#who said “”tears“” was a part of the cleansing step | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ginxyy · 11 days ago

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All Yours

“I am all yours”

The rain fell softly against the windowpane, each droplet racing down the glass like a tear on your cheek. You had been staring out into the gray expanse of the world for the last three hours, lost in the tempest of your thoughts. Outside, the colors were muted, a blend of gloom that reflected the chaos swirling inside you. The clouds hung heavy, like the weight of your heart, and everything felt impossibly still except for the ache that pulsated within you.

"You’ve been staring out of the window for the last three hours. Why?" Seungcheol’s voice cut through the silence, gentle yet laced with concern. With his tall frame leaning against the doorframe, he looked at you the way a lighthouse regards a ship lost at sea. His deep brown eyes filled with something that resembled worry, mixed with a hint of something more potent a feeling you had both avoided for far too long.

You turned to face him, forcing a weak smile, but it barely scratched the surface of the turmoil inside you. How could you explain what tangled your heart like ivy wrapped around a forgotten garden? All you could offer was a vague shrug, your lips quivering under the weight of words unsaid.

Seungcheol, your best friend for as long as you could remember, had always been there, a steadfast beacon in the storm. He had watched you fall for someone who had turned out to be a shadow a shell of a person who played with your heart only to toss it aside, bruising it with every word that dripped from his lips like poison. You knew you should leave, but the part of you that had loved so fiercely felt bound to him, tethered by chains of nostalgia and hope.

He stepped closer, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a blanket. "You deserve so much more than this." His voice was a soothing balm, and the way he said ‘this’ made it clear he understood the pain, the confusion.

“I don’t know how to walk away, Seungcheol,” you finally whispered, your voice quaking. “I thought he loved me. I thought it was real.” Your heart ached as you let the truth spill out. You felt the walls closing in, each breath more labored than the last, and the harsh reality of your situation crashed into you like a wave he was cheating and you were holding on, drowning in the wreckage of a love that should have lifted you.

Seungcheol’s brow furrowed; you could see the deep furrows etched on his forehead as he processed your words. For a fleeting moment, you felt the urge to distance yourself, to shield him from the storm of your emotions, but it was futile. He was your anchor, and you were drawn to him unavoidably, undeniably.

"You think he’s what makes the sun shine," Seungcheol continued, his voice soft yet penetrating, "but darling, he’s not. He’s what makes your eyes tear and your cuts bleed. He’s the thoughts in your head that rip you apart and, my god, I know you love him but he’s killing you." Each word he spoke cut through the haze, piercing the shell you had wrapped around your heart.

Tears brimmed in your eyes, spilling over as the truth of his confession hit you like a tidal wave. You had spent so long trying to convince yourself that this toxic love was a fairy tale. But now, standing before the undeniable clarity of Seungcheol’s words, the truth was painful yet liberating.

As the tears flowed, you felt something shift inside you; the facade you had maintained began to crack. You were drowning in waves of emotion, and all the while, Seungcheol remained steady, his unwavering gaze holding yours like a promise in the storm. In that moment, something deep within you broke open the dam of fear, regret, and hurt gave way to a flood of raw emotion.

You stepped closer to him, the air heavy with unspoken feelings. “I can’t escape it, Seungcheol. I thought I loved him, but now…” your voice trailed off, the realization stinging like a fresh cut.

Before you knew it, you were crying sloppy, soul-cleansing tears that felt like they could wash away the past. And there he was, his arms wrapping around you, holding you together as if you might shatter into a million pieces. You pressed your head against his chest, the rhythmic pounding of his heart synchronizing with your own, grounding you in a way you had never felt before.

Amidst your sobs, you heard him whisper, “I love you.” The words hung between you, thick with sincerity and a promise unspoken. They fluttered gently in the chaos surrounding you, like a feather caught in a gentle breeze. Your heart raced at the confession, but it felt like a lifeline a flicker of light in the darkness that had engulfed you for far too long.

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze, searching for something—answers, assurance, hope. The heat of his confession lingered in the air, igniting a spark you had been afraid to acknowledge. As your lips met his, it was a kiss drenched in tears, fear, and longing a moment suspended in time where the world faded away.

You didn't know where it would lead. You knew you had to make changes, to confront the darkness that had held you captive for far too long. But in that embrace, wrapped up in the warmth of his love, you felt the chains of your past beginning to loosen a flicker of hope intertwining with the tenderness of a newfound love.

Yet even as your heart soared, a wave of doubt washed over you. You pulled away slightly, the air between you thick with unspoken thoughts. You had so much to figure out the mess you were in, the choices that lay ahead. As you looked at Seungcheol, you saw not just your best friend but a man who had quietly waited in the shadows, ready to love you with a fierceness that could mend your broken pieces.

But as the clock ticked away the precious moments, reality loomed. You had to leave, to face what you had been running from. The corners of your heart still ached for the man who had ensnared you in his web, but now, standing before Seungcheol, you felt newly found clarity; perhaps love could bloom from the ruins.

With a heavy heart, you stepped back, the space between you now fraught with possibilities. “I need to go,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. He nodded, understanding written all over his face, but his eyes spoke of reluctance, of a plea he wished to voice.

However, as you turned to leave, you knew that this was just the beginning, a crossroads of hope and heartache. In that final glance, you locked eyes with Seungcheol one last time, a silent promise between you a promise that in the end, love, even in its most complicated forms, could light the way through the darkest of times.

The days that followed your parting with Seungcheol felt like an endless, oppressive fog. You tried to move forward, to confront the mess you had walked away from, but his voice lingered in your mind, his words echoing in the quiet moments of your solitude. Nights were the hardest, when the stillness wrapped around you and the ache in your chest whispered his name.

Weeks passed, and though you hadn’t spoken to him, you felt his presence in everything. The way his hand had steadied you, the warmth of his arms around you, the quiet strength in his confession it all haunted you. And then there was the kiss, a spark that had ignited something deep and undeniable. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t snuff it out.

By the time the storm clouds gathered again one late night, you couldn’t take it anymore. The weight of what you felt, the pull towards him, was suffocating. You needed to see him, to tell him what had been screaming inside you since the moment you left.

Without thinking, you found yourself running through the rain, your clothes soaked through, your hair plastered to your face. The downpour was relentless, but it couldn’t match the storm inside you. The streets were empty, the world asleep, but your heart was wide awake, thrumming with every step that brought you closer to him.

When you reached Seungcheol’s house, the cold bit at your skin, but the fire inside you burned hotter. Standing before his door, your breath hitched. The weight of your decision pressed down on you, but you didn’t hesitate. You knocked, the sound muffled by the pounding rain.

It took a moment before the door creaked open, and there he was his hair messy, his eyes heavy with sleep. He looked at you, drenched and shivering on his doorstep, and all traces of grogginess vanished. His gaze softened, his concern immediate, but before he could speak, you surged forward.

Your lips met his in a desperate, heated kiss. His body tensed in surprise, but only for a second. Then he melted into you, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you close as if afraid to let you go. The kiss was everything you had held back, a collision of longing, regret, and unspoken truths.

You broke away for a breath, your chest heaving as you pressed your forehead to his. “I’m all yours,” you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling. The words felt like a release, a surrender to what you had been fighting for far too long.

A low, guttural moan escaped him, and before you could say more, he kissed you again, fiercer this time, pouring everything he felt into you. His hands moved to your thighs, and with a single motion, he lifted you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

The house was dim, the air warm compared to the chill outside, but all you could focus on was him. He carried you as if you weighed nothing, his strength anchoring you as he walked towards his bedroom. His lips never left yours, his kiss growing hungrier, more urgent with every step.

When he reached his room, he laid you gently on the bed, his body hovering over yours. His eyes searched yours, his thumb brushing over your cheek, wiping away a stray droplet of rain. “You mean it?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, filled with a mix of hope and disbelief. “You’re mine?”

You nodded, your hands cupping his face, your thumbs tracing the sharp lines of his jaw. “All yours,” you repeated, the words a vow.

A slow, almost feral smile spread across his lips before he leaned down, capturing your mouth again. The kiss was all-consuming, and as his hands roamed over your body, the world outside ceased to exist. The rain continued to fall, a distant hum against the windows, but inside, there was only the two of you.

Seungcheol’s lips traveled to your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses that sent shivers down your spine. His hands explored you with a tenderness that made your heart ache, yet there was a fire in his touch that spoke of years of restrained desire finally unleashed.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” he murmured against your skin, his voice heavy with emotion. “For you.”

You pulled him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair, your breath hitching as he pressed kisses to your collarbone. “I’m sorry I made you wait,” you whispered, your voice breaking with the weight of your feelings. “I was scared… but I’m here now.”

He stilled for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes shining with something raw and vulnerable. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, and the sincerity in his words made your chest tighten.

That night, wrapped in each other’s arms, you let go of the past, the pain, the doubt. In Seungcheol’s embrace, you found a safety you had never known, a love that didn’t hurt but healed. As the rain fell outside, washing away the remnants of yesterday, you felt something new take root hope.

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mavens-confessional · 6 months ago

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Private School Confession… this might trigger some, might also make you cum…idk .., it’s a long read so buckle up

The same year that my step-brother did those things to me (see previous post), I went back school and found that my teacher was one of the nuns who had also taught me in elementary school. I was now 14 and in 9th grade. This nun always took an interest in me and I was teachers pet when she taught me as a child. She seemed delighted to have me in her class and commented about what a pretty young lass I was turning out to be. She was Irish, as most of the nuns were at this school.

One day, a boy in my class took me behind a building at recess and tried to French kiss me. I was so nervous, but I let him kiss me on the lips, but he pulled me closer and tried to put his tongue in my mouth and I literally ran away from him with my heart beating a mile a minute. Well, it was all over school in about 20 minutes. I was so embarrassed and one of the boys called me a tease.

The next day at lunch, Sister Margaret called me and asked me to come to her office. I was a straight A student and never got into any trouble, but I knew it was about the incident the day before.

She had me sitting in front of her desk, and she looked at me and asked “Did you kiss that boy yesterday?” My face was burning with shame. Because we were taught that only “bad girls” did things with boys. I looked down and said “Yes, Sr Margaret - but only a little, and then I ran away”. She came and stood in front of me and said “Now you know Maven, that was sinful. You are a good girl, and God wants you to be pure.” I nodded and felt tears welling up. She grabbed my chin and made me look at her and said “Did you let him touch you?” “What? I., um.. no Sister”

“Well, that’s a good lass, but I think we need to make sure the sin is gone from you”. I was petrified because our school still used corporal punishment. I knew I was going to be spanked and that had never happened in all my years going to this school. I couldn’t help crying. I felt so shamed.

“Stand up” she said. I did as I was told. She sat in the chair I had been in. “Now, I’m doing this for your own good, and I want to teach you how to cleanse your soul, so God will love you, and you’ll continue to be a good girl. If you learn your lesson, you’ll continue to be my favorite student and we will forget about this whole incident. Is that understood?” “Yes Sister”.

“Now, be a good girl and bend over my lap.” I thought this was odd because they usually made the boys bend over the desk and used the paddle. But I thought maybe I’m a girl and she will go easy on me. I laid across her lap. She told me to hold on to the chair legs. I did as told.

Next, she lifted up my plaid skirt. I was wearing just white cotton panties. She put her hands on my little ass and asked:

“Maven - did that boy touch you here?” “ No Sister!” “That’s a good girl,” she said, while she was massaging my right buttock. She suddenly spanked me over the panties. It wasn’t very hard, but I felt very strange because her other hand was grasping my thigh, very high up and close to my groin. I felt myself getting hot all over. She spanked me again and this time it was harder. “Maven, did you like it when that boy kissed you? Tell the truth.” I was crying freely now, because the spanking was so degrading, “um..,I…I did, but I was scared because I know it’s sinful to…to..” I stuttered. “It’s sinful to what?” She asked, while she rubbed her hand around on my buttocks. “It’s sinful to be lustful” My voice cracked. I felt so hot and embarrassed, and….my heart was racing. Her other hand suddenly cupped my crotch - I gasped. “Yes Maven - lust is a sin! Did you let him touch you here in your private parts? Don’t lie - God knows if you are lying!”

“No no, he didn’t Sister - I swear!”

I was panicking. She was still cupping my crotch and I knew how warm it felt because my whole body was burning up. She removed her hand from my buttock and began to stroke my hair, and pet my pussy with her other hand. I was breathing so hard, my head felt like it would explode hanging down over her lap. I was getting aroused and I didn’t know what to do.

