#just absolutely crumble to pieces sobbing screaming crying throwing up

[teabreakpancakes]

hi !! could i request sfw/nsfw hcs for norton, naib and mike with a g/n tsundere reader? 👉👈

I Know You Care Norton, Naib, and Mike with a GN Tsundere! S/O

Genre: Fluff, NSFW

𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋

𝐒𝐅𝐖

he thought you hated him at first but as soon as someone even tried vying to get his attention you'd steal him away from them

you started being nice to him but most of the time you'd still act mean and cold

you confessed during a match, norton was ballooned and you saved him before he'd get sent back, the hunter hit him again and you desperately tried saving him.

Before the prospector got sent back he screamed a question at you, still struggling to get out of Geisha's balloon. "Why are you trying so hard to save me?!", the hunter, Geisha, facepalmed at this. "I LIKE YOU YOU FUCKING DUMBASS!" you reply, running away from Violetta who was laughing her ass off. Vera laughs from within the large carnival tent, "They finally confessed, been waiting for a while for that" she giggles, remembering how she tried to make you jealous by trying to flirt with Norton.

norton was shocked, he didn't know someone could actually fall for him of all people

he gradually fell for you the more time you guys spent together

you had your first date in the manor's garden at night

he had to admit that your cooking was absolutely amazing—but when he did say that while you were cooking in the kitchen, he got a cute reaction out of you

"Of c, course my cooking is good, you'll never be able to find someone else that can cook better than me s, so" (Name) stumbles on their words, face getting redder with each passing moment. They turn, dashing out of the kitchen and leaving Norton with their dish. Norton smiles, chuckling before finishing the rest of the food.

he likes to compare you to an angry cat

some of the survivors call you the moody cat and the cat owner as a joke

"Norton! get your moody cat, they're gonna throw a fit if they don't see you!" Vera teases her friend, wagging a ball of yarn they got from Miss Nightingale in front of them. "J, Just DECODE ALREADY!" they scream at her, groaning when they realise they attracted the hunter to them.

he gives you headpats to calm you down—very very effective :)

he loves carrying you around in his arms, he rescues you like that too

he gets a heavy scolding when he gets hurt during matches he actually looks forward to them

he's unfamiliar with the feeling of someone treating him like he's glass but he loves it because it's you

he was elated to find out that he was your first everything, he wants to be your last

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖

he doesn't exactly have a lot of experience but boy does he learn quickly

he's very gentle with you so unless you misbehave he won't be rough

he loves overstimulating his little brat :)

you're usually so rude but in bed it all just falls to pieces

he loves it when you beg for him

he teases you in matches, it's always so fun to see you crumble before his very eyes

he only ever wants to make you cry in bed

he loves shutting you up by making you suck on his fingers or his dick

you guys fuck like bunnies because you can't go a few days without being filled up by him

"Since you're always so damn mouthy, why don't you suck on my fingers instead" he crooned, massaging (Name)"s tongue as he continued to grind his hips into them. Muffled sobs left their mouth, eyes hazy and teary as they lay under Norton, body covered in hickeys and bite marks.

𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐁 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐑

𝐒𝐅𝐖

this fucker could see right through you

you act so damn mean but guess what, he can see your ears turning red whenever he's near you

"What's up with that rescue? even Memory can do a better job than you!" (Name) hollered, heat crawling up their neck and ears as the mercenary approached them. Naib arched an eyebrow at them, rolling his eyes, "Maybe you should try learning how to kite the Clerk properly instead of yapping at me like a dog" he retorted, flicking their bright red ear.

he wanted to wait for you to confess but he ended up falling for you while waiting

how could someone be so damned cute and annoying at the same time?!

he sees you as a brat, he calls you brat too—well, he managed to call you brat on accident at first, he started calling you it because he liked your reactions

he confessed during a match, he pinned you to a wall when you passed by him.

"Naib, we have to decode you dumbass" they hiss out, attempting to push the mercenary away despite enjoying being so close to him. Naib tightened his grip on (Name)'s shoulder when they tried to push him off, leaning so their faces were inches apart. "Since it's taking you so damn long to fess up, I'll go first," he growled, "I have feelings for you brat, see? wasn't so hard now was it?" he snarled, eyes staring into theirs.

invites you to train with him just so you can spend more time with him

he loves giving you brief touches on your neck because you always shiver at the slightest touch that lands on your neck or your waist

he slaps your ass when he rescues you

he lets the hunters hit him sometimes just because he wants you to worry over him after the match

(Name) glares down a the mercenary as they wrap bandages around his torso. Naib swallows when their hands graze his abdomen, looking up and staring directly at their face. He smiles lopsidedly, noting how their cheeks flushed at the sight of his nude and wounded upper body.

secretly enjoys getting scolded by you whenever you tell him he's too reckless

between you and him, he thinks he can cook better but you always argue back with him about how you are the better cook

he lets you act like you're the better cook since he adores that stupid smile on your face

some of the new survivors thought you both were a married couple, naib never corrected them since you were both going to get married eventually

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖

you are never topping this man

brat tamer, do i need to say more?

he often wonders if you do the things you do because you love getting punished by him

he likes spanking you—with consent, he doesn't actually like hurting you

overstim and edging are his favourite punishments

not experienced, you're actually his very first relationship, doesn't mean he won't learn quickly though

he actually will fuck you in matches if you test him enough

he once bent you over a window and railed you right then and there because you kept teasing him

he has way too much stamina

Naib bit down on the inside of your thigh, fingers still pumping in and out of them as they orgasmed for the umpteenth time. The mercenary smirked, standing up and sucking on his fingers. He groaned at your taste, lust swirling in his blue eyes as he stared down at your trembling figure.

𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍

𝐒𝐅𝐖

thought you were an asshole but then he realised that you just had a hard time expressing what you really felt

amused to see you try to hide your concern behind a mean front

you were often mean to him and yet you were a very good friend, fucker actually fell in love with you without realising

Mike leaned against the crate, smiling at the sight of you chasing Axe Boy around in a game of tag. 'They'd be a good parent to our kids, wait, our?!?' Mike smile faltered when he realised, he had fallen for his bestfriend.

he's unaffected by how cold and mean you can come off as

you can't lie to him, he just sees through every single thing—it's as if he has a lie detector in his head

he's taught you how to make bombs before

"You add gunpowder and then voilà! we've got a nitro bomb!" he chimed, shaking the ball in front of their starry eyes. "Teach me more!" they uncharacteristically exclaim, eager to learn more from Mike.

you often leave his favourite dishes and treats in front of his door, he always knows it's from you since you're the only one aside from murro who knows what he likes

Mike smiles at the sight of a bag of cookies in front of his door. He shakes his head, "How cute" he says to no one in particular, picking up the bag and closing the door.

he gets scolded by you a lot. it's like the man has a damned death wish

he likes dragging you around to wherever he can be alone with you

he confessed when he asked you to meet him in the garden late at night to watch the stars

he performs tricks in front of you just to see you smile and giggle

he often collects small trinkets just to give them to you

he's short but he's ballsy as hell, he'll even go as far as to mess around with the hunters just to see your reaction

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖

he loves the fact that he's the only one that sees you in such a state, crying and begging him for more

mike loves ruining you, making sure you can barely say anything at the very end of each session

he's way too fast, rarely goes slow

he loves making you sit on his face, he enjoys staring at your face while he makes a mess out of you

he doesn't like edging you but he does love overstimming the living crap out of you

Mike hummed into their sex, enjoying how they shivered and cried out due to the overstimulation. He parts from their dripping heat, bending them over the finished cipher machine and lining himself up to their entrance. "'m gonna go in now 'kay? we're on the last cipher so we gotta be quick" he whispers, plunging his cock into them.

you're gonna have to beg him to stop if you want him to stop forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you

he'll fuck you in public if he can, he wants everyone to know that you're his

he loves filling you to the brim with his cum

#lawless.writes #idv.writing #idv x reader #identity v #idv scenarios #gn reader #identity v x reader #identityv #idv mercenary #victor grantz #norton campbell #idv naib x reader #idv norton x reader #idv mike x reader #idv mike morton #idv victor x reader

[tommyspeakycap]

Can I request some chilly fluff? Anything really, just some cute sweet chilly fluff with a little bit of angst maybe?

of course! here's an idea that's been swimming around my brain all day lol

helping hand

ben isn't coping with his newest responsibility and his best friend comes to save the day once again

It's honestly less about the news than it is about the fact that you didn’t here it from him. Texts have gone mostly unanswered since you read that online article you first believed was false, only for it to be confirmed by him. You offered a congratulations despite the pain it brought to you to hear that you had completely lost your chance.

You had probably called him about a million times, each time ringing out and some even being hung up after merely a few rings.

At first, you worried that something had happened. Then you managed to wrangle the news out of Mason that everything was well, you let yourself have those days of utter heartbreak that he had found a girl, started to settle down and then completely cut you out of the picture. This was the first time in all of your 23 years that you hadn't been able to speak to him about things that were going on. He seemed to have completely fogotten about you and you couldn't bring yourself to think of a reason why.

She never really did like you, his girlfriend. You could only imagine it had something to do with the fact that Ben was incredibly close with you. A lot of girls had been unhappy with the fact that while dating Ben, they were subject to teasing that everyone was surprised he was dating when they had thought he was so clearly in love with you. You understand that, it would be irritating but nothing had ever happened between you and Ben that might suggest you would ever get together. People just love a rumour.

What had really hit you, however was seeing her from the Instagram you followed. She didn't even appear to be in London, never mind with him and that made no sense by the timeline you had managed to figure out.

That's how you found yourself standing at his door with what felt like a million bags and a feeling of hurt you had never actually had before. You cornered Mason, refusing to leave until he told you what the hell was going on and when he did, you were gone like a flash with a broken heart to seek out the man who needed you now more than he ever did.

Your heart shatters even more when you step into his house, pushing it open and pulling out the key he gave you a few months ago as you head carefully to the kitchen. You can hear him trying to talk, his voice strained and croaky as he attempts to speak over the sound of the screaming baby girl.

"Come on sweetheart," he begs, "Please take your bottle, I promise you're just tired."

His house is messier than you've ever seen it with gifts unopened, blankets and bottles, baby toys and clothes strewn around everywhere you could see.

You're quick and quiet to get to work clearing the place up, clean clothes being folded and sat in his clean laundry hamper while sorting the dirty things and shoving them into the washing machine by colour before tidying away all the blankets into the baby boxes he had set up in his front room. The infant upstairs screams the entire time you whiz around, throwing an entire bin bag worth of rubbish out of his kitchen before restocking all the shelves and his empty fridge with food for him and milk powder for the little girl. The pizza you shoved in the oven the second you arrived was finished after 15 minutes, so you plated that and left it on the kitchen island before you decided to make you presence known to him.

"Need a helping hand?"

His head whips around rapidly, instinctively tucking his daughter closer into his chest before he recognised your voice and turned his face back away from you. "You shouldn't be here, (y/n)." He mumbles, bouncing his legs to try and get that screeching to stop before he starts crying again himself.

How had everything ended up so messy? He found a girl that he thought he loved, he had his best friends and he had you. She got pregnant and he was ecstatic until she told him she wasn't interested in having a baby. It was too late to do anything about it, so she gave birth to that baby and legally signed over parental rights wholly and fully to a destroyed Ben. You, of course, had to find this out half from the tabloids and half from Mason. Ben was absolutely affronted. He was mortified. How had he gotten himself in this position?

You were the first and only person he wanted to tell. He was desperate to seek out your arms and have an absolute sob to you so you could help him fix this like you do with everything else, but he couldn't bring himself to face you. He cut you off slowly and carefully without even noticing himself because she had coaxed him into it. She played him like a fiddle, let him grow her platform and fund her lifestyle until she had everything she wanted from him and left him with something that was supposed to be theirs to love forever.

As if things couldn't get worse, from the moment he found out she was having a baby he had realised he didn't want kids or a life with anyone but you and now here he is, with a baby that has no mother and he had lost you. How could he just go back crying to you now after all the hurt he had caused you? What kind of person does that? He made this mess and it was his to clean up.

"Mason told me what happened. You can fight me all you want, Ben but I'm not going to go anywhere so you may as well just let me help." You say firmly, not inviting a single space for him to actually contest your words. His shoulder deflate even further than they already are as he finally turns to meet your eyes.

There's bags and dark circles beneath his with greasy, messy hair and a shirt he probably hadn't changed in longer than he should.

"I'm sorry." He croaks, clamping down on his lip with his teeth so he doesn't immediately burst out crying at the sight of you standing there in his house. God, he's missed you so much he couldn't even begin to put it into words and his emotions are so messed up from the lack of sleep that he'll cry at just about anything right now. "It's forgotten about. We don't have to talk about it, I'm here to help."

The weight that lifts off of Ben's shoulder is the kind of immense relief that only really you can bring to him, honestly. There are few people that he has ever met that can ease him like you can and knowing he doesn't have to explain this whole situation really is something he's so thankful for.

"This is Lilly," he says weakly, nodding his head down at her whining. You smile immediately and without thought, stepping forward to get a closer look at the small baby, only two weeks old and already giving her dad a run for his money. "Hello Lilly," you coo softly, raising your hand to stroke her cheek with your finger in the most gentle manner he's ever seen. "Can I? I feel like I've missed out on two weeks worth of aunt (y/n) cuddles."

He tries not to think much into the fact you refer to yourself as her aunt because if he lets enough thought onto it, he'll find himself breaking his heart over you all over again. Ben nods, passing her into your arms carefully.

"I'll feed her, I made some pizza for you so you should go eat." You hold our your hand to take the bottle from him, but he frowns. "I-" Ben stutters, "I don't want to just lump you with her, plus she's upset so I shouldn't leave her y'know? It's not fair on-"

"Go and eat Ben, and have a shower while you're at it. We'll be fine in here, I've babysat a million times before." You shrug, taking the bottle from him as you step further into the nursery instead of standing in the doorway cradling the still whimpering little girl in her pink onesie. "But I-"

"Go."

"I should-"

"Ben go, now."

Ben sighs in defeat and turns on his heel, the rumbling of his stomach finally giving him away as he realises just how hungry and smelly he actually is. No wonder the infant was crying in his hold.

He trudges downstairs, hearing the sounds of those winging dying down as he does, half expecting to walk into the messy swamp he had left when he went upstairs earlier this morning, only to see the whole bottom floor of the house was basically as spotless as it had been the day he moved in, bar the baby variety adjustments he had made to welcome the new arrival.

He makes a mental note to thank you more and do some grovelling and apologising later on. He knows he has to do it and he knows he'll explain in more detail what really happened probably later today, but for now he will scoff that pizza down his throat faster than he has ever consumed a meal in all of his life before raining the cupboards that he discovered you had stocked. He is reminded with every step he takes around his house that this is you, again, here holding him up when the world around him feels like its completely crumbled.

This is what you do, you keep him together, fix him up after the heartbreaks and breakups preparing him for the next girl who's pieces you'll have to pick up when they hurt him. This time he doesn't want another girl, he wants you. This time, the one time that he would be miles too late. He's got a baby now that he needs to focus on and he can't imagine that you're going to want an instant family even if you could really see past the fact he had ghosted you for nearly five straight months from the moment he found out his girlfriend was pregnant. He can't forgive himself, so how on earth would you?

If he would ask, you would tell him you already had. Seeing how hurt he was, how genuinely sorry things had ended dup like this with everyone in his life he was was enough for you. It was enough to cause you actual physical pain. You never could hold a grudge considering the situation he had ended up in.

Ben had never ever once in his life being more thankful for his shower. He’s also pretty sure he fell asleep against the wall with the heat of the shower steam loosening his muscles and the fatigue of barely an hours sleep catching up to him. He towel dries off his hair, letting the towel hang around his neck as he rubs it against his head while he pads along the soft carpet of his hallway from the bedroom to his beautifully done pink nursery where he hears no crying, at all.

But he does here soft talking.

“Giving your daddy a hard time eh, pretty girl.” You hum softly, slowly swaying from side to side. She lays in your arms, looking up at you and stealing every bit of your heart with her daddies eyes. “He deserves it a little, you know. Just ‘cause he done me out of some adorable baby cuddles y’know?” Ben can hear the teasing smile on your lips as he leans against the doorframe out of your sight, keeping quiet so as not to be detected. “But he’s a good man, sweet girl. One of the best, actually. And i know he’s already such a good daddy to you, he loves you so so much. Do you know that, eh?” You say quietly. Ben catches the sight of you swaying that amazed little baby who coos up at you, reaching for your finger to hold. “Mhm, and i love you too. You have no idea how loved you are.” That’s one thing Ben can agree on.

“And you might not know it now because you’re little, but i do know one thing for absolute certain; I’m always gonna be here for you, and for your daddy even if he’s as stubborn about it as they come. You’ve got to help me out though, eh sweet girl? Be good to that daddy of yours. Yeah, sleepy baby? Mhm, my sweet girl.” The way you hum, bouncing her carefully and swaying in just the right way for her to fall asleep in your arms. Ben watches you for only a minute more, softly singing a little lullaby to her that makes Ben’s heart swell to ache so much that he has to take a small little video before he heads off downstairs with one last look.

When you finally greet him downstairs with a tight hug that he sinks into immediately, resting his cheek on your shoulder as your hands massage your fingers through his freshly cleaned hairs as his arms hug around your waist. “I’ve missed you.” He admits, words muffled by your sweatshirt. The feeling of your fingers at the nape of his neck makes him hum in content and sink into you peacefully just like his baby daughter did not half an hour ago. You’re just perfect for them both in every way and there is not one bone in his body that doesn’t wish he had started his family with you.

But with that realisation comes one more; that he will not settle until he has given everything he has, tried with every morsel of him to earn your forgiveness. He might not of started his family with you, but he is damn determined to make you part of it.

#ben chilwell imagine #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell imagines #ben chilwell #england national team imagine #chelsea imagine #footie fic #football fic #footballer fic

[kuuderekweenfics]

Dabi is Not a Liar

Hello everyone,

This is it. I’ve fallen off the precipice of...what exactly? Sanity? Or, perhaps, lack of shame? Who knows. But this was a fun little piece I wrote about a month ago. I put it up on AO3, but I thought I’d create a Tumblr for future fics since this is a bit more social.

Please keep in mind that I am shaking the dust off my writing and so it may not be the most polished piece of work. Go easy on me. But I hope you enjoy it regardless!

Explicit Warning: non consent or extremely dubious consent.

Fingernails carve into the the filthy brick of the abandoned building nestled by the sea. The pier moaned, it’s cold breath wrapping around your body and reeking sourly of fish and decay. 

Your head hangs low between your hollow arms. How you got yourself into this position is due to several reasons, of course. One, your brain is swollen twofold in your skull, pounding with the weight of lead. Two, shame caresses every part of your body far more thoroughly than the man who currently has you trapped between him and the wall. Three, and most likely the most crucial reason, Dabi, ‘the Cremator’ as he was so often called, has been railing you senseless for the past hour.

You cried yourself dry after about ten minutes. He came quickly the first time, unabashedly getting off on your whimpers and pleas. Where he dug up the stamina to keep his cock hard for another three rounds was a dull ache for your mind, and pussy, to ponder over. 

The strength in your knees escaped long ago. His fingers gripping your bare ass as he currently pounds himself into you, deeper and deeper each time, is the only support you have against gravity. 

He attempts some foreplay occasionally, killing the space between the two of you as he whispers into your ear threats of what is to come and reaches under you to thrash at your clit rough and carelessly. This is, you figured out, more to his benefit than yours; he had to get you more motivated to continue the little game he set for the both of you somehow. You mewl softly when he does, cursing your needy body for betraying your wants.

Because this isn’t what you want. No, no, no. Not even if his thick, veiny cock fills you to the brim and sometimes hits a spot in your core that makes you see stars and silently beg, much to your humiliation, for more.

What you want is to go pro. You just started working for a small agency start up only a week ago. You’ve dedicated to becoming a top ten hero, even if your quirk isn’t the most convenient. But if a guy who’s power was to do laundry could make it to the top, so can you and your absurdly comical gacha quirk. You are able to generate capsules from your hands, ranging anywhere between the size of a tennis ball to a beach ball, but the contents inside are always random. This little inconvenience made your quirk almost entirely useless. Despite it all, you trained hard and got a once in a lifetime opportunity at this agency. Your task today was to survey the pier for any suspicious activity called in by a concerned citizen. You were strictly told not to engage and call for back up as soon as you surveyed something worthwhile. But you immediately ran in, all too confident in your ability at hand-to-hand combat, as if you had something to prove. You crouched behind stacked crates and fumbled through your creations: a teddy bear, a toaster, a tennis racket. Before you could generate another capsule, you heard his whistle behind you. He was crouched, hands lazily in his pockets and looking over your shoulder with a deadpan expression that plainly said you were in over your head. 

But you knew you were quick. The tennis racket sped toward its target only to be crumbled to ash as his hand stopped it an inch from the side of his head. He smiled at you then, not quite reaching his eyes but eerie and menacing all the same. And before you could even fathom throwing the toaster, he pinned your neck to the wall. Your feet kicked helplessly against the brick, unable to find purchase on the floor a inches below. One of your hands pried at his arm while the other reached for his face or his neck or anything you could grab hold of that could cause enough pain to lot weaken his grip. Your breaths came up short, your lungs screamed for a sip of air. 

“It looks like a little mousy lost her way,” he chuckled. “Now whatever am I going to do with you?”

Drool leaked from your mouth as you fought against your restraint and blurred vision. Your mind clawed for consciousness, your body begged for survival. You had come to terms that one day you could potentially meet your end at the hands of a villain, as does any hero in this field of work, but you hadn’t expected it to be so soon. 

You felt the obstruction in your mouth before you saw it. The thumb of his free hand pressed on your dancing tongue, drool pooling where he held it down firm. If the look in his eyes scared you before, now they were wild and carnal and more terrifying. 

He first has his way with you with his hand still around your throat. He let up on his grip and was so gracious enough to let you wrap your legs around him while he impales you without a second thought. 

