#not an attack on people who have those pets

[mister-tom-a-dildo-lover]

Confession Time!

So, over on Twitter, I'm a member of the Community Notes, and I can write Notes on any post as well as rate other Community Notes on those posts. This is done to fact check people. You have to provide a credible link as the source of your note before you're able to post it, right?

A bunch of M@rauders stans are attacking Tomarry writers, as usual, and because they can't handle that they like morally grey characters who did sus things, they make up all this shit to excuse those characters of their wrongdoings. Maybe that's why they're so jealous, cuz we can like a shitty character while NOT downplaying the bad he did.

Currently, there is an idea going around that Harry Potter was not abused in the canon story, and that everybody just swears he was abused when it was apparently, never addressed or shown and was just not treated the best. But when any M@rauder stans claim that Sirius was very clearly abused, it's unfair how no one agrees with them...

As such, they've been inundated with people pointing out all the abuse Harry has been through, from Vernon choking him out, Petunia trying to hit him with frying pans, them making him sleep in a closet instead of any of their extra bedrooms, lying about his parents, letting Dudley bully him constantly, punishing him when he doesn't understand that magic is at fault, starving him and his pet, putting bars on his window, etc... EXPLICIT ABUSE.

Now, one person gave a whole list of things that Sirius 'suffered' at the hands of his mother, and they're mad because it was pointed out that none of this actually happened in the story, not from anyone's mouth, and that that's just fanfiction tropes to make his parents worse and easier to hate. Harry's abuse is both told to us and shown as early as Ch. 2 of PS. We get to experience it through him in many ways throughout the books.

So usually, I don't get involved in these things, I just watch from the sidelines and laugh. But I thought it would be funny to put Community Notes on all of these people's posts because they're posting literal misinformation. And it's just funny to look at the post making all these claims and immediately see Rate Proposed Community Notes right at the bottom!

This person is ranting about how there are 'context clues' about Sirius was being physically abused by his family, while claiming that Harry's neglect was never explicit to try and make it seem as if Sirius choosing to leave home because of his parents' beliefs is proof of his suffering and is the same as Harry's blood relations treating him terribly for how he was born, his whole childhood.

When people have to sugarcoat and lessen Harry's experience because they want to uwu their favs so they can feel less bad about what their favs have done in canon... It's the weirdest thing. I'm not borrowing shame from a fictional character over their wrongdoings despite how all my favs are the villains. I'm here for the character, and to be so emotionally distraught over what your fav has done, that you need to gloss over it and invalidate canon over and over, is truly unhealthy behavior.

And then attacking people with different favs/ships than you, is peak madness. Get a life. Go figure shit out. You clearly cannot handle interacting with real people yet.

[the-travelling-witch]

OH MY GOD HOLLY UR KITTEN WHISKERS IS ADORABLE!! Rest in peace I’m sorry she passed, but my goodness I love those cats with the folded short ears

She was truly adorable

she really was adorable!! also she wasn’t actually a folder short ear (hence no folded ears) but a british shorthair!!

i’m not a fan of pets being bred in a way that borders animal abuse and i’d never get a pet like that; so no cats with pushed in noses or pugs that can’t breathe

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

genuine question but is there any fandom where a character is well written by the majority. im thinking about fandom culture and the spread of frustration when people dont write characters well but. honestly in all the fandoms ive been in there's only like, a Select number of authors who i trust to write Well, let alone write Well AND In Character. character analysis and writing and getting inside characters' heads are all separate skills (all of which are trained by roleplaying fyi can CONFIRM playing pretend with your friends is good for you). there's been more than once where I've disagreed with an interpretation that others agreed with, and then I turned out wrong. or i turned out right. like it doesnt matter WHO is right it just matters that differences in character analysis exist, so even if you DO write well AND write in character, your in character is still going to be someone else's out of character

there's this sort of. vibe. that to play in the sandbox you Need to be able to make a castle, and if you can't make a castle then you shouldn't bother, and it completely dismisses the idea that youre in that sandbox to PLAY in the first place. there's this Weight of disappointing someone if you can't build something that they like, but that forgets that you aren't there to build them a castle. like, be KIND. if you disagree with someone then please make an effort to do so kindly. i dont give a shit about fandom discourse but there is a reason kids get removed from sandboxes if they keep throwing sand in people's eyes. but if they don't like your misshapen sand pile, then youre not obligated to change it. even if you yourself end up hating that same sand pile later- youre not building a legacy. youre playing. and sometimes the result of that play is out of character drivel. theres a reason there are so many authors and so few who i like to consistently read and thats because everyone is Fucking Around in their hobby space. hash tag brag or whatever but i can build castles. ive built several that im v proud of. ive also dug holes in the sand for fun and then tripped on them when trying to get up. I often dug a hole and then got up and fucking- whoops, its a castle now, and i didn't realize i'd made something to be proud of until after the fact. the whole time while creating shit i was Convinced it was bullshit that didn't make sense. and then other times i was Convinced it was bullshit and then i was Right and i can look back and go. huh. ew. but it doesn't matter what the end result was, because i had fun playing in the sandbox

this wasn't meant to turn into a ramble but i have Feelings about bad art and art that's badly perceived and how public perception can screw with your head and how making art youre proud of is fucking. it's so difficult!!! it's hard!! it's really fun, which is why i try to make it, but i promise you it is Okay to not tryhard creativity. even if you CAN, it's okay not to do it all the time. or ever, even. fuck around find out have fun etc

[sweetandglovelyart]

Are there any other Kirby fans on here who are also fans of Star Trek? I know of a couple people already, but I’m trying to see if there’s anyone else. I personally see a lot of parallels between Kirby and Star Trek, and some of my Kirby fanart is Star Trek-inspired, so that’s why I’m asking.

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

average United States contains 1000s of pet tigers in backyards" factoid actualy [sic] just statistical error. average person has 0 tigers on property. Activist Georg, who lives the U.S. Capitol & makes up over 10,000 each day, has purposefully been spreading disinformation adn [sic] should not have been counted

I have a big mad today, folks. It's a really frustrating one, because years worth of work has been validated... but the reason for that fucking sucks.

For almost a decade, I've been trying to fact-check the claim that there "are 10,000 to 20,000 pet tigers/big cats in backyards in the United States." I talked to zoo, sanctuary, and private cat people; I looked at legislation, regulation, attack/death/escape incident rates; I read everything I could get my hands on. None of it made sense. None of it lined up. I couldn't find data supporting anything like the population of pet cats being alleged to exist. Some of you might remember the series I published on those findings from 2018 or so under the hashtag #CrouchingTigerHiddenData. I've continued to work on it in the six years since, including publishing a peer reviewed study that counted all the non-pet big cats in the US (because even though they're regulated, apparently nobody bothered to keep track of those either).

I spent years of my life obsessing over that statistic because it was being used to push for new federal legislation that, while well intentioned, contained language that would, and has, created real problems for ethical facilities that have big cats. I wrote a comprehensive - 35 page! - analysis of the issues with the then-current version of the Big Cat Public Safety Act in 2020. When the bill was first introduced to Congress in 2013, a lot of groups promoted it by fear mongering: there's so many pet tigers! they could be hidden around every corner! they could escape and attack you! they could come out of nowhere and eat your children!! Tiger King exposed the masses to the idea of "thousands of abused backyard big cats": as a result the messaging around the bill shifted to being welfare-focused, and the law passed in 2022.

The Big Cat Public Safety Act created a registry, and anyone who owned a private cat and wanted to keep it had to join. If they did, they could keep the animal until it passed, as long as they followed certain strictures (no getting more, no public contact, etc). Don’t register and get caught? Cat is seized and major punishment for you. Registering is therefore highly incentivized. That registry closed in June of 2023, and you can now get that registration data via a Freedom of Information Act request.

Guess how many pet big cats were registered in the whole country?

97.

Not tens of thousands. Not thousands. Not even triple digits. 97.

And that isn't even the right number! Ten USDA licensed facilities registered erroneously. That accounts for 55 of 97 animals. Which leaves us with 42 pet big cats, of all species, in the entire country.

Now, I know that not everyone may have registered. There's probably someone living deep in the woods somewhere with their illegal pet cougar, and there's been at least one random person in Texas arrested for trying to sell a cub since the law passed. But - and here's the big thing - even if there are ten times as many hidden cats than people who registered them - that's nowhere near ten thousand animals. Obviously, I had some questions.

Guess what? Turns out, this is because it was never real. That huge number never had data behind it, wasn't likely to be accurate, and the advocacy groups using that statistic to fearmonger and drive their agenda knew it... and didn't see a problem with that.

Allow me to introduce you to an article published last week.

This article is good. (Full disclose, I'm quoted in it). It's comprehensive and fairly written, and they did their due diligence reporting and fact-checking the piece. They talked to a lot of people on all sides of the story.

But thing that really gets me?

Multiple representatives from major advocacy organizations who worked on the Big Cat Publix Safety Act told the reporter that they knew the statistics they were quoting weren't real. And that they don't care. The end justifies the means, the good guys won over the bad guys, that's just how lobbying works after all. They're so blase about it, it makes my stomach hurt. Let me pull some excerpts from the quotes.

"Whatever the true number, nearly everyone in the debate acknowledges a disparity between the actual census and the figures cited by lawmakers. “The 20,000 number is not real,” said Bill Nimmo, founder of Tigers in America. (...) For his part, Nimmo at Tigers in America sees the exaggerated figure as part of the political process. Prior to the passage of the bill, he said, businesses that exhibited and bred big cats juiced the numbers, too. (...) “I’m not justifying the hyperbolic 20,000,” Nimmo said. “In the world of comparing hyperbole, the good guys won this one.”

"Michelle Sinnott, director and counsel for captive animal law enforcement at the PETA Foundation, emphasized that the law accomplished what it was set out to do. (...) Specific numbers are not what really matter, she said: “Whether there’s one big cat in a private home or whether there’s 10,000 big cats in a private home, the underlying problem of industry is still there.”"

