, Theo. Either man the fuck up or stand down. Y/N deserves to have a good night, too. Who she has it with is entirely up to you.” 

Pansy Parkinson was a pain in the arse, but she was also right. 

With that, Theo put his cigarette out on the ashtray and stood from his place on the sofa. It only took three strides for Theo to get to you. Four for you to startle as he casually put his arm around your shoulders. 

“There you are,” he whispered into your ear. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

You froze in place as Theo pulled you close. The scent of expensive cologne and cigarette smoke enveloped you, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. 

Under normal circumstances, you would’ve flown straight into the fire that was Theodore Nott, but tonight you were in no mood to get burned. You’ve already endured enough pain and humiliation from your last conversation. 

Just friends kept replaying over and over in your head like a broken record. You felt like an absolute pillock. For years, it felt like the two of you had been teetering towards…something. All that shameless flirting, the lingering touches, the late night conversations. You had been stupid enough to believe in the possibility that Theo felt for you what you felt for him. 

But maybe it was all in your imagination. 

“Theo,” you said, slinking out of his reach. Hurt flashed in his eyes as you faced him. “Congrats on the win. Christoph said it was a good game.” 

“It would’ve been better if you were in the stands,” Theo said softly. 

“I was busy.” 

“Yeah, I can see that,” he eyed Christoph with disdain. “Listen, can we go somewhere and talk? I haven’t seen you all week.” 

You crossed your arms. “We just got here.” 

Theo was not well pleased by your use of ‘we’ as if you and Murdock were suddenly now a thing. He barely spared the sodding prick a glance. You couldn’t actually be attracted to this prat, could you? He was all wrong for you. Murdock had a stocky beater build and short blonde cropped hair. You hated beefy guys and you were definitely not a fan of blondes. Case in point: Draco.

No, you liked tall sarcastic brunettes with messy hair and a slight nicotine addiction. 

You liked him. 

So Theo stayed put, meeting your gaze with equal intensity. There was no way in hell he was backing down. 

For good measure, he pouted slightly and fixed his eyes on you. “Please, Y/N.” 

He saw the exact moment when your resolve broke. Your expression softened and your shoulders relaxed, slumping in defeat. You sighed before turning over to Murdock. “Do you mind giving us a moment?” 

Christoph nodded. “I’ll fetch us some more drinks.” 

Theo watched him walk away, or rather, he glared at his back until Murdock was out of sight. 

“Really, Y/N?” Theo asked incredulously. “You're slumming it with that benchwarmer?” 

You wheeled towards him, eyes blazing with fire. Oh, he was truly in for it now. “First of all, I’m not ‘slumming it’ with anyone and even if I were, it’s none of your bloody business. Second of all, Christoph is actually a really nice guy.” 

Theo scoffed. “Yeah, because you’re suddenly into really nice guys now.” 

“Well maybe I got tired of hanging around pricks.” 

Ouch. That one definitely hurt. Even if it was well deserved. 

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me all week?” Theo asked, stepping closer. “You’ve been busy with Murdock?” 

Merlin’s beard, Theo was ridiculously tall. He towered a good foot over you, cornering you against the wall. His eyes were stormy and dark like a predator watching its prey. 

“Careful, Theo,” you warned, meeting his gaze. “You almost sound jealous.” 

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Neither one of you were backing down from this little standoff. Theo braced himself against the wall, his face inches away from yours. 

“What if I am?” He challenged, his eyes dipping to your mouth. “What if I told you that it’s taking every ounce of self control I have not to rip Murdock to shreds?” 

A shiver skittered down your spine. Theo wasn’t a violent person. Sure, he’d been in a fight or two, but that was mostly Mattheo’s doing. Your best friend wasn’t the aggressive type, so to hear him threaten Christoph took you by surprise. 

“You have no reason to be jealous, Theo.” You countered. “After all, we’re just friends.” 

“No, we’re not,” he said. “We’ve never been just friends, Y/N.” 

“Then why did you—”

“Because I’m an idiot and a coward,” Theo said with a sigh. “Because I had a beautiful girl in my bed and I had no idea how to tell her that I’ve been in love with her since I was five.” 

All the anger and hurt you’ve been carrying around for the past week instantly dissolved. A little smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “You’re in love with me?” 

“I thought that much was obvious, love.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed in response. “Theodore Nott, infamous playboy and shameless flirt, is in love with me. What an interesting development.” 

Theo groaned. “Now is not the time to be a smartass, Y/N.” 

“I think it’s the perfect time—” 

You didn’t get the chance to finish your sentence. Suddenly, Theo’s lips were on yours. He tasted like peppermint and whiskey, and he kissed you like his life depended on it. You sighed into his mouth, melting against his touch as he cupped the side of your cheek. This was definitely not a just friends kiss. It was a butterfly inducing, head in the clouds, sweep you off your feet kind of kiss.��

Theo's hands snaked around your waist as your fingers found purchase in his shaggy brown hair. He pulled you flush against him like he couldn't get enough. Merlin's pants, Theo really knew how to kiss. His lips were soft against yours, but there was a roughness in his actions that told you that his restraint was hanging on by a thread.

Like he'd been waiting for this for far too long.

You knew the feeling all too well.

"Darling, if you keep kissing me like that then this party will receive a show they didn't ask for."

You stuck your tongue out at him. "You started it."

"Shall I end it too, love?"

"You're an absolute twat, Theodore Nott." You rolled your eyes, kissing the tip of his nose affectionately. “A rich, handsome twat that I'm in love with."

Somewhere across the room, the hoots and hollers of your friends ignited a deafening cheer. Mattheo and Enzo clapped Theo on the back. Blaise raised his glass in approval. Draco smirked and exchanged galleons with Pansy. You didn’t even want to know what that was about.

“Fucking finally,” Mattheo remarked. “Notty boy here has been impossible to deal with this entire week. I never noticed how much of a wanker he can be when you aren’t there to balance him out, Y/N.” 

You chuckled. “It couldn’t have been that bad.” 

Enzo grimaced. “You weren’t on the receiving end of his quaffles,” he said, eyeing Theo. “He nearly took my head off.” 

That only made you laugh more. “Teddy bear wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“No, it’s true. Nott went absolutely mental.” Draco confirmed, draping an arm around your shoulder. “I’ve never seen him play like that. He wiped the floor with those pathetic Gryffindors. You should ignore him more often, Y/N." 

Pansy wrinkled her nose. “Please don’t. Looking at his miserable face put me off my meals for an entire week. I couldn’t even bear to eat any of my special Belgian chocolates. I missed out on Belgian chocolates, Y/N!” 

“You lot are overexaggerating,” Theo said, pulling you in by the waist. “I wasn’t that bad.” 

“Please, you were an absolute mess without Y/N,” Blaise added. 

“More like an absolute wanker,” Mattheo supplied. 

“An absolute supreme mega wanker,” Draco agreed. “Even by my standards.”

“It was pretty brutal,” said Enzo. 

Theo glared at all of them before taking your hand. “Let’s go, Y/N. I’d rather not stand around and get insulted all night.” 

“Sure thing. But I should probably tell Christoph that I’m…indisposed.” 

Mattheo grinned mischievously. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about Murdock.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What did you do, Riddle?” 

“I didn’t do anything,” he said innocently. “The boys and I just let him know that he should set his sights elsewhere.” 

“We also might have implied that we’d turn him into a horned bullfrog if he ever hit on you again,” Enzo said with a smile.

“The audacity he even had approaching you is frankly insulting,” Malfoy remarked. “Everyone knows you’re off limits.” He smirked. “Unfortunately.” 

Theo fell right into Draco’s bait. “Don’t hit on my girl, Malfoy.” 

Blaise raised an amused brow. “Oh, she’s your girl now, is she?

“Of course she is,” Theo said. He linked his fingers with yours and flashed those pretty eyes at you. The perfect mixture of blue and green, just like the ocean during a storm. “If she’ll have me.” 

You smiled, wide and bright. “Come on, Teddy. Your girl wants to dance.” 

[s-4pphics]

a friend in need! (e.w.)

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SYNOPSIS: heartbreak aid during the apocalypse, you ask? 

WORD COUNT: 5k

WARNINGS: bff!ellie who’s sad, kinda perv oc who’s eager to fix that, remixed version of seattle!ellie, dina catching strays for no reason (i love her pls), wound care but erotic, SMUT AGELESS BLOGS/MINORS DNI, dubcon (nasty green), porn watching, mutual/guided masturbation, brief poochie eating, oc in denial ab her little crush, real girlhood <3, slight angst :(

A/N: the bubblegum apocalypse where no one dies or lies. #SCISSORING

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The gates of Jackson open, and relief rushes through your chest. 

Everyone is accounted for. Ellie’s accounted for. 

Weeks—or however the fuck long— of pent-up anxiety finally settles in your limbs as you sprint towards Shimmer while Jesse tends to Dina, greeting the hazel mount with coos and rustles through her fur. Baby needs a bath and a good brushing. 

Your eyes swiftly shift from her to your best friend, “Ellie, I’m so glad— “

“Can you help me down, please?” 

Creases bunch in your forehead at the strain in her tone. And then you’re met with the blood-soaked wrap that's enclosed around her jean-covered thigh. 

“Oh, shit… c’mere.” 

Ellie’s good leg swings over the saddle, and you hold her waist to ease her down into the muddy grass. Joel’s the first one to engulf her. They exchange words that you don’t catch before his reluctant arms drop to guide Shimmer back to the stocks, leaving you two alone. You can’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around her neck next, mindful of her leg. 

“I didn’t know what to think when y’all didn’t come back,” you whisper. 

When the two girls first made their departure to Seattle, the icy remains of winter had just begun to melt into the dirt beneath it, and that alone felt like ages ago. There’s mosquitoes and moths everywhere now, following wherever the sun beams. 

A strong arm wraps around your waist, and you instantly stiffen and detach from her, hands resting on her shoulders. 

Her gaze drops to the ground when you whisper, “What happened, Ellie? You okay?”

She breathes. “Peachy.” 

Your hands drop when she turns in the direction of her home, head jerking when she says, “I’m gonna shower.” 

“Dinners supposed to be really good tonight!” You exclaim with a broken smile when she takes her first hobble, “Eat with me? Consider it a celebration that you made it home safe.” 

Ellie seems to soften at your invitation, head bobbing in approval, and you smile. 

She holds her fist out to you, “See you in 20?” 

You bump your knuckles against hers with strained cheeks, “See you in 20.” 

One small, comforting smile from her, and she’s off, limping back home. 

“What’s up with them?” 

You flinch at the too close whisper from Jesse, and you shrug. “Maybe they broke up.” 

“Doubt it,” He snorts, “Dina told me it was brutal on the way back. The bastards were everywhere, she said. They’re probably still shook up.” 

“Damn… How’s she doing?” 

“Weird as hell. I think she’s sick or something,” Concern is melting off him, “She’s getting checked out now.”

“I’ll check on her later,” You face him, “Coming to dinner?” 

“Probably not. Gotta make sure Dee’s good.” He’s already walking off, trailing after his friend…? Ex? You never know what to call them. 

“See ya.” You wave awkwardly. 

Weird. 

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How do you cheer up a friend that just witnessed three dozen infected tear another small community to shreds? At least, according to Jesse. He was able to get more out of Ellie and Dina than you were, apparently. 

You don’t know how Ellie — or anyone — could experience such barbarous scenes as frequently as they do. You’ve been on patrol twice since you stumbled upon Jackson a few years back, and each venture leaves you less and less eager to see the world beyond its walls. You respect their bravery, not only for being able to dive head first into unknown territory with nothing but bullets and faith, but to also face those walking demons at every corner. 

Your closest friend is often excited to show you scavenged artifacts that she has collected, but… she’s barely spoken to you since you helped her off Shimmer. 

Her silence is uncommon, and therefore, frightening. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve had fish,” you scoff weakly, poking your carrots with your fork, “It’s good, huh?” 

Her focus shifts from the tablecloth to you. 

Silence. 

You drop your utensil, “Fuck, Ellie… dude, what happened out there? Jesse told me… that y'all got caught up— “

“Dina’s pregnant.” 

He didn’t tell you that.

Ellie’s whisper breezes past your ears so fast that you barely catch it. The canteen continues to bustle with hungry, ravaged patrons who returned from their second round of patrol. You assumed Ellie was one of them after her scattered return, but she hasn’t touched anything on her plate. Not even her carrots. Her favorite; A literal goddamn rabbit. 

No wonder she hasn’t eaten… Who could’ve with news like that? Especially considering the high she was riding before the couple left. 

“What.” 

Ellie’s head shakes with gall, and a disappointed grin plumps her cheeks. 

“Yup… Can’t wait to tell Maria.” 

Sharing the news of a new Jackson kiddo sounds like the last thing on her mind. Days before the two took off, she was squealing like a wild hyena in the wee hours of the night, gushing to you about the midnight explorations with her long-term crush. Her retellings of their first night together were vivid: filled with pent up tension and need and unfiltered lust. According to Ellie, they could’ve gotten married in a fortnight with the relationship they’d built over the years, and you believed her. Sadly. 

You were present, observant, during your teenage years. You were there when Cat kissed Ellie, when they broke up, when Ellie had recurring nightmares about Riley and was desperate for comfort from you, when Ellie fell for Dina… 

And now they’re in a pickle. A fat one. 

Hearing about Ellie’s relationship never went how you’d assume. You expected to be happy for your friend whenever she enthused about a topic that brought about such elation, but there was always something about the stories that gave you pause. Something that burned in the pit of your stomach and caused you to, frankly, fake congratulations. You’re unsure why, but hearing about Dina and Ellie’s relationship potentially being tarnished is calming that simmer inside you.

“Just when I thought…” She scoffs quietly. “Whatever. Fuck it.” 

You can’t resist and slip, “… Who’s the daddy?” And she hisses.

“Guess.” 

But you don’t have to... Fuck. 

Dina and Jesse’s relationship was… something. In adolescence, Ellie was either secretly celebrating their multitude of separations or crying to you about them getting back together. Their consistent streak of being on and off clearly got the best of them. There’s a ball of cells growing inside of your friend’s almost-girlfriend. 

“Shit… maybe it was… a misunderstanding? Doesn’t it take a couple weeks to… form in the womb or whatever?” 

You’re not the devil's advocate. Your lips clamp at Ellie’s stern glare.

“There’s no misunderstanding.” 

Your shoulders slump at the distance in her eyes. The indifference she’s exuding can’t disguise the hurt that she’s experiencing internally. Your heart aches for her, despite the excited jitters in your fingers.

“… Sorry, man.” 

“I don’t care.” 

Good, you impulsively want to say. You shove it down into the hardwood beneath your soles. Your brows furrow in annoyance, more so at yourself for not being remorseful. “Fuck off. Yes, you do, and that’s okay. It’s normal.” 

“Can we go?” 

Her request is sudden and cracked, and every inkling of pride deflates in your chest. Poor thing; How could you feel like this when she’s this scattered? Guilt replaces whatever dark fantasy you’ve conjured up in the past five minutes. 

You move to stand without objection. Fuck the carrots, “Yeah. Let’s roll— “

An instant lightbulb above your head… and it’s glowing green. Roll.