He grunts. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

You are no longer a virgin, but you’re sure you never experienced cock of this size, all the while without some form of foreplay. Granted, he used your drool to lubricate himself before sheathing himself deep in your gummy walls, the friction elicits a gasp of pain while from you as he moans and nips at your neck. Not long after he begins to thrust do you start sobbing, and soon after that he shoots inside of you, his cock twitching to unload what feels like everything he had. You hope it is over then. He would either kill you or leave you there broken physically and mentally. You find out soon enough it is neither.

“I’m gonna fuck you until your voice is gone from screaming my name, little mousy,” He gasps into your shoulder as the twitching finally ebbs and his release oozes down your thigh. “I’m gonna fill you with my cum until I am sure that when I leave you in this shithole, you will have a little part of me with you for the rest of your miserable life.”

And if there is one thing you can call Dabi, among the million curses and names you can conjure, you aren’t sure if you can call him a liar. For true to his word, albeit only partially, he comes into you, hard and relentless, two more times before starting once more. You are absolutely positive this goes against all modern male biology. But you guess, in a world with bizarre quirks, anything is possible.

Halfway through round four, you feels his fingers weave into your hair and, for a moment, you think Dabi just may capable of being passionate. Or, at the very minimum, maybe he thinks more of you than just a bucket for him to shoot his load in. This moment, you find, is fleeting as he yanks your head back and pulls you up until your back lies flat against his chest. He slowly pulls the zipper of your shirt down and grabs your breast callously, pinching your nipple hard until you cry out. 

You can only imagine that he’s grown bored of your silence and complacency because his other hand reaches around until his fingers find your clit, exposed and hungry for some well-deserved stimulation. His fingers rub small circles against it, and you feel nauseated as you let out a moan, your pussy clenching desperately around him in newly kindled desire.

He hisses at your reaction, an obvious stamp of approval and continues flicking your bundle of nerves as he pumps in and out of you. “Say my name.”

Your mind, which, up until this point, had been lost in a sea of fog, finally breaks the surface. And it is pleading with you to not give in. He speeds up, each thrust hitting the right spot and oh no, oh no, it feels so fucking good.

“Say my name, little mouse.”

Your core coils tight with stimulation, the spring on the precipice of release with the pressure of his calloused fingers. The ache you had felt up until then is replaced with an immense pleasure that you haven’t felt in, let’s face it, ever. You stand on your toes to give him a better angle. Your hands searched for something to anchor onto. One mindlessly reaches above to grab onto his hair as he licks you, hot breath warming your already flush neck, the other latches onto your ignored breast.

“Say it.”

You bucked against him, almost there, almost there, so very close....

Until he becomes utterly and completely still. 

“No, no. Please, Dabi! I need it. Fuck me, please Dabi!” You sob. 

And with that, you feel a smirk form against your neck. He pulls out of you and before you can so much as whimper, he shoves you back onto a large crate. He grabs one leg and forces it up and over his shoulder as he penetrates you, holding your waist to keep you steady as he pumps in fast and hard. His hip bumps into your overstimulated clit with each thrusts and it nearly obliterates you. In this new position, his cock kisses your cervix and, if you ever had any semblance of control since being pounded into, it has all but disappeared.

“Dabi! I’m going to...Ah, shit, I’m gonna...”

As you begin convulsing, you hear his name, loud, hot and heavy, escape from your lips. Your release sends him over the edge, and he ruts into you. 

Just as quickly, he slides out of you, places himself back into his pants and walks out with his hands in his pockets without a word before the cum can so much as leak out of you. You lay still and let the world refocus before you get up and go home. You come to realize that he didn’t so much as care if you came or not, and that the fact that you had was a happy coincidence on your part. What he was really aiming for was you to scream his name, just as he said you would. How little regard villains had felt about others left you in awe. Can you really go head to head against him or any other villain again? 

You submit your resignation the next day.

And two months later, as you stand wide-eyed and frozen over the test exposing itself to you on the bathroom sink, you can finally confirm that Dabi is, in no way shape or form, a liar.

#dubious consent #no consent #ruttingseason #fan fiction #fanfiction #dabi my hero academia #dabi x reader #forced impreg #forcedsex #smut #dabi smut

[whumpingcrow]

Pt. 13 "Scarier Than a Haunted House"

CW: alcohol/drugs (explicit), party setting, Halloween setting, PTSD themes, injury mention, past whump descriptions, panic attack, random assault, EXPLICIT NONCON (18+ definitely suggested), blood/injury description, tics/tourrettes, self injury mention, discussion of noncon (let me know if I missed anything!)

Elias couldn't seem to get drunk enough to drown out the shitty dread in his stomach. He kept throwing back drinks and sneaking outside to smoke, and yet he found himself slumped over on the couch, watching everyone around him be happy. Even Tyson was enjoying himself. Elias felt absolutely horrible for being jealous of them, for being bitter that they were having fun and he wasn’t. He wished he could crawl into a hole where no one could see him and bash his own brains in just so that he could get rid of all the dreadful thoughts that were only more painful now with the addition of alcohol. He was dizzy and his body was heavy and he didn’t remember getting drunk being this...upsetting. With August, drinking meant all of his pain, fear, and confusion was too foggy to really feel, with August he could drink until he was numb. But now, as he looked through the crowd of giggling, costume-wearing partygoers, he felt positively miserable. Overwhelmed by it all, he stood up and staggered down the hallway until he found a bedroom. It was quiet in there, no one was in it, so he walked in and closed the door, sitting on the edge of the bed. As he sat and tried to calm himself down, he looked around at the pictures hung on the wall, particularly the ones of Allen and Leo's wedding. They looked so happy together, both beaming at only each other, like the camera wasn’t there. They were like that in person, too, Elias would sometimes catch them looking at each other and he could just tell that, as long as they held eye contact, they were the only two people in the entire world. Again, he felt an unreasonable bitterness burn in his chest over it. He knew he wasn't going to be that happy, not after everything that happened. He wouldn't allow himself to be. Hell, he couldn't even carry a conversation without August’s monologue in the back of his mind, telling him he didn't deserve to speak, he was supposed to shut up and look pretty. Any day now, he kept reminding himself, Tyson wouldn’t be able to handle his contempt anymore and he would kick Elias to the curb.

He flinched when the door opened, jumping up to his feet and swaying where he stood. He immediately felt like he would be in trouble for running off to hide or maybe for having a few too many drinks, the nerves made him pull the sleeves of his borrowed jacket over his hands. The man that opened the door didn’t hesitate before waltzing in, closing the door behind him. He had on a simple white mask, one that only covered the top half of his face. It wasn’t even a scary costume, but when it was matched with his eerie silence and vaguely threatening demeanor, it made Elias’s stomach churn in anxiety.

"Uh...do you want me to leave?” He offered, more than ok with going back out into the suffocatingly happy party if it meant getting out of that room. “I can leave, I just-" he froze when the man started to move closer, each stride long and menacing. Elias felt like he was going to pass out, his limbs were numb. He couldn't speak, even though he wanted to ask who this guy was, why the fuck he was being so creepy. He felt his hands on his wrists, and he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to steady his breathing. "Ple-please stop."

The man stayed silent as he pushed Elias down onto the floor, kicking him hard in the side. Then he dropped down to his level and pinned his arms down, even though he was so trained by August that he hadn't even tried to fight back yet. He wasn't crying, just gasping in pained, horrified breaths. He didn’t understand, this stranger was hurting him and the music right outside was so loud and he could hear people laughing and talking still and he was so disoriented from the alcohol already he couldn’t think anything except “why is this happening why is this happening why is this happening why why why?!” He cried out when a fist landed against his face with a crack, instantly feeling blood pouring out of his nose. After the initial fuzziness of the pain wore off, he felt a cold hand slip under his shirt and begin to undo his pants, and he really began to panic at that.

"No! No, please don't, please stop it, please!" He begged, struggling against the strangers grip. He sobbed as his jeans were pulled down to his ankles, and not even seconds later he was screaming in pain as the masked stranger began pushing into him. Even as he fought against it, he could hear August telling him, "it doesn't matter if you want it or not, you aren't important enough to decide. Your wants don't matter." The pain and fear made him sick to his stomach, he could distantly hear his own screams, like he was outside of the room with everyone else, enjoying the party. He wished, more than anything in that moment, that he had stayed miserable out there instead of trying to find somewhere quiet.

Seconds later, the man pulled off of him, kicking him once again, this time in the face, watching as he choked on more blood. Elias, through his panicked sobbing, saw the unmistakable flash of a camera. Once again, he tried to think of a reason for all of this, tried to make sense of the agony. And then, all of his questioning came to a halt when the man peered down at him, looking rather disgusted, and said: “August sends his love.”

Elias’s blood ran cold, the hysteric crying faltered for a moment as he processed what the man said, then it came back a hundred times worse. August knew where he was, he was going to make sure Elias was hurting even in his absence.

After the man left, Elias stayed, a bleeding lump on the floor, for a few minutes, until he stopped weeping and was just crying pathetically, then he grabbed onto the bed to stand up. His legs were shaky and weak, he felt light headed, and when he looked down the front of his shirt was covered in blood. It was a miracle he didn’t fall over again once he was standing, all of this mixed with the dizziness of his drunken stupor made him incredibly unsteady. He pulled his pants back on and leaned against the wall until he wasn't crying at all anymore. Even then, he was scared to leave the room and have anyone see him this messy, but he was even more terrified of being in there alone for someone else, or the same person, to find him.

As he walked through the party, he could feel everyone staring at him. They were disgusted in him, he knew it. He was a dirty, used up piece of meat, he wasn't meant to be walking around everyone as if he was a person like them. He felt like he was wearing his filth right where everyone could see it. Part of him wanted to run back into the bedroom, crawl under the bed, never come out, never look at or talk to be around anyone ever again.

"Holy fuck, Elias, what happened to you?!" Someone gasped. He looked up to see Leo standing in front of him, and Elias jumped when he grabbed his shoulder. He was frowning down at him, probably because he was so revolting and was getting his gross blood all over his nice house.

"Whe....where's Ty?" He asked. His voice was small and broken, so weak from fear. Leo stared at him for a second longer, then started to guide him to the couch to sit down.

"Here, you sit, I'll go get him-"

"No!" Elias pleaded, grabbing onto Leo's shirt desperately. "Ple-please don't leave me alone. Please, Leo." It wasn’t that he really trusted Leo, not yet, but he was the only one around at that second, and Elias wanted to believe that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him. He wished Leo was with him minutes ago.

"Ok, ok." Leo's voice was so soothing, so level, as he wrapped his arm loosely around Elias's waist to help him walk. "Did someone do this to you?"

Elias couldn't answer, he didn't want to speak at all because admitting it happened was admitting that August knew where he was, and if he admitted that it made it all that much more real. Leo didn't push him after that, just led him the rest of the way to the backyard. He was patient when Elias stumbled, he simply waited for him to steady himself before he kept walking.

Tyson was sitting around a fire pit with Allen and someone else who looked a lot like Leo, probably a brother, and he hardly noticed when Elias and Leo approached him. He probably didn’t even notice that Elias was gone in the first place. When they got close enough for him to notice though, Tyson jumped to his feet with a horrified gasp. Elias squeezed his eyes shut and clutched onto Leo at the quick movement.

"What the fuck happened?!" He shouted. Leo shifted Elias carefully into his arms, and Elias whined at how tight he was grabbing him. He covered his face with his hands, trembling all over, trying not to cry again. Tyson didn't allow him to hide away, grabbing his wrists so he could see his face. Elias couldn’t even look at him, he could already hear from his voice that he was angry, and if Elias had to see anger on the face of the only person who cared about him, the person he had somehow convinced to love him, he just knew he would crumble. "Who the fuck did this to you?!"

Elias shook his head, trying to pull his arms away from him. He couldn't speak, it felt like there was barbed wire around his throat, and Tyson was so mad at him. It was probably because he could see the grime and filth all over him from the man who touched him. At the thought, he started to cry again, struggling hard to try and get out of his grasp. That only made Tyson more upset with him, insisting that he told him who did this, that he stopped fighting him, until someone else was grabbing Elias, pulling him out of Tyson’s tight hold.

He looked up to see Leo grabbing Ty's shoulders, talking to him to calm him down. Elias forced himself to look Tyson over, he saw his brow set in a tight frown, he saw his hands balling into fists over and over, his shoulders were high and tense. He looked furious, and Elias hated himself for making someone as patient and caring as Tyson angry. He looked away, saw that Allen was leading him away slowly. He collapsed against him, sobbing weakly in his arms. "He's m-mad at m-me!" He wailed. He couldn’t breathe again, his chest hurt from trying to pull air into his panic-ridden lungs.

"No, Elias. I promise he isn't. I promise. He's mad at whoever hurt you." Allen rubbed his shoulders softly to calm him down, hugging him close. "Give him a second to cool off. You didn't do anything wrong."

Allen sat him down in one of the chairs in front of the fire pit, then sat next to him. Elias instantly pulled his knees up to his chest, hiding his bloody face from everyone. He felt Allens hands on him every now and then, trying to comfort him, but he wasn't listening to anything he was saying. He could feel the warmth of the fire on his legs, and it was really the only thing he was able to focus on. He stretched his fingertips out, just slightly, and tried to think of only how the heat of the fire soaked into his skin. The crying came to a slow stop after that. Another few minutes passed and then he felt a different pair of hands on him, gentle and trying to coax him to look up.

"Eli, angel? Do you want to go home now?" Tyson's voice was careful, shaking slightly as he tried to stay calm. Elias stayed still for a few moments longer, and Tyson timidly ran his finger tips against his hairline. "Elias?"

Finally, Elias took a shivering breath and came out of his shell, wiping his tears. He looked up at Tyson and gave him a hesitant nod, allowing him to help him to his feet. He hissed at the sudden, but familiar, pain that spread through his stomach and hips when he stood, grabbing onto Tyson's arm as he tried not to fall over.

"Can you walk, love?" Tyson pulled him close as he spoke, holding him steady. Elias shook his head, then let out a pitiful whine when Tyson scooped him up carefully and held him close to his chest.

Tyson was silent in the car, he just kept glancing over at Elias and then back at the road as he was driving. He didn't know what he could say, if Elias wasn't going to tell him what happened there was nothing else he felt like he could ask. Touching him wasn’t really an option, since he was jumpy enough already and the very last thing Tyson needed was to make Elias more scared of him than he already was. He had heard Elias sobbing in Allen’s arms when he’d been pulled away, insisting that Tyson was mad at him, and it made him feel like a monster. After hearing how horrified Elias was when he said that, Tyson promised himself that he would never make him feel like that again. Right now, Elias was in a world of suffering and anxiety and Tyson had to be safe for him.

Elias stared at his hands the entire ride home, he didn't speak either, he knew that if he even took a breath the wrong way he would shatter like glass all over again. He had blood on his hands, and he tried hard to rub it away, but it seemed like every time he got one spot off he saw another. It was useless, he would never be clean. Or safe. He was destined to be filthy and afraid his entire life, it felt like. He wished that he had stayed dead. He felt awful for wishing that.

Neither of them moved when they were parked, sitting in the thick silence, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Finally, Tyson pulled the keys out of the ignition as slowly as he possibly could so he wouldn’t frighten him. Just as he reached for the door handle, thought, Elias spoke.

"I don’t even know who he was," he was whispering, "I was just trying to get away from all the noise for a minute and he...he came in and...he didn't even say anything, he just - he just started...God damnit!" He sobbed, hitting the dashboard in his anger and despair. "Why can't it all just f-fucking stop!? What the fuck!"

Tyson reached out to rub his back, to try and comfort him, only to have his hand pushed away. "Eli, I-"

"Please don't touch me," he rasped out, rubbing his eyes, "please, please just don't touch me right now."

"Ok. Ok, I won't." He paused, listening to Elias's sniffles and shuddery breaths. "What...what did he do?"

"I was gonna leave but then he beat the shit out of me. And then he...then I was on the floor and he..." He trailed off, wrapping his arms around himself. When he spoke again, his voice was crushingly quiet, broken up through his tears. "He raped me, Tyson. He raped me and then h-he took pictures of me."

"Oh God," Tyson breathed, sick to his stomach as soon as the words left his mouth, "oh, Elias."

At that, Elias threw himself out of the car and slammed the door shut behind him. He was limping as he made his way to the front door, waiting for Tyson to come and unlock it. Trying to keep himself upright, he pressed himself against the wall, closing his eyes tightly. He heard the keys in the door, then he looked up to see Tyson holding the door open for him. "Thank you," he whispered as he shuffled past him. He sunk down to the couch, pulling a pillow close to his chest. His head was pounding suddenly, and could hardly keep his eyes open.

"Is it ok if I help you clean off the blood, Eli?" Tyson asked carefully. Elias could only reply with a weak nod, titling his head back in exhaustion. After a few seconds he felt the couch sink down next to him, and he forced himself to sit up and look up at Tyson. It was a silly detail, but he noticed Tyson was still wearing his devil horns, and despite everything, he chuckled a little and reached up to pull them off.

Tyson grinned half-heartedly, taking Elias's face gently into his hand and wiping as soft as he could at the dried blood. Elias closed his eyes again, reaching up to hold Tyson's wrist to hold himself steady. The room was spinning when he closed his eyes, he was worried he would fall over if Tyson were to let go of him. He leaned against his touch, thankful for the tenderness of it all, a sharp contrast to the violence he had to endure before.

"M'sorry I didn’t tell you right away," he sighed, leaning closer, "I should’ve come straight to you. I should've told you right away that he uh...he said uh..." he seemed to freeze up at that, his face twitching into a frown and his bottom lip trembling just a little. He couldn't finish what he was saying, instead opting for leaning into Tyson's tender hands a little harder.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for, angel. I should be apologizing, you were hurt and I reacted very poorly." As he spoke, he inspected Elias's injuries, he noticed one of his teeth was chipped horribly, the bridge of his nose was swollen, and reddish bruises were already forming under his eyes. He was just starting to heal, now he had a whole new set of injuries to deal with. Guilt was eating Tyson alive as he looked over all the bumps and bruises; he should have been there for Elias, he should have never let him wander off alone. They shouldn’t have gone to the party in the first place, why did he think Elias was ready for that? Once all the blood was gone, he set the towel aside and ran his thumb softly over his cheek. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Elias opened his eyes to look at him, lost in thought for a second. "Um...yeah, he kicked me in the ribs."

"Is it ok if I take a look? Make sure you're alright?"

Maybe it was because he was still drunk, or because he was probably concussed, or because he was still in the people pleasing, trained headspace from the pain, but he nodded eagerly and started to pull at his hoodie. Tyson had to help him get it off, and Elias leaned back as he prodded gently around his ribcage. He hummed at the warmth of his hands and closed his eyes, reaching for his arm again.

Elias’s reaction prompted Tyson to ask “does it hurt?”, frowning when Elias only shrugged. He looked relaxed suddenly, his face was almost serene. Tyson didn't know how drunk he was with how upset he'd been earlier, but he could tell now by the way he couldn't stay upright and couldn't even answer a simple yes or no question. But him passing out from the booze was the least of his worries, so he let him rest his eyes for a just a second as he made sure the damage wasn't too detrimental. Even though he didn't mean to, Tyson scanned over all of his other injuries, upset at the condition of the cuts on him. They weren't healing, and it seemed like he had more on his arm. Those ones were reddened and raised, fresh caked blood around them. Tyson grabbed his arm, inspecting it closer. "Elias...are these ones new? Did you do that to yourself?"

Elias shrugged again, turning his head away as he tried to pull his arm back. "I was being awful. I deserved it."

"Eli..." he began disdainfully, but Elias's face twisted into a depressed frown, so he decided to drop it for the moment, to let Elias relax as much as he could. So he stood up, dragging his hands over Elias’s thighs gently. When Elias looked up at him, it was with that same doe-eyed, ‘my-earth-will-shatter-if-you-say-something-mean’ stare that he always looked at Tyson with, but this time it was with even more fear than usual.

"I think you have a concussion,” he mumbled, “so I'm gonna go get you some medicine.” A huge wave of relief hit Tyson when Elias seemed to relax, his shoulders dropping to a more relaxed position and his gaze softened. “Don't fall asleep, ok?"

Elias chuckled sarcastically and nodded. "No problem."

The next morning Elias woke up with a pounding headache and a heavy soreness all over, and before he opened his eyes he thought he was back with August. Despite the pain that made him want to never move again, he shot up out of bed, looking around in a panic as he tried to find some familiarity.

"Woah, hey, hey," Tyson said from his spot on the bed, sitting up and looking at him. Elias swiveled around to look at him, shoulders rising and falling rapidly. "You ok?"

Elias huffed, running a hand through his hair. "I thought...I thought I was at August's." It was hard to get the words out, felt like they were made of glass as he forced them off of his tongue. Tyson held his hand out to him, so he crawled back into bed and allowed him to pull him into his arms. He wasn't wearing a shirt, he must've never put it back on after Tyson undressed him to examine him the night before, and he was glad Tyson was holding him close so he didn't have to see him.

"Why'd you think that?"

"I guess I'm just...I'm only used to waking up hurting this much with him." He nestled closer, sighing as Tyson stroked his back gently.

"I have some pain killers if you want some. Or we can smoke." He looked at Elias as he pulled away from him, reaching up to hold his face. "You're so beautiful."

Elias blushed and shook his head. "Shut up, I'm all fucked up. I look like I got hit by a bus."

Tyson propped himself up slightly and leaned closer, until their lips brushed gently together. Tyson heard Elias's breathing stifle as he melted against Tyson's hand. "You're absolutely gorgeous," he breathed, grinning at the way Elias reached up to touch his neck gently, "and I am absolutely in love with you."

"Really?" Elias muttered. "Even...even after last night?" His voice was broken and timid, afraid of the answer. He couldn't even remember the night before, really, it was all coming back to him one drunken memory at a time, he was still putting the pieces back together. Something horrible had happened, the man, the room, the blood. He sort of remembered a flash, but he couldn't even tell if that was real or if his mind just added it in because it was so often accompanied by that specific brand of pain. Whatever happened, he came to the conclusion, he could only feel this grimy and filthy and hurting this bad if he had done something heinous, and how in the hell could Tyson tell him he was in love with him now?