I have no problem with a law ending the private ownership of big cats, and with ending cub petting practices. What I do have a problem with is that these organizations purposefully spread disinformation for years in order to push for it. By their own admission, they repeatedly and intentionally promoted false statistics within Congress. For a decade.

No wonder it never made sense. No wonder no matter where I looked, I couldn't figure out how any of these groups got those numbers, why there was never any data to back any of the claims up, why everything I learned seemed to actively contradict it. It was never real. These people decided the truth didn't matter. They knew they had no proof, couldn't verify their shocking numbers... and they decided that was fine, if it achieved the end they wanted.

So members of the public - probably like you, reading this - and legislators who care about big cats and want to see legislation exist to protect them? They got played, got fed false information through a TV show designed to tug at heartstrings, and it got a law through Congress that's causing real problems for ethical captive big cat management. The 20,000 pet cat number was too sexy - too much of a crisis - for anyone to want to look past it and check that the language of the law wouldn't mess things up up for good zoos and sanctuaries. Whoops! At least the "bad guys" lost, right? (The problems are covered somewhat in the article linked, and I'll go into more details in a future post. You can also read my analysis from 2020, linked up top.)

Now, I know. Something something something facts don't matter this much in our post-truth era, stop caring so much, that's just how politics work, etc. I’m sorry, but no. Absolutely not.

Laws that will impact the welfare of living animals must be crafted carefully, thoughtfully, and precisely in order to ensure they achieve their goals without accidental negative impacts. We have a duty of care to ensure that. And in this case, the law also impacts reservoir populations for critically endangered species! We can't get those back if we mess them up. So maybe, just maybe, if legislators hadn't been so focused on all those alleged pet cats, the bill could have been written narrowly and precisely.

But the minutiae of regulatory impacts aren't sexy, and tiger abuse and TV shows about terrible people are. We all got misled, and now we're here, and the animals in good facilities are already paying for it.

I don't have a conclusion. I'm just mad. The public deserves to know the truth about animal legislation they're voting for, and I hope we all call on our legislators in the future to be far more critical of the data they get fed.

[fingertipsmp3]

I’m not even gonna lie, my grief over Mabel is making me insane

[thecloudsarefalling]

Just kinda want to rant

I cannot stand what Israel is doing in the slightest. It's nothing short of a genocide. But on a more personal note, they're ruining the childhood of one of my closest childhood friends.

She would travel to Palestine every summer to visit family, I was never entirely sure of the exact place, but I definitely remember checking her location from time to time while looking over the Snapchat map to check my cousin's backpacking trip through Europe over that same summer, and I had definitely seen her within the Gaza strip many times

She has so many family members in Gaza, a handful had been caught in the US, lucky enough to evade the genocide, but not all of them. It's disheartening to see her childhood ripped apart by an overzealous army who have no idea who she is

Who any of the people in the Gaza Strip are

or those on the West Bank

When I repost the hundredth TikTok of the day about the genocide in Palestine, I mean it. I mean look at all of these people having their lives ripped away from them. I mean look at the lives of all of these children who will never get to experience the beauty of Palestine in the way my friend has. I mean look to all the people who have passed and those who continue to pass. Those committing suicide because their outlook for the future is dim. I mean look to those who could never begin to escape, killed by disease, illness, and the destruction of Gaza. I mean watch for the journalists who are being slaughtered in constant bombings and targeted sniper attacks for speaking out against Israel. I mean the family of both my childhood best friend and all of those whose lives, and land, are currently threatened by this genocide.

No one should have to be a martyr, not because of the cruelty of Israel, famine, disease, and most certainly not of greed. No parent should have to witness the death of their child, nor child witness the death of their parent. No partners, siblings, pets, or families should be torn apart because of greed.

I am outraged over this, but I feel so small because I don't have any way to help people escape Gaza. All I can do now is use my voice, and though I no longer subscribe to any religion, I pray for the freedom of those in Gaza, and for those in Palestine, that they'll be able to survive and live freely as they are meant to.

[seresinhangmanjake]

The Harkonnen's Sweet Thing

Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Reader

Summary: You watched your brother kill the man you love--a man you were once gifted to by the Baron--and now that he is gone, you think Paul will use you as a political pawn in his war. And you're right. But you're shocked to discover who is demanding to have you.

Words: 2650

Notes/Warnings: Ignore canon ages in the timeline. I don’t know what they are, but everyone young is in their twenties, cool? Cool. Dune inaccuracies. Jessica and Paul kind of (very much) suck. Feyd’s a soft boy for our reader. Angst but also fluffy-ish stuff. Implied smut. Mention of pregnancy. I think that’s it. TG:M people ignore me. I don’t know what I’m doing here either, but i'm embracing it for now. 

Part 2

When your brother pierced through armor into pale flesh, you felt it as if he had driven that blade into your body instead of the body of the man you love. You felt the shock of icy steel penetrating warm and delicate tissue, and the suffocation that came from the mutilation of your lung. You felt droplets of blood run down your front as you reached for the blade that was not there. As children, you were taught not to remove it. Not unless sufficient care was nearby to stop the bleeding before too much was lost.

Paul did not respect that knowledge. He yanked his knife out of Feyd’s torso and watched with relief as he collapsed to the ground. His body landed with a thud that matched the heavy beat of your heart. A beat that reminded you your blood was rushing strong, keeping you alive while your lover was draining dry of the strength to keep himself from leaving this world, from leaving you. 

You wailed in the silence of those around you. Screamed at the top of your lungs as tears streamed down your face. You tried to go to him but the Fremen snatched you before you could reach him, forcing you to your knees, one of them slapping a hand over your mouth. This was not the time for hysterical outbursts; it was a time to stare in awe as a new leader accepted his victory and claimed power over the emperor and his daughter. 

“Shut up, girl,” a male voice spit in your ear. He was tired of the struggle you were putting up against the hand squeezing your face. You were ruining his opportunity to witness a beautiful moment in history. A defining moment. A moment you didn’t give two fucks about. 

No one spared you a glance save for the witch whose vibrant eyes were drilling into the side of your skull. A woman your father had instructed you receive as a stepmother following your third birthday. A manipulative woman whose smile in front of the Duke had masked the scowl permanently seared onto her face when looking at you—a decades-long act that the capture and death of your father had freed her from. And she’d wasted not a second displaying her distaste for his daughter. 

Not long ago you'd thought to thank Lady Jessica for not loving you. Her lack of love made her so terribly desperate to rid herself of you that when cornered the night your family was attacked, she’d thrown you right into the arms of the Harkonnens—a fate she believed would destroy you rather than thrust you into a life you would come to cherish.

“A gift for you, nephew,” the baron had said after the fighting ceased and the soldiers, with you in their grasp, had returned to their unfamiliar home.

Feyd-Rautha had not rushed when he descended the staircase and approached you for the first time. His eyes were unblinking as he’d taken in his present; a slow drawl from head to toe that sent shivers down your spine. 

“An Atreides,” Feyd had said in a low voice, deep and thick and eerily lovely.

The baron’s voice did not contain the same appeal. “Yes. Do you like it? A new pet for you to ruin.”

You’d stood frozen as Feyd traced a knuckle down your cheek before grasping your chin and running his thumb over your bottom lip. He’d possessed not a lick of shame when his index finger drew a line from the dip of your throat to your cleavage. There had been no consideration for your feelings when he tucked that same finger between your breasts and the neckline of your nightgown and lightly tugged you forward. 

You had gasped with your stumble, your hands pressing against his chest to catch your fall while he smirked at the blush tinting your cheeks. His tongue then darted out to dampen his lips before he moved his hand to the curve of your waist and squeezed. 

“Perfect,” He’d said, not in a loud declaration of appreciation, but in a tone meant for your ears only. Then he’d grabbed you by the wrist and led you to his chambers.

When the door had slammed behind you after you were jerked inside the room, you were suddenly filled to the brim with panic. You’d heard the rumors. What would he do to you? How would he do it? Would you suffer long? 

A tear had slipped down your cheek that, once noticed, was brushed away with his thumb. 

“Do not worry yourself unnecessarily.”

You’d swallowed, stuttering, “Wh-What do you mean?”

He’d pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, exposing pale skin taught over defined, well-trained muscle. Then he’d stepped into your space, inching you backward until your spine was flush with the wall. He’d fisted the flimsy, nearly see-through fabric of your nightgown in his hand and slowly dragged it up your body until fingers could sneak under the hem to graze your inner thigh.

You’d sucked in a sharp breath at the pleasurable waves of heat that rippled from his touch.

“Atreides or not, you’re much too precious to ruin the way my uncle suggests,” he had said, his lips a hair's-width away from yours. “I've been looking for you for so long. You're mine now, do you understand?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

He hadn’t loved your hesitation—you could see it in his eyes and in the downturn of his lips—but he was satisfied when you’d truthfully said:

“No.” Because you weren’t. Not after he had brushed that tear off of your cheek.

His next question had caused your heart to skip a beat from the concoction of emotions it shot through you. Fear of the unknown mixed with unexpected excitement.

“Have you done this before?” 

You’d shaken your head and in response he lightly nodded, his nose nudging yours. 

“You want to?” he’d asked, hiking your leg up to his hip, and you found yourself nodding as well. “I won’t make it hurt.”

You’d replied with a soft “Ok” before accepting his kiss with as much fervor as he was giving it, thankful that what you’d imagined was awaiting you upon your arrival in foreign territory was far from what you were receiving. 

Days later, when you had mentioned that he did not live up to the rumors of his cruelty extending to all areas of his life, he’d hummed. Said, “I make many bleed, and enjoy it. I feed off of their pain. Those who have been in my bed are not spared this, and it will not be uncommon for you to see me stained with the death of others, including my former pets.” 

He’d paused then, allowing you a moment to question your future as one of those pets, if that's what he considered you.

“But I have been searching for something that I’ve wanted for a very long time,” he’d said. “Something that hasn't existed within these walls. Something I will never want to harm. Something…soft…and sweet,” he had admitted to your surprise.

He’d then told you that you were that sweet thing. That he’d known it from the moment he saw you. That he was choosing you. 

