#and I cried silently the whole way home and my pain was so bad on top of it

[whydoifeelthisquiet]

..

#slight tw for the next few tags………… #my sister emotionally and verbally abused me last night and I don’t use those terms lightly at all #basically I texted my mom ‘yikes’ yesterday after she was being rude to us and she found it and started screaming #and said we all treat her so badly and none of us care about her which cannot be further from the truth #the gaslighting was out of this world #she said we started it? #my mom and I were both crying #she called me all kinds of awful names and kept saying fuck you so I said fuck you back #I have an anxiety around swearing out loud so the car fell silent #then she kept screaming #and I was sobbing and it ruined my makeup #then I had a panic attack #she got out of the car and then we had to go in fucking margaritaville resort to have a dinner w family we don’t see #she thought she was entitled to this outburst. #and I cried silently the whole way home and my pain was so bad on top of it #and now she’s acting like nothing happened. I did not get any apology. #it was HELL #and I just need to rant #I love her but…I did not deserve this #also slightly pissed at my mom bc she told my sister something I said that was supposed to be kept private #and my sister used it against me #sorry I needed to rant ❤️‍🩹 #Abby doesnt shut up

[girlgenius1111]

all of my pain and all your excuses

part 2 of family line ingrid arrives home, and realizes how much she's missed with her sister. her and mapi try to figure out how to put the pieces back together. r struggles with the mess inside her head. cw: mommy issues galore 🙃 mentions of poor mental health. solstråle continues to be sad.

-------

It took you a few minutes of crying into Mapi before you realized what she’d probably done. At this realization, you pulled away from her in a panic, practically falling onto the ground. 

“Mapi, please don’t tell Ingrid about this, please please, you can’t, she’ll be so mad, she’s already mad, I can’t,” your gasps for air cut your words off and Mapi took your face in between her hands. 

“Breathe. In and out pequeña. Just breathe.” She instructed, dramatically exaggerating her own breaths. 

“Please, Mapi,” you whimpered after a minute. 

“I’m sorry, nena, I had to. I had to.” She said, seemingly begging you to believe her that she’d had no other choice. You couldn’t really blame her; you’d gotten yourself here, after all. You’d written the letter. You’d meant every word you’d said, and every word you didn’t quite have the guts to say. You’d collapsed into her arms. You’d given her no choice. 

“I’m really scared,” you mumbled. 

Mapi pulled you back in, tucking your face easily into her chest. “I know. You don’t need to be, but I know you are. Everything is going to be alright. I promise you.” 

You wrapped yourself tight around the defender, hoping with everything in you that she was right. 

When Ingrid burst through the front door, eyes immediately finding you on the couch, crumpled up into a little ball in Mapi’s lap, she knew it was bad. Mapi was holding you so tightly, expression unreadable when she glanced up at Ingrid, murmuring inaudible words in your ear. You looked so small, visibly trembling in your baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants, Mapi’s arms engulfing you. Ingrid practically ran to your side, sitting as carefully as she could next to the both of you. 

“María, what..?” Ingrid asked, trailing off when Mapi silently held out a piece of paper to her. Ingrid took it, having no idea what she was about to read. Having no idea what she was about to feel. 

You were hiding your face in Mapi’s sweater, much too distraught to care about how pathetic you probably seemed. You’d heard Ingrid enter, and you knew it was just a matter of time before you had to leave your safe little bubble and confront this. When it had been silent for too long, and you knew Ingrid must be done reading by now, you shifted away from Mapi. It was time to be brave, and it was time to take whatever was coming your way. 

The look on your sister’s face made you want to take it all back. Because, fuck, you weren’t sure your happiness was worth making Ingrid this upset. She was scanning over the paper over and over, as if she was hoping the contents would change with each reread. 

You acted stronger than you felt, sliding off Mapi’s lap and moving a bit closer to Ingrid. She didn’t look away from the letter. 

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly. 

Your sister’s head snapped up to look at you so rapidly, you almost jumped. 

“Solstråle,” Ingrid began, and you felt like the last stable part of you broke sharply at the nickname. Sunbeam, it meant. Ingrid had called you that your whole life. Her sunbeam, always breaking through the clouds to shine a bit of light. She’d assumed you’d grown out of it, recently. You looked so small, though, so scared and so desperately sad, that it just slipped out. She didn’t regret it, not when you practically fell towards her. “Oh, honey.” 

If you were crying with Mapi just minutes before, you were bawling now. Hysterical, hyperventilating cries that were painful to hear, and painful to let out, but somehow so cathartic. Ingrid pulled you into her, beginning to cry herself. 

When Ingrid spoke, it was in Norwegian, and nothing had ever sounded so safe. “I am so sorry, my perfect baby sister, I am so so sorry. I love you. I love you, I love you. More than anything in this world, I love you.” 

And though you still cried, you relaxed marginally at the comfort hearing her speak in your native language brought you. You relaxed, going completely limp against your sister. You probably would have slid off her onto the ground if she hadn’t had her arms wrapped around you so tight. Ingrid wasn’t sure she’d ever let you go. You weren’t sure you wanted her to.

-------

Ingrid stood in your doorway, eyes fixed on your sleeping form. She’d brought you up to bed, carrying you like she used to when you were little. You’d fallen asleep on her downstairs, and she hadn’t dared to move you for a while. She and Mapi sat in a rather stunned silence for a while, before Mapi suggested she bring you up to bed. So, Ingrid tucked you in, pulling the covers up to your chin the way she knew you liked them. She noticed something tucked under one of your pillows, and carefully pulled it out. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the plush polar bear in her hand. Snø. She’d given him to you when you were three, for your birthday. She thought you’d stopped sleeping with him, but apparently not. The thought that you’d pulled him out of your closet for some comfort upon arriving in Spain made tears flood Ingrid’s eyes. She carefully kissed your forehead before rushing out of the room, almost colliding with her girlfriend. 

“Oof,” Mapi grunted, steadying Ingrid, when she caught sight of the other womans’ face. “Amor,” 

Ingrid shook her head, wiping harshly at her eyes, and pushed past Mapi towards their bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pulled the folded letter out of her pocket, smoothing it out, and began to read it. Again. Mapi had followed her into the room, and took the paper out of her girlfriend’s hands. 

“Give it back.” Ingrid said through clenched teeth. She sounded angry, but Mapi saw the tears in her eyes and knew better. 

“No, you’ve already read it.” Mapi said firmly. 

“María, give it back, I need to read it again.” 

“Mi amor, it's just going to hurt more, and you don’t need that right now.”

“Yes I do,” Ingrid cried. “I do, she’s been hurting like this for god knows how long. Wanting to–” She cut herself off, shaking her head almost frantically. “She said she felt like no one would care if she was gone. Reading this hurts but it is nothing compared to what she has been feeling, and it is all my fault, so let me read it so I can fix this, because I need to fix this, I can’t lose her, María, I can’t lose her.” Ingrid was sobbing by the end, making little to no sense, and Mapi placed her hands on Ingrid’s cheeks, forcing her to make eye contact. She noticed in that moment that while you looked alike normally, you looked just like Ingrid when you cried. 

It wasn’t enough, though, Ingrid was crying so hard, every sob shattered a part of Mapi that she hadn’t known existed. She climbed onto the bed, pulling Ingrid with her, guiding the younger woman’s head onto her chest. Ingrid clutched at Mapi’s shirt almost desperately, muffling her sobs there too, although her body shook heavily with the force of them. Her world was falling down around her, and it was all she could do to hold onto her María, and not let go. 

“I know, mi princesa, I know.” Mapi murmured, running her fingers through Ingrid’s thick hair. “You aren’t going to lose her. We aren’t going to lose her. We’ll fix it.” 

“I don’t know how to fix it,” Ingrid whimpered. Mapi tilted the Norwegian’s head up, until Ingrid was looking at her once again. 

“That’s okay, mi amor. You don’t need to have all the answers now. We’ll figure it out together. For now, just be her sister. Not her parent. Just be her sister, and if you don’t know what else to say, tell her you love her.” 

Ingrid nodded pitifully, scooting up and cramming her face into the crook of Mapi’s neck.

“Thank you. For helping her and for texting me and for being so perfect. You’re always so perfect.” Ingrid mumbled. 

“I’ll be perfect for you any day. I love you, and I love your sister. Now relax, mi princesa. Relax, breathe, calm down. We’re going to be okay.” 

And like you had earlier, Ingrid hoped with everything in her that Mapi was right about this. 

-------

Ingrid and Mapi fell silent the minute you walked into the kitchen the next morning. They’d been talking about you, clearly, and they looked at you nervously the minute you were in sight. You’d woken up irritated, though, as you sometimes did, feeling like your blood was boiling, as if one wrong thing would set you off. You wished you had more control than that, but you knew the minute you heard your sister’s voice, you would fly off the handle. Because this morning? You weren’t sad. You were furious. 

The room was a complete contradiction to how you were feeling. Ingrid and Mapi’s home was bright with sunlight, and warm with color. They were both holding matching coffee mugs, and looking at you with matching concerned expressions, and all of it made you want to scream. Why did Ingrid get to have this perfect life, and you didn’t? Why did she get to be happy so easily, and you didn’t? 

You were lost in your thoughts, taking the coffee Mapi handed you with a quiet thank you. The kitchen was uncomfortably silent. 

“Hi, solstråle. How are you feeling this morning?” Ingrid piped up. You clenched your jaw. How did she think you were feeling?

“Fine.” You snapped. 

Ingrid remained quiet and soothing when she spoke next, and it made you even angrier. “Honey, last night,”

“I don’t really feel like talking about it right now.” You said harshly, cutting her off. Ingrid tensed, trying to keep her reaction in check. 

“I’m sorry, solstråle, but that is not an option. We need to talk about what happened, we can’t wait on that.” Ingrid insisted, voice measured. 

Still it was like she’d hit you. Your head snapped up, your features contorted with rage, and you set your coffee down dangerously softly, glaring at your sister. “Oh now we have to? Now we have to talk about it? I’ve been here for 6 fucking months Ingrid. It took you months to realize something was wrong, and you didn’t even realize! I had to write it out for you. You told me last night that you love me, that you want me here, well then why didn’t you fucking show it before now! I said I don’t want to talk today and I meant that.” You yelled. 

Ingrid shook her head, her hands clenching tight into fists. “Do not yell at me. I am trying to help. I understand that you’re hurt, and that you’re upset, but-” 

You scoffed loudly then, interrupting her, and Ingrid got visibly more frustrated with you, her lips turning down into a disapproving frown. 

“You can’t-” 

“Ingrid, just take a sec.” Mapi cut in, her soft voice a sharp contrast to how you and your sister had been conversing. “Nena, we do need to talk, but it doesn’t have to be now. Let’s just all take a breath.” 

Ingrid was shocked when you slowly nodded your head and took a step back from her, inhaling deeply. It was like magic; she’d never seen an argument that you were involved in get de-escalated so quickly.  

“Go get your homework, okay? You’re coming with us to training.” Ingrid said after a minute. There was no room for argument in her words, and you fought against another surge of anger, fought the urge to yell. 

“Is this because of what I wrote?” You asked evenly. Ingrid and Mapi exchanged glances. 

“Listen, nena, we just want to keep an eye on you.” Mapi told you, realizing that you were a lot less reactive when she spoke to you than when Ingrid did. 

“I know what I said. I wasn’t going to do anything, though. Really. I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t do that to you.” You defended quietly. 

Mapi felt Ingrid’s hand slide into hers and grip tight. I wouldn’t do that to you, you’d said. Not I wouldn’t do that, period. Everytime she thought about what you’d written, Ingrid felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She wasn’t sure what would have happened if Mapi hadn’t gotten home when she did. She wasn’t sure how close she’d come to losing you. She was so scared. 

Ingrid had never been good at letting you see how she was feeling, and maybe that was why, until this point, you’d gone out of your way to hide your own emotions from her. She decided to take Mapi’s advice from the night before. Just be her sister. Not her parent. Just be her sister, and if you don’t know what else to say, tell her you love her. 

Ingrid approached you like she was worried you would lash out at her, which may have been fair. When you made no move to step away from her, she carefully stood directly in front of you, and put her hands on your shoulders. 

“What you wrote really scared me. I’m not mad, solstråle, I’m just really scared. And I trust you, I do, but if I left you here alone, I would just worry, and we haven’t talked yet, and I have no idea what you’re thinking other than the things you said on that piece of paper. So it would make me feel a lot better if you came with us to training today.” 