"Baby, nothing that happened last night was your fault. It didn't change a thing, ok? I love you. And I will never stop loving you."

"Oh, Ty," he breathed, "never is a big commitment..."

Tyson chuckled softly and kissed him finally, feeling a bit of relief when Elias pressed closer and held onto him eagerly. He was expecting him to be upset and put off at any affection, and yet he seemed like he needed it more than Tyson did. He climbed into his lap, wrapping his arms around his neck as he kissed him hard.

"Tyson," he whimpered, turning his mouth to Tyson's throat, "I l-love you, Ty." He was breathless, even though Tyson was hardly doing anything, and he couldn't even begin to imagine how easily he would come undone if he pushed him just a little farther.

"What's got you all hot and bothered?" He joked, tipping his head back a bit.

"I want you to show me how it's supposed to be," Elias whined, "I wanna stop thinking about it."

"Baby, just relax for a second." He grabbed his shoulders gently and pushed him away. Elias looked down at his lap, shame and guilt dripping off of him. Tyson felt horrible, Elias shouldn't have to feel guilty for asking to have sex with his boyfriend, Tyson shouldn't have to worry that giving him what he wants is going to damage him more. None of this should be happening, it is all incredibly wrong and Tyson felt a lump in his throat because he just couldn't fucking fix it. "Please...allow yourself to heal."

"That's stupid," he whispered back, "I'm not going to heal, Tyson. You're making me wait for something that's not going to come."

"That's not true-"

"You don't know what it's like. You don't know how it feels to have to walk around knowing that the last person who got that close to you only did it to hurt you. You don't know how it feels to have that much violence as your only idea of what it's like. You don't get it, because even when I'm close to you, I can still hear his voice and- fuck!-and feel his hands and...you don't get it, Ty, I need that to be- fuck-ing prick!- to be over, I have to feel something else besides that fucking pig all over me." He choked back the tears in his eyes, still not looking up at him. Tyson was silent, and Elias got off of him and stood up. "Just fucking forget it. Nevermind."

He stood in front of the closet, trying to find a big enough shirt that he could hide under, and then he felt Tyson's hands on his hips gently. He sighed, already annoyed at whatever dumb, much too sweet apology he was going to make, but instead Tyson began to kiss against the back of his neck gently.

"I just don't want to hurt you, angel," he whispered against his skin, stepping forward until he was pressed close against him. His bare chest was flush against Elias's back, and the direct skin contact made him positively melt, sinking right into his arms like he wanted to be nowhere else the rest of his life. Tyson slid his hands forward, keeping them against his stomach, high above the waist band of his shorts, where the touch was safe. "I don't want to make you feel how August made you feel."

Elias tilted his head back to rest on his shoulder, cueing Tyson to begin to kiss his neck gently again. Slowly, centimetres at a time, his hands dipped down to his pelvis. "Ty..."

"I need to know that you'll stop me if it's too much. Will you?" He felt Elias nod slowly, weakly, against him, and he dropped his hands down further, until Elias let out a pleased gasp. He kept his eyes open, staring down in wonder at Tyson's smooth, dark complexion against his own pale and battered skin. The pleasantly astonished whines he started letting out were not his own, he couldn't even control them. Tyson was touching him, Tyson had his hands on him and he was just as gentle as ever, Tyson wasn't too disgusted in him to touch him! Tears were stinging his eyes suddenly, he was so so grateful and relieved that he couldn't help but cry just a little. He closed his eyes so Tyson wouldn't see and think that the tears were bad.

"Is this ok, Eli?" He mumbled, so careful and genuinely wanting to know, not just asking to fill the space but because he really gave a shit.

"It's...I-I..." He couldn't stammer any more words out, and wanted to crumble when Tyson pulled his hands off of him and turned him around. He kept his eyes closed, his face turned down. "Tyson."

"What, Elias?" Now he was laughing softly, amused with how speechless and flustered he was already, loving how quickly he went from shouting profanities by accident to being almost silent. But then Elias shook his head, still not speaking, and Tyson took his face in his hand and forced him to look up at him. His smug grin dropped from his face as soon as he saw the pools of tears in Elias's eyes, and he flinched away like he was hurting him, eyeing him up and down in a panic. "What's wrong? Did I do something...are you-"

"I'm o-ok!" Elias insisted, voice eager and watery in the most desperate way. He stepped forward, grabbing Tyson's arms gently to try and really convince him. "Really, Ty! I pr-promise I'm alright, I...pl..please Ty..." He realized Tyson wasn't touching him still, still staring at him like he was too broken to try and touch, like Elias would cut him open if he grabbed him again, and he burst into tears. "No, Tyson! Come on Ty, plea-please, please touch...Oh, God, Tyson, please!!"

Tyson's eyes were wide as Elias grew more hysterical, he was watching Elias shatter, crumble to pieces right in front of him, and still he wasn't touching him. Elias didn't know if he understood how god damn painful that was. He could hear himself sobbing, really, truly, sobbing, could feel his own ragged breathing. His hands were tight around Tyson's arms, shaking in desperation, and he forced himself to let go when he realized just how hard he was squeezing. Everything was muddled and faraway, like he was hiding in the closet and listening to this all unfold, like he wasn't supposed to be there, like he was eavesdropping. He wanted to stop eavesdropping, this was nothing he wanted to be apart of. It was like this at the party, too, like he was passing just outside the door and heard himself through the walls.

At the memory, he stumbled back until his shoulders hit the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. His chest was tight with panic, he was choking on the sobs over his desperate breathing. He remembered, now, he remembered everything.

"Eli," Tyson called, only now stepping forward with arms extended toward him, offering touch, but it was too late. He was spooked, wouldn't even open his eyes to look at him now. "Elias, please calm down, angel, I'm sorry-"

"He found me, Tyson!" Elias wailed, hands covering his eyes like the risk of accidentally opening them and seeing things again wasn't one he was willing to take. "Don't...Don't let him...I can't go back, I can't!"

Tyson thought maybe he was having another flashback, maybe he was just paranoid and on edge from the night before, and rightfully so, too. So he simply grabbed him tightly and lowered them both to the ground. Elias was rigid, but not defiant, when Tyson hugged him closely against his chest, just tight enough that it wouldn't hurt, and he allowed it when Tyson began to rock him back and forth. He didn't stop crying though, trying his best to continue on his horrified rambling about being found, about not wanting to go back, and Tyson let him. He piped up occasionally with "I know...I've got you...It's ok, Eli, you're safe...I know...You're ok, Elias, I promise."

Eventually, Elias quieted himself down to tiny whimpers and sniffles, trembling against Tyson. It took him a minute to realize that he was out of his hysterics, and when he did he felt the shock slip away, he loosened his grip gradually from around Elias's shoulders. He had to take in a few of his own shaking breaths to recover from the panic.

The room was silent, the air foggy and heavy with residual dread. Tyson caught sight of the clock, he realized they had woken up only minutes ago, neither of them were even dressed yet, it was too early to even want to be awake yet, he was hungover, Elias was broken, Tyson was clueless-

There was a knock at the door. Tyson guessed that it must be Allen or Leo, they mentioned they would come check on him as they left the night before. If it was them, they had impeccable timing, Tyson could really use the help right then. He asked Elias in a whisper if it's ok for him to let them in, saying that they're worried about him, and of course Elias agreed. Elias stayed put on the floor as Tyson pulled off of him and staggered to his feet. Tyson looked at him for a long time, even though his eyes wouldn't leave the floor, he knew it. Before he turned on his heel to leave, he set his palm on Elias's head gently, stroking his thumb through his unruly bed-head hair, and whispered, "I love you, Eli. I'm sorry."

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[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

akumanette story “Marikuma”

Is this danganronpa? Yes. Is this class salt? No. In fact it’s sugar in a way. Room for Lila redemption I guess, she regrets it, but for now she’s like super evil. They’re bumped up to 16-17 in this.

Okay: So Marinette akumatizes, and lately she’s been drowning herself in just books, games, and stuff to distract herself from the Lila shit. She feels practically dead and is absolutely despair. So being given the Power of Judge, Jury, and Executioner, she decides to be creative.

She creates a copy of civilian self sends her off. The next day happens, regular shit, everyone falling for Lila’s lies, when suddenly they all fall asleep and wake up to a corrupted and locked in version of Chloe’s hotel.

Marikuma introduces herself to the Marinette Copy(Who’s the like the Chiaki rn) and the class. Talking about the killing game and whatnot.

They all are mortified and someone recognizes the game. Marikuma cackles and is like “YEP!” - no one realizes this is Marinette though Her time limit for the first murder is by the end of the day, and the class is dead set on not killing anyone. Fakenette rallies everyone together and is doing her best to keep everyone’s spirits high as they try to escape, but of course, this is Marikuma just setting them up for failure.

Alya is freaking out and Fakenette promises that they’ll all get out alive. 

..

Pffft.. Yeah right.

Lila has been silently freaking out this entire time, and now, getting desperate, she decides to do what she thinks she should’ve done a long time ago.

Lila lures a purposefully made naive Fakenette into bathrooms, and kills her. She panics, realizing what she did, and uses a rope to hide her somewhere. She throws her into Chloe’s room, and whips the body a few times so it looks like she didn’t get dragged from somewhere and instead beaten with the rope.

Marikuma is giggling with despair. Absolutely excited to see things working out.

In fact, Marikuma low key helps by planting evidence pointing to everyone in the class(All red herrings of course), all to make Lila feel lucky and smart (”haha wow I’m on her good side!”), only to rip her down because she did it to distract Lila from one of the biggest clues that she left that points directly to herself.

A bracelet she showed off the day before, that she used to hold the ropes around Fakenette’s body, Alya is mortified when they find the body. She falls to the floor and begins to sob and scream in despair.

Nino and Kim break down because they’ve been with marinette for years. The class is horrified and crying, Chloe is shaking with fear  and Adrien has come completely catatonic, falling to his knees as he realizes.. she wasn’t just a friend.

Lila is silent the entire time, so backhanded words.. she just quietly realizes that she did this.. she did something irreversible but she can’t back out now.. because she has a life on her hands.

Then, they all are thrown into investigation.

They all find the red herrings and begin to stare at each other in suspicion, but Alya sucks up her tears, and gets down to business, burning with the desire to find the murderer. 

At first, everyone’s pointing at Chloe, as Marinette was found in her room. This goes on for a while until either Sabrina or Alix(Chlobrina and Chlolix both works for this situation) speaks up and reveals Chloe’s alibi being that the two were.. uh.. making the most of the last hours of being alive.. and were playing super penguino together in Sabrina/Alix’s room during the murder time.

There’s a few beats of awkward silence and Kim breaks the silence with  “wait.. Chloe’s gay?” So this crosses off the biggest suspect, and Chloe’s pride breaks down when she admits how much Marinette meant to her. How she was shitty to her because of jealousy and spite over their different lives. The walls just crumble and she swears she will rip the murderer a new one for hurting the girl she looked up to so much (whether this means Chloe knows who LB is or she just love/hates Marinette in particular is up to you)

Alya realizes that anyone could be the murderer then and because she doesn’t suspect Lila, everyone is distrust worthy(because if Chloe can act like this, anyone can simply act nice), and Adrien won’t speak up either because he’s still broken.

Chloe then points out one of the red herring things and they all go through circles, before Alya realizes that they’re red herrings meant to throw them around. The class is enraged by the fact that the murderer did this to break them specifically and Lila is silent. Marikuma provides hijinks and cackling at every horrific realization.

Eventually they hit a rock where they’re staring to loose hope and Marikuma is starting to get bored, then Lila mentions something that they hadn’t mentioned yet that Alya is able to untwist the timeline finally and yells out the inconsistency realization

This all leads into Alya screaming at Adrien to open his damn eyes to the truth and to snap out of his pity party because their friend is dead and they need to fight for her memory.

Adrien’s eyes snap open and he reveals the overlooked clue everyone missed. Unraveling the mystery to be Lila’s doing.

The Italian girl screams that she didn’t do it, that she isn’t a murderer, and throws out every trick in the Lila Is A Bitch book.

And Alya? Oh. Alya is pissed.

She rips down every single one and Marikuma is absolutely thriving, they do the whole ‘explains the entire murder’ thing. Lila falls to her knees and for the first time.. she means it when she says she’s sorry.

She’s genuinely horrified. She’s only a teenage girl, and she doesn’t know the consequences to her actions, but that doesn’t excuse shit because she killed their classmate. She killed their friend. And she did it because she was spiteful.

Marikuma is cackling with madness, completely corrupted and unhinged at this point, laughing at the despair on Lila’s face, before suddenly Alya adjusts her glasses and points to her- and says that Lila isn’t completely at fault here, because the trickery was orchestrated by Marikuma too, and the reason why Marinette is dead in the first is because of her.

Marikuma scoffs and is like “well sucks to suck! I don’t give a shit! Lila’s gonna get what she deserves!”  Alya is like “No! Not until I figure out who you are!”

And thus a whole new half part of the trial opens up as they try to figure out the ‘mastermind’ aka the akuma. Lila pushing her perspective too, before they piece together the true identity.

Marinette.

What happens next is up to you guys I’m done writing this damn thing

#miraculous lb #Miraculous ladybug #danganronpa #akumatized marinette #akumanette #marinette dupain cheng #ml class sugar #my art #alya sugar #Alya cesaire #MariKuma au

[nblesbianbenhanscom]

43+45 for kaspbroughzier or streddie

anon! hello! a million years later, and your fic is ready! are you even still here? i hope so ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

*

i had to go with the kasproughzier cause i love those goofs and also sonia is the perfect no, really you don’t want to meet my family.

the prompts were ‘trust me, you don’t want to meet my family’ + ‘you may technically be an adult, but you are still my child.’

***

read it on ao3

Little Dashes of Doom

“Eh-Eddie, your phone is r-ringing,” Bill says. It’s the tenth time in the last half hour.

“Just turn it off, Bill. I’m not going to answer it.” Eddie doesn’t look up from his computer.

“Buh-But it’s your ma.”

“I know, Bill. I already told her when I was coming home. She can chill.” He sounds tired, and Bill just wants to wrap him up in a blanket and make him relax between him and Richie. This semester had really kicked all of their asses.

Bill watches the phone as it stops ringing. It dings a moment later with a voicemail. Bill picks it up and turns it off. He kisses Eddie’s hair as he sits it on the table next to him.

“H-How’s the puh-aper coming?” Bill asks as he opens up the fridge. Bill himself had just finished his own last final just a few hours before.

“I hate fucking Shakespeare,” Eddie growls.

“Th-That good, eh?”

Eddie doesn't respond while Bill looks through the fridge. He finds a beer and heads to the couch where Richie is playing on their shared Switch. His legs are spread awkwardly, one up and over the back of the couch, the other hanging down by the floor. Bill sits in between his legs, pulling Richie’s leg into his lap.

“Hey, babycakes, you ok?” Richie asks without looking up.

“I’m ok.” Bill takes a sip of his beer. “You ok?”

“Yeah, fine. Why wouldn’t I be? Shit! I just fucking died!” He sighs and lets the Switch fall to his chest. “What are we doing for food?”

“We have l-leftover p-pizza,” Bill says.

Groaning, Richie sits up and tugs himself closer to Bill with his legs. He leans close and kisses Bill’s neck.

“I am so tired of pizza.” Richie scrapes his teeth against Bill’s chin. “Maybe I’ll just have you for dinner. How does that sound?” They giggle and Eddie huffs from the kitchen.

“Ugh, rude of you to start without me,” Eddie grouses, but there’s no real heat to his words.

Bill and Richie giggle again.

“S-Sorry, E-Eddie!”

“We were just discussing dinner.” Richie kisses Bill’s neck again.

Giggling, Bill pushes him away. “Shhh… St-Stop.”

Richie just pulls him closer and they giggle again.

“If I fail my final, it will be all your faults!” Eddie yells.

“Wh-What d-do you want for d-dinner?” Bill asks.

Eddie is silent for a minute. “Surprise me.”

Bill turns and kisses Richie. “We’re guh–nna go p-pick up dinner.”

“We are?” Richie asks. Bill nods. He holds his hand out and Richie takes it. They go to the door, tug on their coats and boots. It’s cold outside, but Bill just holds tightly to Richie’s hand.

“Where to, Big B?” Richie asks after they’ve climbed in the car.

Bill shrugs. “I don’t care.” He thinks for a minute. “Wh-Where do you—”

“I already told you what I wanted.” Richie winks.

Leaning back against the passenger seat headrest, Bill smiles at him. “Ok, b-but like a-actual food, Richie.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” Richie says. They talk for a few more minutes and end up going to the local diner. They get pancakes, fries, salad, and pie. Sometimes Eddie has trouble eating when he’s stressed, and they want to make sure to get him something he’ll eat.

When they get back, Eddie’s computer and his books are in a neat stack. The bathroom door is closed and they can hear him screaming at someone.

“I am working on my finals, mommy!” Eddie screams. Richie and Bill hesitate in the doorway. They look at each other but creep in. It’s been a while since Eddie had gone off like this. When they’d first met him a few years back, he’d yelled a lot more. Richie liked to tease that he was a feral chihuahua until Eddie’d absolutely lost it and tried to beat Richie up. It hadn’t gone well; Richie was so much taller than him and he had just pulled him into a hug, apologies sliding off his tongue. He promised to never do it again. After that, there were less and less explosions until there were none.

“No! No! You listen! I’m doing my work. I’ll be home in three days. Three! You have my–” Eddie pauses. “Please, would you just–”

Richie puts the food on the table and Bill clears away Eddie’s school work.

“God damnit, mom! They are not my roommates, they are my boyfriends. We have been over and over–” Another pause. “Well maybe I won’t come home then!” There’s another pause followed by a loud banging sound and then Eddie begins to sob.

Bill and Richie look at each other as they sit there listening to Eddie cry and yell at himself. Bill can’t quite make out everything he’s saying, but he knows it’s not good. He hears things like pussy, and coward, and little bitch. Things that he’d been told his whole life. Things Bill had thought he’d worked through.

Bill had apparently been wrong.

“I’m gonna go get him,” Richie says, and gets up. Bill catches his hand, and shakes his head. They sigh.

“Wuh–ne m-more m-minute.” He swallows hard. Richie sits back down slowly. Bill hates this just as much as Richie, but he doesn’t want to push Eddie too hard.

Slowly, Eddie’s sobs lessen. Bill wants to get up and go to him, but still he hesitates. Richie leans into his space and rests his head on Bill’s shoulder.

“Can we go get him now?” Richie asks.

Bill licks his lips. He’s about to say yes when they hear the bathroom door open, and Eddie sees them as soon as he looks up.

“Oh,” he says softly. His eyes are red and puffy. He swallows hard several times. “I-I–” And then tears fill his eyes, and his face crumbles, and Richie and Bill go to him, pull him close and let him cling to them as he cries.

“It’s ok, Eddie, we’ve got you,” Richie murmurs into his hair. “We’ve got you.”

“L-Let it out, b-baby,” Bill whispers.

Eddie’s fingers dig into Bill’s shirt as he sobs. His whole body is shaking and Bill wishes he could find Sonia Kaspbrak and give her a piece of his mind, but he tries to push these thoughts away as he kisses Eddie’s hair.

They sit on the couch, and it takes a long time for Eddie to calm down. Even after he’s stopped crying, he still clings to them. He whines when Richie pulls away.

“I’ll be back, my love, just going to get you some water,” Richie says as Eddie grips his shirt hem.

“But I–” Eddie’s hoarse, and Bill can’t help but feel sorry for him.

“I-It w-will help,” Bill says. He reaches out and pulls Eddie’s hand free. “It will help.” Slowly, Eddie lets go and lets Bill lace their fingers together. He leans back into Bill and closes his eyes.

After Eddie drinks his water, he looks around at them with heavy sad eyes. He’s cradled between them, both of them pushing into his space.

“I’m–I’m sorry,” Eddie says.

“What for, love?” Richie asks. He strokes Eddie’s hair, kisses his temple.

“Because I–Because I’m such a freaking mess,” Eddie whispers.

“Yo-You’re n-not a m-mess.” Bill kisses Eddie behind his ear and Eddie’s eyelashes flutter a little.

“Your mom is a fucking cunt,” Richie says.

Bill frowns at him. Eddie usually freaks whenever someone says something bad about his mom.

“Yeah, she is,” Eddie says. 

Bill and Richie make shocked noises. Bill squeezes him.

“I’m just so tired of her. She’s...” His voice waivers and takes a deep breath. “I have to use the bathroom.” Eddie gives them each a kiss before he gets up.

Once the door is closed, Richie looks at Bill, scowling.

“What the fuck is that bitch’s problem?” Richie growls.

“I d-don’t kn-know.” Bill sighs. He scoots closer to Richie. “I h-hate her so much. It’s been s-such a l-long t-time si-since–”

“Yeah, he’s been doing so good.” Richie huffs. “I just wish I could meet that bitch just one time so I could–”

“Trust me, you don’t want to meet my mom,” Eddie says. Richie and Bill jump, neither of them had heard the toilet flush. “C’mon. I’m hungry.”

Sharing glances, Richie and Bill get up and follow Eddie into the kitchen. He’s sitting at the table, pulling the food out of the bag and frowns at the fries.

“Aww, fuck, they’re cold.” Eddie’s lip trembles a little. “I’m sorry. I should have waited to call. I just finished my final and I–”

“N-No, b-baby. It’s ok. Th-The fries w–ill heat up,” Bill says.

“Yeah,” Richie agrees. “That’s why God invented microwaves, right?” He picks up the container and throws it in, pushing buttons quickly. “See? It’s fine.”

Sniffling, Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Nuked fries taste so gross.”

“I think we got some cheese and Ranch. That will help.” Richie goes to the fridge as Eddie looks at the rest of the food and looks up at Bill.

“You two are the best, do you know that?” Eddie asks. Richie kisses his hair as he wraps his arms around Eddie’s shoulders.

“N-No you,” Bill says.

Wrapping his fingers around Richie’s forearms, Eddie kisses his inner arm. “I love you both so much.”

“We love you, too.” Richie pulls away as the microwave beeps.

