#remembering how panicked i was when she was sick and in pain that i was just Cryingggg

[orcelito]

I would give anything for my little Tally. I've absolutely loved seeing her personality again. I love hearing her yowling at 2 am. This is not sarcasm, I genuinely do. She's such a baby. I went to the bathroom without her so she's crying out to the whole apartment trying to find where I went. So I call back to her, and then I hear her meows Approaching... and then she's with me once more, here to shadow me, bc she loves sitting next to me while I'm on the toilet. She was sitting next to me while I was folding laundry, too. She's such a sweet baby and I love her so much.

She's the cat that I mentioned was curled up on my lap and purring earlier. SUCH a sweetheart.

[qlossytbh]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 the time where you had just a little too much to drink after a party at rossis and spencer takes care of you

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 alcohol intoxication, drinking, reader gets sick, emetophobia, a bit of suggestiveness (?), lots of pet names, spencer’s a sweetheart.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.2k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 suffering a bit of a writers block but i am on a roll lately. it’s like ive got all these unfinished drafts and i can’t seem to finish them ugh. im going through my request, slowly but surely!

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Come on,” Spencer urged, wrapping a tight arm around you as you clung to his shoulder as if your life depended on it. God, your head was pounding and your own body felt like dead weight as you continued carrying yourself around.

You stumbled on your feet, too intoxicated to walk straight. The sharp stiletto heel that accompanied your dress was not working in your favor either, and they were frankly becoming quite painful.

“I need to sit down,” You slurred in a hushed yet collected manner.

“One second angel,” He whispered, reminding himself not to disrupt his neighbors.

It wasn’t your fault that Rossi's parties always consisted in a very sweet, very endless supply of the most exquisite cocktails you’d ever tasted. It’s not everyday you got to taste such bougie liquor and given your big sweet tooth, and Garcia’s pesky persistence to get you to follow along her alcohol tasting spree, all those free drinks were dangerous at your disposal.

Penelope had passed over this tart but perfectly sweetened strawberry drink she had encountered and you made the grave mistake of trying it. Just when the flavors melted in your mouth, you immediately made your way to the bar in search of your own, downing that one and three more in less than fifteen minutes.

In hindsight, that was a horrible decision. Spencer knew that if he had been glued to your hip, just like he usually was at these or any social event for that matter, he’d never let you drink as much and as fast as you did. He had nagged about something with rapid absorption and rapid increase in BAC— you were too drunk to remember any of the information he was dumping your way if you were being honest.

You began slowing down once the nausea and severe dizziness settled in. Usually, you knew your limits with alcohol. You knew how much got you drunk enough to loosen up, and you knew how much was too much, thanks to a few situations where you had to learn the hard way. However, something about the sweetness and the inability to taste any alcohol whatsoever threw you off your radar.

And here you are, dragging yourself against Spencer’s body and back into his apartment, too drunk to even walk and feeling like you were about to literally throw up any and every thing in your system.

Spencer pushed the door open, managing to balance you in his other arm as he unlocked the door swiftly. He walked in with you by his side, throwing the keys into the small metal dish by the door and now using both hands to keep you steady.

You remained quiet, trying desperately to focus on keeping the nausea down and not throwing up. “Spence,”

“What's wrong?” He asked, looking down at you as you dug your forehead into his chest, grappling at his shirt with a rough tug.

“I feel really sick,” The world around you was spinning and that pit in your stomach was getting harder to push down. He matted down the top of your tousled hair, tucking a few stray strands behind your ears.

“Do you need to throw up?” He asked, voice soft and comforting.

“I think so,” The nausea seemed to hit like a tidal wave, and all you needed was to lie down. You needed to lie down. Just the mention of puking was enough to get you to gag. Immediately freaked out and panicked, you gave a persistent nod, already pushing yourself off of him and making a very crooked B-line for the bathroom, knowing you were going to throw up.

Once past the bathroom door, you fell to your knees opening the lid of the toilet and hurling the contents of your stomach into it. You gagged, retching loudly while tears pricked the corners of your eyes and everything around you hurt.

Spencer followed closely behind, crouching beside you and pulling up your hair into a messy makeshift ponytail while his other came to rub comforting circles on your back, sitting through your discomfort by your side.

It was ironic really. Spencer had always been extremely opposed to anything germ related and this seemed to be his worst nightmare. If anyone knew about this, they’d probably not be able to believe how Spencer didn’t run in the opposite direction and quite literally ran right towards you and your germ related issues. Since he started dating you, he let certain things slide. He shared more of his personal space and didn’t mind if that included sharing things he wouldn’t tend to share around others.

He never thought twice about it if it brought you comfort. It came to him naturally, putting you and your comfort and happiness first.

You spit out the remaining acidic taste of bile into the toilet and groaned heavily. Your nostrils burned and so did the back of your throat, but all of the nausea was immediately alleviated from your system.

“Mhm, sexy,” You said, reaching over for a piece of toilet paper and wiping down your mouth. Spencer huffed a laugh through his nose, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “This is embarrassing.”

“This?” He said, voice jumping into one of fake shock. You threw a glare over your shoulder and his face immediately melted into a sweet smile, rubbing your back with just a bit more clarity. “I’ve seen you in worse predicaments,”

“How do you feel?” You turned, resting your back against the toilet after flushing the contents away and turning towards him.

“I feel better,” You mumbled, screwing your eyes shut and attempting to blink away the tears and the burning sensation of your nose.. “But I probably look very disgusting.”

He tilted his head with a shrug, wholeheartedly answering. “You don’t look disgusting,”

“Liar,” You said with narrowed eyes, smiling playfully.

He shook his head with one of his signature smiles, those that tugged slightly to the right and crinkled the corner of his eyes just perfectly. He reached up, grabbing the empty glass cup that sat on the side of his sink, and was now filled with water. He handed you the glass which you took without complaint. “Drink,”

You drank down the whole glass, wanting to get the disgusting aftertaste out of your mouth. “Better?”

“Much,” You nodded, smiling up at him, feeling instantly better but still dizzy. “I feel like, rejuvenated or something,”

You reached back to push yourself up off the ground, only for Spencer to set a firm hand on your shoulder keeping you still.

“Give yourself a minute,” He told you. “You feel better after vomiting following excessive alcohol consumption mainly due to the removal of alcohol and its irritating effects on the stomach, but you need a few seconds.”

You hummed, picking at a rhinestone on your dress. “Does that mean I should expel all my stomach's contents everytime I overdrink to feel better?”

“No,” He narrowed his eyes at you. “You shouldn’t even drink enough to get to the point of having to throw up in the first place, love,”

“But those strawberry drinks were so good Spence,” You threw your head back with a pout.

“Yeah, yeah,” He dismissed with a playful tone. He hooked his fingers around your elbows. “Up,”

You steadied yourself with a tight grip on his shoulders and winced at the bright white light of the bathroom. He pushed you back, knocking the back of your knees into the toilet and forcing you to sit down on it with a soft thud. He crouched down and reached over to knead at the straps of your heel and promptly remove them.

He set them to the side and wordlessly moved into his room, grabbing one of his spare t-shirts and making his way back into the bathroom, where you watched him with weary eyes and a very sleepy but adoring smile.

Everything felt fuzzy but just seeing him work his way around you with such ease made your heart beat insanely.

“It’s not fair that you’re so pretty,” You voiced. Spencer opened his mouth to answer but could only mustered a stammered chuckle, blushing profusely but trying to resist laughing at the slurring in your voice.

“I’m pretty?” He asked. You nodded.

“Very,” He reached his hands out, grabbing yours and pulling you up.

“Is it okay if I take your dress off?” He asked, turning you around so your back was facing him. His fingers skimmed across your already exposed shoulders and back and everything felt so heightened that you shuddered at the ghost of his touch.

“Thought you’d never ask,” You said, shooting him a suggestive smile over your shoulder. He said your name with a warning, not faltering in the slightest.

“I’m kidding!” For the most part at least.

“Well, given since you can’t sleep in this dress,” His calloused fingers traced your shoulders in a soothing rhythm. “I brought you one of my shirts but I need to take off your dress in order to put it on,”

Your body seemed to feel magnetized to the floor, pulling your every movement down with a huge weight. Which was probably the alcohol having its effect on you. You felt stupefied but all you could think of was just how tired you were.

“That’s fine Spence,” You murmured, allowing his fingers to skim down your shoulders and towards the dress's zipper. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to rest them while his hands moved around your back.

He pulled it down, all so gently and smoothly that you were growing even dizzier than you were with more than three cocktails in you.

“I love this dress,” You stated, watching as the sleeves loosened from your shoulders and began sliding down. The cold air hit your bare skin and you merely shivered as it fell and rested on the plush flesh of your hips.

“So do I,” He smiled, slipping his own shirt over your head. You huffed as he pushed the dress down your hips, allowing his shirt to fall over your upper body and cover you as best as it could while picking up the pool of fabric from the floor and laying it out against the toilet. “You looked very beautiful.”

You really did. The way that specific black sequined dress hugged your figure in every single angle and crease possible, flaunting off your body shape perfectly, made Spencer weak at his knees. He didn’t know how he didn’t drop everything the second he saw you to pull you elsewhere private and kiss you until neither of you could breathe.

“Looked? As in past tense?” You turned, facing him with a fake betrayal plastered across your features. “That’s rude,”

“You are insufferable,” He reached back, grabbing your spare toothbrush and putting a nice amount of toothpaste on it. “Now let me brush your teeth so I can kiss you,”

You surrendered your never ending teasing with a sigh, grabbing the hem of his shirt as he held your chin tenderly, brushing your teeth. Throughout the whole three minutes, you couldn’t hold back from allowing yourself to re-learn every single scratch and line on Spencer’s face, engraving its every detail and beauty into a small space in your brain.

Once he was finished and you had rinsed your mouth out with water, you were eternally grateful that the acidic taste in your mouth and lips had been replaced with a fresh minty one. “There,”

You hummed, pulling Spencer in by the said hem of his t-shirt and tilting your chin up towards him, smiling at him like an idiot. “Hi,”

“Hey,” His hands reached up, cradling your face tenderly in his palms, pouring any and every ounce of love he had in him onto you with a firm kiss.

“My legs are killing me,” You said, nuzzling your nose into his cheek and hugging his torso. He rubbed your back with a kiss on the top of your forehead. “I want to lay down,”

“I know but I need to get your makeup off, angel,” He murmured.

You groaned, needing to just get to bed or else you’d literally collapse “You specifically know that if you leave it on overnight, the buildup of makeup, along with dirt, oil, and pollutants that you collect on your skin throughout the day accumulates on its surface and can cause skin issues and breakouts.”

You narrowed a glare. “Yeah, yeah, I guess you’re right,”

“I always am,” He smiled proudly.

“Okay now you’re just pushing it,” He reached back, grabbing a makeup removing wipe from its respective package and dragging it very smoothly across your cheeks, lips, eyes and forehead— any part of your face he could get at. You shivered at the chilliness it gave your flared up cheeks.

Spencer was so gentle with you it made your heart swell in size at just how much attention and care he put into everything he did for you. If you weren’t as tired—and as out of it— as you were right now, you really would pull him down and kiss him anywhere (and everywhere) until your heart stopped beating as much as it was. Although realistically speaking the kissing would probably cause your palpitations to worsen.

He managed to get as much mascara off as he could but the waterproof substance stuck to the bottom of your eyes with a fierce grip. He tossed the wipe into the trashcan and quickly swiped his thumbs across the bottom of your eyes with a very docile brush.

“How do I look?” You said, narrowing your eyes with humor, knowing you probably looked absolutely disheveled. Spencer cocked a brow at you, reaching back and undoing the tie that held your hair into the gorgeous updo thing you had going on.

“Absolutely breathtaking,” He still said, pressing a chaste kiss to the bridge of your nose. His hands continued working at your hair, to which you let your eyes flicker close, resisting the uncontrollable urge to moan out loud as the pads of his fingers rubbed your irritated scalp soothingly.

“I’m sorry,” Your voice came out way more breathier than intended.

“What for?” He asked, letting his hands rest on the side of your neck.

“This,” It wasn’t exactly flattering— the state he had seen you in. And for some reason you felt embarrassed at the thought of him seeing you so exposed and in some shape or form. “I don’t know I feel like I made a fool of myself,”

He furrowed his brows. “I don’t know— I feel guilty that you have to take care of me.”

“But I love taking care of you,” He murmured, instilling such a delicate tone with you that it was impossible to feel uncertain about anything. “Don’t say sorry,”

He kissed you, perfectly, just like he always did. “If you say so,”

It was true. Spencer loved, absolutely treasured, moments where he could take care of you in his own special way. Be gentle and remind you just how much he absolutely loved you.

“Am I done now?” You huffed, slumping forward as all the bones in your body begged to sleep.

“Mhm,” He pulled back, scanning you entirely. “Good to go.”

[lixie-phoria]

↳ ♡₊˚. rest please ꒱

9th!member reader falling sick from overwork and stress

requested - yes // Would you be able to possibly do a skz x ninth reader where she’s not feeling well and like throws up everywhere, and chan and the members help her though her not feeling well then specifically chan?

gn!reader x ot8 // warnings - reader is overworked, faints, mentions of diets, reader throws up (lmk if I missed anything!)

there is only one bang chan. you're sure of it. but as you stand up from the floor of the dance room, you see double images of your leader looking at you in confusion.

"yn?"

his voice resonates through your head, like an echo from someplace far, concern woven through his urgency.

you should probably reply to him, right?

"yn? can you hear me?"

when he steps forward, the world shifts. a searing pain runs across your head, like a red hot spike drilling into your skull.

"wha-"

you see it happen in the mirror - your figure collapsing onto the ground, jeongin's panicked yell, and the thud that follows immediately after before everything goes black.

it was just the three of you in the practice room that day, the others too busy with vocal training or recording or filming. it was comeback season, and to top things off your solo project was nearing too, closely following the release of your group album. and to say that you were overworked was an understatement. you don't remember the last time you slept for longer than an hour.

your days revolved around practice, recording, photo shoots, diets, promotions, and what not. this was busiest you have ever been, and it was slowly starting to show.

you register a dull pain in your upper arm and the throbbing of your head as you blink up at the bright ceiling lights glaring at you. you're covered in sweat, lying on the couch with your head awkwardly propped up against it's arm rest.

"she's up!" someone shouts as your senses return to you slowly. you're still in the dance room, but everything feels stuffy. someone is pressing an ice pack against your forehead.

"yn you scared us!"

all the members seem to have assembled in the dance room, crowding over your figure.

