#…..then I promptly passed out and the first thing I felt when I woke up was the pure horror my brother must’ve felt reading that

[miss-midnight-checkout-queen]

Wishing luck for my dog. He got attacked over the weekend and things were bad/deep enough he needs to be seen, but our vet agreed we should wait until my mom and I can go in with him because he’s been so scared. The appointment is today and I’m really hoping they won’t need to sedate him (his wounds started developing infections yesterday and they’re on his head. He’s not spatially aware in the best of times and whenever he’s had a cone he has always inadvertently managed to use it as a battering ram and break it pretty quickly.)

[kaizokuniichan]

What You Want

Roronoa Zoro x AFAB reader

Summary: You have a tendency to slip into Zoro’s bed every time you drink. For some reason he lets you keep on doing it

This is the absolute longest fic I’ve ever written in my life. I don’t know how it happened, I just let my hand take the lead. Apologies for any weird formatting, I was forced to write this on my phone.

Warnings: alcohol use, unprotected vaginal sex, oral, light choking, slight degradation, use of “good girl”, nipple play

Word Count: 5.6k (😰)

MDNI; 20+ readers please

(Divider by @cafekitsune )

Sometimes you had this nasty habit of slipping into Zoro’s bed when you drank. You didn’t know why, it was just something you did.

The first time it happened you’d been so inebriated that your stumbling around had resulted in you tripping over a pair of boots, scrabbling onto the bed to break your fall, and flopping unceremoniously onto his legs. He startled awake and attempted to shove you off but your drunken delirium insisted that you were in your room and you had every right to be there. Exasperated, he rolled you off his knees and you eventually passed out by his ankles.

A mumbled apology came the next day during breakfast which he wordlessly waved off. After quickly gulping down his food, he grabbed his katanas and headed out the door. No other exchange about the matter was made.

The first time you slipped under the duvet, the dip of the mattress was what pulled him from his slumber. It was just enough for him to see you at the furthest edge of the bed, your head flopping onto the pillow and your soft snores soon following. You’d only slept for maybe 2 hours before you jerked awake, realizing where you’d mistakenly wound up again. You quickly gathered your shoes and pants that had been haphazardly discarded, and snuck out of the room.

The first time your bodies made contact, your back had been pressed against his. He hadn’t actually been sleeping much that night; you were unaware of his watchful eye as he looked over his shoulder at you. Subconsciously you knew something was different (still convinced you were in your own bed), a comforting wall of warmth bleeding in through the thin cotton of your tank top. He rolled his head back to face his side, eye growing heavier as he finally succumbed to sleep. When he woke a few hours later your spot was empty and cool, rumpled sheets slightly flipped back being the only indication that you’d been there.

A new thing started happening where you faced your front to him, inching closer to his bulky form. You’d ungracefully throw an arm over his waist, hot and clammy palm spreading over his abs. Sometimes, you’d swear a larger hand covered yours with a quick squeeze. But the thought never registered for longer than a second, sweet unconsciousness beckoning you soon after. Those nights his curiosity got the better of him, and he wondered what you looked like up close while you slept. As he turned under the weight of your arm still flung over him, he was met with your face half stuffed into the pillow, mouth open with a thin layer of drool dampening the pillowcase. As he adjusted himself to lay on his stomach, your body stirred and one of your eyes cracked open to stare back at him. He’d thought your focus would be foggy but you looked deep into him, down to his very bones. You held his gaze for what felt like hours under the calm nothingness that only existed during a night faring the seas, before you promptly sat up and hastened to exit the room as you always did; this time forgetting to grab the shorts and bra you’d carelessly tossed.

You knew he was aware of what you were doing but for some reason you couldn’t stop it from happening, and he wouldn’t stop you from doing it. You rationalized that the only reason he allowed it to continue was because he was just as intoxicated, sake vapors always permeating his clothes. It remained an unspoken thing between the two of you, the only acknowledgment being an amused look from him every time you took that first gulp of whiskey.

You wondered how no one else seemed to know, you weren’t exactly quiet anytime you stumbled into the men’s quarters. But then again they all slept like logs and you always managed to slip away before the sun could peak over the horizon.

Tonight was your birthday, and contrary to popular belief, you tended not to drink as much on this day, wanting to fully experience the joy and laughter with your beloved crew. A few glasses of bubbly and maybe a shot or two here and there, but not enough to put you on your ass.

Zoro had a good sense of your drinking habits, so he could tell you weren’t going as hard as usual. He wondered whether or not you’d be joining him in his bed tonight, seeing as how your mostly sober mind could possibly hold you back. His eye caught yours as it always did. Your skin was warm and glowing, cheeks puffed up from the ever-present grin plastered upon your face. It took Usopp, knocking into you and spilling his drink onto your shirt, to finally pull your attention away from Zoro as you screeched with laughter, chasing the sniper around the deck with a handful of cake meant to be smashed into his face.

Things finally wound down to lull as everyone crashed outside under the milky glow of the moon. Zoro looked around but couldn’t find you or either of the other girls anywhere, and deduced that you’d all probably left together. Oh well. Looks like he’d have the room to himself. Throwing Luffy’s arm off his cheek, he dusted off his pants and made his way back inside. His heavy footfalls echoed throughout the empty halls, wood creaking as the Sunny rocked him along. Finally arriving at his door, a fleeting image of you waiting in his bed, curled up under his sheets, crossed his mind. He quickly shook it off, knocking it back towards the huge pile of other non crew-like thoughts he had of you, and opened the door. Instead he was greeted by an empty bed, and as he closed the door, he quickly stripped himself of his clothes, and collapsed onto the mattress.

As you stood outside the door to the men’s quarters, you cursed yourself for your lack of self control. Your mind had now associated any amount of drinking with sleeping in Zoro’s bed, and that revelation had caused you to lie awake with a mysterious insomnia. After an hour of tossing and turning, your body had gotten up and your feet lead you, seemingly of their own accord, to wherever they wanted. And now here you were at his door, fully cognizant of what you were doing. Your knuckles turned white from your hand’s grip on the doorknob, and you tried to gaslight yourself into believing that you were actually drunker than you thought. This was a perfectly normal thing that you always did.

Pushing the door open you found Zoro in his bed, asleep as always, positioned in a way that was normally reserved for napping. Laying on his back, he looked luminous under the shafts of moonlight filtering through the window. Arm under the pillow behind his head, his bare chest rose and fell in a slow and steady rhythm, his soft snores tumbling from his parted lips. Your chest tensed and you stilled. You hadn’t expected him to look like that . Normally he was more of a misshapen lump under the blankets, but tonight his body looked almost as if it was offering an invitation to you. You tiptoed closer, using a few moments to take him in. With sheets rumpled at his waist, you had a clear view of his torso, which rippled with bunches of muscles beneath the skin. His jawline was as sharp as ever, head tipped back to reveal a clear line between it and his neck. He was so achingly handsome it made you gasp, chest tightening even more as you wondered how the hell you’d survived sleeping next to him during the past few months without melting completely through the floor. Liquor really did seem to have a dulling effect on your nerves. After a quick mental battle of building up your nerve, you finally lifted the covers and slipped beneath them, inching closer and closer until you were almost touching. After a few moments of admiring the wrinkle between his thin brows, you settled more comfortably into the pillow and finally dozed off.

It couldn’t have been more than an hour long nap before your dreams melted away. Something was different. You’d fallen asleep on your stomach but instead of a firm mattress beneath you, you were angled on your side and there was a portion of a body pressed against your chest. You wiggled your fingers and felt the taut skin of someone’s pec, and your leg was thrown over the large, corded muscle of someone’s thigh. This couldn’t be right. You didn’t have any current situationships on your roster that justified this level of intimacy. Embarrassingly, your body wanted to welcome the comfort with little resistance. But your mind and your body were always at war, and your flight instincts kicked in as you planned to rip yourself away and slink on back to your room. But just before you could remove yourself completely, a heavy arm you hadn’t realized was around your waist pulled you back against him. You looked up to see a mirthful smirk and a steely eye peering at you.

“Done using me like a hunk of meat?”

“What?” You croaked, heart anchoring into your gut.

“You’re cutting our time short, usually you stay longer than this,” he continued with a poke at your side, grinning like he’d finally caught you with your hand in the cookie jar. And perhaps he had.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I came here tonight. I’m not even that drunk.”

“Yeah that’s the problem, you only seem to come around when you’re drunk.”

Your mind whirled in confusion. Was that what this was about? Did you give the impression that you didn’t enjoy his company in any capacity other than when alcohol was involved?

“Zoro, I’m sorry if that’s how this is coming across, I don’t mean that at all, of course I like being around you-“

Your frantic excuses were cut short by his amused chuckle.

“You’re making this too easy. I knew it was gonna be worth it, messing with you tonight.”

His toothy grin irked your spirit and you thumped his chest in retaliation. Of course that’s where this was going, this was Zoro. Annoyingly perceptive and slightly mischievous, despite what most people thought of him.

“Why haven’t you told me to leave then? After all these months?”

“To be fair I did the first time, but you kept arguing that I’d actually snuck into your bed.”

The faint memory was promptly squished back into the deepest parts of your mind.

“Well…you still allowed it to continue. Why?”

He hummed as he scratched his chin, pretending to ponder.

“Dunno. Figured you had a reason.”

“What possible reason could that have been?”

Zoro’s arm, still around your waist, pulled you closer as he turned onto his side to face you. The dip in his tone made your skin erupt in goosebumps.

“Figured you wanted something from me.”

Breath caught in your lungs as to what he was implying.

“Like what?”

His brow arched with a knowing look, slipping a leg between your own and lifting yours higher around his waist.

“Something I’ve been wanting to give to you. If you want it.”

His eyes bore into yours, waiting for your next move. You hesitated a few beats before finally wrapping your hand around the back of his neck, pulling his face closer.

“I want this,” you sighed, brushing your lips with his.

He smiled against yours, pulling you tighter.

“Finally.”

The kiss that followed was like an ocean storm, knocking you off balance in its undertow. The groan that settled in his chest sparked electricity in your veins, causing you to whimper. Your tongue met the seam of his lips and he curled his own around it, guiding and tangling them together. The sound of your lips smacking was unseemly, but you accepted it as proof that this was actually happening. Your mouths soon parted to catch your breaths, chests heaving in unison.

“Zoro…”

He grunted in response as he rolled you onto your back, groin settled against yours. You could feel the bulge of his arousal rub against your center, and your leg that had been draped over his waist remained hooked around him. His hand next to your head gripped the sheets as his mouth descended upon your lips once again, the hand on your waist pressed more firmly and made up and down motions against your skin. He caught your bruised bottom lip between his teeth and bit down, sucking it into his mouth until there was nothing left to give. You let out a whine and he moved to the side of your face, pressing his lips to your ear.

“I wanna keep hearing that tonight, you saying my name like that.”

Not waiting for your reply, his teeth came out to bite harshly into your earlobe. You yelped, helplessly rocking your hips against his. His thigh slid further between your legs until it met your wetness at your center, nudging to provide a place for you to grind against. His mouth continued to do sinful things to your neck and collarbones, taking note of which spots got you to squirm wriggle against him.

Eventually the hand massaging your ribs slipped under the hem of you shirt, lifting it up to expose your breasts. Wanting to see them before he felt them, he stopped himself from giving your pulse point another nibble to look at you properly. The unwavering inspection had you feeling shy as you made a move to pull your shirt back down.

“Don’t do that,” he ordered, grabbing your wrist to stop you, slamming it back down into the mattress.

Your chest continued to heave as you tried to quell your insecurities, hoping that he liked what he saw. Seemingly reading your mind, he tsked loudly.

“You’re such an idiot.”

“Huh?” You balked at him, utterly dumbfounded. That was definitely not the response you could’ve ever predicted to receive for providing him with a full display of your tits.

“You know how hard it’s been for me, letting you leave all of those nights?”

You had no reply prepared but it didn’t matter, any possible words would’ve failed you as his mouth latched onto your breast, tongue licking playfully at your nipple.

“Even watching you drool all over my pillows and snoring in my ear couldn’t stop me from wanting you.”

Annoyance tickled your temple, even as he sucked on the underside of your breast.

“I may have drooled once or twice but I definitely don’t snore.”

He looked up with a smile showing all 32 of his teeth before replacing his mouth with his hand to rub his thumb softly against the pebbled nub. A surprised gasp broke free from your lips. Sometimes you wondered if you were the type of person who could cum just from your nipples being stimulated. Maybe one day you’d test that theory.

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

You rolled your eyes, turning your head to the side, unable to argue with all of his pinching and prodding. His hand reached over to grasp your jaw, forcing you to look back at him.

“Stop being difficult or I won’t give you your present.”

Your teeth clicked with the force of your mouth snapping shut, making him snicker.

“Is that all it takes to get you to listen to me?”

“Yeah if that’s what’s always being offered. I can be good for that.”

“Hm. Greedy.”

“I’m allowed to be, it’s my birthday.”

His fingers smushed your cheeks together, but he made no move of keeping you waiting as his mouth continued it’s journey down your body, sucking on your skin and biting the softness of your tummy. Slowly he peeled down your sleep shorts, discarding them into the darkness. Immediately your knees knocked together but he pulled them apart to stare intensely at the large wet patch in your panties. This time you felt pride as you watched his mouth go slack, his eye flitting back up to meet yours, dark with desire. He hadn’t thought it would be this easy to get you worked up like this, you were normally so stubborn about everything . If only you knew what this was doing for his ego.

As he bent down to bite into the plushness of your thighs, you sat up to enjoy the visual of his face nuzzled between your legs. You’d never seen him look sexier than when he glanced back up at you, intense eye contact stealing your breath once more. He nudged his nose against the covered lips of your pussy and gave it a sniff, an unexpected moan rumbling in his throat.

“Fuck. Never imagined you’d smell this good.”

You were left speechless as he removed your panties, finally exposing you to the cool air. You gasped as his tongue poked out to taste the juices leaking between your lips, and your head fell back down as you whimpered. One of his hands kept your hips firmly in place while the other crawled up to resume dragging his fingers across your nipples.

His tongue curled along the seam of your entrance, serving him another moan of his name and a firm grip on his hair. Not being able to hold his composure, he dragged your body closer to drape your legs over his shoulders.

“You know, if you were thinking this was gonna be a one time thing, you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought.”

“Stop being mean,” you sighed, pulling his head closer to your untended wetness, “get on with my present now.”