But it was a choice that had its repercussions. 

All things must have balance, and you had tipped the scales. From his gentleness toward you, a darker, more gruesome beast emerged when facing off with others. A brutal warrior who never surrendered and never lost. A sadistic man who showed no mercy to the opponents whose blood you would later wash from his body. He had annihilated his previous reputation as just the famed killer of Geidi Prime and evolved into something more, all because of you.

That was why you thought he would win against Paul. Your brother was skilled, but the universe had long known the name Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen for his prowess in combat and his ruthlessness which had only grown with time. 

So why was it not your brother on the floor with his love sobbing and struggling to reach him?

In the thirteen days since your lover’s death, it is that question that has robbed you of all peace. 

Despite your brother having escorted you back to Caladan for the time being, you find no sense of home or happiness in your birthplace. You walk the beaches and fields that, as a child, you dreaded one day leaving, but they are not the same. Nearly a year has gone by since you were last here, however, so much of what you once loved about this planet is overshadowed by the shattered heart caused by Feyd's death. 

When you were young, your father would often express his wishes for your future. He would paint a beautiful image of you bringing your children to play in the gardens of your childhood home, carefree and unburdened. It was a source of comfort that he used to mask the reminder of your duty as an Atreides: that you would not be marrying and having children out of love, you would marry in the name of peace and produce heirs in the name of security. And it seems in the end, he was right.

With Feyd unable to claim you, Paul will be the one to secure new arrangements for your future, which just so happens to greatly fare in his favor. After all, he just declared war, and you are the ripened political pawn at his disposal.

“Are you well?”

You turn as sharply as you can at the intrusive voice, but the uncomfortable skirts of your dress are thick and stiff, restricting your movements. Feyd never made you wear anything like this and you forgot what it's like to be weighed down by layers of fabric. You fucking hate it.

Paul stands a few feet away, his hands clasped behind his back and a light smile on his face. Clearing his throat, he joins you on the balcony attached to your old room. 

“I know we haven’t spoken much about what’s to come. I’m sure you’ve been curious,” he says. 

You shrug, shake your head, and return your gaze to the horizon where ocean meets sky. 

“We have matters to discuss.”

Matters such as where he will be sending you off to be married, you imagine. He must act quickly if he intends to establish and gain control over house alliances, since they weren't overly enthusiastic about accepting him as their leader.

“Let's sit down,” he tells you. He grasps your hand before you can object and guides you to one of the balcony benches. Once you’re settled, he takes a seat beside you and says, “I am going to ask you something. And I want honesty.”

You sigh. “What?”

“When you were with the Harkonnens for those many months, were you treated like a slave as I had feared, or were you something far from it?”

Your eyes narrow. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Because it’s important,” Paul states, staring you directly in the eye. “I’ve been thinking about the way you wept over him after we fought, and how he denied every offer I made in exchange for your release…” With his pause, he shakes his head. “I thought maybe he had messed with your mind, confused you, and that was why you were so hysterical over his loss…but that’s not right, is it.”

“Paul–”

“Does he love you?”

It takes conscious effort to keep your body from shifting uncomfortably. “What is it to you?”

“He survived his wounds,” Paul says. 

The casualness with which he shares that news heavily contrasts everything that runs through you. Your heart stops. Your lips part, unsuccessful in drawing in oxygen. Your eyes no longer see anything but Feyd’s face as it flashes in front of you. The way he looked when he last smiled at you. The way he looked the last time he came inside of you. The look of him when he died—or almost died. Death had been there, looming over him. 

You’re trying to will away the tears. Paul is watching you too closely. “Wh–What?” you say.

“He’s alive, and he is demanding you be returned to him,” he informs you. “So, tell me: is he truly threatening me so aggressively over one of his ‘pets’? Or is he threatening me to get back the woman he loves?” 

The woman he loves. You never imagined yourself in a situation where your brother would ask if a member of a centuries-long rival house loves you. But then again, you never imagined a member of a centuries-long rival house loving you to begin with.

You remember the night he told you. It was late and your bodies were bare after having bathed together. You were searching for your nightgown when he said “Come to bed, my love.” 

You sighed, defeated. He’d called you that before, but whether it was real or not was such a mystery and it hurt your heart a little bit more each time. “You shouldn’t call me your love unless you mean it,” you finally told him. 

You heard his footsteps when he stood from the bed. He walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. “Why would I call you that if I do not mean it?” he asked. Then he hummed and said “You know me better than that, my love” before dipping his head lower and nipping the shell of your ear with his teeth. 

So yes, he loved you—loves you. But there’s something in Paul’s voice as he asks you that question that gives you pause. It’s too gentle as if luring you into a false sense of security. The Harkonnens are not known for their capacity to love, and Feyd loving you could be seen as a weakness; his one vulnerable spot.

As monotone as you can manage, you reply, “If you’re being threatened you should just send me back and be done with it. I know you have more important things to worry about.”

Paul’s lips thin in disappointment. “I can’t send you back,” he says. “Not yet.”

“Why not?”

He sighs. “Because I believe he loves you. And I need to see how far a Harkonnen is willing to bend for an Atreides,” he says. “If he wants you back, he will have to be open to negotiations.”

You stand sharply, take a few steps from him, and blow out a heavy breath through your nose. You were told your brother changed after drinking that magic water and it shows. Holding you hostage for political gain is not the same as marrying you off. 

“I would like to be done with this conversation,” you say with a huff.

“I understand,” he replies, so you turn to enter your bedroom. But before you’re fully through the door, he says, “There’s more, though.”

You freeze. 

“I had a dream,” he says, his voice coming closer. “There was a boy, no more than five years old. He had your features and your hair but his skin was of the same paleness as the Harkonnens.”  

Sucking in a breath, you brace yourself with a hand gripping the door’s frame. 

“You’re pregnant, sister,” he tells you, leaning against the opposite side of the doorway. “But I'm very glad to know that the heir of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen is a product of love rather than an unfortunate incident,” he says. “Additional incentive, should it be necessary.”    

In your shock, you can’t look at him. He doesn’t need you to. You can see his smirk in your peripherals, then he pushes off the frame and heads toward the main door of your room. 

“Try to get some rest, sister,” he calls over his shoulder. “You really shouldn't be on your feet too long.”

[emmyrosee]

Kenma loves you. He'd do everything for you.

But right now, five minutes away from marrying you, he's having one of the worst panic attacks in his life. Who thought inviting this many people to a wedding was a good idea? Who thought his social anxiety could manage that?

And when he manages to work himself into an absolute mess, clutching his chest as he grunts and pants into the air, he thinks this is it. This is when it crumbles, he’s going to pass out, and when he wakes up, you’re going to have left him for someone better, someone who can offer you the life you deserve.

Even with Kuroo cupping his cheeks in his hands, begging him to breathe and ground himself, asking him to look for colors and do basic math, it’s not enough. Now, there’s too many eyes on him, too many voices in his head, too much judgement. His world is spinning faster.

Until you come in.

You, pushing Kuroo out of the way, resting your forehead against Kenma’s as your thumbs roll over his hot cheeks, come in to save him, like a knight in shining armor. He grabs at you, letting the textures guide him back to some form of grounded, enough where the ringing in his ears stops and he can finally, finally, get a breath in.

“Hey,” you whisper.

“Hey,” he managed, but its tight and choked and filled with snot.

You don’t care. You move a hand to gently pet his hair, smoothing the messy locks from his face and hooking them behind his ear.

“Whats got you so spooked? Huh?”

“C-ant. Tell you.”

“Shhh, okay. That’s okay. Thank you for letting me know.”

Because kenma can’t tell you he can’t go out there and marry you in front of all those people. You’ll be heartbroken. But for now, all he can do is indulge in your touch and whimper out a few more sobs, hoping the feeling of suffocation will let off of his chest within a few more moments.

[deadghosy]

I was wondering if you could do a miniso penguin reader being a delivery boy for all of hell (mostly hazbin)

I JUST LOOKED IT UP AND OMGGGG ITS SO CUTEEE🦆💗🦆 AND YES I WILL! THANK YOU MY GHOST

HAZBIN HOTEL X PENGUIN! READER

prompt: you deliver mail all over hell, but mostly to your favorite place!

Okay starters off….you definitely get petted by the sinners who walk by you. Like you are so adorable!

I headcannon that you have a magic barrier that activates when you are in danger. Like say for example, a sinner tried to stab and mug but a bubble appears around you as you quack and roll away.

But like…you are the most known person in hell. YOU COULD BE WALKING AND GIVING MAIL AND IMMEDIATELY- “Hey [reader]!”

Yeah you’re quite known🦆🔥

The overlords love you! Carmilla adores you as you help her move her things around with her supplies of angelic metal. And Alastor….he joked about eating you up because of how cute you are..you definitely hide behind carmilla as she glared at him.

Alastor said sorry as he buys you ice cream for scaring you. (Charlie made him do it after carmilla snitched on him)

The most place you love giving mail to is the hazbin hotel! You like it there as you always get greeted by the people there gently. Charlie would pet you as she gushes how cute you are and how you should’ve been an angel.

Husk just pokes at your chubby and cute body as you quack and rub your face in his leg. You are the size of a penguin so guess how small you are 😭💗

You and fat nuggets are best friends, dead ass you both speak animal to each other and just gossip… “quack…” “oink oink..” “QUACK?!” You yelled pointing to Alastor as fat nuggets nodded seriously. Angel tried to record it but he just couldn’t help but laugh

Lucifer loves you! Like at first he would just watch you around hell secretly as he didn’t want to scare you off too easy. But soon he felt over protective at how pure and nice you are to other sinners and hell born

I headcannon every time it’s extermination, you would be forced to be at the hotel as you bake cookies to past the time helping Charlie and the other feel less stress as the angels kill the sinners.  

“So like…do you lay eggs or somethin'?” Angel asked looking at the egg boiz under you as they are sound asleep. You just stay there like a mama penguin as you shrugged.

“[READER] I CHOSE YOU!” Vaggie yells as you waddle to a person and hug them in need. Its funny to imagine you being used a Pokémon who’s only attack is “HUG SURPRISE!”