"what happened?" your voice is hoarse and your head feels groggy as you sit up, leaning away from felix as he tries to push you back down.

"you fainted! you were out for nearly fifteen minutes!"

"what?"

"yeah. scared the life out of chan hyung," jeongin adds.

"of course she did! do you know how worried we were?"

you feel mortified. you can't believe you fainted in the middle of practice.

"are you ok? does anything hurt? you fell pretty hard."

you shake your head - no. of course, the pounding in your head was getting worse and you were sure you bruised your arm but you weren't going to tell them that. being the maknae meant they already babied you a lot. there was no way you would admit how sick you felt.

"alright good. let's leave then."

"leave?" you stare at chan in confusion as he goes to unplug his phone from the speaker.

"yeah. you don't think we're going to let you dance after this, right?"

your eye twitches in mild annoyance as you listen to him speak so matter of factly.

"how come i don't have a say in this?"

"because the last time we let you have your say, you passed out."

"i'm ok! i don't need a break," you hiss, eyes narrowing as chan turns to look at you exasperated.

"yn-"

"i passed out, so what? big deal! you can't just call off practice when we have an album coming out!"

your voice escalates as you snap, and the others look at you in shock.

"yn calm down-"

"stop asking me to calm down!"

you don't know where the burst of annoyance was coming from, but it was strong and red hot, urging you to take it out on your members.

"i'm fine! stop treating me like a baby!"

you push away felix's hand from your shoulder, standing up to prove your point.

but that was a big mistake.

an ugly feeling immediately rises up your chest, slithering through your throat as the world tilts again and the lights blink at you.

"fuck."

you were far from fine, and that is the last thing you register before pushing past lee know and han, running out of the room and to the nearest washroom you can find, heaving your insides out.

it's terrible, kneeling on the ground as your head pounds worse than ever and flashes fill your vision.

"yn!"

you distantly register chan's panicked voice as he skids into your cubical, wasting no time in kneeling down right beside you, pulling your hair up into a makeshift pony.

"i need you to breath, ynnie. let it all out," he whispers softly, rubbing a soothing hand up and down you back as your body tembles from the gags.

a small part of you wonders what chan is doing in the washroom, before realizing that in your hurry you probably ran into the common staff bathroom.

"are you feeling better?"

chan's hands hover behind your back as you weakly get to your feet, mustering the energy to pull the flush and rinse your mouth with water.

you can do nothing but nod, slumping against him as you exit the bathroom, and his hands immediately clasp your waist, holding you up.

"i'm so sorry," you mumble, closing your eyes as you let him guide you to wherever he decided was best.

"it's not your fault."

"i shouldn't have yelled at you."

"it's ok, yn. we all have our bad days."

you feel the cold breeze on your face as you open your eyes to see he's walking you out of the building's back door, with your manager waiting with the car.

"if I take you to the dorms will you please rest?"

your brain wants to refuse. you need to perfect your choreography. you don't have time for rest.

but your body is an entirely different story. you can barely walk or see straight.

"ok."

your voice is small, and chan immediately knows you're reluctant.

you hear him sigh softly as he helps you into the car before climbing in himself.

"ynnie, please rest. or you'll get worse and might not recover until the release day. wouldn't that be worse?"

he does have a point.

"and taking a break is okay. you're doing so well, you don't have to push yourself when there's nothing you're lacking in."

he ruffles your hair softly as you lean into the seat.

"thank you."

"don't thank me when I didn't even realise how overworked you were until you literally collapsed!"

you laugh softly, slightly leaning down to rest your head against his shoulder.

"don't blame your-"

you're cut off when Chan's ringtone blares into the silence and he jumps slightly, fishing out the device from his pocket.

"fuck."

"what's wrong?" You turn to look at his steadily paling face.

"I forgot to tell the others you're okay and I'm taking you back to the dorms."

"shit," you agree, wincing as chan hesitantly slides the accept button.

"hello...?"

"YAH WHERE ARE YOU BOTH WE'VE BEEN SEARCHING THE BUILDING FOR THE PAST 10 MINUTES IS YN OKAY?"

lee know is loud, and chan has to lean away from his phone as the second oldest's voice comes out loud enough as though he's on speaker.

"minho-ah I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you guys. She's okay now we're going to the dorms."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU FORGOT?"

you sigh before taking the phone from chan as his wince deepens.

"I'm okay. I'm so sorry for worrying you but please calm down."

the change in lee know's voice is so immediate it earns a snort from chan.

"oh yn, of course! Please take care, I'll bring back some soup and ramen for you when we come back from practice."

"thank you! Now please stop worrying."

you hand back chan his phone as he flashes you a grateful smile.

"i hope he brings me back ramen and soup too."

©lixie-phoria, 2024

taglist - @foxinnie8 @hamburgers101 @starlostlaiba @jiisungllvr (send an ask to be added/removed)

[silverb0wties]

Lemonade - Part 5

leah williamson x alessia russo x child!reader

Summary: When something bad happens to your Mummy and Daddy, you end up living with your Aunty Lessi and Aunty Leah.  But is there room for you considering they have a new baby on the way?

Chapter Summary: the aftermath of your concussion

Warnings: pregnancy, self-harm, disordered eating, bullying

a/n: sorry if this chapter is a little bit dark in parts. if you're still reading the series, thanks so much for sticking with me. I appreciate it more than you know.

|| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 ||

PART 5

You woke up on a plastic bed in a room that smelled like the awful cream your Mummy would rub on her legs after Netball, surrounded by a million different kinds and colours of sellotape.

You could hear voices, and you looked over to the corner of the room to find your Aunty Leah consoling your Aunty Lessi as she cried.  She looked distraught, her eyes red and puffy with tears.

“I should have known it would overwhelm her.  I was just so excited to share this with her…”

“Babe, she’s going to be okay.  We’re still learning all this, yeah?”

“But we’re meant to protect her, and… and I- I…” Aunty Lessi choked on her words before Aunty Leah cut her off.

“And I should have had a tighter grip on her when I saw she was panicking.  Like I said, we’re both still learning how to do this.  The medics said she’s got a bit of a concussion, but she’ll be alright.  We know how concussions work, so we’ve just got to keep our eyes on her and make sure she gets lots and lots of rest.”

There was a quiet knock at the door, before an important looking lady with a clipboard came in.

“Less, sorry but we need to know if you’re going to play the second half or not?” she asked.

As your Aunties turned toward the door, they realised that you were awake.

“Oh Bunny, sweetie, you’re awake.  How are you feeling?” your Aunty Lessi rushed over to you, her hands coming down to gently cradle the sides of your head.

You looked up at her a bit stunned, rather confused about why you were where you were and why everyone seemed so upset.

“Does your head hurt?  Do you feel sick or dizzy at all?” she asked, her hand softly brushing through your hair.

You tried to think about if you felt sick or dizzy, but all you could really feel was a powerful throbbing rattling through your head.  You also felt really, really tired.  But you had just woken up, so that could perhaps explain that.  You don’t remember going to sleep though, which was starting to concern you.

“I feel okay,” you replied, trying to brush away your Aunty’s concern.

“Alessia, sorry, we need t-” the lady at the door began to ask again.

“I won’t be playing, sorry.  My family is more important right now,” Aunty Lessi told her.

“Less, you should go play.  I’ll stay with Bunny and make sure she’s-”

Your Aunty Lessi whipped around to face Aunty Leah. “No, Leah.  I’m not leaving her.  She’s hurt.   We’ll get a car to take us back to the training centre so we can go home early,” she insisted firmly.

Aunty Leah replied with a sad smile and a nod.  “I’ll go get our stuff packed up then, yeah?”

“I’m okay Aunty Lessi, you should play!” you tried to insist.

“No Bunny, there would be no point in me playing anyways.  I would be so distracted out there and worrying about you I would probably kick the ball into the wrong goal by mistake.”

By the time you finally got back home that night, your head was still pounding and you were struggling to stay awake.  You were trying your hardest to be big and brave and pretend like you were okay, but as soon as you stepped into bath, your whole façade fell apart.  As the warm water lapped at your tense muscles, which you now realised you’d been clenching in an effort to distract from the pain in your head, your resolve melted and you began to weep.

You brought your knees up to your chest and dropped your head forward, your hands entwining at the back of your head as your little body shook with each sob.  The tears and jagged breaths only intensified the pain in your head though, which in turn caused more tears and jagged breaths.  You tried your hardest to stay as quiet as possible, but you were aware that your cries were becoming increasingly vocal.

There was soon a soft knock at the door, followed by your Aunty Lessi’s voice.  Whilst making sure you still got clean and dressed, your Aunties had always tried to give you your privacy while bathing and dressing, which you appreciated.  They were your Aunties, but it still felt weird being undressed around people who weren’t your parents.

“Bunny?  Are you okay?” she called through the closed door.

“It hurts” you cried in response.

“What hurts honey?”

“Everything.  My head hurts most.”

“How about we give you some medicine to make it hurt less, yeah?”

“Okay.”

“And then we can get you to bed, and you can try and get some rest, alright?”

“Okay.”

There was a short pause.  You’d assumed your Aunty had gone away to get the medicine, but then you heard her voice again.

“Bun, you don’t always have to try and be big and brave y’know?  If you’re hurting, you can tell us.  Always.  I promise you won’t be in trouble or we won’t make fun of you or anything.  We just want you to feel okay.”

“Okay.”

You didn’t fully believe her.  You wanted to, but a part of you still believed that there was only so much love and affection to go around and you needed to space that out at least until Lemonade arrived.  You didn’t want to use it all up on this incident.

So you tried your hardest to push the pain down and away as you quickly washed yourself.  You managed to get yourself up and out of the bath and wrapped in a towel before there was a knock at the door again.

“You can come in,” you mumbled, making sure the towel was secured tightly under your arms.

Your Aunty Lessi entered with a little cup filled with pink medicine and a cup of water.  She kneeled down to your height as she offered it to you.

“Now it says strawberry flavoured on the bottle, so hopefully it won’t taste too bad.”

You gingerly took the cup and gulped the medicine down, wincing at the distinctly fake strawberry taste.  You quickly grabbed the cup of water from your Aunty’s other hand and skulled that down to wash away the lingering flavour.

“Good job, Bun.  Now let’s get you into your PJ’s and into bed, yeah?”

By the time you were under the covers, arms tightly wrapped around your beloved Arthur, the pain in your head had dulled to only a mild ache.

“Goodnight sweet girl” your Aunty Lessi whispered, kissing the top of your head.

“Night Aunty Lessi” you mumbled back.

It was the first time you slept through the night without waking up to a nightmare since the fire.

--

You woke up to the smell of Aunty Lessi’s lasagne wafting through the house.  However, as you opened your eyes and came to your senses, you immediately panicked. 

You were not in your own bed. 

You were in your Aunties bed.

You had no idea how you’d come to be in their bed.  The last thing you remembered you were lying on the floor in the loungeroom studying one of the books the Arsenal girls had given you about football.  You were trying to understand where all the different positions were on the pitch and what responsibilities each position had.  You had been figuring out the difference between a centre-back and a full-back when you had… fallen asleep.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

Whilst it had been a few days now since your accident and you’d had a couple of days off school and your head no longer hurt, you were still feeling extra extra tired from your concussion.  You’d spent most of that day at school trying to hide your yawns from your teacher and classmates.  When you’d been given some free time after finishing one of your activities ahead of the rest of the class, the same group of students that always seemed to catch you at your weakest had caught you dozing off in the corner of the room where you’d been reading.  They’d tied your shoelaces together and were starting to draw on your arm when you woke up.  You hadn’t realised they’d also put rolled up pieces of paper in your hair braid until your Aunty Leah pointed them out when she picked you up.

You’d tried to brush it off and said it was just a game all the kids were playing with each other, but the concerned frown your Aunty gave you implied she didn’t quite believe your lie.

“You know you can tell us if there’s anything going wrong at school, yeah?  If anyone’s picking on you or calling you names or anything?”

You just nodded.  There was no way you would ever tell your Aunties what was really happening at school.  You would just deal with it like a big girl.  Push through.  Be brave.  They had bigger things to worry about than some kids putting paper in your hair and saying mean things.  Your Aunty Leah was growing a human AND mending her busted knee for heaven’s sake!  You could deal with some silly paper in your hair.

When you’d got back to the house, you went straight to your room to undo your braid and pluck all the little pieces of paper from your hair.  You’d counted them (23 in total) before scrunching them up and throwing them in the little wastepaper basket beside your desk. 

As the paper hit the basket, a tiny ball of raging heat began bubbling in your chest.  You didn’t know what to do with it or how to describe it, but it made you want to stomp your feet and hit a wall and scratch at your skin.  You’d never been the best at describing emotions, but you were pretty certain this wasn’t sadness.  Perhaps, this was anger? Frustration? Disappointment? 

The tiny ball continued to bubble and grow as you lunged for your bed where Arthur lay.  You attempted desperately to use your tried and tested method of rubbing his ear against your cheek to calm the feeling, and whilst it felt nice, it did nothing to soothe your need to stomp or hit or scratch.

You searched your room urgently for something else to ease the searing heat in your chest, even gulping down the remnants of a cup of water on your bedside table.  But nothing worked.  You needed to stomp or hit or scratch.  You knew couldn’t stomp your feet or hit a wall, because that would be loud, and your Aunty would hear and come ask what was wrong.  So, you decided to scratch. 

You had to pick somewhere not too visible so that if you left a mark, nobody would see and ask what happened.  So, you tugged up the hem of your school dress and pushed down your tights and began scratching at the skin at the top of your right thigh.

The relief was instant. 

The second your nails dug into your flesh, the little ball of heat in your chest began to cool.  You scratched and scratched, and scratched some more until it finally, finally disappeared.  By the time you eventually stopped, your skin was stinging, and your fingers were cramping.  But the little ball of heat was gone, and that was all that mattered.

There was a gentle knock on the door as you speedily pulled your tights back up, wincing as they brushed against your newly tender skin.

Your Aunty Leah popped her head in through the door, “Bun, do you want a snack? I got some blueberry muffins from the bakery…”

“Oh… um, yeah, I’ll be right down, just getting that paper out of my hair,” you mumbled, quickly running your fingers through the ends of your messy blonde mane.

“Alright, I’ll pop them in the microwave to warm them up,” she replied before heading back downstairs to do so.

As you heard her footsteps fade away, you turned around and pulled your tights down again, trying with all your might not to release a pained noise as the fabric ripped away from your newly raw skin.  The area you’d scratched was an angry red colour and the skin seemed wet, but there was no blood, which whilst a relief, made no sense to you.