“Now Maven, why do you feel so warm down here?” She was stroking me through my panties and I could not help it. I was aroused. “I..I don’t know Sister…please..” I felt so humiliated. She moved my panties and touched my little virgin pussy with my peach fuzz pubic hairs barely growing… I was in complete shock. I felt so helpless and I was mortified that she was looking at and touching my private parts! “Maven - I think you have lustful thoughts. And how to we repent from lustful thoughts?” She was actively stroking my clit now and I was getting hotter and wet, and I was paralyzed with fear? Pleasure? She held my prone body with her sturdy arms and I knew better than to squirm. “We confess Sister,” I said through a stream of tears. “Yes my good lass - we confess. Now tell me the truth - does this feel good” “Yes, Sister,” I stuttered with burning shame. “Do you want to be my good girl? And keep being teachers pet?” “Yes…Yes Sister”. I whimpered, as I succumbed to how good it felt to have someone else touch me. “God willing, I will get this lust out of you - and you will be forgiven. Do you understand?” “Yes Sister!” I cried. I didn’t understand, but I was too freaked out to know what was happening. She pulled my panties down and they fell to my ankles, falling onto my saddle Oxford shoes and my lacy socks. She spread my legs wider and continued to rub my clit. “Do you ever touch yourself like this when you’re alone at night Maven?” “Yes,” I sobbed. She spanked me “and do you bring yourself to orgasm?” I nodded, too ashamed to answer and crying uncontrollably. “You know this is a sin! Bad girl!” She spanked me while rubbing my clit faster. I was so wet and I started to moan and buck my hips onto her lap. I couldn’t help it. She felt the wetness and spanked me again. “That’s a good girl. Come on Maven - God is watching. Show him the lustful little whore you really are and he will forgive you.” I was so confused and so aroused l. No one but my mother had ever seen my vagina. Not even during PE class, not even my best friends. But she kept rubbing my little mound and knew exactly what rhythm was making me wet…and I couldn’t believe Sister Margaret was doing this to me. And my God - she was about to make me cum. She put her finger inside my tight little cunt and continued to rub my clit with her thumb - I bucked and moved my hips like a wild animal. I was feral in my need to climax and make her happy. She was really finger fucking me now - and I felt an inevitable orgasm building. “Oh My God!” I exploded on Sister Margaret’s finger and I writhed with waves of pleasure like I’d never had before. It was the most intense orgasm of my young life and I was still a virgin. I was panting and sweating and crying all at the same time. She pulled her finger from my cunt and turned me over. She held me like a child - and then she put her fingers in my mouth with all my wetness on them. She says “Taste your lustful sin! Clean my fingers and cleanse your dirty whore soul in front of me and God!” I sucked on her fingers and tasted my sweet and tart taste. She smiled and said “Now that’s my good lass Maven. You are now purified under God. You are forgiven.” She gave me a hug and patted my pussy which gave me little convulsions of pleasure. I didn’t want to leave her arms. She wasn’t even pretty but I didn’t care. She did something to me that made me want to please her. She stood me up and told me to put my panties on. I was in a daze, and did as I was told. I stood there in my wet sweaty white panties. My mouth tasting of my pussy. “Now go enjoy recess - and I’ll be watching you. If I see or think that you are being lustful, you will come back here and be cleansed whenever I think it’s necessary - do you understand?” “Yes Sister” “And this is private. This is only between you and God - and I am his intermediary - Do you understand?” “Yes Sister” She took my face in her hands and kissed my forehead and said “You were always my favorite lass. I will make sure you continue to be a very good girl!” And then she steered me out of her office.

I still can’t believe this happened to me, But this was the beginning of a four year education for me.

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year ago

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Can we get a sequel to the story of reader liking Pavitr, but Pavitr and Gayatri are happily together? Like Hobie or Gwen visit Pavitr and the reader meets them and they form a bond? romantic or platonic, reader just needs a buddy.

Thank you for everyone who wanted a part 2! Also this is kinda a long one so…I still hope you enjoy. 🦦

@sh-tposter2021 @thebiggestsimpoutthere @ii01vp

Part 1

It had been several weeks since you learnt of Pavitr and Gayatri’s relationship, and it’s been just as long since you’ve distanced yourself from Pavitr. While his absence was greatly felt and while there were times where you felt like being a hypocrite and run back to him, you had to remind yourself of why you were doing this in the first place; for the betterment of your own health and to remind yourself of who you were before ever meeting Pavitr because once upon a time there were chapters of your life that didn’t involve him.

You had to frequently remind yourself that you’ll be fine without Pavitr as he was seemingly fine without you now he had the prettiest girl in Mumbattan hanging off of his arm to fawn over, and all without having to take into account of how you felt about the public displays of affection that’d pierce your heart over. And over. And over again.

And yet while you’ve lead yourself to believe that Pavitr has seamlessly moved on without you, what you didn’t know was that Pavitr had been wanting you to meet his other friends, Hobie and Gwen, for a really long time now and even went as far as to set up the whole thing; only for it to come crushing down on him days later when you walked away from him with tears in your eyes and a forced smile. So when the day of your supposed get together came, Pavitr genuinely didn’t know what to tell Hobie and Gwen when he saw them. He didn’t want to send them away, that would be considered rude and disrespectful of the time that they had both set aside to be here, yet he didn’t want them to stay if you weren’t going to be there.

Fortunately and unfortunately for Pavitr, Gwen and Hobie could tell that during the period between their last visit to Mumbattan and now, something had to have happened for Pavitr’s demeanour to drastically change. ‘So where’s this y/n you’ve been talking our ear of about?’ Hobie asked, looking about the room as though you were going to pop out at them.

‘They’re not coming,’ Pavitr solemnly told them, ‘I’d like to think we’re still friends but it’s been so long since I’ve last seen them, that now…now I’m not so sure. I don’t want to loose my best fiend but I’m pretty certain they don’t want to talk to me.’ Pavitr then looked between his friends almost helplessly as he fiddles with the friendship bracelet that you made him out of habit. ‘All I wanna know is what I’ve done and how I can fix it.’ Gwen stepped forward and pressed a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder. ‘I’m sure they’re not mad at you Pav but I’m assuming they just wanted a little space to themselves.’ She told him but it didn’t seem to have helped at all.

‘We can go look for them and get the answer out of them that way?’ Hobbie said but before Pavitr could answer, he was reminded that he had a date with Gayatri later. The thought of his beautiful girlfriend made all his daily worries seep away from his mind as though she was the cleansing he required, there wasn’t a day where Pavitr didn’t count himself lucky in being able to date the most beautiful, amazing, most funniest girl; and he never fails to tells her every day how happy he was to be with her and be able to have the honour of calling her his. ‘Oh I can’t, I’ve got a date with my girlfriend Gayatri soon.’ Pavitr told Hobie.

‘Then how about me and Hobie go talk to them on your behalf?’ Gwen pitched.

‘But we don’t know where they’ll be right now.’ Hobie countered. ‘We’d waste the day away trying to look for them like we’re a bunch of headless chickens.’

‘We might not be on speaking terms but I do know where they’d like to be whenever they want to be left alone.’ Pavitr pipped up before telling the pair of the exact location before they parted ways; Hobie and Gwen to look for you whilst Pavitr went on his date with Gayatri.

Following Pavitr’s instructions, it didn’t take Hobie and Gwen long to find you sat on your lonesome upon a barren rooftop aside from a few weeds and bunches of moss that were growing up and through the cracks within the concrete. One look upon your worn out face told the pair that whatever happened between you and Pavitr took it’s toll on you a lot harder then it did Pavitr; not that they were saying that he wasn’t suffering but he had Gayatri, whereas you probably only had Pavitr to fall back on in times like this but now you probably had nobody. Both Hobie and Gwen were very familiar with the feeling of having nobody in your corner, so it was fairly easy for them to recognise the signs.

‘Is that them?’ Gwen asked Hobie, watching you as you looked out over the liveliness that filled the streets below with the vaguest look upon your face. Hobie shrugs, ‘must be, otherwise Pav wouldn’t have told us to come here if that weren’t the case.’

‘They look-‘

‘Lonely, yeah I agree.’ Hobie finished Gwen’s thought before he started moving towards you when Gwen called out to him. ‘What’re you doing?’ She asks and he looks back at her and said, ‘being a descent human being.’ Before continuing on his way towards you;only to be joined by Gwen not a moment later.

You weren’t fully aware of their presence until you felt Hobie seat himself at your left as Gwen seated herself at your right, but even even then you didn’t have it within you to remove yourself, the company of strangers felt nice to your aching soul because after all humans are social creatures that thrived off of having company. ‘Hey.’ Gwen said, catching your attention first. ‘Hi, I’m sorry but I don’t believe I’ve seen either of you here before.’ You told her, not wanting to come off as rude. ‘You’re right but we’re just paying our friend Pavitr a visit but he’s on a date right now and told us to come hang with you.’ Hobie answered and upon hearing Pavitr’s name, you tensed; Something both Hobie and Gwen both took notice.

‘If you’re here to get me into talking to him you can think again,’ you told them rather sternly, ‘I ain’t getting my heart broken twice.’ You added softer this time as you rested your head atop of your arms that were atop of your knees that you had tucked tight against your chest. ‘What did you mean by getting your heart broken twice?’ Gwen asked, looking over at Hobie who was already looking at her. You chuckled humourlessly as you felt tears once again well up in your eyes, you genuinely thought you were past crying over him but it seemed as though the wound your heart sustained was still bleeding. ‘I had a crush on him, Pavitr,’ you began, ‘but it was obvious that he liked Gayatri more and I don’t blame him, she’s gorgeous, funny, cool, sociable, smart and sweet. It just got to the point where being with him while he was still openly pinning after her was physically hurting me and I didn’t want to complicate things all because I can’t regulate my feelings.’ You finished, feeling slightly better to have finally let it out rather then inside like you had.

So this was the thing that happened between you and their friend. You liked him to the point where you selflessly removed yourself so that your feelings didn’t jeopardise his dream relationship with Gayatri but in the process, you cut yourself off from the only support you ever had in your life and now you were paying the price by suffering through all your emotions on your own. ‘I’m sorry, neither of you should have to be on the receiving end of my grievances.’ You said after a couple minutes of silence, but that soon came to an abrupt halt when Hobie slugged his arm over your shoulder and brought you into his side as Gwen reached out to hold your hand within her own. ‘Don’t ever say sorry for things that ain’t under your control,’ Hobie started, squeezing your shoulder, ‘and besides we’re the ones who asked about it in the first place. So don’t ever feel as though you have to apologise for everything, alright?’ You hummed in response.

‘Hobie’s right, I’m sorry that I made you brought this up.’ Gwen told you, just about to let go of your hand, but you were quick to tighten your hold in a silent plea for her to not go as you shot her a weak smile. ‘It’s not your fault,’ you told her, ‘it was bound to come up and if anything I’m glad you did because had you not I was beginning to get scared that it would come out at the wrong place at the wrong time. So instead I should be thanking you, both of you and I haven’t gotten either of your names yet.’

‘Oh right, well I’m Gwen Stacy,’ Gwen introduced herself before gesturing towards the lad who still had you coddled into his side, ‘and this is my friend Hobie Brown.’

‘Hi.’ You said tearfully as a smile beamed across your face.

‘Hiya yourself.’ Hobie replied as he wiped away some of your tears. ‘Despite crying you’re heart out, you still find it within you to smile. Now that’s a power I ain’t ever seen before and I find it admirable because it tells me that not only are you selfless but strong too.’ He adds and you couldn’t help but feel more tears arise to the surface, causing you to avert you gaze. ‘I’m sorry.’ You said weakly as Gwen felt her heart break for you as Hobie held onto you tighter whilst softly shushing you. ‘Please don’t ever apologise for having emotions.’ Gwen told you as an idea popped into her head as she adds on, ‘would you like to getaway with us? Do something to take your mind off of Pavitr?’ You looked at her before looking at Hobie who, in his mind, had already taken you under his wing and was on board with whatever Gwen had in mind.

‘Only if it’s alright with you guys, I don’t want to intrude on anythin-‘ before you could finish your sentence, Hobie had already begun to stand up before then proceeding to dragging you up along with him, whilst also managing in keeping you under his arm. ‘It’s too late, you’re apart of us now y/n, there is no such thing as intruding in anything when you’re with us.’ Hobie states as Gwen caught up with you two with a smile on her face, revealing her gap tooth as she nudged your side. ‘Your stuck with us now, how terrible is that?’ She joked and you couldn’t help but smile back at her, feeling deep inside that everything was going to be okay now that you had Hobie and Gwen. ‘Yeah, what a terrible fate I’ve been doomed to.’ You joked equally.

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cheynovak · 3 months ago

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Texas sky – part 4

Summary: Y/N, a former cast member of Supernatural, had left Texas for LA several years ago, citing career reasons but also escaping unresolved personal issues. During a reunion party in Austin, she reconnects with Jensen Ackles, who is still married to Danneel but also struggling with his own difficulties. He confronts Y/N about her sudden departure and their past, hoping things might turn out differently this time.

Warnings: Friend to lovers, old love rediscovering, marriage problems, cheating, alcohol, hurt, anger, fluff, ...

English is not my first language

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*

Jensen was already awake when I stirred, his soft green eyes watching me with a tenderness that made my heart ache. His hand hoovering over my cheek and then my lips, I felt it, even though he didn't touch me.

Neither of us dared to address it, not wanting to shatter the fragile peace that lingered between us. Yesterday we spent all day in bed, just holding each other, fingers drawing circles on each other's skin. Lips occasionally finding the other for a passionate moment. Until we fell asleep.

He smiled softly as I blinked away the remnants of sleep, and his whispered "good morning" was laced with the unspoken truth of what we both knew was coming.

