#sobs screams cries vomits

[clownery-and-fuckery]

Thinking about how Wrecker staring down at Tech as he fell, despite his fear, was his only way of keeping Tech company as he died.

Thinking that all Wrecker could do was stare down, and thinking that all Tech wanted to do was stare back up. Thinking that all could they thought about was assuring the other that "it's ok. you're going to be ok. i'll figure it out."

[slythereen]

lestappen 🤝 crazy fucking brake issues

[aniqua]

error: f13nd | yandere!qimir x droid!reader

✧content: 18+ mdni, f!reader, smut, angst, blood, toture, violence, alcoholic qimir, p in v, handjob, creampie, dacryphilia, pathetic dom qimir, overstim, everything that comes with yandere tendencies

✧note: please give feedback because the lengths I went through to post this. also, let me know what you think about the concept

✧word count: 5.5K

✧series masterlist

Warm droplets of blood that had grouped on the edge of a busted lip were now flying across the room. The smell of iron filled the entire space much quicker than the screams of the victim it was coming from. Vermillion was splattering onto the walls, tables, and floors. Every time Qimir’s fist met the man’s face, the liquid that was seeping out of his broken skin was running for the hills and some of it had found shelter on Qimir's fabric. For the red that didn’t end up staining the wall or his fist, it dripped and mixed itself with tears and saliva until it inevitably made a trail down the man's chest.

“I-I mean,�� Qimir shook his head in disbelief while his lip broke into a smirk as he gave himself a moment to laugh. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t find out?” he asked. Qimir’s callous hands grabbed Menall's hair to pull his face up so Qimir could have a better look at the liar.

All the Sith could think about throughout the exchange was just how much of a waste of time the entire ordeal was. Most of the recent evenings were spent by you and him getting to know each other. Regardless, today he had to watch a sloppy merchant beg for his life by reciting promises like hymns as if anything he was saying was original.

“Menall,” Qimir kept the hold on the man’s, once dark now red, hair. “All I asked was for your best sensor and you sent me bullshit. That's not fair,” he chastised like a teacher.

“I didn’t sell the latest to anyone else! I swear! It was never for sale!” Menall's body shook as he cried. The merchant's own bodyguards watched the entire ordeal from across the room previously bruised and broken by only one man.

“But,” Qimir got closer to his face and smiled, “I didn’t ask for what was for sale. I said I wanted your best sensor."

The prospect of death was certainly an option. Nearly a guarantee since Qimir was known to have little patience. This was reason enough for Menall to look over to his guards and say, “Give it to him, you idiots!”

Before Qimir could finish wiping the red liquid off of his hands with the robe Menall wore, his goon came back with a small box. Once it was given in hand, Qimir opened it and glanced at the item before snapping the container close immediately.

“Thank you," he bowed. "It was a pleasure doing business with you,” he said.

Before he could go, a silver dagger materialized from his hands, and just as quickly, Qimir had swiped at the merchant and took off his ear. The piece of tender flesh hit the ground before Menall could recognize the pain. However, when he did, he was howling even above Qimir's cool tone.

“Shhh,” was all Qimir said before the man was holding and choking on his sobs like hot vomit. With a few painful cries from within the merchant’s throat cutting through, Qimir said, “Remember, I don't like repeating myself.”

Once he was out the door, the only clue that he was ever there was a few coins to cover the difference of the newer sensor and a surgeon that could reattach the man’s ear.

The seediest parts of the city Qimir lived in had much to avoid at night but it was still a city that never went quiet. Parts of it were still mesmerizing and lively enough to enjoy on every late-night walk he took. On his journey home, he passed restaurants and markets that emitted laughter brighter than light. For most of the journey, beaming bulbs from each restaurant’s insides made his hood glow and lit the lower part of his face that wasn't obscured. He only stopped once to make a brief purchase before he was back on his way.

~

The clock within your vision read twenty minutes before midnight when the sound of his footsteps filled the quiet of the surroundings. You were pulled out of your book when you heard Qimir stumbling in. The sounds stopped when he recklessly landed on the couch before his feet could give in from exhaustion.

Qimir could hear your feet make their way over to him as he let the couch consume him like quicksand. Once he let out a heavy exhale and opened his eyes, there you were across from him on the couch. You stared at him like a rabbit as you went over his state.

“You smell of alcohol,” you spoke as if it were a trivia question.

When he looked over to you, his eyes were half-lidded. “At least your other senses work,” he says with a faint but teasing smile. He wasn't entirely done with working on you but he was too selfish to wait until he could find all the parts that he wanted once your appearance was a carbon copy of what you looked like just before you died.

He let his eyes shut briefly to let his spine melt. You moved closer and let your eyes inspect his body and the way he chose to relax. Parts of your vision picked up on his state as you processed every important and unimportant detail of him. 

“You’re hurt,” you said as you looked at the split skin on his knuckles. They were red from irritation and were darker in some crevices.

Qimir let out one last sigh before he brought his other hand to hold your face. The one that wasn’t marred with dried evidence that he hastily tried to wipe off as he was walking in. He always saved one throughout the confrontation so when he reached for you, he wouldn't stain you with his consequences.

You leaned closer until you were only a whisper away from his face. Qimir could feel his heart rapping in his ears as he heard you say plainly, “May I help?”

The way your chest rose and fell was so convincing as you looked at him for permission to proceed. He should have said no. You needed fixing first but there he was fighting his greed and self-loathing like a bruised villain. You didn’t even register a "yes" before he was taking your soft hands and navigating inside his pants.

With the day he had, he didn’t want foreplay and he knew teasing would only make him break the wood of the sofa in frustration. So, Qimir placed your hands on his warm member all the while you kept your focus on his eyes which almost made him come into your hands right then and there. 

“What should I do?” you asked. You were still adapting and hadn’t learned how to completely improvise yet.

“Stroke me,” he couldn’t hold back the way he nearly sounded like he was begging.

You wrapped your cold hand around him. Qimir felt something travel up his throat and get stuck there. You took your time with moving back and forth like he hadn't just begged you to start, “like this?” you asked.

He pulled you closer to his chest by the back of your neck and you immediately placed your free hand on his chest to hold yourself steady. You processed the gesture as a confirmation as you kept your focus. Your shining eyes stayed steady on him as Qimir felt every vein in his shaft go cold from your frigid strokes. His lips let out a breathy groan as his brown eyes danced to find somewhere to look to last longer.

“F-faster,” his voice shook as sweat traveled from his forehead to his bobbling Adam’s apple. He was already hot from the alcohol.

Your hand was steadily increasing in speed to the point where you had to pull his warm cock out to meet the cold air of the room for a better grip. His tip was just as rosey as the tips of his ears. A few drops of come had leaked out before that you used it to further lubricate your increasing speed. He let out another moan at that point that was louder than the last.

Certainly, Qimir’s heart rate made it obvious to you that he was soon to climax but what made it all the more evident was how to lept to kiss you. His biceps caged you under him on the couch. He never stopped rolling into your wet hand as he consumed your lips.

So his moans kept spilling out of his mouth to yours. However, you hadn’t returned the offering which was the whole reason for his reluctance in the first place. He fought all of heaven and earth to pull himself from your kisses. In the same shaky breath, he gripped your wrist tightly to stop your stroking.

“Is something wrong?” your eyes danced from his eyes to his lips and back.

He let his hand stroke your hair as he spoke, “Are you enjoying this,” he said.

You looked at him puzzled, “I am,” you said plainly. It almost made Qimir laugh with how factual you had made it sound. He had no doubts but this was another one of those learning curves.

“It’s hard to tell when you never make a sound,” he said. The way the gears were already shifting and within a few seconds he was sure you had pocketed that feedback into a part of your processing.

“Like this?” you said before crashing your lips into him and releasing a sigh into his mouth to return him the favor. 

Qimir had practically melted into your flowery mouth as he rushed to place his hand over yours that was wrapped around his swollen shaft. He quickened your pace and let you continue to bruise his lips as he nodded fervently to encourage the way you were latching to each other.

It was only a matter of time before he released a rumbling “fuck” from his chest. He collapsed as a white string of his release squirted over his pants.

~

When Qimir woke up a few hours into the night, he discovered himself to be passed out on the couch and you ended up in another room, charging. The mild headache that he felt meant nothing to him as he walked through his home. You were peacefully rested on a long platform completely still as the only indicator of your functioning being was a glowing ring that could power you off or reset you entirely. He followed the ring like it was a lighthouse as the sound of rain hit against window like pebbles.

Qimir pulled a large, duvet from his bed on his way and draped it over you once he was close enough. He straightened out the parts of it that missed covering you before he slid next to you onto the cold platform. It wasn’t at all comfortable. Oftentimes, he would wake up with a bad back but it didn't matter. This was a habit he formed when he first got you and paranoia never let him sleep for long when you weren’t within reach.

When you woke up a few hours after Qimir, you walked around the apartment before you descended the stairs into where the rest of the safe parts of the city knew him as an apothecary. You passed the trinkets that decorated the space that were older than your body was. Qimir caught you eyeing them one day and told you that he had given them to you every time he returned from an overnight mission so it gave you a sense of responsibility to dust them whenever you could. This applied to the rest of the place which was only able to stay clean because you had nothing better to do than to wake up, contemplate humanity, and head back to your charging station. 

Most of your consciousness was taken from your body and placed inside of an android and you were left to relearn how to practice humanity. You didn’t understand how Qimir felt about it until one day he had come to see you staring at a drawing that was the spitting image of you. At the time, your eyes adjusted and readjusted to take in every detail as you took in new information while he was frozen at the door. It went like this for a few moments before he took the journal you had found and snapped it shut.

“You’re home,” you told him.

“Yeah,” he was putting the journal away.

“Was that me?” is what your database remembers saying.

“Don’t worry about it,” he told you before he kissed you on your forehead and ushered you downstairs.

Now, you were descending the stairs to meet him in his medicinal store that wasn’t open yet. He was sleeping when you saw him. You didn’t know much about anything to do with emotions but you did know that the perpetual crease in his brow and frown on his lips only went away when he was sleeping. It didn’t go away when he was drinking but he still did it. So, you spent a few seconds alone mixing plants and solutions before you woke him up.

“Today’s weather is sunny with slight chances of rain in the evening,” you recited as he stirred out of his sleep with your shakes to his shoulder.

“Most people just say that the weather is nice outside,” he groaned out of his sleep as he stretched. You pushed the small tube of blue solution toward him. “What’s this?” he said.

“You’re showing signs of dehydration. Follow this up with water,” you told him.

Qimir took the tube out of your hand for his hangover but took you as well as an offering. Without a warning, you were on his lap so suddenly. He didn't even need to touch you for you to end up there which was still a power of his you were adjusting to.

“Thank you,” he told you after finishing it in one swing. You could feel the way his heart was racing as he suddenly buried his face in the crook of your neck. To him, it was so impressive how your skin mimicked flesh so eerily. As he bit against your neck and let himself massage your collar with his mouth, he knew it would never bruise but it didn’t matter. This was the only thing keeping him from walking into the Jedi temple and causing a massacre or diving over the edge. He had created an indiscernible replacement that was doing a damn good job of keeping him from processing his grief.

When he was done, he moved to place you on top of the shop counter. It was closed that day so he was reaching for his shawl to head to the market.

“Are you going somewhere?” you asked him. 