After they eat, they curl up on the couch to watch TV. They’re all crossed limbs and elbows in stomachs and pulled hair, but they don’t really care. Eddie just lets the others hold him close, pet his hair, kiss him.

“Are you doing better?” Richie asks after a bit. Eddie shrugs.

“Wh-What happened?” Bill asks.

Eddie shrugs again. “Just the usual. I finished my paper like right after you left, so I decided to call her before she called the police like she did that one time, and she said since I was done with my finals that I needed to come home right away. When I said I want to stay with you two, that my ticket is nonrefundable or exchangeable, she said she didn’t care about the cost, that she’d pay and…” He sighs. “She just wouldn’t listen. She kept saying, ‘You may be an adult, but you’re still my child.’” He huffs. “I’ve been financially independent from that old bag for over a year. She has no right to say shit like that to me any more.”

“N-No, she doesn’t,” Bill agrees.

“Honestly, she never should have talked to you that way, ever,” Richie says. Eddie leans a little closer to him. He plays with the strings on Bill’s hoodie.

“I know,” Eddie whispers.

Bill can hardly believe what he’s hearing. His heart fills with pride and he pulls Eddie’s legs into his lap and cups Eddie’s face in his hands before kissing him so, so gently. When they pull apart, Bill pushes his forehead into Eddie’s forehead. 

“L-Love you,” Bill whispers. When he pulls back, Richie presses his own kiss into Eddie’s temple.

“You know, you don’t have to go,” Richie says. “You can come home with us.”

“O-Or we c-could go wi-with you,” Bill says.

Eddie shakes his head. “It will be ok.”

Sighing, Richie shakes his head, no. “You shouldn’t have to deal with her alone. Let us come with you.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Eddie murmurs.

“Y-You d–idn’t. We’re t-telling you. We’re coming wi–th you,” Bill says. Richie smiles at Bill.

“You really don’t–”

“Eds, you may as well give it up. We’re coming with you, and if your mom can’t deal, well, fuck her, and we’ll leave early.” Richie pauses. “In fact, plan on it. We’ll all have to change our tickets, call our families, but we’ll split up the break evenly. It will be fun.”

“We can’t afford that!” Eddie protests.

“Y-Yes we c-can! I just got p-paid for th–at piece I wrote a why-while back,” Bill says.

“No, Bill, you were going to use that for a new computer!” Eddie says.

“I’ll j-just st-steal yours.” Bill strokes his arm.

“You’re ridiculous,” Eddie murmurs, but there’s a small smile on my face. He sighs and leans into Richie. “You guys are the best, do you know that?”

“N-No, you.” Bill laces their fingers together.

“Yeah, spaghetti, you’re the best.” Richie kisses his hair.

Eddie closes his eyes, and settles back.

“We d-don’t have to m-make any d-decisions tonight,” Bill says. “W-We can t-talk t-tomorrow.”

“Ok,” Eddie says. He sighs again and sits up. “You guys wanna do something?”

“Like what?” Richie asks.

“Play Mario Kart?”

“Only if you don't cry when I kick your butt!" Richie says as he pulls himself free and gets up to set up the Switch. Eddie scoots around and leans into Bill's side.

"Yeah, we'll see who cries, Tozier!" Eddie teases.

Bill knows it is a toss-up between the two; they are both really good. It's Bill that's going to be the loser, but he doesn't really care. He's terrible at video games, but he loves being with his boyfriends. 

He sits there listening to them argue about who is the worst player and waits to be handed a controller. He loves listening to them bicker like this, and he knows Eddie bickering is a good sign. Licking his lips, Bill leans into Eddie, eyes closed for a moment. 

"You ok, Bill?" Eddie asks as Richie's attention falters. He's fighting with the cords and cursing under his breath.

"Yeah, I'm good." Bill takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Love you so much."

Eddie squeezes his hand. "Love you."

"Got it!" Richie says triumphantly. He tosses a couple of controllers at them and sits near the TV. "You two losers ready?"

"Shut up, buttmunch," Eddie says. "Get ready to eat my dust!"

"Bring it!" Richie says. 

Bill struggles with his controller and gets settled. He knows the next couple of weeks are going to be hard. Eddie had agreed tonight that they would change their winter break plans, but that doesn't mean that it isn't going to be a struggle. He knows Eddie wants to break free, but Bill knows it isn’t easy; Sonia has a firm grip on her son.

Bill is not looking forward to the back and forth that is inevitably coming, but he decides there is no point in worrying about that now. Right now, Eddie is happy, Eddie is safe, and the three of them are going to have a good night. Tomorrow is future Bill’s problem, and tonight all he has to worry about is not driving the wrong way on the track. He knows everything will be ok.

#kaspbroughzier #bill denbrough #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #it #it chapter 2 #i love these losers so much #i'm sorry it took so long #life got hectic #then i took a writing break #i hope you like it. #Anonymous

[vxlkyrieee]

first blood

Endgame!Steve Rogers x Nurse!reader

Word count: 3352

*set during the latter part of endgame (some mentions of infinity war)*

Who would have ever thought that Captain America would need saving?

He appeared the picture of flawlessness. With a tall muscular build, pretty white teeth and a daunting stare, it was so easy to categorise Captain America as completely perfect and invulnerable.

Surely, living with a reputation like that would be exhausting. As someone that was expected to do no wrong all of the time, Steve was constantly on edge. He only ever disregarded his prestige if his moral compass took the unconventional route; he'd done that so many times, especially for Bucky. It usually cost him more than he would've liked.

But he's in too deep this time, and he can't pay for his salvation. Only you could do that for him. And it would cost you all your innocence.

You were never supposed to be a part of this shit. Steve mentally cursed himself, and he may or may not have mumbled a "fuck" when he first realised Thanos was attacking the compound, because you were still here with them. Why didn't you just go home when Steve insisted you'd worked enough hours?

You were his best girl, sweet and oh so gentle. Of course, you always held your own with more than enough handfuls of grit, but Steve believed you would never hurt a damn fly, and now you're all caught up in his mess.

The rubble seemed to deliquesce around your limbs as you try to recover from Thanos' artillery attack. Bruce, Rocket and Rhody, who were stuck with you, point out the arrival of water. It cascades down, sloshing into the confined space, and you couldn't help but start to sob. With every movement, the wreckage would attempt to submerge your body, leaving you struggling to keep your head above the surface. Rhody held your hand with cold, armoured fingers and Rocket clung to your arm for dear life. Here you were, just a mere woman among heroes.

Yet, that didn't matter right now.

Because Rocket was crying with you, The Hulk was struggling to hold up remnants of thick concrete, and War Machine couldn't move right without a full functioning suit. Just as the last flicker of hope was dimming, Ant-man squeezed his tiny body through the splits of rock and rubble, and added more sparks to your optimism. Still panting, Scott gives the three of you a hand and pulls you out.

"C'mon, guys! I'm pretty sure the whole band's back together now."

Making your way out into the open, you watch as the two adversarial sides yell their battle cries, and merge into a disorderly fight. A war, if you will. Leading the chaos was Steve, who now had everything to lose. The love of your life was throwing himself at a fucking Titan and his army, and all you were doing was spectating.

What the hell were you supposed to do? Wait on the sidelines until someone screamed "medic"?

It was as if that thought had climbed out from your skull and materialised before your eyes, when Steve took a particularly heavy blow. His shield was cracked, and if the vibranium was so easily broken, then what of Steve's bones?

As soon as he staggered to the ground, the cracks and fissures in your confidence began to make themselves known. Slowly, they paved paths along your heart, because what if Steve doesn't make it? What if he can't get back up? What if he's already dying?

Your sight becomes tunnel-visioned and you run towards Steve: the light at the end of the tunnel, as both earth and sky become one ash-ridden thing.

He saw your figure amongst the other Avengers, and they all fought tooth-and-nail around you, making sure you made it to Steve without an extra scratch.

"No! No, you've gotta get outta here now, Darlin'! Go!"

You hadn't moved from his side, and this was the only moment Steve ever wished you weren't so stubborn.

You stare at him, his face mottled with blood and freckles. At this point, Steve had trouble blinking without dirt invading his eyes. Instead of obeying his demand, or answering him, you ignore him completely. There were still many other Chitauri, that much you were sure of.

What you weren't sure of, was if Steve could make it to the end of this fight alive with the injuries he had, even when he could wield Mjolnir. His forearm had been torn open, the muscles just hanging onto their ligaments and bone. Steve being Steve, merely tightened the strap of his shield around the forearm, hoping that that would keep it in place. Another deep wound was opened on his thigh, blood soaking through the thick fabric of his uniform, forming a dark stain. He could feel the pain, like electric shocks, tingle down from his leg to his feet.

The same feet that you had once taught to dance.

The last five years haven't been easy. The first year was especially bad. There were days where you and Steve didn't get out of bed, hoping that your heads would stop spinning if you buried them under pillows for long enough.

This would count two times where Steve survived, and his best friend didn't. What made him so worthy of living?

Everyone would all tell him, the thoughts will pass. It's all in your head. But that was the problem. His head was so full with what he could've done, weighted and heavy like a dumpling, bursting and pounding with tears that never seemed to stop.

Steve could be all cloak-and-dagger sometimes. He was a marvellous arrangement of welded armour plates and kevlar, hiding behind a facade. But if you said the right words, touched him gingerly, held his gaze long enough, he'd dismantle and out would escape his affliction. Defences would crumble as he'd break down in your arms, and you in his. Castles and kingdoms collapsing together.

Even on the good days, Steve's blood flowed differently in his veins. His limbs were almost always exhausted, tired of waiting for some sort of breakthrough, holding on white-knuckled to a weakening hope that threatened to dissipate out of existence. Just like his friends.

But on the good days, the flurry of guilt and dust and Bucky and Sam, would shrink a little, even if by the tiniest fraction, to make enough room for something new. Those days meant slow dancing barefoot in the compound, cable-knit sweaters, ice cream flavoured kisses, filtered sun rays through windows, and tender bear hugs.

Those were the days where you had managed to get Steve's smile to reach his eyes: piercing blue, watery with laughter and flecked with tiny mellow greens. Eyes that glued themselves to your feet as he held your frame, swaying to the beat of soft jazz in the background.

On those days, he'd say "good morning." He'd have one hand in his pocket, and the other one wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee. His eyes adorned with dark circles, almost a purple tinge to the skin, but smiley nonetheless.

On those days, he'd buy you a double-scoop cone when you passed an ice cream truck in Central Park, even when it was so cold, your breath would become mist in the air. He'd even try leading the dances you'd have in the afternoon sun, waltzing a little faster so you'd follow in kind, giggling as you did so.

And he'd stumble sometimes, but never once did he give up.

It reminded you of the Avengers' early days, when Steve had planned on courting you. When you were still somewhat an unfamiliar face, only appearing sometimes by Dr. Cho's side. But Steve had his eye on you. Determined to confidently allure you, despite how many times he stumbled over his words in your presence. Instead, he had slipped, fallen really, into a romance he couldn't ever recover from. It was like having his feet swept from under him in a panicked rush, only to land face first into your welcoming arms. It was scary, but he loved it.

And the closer you got to Steve, the closer you got to the rest of the Avengers. Even after the snap. You tried to distance yourself from them at first, as to maintain a professional relationship, but they had a pretty strong magnetic field. Especially the girls. It was like gradually being pulled by gravity into the orbit of a planet you hadn't known existed. It was only then you realised that the Avengers were people too. Human. Well, most of them anyway.

You'd found sisters in Natasha and Wanda who were lost much too soon, and unexpectedly strong bonds with both Nebula and Rocket. There were times before all of this time travel, that you and Nat missed Wanda so much, you cooked all her favourite Sokovian dishes together, from chicken Paprikash, to stuffed Sarmale. It was in her honour you supposed. May as well mourn with good food, right?

On one particular day, you'd made Smazeny Syr, and Nat absolutely insisted the two of you eat it in the unconventional way Wanda loved: with blueberry jam. The smell of frying cheese had lured Rocket and Nebula into the kitchen and you took both their hands, hurriedly dragging them towards the stove.

"It's fried cheese. But, you guys have to try it how Wanda used to eat it. Otherwise you get none," you said with a giggle. Nat cut a piece, stabbing it with a fork before adding a generous dollop of jam.

"Ugh, no thanks I'm out," Rocket sneered.

"Your loss."

Natasha lifted the fork, and Nebula accepted it, albeit with a grimace painted on her face. As she chewed, her expression gradually changed from disgust, to surprise, and finally, delight. She nods her head, humming as she swallows.

"See."

Rocket waved off Nat's 'I-told-you-so's, shaking his head in a disapproving manner.

"Some freakshow you guys are."

You gave him a pointed look, raising an eyebrow and crossing your arms for emphasis. His demeanour faltered under your stare a bit, and he clumsily tried to save himself by favouring you. "'Cept you, (y/n). I kinda like how ya scratch behind my ears."

The room erupted into laughter and muffled complaints from Rocket. "Okay, that's enough outta you, racoon," Nat smiled smugly.

That signature Black Widow smirk. The one that either meant she was amused, or she was gonna kick your ass. You miss that smirk. And your memories of her were smothered with it, mocking you, the memories themselves unraveling into demons of sorrow.

Because now your heart has been broken once again. Your sisters are gone and they'd left you behind. And you will mourn of course, go through the motions of unbearable pain, until eventually it becomes tolerable enough to go back to routine.

But Steve was different. Steve was riddled with more guilt than was possible to endure. And now he could bleed out right in front of you if you didn't do something. But amongst a cold-blooded war, you'd have to avoid being killed too.

You had no weapon on you, and Nebula appeared to be the only one who noticed. So she tossed you a dagger, one that was idly sheathed on her leg anyway. A Chitauri warrior ran straight for you, and Steve was already rendered helpless laying in the dirt. You did the first thing that came to mind. You plunged the dagger right into the warrior's abdomen with a grunt, then ripped it back out, effectively killing the alien without leaving Steve's side.

Steve wished he could have done something. He wished you didn't have to do that. Because although the Chitauri wasn't human, you had just taken the life of a living being, in order to save his. You killed for him, with no reluctance whatsoever.

That was an action that would never be reversed. It was an action that came along with a side dish of guilt that would always make a home in the depths of a person's mind. Steve knew this all too well, coming back from a world war, and having to experience killing other opponents on many occasions. But that was something he wanted to isolate you from. He was the soldier, and you were the nurse. That's how it was always meant to stay, so he could suffer the mental trauma for you. So you'd stay safe from the horrors of having blood on one's hands.

Unlike your usual nature, you end up killing many more Chitauri while trying to clean the site of Steve's wounds.

All you could see was red. The anger and anxiety was so potent, it pressed heavily on your chest, rendering a physical ache in your ribs. Thanos had ruined a lot of things for you. And right now you'd kill as many of his sons of bitches that would dare come near you and the love of your life.

As you apply pressure on Steve's leg, a wave of 5 years worth of longing crashes into you with the force of a meteor shower, when scarlet coloured sorcery crosses your vision. Soon you're up, leaping, flying into Wanda Maximoff's arms. A bone crushing hug steadies the way you tremble against her, and before you know it, her hair is wet with your tears. Of course, time had passed differently for Wanda, but her eyes were apologetic as she caressed your cheek for a second, and you knew she understood how much her absence hurt you.

"C'mon, Princezna. I'll help you with Steve."

Wanda assists you in her progress, stitching Steve's wounds quickly and messily with magic and thread.

Steve notices how his head feels detached to his own body, all his thoughts flooding and melding into one giant entanglement, making it impossible to take a proper look at who was tending to his injuries. Shit, he couldn't even lift his head, weighted by the beginnings of dizziness.

"Is that you, (y/n)?"

"It's me, Baby, it's me. I'm gonna fix you." Fix him. Haven't you already tried countless times? You had thought you could smooth over his creases with love and affection, with time and effort. That was before you realised, no one can fix anyone.

However, Steve knew your efforts weren't wasted. You could never fix him or make him forget about the damage done to him over time. But you always helped him adapt. You helped him carry his burdens. You'd given him space and time to open up his baggage, then even unpacked some of it with him. You had done so much more than fix him.

You made him a new person. Different, sure. But still yours.

Once you had Steve in a stable condition, your adrenaline begins to wear off, and all the noise that previously pierced through the air, had suddenly dissipated. You weren't sure how the battle ended, but

you begin to realise exactly what you had done.

It felt good. As much as you hated to admit it, the bite of sharpened metal into wicked alien flesh was exactly what you needed. Or maybe you needed a minute away from everything. Weren't you supposed to feel apologetic? You were a nurse, for goodness' sake. Your purpose was the exact opposite of what you'd just done. Regardless, you knew Steve would be right there to comfort and console you if need be.

But right now, he needed you.

Bucky makes an appearance amongst the other avengers, and he comes forward, taking Wanda's place beside you. He helps Steve lay down on a stretcher, and into a helicopter sent by who knows who. All you know is, it isn't Thanos, and that's enough consolation for you.

Steve slips from consciousness while in the air, and you catch up with Bucky. He tells you you look different. You tell him you like his hair half-up, half-down.

You all end up inside the home of Tony and Pepper, and it becomes a sort of refuge. A place where everyone can wind down after the chaos and just be. Bucky carries Steve into one of the spare bedrooms, and you properly attend to his wounds. You start by unclipping and disregarding his helmet, before passing your fingers through his flattened hair. Bucky takes it from you, putting it by the window sill.

The bottom half of his face was painted with ash, which despite his predicament, makes you bite your lip to keep from giggling. He smirks at you, and you smile back warmly, wiping his face with a washcloth and a bucket of warm water, careful not to disturb his blooming bruises. You examine them softly. Your fingertips tickle against Steve's chin, but he doesn't complain. You hand him the bucket and he spits in it, ridding most of the blood in his mouth.

Whilst the bucket became more and more clouded with the backwash of the battle, Steve looked more and more like himself. You were so tangled up in Steve, you almost forgot Bucky was there until you hear the sound of his voice. His tone seemed to be sweetened by the sight of how his two friends have grown so much closer than when he left them.

"I'll give you lovebirds some space."

Before he turns to leave, (and supposedly find Sam) Steve clasps his hand on Bucky's arm. "It's good to have you back, Buck. We missed you."

Bucky gives you both a warm grin, nods, then leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

You take off Steve's uniform with languid movements, and he releases a sigh of relief. He was still sore, and unbelievably lethargic, but being this close to you made his brain all fuzzy, blocking out physical pain, to just feel you. He leans forward, resting the weight of his bare shoulder on you as he kisses you softly. The kiss was full of a strong ardour that seeped right into your bones, yet fragile enough, so that both your insecurities shone through. You'd have to rebuild much of yourselves later on, especially after today. Brick by broken brick, you'll both assemble your castles again. But for now, the kiss was enough to put a band-aid over everything.

"Love you, darlin'"

His voice spirals down your ear canals like melted chocolate, almost making you forget your own name. It made you drunk and alert at the same time, a familiar buzz running through your body. And when you smiled down at him, as sweet and soft as whipped cream, you didn't have to return the phrase. He knew. Steve had always been sentimental in that way, even when he wasn't there beside you. Like the months he spent AWOL as a fugitive after the whole Winter Soldier incident in Washington. He'd send you cuttings of your favourite flowers in an envelope, every now and then. No address, no name, no sender, but you knew it was him. You knew they meant 'I love you, be safe, I'll be back when I sort everything out.'

You pull away slowly from his lips, giggling, eliciting Steve to chuckle too. Such a sound was too rare nowadays, and you savoured it, locking the sound in your head to replay over and over later on.

"Okay, Cap. No more distractions, I gotta get you all clean and patched up."

"Only if you kiss me like a war just ended," he bargains.

"Alright, baby. But no frisky business. I'm exhausted."

Steve winks, adding a flirty little salute on the end "Yes, ma'am."

You'd left the curtain half open, hanging the fabric over the top of the window frame like a limp puppy ear. That way, the sunlight came through the window pane in mellow slices, coating your skin in a warm blanket of light while you indulge in Steve's kisses again.

He tasted like salt and cinders, but among that, after five long years, he finally tasted like Steve again. He was starting to heal. And it had cost him the mantle of Captain America, but planning to place it in Sam's care, it was a price he was willing to pay.

 Taglist:

@asgardiangurll @avengingnatasha​ @whyamihere-bro​

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #endgame fix it #don't know if this is even considered an endgame fix it fic but i'm gonna call it that #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #captain america #captain america x reader #steve rogers x nurse reader #avengers #avengers: infinity war #avengers: endgame #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst

[sanders-sides-fic]

Up there, too far away to hold me

I got inspired to write this by this post by @creepichan. I know it isn’t the intended purpose of that room, but, well… I hope this is still alright.

Careful, though. This is angsty. Like, really, really, really, really angsty. Now that we’ve established that, on we go:

His steps were purposeful, he wished to believe. But they were definitely hesitant, as much as he’d like to deny that one. But the matter of the fact was that he felt awkward to be here. He didn’t really feel as though this was a place he was welcome at, and he knew the reason for that far too well. So one might say his steps were cautious, but he would much rather call them meticulous.

It was early. Too early for anyone else being here. And, while that calmed him a little bit as he knew no one would see him here, that just worsened the feeling of intruding inside his gut.

He didn’t want to feel like that. He didn’t deserve to feel like that. They had done this to him, they were the ones to blame. He hadn’t deserved what they’d done to him! He should be angry, he had every right to come here and trash the place and vandalize and scream at them and demand to righten this injustice - but he actually only felt like crying. Maybe he would do the screaming bit.

He would admit, there had been a time when he’d felt angry. Furious, even. He’d used what little power their treacherous act had left him with to spite them in every way he could think of, made a point of letting them know just how much he despised them. But that had worn off quickly. Way too quickly. Not even an entire century later he’d been left with nothing but the grief.

His steps came to a halt at the end of the room, where the ridiculously long aisle opened up into a half circle on either side. In front of him was the altar, but he made a point of avoiding looking there. Too much was this like that room back home, where everything had crashed that day. The only reminder of where he was was that there was, in fact, an altar there. If only there would have been Roman’s throne. Heavens, how he longed to see Roman’s throne again.