Not wanting to keep your Aunty waiting, you hastily pulled your tights the rest of the way off and threw them in your laundry hamper.  The house was warm enough, but you decided to grab your soft little blanket that had purple and grey clouds, as well as the book on football you had been reading and the little notebook you’d been making notes in (and Arthur of course), and head downstairs.

“Perfect timing Bun, just took them out of the microwave.  Do you want a drink?”

“I’m okay.  Thank you, Aunty Leah, this looks lovely” you replied, climbing up onto a stool in front of the kitchen bench where a little plate with a yummy looking blueberry muffin sat.

“Well, we all know the kitchen is Aunty Lessi’s domain.  That woman can cook like a dream!  But I’m not too shabby at picking out a good pastry.  I guess you could say bread and bread-adjacent foods are my domain,” she teased.

You giggled as you tucked into your muffin, appreciating your Aunty Leah’s silly jokes about how bad at cooking she was and how limited the range of foods she ate was.  Your extended family often seemed to tease her a bit about being a picky eater and she would usually laugh it off or join in on the joke.  But you knew it was something she was actually a bit self-conscious about. 

A few days into your stay here you’d gone to the fridge to grab some milk for your cereal and had accidentally knocked a container off a shelf.  As you bent down to pick it up, you noticed a little letter stuck to the lid that read “Leah, my love, it’s okay if you can’t eat this.  I know you tried and I’m proud of you.  Please just make sure you eat something or at least have a protein smoothie.  For you and for ‘L’.  Love you – xx Less.”  You’d immediately felt guilty for reading it as you rushed to put it back on the shelf, knowing you’d intruded on a bit of your Auntie’s privacy.  You’d seen a few similar little notes stuck to containers since then.  At the time you’d been very confused about what “for you and for ‘L’” meant, but you had since figured out it meant ‘for you and for Lemonade’. 

When you finished your muffin, you wriggled off the stool and headed over to place your plate in the dishwasher.

“Are you done with your plate too, Aunty Leah?” you offered.

“Oh, thanks sweetie, you didn’t have to do that,” she replied as she passed you her plate with a smile.  “Feel free to watch something on the telly if you want.  I’ve got a bit of boring adult housework stuff to catch up on before Aunty Lessi gets home.”

“Is there anything you need help with?” you asked.

“No, no.  I’ve just got to do a couple of loads of laundry and there’s no way I would make you deal with Aunty Lessi’s gross smelly training socks!  It’s bad enough poor little Lemonade is stuck with me and can’t escape from it,” she laughed, jokingly shielding her belly from the smell.

“Is it okay if I just read in the loungeroom?” you asked.

“Of course it is!  Just remember if your head starts to hurt or you’re feeling too tired or anything, to have a rest, yeah?” she smiled at you, stroking her fingers affectionately through your hair.

“I will, thank you.”

So, you made yourself comfortable in a little spot on the loungeroom floor, surrounded by a couple of cushions, the blanket you’d brought down from your room and, of course, Arthur.  Soon you were laying on your belly, nose deep in the book and jotting down notes in your notebook all about what a penalty shootout was and what circumstances led to one.  You drew a little picture of the goal and the line markings and where the goalie had to stand and where the other players had to stand, before turning back to the book to read about in-game penalties when slowly but suddenly you… were… asleep.

The next thing you knew you were waking up in your Auntie’s bed to the smell of your Aunty Lessi’s lasagna.

The realisation hit you like a hundred bolts of lightning.

You’d slept in someone else bed.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

Bad things happen when you sleep in someone else’s bed.

The last time you’d slept in someone else’s bed, your house burned down, and your Mummy and Daddy had died.

You jumped out of the bed as though it was burning you, panic rattling all through your little body.

“Bad. Bad. Bad.”

Your right hand began hitting at the side of your head before you even knew it was happening.

“Bad. Bad. Bad.”

Your other hand clawed at the skin of your neck, scratching determinedly at the tender skin there.

“Bad! Bad! Bad!”

You tried so hard to stop them, but your feet began to stomp loudly, your whole body seemingly moving with a mind of its own.  Everything around you seemed like it was spinning.  You thought you could smell smoke and when your eyes began to water you weren’t sure if it was because you were crying or if it was because there was actually smoke. 

You vaguely heard a commotion and saw the door swing open, but everything around you continued to spin making you feel like throwing up.  You couldn’t throw up in your Auntie’s bedroom!

“Bad! Bad! Bad!”

“Bunny?  Sweetie, what’s going on?”

You could hear your Aunty Lessi’s voice and feel her presence, but the only word you could think was ‘BAD’.

“Bad! Bad! Bad!”

The word kept falling from your lips and you continued to stomp and hit and scratch.

“Okay, Bun.  I’m going pick you up so you stop hurting yourself sweetie.  I need to make you nice and safe, alright?”

Again, you heard your Aunty but all you could think was ‘BAD’.

“Bad! Bad! Bad!”

Carefully you felt your Aunty wrap her arms around you, trapping your arms and lifting you off the ground.  You struggled as your body fought to keep hitting and scratching and stomping, but she gently tugged your hands away from your neck and head, tucking them tightly against her chest.

“You’re okay, lovely.  You’re safe, I promise.  It’s just you, me and Aunty Leah here okay.  Nothing bad is going to happen alright?  We’re safe.  You’re safe.  Everything’s okay…”

“Bad. Bad. Bad.”

“What do you mean by bad, Bun?” Aunty Lessi asked.

You shook your head, unable to explain yourself.  All you could say was “bad.”

“Oh sweetie, you haven’t done anything bad.  You’re not in any kind of trouble.  I promise.  And nothing bad is going to happen either, okay?” she whispered.

You began to slowly unclench in her arms, comforted by the soothing way she was swaying gently.  Eventually you opened your eyes to see your Aunty Leah standing in the doorway watching on, her face red and blotchy as though she’d been crying.

You immediately came back into your body, realising whatever you’d just done had upset your Aunty Leah.  You tried to wriggle slightly to free yourself from your Aunty Lessi’s grip, but she tightened her hold.

“Not yet sweetie.  I need to what’s going on?  What happened?” she asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed with you in her lap.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.  I didn’t mean to be bad and upset Aunty Leah.  I’m so sorry.  I promise I’ll be good.  I promise.”

“Darling, you didn’t upset me” your Aunty Leah assured you as she came over to sit next to Aunty Lessi on the bed.

“But your face is blotchy like you’ve been crying” you replied, your Aunty Lessi finally loosening her grip on her as your reached toward Aunty Leah.

“Well, it’s because I have been, but it’s not because you upset me.  I’m just worried about you is all.  Why were you hurting yourself?” she asked, taking your hand in hers.

“I just had to.  I don’t know.  I just did.  I was bad.”  You jumped off Aunty Lessi’s lap and started pacing on the floor in front of her and Aunty Leah.   “I woke up in this bed and I had no idea why I was in your bed and all I could think was ‘bad’ and I just did it without realising.”

“I washed your sheets and they’re in the dryer.  So, when you fell asleep on the loungeroom floor, I just put you in here for your nap.  I didn’t mean for it to upset you so much, sweetie,” Aunty Leah explained, tears still rolling down her cheeks.

“You didn’t upset me, I just I don’t want you and Aunty Lessi and Lemonade to die too!”

You heard your Aunties gasp at your explanation, but you just kept pacing, trying to figure out a way to stop the inevitable from happening.

“Bunny, oh my goodness, why would Aunty Leah and Lemonade and I die because you had a nap in our bed?”

“Because that’s what happened when I slept in Mummy and Daddy’s bed!”

You watched as your Aunties exchanged a series of looks.  The seemed confused and shocked, which was confusing and shocking to you, because it all seemed so obvious.

“Darling, your Mummy and Daddy didn’t die because you slept in their bed,” Aunty Leah tried to tell you.

“Yes, they did!  They did.  They DID!  I know they did!  It’s the only thing different I did that night from all the other nights.  I had done so so good all summer getting into my big girl routine and kept it up really well for the first couple of weeks of school.  But then… then I slipped up, and I was bad and I asked to sleep in bed with Mummy and Daddy that night.  And and th- the fire happened.  And if I had of been in my own room, I could have got myself out.  Because we’d practiced.  Daddy made sure we practiced.  And and and then… then Da-Daddy wouldn’t have needed to get me out and he could have helped Mummy because of her leg.  And they could have got out too.  But I was bad.  I slept in a bed that wasn’t mine.  When I should have just slept in my own bed, like a good girl.  Like a big girl.  And now they’re dead.  They’re both dead.  And it’s my fault.  And now what if you die too!?”

[uwukillmenowowo]

Hi! I saw that you wrote Cookie Run Kingdom and I LOVED the story Curiosity! When you have time, maybe you can continue it? And take your time, no need to rush! ✨✨💙🩵💙🩵:3

IVE HAD TO REWRITE THIS FOUR WHOLE TIMES BECAUSE IT NEVER SAVED!

HOLY FUCK I'M ACTUALLY MAD NOW BECAUSE I HAVE TO KEEP CHANGING STORYLINES SINCE I CAN'T REMMEBER THEM

(ง╥̃ ⏥╥̃)ง

Curiosity Pt. 2

[PLATONIC]

(Parent! Elder Fairie Cookie X Reader X Parental! Beast Cookies)

(Slight White Lily X Reader)

Notes:

Reader will be Non-binary

After the battle, you started questioning not only yourself. But your father too

I kinda didn't know what I was doing here so sorry if it's short lol

;w;

How did the beasts know you? Did your father know? how come you didn't? Why can't you remember what happened during your childhood?