“Yeah, I need to get you a better battery.”

“Can I come too?”

Your request stopped him dead in his tracks as he went over every possibility. He was ready to shoot you down, tell you that it wasn’t safe outside, but your words were progress. This was the first time you had asked for anything. Also, it wouldn’t hurt to have you have more stimuli to process. So he took off the shawl he had on and draped it over you just before taking your hand to lead you outside and into the city.

It was all so electrifying the way your senses were being overwhelmed by the environment. The foreign sounds of crowds coming and going from all directions were all you were inputting at first. Qimir was grasping your hand securely as you threaded to and fro with his destination in mind. You couldn’t help the way your eyes wandered all over in contrast to his focused gaze. Everything smelled like the rain that came suddenly in the middle of the night and every voice sounded like raindrops in a large storm.

Eventually, you made it to the market and the pace that you were keeping up with was decreased. Perhaps it was the more slowed-down atmosphere or the way your bright eyes were eager to take in everything but Qimir finally let go of your hand.

“Stay close,” he said as he walked around.

Qimir spent most of his time at the market looking over sellers until he came up disappointed in their selection and moved on to the next one. The both of you would walk up to a booth, and Qimir would ask a few questions about the variety, the seller may have even got as far as showing him a few battery options, but he'd eventually be on his way.  This repeated until he had broken the comfortable silence between the both of you.

“See anything you like?” he said.

But, you didn’t respond. The first few seconds weren’t a concern since he was hoping to give you time but when Qimir turned around to find you, you weren’t there. 

The way the ground was rushed from under him was instant.

His head whipped around as he watched people walk so casually passed him like he wasn’t distressed over your absence. He cut and pushed through strangers as he looked for signs of the brown shawl that he had given you. It felt like it was happening all over again which was making his hands clam up as he tried to materialize you out of thin air.

He was seconds away from throwing all he had worked for just to throw up all the tables at the market with the wave of his hand until the part of his brain looking for something to gnaw on found your voice amongst a sea. He went running without question and had his hands gripping onto your shoulder tight by the next breath.

“[Name]!”

“Qimir,” you looked up at him without any concern even though his eyes had looked as though he'd seen hell.

“I told you,” he was still catching his breath but it was clear to you that he was upset with the edge and volume in his voice “to stay close! And you just–”

“I’m sorry,” you told him. Qimir didn’t even get a chance to reprimand you before you took his hand and said “I made a friend.”

He followed your eyes to a seller whom he wouldn’t have known to be an advanced android if he hadn’t spent weeks helping to craft you. The android waved.

“Isn't he fascinating? He's the latest to launch with his retinal disparities solved—” you were expelling information to Qimir but the entire time he was looking at the seller. Even under the fabric, Qimir could see the android carried an enviable build because it didn’t require any of the disciplines that Qimir had. The stranger even sported a polite smile that reached his eyes like all were programmed to do. The Sith spent his time looking over the being to find a hole in the persona but when he found nothing he checked back into the conversation you resumed with your fellow machine.

“You got any type 13 batteries?” he interrupts with a tight-lipped smile.

“Type 13C,” the android repeats as he sifts through a catalog behind the table. “You guys are in luck. I have one more left." Qimir didn't miss the way the android looked over at you when he said that.

~

The walk back home should have been pleasant but Qimir spent most of it peeved even once he made it inside away from the brewing storm.

“You’re upset,” you looked at him in the empty apartment as he put a bag down. Qimir didn’t say anything about your statement so you thought to solve it the only way you knew how. You went to him as you calculated every way your decision could end.

You were kissing him in record time. Qimir felt your cold lips mold into him as he tried to keep focus on the root of his frustration. However, you were a fast learner because, by the time you placed him under your shirt, he was entirely distracted. You were getting so good at acting like you used to when you were human.

“Qimir,” you moaned as you felt him squeeze your breast. His breathing was picking up as you broke the kiss for a moment but things were going right back to how they were before when he went back to kissing you. He went right back to kneading your breasts and making a mockery of your sensitive nipples.

It would have gone farther but Qimir told himself that he’d swap your parts since he couldn’t spend another day holding back.

“Let me fix you,” he placed his forehead onto yours as spoken and traded his hands under your shirt for around your waist. “Okay?” he said.

You accepted the way his hands wrapped around your neck. It felt warm and comforting as he pressed your power button. The heaviness of your parts became clear when you went limp and into unconsciousness but you never met the ground since Qimir’s hand never left your neck until he secured your position to pick you up and walk you to your charging platform.

The way he admired you as he carefully peeled off your clothes. For every clothing item he took off, he felt his mind get quieter until your naked body made it all go silent. 

Just as the rain started once more, Qimir started the rest of his day by reaching for his tool kit. He would open you up and give you every knee sensor, motor, and battery he had gotten for you to be the best. The closest to human he could get you.

~

Your vision was beyond better than it used to be when you woke up. 24 hours had gone by and you were now heading off of your platform. It was an odd feeling to be able to now feel the temperature. Had your home always been cold? Even the robe around you did little to keep the air from bitting at your appendages.

Your bare feet walked around the apartment searching for Qimir until you found him in the same room he had disassembled you. There on the stretcher was the body of the android who gave you your new battery and Qimir was still fishing to store spare parts for later.

“I’m upset.” That was all you said as you interrupted his fixated tinkering.

“What?” He looked up at you over his glasses. “Do you miss him?” This was the first time you were picking up that he was mocking you.

“What are you talking about?” you said in annoyance. The spectrum of your emotions was much deeper now.

Qimir placed his utensils down, took off his glasses, and walked over to you.

“You said you liked him, right? So what did you expect me to do?” he spoke in that whisper that he only used when he was trying to reason with you.

“So you broke him down to pieces,” you said.

By now, Qimir had your face in his hands.

“I didn’t ask this of you,” you told him as you held onto both of his arms.

“Oh, come on. You were practically begging for it, the way you were looking at him. I gave you what you wanted. Right? Those eyes that you liked so much.”

“I didn’t want that,” you said. You should have been pulling away from him and told him how much of a monster he was as you looked past him and saw pieces of hardware and flesh haphazardly mixed together. He had practically eaten the android down to the bone trying to salvage every scrap he could find until he was reduced to nothing. Yet, you were just as much up a hypocrite to want the same man who gave you your first feeling of disgust to comfort you at the same time.

“How do you know what you want, [Name]?” he let go of your face but kept walking forward even as you were stepping back.

“I do!” your declaration cut through the cold room as he had you cornered.

“So what?” he caged you with both of his hands as he maintained a hard look into your eyes. “you want your boyfriend back?” he teased you with a raised chin.

“He is not my boyfriend… You’re my idiot boyfriend.” you fired back as you pushed against his chest. You used the opportunity to get out of the prison he put you in.

You had got a new sense of humor. It would have fascinated Qimir if he wasn’t secretly eager to keep pushing you. With the wave of his hand, he watches you get pulled back to him at such a speed that your chest hits against his with a thud.

“Qimir.” You wanted to ask him what he was thinking because it was killing you.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s distracting” he told you.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to fuck you,” he laughed lightly but it still reached his shoulders.

Your patience was being tested since no amount of calculating or sifting through your data could get you to figure out how to prove him wrong. 

“Oh,” he said. “... you do.” You didn’t miss the way that the corner of his lips was holding back a smile that was on the edge of sanity. His brown eyes didn’t look the same anymore.

“Come on,” you heard him say as you were scared he was right. He drew closer as he hovered over your lips but he tortured you since he never let your mouths meet. 

“Ask me for it,” he said. Qimir could swear that he was doing his best to hold back because whenever you had a look on your face that you were processing, he felt this feeling in his chest to consume you.

“Qimir,” you held onto yourself but by the time you felt the room becoming to how you just managed to say “please.”

You pushed your lips onto him as he brought you against the wall to attack you with all you could handle. Qimir let his lips start at your mouth before he made his way down. He sucked at your jaw just to travel to your neck. You let out a few scattered moans every time he pushed forward until he was untying your robe.

He didn’t let you think for a moment when his hand found its way past your robe and in between your folds. You blinked once, then twice as your lips were spilling moans all over.

“How does it feel,” he said but you didn’t register it the first time. “Huh?” he was practically pressing you for a response as his thumb rubbed the bud in between as his middle finger was slowly being consumed by the contraction of your hole taking him in.

“W-warm,” you confessed as your hand instinctively latched onto his arm.

“Aren’t you glad I got you a new sensor?” he tilted his hand to tease you while looking through his lashes. Your eyes were squeezed shut as you felt the temperature of your body increase. Qimir was having too much fun. “Hm?”

He took his other hand to rub furiously against your warm, wet lips so he can focus on just pushing in and out of you at an impossible speed with the middle finger that he was using. The sound of him going in, out, back, and forth was loud enough for you to hear as the liquids that were seeping out of you were just being pushed back in his thick fingers.

You were so overwhelmed that your mouth opened but not a sound came out of you. You could hear your name being called but all you could focus on was how little control you had over your thighs as they were squeezing so tightly. Qimir saw the way you tried to snap shut but he pried you back open with his legs until your knees were buckling under the sensation.

“Come on keep standing.” he drove into you further with his fingers almost to bring you back up “You can do it,” he said.

“I ca–I can’t,” you cried. Your tears that had welled up were finally spilling over and it only made Qimir’s pants tighter as he watched.

“Yes, you can,”  he said. He could tell you were close with the way your breathing was so irregular. That only made it worse for you as he took the opportunity to put another finger into you without warning. That clearly did it for you when he felt your pussy practically latch down on him like they were trying to push him out. 

The way you cried at your climax did something to Qimir’s thoughts.

“There you go.” he mumbled. The juices that came out of you and spilled all over his fingers made him tell you “Good girl,” with such breathiness.

“Don’t get tired on me yet. We still got more things to test out.” Qimir picked you up so effortlessly. It felt like you blinked and when you opened your eyes, he was lying down with his back on the couch and you seated and secured near his hips. His member was just as flush as it was a few days before. 

You were smart enough to understand what you wanted to do but you had no experience to know what it was about to feel like. Qimir was waiting with bated breath to see what you’d choose. A balloon was in your chest as you looked at his cock. When you wrapped your hands around it, Qimir felt a shutter travel up his spine. You rose carefully and adjusted yourself directly above his tip. As you sank, you could hear the wet noises that were coming from below as your quivering lips were sucking Qimir in with so little resistance. 

Qimir threw his head back as he gasped. He missed the way you were practically chasing a high when the first feeling of him stretching you made you too horny and too eager.

He spoke through his moans. “Slow down you’re gonna–”

A lowly groan passed your lips and your eyes were squeezing as you tried to catch yourself. “It hurts,”

Qimir shouldn’t have laughed but he couldn’t help how clueless you were reduced to. You had the entire galaxy’s information running through your brain but your excitement made you throw intelligence out the window to chase the feeling that the thickness of his cock was giving. “You’re trying to take it so quickly. Slow down.”

You took his advice until you completely buried his shaft into you until it was gone with the only evidence being the bulge in your abdomen. You stayed like this just enough to get used to it.

“Qi–” you called for him but he already flipped over and knocked the wind out of you in the process.

The first time he pulled out felt disappointed until he snapped right back into you. His hips went back and pushed forward and your body bounced against it. First, it was slow. You gripped onto his shoulders as you were sure you’d probably lose your center of gravity if you didn’t.

