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ghstzzn · 17 days

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summer, night | choi beomgyu

pairing: choi beomgyu x f!reader wc: 1.9k

summary: when your date ends up being crashed by a thunderstorm, you have no choice but to camp out in your boyfriends car. luckily, he knows just what to do to pass time.

warnings/tags: fluff, smut, unprotected sex, very soft - not so descriptive smut, fingering, pet names (baby, pretty) idk thats it

note: my last re-upload i think?? this is from my deleted account yunho-mp3, so if it seems familiar that's whyyyyhfiawghkrebk. i think ill die if i write another summary

“beomgyu,” you whine, ”i seriously can't do this!”

beomgyu comes to a slow stop on his skateboard, kicking the board up and holding it with one hand. he turns around and faces you, seeing that you were still about fifteen feet behind him, he grins widely.

“baby, it's not as hard as you're making it out to be.”

“it is!” you reply, falling to a crouch dramatically. “it’s not fair, you are just a pro. i can’t even balance on the stupid thing without you holding me.”

beomgyu makes his way towards you, the grin on his face never falling. “do you want me to hold you then?”

you look up at him and scoff.

“stand up, pretty.” he takes you hand in his and balances you back onto the board. “you’re doing fine, you just keep freaking yourself out and it messes you up.”

he lets go of your hands, leaving you to balance by yourself. beomgyu crouches at your feet, softly moving your feet as you grab onto his shoulders for support. when he stands up again, you feel comfortable in your stance.

“does that feel better?” he asks you. you nod your head in reply and he turns to step back onto his board to demonstrate. “when you want to move, keep this foot planted on the board - make sure to keep your weight on it too.”

you slowly copy his movements, flailing your arms in the process in fear that you’ll fall if you don't.

“don’t do that either,” beomgyu catches your arm, setting it down by your side, “you’ll lose balance quicker and lose focus of the weight on your board. now watch, baby.”

beomgyu slowly gains speed on his skateboard, making sure to stay as slow as possible while demonstrating his movements clearly for you. “your turn. slowly.”

he sits there as he waits for you to start moving, but you remain frozen, staring at the cement in front of you. you were beyond thankful it was later and beomgyu had brought you to a smaller, more quieter skatepark.

“can you just-” you pause, motioning your arms towards yourself. “please?”

beomgyu lets out a faint sigh as he makes his way towards you once more. you smile to yourself when he places his hands on your waist, “ready?”

“yes!”

beomgyu holds you upright as you start to press down onto the ground to move. you start slowly so you can gain balance and momentum (and so your boyfriend can keep right next to you) but after a minute, beomgyu has let go of you, unnoticed, and soon you were gliding smoothly around the park.

“oh my god, babe!” you shout. beomgyu watches, smiling wide at the way you weren’t freaking out. “i’m doing it!”

“see! i knew you could do it.” he shouts back. “slow down a little, baby, i want to ride next to you.”

slowly but surely, even after a few accidents, you and beomgyu were side by side skating - holding hands at some points and laughing with each other when one of you (mostly you) would trip up and fall off the board.

half an hour later, you and your boyfriend were sitting side by side along one of the ramps in the park, dangling your legs against the drop. the park had emptied out not long ago and you both became tired after skating for a few hours straight.

beomgyu had many hobbies, from music to photography, and one of them was skating. it wasn’t something he did often but he had mentioned wanting to teach you on your first date together. now, fast forward almost 5 months later, he finally got to.

“i can’t wait for you to get really good at this so we can skate in my favorite spots together,” he suddenly says, his breath showing in the cold air. “and so you can do sick tricks and i can totally film them then post them to show off how i totally got you to that point.”

“oh, you’re so romantic, beomgyu.” you know your shoulders against his.

he lets chuckles quietly, muttering how he’s just that good of a teacher.

“but you’re right, it gets easier when i stop thinking about how i'm constantly going to fall.”

you fall deep into conversation, resting your head on his shoulders as you watch him fiddle with the digital camera in his hands. beomgyu brought it to record small parts of the date and take pictures of you both. it’s only been five months since he had asked you to officially be his girlfriend, but you were sure he would be the one you were to spend the rest of your days with.

you flinch when you feel small droplets of water hit your hand, looking up, you can see the sky softly light up from lightning.

“was it supposed to storm tonight?” you ask beomgyu.

he digs in his back pocket for his phone, pulling up the weather app when he retrieves it.

“i could've sworn it was going to be clear skies tonight,” beomgyu replies, flashing his screen towards you, “look. It’s supposed to storm for the next few hours.”

you sit up and stretch your shoulders, rolling your head around to stretch your neck, “well, let’s get back before it starts here. movie at mine?”

“sure. i parked kind of far so we should go like… right now.” a loud thunderclap strikes when he finishes his sentence, making you and beomgyu both jump at the sound.

as you both make your way to beomgyu’s car, the wind picks up and rain falls harder, urging you to speed walk. not even seconds pass before puddles are forming and the rain is coming down harshly. you and beomgyu are practically running and screaming, spitting out profanities when you reach his car and it’s not immediately unlocking when he clicks his fob.

“it’s freezing!” you squeal out, reaching for the knobs inside to turn the heat on. you scream and hide your face in your hands when cold air blows out instead of hot, uncovering your face when the vents start warming up.

“god, it’s fucking pouring.” beomgyu states.

“we probably shouldn’t drive right now.” you say, watching large puddles form in the parking lot. you turn in your seat to face beomgyu, who was already staring at you. “what?”

“you look really pretty tonight.”

you mess with the sleeve of your sweater, blushing at his sudden words. beomgyu taps at his phone, eventually finding a calming playlist to play, setting his phone down on the center console. you continue to observe beomgyu, your gaze catching onto his strong facial features. his long, fluffy hair that was slightly damp from running in the rain - it was your favorite physical attribute of his, you could lay for hours treading your fingers through his hair, the best part was that he’d always let you.

“you too.” beomgyu shoots you a confused glance.

“you also look really pretty tonight.” you whisper.

“i tried. took me all day to get my hair like this and took me three days to pick these.” he replies, motioning towards his ripped jeans.

you giggle and swat beomgyu’s shoulder, “i should refrain from complimenting you.”

“wait baby, noo, compliment me more!” you shake your head no at his pleas, calling him egotistical. beomgyu leans closer to you, resting his elbows on the console in between you both. “tell me i’m pretty again.”

you place your hands on both of his cheeks, squeezing them softly. “you’re soo pretty, my love. the prettiest ever!”

he laughs loudly at your praises, “outsold. ate. face card never declining.. well, sometimes.”

“hey!”

you giggle at his response.

“what do you mean sometimes?” beomgyu whines. “mean girl.”

you close the gap in between the two of you, gently laying a kiss on his soft lips. when you pull away, beomgyu goes in for more. “how should we pass time?” he asks in between kisses.

“i feel like you already have something in mind.”

“we don’t have to, baby. we are in a parking lot so i understand.” he mutters against your lips.

“only if you don’t want to.”

beomgyu shakes his head, “get back there, cutie.”

you smile, climbing over the center console and yelping when beomgyu suddenly pinches your thigh with his nails. he follows you to the back seat, immediately landing his lips on yours before he even situates himself. you comb your fingers through his hair, pulling him in for a deeper kiss. beomgyu wastes no time sliding his hands up and under your flowy miniskirt, grabbing your hips from underneath the material and pulling you under him.

you let out a quiet moan when beomgyu suddenly grinds into you, the material of his jeans creating more friction. beomgyu trails wet kisses down your neck, pulling the collar of your sweater down to reach your collarbones, sucking at your skin every so often.

“was this your plan?” you breathe out, your boyfriend looking up and smirking at you.

“do you mean the rain?” he asks, feigning innocence.

“the sex in the c-” your sentence coming to a stop when beomgyu suddenly lays the pads of his fingers under your panties, circling your clit.

“sorry? i didn’t quite get that, baby.” you roll your eyes and bring him back to your lips, passion burning through more than before as he continues to work you with his fingers.

despite not even being together for half a year, beomgyu knew how to work your body perfectly - even with just his hands he can have you falling apart. it’s no wonder why you found yourself falling head over heels for him so fast. the knot in your stomach grew tighter as beomgyu continued his pace, occasionally slipping his fingers in your warmth, stretching and curling them inside of you.

“mh- beomgyu, almost.” you moan against his lips.

“go ahead, pretty.” you arch into him as your orgasm hits you, whining into beomgyu’s neck as he rides you through it.

“i don’t have a condom, baby. do you?” he asks.

you shake your head rapidly, whimpering and grabbing at his jeans, “don’t care, just need you please, gyu.”

soon enough, beomgyu is thrusting inside of you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you take his length. one hand lays under your sweater as the other is against the window to steady himself.

“so good, baby, you’re so good,” he groans, “so pretty and perfect for me.”

it’s not before long when you’re reaching your second high as beomgyu reaches his, falling into your neck as he cums inside of you, groaning and slowing his thrusts to a stop. you try to catch your breath as you run your fingers through his hair, tugging softly as a way to let him know not fall asleep despite the compromising position. he sits up, leaving a few more soft kisses on you.

“you look beautiful like this.” he said, rubbing your side softly. you chuckle and mutter a soft thank you, wincing when he suddenly pulls out to clean both you and himself up.

the rain hadn’t stopped, but it had gotten way lighter. you laid against beomgyu, comparing his hand size to yours as you both watched the rain continue to hit the windshield.

“gyu?” you break the comforting silence.

“yeah?”

“thank you for choosing me.”

your eyes meet each other, and you can almost see the genuine love he has for you within his. the way his gaze meets yours is nothing but soft and full of love and adoration for you.

“i should really be thanking you, my pretty girl.” beomgyu replies, voice barely above a whisper as he lays a kiss against your head. “i love you. let’s go watch that movie at your place, yeah?”

#my home-tubatu 💭#my home-beomgyu ♡#beomgyu x reader #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu fanfic #beomgyu fic #beomgyu smut #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu x female reader #txt smut #txt fluff #txt fanfic #txt x reader #txt x fem reader

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pathetic-sapphic · 2 months

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I'm a humble sapphic Karlach lover asking for imagines about being married to her (maybe including if she'd actually like to settle down, have kids, etc) pls and thank you :'D

Settling down with Karlach

I definitely think that, after the whole mess, Karlach would love to travel with her beloved for a while. She wants to enjoy her newfound freedom and share everything that the world has to offer with them.

Eventually though, she starts getting homesick. Which is weird since you two don't really have a home of your own to go to. You have spent countless evenings under the stars, soaking up each other's warmth by cuddling and exchanging loving kisses inside your shared tent.

You have started growing weary too. Adventure is wonderful and the world has so much to see and so many experiences to offer. But one can hardly go for so long without some quality rest.

So, you settle down eventually. A quaint cottage with a vast garden that the two of you can call your own. The nature surrounding it gives you some well-earned peace and a nearby town has any supplies you might need.

It's easy to become familiar with a routine. Karlach has discovered a passion for gardening. It keeps her calm and thus allows her to work with plants without fear of destroying them.

Your wonderful cooking keeps her sated and, with this new way of life, Karlach has had to let out almost every pair of pants she owns. She can relax now and enjoy the quaint day-to-day life with you. She indulges in your home-cooked meals and tasty pastries, making her gain some weight.

And oh, does it look good on her. You have a hard time keeping your hands to yourself whenever she's around, her soft stomach and strong arms right there for you to hold. Seeing her so happy and pampered makes you proud, knowing that she's so comfortable around you and that you get to share this peaceful life together makes you tear up.

When you bring up the idea of having children, Karlach's heart almost stops beating. Before it quickly picks up again from the excitement at the thought of becoming a parent.

If you're the one who carries the child, she is so doting and caring. Never lets you do anything, you cannot even lift a finger as long as she's around.

Is in love with your pregnant belly, a protective hand is always resting on the swell of it. She massages your back and feet, helps you dress or bathe as the pregnancy progresses. Holds you when you cry due to the fear and anxiety of becoming a parent and loves you endlessly through all of it.

Almost passes out during childbirth, seeing you in pain is the hardest thing she ever had to go through. Lets you squeeze her hand as hard as you need to, all the while pressing soothing kisses against your sweaty forehead. Cries along with you when the baby is born, sobbing as she holds them in her arms for the first time, all the while telling you how amazing you were.

If you decide to adopt, she's also immensely happy. Karlach admires your kindness and willingness to give a child a better home.

An extremely nervous mother, especially in the first couple of years of your child's life. Jumps out of bed at the smallest sound of their distress, anxiously shushing your baby as they cry. She hates waking you up, knowing how hard you work all day to take care of the house and your child. But sometimes, she honestly can't figure out how to calm them down and hesitantly wakes you up to ask for help. This is mostly because she hates the sound of your child crying, knowing that they're uncomfortable and sad makes her heart squeeze painfully and renders her brain useless.

As your child grows, she relaxes more and lets her playful side show. She makes toys for them and wants to give them the best childhood they could ask for.

Wouldn't mind having more children if you were up for it. Karlach loves the idea of your home being lively and warm.

She never thought that one day she'd be able to settle down and have a family with someone she considers her soulmate. But life has a curious way of surprising us with the things we least expect.

Every night when she goes to bed, after tucking your child in and kissing you goodnight, Karlach thinks that all the pain and suffering was worth it, if this is what she did it for.

a/n: im alive! also, i still haven't played bg3 so please lmk if i made any micharacterizations or mistakes. i'm mostly going by how i've seen karlach act in clips and walkthroughs :)

#bg3 karlach #bg3 #karlach #karlach x reader #karlach x female reader

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henrioo · 18 days

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Hey! Could I please request some fluffy scenarios about Shanks X Male and Mihawk X Male Reader (separately if that's okay) who's love languages are physical touch and quality time, but is also struggling with anxiety? Sorry for going on anon, this is my first time ever requesting and I'm a little nervous lol

°•*⁀➷ TOO MUCH LOVE, TOO MANY THOUGHTS : SHANKS AND MIHAWK

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : You love your partners, you really do, but sometimes those voices inside you gain control over your body, making you withdraw into your own fears and feelings. Good for you that your partners won't give up on having you by their side.

꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : MALE! READER, M! READER, NOT POLY! The reader can be Trans or Cis, talking about homophobia but nothing happens, a lot of talk about insecurities in a romantic relationship, talk about anxiety and fear

꒰ WC ꒱ : 2,4k at all, 1k for Shanks and 1,4 for Mihawk

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : Hey thanks for this request! It had been some months and I don't have any idea if you are still there but anyway thanks for that, that request is part of the first ask I received when I opened for male reader so this means a lot to me. The ask doesn't talk too much about the insecurities of the reader because I wanted that you guys could imagine your own, here talk more about how they would handle and help you. Enjoy!

★彡 Shanks

It may not seem like it, but the redhead is a master at reading people, all it takes is a few nervous glances and body language and he knows exactly what the problem is.

However, while he knows what the problem is, he is not that good at knowing the best solution for it. Part of him just wants to grab you and say "stop with that and let's just kiss." Luckily he knows that not everyone works like him, so he is able to understand that you may have different limits and such a direct approach can make the situation worse and even push you away from him.

So, firstly, he tries to understand exactly why you are suffering from so much anxiety when it comes to spending time with him and having more physical touch. Are you ashamed or afraid of doing PDA because of prejudiced looks since you are both men? Are you afraid that he will reject you if you show this need for time and affection? Are you publicly ashamed of others? Regardless of what's going through your head, Shanks wants to understand so he can give you truer love.

When he has a little idea or some theories, which he will achieve after observing you a lot in various situations and talking to all the other men on the ship, he will try to talk to you. Of course he will never force you into anything, he just wants to try to understand and maybe ease this weight that you are carrying alone. Even if you just want to scream or ramble without knowing exactly how to express your feelings and anxiety, he wants to be there for you, to show that he is willing to listen to you, understand you, especially validate and support you. He wants you to see that he is there for you in every situation.

Whether you decide to speak or not, the outcome changes very little. The difference being that having talked to you, Shanks will be able to understand you more easily, thus being able to make fewer mistakes in his attempts to help you and make you more comfortable with everything. If you don't decide to talk, he will be forced to make several trials and errors on how to make the environment more favorable for you to feel comfortable and overcome your anxiety, so you can give in to your desires for physical touch and spend more time with him. quietly.

Since you may have anxiety about initiating contact, Shanks will do all the hard work for you. Which, let's be honest, isn't very difficult, the redhead adores you like a loyal servant to a god, he can't keep his hands off you. It may seem funny to others to see a pirate as strong as a stray puppy following you, especially when they discover that Shanks' lover is a man, but what can he do... He is a man completely in love with you .

It's not uncommon for him to go after you, but if he notices your difficulty in initiating contact, he'll go even more after his presence. Every time he is free on the ship he will come after you, suggesting that you play a game, have a snack, talk, dance, sleep, he never runs out of ideas knowing that coming up first with a goal can make you calmer since you will just need to go with the flow and not think about everything on your own.

With physical touch, the difference is that he will pay extra attention to your comfort, it is normal that every time you are on land he is glued to your side. Holding hands or a hand around his waist practically hugging you, he just doesn't want to let go of you. In bars or any other establishment he would like to sit next to you, he would never put you on his lap, wishing that this choice came from you first. Shanks doesn't want you to feel humiliated or insulted by him wanting you on his lap, especially if you're nervous about showing affection publicly because you're both men.

But that doesn't stop him from having some physical contact, when his hand isn't occupied he'll put it on your thigh or your hand on the table, if he's drinking he'll leave his foot close to yours or even leave his foot close to yours. His leg pressed against yours. Even if it's small touches, he wants to show you that he wants to touch you just as much as you want to touch him. On the ship things are easier, he can simply hide the two of you in your shared room, thus avoiding the teasing of your crewmates and also having a little more privacy.