His mouth kicked up into a smirk before he brought it back against you, tongue chasing the leaking juices before stuffing them back inside. Your nails clawed his scalp as he hummed against your clit, his tongue making practiced and precise traces along the bud. You were briefly brought back to a conversation you’d had with Robin where you wondered if the power that it took to fight with a sword in his mouth resulted in his tongue developing an unusual strength. As his tongue bullied it’s way inside and along your walls, you concluded that it had to be true, and you gave thanks to his three-sword style as if it had provided a favor specifically for you.

Zoro’s senses were saturated with the essence of you. Your plump thighs squeezed his head deliciously as he fucked you slowly with his mouth. Your hand gripping his hair made him growl, rubbing his face further between your legs, groaning at your continuous whines dancing in his ears. You were so wet, clenching around his tongue, he had to reach a hand into his boxers just to bring himself some relief. He was unbearably hard and the more your hips bucked in time with his movements, the more he had to squeeze himself at the base just to keep himself at bay. Thankfully, you seemed interested in watching him work, your half-lidded eyes and pouty, kiss-swollen lips being any indication. He liked performing for you, and silently praised your bold approval.

His hand still played with your nipples, and every swipe of the pad of his thumb had your hips jumping so fiercely, he knew he’d have to file that away for later. But now you were moving too much, and he had a job to finish. Taking both of your thighs still hanging over his shoulders in his hands, he folded your body in half so that all you could do was lie there and take everything he gave to you. His tongue, still darting in and out of you at a steady pace, began making languid swipes along your clit. Your panting became louder as he continued his teasing, sucking one of your lips into his mouth and releasing it with a pop.

“Zoro…Zoro…please don’t stop. Please.”

You were begging now, and that was good. He’d oblige you, of course. Wrapping his lips around your clit, he provided a combination of licks and suction, working in tandem as your whimpers climbed louder and more breathless until finally, everything crashed. You came into his mouth with a throaty wail, body convulsing in his hold. He continued to lap at your juices as you shuddered with aftershocks, steadily coming down with a weak whine. You eventually settled down with a sigh and he released your thighs, causing your lower half to flop back onto the mattress. You sat in silence still panting and spent, spread-eagle with him kneeling between your legs. You cracked your eyes open to look at him, shaking your head.

“You are an absolute demon.”

He grinned smugly in reply, fingers swiping along your lower lips.

“I didn’t hear any complaints.”

Zoro’s dick cried for attention, and he was normally too disciplined to be led by it. But as he pulled it free from his briefs and used your slick to lube himself up, he was thankful that tonight he was going to indulge. He stroked himself lazily, looking up when he heard your soft gasp.

“Fuck…me.”

You’d let the words slip before you could scoop them back into your mouth. The sight you were met with went absolutely mad, beyond your wildest imagination. Here was Zoro, big, wide, and powerful, looming over you with the muscles of his bicep flexing as he jerked himself to the sight of you. His face was still insufferably smug as he kept his pace.

“You good?”

“Hm.”

Your lack of reaction had him quirking his eyebrow, curious as to whether or not you had met your limit and were ready to conclude the evening.

“We can stop now if you want to-“

“I thought it was still my birthday?”

Both of Zoro’s eyebrows rose as your energy seemed to return and you watched him intently, hand still wrapped around himself. You sat up on your elbows and licked your lips before giving him those shiny, doe eyes.

“I want the rest of my present now,” you pouted.

It was Zoro’s turn to be speechless as you grabbed his waist and forced him to lie back down over you.

“Don’t get all shy on me now,” you murmured, sliding his briefs down to give his ass a squeeze. The movement had him bucking forward, his hand finally ripped away from his dick to catch himself from dropping all of his weight onto you. You continued tugging his underwear down until he leaned on his side and slid them off, flinging them aside. His free hand grabbed your shirt still bunched above your chest, and roughly slipped it over your head, tossing it to join the rest of your clothes. He brought a hand to you hip and slid it down slowly to your thigh, hooking it once more around his waist as he settled back over you.

“Still got time to back out sweetheart.”

Your chest stuttered as you felt him poke at your entrance. You carded a hand back into his hair while the other touched his cheek, thumb tracing his lips. You were so caught in the moment, your feeble mind unable to focus on anything other than him. The feel of his strong body against yours, his veiny cock gliding smoothly between your pussy lips, his head turning slightly into your hand, giving it a whisper of a kiss. You were too far gone.

“Zoro…”

“Tell me what you need.”

You brought your mouth to his for a long, soft kiss before you looked back up at him. God, you were so pretty. Maybe he was kinder than he thought because in that moment he would’ve given you absolutely anything.

“I want you to give me everything,” you said, and he was convinced you’d read his mind.

He released a breath and guided himself into you, squeezing his eye shut as he felt the immediate squeeze. You were still so wet from his spit and your own arousal, but your walls were tight as he hadn’t used his fingers to stretch you. You didn’t seem to mind as you pulled him close, and he shallowly pumped himself in and out, going slightly deeper with every roll of his hips. You relaxed more against him and it became easier for him to slip inside; you opened up so nicely for him. Your hips rose to meet his careful thrusts, and before he knew it he was completely and snugly sheathed inside you.

He’d underestimated how warm and tight you’d be, even after your initial orgasm from earlier. He had to stop and catch his breath, panting in your ear as he willed his body to calm down. It wouldn’t due for him to cut this prematurely. You were looking to get thoroughly fucked and he was the only one who was going to give it to you how you wanted. After he was done with you you’d never be able to crawl into anyone else’s bed ever again. He was going to mold your pussy so only he could fit.

You hadn’t stopped moaning since his hips connected with yours, and you began clawing at his back, begging him to move. Your body was hot and wound tight as if you hadn’t just cum earlier. He finally lifted his head from the crook of your neck and slipped a hand beneath your body to press it up to his.

“You gonna be good for me?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, limbs turning to goo.

Giving you another quick kiss, he shoved inside you and lost any last dredges of sanity. You felt unbelievable, gripping his cock in a way that wouldn’t let go. His hand sandwiched beneath you grabbed your ass, giving him leverage to slam back into you. His breath came out in heavy pants as he built a bruising pace, grunting and groaning into your ear.

Your hand still pulled at his hair while the other held onto his bicep. The force of his thrusts made your whole body bounce up towards the headboard, and the rhythmic squeaks of the bed were embarrassingly loud. You hoped nobody had woken up in search of the room you both were defiling. Your pussy ached and fluttered against him as he fucked you, his stomach flexing with every grind of his hips. He was so brutal and so mean you were sure he was going to put a hole through the mattress. Suddenly he dropped your leg and pinned both of your wrists above your head.

“Wrap your legs around me sweetheart.”

God, what could you do besides follow that voice? So sinful that it gnawed at your spine. You wrapped both your legs around his waist, and his thrusts became more slow and rough.

“You gonna keep taking it?”

“Ye-ah.”

He pressed you further down into the mattress, your endless stream of moans becoming stilted from the force of his pounding.

“You gonna let me keep stretching this pussy out?”

“Please,” you pleaded, eyes watering as he plowed away at you.

You were so pliant for him, allowing him to use you as he pleased. He was going to batter your pussy red until it was swollen. Taking both of your wrists in one hand, he rested his other around your throat.

“Yeah?” He prompted, asking for permission.

“Fuck Zoro , please, ” you begged, all stubbornness and shame flying out the window. He was going to be insufferable when he was finished with you, your right mind was already dreading it.

“I knew you were a nasty girl,” he smirked, squeezing lightly at the sides of your throat. Despite his obvious strength, his discipline helped him hold back when he needed to. Obviously he’d never seriously hurt you.

“Fuck, it’s so good,” you whined as he continued to slam into you. His grip tightened as he leaned down to press his forehead to yours.

“Turn around and get on your knees for me.”

The growl in his voice made you wetter, and you squeezed tighter around him. He released your wrists and throat, sitting back up on his knees. His dick slipped out of you and slapped against his stomach, glistening with your slick. Getting a proper look at it, he was just as thick as you’d thought, with a nice curve that was sure to scramble your brains from the new position.

“You gonna keep drooling over it or are you gonna let me fuck you properly?”

“You are such a dreadful man, I didn’t drool!”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard,” he sighed with impatience, grabbing your arms and manhandling you onto your stomach. You whined and cursed into the pillow while grabbing another to stuff under your hips. Keeping your weight on your elbows, you pushed your hips back, making a nice pretty arch for him. His palm met your ass with a loud smack, and you felt his teeth take a bite at your cheek.

“You’re the one that’s nasty.”

He tapped his dick against your ass a few times, watching the strings of his precum and your juices coat your skin.

“Yeah.”

Without any warning he shoved himself back inside you, covering your back with his body and pressing his palm into your lower back to deepen your arch. You continued to wail into your pillow as you shoved your ass back against him. He nuzzled his head along your shoulder and neck, cooing condescendingly in your ear.

“Aw, I know. The big bad man keeps treating you mean.”

“So mean,” you hiccuped, dragging out the end of the word as he picked back up his brutal pace. The slapping of his skin against yours was abhorrent, and absolutely erotic. You felt your thighs jiggle as he slammed his hips, the curve of his dick dragged along your walls, carving a space for himself inside you. The head suddenly bumped against that soft, fleshy patch inside, and you keened. This was gonna be it for you.

“Zoro…I can’t. I can’t hold on for much longer.”

He took sympathy on you as he licked and sucked at the back of your neck, hands fisting the sheets as his body continued to climb with yours.

“It’s alright, you can let go. You’ve been so good for me. My good girl.”

His words had you squeezing him so tight he thought he would choke, a stream of moans and curses escaping your lips as the pressure built tighter and tighter. One of your hands came down to circle your clit, fingers slipping over the absolute mess covering your pussy. You gave a few more weak grinds against his hips before everything snapped and you caved, orgasm pulling at every last one of your nerve endings, down to your toes.

Your cries were in time with the pattering of his hips, and he sat back on his knees to watch the ripples of your ass as it connected with his pelvis. You were such a messy, crumpled heap against the pillow, and you’d never looked more beautiful. His body begged him to let go and release, and he was going to listen to it.

“Where do you want me to cum?” His voice was strained, panting and breathless as if he’d been in a harsh battle. God you were really wearing him out.

“Inside,” you said weakly, voice muffled by the pillow you’d stuffed your face into. He chuckled to himself. You were always so greedy.

“Maybe next time sweetheart,” he teased, still managing to be a shit while his threads unraveled.

With great difficulty he pulled himself from inside you, your walls still trying to drag him back inside with a weak grip. Taking his cock in one hand, he looked at your ass still raised in the air, and pumped furiously until his will broke and he spilled, long ropes of cum painting your ass and your back.

His body collapsed on top of yours, knocking the wind out of you. You allowed him a few seconds to catch his breath as he groaned into your skin before you whined at him to get off. With a tired sigh he rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling. You followed his lead, wiping the sweat from your face.

“I can’t believe. You just fucked me like that.”

He gave a half chuckle and glanced over at you.

“Hey I was just giving you what you wanted.”

You bit your lip as you stared back at him.

“Yeah, you did.”

He went to grab the sheets that had been kicked aside, and pulled you against him for a spoon.

“Zoro,” you protested, attempting to free yourself from his grip, “I can’t stay here. I’m sweaty, I’m gross, I’m covered in cum. Someone will find us.”

“I’ll wake up before anyone gets back,” he mumbled, pulling you closer until your back was flush against him.

“But my clothes, I’ll never find them under that sea of junk.”

“Just wear mine.”

“But…”

“Just shut up and go to sleep.”

Any strength left in your limbs depleted as he kept a boa-tight hold around your middle. His soft breaths fluttered against your ear, and you knew he had already slipped into sleep.

Tired and weak, you snuggled back into the curve of his body, pulling the blankets up to your chin as you allowed your final moments of consciousness slip away.

You prayed that no one had turned up to the other side of that door.

[umemiyan]

𝗬𝗨𝗨𝗧𝗔 𝗢𝗞𝗞𝗢𝗧𝗦𝗨 𝗫 𝗚𝗡!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ 18+ only, mdni / best friend!yuuta who is touch starved / wet dreams / mention of penetrative sex and creampie / male masturbation.

your best friend is somehow simultaneously in his most relaxed and anxious state while in your presence. it's because he has secrets—secrets he dare not tell lest he lose your treasured closeness and companionship. but as time passes by, these secrets are getting harder and harder to keep.

midnight is approaching and you're the only one whose attention remains on the movie playing on the tv. yuuta's eyes had slipped closed quite some time ago, his body instinctively slumping against yours as it struggled to keep him upright on the couch. his rest was always most bountiful when he was with you, and it was difficult to refrain from being pulled into a slumber that he very much needed.

you let yuuta's head lean against your shoulder without quarrel, leaving him to sleep uninterrupted like the understanding friend you are. after a while, he begins to nuzzle into you a little further, his once soft and steady breaths growing more restless and littered with various noises.

you assume he's having some sort of dream—perhaps a nightmare—but you can't be certain, so it seems best to let him sleep for now. but the huffs and grunts and whines are growing in frequency, his body shuffling against yours, and a minor sweat almost breaking out along his skin. when he buries his face into the crook of your neck, your reflex is to reach up and steady him with a hand in his dark hair, and you finally decide to wake him.

"yuuta," you call softly, his eyes slowly opening at your touch and the sound of your voice. you pull your hand away from his head and he looks up at you groggily before straightening up and coming to his senses.

yuuta's heart is beating rather erratically, yet he forces that sweet, familiar smile onto his face. "oh… sorry about that," he apologizes with an awkward chuckle, rubbing at the back of his neck. "guess i didn't realize how tired i was."

"you're good," you gently reassure him. "i was going to let you sleep, but it sounded like you were having a bad dream or something."

"oh, yeah…" he starts, trying to forge a proper explaination with an anxious smile. "it was just something kinda weird, i think. honestly, i've already mostly forgotten it."

that's a lie. there's simply no way he could forget the way your body felt pressed tightly against his as you explored each other's mouths and he laid you down upon the mattress, fingers intertwined and fitting together like puzzles pieces. he could never forget how his mind had somehow managed to offer him a taste of what it would be like to slide inside you for the first time and hear you breathe out his name, carding a hand through his hair just before he woke up…

yuuta takes a deep breath reenters reality. "well, i'd better get going," he says, standing from the couch and moving to pull on his jacket.

"are you sure? it's pretty late. you can stay here if you want." you worry about him heading home in such a tired state, but he seems eager to get out the door.