“How does it feel?” he grunted.

“F-faster, please,” you gasped. “Please.”

Qimir picked up his speed instantly. The warm feeling of his member and the veins that adorned it hitting against your insides was accompanied by a symphony of skin hitting skin. Your hands gripped and tightened while your nails made crescent marks on his back. By some point, Qimirs hands latched around your neck for some false sense of support as he tried to hit every angle of your pussy. 

He drilled into you so relentlessly that you forgot how to breathe and just started hiccuping. It’s not even like you needed the air but Qimir knew you better than you did.

“Breath,” he was now chest to chest and speaking into your ear. “You’re gonna overheat if you don’t breathe.”

So you listened and threw your head back as you took all the bullying his thrusting was doing to you. For a brief moment, your eye caught the droid in the other room.

“I broke him down just for you and now look at you,” Qimir chuckled into your neck as he kissed your neck. 

He didn’t even let you spend enough time looking to feel bad because he took your face in his hands to have you look right into his eyes as the sweat from his body was mixing with the come oozing out of you.

“Don’t look at him. Look at me,” was the last thing he got to say before you felt your entire system malfunctioning. That’s the only way you could describe it as the cord in your stomach wound tighter and tighter until you finally snapped and your eyes briefly glowed white. 

“There you go,”  he said as you shook and squirted on him.

You melted into the couch as Qimir chanced his high and took one of your breasts into his mouth. He kept going until he was releasing strings of come into you and letting out the filthy moans muffled by your breast.

Your eyelids were heavy from exhaustion as your systems tried to calibrate and compensate for the sudden dropping temperatures. You could only feel Qimir caress your face as he spoke. 

“I think your database is overwhelmed. We’ll try more tomorrow.” 

You could hear the smile on his lips as you tightened your hold around his waist for comfort.

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[raining-anonymously]

i really really appreciate how much the mouthwashing gameplay emphasizes that curly is still a feeling human person after the crash. he reacts to every single thing that happens around him. he makes decisions. he changes his behavior as the game progresses. these subtle details are everything to me. he’s not a prop.

CW for discussion of medical abuse, forcefeeding, torture, gore, autocannibalism, basically everything curly experiences in-game

“he doesn’t want to keep still any more.” our first line in curly’s presence. anya doesn’t say “he won’t keep still anymore,” she says he doesn’t want to. this diction provides a sharp contrast to jimmy, whose only acknowledgment of curly’s desires comes up when he puts words in curly’s mouth, while anya observes curly’s body language to extrapolate what he actually wants and needs. she considers him a person, just as the player is meant to; jimmy does not.

the progression of the pills scenes. in the first one, he’s in about as little pain as we see him. he just chokes it down.

in the second pills scene, anya is late on giving him the pills and he’s clearly in great pain, crying, tossing and turning even though that probably just hurts him more. i do think the way the crying can be heard through the entire ship is jimmy’s auditory hallucination, but it was loud enough to wake jimmy up from the lounge. when jim actually does give him the pills, curly briefly resists, but after that first hit, he cries out in pain and then gives this strangled “huh?” before the beating continues. he cries out a couple more times before realizing jimmy wants him to be quiet, and he stops crying out, lets jimmy give him the pills, and sobs quietly before going silent.

in the third pills scene, curly seems to be trying not to make noise or resist. he still sobs after the pills go down and falls quiet after.

after anya’s and daisuke’s deaths, curly lies so still and quiet that i’ve witnessed multiple players be shocked that he’s still alive when his chest moves.

and the infamous laughter… that’s definitive proof that curly isn’t just reacting to stimuli like pain (which would not make him less of a person, for the record) but actively observing and thinking about the events around him.

when jimmy picks curly up. despite the fact that having his burns pressed against another person would be excruciating, curly does not react. just breaths hoarsely and keeps his eye locked on jimmy — until he ends up on the table surrounded by the corpses. then, and only then, does his breath get panicky, and he starts to cry softly.

cutting the leg. my goodness, those screams. incredible voice acting, first of all, but it really stands out to me that it isn’t a terrifying, inhuman scream. it’s very human, very desperate and pained, mixed with heaving, awful sobs. and afterward? curly’s so shaken that he’s visibly moving his jaw on his own as he gasps for breath. and the look in his eye…

in the force feeding scene — which, in my mind, was a hallucinatory version of real events — curly is silent and still. he only moves or cries out when he’s forced to via vomiting or the wheels turning (though the latter is likely imagined). he doesn’t react to anything else. doesn’t even hold up his head. but he gives these pained cries when the wheels turn, and this draws awareness to how he’s being treated as a prop here with intention. he’s being dehumanized, reduced to an object, but we as the player are painfully aware that this is a person. he’s not reacting more because he’s shutting down from all the trauma he’s experienced.

and i have a lot in my head about the juxtaposition of curly POV scenes with jimmy interacting with post-crash curly scenes. they’re often perfectly timed to remind you that the person on the cot, on the table, or in your arms is the same man who you were a minute ago, and vice versa.

just. man. mouthwashing emphasizes curly’s humanity at every corner, and that makes his story so much more horrifying.

i really like this game and i really like that it displays a disabled character being dehumanized by the player character while also emphasizing to the player that this is not right.

[elliesspacewalker]

Ellie with your kid and your pregnancy head cannons 🥺

Warnings: like absolutely none, a bit suggestive at the end but pure fluff! Transgender!Ellie.

---

- Ellie was quite literally bouncing off the walls when she found out you were pregnant, couldn't wait to tell Joel.

- when Ellie had told Joel, he was also bouncing off the walls with excitement.

"I'm so excited for you kiddo" he said with a firm hand squeezing the poor girl's shoulder.

- Ellie who most definitely held your stomach so you didn't have as much pressure on your poor stomach carrying her baby. She'd come from behind while you're doing the dishes and would hold your stomach softly upwards as you slightly moaned at the feeling.

- Ellie who was there throughout the whole birth, the poor girl nearly fainted but had to stay strong as she knew if she fainted in front of you, it would stress you the fuck out so she stayed strong.

- Ellie who carried the baby in her arms so softly to the bed as soon as you guys got out of the hospital, absolutely loving your son.

"he's so fucking cute babe, I cant- I just- I love you so much" she chuckled, hugging you from behind with her head on your shoulder as you held him, almost sobbing.

- Ellie who definitely woke up at 2am from the baby screaming at the top of his fucking lungs.

"babe please" you whispered and Ellie groaned "I'm tired" she complained "so am I, go!"

She groaned harder before getting up to check on your son- she changed his nappy, before waking you up again "he's hungry".

She watched in admiration as you breast fed your son, "bet you wish this was you huh?" You teased and she laughed "shut up" she got back into bed "nuh-uh, you're putting him back to bed" you gave her a mom look and she immediately got out of bed and grabbed him gently to put him back to bed.

- Ellie who definitely had her favourite t-shirt covered in vomit, after her kid threw up all over it, it didn't matter. She loved him anyways but she wasn't too happy about it, always complaining to you.

"babe look" you chuckled at the sight of vomit all down her shirt.

- Ellie definitely cried so hard when it was your son's first day of kindergarten, he was growing up and she was sobbing in the car over how 5 years has gone by so fast.

- Ellie who always took him to Macca's after you said too much unhealthy food was bad but she just wanted to see her boy all happy.

- Ellie who brought him all this gaming shit for his 12th birthday and gamed like crazy with him and it made you giggle at the sight of her teaching him how to play- and of course he was growing up so fast, who knew 12 years would go by so quickly?

SUGGESTIVE THEMES

- Ellie who asked to go to Joel's for lunch, and whispering in your ear after Joel went to go get food "wanna make another?" She joked, your eyes went wide and you looked at her- "jokes!" This girl was scary fertile, you knew she was joking but you would've considered it.

[goldfades]

★ BREAK THE BED (LITERALLY) ─── CC²²

❪ requested -> "Can I pleaseeee get a fic where cc actually breaks the bed?? I just know her strap game in rough after a loss" ❫

─ warnings | nsfw under the cut, read at ur own discretion. kinda angsty but not rly???? just very angry cait (for the most part), mention of the media being mean, STRAP!!!!!!!!!!!! degradation with a sprinkle of praise, the bed actually breaking lol (who woulda thought?), it ends in a funny way and aftercare with so much cuteness u might die!!!!

─ ev's notes | kinda word vomit but this concept makes me go feral!!!!!!!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my wcbb masterlist!

the entire night, caitlin had gotten absolutely dogged on. the game had been brutal, not just physically but emotionally. she could still feel the sting of missed shots, the weight of turnovers, and the disappointment of her teammates' glares. the fans' cheers had turned to jeers, and she couldn't shake off the feeling of letting everyone down.

off the court, the media scrutiny was relentless. headlines dissected her every move, analyzing her performance with a critical eye. she was sick of it, and with each passing moment, her anger only seemed to grow stronger. she wanted to scream, to lash out at something, anything, that could bear the weight of her frustration.

"oh, fuck!" you moaned as you felt your eyes roll to the back of your head, gripping the sheets beneath you. caitlin had you bent over her bed as she fucked into you relentlessly, one of her hands gripping your hip as the other pushed your head into the mattress. "please,"

her thrusts were fast and unforgiving, she was absolutely wrecking you. you'd both been at it for what felt like hours but in reality, your legs felt like they were about to give out at any moment but neither of you cared ─ it felt so good.

"fuck, yeah. take it, fucking take it," caitlin's groans came out breathless as her head fell back, as if she could really feel you through the thick piece of plastic. "good fucking girl, yeah,"

you nodded your head against the mattress at her praise, feeling the coil in your stomach begin to tighten. you loved it when cait treated you like this ─ she was usually caring but right now it felt like she couldn't care less about how you felt.

and you can admit to almost anyone that having a hot and tall hooper girlfriend has many perks ─ including getting absolutely fucking wrecked by her strap after terrible games.

"please, fuck," you choked out as you felt yourself begin to shake underneath her, your face contorting into one of pure bliss.

"fucking slut," the words came out smoothly as you moaned in response. she wasn't ever much of a degrader but god, did it feel good.

caitlin gripped your hair even harder as she pulled you up so that she press kisses against your jaw as she continued to fuck into you. "you like that? fuck, baby, you like getting called a slut? yeah?"

"yeah," you sobbed out as caitlin pressed her lips against yours in a sloppy kiss.

caitlin pushed your head back against the mattress and somehow, her thrusts got even rougher and faster. "oh fuck yeah, take it like a slut. i know you like that shit, stop whining,"

that was all it took for you to cum around her strap, your cries of pleasure echoing throughout her apartment. she didn't stop, she kept fucking you until you rode out your high.

caitlin kept pressing sloppy kisses on your shoulders and neck as you caught your breath, she wrapped her arms around your naked back and pulled you closer. you could feel her smile on your neck as you both stayed like that for a few moments, relishing in each other.

and that was all she needed to feel okay again. suddenly all the media and all the bullshit didn't matter anymore, because at least you were with her. and at the end of the day, she has a sexy ass girlfriend who can take her rough strap game after a tough loss (and who supports and cherishes her).

she pulled out of you slowly, wary of your very sensitive pussy. you winced as her expression turned thoughtful, "you okay, honey?"