Instead, he asked if he could take a shower, and I nodded, my voice caught in my throat. I knew he was stalling, that he was trying to hold on to these final moments just as desperately as I was. And I didn’t care. I wanted him here with me, for as long as I could have him, even if it was only for a little while longer. As I watched him disappear into the bathroom, I knew that once the water stopped and the steam cleared, reality would come rushing back in.

I slipped out of bed and stood there, leaning against the doorframe, watching Jensen as the water cascaded over his shoulders. His posture was tense, his head bowed under the stream, and I could see the weight of his thoughts in the way his muscles strained. The sight tugged at something deep inside me, an ache I couldn’t ignore. Before I knew it, I had moved closer, stepping into the shower behind him, the warm water instantly soaking my white shirt and black silk panties.

I wrapped my arms around him from behind, pressing my cheek against his broad, damp shoulder. For a moment, we just stood there, letting the water wash over us, as if it could cleanse away the pain that clung so stubbornly between us.

“I should be happy,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sound of the water. “And in a way, I am. But it hurts, Jensen. It hurts that you’re going back.”

He didn’t turn around, but his hand came up to cover mine where it rested on his chest. “I want to be with you,” he said, his voice raw, stripped of all pretense. “But I can’t leave my kids. If it was just Danneel, I’d divorce her right now, but... I’m scared she’d take them from me.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, the stark honesty in them both a comfort and a curse. I knew he meant every word, that his love for his children was the one thing that held him back. And I couldn’t blame him for that. How could I?

Tears pricked at my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I pressed my face harder against his shoulder, holding him tighter, as if I could somehow fuse our bodies together and make the world outside disappear.

“I know,” I murmured, my voice breaking. “I know you can’t leave them. And I would never ask you to.”

As the water cooled around us, we remained locked in each other’s embrace, the world outside fading away. When Jensen finally turned to face me, his hands moved gently over my body, the warmth of his touch sending shivers through me. He smiled softly, his gaze drifting down to the wet shirt clinging to my skin, his thumb brushing over my hardened nipple. The sensation was electric, a reminder of the connection we had, one that went beyond words.

"I’ll find a way," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His lips found mine in a tender, lingering kiss that held all the promises he couldn’t speak out loud. "Just give me a little more time," he begged softly, his forehead resting against mine.

I nodded, my mind barely processing the action. How could I say no when his words were filled with such desperation? I wanted to believe him, to trust that he would find a way for us to be together. But deep down, I knew the reality we faced. Still, I nodded, because in that moment, I couldn’t bear to do anything else.

His hands continued their slow exploration of my body, as if he was memorizing every curve, every line, for when he’d have to let go. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, our bodies pressed together under the cooling water. We kissed again, a kiss that was both a promise and a goodbye, neither of us willing to let go just yet.

But eventually, the water turned cold, and the reality of the world outside this shower intruded once more. Jensen pulled back slightly, his green eyes searching mine, filled with a mixture of longing, regret, and something that looked painfully like hope.

"Just a little more time," he whispered again, as if trying to convince himself as much as me. I nodded again, this time more slowly, feeling the weight of what I was agreeing to.

Months had slipped by in a blur of stolen moments and secret rendezvous, each one leaving me more torn than the last. Jensen would sneak into my house whenever he could, his presence both a comfort and a source of deepening guilt. Every time he kissed me, the world felt right, but when he left, the wrongness of it all came crashing down around me.

I tried to push the thoughts aside, to bury them beneath the heat of our passion, but they always resurfaced, especially when he would pull away just when I needed him the most. Each time I’d ask him when things would change, when we could stop hiding, and each time, he’d ask for more time, whispering promises I was beginning to doubt he could keep.

But not today.

Today, I was done with the excuses, done with the half-truths and empty reassurances. I reminded myself I promised myself not to be a mistress, never be the homewrecker. Yet here I was breaking my own self worth, my own promise.

As soon as he stepped through the door, I didn’t greet him with the usual warmth. Instead, I stood firm, my arms crossed over my chest, the weight of everything we’d become hanging heavy between us.

“Jensen, this has to stop,” I said, my voice flat, betraying none of the turmoil inside me.

He looked at me, confusion crossing his features. “What do you mean? I thought we—"

“I’m tired of the lies,” I cut him off, my tone sharper than I intended. “You keep telling me you need more time, but nothing is changing. We’re still hiding, still sneaking around like we’re ashamed of what we have. What’s the point if all we’re ever going to be is a secret?”

Jensen’s face fell, the hopeful light in his eyes dimming. He opened his mouth to respond, but I didn’t give him the chance.

“Do you even want me, Jensen? Or is this just some fantasy for you? Because it feels like you’re perfectly content keeping me hidden away, only coming to me when it’s convenient for you.” My voice was rising, the frustration and hurt I’d been holding back for weeks finally spilling over.

I didn't mean it.

Jensen looked like a beaten dog, his shoulders slumping as the words hit him. He reached out for me, but I stepped back, needing the distance to keep from breaking down completely.

“Don’t,” I said, my voice trembling. “Don’t touch me unless you can tell me the truth. Unless you can tell me what you really want.”

“I want you,” he whispered, but the words felt hollow, as if even he didn’t believe them anymore.

“Then why does it feel like I’m nothing more than a dirty little secret to you?” The pain in my chest was nearly unbearable, but I refused to let the tears fall.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’m just... I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” I demanded, my hands shaking. “Scared of being with me? Or scared of leaving her?”

He looked down at the floor, unable to meet my gaze. “Both,” he admitted after a long pause, the word barely more than a whisper.

The admission hung in the air between us, heavy and suffocating. For a moment, neither of us spoke, the silence louder than any argument we could have had.

“I can’t do this anymore, Jensen,” I finally said, my voice breaking. “I can’t keep being your secret, your escape. I deserve more than that. We deserve more than that.

“I know,” he said, his voice full of regret. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t enough,” I whispered, feeling the tears finally spill over. “You need to decide what you really want, Jensen. And if it’s not me, then...”

I couldn’t finish the sentence. The thought of him choosing her, of losing him for good, was too much to bear.

Jensen took a step towards me, his hand reaching out as if to comfort me "Y/N. please..." , but I shook my head, stepping back again.

“Don’t,” I said, my voice barely audible. “I need to be alone. And I think you need some time to think."

For a moment, he hesitated, his hand hovering in the air between us, but then he let it fall to his side. He nodded, his face a picture of devastation, before he turned and walked out the door, leaving me standing there, heartbroken and unsure if I’d ever see him again.

The words I’d just said to Jensen echoed endlessly in my mind, haunting me with their truth: I can’t keep being your escape. I deserve more than that. We deserve more than that. The weight of those words felt too familiar, as if history was repeating itself.

I couldn’t help but remember the night before his wedding. He had invited me to his bachelor party, a gesture that had surprised me given the circumstances. But I hadn’t shown up at the club, too caught up in my own emotions after a disastrous date. I’d told myself it was better to stay away, to give him space on the eve of his new life. But that plan had shattered when I heard the sound of car horns outside my door.

Jensen’s car had pulled up, the windows down, and I could hear Jared and the others calling my name, urging me to join them. I was about to turn back inside, to ignore the noise, when Jensen himself got out of the car. He was tipsy, his smile easy and charming, but when he saw me, his expression shifted. He noticed something was wrong, his eyes narrowing in concern.

“Hey, what’s going on? You never came to the pub?” he asked, his voice softer than I expected. "Horrible date, norhing to worry." I answered, "Go, have fun tonight."

I saw the shock in his eyes before he looked at Jared and told him to head back to the club, promising that we’d be there in a minute.

Once the cars drove away, we stood there for a moment, the night air heavy with the things neither of us wanted to say. Finally, I walked inside, and he followed me, my heart pounding in my chest.

We sat on the tiny couch in my living room, the silence between us growing heavier by the second. He didn’t press me for details about what had happened on my date, and I didn’t offer any. Instead, we just sat there, close enough to feel the warmth of each other’s presence but far enough to keep the unsaid words from spilling over.

“I didn’t know you were dating?” he finally asked, breaking the silence.

I shrugged, unable to meet his eyes. “Just, you know, trying to.” He didn’t push further, but I could feel his gaze on me, searching for answers I wasn’t ready to give.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, “You know you’re my best friend, right? I mean, I know things are changing, but that’s not going to.”

The words were meant to be comforting, but they only made the ache in my chest worse. I nodded, forcing a smile, but inside, I felt like I was falling apart.

“Jensen, you’re getting married tomorrow,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “Things are already changing, whether we want them to or not.” And it's not the change I wished for. I thought.

He looked at me then, really looked at me, and for a moment, it felt like he could see right through all the walls I had built up. His gaze was so intense, so filled with a mix of emotions, that I couldn’t hide anything from him even if I tried. He reached out and took my hand, his grip warm and reassuring, but instead of comforting me, it only made me feel more unsteady, like I was on the edge of something I wasn’t ready to face.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “What’s really going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

I hesitated, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on me. All the years of unspoken words, of buried feelings, were bubbling up to the surface, and I didn’t know if I had the strength to hold them back anymore.

“I’m just... I’m tired, Jensen,” I finally whispered, my voice cracking with the strain of holding back tears. “I’m tired of chasing love. Of always being the one who waits, who hopes, who never gets what she really wants. I want to feel real love... the kind that doesn’t make you question everything, the kind that just is.”

I looked at him. "I want my happy ending." with you.

Before I even realized what was happening, Jensen moved closer, his hand tightening around mine, as if he heard my thougts. The next thing I knew, his lips were on mine, soft and urgent, filled with a longing that matched the ache in my heart. I was stunned, frozen in place, unable to respond as my mind raced to catch up with what was happening.

The kiss was unexpected, a sudden surge of emotion that neither of us seemed prepared for. His lips moved against mine, trying to coax a response, but I was too shocked, too overwhelmed to react. My heart was pounding in my chest, my mind a whirlwind of confusion and desire.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged, his eyes searching mine for any sign of what I was feeling. I could see the fear in his gaze, the fear that he had crossed a line, that he had pushed too far.

“Y/N, I—” he started, his voice trembling.

But I didn’t let him finish. I reached up, my fingers brushing against his lips, silencing him. I wasn’t ready to speak, to acknowledge what had just happened. I was still trying to process it, to understand what it meant.

Jensen’s eyes clouded with uncertainty, his usual confidence wavering as he stared back at me. My thumb brushed over his lips, and I could feel the slight tremble beneath my touch. There was something in his gaze that sent a jolt of nervous energy through me, something that made my heart race and my mind whirl with a thousand possibilities.

“What’s wrong, J?” I asked softly, trying to ground myself, to keep from being swept away by the intensity of the moment.

His hand reached up, covering mine, holding it against his face like he was afraid to let go. “I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared of marrying the wrong person, of chasing after something that isn’t real, that doesn’t make me feel… whole.”

The way he looked at me, so raw and open, made my stomach twist. There was a desperation in his eyes, a silent plea for something I wasn’t sure what he meant.

I could feel my nerves spiking, the intensity of his gaze too much to bear. I needed to move, to do something to break the tension before it suffocated us both. I stood up abruptly, needing the distance, needing a drink or anything to distract myself from the way he was looking at me. But before I could take more than a step, Jensen followed, closing the space between us in an instant.

His body pressed against mine, trapping me between him and the counter. I could feel the heat radiating from him, the undeniable evidence of what he wanted pressing into me. His hands were on my waist, fingers digging into my skin as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting me go. His breath was warm against my ear, and I felt every word as he whispered them.

“Please… don’t go,” he murmured, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of my neck. “I need you. You’re the only one who makes me feel like this, the only one who understands.”

My heart was pounding so loud I could barely hear my own thoughts. The temptation to give in, to let myself be swept away by him, was almost overwhelming. But even as my body responded to his touch, my mind screamed for me to stop.

That’s when the words spilled out, the ones I didn't meant. “I can’t be your escape, Jensen,” I whispered, my voice trembling with the weight of my resolve. “I deserve more than that, more than one night. Let's not ruin this friendship for one night of pleasure.”

Please tell me your want me, not her. Tell me and I'll give you everything. My mind screamed.

He froze against me, the reality of my words sinking in like a cold shock to his system. Slowly, he pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, his expression filled with a mix of hurt and confusion.

“You’re right... I-I'm sorry.” he started, but I cut him off, needing to say it all before I lost the courage.

“You’re about to marry someone, Jensen. Someone who’s supposed to be your everything. But you’re here, with me, looking for… I don’t even know what. And I... I want you happy"

When I thought of that night tears welled up in my eyes. I still refused to let him fall. I couldn’t afford to lose him.

I had let him go so many time, And it hurts every single time.

Let me know what you think, like, share or comment <3 If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

Taglist:

@kr804573 @nancymcl @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @globetrotter28

@jackles010378 @hobby27 @call-me-mrs-winchester @winchesterwild78

@deans-baby-momma @deansimpalababy @stefansring @n-o-p-e-never @mayafatimakhan

#jensen ackles #fanfic #jensen fucking ackles #x reader #fluff #dean winchester #soldier boy #jensenedit #jensen x reader #female reader #friends to lovers #hurt/comfort

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the-spicy-release-of-death · 1 year ago

Text

Drama Studies

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x reader, Cregan Stark x reader, Helaena Targaryen x reader (best friend), Aegon Targaryen x reader (platonic) Rhaena Targaryen x reader (platonic), Baela Targaryen (platonic)

Tropes: Jealousy, mutual pining, alternate universe (modern university setting), She/her reader

Summary: Y/n always had a crush on Aemond. Her close friendship with Helaena stopped her from crossing the fine line of friendship with Aemond, who silently returns her feelings.