In the end he will just try to demonstrate that he wants your touch and attention as much as you do. He knows that actions can be stronger than words and he firmly believes that, so he will always be by your side to show you that he would never turn down spending time with you or having a make-out session. You are his boyfriend, after all! The man he loves and would do anything to see smile, he could never get tired of you.

Shanks' greatest happiness will be seeing you slowly loosen up and work on your anxiety better. When you start spending time together or touching, he will be celebrating inside. In the end, he just wants your attention and for you to show how much you love him, so he will never refuse if you want to spend time together. And even if it takes a while, even if you don't touch him for months, even if you need to talk a lot until you feel more confident, he doesn't mind at all. You are the one he loves and he would do anything for you, no effort is too much, you are worth everything he has to face and suffer, and he will accept it with a smile on his face.

If you think Shanks is easy to notice his difficulties then it only takes Mihawk an instant to notice something wrong. The difference is that the redhead will consider that some of the reasons for your anxiety could be external stimuli such as other people, reputation, shame or fear... Mihawk is a little more insecure at this point.

★彡Mihawk

His early theories for your anxiety and difficulty having quality time and physical touch with him is that the culprit is, well... Him. Are you no longer in love with him? Don't you feel comfortable? Not attracted? Is he not that interesting of a person to spend time with or is he not good at physical touch? It doesn't matter, he would initially think that it must be something he did that caused his estrangement.

He would have a few moments alone to consider everything, perhaps you no longer enjoy being in that castle without anyone's company but his. When he manages to calm his mind and open himself to any possibility, whether good or bad, he finally decides to talk to you. Luckily, Mihawk is extremely verbally expressive and is very good at communicating, so even if you were just rambling and getting lost in your own words, he will be able to understand you or even help you with how to express yourself better.

The conversation may seem a little suffocating due to Mihawk's firm gaze, but you've been his lover for long enough that he only pays attention to you like that. Furthermore, you can see a worried touch and even a loving look if you pay close attention to the way he looks at you.

Other than that, he is extremely patient with you, he will listen to you for as long as necessary and will only speak if you allow it and feel comfortable discussing it at that moment. Then he will try to analyze the entire situation to better understand your fears, insecurity, anything that is making you anxious and pushing you away from him. He will never judge any of your motives or tell you they are silly, no matter if you were just shy, if you were nervous about appearing clingy, if you were too nervous about his beauty? It doesn't make any difference why, if it bothers you in some way, then it's totally important and valid for him.

And just as he doesn't care about the reasons, he also doesn't care about the solutions to help you with your problems. He loves you with all the depth and loyalty he could have, so he is also willing to give his blood and sweat for the good of your relationship. For Mihawk it's more than fair for both lovers to make an effort, especially when one of them is in trouble, so not for a second does he think of you or this whole situation as a burden. He loves you and you love him, you are partners, you are the man he chose to spend the rest of his life with, if he doesn't make the slightest effort in trying to keep the relationship on good terms then he doesn't deserve you. That's why he will always do his best.

After that he will try to make everything easier for you, he might give you a few peaceful days without looking for contact, wanting you to breathe before facing your problems. After that he will begin his plan to slowly make you approach him again and feel comfortable coming to him whenever you want... And well, maybe he will be much happier when he can finally touch you again and spend time with you. , it may not seem like it, but Mihawk also really wants your company and the idea of being without it makes him extremely moody.

He will initially try to recapture the moments together, quality time is easier for Mihawk and he thinks that starting with that is the best way for the two of you to get closer again, after all you wouldn't be forced into any touching if you weren't already completely safe. Then he will reminisce about some of the activities you used to enjoy doing together, be it reading in each other's company during a calm evening, the sound of the fireplace and the birds outside providing a more peaceful environment for you to relax your mind and let go of the anxiety. go away. He will also invite you to garden together. If you don't like getting dirty he will just talk to you and ask for your help. That doesn't make you put your hands in the dirt. However, if you like it, he will be very happy to teach you or listen to his teachings. He will work in the garden while you talk about where you could use those vegetables. If you want, he can also help you make a flower garden or plant anything else you like.

He will also love your company in the kitchen, he may use the excuse of testing new recipes to include you more, maybe he will even try to make something that you like to eat from another island. If you cook, like it or want to learn, he doesn't mind your help either, as long as you are happy and coming out of your shell, forgetting your anxiety and allowing yourself to be comfortable and doing what you love again, he is satisfied. Also, he may start trying to initiate physical touches, if you are a swordsman he will love some sparring sessions with you, although he won't go easy on you. After all, you are a man and a worthy opponent, you can notice that his movements are much more sensual and loving, it is as if he is trying to seduce you, win you over again and using all his body language in favor of this.

If you don't fight or don't want to learn, although Mihawk would love to teach you, he can still think of other activities with physical touch. His favorite is dancing. You will find him the most patient and dedicated partner possible, if you understand dancing he will even let you guide, moving and handling his body as you wish. Furthermore, he could even go into activities outside of his standard if that could help him relax and be calmer with touch. Trying on clothes? You have Dracule's entire wardrobe at your disposal, luckily you are both men so this part is easier. Messing with hair? Of course, go ahead and touch his black hair, if you have longer hair he will enjoy learning how to style it or take care of it.

Other than that, once he notices you getting more comfortable, he'll go back to the subtle physical touches. Mihawk is not the type of lover who devours you in public, but you will always find his hand on your back, either guiding you or just making it clear that he is there. He will also offer his hand to help you get up or down from places, a hand on your shoulder or arm if you are in a situation where he wants to make it obvious that he has you and that he won't let anything bad happen.

He doesn't like more sensual touches in public, so in the privacy of four walls you will have more of that, light touches on your neck or your thigh, but they still won't be perverted touches, just a more romantic and deep touch, something he wants to keep for your eyes only.

Mihawk is a lover who is slower to deal with his anxiety, he in no way wants you to feel pressured, so he will wait with open arms when you are ready to regain intimacy. He'd also hate for you to feel like you're obligated to have this kind of intimacy with him, so he also doesn't mind if you don't like the closeness. In the end the truth is just unique, in Mihawk's eyes you are the perfect man, if you don't like so much intimacy and touching he is satisfied with that, if you like touching and want to be with him 24/7 he will too be more than satisfied. He needs you, everything you give him will be a gift. Therefore, even though he seems like a stoic and even cold man, Mihawk would never deny or be ashamed of your touch, you are the only one who can do whatever you want and he will never be bothered by it.

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twbutterfly-milk · 1 month

Text

Intro below ⬇️

Dm/comment for post removal. Feel free to suggest posts you would like to see :)

Tw: ED, stats, topics abt health problems and dni if u don't want to engage in a minor's post. I do post some non ED related stuff but i usually have tw if ur worried, so if u wanna see that stuff (examples, recipes, self care during periods/common cold which is coming soon, and weekly cute animal vid reblogs just because i can) then proceed with caution ig

Info abt posts + blog intro below the cut

Any other info can be found in my bio

Upcoming posts:

Hair care (especially with an ED, your hair doesn't NEED to fall out or lose strength I promise) ✅️

Ways to reduce bloating

Natural weight fluctuation ✅️

Easy tips to help you reach your daily water intake goal/ maybe i'll make a post abt how to figure out how much you need per day

Flexible and short workouts that allow u to stay consistent and get results (thinking of doing a thigh gap one first and seeing if i enjoy doing them oe not)

Recipes

Volume eating

Self-care during common cold

Self-care during periods

My little pony themed diets cuz I'm sick and tired of "themed" diets not having anything to do with the actual characters themselves. U can't just put a picture of Pinky pie in front of numbers and call it a pinky pie diet!!!! (Ok, now that i got that off my chest i feel a bit better lol, also i'm doing my little pony ones cuz i love MLP but if u want me to make a themed diet based of a theme u like, don't hesitate to request one)

OMG THE AMOUNT OF PEOPLE I SEE STRUGGLING AND MAKING BINGEING WORSE AS AN ATTEMPT TO STOP IT, i gotta start working on a binge reduction/prevention post (gonna take a while to do but it's ok) so more people know how to properly respond to binges ✅️

Intro to my blog:

Hello! I'm a nerdy, mentally ill MINOR (say it louder for the predators in the back lol) using this mostly as an ED blog. Undiagnosed due to reasons but i def used to have bulimia but i think i might be developing a different one now.

I am using this mainly to post health and safety info rather than just triggering ED stuff but i still do have a few posts abt that, so if ur in recovery, i don't reccomend engaging (recovery is so brave, keep fighting you CAN do this!). I truly do encourage recovery for anyone who can.

My bio has most of the info u need to know.

Despite my fear of carbs, sugars, fats and calories, i do like cake somehow.

Disclaimer: i am NOT any kind of proffessional yet, i will try to post my sources so u can fact check stuff, but i always encourage u to do ur own research too!

PLEASE COMMENT OR DM FOR REMOVAL OF POSTS**BLOCK ME IF U WANT JUST DON'T REPORT**FEEL FREE TO LEAVE SUGGESTIONS FOR POSTS YOU WOULD LIKE TO SEE**THANKS FOR BEING HERE

With that out of the way, my stats are below the cut

Stats:

150cm or 4"11'

(I'll convert the others to lbs when i reach them)

Important info: i'll prob be unable to go below 40kg/88lbs without being forced into recovery (even then it's too much) i try to focus on visual goals more, my current are to get a flat stomach, thin arms and a thigh gap by may/June

Key:☆reached goal □gained back. ■gained extra

Sw:50kg/110lbs

Hw:60'something kg/ >132 lbs (overweight, way before my ED)

Lw:47kg/103lbs (got down then gained a bit when i used to binge all the time)

Cw:50kg/110lbs

49kg/108lbs ☆

48kg/106lbs ☆

47kg

Gw1: 46kg/101lbs (if i reach this, i get to wear the new black top, it's rly hot atm cuz of global warming, so i hope i get here soon, i only set rewards when i'm getting closer to the goal, not that i need rewards but it feels good to be extra nice, gonna try to get slimmer arms tho cuz that top would make me feel insecure when it should make me feel pretty cuz it's a nice top)

45kg

44kg

Gw2:43kg/95lbs

42kg

41kg

Gw3:40kg/88lbs

Ugw: 35kg/77lbs

Thank you for your attention

#ana meal #ana bllog #ana rant #ana trigger #tw ana diary #ed meals #ed not sherran #ed relapse #tw ed sheeran #i just want to be thin #thin$po #thinspp #thinspø #tw thinspi #weight loss #gaining weight on purpose #i wanna lose weight #fat loss

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cassieoz · 12 days

Note

Here is the full story , I called it the perfect host

Computer log 22 - subject has display no signs of pregnancy but we will continue to track them progress before run another implantation treatment on them.

Breeding unit on Deta ship a common area that many ships that held host for new lifeforms to be born. Currently The Deta ship breeding program only house 5 to 6 host all human and all been taken to become host . Doctor Ein and their team were busy keep the host under so the newborns could grow without stress the host body out . “Host number four is carrying twin make sure we give her lot of iv nutrients as to help the pregnancy “,she said to her team .

Doctor ein look some what human beside looking taller than the average human and her three fingers. She turned to see subject 2 the newest host watch her as they struggled to get free from they bindings . Doctor Ein move town the subject and then said “sh..you safe now back to sleep you shouldn't be awake but don't fear ,my dear you in good hand “

“No, don't put me back under” ,my mind scream. “Damn it get off of me “,my mind scream as nurses of doctor Ein held me down while I once again was put under .

“Make sure that this subject is give another dose in an hour “,said doctor Ein as a colleague of her walk in . “What about alternative reality room . Make the house think they are experiencing something else while the baby grows that way the host can't pull themselves out of that “.

“I could try it but I never had a subject wake up before “,said doctor Ein.

In my mind I felt body laying on the cold table before a small movement in my stomach made me feel sick but it fade as the drug kick in again

Doctor ein rush on night when one of the subject gave birth at night . The subject awake crying out for pain as the baby inside them move out of the host body and onto the table . The host body began to leak milk as the nurse clean the baby before letting it latch on the host. “Move the newborn to the nursery and take the subject to the reset pods tell they are needed again .

The nurses obey as they wheel the crying and screaming subject.

Computer log - subject implantation failed. Retry in a few weeks. Going to see if host body will take implantation if they are stimulate and aroused. Will documents if they factor help .

As the pod of subject pregnancy grows doctor ein is worry about subject 2 as most of the other host had taken their pregnancies and role but not this one they had fought most way to be implanted .

You body could feel the cold tools could begin to open your legs as another tool went inside you and move though the birth canal before digging itself in your cervix where it push itself into your egg then began to fill your cervix with a cool gel before move out of inside you. Your subconscious heard the voice said “hopefully their body accept it this time ,give them something for pain then make sure they keep comfortable “

As time pass doctor Ein confirm the pregnancy and wrote down . Computer log subject 2 is pregnancy and body seem to adjusting well will continue to monitor progress as the pregnancy is still new “

Month one notes - the host was place on both higher iv nutrition since the baby isn't gain the weight we want . Subject two also awaken again this time fron morning sickness.

You awake as your body throw up liquid as the unhuman creature clean up up and place you back under before you can protest.

Month two - baby weight is good . Well continue to watch.

Your belly showing starting to swell and stretch.

Month 3 -nothing new

Month 4 - host belly is growing and her first milk is showing sgin of coming in . Baby heart beat is good as well their size .

Month 5 -host awake again this time was able to are make it to a pod before being put under again .

You awake and began pull the iv out and get free of the straps before see how big your belly was then ran down the hall toward what you hope was freedom. You fought the Guards as they injected you to put under again . You kick and claw to get free before the drug take effect

Month 6 -baby is growing at a health rate and size. This baby looks it first live hybrid we have .

Month 7 -normal process nothing to document.

Month 8 - nothing to document since the host body is near her due date.

You awaken this time in pain as you feel wetness between your legs . You cry out in pain not sure what going on . The creature and the others rush in and said “subject two water broken , subject have small contractions so began the induction procedure by began to giving a dose of Pitocin” once the drug to effect you felt like your belly was on fire from the pain . You whole body was screaming to get this creature out . You body sweating as labor was progress slowly .

The creature look at you and check your cervix and said “not long now just breathe “

You let out scream as the contractions come again “get this thing out of me …ah

..”.

Doctor Ein said “we give you something for the pain soon but try to relax as any drug will only alow it down “

Couple hours later . You felt the pressure build again as what felt like a head press against you as you cry out in pain . “You are crowning ,push “

You follow the creature order began to push as the pressure rises once more before falling off as you feel the baby move down and out .

Doctor Ein move to help the baby who is more aware then most baby and move up the host body toward it breast to began to simulate the milk and began to nurse .

“What a remarkable sight this is , they are the first hybrid to be this aware meaning that it seem our DNA had enhanced the human awareness “

You scream as the creature move up your chest and began nurse off of you . You then feel the red hot pain again.

The creature look at you and said"you crowning again push my dear “

You push as another creature come out of you and it too climb you to nurse you .

The doctor smile watch it and said to the team “take subject two to the pod room allow the babies to nurse from her and make sure she is give another another couple of dose of drug to make them immobile and keep them hook to iv tell the baby are able to be ween .

You spend what feel like forever we both the small hybrid nursing off of you and the doctor and their staff coming in to check on you .

Doctor Ein walk in and said “both baby are still active nurse off the host and the host had them a six week ago which would be the the end of the reset time but since they cant reset I would like for us to see about testing way to boost their milk to hopefully make the babies to ween in the next few weeks so we can began to breed her again to see if she birth another hybrid with this hyper-awareness .

You watch as the doctor began to stimulate your body to make you feel aroused as your milk began to flow out and you let out moan in pleasure as you feel your jump from nearing climax the hybrid move off your body . And began show that they ween off of you .

Doctor Ein said “keep them aroused tell I return “.

Doctor Ein walk to another laboratory on the ship and said “Doctor Quill, do you have any subject that I could borrow for my project .I like to test what happen if my subject mate with one of our kind . Their last two offspring were hyper aware like or our children when they are born and so I want to see if their next offspring would also “.

“I have someone in mind but if this work we must then run test of why this human can make these rare offspring vs the other host “.

Doctor Ein said “hurry I have her ready for mating so send your person down quick since I don't think we can keep her on the edge for long “

Back in the exam room you feel yourself going mad from the hyper arouse you feel . When you spot the creature you try to make your body move but you can't.

The creature smile as it move on top of you and began to mount you . The creature began to thrust into your cervix each time make you letting out moan .

“No”, you scream inside you mind as you watch the horror of being rape by these creatures . You wish for this hell to end to go back to freedom of being a normal human not some incubator for this thing .

The creature thrust against you again and again before release it seed into you and the doctors around have the creature stay inside you tell they could injected you with a dose of another drug .

You pass out from the mating and when you wake up you back to being hook up to iv and on the cold lab table lock to it with now a large group of doctor and nurse looking running tests and check every inch of you to see what make your body the perfect host .

You are a great writer - keep writing!

21 notes · View notes

jackie5656 · 1 year

Text

Mercy On Me

With; James Potter

A/N: FINALLY. I am so sorry for how long this shit took. Honestly, I was expecting this idea to be short and sweet. Nearly 7k words later and here we are. Appreciate all your ongoing support, and I hope you enjoy!<3

Summary: The one where the two bumbling idiots are blind to the others’ affections amongst their argument, and James gets wasted.