"yeah," you whispered out as caitlin's hands gripped your hips and slowly pushed you on the bed. you turned around to meet her face and she pushed your hair out of your face, taking in your beautiful face.

she put one leg on the bed and began to move toward you, only for the mattress to completely complete collapse underneath. caitlin's eyes widened in surprise as the mattress collapsed beneath her, sending both of you tumbling to the floor with a thud. you let out a startled gasp, the sudden movement catching you off guard.

for a moment, there was silence, save for the sound of your breathing and the creaking of the broken bed frame. then, a burst of laughter bubbled up from deep within you, and soon caitlin joined in, her laughter filling the room.

"holy shit, dude," you laughed as caitlin caught her breath.

caitlin kept giggling as she shook her head in amusement. "my strap game that good?"

"i can't believe we actually like... we broke the bed," you both dissolved into fits of laughter again, the absurdity of the situation sinking in.

caitlin smirked, a playful glint in her eyes. "i guess that's what happens when you bring your a-game," she quipped, earning another round of laughter from both of you. "my ego really, really needed that, whew."

your expression softened as your girlfriend looked back at you, before continuing. "no seriously, even if we keep this losing streak up, at least i have you to make me feel better."

"really? that was all it took, one good fuck and you're all better?" you smirked as caitlin nodded, in all seriousness.

"oh, yes. absolutely. half of those dudes can't get their girls to orgasm with their real dicks. i did it with a damn strap and i got you screaming your head off, oh and i broke the bed," caitlin explained as you began laughing again. "i'm never gonna be able to take 'em seriously now, cause like... sure i keep getting dogged on but i'm still adjusting and!"

she pulled you closer into her chest, "i have a sexy girlfriend,"

"that's the spirit, baby," you laughed again as you squeezed your tall girlfriend.

caitlin chuckled, her arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. "damn right," she said, her voice filled with pride. "and don't you forget it."

"never doubted it for a second," you replied, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "you're the sexiest, most badass girlfriend a girl could ask for."

"i love you, sweetheart," she mumbled against your head as she leaned toward you again before she felt the bed give way beneath you both once more. this time, however, instead of laughter, there was a collective groan as you hit the floor with a thud.

"love you too, but how are we gonna sleep tonight?" you groaned as caitlin sighed.

"i'm calling a hotel, hold on," caitlin sighed as she got up from the broken bed and walked out of the room.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[zhvakinnn]

They accidentally injured their s/o

Warnings: angst to fluff?

Character's: Logan,Aiden,ben

Pt2: Tyler, Taylor, Ashlyn

✨as always i don't know much English so if something is wrong correct me✨

Logan fields

He didn't mean to

He was in a panic he didn't notice you running there

He didn't mean to shot you

We only have 9 minutes before we wake up

Logan ran up to you and started to panic so he drag you to the bus

As he drag you he kept his eyes on you while you hold him

The others saw you and him so they ran the same path and try being quiet so no phantom can follow them

Once they got there logan is trying to stop the blood by a cloth

He kept mumbling I'm sorry while you stare blankly in the ceiling and coughing up blood but you're still alive your holding his other arm

Ben put him aside and starting to heal you when ben took out the bullet in you're chest you can hear someone is vomiting

You're eye sight is starting to blur

Then

You jolted from the sound of the alarm clock when you say up properly you can feel the sting in your chest

When you got up and go to the bad room the door was suddenly bust open you check who it was and it revealed

Its logan

"i know i should probably knock in your door i didn't mean to but are you ok i didn't mean to do that iwasjustinapanicididntnoticeyourunningthereimsosorry I'm sorry-"

His words stop when you hugged him and hush him that your ok you're still alive

"I'm really really sorry does it sting?"

He said while sobbing

You nodded and just hugged you and kissed your forehead not a moment later your mother went upstairs only to see you two hugging and smiled

"(name), Logan you're bothe late for school"

Oh shit..

---------------------------------------------------

Aiden Clark

He was so reckless he didn't notice you're there he was only joking around

All fun and games ti'll he saw you falling from a window

His eyes are widen, he accidentally pushed you

He didn't waste no time he ran down the stairs and he tripped when he got down he knew phantoms Heard him and so are you because when he was going down he heard a loud thud

When he got there he flashed the phantom that was near you with a flash light

He saw you unconscious

'no no no no no'

He thought to himself as he hold you, you were bleeding so much mostly in your head

He thought you were dead till you gasp and sat down coughing

He pat your back and whisper I'm sorry while holding you

"are you ok?, are you feeling dizzy?, can you stand up?, can you hear me?"

You nodded not being able to speak in the moment

"oh c'mon i miss your smile"

You said weakly creasing his cheeks he holds you tightly while you whine that it hurts

"I'm sorry i didn't mean to squeeze you like that"

He said while chuckling

"now that's what I like to see"

You said while having a small smile

You hugged him like there's no tomorrow

---------------------------------------------------

Ben Clark

If only he spoke

If only he scream

Yet no words came from his mouth

He watch you getting drag by a phantom

He can hear you're scream he wanted to run towards you he wanted to save you

He ran as fast as he could to save you

He needed you but once he got there he saw you getting biten by it he heard you're crying voice

He attack the phantom while you're arm is still on its mouth

You can hear and feel you're arm is gonna pop

Ben tried to pull it by the head only for you to scream more

He had nothing in him no flashlight, no weapon

Then he saw your hand with a bat he wanted to speak but some of him is closing his mouth

But he doesn't want to see you suffer you're already crying

"(name)!...gi...give me the b-bat!"

He said while struggling you gave him the bat but now you can feel your bones crushed when he started to beat the shit out of the phantom

You're whole arm was torn off

You scream and scream and cried he finally killed the phantom but when he looked at you you have no arm

His eyes are widen and went to you quickly his mind starting to panic he can see you crying he ripped part of his shirt and covered your arm

He finally patch you up and you guys were on the bus

"looks like i only have one arm to use in realm"

He holds you tightly

"i love you, please don't leave me.."

You smiled happy to hear his voice hugging him more

"i love you too.."

---------------------------------------------------

Masterlist | about me | rules

Bens part was actually not his fault but 🤷🏻

Wattpad acc: SvatleenaDelvera

[i-cant-sing]

Just thinking about Yandere Todoroki clan and reader's random moments.

Reader coming home after a particularly bad day, but poor girl cant even cry or complain without everyone immediately overreacting and pulling you out of school/college or even keeping you from going out at all. So now, reader has to either cry in self pity before she enters her home, wipe her tears and fix herself just enough to show that she hadnt just bawled her eyes out moments ago. That, or do the more risky thing and go home, go to your room and cry under the covers, but then theres always the chance of Rei or the others walking in on you any moment.

Also thinking about baby/toddler reader being sick, just a common cold or flu, nothing major. But with reader whining and being so young, the family's infantalisation goes through the roof and theyd treat you as if you were immunocompromised. I wont lie, but I think Rei is almost kinda... glad when you get sick? She enjoys you being dependant on her for the most things, even when you grow up and are able to handle a cold, she still deludes herself into thinking that you need mommy to come and help you.

I think the one person who is most affected by reader getting sick, no matter what age, is Enji. The man just cant help but view you as a fragile, starving Victorian child the moment you fall ill. In his eyes, even a harsh blow of air is too much for a fragile thing like you, let alone something as bad as the flu. He just- he's holding toddler reader in his arms, who snuggles into his warm body, your tiny nose pink and he cant get the image of you crying and vomiting and being oh so feverish- thats just way too much for your small body. Oh how he almost cried when he took you to the doctor for a shot and you clung to him, trying to bury yourself into him as you begged him to make you feel better, cried to him that you didnt want to get the "big scary needle!" He just had to hold you there in his firm grip as you writhed, had to look away when you looked at him and he saw the feeling of betrayal in your eyes, had to keep himself from not strangling the fucking doctor for not being careful, had to walk out of the clinic and hand you to Rei because he couldnt hear you cry anymore, had to have Rei console both you and Enji (assuring him that "no, Enji. Y/n doesnt resent you for making her get a shot.") and he couldnt even sleep a wink that night because he was standing by your bed, holding your tiny hand with his pinky as a tear finally slipped out of his eye.

ALSO thinking about adult reader going out of the house to meet up with friends, except shes meeting up with them at a club instead of at their house like she told Enji and Rei, and now shes standing outside, abandoned by said friends, and shes now running because a group of pervy men are chasing her and she doesnt know who to call, so she just speed dials Shotou, except someone just changed all your speed dials to one number, and you think youre doomed when Shotou doesnt say a word to you and just hangs up when within minutes, someone comes in front of you-

"Dabi?" He tells you to cover your ears and look away, and you know well by know what that means, so you obey, feeling a bit regretful as those men begin to scream in agony. You dont know how long its been until Dabi pulls your hands away and examines your wounds. He lets you crash into his chest as you sob, and this time, Dabi simply decides to take you home quietly without a lecture.

Hmmm, also thinking about Natsuo who is usually cool as a cucumber, the most normal being in the family, except for his very rare episodes of unbridled rage where he suddenly becomes the Hulk. Good thing for you is that this anger is never directed towards you, rather towards people who actively threaten your life (except Rei cause she gets to play "Im your mom who became mentally unstable because of your abusive dad") The only time NAtsuo is stern with you is when it comes to your health. He's just looking at you with those strict eyes when you refuse to take your multivitamins, or dont want to get a flu shot, or try to make up an excuse so that he cant check your vitals. And when he just grabs your wrist and pulls you to sit down so that he can do his checkup, its in those moments that you realise just how strong your brother is... and how easy it may be for him to overpower you and sedate you if he ever followed through Rei's threats.

[pastorpresent]

Major TW for sui/sui thoughts, SH and alcoholism.

Thinking about if Logan had opted to go back to his own universe at the end of dp3.

Him and Wade had been through a lot, sure, but he still doesn't want to impose. Looks around at this family Wade's built. The girl he's in love with, their hands atop of each other, and he knows he definitely can't do all that again. Had done it for far too long with Jean and Scott, and it had irrevocably destroyed a part of his heart forever. He couldn't do that again, didn't have enough heart to risk on Wade Wilson and his kind eyes but ultimate obliviousness.

He couldn't just be a spare part in Wade's life. An intruder. So he leaves after a few days. Thanks Wade, pretends he can't tell the merc is crying under the mask as he throws him one last hug.

As if it was for Wade. No, Logan was just weak. Couldn't leave him forever without just a miniscule taste, especially because he knows when he goes 'home', he won't feel the gentle touch of another person... ever, probably.

He steps through the portal. He's back in his world. His shitty apartment. It might be objectively better than Wade's- but it's so, so much worse, because it's just him and the fucking bare walls. There's blood dried into the carpet from when lashing out at inanimate objects isn't enough. Empty bottles are piled in the trash, and everywhere else.

He thinks about the hello kitty posters plastered on the walls of Wade and Al's apartment. The fading stickers of that pony show Wade watched in the mornings stuck on the TV stand. The curse words and crude drawings carved into the coffee table with Wade's baby knife.

(Logan's initials are carved in there now. He hadn't seen Wade do it, but when he'd noticed it his vision had blurred with tears.)

He'd mocked all of those things aloud. Childish. Fucking stupid, was he five?

His wallpaper was peeling and slashed with three identical cuts here and there. His TV was settled on a cardboard box. There was nothing carved into the wood of his coffee table, and even if there had been the cluster of beer bottles would've hid it from view.