So his eyes skipped the altar, focusing on the way the light filtered through the stained glass. The windows were just above his shoulders, forcing him to look up if he wished to see the faces of the people who had damned him like this, cast him out and chased him from his home. And why would he want to see them again? He hated them for what they’d done, just as much as they hated him.

Neither of the four figures had faces in their glass-walled mosaic portraits, he noticed. None of them. But Roman still had his crown. A golden, pointy thing amidst all the fiery red the god of passion, creativity, dreams, romance and arts was represented by. It was almost as much as he really did surround himself with, that thick-headed Roman, that rambling man with sparkling eyes. So obviously on the edge of braking into tiny pieces of self-doubt, so happy about every little compliment, so over the top in his vows of protection he’d never actually need to provide, or want to, apparently. The god may have been easy to flirt with and an endless source of friendly banter and long rants about future glory and happiness… But he was still so taken with his color. Like, seriously? Was that the only thing the god identified himself with, even over that typically fanciful symbol? Oh, he’d always scorned the overly dramatic display with that overly aggressive color.

On the left side, light up by the raising sun as well, the god of family, love, morals, and empathy was represented in his soft blue and beige hues. Ha! As if love or “family” had meant a lot to Patton that day. As if any empathy had been shown that moment when the god had stabbed him in the back. As if it was morally justifiable what he’d suggested that day. Gone where the war hugs and the easy, stupid jokes he’d cracked out of the blue. Forgotten all the warm evenings in the coldest winters. No more overly sweet chocolate chip cookies or hot chocolate or even just empty promises of forever. Not that he’d want any of that anymore, and it wasn’t as though he’d ever believed those promises were real anyways. Out of all of them, he may very well resented Patton the most.

He turned on his heels, almost thinking about leaving. But really he just wanted to see the other two windows. The two he could still see in the morning, but that weren’t light up form the outside yet, patterns made visible rather by the candles surrounding him in this room. Opposite of Patton was the god of logic, wisdom, knowledge, debate, intelligence, calmness. He didn’t officially represent all of that, but looking at the dark blue and black glass shreds that made him, as the picture held a book in such an unmistakable manor, that was what came to mind. Endless debates, the only clam voice in an outrage of different emotions, the smartest person he knew, the capability to logic his way out of any and all things thrown his way, facts delivered with such certainty no one would dare to question them. And those memories had no right to be so vivid in his head right now. Much rather he would focus on the icy look on the god’s face when he’d almost begged them to reconsider.

And Virgil. Right opposite to Roman was Virgil. God of fear, of fight, of protection, and storms. They’d always had a funny relationship, the two of them. Protection and self-preservation went hand-in-hand, after all. Lies and fear, however, not so much. Still, long nights and exasperation about the other’s cluelessness had bound them together. Sweet lies calming the god had brought them together. Days of fighting what couldn’t be denied anymore had brought them together. Centuries after centuries of being outcasts because of their jobs had bound them together. There hadn’t been trust that could have been broken that day. There had, though, been a fragile kind of love. The kind of love that was like a bridge made of ice, too thin to walk on confidently. The kind of love you would do anything to preserve because you knew you’d loose it for good if you didn’t. The kind of love that, in that moment it shattered, had turned into a thousand sharp edges pricing through his heart and tearing apart his soul, never melting completely in the cold their absence had left in him and therefor never letting the wounds heal. And he was proud to say that every bit of mistrusting hatred the god had shown him in just one sneer was absolutely mutual.

It was a warm day today. Disgustingly warm for his taste. He didn’t like the cold much, but such a warm day in February was just uncalled for, especially since it was only the third. And with the cold feelings bubbling inside his chest, he really, really didn’t want the day to be warm. It just felt so wrong. Why could Virgil just give him that at least?

He took a deep, shaky breath. “Hi.”, he said, ignoring the way his voice echoed through the empty chapel. He glanced over to where Roman’s and Virgil’s mosaics were, no Remus between them. So the god of chaos, destruction, creativity and… was it nightmares or death? He could never really remember which one was the job and which the hobby. Well, Remus had been canceled out of this little gathering as well, huh? He hated how relieved he felt at that. “I see you still don’t like you brother, Roman. What, still so insecure about that little black-and-white world of yours?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes, before turning to the pictures of Virgil and Logan. That was his place. Right in between them. Right there. Or, it had been, all that time ago. He should have gotten used to it by now. He really, really should have. It still felt like a slap to the face to see the empty space, though. “Well, I suppose it does make this more symmetrical, doesn’t it?” A dark chuckle escaped him, and it might just have been a suppressed sob in reality. He wasn’t even sure anymore. “You don’t seem to regret the decision, seeing as you never even bothered to call out to me.”

Silence. There was just silence again. He had learned to hate silence in the years apart from their obnoxiously loud banter.

And, oh. Oh! Just when had he started to cry? Such an unseemly display on his part. He quickly whipped away the evidence, but it was no use. His tears came too quickly, and his sobs were too violent to hold back any longer. And, really, what was he trying to protect anymore? They’d striped him of his dignity when they’d decided to throw them out of the heavens and down to earth, and he’d let go of the rest when he begged them in vain not to. So what if he broke down after years and years and endless years of the only family he’d ever known abandoning him and pretending he didn’t exist at all? So what if he fell to the ground screaming, surrounded by colorful glass illuminated by an early sun, when he’d held himself together once he’d realized the humans among him had just eliminated him from their books, like a stain in midst all those other oh-so perfect gods?

Maybe, he thought, just maybe seeing him like this gave them satisfaction. They had, after all, not cared about what he had to say when they’d thrown him out of the gates and taken away the source of his power. So why would they now? And, well, that would mean at least someone would be happy today, right?

Or perhaps this made them feel guilty for what they’d done to him, for what they’d let become of him. If that was the case, well, good. They should be. He didn’t want to cary that burden alone anymore.

“Why?”, he asked after a while, when his tears weren’t dried but at least the pathetic sobs and wails of agony had stoped. He didn’t move from where he’d crumbled, not even an inch. His voice betrayed the fragile state he was in, though, and he hated the way it cracked and sounded so horse. “Do you even remember why you did this to me? Because I don’t. What did I… It’s been so long. Have you just suddenly become incapable of forgiveness or was what I did really so horrible? What did I do? Why did you do this to me? Why can’t I remember? Why? Just… Just tell me why. Please!”

But he was only meet with silence. And for some reason that made him angry. Almost as angry as he’d been right after it had happened. Blinded by rage for just a moment he stood up, took the nearest candle and threw it across the room. The impact put it out, but the yellow wax still spilled onto the stone floor that resembled home too much to take.

“I know you can hear me, damn it! You did this! At least have the decency to answer me!”, he yelled. But he knew that if they hadn’t responded to his broken plea, they surely wouldn’t respond to his angry outburst. Virgil was to anxious to confront someone in rage, Roman was too proud to admit he’d been listening in, Logan didn’t engage with “tantrum-throwers”, as he called it, Patton would disagree with the outburst too much and Remus, well, Remus wasn’t even worshiped in this chapel, so he doubted that the green god would hear him at all.

Still, he didn’t stop there.

“You know what? Fine! Be like that. See if I care. I hate you too, you know? I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” With every time he said it it sounded less broken and more angry to his ears, so he repeated the sentence a few more times for good measure. Because maybe that would mean he’d believe in it at last. Because maybe the sorrow would be less present if only he was able to hate them for it. Maybe missing them wouldn’t be as bad if he could believe that he didn’t love them more than anything else after all. Maybe. But he would never actually believe those words, not really.

His eyes fixed on the spilled wax. Yellow. His color. And a sudden urge welled up inside him, a stupid urge, a Remus-ish urge to cover the entire chapel in yellow wax. He just wanted to see his color amongst theirs again. He just wanted to feel like he belonged again. He just wanted to… He wanted…

What did he even want anymore? To go back in time? To right whatever wrong had been done? To fall asleep dreaming of the old days and never wake up? Ridiculous. He’d never get any of those, it was sheer impossible. And what would he even say if they’d show up? What would he even do? Beg them to take him back? Ask for another chance they had clearly denied him multiple times before? And even if they would finally give in, what would he do then? As if they could ever move past this. As if he’d ever be able to talk to them normally if they took him back, not paranoid and scared about every move, hoping against hope to not lose them again.

No. No, it was hopeless. He didn’t want it to be, heavens, he really didn’t want it to be. But it was, wasn’t it? It was time to accept that it was over. This wasn’t just a phase. This was what they wanted. This was a forever thing.

It was that moment when two humans came in. He quickly straightened up, drying the last tears with his sleeve. Falling apart in front of the family he didn’t have anymore was one thing, but falling apart in front of humans? Never. They wouldn’t take that away from him, too.

The humans didn’t even spare him a second glance, though. Of cause not. Gods like him were hard to perceive to humans when they didn’t want you to. Of cause they didn’t notice him as he stood there, not wanting to be seen in such a state. Of cause not. Silly him.

And then something in their prayer made his heart clench painfully and his breath hitch. “The five immortal deities” Five, not six. Right. Right, there was no god of deception anymore. No god of lies, no god of self-preservation, no god of denial. He didn’t even exist anymore. That was what his family had essentially done to him, wasn’t it? Maybe not with that particular goal in mind, but surely Logan had known about the chance, Virgil thought of it as a possible outcome.

They had scratched his face and name out of their books, denying he even existed. And in doing so, they had scratched his very existence from the human’s minds and history books as well. They had taken his staff, the source of his godly powers, weakening him and leaving him with no way back on his own. They had killed him off, as good as you could kill a god, by extinguishing every memory of his existence, and they had captured him in a place where he was damned to witness his own death for all of eternity.

As tears welled up in his eyes again, he quickly turned around, hood of his black cloak pulled into his face with one of two gloved hands - because the other four had disappeared together with most of his powers as he’d been seperated from his staff - and hurried out of that damned chapel that looked too much like the damned throne room those damn gods has made that damned decision in. He suddenly only had one wish, and that was to be as far away from there as he could. He didn’t even turn around to look at the closest view he’d get to home ever again.

It was a pity he didn’t, really. If he had, perhaps he would have noticed four mirages of gods standing where he’d been yelling at them just before. Perhaps he would have even heard the hushed conversation the winds carried far away, unbeknownst to any humans:

“I hate to see him like that. I’m so sorry…”

“I know, padre. I miss him too.”

“Yes. We did, however, do everything we could. The humans do not remember him, therefor we have no means of bringing him back.”

“Emo? What…”

“I’m sorry. I guess we were just too late. See you next year, Janus.”

“I don’t believe he heard you.”

“I know.”

Taglist: @gattonero17 

I also wrote a second part to this. It’s basically everything that happened before this scene from the perspective of the others. You can find it here

#sanders sides au #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #gods au #fanfic #janus angst #janus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #tw loneliness #tw seperation #tw breakdown

[writingsbymarie]

Falling - JJ Maybank x reader

Word count: 2,285

Warnings: Hella angst guys.

A/n: Italics are stuff that happened in the past. I wrote this while listening to Falling by Harry Styles if you want you to listen to that while reading :). Also this ended up way longer than I was expecting. Midsummers part 3 is coming next as well :)

Summary: You are moving from the outer banks to attend college, and JJ feels like you're leaving him, and decides that breaking up would be the best. 

Three years with him. Three full years of your life you loved him, but then you broke each other's hearts.He was your first everything. First kiss, first boyfriend, first love, first time, and you thought he would be your last, but you were wrong. You and JJ started dating when you were both 15. You were the one who held him when he’d show up on your doorstep with a tear filled eyes after his father had hit him. You were there for each other through everything, and you thought he would be in your life forever. You thought you were going to marry him, but you were so wrong. 

You would be attending your dream school across the country. You put in hours of work to obtain a scholarship, and JJ was there to support you the whole time. Well that was until you actually got in with a full ride. 

You were laying in your bed a bottle of vodka in your hand. Mascara and tears running down your face. You took a large gulp swallowing the liquid. You set down the bottle on your nightstand, and flopped down on your bed staring at the ceiling fan as it spun. Your head ached, but not as much as your heart. Tears streamed down your face as you recalled the break up from two weeks ago.  

“JJ why are you acting like this” you asked as he turned his back to you.

“You’re moving across the country without me, and you expect me to just be happy about it,” he yelled, and you felt your body tense up. JJ didn’t yell at you often. He was soft and sweet with you, and never let his anger get to him. He didn’t want to be anything like his father.

“Only during the school year, and I’ll be back for breaks, and you can come visit me. JJ I can’t just live the pogue life forever. I need to follow my dreams, and get out of this” you said, your voice shaky as you tried to turn JJs body to face you, but he ripped his shoulder from your grip.

“Yeah but you’ll be surrounded by boys who will be actually making money while I’m here being useless” he whispered and you could barely hear his voice. You felt your heart break for him, and your face softened a bit.

“JJ those boys will mean nothing to me, and you aren’t useless. I love you” you pleaded with him putting your hands on his cheeks, but he pushed them away. 

“You’re leaving me Y/n, and you promised you never would” he shouted, getting angry again. 

“Are you serious right now JJ I’m making a life for myself do you realize how selfish that sounds. You could be coming to school with me if you tried in school, but you just give up over, and over again, and I refuse to live as a pogue the rest of my life.” you raised your voice getting angry with how selfish he was. 

“Seriously Y/n that's what you think of me. Sorry not all of us are born smart” he scoffed.

“Are you kidding me, I worked my ass off for that scholarship and as my boyfriend you should be proud of me not trying to hold me back” you yelled.

“If you think I’m holding you back then maybe we should just break up” he screamed back at you, and as the words came out the room went silent. The both of you looked at each other, tears running down both your faces. 

“Maybe we should” you replied coldly without even thinking twice. You were so angry, and frustrated, and you walked out of JJs house, and the second you exited the house, you just ran through the wooded area to your house, and the second you got inside you collapsed on your bed shaking. Sobs could be heard through the small house as you felt your heart shatter into a thousand pieces. 

Tomorrow you would be leaving for school, and you laid in your bed drunk trying to decide whether or not to see him before you left. You hated yourself for not trying to fix it. You wondered what he thought about you. Could he even talk about you? Because you couldn’t talk about him without sobbing. All you wanted was for him to be holding you in his arms. You fell asleep, the thoughts swarming your head. 

You woke up to the sound of your alarm blaring. Your head was pounding. You rubbed your eyes walking to your bathroom to take a shower. Your flight left at 6:00 tonight, and you decided you needed to see JJ before you left. It didn’t feel right to leave a three year relationship the way it ended. You still loved him. Even though you wanted to hate him for the way he was acting you found yourself still continuing to fall for him. You double checked that you had everything for college in your suitcase, and you packed it into your moms car. She would have to pick it up at the airport since she wasn’t even going to say goodbye. You took one last look at your small house, and took off in the direction of JJs house. Part of you hoped he wasn’t home. You were scared to talk to him. Absolutely terrified. Your body was filled with anxiety. Hands shakings, heart racing, and you felt as if you could pace out. As much as you wanted to leave your heart ached to see him one last time. You took a deep breath putting your car in park. You closed your eyes rubbing your temples. You felt tears begin to form, but you blinked them away. You slowly opened the car door making your way to JJs front door. You stood at the front door for what felt like hours. You were frozen debating whether or not to knock on the door or to run away. 

You felt your body begin to crumble your eyes deceiving you as tears began to flow down your face. Memories of your relationship flashing through your mind. One in particular was prodding at your brain. You turned against his door sliding down it into a ball. You wrapped your arms around your legs sobbing silently into your knees as you thought about the first time he told you he loved you. 

It was pouring. The two of you were going on a walk and the rain had come out of nowhere. The rain was cold on your skin and you began to run towards the direction of his house. You were both soaked to the point it looked like you had jumped into the ocean. You eventually both gave up on running, accepting the fact that you were soaked. You stopped putting your arms out tilting your head towards the sky with your eyes shut. JJ came up behind you, and wrapped his arms around your body, and you leaned your head against his shoulder. 

“You know you are the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen right?” he asked, giving you a kiss on your cheek making you blush. You put your face into your hands.

“Stop, you're making me blush, but thank you” you said.

“Well it's true” he replied, spinning you around to face him. Your face was still tinted red, and you were looking down at your feet. He placed his hand under your chin pushing it up softly so you would look at him. You met his ice blue eyes, and he leaned in to kiss you, but you playfully backed up, and he frowned. 

“You gotta catch me first” you winked, and took off in a sprint. He was much faster than you, and caught up quickly, and he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you off the ground, making you squeal. He turned you around again, and he had a smirk plastered on his face. 

“So do I get my kiss now” he asked pulling your into his body, and you gave him a small peck on the lips, and laughed. Before you could say anything he pulled your body as close as he could, and reattached his lips to yours making your eyes widen before they closed as you sunk into the kiss. His arms were wrapped around your lower back while yours were playing with the wet strands of his hairs. The rain poured on both of you, and you felt like you were having your own movie moment. Everything was perfect, and you were falling hard and fast for him. You loved him. When he pulled away he looked at you. His gaze was soft, and full of love. Water was dripping down his face, and from his hair, but he looked beautiful. No one had ever looked at you that way. You laughed softly and looked away from his look. 

“Why are you looking at me like that” you whispered.

“Because I love you”

As you silently sobbed against JJs door you could still hear his voice telling you that he loved you, and it devastated you that you would probably never hear him say it again. You began to take deep breaths calming yourself down. You wiped your eyes, and carefully stood up, and forced your hand to knock on the door. You could hear someone was inside coming from one of the bedrooms. You heard the click of the door, and it swung open. You were faced with JJ with a beer in hand. His face with no emotion until he realized it was you. His eyes softened for a second, but went back to emptiness. 

“What are you doing here don’t you have a flight to catch?” he grumbled, and you wanted to fall apart, but you tried to hold yourself together. 

“JJ I just didn’t want to leave with the way everything ended, I still love you and I can’t have you hating me” you whispered. You were looking at your feet and playing with your hands. 

“I don’t hate you, I could never hate you, but we’ve run out of things we can say, some people just don’t work” with those words you felt your heart shatter. You felt like you could throw up. You looked up at him, and his eyes softened when he realized you had been crying. You were breaking, and you didn’t think you would be able to hold yourself together for much longer. 

“I get it, I'll just go then” you sniffled turning on your heel, and you just let the tears come out like a waterfall, and you let out a sob as you ran to your car. JJ felt horrible he was heartbroken, and seeing you like this made him hate himself. You got to your car trying to unlock the door with no luck. You fiddled with the keys as you wept. You dropped the keys and hit your car in anger. You were so caught up in your breakdown you didn’t even hear JJ follow you. You put your hands into your palms, and cried. You soon felt two hands on your bare arms turning you around. 

“Y/n please don’t cry” he pleaded trying to get you to look at him, but you felt like you couldn’t breathe. 

“I don’t want us to be done” you sobbed, and he pulled you into his shirt. You gripped the thin material as you shook in his arms. He held you as close as he could, and he enjoyed the warmth of your body he had missed for the past two weeks. He began to cry as well, and managed to hold you even closer. When you pulled apart he held you face with both his hands, and wiped the tears from your eyes. 

“I love you with all my heart Y/n, but you need to go to school, and I am trying to hold you back. The best thing for you is to not be with me” he sniffled, and your heart broke when you saw tears fall down his face. 

“I can’t, I don’t want anyone else, but you. We can make this work. Please JJ I need you” you pleaded.

“Y/n” he started, but you cut him off.

“No JJ we can make this work, we can. I know we can. Please just try” you begged.

“I don't want to hold you back” he faltered, his hands leaving your face. You shook you head, and put a hand on his cheek. 

“You’re not holding me back JJ, I love you, and I don't want to be with anyone else but you. What I said to you was out of line, and I didn't mean it, and I’m so sorry” He leaned into your touch as you spoke, and the warmth of his cheek sent chills through your body. 

“I’m sorry about what I said too, and if you think we can make this work than I want to try, because I love you, and I can’t lose you. I was scared that once you left for college you would find someone new, and forget about me. I was being selfish, and you didn’t deserve that”

“JJ I would never forget about you” you whispered pulling him into a hug, and this time he was the one crying in your arms. You rubbed up and down his back slowly as he cried into your shoulder. You felt his tears fall onto your skin, and you just pulled him closer. 

“I love you JJ Maybank”

“I love you too”

masterlist

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fluff #jj x reader #Outer Banks #outer banks imagine #rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader

[cupsofsuga]

I can ask for a reaction to bts yandere when his gf is hurt by another yandere who is in love with him I hope you understand and thanks uwu

HEART SOLD  ━ YANDERE BTS REACTION*:･。.

WARNING - This is a yandere au, meaning the following may be triggering to some viewers.  I am not trying to discriminate the boys in any way, this is for entertainment purposes. Viewer discretion is advised!!!

Thank you for requesting, my love! 

P.S some of these contain a lot of gore, but nonetheless, enjoy!! xoxo

KIM SEOKJIN

━━━ Anger surges through his body and caresses his skin with its bitter touch. Pure, unadulterated rage. The clouds disintegrate, the galaxies start to crumble and all he can think about is this girl who has lied her filthy hands upon his lover, his everything, his soulmate. The tears are inevitable as the flow down her rosy cheeks, but he doesn’t care. It’s what the bitch deserves. She had touched you, hurt you, and if he wasn’t there, she would’ve gone further and potentially killed you. He scowls at the sore feeling in his heart once thinking about it, but he is quick to gather his thoughts. Jin refused to pay the thought any attention. After all, she should’ve known better than barging in uninvited. She should’ve known that touching you came with cruel, brutal consequences. She should’ve known his heart’s not up for sale.

You’re pulled into his deadly embrace, feeling his clothes soaked with blood against your body. You hug back, hands wobbly and heart pumping. And as you embrace him with fear in your bones, Jin tightens his grip with complete joy. Just by holding you sparks an undying light that warms and calms his stuttering heartbeat. He’s bleeding silver stardust and coughing up fragments of galaxies, and only your love will purify him.

“Oh God, Y/N… You’re ok! Thank god, you’re ok…! I-I-I don’t know what I would’ve done if you left me!”