TW: Drinking, cursing NOT YET PROOFREAD

Rain patters harshly against the pane of your window, with thunder grumbling every now and again. Wind whistles through the air outside, cutting through the comfortable silence of your bedroom. You love this weather. Finding solace in the sound of the rain and the grey hue that elicits in your bedroom. It helps you focus, convenient now that you’ve spent the past couple hours finishing up on homework assignments and studying for your upcoming Astronomy exam. The dynamics of the celestial sphere and the names of stars making up a series of constellations swim through your mind, yet theres’s an incessant fear you’ll manage to sit down in your desk come Tuesday and forget every piece of information you’ve just relayed.

James Potter, one of your dearest friends, isn’t nearly as accommodating to rainy days. It means quidditch practice is canceled, you can’t meet up in the courtyard for the groups’ daily catch up, and you’re banished to the confinements of four walls. He’s sprawled across your bed, rotating through doodling, practicing new charms, and bugging you.

He’s antsy. Your best friend is much like a hyper active child, and with no outlet for all his damned energy, he’s opted to pester you all afternoon. You try to block out his absent-minded humming and the scratching of his charcoal sketch sticks, but Prongs never makes blocking him out very easy. You swivel your chair to shoot him a glare when his rubber blending tool makes contact with he back of your head.

“Can I help you?” It takes everything in you not to flick the shit-eating grin adoring his face now that he’s gained your attention.

“Does it say anything in those books about dying of boredom? Because I’m starting to feel faint.”

“Can't you go bother Pads or Moony? Why have I been chosen to bear the weight of your undiagnosed ADHD?”

“You’ve been at this for hours, you’re not finished?”

“Not even close, Jay. You know this exam is important.”

“Can’t you at least take a break? Let’s take a nap.” He yawns, stretching over the expanse of your mattress. And while the prospect of sleeping beside him sounds tempting, you shake your head. It’s bad enough his offer elicits butterflies throughout your gut, when he’s merely seeking the company of a friend.

“What about important exam are you not gathering?” He rolls his eyes, reaching down to grab the tool he’d used as a weapon and begin sketching again. Though not without a series of muttered complaints.

You’re irritated. It’s not like you enjoy spending the better half of your day doing schoolwork. If you could afford it, you’d be right next to him and fast asleep ages ago. In a boarding school where you’re surrounded by peers for 80% of your day, there are times you wish to be alone. You regard the time to yourself as a chance to reset, considering your fragile social battery. Potter finds the notion completely foreign, and couldn’t possibly fathom why anyone would choose to not be around other people. You’re a little moody, sure. Which might be why you find his drumming of the charcoal against the book particularly distracting.

After a few beats of deep breaths, you confront it. “Would you mind, Ringo?” He pauses, looking just past the pages to send you a cheeky smile. Your attraction only angers you further. It’s bad enough your feelings are unrequited, he could at least try to look less fucking good looking all the time.

“If I weren’t being ignored, I’m sure I’d be less intolerable.”

“Why don’t you go find Sirius, I’m sure he’s bored. Or even Lily, sure she’s studying in her own dorm.” He’s not particularly thrilled with your tone in regard to your shared red-headed friend. His crush on Lily, though having been topic of conversation every time he opened his mouth, was fast and fleeting last year. He hadn’t regarded her anywhere close to that sense ever since-Since forever ago. Additionally, James Potter hates feeling needy. Like you don’t want to share his company. Like his affections are too smothering, unrequited.

“I’m not sure why you have yourself so worked up.” There’s a twinge of venom to it, you’ve unknowingly struck an insecurity. Your brows furrow with frustration, unaccustomed to his attitude.

“Not all of us can thrive off our athletic reputations, or effortless grades.” You almost regret it as soon as it’s said. You hadn’t been looking for an argument, but you’ve definitely found one.

“What's that supposed to mean?” He crosses his arms, loosened tie covered by the fabric of his robe.

“James, I didn’t-”

“No, you did.” He moves to sit up on your bed, hazel staring daggers into yours. Daring and unkind. It twinges something close to nausea in your stomach, though your blood still boils. “What did you mean?”

“I mean you don’t even have to try! Your marks are near perfect yet you rarely study. And if anything, you have quidditch to fall back on for an excuse.” He scoffs, nothing short of disbelief and indignation.

“So what, you think I don’t work for what I have?” You’ve definitely struck your nerve, but the bastards been disrespecting your social boundaries all day, and it’s most definitely gotten to you.

“That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you meant.” He stands, looming figure no longer comforting as it usually is. He’s almost intimidating, glaring at you as if you’ve just cornered him.

“I only mean athletes get treated differently, sometimes. It’s not you fault it’s, just not necessarily fair to the rest of us.” There’s that scoff again, a roll of his eyes as he wets his lips.

“You’ve lost the plot, mate.”

“Well of course you wouldn’t notice! You are one James, how would you be able to see it?”

“I’m glad that’s how you regard me, y/n. Freeloading off quidditch as if I don’t work hard as well?” There's a tone of distaste as your name crosses his lips, it feels like a punch to the stomach.

“Again, that’s not what I said.” You stand too, shoulders tensed with anger.

“Whatever. I’ll see you later, considering I’m such a bother.” He’s out the door before you can open your mouth to respond. You jumped the sound of your front door slamming, collapsing back into your chair with an exasperated sigh.

**********

Dinner is undoubtedly awkward. The rest of your friends are enveloped in conversation, but you and James keep to yourselves for the most part. Unfortunately, you were the last to make it to the Great Hall, and the only open seat was beside the only boy you’re currently at odds with. Mary’s been trying to get your attention the past ten minutes, Pads too. An evident ‘what’s with the tension’ but you and Prongs brush them off.

Landon O’Connor is a friend of a friend. A fellow Gryffindor that photographs many of the school events and quidditch matches. James knows him fairly well, which is why he’s astonished the brunette boy approaches your table with a curt nod to James with his eyes only on you. Aiming to sit in the awkward gap between you and him with a kind smile.

You have to grip the table to steady yourself when you’re pulled swiftly into Jame’s side. The boy has wrapped his leg around yours from under the table and pulled you toward him. Shooting a look to the bewildered photographer, he ignores your heated gaze. The group snaps their heads to watch as James squares his shoulders, eyes darting to yours for only a second before he offers your peer a gentle smile.

“Evening, everyone. Doing alright?” There’s a chorus of commonalties Landon nods along to before his eyes land on you, flitter to the brooding chaser, and then back to you.

“Y/n, still studying for Sinistras exam?”

“You kidding? I haven’t stopped.” He chuckles, settling beside you and allowing the group to fall back into their own discussions. Though you get the feeling they’re most definitely paying attention to how this is gonna play out.

“You’ll be fine, you’re a smart girl. Besides, a couple friends of mine are meant to get together to review the material in the courtyard tomorrow. You’re more than welcome to join us.” A pleased smile pulls at your lips, falling immediately when James scoffs into his chalice.

“Alright, Potter?” The boy nods, arm brushing against yours when he turns to face the both of you.

“Fine. It’s just, y//n typically studies alone. Doesn’t appreciate any distractions.” You bite your lip, matching the boy’s challenging stare. There’s that same venom in his words, anger still prevalent from your argument. You break away first, offering another bright smile to Landon.

“Actually, I’d love to join you guys. The company’s fine as long as it’s productive.” James feels his skin run hot when you shift on the bench to face completely away from him. Your attention solely on the bloke to the left.

“Isn’t there a photography meeting during evening hours on Thursday’s, O’Connor?” You can feel James loom closer to you, and by the look on Landon’s face, his expression is not nearly as welcoming as before.

“Well, yeah. But today’s was optional and I thought-”

“I’m sure the lads are probably wondering where you are, yeah?” Irritation is heavy in his tone, it’s an apparent but unspoken ‘get lost’.

“Right, probably.” The brunette surveys your friends, not letting their quickly averting eyes go unnoticed. “Y/n, if I don’t see you at the library tomorrow, will I be seeing you at the party this weekend?”

“Definitely. Good seeing you.” There's a shared grin between you both as he stands again, a hope he hasn’t been scared off indefinitely due to the awkward encounter.

“Pleasure’s all mine, love.” James actually laughs this time, shoving at Sirius’ shoulder when the raven-haired boy kicks him under the table. Landon either doesn’t notice, or chooses to disregard it in lieu of being polite.

“Could you be any more rude, Potter?”

“Must be the privileged athlete in me.”

“Must be!” And with that, you’re both silent again. Flushing under the bewildered looks of the rest of the Marauders. They get to talking again, a feeble attempt at concealing their eavesdropping.

“You know, I’m starting to understand the whole ‘cutting tension with a knife’ phrase.”

“Shove it, Pads.” Both of you heat even more having said it in unison, only making the boy across grin even wider. Hands raised in a half-assed surrender, doing little to hide his amusement.

**********

You feel much better about next week’s exam after studying with Landon’s group. Though the boy was fairly distant during your time in the library. It was bad enough you and James were at odds, now the bastard was scaring other boys off. What was the reason anyway? Potter had never made a move, never insinuated any interest despite your own. Sure, it hurt, but you wouldn't resent him for seeing you only as a friend. It made his distaste for O’Connor’s flirting nonsensical and infuriating, As if he didn’t necessarily want you, but didn’t anyone else to have you either.

“Y/n/n, darling. Where are you? I’m risking poking an eye out with this eyeliner.” Sirius usually gets ready with the girls, arguing your pregame is much more fun than that of the boys. He maneuvers around the rest of your friends getting themselves ready amongst you and Marlene’s dorm. Arguing over which one of your tops they’ll be stealing for the night, or adding the finishing touches to their makeup. Sirius drags you onto the mattress beside him, offering the eyeliner stick in silent pleading. You oblige, tilting his chin up to begin.

“Look up, Siri. Stop looking at me, especially like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m wounded or something.” You’re both quite enough so the girls singing along to the music from the record player or in the middle of conversations can’t hear. The raven-haired boy sighs, doing his best not to blink too hard and ruin your work.

“It’s just, you and James haven’t spoken in ages.”

“It’s been two days, Pads.”

“That's a new record for the both of you. I can’t stand the constant moping, you’re both killing my buzz.” You laugh despite it all, rolling your eyes with fondness for his melodramatics.

“I’m not sure he’s interested in speaking to me at the moment.” You hold up a tissue from your desk for him to wet with his tongue, wiping at any excess liner under his lash line.

“Trust me, you’re all he’s been talking about. He’s not particularly happy with how things ended between the both of you. As are you, I’m sure.” His eyes dart over to your mirror, lips upturning in a pleased smirk at your handiwork.

“Of course I hate to fight with James. I was in a bad mood and I just wanted to be alone. I should have communicated that to him.”

“Then why don’t you say so?”

“Well what was that stunt he pulled at dinner the other night? Arguing with me gave him no reason to take it out on other people.” Sirius chuckles, shaking his head and reaching over to grab the bottle of liquor on your desk.

“I think he would have given O’Connor lip had you been fighting or not.” You cock your head, about to press on when he passes you a shot. Holding out his own glass for you to clink. “To the first shot of the night, and most definitely not the last.”

You hum, connecting your glass to his before throwing your heads back. Cringing at the burn in your throat and the shitty taste. “I’ve never understood your affinity to whiskey.”

“Mends the soul or something, I don’t know. Alcohol is alcohol.” He presses a kiss to your cheek before standing, nodding his head toward the door. Marl’s Lilly, and Dorcas are already headed out to the common room as you follow suit.

********

It’s well into the party when Remus approaches. Collapsing onto the well-worn couch beside you. You greet him with a warm smile, stretching before resting your head on his shoulder. He was your partner for beer pong, and you’d played against Sirius and James. Needless to say, you’d lost and both had to drink more than your stomachs were comfortable with.

“Alright, Rem?” You wrap your arm around his, enveloping him in warmth because he’s almost always chilly. He shakes his head, smile etching over his features.

“We suck at Pong. I think I can literally feel the beer sloshing around in my stomach.” You groan, hiding your face into the fabric of his sweater with self-pitying chuckles.

The game hadn’t been too awkward. You hadn’t spoke much to Potter over the course of the game, but laughed along with him at Sirius’ tipsy smack talk. His lingering gaze had etched a lump in your throat a couple times, but you’d choked it down with more beer. Hence the comfortable, warming buzz. Remus presses a kiss to your head, digging in his pocket to retrieve his usual chocolates. You oblige instantly, because he’s right, they always make you feel better.

“Love.” He breaks the comfortable silence, surveying your cheekily drunken peers with admiration. “If I asked you a favor-”

“Anything, Moons. You know that.” He hums, pressing the side of his cheek into the top of your head in acknowledgment. He’s never minded affection with you, and you’re more than grateful to be one of his few exceptions.

“Would you talk to Prongs?”

“Rem-”

“For me?” His palm opens to offer you another chocolate, and you scoff at the clear bribery but snatch it anyway. “Sweetheart, he’s practically moping in the corner. Won’t even be Pad’s partner anymore. And you know how much James hates to break a winning streak.”

“It’s his brooding athleticism, I suppose.”

“Y/n.” It’s a warning, a push to forgive.

“He was a jerk, Remus.”

“You know how he can get, love. Some things you have to lay on him easy. Our Prongs is quite stubborn.”

“You can say that again.”

“But so are you sometimes, yes?” You meet his eyes, feeling properly chastised. “You know it’s only because he cares about what you think of him so much. He hated hearing you thought less of him for something he couldn’t possibly control.”

“But that’s not what I meant, he should know that!”

“Perhaps our boy isn’t as self assured as he lets on sometimes.” His words send a pang to your heart, you know better than to believe Potter isn’t almost always in need of reassurance from his friends. “Regardless of how it was intended, you’ve both hurt one another. Yes?”

“Yeah.” You bring your bottom lip between your teeth, feeling terribly guilty. And rightfully so.

“So will you go comfort him? Because he’s just about trollied, and will not stop whining about how much he misses you. It was cute at first, but now it’s beginning to become quite irritating.”

“Fine. But only because I love you.”

“We both know that’s not your reason.” He scrunches his nose at you, teasing. You pull away with feigned disgust.

“Oh, shove off.”

Potter’s across the room in an arm chair, moping just as Moony had said. Even worse than you’d imagined, actually. A pout on his lips as he takes swigs from the beer in hand. Heart aching at the sight of him, it becomes clear just how much you’ve missed him too. He doesn’t notice once you approach, even when you rest your hands on the arm of the chair and bend at the waist to his level. Tapping his knee so he’ll lift his gaze from his lap. James goes from a deep frown to fighting a grin at the sight of you. A definite pinking to his cheeks, from the alcohol or your presence, you’re not sure.

You wish to slap the voice inside of you that aches to press your lips to his.

“Hi.” He’s beaming now, hand instinctively reaching out to push a stray strand of hair from your face. It risks your knees giving out right then and there at the gentleness of it all.

“Hey, Potter. What’s up with the moping, Sirius needs his partner.” You nod to the game ahead, cheering along when Sirius scores. A large, warm hand slides up your forearm, and you tilt your head back down to see his hazel eyes staring up at you with an emotion you can’t quite read. Fondness fills you to the brim at the sight of it.

“I’m not in the m-mood.” There’s an adorable hiccup that sounds between the last word, the ache in your heart growing tenfold. “Where’s O’Connor? Thought you’d be with him.” It’s genuine, there's no self pity or ill-intent behind his words. Instead, it’s almost solemn. Much unlike the James you’re accustomed to.

“I’m sure he’s around somewhere.” You shrug, clear in your indifference. “But I wanted to check on you.” The corner of his lips twitch upward, but he bites it away. Another squeeze to your arm he hasn’t found the strength to release just yet.

“It’s okay if you want to go hang out with him, Y/n. I’m fine. And you’re angry with me.”

“I’m not angry anymore, James.” You can’t help but run a hand through his unruly curls, smirking when he leans into the touch.

“You aren’t?” You shake your head, crouching to get more comfortable.

“I mean, I was. I didn’t appreciate you putting words into my mouth. But I understand why you got defensive. It wasn’t fair of me to be rude just because I didn’t want to communicate needing some time to myself. I’m sorry, Prongs.”

“I’m sorry too. Really sorry.” He runs a thumb over the arm still in his hold, eyes averting to observe the line of goosebumps it elicits with a soft smile. You fear you’re much too smitten of him for your own good. He pats the arm of the chair for you to sit on, and you comply. Looking at the partygoers around you. It’s comforting, despite longer participating in the festivities you’re still enjoying the atmosphere.

Eventually James shifts, settling his head over your thighs with a contented sigh. He waits a beat, taking hold of your wrist and plopping your hand atop his head. You shake your head with a scoff, pretending to be irritated with his silent request. Fingers coursing through the strands of his hair once again. You catch Remus’ eyes across the room, sticking your tongue out to ward them off when he leans over to Sirius, the pair staring fondly. James doesn’t notice, hazed from the alcohol and the scent of your perfume.

The rise and fall of his broad shoulders slows, so you lean over to meet his face.

“Don’t fall asleep down here, Prongs. Don’t think I’m able to get you to bed otherwise.” The corner of his lip curls up despite his closed eyes, and you’re quite sure you’d be able to watch him for hours.

“Can we go to bed, then?”

“James Potter leaving a party early? Why, I must be dreaming.” He ignores your teasing, pulling himself off you and standing to his full height. There’s a slight wobble to him, one he has to balance by grasping either arm of the vintage chair. Consequently putting his head only inches front yours. A wave of pine and mint consumes you, along with a faint, lingering scent of whiskey. His eyes follow yours, having caught them averting to his lips. James smiles, one of his cocky, smug concoctions that urges you to smack or kiss him. Combative urges you usually tend to get when in his presence.

“You’re trollied, Jay. Let’s get to the dorms before you lose your footing for good.” Your tone is light in teasing, missing the fall of his features as you duck under his arm and get to your feet.