He leaves. Goes and drinks himself to death in a bar. Not the nearest bar, because that's where Wade found him, and he'd sooner gut himself on the pavement that step foot in there ever again.

He stumbled home shit faced. He doesn't know what time it is. Skips the shower, collapses into his bed with a manic chuckle, a bottle of whiskey replacing where Wade was supposed to be. He cuddles up to it pathetically. It's cold and hard against his chest. It's not Wade, as much as he wants it to be, and he clutches it too hard, as if that'll change that basic fact.

It shatters. The glass cuts open his skin as quickly as his body stitches it closed. The dredges of alcohol soak into the mattress and his shirt.

He passes out shortly after, and when he finally finds sleep he sees him.

Wade's lying next to him, smiling softly, the golden glow of the sunrise floating over his scarred skin.

"Morning peanut," he says, eyes shining.

Logan almost chokes on the sob that builds in his chest, swelling up and suffocating him, "Wade."

"I'm here."

Logan reaches out to touch, hand shaking, and Wade cries out, impaled on claws he doesn't remember unsheathing.

Bloods going everywhere, and he's panicking, because Wade isn't healing. He's going pale, and he's still bleeding, and his eyes already look dead.

He wakes up screaming his name, in a sticky patch of drying whiskey. He adds vomit into the mix for good measure, still gasping and trying to catch his breath as he throws up onto the sheets.

He decides sleeping is the issue, so he will just not do that. He drinks, and drinks, and lives in bars and on his couch. He doesn't sleep, even if his body begs for it. Goes as far as filling the bath and holding himself under for a few seconds to wake himself up.

The ptsd-esque flashback it triggers from the tank, his procedure, makes him destroy his bathroom entirely. The shower curtain is slashed into ribbons. The mirror is shattered in the sink. The tiles are literally hanging off the walls.

Somehow he'd still rather be drowning repeatedly as metal gets grafted to his skeleton through what felt like a million needles than back on that bed with Wade smiling over at him. Even before he... that scene alone had been the sickest form of torture he could conjure up. Wade, mere inches away, happy, his. A big fucking lie.

He used to have similiar dreams about Scott and Jean. Lying between them as they stroked his hair and told him they loved him, only for them to laugh at him when he tried to touch. Call him deluded and sick and all the other words Logan felt like he needed etched onto his bones as some form of repentance.

Of course, because his brain fucking hates him, he starts seeing Wade when he's awake. It's like it clicked on to his plan and tutted down at him, scolding him for avoiding a clearly deserved punishment.

Or he's just dangerously sleep deprived. Thinking your brain was conspiring against you probably also fit nicely into that narrative.

He sees Wade sat on a barstool a few feet away out the corner of his eye. Walking the streets from his window. In the line at the fucking liquor store.

He'd gotten his drunk ass beat on more than one occasion for grabbing strangers, calling them his name only to be met with a face he'd never seen before, absent of scars and that painfully soft smile.

He's losing his mind. He's going entirely insane.

An adamantium bullet to the skull doesn't sound too bad. It might not kill him, but it would rid him of the memories. He sits with the barrel of the gun pressed to his forehead sometimes, pictures it being Wade holding it there, and his finger itches for the trigger but he can't quite do it. He hears Wade's voice whispering to him when he has the cool metal against his skin, "no, peanut. Put it down please."

His thoughts of Wade hurt, but he wasn't ready to erase them entirely because he was a fucking coward. He's too fucking weak to get rid of those eyes, the memories of that touch, even as all of it tortures his brain onto the brink of fully fledged insanity.

It's three weeks into his destructive routine. The only sleep he's had is that of which he's been forced into when his body shuts down from too much alcohol. Wade's always there. On the bed. Smiling.

Sometimes they talk. Sometimes Wade asks him to come back. It always ends the same, though - screaming and begging as the man in front of him turns into a corpse.

Three weeks. The adamantium bullet is on his nightstand, ready when he is.

He's considering tonight. He's going to shower, get dressed and get dinner from his favourite take out place. He's going to think of Wade and every word he'd ever said to him, and then he was going to do it.

There's a knock on his apartment door that morning, which is bizzare. He has no one in this universe. Absolutely no one, so who would be pounding on his door at ten in the morning?

He pushes his breakfast (vodka) aside and goes to the door, pulling it open and.

And... he needs that bullet in his skull right now, because this is just fucking cruel.

"Hey, peanut."

And Logan can't take this. He can't fucking do this anymore! It's not fucking fair, why is his own head trying to kill him?

He remembers unsheathing the claws this time, but he immediately buries them in his own torso, blood dripping all over the carpet. He's mumbling, incohesive even to his own ears as he drags the claws down, feeling them pop his lungs like balloons and slice through organs.

"Logan! Logan, what the fuck? Stop!" Wade yells, his voice reaching a panicked pitch, his eyes wide in absolute horror.

"You stop! I can't- I know I've done horrible, horrible things but stop fucking showing me this! Stop letting me fucking see him!"

He's screaming at himself, at his own goddamn psyche, and that's probably how you know you've lost it entirely, right? Screaming at thin air? Yelling at yourself?

Solid hands reach out and snap onto his wrists, pulling his claws out. Wade pushes him to the ground, landing atop of him with a thud and pinning his wrists above his head.

Logan doesn't struggle. He can't. He's too busy staring at Wade with wide eyes.

"How- you're touching me. I can feel you," he says, voice raw. He can feel Wade's fingertips pressing into his skin like burns.

Wade's staring back at him, his face twisted up in confusion, "yeah? Because I'm a person with a body and I'm touching you with it? Not like that, this is not that kind of fic-"

He wrapped his arms around the merc and pulls him in, even though he's getting blood all over him. He can smell Wade. Feel his body heat. Feel the lines of him pressed against his own body and... it had never felt this real before. Was he dead? Had his body finally given up on regenerating his stupid ass? He supposed there might be a limit on liver damage even for him.

"Logan? What's going on? Not that I'm not enjoying this, because trust me I really am, but I expected a bit more.. hostility? Because you said you wanted to go home, and I get it because I'm annoying as fuck, but I sort of really missed you and I had to bribe the TVA just to get an hour visit and then wasted ten minutes of that figuring out which apartment was yours and-"

An hour. Wade was here for an hour. He was actually here. It wasn't in his head. He was here.

"Don't... please. Please. Don't leave me here I- I can't do it anymore," he begged, clinging onto Wade ridiculously, his nails digging into his back.

"Logan..."

"I'm sorry. Shouldn't- shouldn't of left, 'm sorry. I don't want to ruin your life, wanted to stay away so you wouldn't be stuck with me, but I can't do it."

He was crying. Couldn't feel the tears but could feel the tightness in his chest. He should be pushing Wade off. He needs to push him off and let him go home, but he can't. He wants to go home, and he knows that this place, this hell, isn't home.

Wade's apartment is. Wade is.

He'd be the intruder. Be the spare part. Watch Wade fall deeper in love with Vanessa and be good, watching from the sidelines and taking whatever Wade would give him. Would never ask for more than that, because that's what brought his thing with Jean and Scott crashing to the ground.

He'd do all of it, because at least then he'd get to see Wade and hear the idiots ramblings and feel fucking alive again. He can't stay here, not when he feels like some sort of ghost, doomed to living out the same depressing day over and over until he finally feels the blissful release of death.

Wade sat them up, pulling Logan up with him, holding both his hands in his own, "is that really what you think? That's why you left?"

"It's true. You have Vanessa, and a life to start. Last thing you need is me hanging around. But just- please, Wade. I'll find my own place and- and I'll leave you alone, with her- I really will. I just... I can't breathe here. I'm fucking dying. I can't sleep, or eat, or function and I- I just can't. I need you," he was being too honest, probably. Would likely just scare Wade off and send him running back to his own universe sighing with relief at dodging that paricularly unstable bullet.

But he couldn't help it. He needed to plead his case, and it didn't help that he hadn't really had anyone to talk to about this stuff. Fuck, his human interactions since he returned were limited to the transactional ones in order to purchase more alcohol, and the ones entirely in his own head.

Wade grabs his face, "Logan Howlett, you are the biggest fucking idiot on earth. Scratch that, the whole universe, probably."

"What?"

And then Wade is kissing him, hard. Hard enough that Logan finds himself having to use his arms to brace himself on the stained carpet just to keep upright as Wade uses a hand on the back of his head to pull him ever closer.

They part. Logan is panting, pupils blown, unable to form a cohesive word nevermind a sentence or two.

"Me and Ness agreed to just be friends. She broke up with her boyfriend and asked me for another try, but it's not fair on her to do that when I'm in love with somebody else."

Logan still can't speak. His brain is short circuiting, unable to fathom what Wade is saying to him.

"Truth is, I've been miserable without you Peanut. Turns out even after just a couple of nights with you in my bed, I can't sleep without you either," he shrugged, his own eyes shining with tears, "I wasn't going to ask you to come home with me, because I really was trying to respect your decision here but... fuck. I had to see you, even if those assholes would only give me an hour. I needed to see you, peanut, or I was going to lose my shit and probably go massacre an entire town or something equally as drastic."

"Wade," Logan finally managed, the word coming out all strained and choked up, "take me home, please."

Wade beamed despite his own tears, grabbing him and pulling him in, and Logan held onto him tightly.

"Of course, baby. Never letting you out of my sight again."

[vampire-matcha]

Part 2 of cheating!Soap. More angst. No comfort.

Pt. 1 Pt. 3

Johnny listens to you cry for hours. He doesn't move from his seat on the couch. He cries with you, digging his nails into his scalp. Sobbing at the sounds of your misery. Each wail from you was like a bullet to his chest. And the worst part is that it was all his fault. He hurt you. He was the reason for your screams of agony. You sounded as if you were dying. Part of you was.

He didn't follow you when you walked away. He didn't deserve to comfort you. He didn't deserve to touch you anymore. He was dirty. He had done the most unforgivable thing a spouse could do. He couldn't taint your body with his filthy hands. His hands, which were soaked in blood, that was fine to touch you. But this? This betrayal had rendered him untouchable.

So all he can do is sit and listen as you cry yourself sick twice. He isn't there to hold your hair out of your face or rub your back, or wipe your tears and remind you to breathe. He can't help you. He can't do anything. It's all his fault.

He wants to run from it. He wants to run as far away as he can and never look back. But he can't leave you. Not like this. He doesn't think you could take him leaving, too. So he stays.

He didn't mean to do it, he swears. It was the heat of the moment. He never thought he was capable of doing such a thing to you. He'd never been disloyal in any relationship, and especially not to you, not his wife. His long-suffering, patient, loyal wife, who had married him knowing how often he'd be gone; who was always waiting for him at home, ready to welcome him back home with open arms and open legs. He never thought he could do such a thing to you.

But he had. He didn't mean to do it! The pressure had gotten to him. The mission was intense. Weeks of hiding in a safe house, waiting for exfil they didn't know for certain was even coming. Weeks of heavy fire and dodging bullets. He didn't even know if he would make it out alive.

And then there was Ghost. Solid, dependable, safe Ghost. Simon. That's what he had called him that night. That night at the end of another week of radio silence from Watcher. That night that Simon had laid him down and taken him on the rickety couch of the safe house. He didn't know if he would make it out alive! And if he didn't, then you would never know...