Previous part: Film Studies

“Don’t forget our discussion on The Portrait of the Mad King next week!” The professor's voice was muffled by the sound of students gathering their belongings.

Helaena, sitting beside you, unmuted her phone and began to type something on the screen. You collected your things and secured them in your tote bag as your friend began to do the same.

“Aegon’s phone is on ‘do not disturb’… he’s probably locked in a broom closet with Floris-”

“-good for him-” You interjected, shooting her a wink.

“-but Aemond is at our usual table by the field,” Helaena added as you both stood up, her eyes searching for yours intently.

Avoiding her gaze, you shifted your attention to the students leaving the auditorium, following along the waves of movement. A blush rose to your cheeks at the mention of Aemond.

You were screwed.

That morning, you had stirred awake at the breaking of dawn in Aemond’s arms on the couch. You must have passed out during the movie. Helaena and Aegon were nowhere to be seen; they had most likely moved to their respective rooms. Once your brain registered whose chest you were using as a pillow, you held your breath, eyes widening.

Your heartbeat drummed within your chest, into your veins; you felt its numbing beat all throughout your body. Aemond slept peacefully, arms around you tightly. His scent, his warmth, his allure… he, in his entirety, was divine. Oh, how you wished to stay, retreat to his unknowing and awaiting arms! Your stare twisted pitifully in longing.

You were truly screwed.

Your arm slowly raised with the intent of caressing Aemond’s cheek with your fingers. You halted mere millimeters from his flesh, your consciousness finally catching on to your movements to pull back into a clenched fist against your chest.

Your throat strained as your eyes parted from Aemond’s sleeping form dejectedly. A shaky sigh escaped your lips, knowing deep down, this would never happen again. You tore yourself from Aemond’s unconscious grasp, a movement that felt wrong, painfully tearing your heart apart. You collected your things and snuck out of the Targaryen’s penthouse. You shot Helaena a quick text and went home. You showered, washing away Aemond’s haunting scent from your skin, cleansing yourself from thoughts of him.

You were truly, royally, screwed.

Helaena hadn’t brought the previous night up – apart from her still-braided hair, which was proof that last night wasn’t some edible enhanced dream.

Your tote bag handles rested comfortably against your shoulder as you stepped out of class, the blond woman hot on your trails. Your flared pants accentuated your curves swaying down the hall.

“And what about Bae and Rhae?” You inquired, knowing full well that she kept tabs on everyone in her family. You already knew the other guys would be at baseball practice. It was Wednesday.

“They skipped their classes today to study for their midterm tomorrow.”

“Ah, makes sense,” You commented, shooting her a smile.

The two of you made your way through the throngs of students in the halls, finding a sweet escape in the fresh air outside. As you walked along the baseball field, you pulled open your tote bag searching for your phone. Finding said item, you raise your gaze mere seconds before colliding into a large muscular figure.

“Y/n, careful!” Helaena’s intervention came too late.

“Oh gods, I’m so sorry-” You paused, your eyes meeting a familiar face. “Cregan!”

The man held on to you, steadying your faltering frame. You patted his chest with a playful wink as he let go of you to adjust your scarf around your neck. You blushed under his soft attention to detail.

“Hey Y/n!” He smiled, his gaze briefly shifting to Helaena who stared at him disapprovingly, her arms crossed over her chest. “Hey, Hel!”

“Hey yourself.”

“Nice braids!”

Helaena’s face softened, her head nodding towards you.

“I owe it all to my best friend.”

“Yeah I saw everyone’s Instagram stories…” Cregan trailed off, his eyes falling back upon you. “You should do me.”

You released a snicker at the teasing tone, your hand playfully reaching out to touch his own locks of dark hair. “And tame your beautiful curls?”

Across the path, Aemond seethed as he watched you flirt with Cregan effortlessly, as if you hadn’t fallen asleep in his arms the previous night. His jealousy deafened him to Alys’ non-stop chatter about their assignment. Absentmindedly, he nodded along to her words; his eye narrowed on the developing scene. His heart raced as he watched you blush at his rival’s words and charm.

Helaena, saving the day, poked at you with her elbow nodding towards your usual spot. You nodded at her before shooting Cregan a brief wink, walking off with Helaena with entangled arms. As you and your best friend neared the table, you fell back, your eyes finding Alys all over Aemond.

Breath hitching, you faltered in your steps, Helaena looking back at you in confusion. You inhaled deeply and continued walking as if nothing was wrong. Afterall, in your two years of friendship with Helaena and by extent Aemond, the man hadn’t given any explicit sign he held an interest in you. Besides - you shook yourself together as you and Helaena approached - he was your best friend’s brother.

Some lines were not to be crossed.

“You got any plans tonight?” Aemond asked the woman at his side, who shook her head eagerly, as if in relief. “Perfect then. Six O’clock.”

You gulped as you registered the conversation you were walking in on. Helaena’s gaze snaps back to you at the subtle sound. Just as your gaze dropped to the ground, the sounds of the baseballers laughing pulled your attention. Your eyes were downcast as you placed your tote bag on the table, excusing yourself momentarily. Helaena’s eyes widened in realization, her bewildered gaze shifting from you to her brother, then back to you.

Some lines were not to be crossed, you repeated to yourself. It was pointless, you were already so profoundly in love. Moving on was a necessary evil, you reminded yourself, as you retreated towards the baseball field.

Helaena growled in annoyance, as she turned to her brother and Alys. The latter was leaving for a meeting with her wicca club.

“I’ll see you at 6 for the assignment.” She slid out of her seat, shooting Helaena a quick nod.

The blond woman stared at her brother quietly as he watched bitterly you walk off in Cregan’s direction.

“What’s up with that?” Aemond asked through gritted teeth. Helaena rolled her eyes and slammed her vegan leather bag on the table.

“We have a problem.”

“I can see that. Let me guess. You caused it?”

Helaena slapped him over the head, refusing to take the blame in this situation.

“No, you fool!” Helaena’s eyes darted to you as your hands rose to the fence, your fingers gripping on as you called over to Cregan. “You caused it.”

“Me? What the hell did I do?” Aemond’s brows furrowed confusedly.

“Nothing.” She replied in frustration, taking in a deep breath. “That’s the whole problem.”

“So, I caused a problem by doing nothing?”

“Yes! Ugh, wait.” Helaena rubbed her temples in annoyance as she took a deep breath. “I figured out who Y/n is hung up on.”

“Who?” Aemond eye widened, eager for answers.

“You, you bloody idiot.”

“Me?” Aemond’s eyes widened. His heart crashed and burned in the acidic pit of his stomach. He helplessly watched as you captured Cregan’s attention, the baseball player jogging in your direction.

“Cregan asked her on a date, and she said she’d think about it. After she saw you with Alys, I guess she quickly reconsidered her prospects with Cregan.”

Aemond remained quiet, his eyes glued onto you as his sister spoke.

“Make a move before it’s too late, Aem.”

“Hey guys!” Aegon appeared out of nowhere, out of breath. “Can you believe… how fast... Floris Bara...theon runs...” He paused, taking a deep breath. “She found out I met with her cousin in the boiler room. Talk about messy-”

“-Aegon!” Aemond looked up at his elder brother. “Y/n is agreeing to go on a date with Cregan.”

“No way!” Aegon’s eyes flew to the scene, where you were in fact flirting with Cregan. “Good for her! I told her to get laid-”

“-Aegon, go get her, tell her its urgent.”

“I just caught my breath, Aem, I’ve been running across campus-”

“Aegon, please.”

Aegon rushed off without further thought.

You shrieked as you were suddenly picked up and thrown over a shoulder.

“Help I’m being kidnapped!” You yelled. Your panic settles once you hear Aegon’s and the other baseball players laughter. Arching your back to see Cregan, you wave him goodbye, bringing your hand to your ear and gesture with a wiggle of your wrist for him to call you.

You playfully banged your fists against Aegon’s back, demanding to be let down on the ground. He didn’t budge carrying you to the picnic table. Once there, he helped you bring your feet back to the ground.

Crossing your arms on your chest you stared at him in mild annoyance. “What the hell was that about?”

The Targaryen siblings stared at each other awkwardly, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation.

“I found a group costume!” Aegon announced loudly, all heads snapping to him. That was one way to get your attention.

Would you like to go back?

Taglist current:

@crazylokonugget @fan-goddess @at-a-rax-ia @mishala005 @qweencrimson

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russellsppttemplates · 1 year ago

Note

One where the drivers teenage daughter is heartbroken for the first time and only wants her dad to comfort her. He loves it because he gets to cuddle the teenager like she was a baby again which she usually hates and her mum is jealous yet proud of how well he comforts her. Can pick any driver you like☺️

Tw: mentions a break up, curse words

"Hey", Celeste greeted quietly as she hung her coat, fumbling with the belt and she tried to keep it from wiping the floor.

"Hey, chérie", Pierre greeted back, "how was your day?", he wondered, not used to her lack of excitement. Even though she was usually shy and kept to herself, even this was weird for her. "It was fine", she croaked out, the tears in her eyes not allowing her sadness to go unnoticed, catching her father's attention and making him get up to check up on her closely.

"Hey, what's the matter? Are you hurt?", he asked, looking at any other signs of distress. Wiping her nose on her sleeve, Celeste was quick to spit out, "My heart is, that stupid bastard stepped all over it and chopped it into tiny pieces", she mumbled, hugging his waist. The greeting was usual, but to have who he still considered his little girl hold onto him like that meant it was serious business and that she needed the comfort.

Awkwardly walking with her still in his arms to the sofa, Pierre sat down and allowed his teenager daughter time before she felt comfortable enough to speak while he brushed her hair with his fingers, "can you believe they had a bet? To see who I'd date first?", she scoffed, tears falling from her eyes along with the anger and sadness in her voice, "apparently I even fucked up the bet because I went for the one they thought less likely", she hiccuped, "sorry for the language".

"They did that?", Pierre recalled, "yes, and apparently a bunch of people knew, it wasn't just that group of sad excuses of boys. Seriously, why are they like this? I swear if Alexandre or Louis are ever related to something like that, I'm beating them up. I'm not a fan of fratricide, but that doesn't mean I won't literally kick some sense into them", she sniffed, snuggling closet to Pierre's chest.

As much as he hated the situation his daughter was in and how he wanted to have a good few words with those boys, he couldn't deny that having her so close to him without her joking about not being a baby and prying away from him was a delight.

"Boys can be the worst, but the one will come along", he offered, "and he will treat you like you deserve to be treated, and you'll know then", he advised, hearing the door closed and your footsteps approaching, "hey guys, everything alright?", you asked, seeing the unusual setting.

"Men are a sad excuse of humans in the world and I'm swearing off of them for a while", she said. Despite her sarcastic remarks, both you and Pierre recognised the way she often used humour to cope with her feelings and emotions, choosing to go up to them and kiss her forehead, "I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything".

A while later, you heard Celeste go upstairs and Pierre come to the kitchen, "need any help?", he asked, circling his arms around your waist and kissing your neck, "Oh, so now you're back to hugging me?", you teased.

Chuckling as he grabbed a few things from the pantry, recognising what recipe you were doing, he tapped your butt, "she's going through her first heartbreak, bless her", he noted, knowing she would tell you all the details when she felt okay to do so, "she headed up for a shower to cleanse that asshole away from her soul, her words, not mine. Told her that the one will come, and that she doesn't need a boy to be happy", he handed you the can.

"For all of the times you doubted that you'd be a good father, I wish I could've fast forwarded to now and show younger you that you're the best father to our kids", you mumbled against his lips, kissing them properly before parting.

"Also, Celeste said something about kicking some sense into the boys, so expect her revolt in the middle of all this sadness!".

(Thank you for submitting an ask 🤍)

#pierre gasly blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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ladytanithia · 9 months ago

Text

Writing WIP Wednesday (3/13)

I don't have an art WIP this week, because I haven't made any progress on any previous WIPs, and the recent pix I've done are complete and I'll be posting them on my art blog (@tanithias-art-blog) shortly. I haven't done any more on Miranja's original story lately, either, because I've been collaborating on some little side stories with @lillxart and her OC, Snow White! So this week's WIP is a couple of paragraphs from the sequel I've been writing to the story she wrote for me.

Tagging @dirty-bosmer @gwilin-stay-winnin @skyrim-forever @thequeenofthewinter - I feel like my friends are falling away, but they're off living their best lives, so more power to them!