You blinked up at her for a minute, before you slowly nodded your head. “Okay. I guess that’s fair.” 

Ingrid seemed equally as surprised as you did, removing her hands from your shoulders, and gesturing for you to go get your bag. Once you’d disappeared from the room, she turned back to her girlfriend, who had a ridiculous grin on her face. 

“Look! You communicated! Like a real human being!” Mapi joked, opening her arms. Ingrid instantly melted into the hug, though she scowled at her girlfriend’s teasing. 

“I communicate.” She said stubbornly. 

“Sometimes,” Mapi allowed. “You’ve definitely gotten better. And you’ll keep getting better because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you as determined as you are right now to make sure that your solstråle is okay.” Mapi whispered, kissing the side of Ingrid’s head. 

“My solstråle.” Ingrid smiled. “I started calling her that when she was 3, and she had this shirt with a sun on it. I told her I liked it once, and whenever she saw me sad after that, she’d run off to put the shirt on and come show me. I called her my little solstråle. My sunbeam. She used to be so smiley, María. So happy. She’s so different now.” Very quickly, the smile faded from Ingrid’s face and she held Mapi closer to her. 

“It’s all gonna be okay, mi princesa,” Mapi promised. 

You cleared your throat from the doorway, then, and your sister and her girlfriend sprung apart, blushing like high schoolers caught in an awkward position. “Are you guys done making out?” 

“We weren’t making out,” Ingrid groaned, as you all headed towards the door. 

“No, we only make out after training,” Mapi said seriously.

You made a fake retching sound, Ingrid slapped her girlfriend in the arm, and Mapi laughed to herself, but the tension was broken. And you had smiled, a real smile. Ingrid didn’t care what she had to say to see you smile again, she’d do it. 

--------

As was the norm when you went to training, the younger girls immediately latched onto you, yanking you away from Ingrid and pulling you into some scheme to get back at Mapi for the prank she’d pulled on them last week. It was the usual suspects; Pina,Vicky, Salma, and a couple others pulling you from the room, already giggling. They kindly didn’t say anything about the bruising and cuts on your face, and for that you were grateful, although you did get a few raised eyebrows from the older players. Ingrid watched you go anxiously, only turning her attention away from the door you’d walked out of when Mapi squeezed her hand.

“She’ll be fine.” Mapi promised. Ingrid nodded, but she didn’t stop worrying. And when Mapi went off to work in the gym herself, the Norwegian had no one to pull her out of her head. 

She worried all through the gym session, paying very little attention to what she was supposed to be doing. Which wasn’t normal for Ingrid, and it caught the attention of pretty much everyone. 

Ingrid was staring intently at where you were sitting against the wall in the shade, working on your homework, when Alexia and Frido approached. 

“Everything okay, Engen?” Alexia asked. 

“Yep.” Ingrid said distractedly. 

“What did our dear solstråle do this time?” Frido joked, having known your sister long enough to know precisely why you were living with her. Alexia knew, too, and smiled, joining in on the joke. Until Ingrid’s eyes inexplicably filled with tears, and she turned away from you, wiping harshly at her face. 

“Ingrid? What happened?” Frido wondered, running a hand up and down the Norwegian’s arm, while Alexia looked around anxiously, searching for anyone, anyone on earth, that would be better at dealing with whatever was going on than she would be. 

“It’s a long story.” Ingrid said, her voice cracking. Frido and Alexia exchanged looks, before the captain turned to Jona across the pitch. 

“Ingrid needs her ankle taped!” She shouted, before leading both women off the pitch. Jona nodded knowingly, despite the fact that Ingrid hadn’t done anything to her ankle, and it was rather odd for 2 entire people to accompany her to tape it. Jona knew that Alexia wouldn’t be asking for a minute for Ingrid if she didn’t think it was necessary. 

Ingrid let them pull her into the locker room, rather desperate for some advice and some honesty. Because Mapi loved her too much to tell her how badly she’d really messed up, and both Frido and Alexia were known to be brutally honest. She needed brutal honesty right now. No matter how much it hurt.

-------

You were busy struggling through an essay you were supposed to be writing entirely in Spanish when Frido sat down next to you. One look at her face told you she knew exactly what was going on. You weren’t that surprised. She was your sister’s best friend, and you’d known her for a long time. If there was anyone that Ingrid was going to talk to, it would be Frido. 

Frido always spoke to you in Norwegian, a thing you were endlessly grateful for. It instantly put you at ease, and today was no different, as she tugged playfully at your ear.

“How is my favorite Norwegian?” She asked. 

“I know you already asked your second favorite Norwegian.” You replied jokingly. 

“Why would I ask Caro how you are?” Frido deadpanned. 

You threw your head back, laughing loudly, and Frido grinned, continuing on to tell any and every joke she could think of. 

Ingrid watched from the doorway of the building, and when Mapi turned the corner and saw her watching the two of you, she knew exactly what her girlfriend was thinking. 

Ingrid saw Mapi coming, though, and forced a smile onto her face. “How was the gym?” She asked. 

“Fine. I was distracted though. How is she doing?” Mapi replied, nodding in your direction. 

“Well. She’s joking around with Frido. So, better I assume.” Ingrid said evenly. 

“She’s joking with Frido because Frido speaks her language, and she trusts her, and she didn’t just get into a screaming match with Frido. Frido didn’t read a letter containing her most upsetting feelings. She loves you, Ingrid, she just needs time.” Mapi assured her. Ingrid kissed her cheek softly, very appreciative that her girlfriend always knew what she needed. 

“What if she doesn’t want to talk when we get home?” Ingrid asked, after another minute. 

Mapi sounded wiser than normal when she spoke. Ingrid wasn’t used to her being the voice of reason in their relationship, but she appreciated that the defender always stepped up, and was always willing to be what Ingrid needed. “What happened last night was a big thing. She needs to process, and she needs to take her time with it. She’ll talk when she’s ready. And until then, we keep an eye on her, we give her hugs, and we tell her that we love her, vale?” 

“Okay.” Ingrid agreed. It was going to be a long and difficult evening of not suffocating you with questions, it seemed. She’d do it, though, if it was what you needed. Ingrid thought that she would probably quit football or cut off one of her limbs if that was what you needed. 

-------

You didn’t talk much the rest of the day, as Mapi predicted, and as Ingrid feared. Your sister did her best not to push you, and was mostly successful. Mapi kept the conversation going, able to talk about nothing for hours. She knew exactly which topics to discuss and which to avoid, and she knew how to make both you and Ingrid laugh until your stomachs hurt. Thank god for Mapi. 

You were… relatively alright. Until later that evening, when you got up to head upstairs to finish some homework. You’d accidentally picked up Ingrid’s phone thinking it was yours, and saw a few texts from your mom to her. All about how much she missed Ingrid, how she was thinking of her, how she made Ingrid’s favorite for dinner that night. Nothing about you. You put it back down silently, grabbed your phone, and tried not to think about it, to no avail.

Instead of doing your homework, you sat on the floor of your room, thinking of the fact that your mom had missed your birthday, and not even noticed. Ingrid had, too, but she’d apologized over and over, and she’d promised to take you shopping over the weekend, and to dinner. Ingrid was trying. Your mother hadn’t tried in a while. 

You didn’t realize you were crying until Mapi knocked on the door to say goodnight. She peaked in, frowning when she saw the fresh tears on your cheeks. 

“Hey,” she said softly, carefully lowering herself to the ground next to you, minding her knee. She texted Ingrid to come upstairs, and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay, because I know that you aren’t. But Ingrid and I love you. Ingrid and I want you here. Ingrid and I are gonna fix things, and that is a promise.” 

You registered the words, though you didn’t believe them. Still, you gave Mapi a watery smile and leaned into her a bit. Ingrid’s footsteps were quiet in the hall, but you recognized that she was walking faster than normal. She appeared at your door, then, giving Mapi a meaningful look, and took Mapi’s place, sliding down onto the floor next to you. You pulled your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and holding tight. It looked as if you were trying to physically hold yourself together. 

“Hey, solstråle,” Ingrid said softly. You murmured a greeting, not moving your chin from your knees, and not turning your gaze towards your sister either. It was quiet for a minute before Ingrid prompted you. “Talk to me, please.” 

You sighed, a tear rolling down your cheek. “‘I just miss Mom.” You said finally. 

Ingrid’s chest squeezed uncomfortably. You were so stubborn, so willful, sometimes she forgot you were just a kid. Just an 18 year old kid living in a foreign country, who missed her mom. “Do you want to call her?” She asked, not very confident in the suggestion, but not really sure what else to say. 

You instantly shook your head. “No. She doesn’t want to talk to me.” 

“Kjære, of course she does,” Ingrid began, but she wasn’t really sure. Your parents were so different, now. And whenever Ingrid called her mom, she never asked about you. She only wanted to hear about Ingrid. Your sister wasn’t stupid, she knew she was their favorite, but she didn’t expect them to write you off completely when you moved to Spain. They seemed happier, now. Without you there. It was something Ingrid couldn’t understand. Neither could you, really, but you had long accepted it. 

“No she doesn’t. I stopped calling her, just to see. 2 months ago. She hasn’t called me once. She doesn’t want me, anymore, Ingrid. I know I was an accident, but if they were going to hate me for ruining their early retirement plans, I don’t know why they didn't just…” 

Ingrid was speechless. At a loss for words, and so so angry. You filled the silence, though, things you’d never said out loud falling out of your mouth like you couldn’t help it. 

“I miss what mom was like before, when I was younger. When you were still at home. I miss that mom. I don’t miss the one that I could call right now.” 

“I don’t understand,” Ingrid said quietly, her hand resting on your head, and pulling you closer to her. 

“Ingrid, I know mom is always nice to you, but,” 

“No, solstråle. I don’t understand her. How she could bring someone so perfect into this world and not want to spend the rest of her life watching you grow up. I’ll never forgive her for how she’s made you feel, and I’ll never forgive myself for not noticing earlier. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it better. I promise you.” 

“Thanks, Ing.” You mumbled, looking up at her for a minute before resting your head on her shoulder. 

The problem was, Ingrid could tell you didn’t believe her. She could see it in your eyes; they were still so guarded and so hurt. You were still angry with her, she knew. You thought she just felt guilty, and eventually she would go back to how she was before. Ingrid didn’t know how to make you believe what she felt and what she told you. She worried so deeply that she wouldn’t be able to. That too much damage had been done, and that maybe she wouldn’t be able to fix it. Late at night, early in the morning, right in the middle of a match, she worried about that. All the time until it consumed her, and all she wanted to do was sit with you, and promise you over and over that she loved you more than anything on this planet. What if you never believed her? 

-------

doesn't everyone feel so much better now!

#woso x reader #woso imagine #barcelona femeni x reader #ingrid engen x mapí leon #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader #engen!reader

[mykoreanlove]

conditional

„Baby? I’m home.“

Hyunjin came back from practice, beaten and tired, but eager to see you again. He threw his new Versace bag in the corner and scouted the area for you. “Baby?”

But his baby was nowhere to be found. He looked for you in every room – the living room was empty even though there were still some vanilla scented candles burning. Your bedroom was empty too, it still looked the same way it did when Hyunjin left you this morning. Now he was getting worried. “Y/Nnie?” He opened the door to your office but that was empty, too. Silently, he muttered to himself. “Damn, y/n, where are you?”

It wasn’t until he opened the door to the bathroom that he found you – passed out on the cold marble tiles.

Hyunjin was startled but quickly regained composure as he noticed your journal right next to you. He smirked amused. “Did you fall asleep while journaling again? What are you manifesting this time, baby?”

He crouched down and took a look at your journal, his handsome features suddenly turned ice-cold. Privacy was important in every relationship, especially this one, but he couldn’t help himself. He scanned the pages roughly – words of self-abuse were written all over those white pages. Hyunjin turned around and took a good look at you. Your face, even though you were asleep, looked in distress. Your cheeks were reddened, eyes puffy with your mascara smeared, turning you into a panda. “My baby cried herself to exhaustion”, he muttered in disbelief.

Your boyfriend decided to let you sleep for a while and invaded your privacy instead, he needed to know what made you upset like this. Was it wrong? Yes. Did he care? No.