“Should we say goodnight to Moony and Pads?” The taller boy rubs at his eyes, letting you adjust the glasses he’s just pushed crooked. You look around the room, landing on the pair who are pouring another round of shots for your shared group of friends. James doesn’t notice, busying himself with fixing your necklace to bring the clasp to the back of your neck. Praying he doesn’t notice the goosebumps running over your skin, you nudge him toward the stairs with a gentle shake of your head. Knowing he’ll most definitely insist on another shot in lieu of being left out.

“I’m sure they’ll be up soon, cmon.” He’s surprisingly easy to persuade, allowing you to take hold of his arm and guide him toward the steps.

It’s a bit of a struggle. He’s nearly twice your size, so any miss-step he makes in his drunken stupor is a threat to both of you.

“Gryffindor house truly is the best. Don’t you think, lovely?” A hiccup before he goes on. “I mean, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Wouldn’t have met any of my best mates had any of us been sorted otherwise.” He pushes a finger to your cheek, cocking his head when you swiftly shush him. Unaware his volume is much too loud to be this close to the dorms or your respected, sleeping peers. A grin spreads across his face as he mimics you, pointer finger pressing to his lips as you approach his dorm.

He collapses onto his mattress, shuffling under the covers and sighing as if the exertions’ exhausted him.

“Will you stay with me?” It’s almost unintelligible with his cheek pressed into the satin pillow.

“James-”

“Please?” Those puppy dog eyes again, he’s well aware of what he’s doing. You huff, fighting a smile as you discard your shoes. “You can grab a pair of joggers and whatever else you need from my drawers.”

“I can’t stay here all night.”

“Why not? The boy’s will be gone for hours, love. I don’t wanna fall asleep alone.” The alcohols undoubtedly loosened his lips, he wets them before continuing. “Always hated it when I was little, you know? I used to crawl into my mum and dad’s bed in the middle of the night. I’d hate waking up to nobody being there.” He turns away so you can change, pulling the comforter to the side so you’ll be able to slip in.

“I loved my parents bed too.” You smile fondly at the memories, pulling one of his shirts over your head and admiring the emboldened, crimson, ‘Gryffindor’ lettering across your chest. “When they sent me to bed, I would sneak out of my room and wait on the steps. I liked listening to the telly when they were watching it together late at night. Always felt left out.” You both huff a laugh, slipping in next to him as he turns to face you again.

James pushes a stray stand of hair from your face, eyes wandering over your features. You gaze up at his ceiling instead, admiring the constellations Sirius has permanently charmed on the ceiling.

“You’re so pretty.” It’s unthinking, muttered into the darkness of the room and slipping away. Your heart thrums against your chest, and a there's beginnings of forming lump in your throat.

“Don’t, James.”

“Don’t what?”

“Say...Say things you don’t mean.” His brows furrow, offended.

“Of course I mean that. I’ve always thought it.” You press your palms to your eyes, willing emotion away.

“I mea- I mean things you don’t intend to act on.” You fumble out, unsure of your own words and their risk. “Things I’ll overthink.” A pang of hurt shoots through his chest, but you don’t notice the own despair running over his face as you watch a shooting star pass overhead. Wishing he’d really meant it, really wanted to act on it.

“I just think you’re beautiful. That’s all.”

“Please, Jay. This is mean.” You hate how your voice cracks, how he creates distance between you.

Mean. He’d prefer just about any other insult in the book. Somehow, mean sounds far worse than anything else. Especially when he’s taking a chance.

“Merlin, how is that mean?”

“It’s just-” “Have I made you uncomfortable?”

“No.” You’re almost incredulous, unable to imagine an instance he’d ever overstep a boundary like that. “No, of course not. That’s the issue, actually.”

“Well...I’d like to kiss you, then. Would that prove it?” You almost choke on your own saliva, gaze snapping over to his for any signs of jest. He runs a thumb over your brow, blinking slow.

“You’re drunk, James.” There's no cruelty to it. If anything, you seem relieved, maybe even pleased with him. Potter’s smug again, an inkling of hope igniting in his chest.

“Sober thoughts, lovely.”

“Maybe-” you swallow, nerves stalling you. “Maybe you can kiss me in the morning, when you're sorely hungover and regretting all the beer pong.”

“Alright.” His cheeks are beginning to hurt from smiling, so he turns on his back so he won’t be able to look at you any longer. Hoping it aids the burning desire to cement his words. “You’ll stay though. Yeah?”

“Always, James.”

************

You’re weighed down by something awfully heavy the next morning. Sunlight seeping through the red and gold curtains adorning the window across the room. Sirius is sprawled out on his bed just under it, most agape with slumber. You narrow your eyes, confused with your surroundings. Up until you recognize the weight as a tanned, toned arm. Pulling you closer subconsciously. James is so close his breath fans over your neck, sending chills down your spine. You make a meek attempt at biting back the grin pulling at your lips as the memories flood in.

Though the smell of coffee beckons you from your admiration of the sleeping chaser in front of you. Seriously, how someone looks that angelic fast asleep is beyond you. Carefully, you push the greedy extremity from your waist, slipping out of the sheets and shuffling toward the common area of the dorm.

Remus stands over the stove and tends to pans of food whilst averting his gaze to a book beside him on the counter every now and then. You considered yourself a bookworm before you met him, having been utterly humbled ny his sheer addiction for literature.

“Morning.” Its awfully complacent, Lupin doesn’t even look at you during his greeting. Tone heavy with self-satisfaction and suggestive teasing.

“I slept next to him, Moons. I’m not having his children.” You pour yourself a cup of coffee, eager to indulge in the boy’s expertly crafted blend.

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“Didn’t have to.” You both turn your heads into the direction of an audible groan. James shuffles toward the both of you with his head low and shoulders hunched, grabbing at air until it connect with your mug.

“I was drinking that.” It earns another grunt, you and Moons sharing an amused glance at the boy’s obvious hangover.

“I’m never drinking again.”

“What, too much fire whiskey for our renowned chaser to handle?” James can only gag at Lupin’s teasing, shooting him a death glare through watery eyes. You rub his back, snatching back your coffee when he leans into your touch.

“You minx.” He mutters, betrayed. “You know I’m vulnerable.” You only roll your eyes, accepting the plate of food remus hands over with a grateful smile. James snags a piece of your toast, desperate to soak up the liquor in his stomach and much too keen on stealing from you today.

“I’m going to attempt to coax Padfoot out of bed. Watch the stove, y/n.” Remus weaves around the kitchen island with his own toast hanging between his teeth, hair still tousled from sleep.

Potter’s staring at you, unreadable expression amongst his features as he chews on his (your) food. “I’m assuming you got me to bed last night?”

“Not without difficulty.” James winces, a hand running through his hair.

“Sorry if I was a pain, love. If I’m honest, I don’t remember much past our reconciliation.” He adorns a tight-lipped smile, guilty with a twinge of hangxiety. You only shrug, aiming to reassure him. “We’re good though, right?” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, looking awfully adorable despite the effects of last night’s alcohol.

Truth be told, James remembers bits and pieces. He remembers laying in such close proximity, wasted and aching for your lips on his. He can’t shake the feeling that you’re holding back. Had he made move? Had you rejected him? You couldn’t have kissed. Surely no amount of alcohol would have erased that daydream come reality.

“We’re good, James. And you weren’t a pain. If anything, I can always count on you for being a fairly good-mannered and giddy drunk.” There’s a tilt to his head, a sudden glint in his eyes.

“Can’t say I was too well behaved, yeah?” Your eyes narrow, curious if he’s hinting at your conversation just minutes before sleep. His gaze doesn’t leave you as you approach him, standing on your tip toes so your face is mere inches from his. Just when his lids risk fluttering closed, you back away, having pulled a new mug from the shelf behind him.

“I’d argue otherwise, Potter.”

“Oh?” Oh. Are you...flirting with him? That confirms it, something had happened last night. “No usual antics then? We just, went to sleep?” Your eyes narrow at his questioning, uncovering the suspicion in his tone with ease. You decide you quite like when he’s nervous. He approaches where you’ve sat yourself on the counter. Subconsciously fitting himself in the space between your legs. Eyes averting to the pair of his sweats you have on, drowning your feet from the length on you. His heart swells with an emotion he can’t quite pinpoint, something between elation and pride.

“What else would we have done?” You take a smug sip from the steaming cup in hand, nose scrunching in feigned distaste when he takes it from your grasp and sets it on the counter.

“I dunno.” It’s practically a whisper, his voice still rasped from sleep as his eyes search yours. Eager to sense any sort of hesitation or discomfort on your part. Large hands graze the collar of your borrowed shirt as they reach your neck, cradling your head as if it might dissipate in his hold. You wet your lips, swallowing hard. There's an evident acceleration in both your breathing, and you’re convinced this’ll finally be it. This will finally be the moment James Potter proves to you you’re not just one of his best mates.

And he thinks so too.

“Don’t be worried, folks. King of the castle is very much alive and well. I know you’ve all missed me dearly in the agonizing time without my presence.” Sirius waltzes into the kitchen with remnants of eyeliner clouding the skin around his eyes with a bright smile. Bastard, no matter how much alcohol he consumes, just about never gets hungover. He stutters in his approach to the kitchen, a clear realization he’s most definitely just interrupted something.

Prongs rips away from you like your skin has singed him, scratching at the back of his neck with poorly executed nonchalance. Embarrassment looks bad on him, but likely worse on you. Considering how stupid you must look with such hurt flashing over your face.

Maybe its a sign, an indication from some higher power this isn’t meant to be. Considering James’ breakaway from the embrace, it seems as though this was merely a heat of the moment occurrence. But you don’t do casual, and you definitely don’t jeopardize years of friendship for some crush that just may actually be unrequited.

You’re off the counter and awkwardly adjusting the much too big clothes swarming you as Remus reaches the group of you. He takes one look between the three of you, silently snatching the newspaper in lieu of the crossword, and slipping back into the bedroom.

“Did I-”

“No!” James and you are shaking your heads with feigned laughter before Sirius can even finish. Mirth settles comfortably on his dark features, crossing his arms with raised brows.

“I was just gonna ask if I missed the doorway for a cup of coffee.” Prick doesn’t even attempt to hide his glee, ignoring the daggers James bores into him with his now murderous hazel eyes.

“Still plenty left in the pot, Pads.” You tuck invisible strands of hair behind your ears, ignoring James’ shift of attention that lingers on your frame. He looks like he’s about to speak, but you’re already turning toward the front door.

“Jay,” despite the nickname, there’s no lift to your tone like before. “I have to go. Fluids, today. Or you’ll feel like shit for even longer.” He nods with a mock salute, fully aware he’ll perpetually be feeling like shit for a completely different reason.

You shout a farewell to Remus, and a pleading smile to an awfully merry Sirius before slipping out the door. Rushing down the hall and toward the girl’s wing without a second thought.

Black shoves the slightly taller boy in front of him in a fit of exasperation. Fed up with his bumbling idiot of a best mate.

“You’re a coward, Prongs. Really.” James shrugs him off, recounting your proximity mere minutes ago with an overwhelming surge of glee. He smirks despite it all, biting back the oncoming lovesick grin.

“You know, she’s the only one that calls me Jay?”

“Merlin, you’re hopeless.”

***************

There’s a knock at the door as you reach for your lavender-scented body wash, closing one eye to avoid the trail of shampoo threatening to run into it.

“It’s unlocked Marl’s, just come in.” You assume it’s one of your roommates of course, but are shocked at the voice that sounds from the other side of the door.

“It’s me, actually.” James presses his forehead against the cool wood of the bathroom door, reconsidering whether or not he should actually go through with this.

“Who’s me?” He feels like a fucking moron.

“Oh, uh, James.” A wince, an oncoming urge to bash his head into the door to knock some sense into himself.

“James?” You tug on both sides of the curtain to ensure it covers the entirety of the shower. “Um-”

“I’d wait for you to be out but,” the chaser rolls his shoulders, unaccustomed to such lack of self assurance. “This is sort of urgent.” And now he sounds like a perv, swell.

“Everything alright? Just come in, I can barely hear you.” He does as told, knocking over your array of skin care products set up on the counter because he’s shielding his eyes. You poke your head out to watch him scramble with the bottles, dropping one as soon as he grasps another.

“Shit. Fuck, sorry. So sorry.” You can’t help but laugh, eyes narrowed in endeared disbelief as his gaze stays trained on the floor, unable to even glance in your direction. When it’s finally settled, he gathers what little dignity he has left to sit with his back against the ledge of the tub.

“I’m sitting, is that alright?”

“Its fine, Jay. What’d you need?” And there it is again. Fuck, are you doing this on purpose? A quick shake of his head, and he scoffs despite himself. The only answer his mind can manage is ‘you’ but he figures that’s likely not the best start to this.

“It’s just, I can’t stop thinking about last night.” He wets his lips, wringing his hands together. “I feel like I may have said more than you let on.”

You hum, biting back a smile. “Said something you regret?” It’s playful, but the subtle worry in your tone is most definitely there. Potter knows you better than that.

“What? No. Merlin, no. If it’s what I think, then definitely not.” The grin wins this battle, you ensure all the suds have been rinsed out of your hair before you peek your head out.

His eyes are still screwed shut, despite his back facing you. He’s tense, body hunched in an attempt to make himself smaller. Though it doesn’t do much. You feel particularly fond of him, just then. Committing this frame to memory.

“And what do you think it was?”

“You’re making this sort of difficult, love.” You figure you’ve tortured him long enough. Though it's what he deserves, considering he's left you with bread crumbs the entirety of the past year.

“James?” He’s barely heard it with the combatting sounds of the running water, but it was there. Soft, sweet, enough to have him wishing you’d say it a million times more, and then some.

“Y-yeah?” He lets you tilt his head back, his jaw clenching with the tension. You bend at the waist, ensuring not to drop any water on him whilst clutching the curtain tight against your frame.

And just like that. In the middle of the muggy, steam-ridden bathroom. You kiss James Potter.

It’s a little awkward in this position. Though he’s so tall you’re not completely bent down, it’s straining for both of you. Which is why you finally decide to reluctantly pull away, his hand taking hold of your jaw to pull you back for a couple swift kisses that unleash a hoard of butterflies throughout your stomach.

“You said you wanted to kiss me,” your lips hover over his as you whisper. Pulling completely away to preserve your racing heart. Potter scrambles to his full height, adjusting his sleeves because he’s unsure of what to do with his hands now that they’re not on you.

“Can. thank the whiskey for the confessions, I presume.” You giggle, and he has to fight the urge to shoot his gaze toward you at the sound. “You’re so pretty. I always thought so.” It’s unthinking, rushed out because the shared silence discomforts him. He feels like an idiot again. But you’ve scrambled up any sense of his ego or wit and he’s a mess. “Thought I should say that.” He’s not entirely sure how to clarify how he feels without accidentally professing his all-consuming love for you. Might come off a bit strong, he thinks.

“Oh, you did. A few times, actually.” Potter groans, pressing his palms into his eyes and bowing his head to shield his flushing cheeks. You laugh even more.

“Have mercy on me, sweetheart. Please.” Its your turn to flush, unaccustomed to the new pet name. James cocks his head after a beat of silence, arm over his eyes to face you without actually being able to see you. “Ah, you liked that one. Didn’t you?”

“Piss off.”

“In just a minute, sweetheart.” He’s awful, straightening with pride when you can’t muster a witty response to the teasing. “Can I just have one more kiss?” He steps closer, hoping he won't trip considering the lack of sight. “And when you’re finished up, I’m taking you out.”

“Hogsmeade?” Your voice lifts with excitement, forcing a smile from him.

“Whatever you want.” He searches for you, lips jutted out pulled into a frown when you let him chase air. His hand goes out, aiming find you but quickly reminded of your current state of undress. It drops immediately, fists clenched and then releasing. “Must you make me suffer even more?” You roll your eyes, pressing a peck to each corner of his mouth and then his jaw. Pulling the curtain between you just after. “Wh-what was that?”

“Another kiss.” You note simply, going for your conditioner. “Kisses, actually.”

“We’ll have to work on that definition, dove.”

<3 Masterlist <3

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m4rs-ex3 · 10 months

Text

lines so? fucking raw? i cant believe theyre from tdp

"lots of things are hard. like magic, but you figured that out didn't you?" "...yeah. somehow relationships seem harder."

"history demands nothing! i make history. it does not make me."

"we all want peace and we all want love, but violence tests us. in a twisted way it converts us to its cause. because pain and loss feel so terrible inside, you want to hate. you want to hurt someone else... people are still hurting, and they are still angry. we can't ignore that. or pretend it will go away. somehow we have to hold it all in our hearts at the same time. we have to acknowledge the weight of pain and loss, but open up our eyes and allow ourselves to hope and maybe forgive and love again."

"we gain nothing if we throw away the chance to learn and grow."

"back then, when i was just a little one, the other elves saw me as a doe. but i knew. i always knew, that i was a buck. i chose [this] name." 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️

"i'm a mess" "no, you're not. it's okay."

"you're too good to feel this bad about yourself."

"most people believe that reality is truth and appearances are deceiving. but those of us who know[,] understand we can only truly trust the appearance itself. you can never touch the so-called reality that lies just beyond the reach of your own perception."

"it seems i am a crown without and adult, and you're an adult without a crown."

"justice [is] more than fair decisions and fair consequences. true justice [is] a fair system. the blindfold gives us a way to test the system. that i should use it to imagine i had not been born yet, and that i did not know if i would be born rich or poor, what color my skin would be, what culture or practices my family would have. that a fair system should be fair no matter the accident of my birth. that the rights, and laws, and opportunities within the system should stand to protect and empower everyone."

"i've had his letter for a few days now, but i-i just can't bring myself to open it. i don't know. i know it sounds crazy, but it's like, right now, there are words he hasn't said to me, and they're all right in there. they're just waiting to come to life. but then once i read it... once i read the last word... then he'll really be gone. forever."