"that's okay; i've got a few things to take care of before bed," he replies and bids you a friendly goodbye, promptly leaving and making it a point to get home quickly.

when yuuta steps through the door of his apartment, it's a mad dash to his bedroom where he swiftly kicks off his shoes and climbs onto the bed. his pants are unbuttoned and shoved down just far enough to where he can pull his hard cock out and begin to stroke it, eyes immediately rolling into the back of his skull.

the moan of relief he lets out is lewd, needy, and admittedly rather embarrassing, so he shoves the hem of his shirt between his teeth and looks down at his weeping length, taking in the sight of what you'd effortlessly done to him.

it's borderline pathetic how quickly he cums to the thought of you, to the memory of how it felt to soak in your body heat and have your hand tenderly cradle his head for just a handful of seconds. it's enough to make him absolutely crazed and have him blowing a desperate load all over his own stomach, painting himself in hot release and wishing that it was filling you up instead. and the worst part? he can't help the way the voice in his head keeps chanting 'i love you, i love you, i love you…' as he empties his balls.

shame and satisfaction mix together in his gut, and yuuta is left alone to regret going yet another night without you due to his own cowardice. he loves you too much to risk losing you in any capacity, but it's getting more difficult to keep himself in check these days. you might be his most cherished friend, the one by his side through thick and thin, but he'd much rather feel your hand wrapped around his cock than his own.

[hazbinwhoree]

Adam x f!reader

after a one night stand with Adam, around a month or two later she reveals she’s pregnant with his kid..

his reaction and maybe his life when the baby arrives him failing at changing a diaper

him falling asleep on the couch watching tv with his baby on his chest with a tiny spot of drool on his shirt 🥹

bonus

Lute holding the child and then the baby pukes on her

Father Adam

Adam and (Name) had been friends for a long time. Just friends. Until one drunken night, they can’t pretend anymore, and they hookup. The one night stand shakes their friendship, and they don’t talk nearly as much over the next two months.

That’s why Adam is so surprised when he opens his door to find (Name) in tears.

“(Name), what’s wrong?” “Can I come in? You should maybe sit down for this.”

Adam has absolutely no idea what (Name) is about to throw at him, letting her in and sitting next to her on his couch. (Name) pulls something out of her pocket and hands it to Adam. Adam felt the world stop. It was a pregnancy test. A positive pregnancy test.

He’s silent for a long minute before shakily asking, “You’re sure it’s mine?”

(Name) hits his arm. “Yes, I’m sure, you’re the only guy I’ve fucked in like a year.”

Adam is silent again, before snapping out of his daze and taking (Name)’s hands into his. “I… I love you.” The tension that had been between them since the one night stand was finally put into words.

Tears poured down her face as she threw her arms around Adam’s neck. Adam pulled her into his lap and (Name) buries her face in his neck. “I love you too.”

The nine months flew by, Adam and (Name) learning to live as a couple before they had to learn how to live as parents.

Luckily, years of friendship made it easy, and their relationship had very few bumps.

Adam was fast asleep when he was abruptly awoken by (Name) shaking him, telling him when he woke in a small, scared voice, “My water broke and I’m having contractions.”

19 hours later, their son was born. Adam, the egotistical bitch he is, insisted on naming their son Adam as well. (Name) allowed it, and they celebrated the arrival of Adam Jr.

They took him home a day later, and Adam basically went through the five stages of grief. He loves his kid and he’s proud to be a father of a child he actually wanted, but he realizes he has no idea how to be a dad, and is now worried he’s going to fuck up his son.

(Name) assures him he won’t fuck up their child and Adam finds himself believing her.

The first night, Adam sleeps straight through the baby crying. The second night, the same thing happened. The third night, (Name) shook him awake and grumbled “Your turn.”

Adam drowsily made his way to the nursery, and crying baby at three in the morning was now his least favorite thing. He sighed, picking his son up out of his crib and carrying him with him to the kitchen.

He bounced and shushed baby Adam while he prepared a bottle of milk. Thank god it was simple enough, all he had to do was heat it up. When he was done and bringing the bottle to his son’s lips, he immediately stopped crying and Adam sighed in relief.

Adam never woke up from the baby crying, he slept like a rock, but (Name) would wake him up and they took turns with the night feedings.

Once Adam half woke up to see (Name) breastfeeding their son in bed next to him. “Me next,” he murmured, before promptly passing back out.

The one thing Adam couldn’t seem to get a handle on was changing diapers. His son had peed on him twice. And something about baby poop smelled especially bad, and he gagged everytime he had to change a poop diaper.

He was such a baby about it that (Name) did most of the diaper changes.

Three months in, and (Name) had two favorite memories.

The first one was when she’d come home from the store to find Adam asleep on the couch, baby Adam asleep on his chest. Despite being knocked out, Adam still had a secure grip on the baby. They were both drooling. Like father like son.

The second was when Lute was holding baby Adam and finally getting comfortable holding a baby when he suddenly threw up on her shirt.

Adam thought it was hilarious. Lute did not.

Adam isn’t the world’s greatest dad by any means, but he’s trying his best.

[marlsswrites]

Summer camp AU, part 12!!

July 12th <3

Gate - @jegulus-microfic words: 854

First part Previous part

Regulus finally let himself relax, he sat outside the cabin scanning his eyes over the soft still water, the sunrise reflecting and bouncing from the water and shining onto his face. His legs were tucked into his chest, his half steaming hot coffee on the floor at his side, he picked the cup up and cradled it in his hands, blowing on it gently and watching the steam dissolve into the crisp morning air.

He inhaled once, feeling the fresh air kissing his lungs before exhaling. It was early, unusually early for Regulus to be awake actually. He picked his phone out from his pocket, checking the time, smiling at the photo of him and Pandora on his lock screen.

5:05AM... he normally doesn't get up this early, but his head was running around and around and spiralling him into circles, so he thought he'd try and wind down outside. 

After a few moments, he felt his phone buzzing in his hands. Odd, anyone who would phone him would certainly not be up right now, if they were, he should probably send help. Especially Barty, he's an actual demon before 9AM. Regulus can't say much, if anyone were to wake him up this early he'd probably insult them, hit them, and go back to sleep.

It was a random number, one he did not in fact recognise. He pressed answer reluctantly, maybe someone had changed their number, and he also was not awake enough right now to think about who it could be.

"Hello?" He chewed on his lip and let out the mumbled word into his phone.

"Reg!" The relieved and excitable voice of James rang into his ear.

"When the fuck did I give you my number?" Regulus sighed out.

He heard a hearty laugh. "I nagged Sirius to give it to me in case I couldn't find you."

James couldn't see him right now, but yet he still rolled his eyes and felt a twitch of his lips at the care the older boy gave to him, it was nice. It felt sweet, promising, it also made his heart do that fluttery thing and his hands fiddle nervously on the hem of his baggy sleeping shirt.

"On that note." James added. "Where are you? You weren't here when I woke up."

"Outside the cabin, you idiot."

Laughing, he swore he heard James release a loud breath that sounded like he'd been holding it in all morning, before the sound of the cabin door opening then the fence gate swinging open and shut sounded in his ears.

Now is when he actually became very aware that he was wearing a massive t-shirt that dropped off one shoulder and long black boxers, his hair was an absolute mess and his cheeks most definitely bitten by the cold air and flushed pink. He promptly shifted on the bench and gave a wary look to his side when he felt the warmth of a figure slump next to him with the huff of a breath.

"Hi." The brunette gave a toothy smile. "I-" He cut himself off and his eyes seemed to widen to the size of tennis balls. Regulus felt a strange wave of nerves wash over him as James just stared at him, his gaze flicking up, down, left, right, and back to Regulus eyes, his smile wobbling and his eyes glowing with something unplaceable to the raven haired boy.

"What?" He felt tiny under James' eyeline, shrinking down further into his loose shirt.

"Nothing." James shook his head, but it clearly wasn't nothing, the way his face morphed into different emotions and how his eyes grew wide and lustful, that wasn't nothing.

He gave a hard blink of his eyes, swallowing his doubts and looking back up to see James smiling at him yet again, but a concerned glint passed though his eyes. 

"You look freezing." He tutted. 

Regulus immediately went to protest, but he in fact was getting quite cold and the hot coffee he was holding moments ago only did so much to warm him up. 

Swiftly, James took his dark jacket off, revealing a maroon jumper underneath, and he draped it over Regulus' bare pale shoulders. "There, can't have you being cold."

He should've taken it right off, shoved it in James' face, and waltzed back into the actual heat of their cabin, to preserve his feelings from being shredded to pieces when he realised James was just trying to be nice. But the coat smelt like James, pine wood and strong cologne, the warming smell of fruit tea and the soft collar that brushed against his neck. It made him feel safe, like he was in James' arms, this is the closest he would ever get to that anyway. 

He purposely ignored the adoring looks he was getting from the boy next to him, even though he could feel it shooting right to his stomach and fluttering like a hundred butterflies nipping at his insides.

So who was Regulus to deny the swallowing warmth and safety of James Potters jacket, the smell and the way he drowned in it in the best way possible.

Next part

[your-friendly-sociopath]

Part two was so good I’m invested I need to know how it ends please make part three to running when you have the time!

Sincerely 🕷anon

You bet part 1 , 2

Channeling my inner demons for this one

Red text is alastors pov/dialogue

Slanted red is when he is mentioned or refered to

Tw: yandere themes, possessive behavior, slight PTSD, reader got issues, so does alastor really

Running Pt 3

A week had passed since your leg had been chopped off

It was weird, getting up every morning only to fall in your face immediately

You were right about your father leaving his shadow on you

You swear every time you fell each morning, it would laugh at you

This morning was no different

You woke up, sat up, went to stand on the side of your bed, and promptly fell flat on your face

The shadow in the corner made a strange hissing sound

Which you had now come to identify as laughter

Grumbling, you flipped off the shadow as you, shakily, got to your feet

Well, foot

You figured that the only good thing to come out of all of this, was that your remaining leg would be super beefy from carrying all your wait

You hopped over to the bathroom connected to your room, and did your business

When you reentered your room, you noticed alastor sitting on a lavish armchair in the corner by your bed, sipping a dark red liquid (blood, most likely) and reading a book

You had half a mind to just close the door and hide in the bathroom

You did that the first morning after your leg was sawed off, he didn't take to kindly to being ignored so rudely

Instead, you let out a grumpy sigh, and hobbled over to the edge of your bed, waiting for him to notice you

Or to decide to grant you the honor of his attention

He did this every morning

Let you fall in your face, use the bathroom, then appear out of fucking nowhere and wait for you in your room

After that he either got your wheelchair and took you to the kitchen, it would just let you stew in your anger for ten or so more minutes while he read

Both options were a little awkward for you

Seemed like this morning, he found himself content with simply letting you be while he read

You were not in the mood to just sit here

The fucking prick

Instead of putting up with his bullshit, you decided to rush things along

So, you loudly cleared your throat to get his attention

Apparently, he wasn't in the mood for your attitude

Out of nowhere there was a loud static pop, which, admittedly made you jump a little

You could feel your large furry ears go stiff at the obvious warning

Your spine went ridged, and suddenly, memories of the last time he was displeased with you came rushing back

The blood soaked table

The horrific voodoo symbols that surrounded you, preventing you from moving

And the dark..

You wanted to run

To leave, and never have to set eyes on the monster behind you ever again

But it was running that got you into this shit

Running

You'll never be able to run again

He had done something to your leg, weird voodoo symbols engraved in the skin that prevented it from regenerating

You'd never walk again

You were dependent on him, much as you hated to admit it

A creak in the furniture from behind you told you that he was getting up

You flinched, involuntarily, when you felt him lay a clawed hand on your shoulder

"Well my dear, Id say that's enough dilly dalling for today! Why don't we get some breakfast hm?"

You couldn't respond, at least not verbally, so you opted to nod instead

The hand on your shoulder gave you a warning squeeze

Right, you forgot, he hated it when you didn't use your words

"..kay.."

You mumbled

It was the best you could do

----

You used to be so defiant, so fiery

Not that it wasn't a nice change of pace for him, but he did miss your spunky additude and witty remarks

But ever since he had cut off your left leg, you were so quiet and meek

A part of him hated how he had to resort to such drastic measures, while another part was pleased that you were finally in your place

He knew you probably hated him for doing this, but he had no choice

At least, it seemed like that to him

You needed to learn that fighting back and running would only get you in more trouble

A shame though, how it took him needing to physically, mentally, and permanently damage you to get you to listen

He doesn't regret it though, this way, you'll always need him

Forever

----

Weeks went by, then months

The cycle never ends

Except for the falling on your face part, you've broken the habit of getting up then falling down immediately

A relief for you, a disappointment for the shadow that was always watching you

Life (or death) had become boring and mundane

There wasn't much you could do now without assistance

Alastor refused to give you a prosthetic, and your wheelchair only came into use when he wasn't around

And he wasn't around as often anymore

Apparently he had found a new source of entertainment

Which involved a strange hotel ran by a demon determined to rehabilitate sinners

So now, you spent most your days alone in the cabin/mansion/house

You had become a master of hobbling around on one leg

Unfortunately, the house was not "baby" proof, and you found yourself with an assortment of bruises at the end of every day

And thus a new cycle began, every day you'd wake up, your father sitting in the corner of your room, then take you to the kitchen for breakfast before leaving you on your own

It was kind of nice, having your own space again

Yet it was still so incredibly boring

Luckily for you, your father soon decided to introduce you to the demons of the hotel we often went to (you later found out it was called the Happy Hotel)

The only demons you knew there were Husk and Nifty, though you immediately hit it off with a spider demon (PLATONIC)

You started going daily with Alastor to the Happy Hotel

He even got you a prosthetic limb for your visits

(The moment you tried to escape though, it would morph into a ball and chains and trap you)

Even if you weren't exactly free, you weren't alone anymore

And for that, you were grateful

If only you could shake off the feeling of dread, like all these good things would soon come to an end

And done, once more ot 4 is a possibility

Not anytime soon tho cus j have a few asks I need to work on/finish

[captainremmington-13]

A Lady Made of Snow

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own The Hunger Games franchise, the images above, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, or any of the characters in this fic other than Bellova.

SUMMARY: The 10th Annual Hunger Games begin, and things quickly dissolve into chaos. Bellova grows increasingly furious about Coriolanus’s dedication towards Lucy Gray Baird. When she realizes he has cheated just to keep her alive, she decides to ruin him once and for all.