He sat right next to you and took your journal into his hands. He once gifted you this brown leather book, in the hopes of you filling it with the most beautiful words. But what was written in here was far from beautiful.

I had a talk with Chan today. His daddy sensors were tingling, and he somehow knew that I felt off. I swear to God, he sees me as another kid of his. But I admit, it feels nice. I don’t like talking about my insecurities but with him it’s kinda easy. I never talk about them with anyone, not even Jinnie. I just can’t. I don’t want to.

Hyunjin stopped reading and let out a deep sigh. He looked at you again, wondering why you kept secrets from him. It hurt him tremendously, the love of his life couldn’t communicate her deepest pain with him. Instead, she talked to his hyung? He would confront Chan later, now was not the time for more drama.

How did I end up talking to Chan in the first place? Well, I ran into him when I was on the way back home. I had a very important doctor’s appointment today.

Hyunjin’s whole body shuddered, anxiety taking over. An important doctor’s appointment? How did he not know this? Were you sick? Was something wrong? He panicked, internally debating if he should wake you this instant. He chose to continue reading instead.

I have very bad period cramps and decided to check them out, so I went to the doctor. And he did some tests and what do you know? I might not be fertile. Can you believe that? Me, a young woman in the prime of her life, may not be fertile. I might never become a mom. Jinnie might never become a dad. At least, not with me.

Hyunjin choked.

Panicked, he turned around and faced you again. “Baby. My baby, I am so sorry. I am so so sorry that you had to handle this on your own. Oh my god, y/nnie.” He caressed your cheek with his hand and watched you sleep. He felt guilty, as if he missed out on important parts of your life. Why didn’t you trust him with this?

He noticed the tear strains on the next pages, tearing up as well.

It’s not fair.

Life is not fair. Why is something like this happening to me? I always took care of my body. I eat healthy, I work out, I take my vitamins but somehow, I’m not able to become a mom? Heck, I don’t even know if I want kids, but now I probably will never have the choice to decide.

Why me?

Hyunjin stopped reading for a second. He felt your pain in every written word and it shook him to the core. He couldn’t even imagine what it must be like to be in your skin right now.

And after this appointment I ran into Chan in the park. I didn’t want to talk about it, but I guess I needed to let off some steam. I told him about the test results, and I told him that I felt like a giant failure, and I told him that I had no idea how I should tell Jinnie. Or rather if I should tell him at all or simply break up with him.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes at your dramatic ass. “As if you just could break up with me y/n. You’re stuck with me forever.” He continued reading.

Chan just listened and asked me one single question. Just one.

Do you believe you’re worthy of being loved?

Isn’t it funny how one question can catch you off guard? Because that is exactly what happened. And now I’m sitting here on the cold bathroom floor trying to make sense of it.

Do I believe I’m worthy of being loved?

“Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes”, Hyunjin muttered under his breath.

I guess?

I mean I have a wonderful boyfriend who clearly loves me very much, so the answer kind of has to be yes.

But do -I- believe I am worthy of being loved?

Hyunjin paused one last time and looked at you. He wondered if he should stop reading, he wondered if he was armed for whatever was about to come. Did you really not believe you were worthy of being loved? He felt the pit in his stomach, realizing he had to be the shittiest boyfriend on the planet. Not only did you keep secrets from him, but you also questioned something so banal. Wasn’t it his job to show you the exact opposite?

He let out a sigh and continued reading.

If I’m totally honest? No.

I never felt like that. I always felt like I had to be perfect in order to be worthy of love. But I never was perfect. And I never will be. My tits are too small. My tummy is too fat. My hair is too flat. My lips are too thin. I’m not cool enough. Now I’m not healthy enough. And soon I won’t be young enough. So no, I never felt like I was good enough to be loved.

Hyunjin cried silently, reading every word with care.

How the fuck am I supposed to tell Jinnie? He is going to leave me; he should leave me. I’m not normal, I’m flawed. I don’t deserve to be with him. He deserves someone better, someone on his level. Someone that is just as beautiful and popular as him. Someone with big tits and a flat tummy and super big hair and plush lips that he can kiss all night long. Someone that is healthy and might gift him a child someday. That can never be me.

Hyunjin tossed your journal aside and started bawling, his sobs distracting the silence of the night. He couldn’t believe this; he couldn’t believe you. Were you serious? That's what you thought of yourself? Why did you hate yourself so much?

His crying woke you up, alerting you in seconds. You got up on your feet and hugged him, holding him as tight as you could. “Jinnie, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

He hugged you back and sobbed into your shirt, you were barely understanding a word.

“You, y/n, you’re what’s wrong!”

You paused, scanning the room for your journal. It was lying on the floor next to your crying boyfriend.

“Did you…?”

He nodded, wiping away his tears. Anger masked the shame you were feeling as you wanted to get up, but he was quicker and hugged you in the tightest embrace known to mankind.

“I had no right to, I’m sorry y/nnie. I am so, so sorry.”

Even though you felt ashamed you were relieved, too. Finally, the cat was out of the bag, and you didn’t have to carry this big burden on your own. You hugged for a while, both of you crying silently.

“Can we talk about what you wrote?”

“Do we need to?” You looked down.

His index finger tilted your chin carefully, looking at you with the utmost care. “Yes, my love. We need to.”

You sighed and gave in.

“Do you really feel that way?”

“Hm.”

“Do you think I’m perfect?”

“Of course. You are perfect, Jinnie.”

He rolled his eyes at you. “Sometimes you remind me of a fourteen-year-old girl, y/n.”

You got offended: “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You do realize that nobody is perfect? Not even me?”

You scoffed. “Did you tell your face that?”

He let out a laugh. “You’re so silly, baby. What did you write about your tits being too small and your tummy too fat? I could say the same thing about me being too skinny and not ripped enough. You do realize that we all are beautiful in our own way? And that everybody got a different taste? What if I liked your tits this size? What if I loved your curves exactly like that? Has that ever occurred to you?”

It had not.

“And let’s talk about you being not normal. I understand that the fertility thing is a grave prophecy but that doesn’t make you less normal than anybody else. It doesn’t diminish your worth baby. Nothing could ever do that. Do you get that?”

You grabbed the hem of his shirt tighter and started sobbing again. “Jinnie, what if I can never conceive? What then?” He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. “Then we’ll figure out a way, my love. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.”

You looked up at him. “Are you sure?”

He chuckled, flashing you his warmest smile. “Yes, I am sure. I love you, y/n. I love you for who you are. I fell for your soul baby, not your body or what you could do for me. To me you are absolutely perfect.” He kissed the tears away, holding you even more closely. “Y/Nnie? Don’t ever think that my love for you is-“

“Conditional?”

#mykoreanlove #skz scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids au #skz x reader #stray kids x you #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin angst #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin fanfic #skz hyunjin #skz hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x you #hyunjin hard thoughts #hyunjin hard hours #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x stay #stray kids angst #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids hard hours #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #hwang hyunjin x you #hwang hyujin imagines #hwang hyunjin #stray kids scenarios

[onnahu]

Jason Todd Fanfiction

Tw: death, religious trauma, mentions of drugs, violence and homelessness

So yeah, I had a rough week, and on easter my religious trauma have the time of life, and I remembered that Jason canonicaly grew up catholic. So did I. It was easy from there. It's rough, not edited, and that's why it's for now only here, I'll get it on ao3 later, after some smoothing over.

When Catherine fell ill, she said 'it's a part of God's plan'.

Jason didn't really understood it then, he was 6, but he knew his mom was strong and smart and knew everything, so he agreed, and went play with his neighbours.

When the mony was tight, she took him to church and prayed. He kneelt beside her, but didn't really know what to do. He knew the Lord's Prayer, but it never felt right. It was hard to belive there was some big guy up there, that loved them, and yet made them live in an apartment with mold and non-airthight windows. It just seemd counterproductive. If you love someone, you should wsnt the best for them. Like his mom wanted the best for him. But his mom prayed, and his mom knew best, so he knelt beside her and prayed along.

When Willis got arrested, his mom said that god will help them. She said they should prey, and so they did. Jason thought it was stupid, but didn't said anything.

When Willis went to prison, his mom took him to the church, again, and told him to pray to god for help. He knelt beside her, but didn't prey. He knew there wasn't anyone there listening to him. And even if there was, he for sure didn't care for them.

When his mom got worse, and her medicine was too expensive, so she had to take the other 'medicine', she often sent him to aunty Mei next door. Jason knew what drugs were, and he wasn't stupid. He knew it didn't really help his mom, but so did her prayers, and drugs were at least real. And she wasn't in pain so much. That had to be enough. When his mom was too weak to get up on sunday, aunty Mei took him to the mass instead of her. He didn't tell his aunty that it was bullshit, because she would get angry and tell his mom, and his mom would be sad, because she still believed. So he went silently and on their way out he picked up a few dollars from the collection. If he had to be there, he would at least do something useful. It was always a little more to their budget, a little less of his mom's worry.

When his mom died, he cursed god out. He screamed and cried and sweared and he hated god, hated the world, hated his dad, hated his mom, hated all his aunties and uncles, and above all, he hated himself. When he was done, he packed up all the money left, his warmest clothes, a few photos he hidden in his favourite book, everything that looked like it was worth something, so he could sell it, soap, all the food that was left, a pack of cigarettes, his dad's old pocketknife and a tire iron. He stuffed it all in a dufflebag, and then knocked on aunty Mai's door. He told her that there was something wrong with mom. When she came into their apartment, he took off. She would call 911. He wasn't going to wait on CPS so he could be sold out or packed into some awful foster-home. He was better off alone. He always was.

In winter, he found himself in the church. It was warm, and he could be ther a whole hour of the mass. He got all the money from offerings, and later got himself a warm meal. Church wasn't that bad after all.

He was hiding from some thugs that didn't like him taking their tires. They shouldn't have left their van alone if they had a problem, Jason thought. They didn't like his argument and started to beat him up. He menaged to run away, and was hiding behind a dumpster. They were close. He could hear them. He started to pray. They didn't find him.

The next time he was hiding and started to pray, they found him and beat the shit out of him. He, once again, got reminder of why he could only rely on himself.

When he met Batman, and then Bruce, and then Batman as Bruce, he was happy. Fate finally smiled at him. He found out Bruce also belived on god, but it wasn't (or was? It was confusing) the same god his mom had. He didn't tell him that it was bullshit, because he wasn't stupid, thank you very much, but told him that he wasn't gonna belive in him. Bruce said it was alright, and that was it.

When he was laying on that werehouse's floor, watching the numbers fall, he heard Sheila praying. He didn't call her out on that bullshit, because honestly, he wanted to pray himself. Only she prayed to god, and he wanted to pray to Bruce. He knew it would mean jack shit, but it would be nice to believe someone was coming. He didn't pray. I stead, he got up and dragged his broken body towar Sheila. He positioned himself so he would take to most of the bomb's blow. It propably wouldn't save her, but he wanted to at least die doing something good. She didn't paid him any mind. She was still praying. When numbers on the display wen 3, 2, 1, she was still praying. She died with pray on her lips. He died with the bitter flavor of dissapointment, pain, resignation and hate on his lips. He never heard the batmobile's engine so close to him. He never heard the broken-hearted scream of a grieving father.

When he woke up in his coffin six feet under, he thought two things. First, that if god really exist, he must really hate Jason. Second, he also has a sick sense of humor. To be honest, if he wasn't already screaming, maybe he would laugh too.

#jason todd #red hood #robin #batman #dc #dc comics #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #religious trauma #unedited #catholic jason todd

[lu-morningstar]

Safe with him - Chris Evans [Blurb]

pairing: Chris Evans x neutral!reader

summary: Chris discovers you got assaulted coming back from your job. After that Chris takes you and picks you up from your job.

a/n: it's almost 2am, so bear with me. btw, this was requested by (x) and (x).

TW: mentions assault (not explicit), bruises, and unsafe feelings. Do not read if you feel triggered, thanks.

Feedback, comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated <3

It was around 9 am when you woke up, still shaken from the night before. You did your morning routine, pretending it was a typical day, but it wasn't. You were feeling sick and nervous, it was like they stole from your house and not your purse, and they left an evident mark on your face and neck that saluted you when you finally dared to stare at yourself in the mirror. You washed your face carefully, avoiding touching your cheeks. Even though it hurt, you applied makeup to cover the bruises and then took a pill for the pain with your breakfast. 