{Second POV}

~~~~~

You were extremely happy for White Lily when your father threw a celebration party for her. The other Faeries who didn't accept her before, accepted her now. Her party so far was going great.

But after the first three months you started feeling... off...

This wasn't like the other times. Normally you would be by either your father's side or the side of whoever the party was for.

But after the battle, you just couldn't shake that strange feeling of remembrance. You don't remember ever meeting the beasts. So how they know your name is.... quite concerning.

Did your father know about this? What about the other Faerie Cookies?

Going off on your own, you walked and walked until you were at the entrance of the kingdom. You knew that leaving a party without telling anyone is disrespectful but you just need the alone time.

Walking out of the kingdom, you made your way a bit further from the kingdom. You just couldn't shake your thoughts off the fight.

The beasts knew your name and said that your voice was familiar. How they knew you, you have no clue. You were scared, nervous, concerned.

Too many emotions at once.

You walked and walked until you made it to the 'Misty Peaks' as your Father called it. He said that it used to be the home of one of the beasts before they perished.

You used to come here a lot as a kid. The height of the peaks granted me a full view of the kingdom, but since it was normally pretty far, you would only come here once every now and again.

You made it to the top of the peaks and took a seat. Taking a breath of the high altitude air, you started to feel at peace.

Yet at the same time... A hint of familiarity... You've never felt this the last time you were here. So what's different..?

You felt a chill run down your spine as you looked around. Only to see no one there. You tried to go back down, but suddenly, you found yourself surrounded by mist. You panicked and tried to run downwards, but it only ended up with you tripping and falling the rest of the way down the mountain.

Meanwhile, from behind her seal, the former Wheat Cookie of Volition tisked in frustration. She was saving the power (Unlike Shadow Milk Cookie) that slowly seeped out for that moment. Now it was wasted.

Back to you, who groaned heavily. Your dough landed on a sharp crystal rock and now you started bleeding. You gasped in pain before you started to use your magic to heal yourself.

Yes, you knew magic. One time you fell into the river when trying to look at the pixies, you scrapped your knee on the riverbed and your father was worried sick. He made you learn healing magic so that you don't have to endue pain for so long.

Slowly, you felt your dough getting better and crispier. You sighed in relief and started to head home.

When you got back, you saw that everyone was just as lively for White Lily's party as when you left. No one had practically realized that you had left in the first place.

All excpet one.

You were hanging by the silver tree, gazing at it and the vines that blocked the seal. "[Reader] Cookie? Is everything okay?" You flinched and turned around. "W-White Lily Cookie! What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be partying?" "Eheh~ I could say the same to you" White Lily giggled and you could feel your dough warming up.

"So... what's up?" You asked, rubbing the back of your neck. "Well. Everyone is warming up to me now. But it's already been a few months. I'm kind of shocked that parties last so long." White Lily stood by my side as we both gazed downwards into the clear river below. "Yeah. We do love our parties." I chuckled.

White Lily and I then just started to talk about the party and how we were getting tired of the loudness.

'Perhaps it was better to ignore that for now. The party is for White Lily.' You thought ignorantly as continued to talk with the cookie beside you.

Meanwhile, the beasts from beyond the seal glared at White Lily Cookie. Ignorance may be bliss but this was unprecedented. Especially for you.

The beasts glared harder at White Lily Cookie. They needed to get you away from her. So that you can remember your life with them. You don't belong with them! You're one of the beasts! it's no fair that those... faeries... can keep al of you to themselves.

They lost you once.

They won't lose you again...

My train of thought went "Bye Bye" Mario style

Soo I'm kinda just not- feeling the motivation rn

T_T

[rue-t]

Second Place – Part 2

The silence after the wreck.

TW: Emotional neglect, heartbreak, loneliness

⸻

You were discharged four days after the crash.

Still bandaged. Still aching. Still alone.

The nurse walked you to the curb. “Is someone coming to pick you up?” she asked gently, eyeing your hospital bag, the stiffness in your steps.

You nodded. “I’ll call a cab.”

She looked like she wanted to say more. She didn’t.

You climbed into the back seat of a city taxi with a stitched-up cheek, broken ribs, and a silence inside you that screamed louder than anything else. You stared out the window as the city blurred past, thinking—not for the first time—how utterly invisible you’d become.

When you got home, it was exactly as you left it.

Untouched. Quiet.

No flowers. No note.

No key in the bowl. No shoes by the door.

He hadn’t been back.

You lowered yourself into bed slowly, breathing through the pain in your side. You thought maybe—maybe—he’d call tonight. Maybe, when Bahrain quieted down, when the adrenaline wore off, when the lights dimmed, he’d feel it. The pull. The need to check in. To ask if you were okay.

You waited.

All night.

The call never came.

⸻

Three days passed.

You watched the race on TV out of habit. He placed second. You saw him step onto the podium, champagne in hand, his smile beaming. He looked happy. You wondered if he even remembered that you were barely walking, still sleeping with painkillers on your nightstand.

Still alive.

Just barely.

You turned the TV off halfway through the interviews.

⸻

By the time he came back from Bahrain, a week had passed. You were sitting at the kitchen table, sorting through medical bills when you heard the door unlock.

You didn’t move.

He walked in, dropped his bag, and smiled like nothing was wrong. “Finally home,” he sighed, stretching. “You wouldn’t believe how hot it was out there—”

You didn’t respond.

He looked up, his smile fading. “Hey. You okay?”

You blinked once. “You’re asking now?”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

You stood slowly, every movement stiff, your breath shallow. The stitches on your cheek itched. The ribs still throbbed with every inhale.

“I almost died, Charles.”

The words came out too quietly.

He blinked. “I know. I texted you. I was—”

“You texted me,” you cut in, your voice sharper now. “Two days after I got hit. No call. No check-in. No flight home. Just one sentence. ‘Glad you’re okay.’ Like I had the flu.”

He looked down, suddenly quiet.

You stepped closer. “Where were you? When I was bleeding in a wrecked car? When I was unconscious in a hospital bed? When they told me I might not walk again without surgery?” Your voice cracked, finally. “Where the hell were you?”

“I was working,” he said softly, like it excused everything. “I couldn’t leave the team. You know how it is.”

You stared at him.

That was it. That was all he had to say.

You let out a bitter breath of laughter, tears stinging behind your eyes. “Right. The team. The car. The sponsors. The media. Always something more important than me.”

He stepped forward, suddenly panicked. “That’s not fair. I didn’t know it was that bad. You should’ve told me—”

“I did tell you,” you said, shaking your head. “I begged. I begged you to come home when I was sick. I waited for you at my father’s funeral. I tried to celebrate our anniversary alone while you were drinking on a boat.”

His silence told you he remembered. Every single one.

“I was never asking you to choose me over racing, Charles. I just wanted to matter too. Even just a little.”

He opened his mouth—closed it. No words came.

You nodded to yourself. You weren’t even angry anymore.

Just done.

You moved past him, walked into the bedroom, and quietly started packing a bag. You didn’t take much. A few things. Just enough.

When you came out again, he was still standing in the kitchen like he didn’t know what just happened.

“I need more than this,” you said gently. “And you don’t have it to give.”

He looked at you like he wanted to stop you. But he didn’t.

Maybe he couldn’t.

Maybe he didn’t know how.

Or maybe he just didn’t care enough.

You left with the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

He didn’t follow.

[howi99]

Project ARC remake 20

Qrow: *rolling his eyes* This is getting ridiculous, Ozpin. Glynda is a complete mess and Jaune regressed mentally to a 10 year old?

Ozpin: *sigh* From what i understood, speaking with him, it's less that he has the mental faculties of a 10 year old and more that he has the memories of one. He's also slowly getting his memory from Beacon back, so he should be able to reintegrate-

Qrow: Oz! *Slamming his hand on the table* We both know he can't go back soon. *Looking pissed* The kid is having phantom pains from- *shaking his head* urgh, just thinking about it makes me sick.

Ozpin: *sigh* So you want me to go against Glynda's wish and warn Atlas that we found him?

Qrow: ... Can't believe myself for saying that, but yes. *Drink from his flask* It's either that, or the kid might remember something he really shouldn't.

___________________________________________

Glynda: *looking at her little brother with pain in her heart* Jaune...

Jaune: *wearing an eye patch* W-well, the pain disappears when i'm blocking my vision. So with that, i should be fine, ok? *Smile* You don't need to worry too much about me, right?

Glynda: ...

Jaune: *scratching the back of his neck* Look, i won't be long. I'm just gonna get some eggs and prepare some Vale toast.

Glynda: *panicking* J-Jaune, wait i-

Jaune: *putting his hand on her shoulder* Sis, you can't be with me all the time. *Calming smile* I won't disappear or anything. Just... Sit and relax. Think of today as a vacation day, ok?

Glynda: ... *Looking at the ground* Ok...

Jaune: *nod* Good. I'll be back in a jiffy! *Leave*

Glynda: *closing her eyes* It's gonna be fine, he's gonna be fine...

___________________________________________

Cinder: Tsk, nothing to eat. *Closing the fridge door, taking a look at the rest of the little studio she took for herself with a sigh* At least, i'm not living with that psychopath... And it's comfier than Evernight. *As she said those words, her stomach grumbled* Urgh, fine, i'll go buy something to eat. *She puts casual clothes on herself before leaving the apartment*

___________________________________________

Cinder: *panicking, as the man who fought her in Mistral is now smiling at her with a dumb look* I-i-i-i-

Jaune: *looking apologetically at her* Sorry to have startled you, but could you take a step to the left? *Point behind her* i'm trying to get some milk and-

Cinder: *trying to protect herself from what she is assuming is going to be round two of her getting almost killed* I-i know how to defend myself and-

Jaune: *perplexed* What? *Realising he's completely in her personal space* O-oh, sorry! I didn't mean to frighten you! *Sheepish laugh* I lost a lot of memories and i keep forgetting i'm not just a kid anymore.

Cinder: *blinking* U-uh!?

Jaune: So uh... *Point, again, behind her* Can i get the milk?

Cinder: ... *Shaking her head, stepping aside* You can take it! I-i don't need it.

Jaune: *smile* Thank you.

Cinder: *still completely terrified* S-sure, no problem!

___________________________________________

Cashier: Sorry, but your credit card was declined.

Cinder: *slumping* But i only took some bread...

Jaune: *who just finished packing up his food* Would you like to eat with me and my sister?

Cinder: *startled* WHAH! S-STOP APPEARING FROM NOWHERE!

Jaune: *wince* S-sorry, i just wanted to make up for the fright i caused you...

Cinder: *looking at the loaf of bread in her hand then at the mountain of food Jaune is bringing back to "his" apartment* I... *Her hunger won over her fear* Fine. B-but just a quick bite.

Jaune: *smiling* Of course!

___________________________________________

Cinder: *sitting at the table of the second in command of Ozpin and the thing that tried to kill her* ...

Glynda: *sigh* Jaune, you really should stop trying to help everyone you see. It's a bad habit.

Jaune: *who just finished making breakfast* But you always told me to be the best i can be. Isn't helping those who can't feed themselves a part of being the best i can?

Glynda: *wince* I-i know i said that, b-but people can be dangerous and i don't want you to get hurt.

Cinder: ... *Internally screaming* I-i d-didn't know she was y-your s-s-sister.

Glynda : *Eyes widening* J-Jaune!? I told you to keep people from knowing!

Jaune: *wince* I totally forgot, my bad... *Placing the "French" toast on the table, along with bacon and eggs* Can you forgive me with a little bit of bribery?

Glynda: ... *Sigh with a smile* Sure, you may buy your way out of it... For now.

Cinder: *stomach growling at the sight of the food* ...

Jaune: *smiling at the (unknown) criminal* You can pick what you want, i don't eat much anyway.

___________________________________________

Cinder: *now back at her apartment* ... *Looking at the nicely packed food Jaune gave to her* ... *Then thinking back on the "conversation" she had with Tyrian two days ago* ... That's so unfair...

[Now, for everyone that thinks Cinder is out of character, remember that A) she doesn't have any power from the maiden, so her confidence is actually low and B) she stole a part of Jaune's soul in their fight. Basically the soul of an angel which is slowly but noticeably having an impact on her own.]

[kikyoupdates]

Tears of a Villainess ⭑˚🗡️⭑ 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒

yandere!ocs x reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Reincarnation isn't as great as it sounds, especially when you've been reborn as none other than the villainess. Fated to die if you stand in the heroine's way, you immediately resolve to distance yourself from the plot. As long as you have nothing to do with any of the relevant characters, surely, you'll be able to avoid an untimely death. But in a horrible turn of events, the heroine ends up wanting to get close to you. Are you really doomed to meet the villainess' tragic end? Or is there an even more sinister fate that awaits you?

previous | story masterlist | next

Today is an important day. In fact, you might go as far as to call it the most important day of all. It’s where everything starts. Where the plot of the game officially begins to unfold. 

Today, the heroine will finally make her appearance. 

“But mommy, I don’t want to go.”

“You have to go, darling,” your mother insists, applying a light dusting of powder to her face. “We all have to go. It wouldn’t be proper for you to sit this out. The king was very clear about his instructions.”

You cross your arms and pout. This is one of the rare instances where you’ll act similar to the OG villainess, in true whiny bitch fashion. Your refusal doesn’t stem from a desire to be a pain in the ass, however. You actually have a reason for it. After all, the further you stay away from the heroine, the better your odds of survival are. 

Realistically, you know you’re being overdramatic. Nothing bad will happen tonight, especially since it’s a massive event where tons of people will be present. The dating sim opens with a scene of the heroine sobbing along with her parents, having faced repeated oppression and slander, resulting from the steady decline of their household. They are eventually chased from their own homeland and decide to start fresh somewhere else. Namely, the kingdom you currently find yourself in—Xenia. 

That’s how the game starts. But since you’re not playing from the heroine’s perspective this time, you’ve obviously skipped past that part. However, what follows is the real start to the game. The ball that the king hosts, in an attempt to welcome the heroine’s family into the kingdom and celebrate their new beginnings. All things considered, the king is actually pretty nice. They should have lost their noble status the moment they were driven from their own kingdom, but he’s been gracious enough to grant them similar titles and status.

All of the nobles are required to attend, in order to show their support and do the name of Xenia justice. Obvious exceptions can be made for people who are seriously ill, injured, perhaps too old and bedridden to leave their homes, etcetera. For a moment, you considered ‘falling sick’ and playing it up quite a bit, but then you remembered how much your parents panicked the last time you mentioned you might pass out, and you’d rather not give them any senseless heart attacks. 

So, fine. You’ll attend the stupid welcoming ball, or whatever. From what you recall, the heroine was already being harassed by the villainess this very night, but since you now have control over the villainess’ body, that obviously won’t be happening. You can just keep to yourself and let her enjoy her evening for a change. That alone should make a big difference towards overwriting any potential death flags. 

“Is there going to be an open buffet?” you ask hopefully. 

“I wouldn’t know, dearest. But I expect there will be some hors d’oeuvres or other little appetizers. Don’t worry. It will be fun. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.” 

She smiles fondly, sets her powder puff down, then tucks a small strand of hair behind your ear. Based on that telltale gleam in her eyes, it’s obvious she’s looking forward to this. She’s been getting ready for what feels like hours. Honestly, you’re not sure how she even has the patience to fuss over herself for that long.

But even if the heroine won’t pose a problem, there are three other reasons you don’t want to go.

Reason one: Alistair. 

Reason two: Flynn. 

And reason three: Rowan. 

You really don’t want to see any of those guys, but since they’re all nobles, they’re definitely going to be there. You already knew as much from the game. Only Alistair actually interacts with the heroine on the day of the welcoming ball, but the others were present, just kind of lurking in the background. 

You’ve already cut ties with Alistair, which is good. He’s actually the least of your worries, and he likely won’t even bother to acknowledge you. Well, he might throw some stink-eye your way (since you called him ugly and all that), but you suspect that he’s going to stay as far away from you as humanly possible. 