So he let Simon split him open, slow and sensual. The sex between two men- two comrades just trying to cope, to find refuge in each other. Soldiers trying to find some kind of peace in the midst of violence and death. Trying to find life worth living at death's door.

And then the next morning, exfil arrived. They moved quickly. Soap didn't even have time to shit out the load Ghost had left inside him. He felt it the whole way home. An uncomfortable, sticky reminder of that night. A physical weight in his stomach as he realized what he had done. It was a long flight. Plenty of time to think about what he had done. He felt Ghost watching him the whole way, but he couldn't bring himself to look back at him.

When the plane landed, he made a beeline to the showers. He cleaned himself up, cleaned himself out. Scrubbed his skin raw, but he couldn't clean himself of his actions. No soap in the world could reverse what he had done to you. He vomited into the shower drain.

Debrief was a blur, a hazy meeting. He avoided Ghost's eyes again. Ghost tried to talk to him afterwards, but Soap ignored him. He went to his room, packed his things, and got on the first available flight back to you. He moved quickly, leaving him no more time to think, to linger on what had happened, and what was yet to come.

Ghost called him. He called him again and again. Soap didn't know what he wanted. Was he going to apologize? Threaten Soap not to tell Price? Confess his feelings? Soap didn't know and he didn't care. He just needed to get back to you. He needed to get back to his wife and then everything would be okay again. You'd kiss away all the wounds he sustained on the mission like you always do. Your touch was a healing balm for both mind and body.

But when he saw your beaming face waiting for him at the airport, the guilt came crashing down again. Oh, what had he done? What had he done to you? He couldn't even bring himself to touch you. He couldn't eat, or else he'd get sick with himself again. Looking at you made him feel nothing but shame. You were innocent in all of this, yet you'd be the one who'd get hurt the most.

He didn't hold you that night, couldn't bear it. He got out of bed. Simon called again. He answered. It was Simon who told him to tell you. He said you deserved the truth. Simon, who didn't apologize, but insisted that what happened wasn't a mistake. Johnny argued otherwise. He cried himself to sleep on the couch. The couch he sits on now.

Johnny listens to you cry for hours. He listens and he knows that it's all his fault.

[whitemancumslut]

THE START OF HS4…

tw: mentions of vomiting, language, me being delusional

yourinstagram

liked by annetwist, gemmastyles, and 7.600.099 others

yourinstagram my precious baby boy,

i promise to love you forever.

harrystyles So in love.❤️

↳ yourinstagram I love you

gemmastyles So beautiful🤍

↳ yourinstagram ❤️❤️

annetwist Gorgeous!!

↳ yourinstagram Thank you❤️❤️

florencepugh Gorgeous Mama!!

ynfan so fucking cute:(

harryfan i’m emotional right now. no one speak to me

~seven months later~

harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, jefezoff, and 10.889.990 others

harrystyles The Beginning. April 24th.

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yourinstagram My darling man❤️

annetwist ❤️❤️❤️

lizzobeeating OMG!❤️

harryfan1 OMFGGGGG WHAT .

harryfan2 THE COVER IM CRYING SO HARD

harryfan3 NO WAY NO WAY NO WAY

harryfan4 A dadrry album. i’m so unwell i cant.

↳ harryfan5 YES. THE TEARS IN MY EYES. AN ALBUM ON HARRY’S LIFE AS A PARENT/HUSBAND IM GOING TO THROW UP

harrystyles

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harrystyles ‘August’ out March 8th.

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yourinstagram i love you

harryfan HE NAMED THE SONG AUGUST?? IM IN A PUDDLE OF TEARS STOP IT RN

harryfan2 HYPERVENTILATING

gemmestyles ❤️

harryfan3 NO NO STOPPP. A SONG ABOUT AUGUST NAMED AUGUST IM NOT GOING TO SURVIVE THIS

harryfan4 AWW OMFG

gemmastyles

liked by harrystyles, yourinstagram, and 403,939 others

gemmastyles ‘August’ is out now❤️

harrystyles ❤️

yourinstagram Auntie Gemmy❤️

annetwist ❤️

Comments have been limited.

harrysupdates

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harrysupdates Photos featured in the ‘August’ music video!

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harryfan1 they’re the perfect family :(

harryfan2 dadrry is real. i still can’t wrap my head around this

ynfan1 many tears would shed

↳ harryfan3 a tear dropped before the video started.

harryfan4 he’s gotten so big😭😭😭

↳ ynfan2 WE LITERALLY WATCHED HIM GROW😕😕

harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, gemmastyles, and 11.992.027 others

harrystyles My new album The Beginning is Out now!

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yourinstagram I LOVE LOVE LOVE YOU

harryfan1 FUCK YEAH

harryfan2 OHMYGOSHHHH

ynfan1 OH MY GODDJJDHEJW

harryfan3 IM SCREAMING IM ALREADY CRYING

harryfan4 IM SO UNWEELLLL

ynfan2 im emotional

yourinstagram

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yourinstagram THE BEGINNING IS OUT NOW. @harrystyles i love you i love you i love you. not enough words in the world to express how much i love u and how thankful i am for u.🤍

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harrystyles Youre my muse x

↳ harryfan1 I CANT RN

↳ ynfan1 i aspire to be like y’all

harryfan2 im so unwell rn .

harryfan3 i’m crying

ynfan2 MY PARENTS

harryfan

liked by harryfan2 and 2.220 others

harryfan me after listening to The Beginning:

HARRY WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. I KNEW I WAS GOING TO CRY BUT NOT ACTUALLY SOAKING MY PILLOW???

BEAUTIFUL BOY???? IM SOBBING WHATTT. QUEEN OF MY HEART.. HE LOVES Y/N SO BAD I CANT BREATHE.

WONDERLAND??? I CANT DO THIS.

DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON TRYING. HES LITERALLY PROMISING AND SWEARING ON HIS LIFE THAT HE’LL BE THE BEST FATHER HE CAN BE IM ON MY KNEES I CANT!!!

CLOSURE??? ACTUALLY WHAT THE HELL

NEW YEAR’S DAY??? IM CRYING SO SO HARD NEW YEAR’s DAY IS DEF MY FAV

THE END?? THE END HAD ME HYPERVENTILATING AND WHEEZING. THE RECORDS OF Y/N’S VOICE AND LAUGHTER. THE RECORDING OF HER REPEATING THE WORDS “IM PREGNANT, WE’RE HAVING A BABY.” AND THE CRY’s AND NOISES OF THE BABY??? IM SO SAD THIS IS NOT OKAY

@HARRYSTYLES IM NOT OKAY.

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harryfan3 NO BECAUSE I SWEAR WONDERLAND IS ABOUT HOW HE’S HOPING HE CAN GIVE AUGUST A LIFE WHERE HE LIVES IN WONDERLAND AND DOESNT GET BLOCKED IN FAME LIKE HIS FATHER

↳ harryfan4 NO NO NO DONT

harryfan5 Beautiful boy killed me. Had to take a large break before listening to the rest of the album.

harryfan6 TRYING. #1. IM IN TEARS THINKING ABOUT HIM IN TEARS ON THE FACT HE THOUGHT HE’LL BE A TERRIBLE FATHER.

harryfan7 i cried my whole way through

harrysupdates

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harrysupdates “Stargazing is based off a night spent with my wife, Y/n.” Styles takes a deep breath before smiling widely as he says, “I specifically remember the weather of that night. Very warm and slight windy. It was just around when we found out she was pregnant with our son. We were in the backyard just staring at the sky, catching every other star. Stargazing,” The man chuckles as he remembers the moment with his beloved wife, Y/n L/n-Styles. “I remember we just laid there for hours talking about how we ended up where we did.” Harry in the trailer of his Zane Lowe interview.

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harryfan HES SO IN LOVE

harryfan2 Shes so lucky😭😭😭

harryfan3 imagine doing this with Harry :((

yourinstagram stories

[ofallthingsnasty]

tw: yandere, kidnapping/basement spousery, depression, mentions of noncon, gn reader characters: Crocodile, Sanji, Doflamingo, Law word count: 1.3k

One thing I learned recently is that I'm definitely a social creature and would get horribly, horribly depressed as someone's basement wife, even a well entertained one. All the books, the crafts, the soft music in the world couldn't prevent me from sobbing into my pillows, couldn't get me to crawl out of bed and to paint a smile on my face. Oh, but how would your captor react? For some, it's definitely a necessary evil - Crocodile comes to mind here. Annoyed by your lethargy, by your random tears and your meek, taciturn responses, he finds himself frustrated at times. This state of mind really isn’t ideal - he wanted you docile, sure, but not lifeless. Yet it's also awfully convenient when you just let him push you around, let him caress and touch you - and not out of fear of him, simply because you don't care to struggle. He discovers that he can forgive a lot when you're especially shaken and cling to him, bury your head in his chest because he's the only human you'll ever know again and the world is so bleak around you and you just need him right now. Of course, it would be nicer if you didn't do it because he's the only warm-blooded creature that you interact with, but he'll take what he can get. (And with time, it weirdly grows on him: him turning into the center of your life, the way your eyes seem to light up the tiniest bit when he comes home to you, something he thought mildly annoying at first turning out to be awfully convenient.)

To others, it's devastating. Sanji lives for your smiles, your warmth, the way your eyes crinkle and you jut your head forward when you fully, genuinely laugh - total apathy is worse than antagonism to him. If you were to scream, shout, put your fingers around his neck and squeeze with the desperation of a cornered prey animal, he'd at least get a reaction, some signs of life out of you. But you don't even do that. You just sit and try to suppress tears while he holds your hand. Sometimes he just cries with you, letting himself fall into the same hole you're being pulled into. It makes him regret taking you so utterly, bitterly, makes him feel all those memories from when he was a child bubble up in his stomach until they force themselves out and he has to vomit to be rid of them. He’s just like his father, he thinks, and it makes him sick. He’s rotten down to the very core, cursed from birth and now he has gone and soiled you, too - he’ll end up sobbing into the crook of your neck more than once, full of genuine remorse. And all you’ll be able to do is absentmindedly pat his hair, thoughts spilling like an knocked over ink well. No, you slipping into a deeply depressive state is only going to worsen the hatred he has for himself, is going to poison him slowly and steadily until he’ll be in agony. Maybe it’s his just punishment.

Then there are the ones like Doflamingo who simply don’t care. You don’t crawl out of bed until noon? You just stare into space or bury yourself in books when you finally do? You’re just lifeless by his side, just blink, shrug your shoulders when spoken to, just exist? Whatever, he has always treated you like a doll from the start. He can even weather the elusive bouts of sobbing and crying (even if he hates it when they happen), because most of the time you’re just his poseable thing and he is nothing if not generous to allow you a tantrum here and there. He doesn't feel bad about you being a more of a hollowed out shell of a person than a fully-fledged human with a rich inner life and doesn't care that most of it is his fault - his fault that you fester and rot beneath the surface, his fault that all the opulent, vibrant clothing and the scorching hot days by the pool still leave you frosty and weirdly bloodless, like a cold-blooded creature in winter. Food is ash in your mouth and only sours your stomach but you still eat when he tells you to, touches feel foreign and loveless but you still let him fuck you if he so wishes. Why should he care what circles around in your head when he gets to do anything he wants to you? That you feel like life is no luster, only desperation? The truly bothersome parts are taken care of by his myriad of servants and the family. Messes left behind get cleaned up, baths are forced on you regularly, as are grooming sessions. If you don’t get dressed on your own either someone else will see to it or he will - and he’ll have his payment for his time, trust me. The solemn mood, the non-existent smiles… he doesn't care for that. You’re not here for your entertainment, you’re here for his. And you just accepting your fate and letting him do whatever it is he wants… That’s just perfect, isn’t it?