You did your day as normal as you could, running errands and filling out paperwork, forgetting about yesterday until you got an email from your bank letting you know your account will be frozen for the next three weeks. 

You arrived home (feeling bad the whole ride) and went to wash your face, removing the extra layers of concealer and foundation you applied earlier. You were making a simple dinner since it was just you for the next few days until Chris came back from filming, and you were praying the bruise wasn't noticeable by then. You didn't want to tell him you got mugged. He already felt bad, leaving you for weeks -sometimes months- by yourself; you didn't want to add up to his load. 

You were enjoying the show Netflix recommended when you heard a noise. It was the door opening. It made your body flinch and your heart race as you slide down the sofa. 

"Honey, I'm home!" you heard his voice. It was your boyfriend. He is a safe person. You are safe with him. 

"Oh my god, it's you," you murmured as you recomposed yourself. He placed his suitcases in the foyer. "Thought it was a robber."

"I don't think a burglar would announce themselves," he said making his way to you with a smile on his face that dropped when he got close to you. "Who did this to you?" he carefully placed his hand on your shoulder and neck to inspect your profile. You were going to tell them the truth, but the only thing that came out was muffled cries as you leaned towards him and he welcomed you with his arms. You instantly felt safe and secure with him as he rubbed your back to help you let it out. 

"I got... assaulted last night... coming back from my job... wasn't even late and..." you were saying, hoping he understood you through your crying.

"It's okay, babe. I'm here." he hugged you a bit harder, not caring about his light sweater getting damp by your tears. 

"...and they got my bag... lost everything."

"It's okay, that doesn't matter y/n." he comforted you as you cried. "Did you call the police or-" you nodded, interrupting him as you calm yourself.

"Someone found me sitting in the street and call them, so I had to fill in forms and everything. Was pretty bad."

"Did you call someone?" you kept silent and he took it as a no. "Why not?"

"Didn't want to. You were busy and-"

"And I would have gone there and held your hand and helped you, y/n. And if I couldn't I would have called Scott or mom." you heard the worry in his voice as he played with your hair, the action was soothing. "I'm glad you are okay," he said before kissing your temple. 

—

Chris picked you up that night just like yesterday. It passed almost two weeks. The bruises were long gone but you still felt unsafe after taking a few days off, so he decided to become your chauffeur. 

The ride with him is fun and light, you sing along to the music, you update him about the clients that come and go every day and he tells you about a possible project he was to join. 

Life is better with him by your side. 

༄✧*‧₊˚✧ ･ﾟ*:･･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧˖*°࿐

My Masterlist

Wanna join my taglist? Drop me an ask here (specifying the taglist) <3

taglist: @lharrietg ✧ @chesca-791 ✧ @justamarvelfan14 ✧ @marajillana ✧  @goldenrogers ✧ @sunwardsss ✧ @kaatelyyynn ✧ @high-on-darren-criss ✧ @chamorritaluv ✧ @justreadingficsdontmindme ✧ @barneskills ✧ @bval-1 ✧ @megatron07 ✧ @madisondelstan ✧ @moonshooter ✧ @nostxlgia18 ✧ @sophiaedits ✧ @mrsevansthefirst ✧ @fanficforfun ✧ @0mrs-evans0 ✧ @jassy2101 ✧ @stephv213 ✧ @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 ✧ @gitasor​ ✧ @lovelyleanie ✧ @food8me ✧ @patzammit ✧ ​@angelmather1 ✧ @sarahdonald87 ✧ @khaleesibeach ✧ @sebastiansstanswhore ✧ @stillmanicc ✧ @bageracat ✧ @mayafatmakhan ✧ @wydtrina ✧ @iconfusemyselfalot ✧ @sleutherclaw ✧ @hallecarey1

#tw assualt #just mentions #lucero writes #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fluff #chris evans blurb #chris evans angst #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x female!reader #ce angst #ce fluff #chris evans x neutral!reader

[hischierswhore]

what a time

pairing: Christian Pulisic x Reader

TW: cursing // flashbacks

A/N: heavily inspired by "What A Time" by Julia Michaels & Niall Horan

You had been okay. After months, you’d finally managed to move on without Christian by your side. 

At least, that's what you told yourself.

I haven't been by your side

In a minute, but I think about it sometimes

Because you were fine. You are fine.

Except for all the nights you cried yourself to sleep. Except for all the times you couldn’t concentrate on anything except for the thought of him. Except for all the things you saw in your everyday life that reminded you of him.

So, in conclusion, you were not fine. And the pain seemed to be never-ending.

I think of the night in the park, it was getting dark

And we stayed up for hours

What a time, what a time, what a time

"I love you" You smiled as you laid on the blanket that was spread across the grass, staring up at the night sky. Christian was doing the same as you, taking in the beautiful sight of the stars shining brightly. He shifted his focus from the sky back to you, giving you a smile before pulling you closer to him. The sound of the wind silently whipping through the trees was the perfect background music as you laid next to him. 

As a result of the brightly illuminated stars shining down on the pair of you, you felt like he was glowing. Like he was the only thing that gave your life the light you needed to survive. Nothing else could make you feel the way he made you feel. You loved nothing more than you loved him. 

"I love you too" He whispers into your hair as he presses kisses from your temple down to your neck. Your stomach always fluttered when you got an "I love you" out of him, and it took every ounce of strength in you to suppress those butterflies and pretend like you didn't get all nervous inside whenever you heard him say those words.

Even after years together, the metaphorical butterflies never stopped showing up whenever he was affectionate with you.

You clinged to my body like you wanted it forever

What a time, what a time, what a time

You wished you could stay like this forever, resting in Christian's arms as if nothing else in the world mattered.

I know we didn't end it like we're supposed to

You honestly don't even remember what your final fight was about. It was simply one of many during the last few weeks, fueled by insecurities, jealousy and bad memories. You had screamed at him and he had shouted back, the pair of you throwing words at the other that you didn't mean. Words that were filled with hate and hurt as you both felt backed up into a corner.

You knew that things had gone too far when he started packing his things, pacing through your apartment to collect all of his belongings as you just watched him make his way around the place you both called ‘home’, with him mumbling his frustrations to himself, which only made the whole situation even worse with every poison-filled word.

"I fucking hate you."

Those were the last words he had said to you before aggressively slamming the door behind him as he exited your shared apartment, leaving you alone in the overwhelming silence that felt so loud.

This wasn’t an unusual thing for the pair of you. Usually, he would leave and go for a walk, or maybe crash at a Mason's house for a night or two while you were bawling your eyes out into his pillow, his sweet scent still lingering on the fabric, making the painfully empty feeling in your chest even worse. But he would always come back.

Until he stopped.

And now we get a bit tense

I wonder if my mind just leaves out all the bad parts

"Wanna make cookies?" Christian asked as you felt yourself clinging to his body in the middle of the kitchen. You simply nodded, whining slightly as he moved away from you to prepare the cookie dough. You sat atop the counter, watching him gather all the necessary ingredients before setting his focus on mixing. He looked up to find you staring at him, leading him to send you a wink before grinning to himself.

A few of his curls had fallen onto his forehead, gently swinging back and forth as he moved.

His soft lips turned into a light smile as he mixed the bowl of ingredients. It was such a simple task, but he looked so breathtakingly beautiful doing it that you couldn't help but smile happily, reminding you of one of the many reasons why you loved him.

He gave you happy moments like this, moments where you felt so glad that you had him in your life, making you forget about all of the times you were heartbroken or hurt by him, just because you were sure he would always find his way back to you.

I know we didn't make sense

I admit it that I think about it sometimes

"I just don't understand why you’re still with him" Your best friend asked you at a party as you leaned against one of the walls in the living room of her boyfriend’s house. Her words were going in one ear and out the other, as your eyes focused on Christian, who was sitting across the room, laughing with a few of his friends in the middle of the room. He’d send you a smile or a wink every so often to let you know he was only thinking about you.

"We’re made for eachother, Y/BFF/N" You sighed contently, taking a sip of your drink while still focusing on Christian.

"That’s what you say now" Your friend continued, your gaze reluctantly letting go of Christian to look at your friend, only to find a genuinely worried expression on her face. 

"You just keep on hurting each other, this is not healthy for either of you. It's like you're eachothers drug. So bad for each other, but so addicted"

“I mean, Taylor Swift did say ‘My drug is my baby I’ll be using for the rest of my life’ so…” You shrugged before receiving a slap in the arm from her. 

“I’m being serious, Y/n”

"I know, I know" you reasoned, glancing over at Christian once again, who was laughing at something Mason had done. 

"Without him, I'd feel nothing. I'd be empty."

I think of the night in the park, it was getting dark

And we stayed up for hours

What a lie, what a lie, what a lie

The night you & Christian had spent in the park had been the same night he had sworn to never leave you. He had whispered it in your ear shortly after saying he loved you. It had felt like he knew everything about you, and accepted you, loved you, nonetheless.

"I'll never leave you, princess, I promise. We belong together. We were made for each other"

You clinged to my body like you wanted it forever

What a lie, what a lie, what a lie

For you and I

You had waited in front of your door for days, barely eating & sleeping as you awaited Christian's return. You didn't know how many days had passed and honestly, you didn't care. You knew he'd come back. He had promised it. He had told you he loved you and would never leave you. And now he had.

He had left you.

Slowly, it dawned on you that he was not coming back, no matter how long you'd wait for him. Everything he had told you about his feelings, it had all been lies. You didn't mean anything to him. And since he'd been the last real source of stability in your life, you didn't mean anything to anyone.

You were alone. No matter how loudly you screamed and cried from the stinging pain in your chest, no one would care. No one would check on you.

What a lie, what a lie

For you and I

And although no one had ever hurt you like he had, no one had ever loved you like he had.