Roll!

Mischief shines in your chest and eyes when you glance around the packed space in search for, 

“TOMMY!” 

A flash of brown hair turns to meet your sprinting form. The peach he’s holding looks devine. 

“You seen ‘Gene anywhere?” 

Your grin widens at his disapproving stare.

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“Be careful with those, shit-for-brain! I’m not coming to save your ass like last time!” 

“Got it, boss!” You squeak with a polite smile, shoving the small baggie of rolled joints into your stuffed satchel. It vanishes the second Eugene slams his vault to his dirty ass man cave, “Fucking dicksucker.” You huff.

Ellie snickers from beside you. “C’mon. Be nice.” 

“No. He skimped on me last time. Toke hog.” 

The walk to your place is colder than usual, but it’s beautiful out. The moon shines from behind the dark clouds, illuminating the ivory that shields the incoming spring grass. Gorgeously cinematic; A scenery that gets the heart thumping. Aching. Yearning. 

You lead Ellie onto your porch and into your home. She removes her jacket and kicks off her boots, throwing her armor over the designated rack. Your satchel goes flying across the room until it clatters on your bed. Black tapes spill all over the mattress, and Ellie scolds you disapprovingly. 

“Again? Really?”

You smirk. Eugene’s always too blasted to punish your kleptocracy, “No one has a better porn collection than ‘Ge— “

Her jaw slacks, “Porn?! What the fuck, I thought those were the Jurassic Park— “

“They’re not…” Before pondering, “Although that’d be some crazy role play. RAAAWR— “

“You’re the fucking worst.” 

“C’mon! Look at these titles,” You skip to your bedside to snag a couple tapes, “Smoochie the Coochie… Banging my hot neighbor…” 

A boisterous laugh passes your lips, “Throbbin’ Hood: Prince of Beaves! Tell me that’s not fucking hilarious!” 

Ellie doesn’t laugh. Hasn’t laughed. Just simmers by the front door with red dusting her cheeks. How adorable! 

“Why’re you looking like that?” 

When her eyes travel over the creases between your brows and confused smile, your feet give an awkward stutter. This wasn’t the reaction you were expecting. At the very least, she should’ve cracked a smile by now. Even an insecure one. 

You peer down at the tapes in your hand and back up at her. Her posture shifted: arms wrapped protectively around her waist while she leaned on the balls of her feet, eyes inspecting the dim lights of your space. 

Another lightbulb. Not a green one. 

“Have you ever watched porn?” 

She shrugs with floundering shoulders. You chuckle. 

“It’s just for shits and giggles, Ellie. Don’t be so serious. The acting sucks and you needa good laugh.” 

You cradle the filled baggie like it holds a sacred orb and waltz towards the VCR. Your screen shifts from bright blue to the tape’s introduction screen. Naked men in speedos… Ellie plops down on the couch behind and mindlessly flicks a lighter. You reach into the baggie and toss her the fattest joint available before working the remote. 

A sigh releases… then another flicker… then a long, drawled out exhale. You grin. 

You, remote in hand, plop down next to her, “Is it good?”

“Better than last time, for sure.” You trade the remote for the joint, arm wrapped around your angled legs as you pull. Hits smooth… er. It still dries your throat. 

“Remind me to thank him.” 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

Two joints down. Two tapes completed. Three wide smiles from Ellie from the bad acting. The night’s a win in your book. 

She lazily lights another joint while you switch out the tapes. You purposely saved the best for last: apparently the only lesbian porno in that bastard’s whole cave. When’s the last time you’ve smoochied a coochie?

More importantly, when’s the last time Ellie has? Recently, you assume; She and Dina were too close to only be going on long walks in the woods. The more you smoke, the more your mind wanders where it shouldn’t. 

��� Your friend is a lover. Always has been, despite her efforts of convincing you, herself — everyone — that she’s emotionally indifferent. Craves affection, both verbal and physical, like she’s deprived. She raves to you about her desires on a weekly basis, for fucks sake! Someone hug the poor girl! 

“Feeling better?” You squeak when you plant on the cushion. Ellie nods with a soft grin. 

“Thank you.” 

Your hands clap together and her body shakes from the recoil. “The night’s not over yet! I got a surprise for you! Happy Birthday!” 

“It’s not my birthday… I don’t know my birthday— “

Your smile is laced with grating sarcasm, “Wow, you really know how to kill the vibe! Just play along, goddamn!” 

You sigh when her expression flattens. 

“Ellie…”

“Yes?” 

Oh… That crackly tone did a little something. Cheering Clitorous. Alright. Okay. 

“I found a little something in ‘Gene’s special drawer— “

“Aren’t all his drawers special.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be shutting the fuck up.” 

Her red eyes widen, but she silences. 

“You know what feels really nice after a bad breakup?” 

Her middle finger digs into her dry eye, “Getting high and watching porn with the only other lesbian you know?” 

“Even better,” Your hand claps down on her jean-clad, uninjured thigh. “Getting high and watching lesbian porn with the only other lesbian you know… while getting head. A true fixer-upper.”

More silence, and your tummy gives a nervous tumble. Eugene’s bud gives you enough courage to make eye contact, and, given any other circumstance, you would’ve hollered laughter at how stunned Ellie looks, eyes nearly stretched beyond her lids, but you don’t. You press on when she denies you. 

“You’re lying.” 

“Am I?” Your thumb presses the large button in the middle and the screen displays two, three — six women… all sprawled out on white carpet while lewdness shines through their eyes… And not at all the romantic wives fingering each other next to the fireplace like you envisioned. Plus, the music sucks. Who the fuck plays the accordion while bumping cooters?

Your eyes circle around and… Oh, wow. A lot less tame than you were expecting… Are those chains and a paddle? 

What the fuck, Eugene. 

“Oh, shit.” 

Ellie’s either impressed or about to go on a judgmental rampage. You gauge her expression curiously. Her lashes keep fluttering like butterfly wings. You nearly coo audibly. She always does that when she’s excited! What a cutie! 

Ellie recites the description at the bottom of the screen, “When six girls go off into the woods for an early 4th of July getaway, conversations take a lustful… and explorative turn. Find out what happens during one late, hot evening after a game of… kiss and blow?” 

You snort, “Are you asking me?” 

“Well, yeah… The fuck is kiss and blow?” 

You shrug, “Find out.”

One click of the remote, and the footage begins… More giggles from Ellie, and something flutters in your chest. You’ll have to watch bad acting with her more often. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

Six minutes into Smoochie the Coochie, and you still don’t know what kiss and blow is. And you don’t care to find out. 

High pitched moans and pleasured squeals that almost sound phony rings in your hazy skull as you stare up at your best friend from between her covered legs. 

This is the quietest she’s been all night: her eyes are locked on the screen behind you, completely entranced with flushed cheeks by what you assume is the sweatiest, raunchiest… scissoring, is what it’s called? On the screen. Maybe. You’re wired and can’t think straight and Ellie’s hot. 

“Are we really doing this right now?” 

She whispers when you caress her thigh over her pants, and you nod approvingly. Desperately, but she can’t tell. “Up to you.” 

You don’t expect a cold hand to come up and tenderly brush against your cheek. You shudder and nuzzle into it. Sober you would be so embarrassed at how you’re reacting to her affections. You’ve never been the needy one. 

“Can we…” 

You pout and burn with embarrassment, but start to pull back, “Stop?” 

“No, no…” Her eyes meet yours and your body locks. A bit nervous. “I dunno…” 

“Tell me.” 

“Later.” She whispers. 

You stare skeptically as she plays with your earlobe. “I promise I’m good. I want this. I’ll tell you later.” 

A pause before you sigh. “Okay. Up.” You pat her thigh and her hips rise. Her unbuttoned jeans are peeled down her legs, gently over her fresh bandage, and tossed beside you. Your body is miles ahead of your brain; before you realize, your lips smack all over her bruised thighs, peppering over the freshly bandaged scars and faded ones. She squirms where she sits, shaky breaths puffing from her lips. 

Your mouth travels higher, and an encouraging hand lands on the back of your head, massaging your scalp. 

“Tell me what’s happening.” You mumble against her, a blind finger pointing back at the screen. 

“I don’t — So much shit is going on. Like… from all directions.”  

You smile against her thigh, “Someone catch your attention?” 

“I…” 

But no explanation is needed. There’s treads of weakness in her growl. Go figure. 

“Lemme guess… She look like her?” 

If she catches the unwarranted agitation in your tone, she doesn’t mention it. Simply digs her nails into the back of your head. No forceful tugs at your hair, but a warning, and your teeth beam. 

“I dunno what the fuck you’re smiling for, but it’s gonna piss me off soon.”

There's a smidge of threat in her voice, so your kisses travel up. A pleasant distraction, given every small twitch of her legs. 

Not too long before you reach the hem of her underwear, and you trap it between your teeth before releasing it. Her tummy jolts when the fabric hits her skin, and you go heart-eyed. 

“Tell me who you’re looking at.” 

“T-The one that brought all that crazy shit to the party.” 

Of course. Handcuffs, she means. The large, wooden paddle, she means. A slow drag of your tongue advances up her v-line and her body wracks against her will. 

“Crazy in a bad way?” You purr against softness, and she exhales a laugh. “Not in this context, I guess.” 

“You like that kinda stuff?” 

“How the fuck would I know?” 

You snort before your eyes fall, trapped by the small patch of wetness that sticks to her panties. Glues the outline of her lips to the fabric. You’re seconds — inches away from going feral. 

Whatever patience you entered with has withered: and with determined hands, Ellie’s underwear gets yanked, pried down her legs and tossed behind you. Your eyes glisten with excitement when they meet the red pearl that twitches in anticipation, walls that leak when the warmth of your breath brushes over the cup of her. 

Her pussy’s perfect. A stunner, for sure. You and Cat were never close, but you’d hit her up to get Ellie tatted. Not even in a discreet place. It’d be somewhere where everyone — Dina — can see. On your forehead, for fucks sake—

S-Stop staring at me. 

It seemed like the moans behind you became louder. You nearly shove three fingers in Ellie’s mouth as punishment for interrupting the moment, but you choke on a breath. Mumble a slur of you’re cute, can’t help it in an attempt to ease her. 

And just when your tongue unravels over your bottom lip, right when Ellie’s taste is millimeters away, right when her breath hitches and her mouth drops open, the loudest crack, very reminiscent of bullets, rings across your small living room. Scares her, scares you enough to steal the attention from the art between her thighs. 

The sight on the screen is new, even for you. 

It’s not every day you see girls being slung across muscly laps and swatted on the ass with wooden tools with their hands bound behind them while they cry and sob and beg for their masters to hit them harder. You probably would’ve laughed at the theatrics if Ellie wasn’t here, as if you weren't about to go to town on her ten seconds ago. Both your breaths shudder and tremble as raunchy sounds of lips smacking and girls touching themselves and fingering each other split your ears in half. 

Your vision tunnels and shifts when a whimper from Ellie rattles through your chest and down your ribcage. She gasps like you’ve caught her doing something bad, but she doesn’t stop whatever she’s doing. Just blushes madly with her hand shoved between her squeezed legs while her eyes flicker between you and the screen. 

Time seems to whir and the room spins. The pace of your breath increases, slobbery wheezes syncing with Ellie’s when her legs cross over one another. 

Your muscles move you closer, hands planted on either side of her waist, back enlengthening until your eyes are level with hers. Her tongue barely dips to wet her bottom lip, eyes swiftly flickering down to your mouth.

A hand raises right when another crack of a paddle against skin ripples through your speakers, and before Ellie can flinch, your palm caresses her cheek, thumb exploring the divets in her face. Over the healed wounds and fiery specks that hypnotize. You don’t expect her to nuzzle into your touch… 

And you definitely don’t expect her arm to start moving, despite its enclosing. 

Her eyelids bat, and green pierces through your chest. Over your neck, your face, your shoulders as her bicep twitches. When her lips part around a gasp, you choke. 

Lemme see. 

Ellie curses under her breath, kisses your palm, and undoes the twining of her legs. Her fingers are gentle where they rest over her pussy, the bones in her hand flexing as her palm digs into her clit, folds smushed around the muscles of her thumb. 

That’s how you do it?

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, masking a smile as her head shakes. Your heart pinches. 

Show me how. 

Her head falls to the side as her cheeks sizzle. 

You first. 

You shudder, and your brain scolds. This wasn’t the plan. You were supposed to smoke, watch porn, eat pussy, and escort her home safely. 

Not the fucking plan.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

Ellie insisted that you restart Smoochie the Coochie before you undress. For ambiance, she’d said when you stood on two feet, watching as she removed her hoodie. For me? She’d whispered against your cheek, in only a tank top, when you finally positioned yourself on the cushion in front of her. Face to face, pussies almost touching, your knees to the ceiling. 

The volume of the footage has been turned down, but the acting… it’s fucking hilarious. You shouldn’t be smiling. You shouldn’t be giggling, but you are. 

Ellie moves loose strands of hair behind her ear, grin matching yours. 

“Hm?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Hm.”

Ellie, much to your shock, makes the first move. Again. 

Takes your wrist in her hand, brings your limp one up to her mouth to pepper kisses on your knuckles before pressing in between your open thighs. Your fingers are clumsy and your heart pounds against your ribcage, thighs jerking at the sticky contact of your own juices. Ellie's eyes between your legs like a hawk, leant comfortably against the pillows stacked behind her. 

Her attention encourages you. You balance on the hand that rests on the couch, grinning playfully around the fingers that sink into your mouth and glide on your tongue. Ellie shakes her head with a small smile before reaching for the lighter and last joint. Sticks the end of it between her lips, flicks the lighter twice, and ignites it. 

Every slow exhale of smoke gets rewarded with presses on your clit, your index and middle fingers tickling the sensitive area with learned precision. It pulsates under your fingertips whenever you lock eyes; her eyes are fervent with need, uncontrollably so, and it sends vibrations through your spine. 

Slower, Ellie whispers wetly when your touch becomes rushed. Too eager for her liking. She’s always hated when you rush things. Loathes your impatience. 

The moans from the film pick up again: shaky and cracked and high. They match yours when you apply just enough pressure on the spot right above your clit. Your walls constrict and slick gushes from, and Ellie curses.

When your fingers explore elsewhere, she sits up suddenly, her breath hitting your mouth when she mutters, Keep touching right there, with a tight hand around your wrist, trying to guide you back to the spot that makes your thighs quake.

I’m gonna cum if I do. There’s warning in your gasp.

Ellie puffs again before huffing a smoky breath, the scent infiltrating your senses. Your fingers almost sink inside, Wasn’t that the plan? 

Cum w-with me? 

Your voice is pleading, tone almost identical to when you would incessantly pester and follow Ellie around Jackson when you were younger. 

Ellie, watch a movie with me? 

Ellie, do a puzzle with me? 

Ellie, go on a walk with me?

Ellie! Ellie! Ellie! 

What used to be innocent invitations have swiftly shifted into something darker, and Ellie needs more. A shocked squeak leaves you when her free hand curls around the back of your neck to smash your lips together. Your hazy mind hadn’t registered Ellie’s fiery stares at your bruised lips, her head tilting in the opposite direction of yours, her nose brushing against yours whenever your fingers made a gooey noise. 