Without further ado:

Snow had begun weeping as she spoke of Ondolemar. They’d wanted to marry, she said, but through her own misguided choices, he had died before they ever could. That was when she learned the pain of losing love, losing a loved one. And Miranja felt that pain right along with her. The women cried together with great, gasping sobs, even wails. Snow let go of her own arms and clung to Miranja, who turned to wrap both her arms around the smaller woman. Snow White had had her time to grieve and scream and curse and cry, but even so, she still felt the need from time to time, and retelling it had overcome her, despite her best efforts. Miranja, on the other hand, had yet to fully mourn Talvas. She’d never been alone long enough, and when she’d been with people, she’d been afraid of making them too uncomfortable by expressing her raw emotions. But here, alone with Snow, who was already crazy as a bedbug, she didn’t have to hold back. She could release her heart’s agony and wash a large part of the pain away with her cleansing tears, scream at the Divines or the Daedra – whoever was responsible for the turn of events that had ripped Talvas from her arms. They cried for different men, but they cried together in solidarity, and sharing the pain was comforting to both of them.

A traveler passing near the tower heard the sobbing and wailing, and ventured closer to see who was in such distress and whether he could help. But as he neared the end of the path leading to the tower’s steps, the skeleton guards snapped their attention toward him. He gasped, blood running cold, and with eyes and mouth wide with terror, he turned on his heel and ran as if the death hounds of Coldharbour were pursuing him. If there were armed skeletons, he reasoned through his unreasonable fear, then something terrible must be happening in that tower, perhaps a Daedric ritual with a human sacrifice. A certain old drunkard at the Dead Man’s Drink would be the only one to believe him when he told his tale.

#wip wednesday #tanithia writes #miranja #snow white #skyrim #elder scrolls #tesblr #tes

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the-casbah-way · 22 days ago

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Genuine question, is it praise for Kamala that pisses you off or just the push to vote for her? (I mean you’ve made it pretty clear that it’s really about not making Palestine part of the conversation I’m just a little lost bc it seems like a Trump win would result in the extinction of the Palestinian people?)

it seems like you're asking this with genuine good faith and if that's the case then i have no problem with that. but i need you to ask yourself: what do you think ethnic cleansing looks like in practice? what do you think the extinction of the palestinian people looks like? there's a reason why these things tend to happen under people's noses. we are literally living through the extinction of the palestinian people. right now. that is not a hypothetical future threat. it is happening right now. palestinians are being systematically starved, imprisoned, tortured, raped, and rounded up to die. there are literally videos of people being burned alive whilst hooked up to IVs in hospitals. there are videos of doctors holding the necks of dead children because if they let go their heads will fall off. this entire website is flooded with evacuation campaigns because so many people are trying to escape. if that isn't what you think the extinction of a people looks like then i don't know what to tell you. if people are seeing videos of civilian's limbs getting blown off and thinking "but what if it got worse" instead of "how do we stop this" then i cannot help them. it is the most liberal american thing in the world to see that and think "but if trump wins it'll be worse for me" or "if trump wins it will get worse". what about this isn't bad enough. people who think trump is 'the bigger evil' have never held a meaningful conversation with an actual palestinian person in their lives and it shows. one of my closest friends from when i was a teenager is palestinian and you absolutely cannot listen to what she has to say and come away from it thinking that. palestinian people have been saying for a long long time now why this attitude is so disturbing, so if people had been listening to them they would know by now. i listened to a podcast recently where a palestinian man was literally in tears trying to explain how angry and frightened he is because of americans saying shit like this. he said that in order to get to the ballot box you would have to step over the dead bodies of every palestinian who has died during this genocide. those are his words, not mine. when it comes to racism, white supremacy, genocide, colonialism or ethnic cleansing, i have a policy of listening to the marginalised victims in order to decide what's right. that shouldn't be a radical concept. if people are ACTUALLY listening to them directly they wouldn't be able to keep parroting the idea of 'but trump would be worse'. at this point i see it as nothing but either terrifying levels of ignorance or an attempt to absolve some kind of guilt for voting blue. these people exist in a liberal american echo chamber where they would rather wordlessly reblog things than actually take action. i'm not going to say anything else about it, but i hope you at least understand my point of view now

#i'm not going to respond to anything about this again #i’m not telling you to not vote. or who to vote for. i’m just saying what i believe to be the truth #this is my view on it based on what i have learned and heard and seen from palestinians because that’s what matters to me #no one is going to change my mind

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mysdrymmumbles · 1 year ago

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Okay, so I think the shadowlands should have been in a different order, but I'm like, a little stumped on which.

Like, okay, below the cut is me thinking it through, so you can ignore it if you want, or pitch in your thoughts :0

Okay, so with the anima drought, I doubt the attendants would be willing to just open a gateway for anybody because they can't afford it, and they're especially not going to do so for one feeling of the Maw.

I feel like they would have contained the Maw Walker a bit more than just letting them run around the city and meet the Arbiter.

So they contain the Maw Walker instead, and cleanse them, to make sure that Maw essence is not a part of them.

Then, when they realize they are not, the attendants are willing to talk. But again, there is an anima shortage, and they cannot just open any path.

So instead, they flag down a bearer.

The Maw Walker can be like, "Yeah, that looks about right."

And the bearer, albeit miffed at being pulled from their sacred duty, can do the memory thing to take a look at wtf is going on, and be rightfully horrified.

It can be Bearer Thedrin.

If you know, you know.

And the Maw Walker's like, So, can you take me to your realm, and Bearer Thedrin is like, "Um, no, lol. That's a whole can of worms that I'm not opening. I'll relay a message tho."

So Bearer Thedrin goes off to see about warning the Archon, and the Maw Walker is like, "so what now?"

There's a bit of a debate about what to do, and Bolvar uses his connection to the helm shard the Maw Walker carries to make his own damn portal, and everyone is very u p s e t

There are mortals (plural) in the Eternal City. Not cool.

And the attendants know that Azeroth is a problem child world. All the afterlives know this. You never want direct contact with the problem child worlds.

Because you get get things like mortals crawling all over your lovely undead city.

One of the brokers, Ve'rayn can step in and be like, "Hey, I have an idea. What if you went to Revendreth?"

And Ve'rayn is just like, suuuuper helpful with negotations, and when the Maw Walker asks, Ve'rayn is like, "Oh, maybe you could answer a question for me. Did you see any of my kind in the Maw?" And when the Maw Walker says no, Ve'rayn is disappointed, but hopes they can still be helpful to one another.

Instead of going through the official gate, because that would cost anima, and the brokers would LOVE for the attendents to owe them, Ve'rayn takes the Maw Walker through one of their portals.

They approach the Fearstalker, who is in the middle of a hunt, and miffed that it has been interrupted. She's never seen a living mortal before, however, and thinks that's pretty neat and that her brother, were he here would love it.

She doesn't let them far into the realm, though, because there is an...incident going on and there is no need to bother the Sire.

The Maw Walker is there for anima? They can have some. The Fearstalker gives them enough to open a Path or two, warning them that if they come back to Revendreth, it should be through proper channels, no back doors.

The Sire will not be pleased to have living mortals coming and going in his realm.

So they go back through the Broker portal to Oribos, and report that the drought affects Revendreth, as much as Oribos.

Troubling news.

The Maw Walker asks if the Ascended have said anything, but there's no update there.

Another Bearer, Kin-tara, has been sorting through Bolvar's memories, getting more deets, and suggests rallying Maldraxxus, if this is truly as bad as things appear.

The attendants are hesitant about that, though Bolvar and the Maw Walker aren't sure why.

They explain that even if they could rally the army of the Shadowlands, that there's still the matter of having to send them into the Maw or the Realm of the Living to defend the tear, neither of which are acceptable options.

It is suggested, by ever helpful Ve'rayn, that perhaps Bastion or Ardenweald would be good to go to, as they are both more closely linked with the realm of the living.

Kin-tara says she'll take a message to the Archon and that, really, it's okay. There's no need for mortals in Bastion. She can see about having the Polemarch come talk to them here, in Oribos. The Polemarch is the Voice of the Archon, so who better to talk to? Just be patient.

So the Maw Walker ends up opening the path to Ardenweald and heading there to see if there's a way to enable the forces of Maldraxxus to come to Azeroth's aid or...well if there are any other otpions.

Ardenweald happens mostly the same, with the Winter Queen being busy culling souls to save others and all that. Ysera is saved. They explain that Ardenweald is connected to the Emerald Dream because it is a realm that is neither living nor dead, but what could have been.

The Winter Queen tries to contact the Primus about if his children can behave well enough to come through her groves--spoiler, she doubts it--but can't reach him.

As she's telling the Maw Walker that she'll send her with a message to Maldraxxus because wtf, how dare he not pick up when she skypes him, she gets a call.

It is not the Primus.

It is Sire Denathrius.

He's aware that there has been a mortal trespassing and is curious to meet them in person, as coming to his realm and not greeting him was...quite rude.

The Winter Queen sends the Maw Walker back to Oribos to go to Revendreth.

The attendants are not happy to have to open another Path, but you can't argue with an eternal one, so.

Open the way to Revendreth they do.

Imma take a break with this and have lunch.

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somewhereinneptune · 4 months ago

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An intuitive message for those who need it 🖤

Welcome<3 I really did not know what to title this post,all I knew is I needed to post it.

Context : I was doing some automatic writing from spirit while getting some tarot cards about a decision I've been making several times, but never being able to fulfil due to my emotional side. I've been wanting to walk away from a situation that had started to bring me more pain than good, more confusion than clarity, and more waiting aimlessly than being present. I just never truly or fully walk away cause I have so much deep emotion and love for the person involved, and I keep clinging to the good parts of it, the healing or uplifting parts. Let's say the energy is healing, or is for sometime , yet the person's attitude and actions are harmful.

So today it was another moment of 'im done ' and I started jotting tips from spirit on how I can truly walk away without my emotions dragging me back, and it turned to automatic writing. Mid doing that, all I could see was me writing the tips on Tumblr and preparing it as a post, and when I was done I asked spirit about it,and they said many would be in need of the same message we provided, cause it's a collective time of karmic cleanse and leaving the old, stepping into the new (the last line came just now) and they highlighted or I remembered that Saturn has just gone retrograde, which makes so much sense. Any way, I hope this reaches whoever needs it,and I wish you healing from all that's not good for you<3

Tips from spirit about letting go from harmful and unhealthy situations:

1. Acknowledge and come to terms with your decision.Nothing can be done if you don't look it in the eye, be conscious of it fully, and say "I want to do it now. This ends NOW."

Acknowledge that you want to close the chapter and that that's your decisive action.

2. Be in the present,the flow of life amidst everything ; this will take time. When releasing anything,like going through a break up, transformations, or making any major change,it's important to acknowledge that it won't be done overnight, so take it slow,and let life go on. Don't drown in shame if some time passes and you're still releasing (don't feel like a failure or a fuck up/ unable to heal) it's okay , it's the natural process of life.

3. Expect that your ex will keep popping up , either through dreams, or physically trying to win you back, love bombing you, giving you promises and such. Don't fall for the old, for the tricks, for the crumbs. In fact, even if your ex is genuine about changing for the better, it is still your valid choice whether you want to take them back or not.

4. Leave with grace, and don't look back in anger. We either attain, or we learn. Acknowledge that this situation was a catalyst for you both, and that growth happens in harsh and painful environments. Growing is tough and raw, and it only requires a tough situation to do that for you. You learned a lot, set boundaries, and considered yourself in the end, that's a win. You gained something for yourself, otherwise this situation wouldn't have crossed your path. Adding to that, reflecting on how it was a catalyst and remembering or jotting down the things you've learned, the stuff this situation mirrored, or the way you've grown can help so much. It can help you to release it more lightly and less with anger and resentment.

"write it out" also kept coming to my head all day. It means write your emotions out, or they will suffocate you. Write the pain you feel, the tears, the betrayal, the everything. Let paper devour it all.

Also songs that came in my head :

Ocean eyes - Billie Eilish

Kiss it off me - cigarettes after sex

#spirit #tarot #spirituality #somewhereinneptune #messages #break up #break ups #heartbreak #Saturn #let go #karmic #karmic lessons #automatic writing #readings #release #collective energy #collective message #general reading #sarurn retrograde

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lyrablack1883 · 2 years ago

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I read another fic I would like to recommend. I found it while browsing through old works. The story begin right after the war, the trial and so on. Told from Draco’s POV. Not eight year fic but yes they return to hogwart, Draco to serves his probations sentence under Hagrid’s and Harry with Hogwart repair. It’s beautifully heartbreaking. Exploring the aspect of who deserves to be saved. Harry character in this is just beautiful. While Draco’s is more humane? exploring more on imperfection, his needs to make his father proud and how it affects him after. It has 30k words and finished.

List of parts that made me pause reading it for a second. This next parts counts as spoiler, so if you plan to read the fic stop after this part. It’s a long list

Part 2, this whole part right here just absolutely heartbreaking

“Dada?" Teddy ventured, little voice soft.

Draco watched in astonishment as Potter's shoulders began to shake slightly, as his throat worked within the open collar of his shirt.

"No, Teddy," Potter whispered brokenly, his voice thick. "I'm not your dad. I'm not your dad."

With those words, Potter began to cry.

Little Ted's head cocked to one side as he watched the man before him weep quietly into his hands. After a moment of silent contemplation, the baby pushed himself onto his hands and knees and crawled the short distance between the two of them. Using Potter's legs, Teddy gripped his jeans and pulled himself up until he was standing on his wobbly little legs. He then toddled the two unsteady steps it took for him to be able to grab hold of Potter's wrists.