I headcannon you to use a rolling attack. LIKE FOR EXAMPLE, you are getting chased so you roll like a ball and BOWLING BALL THEY ASS! STRIKEEE‼️‼️

You have a room in the hotel, it’s just you don’t stay there often. But the other would loved if you stayed at the hotel with them as they find you lovely to around. Like imagine how cool it is to be tired from delivering mail all day just to go to the hotel and see your own room.

Immediately passing out in the soft bed😭🦆

I imagine you walking, more like waddling and the egg boiz just copy your waddling as they are still baby chickens in eggs.

Velvette definitely has you go to her section of the vee tower so you can wear those cute sailor boy outfits 😭 like imagine how cute that is….

Sir Pentious and nifty love you also as they find you adorable. The egg boiz love you, and nifty….she just finds you interesting how every sinner knows who you are and wants to be your best friend.

I can see you being sick and not coming to deliver mail to the hotel, and immediately you wake up sniffling as you waddle to your door to see a bunch of gift baskets as you quack surprised at all those candies and get better cards….man you are loved

[freebreadmoon]

is there anyway you can write a cute, fluffy little story for Walker Scobell?

YES OMG I HAVENT BEEN ACTIVE BC I HAVE MIDTERMS

warnings: fluff, reader plays annabeth (i love leah dont come for me), no use of y/n, reader and walker aren’t dating but are obvi crushing

requests are open!!

You and Walker were filming a buzzfeed puppy interview, sitting in the middle of the floor.

Walker sat with his legs crisscrossed, smiling wide at the brown spotted dog that nuzzled his leg. “Is it on? Oh, hi, I’m Walker Scobell, and I play Percy Jackson.”

“Hi,” you introduced yourself, “I play Annabeth Chase,” you picked up the fluffy fured black one that was by your foot, “and your watching buzzfeed!” You put a thumbs up at the camera, earning a laugh from the boy beside you.

“Wait I wanted to say it, I’m literally the main character—“

“But I’m the best character. Walker, you can say it at Vanity Fair.” He rolled his eyes at you, smiling slightly.

“Okay, moving on! um…what’s the question? What was your favorite scene to film…um…oh thats a hard one. I’m gonna say…either the fight with the Ares kids in capture the flag, or falling out of the arch. The harness thing was annoying to put on, but the other parts were fun.” Walker was only half paying attention, preoccupied by the dogs.

“I think the tunnel of love scene, or the one where Annabeth pushes Percy in the water, ‘cause I got to push Walker really hard.” You glanced at him, watching the smile curl onto his face.

“Yeah. We did like 15 takes of that because she kept laughing.” Walker laughed, shaking his head. “Actually, she laughed a lot. We had to retake lots of stuff ‘cause of her, especially the tunnel of love scene. The boat flipped and she wouldn’t stop laughing.” He shifted closer to you, messing with the puppy you’re holding.

“Oh! the next question…what’s your opinion on each other? Um…walker is the best blonde dude ever i think. like he’s literally my kid i swear, and he was honestly the best choice for percy. i think he’s the reason i even got to be annabeth, im really greatful for him. Aryan is super sweet and cool, he’s my best best friend, we do the stupidest things together, and I can’t imagine a world we aren’t honorary siblings.” You scratched behind a puppy’s ear, letting it lick you.

“Well I was just gonna say you’re awesome but…I guess I think we make a great team on-screen as well as off-screen. She’s a true friend. If it weren't for her, I don't know what I'd do, y'know? She’s like my very own real life Annabeth." He glanced up at you subtly, wanting to gauge your reaction, smiling in victory when he noticed the red tint to your cheeks.

“The…the next one says, how do you feel about fan support? is it overwhelming? Well, my answer is yes, sometimes. Especially with people who are really like into the book to the point where they hated the casting over looks.” You had started to speak a lot quieter as Walker drifted closer, trying to get the puppy off your lap.

“I don’t think much of it.” Walker shurgs. “Only really the edits that I see anyway, those are fun.” He smiles encouragingly at you , finally meeting your eyes.

“…Yeah. The edits.” You smile at him, referring to the ship edits. You’d talked about it in multiple interviews, and you had a favorites folder for them on Tiktok. You raised an eyebrow at Walker, who continued to move closer until his head was on your lap, giggling softly and starting pet his hair like you did the puppys fur.

“Okay, last question…have there been any memorable moments on set? Um…probably when i first met her. I just got the feeling she was gonna be Annabeth, she gave me this ‘what is he doing?’ Look, and it just clicked.” He stayed with his head on your lap, turning so his head is on your stomach when puppies come and attack him with licks.

“They think you’re one of them!” You push him off a little so the puppies can get to him. “And my answer…um…I think when Walker gave me the piece of banana that was in my hair in the show. He kinda just tied it in and left my set trailer, and it stuck. So if you guys wondered what the weird blue fabric in Annabeth’s hair was, it was not in fact a design choice, it was a Percy choice.” You turn so the camera can see the small braid in your hair with the bandanna piece at the end.

“And Percy’s got one too, if you look hard enough.” He lifts one of his feet, showing the vans he wore during filming, and the flimsy piece of bandanna tied through his top shoe hole. You shake your head, laughing at his insistence in staying with his head in your lap.

While you layed on his bed, you scrolled through your fyp, stopping when you see the familiar scene of you two in the buzzfeed room, with his head in your lap. Nodding your head to the song in the edit as you scrolled through the comments.

“IRL percabeth?” He questioned from beside you. You looked at him, not realizing he had started paying attention to you, jumping to get your phone from him.

“No, I’m commenting! And reposting!” He laughed, rolling away from you. You got off the bed behind him, giving up taking the phone and blinking when he simply commented ‘real’.

“Well, so much for ‘it’ll blow over’.” You rolled your eyes, knowing the dating allegations will only get worse after this. Walker smiled triumphantly, waiting for the responses to come in.

taglist: @persassyxo @diorlorenzo @ilovewalkerscobell @paytonthereader @platypusbearrr @kissatelier @riptidelor

[sanarsi]

Birthday present

Javier Peña x f!Reader

Summary: You're the daughter of one of Columbia's godfathers. Agent Peña decides to surprise you on your twenty-fifth birthday. Warnings: +18, MDNI, protected PIV, car sex, age gap (10y), reader has tattoo, pet names (baby, cariño, princesa), dirty talk, mention of corrupt family, violence Wordcount: 5,3k An: English isn’t my first language so I’m sorry for possibly misunderstanding. Hope you’ll enjoy xx Music I worked with: MAMACITA - Black Eyed Peas, Ozuna, J. Rey Soul / Alibi - Sevdaliza, Pabllo Vittar, Yseult / LA FAMA - ROSALÍA, The Weeknd

Masterlist

Javier's informants usually did not disappoint.

And he was one of those who often put everything on one card. Either he will succeed or will have to try hard to succeed.

That's what led him to this moment. An opportunity to get closer to you than ever before. To get you to cooperate.

Latin music played softly on the radio as Javier calmly drove away from the city center. From time to time he glanced in the mirror to fix his mustache and hair. He had to look good enough to catch your attention. He had to try harder for a while even though he wasn't being paid for it. But Javier was as dedicated to his work as anyone else. Sometimes it could be called his flaw but he didn’t cared about what others thought.

The car stopped in one of the side streets leading to a seaside bar. The bar where you celebrated your birthday.

Javier looked at his reflection one last time and dabbed his skin with aftershave. A strong masculine scent wafted through the car. The perfect weapon for his hunt for an evening companion. He didn't doubt his abilities and that he would be able to woo you too.

Relaxed, he moved towards the muffled music. He was passed by several people who clearly wanted to continue having fun in a more private place. Javier smiled to himself, feeling that he would be lucky today and his intuition never failed him.

From a distance he could already see the outline of people dancing on the dance floor. The music was getting louder and people's conversations began to drown out his own thoughts. Even though he was tired, this was what brought him relief. Finally, his attention was focused on something other than work. Even if that's exactly what he came here for. Work.

Javier walked up to the bar and nodded to the bartender. “Whiskey,” he said, and wasting no time, he started slowly looking around at the people standing closest to him. You weren't here.

His eyes immediately fell on the dance floor. A lot of people. Definitely too much for a small bar by the water.

Javier might have been fooling himself a lot, but he couldn't deny that he loved the energy here. Or at least the energy from the people who simply live here. Having fun and living life to the fullest. If it weren't for all the crap he dealt with, Columbia would be heaven.

Barman placed a glass of whiskey next to him, so he handed him a few bills and took his first sip of alcohol. This was what he needed after a long day at the office.

He slowly savored his drink when his eyes fell on the girl in the middle of the dance floor. He tilted his head to get a better view between dancing couples and slowly ran his gaze down her entire body. The blood red dress hugged her body tightly and several ruffles fluttered with every movement of her hips. His gaze stopped for a moment on her lush hips, which had a lot of life in them.

Javier gulped as he watched how the dress barely covered her ass. Still, she didn't seem to care and was definitely testing the durability of the piece of fabric that gave a lot to the imagination.

His eyes moved lower to her legs and black high heels. A small tattoo on her ankle caught his attention. A light immediately went on in his head. His instincts never failed him, and this time was no exception. It was you. He spotted you like a predator and wasn't going to waste any time from attacking you.

He drank the entire contents of the glass at once and took a deep breath before moving towards you. Someone bumped into him several times, but no one even bothered to notice. Not that Javier cared. His attention was only on you.

The way your fingers disappeared into your hair.

The way your hands slid down your body.

The way your lips moved with every word of the song.

Oh he could get high from this view…

The song changed and this gave him the perfect opportunity to attack. His hand placed itself on your hip, which caught your attention. You opened your eyes, pulled out of your dancing trance, and looked over your shoulder at your attacker.

With a smirk, Javier slowly walked around you to face you. Your eyes immediately began to carefully scan his face to assess whether he was worth your time.