Your eyes flutter shut when her tongue sloppily glides over your bottom lip, moans quenchless where they hit Ellie’s tongue. She swallows them down until they jolt in her stomach, and shoves her hand between her thighs once more. 

Her fingers are drenched and so are yours; there’s nasty, slicked noises everywhere. From you, from Ellie, from the television that’s been forgotten by both of you. 

Ellie’s movements become desperate in a matter of seconds, no longer able to keep up the pace of your kiss. Your separated lips connect only by a thin line of saliva as Ellie gasps hit the skin of your cheek. 

Can’t wait to feel you on me. 

Your euphoria begs to peak at Ellie’s promise, your fingers massaging all the spots that send you to the stars at a desperate pace, trying to match Ellie’s. 

Cum with me, she growls like you did, Cum with me, cum with me, fuck —

Your friend’s name is a prayer on your tongue, shrouded in lust and a longing you’ve forced down to non-existence. You both succumb to pleasure in unison, the pulsing between your thighs synched with hers as she whimpers out. 

I wanna tie you up like that. Tie you up? Beat your ass raw and bloody? Whatever she's looking at, you want. You'll take without hassle. Anything for her. After one glance at the screen, 

Cumming for you, oh shit—

You wring out your high until there’s nothing left to give her, legs closing around your wrist at the aching sensitivity. Ellie’s head falls onto the arch of your knees, lathering your skin in spit-filled kisses, her soaked hand slowing between her legs. 

“Lay down.” 

“H-Hm?” 

“Lay down,” you croak. 

And she does, eyes filled with carnality. 

The porno is long forgotten when your head shoves between Ellie’s legs, the tape stuck on the starter screen while her cries of pleasure blend with the same bullshit accordion. 

You tongue her with fever, drink down all of her heartbreak that she endured while she was away from the source, mark yourself all over the terrain of her until she shatters with a cry of your name. Drenches your mouth, your tongue, your chin. Pushes you away with a cautious hand when you don’t stop. Flinches with sensitivity. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

“Hold still.” 

You swipe the disinfecting wipe over Ellie’s wound, fresh blood leaking into the white cotton. She assembles new bandages where she sits above you, unraveling the sterile fabric for you to wrap her in.

“I’m trying!” She whines, “It still hurts.” 

“Shouldn’t have tried to ride my face— “

She flicks your forehead so hard, it thumps like a drum, and you wince before playfully biting her finger. 

She snickers and allows you to collect the last bits of blood with the last tarnished rag in your first-aid kit, snagging the bandages from her grasp. She holds down the new gauze and does as she’s told, lifting her thigh on your command as you bind her messy stitches. 

Why did you kiss them, though? 

It lasted 0.5 seconds. A quick, gentle smack meant to soothe, but your brain doesn’t see it that way. Red alarms glow in every crevice of your cerebrum, urging you to move away from your best friend. You stare at Ellie and Ellie stares back, expression no longer readable and easy-going, and you flinch away from her. 

Inviting her over for some innocent porn-watching is one thing… but kissing her without motive? Without the need to progress into something more? It stuns you more than her. You think.

“Sor — sorry — “

Ellie’s already palming at your shoulders, “It’s okay… it’s not a big deal— “

And it’s not. Why does her confirmation bloom a new ache in your chest? 

Your knees pop when you hurriedly stand, and Ellie follows, hands sliding down your arms to grab your hands. 

“Hey…”

You meet her eyes. 

“We’re good… okay? It’s nothing serious.” 

Don’t cry. You agree with a grin. One you pray she doesn’t notice cracks in its corners. She says nothing. Just caresses your cheek in unsaid thanks. Thanks for tonight. Thanks for the distraction. 

Ellie returns a smile before gathering her clothes off the floor. She dresses in silence as you watch with a sorrowful gleam. Is it selfish to ask her to stay? Would it be too much? Should you? Will you?

It’s when she’s tying her boots up that you say something. 

“I can walk you back!” 

“I got it. I’m not going straight home.” 

Ellie’s denial is calm. Gentle. Not abrasive in the slightest, but your hands quiver and heart swells, bound to burst with dejection. Where is she going? The town is sleeping. 

She leaves before you can ask with a promise of seeing you in the morning for breakfast. Nothing unfamiliar, nothing changed. 

Tears rock you to sleep, and you’re not sure why. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

[redr0sewrites]

Sick!Hazbin Hotel x Reader Hcs

i love reverse comfort sm. im also currently being brutally murdered by allergies but i prefer comforting others so here we are

🥀 Cw: fluff, crack, teensy bit of angst with comfort

🥀 Pairing(s): Lucifer x reader, Alastor x reader, Vox x reader, Adam x reader

Lucifer:

sick? him? please, the king of hell doesn't get sick!

thats what he claims anyways

lucifer brushes nearly everything off as just plain allergies, he could literally have a 103 fever and be shaking on the floor and would still be pouting and saying he's fine

the thing about him tho is that he's easy to take care of- after a little coaxing lucifer just sighs and nods glumly before pretty much submitting himself to your care

once he's admitted hes sick tho, he wants you around him 24/7

lucifer wants cuddles, hugs, kisses, he just gets so clingy when he's feeling under the weather

THIS MAN LITERALLY BURNS UP WHEN HE'S SICK ITS ALWAYS THE LITTLE ONES WITH THE HIGHEST RAGING FEVERS THAT LAST FOR DAYS like he'll be sweating and shivering and crying he gets hit HARD when he's sick and it happens so suddenly too- like one day he's fine and then the next he looks like he's one small wind away from collapsing

he lowkey feels bad about asking for things when he's sick so he'll say something offhand like "yk im in the mood for soup" and hopes you get the message

ABSOLUTELY THE TYPE TO GET FEVER DREAMS AND START RAMBLING WHEN HES SICK

like he'll wake up from a nap and still be half asleep and he just starts genuinely rambling about literally the most obscure things

lucifer definitely gets nightmares even when he isn't sick, but when hes feeling like shit and is so delirious he can't tell reality from fiction? be prepared for him to wake up crying and shaking, he just gets so so scared :(

lucifer feels bad about you taking care of him and wants to help, but will lowkey end up pushing himself too hard. PLEASE reassure him and tell him it's alright he'll literally melt

once its all over, lucifer will genuinely trust you more after you saw him in such a vulnerable state and is much more likely to come to you instead of hiding how he's feeling in the future

Alastor:

alastor? weak? lmao no

he would literally rather die than admit he's sick like he would literally just keep pushing on

alastor is one of those people that has an iron immune system like he VERY rarely gets sick but when he does its like torture

to even be alastor's partner you'd have to know him for a long time and you'd probably be able to read him pretty well (at least compared to other people), yet even you sometimes miss his sickness in the earlier stages

alastors biggest tell tale sign of being sick? exhaustion. he very rarely sleeps on the regular, but when he's sick that all catches up to him

he also gets more irritable and a little less composed, he'd be more prone to getting angry and would lash out if anyone asked if he was ok

alastors ears would also be turned back slightly, like most animals do when they're being aggressive, but its pretty much only obvious to people who know him closely

alastor never wants to be vulnerable or weak but you notice that his eyelids keep drifting of their own accord, and how irritable he's been, and it clicks to you that he's obviously not feeling well

approach him about it in private, while alastor does trust you he still doesn't want others to knowm

no matter how much you try he will not lay down, take medicine, or do anything (at least at first)

alastor genuinely thinks that he can just push through on his own and lowkey thinks you're worrying too much

however after two weeks of pure suffering and exhaustion, combined with no sleep and your irritation at his lack of will to take care of himself, alastor finally breaks

he'd prob come to your room at like 4 in the morning and just curl up on the edge of the bed, shivering a little but staying quiet

you wake up to him fast asleep, his ears twitching every once and a while as he rests peacefully near you

get a cool towel and lay it on his forehead to break the fever, and he'll just keep sleeping

he probably wouldn't wake up for at least a few hours, months of lost sleep are catching up to him at this point, giving you the opportunity to make him some soup and medicine

alastor will stir a little when you get out of bed but wont wake up, but once he does wake up he wants you to come back

when he's sick he wants you to be nearby, alastor isn't the touchiest person and being sick makes him feel gross, so he wouldn't want to be touched but would want you arround just to know you're there

this is probably the first step in him being more open to vulnerability around you, and while it may have been a bit of an irritating process to get him back to his usual healthy status, it's definitely worth it as he begins to trust you more

Vox:

lowkey a man child (affectionate)

vox is one of those guys who will take care of himself when he's sick, but he'll complain about it every step of the way

i think he's pretty responsible when he's sick, he'll take the day off and relax but won't do much other than that

he likes when you pamper him though, and a part of him lowkey enjoys being sick because he just gets to have your full attention all of the time (as if he doesn't already💀)

vox would be irritated about showing weakness and not being in control, but he wouldn't be irritated at you

if an employee was being too nosy about his wellbeing? yea he's pissed but if you're the one taking care of him, he'll just sigh and let you do what you want

VOX IS ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE WHOS LITERALLY ALWAYS COLD AND ITS AMPLIFIED WHEN HES SICK

he becomes like a literal ice cube he's SHIVERING and everything

vox has the cutest sneezes too, he glitches out and denies how cute his sneezes are but they really are adorable

vox takes like 2 baths per day when he's sick he hates feeling unclean, and def wants you to join him in the bath (just to relax, get your mind out of the gutter)

vox would be a little pissed about missing work, i think he's a bit of a workaholic and might try to work in bed or sneak some paperwork behind your back

it doesn't work though because he just ends up passing out anyway

vox is big on sleeping when he's sick he's definitely the type to just sleep it off and thats that

like he CRASHES in bed and just does not get up for hours

he sleeps like the dead too, his screen is blank and he barely moves in his sleep

like lucifer, he has fever dreams but they lean more on the weird side rather than the sad side

its funny but instead of talking more when sick, vox actually talks much less. he starts getting super quiet and a lot more needy for your attention

vox is more than happy to return to work and be back on his feet, but will send you a little thank you gift and pamper you in return for taking care of him

Adam:

manchild x2 (also affectionate)

adam DREADS getting sick like he genuinely hates it so much, he sees it as one of his own flaws and it makes him lowkey disgusted at himself

he whines like a baby over a common cold, its almost sad how the slightest sickness will make him act like he's on his death bed

adam whines and complains whenever you aren't around him, he wants cuddles and kisses and is 10x more clingy when he's sick

he has little to no appetite when he's actually sick but gets a huge appetite right after

like you'll have to force him to eat at least a piece of toast per day while he's actually feverish but once he's in recovery he's literally FAMISHED and will ask for so much food

he barely eats or drinks while hes sick it just feels icky to him

i also think he's the type to not want to move like he just collapses on his bed and barely moves an inch (unless you force him)

adam exaggerates when he's barely sick and then underplays it when he's genuinely really sick its lowkey so confusing

like he could have pneuomonia and be half dead and say he's fine but he could have the most common cold and complain foreverrr

he doesn't think you're genuine when you say you want to help him and take care of him, he thinks its just a joke since nobody has ever really taken care of him before

like sure he's been told what to do and bossed around and treated him like a foolish child, but no one has ever sat with him while he's sick and held his hand yk?

while he can be irritable and annoying while he's sick, he apologizes afterwards

its one of the few times he ever apologizes but he genuinely feels bad about lashing out

adam isn't used to being below someone when it comes to status or health and relaxing and letting someone else take care of him is kind of foreign for him, but you both work it out over time

while he isn't the easiest to take care of, he genuinely appreciates that you want to help him and wants to return the favor someday

I WILL MAKE A PT 2 OF THIS WITH MORE FEM CHARACTERS OR WITH HELLUVA BOSS CHARACTERS BUT I DIDNT WANT TO CROWD UP THIS POST TOO MUCH!!!!! ALSO SORRY FOR ANY SPELLING MISTAKES I WROTE THIS WHILE HALF ASLEEP ♥️ HOPE YALL ENJOYED THIS TEEHEE

[nubsdolls]

SYPNOSIS ; g/n reader x sparring partner! bakugou, fluff, not proofread .. matching bracelets , enjoy ! xoxo, jord .ᐟ

A/N; this was supposed to be a lil drabble but this came out longer than i intended .. anywaayss. I PROOOMISEEE im gonna start posting more i’ve disappeared for sosososso long.. in the meanwhile take this, luv u guys !!!!!

sparring partner! bakugou that swears he only bugs you 24/7 to “get your ass to training grounds” because you need to improve. no other reason because of course, he cant stand you.. or anything about you, for that matter.

so no, it doesnt “mean” anything when sparring partner! bakugou comes up from behind you to, “fix” your form. adjusting you by signaling you to rotate to the side by giving your hips a little push, nudging your elbows up so your face is protected by your hands.

sparring partner! bakugou who always insists to be near you, discreetly, if he can. because he obviously doesnt want it to seem like he cares, because he doesnt. even during training or maybe even an attack on the school? near you. covering you and making sure warn you of the sneak attacks from behind you.

and even though you practically hate sparring with him, because hes so damn ruthless, ensuring a trip to recovery girl by the end of it, its weirdly the highlight of your days. hearing the ding! of your phone, followed by the usual message from him.

: training grounds. 5 mins

even when its five in the goddamn morning. you never fail to meet him there.

and after a small while of this cycle, you make the (probably) safe assumption you guys are, friends? acquaintances?..hell, maybe you were even on kirishima’s level of ‘friend’. toleratable? at the least.

so while on one of your free days afterschool, youre shopping with the bakusquad. mina, jirou, denki, sero, kirishima, and obviously, bakugou. god knows how they convinced him to tag along.. you get lost in a cute little merch store, spotting matching all might bracelets. ew, corny. who would even get those?

ca—ching! “aaand heres your change, have a nice day!”

you would.

though, you probably shouldve thought this out.. who were you gonna match with? ofcourse, it could always be mina, but she also didnt absolutely fixate on all might. but, there was, one person you had in mind..

and sometime in the week after the hangout, at the end of your—no less than brutal, training session, you tiredly brought it up.

“the other day—while we were at the mall, i saw these matching all might bracelets—“ pant, “i kinda just bought on it on sight, annnd i didnt really think of who to give the other half to before i did.. but i know you like him, so..”

you trail off, simply suggesting it as you move over to sit down on a bench, taking a drink of water, while also, pulling out the bracelets from your pockets and reaching your free hand up to show him.

sparring partner! bakugou scoffs upon seeing the bracelets in your hand. golden age and bronze age all might bracelets.

“thats stupid. im not wearing that shit.” he growls, crossing his arms. his voice a little panted from training. you were getting better. not that he would tell you that directly, of course.

“chill, dynamight.” you roll your eyes playfully, emphasizing his hero name on your tongue. “i was just suggesting it, if you dont want it its fine.” you explain casually. even if, the sentence did hurt your feelings a little.

“ill just give it to izuku.” you shrug, you guys were friends, pretty close if you did say so.

and you almost swear you saw bakugou’s eye twitch. a glint of, jealousy? in his eyes as you bring up the green haired boy’s name.

he lets out an amused huff, rolling his eyes. “tch. whatever, give it to that nerd. not like i care.” before he reaches down next to you for your water bottle, taking a swing, airsip.

setting the bottle back down next to your thigh, he speaks up again. “‘aight, hurry, we arent done. round two.” he adds harshly, motioning with his hand for you to get back up.