Flynn, however, is probably going to stick to your side like glue, and if Rowan catches wind of you, there’s a good chance he’ll do the same.

“Being beautiful is so much more trouble than it’s worth,” you sigh heavily. 

You hate to admit it, but maybe the villainess’ arrogance is starting to rub off on you a little bit. 

Anyways, after watching your mother take more of her sweet-ass time getting ready, and after being repeatedly chewed out for your choice of dress (you were made to change into something more formal), finally, you embark on a rickety carriage ride towards the castle. 

“I wish Fiona could have come with us,” you say, gazing out the window all wistful and overdramatic. 

Your father fiddles with his gloves. “It seems you’ve become rather fond of your personal maid. I didn’t think you’d ever take such a liking to her. But I’m afraid we’re not allowed to bring anyone along. Aside from the castle servants, the guests are only those who’ve been directly invited.” 

“I know. I’m just saying it would have been nice. I’ll probably be bored out of my skull all night. Most of those people are so boring. Also, none of them really like me.” 

“Nonsense,” your father waves off. “My dear, you’re far too cynical as of late. Everyone adores you. And why wouldn’t they?” 

Oh, I can think of a couple reasons. 

As always, your parents are utterly blind and see no flaws with their daughter whatsoever. That’s fine, though. You don’t intend to exploit their kindness, nor will you follow in the villainess’ ill-advised footsteps. You are the newly improved version of [Name]. They should call you [Name] 2.0. Or maybe even a more advanced model, like 15.5, or whatever the fuck the latest iPhone was. 

The point is, it’s fine. You’re not the villainess, which means that you’ll never make the same shitty choices, and thus, you won’t face the same consequences. 

What awaits you in this new life is nothing but sunshine, butterflies, and rainbows.

Definitely. 

Resolved to have a good time, one way or another, you do your best to relax for the rest of the carriage ride, and in the blink of an eye, you arrive at the castle. 

Whoa. 

Your lips part in awe. It’s not like you haven’t seen what it looks like before, but it’s far more impressive in person than a mere game could ever hope to convey. The whole thing is so majestic and grandiose that by comparison, your entire estate may as well be a cottage in the middle of the woods. 

“Big,” is the only seemingly appropriate response (that’s what she said), and your parents can’t help but chuckle. 

“It’s a been a while since we’ve all gathered at the castle, I suppose,” your father smiles. “This has been long overdue. I take it you’re excited to be here?” 

“Uh, sure,” you blink. “Let’s go with that.”

You follow the line of guests that are steadily trickling in. There are guards posted at the gates, knights, although you don’t spot Carmine among them. You can’t recall if he was here the evening of the welcoming ball, since the heroine never actually interacted with him. He might be posted somewhere nearby.

Everyone is required to show their invitations before entering, and your father pulls out an impressive-looking piece of paper, penned in fine ink, before lifting it up for the knights to examine. 

The frontmost knight bows his head. “Enjoy your evening, my lord, my ladies. The king welcomes all of you.” 

You step past him and proceed further still, and this time, a group of servants posted by the main entrance stop you to double-check your invitation. You’re not really sure what shenanigans you could have possibly come up with in the few meters since you were last checked, but whatever. Castle security is rigorous, you suppose. Although nowhere as bad as airport security.

Finally, you and your family are deemed fit to enter the castle, and so, you do. 

Suffice to say, it’s beautiful. Stunning paintings hang from the walls, each of them realistic enough to pass as a photograph. Just about every piece of furniture is decorated in gold, whether it be gold trim, liquid gold paint, or literal chunks of gold encrusted into nearly every facet and orifice. 

Since waking up in this world, you haven’t lacked for anything. You’ve stumbled into wealth greater than you could ever have foreseen for yourself, especially since not long ago, you were living in a shabby little apartment with more student loans than you could even count. 

But being here in person, it’s now abundantly clear just how staggering the difference between nobles and the royal family is. 

Put simply, they’re rich. They’re really rich. 

There’s no point in feeling intimidated, though. Based on what you know from the game, the royal family is actually really nice, especially since they’re going out of their way to accommodate a family who’s been chased from their home. You’re already here, so you may as well try to enjoy yourself. All things considered, tonight should be pretty chill.

But first, you have to get the opening act over with. 

“Greetings, my dear guests,” the king smiles, his rich, deep voice reverberating across the room. “As you know, we are gathered here today to formally welcome a new family into our kingdom, and also so that I may publicly acknowledge them as one of our own. They have endured great hardship as of late. The treatment they faced in their former kingdom is nothing short of horrendous. But here, we are different. Here, in Xenia, we look after each other. We give everyone a fair chance.” 

The king is standing far above the rest of the crowd, elevated on a sort of stage that houses his throne—along with the other members of the royal family. He stops to gesture below him, however, towards three people, and even though you can’t see very clearly from this distance, you can only assume that he’s pointing to the heroine and her parents.

“Please give our guests a warm welcome, and be sure to take the time to introduce yourselves to them! Now, then. With all the formalities out of the way… enjoy the evening!”

Applause fills the halls, and the king smiles once more before taking a seat on his throne, signaling that everyone is free to disperse and mingle as they see fit. Much to your dismay, there isn’t an open buffet, but there are servants carrying trays with appetizers and such, just as your mother speculated. 

“Darling, let’s go say hi to a few people,” your father encourages. “We have a few friends to catch up with. And eventually, we’d like to introduce ourselves to the new family as well.”

No thanks. You want to stay far, far away from the heroine. Even without bullying her, you get the feeling that she’s a shit magnet. Nothing good ever comes when heroines and villainesses interact.

“Maybe a bit later,” you hastily dismiss. “I’m gonna go look for a few people first. And, uh, Rowan will probably want to speak to me at some point, so I’m gonna check where he’s lurking.” 

“Very well, dear. But try to be back before too long, alright? Our entire family should be present when we formally make introductions.” 

“Sounds good,” you smile, lying as easily as you breathe. 

Fortunately, your parents are as chill as always, so they leave you to your own devices. They sounded pretty happy when you brought up Rowan, which sucks, because that part was a lie too, and you’ll be avoiding him like the plague.

Now, then. Looks like you’ve got quite a bit of time to kill. 

For obvious reasons, you don’t have any friends. Not apart from Fiona, and you would even go as far as to say that some of the other servants are starting to warm up to you as well. Technically, Flynn is the villainess’ friend, but you don’t consider him your friend, and he’s one of the people you’re trying to get rid of.

So, here you stand. Friendless. Lonely. Pitiful. 

Just kidding. You don’t really care. 

It’s going to take a while for all these people to change their opinions of you. You’ve already made your peace with that. Besides, you’ve got two loving parents, people like Fiona, and a chill, carefree life awaiting you back home. It could certainly be worse. 

Slowly but surely, you’ll restore the villainess’ reputation. But since that likely won’t happen tonight—people are already avoiding you and whispering under their breaths—you decide to do what you did last time. Go people-watching. 

You grab one of the pastries a servant is carrying on a tray and start eating it as you back away towards one of the corners of the room, where you have a clear vantage point. Sure enough, people are acting shallow and frivolous, as per usual. These people are genuinely starved for entertainment, it seems. They probably wouldn’t resort to all this mindless gossiping if there was Mario Kart or something to play. 

You’re bored now, and you’re probably going to be bored later, because there’s practically nothing to do here. That’s the biggest complaint you have about these public functions. They’re absolutely mind-numbing. 

But perhaps you should be careful what you wish for, because moments later, a big dose of excitement comes hurtling your way. 

And not the good kind.

“...[Name].” 

Mid-bite, you hear someone calling out to you, and when you turn, your cheeks are awkwardly stuffed, which you have no doubt is hardly the most flattering look. 

But you suppose it doesn’t really matter what you look like right now, since the person that called your name already hates your fucking guts. 

Alistair stands before you, lips twisted into a grimace. You can’t entirely blame him for it. Rejection is usually a bitter pill to swallow, and even though he never actually had feelings for you, no one likes being broken up with. 

So, you’re not really sure what to say. You’re not sure what the appropriate response in this situation is. Plus, your cheeks are still stuffed, and since it’s taking you too long to chew, you try to push the food all to one side and muster up a few quick words. 

Eventually, you settle on: 

“Whash goob?” 

Needless to say, Alistair’s disgust only intensifies. 

Fair enough. 

You swallow as quickly as possible, feeling an awfully painful lump in your throat as the food goes down. Some water would be great right about now. Actually, what would be even better is if this conversation wasn’t happening at all, but you can’t always get what you want. 

“Hi, Alistair,” you greet, sounding like an actual person this time. “Um. How’s your evening going so far?” 

Alistair isn’t happy. He’s not even bothering to try and hide just how unhappy he is, which says a lot, since he’s supposed to be a guy who cares a lot for appearances. He’s always been depicted as a perfectionist in everything he does. The perfect gentleman. The kind of man most women can only ever dream of marrying.

Yet, here you are. Possibly the only person in the world to ever have rejected him. 

Man. You’re so fun, quirky, and different! You’re not like other girls! Except for real. You actually aren’t. Most girls don’t just randomly wake up in someone else’s body. Unless this is some kind of weird fanfiction and you’re unfortunate enough to be the main character. 

But that’s got to be a stretch. 

“You look like you’re having a good time,” Alistair remarks, audible bitterness in his tone. “Most people wouldn’t have the gall to act so carefree in the royal castle, of all places.” 

Dude couldn’t be any more obvious about how much he hates you. Fuck. You understand that he’s still recovering from the embarrassment of his engagement suddenly falling through, but surely this won’t warrant an early death. He won’t actually go as far as to have you executed because you broke up with him… right? 

If so, that would be remarkably petty. Like, reaching astronomical levels of pettiness. 

“I didn’t really want to come out tonight in the first place,” you admit. “But since I’m already here, I’m just trying to relax, I guess.” 

“How lovely. It’s nice that you can do whatever you want without any concern for the rest of us. Your narcissism is impressive, truly. It ought to be studied by scholars.” 

He’s really busting your balls right now, holy shit. Just let a girl live, man! This is a free country! Kind of!

You awkwardly scratch your neck. “Um, thanks. I’m glad you find me impressive. Guess that means I’m doing something right.” 

“Are you trying to get on my nerves?” 

“Not really. Believe it or not.” 

Alistair scowls. It’s so weird to see him with such an unpleasant expression, because you’re used to playing as the heroine and being graced by the sweet, patient side of him. That’s usually the side he shows most people. Probably because most people don’t piss him off. 

“Forget it,” Alistair says, scoffing. “I’m convinced you’ve made it your mission to torment me. So, ending the engagement with no prior notice wasn’t humiliating enough? You had to start dating my cousin on top of it?” 

“That wasn’t even my fault,” you protest. “He showed up on my estate without warning. I even tried telling him that I wasn’t looking to date right away, but my dad was clearly itching for it to happen, so I kind of just went along with it. We haven’t even seen each other since then. It’s not serious or anything.” 

“You claim I don’t meet your standards, but supposedly Rowan does?” 

“Like I said, it’s really not that deep. I was pretty much pressured into—” 

“Spare me the excuses,” he snaps. “I know all too well what you are. You’re a sick, twisted woman who derives pleasure from tormenting others. I’ve heard the rumors, and so has everyone else. Time and time again, you debase yourself and bring shame to your family. I’m surprised your parents can even bear to look at you, with all the humiliation they must have endured on your account.” 

Bitch, I’ll literally fight you. 

You narrow your eyes at him. Even though you rejected him, does he really have to get this bent out of shape? It’s not like he ever cared for you anyway. Why isn’t he enjoying his newfound freedom and moving on with his life? He’ll meet the heroine soon. This very evening, as a matter of fact. And you weren’t even that mean about cutting things off. You made up a lame excuse about not being physically attracted to him, but you still acknowledged that he was a nice guy and it was purely to do with personal preference. 

Being a little bitter is understandable. But being this hostile is a different story altogether, and honestly? It’s not a good look on him.

Still, you can’t deny what he said. The villainess has done a lot of shitty things, and like or not, her reputation will follow you around. You may not actually be the one responsible for those acts, but everyone sure seems to think you are. 

Which is why, in a moment like this, it’s the perfect time to prove them wrong. 

“I’m sorry, Alistair. I really am.” 

You proceed to bow your head, and when you meet his gaze once more, it’s clear that he’s dumbfounded. He must not have been expecting an actual apology to come out your mouth, or even the slightest hint of repentance. 

“I apologize if the way I ended the engagement was too abrupt,” you say, pausing so you can choose your words carefully. “The truth is… I really want to be with someone I love. Our marriage was always destined to be purely political. I could tell you didn’t care much for me, and that’s fine, because feelings can’t be forced. But I realized along the way that I want to be with someone who cherishes me, and who I cherish in return. I’m not saying that person will necessarily be Rowan. I’m only giving him a chance because my parents so desperately want me to. But in the end, I’m not going to settle until I find my perfect match. Until I find the person I’m meant to be with. So, once again, I apologize. You’re a great guy, and I know plenty of people would be overjoyed to spend their lives with you. It isn’t anything personal. I just need to be true to my heart.”

There. Was that sufficiently cliché, or does he need you to keep going?

Alistair blinks. “Oh. Uh, I see. You say that this was a decision you actually put a lot of thought into, and it wasn’t just an attempt to humiliate me?” 

“I definitely wasn’t trying to humiliate you, and I apologize again if it came across that way. I just didn’t feel like it would work out between us, because we didn’t seem to have much of a connection. Love is the most important thing to me. Rather than wealth, title, status, or any of that, I just want to be with someone that I can enjoy every single day with.” 

You can’t really tell whether or not he’s entirely convinced. Realistically, he probably still has his doubts, but it’s better than him carrying a grudge, in any case. You want this to be an amicable breakup. Even if it wasn’t much of a relationship in the first place. 

Alistair presses his lips together. “But… you’re still going to let Rowan court you.” 

“Well, I don’t really know him that well, so I think it’s only fair I give him a chance before deciding if he’s the right person for me.” 

“You’d be better off not getting your hopes up,” he says, and you watch as his expression darkens several shades. “He’s a deceptive little weasel. If I’m being honest, I think he only pursued you to spite me. Because he heard you broke off our engagement and wanted to stir up trouble.”

Oh, how fun.

Honestly, that’s kind of the impression you got when Rowan first introduced himself to you. It definitely seemed like he had some weird cousin-related issues that factored into the whole thing. Still, you have yet to even go on a single date with him. It’s possible he’s not a bad guy. Him and Alistair just seem to hate each other, for whatever reason. It was never actually touched on in the game. 

“I’ll make sure to heed your warning,” you say, smiling appreciatively. “For the time being, I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt, but either way, I won’t be marrying anyone unless I’m confident in my decision.” 

“...I see.” 

Alistair looks less confrontational than he did a few minutes ago, so you suppose that went just about as well as it could have. You’re not sure if this is the perfectly ‘amicable’ breakup you were hoping for, but it’s a start. He’ll forget about you soon enough, anyway. He’ll be head-over-heels for the heroine.

“Anyways, I hope you enjoy the rest of your night!” you beam. “I’m not really sure who to talk to, so I’m just gonna wander around for a bit. See ya!” 

You quickly curtsy before you leave, and even though you have no particular destination in mind, the sooner this tiresome conversation ends, the better. You’re so eager to get out of there that it’s actually a miracle you don’t trip and fall flat onto your face.