"Such a beautiful woman shouldn’t dance alone," he spoke first. A smile appeared on your lips as this text quickly convinced you to him. You glanced to the side so Javier did the same.

Away from the crowd stood a man watching you carefully. All you had to do was gently nod your head towards him and he immediately relaxed and sat down at the table and started talking to another guy. Javier immediately calculated in his head that there were two bodyguards with you.

Nothing he couldn't handle.

“So let's hope you can dance,” your voice caught his attention. His smirk widened as he tightened his grip around your waist, bringing your frames together. You placed your hand in his and wrapped your other arm around his shoulder. You lifted your chin to keep eye contact with him as he slowly started leading, making your hips move.

You danced the first song in silence. Javier knew you were judging his skills as you stared into each other's eyes with every move. Your noses were brushing against each other and there was almost no space between you.

You felt his thigh between yours as he guided the movements of your hips and you liked the fact that he can lead in dancing. You could finally have fun with someone who lived up to your expectations. And that's what convinced you to continue having fun with him.

“I'm surprised men can still dance,” you said with a laugh as he turned you around once again and pulled you closer to him. Javier was smiling widely as he looked at you, and he'd be lying if he said he was having a bad time.

"Real men can do this and more," he replied with his professional pick-up tone.

You raised your eyebrows with a wide smile, amused by his words. You knew this tone in men very well.

Javier spun you around a few times and pulled you closer to him again. He had to admit that he loved the closeness of Latin dancing. He could shamelessly hold your hips tightly against his and grind you against his thigh.

“Care to tell me what you mean?” you asked innocently, observing his eyes closely.

Javier spun you around and pulled your back against him. You felt his hard chest on your back and after a moment his arms wrapped around you tightly again, making your hips move. You smiled to yourself as you felt his hot breath on your neck.

“A real man will take care of a woman not only in dancing,” he whispered in your ear and his hands slid to your hips, digging his fingers into your skin. You smiled wider as he turned you around to face him again in one move. You wrapped your arms around his neck and Javier leaned closer, nuzzling your nose. You rocked your hips in silence for a moment, watching each other.

“Oh, I see,” you nodded with a soft laugh and let him turn you around. He embraced you and grabbed your hand, slowly taking steps to the beat. "You mean yourself or..."

“Myself,” he cut you off halfway through. You smiled and nodded, hitting your heels and the dance floor with every step.

“You have a high opinion of yourself…” you started to say and stopped at the end, raising an eyebrow.

“Javier,” he finished for you.

“You have a high opinion of yourself, Javier,” you repeated so as not to forget his name in a moment.

"It's just the facts, baby," he said, wanting to sound indifferent.

And he sounded... like an overconfident pick-up artist.

You raised your eyebrows with a smile and nodded. Javier sensed that you were allergic to idiots who wanted to get you into bed. He had to do something more.

“Why have I never seen you here before?”

“I rarely come here,” you replied with a shrug and a soft smile.

“So today is a special occasion I assume,” he noted, slowly leading you across the dance floor. You laughed sweetly at his words, making him smile too.

“Yeah, actually,” you nodded, “it's my birthday today,” you explained. Javier was a born actor, so he had no problem feigning surprise. Of course, you believed it.

“Well well,” he smacked his lips in the air and ran his eyes down your entire body, “But I'm not surprised at all. You don't come across women like you every day," he added with a smirk and pulled you closer again. “Let me buy you a drink.”

"I don't know if—"

“As a birthday present,” he interrupted you, raising his eyebrows encouragingly. He looked at you like a dog, waiting for you to submit to him. And you gave in. You laughed sweetly, shaking your head.

"Let it be."

Javier smiled broadly and grabbed your hand before heading towards the bar. You sat down at the bar with a wide smile and Javier was not shy about being close to you. He immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, gluing himself to your side. He waved towards barman and you watched his every move carefully.

The way his face became serious when he ordered you drinks.

The way his gaze immediately stuck to your eyes right after.

The way his thumb gently traced your hip.

It was all intended to distract you.

“So what birthday is it? Eighteenth?” he asked, looking down at you. You rolled your eyes at his words but snorted under your breath anyway.

“Twenty-fifth,” you replied, wrinkling your nose with a smile. Barman placed the drinks next to you, so Javier immediately downed one for you.

“Then let's drink to your eighth-eighteenth birthday,” he toasted with a smile. You laughed at his words and clinked glasses with him. You both tensed without breaking eye contact. You grimaced at the taste of strong alcohol and he chuckled.

“It was supposed to be a drink, not straight vodka,” you noticed with laugh and took another sip. Javier watched you carefully, hoping you were weak in the head because, unfortunately for him, you didn't seem stupid.

"It's not appropriate to refuse a gift," he noted with a smirk, slowly sipping his drink. You rolled your eyes and took another sip of your damn strong drink with feigned pleasure.

“Thank you for the present, Javier,” you said with forced politeness. He chuckled at your reaction.

"De nada querida."

Thanks to his gift, you were tongue-tied pretty quickly and you spent half an hour talking nonsense at the bar. Javier listened with interest to everything you said and responded to make you say even more and it wasn't until you finished your second drink that he took you dancing again.

And if Javier thought you didn't limit yourself before, you were a beast now. Latin dance has only now gained everything it was about. And it was no longer an ordinary dance. It was literally just sex.

Your noses touched, breathing heavily against each other's lips as Javier guided your hips. Another bead of sweat was already dripping from his forehead after dancing a few songs intensely. And he'd be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying himself because he hadn't spent such an intense evening, out of bed, with such a beautiful woman for a long time. And he would be lying if he said that your proximity and the alcohol didn't affect him.

He turned you around, and only when you clung tightly to him again, you feel that he was half-hard. And it certainly didn't stop you from rolling your hips right next to his. Javier couldn't help but let out a soft moan that disappeared into your hair. You smiled blissfully, knowing the effect you had on him and you couldn't have expected how much it stroked your ego.

His hand covered your lower abdomen and the other covered your chest. You felt trapped and didn't complain at all. You deliberately moved under his touch and movements, even when you felt his lips near your ear.

"You're playing dirty," he whispered in a hoarse voice and then placed a gentle kiss just below the ear.

A wave of shivers ran through your body at this act of closeness, and you were unable to resist as your head fell on his shoulder on its own. Javier immediately took advantage of the situation and ran his hand from your chest to your neck. His lips slowly began to place wet kisses on your neck and you smiled widely as his closeness bounced between your thighs.

“I got it from my dad,” you replied in a whisper, not really thinking about what you were saying.

“Is he naughty too?” he asked next to your ear and gently bit the lobe. You sighed louder and murmured a quiet affirmation. Now you didn't trust your words anymore. “He should teach you how to behave,” he continued and pressed his hand harder against your stomach. Your hips pressed further into his, allowing you to feel him more clearly. You parted your lips so as not to moan and swallowed saliva, which he immediately felt under his hand.

He had you in his grasp.

“If your dad didn't teach you this, I'll be happy to do it for him,” he whispered and gently bit into your neck.

You smiled broadly and blissfully at the feeling, but it quickly disappeared when Javier spun you around again and this time you fell into his arms, not expecting such a sudden move. You giggled to yourself, hugging his neck again as his hands moved to your hips. You looked up at him, immediately noticing that he was no longer smiling. He looked at you… thirsty. And you couldn't help but have fun.

You ran your fingers along his neck, following your every move with your eyes. You touched his jaw until your thumb was able to graze his lower lip. You smiled when, without any resistance, he opened his mouth and placed a gentle kiss on your fingertip.

Javier might have complained, but he could honestly admit that he was enjoying the game of cat and mouse. It was a nice change from the prostitutes who did whatever he wanted. It was nice to have a taste of winning someone's heart from time to time.

“Ven conmigo,” he whispered without thinking. He liked the tension between the two of you, but he honestly couldn't and didn't want to resist the urge to claim you in his bed or anywhere you let him.

“If only it were that simple…” you sighed with an innocent smile. Javier moved closer to you and ran his nose over yours. He kept his eyes glued to your mouth as his mustache brushed against your lips. His hot breath bounced off your skin as you watched him closely.

You didn't even notice that you had been just standing in the middle of the dance floor for some time. Everyone around was dancing exuberantly and you were absorbed in each other as if there was no one around.

“It wasn't a question,” he whispered against your lips and you both locked eyes at the same moment. Your pulse quickened as you realized you might have gone too far. You've never allowed yourself so much but apparently you forgot yourself a bit this time.

“Trust me, you don't want this,” you tried to discourage him but still you couldn't pull away or even push him away.

“Why wouldn't I?” he asked, completely unconcerned by your words. “If you had a boyfriend he would be here with you so it's definitely not that. I don't see any other reason why I would give up the opportunity to turn those sweet eyes inside out," he purred, nuzzling your nose.

You smiled and looked away for a moment. You had to admit to yourself that you wanted him. He was charming and you were too susceptible to that. You looked back at him, feeling reluctant that you had to reject him.

For his own good.

“My father doesn't like it when men want to claim me,” you started, hoping it would discourage him, but he didn't seem bothered by your words. “I want to spare you a bullet in your head,” you added, raising an eyebrow with more certainty.

“I'll take a chance,” he replied with a smug grimace, and without waiting for your response, he pressed his lips to yours. You were in shock for a moment, but it quickly passed, replaced by desire.

Javier sighed contently as you kissed him back. His hand quickly found itself in your hair, pulling you even closer. You didn't resist when he slipped into your mouth like it belonged to him. He tasted like cigarettes and mint unlike your sweet lips. He kissed you lazily and deeply. He took his time tasting you and took advantage of every second you submitted to his movements.

He finally pulled away from you, but only for a moment. He glanced to the side to see where your bodyguards were, so you did the same. They were busy talking to each other instead of keeping an eye on you.

This was his chance.

He grabbed your hand and leaned close to your ear.

“Give me fifteen minutes,” he whispered and pulled away to look at you. You glanced at the security guards again and back at Javier. It took you less than a second to make your decision. You nodded gently, which was immediately met with his reaction. In a few seconds, you were out of reach of the dancing people and out of the sight of men who were supposed to protect you from such situations. Luck was in the agent's favor.