“come on. please? one more minute. its so eaarlyyy.” you whine, almost pouty as you throw your head back. still exhausted from the sparring just a few minutes ago. 6am and hes annoyingly productive.

“hurry or i can blast your ass right here.” he glares down at you, grumbling through gritted teeth.

“im getting uupp, geeez.” you groan, lazily getting up from the bench and almost coming up to meet his full height.

later in the day, during class training, you figure you should probably find izuku to give him the other matching half, one already on your wrist.

you couldve sworn you remembered putting it back onto your other wrist so you wouldnt lose it. maybe it was in your dorm instead? whatever, youd just have to give it to him tomorrow.

today, you were working in partners, testing out new possible moves, strengths, weaknesses, and overall just trying to improve on any weak spots.

and like always, sparring partner! bakugou was next to you. basically having claimed you as his designated partner for anything by now, glaring at anyone who even suggested you work with them and not him.

and as your throwing hits at him, trying to catch him off base with your quirk, you notice a glint coming from under his gauntlet, you pause a moment.

its the matching half of your bracelet, all might’s golden age bracelet.

he notices this. feeling his ears dust the slightest pink from, embarrassment? and he uses this moment of weakness to gain the upper hand, pinning you down on the floor.

and youre completely shocked by the sudden move. somehow flipped on your chest to the ground, arms tucked behind your back with his knee holding you down.

“stay focused.” he hisses, reprimanding you for your bad habit.

“thought you said it was stupid?” you mutter. tilting your head to the side ever so slightly to look at him. a sly, cheeky smirk on your face.

“it is.”

maybe it wasnt so stupid after all.

[deansbeer]

★ fragile as lace, bound in leather // dean winchester.

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

synopsis. you and dean share one final night together, tangled in desperate love and heartbreak. he believes he's no good for you, but letting go feels like tearing your soul apart.

warning(s). angst | smut | p in v (stay safe out there n wrap ur shit) heartbreak | emotional turmoil | doomed relationship | self-loathing | internalization of guilt | emotional vulnerability | depictions of crying during sex (?) | lingering pain of goodbye.

kari yaps. leather and lace by stevie nicks is to blame for this … but !!! i wanted it to be angsty & i haven't written smut in what feels like forever (it's so ass) so yeah <33

the motel room feels like a tomb. the heater rattles in the corner, failing to warm the stale air. it's cold, but not in the way that bites at your skin. no, this chill is deeper—buried in your chest, spreading into every hollow part of you that dean once filled.

he sits on the edge of the bed, his boots still on, his head hung low. the soft light of the bedside lamp casts shadows over his face, making him look older, wearier. his shoulders are tense, his hands clasped tightly between his knees. he hasn't said much, but he doesn't need to. you've known this was coming for weeks now, maybe longer.

"so that's it?" your voice is barely above a whisper, but the words feel like they echo in the room.

he doesn't look at you. his jaw clenches, his fingers twitching like he wants to reach for something—maybe you, maybe the door.

"yeah," he says finally, his voice rough, raw, like it's been scraped across gravel.

the words hit you like a punch, even though you've been bracing for them. still, they knock the air from your lungs, leaving you gasping as you stand there by the window, your fingers wrapped around the edge of the curtain so tightly your knuckles ache.

"why?" you press, your voice shaking. even though you already know the answer.

he exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face. "you know why."

"do i?" you fire back, stepping toward him. "because all i see is you giving up. on me. on us."

that gets him. his head snaps up at that, his green eyes locking onto yours. there's anger there, frustration, but underneath it, you see the pain—the same pain that's been eating away at you for months.

"don't do that, baby," he says finally, his voice low and sharp. "don't act like this is all on me. like this… you and me.. hasn't been falling apart for a long time."

"it doesn't have to," you insist, taking another step toward him. "we can fix it. we can—"

"no, we can't,” he cuts you off, standing abruptly. the sudden movement makes you flinch, but it's not fear—it's heartbreak. "we were doomed from the start."

the words are brutal, but the way his voice cracks betrays him. this isn't what he wants, you know that. but it doesn't make it hurt any less.

"no," you whisper, tears blurring your vision. "don't you dare say that."

he takes a step closer, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "you deserve better than this," he uttered, his voice breaking. "better than me. i'm no good for you. all i do is hurt people… drag them down. and you? you're… you're everything good in this world. and i can't ruin that."

his words hit you harder than any goodbye. they cut deep, carving out the parts of you that still believed in this, in him.

"i don't care about what i deserve," you say, trying to hold back the tears threatening to escape. "i care about you. i love you, dean. isn't that enough?"

he closes his eyes like he can't bear to look at you anymore. "it's not," he says quietly, and the finality in his tone shatters something inside you.

you take another final step toward him, your hands trembling as they reach out to him. "please," you whimper, your voice barely audible. "don’t leave me."

for a moment, he doesn't move. and then, suddenly, he's on you—his hands cupping your face, his lips crashing into yours with a desperation that steals the air from your lungs.

it's not a gentle kiss. it's messy, frantic, filled with all the things he can't bring himself to say. his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as if he can press himself into you, leave a piece of himself behind.

you clutch at his flannel, your tears mixing with the kiss as you pour every ounce of your love, your pain, your longing into it.

"dean," you gasp against his lips, your hands fumbling with his flannel, hastily shrugging it off of his shoulders.

"shh," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin as his lips trail down to your neck. "don't talk. just... let me—"

he doesn't finish the sentence, but you know what he means. let him have this. let him have you, one last time, before everything falls apart.

his hands are everywhere—sliding under your shirt, gripping your hips, pulling you against him like he's afraid you'll disappear. you can feel the heat of his body through the layers of fabric, the way his heart pounds in his chest, and it makes you ache in a way that feels unbearable.

you tug at the hem of his shirt, your fingers shaking as you pull it up his torso. he shrugs it off, his lips right away latching back onto your skin as he backs you toward the bed.

when the back of your knees hit the mattress, he lifts you by the back of your thighs like you weigh nothing, laying you down gently even as his movements remain hurried, frantic. he pulls your shirt over your head, his hands sliding over your bare skin like he's trying to memorize every curve, every inch of you.

"god, you're beautiful, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice rough as his lips trail down your collarbone, to your chest.

you arch into him, your hands tangling in his hair as you let yourself drown in the sensation of him. his lips, his hands, his weight pressing you into the mattress—it's almost enough to make you forget the agony waiting on the other side of this moment.

he undoes your jeans, his fingers brushing against your skin as he slides them down. you feel exposed, vulnerable, but the way he looks at you—like you're the only thing that matters—makes you forget your insecurities.

"baby," your bottom lip wobbled, as your hands move to the waistband of his jeans.

he helps you, kicking them off along with his boxers before settling between your thighs. his skin is warm against yours, his body solid and grounding in a way that makes you feel like you're floating.

when he finally pushes into you, it's slow, unhurried, like he's savoring every second. you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders as he fills you completely, the stretch and the heat overwhelming.

"look at me," he whispers, his forehead pressed against yours. "please."

you open your eyes, meeting his gaze. his green eyes are dark, filled with so much emotion it makes your chest ache. love, regret, longing—it's all there, written in the way he looks at you like he's trying to etch this moment into his memory.

he moves slowly at first, his hips rolling against yours in a rhythm that feels almost torturous. every thrust, every brush of his skin against yours feels like a goodbye, and it makes your heart shatter all over again.

"i love you," you voice, as tears spill down your cheeks.

he presses a gentle kiss to your lips, his movements faltering for a moment as he whispers against your mouth, "i love you too. more than you'll ever fucking know."

the words undo you. you cling to him, your nails digging into his back as your sobs shake your body. he doesn't stop—he holds you tighter, moves deeper, like he's trying to put you back together even as he's breaking you apart.

your release builds slowly, the pleasure mixing with the pain until you can't tell where one ends and the other begins. when it finally crashes over you, it's overwhelming, your body trembling as you cry out his name.

he follows soon after, his movements growing erratic before he stills above you, his face buried in your neck as he lets out a low, broken groan.

the room is silent except for the sound of your heavy breathing, your heartbeats pounding in unison. he doesn't move, his weight pressing you into the mattress as his arms wrap around you like he's trying to keep you from slipping away.

"please don’t leave," you whisper in his ear.

he doesn't say anything. he just presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulls away.

you want to stop him, to beg him to stay, but your body is too heavy, your heart too broken. you watch in silence as he gets dressed, his movements unrushed, like he's trying to draw it out.

when he's done, he looks at you one last time, his eyes filled with so much sadness it makes your chest ache.

"i'm so sorry," he tells you, his voice wavering.

and then he's gone.

you don't know how long you lie there, staring at the empty space where he used to be. the room is cold, the sheets still smelling like him, and the ache in your chest feels too much to bear.

you were the lace, and he was the leather. and no matter how tightly you'd tried to weave yourselves together, you were always destined to come apart.

[aemndxx]

𝓇.cameron. ┆ angel face.

◟ ㅤᡣ𐭩ㅤㅤ ݁.﹒ my mama is back home. !!! ᠀𓏲 even tho i'm gonna be her main caregiver now & i'm moving in less than two weeks, i'll hopefully be publishing more stuff for u angels. ♡ྀི

"y'like this, angel?" rafe coos softly, sounding sickeningly sweet against your sweet smelling neck, inhaling that addicting vanilla-scented perfumè you're always wearing, making his cock throb against his left thigh, hanging bare and heavy, dripping with small beads of pre-cum.

you nod eagerly, squealing as rafe begins pumping his long, calloused finger faster and harder inside of your weepy little cunt, adding another and stuffing it inside swiftly, making you mewl and release a breathy, high-pitched and feminine squeak at the sudden stretch.

"awh, is it too much for you, baby?" rafe teases mockingly, pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses all across your neck, sucking the occasional claiming mark, his kiss-swollen lips trailing down to suck on the tops of your bare breasts.

"i know, baby… i know," rafe murmurs against your soft skin, before taking a puffy, perky little nipple into his mouth, suckling for a few moments, both of your nipples already swollen from rafe toying with them earlier, pinching and plucking them, making you moan so prettily for him.

"just need dad's cock, huh?" he croons, his voice darkening and sounding more gruff by the second, needing to be inside of you as soon as possible—no, he needed you now, right fucking now.

"it's okay, babydoll—daddy's gonna give his pretty girl what she wants, yeah?" he continues to ramble mostly to himself, quickly releasing the one nipple he was sucking on by swiftly moving down for a second, flattening his tongue completely and licking a stripe up your soaking pussy, needing another taste.

"fuck, this pussy... it's all mine," he growls, already lining himself up as he moves to settle more comfortably between your plush, spread thighs, so silkily smooth and smelling of your strawberry shortcake body lotion.

without waiting a moment longer, he gives his hardened cock a small squeeze, pumping it twice quickly, growing more impatient by the second, before gripping himself by the base and lining himself up with your dribbling hole, all wet and sloppy from rafe eating your sweet little cunny just minutes ago.

"you ready f'me, baby?" he asks, already rubbing his leaking tip up and down your glossy slit, before pushing inside of you without waiting for a verbal response, already seeing the look you're giving him with your big, doe-like eyes, all misty and begging to be fucked.

without missing a beat, or allowing you a moment to adjust, rafe continues pushing his cock all the way inside until he bottoms out, before beginning a frantic, nearly animalistic, but steady pace, watching the way tears are already streaming down your flushed cheeks, little moans escaping you.

"that's my girl, taking daddy's dick like such a good girl—fuck, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me," rafe grunts, practically pounding you into his bed, not caring if his father or sisters hear—rafe needs you, needs to fuck you, and if you didn't know any better, you'd think he was just as desperate for you as you're for him.

"yea, yes... daddy!" you mewl sweetly, breath hitching, your tits bouncing with every brutal thrust from rafe, but you don't mind, you loved when rafe used you like his own personal little fucktoy.

"that's it, baby," rafe puffs out, nearly breathless, panting and growing sweatier by the minute, feeling your perfect cunt squeezing him so tightly, he honestly thought he would blow his load any moment now.

"fuckfuckfuck—shit, baby, such a good little slut f'me," rafe groans lowly, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, sloppily kissing your already marked up neck, nipping and sucking and licking any inch of skin that he could reach.

"that's it... juuust like that," rafe croons into your ear, feeling your pussy quivering, knowing you're about to come for him any second now, hearing your small wails and whimpers, before he lifts his head and presses his lips against yours, tasting your cotton candy lipgloss, his tongue practically down your throat as he kisses you messily, passionately, possessively—like he's marking his territory over you.

and then, then, you feel it, your back arching and you're coming with a muffled, girlish cry that's swallowed by rafe's mouth, making him blow his load not a second later as he reaches down with one big hand and starts to give your little buzzing clit tiny, light slaps, making you squeak and try to squirm away from the overstimulation, from him.

"no, no," rafe says sternly, this time slapping your clit harshly and making you cry out once again, releasing a breathless chuckle after, his lips still connected to yours, your mixed salivas making both of your lips and chins shiny, but neither of you care—rafe likes seeing you like this, all fucked out, so weepy and submissive for him whenever he gives you a good, long, and hard fucking.

perhaps, just maybe, that's why he doesn't bat an eye at your small wail of protest when he shoots his load deeply inside of you, hearing your whiny complaints—but rafe doesn't give a fuck, you're his, and you'll always be his.

[carlottawllms]

Author‘s note: Welcome to chapter 6. I hope you weren‘t too mad at me after chapter 5 🧐 There’s no good times without the bad ones, is there? Hope this one makes up for it 😇

As always, feedback is very much appreciated! Enjoy! 🩷

The drive back home was hell. Tears kept flowing and blocking your view and it was difficult to keep your composure overall.

Mason’s words had hurt you a lot, especially as you’d never thought he out of all people would say something like that to you, but there was also this embarrassment you felt all over. The way he’d literally laughed at you for potentially being jealous had cut the ground from under your feet.

You'd known for years that you felt a little differently about Mason than you did about other men and had simply refused to admit it to yourself and instead kept it buried six feet under, but it was his behaviour over the last few weeks that had encouraged those feelings to spill over. He’d been so touchy with you; more than he’d ever been and you’d liked to think that his words had held a deeper meaning.

Not to mention the two kisses you’d nearly shared.

But it was obvious that you’d imagined it all. The tension between you two, the meaningful glances, the sweet words.

Are you jealous? Don’t be ridiculous, y/n.

He’d made it pretty clear. You weren’t even close to being in his league and had very clearly been living in fantasy land for the past weeks. You’d just never thought he’d be so brutal about it.

Sleep didn’t come easy. Instead, you tossed and turned until the early morning hours and when your alarm eventually rang, you were positive you’d only gotten two hours of sleep. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d dreaded getting up as much as today and whilst you knew you wouldn’t see him for more than a few minutes, the thought of facing him at all made you feel sick.

You ended up being slightly late as you’d allowed yourself a bit more time in the shower than you normally would, but you couldn’t care less.