"i know i'm not your birth father, but in my eyes and in my heart, you are my son. i see myself in you. i'm proud of you. and i love you unconditionally."

"the great lie of history. advisers and scholars will tell you that history is a narrative of strength. they will recount stories of the rise and fall of nations and empires. they will be stories of armies, battles, and decisive victories. but this isn't true strength. it's merely power. i now believe true strength is found in vulnerability... in forgiveness, in love. there is a beautiful, upside-down truth, which is that these moments of purest strength appear as weakness to those who don't know better."

"i've tried to be selfless as a king, but, as a father, i have a selfish wish. and that is for you to be free. reject the chains of history. do not let the past define your future, as i did. free yourself from the past. learn from it, understand it, then let it go. create a brighter future from your own hearts and imagination."

"sweet words can be more dangerous than hidden daggers."

"i feel so overwhelmed with everything, i-i have so many thoughts, things racing through my head." "sometimes you just need to focus on the present, take a deep breath, and just be. sometimes, things can get so complicated that our minds can't quite sort them out alone. but when you slow down and let yourself breathe, your spirit and your body can catch up with your mind, and help out."

"to know something truly, and deeply, you must know it with your head, hand, and heart. mind, body, and spirit. i love you with all of myself, and i always will."

"i think i've heard about this... a philosophy of accepting you are already dead... so you will not fear death. what a beautiful challenge you've given me. i must come up with something you will fear... more than death."

"we're all a mess sometimes. me? i'm usually a mess."

"there is a cycle in the world. life and death. it is at the core of all things. the moon embodies this cycle. bit by bit it will fade away: then bit by bit it will brighten. death is frightening. birth can be as well. yet they are two things that connect us all. kings and commoners, rich and poor, elf and human--each one is equally vulnerable in the beginning and in the end. let that fact be humbling. let it bind us together. remember that as life inevitably leads to death, so also does life come from death. this is a cycle, not an ending. for those you have left behind, think on all they have given you. for those who will come after you, think on all you will give to them. know that you are always connected."

"white lies are illusions you build with your words to protect the hearts of those you love."

"they're gone. i'm never going to be okay with that, but i guess i have to face it."

"you're not doing this without me. i let you jump into [there] alone and i knew right away i made the biggest mistake of my life. i could have lost you. we do this together. don't try to change my mind." hindsight is a bitch

"i like being alive."

plsplspls rb with urs

#how does callum's stupid ass always manage to say exactly what i need to hear #tdp #the dragon prince #also harrow wtf were you on holy shit

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no-stupid-questions-official · 3 months

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How do I start working out to gain muscle?

Every time I Google suggestions, I get overwhelmed by paid ads that all suggest different methods, and insisting I compound it with dieting/fasting/etc for weight loss, when that's not my goal. I just want to be stronger/healthier, and if I lose some weight in the process, great!

But I can't afford and I'm too afraid* to go to the gym, but working out at home is difficult, as I have next to nowhere to do it privately and feel very self conscious doing it around my family. On top of that, my ADHD makes it difficult to start and stick to any sort of regimen without decent motivation. Does anyone have any tips?

*I'm visibly trans/queer and overweight, and fear being harassed/judged.

#question

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justafriend-ql · 1 year

Text

"i don't want to be your burden" (never let me go, ep. 12)

for many, palm's decision to leave nueng in the finale of never let me go was surprising and seemed like an out-of-character, lazy way of writing in last-minute drama. i'd like to argue that it was actually completely consistent with palm's character. thinking that leaving nueng is the best thing he can do for him is a culmination of all palm's deep-seated insecurities:

that he is worthless if he is not of service

that loving him is burdensome

that he does not deserve the love of someone like nueng

let's consider the roots of each of these insecurities, how they influence palm's decision to leave, and how nueng ultimately addresses them, allowing them to move forward in their relationship as true equals.

that he is worthless if he is not of service

palm inherits this particular insecurity from chanon, the absent father who instills in him a strong sense of duty and reprimands him when he fails to fulfill said duties. the clearest example of this dynamic is when chanon scolds palm for failing to stop nueng from drinking alcohol at the party in episode 4. ignoring the injuries palm has sustained protecting nueng in the fight that broke out, chanon brutally tears into him, yelling that palm is undeserving of his trust (and affection, apparently). he says he is completely disappointed in palm, and when palm begs his dad to show an ounce of concern about his broken arm, questioning why he must care more about nueng's family, chanon responds with a harsh slap across the face.

being able to perform his duty well is critical to palm's sense of self-worth. we see this in a positive sense whenever he gains happiness and confidence from taking care of nueng (e.g., "when i see you are feeling relaxed, i feel i've done my job well"). but in the face of failure, his fragile confidence shatters, revealing a deep sense of inadequacy. after his mother is killed, nueng tells palm that his mother must have loved him and been very proud of him. but palm rejects the idea, saying there's nothing about him to be proud of because he "can't protect anyone."

when palm realizes his leg is paralyzed, all his fears about not being able to perform his duty come to fruition. his duty is all he feels that he has to offer nueng, but now he's bedridden, incapable of taking care of him. it's an especially hard blow considering the way the series has framed palm as the "body" to nueng's mind. what is he now, without this body?

his conversation with tanya at the hospital only further confirms his insecurities about no longer being able to take care of nueng. tanya notes that nueng is "mature and self-sufficient" now. (and how can palm disagree, seeing nueng stride confidently out the door to take an international work call, all suit and tie and polished english accent?) meaning well, tanya tells palm he doesn't have to take care of nueng anymore, that she can find someone else to do the job. the alarm in palm's eyes at hearing this is palpable, his mother's warning that he's replaceable to nueng's family surely ringing in the back of his head.

that loving him is burdensome

speaking of palm's mother - this next insecurity comes primarily from her. mam left chanon and palm because she felt she "couldn't breathe" under the weight of the responsibilities of motherhood. she tells palm that being a mother was too tiring, that it robbed her of the ability to follow her dreams and live her life in the way she wanted. the message palm receives is that it is a burden to love and take care of him, one that even his own mother was unwilling to shoulder.

after the wedding, mam expands on this idea that love, more generally, is a burden. she tells palm that love can rob people of their freedom and reminds him to consider that there is more to life than love. palm leaves nueng because he does not want to stifle his freedom in the way that chanon's love stifled that of his mother.

palm's fear of holding nueng back emerges in full force when he is injured and reliant on nueng for help. he worries about the work nueng is missing, asking why he is "wasting his time" taking care of him at the hospital. nueng tries to reassure him that it's normal for lovers to be there for each other "both in good and bad times," but in palm's experience, that hasn't been the case. when has his father been there for him? his mother? moreover, his parents didn't stick by each other through thick and thin either. not wanting to repeat their mistakes, palm refuses to be a "burden" to nueng.

that he does not deserve the love of someone like nueng

on top of these insecurities, palm must contend with the doubt that a working-class boy like him is a fitting partner for nueng, the heir of a prominent business conglomerate. reminders of palm and nueng's status difference have abounded throughout the series and come from spectators of all kinds. chanon continually warns palm to "know his place" (i.e., the kitchen, the back of the car, the small bedroom they share). palm's friends, aun and maggie, both question why palm cares so much about nueng, giving that he's so above their social standing. and there's kit, who derisively calls palm part of tanya's "charity work." (it's no mistake that palm pointedly tells chopper that he doesn't want to be anyone's "charity project" when he offers to pay for his medical bills.)

palm is keenly aware that nueng may soon move onto someone "better" than him. when he gets nueng's name tatooed on his back, it's so he has a reminder of him, assuming they are not together in the future. when nueng asks him about the future in episode 11, palm still keeps his expectations low. he says even though he wants to be with nueng, he's not sure nueng will still want to be with him, given how "different" they are.

palm is especially worried about what tanya will think of their relationship, telling nueng it might be "too early" to tell her about it. nueng, who has the privilege to overlook the awkward position palm is in, is happy to leave palm alone in tanya's room to tell her about their "lives on the island." of course, palm chooses not to tell her anything about their relationship. and when tanya says she hopes nueng won't face any more obstacles in his life, all palm can do is look on in wary silence, knowing that a life with him (physical injuries aside) will be far less cushy than one with someone wealthy.

the goodbye letter

palm's goodbye letter is full of language indicative of these three insecurities, conveying his deep-seated belief that he is not worthy of nueng's love. i've copied an excerpt of his letter below and put the especially relevant pieces in bold:

I'm sorry that I can't keep the promise I gave you. Please don't waste your time on me anymore. I know that you love me. Thank you so much. But I want you to love yourself more. You should live your life without worrying about me.For all these times, being loved by you, I'm so lucky to have that.It's more than I could ever dream of. If you really love me, please don't look for me. Because this is what I want.

it's interesting to compare palm's goodbye letter to nueng's, because in many ways, palm's letter is a response to his.

This letter is an order to you. I'll order you as a boss and you need to follow my order. ... This is the problem that I will face for the rest of my life. You and your dad can't fix it. This is the problem that my mom and I need to fix ourselves. ... I hope you will start a new life with someone who can truly love you. One day, when everything is over and I am still alive, I'll be waiting to meet the person that you love. I wish you to have a happy life and a good family. Don't worry about our story. I'll keep it a secret. You won't have any problem because of it.

in their letters, both nueng and palm use language acknowledging that they cannot stay together, suggesting that they see themselves as burdens to one another, and hoping their lives will be happier without them in it. (their parallel lack of self-worth is a subject for a whole other post.) the key difference is in tone: nueng's letter is formal, a polite but distanced order from boss to subordinate; meanwhile, palm's letter is emotional, a plea from one lover to another. this difference is also indicative of palm's insecurities: just as all palm can offer nueng is his love, his love is all he can use as leverage to persuade nueng to obey his command.

reunion and resolution

once palm and nueng are reunited at the beach, they revisit and address each of palm's insecurities, ensuring that they are able to resume their relationship on equal footing.

that he is worthless if he is not of service

when palm admits that he left because he was worried he couldn't take care of nueng, nueng assures palm that he doesn't need to *do* anything to deserve his love, addressing palm's doubt that he is only worthy of love as long as he is useful. nueng tells palm he's proud of him already and that he has nothing to "prove" because all nueng cares about is that palm loves him.

2. that loving him is burdensome

nueng disabuses palm of the idea that loving him is a burden first by telling him how much their separation was a burden to him ("do you know how terrible it felt to be worried about you all the time?"). then, nueng honors palm's wish to "build everything on his own" rather than rely on nueng's money to do so, easing palm's concerns about taking advantage of him. finally, they agree to each pursue their independent dreams while recognizing that their romantic relationship can withstand their physical separation.

3. that he does not deserve the love of someone like nueng

palm and nueng finally resolve the status difference between them when palm agrees to call nueng by name, without honorifics, and talk to him in an impolite register. this linguistic shift is indicative of the fact that they are no longer boss/subordinate, but rather equals. (and nueng also reiterates that he has never cared about palm's status, clarifying that he's been flirting with him from the start.)

with all of palm's insecurities addressed and resolved, there is no doubt or ambiguity between nueng and him anymore. rather than a last-ditch attempt to add drama, palm leaving nueng was a clever and well-thought-out writing decision. it forces all of the lingering issues in their relationship to their surface and pushes nueng to fight for palm, just as palm has fought for nueng. it completes the role reversal that has stretched across the whole series - starting with palm taking care of nueng and making him stronger, more confident person and shifting to nueng doing the same for palm. what could have been a very one-sided relationship was in reality always about mutuality and reciprocity. both palm and nueng had to choose each other, and they did.

#i hope this makes sense my brain is a bowl of emotional spaghetti about palm and all his doubts #never let me go #nlmg #never let me go meta #palmnueng #nuengpalm

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shintin · 6 months

Text

Gunpowder Dreams

Chapter 8 (Knives)

↳ Vash the Stampede x Female Reader

They didn't know a wounded man would show no mercy when they took the best thing he ever had away from him. What did they say? Don't poke the dragon if you can't take the heat; if you do, expect the flames.

Genre: explicit smut, toxic relation, romance, angst (Mafia au).

Warnings/Tags: +18, NSFW, Alternative Universe/Modern Setting, no spoilers from manga and anime, dominate Vash the Stampede, sexual situations, dub-con, graphic violence, gore, angst, toxicity, gunplay, manhandling, cunnilingus + fellatio, creampie, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, too many smut scenes, emotional trauma, and etc.

Song Recommendation: Mitski - My Love Mine All Mine

Note: For the sake of preserving your mental well-being, I urge you to revisit the warnings once more.

God, I love this song of Mitski.

Chapter Index - Next Chapter

A chilling and whimsical voice whispered, "You have such pretty hair," causing you to jolt in surprise.

Startled by the unexpected intrusion, you inhaled sharply and swiftly turned around. Standing before you was none other than him—the man with an icy gaze and a perpetually unsettling smile. His pale blonde hair was neatly brushed back, and his deep, cold green eyes bore into yours from the doorway as he casually leaned against the frame.

Fear gripped you, rendering you immobile and causing you to feel as if you were rooted to the spot. Your body felt frozen, as if encased in your own skin, preventing any movement in either direction. Was this a dreadful nightmare, or was it the harsh reality unfolding before your eyes?

While standing in front of the mirror, previously attempting to braid your hair. "Why are you here?" The words slipped from your lips as you tried to gain your bearings. Then, a wave of unease washed over you, and you found yourself on the edge, your body tensing beneath the weight of his penetrating gaze. There was always something entirely unnerving about his presence.

Rising to his full height, he took deliberate steps, walking into the room until he stood a few inches away from you. With a commanding presence, he looked down at you and inquired, "Let me help you with your hair."

Your instinct was to say no. You very much wanted to kick him out so you could breathe again. But it would be wise not to provoke the enemy. Without waiting for your response, he steadily closed the gap between you. He was attired in a baby blue button-up shirt with rolled-up sleeves, paired with white trousers that accentuated the outlines of his chest and ass. You made a conscious effort to avert your gaze. His ass could go fuck himself!

Hesitantly, you turned your back to him, keeping a close watch on his actions through the mirror. His smile widened, revealing a set of gleaming white teeth as he extended his hand towards your hair. As he approached, he pressed his entire body against your back, causing a sickening sensation to churn in the pit of your gut. A wave of discomfort washed over you as you felt a bulge brushing against your body.

Furrowing your brows, you stepped away, feeling all kinds of weird. The situation felt strange and uncomfortable. He snickered, but didn't come any closer. Instead of simply gathering your hair, he began to pet it, his fingertips delicately brushing against the strands, seemingly deriving pleasure from the act. Your discomfort intensified, even as he eventually proceeded with the task of gathering your hair together. Somehow, he was gentle with you. "What do you want?" you asked.

Knives' eyes snapped to the mirror, and although his eyes weren't directly focused on you, the power emanating from his stare sent a shot of terror coursing through your entire being. Striving to maintain a composed expression, you endeavored to conceal the tremors within. However, your entire body quivered violently, the sound of your bones colliding, echoing within your ears.

Instead of providing a response, he posed a question, "How did you get your hair this soft?"

You narrowed your eyes, not liking his avoidance. Furthermore, you found yourself puzzled by this recurring fixation on hair among the twins. Did they have long hair during childhood or something? Frustration mingled with your thoughts as you responded, "I don't really do anything special. No heat and no dye."

He hummed, and you arched a brow.

You pressed further, "What are you doing here?"

He momentarily paused, extending his pale hand towards you. It took a moment to register that he was requesting the ponytail holder. Exhaling audibly through your nose, you retrieved the band from your wrist and placed it in his outstretched palm. Several more moments passed in silence, yet you maintained a firm and unwavering gaze, piercing holes into his countenance through the mirror, persistently awaiting a response.

Finally, he replied, "I'm here to have a talk with you," his voice adopting a pleasant tone as he commenced braiding. A part of you couldn't shake the impression that he deliberately made you wait, as if it were a subtle demonstration of power. Though his actions weren't overtly malicious or cruel—in fact, he exhibited remarkable gentleness as he deftly twisted your hair—there was an underlying sensation that triggered your sixth sense. It resembled the feeling when someone laughs at your words, but deep down, you feel they're laughing at you rather than with you.

Knives spoke with an air of indifference, his attention fixed solely on your hair as he remarked, "Good thing Vash is not around, right?"

As you faced the mirror, his reflection staring back at you, an overwhelming wave of dread and fear conquered your entire being. His presence was like a cold hand that had clutched your heart, suffusing you with a haunting sense of vulnerability and the imminent unknown.

Questions raced through your mind, flooding your thoughts with concern. Where was Vash? Why wasn't he present? How was he faring? Was he safe and well? Your worry extended even to the basic necessities of life, wondering if he had been eating properly. Despite feeling frustrated with yourself for fixating on such details, you couldn't help but yearn for reassurance regarding his whereabouts and overall well-being.

Are you some kind of idiot? Yes. You are.

Knives responded, seemingly attuned to the trajectory of your thoughts, "Vash and his puppy, Livio, are currently at the hospital undergoing checkups." His words dripped with venom. "He got shot because of you, remember?" The atmosphere grew even more tense as he emphasized that, for the time being. "So, it's just you and me." Tilting his head, he offered a smile that felt as if you had just bitten into a hard rock and swallowed it, leaving a bitter and unpleasant sensation in its wake.

"Why didn't you seize the opportunity to flee when you had the chance?" Knives queried, tugging on the strand of hair in his hand with a slightly rougher grip than before.

You were astounded, unable to comprehend how Knives had obtained this knowledge. As he finished with your hair, he continued his explanation, revealing, "I reviewed the footage from the security cameras outside. I saw you in front of the door, followed by your decision to return inside."