You tried to keep up with him, but your shoes were of no help. Javier glanced at you over his shoulder and with a smirk on his lips, he wrapped his arms around your waist tightly to help you a little.

You glanced over your shoulder towards the bar but didn't see anything that might catch your attention. They haven't noticed you've disappeared yet. You smiled to yourself because it meant you actually had a chance to have some fun.

Before you knew it, you stopped at one of the cars. Javier unlocked the door and opened it for you. With an encouraging smile, he offered his hand to help you inside. You accepted his help like a proper lady. Your pulse quickened as the door slammed shut and Javier appeared in the driver's seat. You swallowed, watching as he closed the door and pushed his seat back. He straightened up with a sigh and looked at you with a smirk.

“Fifteen minutes, start,” he said and leaned towards you, connecting your lips.

This time he started more aggressively. He tangled his fingers in your hair, deepening the kiss, which gained momentum with every second. You moaned into his mouth, feeling the lack of air begin to cripple your lungs. And that's when Javier pulled away, only to grab your thigh and pull you on top of him. He did it so naturally that you didn't even have to make an effort when you sat on his thighs. His hands were immediately on your hips, pulling you even closer. You spread your legs further as he pressed you against him and connected your lips again.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling it, making him growl against your lips. The sound echoed between your thighs in a wave of tension.

His hands immediately went to work, pushing your dress up to your waist. You moaned into his mouth as he squeezed your cheeks.

“So soft,” he murmured against your lips and moved his hands down to your thighs. His fingers squeezed every inch of your body that happened to be within his reach.

You didn't have to wait long before you felt his fingers trailing down the inside of your thighs. You didn't even hold back your panting into his mouth due to the sweet anticipation that was pulsing throughout your body. You inhaled louder as his two fingers ran from the very bottom up your pussy, collecting all the wetness that had managed to escape from you. Javier growled, gripping your hip tightly.

“You haven't worn damn panties all evening,” he announced, running over your wet hole once more. His cock twitched in his pants at the thought of having you at his fingertips all evening, and you who knew it very well. “Shameless girl,” he growled, sliding two fingers into you.

You moaned, throwing your head back and he immediately attacked your neck. He placed wet kisses and nibbled at your skin as his hand worked wonders between your legs. His fingers slowly moved in and out of your pussy. Wet sounds and your moans filled the car, instantly raising the temperature.

Javier didn't waste time because he didn't have enough of it.

Enough to satisfy you but not enough to enjoy you.

He reached with his free hand towards the glove compartment and took out a pack of condoms. You were too busy to even notice that his mouth disappeared from your neck for a moment so that he could open the package with his teeth. His fingers worked wonders inside you, slowly flexing at the point that made his palm wet.

You opened your eyes as you began to miss the feeling of his lips on your skin. You looked down just as he finished putting on the condom. Your pulse quickened even more when he looked up at you.

“Come on, baby,” he encouraged, pulling his fingers out of you. “Lift your hips for me,” he ordered, running them over your clit.

You moaned softly and immediately obeyed his command. You felt him shift restlessly beneath you, positioning himself perfectly at your entrance.

You didn't need his command to slowly lower yourself onto his cock. For a moment, you lacked the strength to make any sound. Only when you sat on him with your full weight, you moan loudly. Javier watched with parted lips and heavy breathing as his cock disappeared inside you.

“You're so fuckin’ tight, baby,” he moaned and pulled you closer to him, connecting your lips in an intense kiss. You tightened your fingers in his hair and he gripped your hips. “Dance for me,” he whispered against your lips and dug his fingers into your flesh, forcing you to move.

You slowly began to ride him as his lips stayed on yours and his arms held you tightly against him. You moaned softly into his mouth as you set the perfect pace, rolling your hips on his cock.

But it wasn't enough for him. That's why he started pushing his hips towards you. You both began to pant heavily into each other's mouths as Javier entered you with strong thrusts.

“Oh… fuck yes, baby,” he growled, feeling you tighten around his cock with every movement of his hips.

You leaned back against the steering wheel, trying to follow his movements. His gaze fell between your bodies and he watched contentedly as his cock disappeared into your pussy again and again. The wet sound that accompanied it was like something from pure porn.

“She's so pretty with my cock inside her,” he said, his voice laced with sex and you could only moan louder. Your hands grabbed onto anything they could to give you a sense of stability. Javier began to moan softly as he entered you faster and faster.

Your eyes fell on the inside of the car for a moment. You panted heavily, looking around until your eyes landed on something shiny. Despite the darkness, you were able to easily make out the shape of the badge. Your hip movements began to slow down as you looked back at the man who was currently inside you. You breathed heavily, looking at him carefully.

“No, no, baby. Don’t slow down,” he groaned in disappointment and looked at you. Only after a while he notice that you were looking at him as if you were seeing him for the first time and, what's worse, you froze in silence. Javier frowned, breathing heavily. "What’s wrong, cariño?" he asked confused.

"What do you do for living?" you asked simply.

Javier was silent for a moment, then he understood. He turned and looked at the badge lying on the backseat. Fuckin’ hell. He sighed heavily and looked at you again. There was no point in lying.

“I'm a DEA agent,” he told you, his cock twitching inside you in anticipation. You slowly calmed your breathing as everything that was happening started to sink in.

You were fucking an agent who probably wanted to get information from you.

You felt a wave of cold wash over you, making you involuntarily tighten around his cock and he groaned at the feeling.

You straightened up slowly, keeping your cold gaze on him and with one movement you swung your hand, hitting him on the cheek. His cock twitched inside you again at the sudden blow, but he didn't speak. For a moment, he didn't even dare to look your way.

But when he did and opened his mouth to speak, he was hit a second time. This time he had to move his jaw to relax, and only then did he look at how calm and angry you were at the same time.

“Maldito hijo de puta…” you started, wanting to call him the worst names, but he quickly cut you off. His hands tightened on your thighs, which caught your attention.

“I just want to help you,” he started gently and you frowned. You didn't know whether to laugh or punch him in the face again.

“I don't want your help,” you growled.

You felt his arm wrap tightly around your waist, holding you in place. Not that you were struggling, but he wanted to make sure you wouldn't pull away when his other hand pressed between your bodies.

“It wasn't a business proposition, princesa,” he said confidently. You opened your mouth to argue with him but you felt his fingers on your clit; instead of words and curses, a surprised moan came out.

Javier watched your reaction carefully, slowly massaging the small spot that could render you speechless.

“I can get you a new life,” he continued, completely indifferent to the fact that you were trying to catch your breath. "Away from the crap your father deals with."

“Vete a la mierda,” you choked out and he pressed his fingers harder. You moaned louder as you felt his movements begin to have the desired effect.

“That's what I'm doin’,” he replied confidently. He watched carefully as your eyes closed and your lips parted in pleasure. He felt everything he was doing to you, every squeeze of your pussy made him shiver. “Think about it, cariño, new identity, no killing and no drugs. Normal life." He sped up his finger movements, feeling your hips thrust towards him. Your body sold without much problem, but at least you could think straight.

“You want me to sell myself like a puta,” you pointed out. Javier growled under his breath, but not because of your words.

“I want you to buy a better life for yourself with a few pieces of information.”

“Nicely said,” you snorted under your breath in disdain at his words.

“You're a smart girl, I believe you know deep down that my proposal is mutually beneficial,” he continued, but your attention was focused on your building orgasm. You started breathing faster, focusing on him, afraid that one wrong move and you would lose the long-awaited fulfillment. "You have to promise me that you will think about my proposal."

"Or what?" You raised an eyebrow, waiting for his response, but he just stopped moving his fingers. You felt your orgasm slowly fade into oblivion. “Mierda… okay, okay, I will think about it,” you growled, furious. Javier smiled with satisfaction because it was enough for him for now.

He moved his lips closer to you and touched your clit again, the feeling of your orgasm building again. You didn't need much this time. You started rocking your hips gently for additional stimulus that was still deep inside you. Your slow movements of your hips and his fingers combined in a pleasurable race for fulfillment. You mentally cursed how much you hated yourself and the agent under you. You felt like a traitor, but luckily his touch drowned out your remorse.

You moaned softly into his mouth and he drank it like the most expensive whiskey. Your hips sped up a bit, chasing the pleasure that was about to reach its peak at any moment.

“Oh yes, baby, I can feel she wants to cum,” he moaned into your mouth. These words sent chills throughout your body, straight to your crotch. "And I will only let her because I am close too."

You moaned louder and your hands quickly found their way to his hair. You clenched your fingers tightly, moving your hips faster. Chasing your orgasm, you even ignored the way Javier gently stroked your back in anticipation of your fulfillment.

“Come on, baby,” he moaned and began to move his fingers more intensely on your throbbing clit.

A few moves and it was all over.

A few movements of your hips and you froze motionless.

A few movements of your hips and your body shook with shivers of fulfillment.

You squealed into his mouth, feeling your hips shake from your intensely sweet orgasm. You tightened around his cock again and again, making him groan throatily.

“Fuck— good girl,” he choked out, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly. You moved your hips once more to get comfortable on him. This, combined with the passing orgasm, finished him off as well.

You felt his cock inside you start to throb again and again and his kiss became harder, almost crushing your lips. You squealed softly, but he drowned you out when he finally growled throatily in satisfaction.

You stayed in silence for a few minutes, calming your breathing and collecting your thoughts. Javier was furious at his mistake because he hoped that your conversation would turn out differently. But there was nothing he could do now to change the past.

But all you cared about was that you fucked a fuckin’ DEA agent.

“Will you consider my proposal?” he finally asked and pulled away to look at you. In silence, you glanced at his eyes and face and nodded gently.

"Yes."

But you weren't really going to spend even a second on it.

[hugsandchaos]

Amity Park has an animal shelter.

Well, obviously. Lots of towns have those.

And like most animal shelters, there’s this one animal who hates everyone. A black cat. A very fluffy black cat named Salem, and she’s constantly hissing and swatting at people. That is if she doesn’t bite.