“I should be back at three. It’s only a short session because of the upcoming game.”, he explained, but you only gave him a short nod; not in the mood for pleasantries at all. You just wanted to get away from him as soon as possible, so you tried to brush past him, but Mason was quick in grabbing you by your elbow. “Can we talk when I’m back?”

He looked remorseful; his eyes fully of regret when you locked yours on his for a second before dropping your gaze to your feet and shrugging your shoulders.

“Please?”

Again you didn’t react. Eyes solely set on your shoes. After everything he’d said, it hurt so see him and hear his voice.

“I get it.”, he sighed. “See you later. Don’t let my tiny terror annoy you too much.” Mason squeezed your arm gently and then he was gone.  

You shook your head, trying to get yourself into a better headspace. It was awful enough you felt like shit, there was no need to make Ellie notice. You shrugged your shoes and jacket off, before heading into his house.

Ellie was sitting on the carpet in the living room, one of her many puzzles in front of her. She had her brows pulled together in an adorable frown – something that made her look even more like her dad.

Mason too carried that frown with him more often than not. It appeared whenever he was concentrating, mad, lost in thoughts or simply confused. Sometimes even in his sleep. You usually just had to smooth your thumb over it for it to disappear.

“Hi princess.”, you brushed through Ellie’s hair as you crouched down next to her. “This looks really cool. Do you want any help with it?”

“No.”, she shook her head. “Stupid.” And with a quick wave of her arm, the small pieces were scattered all over the floor. Amazing…

“Whoa, Ellie. Munchkin what’s wrong?”, you asked, sensing already that she wasn’t in the best of all moods. “Hm?” You tried pulling her into your lap, but she pushed you away as much as her little strength let her.

“No!”

‘Wow.’, you thought. ‘As if this day hadn’t been difficult enough as it was.’ It felt a little as if with getting up this morning you’d made the biggest mistake. You should’ve stayed in bed; should’ve let Mason figure something out instead of still being his safety net after everything he’d sad the evening before.

“Okay, I’ll leave you alone for a bit sweet cheeks. I’m in the kitchen if you need me.”

Technically it was way to early to make a start on the lunch you’d planned, but with-it being Saturday and Ellie in a mood there wasn’t much you could do. And since she took after her father when it came to bad moods and how long they lasted, you knew that there would still be enough time to clean the whole bloody house in the afternoon.

Maybe Mason had stocked up on stuff so you could give the new cookie recipe you’d found on Instagram a go. It was one of those with a molten chunk of chocolate in the middle – a big fat weakness of yours – and you knew Ellie would like them too. Maybe they would lighten her mood…

Before you could even search Mason’s pantry for the ingredients you needed, you heard a rather loud crash in the living room.

“For fuck’s sake.”, you hissed, already having an idea what it might’ve been.

Rushing into the living room, worried your goddaughter might’ve hurt herself, you found her standing in the middle of the room, hands tucked into her sides and glaring at what once was a big, beautiful vase.

A vase that was now spread out on the floor in its individual light blue pieces. And in the middle of the sea of shards was Ellie's little ball with the Manchester United logo. The ball that was only meant for outside. Something that Mason had made that very clear to her. He’d used his stern dad-voice and told her straight out not to bring the ball in.

And now she was standing there in her olive-coloured hoodie and matching jogging pants, staring at the broken pieces. Her lower lip jutted out as if pouting would miraculously undo it.

Truth be told, you were overwhelmed. You had absolutely no clue whether you should scold her or not. At the end of the day, it wasn't your job to raise her. But then again, somehow it was.  

“This is exactly why your dad told you the ball stays outside.”, you sighed. “Stay where you are please, I don’t want you to cut your feet.”

You slid your feet into one of Mason’s abandoned sliders in the hall before returning and hoisting Ellie up on your hip. She was barefoot and you preferred her unharmed, hence why setting her up the sofa seemed to be the best idea.

“Stay on the sofa please, I’ll clean up, yeah?”

“No!”

“Ellie, honey, do as I say please.”, you sighed, failing to keep the slightly annoyed tinge out of your voice. Your patience was wearing thin, and if she was going to keep her act up, you weren’t sure what you’d do. “There’s thousands of shards and I won’t have you walking through them and hurting yourself. Sit down and wait for me to be done.”

The little girl glared at you, obviously unhappy with your uncharacteristically strict behaviour, but much to your surprise, she stayed where you’d put her.  

A little less than 10 minutes later all the shards were gone, but unfortunately the day didn’t get any better after that accident.

Ellie thought everything was stupid or boring and after you had given her what felt like 200 suggestions and she had rejected every single one of them, you gave up and turned your attention to cooking. Something that normally calmed you down, but with the day you were having, not even that managed to make you feel better.

If anything, the small specks of tomato sauce all over the counter irritated you more than necessary and you were glad, that it didn’t take too long to finish it.

You were about to grab two plates, when your phone alerted you of a new message. Thinking it was probably Mason telling you he was on his way back, you ignored it, but with a few more coming in in quick succession, curiosity eventually got the better of you.

The second you looked at them though, your blood ran cold.

Who’s this tho?

You knew exactly who it was. The blonde hair, the height, her style…it was Rebecca. The gorgeous woman you’d came across in the park. The one who thought you were the babysitter. She looked great next to him. As if she belonged.

It was pathetic, but the longer you stared at that photo, the more the tears burned behind your eyes. Those last days and weeks, you’d let your guard down and unbeknownst that tiny spark of hope had blossomed, and you only noticed now just how deep your feelings for him ran.

“Fuck.”, you tipped your head back and tried blinking back the tears. If you started to cry over this now, there would be no stopping any time soon.  Angrily, you wiped at the few tears that had spilled over. “I refuse to cry again over this stupid boy.”

With shaking fingers, you replied to Kay’s messages before grabbing the lunch and setting it up on the table.

“Ellie, lunch is ready. Come over please?”, you called, but the girl who was sitting less than a few feet away from you on the sofa didn’t even bother to look up from her toys. “Eleanor.”

“No.”

“It’s pasta with tomato sauce, Ellie. It’s your favourite.”

“No!”, she screeched, making a point by throwing her teddy bear at you. “Daddy food.”

Taking a deep breath, you dragged your hand over your face. There was a lot you could handle and on a normal day, you didn’t face any problems when it came to dealing with Ellie’s tantrums, but today wasn’t a normal day.

In fact, nothing felt normal anymore these days. Mason had always been your rock, but the constant back and forth with him lately was starting to dig your head in and his outburst the evening before had only added up to the worries plaguing you.

There was no going back, you knew that. Those feelings that had slowly crept to the surface wouldn’t just disappear again. But you wanted your best friend back. You wanted the times back when everything was easy and for the first time ever since you’d stepped up, the thought of regret snuck into your head.  

If you hadn't taken on this role, perhaps everything would still be the same…

Eventually you sat down to eat by yourself. Ellie was a carbon copy of her dad and there was no chance to get her to eat now, so you didn’t even bother trying. Knowing her, it would probably just make it all even worse.

Not really being hungry anymore, you forced yourself to eat at least a little bit whilst staring ahead in silence. It felt as if within a few months everything had turned to shit and you wondered if continuing to do this was worth it. Maybe you should tell Mason to ask his parents to come up and take care of Ellie?

But then again, you weren’t a quitter.

“Do you want to go to the playground when I’m done here?”

It was your last-ditch effort because Ellie loved the playground and you hoped it would put her into a better mood, but your hopes were immediately dashed by a shake of the head and words that hurt more than you’d ever care to admit.

“Not wif you.”

A lump started to form in the back of your throat at the same time as your eyes welled up with hot tears. You tried to blink them away, but it was to no avail. They started falling before you could even get up from the table and hide away in the kitchen.

“She doesn’t mean it. She’s only little and in a bad mood. She didn’t mean it like that.”, you tried telling yourself, but there wasn’t much you could do. You felt incredibly overwhelmed and helpless as you stood there, elbows propped up on the kitchen counter and sobbing quietly into your hands. Your heart ached from all types of sadness, hurt and anger rushing through your body, making it difficult to breathe properly. You hated how everything was so overwhelming and made you collapse like a house of cards.

Mason was more than surprised to see the state of the living room when he came back home. Not that it was chaotic by any means, but he knew you and how particular you were about tidying up so seeing the table still set from what looked like lunch time and Ellie’s toys all over the floor had him a little worried.

His daughter was colouring in peacefully at her small table in the living room. Her little feet swinging back and forth made him smile softly. She’d been in a bit of a mood this morning and he was glad you apparently had managed to cheer her up.

As he made his way over to greet her, his gaze fell on the dining table, recognising Ellie’s favourite meal right away, but the fact that her personalised plate was entirely unused made him frown.

“Daddyyyy!” Ellie scrambled off her chair the second she noticed her dad in the room and ran over to him as fast as her little legs would carry her.

“Hi princess.” Mason picked her up and squeezed her to his chest before setting her on his hip so he could get a good look at her. “I missed you.”

“Missu too.”

“Yeah? You did?”, he tickled her sides a little, causing her to giggle and squirm in his hold before kissing her cheek repeatedly. “I missed you more though. Did you have a nice day with auntie y/n?”

To Mason’s utter surprise, his daughter shook her head. He furrowed his brows and pulled back a little so he could look at her a bit better.

“No? Why’s that little miss trouble?”

“Auntie y/n sad.”

Mason’s heart dropped to his tummy. He knew you always made sure to hide your feelings from his daughter, especially the ones that could affect her and the way Ellie had picked up on them told him everything he needed to know about the state you were in.

He’d been awful the evening before, he was well aware. He’d said things he hadn’t meant in the slightest and whilst deep down he knew you knew, it was still something that weighed heavy on his shoulders – and heart.

All day long he’d thought about how to apologise; what to say and how to make you feel better despite all those terrible things he’d said. He just needed you to know just how sorry he was.

“Maybe daddy should go and see if she’s okay then, hm?”, he asked as he brushed through his daughter’s brown hair.

“Ellie made auntie y/n sad.”, she whispered barely audible, eyes cast to the floor, but Mason was quick in tilting her hair up gently. Her eyes being full of guilt breaking his heart.

“I’m sure you didn’t, princess.”, he smiled, his thumb caressing her soft cheek. “Everyone is a little sad from time to time, you know? You are sometimes, so am I and auntie y/n is too.”

“Gwandma too?”

“Yes, grandma too.”, Mason nodded. “And it’s okay to be sad sometimes, yeah? But then we need someone to cheer us up and make sure we laugh again, yeah?” For good measure, he attacked his daughter’s tummy with quick fingers and only let go of her, when she could barely breathe from giggling so hard.

“I’ll go and talk to auntie y/n, okay? Can you stay here and colour-in the rest of that picture? I’m sure auntie y/n would be happy to have it.” Ellie nodded quickly, a bright smile on her face. “Thank you, princess.”

Mason pressed a kiss to the top of her head, before setting her down and making his way into the kitchen.

You had your back turned to him, your shoulders calm, but he couldn’t be sure that you weren’t crying. Not after everything that had happened. He watched you for a moment, gaze gliding from your messy bun, over the sprinkles of tomato sauce on the side of your t-shirt – he knew you’d be furious the moment you’d find them – to your legs clad in light grey joggers. Your favourite pair.

When you turned around, the surprise and shock were evident on your features, but Mason couldn’t look at anything other than your red rimmed, glazed-over eyes. You’d been crying, that much was obvious. Your cheeks were slightly red, a little blotchy and he could easily make out the tear stains.

“y/n?”

“I’m fine.”, you attempted to say, but your voice betrayed you rather quickly. You rolled your bottom lip into your mouth to stop it from trembling as you wiped your eyes.

“No, no you’re not.”, Mason sighed. “C’mere.”

There was little to no resistance when he pulled you into his arms and held you tightly. His warmth surrounded you and it was ironic how his smell calmed your mind almost immediately, when he was the reason, you were in this state in the first place.

“It’s okay, I got you.” He repeatedly kissed your head in an attempt to calm you down as your quiet sniffling was breaking his heart. “I have a whole lot to say to you, but you first. What happened today?”

“I don’t know…it was all a bit too much, I think. Ellie was a bit of trouble today too and yeah…I’m sorry you had to come home to this, I’m normally not-”

“Hey, no stop this. There’s nothing you have to apologise for, love.” Gently, he tilted your head back and held you by your cheeks so he could look straight into your eyes. His thumbs wiping at the few tears that had made it past the last line of defence. “Ellie said she might’ve made you sad?”

“Oh…well I made her favourite and she said she only wants your food and…it’s probably stupid really cause I know she didn’t mean it that way, but after everything-” At the end you let what you wanted to say run into the void, but there was no need for you to finish it as Mason knew exactly what you meant to say.

“I’m sorry, y/n.”, he whispered. “I’m sorry for everything I said yesterday and how I made you feel with that. I know I said some pretty shit things and I’m genuinely sorry. I didn’t mean any of those things.”

“I was just looking out for you, Mase.”

“I know you were.”, he smiled sadly. “And I should’ve appreciated that instead of coming at you like I did. I know you only ever mean well with me.”

“Then what happened? Mase you called me pathetic and jealous. You…you hurt me. A lot.”

“I’m so, so sorry, y/n.” Mason pulled you back into his chest, squeezing you tightly. He’d felt awful before, very much so, but hearing it from you, that he out of all people had hurt you and brought you to tears made him feel like the most awful person on the planet.

“Nothing I can say could ever take back the words I said, but y/n, I really need you to know that I didn’t mean any of those. You’re not pathetic, love. You’re absolutely perfect and I’m so glad I have you around. Not because you take care of Ellie, but because you’re you and I enjoy every second I get to spend with you. You’re such an amazing person and the thought of having hurt you kills me. I swear I didn’t mean anything of what I said.”

“Then what happened? Why Mase?”

You finally wrapped your arms around his middle, holding yourself to him a bit closer. You could feel his fingers running up and down your spine, causing you to curve into him a little more.

“It was too much.”, he admitted quietly. “Everything. The whole situation here with you sacrificing a lot for Ellie and I, then the pressure at United. All of sudden, Mae shows up unexpectedly and messes with my head and ends up kissing me. I was so overwhelmed; I didn’t know what to think anymore and when she kissed me I just…I don’t know. It was just too much, like all of it.”

Mason carefully placed his head on top of yours.

“When I came home, I just needed to get it off my chest and you said all the right things, but in that moment I think I wasn’t ready to hear them so I bit your head off. I’m genuinely sorry, y/n. You didn’t deserve any of that, especially not after you sacrificed your whole life for me and Ellie. You didn’t hesitate to put your life on hold and step up to ensure that mine and Ellie’s could be as normal as possible. And instead of telling you every single day how grateful I am, I said those awful things I didn’t mean. I’m so fucking sorry, I hate seeing you hurt and it killed me to know that it’s was me who did this.”

For a while you just kept quiet. Face snuggled into his warm chest, arms circling his waist as you listened to his rapid heartbeat. You knew he was truly sorry. He hadn’t meant any of those things and you’d known before, but you’d needed this apology.