You gulped.

"It's truly refreshing," he remarked, his tone laced with a peculiar sense of satisfaction. "To witness your unwavering loyalty towards my brother, prioritizing his well-being over your own freedom. It can be quite exasperating when dogs choose to run away from their owners, you know?"

As insults were hurled once again, it felt as if the buttons in your mind had gone astray, leaving you in a state of bewilderment. You blinked in a dazed manner, struggling to find the appropriate words to respond. It was as if the words themselves were either lost, never existed, or you simply had no clue what to say in the face of such provocation.

"Did you have something to say, little bug?" Knives sneered, his tone sarcastic. Your lips tightened as a whirlwind of thoughts raced through your mind in a mere matter of seconds. Countless possibilities played out; each one focused on finding a way to navigate this perilous situation unharmed. You desperately searched for the right words or actions that could potentially defuse the impending storm of violence coming your way. However, despite your frantic mental efforts, in the end, you came up blank.

You stole a quick glance at yourself in the mirror, meeting the gaze of the girl staring back at you, a reflection that mirrored your self-critical thoughts. The realization settled in that; indeed, you felt like an utter fool. Your mouth grew parched, as if every ounce of saliva had abandoned it, leaving you with the concern that your tongue might wither and disintegrate from the lack of hydration. It was all rerouted to your eyes, yet you fought hard to prevent them from cascading down your cheeks.

You licked your lips, mustering enough moisture to allow words to escape, even though you knew deep down they would likely be futile. "Nothing, I'm sorry," you managed to choke out, intentionally keeping your voice soft and amiable. You were keenly aware that any hint of defiance or attitude would only invite further, potentially more severe consequences. While you succeeded in maintaining a veneer of compliance, you couldn't suppress the shudders that betrayed the underlying fear in your voice, exposing the true extent of your trepidation.

In a gripping display of force, he firmly grasped the end of your braid in his hand, forcefully yanking your hair and pressing you against the wall, his grip constricting around your throat. The sensation of being choked feared the shit out of you, and you became convinced that your life was slipping away. You were sure that this was what it felt like to face death, entirely paralyzed and rendered helpless from the neck down.

Desperate to defend yourself, you violently clawed at him, using the last traces of your fading energy, kicking at his body in a vain attempt to break free. However, as your strength waned, a profound sense of resignation overcame you. You surrendered to the realization of your foolishness, condemning yourself for naively believing that Knives had any intentions other than bringing your demise.

"Answer me straight when I ask you something!" he demanded before releasing his grip. You fell to the floor, your body trembling from the ordeal. He turned and walked away as you gasped for air, your lungs burning with agony, each cough reverberating through the dim atmosphere. Your body convulsed in spasms, wracked with pain, as you struggled to regain control and find some relief.

Despite Knives' intimidating display of power within a concise span of time, you realized that you had to gather your wits and devise a plan to get your ass out of this pit of shit. It was evident that your survival depended on taking decisive action. Now was the moment to cast aside any reservations and fully commit to finding a way to endure and emerge from this shit alive.

Taking a brief moment to collect yourself, you closed your eyes, attempting to regain some semblance of composure. You focused on clearing your airways and finding your mental footing. As you opened your eyes, you noticed that Knives had already settled himself on the foot of your bed, his gaze fixed upon you, a disturbing expression of amusement playing across his face. It was as if your predicament provided him with a perverse form of entertainment.

"Why did you come back?"

"Because he needed help. He was dying and…" you began, your voice catching in your throat. You forced yourself to hold back the tears threatening to spill from your eyes, blinking rapidly to regain hold of your emotions.

As Knives directed his gaze towards somewhere behind you, a seething rage emanated from his lifeless eyes. However, it was something in the subtleties of his expression that instantly filled you with regret. It wasn't his anger at your response that troubled you. No, it was the realization that he harbored an understanding: nobody would come to your rescue, and you were utterly at his mercy.

You bit your lip, your eyes dropping along with your heart. It pounded forcefully within your chest as panic filled your veins and adrenaline circulated deeply throughout your body, making you feel nauseous. This encounter was unlike facing his psychotic twin. Knives lacked the enigmatic allure and the precarious dance between pain and pleasure. Instead, there was only a repulsive man fixating his gaze upon you, likely conjuring the most abhorrent scenarios of defilement or murder. He was not Vash, and the stark contrast only deepened your fright.

"Don't deceive yourself, little bug. No one dies from a mere superficial wound like that. Bleeding? Yes, but dying? Are you truly so naive to believe that if my brother were on the verge of death, he would waste his time engaging in idle conversation with you? He's a manipulator, forever entangled in his games."

The magnitude of the shock you experienced surpassed your expectations. It became abundantly clear that Vash was not on the brink of death, rendering your offer of help unnecessary. In retrospect, you realized the folly of returning and persisting by his side, consumed with worry and care. He must have relished each second of toying with you.

"What do you want from me?" you gritted through clenched teeth.

Leaning forward, he interlocked his hands and confessed, "To be honest, I'm not entirely sure anymore."

"What?"

With a nod directed at you and a sweeping glance around the room, he remarked, "Well, it seems you've already deduced that none of Vash's men are present, haven't you?" A smile played upon his lips as he continued, "Surely you've come to the realization that my intentions here are far from benevolent."

Terror waved hello to you.

A slight chuckle escaped him. "If you believe I'm unaware of the inner workings of my own family, my dear," he stated, his tone condescending, "you're gravely mistaken." He knowingly shook his head. "I know everything," he declared, letting out another laugh. "And I should have foreseen that when my younger brother, driven by his infatuation with you, would take the life of one of my subordinates, it would only serve as a prelude to the countless others he would mercilessly eliminate. Numbers hold no significance to him as long as he wields a firearm."

"What does any of this have to do with me?" you retorted, your voice quivering slightly. "I didn't prompt him to take such actions," you continued, emphasizing your innocence in the matter.

"You make a valid point," he nodded, rising from his seat and jamming his hands into his pockets. "That's precisely why I'm eager to uncover how you've managed to captivate him. While I acknowledge that he may be grieving and emotionally distraught, even during his most erratic moments, he has never unleashed such a torrent of violence for the sake of a single individual. And the perplexing aspect is that you hold seemingly little significance to him. Please correct me if I'm mistaken." He tilted his head, awaiting your response with an expectant gaze.

You shook your head. "No. You're right. I am nothing to him."

He drew in a breath, his voice carrying a tinge of incredulity. "Quite unbelievable, wouldn't you agree?" His smile widened, exuding a brilliant radiance. "Nevertheless, my purpose here is to impart a lesson to my sibling. I had fully intended to kill you," he stated, adopting a deliberate and unhurried stride around the room. "And I specifically chose to do so in a manner that he would witness firsthand. After all, the system of mafia families can be chaotic," he remarked, dismissing the complexity with a casual wave of his hand. "It's easy to lose track of who's been killed and how they died and who killed whom, et cetera, et cetera. I wanted this particular death to be clean and straightforward, mirroring the message it would convey. It is detrimental for him to eliminate my men or subject himself to harm due to someone as fragile as you. As his brother, it is my duty to put an end to such nonsensical occurrences."

You felt sick, a profound and harrowing sensation that twisted your body. The revelation of this man's true nature surpassed even your darkest expectations. Your voice was one hard breath, one loud whisper when you spoke."Then why don't you simply end my life?"

Pausing momentarily, he expressed his struggle. "Ending the life of something beautiful is always hard," he sighed, a hint of wistfulness in his voice. "Perhaps there is a way to spare your life while still granting Vash a significant keepsake, at the very least. Alternatively, and perhaps even more desirable, I could claim you as my own," he suggested, scratching his chin in contemplation.

"Thanks for the offer," you told him. "But I'd really rather let you push me off a cliff." His laughter echoed through the room, resembling a chorus of delicate bells—cheerful and pure, yet lacking the power to infect you with mirth.

"Oh my." His smile was radiant, brimming with an undeniable sick sincerity. Without hesitation, he shook his head and charged towards you with the force of a linebacker, crashing into your body and forcefully driving you to the floor. The impact stole the air from your lungs, leaving you breathless. As your body collided with the floor, you learned the hard way that the floors were made of concrete beneath parquets. Stars erupted in your vision, obscuring your sight, and in a desperate attempt, you blindly swatted away Knives' hands until they vanished from your field of view. You managed to deliver a weak but impactful strike to Knives' throat before swiftly maneuvering beneath his arm. He choked and coughed, granting you a crucial moment to regain your breath.

However, he rapidly dominated you, pinning you forcefully against the floor once more. With a single hand, he held your hands firmly above your head. "My younger brother is unhinged. He lacks reason and is sick in a way I'll never understand," Knives gritted his teeth, his words seething with frustration. "He's obsessed with you."

"NO!" you exclaimed, vigorously shaking your head with such conviction that it felt as if your neck might snap.

"You have tainted him," Knives remarked, his voice carrying a weight of silence as he held his jaws tightly clenched. "And I am far from pleased about it."

It was then that a chilling sensation crept up from the base of your neck, coursing down your spine. It was as if invisible drills were boring holes into your back.

"I underestimated you," he spat.

Your mouth parted, and you shook your head, speechless, as confusion and adrenaline wared in your brain. "Wha—"

"Don't play stupid," he hissed before delivering a backhanded blow that ignited a searing pain across your cheek and elicited a gasp of surprise. Instinctively, you wanted to reach for your injured cheek, but his grip on your wrists tightened, growing rougher, leaving you paralyzed with shock. Meeting his gaze, you witnessed untamed anger blazing in his eyes. "You think you can snatch my brother away from me?" he accused. "You assume I will simply let it happen?"

Once more, you vigorously shook your head, your eyes widening with disbelief as words of protest tumbled from your lips. "I don't. I never—"

Before you could finish speaking your truth, another forceful slap landed on the same cheek, abruptly silencing your words. His chest rose and fell with a volatile mix of anger and aggression, emanating intense waves of heat that felt like solar flares of fury, relentlessly battering against you as he seethed with rage.

Tears rushed to your eyes, and you shook from the effort to keep them from spilling over. You refused to display even a hint of weakness, knowing he would perceive the tears as an admission of guilt. Your vision blurred as your hatred brought forth colorful words on the tip of your tongue. It took several deliberate swallows to suppress and force them back down your throat.

"I witnessed the look in your eyes earlier. Don't dare pretend that you weren't scheming to deceive him. You're a sneaky little whore!"

"I—"

"Silence!" he screeched, his sanity wholly unraveled. He forcefully seized your face, violently pressing you down to the floor, causing a searing sensation across your scalp. A cry of pain escaped your lips, abruptly stifled as he pressed his palm against your mouth with brutal force as if attempting to fracture your jaw.

"I swear—" you sobbed, your voice choked with desperation as you yearned to escape yet found yourself trapped. The weight of his hand bore down upon your head, rendering you unable to see or move, but every sensation seared through your being. Oh, gods, you could feel it all. "Please, please, please," you pleaded, tears streaming down your face, your cries echoing in the air. But he had long ceased to listen, indifferent to your anguish.

His hands released their grip, and in a forceful motion, he jerked your head backward, compelling you to gaze directly into his face. Balanced on his knees, his eyes blazed with untamed intensity as he hissed through gritted teeth, "How dare you encroach upon my sole family? I will ensure you regret being alive!"

Sobs wracked your throat, slobber nearly pouring from your mouth as you struggled to speak through the pain. "I didn't," you managed to utter, your voice pleading for him to understand.

Rearing back, he slapped you across the face again, your ears ringing as he continued to mindlessly do it, over and over, until you were breathless from the onslaught of pain. "You fucking bitch!" he screamed. Once again, he lifted your head, but your vision was obscured by the rivers of tears pouring from your eyes. Indiscernible pleas fell past your lips, but even you could no longer comprehend the words escaping your tormented mouth.

"You know what happens when you try to steal something from me?" he sneered, his voice tinged with a chilling threat. "You end up buried in an unmarked grave somewhere no one will ever find you." Finally, he released you, nearly smacking your head off the wood again.

Immediately, your body curled on itself. Whimpers erupted from deep within your throat, so powerful that no sound managed to escape, leaving you gasping for air as if your breath had been stolen away.

Before your lungs could replenish with air, Knives approached you again, his candor slow and purposeful as he opened and closed a switchblade. Multiple times. Each metallic ring pumping terror into your system.

He came to a halt just inches away, his body grazing against your stomach and his breath searing your nostrils. The small reservoir of bravery you still possessed was dedicated to preventing yourself from fainting.

"Look at me," he whispered.

You did, lifting your eyes to meet his cold, deadened stare. A shrill, piercing sound began to reverberate in your ears as you locked eyes, engaging in a silent, intense standoff. The noise originated from the depths of your mind, gradually intensifying until it drowned out the surrounding sounds. It served as a warning, an internal alarm resonating within your very being, signaling the imminent danger that lay ahead. Much like the blaring siren of a tornado alarm, a harbinger of the catastrophic destruction that ensues as a deadly twister rip lives apart.

His thick palm closed around your throat, his lips curling into a cruel smirk as he tightened his grip, constricting your windpipe. Naturally, you fought back, attempting to pry his hand away, but Knives remained unfazed, didn't even flinch, despite how your nails vit into his skin.

As your body was starved for oxygen, the edges of your vision blurred into darkness, gradually encroaching upon your sight. The air steadily drained from your lungs, leaving them empty, while a shimmering veil of pain danced across your eyes.

With a snarl, he drew the knife perilously close to your earlobe, and a chilling sensation crept along the side of your neck. A grunt escaped your lips as the blade sliced through your flesh, and you reflexively reached for the seeping wound, attempting to crawl away from him. However, before you could even lift yourself up, his weight descended upon you, pressing down with suffocating force.

Survival instincts immediately kicked in.

With a frantic struggle, you writhed beneath him, attempting to swing your elbows towards his head. However, your aim fell short, a feeble attempt at incapacitating a big-ass man on top of you.

"Get off me!" you screeched, your voice filled with desperation, as you bucked your hips in a desperate bid to dislodge him. The ferocity of your desperation had reached a fever pitch, driving you to the brink of savagery. You would have willingly torn the flesh from your own bones with your teeth if it meant freeing yourself from his oppressive weight. You were willing to do anything—absolutely anything—to escape.

"You need to learn your place, fool. And I promise I'll try to be a bit gentle if you play along," he stated, his breath ragged from grappling with your resisting body. He was failing—but so were you.

You felt your strength waning, realizing his overpowering advantage. It was evident that he would emerge victorious. "Right, little bug? This could be quick and painless. A small lesson to remind you not to meddle with what doesn't belong to you."

He bashed your head against the unforgiving wooden floor again and again and again. With each impact, dirt and dust embedded themselves in your hair, obscuring your vision and blurring the line between reality and hallucinations. Violently, he tore at your joggers, the fabric rending apart in a cacophony of ripping sounds that sent another wave of horror coursing through your system as his excited breathing escalated.

"No!" you shouted as he firmly gripped your hips. The contact between his skin and yours sent electric shocks coursing through your body, causing you to tremble beneath his rough, calloused hands. Panic threw your mind into a chaotic tailspin. You no longer thought rationally. With every ounce of strength you could summon, you fought against his hold, but it proved pointless. He loomed over you. He was too big. Too heavy. Too fucking imposing.

"P-please—"

"Shhhhh," he snapped, his voice like a rusty blade scraping against your spine, sending shivers of anxiety coursing through your entire being. You were already sure that his voice was going to haunt your nightmares for the rest of your days.

He tightly clutched your face in his meaty palm, causing you to whimper as he roughly squeezed your cheeks, forcing your head to twist to the side so he could get a better view of your features.

You bristled but somehow forced yourself not to fight his hold like a rabid dog. He menacingly directed the tip of the blade towards your thigh, an explicit threat of inflicting a cut.

Tears cascaded down your cheeks in rivulets as you made another desperate attempt to twist away, only to be abruptly halted by a powerful punch to your chest, causing your world to explode before your eyes. The pain had become an unwavering companion in the past months, but in this moment, it seemed strangely absent. Your mind was filled with a heightened sense of warning as if you could conquer any challenge, yet your physical body was rendered powerless to stop this man from violating you.

You desperately clawed at the wooden surface, your nails digging into the material, serving as anchor points as you attempted to extract yourself from beneath his grasp. The immense pressure caused your nails to bend and snap, tearing away from your skin, as he forcefully dragged you back down, leaving deep scratches on the floor.

He harshly pinched the skin of your sides once, twice more before cutting your inner thigh. A growl escaped his lips as his blood-stained palm slapped your mouth, further tormenting you.

"You can't escape me," he muttered, and you screamed with frustration, attempting to buck him off, yet he only laughed at your attempt, the rich sound of his amusement sending ice down your spine. Gripping your braid roughly, he drew his face close to yours, his minty breath invading your senses. "Keep pissing me off, little bug. I do enjoy hurting you."

Beads of sweat formed on your hairline, trickling down your back. Panic continued to consume you, leaving you at a loss for any conceivable means of escape. The realization dawned on you, and tears welled up in your eyes, knowing deep down that freedom from him was an unattainable dream. His earlier words echoed in your mind:

You can't escape me.

With rough, calloused fingers, he raised your long t-shirt, revealing your belly. Though you had lost the ability to distinguish reality from hallucination, you could sense his intense gaze feasting upon you. Relentlessly, he lifted the shirt further until your breasts were fully exposed to his view.

A sharp intake of breath escaped him, betraying his desire. "You don't wear a bra during my brother's visits?" he murmured, his hands moving across your waist.

"Please listen—" you cried again.