Of course, let’s not forget about the ones who secretly love it. Law is a prime example, especially with his medical background. He isn’t surprised that your mood sways - he expected as much when he restricted your every move, declared the outside world to be too unhealthy for you. Of course you’d slip into a depressive episode. And it’s not a flaw, it’s intentional. Because now - now, when you can’t peel yourself out of bed, when everything feels too much, when you can’t feed or move or dress or take care of yourself- he gets to swoop in. He gets to do it for you, gets to tell you that he’s here and that he’ll always catch you when you fall. That his assessment of your condition was accurate - that you always needed him, right from the start. Dependency is worth more than all the love in the world to him. It simply doesn’t matter if you’d rather slit his throat than to behave for him out of your own volition - as long as you can’t leave. Even if he genuinely loves you, he’s not deluded enough to cling to daydreams of him and you living a quiet, happy life full of reciprocated affection, that ship has long sailed - sailed ever since his childhood got irrevocably destroyed. No. Love is nice and good and makes him wash you gladly, makes him care for you with delicate hands and with a patient brow - but your sickness makes you stay, renders you unable to leave him. It’s the only currency he can trade in when it comes to you. He’s your savior and tormentor rolled into one person; but above all he is the only one who cares and will forever care. You could rot yourself into a pathetic, sweat-soaked, disgusting corner, could turn into nothing but a husk and he’d always, always nurse you out of the ditch he’s found you in, just at the right time.  What he doesn’t tell you is that he could help you. At least artificially. Boost your moods with SSRIs until you bounce off the walls with nervousness and sweat thrice as much; make you giddy and shaky until you get used to the dose. Until the world seems worth living in once more, until at least some color returns to your drab eyes. He could get you the medication, even try some speech therapy, could help you like a good boyfriend should. But why? It makes no sense. Why help you only to get some fire back, maybe even for you to slip through his fingers? It’s easier to sit in twosome silence with tired eyes watching him, eyes that one day might be grateful for all the work he has put into them. Until then, it’s of utmost importance that they stay right where they are: in a cramped, dirty corner of a bed, dull and lifeless.

[narkissistikos]

Warnings : major character death. Mentions of vomit. Crying. Sobbing. And angst. Lots and lots of angst

"Listen to me. Listen to me." She had grabbed his face and made him look at him. "You'll always have me. Always"

And she had said it in a way that actually made him believe it. What a fool he was.

She had made him lay down on the bed. It was winter. And those rare months meant that he was the one offering her his warmth instead of her offering her comfort after a terrible nightmare.

Though the cold weather didn't stop her from telling him she wasn't going anywhere.

"You have me. Always. Dead or alive. Like suppose you're going somewhere, and you see these random flowers in the road, that's me. That's me telling you I love you. And the coffee you put in your chocolate cake? I'll be right beside you to make sure you don't accidentally make the cake too bitter. And if its been raining too hard. And the sun finally comes out and you see a rainbow, that's me Iris messaging you to tell you to put the damn sweater on, or you're gonna get cold. And if you see the moon during the day? That's me too."

He had felt her moving closer to him, because she were cold or she just needed him, he never figured out. Her voice wavered and she had shivered and he had looked down at her to see a few tears escape her eyes and travel across the bridge of her nose. She were always quick to wipe those off, said they tickled too much.

"What would be your signs?" She had asked him, and he had remembered that she told him once that she knew she was going to die before him, she had chalked it up to her lack of survival instincts, but he had thought she knew her prophecy.

"CAN you send signs from Elysium?" He had asked her and she told him to humor her, so that she would know what to look for. She was shaking more violently now, so he had wrapped her blanket around her tighter.

There was a limit to how much she could control though.

And soon he was wiping off her tears and when he asked her why she was crying, she didn't have a clear answer for whether she was crying over the prospect of his death or hers.

But a few minutes later she had rested her forehead against his neck and his fingers had been ghosting over the ridges of her spine. She had kissed his cheek before she fell asleep and he remembered that feeling long after she was gone.

He woke up from his dream with a gasp, only this time, she weren't here to wipe away his tears or to tell him that she's always gonna be here. This time he had to cry alone and he was thankful for the soundproof room on Princess Andromeda.

He pulled the blanket up to his mouth and let out a scream that would have made anyone, if someone heard, cry.

He was scared he'd ruin her blanket, the last thing he had that smelled of her. Bile rose up his throat and threatened to spill out on the woolen blanket strewn across his lap.

He had to stop himself so as to he wouldn't have to wash her scent off of the blanket.

"Please....Please....Please." He whimpered as the tears flowed down his cheeks. "Give her back. PLEASE!" He yelled so loud he was sure that something in his throat was about to break.

The worst part of his story was that he didn't even have a chance to tell her he loved her for the last time. She left when he wasn't there and although she used to say that he would be most of her last 7 minutes of the best memories, he has doubts that she would have heard him saying that he loved her in those moments.

He didn't even know what killed her. Didn't know what he should be mad at, other than that you were lost and he had done NOTHING to save you.

The sway of the ship make his nausea even worse. Making him feel like he was about to lose consciousness due to the bile rising up. His eyes became blurry and before he knew it, he was sobbing again, clutching her blanket for some semblance of comfort with his knees drawn up to his chest, and throat burning.

He kept hearing her cries every now and then and that made him cry even harder, begging for her to be saved. For someone to try and save his love

[florrysgf]

NOT PART OF THE PLAN! stu macher x fem!reader

SUMMARY: in which you discover your boyfriend, stu is hiding a dark secret, which leads to you crumbling his and billy’s plan

WARNINGS: swearing, mentions of drugging, manipulation, blood, murder, mentions of death, gunshots, stabbing, mentions of vomit

WORD COUNT: 1.9k +

You muttered a low “Fuck,” under your breath as you forced open your eyes. Your eyelids were heavy. You struggled as you lifted your head up from the pillow, it felt as though it weighed a ton. It took a couple of seconds for your eyes to adjust to the bright light, and for you to realise where you were. The digital clock on the bedside table was the first thing to catch your eye. Shit, how much did you drink? It was past 1AM, and Stu was nowhere to be seen.

You internally scratched your brain for any recollection of the previous night. You remember drinking, a lot, which you presumed caused you to pass out in Stu’s bedroom. But what confused you the most was the fact that Stu wasn’t lying beside you. There was no way the party was still going on. There was a curfew in place, and you distinctly remember having to drag a girl out of the house by her hair because she was so drunk.

You forced yourself up out of the bed and trailed down the hall to Mr and Mrs Macher’s bedroom, where you hoped to find your boyfriend. Instead, when you opened the door, you were met with a rather stomach-churning sight. You let out a gasp, a peculiar feeling growing in the pit of your stomach. Blood. Everywhere. Up the walls, on the floor, splattered across the bed.

“Oh my god. No, no, no.” You repeated to yourself, immediately rushing to sprint down the staircase. If you ran any faster, you’d go flying.

Just as reached the bottom of the staircase, the scene infront of you stopped you in your tracks. Randy was lying unresponsive on the floor of the foyer, blood seeping out from his chest whilst a hysterical Sidney stood over him. By the door, you locked eyes with Billy, but this was not the same Billy you once knew. He stood smirking, scratching the side of his head with the barrel of Dewey’s gun. His white cotton shirt was soaked in blood, and the barbarous look in his eyes was haunting.

You felt sick to your stomach. Was it Billy all along? All this time, your best friend was the one you should’ve been scared of and you were blinded to it. “What the fuck is going on?” You croaked out.

“You know, Y/N. I always thought you were smarter than that.” Billy chuckled, referencing the gun in his hand, “C’mon. Put two and two together.”

You were trying to process too much at once, and it was beginning to get too much for you. The masked killer running around was right under your nose the entire time, and he just shot one of your best friends. Fuck! You trudged your way over to where Randy was lying. The carpet beneath him was quickly turning red with his blood, and his skin was growing more and more pale by the second.

“Is he dead?” Sidney asked between sobs.

You found his wrist, frantically searching for a pulse. You felt the tears prick in your eyes as you were unable to find one. Your emotions built up, a sudden wrath took hold of you, prompting you to pick up a vase that was placed on a table by the front door. You tipped the flowers out onto the floor and ran up behind Billy, smashing the ornament over his head. “You sick fucking bastard!” You cried.

The brunette boy screamed out, using his free hand to grasp hold of your ankle, dragging you down to the floor with him. You whined, trying to wriggle out of his grip, but it was no use.

Instead, you used your right leg to kick him the torso, causing the gun to fly from his hand. A small, yet determined smirk formed on your face as you extended your arm out the grab the weapon, at the hope of freeing yourself. You were so close. Just a few inches fur—

“Bitch.” The Loomis boy spat, stomping his foot on your wrist, stopping you from reaching the gun and causing you to yelp out in pain.

You were forced to put all of the pressure on your other arm as you forced yourself to stand up and attempt to tackle him again. You lunged forward at him, only for the loud ring of his shotgun to fill your ears. You audibly gasped as the bullet tore through your skin, deflecting off your right rib. It felt like your insides were burning out. As though it were a reflex, your hands cupped the bullet hole in your side, your vision blurring at the sight of blood pouring out.

Stu came running into the room at the sound of the gunshot. The beige sweater you once bought him was now red with blood, the cotton torn to shreds. You didn’t even notice the kitchen knife in his hand.

He watched your body collapse against the wall, his face dropping instantly as he turned to the brunette, who looked just as shocked as you did. “What the fuck, man?!” He spat.

Sidney rushed to your side, tearing off her denim jacket and holding it to your gunshot wound, trying her best to apply pressure to it and stop the bleeding. She’d already lost Randy and Tatum, she sure as hell wasn’t going to lose you too.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Your boyfriend shrieked, staring aimlessly at Billy, who simply cocked his head to the side. “We had an agreement, man! You promised me she wouldn’t get hurt!”

The Loomis boy simply shrugged his shoulders. “She got too cocky.” He supposed, “I told you if she got in the way, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill her.”

“You promised, you dick.” Stu whined, dropping the knife to the floor and kneeling down beside you. His hand reached for yours, only for you to slap it away.

“Don’t touch me!” You snapped, causing him to tense up. More tears began to fall down your already stained cheeks. This couldn’t be happening. How could he do this to you? You grabbed the jacket from Sidney’s fingers, pressing it harder to your torso with a wince as you tried to stand up, using the wall to help you.

Once you were up, you stumbled into the kitchen with a stiff Stu traipsing behind you. Sidney tried to follow, but Billy was quick to grab hold of her, pulling her to his chest and holding the gun to her head.

“It was you. It was you all along. It was all you.” You muttered, mostly to yourself, pacing up and down the kitchen. Even saying it out loud, you couldn’t comprehend it. You turned around, gawking at him through glossy eyes, silently begging for an explanation.

Stu frowned, attempting to get closer to you again, but you took a step back, gripping the counter with your fingers. “Y/N, please. You don’t get it.”