Warnings: spoilers for TBOSAS, death, violence, cursing, overall dark stuff (it’s the Hunger Games franchise so that’s sorta a given)

A/n: I am using a combination of the movie and book version of the events that occur in this chapter. I sort of streamlined the events to make the chapter less boring. Also, I highly recommend listening to “…Ready For It?” and “Look What You Made Me Do” while reading this chapter.

Other than Sejanus throwing a chair at the screen and screaming that everyone in the room was a monster, Lamina killing Marcus in an act of of mercy, and Lucky’s stupid commentary, nothing much had happened yet. 

Bellova was disappointed that her tribute was dead. Not because she cared about her, but because it meant she was missing out on the mentor experience. The thrill of having a say in someone else’s survival seemed quite exciting. 

If she wasn’t so pissed at Coriolanus for his behavior towards Lucy Gray, she would’ve reconsidered his proposal to work together. 

When the day was coming to an end, the majority of Academy students started to leave for their homes. Only a handful remained, consisting mostly of the mentors.

Bellova stifled a yawn, leaning back in her chair. Things has gotten dull, with the tributes doing nothing but finding places to hide from each other. She hoped that Dr. Gaul had something exciting in store for them soon, or people would start switching to Billi Bumble’s horrible comedy channel.

She picked up her Academy satchel and stood up from her seat. She noticed that Coriolanus was still present and slumped over on his desk, his head resting on his hand. He looked so peaceful asleep, his long golden lashes fluttering slightly. The light from the ceiling made his light blonde curls glow ethereally.

He looked like an angel. 

Bellova suddenly felt a strong urge to wake him up. She had avoided him for the entire day out of spite, but was starting to miss interacting to him. It was routine, bantering and bickering every day. Not talking felt…weird. And lonely.

She sighed. On rare occasions, she wished she could go back in time and change the way they formed their relationship. Instead of it being based on competition and rivalry, it would be full of support and affection. 

Then, an unpleasant thought hit her. 

He had only stayed so late to ensure nothing happened to Lucy Gray while he was away.

Now utterly furious, she slung her bag over her shoulder and started towards the door. ‘He’s such a pathetic sap,’ she thought. ‘He’s acting like a fool, I really should stop associating myself with him.’ 

But she found herself glancing over her shoulder to look at him one last time. And she knew, deep down, that she’s always come back, no matter how much he pissed her off.

She’d never be able to stay away from him. 

Not for long, anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bellova passed out as soon as she climbed into bed, and didn’t wake until nine hours later. She hadn’t slept well in nearly a week, as she was still recovering from her injuries. This was the first time she was able to achieve an uninterrupted night of sleep since before the bombing.

When one of her maids woke her up, it was already 8:00. Usually Academy classes started promptly at 8:00, but because of the Games, the schedule had been loosened a bit. And Bellova, who didn’t feel like interacting with anyone, was in no rush to arrive on time.

After eating a breakfast of fruit and assorted pastries, she slowly pulled on her uniform. She has always hated the Academy uniforms, but with the right accessories and makeup, she had learned to make it presentable by her standards.

Bellova checked her makeup one last time in the mirror and then headed downstairs to meet her driver at the front of her estate. He opened the passenger’s side door for her as she slid into the seat. 

“How are you this morning, Miss Bellova?” he asked, starting the engine and taking off towards the main road.

“Fine,” she said, leaning against the window. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope that once the Games are over, you can rest up properly.”

She nodded. “That would be nice. As much as I like the Games, they’ve caused quite a lot of stress this year.” 

He laughed quietly. “Most certainly. Everyone was so worried about you when you were hospitalized, your father most of all. I haven’t ever seen him so upset in my twenty years of working for him.” 

Bellova sighed. She and her father, Julio Augustus Reginelle, had a nice relationship. But he was rarely home, for he worked almost ten hours a day and often didn’t come home until Bellova was asleep. She cherished the rare moments she had with him. He had taught her to be proud of her wit and her combative nature, even if it sometimes got her into trouble. 

“You are much more like your father than you realize, Miss Bellova,” her driver said. 

“How so?” she asked.

“You are both kind until someone disrespects you. You are incredibly intelligent just like him, and pursue your goals relentlessly.” He paused for a moment. “And, you seem to have the same disdain for certain other Capitol families.”

Bellova raised an eyebrow. “Which ones?”

“Well, he’s not fond of the Cardews, as you know. He thinks they hold too much power for how little work they actually do.”

Bellova laughed. “That’s true.”

“He has never gotten along with the Creed family. He finds them irritating and foolish.”

She smirked. “I’m not surprised. Festus can be insufferable. Who else?”

Her driver sighed. “He despised Crassus Snow.”

Bellova felt her stomach twist. “Really?”

He nodded. “I don’t know exactly why he hated him so passionately, but I’ve heard they were rivals during their Academy days.”

‘I suppose I really do take after him then,’ Bellova thought, remembering her and Coriolanus’s worst arguments. ‘Crassus’s son gets under my skin nearly every day.’

Her driver pulled onto Scholars Road and stopped in front of the Academy’s main building. He stepped out of the car to open the door for her, and she gave him a nod of thanks. 

“I’ll see you later, Miss Bellova,” he said, bowing slightly and getting back into the car to drive off. 

As Bellova walked to the auditorium where the mentors were undoubtedly already at work, she pondered what her driver had said about Crassus Snow and her father. She was eager to know more about their history, but didn’t want to pry too far. Her father had a temper just like her, and she didn’t want to be on the wrong end of it.

When Bellova reached the room and walked through the doors, she immediately noticed three things: one, that Coriolanus looked exhausted and distressed, two, that he has brought his cousin Tigris to watch the Games, and three, that Sejanus was missing. 

She grabbed a spare chair and sat next to Coriolanus. He didn’t greet her or even glance look at her.

“What’s wrong with you today?” she asked, looking at the large television screen in front of them. 

He scowled. “I’m not in the mood for your snide remarks, Bellova.”

“Clearly something happened. Either tell me or I’ll figure it out on my own.”

Coriolanus gave her a sharp glare, but sighed in defeat. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Satisfied, Bellova turned her attention back to the Games. According to Lucky Flickerman, one tribute, Bobbin, had died overnight. However, there was no footage shown of him perishing. 

Bellova found that awfully suspicious. There was such a lack of action in the arena that the gamemakers would have undoubtedly shown the death of a tribute. 

When Bobbin’s death was announced, she noticed Coriolanus tense ever-so slightly. The average person wouldn’t have noticed, but she had learned to read his body language as well as the back of her hand. Clearly, something about his death made him nervous.

She decided to cast it aside for the moment. She’d pry the information out of him later. 

“They aren’t showing us what happened to that little boy,” Lysistrata Vickers said. “He clearly was killed right there. There’s cameras everywhere. It doesn’t make sense.”

“They said they were old cameras, Lyssie,” Festus responded. “Probably just another one of Coral’s.”

“Festus, sit down,” Lucky Flickerman ordered. “Same seats.”

Festus scowled but did as he was told. He and Lucky clearly had some animosity, and it was quite amusing to witness their petty interactions. 

Suddenly, after a few moments, Lucy Gray appears on screen, looking horrified. Bellova had to bite her lip to refrain from grinning. It seemed that the songbird’s luck was finally running out. 

Jessup emerged a second later. He was clearly not well, he looked much worse than he did before the Games.

“What’d you do to me?” Jessup shrieked, backed Lucy Gray against a pile of rubble.

“Nothing!” she responded, her eyes wide with fear. 

“Lyssie, what is he doing?” Bellova heard Coriolanus asked frantically.

“Something’s wrong,” Lysistrata replied, bewildered. “He wouldn’t turn on her like this.”

“Jessup going after Lucy Gray,” Lucky commented. 

“Stop running!” Jessup demanded. “What did you…” He groaned mid-sentence. “What did you do to me?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Lucy Gray insisted.

“Both tributes from District 12. The same district folding in on itself.” 

“Wait, look. The foam,” Coriolanus said. 

“I think it’s rabies,” Lysistrata said, clearly disturbed. “That bite. From that train.” 

Coriolanus stared at the screen, looking helplessly at his tribute who was nearing her inevitable doom. Then, he turned back to Jessup’s mentor.

“Send him water.”

“Wait, what?” Lysistrata asked.

“You remember the posters in the war? Rabies. It makes you afraid of water. Send him a drone.”

“That’ll scare him,” she protested.

“Yes. Away from her,” he insisted.

Bellova stood up. “Coriolanus-“

“Bellova, be quiet,” he snapped, not even bothering to look at her. “Jessup is done. Lyssie, you’re the only one that can get it right to him.”

Lysistrata clearly didn’t want to, but with a few clicks on her computer, water was being sent to Jessup by a drone. 

“Thank you,” Coriolanus whispered.

Within minutes, Jessup was dead, and four lethal tributes were cornering Lucy Gray. 

“Oh, look at this,” Lucky Flickerman said. “The Pack doing what they do best. Packing it in. Lucy Gray is swarmed, cornered. Mizzen, propellering his net.”

It looked again as if she was done for, but then-

“Mr. Snow going for his communipad,” Lucky continued. Bellova saw him send nine - no, ten drones towards Lucy Gray. 

Bellova knew exactly what he was doing. He was using the drones to give her a chance to escape. 

The drones came flying into the arena, causing The Pack to scatter. A few of them got hit, causing them cry out in pain and tumble to the stone-covered floor. 

“These drones are not very good,” Lucky commented, as if it weren’t obvious. Some of the students who had caught onto Coriolanus’s plan started to jeer at him.

“Hey!” Vipsania Sickle said indignantly. “You can’t attack the tributes.”

“I’m just sending water,” Coriolanus said casually, as if he was completely innocent.

After gathering her bearings, Lucy Gray scrambled into a tunnel with Coral on her heels. She managed to pull the vent closed just in time, the metal door nearly crushing Coral’s fingers.

Bellova positioned herself a few inches away from Coriolanus. She was seething, but it didn’t show on her face. She simply looked indifferent, despite all of the violence that had just occurred in the Games. 

“Snow, do you that time before the Dark Days when you pulled on my pigtails, so I slammed your face against my school desk?”

“Yes,” Coriolanus said, furrowing his eyebrows. “What about it?”

Bellova smiled crookedly, the violent glint in her eyes making Coriolanus visibly uncomfortable. “I’m about to fucking do it again, and this time, you’ll have more than a bleeding nose.” 

He straightened his posture, smoothing out his Academy blazer. 

“I’d like to see you try.” 

Bellova’s hands twitched. She knew that decking him in front of the majority of the student board would get her in severe trouble, but it was very tempting.

Instead of punching him, she started to storm out of the auditorium. 

“There goes Miss Reginelle. Clearly, the violence on screen has finally gotten to her-“

“Shut the fuck up, Flickerman, before I snap your microphone in half!” Bellova hissed. She threw up open the doors, and made sure to slam them behind her. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bellova sat in the hallway outside of the auditorium, leaning her head against the wall behind her. Her anger was threatening to spill over, and her father would be very disappointed in her if she murdered someone on Academy grounds.

She had vowed to make Coriolanus pay if he pulled any more strings for his little songbird. And he had by sending that fleet of drones after her attackers. But clearly, nobody batted an eye at that. He had not been punished, or even reprimanded.

The thought of Coriolanus thinking longingly about Lucy Gray was almost enough to drive her mad. 

Before she could do anything drastic, she heard the speakers inside the auditorium amplifying Dr. Gaul’s voice. Curious, she stood up and pressed her ear to the doors.

“Capitol citizens, I’m afraid I must interrupt our Games to announce a tragic loss, one that affects us all. Felix Ravinstill, son of our beloved president, has, this morning, succumbed to his injuries sustained in the rebel bombing.”

Bellova felt her heart drop. Felix wasn’t all that bad, when he wasn’t bragging about his life at least. She had even gone to the end-of-year Academy gala with him a couple of years ago. They had a wonderful time, and she was gifted a priceless gold necklace by him at the end of the night. She had worn it for a week straight afterwards, which delighted the young son of the president.

“Out there in the districts, they will be celebrating this young boy’s death as a triumph. I will not allow my Games to give our enemy such a victory. I swear to you, here and now, before the sun goes down tonight, a rainbow of destruction will engulf our arena. Even if it means there’s to be no victor in these Games.”

She gasped. She knew Dr. Gaul well enough to know she was completely serious. If she wanted someone gone, she’d stop at nothing until they dropped dead. 

Mere moments later, Coriolanus burst through the doors, nearly slamming right into Bellova. 

“What are you doing out here?” she asked, scowling at him.

He sneered down at her, beginning to walk away. She followed him, despite knowing he really didn’t want her to. “As if I’d tell you.”

Bellova sighed. “I told you earlier, Coriolanus, if you don’t tell me, I’ll figure it out on my own-“

“Fine!” he huffed. “I’d do anything to shut you up at this point. You’re insufferable.”

“The feeling is mutual, Snow. Now spill it, what’s going on?”

Coriolanus, against his better judgement, told her everything. Well, almost everything. He told her about how he retrieved Sejanus from the arena, but omitted the part about killing Bobbin. He explained that he needed to see Dr. Gaul immediately, for the stitches in his back from the previous evening were coming loose. 

Bellova frowned. She briefly felt bad that he was in pain, but couldn’t bring herself to actually care. She was still angry at him. 

She also noticed he said was being very vague with his details. He was definitely hiding something.

“What’s that face for?” Coriolanus asked as they approached the Citadel, which housed Gaul’s laboratory. 

“What face?”

“That scowl. You’re clearly not pleased about something, so what is it?”

She smirked. “As if I’d tell you,” she said, mimicking his words from earlier. 

Coriolanus’s jaw clenched, which satisfied Bellova immensely. She loved seeing his patience waver, it was strangely addicting.

“Will you ever learn to keep your bratty mouth shut?” he asked, his voice raising a touch.

“Bratty?” Bellova scoffed. “I’d prefer it if you called me a bitch.”

Dr. Gaul’s lab was just a few corridors away at this point. Bellova knew that causing a scene here wouldn’t be wise, but she honestly did not care. She could easily talk her way out if it.

Coriolanus glowered at her, his blue eyes icier than ever. “Go back to the auditorium, Bellova. I know you love watching the Games, and you’re probably missing all of the action.”

She laughed. “So all of a sudden, you want me to be happy. Seriously, Snow, if you want to get rid of me, just say so.”

He smirked at her condescendingly. “Then I will. Get out of here, you have no place in Gaul’s lab anyway. It’s too much for your pathetically shallow brain to comprehend.” 

Bellova stared at him for a moment. It has been awhile since he’d said something quite that harsh. It was normal for him to question her intellect, but calling her dumb? That was low, even for him.