“There’s something else I need to tell you. I don’t know if you noticed, but I got home later than I said I would. It’s…I went to see Mae.” Mason felt your body tensing in his hold and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Yesterday after you left, I thought about everything you said and realised you were right. She did see you as an out. You were her chance to be part of our lives without actually being there and I don’t want that for Ellie. She deserves all the love in the world and above that she needs stability. Not a mum who might or might not be there.”

“Yes.”, you whispered.

“When I told her that she has to be here regularly or not at all, she admitted that it is probably best for Ellie to stay with me and have you by her side. She said you seem to be very good for her and I couldn’t agree more. You’re perfect with her and I’m incredibly grateful to have you.”

“You’re my best friend, Mase. As if I’d ever not be by your side.”, you huffed, but Mason could basically hear the soft smile playing on your lips. He gently pulled away and tipped your head back with his finger beneath your chin and when his eyes found yours he was more than happy to find no more tears shining in them.

“I also don’t love her anymore. I didn’t say it yesterday – out of pettiness really – but I don’t love her anymore. I don’t feel anything for her anymore because she doesn’t matter to me. Okay?”

“Mase, you don't owe me an explanation or anything. I just wanted you to maybe think about it again and-”

“I know.”, he smiled. “Trust me I know. But I don’t need to think about it again, y/n. I know I don’t love her anymore. She doesn’t mean anything to me, I promise.”

You weren’t sure why it was so important to him to get this across, but you closed your eyes and sighed in relief when he pressed his lips to your forehead.

“I really am sorry, y/n. I know you might take a bit until you can forgive me, but…are we okay?”

“I…look, you really hurt me, Mase. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hurt before but you apologised. I should probably be petty and make you beg for my forgiveness after all that-”

Mason chuckled quietly and nodded. “But?”

“But with everything that you had going on lately it’s not surprising you needed an out. It’s not okay what you did and what you said, but I know you’re sorry and that you didn’t mean it. We’ve been friends for years now and I know you’re not like that. I forgive you, okay? Just make sure it never happens again.”

“I will. Pinky promise.” He locked his pinky with yours, a cheeky grin on his lips, before he pulled you back into his chest. “Thank you.”

As you stood there in silence, still holding onto each other, you could hear Ellie’s chair scratching over the floor as it was pushed back and a little later her crocs-clad feet padded over to the kitchen.

“She kept away for longer than I thought”, Mason laughed. “Asked her to paint a picture for you, I’m excited what she came up with this time.”

But when Ellie opened the door to the kitchen, there was no painting in her hand. Granted, she had splatches of blue and red pencil stains in her face, but instead of the paper, she was holding her plate.

“Auntie y/n!”, she grinned. “Pasta now?”

[querenciasturniolo]

ghost ⮕ s.t.

word count: 4.1k

warnings: depictions of death (no active murder), mentions of death, mentions of vomit, blood, suspense, anxiety, fear, swearing

summary: murders in los angeles have been happening left and right, and right as you think it couldn’t get any worse, one of your best friends is gone.

a/n: this took much longer than it should have, and for that i’m sorry, but i have a few things to say beforehand. this was inspired by multiple edits, two separate convos i had with @floofparker and @champangekisses , scream being one of my FAVORITE scary movies, and, of course, the iconic “WHO’S MOST LIKELY TO BE THE GHOSTFACE KILLERRRR” from chris. this took FOREVER, but i’m so proud of it and so excited to put it out. this is pretty reminiscent to the movie, but i added my own little spin on it. PLEASE read the bolded disclaimer and take it to heart, i don’t think anything that goes down in this fic would actually happen, hence the name fanfiction. it’s supposed to be unrealistic, that’s the point. i hope you enjoy 🫶🏻

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

Twenty year old social media star Christopher (Chris) Sturniolo was found dead outside of his Los Angeles home on September 22, 2023. His brothers, who he made comedy videos with on multiple platforms, Nicolas and Matthew Sturniolo, claim their brother had been out with long-time friend and fellow content creator, Y/f/n Y/l/n, hours before.

Nick and Matt told police moments before they rushed out to find their brother with multiple stab wounds, they heard yelling and a struggle. When they reached Chris, the assailant was gone. Y/n hasn’t spoken about their day together prior to his death, and has refused to answer any questions asked. Her and Matt Sturniolo seem to have ended their year-long relationship shortly after this tragedy, but we all want to know why. Was there an affair? Was the guilt too much to keep the secret after Chris’ death?

On October 13, 2022, Y/n’s brother was murdered brutally, and their mother suffered a very public breakdown. The assailant in her brother’s case has yet to be found.

Chris Sturniolo’s murder was the fifth in a little less than two months. Police have yet to tell the public any of their leads in this string of serial murders, but have disclosed that they are far from closing these cases.

The article had only been out for an hour, and your Instagram and Tiktok were already being swarmed with notifications. So many, that you had to delete both apps off of your phone to keep it from crashing.

You hadn’t left your bed since that day, only to get something to eat and some water when you ran out—you couldn’t even go to the funeral. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer your phone, you couldn’t even answer the countless messages you scrolled through in the days following your best friend’s death.

Today was the day, you decided, that you were going to do something. Three weeks couldn’t have been too late to get your shit back together. You had woken up in the late afternoon and gotten into the shower, standing under the hot spray for what felt like forever and just allowing yourself to relax and release any tension in your body.

You had made a full meal for the first time since…that morning. You were nauseous the entire time you ate, but you had to do this. When your brother died, everyone told you that the best way to get through your grief was to continue your regular routine as much as possible. Filming a video was on your to do list. You weren’t going to post it, it was just for you to get back into the routine of talking to a camera.

Setting up your camera was the hardest part. You knew how to do it blindfolded by now, but the thought of doing anything like this, even if you weren’t going to post it, felt wrong, almost. It felt wrong to look into a camera and talk about that day, talk about your last day with Chris.

You sat down on your couch after pressing record and ran a hand over your face, finally looking into the lens and sighing.

“It’s been awhile.” You started, rolling your eyes at the corniness of your statement. “I don’t even know why I said that, I’m not even posting this.” You grumbled, dropping your head into your hands and carding your fingers through your hair. The burning in your throat started, and you continuously fought through the knot and forming tears.

You looked up again, hoping your eyes didn’t look as red as they felt. “I picked Chris up at ten fifteen, and we spent the entire day together. We went thrifting, as much as he complained the whole time.” You said, a ghost of a smile forming on your face as your eyes focused elsewhere.

“He, oh my God.” You said, chuckling to yourself and shaking your head. “He would throw whatever I had in my hands in the basket and ask if we were done yet, every time I picked something up. I don’t know what his problem was, considering he had gotten a few things too.” You said, sighing softly and glancing over at the camera.

“We went to lunch—that honestly sounds more fancy than it is, we stopped at In-n-Out—and we just came back to my house afterwards. We talked about…a lot of things.” You started, tears pooling in your eyes as you closed them and let yourself remember.

“We talked…we talked about life, and getting older.” You said, dropping your head back and looking up at the ceiling. “Fears, hopes and whatnot. We talked about everything.” You said, sighing softly as the remnants of Chris’ voice in your memory sang through.

“I don’t know what I want right now. I’m grateful that I’m doing so well, but in five years, where will I be?”

“It started getting late, so I took him home. He told me to come in if I wanted, but I…I was tired, I wanted to go home. He…he got out of the car, and I didn’t. I never...” You dropped your head in your hands again, your breathing labored as you fought off the guilt that had been deteriorating you for the last three weeks.

You lifted your head, about to stand and turn off your camera when your phone buzzed next to you. You sighed and flipped it over, frowning at the screen.

No Caller ID flashed before you. Usually you’d ignore the call, but something in you couldn’t resist as you slid the icon over and pressed it to your ear.

“Hello?” You asked, your voice quiet and shaky.

“It was your fault, you know.”

You’d never ended a call so fast, your phone hitting the couch as you stared down at it with wide eyes. The voice was distorted, completely unrecognizable, but familiar at the same time. This was some sick joke, it had to be. You took a deep breath and shook your head.

You stood and walked over to your camera on weak knees, stopping the recording and taking your camera off of the tripod. As you shut off the camera, your phone buzzed on the couch. A sigh left your lips as you placed the camera on the coffee table and ran your hands through your hair.

What was the worst that could happen, right? You picked up your phone, No Caller ID still flashing across the screen. You slid the icon over again and pressed your phone to your ear.

“That wasn’t very nice.”

Your entire body went on high alert. “Who is this?” You asked, your voice trembling.

“That’s not important, what’s important is I know what really happened that day.”

All of the air left your lungs as you shakily sat down on the couch. “What are you talking about?” You asked. A dark chuckle rang through the receiver, your heart pounding in your ears as you waited for an answer.

“You didn’t wait for him to get inside, did you, Sweetheart?”

A broken sob left your lips as you hung up the phone and dropped it, your whole body shaking with each shattered cry that escaped you. The guilt was too much, it was the only thing about your last day with him that you couldn’t bring yourself to even say.

You blame yourself for Chris’ death, if you had just waited a few moments for him to get in the door, none of this would have happened. It was killing you every single day, not knowing if your being there would have changed anything.

You ignored the next call, and went through your contacts. Your finger hovered over Matt’s name, your chest aching as you swiped out of his contact, clicked the one under it, and held your phone to your ear. Before Nick could even finish his greeting, you were straining to get your words out of your mouth through the knot in your throat.

“Nick, something is wrong. Please, please come over.” You whispered into the phone, trying your best to keep your voice steady as his silence on the other end made your skin crawl.

“I’ll be there soon.”

You put your phone on the couch and took your time pacing around your living room.

Nick would be here soon, there was no reason to panic. The person on the phone was nothing, no one. Your phone’s incessant buzzing pulled you out of your pacing. You were frustrated now, the guilt and pain that you’d been holding in for so long was finally out in the open and slapping you right in the face.

How did they know? You hadn’t told anyone, you couldn’t even bring yourself to say it out loud.

It didn’t matter, the person on the phone had no idea what they were talking about, which sounded about as stupid as you thought it did, but it was the only thing keeping you from pulling your hair out of your head.

You pulled your phone from the couch and answered, the buzzing driving you up the wall.

“Listen, I’ve already called the police, and they’re tracing this call right no—”

The laughter on the other end cut you off, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as that sickening, metallic voice rang through the receiver.

“Oh, Sweetheart. We both know that isn’t true. I do know, however, that your little friend and boyfriend are on their way right now. Care to explain how they’re going to help you?”

Every hair on your body stood on end, your chest aching with the intensity of each beat against your rib cage. You fish-mouthed, unable to get any words out as the voice continued.

“How are they going to stop me, hm? How are they going to keep me from gutting you the same way I did your dear old friend, Chris? Or your brother?”

You froze, your gaze stuck to the floor as each word processed in your mind. “My brother?” You whimpered, a sinister chuckle vibrated against your ear.

“You heard me, Sweetheart. He put up quite the fight, too. More of a fight than your little friend.”

“Shut up!” You screamed into the receiver, hanging up the phone and throwing it across the room. You could distinctly hear the shatter of your screen as you crumpled in on yourself.

Michael’s murder had completely destroyed you. Your entire world was uprooted, and your mom, your mom hasn’t been the same since. She spends her days sitting in a rocking chair in front of the window, rocking slowly back and forth in a daze.

You’d never shaken more in your life, your entire body twitching and fighting each movement you tried to make as you stood from the floor. You needed to get up, you couldn’t let yourself stay on the ground or you’d never move.

Before you reached your kitchen, the sound of a knock at the door had you jumping out of your skin. It took everything in you to walk to the door and peek out the peephole, ripping it open the moment you registered Nick and Matt standing on your porch.

You hadn’t said a word before they rushed in and wrapped you in the tightest hugs you’d ever experienced in your life. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you pushed the door shut and held them tightly.

“I’m so sorry.” You sobbed, both of their arms holding you as you completely crumbled. “I didn’t wait for him to get inside, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault, he’d be here right now if it wasn’t for me. I’m so fucking sorry.” You rambled. Neither of them spoke, but their shoulders shaking softly against you answered the silent question of if they were listening.

When you finally pulled away, you were still shaking like a leaf. The guilt of holding it in for so long had been washed away, but the fear of that voice on the phone was still running rampant.

“No one blames you.” Nick said, his eyes rimmed red. “We’ve never blamed you. So you don’t need to worry about that.” You glanced at Matt, who’s eyes were still on the floor before you met Nick’s eyes again. “What happened?”

You sniffed and shook your head as you wiped at your face. “Nothing, it’s fine. It isn’t important.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around your abdomen as your eyes rested on Matt’s hunched frame. Nick sighed from where he stood and ran a hand over his face.

“I’ll leave you two to talk, but then I want to know what happened.” He said before he turned and walked towards the living room.

For what felt like hours, you and Matt stood across from each other in the mudroom of your childhood home, you staring at him, and him staring at the floor. When his eyes finally met yours, it felt as though your heart shattered and mended itself all at once. You hadn’t seen him since before Chris’ death, and the only message you’d sent him since then was telling him that the two of you needed to break up.

He looked as beautiful as he always had, but he looked different. Under his eyes were dusted in a dark purple, the whites of them tinged pink, his cheeks sunken in.

“Matty,” you whispered and took a step forward. He shook his head and looked back down at the floor.

“Why?”

It took everything in you not to wrap him in your arms and never let go. You knew exactly what he was asking you, and you knew the answer. It had taken these three weeks of you doing nothing more than surviving to realize you had no other reason to break up with Matt, other than the fact that looking at him would remind you of Chris, and you couldn’t handle it. It was selfish, and you could only imagine how he felt.

“I…I don’t have a good reason.”

Matt nodded and sniffed before looking up and meeting your eyes. The blue of his iris’ was striking against the red rimming his eyes. Your own eyes were burning as his gaze scanned over your face.

“Is it true?”

You frowned, confusion clouding your mind as he sighed and shook his head.

“What the article said, about you and Chris. Is it true? Was there…did you…”

You gasped as the realization hit you of what he was asking.

“Matt, what? I would never, I could never do that to you. I didn’t look at Chris like that, you know that.” You rambled on.

Matt nodded. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, just…a moment of weakness, I didn’t mean it.” He mumbled, taking a step closer to you. “Why did you end…us? I needed you, and you just…you shut me out.”

You took a deep breath in through your nose and shook your head. “I couldn’t bear looking at you and seeing him. I know, that’s selfish, and I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“I shattered the mirror in my bathroom the other night.”

You looked up, your eyebrows furrowed as Matt held up his hands. A gasp left your lips and you reached forward, delicately taking his cut up and bruised hands in yours. Before you could ask him why, he answered the silent question brokenly.

“Every time I looked in the mirror, I saw him.” You met his eyes again, and didn’t stop yourself as you pulled him into a bone-crushing embrace.

“I’m sorry, Matty. I should have been there.” You mumbled into his shoulder, his arms tightening around your waist as he breathed you in. Neither of you said anything, just held each other for as long as the other needed.

“Um, Y/n? Did you do this on purpose?”

You pulled away from Matt and turned around, seeing Nick holding your shattered phone in his hand. You sighed and nodded, the fear you’d completely forgotten about creeping up.

���I was getting prank phone calls, it’s not that big of a deal.” You mumbled, pulling away completely and walking towards the living room.