Alistair watches you scurry off. The second he spotted you from afar, he was immediately incensed, and he came into this interaction ready to blow his fuse. You’re just about the only thing that’s been playing on his mind these days, much to his frustration. It feels like he’s been carrying a ridiculous amount of weight on his shoulders, and he’s been desperate to make it disappear.

Admittedly, he feels a bit better now. Perhaps you’re not quite as awful as he first thought. Rather brainless and shortsighted, to be sure, but your words and actions didn’t seem to carry any malice, and you were actually rather quick to offer him a genuine apology. It’s possible the rumors about you may have been somewhat exaggerated.

Plus, it doesn’t sound like you’re actually that interested in Rowan, which has him tickled pink. It means it’s only a matter of him before he gets rejected too, and then he’ll be forced to get off his high horse. 

“She wants to fall in love, huh,” Alistair mumbles absentmindedly. 

It’s true that he wasn’t all that invested in his relationship with you. He wanted to go along with his family’s demands and be the perfect son, just like he’s always been, so he agreed to it for the sake of their approval. But even though he hardly had the chance to get to know you, perhaps he could have tried a bit harder. It’s no surprise that you didn’t fall for him, when you probably saw through the superficial mask he always wears. Most people never see past the mask. In that sense, it’s actually rather astounding that you didn’t fall for it, the way everyone else does.

Alistair knows he’s imperfect. He’ll always be imperfect, and it frustrates him more than he can put into words. 

But then, there’s you. 

Rather than basking in insecurity, you openly embrace your imperfections. You don’t seem to give a single shit what anyone says about you. Even tonight, he heard countless people gossiping about you under their breaths, but you merely kept to yourself all the while, looking completely unfazed.

It’s true that you’re unconventional. You’re rather classless, and oftentimes, you come across as rude—whether you mean to or not. Your lack of etiquette might even be considered appalling to some (or rather, most), but in a way it seems… freeing. Alistair can only dream of acting like that, without fear of any consequences. 

Perhaps he was too quick to judge. Your cheerfulness and carefree nature can actually be considered strengths. And you didn’t break off the engagement to try and humiliate him, but rather, because he fell short. He didn’t give you what you needed. 

He didn’t make you feel loved. 

Alistair blinks slowly. He briefly imagines himself spending the rest of his life with one of the proper, well-behaved, but otherwise unremarkable women in this room. It’s what’s been expected of him ever since he was born. To be the perfect man, find a perfect wife, and go on to create an even more perfect family. He’s willing to bet that if he snapped his fingers right now and declared his intention to get engaged, just about every single woman here—perhaps even some of the married ones—would rush straight over, tripping over their feet to try and get to him first. 

If he marries one of those women, will he finally have the perfect life? Or will it just be more of the same tedious monotone? The same repetitive existence that ultimately brings him no closer to feeling satisfied?

Who knows. There’s no telling what will happen, really. But maybe… he’d like to try something different for a change. He’s tired of beating the same dead horse. He’s tired of being unhappy, no matter what he does. 

He’s never had to work to get people to like him. They always come flocking to him, so easily deluded by his fake smiles, his nauseatingly-sweet words of affirmation, and all the other bullshit he’s contrived over the years.

He realizes now why he was so upset when you rejected him. It’s because you saw him for who he truly is. You weren’t won over by that flimsy superficial layer, like everyone else. You saw what was hiding under the surface, and decided that you didn’t like it—and that hit him hard.

Alistair stares at you for a while longer, until your figure finally disappears amidst the crowd. It’s strange. Initially, he decided he wanted to get together back with you, purely to prove to Rowan that he could never compare. But now, it’s more than just that.

Maybe, as imperfect as you are, you’re exactly what he needs.

And so, he’ll have you.  

While a certain silver-haired man was having a rather horrifying revelation, you were busy scouring the room, doing your best to avoid the two other men that can’t seem to give you a break. 

So far, so good. Haven’t seen any sign of Flynn or Rowan. 

You’re relieved that you’ve made it this far, because after dealing with Alistair’s overdramatic bitch-ass, you honestly don’t think you have enough energy left over. Being popular really is more of a curse than a blessing. 

It seems like the coast is clear, so for just a few moments, you let your guard down. 

But that’s a mistake. 

“Oh! Sorry,” you hastily apologize. You were too concerned with scanning the area that you didn’t notice you just walked into someone. Naturally, they turn around to get a proper look at you, and all the while, you continue apologizing for your lack of awareness. 

However, a strange feeling starts creeping up your spine, and soon enough, your jaw can’t help but drop open. 

There’s a young woman staring at you, with tears blurring her gaze. She looks like she’s been crying for a while, based on how puffy her eyes are, and normally, this is the moment where you would ask her if she’s alright, or maybe even offer her a handkerchief. 

But you fail to do any of those things, on account of the fact that you know who she is.

She’s the heroine of the whole story. Lucy Wright. 

And regrettably, you can’t seem to find the right words. 

“Uh… ‘sup?” 

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[thecapricunt1616]

Daddy!Carmy holding his baby for the first time

Another unformated daddy!carmy blurb below I’m sick thanks to @carmenberzattosgf !!!

After an agonizing hour and fifteen minutes of pushing, your son had been born luckily scream crying. You had been more relieved then you ever felt in your life to finally get him out. Who knew 7 and a half pounds could feel bigger then a bowling ball sitting on your cervix for more then a day.

Although active labor only lasted 4 hours, and pushing lasted nearly an hour and a half - the contractions lasted nearly thirty hours. Carmy of course was near your side the entire time, allowing you to squeeze his hand and arm as hard as you needed to.

He brought you ice water while you bounced on your yoga ball and grunted through contractions, he knelt holding your hand while you tried to ease the pain through a hot bath, bundled up and held your hand as you curb walked in the chilly Chicago Fall weather.

He made you the spiciest Mexican food you could handle at your request, and ate it with you - sniffles and watery eyes and all. He gave you perennial massages (both of you shuddered at the idea to begin with - but you were both ready for this torture to be over so anything that would speed up the process you tried). He’d had sex with you which funny enough eased the contraction pain for the duration which you appreciated.

He tried stimulating your nipples, the man literally called his sister and listed off the things the two of you had tried already to try and get advice. To which, she gave the golden advice of ‘just have sex again! Like- as much as you can. For some reason it works. They may be grossed out by it I don’t know!’ And with 2 more rounds you were 4 minutes apart which per your midwife was the golden time to go.

She had met you there, and made sure to advocate to your nurses your birthing plan of a water birth and not having anyone other then her and Carmy in the room other then the one doctor and 2 nurses needed to observe the midwife as she’d helped deliver. Carmy had nearly passed out probably 3 times the midwife had told you after, you were too busy - well..getting a baby out of you, but thankfully he kept it together.

2 pushes before the baby had been delivered, you panicked. You had felt the ring of fire, it felt like it would never stop- and you felt like the baby had been in the same spot for the last 5 pushes you’d done, all which your midwife had counted to ten- and your baby still wasn’t out. Carmy though, even in his own panic somehow got it together enough to kiss your forehead and tell you that this was the most amazing thing he had ever been able to witness and that he knew with how strong you’d been this entire laboring process this final stint would be a breeze if you just focus on him and listen to him reminding you how amazing you are and how much he loves you and how lucky this baby is to have you as their mom and without you even realizing, your baby was out.

You realized when the midwife called your attention, and you weren’t surprised to see Carmy having his hands below, ready and waiting to catch his babe and and him to the midwife to which she put him on your chest and the little baby boy screeched. It was the best thing you’d ever heard, you looked at your baby and it was like you and him were the only thing in the world, you didn’t even realize you were sobbing. You didn’t even realize your midwife had to rub Carmys back to coax his face away from being pressed to yours to cut the cord.

He gladly accepted, remembering how they taught him in birthing class and the midwife added the clamp as the nurse came over and suctioned the baby’s mouth out. He helped you unhook your nursing bra and get the baby settled against your skin “Levi” he whispered through his tears and you looked up at him

“He’s a boy?” You question, looking at the little baby who was lifting and dropping his head in search of some well needed food after his long awaited grand entrance.

“He’s a boy” he smiled tearfully, rubbing his little back and massaging the stickiness in that you’d learned in birthing class was actually really good for their skin and immunity.

“I- I feel-“ you pouted “like- like I missed it” you started to cry guiltily, looking at your son “I’m so sorry angel” you sniffle, as your baby carelessly sucks at your breast with closed eyes and clutches Carmys finger.

“No-no baby” he pet your hair gently, “remember? They said it’s just the adrenaline. Shhh. You’ll remember. Want me to tell you? I’ll tell you everything honey and I bet it’ll come back t’you, yeah?” He coaxes, kissing your temple “you did so amazing baby -“ his voice wavered as he tried his best to hold back tears “I promise I’ve never seen anything more fuckin beautiful yeah? It’ll come back I know it will” he kissed the top of your head sweetly.

One of the nurses came over, taking baby’s temperature and making sure he was adjusting okay before taking him to do his shots since he was done nursing for the time being, and the other nurse and midwife helped you deliver the placenta while he followed them to give the shots like you’d discussed.

The next time you saw him was a good 45 minutes later, after the baby had been weighed, given his shots, gotten his apgar test, physical exam, got his eye drops, and done his genetic screening - and Carmy was following the nurse as she wheeled little Levi in the room.

“My boys!” You said tiredly, sitting up and untying your specially bought birthing gown Carmy had found online. The nurse holds up her hand for you to stop

“Little ‘Bear’ here has a full tummy still, he won’t be hungry for another three hours or so. Daddy here is gonna get some skin to skin, mommy why don’t you sleep” she explained and Carmy kissed your head.

“I got em sweetheart” he told you and set down a ‘mommy cocktail’ as the nurse had told him, which was 2 hospital cranberry juices, 2 orange juices, and one pineapple, packed with ice. You took a sip and hum, eyes fluttering shut and head falling back onto the one of many pillows Carmy made sure to bring for you that he bought for this exact reason (sugar told him hospital pillows were uncomfortable - he took the one they left on the bed that he replaced with the comfortable $20 ones he brought for you and realized she was in fact right, his neck had kinks he didn’t know could exist.)

“Love you” you puckered your lips and he kissed you sweetly, lingering just long enough to satisfy you before sitting down on the recliner. He tugged off his classic white shirt, reclining back and the nurse unwrapped the babe, placing him on Carm’s chest to which he scrunched up. You were so exhausted, you couldn’t have witnessed it if you tried. But, Carmy was committing the entire interaction to memory, he would replay this interaction over and over in his mind for the rest of his life.

“Hey, heeey there little man” he whispered and the nurse smiled, covering the babe with the blanket he had been swaddled in when he came in with him and kissing his head. He nearly giggled, looking up at the nurse. “He..he smells good. Is that weird? Er like…creepy?” He could barely contain the happy tears rolling down his face that hadn’t stopped since he caught him when he first came into the world.

The nurse just smiled, shaking her head amusedly. “That’s parenthood. Welcome honey. You seem to be a natural. The third drawer is stuffed with Huggies and desitin- only buy desitin hear me?” She opened the drawer. “Second is for” she silently points to you as to not disturb you. “We have witch hazel pads, ice packs, numbing spray - I expect this cart to be cleared out tomorrow when you leave, mm?” She shuts it and he nods with a thankful smile.

“Thank you” he said just before Levi throws up milk all over his chest, causing him to scrunch his nose and hold back a gag.

“Rule one” she took the baby, patting his back and handing him a burp cloth. “Staying ready means you don’t have to get ready, dad. Always have a burp cloth ready honey” she pointed to her own shoulder, covered with another cloth as she pats his little back, bouncing him gently.

Carmy nodded, holding his breath as to not smell the sweet bitter baby vomit smell.

“Noted.”

[plasmara]

post memories-returning Jay getting a particularly bad fever and becoming delirious and emotional and stuff and every time one of the ninja tries to leave his side to do something he gets really upset because his feverish mind is telling him that they’re abandoning him for good again . let me cook

NIOOOOOOUIIOO NOOO DONT COOK U R NOT COOKING WITH THIS. YHIS IS SO UPSETTING!!!!!!! i Will now write one million words on this concept thank you chebyshevptera

his memories don’t come back completely clear . they come back messy and jumbled and painful as hell. And So. so when he gets sick (WHICH WOULD PROBABLY BE BECAUSE HIS MEMORIES RETURNING. WHICH. makes sense. because having your entire life crash back into your brain at once is probably the most painful, exhausting thing imaginable) that makes it even Worse.

so anytime anyone does ANYTHING or even moves or mentions leaving he starts muttering deliriously. all hoarse and panicked and reaching out like he’s about to be left behind again. againagainagain. like he’s stuck in the loop of being alone and every time anyone’s ever left him and now he’s too sick and too scared to tell if it’s happening now or then

zane monitors his vitals and gives updates every five minutes because he can tell how upset jay is getting but facts don’t help him rn because he’s not in his right mind. but zane can’t stop because logic is his language of care

nya NEVER!!!!! leaves his side. because she tried once to grab a blanket or water or something and the memory of her leaving him when he was dying before (seabound💔💔💔💔💔) pops into his head and all he remembers is that horrible sinking feeling . he can’t breathe properly or even speak to tell her not to leave nd gets so incredibly distraught that she doesn’t even think about leaving again

. +++ he’s learnt to keep things to himself now and even with his memories back he’s quieter. so in this case as he’s getting upset he doesn’t talk as much or panic as loud as he might’ve before. he just starts crying in this silent and wrecked kind of way. no sobbing, no words, just tears and panic and shaky breathing and this look in his eyes that says yeah . Theyre leaving me again

[v3nusxsky]

Hey hey hey - 🦭

Can you do an Alpha Larissa X Pregnant Omega Reader. Where reader is pregnant with twins one a boy, and the other is girl. And Larissa is proud like a peacock, that she managed to give her mate and wife a litter of two pups when her family was known not to conceive a litter. ( for more that 4 generations they never managed to have litters in their family, and reader broke the curse. )

Babies then are born and Larissa is shocked when her pups are both born with white hair just like hers. Larissa cries to reader in happiness and reader is laughing and showing her family through camera another generation curse broken. ( white hair is very hard for Larissa’s family to conceive, but that genetic inheritance has been shown through generations before it stopped and miraculously Larissa was born with it and now her pups have it. ( Which is a miracle for Larissa’s family.) both families jokingly saying that reader is a miracle worker.

Hope you have a nice weekend Mars!

Blessings

*Authors note~ we interrupt sinful souls for a little fluffy Larissa fic🥹 enjoy y’all I’m burnt out with school work and this little fic is what I managed to create*

Trigger warnings~ pregnancy? Birth? Omegaverse

Prompt~ see ask^^^

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Life with your Alpha is more than you could’ve ever dreamed off, you remember how she found you suffering alone through your first heat, how scared she was to not be able to help. With your past and how Omegas are treated you couldn’t tolerate touch of any kind especially in heat. Your pained whimpers and whines of fear whenever an Alpha was in close proximity to you broke the blondes heart. It was then she realised, you were destined to be her Omega. She didn’t get this way with any of the other Omega staff, just you.

With time and effort from both of you, your Omega called for her to help during your heat about a year later. Now being your Alpha and girlfriend Larissa did everything and anything to ensure your comfort and safety. Time is a great healer of wounds, and with Larissa by your side you finally got to heal. Heat after heat she proved to you she’d be here in whatever way you need and want her. Happy to just cuddle and scent you into a little moment of peace or to give into her wolf and take her Omega.