Coriolanus was obviously anticipating a slap to the face. He was not prepared, however, for Bellova to swipe her claw-like nails across his face like a wild animal.

Stunned, he watched Bellova walk away as the new gashes on his face began to sting. As she reached the end of the hall, she screamed “You’re such an asshole!” before disappearing from Coriolanus’s sight. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bellova sat in the stands instead of with the mentors, watching as Dr. Gaul’s “rainbow of destruction” engulf the remaining tributes in the arena.

She had no idea that when Dr. Gaul said “rainbow”, she was referring to hundreds of colorful, deadly snakes. 

She watched, entranced, as the beautiful mutations smothered the tributes, picking them off one-by-one. She had never admired the “mad” scientist more. Her work was truly beautiful. 

Wovey, Reaper, Mizzen, and Coral were soon dead, lying lifelessly beneath the swarm of snakes. 

“Now, all colors lead to Gray,” Lucky Flickerman said. 

Coriolanus stood watching the screen, amazed at his own success. “She’s… She’s won. It’s over, she’s won.” He looked over to Dr. Gaul, who was standing to the side. “She’s won, let her out.”

The doctor smiled. “Afraid that’s not your call to make, Mr. Snow.”

Bellova bit back a laugh when Lucy Gray began to sing. At least she’d be able to get in once last performance before her vocal chords went slack.

“Dr. Gaul, she won!” Coriolanus repeated, desperation seeping into his voice. “It’s over, let her out.” 

“Why aren’t they attacking her?” someone asked.

“Must be the singing,” Coriolanus replied. “It’s calming them.”

He really was a terrible liar.

“She can’t sing forever,” Festus said. 

Bellova noticed some of the students around her begin to cry as they watched Lucy Gray sing shakily. ‘Pathetic,’ she thought.

“Dr. Gaul, please,” Coriolanus begged. “Get her out. Get her out!”

One by one, the Academy students began to chant “Get her out! Get her out!”, almost overpowering the sound of Lucy Gray’s singing. 

‘No,’ Bellova thought desperately. ‘Don’t. Just let her die.’

Then, Coriolanus said, “Who will watch the Games if there’s no victor?”

The chanting came to a halt.

Dr. Gaul looked around, seeing that she was vastly outnumbered. “Get her out,” she murmured just loud enough to be heard. 

“She’s won! Lucy Gray!” Lucky Flickerman cried over the roar of the student body. “Coriolanus Snow is the winner of the 10th Annual Hunger Games!”

Bellova’s face burned with fury, her patience finally snapping after days of wearing thin. 

She was no longer willing to overlook Coriolanus’s behavior. She had let him get away with too much. 

It was time that he faced some real consequences.

As she exited the hall quietly, she smiled, a cruel, twisted smile. She knew exactly how she would make him pay.  

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊

TAGLIST: @daenerysqueenofhearts, @squidscottjeans, @euphemiaamillais, @gracieroxzy

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments! This was another decently long chapter, and I believe it has been the most intense one yet. Stay tuned for Chapter Six!

Also, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

[idontplaytrack]

Hey again 🙃

Can you write another fic in the same style as Regina X Janis X Regina's younger sister? It doesn't matter the theme or anything, I just really liked it and wanted to read more, if you feel comfortable writing, of course, it doesn't have to be a continuation or be from the same universe (or age) just in that dynamic, please

Try Again

Janis ‘Imi’ike x Regina George + little sister reader

Warnings: eating disorder mentions & descriptions/relapse. Hospitalisation, coarse language & angst. Reader discretion advised.

Set about 6 months after Regina and Janis first find out about reader’s eating disorder, the relapse of Regina’s bulimia was a wake-up call to reader to lead a better life for herself

Following the divorce of your parents, Regina was honestly the only one that understood you. Especially since the fact that you had an eating disorder— like she did. The last half a year was a gruelling experience to get through, session after session of crying, of irritation, getting angry at yourself when you had times where you stumbled in your road to recovery. Today was not a good day. You woke up feeling a sense of dread, the dread of having to get out of bed, and actually having to do things. You felt lazy, like all you wanted to do was lay in bed and not worry about anything. But, you’ve been at home for the last two days without anything to do, so it was about time to get out of the house and get some fresh air…some sun. Summer’s only just begun, so you had plenty of time to be lazy after today. Right? No.

You heard a distant thud. From Regina’s room. Worried, you rushed there, opening the door up quickly. “Shit.” You muttered, “Regina!” Your sister had just passed out, laying lifeless right before your eyes. You scrambled to her bed to grab her phone so you could call for an ambulance. You told them what happened and they said they’d he here as soon as they could.

You were alone, your Mom was off in Colombia for a vacation for a month (maybe more, she said). So, everything was a blur to you. You had no idea what to do except wait for the ambulance to get Regina to the hospital. You went with them in the ambulance, and when the doctors were working on her, you took the time to inform Janis.

��Janis?”

“Oh, hey. It’s you. What’s up, honey?”

“Regina’s in the hospital. She passed out at home. I think she had a relapse.” You fought the tears so desperately to get your words out clearly but still sniffled. At least it was after you were done speaking.

“Oh, my God,” A soft gasp was heard, “I’m on my way. Which hospital?”

You let her know, then promptly hung up. You weren’t sure how long it’d been since you got off the phone call. But you sure were snapped out of your daze when Janis was calling your name and put her hand on your shoulder. You were startled out of your trance, looking up at her blankly. Your vision was still very much clouded from all the crying.

“I was so wrapped up in my own world that I didn’t care that she was not doing well again—”

“No.” Janis interjected, “Stop. You’re blaming yourself for this. It’s not on you. Her recovery is her recovery. Your recovery is yours. If you’re both struggling at the same time, it is so challenging to be looking out for the other person. Sometimes you just gotta be focusing on yourself because that’s what is needed. It’s not a competition, it’s not your sole responsibility to look after her. She’s got a part to play in her own well-being. I tried to, to help her this time but I could not get through to her, I’ve never seen her like this.”

Janis hugs you— she put her arms around you. And typically, that would shock you. It did, but in this moment all you could care about was the fact that you had someone with you. “Did you tell June?”

“Not yet.” You sniffed, “She’s on vacation in Colombia with—”

Janis nodded, “Carmelo or whatever his name was. Regina told me like— the second your Mom left the house to go to the airport.”

“y/n?” Someone asks following the sound of doors creaking open.

“Doctor Langdon.” You said to him, standing up. Her approaches you and Janis.

“According to her file she has a history of bulimia which you know of, so to be very honest with you, we’re shocked she hasn’t had this happen before given how early it started.”

“Well, she’s been in recovery for about a year.”

“Which is good, but is she seeing anyone for her mental health? It’s not indicated in her file. I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name…you are?”

“I’m Janis. And she has been. But lately, less frequent. She’s going through a lot right now.”

“Janis. She passed out due to dehydration but her bulimia definitely was a contributing factor to it. She has to work on a recovery plan that is most effective, with her therapist. If she keeps this up, her heart will very likely give out. There is already an infection in her lungs because she’d aspirated some of the food.”

“So—” Janis began to ask the doctor a question, but you couldn’t take the pressure of it all and just excused yourself, on the verge of tears.

“That’s…pneumonia. Yes?” Janis asked.

“Yeah. We’ve put her on IV antibiotics and some fluids to get rid of the infection, and for dehydration but it will recur if she keeps up with the purging. She’s been putting herself at risk for that, and much worse. It is a tough thing to tackle, I get it. I’ve seen this more than I liked to doing this job. A few of them weren’t so lucky, their lives were taken away. She has hope, to get better. Recovery is never always linear and I acknowledge that she has done a lot of work, but she has to try again. Get out of the claws of that disorder.”

“I understand. Thanks.”

“The girl who ran away, that’s her sister, right? I don’t want to pry but I’m noticing the same things with her too.”

“It— god, their home life’s messy. Dad’s out of the picture and her mom’s currently on vacation in Colombia so she’s been alone.”

“I’ve…been their doctor for awhile. I’ve noticed some stuff, I referred Regina and her sister to their therapists.” The doctor admits.

Janis didn’t know what to say so she just nodded, “Would the hospital inform their Mom?”

“We did try to call her a few times but she didn’t pick up.” Doctor Landon told her.

“I’ll try as well. Are we allowed to go inside to see her?”

“Yes, that’s absolutely fine.”

“Okay.” Janis nodded solemnly, mumbling a ‘thanks’ as the doctor departed.

————

Janis found you at the garden located at the end of the level you guys were on. It also helped that she had access to yours and Regina’s locations. Nonetheless, she was so relieved to find you. “Hey.”

You slowly looked up at her, teary eyed. “Hi.” You mumbled, “I’m sorry. I got scared hearing that.”

“That’s a good thing, you know? Feeling the fear. You know you need to get better. You’re not just putting in the effort for the heck of it. You know you need to get your own life back, y/n. And that…that’s great. That’s a step in the right direction.”

You nodded slightly, then asked, “Is she awake?”

“Not sure, I left to come look for you. You wanna go back there and see if she’s up?”

“Okay.”

You went back to the hospital room with Janis, she went inside with you. Regina had just woken up. Obviously, she knew she was in a hospital, she just didn’t know why. “Regina.” You sat down on the chair beside her bed, “I…am honestly pretty mad at you. But I don’t have the right to be, because I…am doing the same thing to myself. Slowly but surely killing myself.”

She looks at you, gaze going soft as she soon realised what you were talking about. “I’ve been trying so hard, but one day I just lost the fight. I have in to the urge after a year and a half, all because some little bitch boy at school said I was eating everyone’s food. Which wasn’t true, but it was just how my brain decided to fuck with me.” Regina scoffs, “I couldn’t stop. I just couldn’t. But— I — I cannot lose you, y/n. You’re all I’ve got left now. Mom? Let’s face it, all she cares about right now is her new boyfriend. She’s like obsessed with him.”

“You have pneumonia.” Janis said, “It’s a complication.”

Regina sighs, “I’m sorry. Please know I’m trying.”

“I know, babe. I know you are, and sometimes, it’s okay to stumble. But you need to remember to try again. Try and try again, you’ve got a life worth fighting for, so much you want to accomplish. And maybe it’s a little selfish, but I want to be able to love and hold you for many, many more years.”

Regina started to weep, nodding, “I— I’ll work something else out with my therapist. Try another method to work towards recovery again. I need to stay. I can’t do that to you, to y/n, to myself. I deserve to make a life for myself that I am proud of.”

Janis sits down, leaning into cup Regina’s cheek, “I love you, I’m here for you. And you, y/n. I promise, we’ll get through this.”

You and Janis stayed with Regina until visiting hours were over, then, she drove you to her place. Where you spent the night, then, eventually the next few. “I’m gonna cook something.” She says, walking to the kitchen, “What do you feel like having? We can cook together.”

“Whatever’s fine. You’re a great cook.” You told the brunette, “Is it okay if I just nap right here? I’m pretty tired.”

“Oh.” She turned to look at you over the shoulder, “Yeah, of course. Go ahead, y/n. I’ll wake you up once dinner’s ready.”

You smiled appreciatively, “Thanks.” Janis smiled back, you got comfortable on the couch and closed your eyes while she began to prepare dinner.

Some time later, Janis shook you gently to wake you up, “Dinner’s ready.”

“Okay.” You murmured sleepily, “I’m up.”

You got up and off the couch, dragging your feet over to the dinner table. Janis turned the TV on and put on a comedy movie so that you two were entertained and distracted, honestly, while eating.

“Thanks, Jan.” You smiled, grabbing a fork and digging right into the aglio olio she cooked, “This is so good.”

“Aw, you’re welcome.” She chuckles.

“Is it okay if I just stay with you for a bit? I don’t really want to go home.”

“Of course!” She nodded, “I’m usually alone if I’m not with Regina or Damian anyway. Damian’s at theatre camp, so I’m just not having much fun with myself.”

You chuckled, “Well, how about we go pottery painting tomorrow? We could paint Regina something. She’ll be there a few days, after all. What else am I supposed to do? Mope around?”

Janis gasps, “Great idea. We should definitely do that.”

🏷️ Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartnstuffs @pda128

💭A/N:

I didn’t want to make this fic too heavy content-wise, so it turned out quite short. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed. 🫶🏼

[laughroditee]

Your Ghost | a COD fanfic - Part 1 - Knight of Swords

CW: this story takes place after Soap's death and contains supernatural elements, tarot, mentions of death and blood

I didn't want to make the chapters too long (I'm unsure what the proper netiquette is for word count), so it will continue in subsequent posts.

Summary: An American tarot reader finds herself inextricably linked to John MacTavish, whose ghost needs a favor from her before he can rest.

Mood Music:

The first time I knew something was wrong was a few months ago when, out of nowhere, an excruciating pain shot through my head, causing me to scream and promptly pass out.  The dreams that followed in my unconsciousness were heavy and sad: bagpipes at a funeral playing their mournful melody for a person I didn’t know.  I had been at work that day, like any other day, but when I woke up, I was in the hospital.  Doctors ran so many tests on me, thinking perhaps I’d had a brain aneurysm, but scans of my brain were clear, and subsequent tests showed that I was right as rain.  Totally healthy.  I returned to my everyday life, with the only complication being the inexplicable migraines that continued to plague me.

Then came the wanderlust.  The nasal sound of bagpipes continued to wheedle their way into my dreams, and pretty soon, I became possessed with the need to go to the UK.  It became a matter of life and death.  I didn’t even have a passport, but knew I had to go.  Where exactly, I wasn’t even sure.  Scotland would make sense, considering the bagpipes, but my gut said no.  No, that’s not right.

So I did what any good woo-woo witchy person would do: I pulled out a map of the UK and my pendulum and asked for assistance narrowing down my intended destination.  Stilling my mind, I took a deep breath, focusing on the amethyst pendulum dangling from my hand.  The crystal twitched and spun before swinging slightly right, south on the map.  I followed the pendulum south over Scotland, past Northern England, toward London, but the crystal had other ideas, sending me back north.  It spun in circles around a location: Manchester.

That’s how, months later (had to wait for my passport), I found myself at the Brittania Hotel in Manchester, in one of their “standard twin rooms without a window.”  I never really knew how much I liked windows until I didn’t have one, but that’s beside the point.  At least I got a private bathroom, a coffee maker, and a TV, so I can’t complain too much for $44 per night.  Besides, this entire trip was an exercise in insanity, so why not add in some sensory deprivation while we’re at it?