“What kind of prank phone calls would make you shatter your phone?” Matt asked quietly, you turned to face him and shrugged your shoulders, trying desperately to hide the shaking of your hands. You didn’t want to talk about it, you couldn't talk about it. If you talked about it, that would make it real.

Before you could even sit on the couch, Nick’s phone was went off in his pocket. Your heart pounded as he pulled it out and looked down at it with a frown.

“No Caller ID?” He mumbled, your jaw dropping as he pulled it to his ear. It was a few moments of silence before he met your eyes and handed it to you. “They asked for you.”

You whimpered as you took the phone and pressed it to your ear, not saying a word as the mechanical voice spoke again.

“You really thought smashing your phone would get rid of me, Sweetheart?”

“What do you want?!” You cried, the other line buzzing in silence for only a moment before Matt stepped forward and almost snatched the phone from your hand.

“I’m upstairs, come find me.”

The line beeped right as Matt grabbed the phone and pressed it to his ear. You froze in your spot, Matt turning to face you and dropping Nick’s phone on the couch. He grabbed your shoulders and shook you once lightly.

“What did they say? Baby, breathe. What did they say?!” Matt asked, his grip on your shoulders tight as you fought off the panic.

“He’s in the house. He’s in the house.” You whispered, your eyes meeting Matt’s. Nick moved from his spot and stopped right next to Matt, his eyes wide as he scanned your face.

“Y/n, who is in the house?” He asked, his voice quiet in shock. You shook your head, nausea overtaking you as you pushed past Matt and sprinted to the kitchen. You couldn’t make it to the trash, turning and vomiting into the sink, your breaths heaving as you felt a warm hand rest on your back.

It took everything in you not to crumple to the floor as you looked up and shook your head.

“H-He told me he’s the one that killed Michael…and C-Chris.” You whispered the last word, your throat burning and your stomach lurching. Matt’s eyes widened and he shook his head.

“How long have you been getting these phone calls?” He asked, his voice shaky as Nick handed you a bottle of water.

“It’s only been the last couple of hours, I thought it was some sort of sick prank until—”

A shatter from upstairs had your entire body tensing, your breath catching in your throat. Nick’s head whipped to the stairs as Matt reached for a knife and turned away.

“What are you doing?” You asked, grabbing his arm tightly and making him face you. Nick had his phone dialed and already pressed to his ear, speaking quickly to the 9-1-1 operator.

“I’m fucking going up there.” He said, pulling his arm from your grip and continuing his way towards the stairs.

“Matt, are you stupid?” Nick asked, stepping in front of the staircase as he hung up the phone. “The police are being dispatched, don’t do anything rash.” Matt shoved past Nick and ascended the stairs, his knuckles white on the handle of the knife. Nick groaned and faced you fully. “What are we gonna do?” He asked.

“We can’t just let him go up there by himself.” You whispered, walking past Nick and slowly stepping up the stairs.

“Jesus, you guys are gonna get us killed.” Nick grumbled from behind you. You heard a shuffle in the kitchen and turned, seeing him follow you up with a knife in his hand. “What? One of us had to grab something.” He whispered. You faced forward again, listening for any bump or creak that could indicate where Matt or the man that was in your house were.

It was silent as you walked through the upstairs. Each door you passed was closed, the only sound upstairs being the sound of Nick’s and your footsteps, and the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.

“Matt?” You called out, the back of Nick’s hand hitting your shoulder. You looked at him, bewilderment etched into your face.

“Have you never seen a scary movie? Calling out in a dark house is the number one way to fucking die.” He said through his teeth. You rolled your eyes and opened your mouth to fire back.

“Get off of me!”

You jumped, your head whipping down the hallway to see a door slam. “Matt!” You shouted, running without thinking towards the door and shoving it open. The moment you stepped into the center of the room, you knew something was wrong. The door clicked behind you, and you froze in place.

“Look what we have here.”

You turned, your eyes meeting Matt’s. His entire demeanor changed, the heartbroken boy you’d seen before was gone. In his place, stood what you could only describe as a monster. His eyes were dark, his smirk sinister, and his shoulders were square.

“Matty?” You asked, Nick coming from behind him with an almost identical smirk.

The both of them chuckled and looked between each other. Nick stepped forward, causing you to take a quick step back.

“Oh, Honey. Matty’s been gone for a while.” His hooded eyes stared you down as you fully processed what was truly happening. The both of them had tricked you.

You took in a shaky breath past the knot in your throat as you took another step back.

“You?” You exhaled, your eyes switching between them as their smirks grew impossibly wider. Matt rolled his eyes and looked over to Nick.

“Us?” He mocked, meeting your eyes and taking a step closer to you. “Yes, Baby. Us. Is that so surprising?” He teased, your eyes brimming with hot, salty tears. The cool air in the room had them burning, and your throat felt like it was on fire.

“You two were behind the murders all along?” You asked, your voice barely reaching a whisper as they moved closer to you almost strategically, boxing you in with each step they took.

Nick chuckled and nodded his head, his eyes never leaving yours as he cocked his head to the side. “She’s catching up, Matt. Yes, every single one.” He said, his voice thick with venom.

“But why?” You whimpered, your back hitting the wall. You were cornered, you couldn’t get past them no matter how hard you tried. Nick and Matt’s eyes were wicked as they watched you, Matt’s smirk growing as he glanced over at Nick.

“Hear that, Nick? She wants a motive.” He said, his eyes meeting yours again. “It isn’t enough that we just felt like it?”

“You killed Michael in cold blood, just because you felt like it?” You spat. Nick quirked an eyebrow and lightly ran the tip of his finger over the blade of the knife he was holding.

“See, now you’re getting it. Not everyone needs a motive, some people are just sick and twisted.” He pouted at the end of his sentence, anger flushing through you and coating your skin in heat.

“And Chris?” You asked. Matt chuckled and shook his head.

“You really can’t be that dense, Baby.” He said.

“Don’t fucking call me that.” You said through gritted teeth.

“It was only a distraction. We were getting sloppy, and what’s better to get the cops off of our case than getting rid of one of us?” Nick interrupted. You shook your head.

“Murder isn’t a distraction, you sick fucks.” You spat, looking around the room for any escape.

Matt chuckled, and flipped the blade in his hand. “Oh, Baby. You really aren’t understanding, are you?”

Before you could spit in his face, the door behind them was pushed open, your eyes shifting to the shadowed figure walking into the room. Your heart pounded in your chest as realization slowly set in, a broken cry leaving your lips as you shook your head.

“No.” You whispered.

The white mask on his face would have been comical if every hair on your body wasn’t standing on end. You watched each movement closely, your knees buckling as you slid to the floor. The wood was ice cold as the man crouched down in front of you. He pulled the mask from his face, your choked sob being caught in your throat as you shook your head and looked down at the floor.

His warm finger rested on your chin and he lifted it up until your eyes met his, a broken whimper leaving your lips as you met the familiar blue eyes you’d looked into a million times before.

“What’s the matter, Sweetheart?” Chris said, his voice gravelly and rough as it left his smirking lips. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

tags: @lvrsparadise , @ssturniolo , @floofparker , @cat-loves-music , @geniejunn , @its-jennarose , @dwntwn-strnlo , @20nugs , @hiraethlimerence , @lavieenvalentina , @strniolo , @toyourloves , @jellybeanbby , @thetriplets3 , @mxriverse , @stvrni0lo , @gabbylovesreading , @tylerscreat0r , @angelcake-222 , @obsessivencrazy , @lollibumblebee , @stargirlv0id , @idontexistman , @emssturniolo , @soursturniolo , @bernardenjoyer , @mxqdii , @leah-loves-lilies , @mattsnutsack , @lovelysturniolo

[fairlyang]

Let you break my heart again 🕷️

you are in love with your best friend

w/c: 999

pairing: miguel o’hara x reader

tags: kinda angst? you’re so in love, he doesn’t feel the same, heartbreak, shitting n crying, slightly delusional

notes: the grip this song has had on me the past two weeks- this idea came to me last week I just HAD TO-

part two

You had been feeling down the entire day since you saw Miguel post the new girl he had been talking to and calling her his girlfriend with today’s date on the caption.

Him calling you a couple hours after asking if you wanted to go to a party with him only added salt to the wound.

You have been hopelessly and desperately in love with him since your freshmen year of high school.

8 years.

8 years of silence.

8 years of torture.

No one even looked his way in high school because he, alongside you, were known as the science nerds of the school. You obviously didn’t care, if anything it made falling for him that much predictable.

At least for anyone with eyes and good at deciphering body language.

Which Miguel wasn’t.

Somehow he never realized and you never had the balls to confess your love to him.

After graduating high school he had quite possibly the biggest glow up (unbeknownst to you he had turned into spider-man) and first semester of uni changed everything for him.

He had girls eating out of the palm of his hand and practically falling to their knees for him as if they hadn’t been using him to do their homework just a few months back.

Miguel didn’t seem to care or see through all the girl’s intentions.

Meanwhile you had liked him when he would wear nerdy little crewnecks and those thick glasses that had now been long abandoned.

You liked him when he was getting brutally bullied and were the only one to ever stick up for him, but it never going well for either of you.

You liked him when he was going through a hard time with his mom and relied on you heavily for nearly everything.

You liked him when the revelation of who his father was, tore him up to literal pieces.

He was always in your head. Whether it be daydream, hearing someone talk about him, or actually dreaming about him at night.

Only in your mind can you pretend that you’re his girlfriend. That he likes you.

That you’re his first and only choice.

That you’re the only one he wants.

That he’s just as in love with you as you are with him.

He had taken over all your thoughts possible and it never got any easier.

You thought you’d get over it after sophomore year but it only grew as he ended up being your only friend throughout high school.

Nothing was more heartbreaking than having to hear him talk about all the girls he would go out with, or fuck.

The worst was when you’d actually go to parties with him. You’d end up almost throwing up or crying in the bathroom after seeing yet another new girl grinding herself against him or a girl making out with him.

It never ended up being less heartbreaking. You had luckily made a few friends who tried their best to help.

Peter B and MJ.

Somehow you befriended them your first year of uni and all four of you became a little group. They were your occasional saviors when you’d find yourself sulking over Miguel being with another girl.

They’d always try to distract you and cheer you up.

Or if they were the ones to spot Miguel fooling around they’d turn you to the opposite direction to avoid your heart from crumbling again.

You felt as if you were being entrapped.

It was almost as if Miguel subconsciously knew what he was doing.

Because when he grew bored of a girl all of a sudden his attention would be fully on you.

Buying you food, getting you cute little plants, helping you study.

It was an endless cycle of pain and heartbreak then yearning and being enamored by him.

Right now was pure heartbreak and misery.

You had been crying for hours on end now and just let your sad playlist loop.

All you were wishing for now is that one day you’d stop falling in love with him.

That somehow your feelings for him would wash away and you’ll never have to deal with this heartbreak ever again.

But it’s been long now. These feelings weren’t going to disappear.

And he wasn’t going to magically fall in love with you.

Especially because he’s always been the one to let anyone and everyone know that you were only his best friend. And nothing more.

But the way he’d wrap his arms around you, leave kisses on your forehead and cheeks just boggled your head.

The way he would just stare at you when you were rambling about the newest science news you’d heard about.

The way he would hug you tightly at the most random times imaginable.

The way he’d willingly put his jacket on you if it were too chilly outside.

The way he would get so overprotective when a guy asks you out.

So you were always questioning what he really thought of you.

He never made it easy to decipher any of his feelings unless he was telling you up front, which he almost never did.

As more hot tears fell down your face, you could only pray that someone will like you like you like him.

It felt like such an impossible ask.

You loved him so much and you could practically feel pieces of your heart breaking. Why couldn’t he just reciprocate your love?

Why did you have to torture yourself like this?

Why is the only time you’re truly happy (besides when you’re with him) is when you’re dreaming about actually being with him?

Why is it so hard for him to romantically love you?

Why does it always have to be platonic?

Maybe one day you’ll be able to get over him and these feelings won’t be as strong.

Maybe one day you’ll find someone that’ll know how to take care of your heart and return your love.

Maybe one day it’ll be him.

[wilhelminyard]

part 3 of the foxes being brutally honest and insulting people to their faces because they are SAVAGES

NEIL :

"I figured he was an egocentric maniac who was so desperate for his own glory he refused to see the potential in anyone else"

"tell me you're not that stupid"

"I might have been a little more considerate if I'd known how stupid you are"

"you being an asshole at heart means I was right about your chances. you do understand by now that your cowardice is what's keeping you and andrew apart, right?"

"you're a spineless asshole. you let the world happen to you and don't bother to fight back. you let other people dictate how you can live your life and who you can spend your time with. remind me why you put up with your mother's abuse for so long. did you actually love her despite her madness, or were you just too afraid to walk away?"

"what do you think?" "I think fuck you"

"your false bravado helps no one" "neither does your cowardice"

"you already walked away from him once knowing what riko would do to him in your absence. don't do it again. if you don't protect him now, his death is on you"

"die free or die a failure. the choice is yours."

"I'd ask you how it feels but I guess you've always known what it's like to be second, you worthless piece of shit"

ANDREW :

"is your learning curve a horizontal line?"

"a privileged child like you has never seen the real world"

"I've had enough of your stupidity to last me a week"

"I'm volunteering my opinion" "don't. children should be seen and not heard"

"you're stupider than even I gave you credit for"

"you have a problem wherein you only invest your time and energy into worthless pursuits"

"you're a different kind of suicidal. didn't you figure that out in december? you're bait. you're the martyr no one asked for or wanted"

"I hope you two are miserable together"

WYMACK :

"anyone have ideas on how to make neil look a bit less like a battered wife?"

"I can't tell if you're being obtuse to fuck with me or if you're really that dumb."

"I need you to derail that one-track fucking mind of yours for two seconds"

"great. kevin's turning into another you. that's just what I needed."

"get washed up before your stench kills me"

KEVIN :

"we need you on the court but not if you're going to drag us down with you. in the shape you're in right now you'd be a complete waste of our time."

"even if you'd stepped it up when I told you to a year ago, you would have no chance of beating them. there is nothing at all you can do this late in the year. they are better than we are and they always will be"

"stop acting like a spoiled child"

"you've got a thing for controversial teams, I think, but I like this one much better than the last one" "they're mediocre at best but they're easier to get along with"

NICKY :

"do you get off on being such a debbie downer?"

AARON :

"it wasn't the drugs that made him crazy"

"I'm walking away and pretending I don't know you"

"I want to drink and pretend I don't know any of you"

MATT :

"good to see you're still fuck-all crazy"

"one of these days you have to let me hit kevin."

ALLISON :

"you are on messed-up child. you come by that naturally or did your parents do that to you?"

"seriously you guys? it's like you don't know us" "we try not to"

RENEE :

"I tried taking you off his hands at one point. andrew refused on the grounds he wouldn't wish you on anyone except a mortician"

[perciverthoughts]

The thing about Percy is, he’s really not half as perfect as he pretends to be.

“Fuck,” Penny says, wrenching open the window because she’s also not as perfect as she pretends to be, “give me that, will you?”

She snatches the freshly lit cigarette out of his hand before he can even take a puff, sucking on it desperately.