The little test with the bright blue lines sat on her desk as she went to make her morning tea. After your previous heat, you’d noticed you felt a little differently, some of the older Omega students even noting your scent was off, so naturally you panicked and well. You’re pregnant. It’s not something you’d planned for right now but with that little blue plus starring right at you, you knew that this was the perfect time.

To say Larissa was extatic would’ve been an understatement, the moment she saw that test, you became the most fragile diamond in the world. Larissa always had to be touching you at all times. And when your stomach started to swell? Well, she was always rubbing and holding your stomach as you leant your weight on her. Introducing you as her gorgeous wife to be. She made sure you got every craving, she was there for every appointment, bout of sickness and even the false contractions.

Giving birth that night will forever be a memory. A perfect prince entered the world with a little squeaky squeal of protest, absolutely perfect in every way. Itching to hold your new pup until another sharp contraction hit. Something was wrong. You immediately called for your Alpha in fear, instructing her to be with your son despite how exhausted and terrified you were. And just a few minutes later your daughter arrived. “It’s a girl” was all you remember before blacking out.

“Alpha?” You whined coming back to the world, “where’s baby boy?” You mumbled not even being able to open your eyes yet. “Shh my sweet omega, he’s right here with his sister. You did so good my love. A litter of pups. So beautiful” she whispered eyes never leaving the sleeping infants. “Two?!” You mumbled trying to sit up despite the strong aftershocks of giving birth to two babies, “I thought I imagined her.”

Only when you held your daughter in your arms did you finally believe it. You’d given your Alpha a litter. Knowing the family history for Larissa it’s unheard of to have a litter. No wonder Larissa is grinning from ear to ear. Only then did you realise you hadn’t been able to dress the pups in their outfits, thank god for getting one for each gender! Larissa gently taking your daughter as you undressed your son.

“Sweet girl? She-“ happy tears trailed down Larissa’s cheeks as she spotted the Snow White curls on your daughter’s head. Larissa didn’t know where her hair colour came from, no one else living in the family had it, yet here her baby girl was with the same stunning feature. “Alpha” you murmured taking your son’s little hat off to show the same coloured hair. “Y/n! They are perfect. Your perfect. My perfect darling Omgea”, your precious litter completing your family was all so perfect.

Larissa’s aunt couldn’t wait to meet the pups, your family stood with her as they all awaited the new arrivals. Larissa, proud as ever carried both car seats into Nevermore, got you settled on the sofa with both babies in your arm, water in your favourite flask at your side. “Theodore Rodwell James, this is your family baby boy, our sweet prince” you murmured happily allowing your mother to hold her grandson. “And this beauty is Isla Arwen Saige, our little surprise” you murmured before handing her off to Larissa’s aunt. “Auntie look at her hair” Larissa prompted unable to wipe the smug smile off her face. The shock around the room being nothing but a beautiful buzz as both babies were passed around the family and congratulations given to the new mothers.

“Two curses broken, what a little miracle worker you are dear” your mother teased before pressing a sweet kiss on your cheeks. “M sweet girl?” Larissa murmured after taking a seat next you. “Alpha?” Was all you offered as you lulled your head to rest on her shoulder. “My darling omega, thank you for this blessing”

Word count~906

[rafumeika]

I want to write a silly bg3 fic where Gale somehow gets sick but it's like, a super normal human sickness like a cold with a bit of fever or something like that but we have:

1. Shadowheart with amnesia problems who probably has no fucking idea if she ever got sick or not + if she did ever get sick I can very well imagine the Sharrans being like, "Either she survives or she doesn't, it's our Lady's will" and no one ever did anything ever so no one knows how to take care of any type of sickness

2. Astarion who probably hasn't been sick once ever since becoming a vampire and even if he did, 200-ish years of constant torture and trauma probably buried any kind of normal illness until it was just one giant undiscernible pain that eventually went away on its own before it was replaced by more pain anyway

3. Karlach who burns hot 24/7 and probably doesn't even know what a normal human's temperature is supposed to be, who has spent years surrounded by literal demons and hell-beasts and whatever other horrors are in Avernus and doesn't know what a normal human sickness is + even before Gortash sold her I doubt anyone ever needed her medical advice in the improbable case Gortash ever got sick

4. Lae'zel who has close to 0 knowledge of most races outside of her own and like Karlach probably knows fuck shit about human sicknesses + she would probably think Gale is about to become a Mindflayer

5. Wyll, poor boy, fellow (ex) human. He definitely knows human sicknesses but also he's been on his own for 7 years with that insufferable bitch that is Mizora so yes, in theory he knows Gale is NOT gonna die but also he has absolutely 0 knowledge on how to actually help a sick person recover except remembering that his father once used to tuck him in when he was young and sick and then what? Who remembers the details?? Childhood memories, especially about when you were sick and out of your mind with fever, can be a bitch to remember

So no one out of the main 5 (not counting poor sick Gale ofc) knows how to take care of their sick squishy human wizard and everyone is panicking while Gale is tiredly shaking his head laying under a thick comfy blanket Halsin got for him since he's probably the only one who knows how to actually take care of a sick person in a way that doesn't involve just spamming restoration magic (like I imagine Shadowheart would try and do) and knows how to make some actual medicine/natural remedies and is just watching the chaos unfold from the sidelines with an amused smile while making sure Gale is properly taken care of

[pearlfeline]

sore loser

pairing: draco malfoy x reader

word count: 1,450

summary: reader gets jealous and draco falls harder during a practice duel. reader can be interpreted as any house but uses she pronouns.

a/n: i haven't written in years like before the pandemic. i deleted my old blog and had no inspiration until months ago lol i started this blog just to read but i started writing this a while back and i finished it last night. not proofread. if the beginning is horrid i apologize i didn't want to delete it and start over because i know i'll never start up again. enjoy the little fluff i threw together.

Dueling was an essential part of the Hogwarts curriculum. Every other week, there was a practice session down in the dungeons. Mats laid out on the floor and splayed on the walls. You hated it. Especially when it was in teams. Seriously, in what circumstances did students need to fight in pairs?

You weren’t known for your dueling skills and when your duels prolonged the average amount of time, you panicked and tapped out immediately.

Today was especially nerve wracking. Dueling in pairs, against Draco, and he’s partnered with the obnoxious girl who has it out for you.

She was clearly eating this up.

Draco was not. He did not like how obvious her intentions were. The shoving him every time she laughed, the raised pitch in her voice only when speaking to him, the way she says his name differently, all of it made him grimace internally. She was like a fly in his ear. Insufferable.

“An easy win.” She looks you up and down, smirking.

She looks over to Draco, attempting to exchange eye contact, but he was looking at you, with anguish. He didn’t hold his gaze for long as he adjusted his sleeves before getting in position.

Neville was your duel partner today. You could tell by his face he was utterly terrified. You kind of felt bad for befriending Draco, seeing what he did to the students around you and how he talked about them. But the side of him you’re not sure anyone else got to see, they don’t know about, the one you stumbled on accidentally while trying to use the washrooms and ended up staying on the cold floor for an hour after curfew just listening.

“Remember what we learned Neville.” You nod at him curtly. He sends you a look of appreciation under his worried gaze. Where would you two be without the extra training?

During the duel, you mostly try taking your anger out on the girl who targets you constantly for no reason. You didn’t even remember her stupid name. There are lots of girls like her. She was just the one who decided to be bold for the semester. Defending yourself makes you a target around the school for certain, but you didn't care enough to stop.

Dueling admittedly can be therapeutic when you have the right attitude. She was knocked down on the mat, clearly taken aback. You had shot spell after spell at her, almost to see how quickly you were able to possibly and properly get spells out of your wand.

Draco had to assist his dueling partner by default, but it made you unexpectedly feel sick seeing him trying to heal her.

“…Get up.” He holds her up by her arm. His gaze is anywhere else but around you.

You were searching for answers inside his eyes, growing more irritated the further he avoided you.

Neville gets his shot at revenge as well, continuously shooting at Draco while he tries to assist his dueling partner.

It was one of those matches that were long and painful. Both sides were equally as good, even if you hated to admit it.

It wasn't long until you’ve seen enough.

“Confringo!” You counter with a spell that bounced off the two of them back and forth until they’re both on the ground.

When the smoke cleared, your eyes flickered to the other end of the platform. Draco didn’t even look upset that he lost. Just surprised you would even use such a spell.

“I was getting sort of tired of using expelliarmus so frequently…” Neville blinked a few times, finally drawing his wand down.

“Freak!” The girl lays for a little too long expecting Draco to pick her up from the floor. He doesn’t.

“Is that even allowed?” She haggardly gets up on her own, dusting off her robes.

“It is.” Draco mutters before sauntering back to the group of students.

It was honestly one of the first duels you had won in a while, there was a newfound confidence in your stride.

It was free period. You decided to take the scenic route. To just relax outside,

“Came out to frolic in the grass did you?” Draco’s hair was completely restyled back to normal, despite the duel having just ended. He replaced his tethered robes with fresh ones and had enough time to wipe his complexion clean.

There was a playful smile on his face, one he didn’t show to most.

“After you lost, shouldn’t I be saying all these snobbish remarks now?” You look up at the sky to avoid his glance. Because if you did, you knew your smile would grow bigger than you would’ve liked.

He scoffs, setting his bag down on the ground.

“Don’t get all excited about this now,”

You watched as he sat down to reach your eye level.

“next time I won’t let you win.” Draco confidently sighed.

“Your pride would never let you purposefully lose.” You remark.

“Maybe it would for certain people.” He argues.

If this is what you thought it was, what an awful attempt at flirting.

“Either way, I won fair Malfoy.” You brush off his last statement.

Draco liked how you said his name. It sounded so familiar and genuine. It wasn't used in a hostile way.

It was hard to hide his growing smile.

“Why are you smiling…” You turn away.

“Is it so fun being a loser?” You say, back completely turned around to face him.

“I only lost because you flung me and that girl across the room!”

“She’s stupid! Of course I’m going to fling her away! You’re stupid too! Stop picking on people.”

Draco looks down while grinning at his feet.

“I’ll try.”

“Don’t just say it. Really do it.” You kick a rock in his direction.

“I get enough criticism for talking to you. Even though it’s all from you not being able to just leave me be.”

“Obviously you don’t care for what others are saying about me.” Draco shuffles the rock in between his feet, passing it back to you.

“Because I’ve seen otherwise to disprove the rumors.” You remarked.

“Before I start telling people you’re actually nice, you should start giving people a reason to believe me!” You toss the rock, watching it bounce off Draco's shoulder.

"Ow! You're the violent one!"

“I’m not going around claiming something that nobody will believe me for. I will not make a fool of myself Malfoy, not in that way. I'm already being prejudiced around here, no thanks to you.”

Draco was not known for his emotional intelligence. In fact, he might be the least comforting person you had ever talked to, but he had a feeling in between the insults, you were telling him how he really was capable of being a good person.

Draco let out a little smile, trying his best not to laugh at you.

Which was difficult because he had a habit of laughing at whatever or whoever he wanted to laugh at.

"This school is tolerable with you around." He said while swallowing whatever dry chuckles were left in his system.

"I'm only around because you follow me everywhere."

Draco slumped over, pushing his weight on your bag. Were his advances, seen as bullying? Of course it was. He was rude to everyone. How were you supposed to figure out he didn't mean it as much when it came to you? He didn't even really know he liked you not that long ago. Though, ever since that epiphany, he can't get you out of his head. There's the urge for more. To see you more. Sneak in more of you throughout the day.

"Keep bothering her, it makes you happier than when you bother others."

"I can't wait to see how she reacts to what I say next."

"I need her to see my new quidditch uniform."

All were stupid thoughts, yes, but they all worked. You were never mean enough to be hostile towards him, and honestly seeing him slip up and forget to keep his tough exterior up every once in a while was rewarding. You would never say it out loud but it made you feel special.

Draco lazily picks off blades of grass peaking through the cords attached to your bag. He had finally run out of things to say to bother you.

"...You aren't going to defend yourself?"

He glances up at you for a moment before shaking his head.

He thought, one day he'll be able to just confess and maybe pull you into a swift kiss right after. Of course, you'll say yes and kiss back and all of that stuff. He'll worry about it later.

[princescribbler]

TIMES YOUR RELATIONSHIP DYNAMIC REALLY COUNTS

Sometimes, life is easy. There's enough to go around, there's good times for most, and life seems positive. In those good moments, having a CG/l or ABDL dynamic can be fun, cute, and even silly. It's the good on top of the good, the proverbial cherry on the hot fudge sundae of life.

At other times, the world seems to be collapsing. Maybe your personal life isn't working, and you just can't figure out how to make sense of things. Maybe your health is the problem, or finances, or anxiety, work, personal crap, whatever problem you've got, it makes life harder. In those moments, you might even give up on your relationship dynamic(s), thinking that the dynamic isn't serving you, or doesn't make some aspects of life any easier. You think that having a hard time means your relationship dynamic must not matter.

I personally believe that in challenging times, this relationship dynamic is actually more important, more powerful. When you can fall back on systems and rules and interactions that provide stability and reassurance, you no longer rely on executive function, on careful decision making and weighing up every pro and con. Instead, you can turn to your dynamic(s) for comfort, support, and safety.

Momma @giggle-byte and I just had a spectacular weekend away with friends. We had a lovely time together, and were privileged to attend the wedding of some beautiful, deserving, wonderful people. But when we came home, I got sick. I got REALLY sick. I have an autoimmune condition, so I tend to really ramp up the sickness when I get it, and that was very true this time. Fever was annoying, but the pain was the real problem: I couldn't swallow, and the throat just got worse by the hour! It was hard to let momma help me, even though i needed help! I felt like a shitty partner, overly demanding and selfish. I felt I was a total wimp for not being tougher, or for getting panicked when my throat closed up from swelling. Instead of teasing, mocking, or ignoring my issues, @giggle-byte was amazing, taking care of me even at 2 am, giving me round the clock attentiveness and care. I cannot express how much it HELPED having this style of dynamic, which for us includes some D/s aspects as well. Knowing that my sweetheart, that my queen, my wife, the love of my life was there to care for me and watch out for me turned a miserable experience into one i can use to draw strength.

Because I know now that no matter how I feel, how sick, how tired, how scared or worried or weepy or uncomfortable, i have my incredible partner ready to support me and care. I cannot say enough how much that means to me, or how much SHE means to me. I cannot express with words, however verbose and flowery, the depth of my love and appreciation for her care.

If you have an ABDL, Caregiver/little, or similar relationship dynamic, i encourage you to rely on that in times of stress, or to "lean in" as momma so intelligently puts it. Sometimes, the thing that will make you feel safe and alright again...is just waiting for you to realize it's there. It's the daily dynamics you forget are part of your relationship, and they can come through for you in important ways.

So, to momma: Thank you for caring for me, my love. Thank you for giving me attention, affection, support, and compassion. I'm the luckiest guy there's ever been, and I'll try hard to return you even a fraction of the love and support you give me.

And remember: Lean in! To kink, to love, and to the special people who know what you need, way deep down.

Stay happy, stay healthy, and as always, stay kinky!

- Scribbler

[wwooyology]

Wish Upon A Star | P.SH

「prompt」 : falling stars 「pairing」 : bf!seonghwa x fem!reader 「word count」 : 0.8k

「synopsis」 : you had always been told that wishing upon a falling star would bring anything you wanted to fruition. so you wished, and wished, and wished for just one more moment with seonghwa before everything went bad.