"Dada," he said softly, and to Draco it sounded almost as if the baby were trying to comfort Potter. Potter stiffened, and choked sobs emerged from behind his hands. Draco's mouth fell slightly open in wonder when little Teddy pressed his forehead against Potter's and their hair, the exact same shade of shiny black with faint blue highlights, mingled. Teddy began to pat Potter awkwardly on the back of his head, and Potter reached around the baby convulsively, his blunt-fingered hands fisting in the back of the Teddy's blue romper.

"I'm sorry, Teddy," he gasped against the baby's chest, sounding suffocated. "I tried, but I was too late. I was too late, and I'm so bloody sorry...”

Part 4

“I still believe you're worth saving.”

Part 9

Potter, Potter could have saved his father, and instead had walked away. And Draco was right back where he started, caught between desperation and hopelessness.

Part 11

Actually this whole chapter is written so beautifully, so many parts had me choked to tears.

The first one

“Did you have a choice?"

Draco felt anger surging through him, and he was glad for it. It was cleansing, somehow, cleared the passion-induced haze from his mind, and allowed him to see clearly.

"I had as much choice in my role as you did in yours," he hissed, applying more pressure to Potter's grip, twisting, but he still wouldn't release Draco's arm.

"What does that mean?" Potter asked, his knuckles whitening, his own brow furrowing.

"It means," Draco said in exasperation, "that I had a choice of taking the Mark, or watching my mother die. I could do what I was told, or I could take the Cruciatus. I could torture and maim at the whim of a madman, or I could die, Potter. Those were the choices. So yes, I had a choice. But some of us aren't meant to be heroes.”

The second

“What?" Draco broke in rashly. "That we had... something? That we could be something?" Draco shook his head frantically even as tears filled his eyes. "Well, get a clue, Boy Wonder, because that isn't going to happen. The chasm is too wide, Potter, there's too much water under the bridge, the horse has left the chute. Think of every fucking cliche you've ever heard in your entire miserable life, because it applies to this moment, right here."

Potter went very still, but he didn't move away. "This is about the Mark," he said, his voice sounding hollow.

Draco shook his head, incredulous. "This is about more than just the Mark."

Potter took a step closer to him, his hand extended. "I don't care about the Death Eater stuff anymore, Draco."

Draco's eyes went so wide in disbelief that it was painful. "The Death Eater 'stuff'?" he parroted snidely. "The Death Eater 'stuff'. I'm still living with the repercussions of that 'stuff' every fucking day of my life, Potter. My whole miserable existence is about that 'stuff'. I chop ferret guts and shovel hippogriff shit and read letters from my mother where I can see her heart breaking on the on the page and wait for the day when my father gets his soul sucked from him because of this 'stuff'. And you want to know the best part? The very best part? I allowed this thing to start with you because I planned to use you. How do you like that?" He laughed desperately at Potter's stunned expression, even though he'd never found anything less funny in his life.”

The third,

“Draco," he whispered, "some people don't deserve to be saved.”

The fourth

“Who are you..." Draco puffed, bucking his hips and trying to kick. "Who the fuck are you to decide who deserves to be saved?"

"Your father tried to kill a bunch of fourteen and fifteen-year-olds, did you know that?" Potter snarled, locking Draco's legs to the ground with his knees. "He wouldn't have batted an eyelash, he would have killed us as soon as looked at us. He stuck a fucking Horcrux in Ginny Weasley's cauldron when she was eleven years old. He's a nasty, abusive bastard. For fuck's sake, Draco, he let that monster have his only child!"

Draco went very still as the words registered, and he stared up into Potter's eyes as the horror of what he'd said sank in. And yet he realized, even as he knew that it was the truth, it didn't matter. Not then. Perhaps not ever. "Potter, I don't know how to live in a world without my father in it," he whispered faintly.”

The fifth, Just once again heartbreaking confession

“You're the most powerful wizard of the modern age, Potter..."

Potter made a slashing motion with his hand. "I'm not!" he countered. "If I was the most powerful wizard of the modern age, I'd have been able to take Voldemort out sooner, before he did so much damage, before so many died. I didn't save Fred Weasley, or Colin Creevey, or even Snape. I didn't save Dumbledore, and Sirius and Tonks..." His voice broke and he closed his eyes. "I wasn't good enough, don't you see? I killed the monster, but not before he'd taken George Weasley's twin, and Dennis Creevey's brother, and Teddy's parents..." He opened his eyes, and Draco stared, stunned, at the misery in them. "They all deserved to be saved, and I couldn't do it." Potter took another step toward Draco, pulling his wand from his sleeve as he did so. Draco steeled himself, but Potter just stood there, wand in hand. "You're right," he said flatly. "I'm not the person to decide who should live or die. I don't have the credentials for that. So, here, you have to disarm me, but I won't put up much of a fight. Take the wand from “from the tomb. But understand something," he paused, swallowing heavily, his face the color of chalk. "If you take it, you're going to have to kill me. Because they're going to come after you, Draco, and they're going to kill you, and I can't watch that. I so wanted to at least... save you." Tears were filling the green eyes then, and the wand in Potter's hand was trembling violently. "So, take the wand, do what you have to do. But kill me first, because you may not know how to live in a world without your father," he lifted his chin but his voice still trembled, "but I don't know how to live in a world without you."

The ending

I won’t include parts from the ending. It reminds me of running on air ending and a little bit of pride of prejudice oddly enough. But it had a really good ending. I say it ended just the way it should have end.

#drarry #ao3

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ask-healthy-light · 1 year ago

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With the little Pink Pup on his back and Light's sword in its sheath, on which he made sure to keep a close eye, hovering by his side, Sunburst raced downstairs as countless fears and worries grew in his head; but he did not listen to anything his mind was telling him, since he knew that he was the only one out of his friends in the Palace who could meet the group as they emerged from the prison.

When Sunburst reached the doors a few moments later, even though he could not feel anything akin to the curse with which he had become all too familiar, since he did not know whether the crystals had been cleansed yet, he hesitated to step outside for a second; but with his hoof on the door handle, Sunburst took a deep breath, and asked the Pink Pup to stay there, just in case anything went awry.

But the Pink Pup did not want to stay, and It merely quietly whined at Sunburst, as if It disagreed with his decision, so the Young Wizard let out a deep sigh, and told the little Pup that he did not know how dangerous it was out there; but as he did not want it to get hurt, he once again asked the Pup to stay inside, just in case, before he added that he hoped he would not be gone for very long.

After the Pup hopped off his back, It looked at Sunburst sadly as he stepped outside, before It ran back up the stairs to try to get the rest of the group to follow It, while underground, at the same time, Light, Nox, and the others were leaving the dungeon; but to make sure nobody was left behind, Light lead the two pairs of Ponies up the stairs, while Nox kept watch at the end of the formation.

As the group approached the entrance to the dungeon, since Light was walking at the front, with the pair of Starswirl and Stygian following closely behind them, they would be the first ones to notice whether the aura of the cursed crystals was still affecting the area; but while they climbed higher up the stairs, feeling nothing, even as they got increasingly close, Star asked them for some time.

When the trio at the front stopped walking, Amethyst turned to Star, whom she noticed was quivering in every limb, and sweetly asked them if there was anything with which they needed help, be it from her, or Nox, or anyone else; but when Star spoke to Amethyst, and told her they should be kept away from others, she noticed a faint whisper in their voice, which she knew was not of their own doing.

It was clear to Amethyst whose voice it was that she heard hidden within Star's breath, and ever so slowly, she started to understand that it would take a long time to get used to the unseen presence of Sombra; but she warmly smiled, gently took Star's hoof, and promised them she would be there for them, no matter what they said about themselves, or what the Fallen King said about either of them.

But after she had reassured Star as best she could, her eyes started to well up with tears, and her voice broke, when she turned her attention to Sombra, to whom she quietly and genuinely apologised, to the surprise and confusion of the others; but she hoped he could learn to live as a part of Star in due time, and that he knew there were so many beings who would gladly help both of them survive.

Bittersweet smiles grew upon the faces of Amethyst and Star as they embraced each other, whereafter Star said they trusted the words she told them from her heart, speaking with the same faint whisper in their voice; and after they nodded to each other, they told the others they were ready to leave, and they slowly started to make their way up the stairs again, supporting each other all the while.

Though the Bearded and Stygian had both turned around to wait upon Amethyst and Star, Light had not moved a muscle, and they only kept looking forward while quietly whispering to themselves that they were all right; but it took a moment before Light finally managed to hear the voices of the others, whereafter they chuckled nervously and apologised to the others, before they started walking again.

After he looked around, the Bearded asked Light if everything was all right, to which they replied:

"Yes, it- it's just… I often struggle to keep my balance…"

(Thanks for reading! And if you enjoyed, please reblog! Thanks in advance!)

Send an ask or request! | Start at the beginning! | Next part!

Featuring: Nox Lunarwing from @nox-lunarwing

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taxfraudhousewife · 9 months ago

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toga i can’t handle it

i don’t know what’s worse

the fuckin flat stanleyed child flattened so bad there’s nothing left it’s just ground pork

or the fuckin zip tie around the fuckin wrist

i can’t handle it

i can’t stomach it by myself

why’s there always a jesus person with this shit

is that revolution we need a jesus to lead us to our promised nation

is it always a muslim jesus with long hair and warm hands and words that put fire in your chest

i’m easily radicalized

probably started the second i realized i’m not a person because i’m a girl

now i’m barely a girl but entirely radicalized

waiting for my muslim jesus to resurrect and start the revolution

not the warlord we want but the diplomat we need

glorious peaceful socialist utopian revolution

i know it can never be

i know that’s what they want us to think

they want us to think it died with you

i know it didn’t

it just really feels like it

i don’t know anyone else who cares

i’m pretty bad at making friends

the ones i do make don’t care

you were the only one who couldn’t sleep because of random africans getting ethnically cleansed

it feels like they killed my only hope of something other than this

side from grieving a whole person

i can’t even brain that part

i can’t even brain what your death means for me

let alone what it means for you

a whole person

i was angry at my mom for getting angry at me while bernie was dying

i was angry she had the nerve to be angry when she got to be there

she got to take care of bernie in a fuckin house in a fuckin bed

i can’t brain how you must have felt

i can’t even brain humiliation (the first step of dehumanization)

how do i brain everything else in the genocide triangle

i assume you were cold and still sick

and they probably didn’t go easy on you for being small and weak

what did they do to you

all this shit coming out about what they do to palestinian prisoners

they do the same shit only china has the sense to muffle the crying

every story i hear i see it happening to you

toga there’s always stories about them doing to kids what terrible adults do to kids

i’ve been that kid and it was horrible and terrifying

and it fucked me up and i know you’re not a kid

but that would fuck me up at any age

and the thought of you feeling how that felt is the worst fuckin thing in the world

how it happened is so terrible in my head

sometimes i wish i saw so at least id know

you’re a whole person gone from existence

it makes thirty eight thousand palestinians hurt more

i know their struggle is not your struggle

(you’d be pissed off to know tumblr flagged the word jihad)

but their plight looks exactly like yours and it makes my stomach turn itself inside out

and thirty eight thousand is the only number i can cling to

china dont give numbers

we just get constant reminders of the struggle made in china

you’d be pissed off to know i’m afraid to use the word jihad in a real sentence

i hope it means the same thing to me as it does to you

the way you said it

yours sounded like glorious revolution

i know it’s just a word but it feels like words is all i have

i know it’s different for you

my revolution is an orchestra, choir, and the meticulous screenplay in my head

yours is still unknowable to me

so unknowable i can barely string together enough abstract words to capture the general vibe

i assume it’s not as glorious to you

it’s just acquiring normal basic human rights

the fireworks wouldnt be ammo but for celebrating victory

i hope i see you when i fall asleep

if you care to divinely intervene please stop by

even if only for a little

i might start crying but it’ll be happy tears

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thenumbersgameif · 2 years ago

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The art of destruction was something so complex in it’s own, beautiful way—you felt drawn to it as a moth would to a flame. It was only natural that you’d find fire so fascinating.

Raw power, consuming everything in it’s way—shaping everything to it’s will, devouring all in it’s path like a hungry beast, a pure wrath of nature. Cleansing everything by burning away all potential imperfections.

“It’s gorgeous,” you heard yourself say—your voice coated with raspiness from the inhaled smoke surrounding you. You were unable to look away from the tangerine flames dancing before your eyes.

You only managed to peel your hungry gaze away once you spotted the person who gave you the gift of this destruction—One, with black smeared on their face, grey ash in their hair.

Your lips twitched in a smile, as you noticed the fire in their eyes—a reflection of destruction, a promise of violence so primal, so beautiful it made your knees weak.

“I told you to keep your distance—I could’ve burned you.” One’s voice is stern and growling, reminding you of all those times mere inches parted the two of you as they held a knife to your throat, just barely teasing your skin with the coldness of the blade.

“And I’ve told you before,” you rasped out, taking a step closer, ignoring every instinct that screamed to Run, as you closed the distance between yourself and One. “I would let you burn me whole, and leave nothing but ash, if that was what you wanted.” You purred, glancing into those wild eyes that tempted you with the promise of blood and tears.