“I don’t get it?” You scoffed, tightening your grip on the marble counter as the pain in your stomach started to become unbearable. You weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to stand. “Then explain it to me, Stu! Explain to me why you killed all those people! Casey, Tatum, Himbry, Randy - why’d you do it?”

The tall, blonde boy was unable to look you in the eye. God, he felt so ashamed. This wasn’t supposed to be happening, this wasn’t the plan. “It was Billy.” He mumbled, causing the brunette on the other side of the room to roll his eyes. “It was all Billy’s idea, he made me do it. I swear it, Y/N, please. You have to believe me.”

Peer pressure? Was that his motive? Did he really expect you to believe that? You knew Stu was easily led, he always had been, but now it all made sense. The sick jokes, the slasher references. There had always been something about him and you were too stupid to notice it. Either that or he was too good at hiding it.

His fear grew bigger as you stayed silent. It made him feel uneasy, he didn’t know what you were thinking and that terrified him. He had to get you on his side. He had to make you believe him. “He promised to leave you out of it if I helped him. That’s why we put you upstairs, to protect you!”

“Oh my god…” you whimpered, tears falling from your eyes as the realisation washed over you like a wave. The beers. Holy shit, the beers. “You— you drugged me.” You whispered somewhat sternly.

Stu’s eyes, too glistened with tears. He shook his head, neither conforming nor denying your statement. “To protect you!” He repeated, defending himself, his voice dropping down to the usual soft tone you knew and loved.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” You gawked at him, eyes wide.

“You weren’t supposed to get hurt!” He whined, throwing his arms in the air, eyeing your gaping wound. “You weren’t supposed to get shot, that was not part of the plan. All I wanted was to keep you safe, that’s all I wanted! Fuck, if you had just stayed upstairs like you were suppo—”

You cut him off, almost laughing at what you’d just heard. “Are you saying this all my fault?!”

“Y/N, honey, I love you—”

“You’re psychotic.”

“It’s not my fault—”

“You’re a murderer!”

“I did it for you!”

You let out a groan, clutching your stomach with your arm. Your entire body ached, you were exhausted. “What do you expect me to do, Stu?” You sighed in defeat. “Drop everything and forgive you so we can run off into the sunset together? Act like none of this ever happened?”

Stu ran out of words. He couldn’t think of anything else to say to convince you to be on his side. He didn’t want to lose you, that was the last thing he wanted. You were all he had left. He could tell you were tired, tired of everything. You just wanted it all to stop. As harsh as it may sound, in that moment, you wished you never met him. The boy inched closer to you, holding his arms out. He just wanted to hug you, hold you in his arms and inhale your scent, without a care in the world.

You flinched as his fingertips brushed against your skin. You felt sick. In a panic, you reached out behind you, swiping a kitchen knife from the block on the counter, and holding it out infront of you.

Stu took a rapid step back, gawping at your shaking hand. “Baby, what are you doing?” He carefully asked.

“I said… don’t come… near me.” You whispered. Now Stu was scared. Not because of the knife in your hand, but because you were turning pale. You were sweating. Your entire body was trembling, relying completely on the counter behind you to stay upright.

“Y/N, baby, give me the knife.” The blonde pleaded, looking at you with begging eyes.

Suddenly your eyes felt incredibly heavy. You let out a gasp, your grip on the side loosening. The knife slipped out of your hand with a loud crash, and your body collapsed to the floor with it. “Shit! Shit!” The Macher boy cursed, kneeling down bedside you at an instant. He picked up your head, placing it on his lap. His stomach churned as you began to spit up blood.

Once he was preoccupied, searching frantically for something, anything, to stop the bleeding, using the little strength you had left, you reached for knife, grasping it and plunging it straight into his back. “Bastard.” You spluttered, dropping the knife to the floor, lying back down as your boyfriend face-planted the ground, the kitchen knife poking out of his back.

[corpsebasil]

I Will Tell You Who You Are

When Nikolai is infected with Merzost, the only one who can comfort him is his queen.

You were sprinting down the hall.

You could hear him, screaming, screaming your name as you made your way to his rooms. The guard outside merely stepped in your path, a troubled look on his face. You couldn’t catch your breath; you felt like you’d vomit as you heard Nikolai’s scream of pain, his voice catching on a sob.

“Open the door.” You gasped, feeling desperate. “Open the fucking door.”

“I—I cannot, Your Majesty. The King has requested no one—”

“I am his wife. If I wish to enter I will.” Nikolai’s sob split the air around you and you almost threw the guard to the floor. “Move or so help me God, I’ll kill you myself.”

The guard’s throat bobbed.

Your husband was barely around anymore. You’d been traumatized at the coronation and were desperate for his attention. And yes, while he saw you in the day, he didn’t feel fully with you anymore. He hadn’t shared a bed in almost a month, and you couldn’t take it.

That’s when you’d heard his scream.

“Move.” You commanded, voice shaking, and the guard slowly stepped to the side.

You almost ripped the handle as you shoved the door open, a shriek leaving your lips at the sight in front of you. Nikolai was chained—chained—to his bed, black tendrils of dark power wrapping around him. He was trembling, sweat beading on his brow as the power seemed to dull.

“Y/N,” he was shaking. Shaking. “you can’t be here.”

“What is happening to you?” Your voice broke as you moved forward, trying to ignore his flinch at your approach.

“It’s in—inside me.” He panted, shaking his head. “Don’t come near me, Y/N. Please. It’s fighting—” he bent double, back bowing towards his knees as a cry of pain left him, every muscle tensing. Nikolai sobbed, gritting his teeth, and you saw that the clenched fingers of his hands were tinged with black.

“My love what—”

“Go!” He shouted, yanking at his own chains as he panted through clenched teeth. “Go, Y/N, I never wanted you to see—”

“Nik.” You choked on a gasp of pain and dropped to your knees in front of him, grabbing his face. He shook his head wildly, eyes wet and squeezed shut as he fought your grip. “Nikolai it’s me. It’s me.”

“No, no, no.” He shook, still attempting to scramble away as you held him fast. “Don’t touch me. You have to leave.”

“I love you, Nik. Please, please let me help you.”

“I’m insane.” He sobbed, the black slowly vanishing as he collapsed roughly into your chest, his locked muscles releasing. His hands strained painfully against the restraints, but they were the only things holding him up. “I have lost my mind, Y/N. I cannot live in this way. I am dangerous to you you need to leave—”

“I will not leave you.” You fought, running your hand across his sweaty brow, forcing those gorgeous eyes of his to meet your own as you gripped his chin. “I am not weak. Am I weak, Nikolai?”

He swallowed.

“No.”

“And have I ever left you?”

His eyes shuttered.

“No.” Nikolai’s face crumpled as he shook, dropping his head against your shoulder as you held him. He was gasping for breath, shaking his head lightly back and forth, muttering to himself. “Get it out of me.” He whispered, and your heart cleaved inside your chest. “Get it out. Get it out. Get it out.” He yanked at his chains and let out a scream of anger and pain, shaking in your desperate hold as tears ran hot and fast down your face.

“I am here. I am here.” Your hands gripped his hair, your body pressing him to your own, feeling your nightgown soak as he cried out of frustration.

“I cannot control it.” He wept, wrists raw from struggling as he attempted to calm himself. “I cannot control my own body—my own mind. I will hurt you. Do not allow the one thing I love left to be lost. If I hurt you—” he sucked in a breath and you gripped his head again, pulling his tear stained face off your shoulder to peer up at your own.

“If you cannot control it,” you said, voice trembling as you stared down at the raw blue gaze of your King. “then I will be your control. I will be your anchor.” You wrapped your arms around him, mouth wobbling as you kissed his head. “I will be your tether to this Earth. I will ease your suffering, Nikolai.”

“Please.” He whispered, but was pressing as close to you as he could get. “Please do not leave me alone tonight. Please.”

“I will never leave you alone.” You promised, and when he had calmed enough to attempt to sleep, the clasps still around his wrists, you curled up on the couch, your mind racing and your heart heavy.

short and to the point and very much inspired by bridgerton because it just makes sense

[pretty-blkgirl]

Soul’s Desire [Ch. 24]

-Masterlist-

A/N: Contains a written part. Also, there is a TW for this chapter!! It includes scenes of a panic attack and vomit, please be aware and don’t read anything that could trigger you ❤️

Really it’s all your fault. How dare you think you can go get help without being ridiculed and attacked.

Rose thought taking you to see a therapist for an initial consultation in Japan would be easier than in Korea. She was familiar with these people, as they work with many other JYP artists who primarily promote in Japan.

It should have been simple; you go in for the appointment, you talk in person with a doctor in Japan and virtually with one in Korea, your paperwork gets sent to Korea, and you continue your appointments there.

Unfortunately, you were too sure that you guys wouldn’t get followed. You’re a rookie idol, why would the paps want to follow you?

You grossly underestimated your popularity, because the second you stepped out of the car, you saw at least twelve different photographers snapping photos from a safe distance away.

You still didn’t think much of it. You were seeking therapy, so? What’s scandalous about that?

Turns out the most scandalizing part of the situation is the fact that people don’t know why you’re getting help. It’s opened room for speculation. Some think it’s because the idol lifestyle is getting to you, some are correct that you have trauma stemming from personal relationships, and others are pulling random ideas out of their asses just to get a hit tweet.

Your appointment went well enough, at least, but you felt like it was all for nothing as you cried on the way back to the hotel.

Your flight wasn't until the next day, and you just knew the airport would be filled with fans recording and screaming your name.

That thought alone made your breathing quicken as hot tears raced down your face. Rose did her best to calm you down, while the driver repeatedly asked you if you wanted to go to the hospital.

You were dizzy and sweaty, and you could feel your breakfast coming up your throat. You gagged once, then again, and managed to vomit all over your clothes.

You sobbed and screamed out apologies to the driver, who assured you everything was okay. Rose fished a bottle of water out of her bag and handed it to you while the security guard looked around for napkins.

The ride back was stressful, to say the least, but luckily no more cameras followed you. The -rather large- security guard took off his jacket and put it on you to cover your ruined clothes.

You were wet, smelly, dirty, and still trying to catch your breath as you and Rose rushed to the elevator.

She made sure your members were tucked away in their rooms so you wouldn’t be overwhelmed with questions, but she had no idea a whole other group of people would be waiting on you.

All eight boys, with the addition of an annoyed-looking Eunji, were in the hallway when you got off the elevator. It was Han who started to fuss over you first, and then the rest of the boys followed suit. Chan, being attentive, realized you were still panicked and got the boys away from you swiftly.

“We just came up here to check on you, but we’ll leave, okay? Please get some rest” He said as he and the boys walked away, looks of sadness and guilt painting their faces.

Eunji doesn’t leave, just stares at you quizzically. Rose shooed her off, threatening to get the higher-ups involved if she continued to be insensitive.

You couldn’t feel embarrassed at the moment, all you felt was pure sorrow. Rose helped you to wash up, and you whispered small words of gratitude every once in a while.

At night, alone in your hotel room, you replayed the day’s events in your head. Half of you wanted to hide away forever, the other half made your palm burn and itch.

You got up, maybe not thinking clearly, but determined as you grabbed your room key, and phone, and slipped on some shoes.

You left and decided to take the stairs to the floor below yours, going straight to a room and knocking on the door.

~~~~|~~~~

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