As soon as I stood on UK soil, I knew this was the right place; that intuitive nudge felt like a soothing affirmation.  And that’s a great thing because simply being up in the air triggered another migraine, and I was afraid I’d puke on the guy next to me.  After unpacking my bag in the hotel room, I flipped a card from my tarot deck: The Knight of Swords.

The Knight of Swords talks about action, as all Knight cards do.  There’s a sense of motion, movement, and moving forward inherent there, with The Knight of Swords having the connotation of almost overwhelmingly swift movement; in fact, you can interpret it as needing to take heed that you’re not leaping before you’re looking.  (What irony.)  But that’s only one part of the story as the suit of the card will tell you what’s moving.  Swords in the tarot represent the element of air, so all things related to logic, ideas, communication, words, writing, and thoughts.  Holistically, you can interpret The Knight of Swords as needing to make sure you check your words before you say things so that you become aware of any potential obstacles on this path that you’re charging down. But, ultimately, you have the clarity of mind to overcome any challenges.  Where there’s a will, there’s a way.

However, the court cards in tarot can also signify people: kings as men or masculine energy, queens as women or feminine energy, and pages as children or youthful energy.  Knights, though, are tricky.  They can symbolize people of any gender, anywhere from age twenty-five up to forty, people who move in and out of our lives, physical travel, change, or pure energy and where you’re focusing it.  It can be hard to know what the “correct” interpretation is in any given reading, with so many meanings to consider, but I usually just go with my gut or pull some more cards for context.  In this case, why not both?

Pulling two more cards from the deck, I laid them out on the bed next to the first one: Death and the Three of Swords.  Contrary to popular belief, the Death card doesn’t usually mean death or foretell of someone dying.  It means change and transformation, the end of a cycle and the beginning of a new one.  The Three of Swords features an illustration with three swords stabbing through a bleeding heart: heartbreak, but sometimes literal heart health problems.

"Wow, bad day," I said as I looked over the cards.

I suddenly felt a presence in the room that wasn’t there a minute ago, the hairs on the back of my neck and my arms standing on end.

"Ye finally made it, lass."

My head whirled around so fast that the ends of my bobbed hair stabbed me in the eye.  I shot to my feet, spilling the rest of my cards to the floor.  “Fuck!” I whined, cradling my stinging, watering eye as I stumbled backward. 

Deep, apparently very amused laughter rang out in the room, and I was astonished to see a man there, wearing some kind of military getup, a mohawk cut into his dark brown hair. Oh, and he was semi-transparent.

I backed away slowly, my hand clapped over my eye.  There is no way in Hell.  “What the fuck, are you a ghost?” 

His expression sobered as he nodded his spectral head.  “Unfortunately.”  

“What do you want?” I asked, my voice a couple of octaves higher than it would typically be.  The urge to scream was overwhelming, and he put his hands out placatingly. 

”Easy, love,” he cooed, keeping his voice as soothing as possible so as not to spook me further.  “We have a blood tie.”

“What?”  The man — ghost? ghost man? — could tell me he was king of Scotland, and I don’t think that would change my hesitation or the level of existential panic I felt at that moment.

“We’re kin,” he said with a little more force, trying to reach me through my brain-melting anxiety.  “Family.  Somewhere along the line, we share blood.  Is it so hard to imagine?  Big world like this?”

“I’m literally talking to a dead man,” I say as my inner thoughts bleed out of my mouth.  Either my imagination is amazing, or I’m having a breakdown.  Maybe there really was something wrong with my brain, and they just couldn’t find it.  Maybe the migraines were making me hallucinate.

“Evangeline!” 

That caught my attention, my blue eyes snapping to his in shocked confusion.  “How do you know my name?”

He had the audacity to sound frustrated.  “Like I said, we share a blood tie.”

"Oh, of course.  That obviously explains everything.  I’m so relieved."

He smirked.  “Yer a wisearse ye are.”

Well, he did get one thing right anyway.  “How come I don’t know your name then?”

”Because I’m dead, and ye’re not.  It’s John, by the way.  John MacTavish.”

Examining him warily, I ask, “So we’re, like, cousins or some shit, John MacTavish?”

He shrugged, pushing his long sleeves up his forearms, which is such a mind-boggling thing to think about a ghost doing — like, what’s the purpose of that? Is he too warm?  “I dunnae know exactly, lass; I just know that I was pulled to ye.  And ye answered.”  It was then that I noticed the ghostly blood on the side of his head, his presumably fatal bullet wound in the exact place where I felt my migraines.

My stomach dropped into what felt like a vat of ice.  “Oh… Oh no. I’m not a medium!  I don’t see dead people!” I desperately pleaded with him, trying to convince him he'd gotten the wrong girl. “I just sling cards; I don’t do any of that other stuff!”

”And yet, here I am.  Here ye are.”  He put his hand on his hip.

“Yes, but… Why?  Why are you here?  What do you want from me?”  Then I saw his tattoo.  With a sudden motion, I moved quickly forward — I think I actually startled him — and I bent my head down to look at his forearm.  Nested inside of laurels was a sword with wings, topped by a knight’s helm and crown.

”Knight of Swords,” I breathed, astonished.  Rushing back, I grab my card from the bed, brandishing it as I return to where he stands.  “This is you?  You did this?”

The ghost of John MacTavish looked down at me with a serious expression.  “I did.  I need yer help, Evangeline.  Yer the only one who can do it.”

Part 2

[lets-try-some-writing]

It's that year of time, so Imagene Optimus rolling into base light up like a freaking chirstmas tree after falling asleep at a truck stop or something.

How he suppose to transform with all theses lights going all over his frame???

I didn't know that people randomly decorated each other's trucks, but I can still see this happening. Prime is such a workaholic, he likely would just straight up pass out at a truck stop after a particularly draining patrol. Hopefully some Christmas cheer can lighten him up a bit!

🎵Oh Christmas Prime, Oh Christmas Prime🎵

The Autobots have known about the holiday called Christmas for quite some time. However they have never had an reason to celebrate it... that is until the children came into their lives and Optimus ended up rolling into base far more "cheery" than expected.

He had accidentally fallen into recharge while undercover at a truck stop looking for Decepticon activity. It had been somewhat late at night when he woke again and felt many very drunk looking human males climbing all over him putting... some sort of wiring on him?

Not wanting to scare the humans or blow his cover, Optimus remained still, watching and waiting to see just what in the pits they were doing. Eventually the human males hopped off and promptly passed out on the sidewalk, completely intoxicated. Optimus could feel the wiring they put on him, but as there was little he could do about it in the middle of the open, he opted to return to base. However as soon as he hit the road, Optimus realized just what the wiring was.

Lights. He was positively covered in multicolored lights, all of which were glowing, powered by a battery on Optimus's trailer.

When he arrived at base the very first thing he was greeted with was uproarious laughter from Miko, Bulkhead, and Wheeljack. The rest of the team were more confused than anything else as the lights were something they had learned were usually only found on houses or trees during the Christmas season. Ratchet tried to untangle the mess of lights, but the humans were rather good about wrapping it around ever cog and crevasse in Optimus's frame. Bumblebee and Smokescreen tried cutting off some of the lights with their blades, but there were simply too many lights to effectively remove them. Not knowing what else to do, Optimus decided to attempt to transform and maybe tear the lights off.

It was a bad idea.

The children fell to the floor clutching their stomachs in laughter as Optimus managed to transform and promptly tangle himself up in all the tights even more than before. Stuck looking like a contortionist on the ground with lights woven in-between his limbs, plating, and even his tires, Optimus could do nothing unless he wanted to risk harming his sensitive inner wiring.

The team tried, they really did try to get all the lights off him. But for all their efforts they were simply too large to get all the tiny little lights out of Optimus's frame. And so until a better solution was devised, Optimus was stuck looking like a glowstick of red, green, and gold. The children of course, capitalized on Optimus's predicament and decided that making him into a proper Christmas tree was the only correct choice of action.

They requisitioned Bulkhead and Ultra Magnus and had them move Optimus up against the wall so that he wouldn't be as uncomfortable in his pretzel like position. They then started methodically putting little Christmas ornaments all over his frame. Miko made a makeshift wreath and put it around him neck, Jack covered him in ribbons, and Rafael put a golden star on Optimus's helm.

It didn't end there. Optimus soon had his plating painted to look more festive, snowflakes, glitter, and other Christmas related things covering every visible part of his armor. Miko also put a little Santa hat on his final, much to Optimus's agitation.

Optimus was not fond of being made into a living lightshow, but he relented and allowed the children to do as they wished since there was nothing better for him to do anyway. The kids had a blast dressing him up and the team were a bit distracted watching Optimus's Christmas transformation to work on a way to get the lights off.

After a while they got Fowler to get a team of experts in to get all the lights off, but not before the children got a picture or two with the visibly unhappy Prime.

Extra

Optimus: I am not doing this again

The kids: Please! Just this once!

Optimus: ...Fine, just this once

The kids: Smile~

Optimus:

[anabdaniels]

Cowboytober Day 26- Menstrual sex

Paring: Agent Whiskey x Female Reader

Word counting: 1.4k

Rating: 18+

Warning: Oral (f receiving), mentions of blood (pretty obvious but anyway), Jack being a sweetheart with his lady.

Masterlist

Being about to have your period was always a horrible time. As if the headaches and the occasionally unpredictable mood swings weren’t enough, almost every month you had to deal with those terrible cramps that made your lower stomach and lower back hurt like hell. But, at least, you weren’t suffering alone because seeing you so uncomfortable was more than enough to break Jack’s heart, see his beloved sugar so unhappy and be unable to do anything to solve it completely would always bother him a lot, so he put all the effort he could on every single thing that would make you feel at least a little better.

After a good snack and a lot of belly rubs, you ended up in the most comfortable position possible, straddling one of Jack’s thighs with your upper body pressed against his, keeping the region of your womb warm while your husband’s hands massaged your lower back, keeping you the most pain-free possible on those circumstances, so it was no surprise for Jack when you fell asleep with your head resting on his shoulder.

You woke up around an hour later with that discomfort on your lower stomach more annoying than it was before your little nap. You grumbled quietly and rubbed your face while your mind started to work once more, making Jack smile with the adorable vision of your lazy self.

“Seems that someone had an enjoyable sleep.” Jack said softly and kissed your cheek.

“I did.” You answered calmly, now almost totally awake “But would be better if my cramps were gone.”

“They’re hurting too much?” he questioned while still caressing your lower back.

“Not much.” You said while playing with the collar of his shirt “But they still bother a little bit.” You settled better on his thigh, frowning when you felt something wrong between your legs, you instinctively looked down, getting one hundred percent waked up after seeing a stain on Jack’s jeans. “Shit.” You mumbled and looked back at him “I’m so sorry.” You said already feeling your eyes getting watered and starting to move out of his lap, but Jack promptly grabbed your thighs to keep you in place.

“Easy, honey. Where do you think you’re going?” he passed his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him again “It’s okay.” He pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I should’ve foreseen this by the amount of cramps I was having before falling asleep. It’s not the first time I've ruined one of your jeans.” You rested your head against his chest, looking desolate.

“No one will be harmed by it, furthermore, just a cycle on the washing machine and they’ll be brand new. There’s nothing to worry about.” Jack assured calmly, caressing your back.

“You sure?” you asked still a bit worried and smiled when Jack promptly nodded. You rubbed your face slightly against his neck, passing your arms around his body, and nestling better on his lap.

“What is that?” Jack questioned in a slightly teasing tone while moving both of his hands up on your back, smirking, and kissing your shoulder.

“Well, since everything is alright, I’d like a little help with my cramps.” You answered calmly and looked at him.

“I’d never refuse my beloved wife this kinda help.” He said calmly and leaned to kiss you, sinking one hand into your hair and caressing your scalp, while his other hand moved to your thigh, gently pulling it to the side, letting you mounted on his lap.

“Jack.” You chuckled against his lips “You really ain’t worried about your jeans' safety.”

“I couldn’t care less.” He confirmed without a second thought, moving one hand under your shirt and caressing your skin, making you sigh softly.

“I have the feeling that we’ll have to move to the shower very soon.” You sighed more audibly this time as he moved his other hand under your shirt.

“It’s up to you, honeybee. Wherever you get more comfortable.” Jack said while letting his hands caress and massage your skin.

“Both shower or the bath aren’t comfortable while dealing with cramps and sore back, but it’s better than nothing.” You answered tilting your head slightly, frowning when Jack took a slight distance to look at you.

“You know we can just stay here, right?” he raised one eyebrow.

“Are you missing the part that I just got my period?” you questioned with a slight frown.

“So what? I mean, if you don’t feel comfortable staying in bed, that’s fine, we can move to anywhere you want. But if your concern is about me, I thought you already knew that I ain’t the kind of man that got scared with a bit of blood.” Not surprisingly, he had a smirk on his lips when finished the sentence, making you smile openly and rest your hands on his shoulders.

“Alright, cowboy. If you insist so much…” You finished the sentence kissing him passionately.

Before you could notice, all your clothes were gone such as his, and, as he always used to, Jack had his hands all over you, kissing and nibbling every inch of your skin, taking care of being gentler in some places, aware that you were more sensitive than the usual.

When he kissed your inner thighs, your hips already were moving involuntarily, thanks to your hormones making you more needy than usual. Carefully enough to not make it uncomfortable to you, but yet intensively enough to make you moan audibly, Jack sank his head between your legs, slowly moving his tongue all over your soaked folds, proving in practice to you that he really didn't bother with the presence of your menstruation before he directed his attention to your hipper sensitive clit.

You allowed yourself to just relax and sink one hand in Jack's hair, caressing his scalp, sighing, whimpering, and breathing heavily as you enjoyed the precise yet gentle licks and suckings of him on your clit. Despite being amused and unfairly aroused by the whole situation, Jack controlled himself and kept a soft pace, not wanting to ruin the moment for you or overwhelm you.

Focused on the moment, you were already feeling the discomfort in your lower stomach vanishing and turning into a very good feeling. In other circumstances, you'd try to hold yourself just to enjoy the moment a little more, but if the sensitivity provided by your period wasn't enough, the dedication Jack was putting into following your rhythm and being gentle with you was hitting you right on the heart and was certainly pushing you to the edge. Squeezing his head between your thighs and moaning audibly, you hit your orgasm, contorting slightly on the bed and softly scratching Jack's scalp.

Not wanting to cause you any unwanted sensation, Jack didn't prolong his task after you had reached your apex, planting a kiss on your lower stomach before moving up and lying by your side, smiling and caressing your face. You looked at him and turned your body on the bed to be face-to-face with him, laying one hand on his cheek.