For you and I

If you had the chance, you'd go back to him and make things different. Maybe you wouldn’t have ended up so hurt and alone if you had done so from the start. If you were only given the chance, you'd do everything differently.

~~~~

taglist

@ithinkimokeei @myheartgoesvroom @mounthings @tall-tanned-tattoo @itsnotgray @alwaysclassyeagle @charlewiss @pianoisland @chelseagirl98 @lovelynikol16 @username-envy @pulisicsgirl @lizzypotter14 @bracedes @thoseboysinblue @swimmingismywholelife

#✎ natalie writes #christian pulisic #christian pulisic angst #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic x y/n #christian pulisic x you #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic fanfic

[rexxdjarin]

Potentially angsty! What about Mari during Umbara 👀? Too angsty?

Send me an episode/chapter/scene/ect. and I'll tell you what my OC was doing during it

Ahhhhh hi Maia my absolute beloved 🥺🥰🩷

So this is something I absolutely plan on covering in unwritten but..

But Mari is extremely, extremely worried about Rex during this specific campaign. She usually hears from him after a couple of days and this time she goes weeks without hearing from him. She is an absolute nervous wreck. She cries…a whole lot. She finds out from Padmé that Anakin had to leave and that they were left with a different jedi and that’s all she knows.

Until he comes home. In the middle of the night he comes in to her apartment. He’s numb and he’s silent. Like usual he never cries. That’s not his way. She hears the doors slide open and knows it could only be one person. She’s so relieved and excited to see him but when she runs out of her room into the hallway and sees the tattered armor and him standing their like a ghost of his former self she stops in her tracks. She knows something’s wrong. She knows.

She approaches with caution. She holds the side of his battle worn, dirty and blood stained cheeks, she tries to hold his gaze, to find the light in the his eyes. There’s nothing. He’s dark and cold and scared. He’s so scared and sad. His steps carried him here probably on adrenaline and gut instinct. She pulls him into a hug and keeps him there for a long time. He doesn’t move other than to wrap his arms around her to receive her.

He doesn’t speak. He’s so so tired. She walks him to her bed, he follows in silence. She tries to strip him of his armor and he stops her. He can’t bear to remove it. something happened. Something bad. She can tell. She lets him lay down on her bed and props his head up in her lap. She watches his eyes slowly and groggily hood closed. He falls asleep somehow.

And Mari stays up the entire night watching over him, knowing she needs to prevent whatever nightmare he’d just endured from revisiting him again in his dreams. She lets him rest in her lap.

He wakes up at day break. He still can’t talk. Cant explain it. She doesn’t ask him to. She brings him to the shower and bathes him, lets him hold her. He changes into casuals she keeps in her place for him. She feeds him gives him whatever he can handle which isn’t much.

And finally he tells her. As calmly as he can. Just so that she knows. She doesn’t ask questions. Just lets him explain. She knows there’s nothing she can do about it. She lets him be and lets him live and breathe. He sets the pace and lets her know what he can handle. It’s mostly just cuddling and napping.

He doesn’t leave until later that night and he tells her he’s grateful to have her and he can’t thank her enough for protecting him. With a final quiet I love you he leaves her there to head off on another mission. They are both changed and she cries for him behind closed doors and mourns for the men he lost because she knows society won’t.

She can’t take his pain away. She can’t make things better. But she can shoulder it. She can feel it too. That’s more than the rest of the galaxy is willing to take on for clones and that means more to Rex than he can ever describe. And it’s how he knows he is fully and truly in love with her.

#oc: mari vontas #captain rex x oc: mari vontas #captain rex x oc #wip unwritten #oc during canon events asks #ask game

[thecitythatdoesntsleep]

MAY 6TH "WHO DIED AND LEFT YOU IN CHARGE?”

Rope | Surprise | Warehouse || @themerrywhumpofmay​

(TCW: implied intimate whumper, threatening, restraints, semi-failed mission, implied gang/mafia trope, man handling, kidnapping)

“We both know he’s not coming up with the money, so we brought you a collateral,” A minion announced to the boss, throwing a squirming, restrained Whumpee onto the desk in front of them. The trek through the warehouse and into his office had been grueling, with them flailing around the whole time. 

“Who the fuck is this?” Whumper asked in irritation, “I said I wanted his kidney, or his money.” 

“This is his partner.” 

Whumpee thrashed in their multiple bindings but had been folded like an umbrella and wrapped with every rope and wire they could find in their home.

 Once they’d broken in and restrained them, the rest was easy work and they’d tied them up like bulk carpeting, wrapped around every flexible joint.

They muffled against their gag when their hair was yanked backwards and a man in a dark suit was chuffing on a cigar and examining them. 

“So you’re little man’s S.O, huh? Didn’t think he’d be the type to actually pull ass but I’ll give, you’re pretty in the face, not like the last one.” The boss mocked in surprise, giving a slow, ‘friendly’ push to their jaw with his fist like they were college buddies. 

“I gotta admit, she was a real ugly bitch, especially when she cried. God, killin’er was prolly a favor I did for your mans.” Whumper looked over towards the men that had kidnapped them and flicked his head towards the door, instructing them silently to leave and the knob clicked behind them. 

“Now listen doll, I don’t wanna do bad things to you because you’ve made some poor relationship choices, I’m not that kinda guy.” The boss slowly took a seat back in his chair and flicked out what Whumpee had only seen made into mock combs; a switch blade. 

Just the sound made their gut churn and they’d fallen still on his desk, not wanting to suddenly anger the man holding a knife. However, when he started to cut duct tape off of their feet and untie knots; they felt the smallest burst of relief in their chest. Even more so as strands of itchy fibers were sawed off and untwisted from their body parts. 

“So as long as you’re good and you listen to the boss, I won’t have any old reason to hurt’cha. I’ll even be a good guy and let you keep your clothes as a little luxury to the cause.” Whumpee couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not but the more freedom they felt, the more they listened to him and he could tell they were obliging by fear alone; even after he’d freed their mouth. 

“I just need that rat-fuck of a boyfriend of yours, to give me my goddamned money.” Whumper stabbed the knife between their knees and hit the desk; forcing a flinch from the unpredicted, plausible pain. They squeaked and Whumper laughed. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I guess that wasn’t very nice.” He teased, taking the knife back out to flick back inside itself and nest back into his chest pocket. In the meantime, they saw the strap of an underarm holster. No doubt the gun inside was ready to fire. 

Once Whumpee was freed, they waited patiently, watching him lean back into his chair and roll closer. They stayed on the desk and only positioned to look towards him, on edge that they’d make the wrong move and he’d have a reason to take back his self-appraised words. 

“P-Please don’t hurt me.. I-I didn’t know he was involved in anything like this, I promise.” They offered earnestly and he shook his head, reaching out to give a heavy pat to theirs and sweep hair across their scalp. 

“You don’t look like the type, sweetheart, that’s why I’m being good to’ya. You can lighten up a little, I’m not unhinged.” He assured and they slowly positioned to sit on the surface, until he reached his arms out like he was welcoming them closer to him instead. 

The only way closer was to his lap, tall, long legs perched nearly even with the height of the cutout in the desk. He had to be enormous standing, they hadn’t paid attention prior. 

“C’mere doll, sit on the boss’ lap and I tell you a story, you know like it’s the holidays.” He assured, seeing nothing dubious or wrong in the position, nothing in comparison to how they felt. 

The sight of the weapons on him, made them think twice about hesitation and so they took his hands with trembling fingers. The transition was smooth and they sat on warm thighs in an instant, dipping more comfortably than they’d expected. 

“There you go, not so scary, huh?” He asked, another heavy hand pushing hair off their face and they were starting to realize he was just a rough character. Mindless to the weight he put into things, even while trying to be gentle.

“Now I’m not going to pretend.. Like this ain’t gonna be hard for you, to be stuck here, but I’ll take good care of you...” They heard it coming, before he’d ever said it. There was a price, if they didn’t want to die or get hurt. His first statement had been about organ robbing so they still, weighed every option they had in their mind. 

“If you take good care of me, peach.” He gave a pinch to their cheek, dragged a thumb across their lower lip. 

“So we gotta deal, cupcake? You listen to the boss and the boss’ll erase every memory of that fuckboy you used to know.” 

There wasn’t much choice, when he pulled them further onto his lap and they felt metal scrape into their calve. Cold steel. Another gun on his hip. 

“Y-You’re the boss... right?” They stammered at first, solidifying their guts as they swallowed in fear of their agreement. Quickly though, they saw his lips curling into a smirk and they finished their sentence; just to try to kiss enough ass to survive. 

“The boss makes the rules, in my book.”

#whump #whump community #whumpblr #whump prompts #intimate whumper #whump prompt #whump blog #the merry whump of may #who died and left you in charge #tw whump #tw implied noncon #tw intimate whumper #tw threatening #tw manipulation #tw manhandling #tw kidnapping

[bravepoems]

230930 - The Funk

Have you ever been in a funk?

Have you ever have that funk last for three years?

Have you ever been ready for your life to start, and then BOOM here comes burnout?

Then BOOM comes a pandemic?

I guess many of you have.

At 28, that was my life.

I started new routines.

I tried my best to uphold the important relationships in my life.

I tried my best to let the toxic relationships get the fuck out of my life.

I threw up a few times

I tried again a few times.

I found someone with potential one night.

I let it slip through my fingers another night.

I found some new friends.

I ended up in a hospital, bandage over my head, walking with my short dress and bruises to my friends couch.

I was in pain for a while.

I realised I should entertain that potential one, one night.

It was wonderful

All of a sudden it wasn’t.

His hair came off and so did his front.

I wasn’t at my best.

Neither was he.

We carefully got closer to each other.

I did my best.

I was burnt out again, but didn’t want it to destroy everything.

I did my best.

He did too.

He was mean.

I was trying to make him comfortable.

He never got comfortable.

Things got worse.

I was screaming at the top of my lungs in the middle of the city as we were walking home, six hours into the new day, after celebrating my best friends birthday the whole night before.

He was unreasonable.

Unconsolable.

I once again did my best.

He apologized. He was being responsible.

Every time.

I never allowed myself to hold anger, resentment or fear.

But it was there.

Present the whole time I was trying to apologize.

Trying to be thankful when he bought me flowers.

When he reenacted a date we never got to have in his livingroom.

My cat got sick.

I moved.

Everything got worse.

He was anxious, controlling and supervising.

But also lovely.

We had high ups and low downs.

I got a therapist.

I got a new job.

We celebrated the new year.

A year later, he once again screamed at me four hours into the night in the middle of the street.

I went silent.

Then I forgave him.

Then came summer.

The one that got away.

He reached out in a millenial way.

At this point I had just started to slowly gain my other relationships back.

My friends

My friends, new and old ones, that I had not had the energy to entertain properply for three years.

Because of burnout.

Maybe because of him.

Maybe because of my slightly destructive habits.

I thought about that guy.

From a decade ago.

All of a sudden he might not have been the one that got away.

Maybe he was just a random face in the place of someone with potential to fill the shoes.

The shoes of a man who desperatly loves or loved me.

Or rather the idea of me.

Maybe I was guilty of that as well.

I don’t know.

Somewhere in the midst of all this a shirt of another man from forever ago became an issue that broke my mental health.

Maybe I actually AM a liar.

Maybe I actually AM as bad as he always painted me to be.

And that state of mental health has remained.

We backed off. We tried something new.

Some days I felt so much love for him.

Some days I felt like calling it off and be better on my own.

I got my groove back.

My best friend (the one with the birthdays) got crying mad at me at the midst of summer.

”He is GASLIGHTING YOU! And I am FUCKING mad about it!!”

And her boyfriend told me:

”You have always been Beyonce,

but not lately”.

Then shit got worse.

My cat got sick again.

My family member revealed a secret.

A disease.

I cried and called in sick for a week.

My new therapist who was supposed to treat the relationship OCD told me to.

She wanted me to be off work for longer.

I didn’t listen.

Now we are three years from where I started.

And for the first time, I really feel it is time.

Time to mend all of my other relationships.

And it came all naturally.

I just hope they want me back as bad as I want them back.

To be continued.

[miniaturemoonheart]

I was midwife of birth and death.

My medicine grew in fields and forests:

Mandrake.Yarrow. Henbane.

My heart beat in time to the spin of the earth.

I spoke only truth.

I would not be silent.

I would not speak the name of their god.

So they cut out my tongue.

I was an oracle. I was She Who Sees.

I saw the tracks of the stars and the path of the swallows,

The sun rising in the stones and lichen on tree trunks.

I would not cast down my gaze in front of their masters.

So they burnt out my eyes.

I was Creatrix. Pleasure was my magic.

My body writhed, moss against the arch of my back

As I howled my ecstasy to a strawberry moon.

I knew no shame.

I birthed when I chose.

I bled on the earth.

I would not hide my blood.

So they ripped out my womb.

I was sovereign. I knew no greater power than that of my own body.

I was not afraid of the dark.

I was Shakti.

I was wild, untamed.

I ran with the wolves and swam with the seals.

I raged with the wind and wept with the rain.

I would not be controlled.

So they bound my hands behind my back and slaughtered my children, one by one, in front of me, As I begged and screamed and sobbed.

“Help me,” I cried.

But my sisters whispered and turned away,

Their own children too precious to lose.

They hung me from a sacred oak.

As the blood dripped from my broken body, staining the blackthorn pyre beneath my feet,