One day, a worker comes in early to find the infamous ghost boy holding Salem in his arms and petting her, talking softly to her in ghost speak, and Salem is nuzzling his face and purring like an engine.

I made this just because I think it’d be funny if a ghost hunter got a little too close to an injured Phantom and a black cat came out of nowhere and started attacking the ghost hunter, so Phantom has to pull the cat off and is trying to calm them down.

He’ll be carrying Salem and she’s the most peaceful cat you’ll ever see, but as soon as someone reaches for him, she starts acting like a demon.

[myriadeyed]

“It’s obviously valid to be bugkin but you also can’t just expect people to get over it when they have a genuine fear!”

I’m afraid of dogs.

Dogs put me extremely on edge. I avoid them while outside and if one’s in a room with me I’ll try to leave or else start to panic. Especially medium-sized and larger breeds. Mere images of dogs may not give me a panic attack, I will admit that, it's not a phobia. But if you want to talk hypocrisy, if you're opening up that discussion:

Hey dog therians, dog otherhearted folks and clinical cynanthropes, what if everywhere you went, the unspoken attitude of the alterhuman community was—

Don’t post dog photos or talk about being a dog in the main alterhuman tags. Don’t talk about your shifts, your instincts, or your kind in the main tags. If you’re a CZ, don’t talk so openly about your biological reality. It’s extremely triggering for people with cynophobia. The idea of physically being or becoming a dog grosses them out to briefly think about, so try not to discuss your literal existence. If you must, at least trigger tag yourself with #tw dogs or #tw dog mention so people can stay safe by censoring things that will hurt their mental health. It’s okay if you’re dogkin but in my DNI I'm going to write something like, don’t follow me if your blog hosts too many graphic close-up images of dogs doing dog things, even if you censor them. Don’t add dog photos to open posts in the alterhuman tags, you have no idea who might be sent into a panic attack by images of yourself so you should play it safe and only put them on your own posts. And stop being so offended by people who comment on posts about pet dogs or dog facts saying they want to bleach their eyes or kill it with fire, they can’t help having a phobia.

Not great, is it? Fortunately, and I do genuinely mean that, this is a sentiment you will only see once, on this post, completely satirically. Except it’s just a real sentiment for bug therians/hearted and other invertebrate alterhumans. Of course what I said was satire. But if it pissed you off when you thought it might not be, please, contemplate on that reaction, really spend some time on it.

Also, if you're wondering what I mean by "other invertebrate alterhumans", (and I'm sorry for how heated I got when I was writing this part last night even after editing it down)

You know I’m a bug zoanthrope too, not just a bird? And see above if you're wondering why I never said shit about it, just said I was a centipede therian and even then said I was just questioning and didn't really talk much about it. Am I allowed to talk about it without tagging it #tw body horror, even though I obviously don’t fucking find my own body to be horror? Can I talk about it without tagging it #tw bugs like just the very thing that I am needs to be censored for people's well-being? I'm sorry if I come across judgmental. Offline I constantly interact with people saying they’re a nature lover but centipedes are the only thing on Earth that they still hate. And I have to come online knowing that any of those people could be bloggers in the alterhuman tags and it’s my responsibility to tiptoe around them. “Because centipedes are scary and disgusting.” Because I’m scary and disgusting. My brain is not capable of hearing a difference and I can’t change that. It is so much my reality that it's the same emotional mix of anger and anxiety and hurt that would be (has been, lol) triggered by someone ranting about how much they hate Jews or trans people to me.

[canthelpit0]

Cry Baby

Pairing: Matt x crybaby!popular!reader

Wordcount : 3.3K+

Summary: you were popular. The jester of the group. But atleast it was something. Nobody knew just how much you’d been struggling, until your secrets were exposed in the school cafeteria.

Warnings: swearing, angst, crying, mentioned of depression, Matt’s PoV, sensitive!reader, mentions of SH, SH mocking, humiliation, exposing secrets, fake friends, hurt/comfort, pet names (baby), use of y/n

(A/N: I wrote this based of this song. Bcs I was listening to it and had this scenario in my head, so I wrote it down.)

You had always been a bit of a crybaby.

You’re the oldest sibling. Your mother thought she couldn’t have any children, but she had. You were a blessing to her.

So after you were born you were never put down. Someone was always with you. To keep you from crying, entertaining you. Caving to your needs.

But once you got to kindergarten, it seemed that all those times your parents hushed you and made sure you didn’t cry had bottled up.

You didn’t speak a lot. You didn’t like socializing with people. You kept to yourself and that’s how you liked it.

You had severe attachment issues to your mom though. Because of her always being with you to soothe you, her not being there seemed like a nightmare.

So when she dropped you off at kindergarden, every day, you would cry, begging your mom to stay.

Eventually you got used to it, but you quickly found a friend to cling to.

Emma, was your one and only friend. The only person you talked to.

It was pretty much the same in elementary school. You’d trod around and talk to people. You were a bubbly social kid.

But you were also easy to break.

You didn’t have a lot of friends. All friends you had were only people you’d hang around in recess.

Emma stuck with you though.

Until, middle school.

In middle school you’d, for some reason, fallen into a depressive mindset.

Emma and you were in your awkward middle school phases. And in that time she’d become really rude.

And one day during a fight she told you how much she hated listening to your sobs.

You’d been vulnerable around her. You had trusted her.

And she’d broken that trust. By telling you that every time you had seeked her comfort she actually didn’t want to give it to you.

Your heart’s too big for your body.

You two stopped talking after that day. Until four months later Emma apologized for her words. You, being an empath, excepted the apology and went back to being friends with her.

Little did she know that her words rang through your head while you cut yourself.

A few months after you became friend again, she moved. She moved out of the country. You never saw her again.

So for high school you had taken it spoon yourself to mask your depression and ‘get over yourself’.

You started to dress more basic, learning to do your make up, hair, skincare. And basically everything to hide your miserable state the best you could.

Somehow it worked.

You had good facial proportions, and just a little bit of work you looked like a basic mean girl who is full of herself. But that was exactly the point.

Somehow, once High school started, you managed to get into the clique of the popular girls.

You were always so upbeat, cheery and talkative. No one could ever guess that you’re the most depressive mother fucker in a 50 mile radius.

Though as much as you would like the power of being the leader of the group, you were not. You were more like the jester of the group than anything.

You had held your mental breakdowns to a minimum. Holding back as much as you could. You only had Few panic attacks nowadays. And if you had one in school, you always had a touch up make up bag there.

Now it was senior year. You got ready like usual, not knowing that today would alter your life and the way people perceive you.

Matt’s PoV

I watch in horror.

Y/n is one of the popular girls in our school.

I’m not too popular. But I’m well known, all due to the fact that I’m a triplet. And due to the fact that Nick and Chris are really extroverted people.

Both of them are currently not with me.

Chris is sick at home. While Nick is in the library with some of our female friends.

I sit at my table with the lacrosse team around Me.

The entire cafeteria has their eyes focused on y/n.

She was arguably the prettiest out of all the popular girls.

But right now she was crying, Biting her lip. Her head tilted forward in shame at the claims her group was throwing at her.

The leader of the popular girls, Kelly, was accusing y/n of stealing her boyfriend at first, yelling right in her face. She yelled right back at Kelly though, not scared to stand up for herself.

But Kelly being the leader of the group, all the other girls sided with her.

I never understood why people would talk, or would argue, about stuff like this in public places. It was humiliating.

I was getting second hand embarrassment just watching.

The insults were getting more and more personal by the second.

Nobody was doing anything, captivated by the scene unfolding in front of them. Some people have their phones out filming for, ..who knows what reason.

I drown out most of the insults-

“IS THAT WHY YOU FUCKING CUT YOURSELF?” Kelly yells right back in y/n’s face.

The cafeteria had already been quiet. But with those words even the quiet conversations stopped. It seemed like everyone’s attention snapped back to the scene.

It was the passerby effect in full force. No one was doing anything, too shocked. Not even the teachers that were present said anything.

It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

My ear start ringing, my eyes staying glued on y/n.

To me, it was obvious that something about y/n was off. She was polished to perfection. To a concerning degree. Nobody was that perfect.

So the revelation didn’t necessarily shock me. But the fact that Kelly was heartless enough to air y/n’s business out like that.

“I don’t.” Y/n’s words cut harshly through the quiet cafeteria. Her words are insistent like she was telling the truth.

She was a great liar, yet everyone would believe Kelly over her. Even if it was a lie.

“Oh but you do.” Kelly scoffs looking at the people y/n used to call friends. They all nod at Kelly’s statement.

“You have those scars all over your wrists.” Kelly points out nodding down to y/n’s wrists.

It’s like everyone takes a collective look down at her arms to see if something is actually there.

Me being so far away from their table I can’t see it clearly. But I really don’t want to anyway.

I watch as Y/n lets her head fall forward letting out a small laugh, shocking everyone in the cafeteria including me.

Y/n’s hands are trembling and shaking. She purses her lips looking back up at Kelly who looks at her with superiority.

Y/n picks her head back up and leans her head up to readjust her hair. Her hands ball into fists before she crosses her arms, trying to keep her composure.

Even from being a few tables away from the scene i can clearly see the tears running down her cheeks.

She huffs a laugh through a sob.

“Some friends you fucking are” she says harshly her glare focused on the girls around Kelly that she used to call friends.

The cafeteria is silent again for a moment the only thing heard being y/n’s soft sniffles

“Crybaby” one of the girls huffs under her breath, but its loud and clear in the silent cafeteria.

“Fuck you Rebecca.” I hear y/n’s voice snap at the girl. Despite crying her tone was still sharp.

“What’re you gonna do about it, gonna go home and cut yourself some more?” Another one of the girls in the group scoffs.

Y/n lets out another miserable chuckle hearing the comment.

I purse my lips remaining seated. I probably look miserable right now. I don’t want to be watching this. Hell I would like to stop this, but I can’t.

Before y/n can fire back though more and more comments from all the girls pore out. And the more: “you gonna kill yourself?” “you gonna cut yourself?” remarks they make the more humiliated y/n looks.