"Seems that you 'stache haven't come out undamaged from it." You joked referring to the few strands of his mustache that were slightly reddish.

"Y'know what they say, you can't have everything." He chuckled, making you smile, and leaned to kiss him, moaning as you tasted yourself on his lips and already hanging one leg around his hips to pull him closer.

Once more following your rhythm, and feeling highly needy himself, Jack calmly slid inside you, making both of you moan.

"Can I tell you something?" You said without moving your lips away from his, smiling when he nodded "I think I'll need another napping time on your lap after we got done here."

"Oh, my precious sugarcube." Jack smirked and rested his palm on your lower back "As long as my little lady is pain-free, you can do whatever you want with me." He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on your lips, making you smile, after all, you knew he was telling the truth.

Cowboytober Masterlist

[confusedhomicidalrage]

(I guess) TW!!! This fanfic mentions Suicide, alcohol, and death.

"Joshua?" Eli quietly called out through the seemingly empty house. The stairs creaked as he walked them down, careful not to make too much noise. Eli walked into the living room, but didn't see Joshua at all. He could only see Robert, sitting on the couch, probably passed out, with a few empty alcohol bottles next to him, and the TV running some sort of porn program. Eli looked away from the TV, such adult things always made him uncomfortable, it made him feel filthy just looking at it. The sounds weren't better; just a mess of skin slapping, weird gagging, and lots of moaning that made Eli want to vomit. His eyes went to the empty alcohol bottles, some were knocked over or even broken, others were leaking or just still half full, but they all had one thing in common; they smelt disgusting. It made Eli's nose scrunch up as his hands quickly went to cover his nose and mouth.

He tip-toed past Robert and out of the house, his hands moving back to his sides as he breathed in the, at least better smelling, air. He took a few steps into the cornfields, calling out for Joshua once more.

"Joshua? Joshua, where are you?" ,Eli yelled, his hands moving to push aside the corn stalks and walk through them. However, Eli's eyes soon widened when he smelled a dirty stench that was...like a crime to even be near. Eli's eyes narrowed as he walked into the direction of the stench. A wet sound underneath his shoes made him flinch, looking down at what he stepped in made his eyes go as wide as bowling balls. A thick, dark red, almost brown-ish liquid. Blood.

Eli panicked as he followed the trail of blood, only to freeze when he saw why it was there in the first place. There, in the cornfield, laid Joshua, not moving. His eyes were closed, and he didn't seem to be breathing. Cautiously, Eli walked towards his brother, kneeling down and shaking his arm. "Joshua?...Joshua, wake up...this isn't funny..." ,Eli mumbled quietly, tears prickling his eyes as he shook Joshua rapidly. Then, Eli noticed the large flesh wound across Joshua's chest, with his clothes teared and stained in blood. The wound was bleeding heavily and some flesh seemed to be somewhat pulled out, undoubtedly, it was done by the scythe Robert owned.

Eli knew their Father was a horrible person, abusing the brothers whenever they made a mistake or he got drunk, but to see Joshua lying there...dead...by his Father's hands...it made Eli sick. He had to hold back gags as the tears began falling down his cheeks promptly, his breathing shaky and heavy as he bit his lower lip. Joshua was the one person to protect him, to actually make him feel loved.Eli sobbed, covering his face and pitifully crying into his palms. He couldn't believe this. This was his worst nightmare come true. If Joshua wasn't there, why did Eli wake up everyday? Not even he who Walks behind the rows could bring Eli the same happiness the young boy felt when with his big brother. As Eli removed his hands from his tear-soaked face, he couldn't even breathe normally. His breathing was more similar to desperate gasps of air, shaky and fast. His entire body was trembling like a leaf in a hurricane.

Eli threw himself on the corpse of his beloved brother, sobbing into his unmoving chest. The little one was heartbroken, he felt so much despair and sorrow. If Joshua wasn't there to cheer him up every day, Eli didn't want to continue living the pathetic life he had been living for years now. He didn't even want to attempt to do this without Joshua, he couldn't bear even the mere thought of such a thing. He stood up, and narrowed his eyes. He couldn't let his Father get away with such an act.

"Family is sacred..." Eli whispered as he ran back to the house, not even bothering to try and be quiet now. As he slammed the door open, tears still going down his pale cheeks, Robert woke up, annoyed. But before he could scream at his son, The latter picked up one of the empty bottles and smashed it onto his Father's head. Robert screeched out in pain, holding his bleeding head and frantically trying to remove the glass shards, although it proved futile.

Eli sniffled and grabbed a nearby knife Robert normally kept as a way to abuse Eli and Joshua, which included cutting their skin off or forcefully cutting their hair and ripping it. Eli jumped onto his Father and repeatedly stabbed him into the face, until it was just a mess of blood, flesh and broken bones. Eli took a deep, shaky breath, slowly lowering the knife. He was covered in blood, the carpet was stained. Eli stood up, his legs wobbly and barely able to properly hold him up. He walked out of the house again, and back to where Joshua's dead body was laying. Eli began sobbing the moment he saw it, and fell to his knees.

"Joshua..." ,he choked out between sobs, mourning his dead brother. He couldn't live without him. And so, Eli laid down beside Joshua, and lifted the knife, aligning it with where Eli's heart was located. The young boy stared at Joshua's face, before thrusting the knife into his own chest. Eli yelled out in pain, watching as the blood seeped into his clothing and oozed out of his wound. Eli's arms fell to the side, as his gaze went back to Joshua.

"We'll leave this earth together, Brother..." ,Eli whispered, his eyelids falling as his breathing stopped too. As the two dead brothers laid side by side, their blood mixed on the dirt and mud ground of the cornfield. They would remain together forever, no matter in what way.

[edwardshundredyearoldspunk]

my parents have been separated for some months now and to say our home has changed for the better would be putting it lightly. he wasn't around much anyway, but when he was I could feel my skin tightening around me, my breath stalling in my throat. suffice it to say, all these months without him around have been really good. no splatter on the toilet seat, no having to lower the toilet seat, no drunk clobbering in the hallways, no fear that he's going to crash with my brother in the car because he was drunk driving, less mess in the kitchen, no dirty plates left in the dining table for someone else to pick up, no having to make sure he didn't let my indoor cats outside out of uncaring negligence. just in general I realized I had a lot of anxiety when he was around that I only recognized once it was gone.

flashforward to this morning when I woke up and he was helping my mom out with the car. she could have called a different mechanic, but she figured it should be fine. (she also probably didn't want to have to pay. fair.) and I heard this very vaguely because I don't eavesdrop anymore, but I guess he said he would lend her his car while he fixed ours. she wanted to just pay for a new tire but he insisted he had a set that fit.

and I knew. as soon as I heard him talking like this, and as soon as I saw that he had trespassed the fence of our property for the first time since they separated, I fucking knew. he was going to take her nonconfrontational complacence as an invitation of sorts.

so of course, once my mom left for work he came home, fooled my brother in to opening the gate for him because our mother hasn't told him they're separated, and he parks his car inside, and promptly passes out. he was, of course, driving drunk. immediately my brother was shaken, because he hated seeing our dad like this. and immediately I felt that all-body feeling of tension like I hadn't felt in months. I would have told him to leave because I for sure do not want him here, but I figured I should leave the choice to my mother because I'm pretty tired of being the shield she hides behind to avoid making them (and then blames if things don't go fine, which they usually don't). so I called her. and she said to let him inside. and I also knew this was a mistake, that he was crossing more and more boundaries my mother is only barely able to maintain.

and lo and behold. the bathroom's a mess, he's walking around in his underwear like he owns the place, he's drunkenly and incessantly knocking on my brother's door because he wants attention, he's leaving unattended food everywhere the cats can get it. and the worst part is I'm kind of scared that this means he's back? he thinks he's back and I know my mom is codependent enough to take him back. but I'm panicking because I do not want him back. but also, I'm tired of having to make my mother's choices for her. she wants me to tell her what to do because if I tell her what to do then she doesn't have to take responsibility for it. I am TRYING to be in my unbothered, moisturized, thriving, feeling myself era. but how can I do that under these conditions??

[sickly-qt]

Finn Sick at Night

Woah! I said I would put out a fic and I actually did it? Never thought I would see it happen. Anyway, this is the first fic i was able to get together, so bear with me if it’s a bit rough. I’m still getting back into the swing of things. 