I made a vow

Of silence.

And the terror settled into my bones, like sand.

II

For hundreds, thousands of years, I slept like this:

Obedient, chaste, demure.

Tamed.

My voice, my eyes, my blood, my magic, my power, my truth, all hidden in plain sight

In women’s bodies, coiled like a snake,

Concealed

By shame and fear.

They knew that I was not dead

So they masqueraded a parody of me through children’s dreams:

grotesque, warted, cackling

and bad to the bone,

A role model for no-one.

This was their greatest subterfuge.

When they heard my name, people trembled,

The truth was forgotten:

That I was a healer, a seer, a force of nature, a woman free of shame.

III

I slumbered on

But I could not sleep forever.

I heard a sound, what was it?

The death song of a shrike perhaps?

The padding footsteps of a lonely tiger?

And then I felt the blood.

It swelled in my womb and gushed from every cell in my body:

The blood of shame, the blood of pain,

The blood that forever kept time with the moon.

The disobedient blood that kept flowing from a wound that would not close.

I howled in agony

And opened my eyes.

I blinked

And looked around in disbelief at the withered, treeless earth,

Her arteries clogged with a filthy waste,

Her lungs choked.

She was not as I remembered her.

“Where am I?” I whispered.

The earth answered:

“You are home.”

The clothes they had dressed me in, I tore them from my body.

I put my hand to my breast to check my heart was still beating.

I reached down to my vulva and caressed her

And dipped my fingers inside that long forgotten passage.

At first, I felt nothing.

I persisted.

The numbness gave way to pain.

I pressed my cervix and the cries of a billion women,

Raped and beaten and silenced and murdered,

All over the world and through all of time

Seared my flesh with white heat,

And finally,

Finally,

I unleashed the rage that had built in my body for a thousand years:

A terrible screech, an animal howl, a guttural scream,

That split the sky

And rained back down on the earth as shattered glass.

And then the honey.

Sweet, orgasmic waves

Merged my body with the earth and the stars

And I was almost whole again.

There was work to be done.

I broke a branch from a willow to use as a wand.

My pelvic bowl was my cauldron.

I made magic.

I remembered that I had not always been alone.

I called out to my sisters: “Where are you?”

And their sleep muffled voices echoed back to me through the mist:

“We are here.

We are here.

We are here.”

-Midnight-🖤🩶

[belamuse]

I was midwife of birth and death.

My medicine grew in fields and forests:

Mandrake.

Yarrow. Henbane.

My heart beat in time to the spin of the earth.

I spoke only truth.

I would not be silent.

I would not speak the name of their god.

So they cut out my tongue.

I was an oracle. I was She Who Sees.

I saw the tracks of the stars and the path of the swallows,

The sun rising in the stones and lichen on tree trunks.

I would not cast down my gaze in front of their masters.

So they burnt out my eyes.

I was Creatrix. Pleasure was my magic.

My body writhed, moss against the arch of my back

As I howled my ecstasy to a strawberry moon.

I knew no shame.

I birthed when I chose.

I bled on the earth.

I would not hide my blood.

So they ripped out my womb.

I was sovereign. I knew no greater power than that of my own body.

I was not afraid of the dark.

I was Shakti.

I was wild, untamed.

I ran with the wolves and swam with the seals.

I raged with the wind and wept with the rain.

I would not be controlled.

So they bound my hands behind my back and slaughtered my children, one by one, in front of me, As I begged and screamed and sobbed.

“Help me,” I cried.

But my sisters whispered and turned away,

Their own children too precious to lose.

They hung me from a sacred oak.

As the blood dripped from my broken body, staining the blackthorn pyre beneath my feet,

I made a vow

Of silence.

And the terror settled into my bones, like sand.

II

For hundreds, thousands of years, I slept like this:

Obedient, chaste, demure.

Tamed.

My voice, my eyes, my blood, my magic, my power, my truth, all hidden in plain sight

In women’s bodies, coiled like a snake,

Concealed

By shame and fear.

They knew that I was not dead

So they masqueraded a parody of me through children’s dreams:

grotesque, warted, cackling

and bad to the bone,

A role model for no-one.

This was their greatest subterfuge.

When they heard my name, people trembled,

The truth was forgotten:

That I was a healer, a seer, a force of nature, a woman free of shame.

III

I slumbered on

But I could not sleep forever.

I heard a sound, what was it?

The death song of a shrike perhaps?

The padding footsteps of a lonely tiger?

And then I felt the blood.

It swelled in my womb and gushed from every cell in my body:

The blood of shame, the blood of pain,

The blood that forever kept time with the moon.

The disobedient blood that kept flowing from a wound that would not close.

I howled in agony

And opened my eyes.

I blinked

And looked around in disbelief at the withered, treeless earth,

Her arteries clogged with a filthy waste,

Her lungs choked.

She was not as I remembered her.

“Where am I?” I whispered.

The earth answered:

“You are home.”

The clothes they had dressed me in, I tore them from my body.

I put my hand to my breast to check my heart was still beating.

I reached down to my vulva and caressed her

And dipped my fingers inside that long forgotten passage.

At first, I felt nothing.

I persisted.

The numbness gave way to pain.

I pressed my cervix and the cries of a billion women,

Raped and beaten and silenced and murdered,

All over the world and through all of time

Seared my flesh with white heat,

And finally,

Finally,

I unleashed the rage that had built in my body for a thousand years:

A terrible screech, an animal howl, a guttural scream,

That split the sky

And rained back down on the earth as shattered glass.

And then the honey.

Sweet, orgasmic waves

Merged my body with the earth and the stars

And I was almost whole again.

There was work to be done.

I broke a branch from a willow to use as a wand.

My pelvic bowl was my cauldron.

I made magic.

I remembered that I had not always been alone.

I called out to my sisters: “Where are you?”

And their sleep muffled voices echoed back to me through the mist:

“We are here.

We are here.

We are here.”

[in-decisivo]

cont.

re: BLOCKING JAMES

B.

Feb 8 2022 vaccine - Sampaloc rally 2022 - Familykula night outs - Obar - Popup

even as conflicting my feelings are, i never miss feeling gutted, or had that intense wave of “something is wrong” that i cried out, waited out in pain hoping i was wrong this whole time, the events above are as many as the nights i cried myself to sleep, silently screaming that what im thinking was wrong and you would never do the things you swore you wouldnt do, that im crazy for feeling and thinking this way and im just so wrong to assume all of these to you

these are the nights that i have to pretend to be someone else, numb the pain to forget, or just get delusional and i hate that i ever reached this point- this is by far the longest guessing game i have to endure from anyone and i feel so sorry for myself for letting this happen when i couldve just let you go when you just didnt say “di kita lolokohin” “tumaya ka naman sakin, pagkatiwalaan mo ako” only your words that ive cling onto and you

but you started hiding things from even in its slightest details, you didnt notice but i was ever glancing at your phone everytime we are on a date EVERYTIME WE ARE ON A DATE MJ YOU ARE ALWAYS TEXTING JAMES & u think i didnt noticed & u think i was clueless & u think it doesnt matter

u think i didnt noticed when it was your mom’s bday on that night when i just happen to see your telegrams chatboxes, it was james on top of it when it couldve been my chatbox because u said goodnight but had a phonecall after midnight why do you keep lying to me was i not worthy of the truth

i really felt small that night but i just washed it all away in ur bed that night and i cried a little bit when i wished i couldve just gone home but i dont want to be rude to you or make u think im a crazy person looking for bad things to point on u, again

everytime u do all of those things i die a little bit more inside & u have the audacity to say “wala lang yon kaibigan ko lang iyon” when as a matter of fact if he was just a friend, why does he hold sooooooo much significance from the time we are together - to a point you turn sour when i mention his name, you gatekeep him from me, maybe getting close to him would make me see who he actually is

what have you done

you,

you, thats what happened

cont…

#personal #mj

[st4rrg1rll]

i had to put my cat down yesterday and i’m so fucking sad about it. i thought i was gonna be okay this morning but i got up and immediately started sobbing bc she wasn’t there meowing at me. i felt so silly hugging her picture in its frame. i couldn’t even go to the kitchen bc i knew it would just make me sadder. so i picked breakfast up and tried to be okay but i still teared up the whole drive tho i kept pushing it down bc i didn’t want to cry right before school. and then i told myself i would stay at school all day so i wouldn’t have to come bc coming home is really painful cause she’s not here to meow at the door and i don’t hear her little bell jingling on the other side of it waiting for me and like just her absence is so noticeable when i’m home since she was a fact of being here. class was so hard. i couldn’t focus at all. i kept thinking about her in my arms at the vet yesterday and how it hasn’t even been 24 hours yet. i kept tearing up in class and a tear almost even fell, which would have been totally mortifying. but honestly my behavior was mortifying enough. im really bad at pretending im okay when im not. but at least i didn’t cry. but i couldn’t stay at school. as soon as i got to my car i started bawling and cried the whole way home. and i just got worse once i got home. i keep hearing phantom jingling of her collar, and instead of saying “hi kitty” from outside the door, all i did was choke back sobs, which only lasted long enough for me to get inside before i started bawling again. i tried to make myself go in the kitchen but all i could see was the empty space where her mat and bowls used to be, and the empty shelf that had all of her food, and the bottle of her medicine still sitting on the counter, and the floor mat that she loved to sit on just looked empty without her on it. and of course today is sunny, it hasn’t been sunny since friday, so she didn’t even get to lay in her favorite sunny spots in front of the back door and the big back window in her last few days. but she did get to go out on the balcony on thursday and feel the direct sunlight on her fur. she liked that. but the sunny patches on the floor looked so empty without her laying in them. i sobbed in the living room for a moment after dropping all of my stuff which is still on the couch now. i smelled her blanket that’s thrown over the back of the couch in the spot that she laid on it last. i haven’t been touching it too much because i want to preserve it. not sure when i’ll wash it again. then i went to my room and sobbed into my pillow and got makeup on it, so i wiped off my dripping mascara and sobbed violently some more before i got tired. and here i am, scrolling thru my phone crying silently and looking at pictures and writing about it because i have no one to talk to. anyway, here’s my bibby. i hope she’s resting peacefully and that in her next life there is no pain.

#personal #lana #journal

[slasherlouvre]

for the emotional prompts, any of these for Bo?

" could... could you just hold me, a while? "

" you aren't a monster. "

" why are you still here?! why?! i destroy everything i touch! and yet you still stick around! "

(or Vincent or Lester tbh I love them all equally)

- 🔪

(( My toxic trait is definitely thinking I can write short & simple 'warm ups' ))

And because I have no self control, 🔪 anon:

I give you all 3 Sinclairs :') 🖤

“ Could…could you just hold me, a while? ” with Lester Sinclair

You couldn’t imagine what he felt. Your heart was broken, but Lester’s must have been completely taken from him altogether.

“Lester-”, you try yet again weakly.

“Leave me alone!”, he shouts, snatching his arm away from your touch and drunkenly stumbling forward in the process.

You had never seen him this way. This wasn’t your Lester.

Eyes that were only ever lively and affectionate, now red-rimmed and aggressively rubbed raw from refusing to let the tears escape. It was characteristic for Lester to look disheveled to a certain degree with the work he did, but this was entirely different. This was painful to see.

You felt utterly useless. Your heart ached to change this; to somehow attribute everything to nothing more than a bad dream. But there was nothing more you could do except silently cry and continue attempting to console him in any way he’d allow. You could tell he was finally beginning to break, and you’d be there when it happened no matter how many times he pushed you away.

He hadn't been able to sleep for two whole days now; refusing to eat, and consuming as much alcohol as it would take to let him forget for even a single insufferable moment. You did your best to deny him the bottle where you could, but knowing he'd just leave in his truck to seek it elsewhere worried you more. At least here he had you to make sure he was safe even when anguished out of his mind.

“Goddammit, (y/n)! Just- just fuck off!”, he tries to violently shake you off of him but he’s too weak now, and you know he doesn’t mean it. His words don’t hold the animosity he’d like them to because they’re so filled with suffering.

You only hold onto him tighter as you press your cheek against the straining muscles of his back in anguish. There are no words you can possibly offer him to ease the pain, but you hope your heart which is desperately beating against him, will help console him in some way; remind him that he still wasn’t completely alone.

“Please stop hurting yourself”, you plead sadly, “It…It’d hurt them to see you this way..”

It’s his breaking point. Lester lets out a wail so heart-rending that you’re unprepared; unable to keep hold of him as he slips from your grasp and falls to his knees with his head in his hands. He wants to deny what’s already in front of him so badly. Foolishly reassuring himself they’d walk through the doors of what was left of their childhood home at any moment now.

He’s weeping bitterly, voice hoarse and utterly broken from how much it hurts to keep calling out for them until his cries inevitably quiet into defeated moans. The sun is setting again, and you defeatedly sit next to his shaking form, hot tears unyielding in their passage from both of your exhausted eyes. You lean your head against his shoulder, hoping he won’t resist your touch this time, and he doesn’t. For a while, there’s just silence between you apart from the occasional sniffling that normally accompanies tears. Lester finally unable to hold out against the new reality so cruelly forced on him.

“Let’s get you home, Les”, you softly say.

He nods halfheartedly, feebly allowing you to help him stand and lean against you as you exit the house and get him in the truck. The entire drive is silent apart from the lurching and squeaking the uneven roads pull from Lester’s faithful pick up; you focusing on the familiar rural path towards your shared home, and Lester hollowly staring at nothing in particular out the window.