By the end of their relentless comments and bullying y/n is crying sobbing. And as someone with anxiety I can see the inevitable anxiety attack, in the way her entire body shakes.

With a strong “fuck you all” to her former friends y/n turns in her heels and leaves.

The cafeteria is quiet for a moment before the room breaks out in conversation, everyone gossiping about the scene they just witnessed. Debating how much of what was said was true.

I feel sick to my stomach knowing I had watched a girl just get torn down by her own, so called friends, like that, and didn’t do anything.

I mumble an excuse to my friends leaving the table. They don’t even seem to care emerged in their own conversations about the ‘gossip’.

I speed walk out of the cafeteria to find y/n.

There are only two places I can think of her being at. The girls bathroom, wich is probably not the case since she looked like she wanted to get as far away as possible,

Or her car.

She’d parked next to my van today. So I run out of the school to my car, to see hers still parked next to mine. I glance into it and she’s not in the drivers seat.

I get closer, catching my breath. I look through the window of the backseat seeing her sitting there curled up in on herself.

I knock on the car window catching her attention. Y/n’s beautiful teary eyes meet mine through the tinted glass.

She presses on a button on her car keys, the car unlocking.

Immediately I open the car door and slide in. My gaze soft as I look at the hyperventilating girl in front of me.

I close the door behind me. I gently take the car keys out of her hands. She was clinging to it like her life depended on it. I lock the car again and then lean to the front of the car and toss her keys on the drivers seat.

I turn back to y/n, she had her legs up to her chest hugging them while she continues to sob.

“Matt” she breaths out my name so tenderly.

We weren’t friends. But we shared one class in which we partnered up sometimes.

“Sh, you’re okay y/n” I breathe out. In an instant, my arms wrap around her smaller frame pulling her into me. I hug her from the side, her sobs wracking her body.

“No, no it’s not okay.” She lets out an irritated sigh, her breath hitching as a sobs Tores through her body again. “I just lost all my friends.”

I purse my lips holding her head. I cradle her into my chest. She didn’t deserve to have her stuff aired out like that, but all she was worried about was loosing her fake ass friends?

“Oh baby.” I sigh out. The nickname slips through my lips so effortlessly I didn’t even notice.

I keep her head cradled into my chest while I feel tears start to form in my own eyes.

“They ruined it.” She chokes out again, her voice shaky.

I breathe in heavily. “They ruined what?” I ask gently.

“My reputation”

I pause. My lips quiver at the sound of her cries. I try to blink away my own tears.

“That’s all you care about?” The words leave my lips before they register. I know she cares about all the things others say to her. She just seems like the type to.

“Matt, I spend so much time,” she sobs through the few words she said. Pausing to cry some more at the thought of it. “So, so much time, perfecting myself.”

I hear her pause again, and by this point I can’t hold back my own tears. I let out a soft sob crying with her as I hold her even closer to myself.

“I didn’t want anyone to know. It’s none of their business” her words are soft. But the more she talks the more quiet she gets.

In a way she was like me. Masking her sorrow like that. She always just seemed too perfect to be true.

Perfect hair, perfect makeup, perfect face. Great humor, nice, kind, popular.

But nobody ever questioned it. She had everyone fooled. She was a great liar. And even though I had my suspicions she never gave me a reason to believe I was right.

I just thought I was delusional for reading into things.

But I was right.

As much as I wish I wasn’t.

“I’m so sorry.” I whisper. I try to breathe hard as to not sob like she was. I wanted to comfort her not cry with her.

She pulls away slightly. I look at her. She still has tears running down her cheeks, not looking like it’d stop soon. She looks up at me through her tear stained lashes, her mascara only slightly smudged.

Her lips quivers as I see another wave of sadness wash over her. “Why are you crying?” She asks her voice shaky. She lets out another choked sob.

Her hands cup my cheeks as we both cry looking at the other. “Please don’t cry,” the sight of my tears only seems to make her more sad.

But seeing the way she looked crying, I only wanted to cry harder.

She still looked perfect. Though her makeup was smudged slightly, her hair messy, her perfect features stained with her tears.

I gently grab her wrists slowly pulling her hands off of my face. I pull up the sleeve of her longs sleeved shirt and flip her arm to look at her wrist.

My gut clenches at the sight of the tiny white healed marks. They were barely noticeable anymore.

I had noticed them before when we had partnered up for some project. But out of respect I didn’t say anything. Besides they weren’t that bad, thin, white stripes messily across her wrist.

For all I knew it could’ve been her cat. I don’t have a cat, and neither have I seen self harm cuts before, so I wouldn’t know the difference.

I purse my lips. I let my head fall forward slightly my eyes closed. I feel sick to my stomach knowing someone as perfect as y/n was, or had been cutting herself at some point.

I hear a choked sob fall from her lips. I feel her intense stare burn through my scalp.

I pick up my head again, my eyes immediately looking to hers. She was crying again. Making me also shed a few tears again.

I bring her wrist up to my face leaving a gentle peck on it.

She watches me. The sight only making her cry more. She closes her eyes briefly.

It wasn’t like she’d expected me out of all people to shame her for her scars. But she also hadn’t expected him to just kiss them.

“You didn’t deserve that sweetheart.” I whisper under my breath. I pull her back in leaving a firm kiss on her forehead before cradling her head back into my chest.

She breaks out into sobs again her arms going under mine and hugging me tightly.

She was clinging to me tightly, her sobs wrecking her body, and also making me cry.

I gently pat down her hair,as she keeps crying, trying to soothe both of us.

“Y/n.” She pulls back slightly, her arm still wrapped around me. “Do you still..” I trail off not wanting to say it. Because if I say it, it’ll be too true.

Her lip quivers as I see her glossy eyes shed tears again. She lets out a gut wrenching sob again pressing her face into my chest again, mumbling “I’m sorry”s over and over again.

I sigh sympathetically, rubbing her scalp. I knew from experience, that after crying so much, your head would hurt so bad. And even though she was still crying I wanted to soothe her.

“Honey.” I say gently pulling her away from me. Our eyes meet briefly before she looks down in shame. I gently grab her cheek again making her look back up at me.

“Where do you cut?” I ask softly. I grimace at the words leaving my lips. I calmed down not crying anymore, but my eyes staying glassy.

Her eyebrows are scrunched together as she slightly pouts. Her eyes were still glassy, threatening to break out in sobs again.

“I don’t do it often..” she whispers under her breath, trying to over herself. Her eyes close briefly shame written all other her face.

“Where.” My tone is still low, but more firm, demanding an answer.

“My thigh.” She lets one of her Chanda fall from around me resting her hand on her very upper right thigh.

My eyes soften even further. My tears had dried in my face by now, but I felt just about ready to cry again.

I shift slightly. Her hand that had still been around me going to the bottom of my shirt and keeping a firm grip on the fabric.

I put my hand on her waist my touch featherlight, not wanting to overstep. “Is this okay?”

She purses her lips. Her eyes stay locked on mine as she tries to read what I’m trying to do. But she ultimately nods.

I put both my hands on her waist and pick her up from next to me putting her on my lap. She lets out a shaky breath her eyes going wide.

“Is this okay?” I enquirer my tone staying low.

Her bottom lip wobbles again. She closes her eyes briefly. “I don’t wanna go anything.” She breaths out her voice small and almost afraid.

My own eyes widen for a second looking back at her. I just realized how bad this looked without context. But I’m not a dick. I want to comfort her, not get in her pants.

I take my hands from her waist putting them on my thighs. Yet she doesn’t make a move off of me. Her hand stayed bunched up on my shirt.

“God, I don’t mean it like that.” I breathe out. “Just, me comforting you would be easier like this?” I says slowly.

Her gaze goes up to meet mine again, her lip quivering holding herself back from crying again.

She leans forward resting her face on my collarbone. She puts her other hand on my chest too as she starts to sob again. my right hand goes to her back rubbing it gently. While my left hand goes to her thigh massaging where her scars presumably were.

Her crying makes me tear up again. So we just cry together. My hand rubbing soothing motions into her back, and my other hand finally going up to cradle her head into me further.

I whisper encouraging words. Until eventually her cries die down, and so do mine.

She pulls back slightly, her eyes red rimmed and puffy. The tip of her nose and her cheeks red. And her lips as puffy as her eyes. She is a pretty crier, but the sight still makes me feel remorseful.

I put my hand back on her right thigh gently rubbing circles on it. My other hand going to cup her cheek. She leans into my touch relaxing more. She looked more tired than anything now.

“You can always talk to me, you know that.” I breath out, finally feeling like the lump in my throat was gone.

Her hand cups my wrist keeping my hand in her face. I start to rub her cheek gently looking at her pretty face.

“You can stay with me, Nick and Chris. Alright?” She nods slightly in answer.

I move my hand from her cheek to her hair rubbing at her scalp slightly. “You want me to take you home pretty girl?” I ask softly.

After all we were still in the school parking lot.

“Please.”

Masterlist

A/N: I actually cried writing this. the first part was actually literally me. and i also used to cry a lot, and cut, so this just made me cry while writing, bcs i relate to it so much. i love you all, stay safe & clean <3

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh

[genderqueerdykes]

here's to the romance repulsed aromantics. not wanting to date or have a marriage or partnership is okay. it's not unhealthy, shameful or bad to enjoy being single and wanting to stay that way. not wanting to be involved in discussions about romance or other peoples' romantic lives is not a personal attack against the people who have them. not wanting to be touched, called pet names or shown affection is a proper boundary to establish if that's how you feel. not having an interest in fictional romances (romantic comedies, shipping, etc.). is not a moral failing. not wanting to be near or witnessing romantic displays, fictional or real does not make you an asshole.

you are allowed to assert what oversteps your boundaries. you are allowed to curate your experience online and have conversations with those you interact with in real life about your boundaries. you do not owe the world romance or time and attention for it when your needs aren't being met. your experience as an aromantic person deserves to be positive when and where possible, just like anyone else's- you do not deserve to be uncomfortable