I hope you guys enjoy some sick Finn :)

~~~

“Hello?” Finn said groggily, rubbing his eyes as he lifted his head from his pillow..

“Hey,” Drew replied, “You’re coming over tonight right?” Finn could hear the sizzle of food frying in a pan on the other end of the phone.

He stared at the clock on his bedside table waiting for his eyes to adjust. 5:27. Shit, he had overslept. 

“Uh, yeah. I’m sorry, I got out of work a little late. Give me like 15 minutes and I'll be right over.” Finn sat up in bed and ran his hand through his hair.

There was a pause and Finn waited to see if Drew had picked up on his white lie. 

“Okay, take your time. I’m making dinner, it should be ready when you get here.”

“That sounds really good, Love. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I love you.”

“I love you too, babes. I’ll see you soon.” Drew hung up and Finn sighed, rubbing his eyes. 

He had left work early after he had bolted out of a meeting to stare into the toilet for a solid 10 minutes, waiting for the reappearance of his meager breakfast that would never actually come. After getting home he had promptly passed out and nearly slept through his plans with Drew. 

He was feeling a bit better, less nauseous and more worn out and a little cold.

Finn pushed himself out of bed and got dressed, planning on telling Drew that he had changed before he left work and headed out for Drew’s.

~~

“Hey, Sweets. There’s food on the stove if you’re hungry.” Drew said over the back of the couch when Finn let himself into her apartment. 

“I’m not.” He mumbled, slowly kicking off his shoes and peeling off his jacket. “I’m honestly just really tired, baby. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, you should at least eat a little bit though.” She said, getting up to put her bowl in the sink. She gave him a weird look when she walked past him. “Are you feeling okay?” 

“Yeah, my stomach has just been giving me some issues today…” 

Drew frowned at him and walked over to him, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead.

“You’re a little warm, but I don’t think you have a fever. Do you think you’ve caught something?”

“I don’t know, love. I just want to lay down.” Finn almost whined.

“Okay, let’s lay down then.” Drew led him over to the couch and sat with her feet propped on the coffee table and Finn spread out with his head on her lap. It didn’t take long for him to doze off.

He must’ve been sleeping for awhile when Drew finally woke him up to go to bed. The living room was dark, save for the lamp that was left on. 

Finn was basically a zombie as he walked to the room and laid down in bed, passing right back out as soon as he hit the mattress, he didn’t even feel Drew get into bed beside him. 

When he woke up next, it was still dark. The glowing numbers on the alarm clock showing 4:17 am. He could hear Drew breathing next to him, sound asleep. He felt much worse than when he had fallen asleep, the feeling of nausea returning. He felt sick. Finn sighed and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Drew stirred for a second before rolling over and falling back asleep. 

His body felt heavy and it took effort for him to move, but he could tell that he was going to vomit. 

“Fuck.” He whispered to himself as he got up and made his way to the bathroom down the hall. He paced for a minute before finally settling on the floor, staring into the toilet. It was painfully quiet, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. After a couple moments he retched, which seemed to echo throughout the quiet apartment. Nothing came up beside saliva, but he gagged again and a small mouthful of the pasta he ate for lunch came back up. A couple seconds passed before he retched once more, a slightly larger mouthful of his stomach contents splashed into the toilet. 

He coughed and cursed to himself when he heard Drew’s light footsteps come down the hall.

“Babes?” She said quietly as pushed the door open, her voice was scratchy from sleep and her hair was a mess as she staggered into the bathroom. 

Finn didn’t get a chance to answer before he leaned back over the toilet, burping up another mouthful of sick. 

Drew blinked slowly as what was happening slowly seeped into her sleep fogged brain. 

“Okay, it’s okay. You’re okay.” She said, clearly still half asleep. She squeezed his shoulder and rubbed her other hand across his back. Drew left for a moment before coming back and setting a cup of water on the floor by his knee. She sat cross legged behind Finn resting her forehead against his back as she ran her hand up and down his spine. 

“How long have you been in here?” Drew asked, her head still resting against his back.

“15 minutes?” He said quietly, his voice scratchy from vomiting. “You can go back to bed, babe. You’re clearly exhausted.” 

“No, I’m okay.” She mumbled, “You said your stomach was bothering you but were you nauseous earlier?”

“Not when I got here, but I left work early because I barely kept my breakfast down.” A burp rumbled up from his chest but all that came up was spit.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Drew asked, lifting her head and kissing his shoulder.

“Because I thought it was just something I ate.” Finn reached up and flushed the toilet before pushing himself up from the floor, Drew following suit behind him. 

“Okay well, go lay down I just have to pee and then I’ll be in in a minute.” Drew mumbled and watched as Finn rinsed out his mouth before shuffling out of the bathroom. Drew closed the door behind him and braced herself against the sink, sighing. She felt sick, which was different for her, she didn’t get sympathy sickness. Even so, she was beginning to get used to this feeling, nagging nausea that would hit her at seemingly random times of day. She waited and when she realized that nothing was going to happen she shut off the light and returned to the bedroom where her red-headed boy was sprawled across the bed on top of the blankets. He was already fast asleep, exhausted from work and having been sick. Drew sighed, grabbing a blanket from the chair in the corner and draping it over Finn before crawling back in bed herself. She laid in bed staring at the ceiling listening to Finn’s slow and steady breaths, the only sound other than the single thought floating around in her head.

Fuck.

[nudgeling]

Part one

The cheery tune of Queen's "Crazy little thing called love" rang out three times in the hungover silence. Each one chipped a little bit away at Pearl's unconsciousness, but the final third one became the straw that woke her up. She denied the call and turned her head back into the corner of the couch. Her head felt like lead. It rang out twice more before she groaned and finally picked it up.

“Hello?” she grumbled into the cell, eyes still closed.

“Pearl!” The volume made her head spin and ache. “Where the hell are you? I got home and you’re not here, and no one knows where you are, and you haven't picked up your phone in-”

“Please. For the love of God. Stop shouting.” Angry Scottish was annoying at the best of times, but at the moment it was straight up painful.

“I’ll stop shouting when you tell me where you are, I thought you’d been kidnapped or something!”

“Fine, fine, just quiet down, my head’s killing me. I’m…”

She sat up and nudged the sleep-fog out of her eyes with a yawn. When her vision cleared and her surroundings came into reality, she promptly nudged them again because she must have done something wrong the first time around. Then she did it a third time. Everything about the room she found herself was still completely unfamiliar. She came to the begrudging realization that she had no idea where she was.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Maybe I have been kidnapped.”

“What?”

It was a college student’s apartment, that part was clear. Barely three steps to her left was a kitchenette, to the right an ajar door she presumed led to a bedroom, and the hall and bathroom were squeezed in between the two, yet the host still managed to afford a flat screen TV and a PS5. Not to mention the place was as messy as a junkyard, which made her inner cleaning lady scream. Right in front of her was a low table with a collection of various paraphernalia scattered from one end to the other, one of them catching her eye, as it was probably supposed to.

“Oo, hang on, there’s a note.”

It was a striped paper with ripped off stapler-holes on the edge, with a handwriting that was thankfully pretty legible. She skimmed over the words and mumble-read it to Scott on the other end.

Hey, if you wake up before I do, don’t panic. You’re not kidnapped and we haven't hooked up or anything either. You were really drunk yesterday so I was giving you a ride home, but you passed out before you could tell me the address so I let you crash at my place instead. The door is unlocked so you can get out any time you want. Please don’t steal anything.

Martyn

“What does it say? Are you safe?” Scott asked. Apparently her mumbling hadn’t been that effective.

“Do you know who Martyn is?” she asked, ignoring his question because it was second nature to be petty to Scott. It sounded vaguely familiar, though she was terrible with names.

He went quiet for a second. “With a ‘Y’ or an ‘I’?”

“A ‘Y’, it says he brought me to his place when I passed out yesterday. I passed out?”

“I…”

“Not kidnapped anywho, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she muttered, a bit bitterly but she was only human.

“Pearl. Do you remember anything about last night?”

“I fear my head will explode when I think too hard, so no.”

“Oh. Well. Probably for the best. At least you’re safe… hopefully. Just, please be careful around Martyn.”

“Hah, sure, always am.”

“I’m serious, Pearl. If I were you I’d get out of there.”

“So now you care about me?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Naww.”

“Nothing has changed because I don’t want you to be dead. I’m just here to pick up some stuff, call me when you get back.”

“Scott, wait-”

The line went dead. Great. She threw her phone to the floor with as much force her hungover body could manage. It thudded weakly on the floor.

Getting up to a standing position made stars flood to her head and the floor tilt like a funhouse, and she soon fell right back into the squeaky couch. The second attempt was slower but better, and she only had to combat a slight dizziness, plus the ever present beating headache, as she made her way over to the door on her right. She gently pushed it open.

It was way darker inside of Martyn’s bedroom. Thick gray blinds covered the windows, creating black squares with sunlight edges. On the queen sized bed lay a bulging shape beneath the sheets, his shoulders and blonde head peeking out and both hands nestled underneath the pillow. His face was featureless in the dark. She leaned against the doorframe and knocked gently on the door until the figure roused. A couple seconds of bleary orientation passed before he seemed to clock the situation.

“Oh. Hey.”

“Hi.” She gave a small wave. “You said no stealing, but do you by any chance have some aspirin I could, uh, borrow? My head is murdering me.”

“Yeah, uh…” He propped himself up on his elbows and pressed his fingers into his eyes. Pearl sympathized. “Ibuprofen ok?”

“I’ll take anything.”

“Bathroom cupboard, top shelf, blue box.”

“Thanks.”

She closed the door. She hadn’t recognized the voice, so maybe she didn’t know the guy after all. It would be nice to get a proper look at him before she left, but she wouldn’t go out of her way to wake the poor dude up again.

The bathroom was somewhat cleaner than the rest of the apartment. The shower had sleek green curtains, adding a bit of color, which was pleasant. There were two toothbrushes as well, one blue and one green with a red floral pattern. Girlfriend, maybe? She really doubted this guy had a roomie.

Less pleasant was the mirror on the cupboard where she caught sight of her reflection. She looked like she felt; like shit. Sticky hair, smudged makeup, baggy eyes. Her whole body felt heavy and sweaty, and a sniff beneath her arm made her wrinkle her nose and add “stinky” to her current list of adjectives. She hated not being clean. It made her itch.

The blue plastic box was easy to find, and so was the ibuprofen laying on the top layer of part medicinal items and part random junk like hair clips and rubber bands. There was also a fuck ton of bandaids, a bottle of adderall, and a testosterone injection kit, because she couldn’t help being nosy. However, there was a far more interesting item peeking out from the bottom, a prescription bottle that didn’t catch her attention until after she had downed the painkiller and was about to put the box back on the shelf.

It was one of those drugs, those who cartoon characters in TV anti-drug campaigns warned against and doctors only prescribe under uttermost vigilance. The kind she used to take great care to stay away from, the same way she did with cigarettes and alcohol. But that person felt very far away as she held the bottle in her hand. Funny how much 48 hours could change a woman.

She put three pills in her pocket, not knowing until far later the twist of fate that one action had just caused.

Martyn was heading across the living room when she got out. Her wish to see his face was granted. He was dressed in a green T-shirt and jeans, and had the same familiar headband around his head, just like he used to.

"It’s you!" She blurted.

He startled, stopping in his tracks. “It’s… what?” he buffered.

Martyn. That’s why it was so familiar. If she’d been asked to name Grian’s old friend with the bandana she probably could have shaken up the answer sooner or later, but as she hadn’t sent a thought his way for years at that point, the idea that this Martyn was that Martyn hadn’t struck her for a second. He was a background actor in a background memory. Considering the lengths he'd apparently gone to help her, it made her feel pretty guilty.

"I had totally forgotten your name and your voice has dropped by like an octave, I'm so sorry."

He seemed to connect the dots, and suddenly barked a laugh. "You thought I was a stranger?”

“Kind of?”

He chuckled. “I mean, fair, I suppose. Awfully confident asking a stranger for meds, though."

Pearl shrugged. "Fear don’t got much on me these days."

Martyn hummed, like he’d unlocked new character info and was storing it away under the 'Pearl' file.

"Right, well now that you figured out my identity," he continued, "I need to clarify that I'm not normally this messy."

"Girlfriend away or something?"

He went silent, cluing Pearl that she was wrong.

“Boyfriend?”

He went to say something, then hesitated and spoke anew. "I mean, yeah, in a sense. The first one, that is. She uh… we broke up."

“Oh.” As if feeling like trash wasn’t enough, she now felt like an idiot as well. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

Silence followed. Fantasies about sinking through the ground or being pelted by a legion’s stash of arrows floated through Pearl’s mind. She cleared her throat.

“Look, I’d like nothing more than to get out of your hair, but is there any chance I could borrow your shower real quick first?”

“Oh, sure, go for it,” Martyn perked. “Want a change of shirt?”

“You don’t have to-”

“I know, I know, just… Would you like one?”

"Uh… do you have anything that fits?"

"I'll see what I can find."

He walked off without another word, and Pearl, after buffering a bit herself, slid back into the bathroom. Scott’s words of warning came back to her, which she found increasingly hard to believe. If Martyn had been flawlessly charming and clean, then she wouldn’t have had any trouble judging him as a problem and potential danger. Instead what she’d been met with was a messy, awkward, probably heartbroken boy who still put his foot forward with kindness. Screw what Scott thought, she liked this guy.

She locked the door, just to be sure.

[rosescxrner]

What Is Going On? (an essay)

In the spring of 2021, it was 9pm when I passed out in the middle of the kitchen. I’d been talking to my dad about theater and school, and he was teasing me about a crush I probably definitely had on a senior in theater. When I woke up, my head was in the dog bowl, which was probably what saved me from a total head injury. I felt completely fine after, though no one believed me, and my parents promptly scheduled a doctor’s appointment for the next day.

I went to school for the first two hours of the day, and then was shipped off to the hospital for some tests. I learned that while I was unconscious, I’d had what almost resembled a seizure, on a small scale. Of course, the doctors asked if I’d eaten, drank water, or had salt. I had, to all of them, and the initial decision was that I was just a teenage girl who needed more water and salt. Of course, they also made sure to ask about my screentime, because we all know phones and chromebooks cause fainting spells, right?

In the three years since then, I have yet to have a diagnosis. We came close with POTS, but the doctors retracted that statement soon after giving it. Ever since, I’ve felt almost dejected because of my lack of diagnosis. Was this really all in my head, like some doctors said? Was it just that I needed more water and salt, even though those are the two things I consume most now? I wanted answers, so I did my own research. Now, I know self-diagnosing on the internet is frowned upon, but I hope if I come to a doctor with my findings, they might be able to narrow down something.

The first thing I found relevant to my case was CTE. Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy. In most cases, it isn’t found until the patient is much older than I am, and in all cases, it cannot be diagnosed until after death, when the doctor can formally scan the brain on a personal level. That gave me hope, believe it or not, because that meant CTE was virtually an invisible disease of sorts. You may be wondering, though, why I went to CTE. “Rose, CTE only happens to people who suffer head injuries!” Yes, I know. Believe you me, I have suffered my fair share of head injuries in my short time of life.

From eight feet up, I’ve had a ten-pound, large wooden block fall on my head, had a twenty-to-thirty pound wooden platform shoved into my temple, had a hammer to the side of my face, and many other small injuries like tables being in the way, or knocking into shelves and cupboards. All of this combined, it’s no wonder I have as many headaches as I do, let’s just say. But, too much of my body’s ailments were going undiagnosed, so I felt they may be connected.

In my digging, I found PCS, post-concussive syndrome. It’s where a concussion hasn’t fully healed, and continues to present itself in various symptoms. I’ve only ever had a few concussions, but they suck. Immensely. In 2022, when the wooden block fell on my head, I went back to school the very next day, and showed up to theater, which my director called me insane for. I felt awful the entire time, and by the time we had our post-rehearsal meeting, I could hardly stand on my own. I find myself having many concussive symptoms, but not at the same intensity as if I had had one again. This is normal in most people with PCS, though the ailment itself is very rare in people who have had concussions.

This led me to look into my second issue– body aches, tremors, and tics. The tremor and tics didn’t start until about the time the wooden block hit me, and the aches didn’t start until I pulled my shoulder from pushing a 40lb rolling platform across a stage by myself. My decisions in life are nothing, if not flawed. In my defense, we needed it for rehearsal, and the directors and I genuinely thought I could do it. I just…hadn’t anticipated the actor atop said platform to step down while I was below him, kicking me in the face and popping my shoulder out of place a bit. I don’t blame him for it, he didn’t know I was directly below him. Yes, he could have looked before he stepped, but what’s done is done. 

After researching particular symptoms, I learned that continuous head injuries can, in fact, cause body aches and nerve pain. In one study, 64% of patients who suffered an mTBI (mild traumatic brain injury) reported body pain, specifically in the legs, back, and shoulders. Other side effects of a head injury included dizziness, headaches, loss of memory, and loss of concentration. In the past few years, I’ve noticed my memory and concentration slipping, and it’s always scared me a bit, since memory problems run in my family. It felt odd that it would present so early in life, but I tend to not be someone who thinks rationally when scared. However, combining the suddenness of said symptoms surfacing, and the timing of my first major head injury, it felt like it was finally starting to make sense. That, paired with the simply declining memory and concentration issues, solidified my belief that this was all occurring due to my injuries. 

In many cases of head injuries, people find themselves suffering from tremors and tics, such as twitching uncontrollably. However macabre, I was thankful to these people, because it meant I might have a real reason for suddenly developing these symptoms. In my latest doctor visit on the subject, I was told it was probably anxiety, and that all of my aches and tics were just me being anxious. 

Although I never said so, I was partially offended by this. All of these doctor visits, money wasted, time spent worrying, just for a psych doctor to tell me I was anxious? I’ve never lasted very long with any sort of therapist, whether it be counseling, cognitive therapy, or the latest psychiatrist, because they love pinning all of my issues on mental health. Do I believe mental health can present in physical symptoms? Of course, and it has for me before. But this felt like more than ‘anxiety’. This felt like more than ‘teenage angst and grief’ like people had officially begun telling me. 

Nevertheless, I tried the exercises my psychologist gave me. Hold your head the opposite way when you twitch, hold your hands down when they tremor, force yourself to not twitch so your brain stops doing it. But in the end, all that did was hurt more. Now, something I forgot to mention, was that one doctor diagnosed me with a muscle degenerative disorder, a light version of it. He said I could still function, but that most of what I love doing for theater (drills, power saws, lifting sets) had to go if I wanted to not break myself in half. I didn’t really listen, though I appreciate my directors to no end for trying to force me to take a break when I didn’t want to. I probably will continue to be stubborn, but in moments like this, I truly do appreciate them for what they do for me.

According to an article by Flint Rehab, one can experience muscle weakness and nerve pain after a concussion, from weeks to months to years after. Some symptoms that last after a concussion can also consist of tinnitus (ringing of the ears), numbness and tingling in various parts of the body, and sensitivity to light and noise. Now, is it a coincidence that in the few years since the first injury (and many since), I have developed all of these? I don’t think so, personally. In the past few years, I’ve grown terribly sensitive to sounds, and everything is heightened in a way it wasn’t three years ago. I also find my various limbs in bouts of painstaking tingling, somewhere between numbness and absolute pain. It’s an odd sensation that I’ve never been able to describe entirely accurately, as much as I try. I also, in my defense, thought for a long time that it was entirely normal for people to encounter a ringing sensation in their ears. That one has been happening for a while, probably the second symptom to emerge, right before the persistent headaches and migraines.

One side effect of a head injury does intrigue me, in a bad way. Behavioral issues, mood swings, and personality changes are less common, but just as awful of side effects. This, ladies and gents, brings us full-circle, back to CTE. Many patients with CTE report personality changes, such as sudden lack of motivation (long term), feeling suddenly constantly overwhelmed, and the sudden inability to be entirely self-aware. I haven’t brought these issues to a doctor, for the simple fact that I dread the idea that this one (two, three) accident caused an entire shift in my brain. 

In my past, writing came naturally, easy for me, and ever since that first incident, I’ve found it progressively harder to complete things that used to come so easy, such as writing, art, and basic things like schoolwork. Yes, gifted kid burnout is a real thing, and I do think I suffered it a bit, but I truly do not think this entire sudden lack of motivation and awareness has come from a bit of childhood academic pressure.

I’m not sure what, exactly, this is. Maybe it’s PCS, maybe CTE, maybe something I haven’t found yet. Either way, I wanted to share my story and findings, in hopes that maybe someone will be able to help, or have an idea as to what’s going on in my body.