He’s hurriedly staggering out of the truck and throwing up on the side of the road once you arrive. Two days worth of mental anguish and physical neglect catching up to him all at once now that he was no longer in denial; the contents of his stomach proving to be little else besides liquid and bile from all of the alcohol.

You’re at his side in an instant, placing your hand against his forehead. It’s hot- too hot; his whole body is covered in sweat, and he’s weakly trembling now that the last bit of his strength has just been exerted.

Lester doesn’t process that he’s even in the tub until you’re already scrubbing at his skin with lukewarm water and soap.

“(Y/n)..?”, he groans, “My head-”

“I’m here, honey”, you assure softly while pressing your lips to his warm forehead, “I’m almost finished, we’ll get you changed and into bed, alright?”

You can tell he’s trying hard to focus on the sound of your voice, but you imagine his head is quite delirious from the fever. It hurts you to see him this way; both mentally and physically defeated as he fights to stay awake as best as he can. He’s a sickly pale, with dark circles to accompany his downcast eyes, and all traces of his toothy grin completely erased.

It’s his missing smile that impacts you the most; you can’t remember the last time seeing him without it- you swear he even smiles in his sleep. As you finish rinsing his hair out you wonder if you’ll ever see that smile again, or if that too, had passed alongside his brothers.

Fortunately, Lester is still awake despite his exhaustion which helps you to dress him that much easier. He’s sitting on his side of the bed while you carefully dry his hair. Jonesy pads her way inside the room, giving you both a sad whine while she lays down at the foot of the bed and drops her head.

“He’ll be alright, Jonesy”, you coo, “Lester just needs some sleep”

You help Lester get under the sheets once his hair is dry, kissing his temples tenderly. You’re about to step away to hang his towel to dry and pick up the house a little while he falls asleep, but he finds the strength to hold onto your sleeve before you do.

“(Y/n)..?”

“Yes, love?”

“Could…could you just hold me, a while?”, he brokenly asks.

His affectionate requests normally make your heart swell, but his voice is so miserably sad right now that it only breaks instead.

You give him a small, sorrowful smile and nod your head, “Of course”

You’re cradling his head in your arms once you join him under the covers; gently positioning him against your chest to be lulled to sleep by your steady heartbeat and find comfort in your warmth. Warmth that means you are here. Warmth that means you are alive, and at his side. You soothingly run your fingers through Lester’s hair until his breathing finally evens out and you’re sure he’s asleep.

“I’ll look after him, boys”, you cry. Hoping somehow, someway, they’d hear you.

You only had each other now.

“ You aren’t a monster. ” with Vincent Sinclair

He kills viciously; often doing so with a sadistic kind of thrill if he’s feeling anything at all to begin with. Paralyzing and waxing the living only ever elicits artistic satisfaction in him, and the violence and death he leaves in his wake don’t ever unnerve him. It seems as though nothing could be able to discompose his cold and collected exterior, but the berserk state he was in now clearly disproved that.

You had seen him. The real him. Something he had wanted to keep from you indefinitely; no doubt, a horrific memory you’d always keep in your mind now. He’s enraged, he’s distraught, he’s disgusted, but not at you. It hadn’t been your fault, and it still wouldn’t have changed his decision to step in and protect you.

Vincent lets out a furious sound made harsh and hoarse by his vocal cords before sending yet another set of tools and wax mask models crashing to the ground.

You could hear the forceful impacts from below, unconsciously flinching every time cherished works of art were destroyed by their own creator. Vincent’s angry, guttural vocals occasionally loud enough to register through the floor.

“It’s my fault”, you finally say weakly

“Nah, it ain’t yer fault..”, Bo whispers uncharacteristically gently.

He continues to bandage your bleeding arm with his brows knit together in frustration. The twins weren’t angry with you, just upset at themselves for ‘letting’ you get hurt. They were relieved your injury hadn’t been more severe, but you becoming hurt was always a sensitive subject for them regardless of the severity.

“But if I wouldn’t have gotten in the way, Vincent wouldn’t have needed to jump in and-”

“And it still ain’t yer fault, (y/n)”, Bo interrupts with an added sternness to his tone that doesn’t last, “Vince jus’ didn’t want t’scare ya since he..likes ya so much. Thought it’d make you see him different.”

You couldn’t forget Vincent’s stunned expression when the man he had defended you from knocked his mask off with his fist in their struggle. It was the most emotion you’d ever seen displayed on his features, and the first time entirely seeing his features at all without artfully sculpted wax to stand in the way.

The animosity that immediately overtook the gentle Vincent you were so used to had admittedly made you tense as he ripped the man apart with his twin blades. Incessantly lacerating with enraged snarls ripping from his throat until the man was nothing more than an unrecognizable mass of red. You had seen him kill before of course, but never like this. This was the first time seeing Vincent kill without the unwavering apathetic exterior that made him look almost indifferent when committing brutal acts.

You were still in the same position on the floor you had been in just before Vincent stepped in; one of your knees defensively propped up, and shaky arms supporting your weight from behind when you had frantically tried to place distance between you and your attacker. You were frozen still from the shock; a sight Vincent mistook for horror directed at his visage, rather than the situation, before escaping you altogether.

“That’s why he-?”, you stall, “But I’d love Vincent no matter what he looks like!”

“I know”, Bo nods while finishing up with your arm, “Vince jus’ needs ya t’say it is all”

“But he locked the way in”, you remind Bo looking to the floor from your seat within the small medical room.

“Go through the house of wax”

You couldn’t help the uneasiness eating away at your nerves when you quietly descended into the candlelit basement that was darker than usual. Wax models, masks, and the tools of his craft littered across the floor- many in pieces from what you were able to see in front of you.

“Vincent..?”, you call out to him, carefully choosing your footing.

You couldn’t see much, but you didn’t have to because he was in front of you before you had even registered his initial location.

“Vincent”, you sigh in relief, automatically beginning to wrap your arms around him.

He catches your wrists in his large hands, turning your injured arm towards him to examine. His mask is on again, but you can tell from his visible blue eye he’s regarding you at a distance.

“Bo patched me up, I’m okay”, you whisper tentatively, “…thank you for keeping me safe”

Even with your wrists still in his hands you’re close enough to gently lean your forehead against his chest, pressing your cheek into his familiar warmth. You feel him shift, but instead of embracing you like you’d normally expect him to, he moves you at arm’s length.

“What’s wrong, love?”

Vincent can hardly take your disheartened expression at his withdrawal. But the way you had looked at him, the real him, was something he couldn’t remove from the forefront of his mind. It was agonizing, but he’d still prefer you to be honest than to come to him now and fake that he hadn’t disgusted you.

‘I’m a monster’, he signs

“What?”, you murmur in shock, but he doesn’t retract his words.

‘You saw it too’, he insists, ‘Go. I won’t blame you’

“Vinny? Vincent?”, you’re desperately pulling away from his grasp in order to reach up to cup the sides of his shrouded face in your hands now.

“Look at me, Vincent”, you demand sternly as you delicately turn his head to meet your eyes, “You aren’t a monster. And I could never be scared or disgusted of you. I was only startled at how upset you became- I was worried about you”

It’s hard to tell with so little light surrounding you both, but you can see the tears threatening to spill from his defeated look. You can feel your throat begin to tighten with the onset of your own tears, but it’s important for you to try and keep your voice strong- he needed to hear you.

“Maybe I can’t change the way you see yourself”, you begin gently, slipping your thumbs underneath his mask to touch the skin beneath, “-but you can’t change the way I see you either”

Vincent tenses when he feels you begin to lift the hand crafted veil separating you, but he doesn’t stop you, “And I see only what I love”, you declare quietly once it’s removed and set down.

“I see you”

His tears are freely falling now, and even though he’s much taller than you, you do your best to reach him; gingerly cupping his jaw again to bring his beautiful face down to your lips. You’re kissing the right side of his face with such ardent affection that Vincent swears he can feel his heart swell and stop all at once. It’s easier to kiss him now that he’s keenly leaning into your touch, wrapping his arms around you where they belong. Your lips are featherlight, appreciating every dip and curve of the red scar tissue he was taught to hate so much. You love him. Every part of him.

“-and you are lovely, Vincent”, you breathe.

“ Why are you still here?! Why?! I destroy everything I touch! And yet you still stick around! ”

with Bo Sinclair

“Bo-”

“Let go, I'll do it my damn self, (y/n)”

“Bo, let me help you, you're hurt-”, you attempt again

“I said get yer hands off me! Don’t need ya fuckin’ coddling me like some damn kid!”, he shouts venomously

“Is that what you think this is?”, you reply in disbelief, “Well I’m sorry I care about you too much to let you bleed out on the floor, Bo!”

“Who the hell asked ya t’care?! Always actin' like I goddamn need you- I want ya gone! Get!”, he spats back

“..You don’t mean that”

You had tried to say it firmly, but your own voice betrayed you, making it sound more like you were trying to convince yourself.

So when he had bitterly pushed past you without another word, you swore you felt your heart sink to the pit of your stomach.

You tried not to take it as personally as he made it sound. Getting into a fight with Bo wasn’t uncommon with the way he struggled to regulate his emotions; one of the more unfortunate results of the abuse he’d received as a child. It didn’t make it right, of course, but your love for him had always made you patient and understanding.

It was beginning to get dark out, but the house suddenly felt far too suffocating in your current emotional state. If Bo’s wound had been more severe, you would have forced yourself to tough out his current mood in order to make sure he was well-tended, but Vincent was home too, and would no doubt keep an eye on him in your brief absence.

You just started walking. Not really bothering to consider a specific direction. It was easy to become distracted with your thoughts; your mind never seeming to rest even when you didn’t feel so emotionally sore.

The night was cool, a welcome change to the humid Louisiana days that often exasperated you, and no doubt, the reason you ended up so far away from Ambrose before you even realized.

“Shit”, you curse under your breath.

How long had you been gone now? The night sky had definitely gotten darker, making the rural path you were currently on look far more threatening than it actually was.

“Time to head back”, you mutter.

You were sure Bo hadn't even noticed your absence to begin with, so you didn’t bother to quicken your leisurely pace.

You listen to the plentiful crickets chirp out their nightly song as your shoes crunch along the dusty path, idly kicking the occasional rock as you go. The scarce fireflies that tease your vision within the tree line make you smile with the way they light up and disappear before lighting up again somewhere entirely different; like a playful game of hide and seek anyone is welcome to join if they only pay enough attention. Hearing the occasional frog pipe up to add loud croaks between the cricket’s steady chorus is also characteristic for this time of night; creating a melody you’re convinced you can no longer sleep without after having lived in Ambrose for so long.

When you enter the familiar little town again, you realize something is wrong. All of the lights are on to brightly illuminate your path- which usually only happens when the boys are in pursuit of victims.

You can hear yelling, but as you run in the direction of it you realize it’s Bo’s voice. You finally see him across the way yelling at Vincent in a manic frenzy when you reach the front of the garage.

“I’m tellin’ you they left goddammit!”, he shouts while roughly shoving off Vincent’s attempts to calm him, “Help me fuckin’ find em!”

“Bo?”, you call out as you near them now, “Bo, what’s wrong?”

His wild blue eyes are in the direction of your voice in an instant. You’re caught off guard when he roughly reaches you and grips your arms against your sides painfully.

“Don’t you ever fuckin’ run off like that again, ya hear?!”

He’s shaking your shoulders to make sure his words sink in before he’s crashing his lips against yours with a fervent intensity over and over.

“Bo-”, you mewl in between his passionate assault.

He pointedly ignores you as he moves down to bite and suck on your neck, causing you to gasp heatedly. But just as quickly as he had began to stir you up, he’s now pushing you away; cruelly making you aware of just how much you crave his touch as he firmly stares you down.

“Why’d ya come back”

It's said more like a statement than a question, but the way his brows are knit together in frustration suggests he's genuinely wanting an answer from you.

“I-”, you falter as you try to catch your breath, “What do you mean? I just went for a w-”

“Told you I wanted ya gone, that I didn't need ya- so why are ya still here?!”, he demands now

Your mind is still reeling from the flux emotional intensity you constantly find yourself experiencing with Bo, but you realize he’s not actually angry at you right now.

He’s blaming himself- even hating himself for the way he ends up treating you without meaning to sometimes. But even after all this time, he still can't bring himself to understand why you stay by his side despite it all.

“Because I want to be here, Bo”

"Why?!”, he pressures further, “I destroy everythin' I touch! And yet ya still stick around!- the hell's wrong with you?!"

His words are beginning to lose their edge despite their volume. Hostility giving way to the feelings of inferiority and inadequacy he so desperately fights against every day; feelings cruelly implanted into him by the same people responsible to have raised him with the care and support he deserved.

Raised voices and aggression are only ever fronts to scare off what he really fears most: vulnerability.

“Because I love you”, you admit freely.

You know it hurts him to comprehend how you genuinely mean it, but you don't mind reassuring him of the fact for the rest of your life if necessary.