One flicked open their lighter—now engraved with number 4—taking a step closer. “Some day,” they start, their voice dropping into deeper tone, “I’m going to test this.”

“I’ll let you.” You said, without hesitation. You were starving for it—for the mere possibility of another clash between the two of you. “And I will smile as I do.”

#ro: one #TNG: drabbles #if: the numbers game #villain!Four

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the-insomniac-emporium · 4 years ago

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Wounded Love (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: M for mature. Blood, more blood, heavy language, seriously lots of blood. Literally the bloodiest/most detailed thing I've written. Genre: Super angst with some fluff to ease the pain. We're talking putting honey in your cup of poison to make it taste better. The ending is split, with both a happy and a sad ending. Warnings: Minor surgery (technically?) while the patient is fully awake (that's the reader, btws), blood loss, graphic depiction of a wound and how said wound is taken care of. Possible trigger for self-harm, as the reader is performing part of the surgery themselves. Also brief mention of cannibalism in the bad ending. This may very well be a Dead Dove: Do Not Eat sort of thing. Notes: While I have more medical knowledge than the average person, due to my Girl Scouts training + having a mother as a nurse, I am in no way shape or form a medical professional, and do not suggest that the methods of treatment used in this fic be taken seriously. If you find yourself seriously injured, do not attempt to replicate anything you read here. Only a portion of this is based on a real-ass incident I went through, the rest is based on a dream, and what I experienced was not what you want to do in an emergency.

{Wounded Love}

This was a mistake. Blood stains your leg, your fingers, and bruises start to form all over your exhausted body. And for what? Why had you, a tiny, fragile human, dared to pass through this damned, lycan-infested forest? Because a woman who didn’t even love you asked you to. Now you were going to die, body certain to get left out in the cold or reduced to a pile of gnawed bones. If you had more strength remaining, you might have slammed your hand into the ground in frustration, or screamed until your lungs burned from something other than frost.

But that wouldn’t get you anywhere. Wouldn’t help you get back to the castle, wouldn’t ease the racing of your heart. So you settle for the only thing that might do any good: One quick motion pulls the scarf from your neck, sending a chill down your spine that you promptly ignore. Even with shaky hands and numb fingers, your experience is enough to let you wrap the cloth around your leg, tying the ends in a knot to secure it. The pressure hurts, just not enough for you to prefer bleeding out. A test step reveals that walking is mildly more difficult now.

“I’m going to haunt her,” you muse, under your breath, tears starting to freeze at the corner of your eyes. Still, you are as quietly determined as ever, and so once more you limp down the path. Every time you put weight on your injured leg it protests harder. If not for the snow and ice covering the ground, you might have quickly searched for a walking stick. “What could be so important about this damn package? Couldn’t Doug or whatever-his-fucking-name-is deliver it? Man can practically teleport, and here I am, watching as blood loss and hypothermia race to see who can kill me first.”

Gods were you angry. Why had this happened so soon after you had settled in? Finally you had been comfortable in Castle Dimitrescu, no longer as frightened of the residents, even finding them… charming, in a way. Then the Lady of house called to you for what she claimed to be a simple errand. You had believed her, even when she explained that you would have to leave the relative safety of her home. What a fool you had been.

“What a fool she must be,” you murmur, “to think me safe here. To think I could outlast wolfmen prowling the village outskirts.” Would she even care if she saw you now? Would she be surprised, disappointed? Would she do something to change your fate? There was no reason for her to do so. It didn’t matter how much you had helped her, how much she claimed to appreciate what you did (heavy lifting, repair of clothing, massages). You were as replaceable as any other Maiden there was. And that, that was what made you have a double-take. It came to you in that moment, a thought so painful that you could not deny it was the truth. “She never thought I would survive.”

Bitterness coats your tongue, like blood in your throat, and your brain demands that you destroy your cargo, the very thing that got you sent here in the first place. You almost do it. Feet stopping, arms shrugging the carrying straps off, bloody hands taking hold of it. Tears fall, just two, and hit the package. At that moment your plan changed. This new idea would be far, far more satisfying… as long as you succeeded.

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

Spite was one hell of a drug. Enough of it and you could march your warm corpse right back to the castle, fist banging on the front door with everything you had. The path had been shorter than you thought, thankfully, but it had still taken so much out of you. Now you were leaning against the door, sliding down it, unable to support your own weight. Nothing inside the castle stirred. Were they ignoring you? Was Alcina really going to let you die inches from your “home”? Fuck that, you thought.

“Alcina!” You scream, loud as you can, startling the birds in the distant trees. The word echoes around you and rattles inside your ribs. It’s not enough. “Damn it, I am seconds away from dying, get out here now so I can look you in your fucking eyes!” Something tears a little in your throat, turning the last of your words into a hellish screech, leaving you to gasp and croak in the snow. You go to wipe your tear-filled eyes with your hands, only to remember just how much blood they’re covered in.

Sobs overtake you in just a few moments. You’re blinded by tears, deafened by sorrows, and numb from all the cold. In the aching seconds before you black out, you can only barely make out the silhouette of someone rushing to your side…

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

The first thing you feel when you wake up is mind searing pain. You try to jolt upwards, only to find a pair of strong, gloved hands holding you down. Someone shouts something, but you can’t make it out, and you feel another hand gently squeeze one of your own. Pained gasps escape your throat one after the other, but whatever is hurting you doesn’t stop. It takes a full minute for you to adjust enough to make sense of where you are. At last, you understand what’s being said.

“-it’s okay, shhh, please, we’re trying to help,” says none other than Lady Dimitrescu herself. She’s the one holding your hand, doing her best not to hurt you with her grip, trying desperately to calm you down. One the other side of you, Cassandra is positioned to hold you down. There’s a tight-lipped scowl on her face, and her brow is furrowed, but she’s not looking at your face, but rather eying somewhere in the opposite direction. Following her gaze, you find her older sister is sitting near your injured leg, and is undeniably the source of some of your pain. In one hand she holds a bottle of alcohol (notably not the wine her family produces), the other holding a wet cloth to your wound. No wonder it stings so much.

“Shit, shit, stop,” you growl, barely getting the words out. But all anyone does is look at you. Alcina’s mouth opens to speak, only for you to cut her off. “I’ve got medical training, for the love of Mother Miranda let me help! How long have I been unconscious?” This time Bela stops, glancing at her mother for direction. The grip on your torso grows looser, with Cassandra evidently heeding your words, and you take the chance to sit up, careful not to move your leg. At this point you realize that there’s a needle of sorts in your arm, attached to a tube, which trails up into a blood bag. It’s clearly been improvised with equipment from the “wine-making” part of the castle.

“Fifteen minutes at most,” a new voice chimes, from somewhere behind you. “I got that cloth you wanted, mother, but something tells me I’m not done fetching things.” Ah, Daniela Dimitrescu. Was the whole family helping you?... Why? As much as you wanted answers, there wasn’t (currently) time for questions. Not when one glance at your leg tells you that some of your flesh is rapidly decomposing. The wound was made only an hour ago, and already it was getting deadlier than you could even process.

“I need a sharp, clean knife, a needle with thread, a glass of water, and someone needs to put a metal tool, sterilized, on the stove, right now,” you said, finding it easier to talk now that no one was cleansing your wound. Without hesitation Daniela dispersed into a cloud of insects, heading towards the kitchen, while Cassandra stood up and moved towards the stairs.

“Guess I’ll get the needle,” she said, sounding rather unenthusiastic.

“What are you planning?” Alcina asks, more concerned than you had ever heard her before. Attempting to reassure her, you manage a small smile before explaining.

“Got scratched and slobbered on by a lycan. Whatever they have, it’s infectious. If I want to save my leg, or at least have a chance at surviving, I have to take measures to reduce the likelihood of an infection,” you say. Now Alcina is slowly stroking her thumb across your hand, eyes narrowed with concern. There’s a look on her face that you can’t quite parse, something she’s not saying. For now you ignore it and continue going over your plan. “The best thing would be to amputate. The tourniquet might have helped prevent the saliva from getting further into my body- and I do mean might- but I can’t keep it on forever. Problem is… I don’t want to lose it. God, I’m terrified of that, and with what we have in the castle I… I’d be more likely to die of shock than not. So, well, forget that idea.

“I’m just going to remove the wound. By making a bigger wound. It’s crazy, I know, but this will kill me if we do nothing. It will probably kill me if we do. The technical term is some shit like ‘de-bride-ing’?... No, debridement, I think. Except normally the poor fucker getting cut open is asleep for the procedure.” By the time you’re done, Lady Dimitrescu is looking at you with horror. Yeah, you had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate the idea. “Look, if this is too much… if it’s not worth saving me, if you’d rather give me a quick death, I understand. If I were-”

“Don’t be foolish, dear. You will not die, not as long as something can be done about it,” Alcina replies, quickly, eager to stop hearing you talk about dying. It’s… strange to hear her sound so confident about saving you, even stranger to realize what she called you. As if reading your thoughts, she shifts in her seat, avoiding your gaze for a moment. Shyness didn’t suit her, and you imagined it was more about her finding the right words. When she speaks, she’s looking right at you again. “I have hesitated to tell you the truth, and now I find the world playing a cruel trick on me, trying to take that which I adore. But I don’t want to aggravate your stress right now. Please, think nothing of what I have said.”

Before you could reply, footsteps reached your ears, and soon enough Daniela returns. In one hand she holds a large pitcher of water. In the other? Several knives, of various sizes, one of which you’re pretty sure you’ve seen Cassandra playing with before. As soon as you see her your face lights up, glad to be able to start the procedure.

“Oh thank fuck- or, I mean, thank you, Lady Daniela,” you stutter, reaching out as she offers you the items. Thankfully Bela had already made room on the table at your side, where she had set the bottle of alcohol down. For a moment you had forgotten that she was there. Had she already known about her mother’s feelings? Based on her lack of reaction, you could only assume that she was well aware. “I’m gonna scream, B-T-dubs. Just, uh, cover your ears?” You offer, already holding your chosen knife (big enough to be effective, small enough to offer precision).

“So… you’re going to do this yourself? Didn’t think you had it in you, red. Try not to cut anything important. Wouldn’t want to have to clean that mess up,” Daniela teases. As soon as she’s finished she has to shift into a swarm, as Bela flat out throws a knife at her. For a moment you freeze, watching as Alcina rises to her full height, staring her eldest daughter down. Behind her, Daniela reforms, clearly using her mother as a shield. “I was just trying to relieve the tension, jeez. It’s like you think she’s already dead.”

“Don’t speak another word!” Alcina snaps, sending a frightening stare towards Daniela. You cough, awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Meanwhile Bela is pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers, clearly tired of dealing with her sister’s sense of humor. “No one will speak a word until this is finished, unless my dear needs something, understood?” Both the girls nod at that, neither feeling a need to risk any further ire.

“I’m just going to start working now,” you awkwardly chime, taking a deep breath before leaning in towards your injured leg. On closer inspection you can see a strange, dark residue in the wound. They’re specks, scattered along the length of it, and they seem more common the closer you look to the gash’s center. Gross, you think. Half curious, half checking for legitimate reasons, you bring your other hand to the cut and gently spread both sides apart. It hurts like hell, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from screaming. But sure enough, the residue is practically solid at the deepest point of the wound. “Those lycans really should be on leashes.”

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Daniela exchange looks with Bela, but neither of them disobey their mother (yet). Shaking the thought away, you finally get to the brunt of the task at hand. Your hand moves slowly, reluctant to inflict such damage against its own body. As soon as the tip of the knife touches your skin, you start to doubt your ability to do this. It takes looking at Alcina, seeing the way she watches you with equal parts concern and tenderness, to remind you why you’re doing this. Death just wasn’t something you could accept right now; not after what she had said, what she had implied.

The knife is fantastically sharp. Hardly any pressure is needed before your flesh gives away, cells letting go of their neighbors like it was a casual affair. You start at the left side of your injury, digging down a little, trying to only go as deep as you needed to. Tears formed in your eyes but you quickly blinked them away. As the first of many screams leaves your mouth, you turn and twist the knife, cutting to the right, then up. Like scooping the seeds out of a pumpkin. Fresh blood springs from the wound, starting to fill up the crevice. Quickly you discard the skin you removed by tossing it into the same bowl that Bela had put a bloody towel in earlier.

“Yes,” you shudder through gritted teeth, “this hurts so fucking bad. No, I don’t need someone to take over yet.” At this point neither of the present sisters are looking at you, seeming oddly uncomfortable at the sight of you cut up like this. Hadn’t they done worse to your fellow Maidens?... Whatever, the thought couldn’t last long when you still had work to do.

Next you take a fresh, damp cloth and dab at your injury, ignoring how it throbbed beneath your touch. Then you resumed cutting, forced to press the knife deeper in order to remove the spreading residue. If you had been a scientist, this would have been utterly fascinating to observe. Whatever had been in the lycan’s saliva was slowly eating at your flesh, but not outright dissolving it. No, it simply left the skin where it was, but killed and rapidly broke it down. Yes, it would have been fascinating, if not for the fact that there was a chance you wouldn’t be able to outpace the bacteria.