MIN YOONGI

━━━ The room is white. A pure, unsettling white. Yoongi listens to the beeping; beep after beep that stutters his heartbeat. Wires upon wires are strapped to you in the isolated hospital room, he can spot the faint sight of bruises and scratches that litter your exposed skin. He stares, admires with a look so melancholically heartbreaking that the shatter of others hearts echoes. His entire galaxy is lying there. He sees planet after planet, stars upon stars and the sun that mimics your smile he so desperately craves to see.

And, god, does he feel guilty.

Guilty that he didn’t stop this girl before. Guilty that he wasn’t there to stop her from giving even the slightest mark on your skin. Guilty that he put you through trauma caused by him.Guilty that he wasn’t there in time to save you in time.

How could he have done this? How could he have let that absolute hellion lay their dirty hands upon his god/goddess? The guilt is suffocating and as much as he wants to put up his pale, small fists to fight back, his soul and body were far too weak and sore. Small, cherubic face adorned with luminescent tears, what a devastatingly beautiful sight it was to see. Broken sobs that linger in the room and the soft, hushed whispers of nonchalant words and begs was all caused by your pain. Yoongi sits on the end of the bed, watching in agony as you sleep with a pained expression on your features and desperately pleads to whatever god listening that you’d forgive and love him unconditionally.

“Y/N… If you can hear me, I-I-I’m so sorry!” He stops to breathe and cry, leaning down to press a gentle kiss against your hand, “I-I-I never meant for this to happen…P-Please, please forgive me…”

JUNG HOSEOK

━━━ Hoseok looks down to his hands, painted with crimson blood as they tremble like a fawn on legs. Had he really just done that? Had he really just taken the life of another human? The knife in his hands falls to the ground, hitting with a clang! that echoes through the bitter silence. He looks up to your frightened figure, seeing you looking down upon the girl with her face star-pale and cold eyes. But she doesn’t matter, Y/N matters. And he is so desperate for the slightest touch of their flesh that he reaches as far as he can, the consequences nonexistent.

“What did you do?” Their words come out quiet, hand-laced with the melancholy melodies of the moon.

This epiphany hits him like a train. He killed someone, yes, but that look in your eyes is what causes a tremble to erupt in his bones. They’re glossy, the chills from under your skin swimming in the depths of your irises. It’s a look of fear, loss, and as he stares, he can feel his essential need for you begin to strengthen. This infatuation cannot be unrequited, no, he simply won’t allow it. His tenacious grip on you is suffocating, but alas, there shall never be a single possibility of you leaving.

“Y/N…? I-I-… I’m so sorry, I-I had to do it…! Sh-She was gonna kill you…”

KIM NAMJOON

━━━ This girl was who shared an infatuation with Namjoon was beautiful. She was in every means a possible doppelgänger of a Greek goddess but those were not the thoughts that ran through his mind. All he saw was a creature so ugly, he scowled in disgust at just the simple thought of them. This annoying, obnoxious, desperate heathen was a human he refused to pay attention to, no matter how many times she practically begged on her knees for him. She isn’t worthy of his attention, only you are. She could never heal this ache buried in his chest, only you could. 

You live in this world of magical forests and seraphic galaxies while she lives in a world of broken down buildings and cloudy skies. You are in every means a pure and rich soul while she is dirty and selfish. She wanted him all to herself, and if that meant killing you, she would oblige for his sake. But just before the knife meets with your skin, a loud, deafening bang! pierces through the room, blood now soaked against your clothes. As the gun drops to the floor, Namjoon is quick to throw the girl’s limp body off of you as if she were just a doll and then hugs the human he loves with the entirety of his beating heart.

“Hey, Y/N… I need you to breathe with me, okay…? She… She was going to take you away from me and I couldn’t let that happen! I could never let that happen.”

PARK JIMIN

━━━ Jimin watches as the tall figure walks towards you, step after step, knife in hand. This girl’s intentions were crystal clear: kill you thence keep Jimin all to herself. His heart beats in an irregular way catching sight of this. It beats in a way it most definitely is not supposed to. It glows crimson red and blares out like a distressed alarm in an abandoned city, but, all he can do it stand and listen to the sound echo and reverberate against his eardrums. And once he puts together all the puzzle pieces, a shrill, ear-splitting scream of horror erupts from his throat. Two figures look at him, both in fear and the following events all come out in a blurred haze.

You watch, physically startled and threatened as he snatches the knife from her grip. Despite her struggle, he manages to plunge the knife directly in her neck, watching in delight as the light vanishes from her eyes. Blood paints his clothes and the cold tile under him. She collapses to the floor as the pool of blood grows and grows as he watches in satisfaction. His eyes snap up to you, then watching saturated tears flow down your cheeks with ease. Jimin’s confidence has now shattered seeing you in such a state and he is quick to stumble over to you lethargically. His arms now violently tighten around your waist. He is desperate, so desperate for even the smallest reassurance that you won’t leave him. But the damage has been done, his true colors have been shown, and there’s nothing left for him to do but yell and beg for mercy.

“Oh, God… Y/N, I-I-I-I… I-I’m so sorry…! Pl-Please, Y/N, j-just don’t leave me! You’re all I need, you’re all I have… If you leave, I’ll die!”

KIM TAEHYUNG

━━━ Kim Taehyung always showed how strong his devotion to you was. From becoming a love letter enthusiast to blowing his money on riches he most certainly can’t afford just for your sake. He practically exists for you! But, another soul has caught an admiration for Tae. Her letters were quickly discarded by him, never given a second thought, but once they start to turn obsessive and violent, he becomes more worried as they continue growing in his mailbox. They talk about the love they have for him and the utter hatred they have for you and the torturous things they wish to do to your precious, lionized life. And he is terrified, so fucking terrified for your life, he can’t think of anything else to do but flee.

You awake in a bed that most certainly isn’t yours, causing you to jolt from the sheets. A soft touch and delicate voice is what you meet with, reassuring you of your protected safety. Taehyung stares at you with sweet sorrow. Completely blissful for this new chapter with you but utterly anxious about the actions that may take place once he tells you he practically kidnapped you. With brows furrowed, you meet with Tae and ask him for answers. Where the hell were you? Why did he take you away from your home? With tears in his eyes, he answers.

“Y/N, hey, it’s ok. I’m here, everything will be ok… I must tell you, I had to do this. There was this girl… She was gonna hurt you, she was going to take you away from me! I couldn’t let that happen! But, Y/N…” He pauses, leaning down to put his head in your lap, “Please, just say you love me…”

JEON JUNGKOOK

━━━ Run, keep running. Run until you feel your lungs collapse and your knees give in. Run until your vision blurs and you can’t make sense of what you’re exactly running to. Run until you feel all your senses turn to ashes. You can’t see anything, can’t feel, can’t breathe, but you continue further. Keep going, keep going, keep going. The blood stains from previous, horrific events leave behind a tacky residue on your skin, but nonetheless, that was the least of your worries. You have to run away from the psychopath who claims to be your lover and find help!

Before you collapse and possibly black out from the suffering of your own body, you stop and let your knees hit the dirt. Your hands are painted with blood. It was not your blood, nor was it Jungkook’s, it was the girl who announced she loved him and would kill you for him. Your solution was to seek help for her, his was a decision more violent. He slit her throat with ease and you caught her before she could tumble to the ground. You held her, and you watched the stars and life leave her brown eyes. Junkook goes to reassure you, tell you his actions were absolutely necessary, but, you’re already off; gone into the woods to who knows where. You’re fast, but he’s faster. And as you regain strength and climb off the ground, two arms slither across your waist and tighten around you. You didn’t need eyes to identify who this was, you already know, and it’s already too late.

“Y/N.” his breath tickles your neck and you shiver in fear, “Please… Please don’t be scared. I would never hurt you, ever… I need you, Y/N, and I-I won’t let it end like this. I went insane without you…! A-And I won’t let you leave me, not again.”

#yandere!bts #yandere bts #bts yandere au #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere male #yandere!seokjin #yandere seokjin #yandere!yoongi #yandere yoongi #yandere!hoseok #yandere hoseok #yandere!namjoon #yandere namjoon #yandere!jimin #yandere jimin #yandere!taehyung #yandere taehyung #yandere!jungkook #yandere jungkook #bts #bangtan #bts imagines #bts headcanons #bts drabble

[smoljoelito]

shattered || richard camacho

word count: 1,584

requested by/request: anon​ ||   #17 and #26 || Richard. #17: When the broken glass litters the floor, #26: Broken, as you clutch the sleeve of my jacket and beg me not to leave. requested from this prompt list.

description: upon receiving awful news, Richard’s heart isn’t the only thing that breaks.

warnings: fluff

masterlist

tags: @quierick @mepuserojito @ericks-mala-actitud@woowoodaaboo @ella-se-vuelve-loca @joelsaww @honeyzhong @sarswilltakeyouout @pimentelssmile @whippedforcnco@notsoteenagegirl @richukisbb @besosdecnco @emsy55 @cloudfiveclub @erickspretend1@hardtoadore

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Richard’s day started off great, amazing even. He was awoken his favorite way, by you, his favorite thing in the world along with Aaliyah, with food, his other favorite thing in the world. Just before you left for work, he got to have breakfast with you and send you off onto your day, knowing with absolute certainty that you’d kill it.

Then, his happiness and world shattered. As soon as he got the mail, his heart seemed to crumble into billions of pieces just from a simple, yet incredibly hurtful, letter.

Yocelyn is trying to get full custody of Aaliyah. 

The first thing he felt was absolutely nothing. All of the blood rushing through his veins as he read those awful words seemed to stop along with his heart as soon as their meaning registered. A wave of coldness sweeps up him, starting from the bottom of his feet and traveling up his skin gently, leaving lines of goosebumps its wake. Even the white noise of the AC seemed to be nonexisting, the words on the page screaming louder than anything else.

Then, he felt wetness from two places, his tears, and sweat. The cool breeze of the AC alerted him to the fact, since his face chills a little bit more heavily than the rest of his body. As his eyes flicker across the rest of the words of the letter, nervous sweating begins. Just like the tears cascading down his cheeks, from the top of his head, beads of sweat form, then collect to form droplets. Before he can even finish the letter, wet splashes, as if from rain, dance across the page. 

He knows he will never win full custody, and Yocelyn knows as well. With his tour life, he would never have the time to spend raising his daughter, unless he were to take her with him on tour, but the court would hardly approve that to be an appropriate setting to raise a little girl in. Hell, he wouldn’t approve it.

Does he quit the band to raise his daughter? Quit his life dream for his hija? Of course, he would in a heartbeat, but there has to be another way. He could marry you and have you help him, however, he would feel guilty for the rest of his life. God, he does want to marry you, so, so badly, just not because of this situation. Anyway, there’s no way in hell you’d say yes since you’ve merely been dating five months. 

Neither of you has said I love you yet, but both of you are aware that you do love each other. It's through actions, shared memories, other words that you two have figured each other out. To everyone else, it’s obvious too, but neither of you can work up the courage to say it to each other. 

The feelings of stillness and sadness are completely and utterly overwhelmed by his blood rushing to his face and ears, heat beating so fast he can’t hear anything but. He can practically feel his vein throbbing in his neck as all of his muscles in his body simultaneously tense as epinephrine floods his system. Involuntarily, his fists clench around the paper as his eyebrows lower and eyes narrow on the words full custody. As he thinks about how soulless and mean Yocelyn has to be to put him in this position, his jaw clenches, yet, he releases the paper.

The next few hours are a complete blur and he really doesn’t know what happened first, but soon, shatters echoed off the walls of his once happy home, reflecting pieces of his heartbreaking on the floor. A mixture of glass covered the floor, consisting of broken picture frames, a tv screen, an array of alcoholic beverage glasses, mirrors, and anything that can be broken and crushed to show the state of his soul. 

As Richard walks across the floor towards, swaying slightly do to his cerebellum being under the influence of alcohol, the glass crunches beneath his shoes. He just barely misses a chunk of the broken coffee table, which after he broke everything glass, he moved onto wooden furniture. A slight catching of his foot on the floor, sends him flying, luckily onto the couch. A loud thud sounds through the room as he groans, his beer bottle slipping from his hand and joining the rest of its kind on the wooden floor.

“Carajo!” 

Before he can even get up to get another, the front door opens.

“Babe! Guess what? What the hell happened in here?” You shout, heart dropping into your stomach as you take in the entirety of your shared home. A hurricane seemed to tear through the beautiful home, leaving behind wreckage in its wake. Glass litters the floor, shimmering as the sunlight from outside the door hits it. Your lips part as you find your favorite pictures, throw pillows, vases, and much more tattered and shattered, leaving your heart aching. As you step forward, you jump and the sound of the cracking of the pieces of glass, leaving them even more broken than before.

“Go away!” Richard screams, bloodshot eyes meeting yours on the couch, seeming to be more intense now from his bright red hair. Immediate pain, as if someone had stabbed you, erupts from your heart as you take a few steps closer to your lover, whom you can’t even recognize.

“Why would I leave?” You ask, eyes scanning the floor until they find something white hidden underneath all the broken glass. When your gaze meets Richard’s again, he shakes his head.

“Don’t you dare, Y/N.” Luckily in his drunken state, he’s much slower than you. Quickly, you scramble across the floor to the paper, ripping it up quickly out of the pile of glass, sending it flying into the air. A gasp escapes your lips as your eyes scan the page, heartbreaking with every word. It seems the entirety of the situation comes together at that moment as hot tears pool in your eyes, cascading down your cheeks immediately as every cell in your body aches for Richard.

When your eyes meet his again, they are filled with hate, which you pray isn’t directed at you. You rise to your feet, standing maybe seven feet from him in the living room.

“Oh my god, baby. I’m so sorry,” You cry out, and Richard nods at you, causing your brows to furrow.

“You should be. She’s probably jealous I’m with you so she wants to punish me now.” Your jaw is left slack as he confesses his hateful feelings to you. If your heart could shatter any more, it just did. The tears that sting your eyes now are from a completely different reason than before, joining the collection of dried tear stains on the letter in your hands. 

“You’re blaming me for this? I’ve stayed by you through everything Richard. You don’t think that if I thought for a second that me being with you would threaten you getting to see Aaliyah I would’ve stayed with you? You’re just looking for someone to cast the blame on, and I’m not going to let it be me. I’m here for you Richard, as a shoulder to cry on, as your rock through shit like this, not as your punching bag. If you think I’m going to stand here and take this fucking bullshit, I’m not!” You shout at him, tossing the paper onto the floor, fists clenching as you make a beeline for the door. His eyes widen as he watches you go, knowing he royally screwed up. Over the past few months, he has learned your innocence and purity is only overran when you’re pissed off, leaving you cursing and yelling, which you never do otherwise. In sum, he knows he fucked up.

“Espera! Wait! Shit!” He yells as he tries to run towards you as you slide on your jacket. Never in his life has he sobered up as fast as the thought of losing you and Aaliyah in one day was too much to bear. Just as you almost slip out the door, he reaches you, tripping on the edge of the carpet, causing his knees to slam the floor rather harshly, as he snatches the end of your sleeve, stopping you in your tracks.

When you spin around to face him, he can see the daggers shooting out of your eyes at him, but when you see the fresh wave of tears streaming down his face, your anger lessens.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean that... I just can’t believe Yocelyn would do something like this. If I lose both my babies today I don’t know what I’ll do. Please don’t leave me. Carajo, I’ll do anything to keep you by my side. Te amo tanto, no puedo vivir sin ti. Ayúdame a través de esto. Por favor, mi amor, te lo ruego.” He bites his lip before his head drops towards the floor, sobs shaking his body as he lets go of the sleeve of his jacket. A knot forms in your throat as you too drop to your knees in front of him after closing the door, pulling him close so he can rest his head on your shoulder. His arms hang loosely at his side, but yours wrap tightly around his figure to hold him, so he knows he’s not alone.

“Está bien. No voy a salirte, lo juro. Te amo mucho. Lo superaremos juntos.”

#richard camacho #richard one shot #richard imagine #richard camacho one shots #richard camacho imagine #richard camacho imagines #richard imagines #cnco #cnco imagines #cnco one shots #my imagines #my one shots

[absolutely-legit]

Eat

Warnings: Mentions of blood

~*~

When Youngjae wakes up, he knows something is wrong. The smell of grass and soil and dead leaves surrounds him, clouding his senses. He scrunches his nose and shivers. When he sits up a gust of wind, cold October air caresses is naked skin and has him shiver. “Fuck.” He mutters. Which is objectively spoken the absolutely perfect summary of the situation. A big, bad ‘fuck’.

He sway his head looking around, but he sees nothing but trees and brush. Gentle sunlight peeks through the roof of leaves, golden rays falling to the ground, having the already fallen leafage shimmer in all colors of orange and yellow.

And red. Youngjae freezes dead. Not autumn red. Not foliage red. Blood red.

He stares at the dark sprinkles of blood staining the ground. No, please no, god, no. He follows the soiled ground with his eyes. The stains become thicker to where he’s sitting. Finally he looks down on himself. Not just his hands are covered in it. Also his legs and chest. He rubs his upper arm over his face and there crumbles dried blood.

He heaves, swallows. His throat aches in his attempt to hold it back, but then a desperate sob breaks out of him. His flood gates open and he starts crying pathetically, tears running down his cheeks, wetting the crusted blood and falling reddish-brown into his lap.

He can’t tear his gaze away from the mess. He can’t understand what happened, wishes he could wake up from this nightmare. Then, through the veil of tears he spots something between the blood-covered leaves, barely noticeable. His breath hitches. He holds it, rubs at his eyes to see more clearly, probably making an even bigger mess.

Something shimmers between the dark red and brown. Stained itself, but undeniably white in origin. Fuzzy little hairs. He reaches out, grabs a pile of dirt and brings it up to his face with his brown, dirt covered hand and filthy nails. There they are. Small bushes of white fur. Relief floods his senses. It certainly is fur. Now that the pounding of his heart calms down and his mind clears, as he blinks around him he can spot more of it. Scattered everywhere are pieces of an animal’s white coat. Maybe a bunny.

He throws the handful of dirt into the bushes and takes a few deep breaths. Everything is alright. Well, effectively he’s sitting stark naked in the middle of the woods. That’s not alright. But it could be worse. He could be a murderer. He looks up into the sky. He has no phone, no watch, no idea where he is. But he grew up around the forest and he’s not so easily lost.

It should be around 10 in the morning, he thinks, blinking at the sun, 11 at max. The terrain slightly falls behind him. The town is in the valley, the lowest point between the hills, so he’ll go that way. If he’s south of it, he can sneak in at home easily, otherwise he’ll have to walk all the way around the village and he wouldn’t like that very much. But it’d be doable. And once he’s home and washed, he can figure out what happened last night.

He scrambles to his feet, covered in nothing but dirt and blood and goosebumps. It’ll be a freezing walk, but he feels better with a plan and the prospect of a hot shower. It’s when he takes his first step that his eyes are drawn to the ground once more. He couldn’t see it before, probably sat on it, but now it’s blaringly visible. His heart stops dead for a moment there. His legs shake and he’s about to tumble back to the ground, can just so hold himself up on his feet. There’s a furry feeling in his stomach, a bitter taste on his tongue and it’s not exclusively from the fact that he swallowed a whole animal last night.

He slaps his hand onto his mouth to keep himself from screaming. Or from throwing up. Or both. The tears are back in an instant. He bends down and as gently as he can picks it up. Then he stumbles forward. He cries while he runs. He falls a few times, hurts his knees, scratches his skin open, rips his hair out that tangle in the brush.  He doesn’t care. He runs and runs, fist clutched tightly around it and he runs.

He chooses the path on instinct, nearing the town constantly. He approaches not from south directly, but from southeast. And that’s the worst possible place to be for him right now. When he breaks through the last line of thorned bushes he falls to the ground and hears a scream. He attempts to get back up, holding onto the fence that separates him from a herd of frightened cattle. They storm out of the way when a figure comes running square over the pasture.

“Youngjae!” He hears a gasped yell and the voice alone has him break into another fit of sobs. “Oh my God, what happened!? Youngjae-ah!” Jaebum climbs over the fence and then his strong arms wrap around his torso and pull him into a tight hug. “Oh my God, baby.” Jaebum hushes breathlessly. “What happened to you?!” Youngjae buries his face in his chest and sobs and shakes his head.

Jaebum picks him up and walks the long way around the pasture, carrying him as Youngjae clings to his shoulders. Jaebum is the best thing that ever happened to him and he ruined it. They’ve been best friends ever since they pooped their diapers together. And now they’ve been dating for barely two weeks, a big step and yet not in their relationship. Youngjae normally feels giddy in his presence ever since they shared an awkward first kiss. But there’s also no place in the world where he feels comfier and safer than in Jaebum’s hug.

Jaebum doesn’t bring him to his room but straight into the bathroom instead. “Are you alright, Youngjae?” He asks softly as he sets him down in the tub. He shakes his head in response, fist clenched so tightly his knuckles are white as snow. The hot water burns painfully on his cold and bruised skin, but he doesn’t make a sound about it. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t… I didn’t know. I kind of… I didn’t pay attention.” Jaebum explains, sitting down on the edge of the tub.

“I ran over to your place in the morning, because Shelly is missing. She’s just gone, I can’t find her. And then you weren’t there and I saw the shed door was burst open and I was so scared. I kind of recounted the days and I had forgotten and I remembered your family isn’t home and now I get why you didn’t accompany them to visit your brother in the city, I thought it was because of me and we’re finally gonna have sex while your parents are gone. But I forgot it’s that time of the month for you and I’m sorry I forgot, I was kind of… I don’t know. And you were gone and Shelly is missing and I was so scared and worried, what happened?”

Jaebum’s monologues can go on forever. The water is already up to Youngjae’s ribs, tainted dark with blood and soil when he finally quiets. Shelly is Jaebum’s pet goat. He’s had her for 9 years and loves her more than his parents.

Youngjae turns his tear stained face up to him and finally, carefully opens his fist. It lies flat on his palm that he holds out to him. The pink leather collar with the adorning silver charm that states her name. “I’m sorry, Hyung.” He says. “I ate her.”

~*~

Lol, I wrote an example post for sophie on what a long prompt and what a short prompt is.