As his fingers grazed the hem of your black panties, fear coursed through you, alerting you to his sinister intentions. Your fight renewed, prompting you to harshly kick at him, successfully delivering a forceful blow to his chest. Despite the impact, he persevered, pushing back against the kick and sending agonizing shockwaves up your leg. A growl emanated from deep within your chest as you desperately launched another kick at him, utilizing both legs and channeling every ounce of strength behind them. However, before your feet could make contact with his face, he seized both of your feet, thwarting your attempt.

You squirmed, contorting the upper portion of your body in a frantic attempt to break free from his grasp. Quickly, he worked his hands around both ankles while avoiding a foot to the face. With a decisive motion, he forced your legs apart, pressing your knees firmly against the floor as he positioned himself between them. What felt like forever only took fifteen seconds.

You compelled yourself to find stillness though your chest heaved wildly. Rage, unlike anything you'd ever felt, flooded you, replacing the helplessness. In a crescendo of fury, you screamed, unleashing a torrent of curses upon him while his eyes hungrily devoured every inch of your being.

His words lashed out cruelly, "Why is it that you willingly spread your legs for my brother, yet with me, you act like a prudish whore? Don't you realize that we have the same flavor?"

He bent over and planted a kiss on your belly button, near the waistband of your underwear. You trembled with disgust, distancing yourself from his gesture. You breathed heavily through your nose, mimicking an angry bull.

The self-loathing battled with the loathing for him. You did this to yourself. You knew you did. You had the opportunity to escape from all of this, yet you chose to remain in place.

Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!

"You don't like kisses? Perfect! I share the sentiment," he stated, standing on his knees. A hush fell upon the room, and as he retrieved the switchblade, the piercing metallic sound reverberated like a sudden bolt of electricity. "I bet you you prefer knives, don't you?"

No. No. No.

Another fist landed on your face, causing you to lose consciousness. There was nothing you could do to stop him, and defeat felt like scalding hot oil searing your

You felt a deep, shuddering breath brush against your face, sensing his increasing excitement as the cold, sharp bite of metal pressed into your stomach. Although he hadn't broken the skin, your pain receptors were shrieking as if he had.

"I want to see you drenched in red, little bug," Knives murmured from his position above you, his hard length brushing against your underwear. Your t-shirt was in tatters, and you were already drenched in red. He had made numerous cuts across your body, yet his thirst for more remained unsatiated.

A whimper escaped your lips as you sensed him grind on your clothed entrance, and your gag reflex threatened to spew bile all over him. Nevertheless, your empty core contained nothing to purge.

"You like feeling me, don't you, little bug?"

Despite remaining fully dressed, his white pants and blue shirt were now saturated in your blood. All scarlet.

You tightly squeezed your eyes shut as he intruded upon your body, akin to a parasite, an unwelcome occupant draining your life force to sustain his own. Eventually, the keen tip of his knife breached your skin, and his blade glided along your stomach, eliciting a sharp yelp. Blood bubbled from the wound, fueling his growing excitement. "Fuck, that's beautiful," he groaned breathlessly.

A solitary tear slipped past your eye, and you silently prayed he would remain too preoccupied to take notice. Over the past hour, you had learned that he would only cut you deeper when you cried. He wanted you to writhe beneath the piercing metal and get off on the pain as he did. He wanted you to find pleasure in this torment, and when he realized you were not, it ignited his anger. He insisted that you needed to grow accustomed to it as if it were a matter of adaptation.

However, the idea of anyone becoming accustomed to being cut open like a fucking fish seemed unfathomable to you. Did Vash also endure years of this torment and abuse?

Another cry escaped your lips as Knives discovered a fresh area and began exerting pressure on his blade gradually, almost as if he intended to allow you time to adjust. You would have preferred him just get it the fuck over with, but deep down, you suspected he was aware of your wish and deliberately denied it to you.

He started laughing and lost control, causing the knife to slip and cut you deep. Pinching your eyes shut, you inhaled sharply, feeling the sting. As Knives shuddered with amusement, your soul fractured. You doubted he intended to keep you for an extended period. How could he, when your eventual bleeding out seemed inevitable?

"Once I take you to my household," he gasped, "I'm going to drink that fucking blood. Feast on it at all hours of the day."

You felt a sensation of turmoil within, and a wave of queasiness loomed, threatening to overcome you once more. The imagery he conjured in your mind was repugnant and deeply unsettling. It felt as if he had openly proclaimed himself a cannibal or an aspiring vampire, embracing the grotesque.

Noticing the repulsion etched on your face, he snarled and shifted his blade towards your throat. "This vein right here?" he sneered, "A single slice, and I could drink your essence until you become nothing but a lifeless husk. Is that what you want?"

Yes. God, please, let me die. Here and now, and I'll be fucking happy.

"No," you choked out, your voice strained with anguish. You refrained from urging him to carry out his threat, knowing that doing so would only ensure he wouldn't. He was cunning, fully aware that granting you what you truly desired was out of the question, mainly because he understood that you were not his possession. Yet.

"Then confess that you want me," he demanded as if he could discern your innermost thoughts.

"I want you," you echoed immediately, though the words felt empty and hollow. This sick bastard anticipated carving a space in your heart, but that place was an infinite void of emptiness that not only he but nobody could ever fill.

Enraged by the vacancy conveyed through your voice, he snarled and ran his knife harsher against your skin. Struggling to swallow, you nervously bit down on your quivering lip. Malice sprouted within his green eyes as if he were draping them in a cloak of darkness that concealed their once-bright hue. His hand traced a path down the planes of your torso, pausing to dig his thumb into a wound, extracting a cry from your throat, before continuing its descent. He teasingly swirled his fingers over your flesh, wearing an evil smirk on his lips.

There was a little sponge lodged in your windpipe, collecting hatred like water, gradually swelling until your throat felt sealed shut. Lightly, he traced his fingers across your crotch, a glimmer of mischief dancing in his eyes as he discovered that sensitive spot, causing your muscles to involuntarily tense.

"No, I beg—" you breathed, feeling the sting of fresh tears welling up behind your eyes. You hated that spot, which you had made him cognizant of. His eyes ignited, emanating a palpable excitement that permeated the air.

"Then repeat it once more," he ordered, his voice saturated with wickedness.

You closed your eyes, imagining a beautiful face with devilish blue eyes, silky blond hair, a golden hoop adorning the left ear, and a stitched thumb gently brushing against your hand. Thoughts of Vash's hands exploring your body, his lips tantalizingly close to yours, and the scent of his skin drenched in a warm, intimate embrace flooded your mind. However, in an abrupt realization, your heart fractured into two distinct pieces. Knives was not Vash.

Working to swallow, you managed to rasp, "I want you." Despite the challenge, you fought back the urge to break as his groan reached your ears. It was all wrong. He sounded wrong, he felt wrong, he was just… fucking wrong.

Knives was a large man with an even larger gut. There was no denying the familial resemblance between him and Vash, with their chiseled noses, fair complexions, and distinguishing beauty marks beneath their eyes. However, while they shared a common lineage, Vash exuded a captivating beauty, while Knives... did not. The only instances where beauty graced this man's life were through the hands of a woman or man—touches that were purloined and came with a steep price, a price they alone paid.

A smile played across his face upon hearing your defiance, and he delivered a hard slap to your bloodied thigh. "Say my name, little bug," he demanded. In relentless determination, you tightened your jaw tightly, vowing never to comply. You'd never say it. Never. No matter what.

As you steadfastly maintained your sealed lips, he responded by resuming his cutting, unrelenting in his pressure on your wounds. Your body tensed, a chilling sensation gathering in the depths of your abdomen. Still, you kept silent, refusing to surrender anything more than what had already been taken from you.

Knives thought you'd given him nothing, but that wasn't true. In fact, you had given him everything, though he found no value in them. The once flawless and unblemished skin he brutally marred, the fragments of your sanity that eroded with each scrape of his blade, the haunting whispers of a future where you would belong to him, your ability to touch and be touched without wanting to slit your throat open, your dignity, your self-esteem, and the once familiar comfort within your own body—all of these were part of what you had surrendered.

Your fucking worth. Meaningless.

His true desire lay in obtaining every shattered fragment of your soul, and in return, he expected you to embrace every fractured piece of his own. However, your soul had already been claimed, already manipulated by a cruel man seeking vengeance for his deceased beloved.

A sense of detachment washed over you as if you had become an observer outside of your own body. It felt as though your physical form had crumpled to the floor while you watched helplessly as Knives applied his brutal cuts upon it. Each word, each insult he flung at you, seemed to ripple through your bones, shattering them bit by bit. Soon, you would be reduced to nothing more than a vessel of blood and a deadly beating heart.

Don't cry, you kept saying to yourself.

Don't cry. This isn't real.

"One day, little bug, you will say it," he promised. "You will either belong to me or cold grave." As he leaned down, his tongue grazing your throat, your legs tightened. Gritting your teeth, you felt the bile rising in your throat.

With a groan, he declared, "This belongs to me—all of it." His teeth clamped down on the battered flesh of your neck, sinking in until pain consumed your vision and a scream ripped from your throat. Yet, even in that moment, he showed no mercy. He persisted until blood seeped through the gaps in his teeth, and you found yourself pleading for the knife instead.

What a tragedy.

You were anything but his. The need to slice him open, from ear to ear, vibrated through your wounded muscles. Underneath his weight, you flexed your weary hand, battling to plunge it down Knives' throat. You wanted to kill him, scratch him the way he did to you.

He bit you harder.

At that moment, you wished you could feel raindrops with this skin again and gather hopes in your pockets. You wished you could trace the cracks on the wall and feel the wind's gentle touch on your nose. As your plea transcended the divine, you no longer sought the presence of Gods or angels. Every fiber of your being pleaded for Vash to arrive, take his big revenge and end your life. You couldn't explain why your gaze remained fixed upon the door, eagerly awaiting for him to show up. After all, he had promised no harm would meet you. But wasn't this, in its own cruel way, a form of harm?

At last, he released you, a trace of crimson staining his lower lip. His eyes dilated as he savored the taste, his tongue leisurely tracing the contours of his mouth. Slowly, the anguish in your heart drew you away from the searing pain piercing your delicate neck. A sharp inhalation escaped your lips—a fractured breath laden with sorrow.

Oh, look! There it goes. Another piece of your sanity.

You were dying, you thought. You must be. You were convinced that this was it, that you were dying. Yet, you quickly realized that your previous understanding of death must have been flawed. This experience was an entirely distinct form of dying—a unique brand of agony that surpassed anything you had ever known before.

The soft sound of smooth metal slipped out of place. Someone opened your door.

Click.

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF HER, OR I WILL BURY A BULLET IN YOUR HEAD!"

Knives' eyelids descended with deliberate slowness, his head shaking as he rose to his knees, gradually retreating. A treacherous smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "You're not that stupid, Vash," he remarked.

At long last, the death angel had arrived.

In the depths of my heart, you appear, my love,

But why, oh why, do you choose this moment?

When my strength wanes and weakness prevails,

Your arrival, my fickle love, seems untimely.

You hold the power to heal my wounded soul,

Yet you come forth after the breath of life has fled.

Oh, my love, so cold and unyielding,

Why did you not grace me with your presence earlier?

"DROP THE FUCKING KNIFE," Vash commanded, his voice devoid of humanity. For the first time, Knives flinched as if finally comprehending the glaring truth. His eyes widened, filled with horror and disbelief, and he fixated on you with a fit of twisted, newfound anger.

"No," he responded, a deranged chuckle escaping his lips. "Oh, brother, please. Please, don't tell me she has deluded you with romantic fantasies. Go ahead, shoot me if you dare. Test your luck!"

Perplexed, you struggled to comprehend why the walls had inexplicably shifted to the ceiling. The world around you seemed to teeter and sway as if it were stumbling sideways. The room itself rumbled beneath you, thundering with shouts and screams echoing through the space.

You had lost so much blood.

It looked like Knives was on his feet now, walking forward.

A sensation lingered as if someone were yelling your name, yet the sound eluded your ears. Everything appeared muted, muffled, and disorienting, as though the world was enveloped in a slippery and unsteady state. It felt as if whatever you were seeking was within arm's reach, yet just beyond your grasp, leaving you disconnected from its presence and unable to perceive or sense it fully.

A resounding gunshot filled the room, its echoes resonating through the air and coursing through your entire being, causing your heart to leap into your throat. Clenching your mouth tightly, you trembled uncontrollably, the sound of someone collapsing to the floor intensifying the tension within you.

Dizziness overcame you, causing a sluggishness to permeate your movements. Your head spun in disorientation, accompanied by an unfamiliar ringing that echoed within your ears.

"MY LEG! DID YOU SHOOT ME? Did YOU actually SHOOT me?! I can't believe this! DID YOU REALLY SHOOT ME?!"

Knives tumbled to the floor, blood quickly draining past the bloodied trousers and seeping onto the parquet floor. He attempted to shift, but the sound of Vash's voice froze him in place, arresting any further movement.

"HOW DARE YOU, KNI!" Vash bellowed with all his might, his voice laden with profound anguish. "THIS IS MY HOUSE! MY RULES! TOLD YOU NOT TO FUCK AROUND!"

With a gradual turn, Knives probably gazed at his younger twin. There was a particular stink to men who were faced with the consequences of their actions. They were fucking petrified, fully aware that they would be held accountable for their sins. Regardless of what they believed in, deep down, they knew damn well there was no hope of entering the gates of paradise.

With a blink that stretched into eternity, the world before you unfolded in a haze. Unfocused images danced in front of your eyes, a medley of colors, figures, and flickering lights merging into a disjointed symphony of motion. Sounds became distorted, garbled, and pitched too high or too low, making it difficult to discern them clearly.

Icy and electric sensations surged through your veins, akin to the awakening of a slumbering limb. Every part of your body seemed to tingle with renewed vitality. A face materialized before you, but your attempts to discern its shape, colors, and details proved arduous. Bringing everything into focus proved an insurmountable challenge.

Abruptly, a suffocating sensation enveloped you as if invisible blades lodged in your throat, puncturing your lungs. Each blink diminished your visual clarity, rendering the face before you increasingly hazy and obscured.

A wave of confusion swept over you, accompanied by a lightheaded sensation that permeated your being. The pain, oh, the pain—it was excruciating, reaching unimaginable depths. It seemed relentless, unyielding, an unending torrent of suffering that showed no sign of abating.

You felt the blood, felt it leaking out of you as you blinked and blinked and blinked, desperately hoping to restore your vision. But, all that greeted your eyes was a white haze, obscuring any discernible forms or details.

Shouts clamored, resembling a battlefield. Straining to comprehend the words amid the thunderous pounding in your ears, you couldn't make out a damn word because of blood loss and being on the verge of fainting.

As life seemed to drain away slowly, you couldn't help but think about how stupid a life you lived and how little you had truly lived. The majority of your years were spent cowering in misery, never standing up for yourself, and constantly striving to conform to the expectations of others. You desperately tried to fit into a mold that you hoped would bring comfort to those around you. Yet, it never provided solace. The haunting thought of dying without having accomplished anything plagued your mind. You felt like a nobody, a mere silly girl bleeding out on the cold floor of a psychotic man's basement. In that moment, you pondered how different things could have been if given another chance. You'd be better. You'd make something meaningful out of your life. You'd make a difference in this sorry, sorry fate. And you would start it by killing Knives.

It was too bad, you were already on the verge of death.

Regrettably, you shut your eyes and delved deep into the recesses of your being, summoning the final remnants of your strength. Despite the dire circumstances, an instinct within your body persisted, vehemently urging you to cling to life.

Anxiety consumed your nerves as the sound of someone's approach reached your ears, leaving your senses frayed and on high alert.

Oh, no. No, no, no, no.

Knives had returned. A choked sob rose in your throat, stifled by your trembling hand, as you discerned the sound of his footsteps. He wasn't going to let you die in peace, but you'd sooner slit your throat than let him touch you again.

With every step he took, vomit rose in your throat. You were on the verge of fainting until you saw his face. Your eyes widened further, and the fear quickly replaced with disbelief. Warm, blue eyes. They looked back at you, even though his features remained partially obscured by your fuddled senses. The evil was gone, and utter relief was staring right back at you.

"Fuck, love, stay right here. Don't you fucking move," Vash exclaimed urgently, sinking to his knees beside you. A whimper escaped your throat, nearly choking as he extended his hand towards you.

"LIVIO! ACCOMPANY THAT BLUE RAT AND KNI OUT OF MY SIGHT!" Vash shouted. "ROLLO, TELL BRADD TO SEND MILLY TO MY ROOM! I NEED A FUCKING NURSE! RIGHT NOW!"

Amidst the flurry of hurried footsteps and Knives' menacing threats, promising that his brother would face dire consequences, Vash appeared to be completely oblivious to the words being hurled. Despite your best efforts, your gaze fixed upon him, revealing an entirely unprecedented sight, something you had never witnessed before.

Not to this degree, not like this.

Pain.

Vash was here, his face flushed, his chest heaving with each breath. His gaze locked onto you as if you were a specter, his eyes tracing every inch of your visage, every part of your wounded and bleeding form. His attention fixated on your neck, where the lingering marks inflicted by his brother likely remained. He was looking at you like he was about to break, like he had witnessed something in your visage that he wished he hadn't. You observed the motion in his throat, the difficulty he had in suppressing the sight before him.

Swiftly, he seized the sheet from your bed, enveloping you in its protective embrace, before gathering you into his arms. "Where it hurts?" he uttered in your ear. "FUCK! Can you hear me? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm here; I'm here now. I won't leave your side," he repeated, his words a burning chant.

He was here. He was real. He was here, and all you wanted to do was fall apart.

In a choked voice, you tried to mutter the words, "Va—" Overwhelmed by complete disbelief, your sobs erupted from deep within, seizing hold of your throat. They wracked your body so profoundly that your bones rattled under their force.