You close the distance between you gently, almost regarding him like a wounded wild animal as you lift one of his marred wrists to your lips.

“-even when you think you don’t deserve it, or aren’t good enough, I will be here to prove you wrong”, you continue while wrapping your arms around his middle.

You place your chin on his chest to look up at his eyes that have now tiredly settled into a forlorn expression behind blue, “What you were put through…that wasn’t your fault Bo. Which means you can’t blame yourself for everything that happens now, but even so- you still fight against what they forced on you”

“And as long as some part of you keeps wanting to change for the better-”, you continue, reaching up to kiss his solid jawline, “-you can’t possibly be what they tried to make you think you are"

#anon #🔪 anon #nwrites #house of wax #vincent sinclair #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #slasher x reader #x reader #slasher fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #slasher content #slasher community #slasher fandom #x gn reader #x y/n #x gender neutral reader #ask game #writing prompt #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x y/n #vincent sinclair x you #vincent sinclair x y/n #lester sinclair x you #lester sinclair x y/n #slashers

[captains-simp]

can you do a fic where reader unintentionally breaks one of the rules by accident so she has to be punished but the punishment is being ignored by BOTH wanda AND nat and reader is uncomfortable with being ignored because it makes her feel invisible and like she's a ghost so like this is what happens, reader breaks a rule in front of wanda and nat but reader doesn't realize she broke a rule but wanda and nat punish reader without telling reader first, and they punish her by not acknowledging her presence and stuff then reader just breaks and starts crying and stuff, she's really upset until nat and wanda cave in and see what's wrong with reader because they didnt know that reader didnt realize she broke a rule and her punishment was being ignored by them

also nat is dom, wanda is switch (like wanda is sub to nat but dom to reader) and reader is sub also nat, wanda and reader are in a poly dom/sub relationship and dating

Oh my god is this ✨smut with a developed storyline✨?

Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanoff ~ 3rd Wheel

Warnings: debatable toxic traits, feelings of abandonment and unlove, fingering, praise, oral and hints of overstimulation

2.4k words

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You giggled as Sam made stupid sound effects every time he paused in telling his story. You were pretty sure the story wasn’t true but hearing him tell it was entertaining enough. He put his hand on your forearm as he laughed at his own comeback to some apparently ‘very real’ character in the story and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him. That was until your other arm was grabbed and pulled you to your feet. 

“It’s late, we should go.” Natasha said curtly. You nodded and said goodbye to Sam with a tight hug and followed after the Russian as Wanda joined her at her side. 

“How did your meeting go?” You teased the redheads. Officially, what you had just attended was a party. Unofficially, it was a chance for Natasha and Wanda to gather more intel for a future mission that they had been working on for months. Tony, to no one’s surprise, was more than happy to help by hosting the party and it was just like any other to everyone else. You had missed your girlfriend’s company at first, but had eventually started socializing with the others and the night had flown by. 

When you were met with silence you assumed you didn’t hear either of their responses over the music so you sped up your steps slightly to stick close by. Once you got to the car you knew they were in a bad mood. It was one thing when one of them was mad but both of them was a whole other storm. Not that it was always bad. Sometimes they would take that anger out on you in the bedroom and you had secretly been dying to be fucked like that for a while. 

You tried to make conversation a few times, telling the pair about Sam’s story and how it was probably about as real as fairies but they still didn’t respond. Of course, you had no idea that these things were just making them madder and that Wanda and Natasha were communicating silently most of the time, discussing the meeting as they ignored you. You gave up eventually and gazed out the window as you fiddled with the fabric of your dress. 

Once you were home things only seemed to get worse. “I made dinner before we left.” You said as you looked under the grill to find that the three served plates were still fine and put them on the counter. You had cooked before getting ready because you knew your girlfriends were busy and were going to be hungry when they got home. You glanced at the two women to see Natasha undoing her girlfriend’s zipper and placing a soft kiss between her shoulder blades. You smiled at the tender site. 

“Hey, where’s my kiss?” You teased as Natasha started towards the bedroom but shouldered right past you. You looked to Wanda but she didn’t spare you a glance either as she strolled through the apartment to your shared bedroom. You watched them go with a dry mouth and dragged yourself to the bathroom where you struggled to undo the zipper of your dress before finally succeeding after five minutes of struggling and sore arms. One of the redheads usually did it for you before you could even think to ask.  

You stepped into the shower and tried to focus on the feeling of the hot water running down your body, hoping it would distract you from the dull ache near your heart. It didn’t work. You wondered if you had done anything to annoy them at the party but could think of nothing. With a disgruntled sigh, you turned off the water and stepped out of the safety of the shower. You quickly dried off and tiptoed to your now-empty bedroom to change into your pajamas. 

When you went back into the kitchen you found only one of the plates was left. You glanced over at the living area to see Wanda and Natasha curled up together on the couch under a blanket as they watched TV and ate the food you made. They could have at least warmed mine up. You grumbled to yourself as you put it in the microwave and made yourself a drink. You trudged over to the couch but Wanda extended her legs to cover the free space just as you were about to sit down. You looked up at them both but their eyes were still glued to the TV. 

You sat down tentatively on the armchair closest to the couch and started taking small bites of your food. You weren’t paying attention to the screen at all. Instead, your eyes kept flickering to the two redheads curled up on the couch together. They looked so warm and tender laying together. You wished so desperately you could be with them, but instead you just felt like an outsider. That had always been a big insecurity for you. Wanda and Natasha were both Avengers and you were just a normal citizen. You often wondered if you ever felt like a burden, the weak part of their relationship. You could never understand their lives the way they could, you could only watch. Usually, you would voice your concerns and insecurities to them and they would assure you to no end that they loved you more than anything. However speaking had gotten you nowhere that night, so you kept it to yourself. 

You sat in the living room for hours. You wanted to go to bed so badly. You were utterly exhausted and your eyes were starting to hurt from the lights in the room you wanted to be shielded from. But you were determined not to go until the other two did. You wanted to be curled up between them both like you always were. You wanted to feel safe and secure and most of all loved. 

Finally, Natasha turned off the television and stretched out like a cat on the couch before standing and making her way to the bedroom, leading Wanda by the hand. You put your uneaten plate of food on the side to deal with the next day, too tired to even think about it at that moment. The pair instantly dropped down into bed and Natasha held Wanda tightly as she rested her head on the Russian’s chest. You gazed down at them longingly but forced yourself into bed besides them. You reached out your hand to tug weakly on their shirts, desperate for any kind of acknowledgement but received none. You withdrew your hand and held it up to your chest as you watched the pair. How long had they been craving time to themselves? 

You slowly got out from under the covers and left the room without feeling their usual fond gazes on your back. You lingered in the hallway before glancing back and saw Natasha tracing circles on Wanda’s back. You gulped back tears and made your way to the spare bedroom where you slept alone for the first time in months. 

*

You didn’t get up until lunch the next day. You didn’t feel like doing anything, especially not facing your girlfriend. You wanted to stay out of their way to give them the alone time they so clearly needed.

When you had finally dragged yourself out of bed and into the hallway you froze. Wanda’s moans could be heard clearly from your bedroom followed by sharp cries of Natasha’s name. You stood rooted to the spot as the pain in your chest grew worse. Since they had so keenly invited you into their relationship. The pair had never once done anything sexual without you. At first you had been flattered and insisted that you were okay if they wanted to do things by themselves every once in a while but eventually you had grown used to how things were. You had grown used to being included in everything. 

Numbly, you made yourself a hot chocolate in hopes of it raising your spirits. Not long after you had finished, your girlfriends came wandering into the kitchen with a new glow. 

“Do you want a drink?” You piped up, you could at least be helpful. Wanda grabbed something from the fridge as Natasha took out a glass from the cupboard and spun around to kiss her girlfriend on the lips with a soft giggle. Wanda smiled against her and hummed when Natasha’s tongue teased the Sokovian’s lower lip. 

“I love you.” Natasha hummed and Wanda smiled with a blush as she said the words back. 

“I- I love you too.” You added and took a desperate step towards them both, holding out your hands to them but they separated and started to stroll back into the living room. You watched on as tears sprung to your eyes. They didn’t say it back. They always said it back. “Please.” You whispered though you may have well have been talking to a wall. You whimpered quietly and weakly made your way to the guest room where you closed the door and fell down onto the bed, not being able to stop the tears streaming down your face. You curled up on yourself and hugged your duvet as close to your body as possible, needing something to cling onto like a lifeline. 

You didn’t hear the door open through your muffled weeping. You did feel the gentle pair of hands on your waist and the dip in the bed either side of you. Your head shot up and you looked between the pair in panic, fearing they were going to tell you to go elsewhere for the day or even forever. Wanda shushed you softly and held your dampened cheeks in her hands. 

“It’s okay, honey.” Wanda cooed and you whimpered as you tried to enjoy what you assumed was the last time she would hold you. “We’re not going anywhere and neither are you.” You peered at her cautiously and then Natasha who nodded gently. 

“We’re sorry, baby. Sam was getting a little too handsy last night and you didn’t seem to notice.” Natasha explained carefully. You remembered the brief moment he had touched your waist and frowned at the memory. 

“And you know letting people touch what isn’t theirs is breaking a rule.” You nodded slowly as Wanda added on.

“So your punishment was being ignored by us so you could learn but we took it too far.” Natasha admitted.

“And we never told you what was happening. We’re so sorry we made you feel this way, sweetie. We love you so much.” Wanda said as she kissed you softly on the lips as Natasha lay down behind you and wrapped her arms protectively around your waist. 

“So so much.” She added. 

“Promise?” You asked and Wanda lay down to join you and wipe your tears away. 

“Always.” 

“Let us show you.” Natasha whispered against your neck and you nodded as she rolled you gently onto your back and began planting soft kisses along your neck, occasionally lingering on patches of skin to suck dark bruises into them. Wanda titled your head towards you and kissed you slowly, cherishing the taste of you and wanting to reclaim all that she could. 

Natasha’s hands started to wander down your stomach and landed at the hem of your sweatpants that she easily surpassed along with your panties. You gasped when you felt her fingers run along your folds and up to your clit. You bucked your hips and moaned against Wanda when she applied some pressure, all while the Sokovian started to retrace her girlfriend’s steps by running her hands across your breasts. Her thumbs brushed against your hardened nipples and she hummed against you. 

Natasha finally pushed two fingers past your folds and relished in the slick that coated them instantly. She curled them gently inside you and withdrew to start about making a consistent pace that had you melting beneath them both. 

“That’s it, sweetie.” Wanda assured in the most loving tone you had ever heard from her. 

“Taking me so well. Our best girl.” Natasha hummed and withdrew her fingers. You whined softly but shushed when Natasha brought her fingers up to Wanda’s lips and slid them inside. The Sokovian hummed in delight around Natasha’s fingers, eagerly licking her slender digits before retreating to start down your body, determined to gain an unfiltered taste. 

Wanda pulled your sweatpants and panties off completely and kissed up your thighs softly, taking her time in treasuring you just as Natasha had done with your neck. She gleamed at the sight before her and didn’t hesitate to lick a long strip between your folds. You mewled in Natasha’s hold as Wanda moaned against you. “Always so sweet.” She dipped her tongue inside of you and you clenched around her muscle with a gasp.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good for us.” Natasha praised softly as she started to rub your clit with her free hand. You bucked against both their movements, feeling beautifully overwhelmed by it all. Wanda’s tongue flicked inside you and you moaned loudly into the air, tempting Natasha to quieten you with a kiss while your other girlfriend continued to work between your legs that were beginning to shake. 

“Please.” You whined as you felt your high approaching. The pair smiled at one another as they continued to please you. 

“I can feel you clenching my tongue.” Wanda mused.

“Go ahead and cum for us, baby.” You did as you were told without a second’s delay. You moaned loudly into the air as you shuddered against the bed and came undone on Wanda’s tongue. The pair helped you ride out your high and into another orgasm relentlessly. They didn’t let up, making you cum again and once more, leaving you feeling utterly exhausted and overworked. 

“That’s it, darling. You did so good for us.” Wanda praised as she fell down besides you and they both held you protectively. 

“We love you.” Natasha muttered softly and you smiled.

“I love you both too.” You hummed, enjoying the warmth of your girlfriends’ comfort.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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