Here’s the example for a prompt that’s going to be too long:

YJ and JB have been best friends since birth, but YJ has a secret, he is a werewolf and he’s trying to hide it, but JB finds out and is appalled and YJ tries to convince him that he won’t hurt him and eventually their friendship wins, but then they start dating and it becomes more complicated especially when YJ breaks free one full moon and attacks the animals on Jaebum’s parents’ farm

Here’s the example for a prompt that’s a good short:

YJ is a werewolf and accidentally eats Jaebum’s pet goat

And once I typed that down I had to write it. lol Also, werewolves AU prompt fulfilled.

#got7 fic #2jae #got7 #fanfic #werewolf #youngjae #jaebum #request

[impala-dreamer]

Escape - Chapter Thirteen

SPN FanFic

~Y/N and Dean are abducted after a night at the bar and thrown into a maze of horrors. Can Sam track down his brother and girlfriend in time? Can they even hold on that long?~

Dean, Reader; Sam

3,848 Words

Series Warnings: Angst. Show level violence. Graphic gore and blood. Extreme situations that may cause anxiety and fear. Character injury and trauma. (Extra Warnings in the tags)

A/N: Thank you to everyone for joining me for this story. I have seen and loved all your comments and feedback and I truly appreciate each and every one of you taking the time to read. <3 I hope you enjoyed. Please let me know what you think... 

~Feedback is the crack that keeps the Writing coming back~

ESCAPE Masterlist ~  My Masterlist  

Chapter Thirteen: Stairway to Heaven - 

Dean gripped Y/N’s hand tightly as they walked to the door. Their bodies were sore and near to breaking; their minds and spirits not far behind. But they had one thing, one thing that was pushing them onward… that luminescent red sign.

This was it, this was the end; their horrid ordeal was coming to a close, and soon they would be back home where they belonged. In the end it didn’t matter what had led them there, the hows and whys didn’t even ring in their thoughts any longer; they just wanted the fresh air, the sun, and the safety of their beds.

Dean gave Y/N a quick smile, and together they placed their hands on the push bar. The door gave instantly, drenching them in glowing white light; the sun come to meet them finally. With hopeful eyes closed tight, they stepped out of the basement and into the light.

Dean let the door close behind them, and as it did, the world flipped on end in a gut-wrenching spin. The exit door slammed closed and a hydraulic lock engaged, echoing loudly as it sealed them inside their final room. Y/N grabbed Dean's arm and pulled him towards her, moving him away from danger just as a wall of steel bars descended from the brightly lit ceiling and connected with the floor. They were blocked from the door, from the walls, from the ceiling, by thick metal rods on all sides; a true cage, with space between only wide enough for an arm to pass.

Y/N spun in place, her mind reeling as hope was dashed away. They were trapped like mice, like prisoners, in a cage made just for them.

Dean wasn't spinning. He was still, but not calm, staring hard at the far wall beyond the cage, upon which hung a message: a hand stitched salutation framed behind delicate glass.

Home Sweet Home

“No.” It was a whisper that sounded on the end of his breath.

“No.” His fists balled at his sides as his voice grew in volume.

“No!” It was rage against the world, the stars, and all for locking them up once more.

“No.” It was a cry; defeated and hopeless as he fell to his knees on the cold cement. “No.” He breathed the word, letting it become part of him; feeling it soak into his bones like the cold from below that seeped upwards through his hands and knees. Dean fell forward, giving up. He let the tears fall freely, silently onto the floor. He let his breath expel in heavy sobs that shook his chest and rattled his heart. He beat his fists against the stone until his hands were aching and bruised black.

Y/N stood behind him, slowly collapsing in on herself. She watched Dean break, watched him claw at the ground, soaking it in blood and tears. She held back, her mind too tired to fully process the finality of their situation. This wasn’t it; there had to be a way.

The cage was fairly large; a good ten feet long on each side, and the ceiling was higher than any room they’d been in before. The bars were thick and strong, and Y/N tugged on them with all the strength left in her, but they did not move. Beyond the cage were cinderblock walls, some four feet away, and out of arm’s reach. The framed tapestry was all that decorated the gray stones, but it was enough to chill her bones each time her eyes passed over it.

Inside the cage was set up like a bedroom, she noticed now, with a mattress on the floor in the bottom right corner, and a chair in the left. On the floor facing their cross-stitched death sentence was a brown wicker picnic basket. Y/N cocked her head as she stared at it curiously. In hopes of finding a hacksaw or a grenade launcher, she carefully stepped around the crumbled pile of rags that was Dean and fell to her knees next to the basket.

Y/N wiped her soiled hands on her thighs and opened the lid. A wretched laugh tickled her chest as it worked its way up through her; stopping to shake her shoulders as it pushed out from her lips in a dry, crazed chuckle. Inside the basket was a bottle of champagne, two plastic flutes, and a carefully folded notecard. Y/N steadied herself enough to reach in and retrieve the note, but the laugh returned when she read the words, perfectly written in heavy calligraphy,

‘Welcome home.’

Her lips twitched, laughter replaced with rage as she read the note over and over again. Her fingers tore at the fancy paper, and a scream ripped through the quiet as Y/N snapped. She shredded the paper and rose to her feet, kicking at the basket and then at the bars, throwing herself repeatedly into the cage wall, desperate to shake them loose, to move them an inch, to affect any change in their predicament. Again and again she slammed her shoulders into the bars, but nothing moved. Her screams echoed off the cinder blocks and shook Dean from his stupor. He climbed to his feet and stepped between Y/N and the cage, blocking her next blow with his chest. He took the hit with a heavy groan and then wrapped his arms around his friend, fighting with her rage to hold her still. She twisted and struggled against his grasp, but he held firm, turning with her, not letting her break free.

Eventually she calmed and they sank to the floor together. Dean leaned against the bars and crushed Y/N to his chest, letting her count her breaths by the beating of his heart. He held her tight and rocked her gently, whispering placations and empty promises against her hair.

“What do we do?” she cried softly into his shoulder, her eyes wide and desperate for direction.

“I don’t know,” he confessed, looking once again at the frame on the wall. “I don’t know.”

Sam took a long step towards the counter, his eyes glued to the image he saw in Roger’s lenses, his hand closing around the handle of his gun. He kept his face neutral, but had Roger known him better, he would have guessed all in the subtle clench of Sam's jaw and the twitch of his nose.

“Something else I can help you with?” Roger looked up and smiled as Sam approached.

“Just one more thing,” Sam said, keeping his voice calm and monotone. He reached the desk and looked down at Roger, confirming his suspicions and filling with rage. The image he had caught in the man's glasses was that of his brother and girlfriend, huddled together in a cage. In an instant, Sam pushed away all facade of calm and drew his pistol. Fire flared in his hazel eyes as he aimed the gun and growled. “You can put your hands up and back away from the computer.”

Minutes, hours, days; they had no way to know how long they had been there. Not since their beer soaked evening at the bar had either even a fleeting sense of time. There was no light, no dark, no way to gauge the passing of time but the breaths they took and the beat of their hearts.

When the tears had dried, Y/N passed into a dreamlike daze, her head rolling gently against Dean's shoulder, and her eyes falling closed only to pop open every few seconds as she was reminded of their ordeal. Dean kept his arm around her and set his eyes to the floor. He went over every moment from their journey; every step that had led them there. It seemed impossible and pointless that it should all end in a cage. Their trek had been destined for a dead end, but why?

At some point they moved onto the mattress, Dean folding himself around Y/N to keep her warm and provide the illusion of safety. She fell asleep finally, her entire being giving in to the physical trials and mental torture. When her breathing deepened and her limbs went slack, Dean slipped away to inspect the cage. He walked slowly around the perimeter, stopping every few feet to jostle a bar; he ran his fingers down over every welded connection, seeking a chink in the barrier, a drop of hope. Each attempt came up empty. The cage was solid; their imprisonment absolute.

Y/N woke up a few hours later to a loud pop that filled the room and made her jump. She sat up quickly and rubbed at her eyes, blinking into the bright overhead lights that beamed down upon them. Dean was at the foot of the mattress, filling the plastic champagne flutes with bubbly. He looked up at Y/N with a faint smile and handed her a glass.

“What’s this?” she said weakly, her throat torn and burning from the screaming she had done.

“Cheers,” Dean set the bottle down and picked up his own flute, holding it up so they could toast.

“Dean…” Y/N shook her head, not wanting to join in his game, but he insisted.

“You’re exhausted and dehydrated. The sugar will do you good. Drink up,” he said and raised his glass a bit before taking a sip of the room temperature liquid. The bubbles attacked his throat and shot upwards towards his nose, and Dean cringed at the taste.

Y/N sighed and looked down into her cup. “So this is it?” she asked, biting at her cheek to keep from crying. “We make it through Hell just to end up here? Locked up in a cage like rats?”

Dean shook his head and licked a drop of sweetness from his lip. “No,” he said simply. “That wasn’t Hell. This is Hell. All that was nothing, this… this is where it ends. Where we end.”

“No, Sam’s coming. He’s coming, I know he is.” Y/N nodded, agreeing with herself, trying to hold onto that last piece of hope. “Any second now, he’s gonna break down that door and get us out.”

Dean laughed bitterly and took a second sip. “He’s not coming.”

Y/N lifted her glass and took a breath. “You’re wrong.”

Roger scooted back in his chair, raising his hands as a smirk passed his lips. He was cooperating, but only for show. He had a vantage point that Sam did not have, able to see the entire lobby, and his accomplice, Kevin, sneak up behind Sam.

“Just stay right there!” Sam yelled, and then spun around as the floor creaked loudly behind him. He turned just in time to see Kevin attack, his bulky right fist flying towards Sam’s head, a needle held high in the left. Sam dodged the blow just in time, bending down and jumping back up with a punch to Kevin’s gut. The man doubled over, and Sam brought his gun down, knocking him out with a hard shot to the back of the head. The handyman crumbled and Sam looked up, chest heaving as he caught his breath, and saw that Roger had crept away.

With renewed anger, Sam tossed his head back, sweeping the sweaty hair from his forehead, and rushed over to the abandoned computer. He clicked a few times to call back the screen he had seen the shadow of, and after a moment it appeared. It was a split screen, four cameras pointed at a cage, observing Dean and Y/N from every angle possible.

The pair looked half-dead, thin and graying, their clothes little more than soiled rags stained with blood; their faces more of the same. They lay on a filthy mattress that occupied a corner of the cage, curled into each other, their foreheads touching as they whispered back and forth. Wide eyed and horrified, Sam fumbled with the controls, trying to zoom in, to turn on a microphone, anything; but it was useless. The four screens were as high tech as the set up got, and Sam was forced to watch the silent production.  

As he watched, Dean reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a thin piece of metal that flashed in the light as he brought it up between them. Sam beat his fist onto the desk, unable to see what was happening. It didn’t matter anyway, he was close.

A door slammed behind him, and Sam turned towards it, gathering himself and preparing to finish his hunt and save the day.

“Y/N/N… we can’t.” Dean sighed as he held the scalpel between them. He gripped the handle tight and looked from its rusty blade into her pretty face. She was tired through and through, her cheeks stained by dirt and tears, lips cracked and bleeding. Bruises spread like purple webs across her neck and collarbone, and he knew the ones he couldn’t see were worse. The cuts she’d endured were red and inflamed by infection, and he felt his burning as well.

Her fingers closed around his hand, and she looked back with a peaceful smile. “It’s OK, Dean. This is how it has to be.”

For days they had wasted away in the cage, taking turns to saw at the bars with shards of glass from the broken champagne bottle while the other kept watch over the door, praying for Sam. The glass caused not even a dent, and the door never opened. They were dying, truly, painfully, finally.

With hearts that raced and stopped with no rhyme or reason, and heads that pounded and spun, Y/N and Dean lay down on the mattress and contemplated the end. How long could they last, alone in this room? How many hours did they have left before the Reaper came? A healthy human could live up to seven days with no water, but they had already been through so much. They had been beaten and bled beyond what a person could handle, and Dean felt his strength fade a little more with every breath he took. He was dying. Y/N was dying. There was nothing he could do.

“I can’t,” he said again, his voice hoarse, throat dry. He licked at his lips out of habit, but the cuts in the creases were deep and they stung when he pulled his tongue away.

“It’ll be quick,” she said softly. “And then it’ll all be over. We can be free of this place.”

Dean searched her eyes, darting back and forth between her glassy irises, but he found nothing there but resolve. She was ready. “But Sam…” he tried, hoping to instill another ounce of hope into her.

Y/N smiled and shook her head. “Sam’s not coming. You were right.” Her hand left his to cup his face, and she pushed away a vagrant tear from his cheek. “You with me?” she asked, recalling the promise they had made to each other at the start.

Dean nodded and closed his eyes. “Yeah, I’m with ya.”

She smiled and leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips. She sucked in a deep breath to push back her tears, and took the tiny blade from his hand. “I love you, Dude,” she whispered.

Dean shivered and opened his eyes. “I love you too, Kid.”

Sam held Roger at gunpoint in his little room behind the lobby. For all his cunning and schemes, the twisted man did not have an escape plan. He never thought he could be caught, and for four years he had carried on, playing his game with the random souls he plucked from the night.

Sam’s fist cracked hard against Roger’s jaw once more and then man’s head snapped back as he let out a groan.

“Where are they!” Sam bellowed as he leaned down and set his hands on the arms of the chair that held Roger tight.

The man flinched but simply smiled in return, shaking his head slightly as he refused to answer the question. “You know, you should be proud. No one’s ever made it that far before. I was surprised.” Roger’s tongue snuck out and he licked away a bit of blood from the corner of his mouth that Sam’s jab had called forth. “Most never make it off the operating table.”

Sam’s lip curled into a hateful sneer when he heard those words. “What have you done to them?”

“Oh,” Roger laughed. “So many things. But, really, they’ve done it all to themselves. I’ve just provided the… necessary inspiration.” He leaned forward and looked Sam dead in the eyes. “And from what I’ve seen, they’re about to do it to themselves again.”

“What do you mean?” Sam seethed, his hands tightening around the wooden arms.

“The ultimate escape.” Roger smiled again.

Sam let out a roar born of frustration and pain and spun away from the chair. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to stay calm and get the answers he needed, but Roger’s shrill voice went on, piercing Sam’s ears.

“They made it through my rooms in amazing time. Only took them fifteen hours; and that’s with all my trip ups and knocking them out and whatnot. I was quite impressed. Which means, of course, that your brother and that pretty little thing have been locked in their cage for just shy of eighty-six hours. Do you have any idea what that would do to a person? It’s been very educational watching them lose their minds, I must say. I’m so grateful for the opportunity.”

Sam’s fingers twitched against his gun, and without thinking he switched the safety off again and spun around to face Roger. “Tell me where they are!”

Roger laughed. “Don’t you know? They’ve been here the whole time. Right under your nose.” His shoulders shook with glee and Sam’s heart pounded in his ears. “Some detective you are.”

Sam raised the gun and pressed the barrel hard against Roger’s forehead, marking his target, straight between his eyes. He let out a cry that stopped Roger’s incessant laughter and Sam’s hand began to shake.

They both jumped when the door was kicked open; Kevin having returned to consciousness and bounding in to save his partner. In the shadows of the back room, Sam could see clearly that he was the man from the video, and while he took no pleasure in putting down a human, he had no mercy either. A single shot to the heart dropped the massive man, and Kevin crumbled, his dead eyes wide and mouth agape.

Sam turned back to the mastermind and took aim once more. The man cowered, eyes darting between his fallen comrade and his executioner.

“You don’t want to kill me,” he said quickly, on a mission to bargain for his life. “If you kill me, they’ll be locked away forever. I’m the only one who knows the codes to unlock the system.”

A soulless smile curled the corner of Sam’s mouth as he lowered the hammer on the pistol. “Well, lucky for me I’m pretty good with computers.”

Roger struggled against the rope that held his arms. “Just wait! Wait!”

“Roger,” Sam said, taking a deep breath and lowering the gun. “There’s only one thing I need to know from you… Why?”

All pleading fell away as Roger transformed back into the psychotic monster he truly was. “Why?” he asked with a sneer.

“Yeah,” Sam confirmed, narrowing his eyes. “Why?”

Roger licked his lips and lifted his chin to look at Sam properly. “Why not?”

Dean’s eyes popped open when he heard the gunshots. They seemed close, but muted by so many layers of concrete that he couldn’t be sure if they were real. Could just be his mind playing tricks on him again; he’d been the victim of hopeful hallucinations now too many times to count.  

Y/N whimpered next to him, her breath becoming slow and faint. Dean clutched her hand to his chest, feeling how cold her fingers were growing. Her eyes fluttered and he kissed her fingertips as he began to hum again. He could feel himself slipping away, and everything in him was battling the end. He didn’t want to go, not like this, not ever, but it was too late.

“There’s a feeling I get, when I look to the west...”

Y/N smiled as he sang, listening to his gruff melodic whisper as the room faded away.

“And my spirit is crying for leaving…”

The bars melted around her, the lights dimmed; the torment of waiting and the pain of their trials fell away.

“In my thoughts I have seen, rings of smoke through the trees…”

“Dean…”

“Yeah, Y/N/N?”

She smiled as she closed her eyes. “You’re a horrible singer.”

Sam’s fingers danced frantically over the keys, his eyes searching each line of code, blurring and stinging as sweat dripped down from his forehead. It didn’t take him long to break the system, and soon he was ripping back caution tape and flying through the plastic sheeting on the final leg of his search.

Dean stirred when he heard the lock disengage. He turned his head towards the door and saw it push open; his heart stopping and his lungs expanding with a deep breath when his eyes fell upon his brother.

“Sam?” Dean croaked the name, still not sure if he was real or an illusion.

“Dean!” Sam rushed towards the cage, looking between the thick bars at the bloody mattress and the pair that lay on top.

“Sammy…” Dean let his head fall back down, but managed a smile. He rolled back to Y/N and shook her shoulder gently. “Y/N/N… wake up, Kid. He did it. Sam saved us.”

Sam looked around the room quickly until he found the little frame on the wall that, according to Roger’s plans, hid the switch that would open the cage. He tossed the cross stitch to the ground, shattering the glass in his haste, and flipped the lever. Instantly, the bars closest to the door retracted into the ceiling, and Sam rushed to Dean’s side.

He fell to his knees on the mattress, hovering over Y/N, his hands frantically traveling up her body. A breath caught in his throat when he saw the blood running down from her wrist, and he gathered her up, clamping one giant hand down on the wound and pressing hard. He looked to Dean who struggled to speak, his lip quivering with pain and regret.

“We… we didn’t think you would find us,” he whispered.  

Sam couldn’t answer. He fell down over Y/N, his tears dropping to her face and clearing a path downwards. If he had been faster, smarter; if he hadn’t left them alone in the first place, none of this would have happened. He pressed his lips to her cold cheek and let the wave of guilt flow over him.

“Y/N…”

... ...

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#spn fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #sam x reader #angst #horror #escape #series #entrapment #murder #character death #tbc

[shadcatmastered]

Day in kid’s life where he takes care of his to kids

…I loved the imagination of Kid as a overstrained babysitter :’)

Kid x Law - Short FF - Babysitter

Kid could notbelieve it.He reallycould not believe it.He looked at thelittle child in front of him. Alittle girl where just could crawl and was just about to suck on her own toesand there was another, older girl of four years, where just in the living room singingscreaming to a television program.Law owed him something.Law owed him a lot.These were thechildren of Law’s sister. The older one was namedMary, the toddler Celin. Lamy had an importantappointment today. Shewas a writer and today began receiving awards from the New York Times. Of course, her family had tobe there. Herhusband, her parents and her brother. Actually,he should now sit with his boyfriend at this ceremony. Witha fine suit and a glass of champagne in his hand.Instead,Lamy had desperately called out to her that her babysitter had canceled and shewould not find a new one. Oh,Kid had already seen from Law’s eyes that this would not end well for him. Hehad looked at him for a long time and then with a grin meant that he already hadan idea.The redhead did not want to. He really did not want to. ButLaw had this gift that he had always been able to persuade him to any nonsense.Theblack-haired had nestled against him, very tight and he had taken Kids hand andput on his butt. Carefulhad Law rubbed his butt against his hand and then moaning quietly meant:“Asa reward, you can also do anything with me tonight whatever you want …”Butwhen Kid heard the singing screaming from the living room, it was certain thatLaw would not get away with one night. Hewould tie him up and continue for the whole of tomorrow. With the rod in his hand… mhm …Unfortunately,the Redhead did not have the time to continue to care about his fantasies. Because from the livingroom a screaming sounded. Thistime a real, and then a loud clanking.Kid buriedhis hands in his hair.“You stayhere!”He called Celin like adog. Evenif the girl just looked at him with her big blue eyes, when Kid stormed intothe living room. There was asob.Mary, who had clearly danced to sing through the living room, hadstumbled and flown against the living room table. There a glass had fallen downand crumbled to pieces.“Oh shit, now we have to buy Lamy new glasses.”Sighing, Kid spoke his words, causing Mary to cry louder. Clearly because shehad to protest that her pain was ignored until now. But what should Kid do?There was no help against pain out of stupidity.He picked up a handkerchief and picked up the pieces, while Mary began to hitthe floor with her hands and feet, screaming louder and louder. Kid felt anerve thumping on his forehead.“What do you want?!”He snapped at the little girl, who looked at him wide-eyed. Kid had to pullhimself together so as not to look away disgusted. Green snot ran down her noseover her mouth and her eyes were quite tormented.Disgusting.It was almost on Kid to scream when Mary said:“A hug…”Before the redhead could do anything, Mary had her arms outstretched and clungto his leg. The snot plastered in his trouser leg. Kid swallowed his scream ashe stroked the girl’s hair. Maybe she would stop screaming if he stroked her abit. But then Kid really shouted. Mary was sweaty from her cry attack. Sweatreally wet. And since Kid had caressed her hair, he now had her disgustingsweat on his hand.“Mary, let me go!”Kid spoke in shocked tones before getting up. Mary actually released him andthe redhead looked disgustedly at his smeared leg. Oh my God. He would throwthese pants away.But suddenly a smell filled the room, which made him and Mary both raise theirnoses.“What’s that disgusting stench?!”A smell like death itself filled the room. Clucking, Celin crawled into theroom. A big grin on the face.“… I think Cely did poop.”…Oh no.Absolutely no way! Under no circumstances! Noway!Kid let go of his nose and stumbled backward in horror as Celin scrambledtoward him. This full diaper wobbled on her toddler butt back and forth. Hefelt as if a terrible monster was approaching him.“What happens if you leave the diaper full until Mom comes home?”The redhead looked at the 4 year old as if she had any idea. But Mary justnodded gravely.“Mama always yells at daddy when she gets home and Mary has a full diaper.She says that Cely’s butt turns red and she’ll scream all night because she haspain.”…that would be exactly the right punishment for Lamy. Should they stay awakeall night with the screaming monster, for simply handing the girls into thehands of Kid.It did not help.“Damn it.”Athis cursing, Mary looked at him in shock, but it did not matter to Kid. Hepicked up the toddler and went to the bathroom where the changing table stood. Law would pay for that. Whenit rang the doorbell two hours later, both children lay in bed and slept. WhileKids’ hair was completely messed up and he felt so disgusting that he couldbathe for hours and yet still not feel clean.Thetwo siblings grinned at Kids sight while he ignored it skillfully. Withoutgreeting Lamy, he grabbed Law’s hand and walked out the door with him.“Onlythat you know that, the subject about children is clearly done for us!”Lamy chuckled andLaw grinned. WithoutKid seeing it, he turned to his sister and winked at her.“Wedo not have to talk about that today.”BecauseLaw knew that in the end he would always get what he wanted. Kid just lovedhim too much to say no. And he loved the redhead aswell. That’swhy he always did exactly what was best for both of them.

written by Shadcatmastered

#You ask I write #KidxLaw #Babysitter #KidLaw #Funny #Cute #Lamys Children #Lamy #Lamy Trafalgar #Law Trafalgar #Law #Kid #Kid Eustass #Kid x Law #children #laugh #babys #toddler #child #ff #fanfiction #one piece #yaoi

[imaginativemarvel]

Don't Go - Bucky x Reader - Angst One Shot

Summary: After months of being ignored, (Y/N) broke under the pressure when Natasha informs her of Buckys secret. Their relationship crumbles but for reasons neither of them know of.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2k

Warning: ANGST ANGST ANGST

A/N: Requests are open and I absolutely am open to anything! I love speaking to you guys and receiving any type of feed back so please don't hesitate to send an ask or message (: TWO IN ONE NIGHT SORRY I MEANT TO POST THIS YESTERDAY

Updated Masterlist!!