With this in mind you force yourself to hold in your next scream, hoping to make it easier for you to focus. The knife continued to cut, going lower, setting nerves alight as it did. Your vision starts to blur, and for a few seconds you think you’re going to black out. Someone says something you don’t hear, and then suddenly there’s a hand on top of your own. When your vision clears you see Bela is responsible, her grip keeping you from dropping the knife. She doesn’t let go until you give her a clear nod. Even then, she seems reluctant to let you continue.

Around this time is when Cassandra returns. Her footsteps catch your attention (it’s your understanding that carrying objects is much harder in swarm mode), and you spare her a quick glance before getting back to work. A few moments later she’s placing a set of needles and a long spool of thread next to you. Ironically, they’re the same tools that you’ve used to repair and adjust Alcina’s dresses over the past year. Hopefully they work just as well on flesh, you think. Your next thoughts are canceled out by unbelievable pain. More cries leave your lips, and your hand starts shaking. Panic is settling in fast, your movements getting sharper, leading you to make a brash decision: Time to care less about precision and more about speed.

“Distract me, please,” you gasp between grunts. No one responds at first, and you know they need clarification. Speaking is getting harder by the second, but you do your best. “Brain can’t process many stimulants, same time. Just- fuck- trace skin around wound, touch hair, anything.” Somewhere between your semi-broken sentences and screams, Alcina gets the message. She’s moving closer, now, behind you, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other rubbing gentle circles on your undamaged leg. Across from you Daniela is too busy pacing to help, though you can hardly blame her.

“Should I get the metal thing from the stove?” Cassandra asks, silently hoping that Dani hadn’t assumed someone else was going to handle that part. You’re still in too much pain to talk, so you half nod half grunt in response. Not bothering to say anything, the middle child takes off, swarm moving at what might be a new speed record.

As much as your hands are shaking, you still manage to cut away another strip of flesh, tossing it aside with even less care than before. This time Bela wipes the wound for you, practically reading your mind. The moment her hands are completely out of the way you start cutting again, crying out, throat shredded to pieces from all your screaming. Alcina sounds like she might be close to sobbing, but she doesn’t stop her movements, doing her best to distract you just like you had asked. Even Bela helps, now, tracing spots around your injury whenever she knows she won’t be in your way. The effect is minor, in the end, hardly making a dent in how much pain you’re processing.

If you survive this, though, you’re hugging every daughter as tight as you can and showering them with affection… but only after you finish doing the same for their mother.

“You are so brave,” Alcina murmurs next to your ear. It’s even clearer now how close she is to crying, her voice seconds away from cracking. Hearing her like this almost hurts as bad as the initial lycan attack did. “You are so strong. No other mortal could ever be your match. Do you understand, my dear? You are blessed, divine, and I love you so much.”

In any other setting, her words would leave you melting in her arms, radiating affection so strongly that you might as well have been radioactive. Instead, you are unable to respond, or even look her way. All you can do is press the knife to your skin again, showing your own feelings by destroying yourself for her.

The blade is starting to find more resistance, and you’re having to pause more often, spots appearing in your vision. Going faster only makes things worse, your hand threatening to slip. You’re determined to finish this, no matter what, but your need to control the situation is gradually making things worse. Alcina notices this before you do, and acts before you have a chance to protest.

“Bela, the knife,” she says, then tightens her grip on your waist. Your confusion shifts to panic as your arm is carefully, but forcefully, pulled away from your wound. “Can you finish the job?” It takes you a few moments to realize that Alcina isn’t talking to you. No, she’s speaking to her eldest daughter, who doesn’t hesitate to take the knife away from you. It’s so easy for her, between her strength and your weakness. “Don’t struggle. Let us finish this.”

Protests rise from your throat and die in your mouth. Pain flares harder now that Bela isn’t distracting you. Once more your vision goes dark, but this time there’s no pause, no hesitation. You are suffering, horribly, and the Dimitrescu family refuses to make you hurt longer than necessary. It’ll be over soon, you think, not knowing whether you refer to your pain or your life itself.

Something wet drops onto the back of your neck, then darkness overtakes you…

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

“Damn those lycans, I should string Heisenberg up myself! They’re his responsibility, after all,” Lady Dimitrescu snarls, trying to ignore the tears in her eyes. Now that you’re unconscious, unable to hear what ails her, she feels free to voice her thoughts. “The damn things should never have come close to the path to the village.”

“What if she strayed from the path? Wouldn’t that explain it?” Bela suggests, even as her hands work to remove what seems to be the last piece of dead/infected flesh from your leg. She hates how the words feel in her mouth, hates suggesting that you of all people might have betrayed her mother’s trust. But it makes sense. After all, this whole mess, with you leaving the castle to retrieve a mysterious package, was all a test to see if you would try to run. It hadn’t been her idea, and Bela admitted to herself that she thought it was unnecessary.

“On the way back? Why would she bother getting the package if she intended to run?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, right as Cassandra returns. The middle child is practically juggling the metal spatula she’s carrying, irritated (not harmed) by the heat it produced. One of her brows perks up when she hears the conversation, but she keeps any thoughts she has to herself.

“Just a thought, mother, I didn’t quite believe it myself,” Bela chimes, after a pause. With that said she holds up her hand with pride, clutching between her fingers the last of the decaying flesh. The way the others react, one might have thought that a miracle had been performed. Daniela clapped her hands together, giggling a little, and finally stopped her pacing. “Don’t celebrate too much, now,” Bela reminded her, taking the spatula from Cassandra as she did. “There’s still plenty to do. It’s a good thing she’s not awake for this part.”

A good thing, indeed. She uses her fingers to spread the remaining skin a little, giving a quick examination, then deciding that she had successfully removed all remaining residue. Keeping her fingers where they were, she pressed the side of the spatula to your skin, putting the most pressure at the center of the wound. Three seconds passed, then she lifted her hand. A pause. She pressed it back into place, keeping a close eye on the affected area. This repeated several times, the gaps being necessary to prevent unintentional damage. Once the wound seemed properly closed she set the spatula aside.

“Is that it?... Did we save her?” Daniela asks, opting to finally sit down in a nearby chair. Something about her word choice makes both of her sisters scoff.

“I could sew it closed, as a precaution, but there’s no way I’d do it the way she had intended. It might be best to just give her time to rest, and see what she thinks when she gets back up,” Bela answers. For a moment her words hang in the air, but eventually Alcina gives a little nod and a hum.

“Very well. I shall carry her to my quarters, where she won’t be disturbed. Please, let one of the Maidens know to bring some food up this evening,” Alcina says, gently taking you into her arms as she does…

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

BAD ENDING: It’s been six hours, with no sign of you waking up. Your other wounds had been examined, cleaned, and bandaged. Food had been carefully prepared and brought up to you, though it now remained on the bedside table, untouched. Alcina has gone to call Mother Miranda, intending to speak to her about the growing unrest of the lycans, as Heisenberg hadn’t answered his phone. For the first time since you returned you are alone. It is now, of all times, that you awaken. A gasp sends you into a coughing spree, forcing you into a sitting position. The space around you feels like it's moving, and your vision blurs. Blood spills from your mouth as you finally regain the ability to breathe.

Seconds later your vision clears, but what you see is enough to make you wish you couldn’t. The blood that spilled onto the sheets is a dark red… with even darker spots scattered throughout it. All at once you know what happened: Residue had hidden from you, or gone deeper than your wound, infecting you before you ever stood a chance. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but something deeper starts calling to you. Something older. Darker. It drags you to your feet, ignores the pain of your wounds, and sends you out the bedroom door.

Your mind is racing, thoughts never quite clear enough for you to understand. It doesn’t feel like you’re in control of your own movements. Was something else in charge, or were you operating on an infection powered autopilot? Answers weren’t coming, just bloodshed.

“You’re not supposed to be out of bed yet!” A voice calls out to you, making you turn to investigate. On the other end of the hallway is a maiden, one you instantly recognize. You’ve worked with her before, plenty of times, tag-teaming more tasks than you could count. She was like a sister to you. When she sees the blood staining your clothes, she gasps, then moves to support you. “Please, Lady Dimitrescu will be so upset if you-” her words melt into a blood curdling scream. For a moment you don’t understand.

And then you swallow, a chunk of hot meat slipping down your throat, and the scream dies down.

“What?...” You whisper, finally tasting the blood in your mouth, watching as your friend’s body falls to the floor. There’s a chunk of flesh missing from her neck, and the dots connect themselves in your head. You did that. Every part of you wants to scream, wants to cry out and beg someone to come kill you. Instead you fall to your knees, hard, uncaring. Your hands move themselves, grasping at the still warm corpse. Something has made you stronger, or at the very least removed the mental limits that kept you from destroying yourself. Flesh gives under your touch, tearing like paper, and you start crying as it reaches your mouth.

Footsteps approach, thundering fast, and you want to warn whoever it is. When you turn to look, you feel your hands let go of your meal. Your gaze meets that of a stunned Cassandra Dimitrescu, then drifts to the sickle in her hand.

“Kill me,” you growl, voice distorted, practically echoing. “Kill me now!” Not needing to be told a third time, Cassandra moves lightning quick, swarm-jumping forward before manifesting behind you, sickle dragging across your throat in one smooth motion. But it’s not enough. She realizes this, though, and slams her foot into your back, sending you tumbling forward. It’s enough to prevent you from countering, which gives her time to advance again, this time pulling a knife from her boot and driving it into the center of your back. When you scream, it’s not with your own voice, but that of a monster.

“Fucking fuck, what the fuck, red?” Daniella asks as she rounds the corner, eyes immediately landing on your bloodsoaked mouth. She’s quick to take in the scene, drawing a conclusion easily, even if it breaks her heart a little. Your vision fades as she approaches, and you know that it’s finally over. If only you had expired a few seconds earlier… because the last thing you hear is the startled cry of your would-be lover.

“No! No, darling, what happened-” Alcina finishes her sentence, but you do not hear it. You do not hear anything, anymore. You do not know it… but there will be hell to pay for your death.

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

GOOD ENDING: When you awake, you find yourself in the softest sheets you’ve ever touched, a warm and familiar presence next to you. The first thing you see is Alcina’s sleeping face next to your own. She’s on her side, one arm around your waist, the covers pulled up to her hip. Warmth fills your chest as you take in the sight. For a few moments you just… appreciate this. Never before had you imagined that you would get to wake up next to the woman you loved so much. A sigh, one of bliss, leaves your lips. Slowly you move forward, gently placing a kiss to Alcina’s cheek. Seconds later her eyelids flutter open, and she tiredly takes you in.

“You’re… awake,” she murmurs, hardly awake herself. But her fatigue doesn’t last long. As soon as she’s fully processed the situation her eyes go wide. Then she’s pulling you closer, careful not to hurt you, and peppering little kisses over your face. “I’ve been so worried, dear. You scared us so much.” The hurt in her voice leaves you restless, making you curl up against her, desperate to soothe her worries. Moving hurts a little, but not enough to dissuade you from your goal.

“I’m sorry, love,” you say, tears pricking your eyes. “I’m okay, I’m alive, the plan worked out. You don’t have to fret for me anymore. I won’t leave you, I promise.” Slowly but surely, Alcina calms, exchanging kisses for softly running her fingers through your hair. There’s such love in her eyes that you can hardly believe you aren’t dreaming. “You’re amazing, Alcina. I could stay like this all day.”

“Maybe we should,” she offers, chuckling a little. Once again you give her a quick kiss, unable to resist the urge. “I should have never asked you to leave. I should have just trusted you.” The words give you pause, and you tilt your head in confusion. Realizing that you still didn’t know the full story, Alcina frowns. “The package is worthless, just a bundle of straw and a few rocks for weight. It was never what I cared about.”

Tension builds in your chest, and for a few seconds you have no idea how to react. It takes a minute for you to think, to connect the dots, but once you do it’s a tad bit easier to breathe. A scowl twists your lips as you think of what to say.

“If I had known that Heisenberg was forgoing his duties, I never would have sent you outside,” Alcina adds, the silence taking its toll on her.

“You shouldn’t have sent me either way,” you respond, bitterly, thinking of all that you had seen and heard on your journey. “I would have done anything to prove to you how I feel. There are other ways to show devotion- far less dangerous ways, at that.”

“I know, dear. You have every right to be angry… and watching you suffer has taught me all that I need to know,” Alcina says, still playing with your hair, trying to ease the tension. As upset as you about this recent revelation… it’s not enough to change how you feel about her, and you want her to understand that, fully and completely.

So you lean into her touch, let your eyes drift close for a moment, then softly place one of your arms around her as best as you can.

“We’ll need to talk about this more… just not right now. Right now, I need you, Alcina. I need to hold you, and be held by you, and just know that you’re here. That I’m here. That neither of us are going anywhere,” you say, resting your forehead against hers. “I need to feel safe, and your arms are the safest place I can imagine. Stay here with me?”

“It will be the easiest thing I have ever done.”

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #tw blood #tw self harm #tw cannibalism #blood blood blood oops #I wrote this instead of sleeping because my hands cannot be stopped #typeity type type type #sorry if the formatting is off #i'm trying the new editor or whatever #if it's fucked I'll fix it whenever I wake up

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