“Oi,” he protests, and she rolls her eyes but hands it back to him as she blows the lungful of smoke out the open window.

He places it between his lips, ignoring the slight oily taste from Penny’s lipgloss on it, just as desperate for the nicotine as she is. 

They really shouldn’t be doing this, and there will be hell to pay if Flitwick or the heads catch them- they’re prefects after all, and he had to give Danny Maslow detention just last week for doing the very same thing- but he also doesn’t care. He needs this. Merlin, nicotine is half the reason he gets through rounds some days without committing murder or having a breakdown, and after the meeting they just had he feels close to both.

Besides, Penny’s muggle cigarettes are so much smoother than any wizarding smoking device he’s ever tried.

“Fuck,” Penny repeats, because she swears like a goddamn sailor anytime she isn’t in front of the professors or busy being a prefect, “that was brutal.”

“Yeah.” Percy agrees, because holy shit it was.

She makes a grab for the cig and he dances out of reach, knowing what most people don’t: that underneath her carefully arranged curls and polished facade Penelope Clearwater is an absolute menace. 

“Get your own!”

“Who gave you that in the first place, hm?” Penny demands acerbically, but takes out her own pack all the same, along with a muggle lighter because she never quite got used to using a fire charm. “Fucking ingrate.”

“I resent that.” Percy informs her loftily.

“You should.”

He holds his nose up a second longer before he relaxes into a grin, the kind only a few people can draw out of him.

“Seriously though,” She returns to the matter at hand, done feigning her annoyance, “If I have to sit through another fucking meeting listening to Lucretia Hammond prattle on about ‘team unity’ and ‘presenting a united front’ I’m gonna be unified from azkaban when I kill her.”

Lucretia Hammond was the manically bubbly head girl, a seventh year ravenclaw whose caffeine intake could rival that of a healer working double shifts. With the rumours of the chamber of secrets floating around and the fact that half the school seemed ready to duel at a moments notice, she, along with her head boy sidekick Brodie Sangton, felt the need to remind the prefects to be good role models. Apparently, that meant doing an hour and half of team building exercises and messing up the rounds schedules so no one could patrol with their friends. 

“Maybe that was her actual plan all along,” Percy muses, “unite us all in our hatred for her.”

If that was actually the motivation behind it, even Percy has to admit it was kind of brilliant. He’s pretty sure if he asked anyone right now who’d sat through that bloody seminar to help him murder Lucretia and get away with it, they’d accept- and that was saying something considering Zafrina Rosier hadn’t even pretended that dropping him during trust falls was an accident.

“I wish I could believe that,” Penny sighs, “but she’s really not that smart.”

“Penelope Clearwater,” he gasps mockingly, “how could you say something so cruel? After what we just learned about kindness and unity going hand in hand-”

He jumps out of the way before she can smack him, cackling. 

“Bastard,” she grins, “you know I’m right.”

She is, is the problem. Lucretia Hammond could not be less suited to her job if she tried, and most days Percy is convinced she is trying. He has yet to figure out why Dumbledore appointed the Head Girl he did, because he’s sure there must have been a reason. There has to be, because no one in their right mind would put Lucretia Hammond in charge of anything unless they knew something about her most people don’t.

“Unfortunately, yes. Maybe if we hold a vote of no confidence we could impeach her.”

“This early in the term?” Penny blows a smoke ring, hopping up on the windowsill and kicking her legs like a child, “As first year prefects? McGonagall would say we haven’t given her a chance, and we’d be the ones with targets on our backs. Besides, something tells me Lucretia will hang herself soon enough without us needing to do anything.”

She blows another smoke ring, flicking her wand until the grey cloud twists into the shape of a jellyfish.

“Y’know, the whole point of opening the window was so that the whole room wouldn’t smell like smoke.”

Penny rolls her eyes. 

“Unlike you, I know how to do a refreshment charm so I don’t really need to worry about that.”

“Damn. Low blow.”

“Boo hoo, get over it.”

“Whatever,” he huffs, stubbing out his cigarette and vanishing it, “I gotta go, I’ve got an appointment.”

“Oh, is that what you’re calling snogging your boyfriend in the library now?”

Percy blushes. 

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“No comeback for the snogging thing, huh?”

“Oliver,” he grits, “is-”

“-the love of your poor gay life, yes, we’re aware.”

“Oliver,” he repeats, purposely ignoring his best friend’s untrue insinuations, “is just a friend.”

“Right, of course,” Penny schools her face into something almost neutral, “just a friend.”

“Precisely.”

“...a friend you really want to snog senseless though. Like, you’re aware that you very much want to do that, right?”

“Oh fuck off!” 

He starts towards the door and Penny cackles.

“You didn’t deny it!” She calls after his retreating back, and he offers her a two finger salute before he steps into the hallway, smoothing his robes and straightening his hair.

After all, he needs to look his best for his study session with Oliver, because he isn’t as perfect as he pretends he is and because Penny is right.

He really does want to snog Oliver Wood senseless. 

[most-tragic-character-tournament]

So,

What a wild ride, everybody.

This tournament went live on July 13th, 3023, and concluded January 1st, 2024. For a long time before, I’d been wondering if I should try my hand at running one of these tournaments, and then I realized we hadn’t had a general tumblr-wide one for tragic characters. I knew that I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, but I decided to bite the bullet and take the URL. The rest is history.

I didn’t have a set plan, but I figured I could take 128 entries. And then in less than a week and a half, I had ~122. And honestly, I wasn’t happy continuing with just those I’d gotten so far, and thought it’d be unfair if it closed that quickly without warning, so I decided to up it to 256 with a max 2 characters per canon after preliminaries. Only after that did I go on a mad search to find brackets that were big enough for that, and I’d almost given up before I finally found these:

Those are all the characters that made it past prelims and into the competition. Some quite unexpected results came out of these matchups, round after round, and honestly I’d consider the first round to have had the most brutal competitions, because I had tried to do the best I could to match levels of popularity with each other, as far as I could tell. (Yeah, that’s why we had c!Tommy v Jon Sims and Primrose v Jinx.). But even eclipsing all of those, as the weeks went on, we were eventually met with Antigone versus Lloyd Garmadon. Ah, those crazy kids.

At some points it was stressful, in the early rounds when I had dozens of posts, each with edited images and alt text, to prepare for every round, but I never regretted starting this. As of posting, this blog has 2,020 followers and has made over 1,000 posts. This will be the last post on this blog—any future asks I receive I will answer privately back to the asker, or cannot be answered if they are anon—but it will always remain here for posterity. The link below is to the similarly-preserved google sheet compiling every word of every submission this tournament ever received.

I’d like to take this chance to say thank you to everyone who submitted characters, supplied photos, sent in propaganda, reblogged the polls, indoctrinated their teachers into greeklitsweep, and everyone who kept good sportsmanship when their blorbos proved so tragic they couldn’t even win. Thank you to the small group of URLs whom I’ve consistently recognized in my inbox from submissions all the way to finals, thank you for letting me know when a name was messed up, and thank you for your patience in-between rounds. (Shoutout to @elemom as well for having their tiktok on the original antigone/lloyd poll blow up.)

If you’ve stumbled upon this blog weeks, months, or even years after this was posted, I would direct your attention to the tag map in the pinned post to sift through the tumblr history you’ve just uncovered. And I would also be tempted to point at the big sign next to it reciting the nuclear zone warning poem. Lastly, if anyone here or there wishes to talk to me about anything regarding the tournament, you’re welcome to DM @twilight-skies.

There were times when I said to myself this was a one-and-done thing—I was NOT dealing with this again, but….keep a look on the horizon, ya never know.

But until next time, it’s been amazing.

Sayonara you weeaboo shits.

[cosmic-giraffe]

PLEASE make that post about reducing hasemura and hirojima down to just their ships im desperate to see people complain about this please i hate it so much

Ask anon, and you shall receive

First of all, I touched on this issue a few weeks ago, as you can read here, so I'll try and explain my thought process better! Secondly, this less of a complaint, and more of a study in fandom etiquette and the like.

I think people narrowing down the characters of Ken, Kazutoshi, Ojima and Hiroaki to their respective ships isn't an issue solely in the Tetro fandom, or Danganronpa as a whole. It's an issue in any media that includes queer ships, or ships in general (which is literally any media ever). As a gay person, I'll be speaking from my experience with this problem in fandom.

First of all, Hasemura. Both Ken and Kazutoshi are very interesting characters on their own, and their chemistry is undeniable. I'm a sucker for these two; for somebody as shy and socially awkward as Ken to befriend a brooding, jaded guy like Kazutoshi makes for some very fun and insightful interactions. Their contrasting lives and personalities are one of the draws for their dynamic. There was obviously something going on between the two of them, even if they never got the chance to vocalize or even understand the feelings they had. But this will-they-won't-they aspect of their dynamic isn't all that's to them.

Kazutoshi was a very depressed individual. He'd faced many hardships in his life, from losing his family at a young age to his myriad of health issues, to his mental illnesses resulting in multiple failed suicide attempts. But outside of his trauma, Kazutoshi was a very smart person. He was a forensic crime scene cleaner for God's sake, which definitely isn't an easy profession, mentally or physically. He wanted to study, he wanted to move past his hardships and flourish, he wanted to live. Just like everybody else in the killing game. But Kazutoshi was a total asshole, which I love. He didn't hold his tongue and kept people at arm's length out of fear of being hurt again.

Ken is the inverse of that. He has a supportive family, he has wealth, he has a support system in place. He might not be the loudest personality in the room, and he might stumble over his words more often than he can get a full sentence out, but Ken is a very kind and considerate individual.

For people to reduce all the intricacies and nuance of their characters and writing to their ship is doing them both a huge disservice. There's so much more to them than that. It's so much more interesting to view Kazutoshi and Ken's potential for a relationship as a small piece in the puzzle of their lives, instead of it being all-encompassing.

Going back to Kazutoshi, it is very sad to see the main takeaway from his death being "He never got to tell Ken that he loved him!" Which, yes, is undeniably tragic. In media, there's a sad trope called "Bury your gays", in which gay characters are killed off before they can ever have a happy ending.

I'm definitely not accusing Von of this, as Danganronpa has plenty of queer characters that die off (Chihiro, Mondo, Taka, Ibuki, Nagito, Tenko, etc.). But for people to look over all the missed opportunities Kazutoshi will never get the chance to experience because of his brutal death in favour of making his loss about Ken again is not the best look.

Now, onto Ojima and Hiroaki, because BOY do I have thoughts about these two, mainly Hiroaki (the little shit he is, I love him so much lmao).

These two suffer the same issue as Hasemura, that being all their characterization being boiled down to their shipping potential. Which isn't unsurprising, as they're two skinny pale twinks in an anime art style, which is like crack for teenage fujoshis lmao

But on a serious note, Ojima and Nakamigawa are more similar to each other than Ken and Kazutoshi are. Both have tense relationships with their families and their reputation, both have unresolved trauma, and both of them have an interest and career in the arts.

But that's where they differ. Ojima is an illustrator, and has a very intense crunchtime to navigate under in his profession. The stress of having to create art for countless projects definitely has its toll on him, but he still retains the passion that got him into this sector in the first place. Ojima doesn't have a bombastic personality, but he is stern when he needs to be, and is definitely one of the more mature students in the killing game. His bouts of disassociation are also an integral aspect of his character, and they are intermittent and uncomfortable.

And Hiroaki is one of the most annoying students ever and I love him. He's crass, pompous, has an irritating holier-than-thou attitude to anybody he deems to be beneath him, and can't take what he dishes out. He constantly picks fights and insults people, and then acts surprised when nobody wants to be around him. But underneath all that veneer of flashy designer clothes and bad boy image, Hiroaki is a very insecure boy that needs somebody to reel him in and let him know that being open, honest, and in touch with his feelings isn't at all a bad thing to be. He's shown his more sensitive side when he thinks Ojima is dissociating, when Tsuno was upset and she sought comfort from him out of all the other students in the school, and when he helped Hama and Wada grieve the loss of Isono, Chiba and Harada.

Hiroaki has the capability to grow and become a better person, and due to recent events, he is starting to do so. I hope he stays on this path and doesn't backtrack when things get tough.

Now, onto their dynamic. Ojima and Hiroaki obviously contrast and compliment each other well. This is all thanks to Von's writing. When Hiroaki shoots his mouth off, it's almost always Ojima that reels him in. When Ojima is in one of his lapses, it's usually Hiroaki who keeps him company by simply staying in the room, drawing, while he patiently waits for him to come back. They share dorm rooms to the point they're basically one room, they share clothes, they even share beds sometimes. The chemistry between them is undeniable, and that's why they're such a good pairing.

But what irks me is when people make their personalities completely revolve around the other. Hiroaki this, Ojima that, Hiroaki this, Ojima that. No mention of their interesting dynamics with other students, like how Ojima and Wada bonded over their respective histories with trauma, nor how Hiroaki and Tsuno confide their problems in each other so as to not burden anybody else with them (I'll take any opportunity to bring up Tsuno lmao).

And this is never more prevalent with Hiroaki's coming out scene.

It doesn't take a genius to know that being closeted is a very stressful time in a queer person's life. It's hiding a huge aspect of your life for fear of being judged by outsiders, or from being judged by yourself. That's why some people never come out of their closet, and are unable to accept and be their true selves. Which happens all too often.

Hiroaki's internalized homophobia kept him closeted for years of his life, which definitely wouldn't have helped his self-image issues. Being thrust into the public eye as the Ultimate Fashion Designer definitely wouldn't have helped, either, as now he had thousands of eyes on him. Due to this pressure, he played up his bad boy image by dating and sleeping with girls he had no attachment to, just to cover up for his own crippling insecurities and inability to accept himself.

When Hiroaki does come out of the closet for the very first time, when he finally accepts an aspect of his life he'd been repressing for years, he says it to Yanagi. Not Ojima. Yanagi. Yanagi, the guy who almost sold them all down the river during the first trial when he covered up for Sasaki (who they also both had very differing views on). Yanagi, the guy who beat the shit out of him and broke his nose, dislodged his tooth, and bruised up the face that he'd kept in immaculate condition for the public constantly watching his every move.

Out of all the people in the killing game, Hiroaki told Yanagi, and it was excellent writing for that to be the case. There was no judgement, no criticism, just acceptance, which is what Hiroaki has been seeking his entire life. But was forced to wear a costume that wasn't really him, just to avoid the pain of rejection or judgement.

And for some people to take this monumental step in Hiroaki's journey of self-acceptance and make it all about Ojima is INSANELY insulting. It's obvious that Hiroaki has feelings for Ojima, which definitely added to the mounting pressure of him being closeted, but in that moment, it was about Hiroaki and loving himself.

Now, in summary, I'm not saying shippers can't ship Hasemura or Hirojima. Quite the opposite. Be unapologetically gay!! But also keep in mind the harm they're doing when they reduce the participants down to their attraction to the other, as it is a disservice to Tetro's excellent character writing, and also perpetuates the issue that has been prevalent in fandom spaces for way too long now.

This was a very long post and I didn't realize just how much I had to say about this subject, but here we are!! Tetro has definitely wormed its way into my heart, and its characters are constantly rotating in my brain like a microwave lmaooo