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Your body had completely froze in shock. Did you just hear what you thought you heard? The moment replayed in your head over and over, doubts filling in and completely enraging you. Natasha quickly grabbed your shoulders before you could let go of the once calm demeanor you had.

"(Y/N). Stay with me, let's calm you down before you do anything you regret."

Completely ignoring what she said, you ripped her arms off of your body before running down the hall with lightening speed. The moment you reach the door to your room, you hesitated, arms shaking while you mentally prepared yourself for what you were about to do. If what Natasha said is true, then that means you're about to throw away a two year relationship and possibly enter years of trust issues or trauma. You knew Nat would never lie, so you begged and hoped that whatever she had witnessed had an explanation. You turned the doorknob before walking in to face the man you once thought was your soulmate.

"Bucky." He was sitting at the edge of the bed looking at the floor, you figured his head was pounding from the night before. He lifted his gaze up to look at you, not a single emotion spread across his face. "Hey."

"How was last night?" You were going to have this conversation nice and quick. Sure, his half ass response pissed you off but the longer it took, the more of a chance you would break under the pressure and have a melt down. You loved Bucky, and the thought of him cheating on you was equivalent to being crush between two walls.

"What do you mean? I was here last night." His face said it all, a fake face of confusion only made you more furious.

"Last night before you came home, you said you were at a bar with the boys, or that's what you told Wanda. All the boys were here last night and someone saw you at the bar. Not only did you lie but you didn't even mention to me at all what you were doing, I was ignored! You go and tell Wanda, someone you have no connection with, instead of your own bloody girlfriend!" Your eyes closed, it was too late. The tingling sensation raised to your cheeks as you felt the wetness spread across the crease in your eyes.

The moment you opened your eyes, you scoffed. His face was inexpressive and he didn't have anything to say. That's was only fortunate for you though, because you had a lot to say. The more he sat there with no words coming out of his mouth, the more it infuriated you. At first you wanted to keep the conversation straight forward and simple, but it seems like your emotions got the best of you.

"Did you ever love me? Did you? Because from what I'm receiving tonight along with how our relationship has been going down hill the past few months makes me feel like you never have, or that you don't anymore." A tear slowly runs down your cheek as you use your hands to elaborate what you were saying. He paused for a minute, staring at his shoes.

"What kind of question is that, (Y/N)? Of course I still love you." The pause before his answer made your heart break even more, was the question really that hard to answer?

"You still love me? Is it from the memories we've shared together or because your just feel obligated to?"

"(Y/N). I'll never stop loving you."

"Love me like you do or love me like you did?"

"Love you like I do, damn it! I still fucking love you, can't you realize?" The words spat out of his mouth in an angry tone as he slammed his hands down on to his knees. His hands soon trailed back to his head before giving his hair a squeeze.

"Can't I realize? Look. You can lie to me, hate me, ignore me but how on earth could you cheat on me? I'm not one of those girls who control your every step, I let you do what you want and live your life without any supervision! What do I get for that? I get you grinding on a random girl at the bar!" Buckys arms were soon covering his eyes as the redness slowly appeared onto his cheeks. But no response came out of him, it's like he truly was speechless. Like you didn't deserve an answer.

"Are you fucking serious? You can't even respond to me? What happened, Bucky? We had something, what happened to us?" That was your breaking point, by your first sentence you could feel your throat hitch and your voice crack. Tears streamed down your face as you saw the hesitation in his answer.

"There was never an us."

Like a glass being dropped onto the ground, or the heartbreaking noise of a baby crying. It wasn't comparable to nails on a chalk board or anything you had ever experience before. With those 5 words, you felt your whole world crumble. As much as you wanted to fall to the floor with weak knees and cry your eyes out, you tried your best to stay calm and collected.

"You've disappointed me enough for this not to be a surprise. I'm used to it. There was no us? Maybe for you, James. But I can assure you that everything I gave you, the attention and love, was real. Maybe yours wansn't, but mine was."

Your hands traveled to your neck to grip the small metal locket with a red star engraved into it. Slowly unlatching the hook before setting it in your hand and admiring the work put into the special piece of art. Or so you thought it was special. You slowly took a few steps to his sitting form and held out your hand.

"Here, take it. If it never meant anything in the first place, I don't want it. Take your belongings and move them back into your room. Like I said, you've disappointed me enough, hopefully this doesn't come as a surprise to you." His eyes trailed up to the special anniversary he had given you, not raising his hand to grab the gift. You forcefully grabbed his before setting it into his hand and wiping the almost dry tears off your cheeks.

"Don't. Please, just keep it." His words were quiet, almost not noticeable. A hint of sorrow and despair crossed his face.

"If you broke up with me, I would have kept it for the memories we shared. But the fact that you said we were nothing? Yeah, well... then this will no longer be special to me anymore." He held the necklace in his hand, face still red from witnessing his best relationship crumble before his eyes.

"I've disappointed a lot of people, I know. I've been trying not to but the only solution I can come up with to keep everyone I love safe makes them hate me. I want to protect you."

"For the past month I've been trying to repair the relationship that magically started to disappear. You were distancing yourself from me for my safety? You stayed out every night and came back at 3am to sleep on the couch. I feel like every time I see or talk to you it's because you need something from me. You don't show any affection towards me, you don't give me the attention that couples are suppose to give each other. I felt like you didn't want to be around me because your feelings weren't real. If you did that this whole time to protect me, well then you did the complete opposite. You never disappointed me until you stopped spending time with me, I loved the way you were before that. I miss that Bucky, the Bucky I fell in love with." Your head pounded from the flowing tears, but it was nothing compared to the way you felt from Buckys words. He said he wanted to protect you, but you didn't know what he meant by that.

"The whole time I did that, I didn't see a change in you. I thought you didn't love me overall and that's why I continued with the plan, to see if I could distance myself from you. To make me stop loving you. It all started off to protect you, but in the end you never did anything about my actions so I didn't think you cared about me, like every relationship I had in the past." His words stung, his hands wiped his eyes before you heard a small sob.

“Just because I don’t show or say that it hurt, doesn’t mean I don’t have any feelings! I don't have to tell you things for you to recognize them, if only you spent one second paying attention to me, you might have noticed. I know you felt like you were doing this for me, but in the end it was only for you. I always told myself to not get involved with you, I told myself years ago that I would never be able to love you if I didn't love myself. But I couldn't help it, I loved you. I love you. Loving you makes me forget what hating myself feels like. But if this is the end of our relationship, then I guess I was right all along, huh?"

At the end of your last sentence, a crack was heard in your voice once again. Buckys heart crashed every time he heard that, the redness in your eyes made him want to scream, and he couldn't take it anymore. He quickly stood up before pulling you into his chest, lifting up your head and giving you the most passionate kiss he's ever given you. You couldn't resist. You love Bucky, and that would never chance. Even if he straight up stomped on your heart and ran away to be with someone else, you loved him more than anything. Your arms snaked around his neck before pulling him even closer to your face. After a long moment of no breathing, you both pulled away and gasped for air.

"I love you so much, (Y/N). Loving you made me forget all my bad memories and made me live in the moment. I could never hurt you, but at the same time loving you will eventually be your downfall. Every mission that has to do with Hydra or the winder soldier, you're the main target. Hell, that last mission almost killed you! If I continue to love you like I do, you'll be the one with the bullseye on your back. They will always go for my weakness, and that's my love for you. If keeping you alive means I will never be able to love you like I always have, then so be it. I would never want to love you to my hearts content only to lead you to death. No matter what happens, I will still love you and I will fucking hate myself for it. But this is for the better, we need to break off what we have for your safety. I don't want to risk your life just so I can feel loved."

His words made your heart drop, repeating each word your head. He was torturing himself just so you could continue to live, so you could live without the stress of knowing you're under constant danger. But he doesn't know that you're used to that, that no matter what, you'll be in the spotlight for targets along with the rest of the avengers.

"When I joined the avengers, I knew what I was signing up for. No, I didn't know I'd meet you and spend almost every second of it loving you, but I knew I'd be under the spotlight. We all are, we all are risking that. You can't just leave me, what we have is too much. We can protect each other, it's what we deserve. I don't want you to leave me." You arms were still locked around each other, his eyes puffy and red but the blue still shining through into yours. After a moment of staring into each other's eyes, he took a big sigh and pulled you closer, another tear falling from his eyes.

"I don't want to say go, (Y/N)."

"Then don't."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡ Tags: @ginger-wayward-assbutt @gallifreyansass @bellastellaluna @walkingtravesty97 @crazy4thewinbros @iamwarrenspeace @itbeganlongago @nadtandy @feelmyroarrrr @xabeautifultragedyx

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Totally unnecessary note but I updated my description bio to have my personal and marvel blog linked in so if you're interested (;;; They both post marvel content honestly so yeah! I'm so open to talking to you guys so if you want, knock yourself out and send me a message (:

#bucky #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fan fiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel smut #marvel fanfiction #mcu #mcu fanfiction #the winter soldier #winter soldier #winter soldier x you #winter soldier x reader #smut #fanfiction #ANGST

[sw33tlemonade]

This is the honest ugly truth of an eating disorder, not the glamorous “I became a vegan” or “I didn’t speak up” or “Everyone was so supportive and encouraging”

My earliest recogation of my weight was very young, about 6 years old. I remeber eating a penguin chocolate biscuit in my living room but then runing upstairs because I was afriad that the bully would see me eat from the window. I know, crazy logic! However, she made me feel so inscure in primary school that at the age where you’re supposed to feel so comfortable and free with yourself I was worried about my weight and eating one fricking biscuit.

Again at 8 years old, we were doing an experiment in class about the scales. And pupils were picked to hop on the scales. And at that exact moment I knew that I was just above 6 stone because I had weighed myself that morning, a daily ritual for my 8 year old kid, again logic! And I was sweating, from fear that I would be chosen and everyone would laugh at my weight. I particularly thougt that I would be chosen because I was the obese one in the class at least that’s what my Wii Fit told me. In fact I was a very very normal weight. But the girl that got chosen was ironically one of my bullies and she was 5stone something which made my heart drop. She was noticeably smaller than me. It made me feel like a failure.

Moving to the last year of my primary school when I didn’t want to finish my pasta and sauce. I remember clearly that I wasn’t full, I just remembered convincing myself that I did not want it. And a boy mentioned “what have you got seomthing wrong with eating or something?”. And from that day onwards, I was 10 I have not been able to think about food the same again.

It’s so sad to think that my only memories of primary school were me sobbing on the way home because they had said something about the way I looked, moving to the back of the gym class because I was embarassed or refusing to wear a summer dress. And I truly don’t remeber anything else, I remeber asking for no butter on my toast because I knew it was less calories. Because at the age of frickin 10 I felt the need, 10 year old girl felt the need to know how much calories was in butter!!

It developed from “You should excersie and diet with me” from my very obsessed auntie to “You don’t need to eat healthy you’re skinny already” to “Fat fuck” to screaming and begging me to eat. “You’re not the small one in the family, you have big bones” to “You’ve gone so little”. My family was by far the worst trigger, could argue that they triggered the whole thing in me from the very day I was born.

I started high school with my two very best friends, that had noticed the strange actions very early fair play. I was free, I could eat whatever I wanted at lunch! And my choice was nothing. And if it was something it resulted into bruised knees and a sore throat. It resulted every lunch time that I bit into something more than an apple, it resulted into me needing satisfaction from blood whoozing out of my veins in the school toilet stalls whilst tears dropped on my wrists. If it didn’t take me exactly 15 mins to eat half of the wrap that I had cut into tiny pieces and then attempted to throw up in the bathroom then I would go home and do a plan. Make a plan that if I didn’t reach my goal weight that I would do it. Do the thing that i’ve been indicating for 6 years now. The thing I’ve indiacted for years but haven’t done. You know what I’m talking about, the plan to end it all. All because I couldn’t be in control of my food. I’m talking about school because when I came home it was a blur, I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t concentrate I was wipped and I honestly can’t remeber what I ate when I came home from school. I know that I would crumble some bread cumbs on the floor and butter some knives up to make it seem I had eaten for dinner.

The final straw finally came, well of the many straws to come. The summer of my second year of high school. My two best friends stuck by me. Stuck by me theough the incredible mood swings. Stuck by me through the flipping out over them taking a picture of me. The silent treatment on the lunch table because they would tell me to eat. The concern on their faces annoyed me when I would purpously tell them that I threw up because I pushed myself too hard when runing. I wasn’t indenail, I knew that I wasn’t supposed to pass out. I knew that I wasn’t supposed to feel weak. I knew that a normal kid would be able to run a lap without feeling like they’re gonna die. I knew that I was slowly killing myself. I knew that I was anorexic and I knew that I showed symptoms of bulimia aswell. I had done my research done what every ana or mia girl had done at the age of 11. They go on the interent and self disgnose themselves. The day finally came where they confronted me. They first asked me if it was about my dad. But the delosional 12/13 year old me had never even thought about speaking about the traumatic event of my dad passing away so I responded with anger. They guessed for days, making it like a game. Which I supposed I liked honestly the atenttion was on me I guess no one ever did that. Until I finally told them, and they weren’t shocked at all, they knew. They just wanted me to tell them. But what do they do with that kind of information? I honestly expected them to live like normal to watch me at the dinner table and not say a thing and just carry on eating their meals. I expected my friends to keep my little secret because I was excited that I could confied in them! But obviously they didn’t.

I remeber walking up the stairs heading up to Religious studies and I had this unseataling feeling throughout the morning. And once they weren’t in the class, I knew. They called me to the office and I had a meltdown. I was crying so hard going down those stairs, I pushed my friend against the wall. I yelled and everyone was staring. Until I faced the ugly truth that from now on- my controlled little life of not eating was going to become a hell of 3 meals a day. Hahaha I thought wrong. It started with my auntie starting to cry, I sobbed in her arms thinking how ironic that I have to confide in you about the many triggers you have set. And she asked me “This isn’t because of all my dieting is it?” I looked her in the eye and said no.

I think what was different with me from many other eating disorderd teenagers is that they’re stubborn. They’re stubborness feeds the eating disorder so they can carry on. The stubborness of saying no. However, something stronger at that time than the eating disorder was fear. I was a scared child. I was scared of my mum, scared of any kind of authority scared of my family. And honestly scared of saying the wrong thing and doing the wrong thing to an unhealthy point. So when they said I needed help, I agreed because I wasn’t dumb I just knew that It was going to be hard to keep my habits. My mum had no clue, absolutely no idea. But my lying was exceptional, so it wasn’t a surprise.

So we got to a therapist and a meal plan. I trully thought my life was over. I had no one in school. I didn’t speak to my mum at all. And the only time I could speak was in therapy, convincing the therapist that I was eating the ful 3 meals and two snacks inbetween. Definitely! I thought that my lack of stubborness would cost me to eat but in fact it lead to worsening. But my crazy ana mind still finds it funny how going to therapy encouraged my anorexia and encourgaed my beahviour. I would sit at the dinner table and have two pieces of toast in the morning, which my mum thought I had eaten everyday! But in reality I stuffed them in my pocket in a tissue, hid them in my drawer upstairs until she left for work and put them in the bin. At school obviously I was being monitored, but no one was monitoring my bag or the floor where i hid the food. And at night my mum never wondered why there was so much tissue in the fire. It came to the point where I was crying on the floor, her having to spoon feed me the yogurt for her to realise that it wasn’t a ‘fad’ or ‘being stupid’. But no one said anything, I literally carried on as normal with my meal plans. I got admitted out of therapy. It’s awful, but I knew what I was doing and wasn’t going to stop because I wasn’t ‘anorexic’ because I wasn’t under the BMI of a healthy girl, and that’s what exactly the therapist told me. Told me that I had ‘symptoms’ but never told me that I had a condition that I knew I had. And just because my organs didn’t fail. Just because I wasn’t admitted to hospital. I was anorexic and I still am. It’s not the weight it’s the illness. And that’s what frustrated me! That I couldn’t get sick enough for people to believe me. And with the combination of binging, purging, starving and restricting my weight could never go down. No matter what I did I would always starve and then binge. Try and purge, sometimes succesfully and restrict. And that had always been the cycle and I feel like it will always be the cycle, because it had been for 6 years. I never almost died in a hospital because I wanted to maintain my weight in year 7,8,9 because I has such a fear of gaining weight I was physically sick of anxiousness. And the following years I wanted to loose wieght.

After loosing my two best friends because of my lack of respect I became depressed. The school became such a toxic environment in my third year. Not only because of the memoreis anyway but because of the people. Everyone was cuting, starving. You name it, someone in my year was claiming they had a disorder . It became a trend and a very very very good trigger for me. I loved being triggerd because it meant it was acceptable for my actions. For me being depressed I had a reason because someone showed me a picture of their cuts I could cut too. Because someone else wasn’t eating I could starve too. Self isolation and mutlation became such a highlight I could say to my life that eating wasn’t the atenttion anymore. I had found another source of control, hurting myself. In any way shape or form. Burning, glass, razors, knives, punching- anything really that would give me a control over the pain. I would say that this was the worst point ever of my self harm and depression. Let’s just say you couldn’t see my wrists or hips.

I went back to the eating disorder specialist, got a group CBT therapy. Got a DBT therapist. Saw the school nurse. Saw the school psychologist. But still I found that confiding in some of the teachers in school was my best option. Nothing changed honestly. I am so thankful for all the work CAHMS did for me. The psychologists, psychiatrists, councellors, therapists. I had gone through the whole team and decided that I couldn’t work with any of them. I couldn’t face them everyday with the pain and them just telling me to do something I enjoy. Because I didn’t enjoy anything. Them telling me to think how I could change my routine.

It’s justs exhausting when all your thoughts have been “I can’t eat that- well I can but I’ll have to burn it offx3- or the easy option just purge it- or just eat half of it” and you end up eating half of it and then you feel guilty so you write “To...” and then debate in your mind who would care enough to even read your suicide letter and then thinking that you can’t die because you would die fat. And everyone would remember you as that fat nobody. “If I died I want to be remembered as the skinny bubbly girl” but then “if I’m her I won’t want to die because I have everything that I’ve wished for”. That battle in my brain for consecutive years drains the fuck at out of you. And hospital admission after admission I just wanted a break. And because there was nothing physically wrong with me I couldn’t stay there. I needed a rest from my life but they made me feel crazy, made me feel worthless because I was ok “it was all in my head”. It took for me to run away from the therapy session and locked myself in a hospital bathroom to try and find a way out for them to believe me. “My story didn’t add up” “I didn’t have a reason to feel that way” that’s what I got. Year after year nothing made sense. And I know why, I wasn’t telling the truth. I was telling everyone that I was sad and I didn’t know why. That I wasn’t eating because I didn’t know why.

Fast forward 10 therapists later, several hospital trips, obvious daddy issues, many inappropriate men, blood being pucked up, thousands of fights, a brakeup, countless self destructing nights, millions of paper crumbled up on the floor later I’m sitting here on the floor crying because I ruined my fasting by eating a bag of crisps.

Because the reality of this is that you’re not going to end up with a perfect life with all the friends you used to have. I pushed everyone away and no one wants to be my friend, and that’s okay because I know and I hope that I will find the right people that will want to be there for me. In reality no one knows any of this and they probably won’t. And it hurts when I see other people opening up and people thinking they understand when in reality they don’t understand the circumstances at all. They don’t understand that when someone is out of character there is more than likely something going on in their life. But until you physically tell them how bad it is no one will ever know, and I’ve just been pushed in the corner by everyone I’ve knows because my mental ilnesses wasn’t “bad enough”.

#self aware comic #mental breakdown #mental health #eating disoder thoughts #helpothers #reality