「genre」 : angst

「warnings」 : crying, mentions of death, reader blames themselves, self-hatred, mentions of cancer, mentions of a dead body, breakdown, lmk if I missed anything!!

masterlist ─ navi. ─ angstober list

You don’t remember how many shooting stars you have seen in the span of two years. Three? Maybe four? Or was it five? You weren’t sure, but what you did know was that no matter how many times you have made a wish to the falling ball of gas you never got your wish fulfilled.

‘Just one more moment with Seonghwa.’

That’s all you wanted. To go back in time before he got sick. Back to when he still had that starry look in his eyes any time he would look at something he loved. Back to when he was still able to sit with you in this very flower field and look up at the starry sky with you.

You wanted nothing more than to see that smile on his face once more, feel his warm embrace, or even feel the love-filled kisses that he would always share with you. It pained you the most because you had to watch as that light in his eyes slowly died until he was just a shell of who he once was. How his once warm and comforting embrace became cold and distant. Then those kisses stopped, and he would barely let you anywhere near him.

Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to be upset with him. He was hurting, and you knew that. No, you were upset with yourself for not being able to do anything for him.

And you hated yourself for not being able to say a proper goodbye before he left this world.

–

“Good morning, nurse Choi.” You greeted the nurse at the reception desk before making your way toward the wing that you knew Seonghwa was in, missing the panicked look that flashed across the older woman’s face.

“Wait y/n.” She hurried after you, quickly grabbing your arm and stopping you.

You looked over at her, confused, but the solemn expression on her face made your heart sink. She opened her mouth to tell you something, but the sound of two of their nurses talking amongst themselves caught your attention.

“Did you hear about the patient in 302?”

“You mean the one with heart cancer?” One of the ladies asked the other as she stuffed her hands in the pockets of her scrubs.

Tears started to pool in your eyes as you mentally begged them not to continue, not wanting to hear anymore because there wasn’t any way that it was true.

“Yeah, he coded this morning and they weren’t able to revive him.” The nurse sighed sadly, shaking her head, “his poor girlfriend is going to be devastated.”

The dam that held your tears back as it sank in that they were talking about Seonghwa. Your Seonghwa. Your boyfriend. You quickly looked over at Nurse Choi, eyes pleading with her to tell you that it wasn’t true. That they were talking about another patient.

“I’m sorry, y/n.” Her soft tone nearly broke you, but you refused to believe it until you saw him with your own eyes.

“Where is he?” You asked her, your breath hitching in your throat, nails digging in the palms of your hands to keep from breaking down entirely.

“We can’t–”

“I want to see him,” Your voice quivered as you begged her, “please.”

The older woman bowed her head with a small sigh before looking up and nodding, “Okay.”

So she leads you down to the morgue, the air around you chilling you to the bone and making your stomach turn. The thought of Seonghwa actually being gone made bile rise up your throat, but you were quick to swallow it back down as you stepped through the doors.

The room was silent; the only sound was the mechanical whirl of the AC that was stuffed in the corner. Choi then moved out of the way, and all of the blood drained from your face at the sight of a body lying on the table in front of you, a plain white sheet pulled up to cover the face.

No words were spoken as you walked up to the table; your knees felt like jelly, ready to give out at a moment's notice. The mortician gave you a sympathetic look as he reached for the edge of the cover.

And the whole world felt as if it had stopped when you saw Seonghwa laying there. The once warm glow of his skin was nowhere to be found, and he lay there completely motionless.

“Oh my god.” You cried and quickly turned around as sobs racked your body; Choi quickly grabbed you before you collapsed to the ground. She tried her best to console you as you cried and cursed the universe for taking him away from you.

–

So even now, as you sit on the cold ground staring up at the night sky, knees pulled up to your chest and tears spilling from your bloodshot eyes, you wish with all your might to go back. Maybe this time, you could help him a little bit more or, at the very least, get to say goodbye.

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[luveline]

I have a potential request for the eddie zombie!AU! could I request eddie taking shy!reader under his wing as he is traveling? maybe she is injured and is like 100% sure she’s going to die but then eddie comes along like a knight and helps her to safety, and then they just stick together?

thank you for your request angel! —eddie finds you wounded in the midst of the apocalypse and wants to help, 2.5k, fem!reader. tw for zombie apocalypse typical circumstance, blood and injury

Eddie is absolutely sick of being alone. He imagined the apocalypse cooler than it turned out to be —there aren't that many people around anymore and he's constantly a bit hungry, and having long hair is now the norm. He hasn't seen a real living human being in three weeks and he's starting to wonder (worry) if he's the last man on Earth. 

That is, until he sees blood on the sidewalk outside of a pizza place. He'd been planning on going inside just to smell the floury scent of pizza dough, and maybe pretend to answer the phone (he never worked as a delivery guy, but he thinks it might've been his calling). Blood is everywhere in the apocalypse. Genuinely everywhere, and it smells bad when it's old, vinegary and acrid. There's blood on car doors, bloody handprints on windows, pools of it where people died and then their bodies, reanimated and without control, stood and walked off again. 

So Eddie's gotten good at blood. He knows old blood from new blood when he sees it, dead blood from alive blood, and the blood trail leading behind the smashed glass door of the pizza place is both new and alive. Or, probably alive. Was alive. He nudges it with his shoe, and it's still wet, not even slightly clotted. 

Definitely alive. 

Eddie doesn't really think about how whoever it is that's inside could murder him in cold blood for his gear. Eddie's sort of stacked —he has a bike, a proper one like a professional doing the Tour De French, or whatever, he doesn't remember what it's called, would need. The point is that he has a really sturdy bike and a wagon strapped behind it full of camping shit, and the world is so desolate that nobody's tried to shank him for it yet. He leaves his bike by the door and tries to open the door slowly, not wanting to startle whoever it is that's bleeding that badly into hiding from him and his extensive first aid kit. 

Eddie pulls it to his chest and steps carefully over a path of broken glass. 

"Hey," he calls out. He clears his throat. "Is someone here? I– listen, I'm not here to hurt you, I saw the blood, and I have bandages and antiseptic and everything you need. Maybe. Unless you got shot, I can't do stitches for shit, trust me." Trust the weird huge scar on his ankle. 

"Listen," he continues, approaching the counter, peering behind it at a skyscraper of pizza boxes and a dust covered floor, "I know you have no reason to trust me, so I'm gonna go sit outside, and if you want to come out where I can't corner you, I'll help. I swear." 

He follows the trail of blood to the cabinet under the ingredients counter. The door moves near imperceptibly.

He gives it a second, and then Eddie turns to leave.

"Wait," says a girl's voice, muffled and weak, "wait, please." 

Eddie waits, spinning on his heel to watch as you push open the cabinet door. 

He's surprised at the cleanliness of your top half until he realises the bottom of you might as well have been dipped in an exploded blood bank. 

"Oh, shit," he says, rushing forward. 

You flinch back and he follows on unperturbed, even when you throw your hands up to cover your face. 

"I'm not gonna do anything," he promises, panicked, "where are you bleeding? You'll have to show me." He makes sure you can see his lack of weapons and his huge green first aid kit. 

"It's my side," you say, and as soon as you speak you start to cry, little shuddering huffs of pain escaping you as Eddie kneels at your side. "I– I– I tried to climb over a fence, and I got caught on the barbed wire, I didn't– I don't–" 

He shushes you with as much gentleness as he possesses and pulls up your shirt. It's your hip, not your side, and the cut is a frankly gruesome laceration into the fat. Eddie's going to have to sew you up after all. 

He knows what he should do even if he's only done it once before, finding your blood covered hand on instinct and squeezing it. "It's okay," he says, not knowing if it will be, "I can fix it. I have everything, okay? Can I fix it?" 

"Please," you whimper. 

He doesn't need any pleading. He clicks open the first aid kit and looks first for gauze, pressing it to your side even as blood pools wet and shiny on the floor beneath you. You're in agony, clearly, twisting away from his touch. 

"Please stay still," he says, firm but kind. "It'll hurt more the more you move. I have painkillers, and I'll give you some right now. Right now, okay? Stay still." 

You shriek as he presses down on your hip but you don't move. He hates having hooked a sound like that from you —Eddie's not a violent person, even if he's rough around the edges— and he rushes to correct it. He swaps the soaked gauze for a second, pressing down hard again, and remembers with a white hot panic that he didn't disinfect his hands. 

It's rough going. He finds the painkillers, you take them dry. He has the urge to touch your cheek because you're in so much pain, and the blood has somehow ended up on your face like a crimson tear. Eddie disinfects his hand and your hip, which still hurts wildly untouched by the painkillers, and opens a sterile packaging of needle and medical thread. His hands shake as he ties the thread with tweezers. It's imperative he doesn't touch the needle, even if he did disinfect his hands, because it will end up deep in your skin. 

By the time he's ready to start the stitches you're crying and not speaking, a hand pressed to your mouth. "I don't know how much the painkillers have worked, and I don't think they'll stop this from hurting, but I think I have to stitch it before you lose too much blood. Is that okay? Can I start?" he asks. 

You nod hurriedly. "Just– Don't– Just ignore me if I ask you to stop," you say weakly. 

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek until he can taste blood as strongly as he smells it. 

He stitches your wound closed. It's a jagged wound shaped like an italicised 'y', and he does it as carefully as he can manage, even if the amount of blood pouring from it scares him. He doesn't want to do it wrong and have the stitches rip, or cause more pain than they need too. 

He never wants to hear someone make the sounds you make ever again. When he tells you it's alright, that you don't have to bite them back, you start to sob with each string he tugs. He can't imagine how fiery the pain is. 

When it's done, he disinfects your hip again generously. He must not do a bad job at stitching you up, because while the wound weeps blood into the disinfectant like dye seeping into fabric, it's ten times slower. You look down at your hip, hiccup, and look away. There's blood everywhere, so Eddie pulls you by the underarms across the floor and sits you up. You're still crying, sobbing, but you don't say anything. Eddie wipes away as much blood as he can. Then he covers your newly stitched wound with a fresh, thick square of gauze and tapes it. Finally, he wraps bandages around your waist to keep everything in place, and to apply pressure to the wound. 

He looks at your clammy face with a mixture of pity and newfound pride. He doesn't know who you are, but you did a damn good job.

"Well done," he says, rubbing the lengths of your arms quickly, like a hug without closing in on you. "You did awesome. I'm gonna run outside to get my stuff, I have a shirt that should fit you, and some pants. Water, food. I have whatever you need." 

"A tranquilliser?" you ask. 

"Maybe not one of those."

Eddie retrieves his bike and his wagon, carting them into the kitchen, through your blood trail, and into the staff room behind you. It's snug but there's a couch, and that's all that matters. He shoves the bike aside and runs back to your side, crouching. You look like you're gonna pass out.

"Hey," he says, "can I lift you up?" 

"It's gonna hurt," you say. 

"Yeah, but there's a couch in there, and a door that locks, I don't want us to get attacked while we can't move." 

"Are you going to attack me?" you ask, looking like you want to curl up in a ball and disappear. 

He shakes his head quickly. "No. I promise." 

A promise from someone you don't know isn't worth much, but you take it, and Eddie helps you up and into the staff room. Your crying wanes. Maybe the painkillers are working, or maybe you've run out of steam. Acclimatised to the pain. 

Eddie stops before he gets to the couch. "No funny business, I'm gonna take off your pants." 

"It's okay, whatever," you gasp out. "Sit me down." 

Eddie unbuttons your jeans and you kick them off the best that you can. Your legs are streaked with blood too, but at least you can sit down without absolutely ruining the couch you'll be sleeping on for the next few days. Eddie locks the door, grabs the clothes shears, and cuts off your top. You really do look at him then, your eyes wide with fear, and he backs away from you with his hands up. 

"Sorry," he says, "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to scare you. You've been holding your elbow, I thought maybe you hurt that too, didn't want you to lift your arm."

Your fear ebbs with his explanation. He grabs clothes from his wagon, ears piqued when you speak up. "I think I've broken it."

"Your arm?" he asks. That's an entirely different problem. It could be painful for the rest of your life.

"My elbow. It's swollen." 

"I'll give you more painkillers," he says assuringly. 

He grabs the shirt that looks like it'll fit you and a pair of pants that will be too big. He doesn't know why he has all this stuff that doesn't fit him, he kinda thought they were cool. And who could abandon a Dio t-shirt when no one will ever make one ever again?

"Do you need help?" he asks. 

You sigh regretfully. "I don't think I really have a choice."

"You do. We could throw a blanket over you? Two blankets, even." 

"Please help me put on the t-shirt," you say. 

He doesn't resent you at all for sounding untrusting, even if he did potentially save your life a few minutes ago. People are cruel and will do the worst thing they can do to another person if they want to. He helps you into the t-shirt. You flinch when you straighten out your arm, but it goes on well. Next he helps you into the cargo pants that are luckily a starchy but flexible cotton. You wince as they reach your hip. He lets them lie low. 

He makes sure there's a pillow behind your head, laying his favourite blanket over you and tucking you in amicably. 

Pulling his hair out of his face, Eddie laments how sweaty he is and eyes the wagon for what best to feed you with. You're probably nauseous from pain, so while he'd love to feed you hearty oxtail soup or a can of meatballs that promise protein, he grabs a box of crackers, a tin of vegetable soup that he knows from experience is watery and sad, and his big flask of water. 

He sits down a half a foot from you on the couch. 

"Here," Eddie says, opening the crackers. "You should eat something, please. And drink some water, too." 

You accept everything silently, though after a few morose chews of saltine you murmur, "Thank you." 

"You're welcome. Really welcome." 

"You didn't have to help me," you say, shivering with pain still but looking less like you’re going to pass out now you’ve stopped bleeding profusely.

He looks down at his hands, blood in the grooves of his palms, and shrugs. "Yeah, I did." 

"Most people wouldn't, though." 

"I don't think there's a precedent for what people do anymore. You're the first person I've seen in weeks."

"You're lucky." 

"Yeah?" He tucks his hair behind his shoulder. "I guess I am." 

You eat another cracker, and then you stick out your hand very tentatively. "I'm Y/N. Thank you for saving me." 

He shakes your hand with the same tentativeness.

"I'm Eddie," he says with a smile. "You're welcome." 

"I thought I was gonna die in the cabinet," you say, rubbing your eyes, "like a sick dog. I just wanted to be alone while it happened." 

It's a very solemn thing to admit to, and in the quiet of the room, your face and hands dull with blood, it's macabre.

"Sorry I didn't let you die," he says, trying not to laugh in shock. 

You visibly fluster, your embarrassment held tightly in the set of your shoulders and your frenetic hand as you rub your collar. "I didn't want to die. I don't want to." 

"Then you won't," Eddie says, knowing it's not that simple, but needing to persuade the agony from your face. 

You look down at your lap. Eddie searches for something to offer, something he can give now that you're lucid enough to know you were in the shit. It's terrifying business, knowing you could've died. 

"I have a bottle of Black Coconut rum if you're interested. I thought it might come in handy lighting fires, but I think you could use it," Eddie offers. 

"Yes," you say, your voice small. "I think so too." 

"If we had some pineapple juice, I would love to make you a Piña Colada. Now that would cheer you up." 

"Rum is fine, please." 

Eddie doesn't let you suffer. He gets up to grab the rum and passes it to you. You drink it in surprisingly eager glugs, rum running down your neck in shiny rivulets like shooting stars plummeting through a vermillion sky. He needs to help you clean the blood from your throat and face before it dries. 

You shudder and pass the rum bottle back to him, looking sicker than sick. "That wasn't bad," you say, eyes squeezed closed. You sound like you've been punched. 

Eddie hoots a laugh. He really missed having good company. 

—

thank you for reading! reblogs are appreciated, and if you have a request for this au let me know, I’d love to write more of their story!! <3