He wrapped you up in his arms, not caring about his men's sets of eyes watching both of you. His hold was firm, one arm securing your waist while the other cradled the back of your head. Your face was buried in his chest, and the familiar scent of his presence enveloped you. Oddly comforting. He tenderly stroked your back, his head leaning against your hurting temple. He murmured millions of apologies and promises that you were indifferent to hearing.

And then, he looked at you. He surveyed your bruised face, and the torment etched in his eyes nearly buckled your knees. He clutched you tighter, his arms cinched firmly around your waist. His touch was causing further pain to your body, but you didn't object, for you couldn't find the words to articulate that he, and only he, was the one you entrusted to hurt you—not others. Just him.

Then he uttered your name, his voice infused with sadness. And once more, he repeated it, savoring the sound as it rolled off his tongue.

"Fuck, you're so cold." His voice cracked as he rocked you both, vibrations rolling through him as he fought to keep it together. Piece by piece, you crumbled, fragments of your being falling and scattering like chips in a tumultuous waterfall of anguish. And you just knew that when Vash picked up your shattered pieces and stitched you back together, you'd be entwined to him forever.

His hands roamed mindlessly, traversing every surface of your body within range. From your head to your cheeks, down to your neck and across your shoulders, they emitted a comforting warmth, as if he was worshiping. You didn't ask him what he was doing or why. You wanted his ritual to unfold without interruption.

The feeling of his body molded against yours banished the screams that threatened to escape. This was freedom. This was liberation from hours of torment.

For now, he embodied everything that felt right. He radiated warmth and familiarity. His presence provided a sense of solidity and security. So, after enduring a sleepless nightmare, you finally felt safe enough to pass out.

The hell inside this man would burn the demons in the dark.

I hope this chapter didn't hurt you that much, because...

The poem is from an Azeri poet named Shahryar.

Taglist: @julk4e - @lune010 - @beanibon - @emptybrain01 - @changingchances @awkwardchick87 @enchantedforest-network

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xatsperesso · 1 year

Note

Really we need more fics/headcanons about Iruma's traumas. What his parents did to him is often showed as a joke but it's not.

The trauma of the Harvest Festival showed that he suffers of big abandonnement issues, that he fears to be alone again. He FEARS his parents and what their presence would mean.

His kindness/willingness to help every people who ask for it is a result of what they did to him, even if Iruma has naturally a very kind nature.

Of course he starts to change, but until recently he was not used that adults care for him and protect him. When he has asking to Kalego to save him against Atori was very new. It was literally the first time that he really asked to a adult to save him.

It probably mean that the teachers in the human world didn't pay attention at him. They didn't realize that he was abused and neglected, that he was more a slave for his parents that their child. No adults noticed that he was suffering. No adults asked question about "why a child works for me". No one CARED.

No wonder that he didn't trust adults/teachers before. It take one year for that he feel finally safe with his demons teachers, enough to scream "sensei" when he felt in danger. Or to feel enough comfortable to be alone with them/eats with them/feel asleep near of them (in the teacher dorm visit).

He get used to the friendship in this class but I think that it may be too soon for romantic love for him. He doesn't need it for now. He needs to feel loved. He needs to get first used to feel safe, loved by friends and family and all.

And finally Iruma and Food. It's turned as a joke but Iruma eats a lot. First he was saying "you'll never know when you'll be able to eat again" but in this world he has never lacked food, so he should eat less after some time. And if Azz and Clara needed to create the "snack police" it's that Iruma eats too much snacks in a day (he hides to eat his snacks sometimes).

He didn't gain weight so i guess that it's just for the laugh.

I really wonder if some teachers didn't have some "red flags" with Iruma, especially at the beginning. I think that Murmur would the best to speak with Iruma about his traumas but then Sulllivan would be forced to put him in the "secret gang" with Balam, Opera, Bachiko and himself.

Ya see, this is why fanfics hit differently. Why i read them

Because unlike the official manga in any series I've read so far, fanfic tackle the trauma

Past trauma, recent trauma. The fanfic author gives our characters space to breathe, to heal. Something the manga writers can't really do

Because they need to grab readers attention. While fanfic writers are just doing this for free. They're doing it for themselves, so they do whatever feels right to them without worrying about the readers getting bored (some do worry, and this is your daily reminder that those who read fanfics are already attached to the characters, so do whatev you want in your story. No matter what you'll find a lil' cult loving it)

Iruma went through a lot, and I dont think he's yet processed how fucked up his life has been until now.

His parents absence = never feeling safe. Never feeling loved

His parents manipulating him to work and earn money for them (not sure if it's manipulation but it's still awful)

As you said, all the adults not saying/noticing anything, so they cannot be trusted

All the near death scenarios he's went through

Him living in a forest. No roof over his head, food not guaranteed. Having to fend off predators and other animals off his food

And then when he went to the demon world it just kept getting worse

He almost blew off his limbs, and a teacher said to his face that they wanted to see it happen (I understand there's a difference between human and demon culture, but this was iruma's first week)

Almost falling to his death because a teacher pushed him (again, difference between humans/ demons so can't really be blamed)

Kirio, the first person to really show him the difference between humans and demons

Almost losing his first friend (making an assumption here) because of his own choices

The harvest festivals. I don't think one breakdown is enough for the shit that has happened in his past life

And then iruma almost getting kidnapped by atori. I refuse to believe he was able to sleep for a while. I heard the elevator in my apartment complex moving and got up to check the front door was locked. There’s no way he was able to just sleep after what happened in the heartbreaker.

A lot of shit happened since he came to the demon world

but his life in the demon world is way better than before.

Now he has guardians that truly care about him

Now he has friends that love him, and teachers that support him

And even if something happened. If somehow, in the very worst scenario possible, he'll still have Ali-san, his number one supporter (tied with sulli and azz)

There's more danger, his chances of dying is higher, the very maddening thought that once his secret comes out everyone will reject him is always there

But i still believe that his life in Babyls is better

At the very least, if something was to happen, he would have known what it feels like to be loved, if even for a moment

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lbodraws · 5 months

Text

Splatoon Agents Headcanons

Captain 3

After the events of Octo Expansion, they refuse to fight. (Has flashbacks of hurting Eight and feels guilty about it. Also why they talk about winning without fighting a lot.)

Whenever they activate their special, their body is overcome with fatigue and begins to shake. Takes a long time to recover. (Sanitization after effects.)

Limited vision in right eye.

Insecurities regarding their leadership.

Obsessed with strength. ("If only I was stronger...it wouldn't have happened." "I have to be strong for everyone.")

Wants to apologise to Eight, but struggles being around them because of the guilt they feel.

(suggested by anon) Aversion to weapons because of Tartar sanitization PTSD. Hands start to shake when trying to pick one up. (Can't go into Turf War or Ammo Knights anymore because of it.)

(suggested by anon) Weight gain after OE.

(suggested by anon) Slower and plumper swim form. The scars on their tentacles make it harder to swim.

Agent 4

Bullied a lot as a kid. Told they were a nerd for being more interested in books than playing with other kids.

Lives with their grandparents back at home. Roommates with Eight when away from home.

People pleasing tendencies.

Compares their self to the other Agents a lot.

Very cheerful and easy going when around other people, but when they're alone, they become introverted.

Whenever there's a problem in the agency, they're the first to offer help (alongside Eight).

Agent 8

Introverted. Prefers to talk when they have something to say rather than for the sake of it type.

Organised. Scarily so.

Existential thinking.

Respects Captain 3 a lot, but also fears them (OE flashbacks). (They try to avoid being alone with the Captain whenever possible to avoid said flashbacks.)

The technician for the agency.

Roommates with Four. Rents the apartment while working for Sheldon at Ammo Knights.

Makes lunches for their friends and the Agents. (Fun fact: When Cap 3 reminds Neo 3 to not go into the field with an empty stomach, they're quoting Eight. Cap 3 forgets to eat and take breaks.)

Neo 3

Uses sign language to communicate most of the time.

Their Hero Mindset also allows them to communicate through telepathy.

Intense interest in ancient history and civilisations. Wants to be an archaeologist.

Likes spending time with Agent 4 and talking about history and other topics with them. (They watch Inkversity Challenge together.)

Spends most of their time in Alterna trying to translate the writing that's everywhere. Likes asking O.R.C.A. lots of questions. Occasionally asks them for help with homework.

#splatoon #agent 4 #agent 8 #captain 3 #neo 3 #headcanon

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lotrefcp · 9 months

Text

Hidden Away - Chapter 13

pairing/AU: Javier Peña x female!reader

summary: When the DEU fails to catch Escobar you are sent to Bogotá to help the team.

warnings: I don't understand this so just gonna say mature content, 18+

word count: 3400+

Chapter 13

The days passed and you continued with the weight of the child's death on your shoulders, making the sleepless nights longer, more tiring. The night of dinner at Steve's house had come and gone, with you saying goodbye as soon as the meal ended, heading towards your house in hopes of being able to relax, without having Connie always looking at you with concern. She didn't mean it, but it only made your situation worse, your anxiety and your fear of reliving all those moments again. When you left Peña followed you, also saying goodbye to his friends.

“I don't need a babysitter. I'm just going down stairs to my apartment.”, you said in a tired tone.

“And I'm doing the same. To my apartment.”, he made sure to pint it out, so you wouldn’t be able to say anything. “But my invitation from the other day still stands. If you need to talk to someone or company just knock on my door.”

“And I said right away that I didn't need your help and that I was afraid of interrupting your nocturnal activities if I went there. I can spend the nights alone but not don’t.”

“Actually I have been spending my nights by myself as well.”, he said looking you in the eyes when you reached your landing.

“Is your salary over yet? Can't you pay for them anymore? I think you can get some for free at the bar around the corner .”

“It's not because… forget it. Good night and see you tomorrow.”, he ended up saying entering his house.

“Goodnight.”, you replied seeing him already with his back to you opening his door. You raised your eyebrows in admiration at such a sudden end to the conversation and walked into your apartment. You sat on the edge of your bed taking off your shoes. Does he really think he fools me? I continue to hear moans every night. Been fucking lonely, yeah, right, you thought to yourself. You went to take a shower and, after getting dressed, you went back to the bathroom to brush your teeth. And then you started hearing someone moaning again. But you knew he was alone. Unless someone came in while you were showering and you didn’t heard the door. Or... Ohhhh... He was alone. Only now did you realize that, contrary to what happened before, you only heard a voice, a sole tone moaning with pleasure. Not just today but in the last few days as well. He has been alone, after all. Masturbating. Seeking his pleasure by fucking his hand and not just another hole. And for the first time in a long time, you let the sound of his moans affect you. Which one would he be thinking of? Would it be the same every night? How would it feel to have his full length in your hand? What the hell? That’s just what I needed., you said very quickly to yourself, feeling the pulsing inside your panties. You finished brushing your teeth, rinsed your mouth with water and went back to the living room, sitting on the sofa, with your legs tight over each other and your book in your hand. You wouldn't start to gain hope that he might actually be changing just because he spent a few nights alone. Most likely, he would revert to his old ways soon enough.

You were already at your desk when Javi arrived.

“Good morning Y/N.”, he began.

“Good morning Peña.”, you replied without looking up from what you were doing.

“Are you here by yourself?”

“No, Steve just went to get some documents to confirm some dates.”

“Too bad, I thought he would have to swallow his tongue again because I got here before him.”

“Well, that is not going to happen. He arrived at 8:00 sharp.”

“And you were already here?”

“Since 6:30 am. I wanted to come to work so much that I woke up earlier just to get here as fast as I could.”

“Did you wake up earlier, huh? Did you even fall asleep?” You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, stopping your work for the first time.

“And what do you have to do with that? I'm always here aren't I? I do my job properly, don't I?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you’re doing well.”

“Don't worry about my sleep routines affecting you. And by the way, I'm going to go grab a cup of coffee.”, you tried to finish while getting up.

“But they affect you and I worry about you.”, he said, making you stop next to your chair that you were pushing under your desk.

“Of course you do.”, you said condescendingly. “Do you want me to get you something from the cafeteria since I’m going there?”, you asked without noticing that Steve was approaching you from behind, placing a hand on the small of your back to talk to the two of you over your shoulder. You quickly pulled away from him, taking his hand off you.

“Is everything okay?”, Steve asked.

“Sure, sorry. I wasn't expecting you to arrive so quickly. I’ll be right back.”

“See you soon.”, Steve replied, Javi looking at you as you walked away.

“What happened?”, Peña asked Murphy.

"I don't know. I touched her small back and she got scared.”

“Really?”, Javi asked again while remembering all the times you had done the same to him.

“She must still be stressed about what happened two weeks ago. It was an innocent touch.”

“Yeah, that must be it. She's been more anxious lately.”, he replied knowing that wasn't the reason. He still didn't know the why you had those reactions, but he knew that they were already happening before your last operation. Since that day, Peña had been trying to find out how the children of Medellin had access to the guns, the walkies they used to alert Escobar's men, and he wasn't at all surprised when a name started popping up repeatedly; La Quica. He used to walk the streets of the commune, with money in one hand and a gun in the other for anyone who wanted to help the “saint” Escobar on his quest to save the city from corruption and poverty. It was him who had shot you, and he was now also the one to blame for your suffering. Javi had to figure out how to get to him, how to make him suffer and how to make him talk, if that was possible.

Two more sleepless nights, tossing and turning in bed after you managed to fall asleep for a few hours. But tonight was even worse. You couldn't even close your eyes, giving up trying and getting out of bed almost 2 hours after you layed down. You hadn't even had dinner in order to go to bed as early as possible, tiredness weighing on you more and more, but it was of no use. It was only 11 pm and it already felt like the middle of the night, with all the laps you had done on top of your sheets. You opened the living room window and went to the kitchen to fill a glass of water, which you drank in one gulp, filling it again immediately. Nothing worked and you began to feel the desperation caused by the lack of rest rising through your body, leaving you tense and even more anxious. You fell onto the sofa with your legs apart and your elbows resting on your knees, head down between your arms and your glass in your hand. And suddenly you looked at the wall in front of you, thinking about what Peña was doing. You didn't want to admit it but the last night you were able to rest was the one when he walked into your apartment and hugged you against him, the heat of his body and the coming and going of his chest over his breathing making you relax. You looked at the door of your house, and letting out a desperate sigh, you got up, took your keys and went knocking on your neighbor's door.

Javi was sitting on his couch, wearing nothing but his boxers, reading some documents he had brought home from the office while smoking his usual cigarette, when he heard a knock at the door. Grumbling to himself, he got up and looked through the pip hole, seeing you on the other side. He opened the door and then asked "Is everything okay?"

“Is you offer still standing?”

"Which one? I've offered you a lot of things already.”, he replied with a mocking smile.

“Okay, let it be.”, you said as you turned back to your apartment.

"Wait. I was kidding. You can come in."

“Thank you.”, you replied with your head down, entering the space he left between you and the edge of the door. He closed it and walked over to you.

“So, you weren't afraid to 'find me between someone's legs'?”, he asked, reminding you of what you had said to him a few weeks ago.

“No, I already heard you moaning today.” Javi's eyes widened.

“And you think that because you heard me once, I won't do it again later?”, he asked half offended, half curious with the sincerity with which you spoke, almost without interest.

"Lately it's only been once a night."

“Do you pay so much attention to what I do in my house? Do you like to hear me moan that much?”, he asked bringing his face closer to yours. And once again your cunt began to throb between your legs. Even standing up, you crossed your legs over each other, leaning on just one foot. This did not go unnoticed by Peña, who smiled to himself.

“It's not my fault that this wall is so thin and that you don't try to control the volume with which you come.”, you said trying to forget what you were feeling. "And by the way, don't you have any pants you could wear?"

“Why, don't you like what you see?”, he continued, seeing you roaming his torso with your eyes, running your tongue over your lower lip, which was still dry.

"Seriously? I've seen you completely naked and I've already complimented you on based on what I saw, but that doesn't mean I want to have to look at that abnormally large bump while I'm here. Seriously, have you ever killed anyone with that?”, you asked, nodding between his legs. “It looks more like a weapon of mass destruction.” Javier couldn't contain himself and started laughing, making you laugh too for the first time in a long time.

“Never had any complaints.”

"But you don't know if any of them died on their way home from internal bleeding."

“If that happened, I never received any invitation to their funerals.”, Peña said , still laughing at the simple way in which you spoke of something like sex, a taboo subject even in a town where you could pay for it so easily.

“Too bad, funerals are known to be a good hunting ground. You would walk out of there with one under each arm.” You waved you arm towards Peña's room and continued. “But just go in there and put something on. Go."

“If that makes you feel better.”, he ended up saying as he went to his room. He walked back into the living room in tracksuit pants and with his arms outstretched.

“Is it better this way?” he asked, turning around.

“Yes, it is. Now I only get distracted by the top part. One thing at a time when I'm tired.”, you continued with a joke that was hiding too much truth. You were looking around, trying to understand your surroundings and how his apartment was packed. The two other times you had been there you didn't have the ability to do it. You saw the papers he had on the table.

“Should you have this at home?”

"Don’t worry. Tomorrow they'll be in the office again.”, he replied while picking them up and trying to hide them inside a drawer of the closet where he had his television.

"I didn't imagine you as one of those who bring work home."

“And I'm not, but this case is special.”, he reciprocated remembering how much he wanted to catch La Quica.

“What's the case? Maybe I can help. I didn't know we had something going on."

“This one is personal. But did you come here to talk about work?”

“No, quite the contrary. I couldn't sleep...”

“Again.” he interrupted.

“Yes, again, and I thought about what you said about coming here if I needed anything.” Javi gave you a big smile when he realized you went there to look for his company. “What do you usually do at night?”, you continued.

“I think you already know the answer.”, he said laughing.

"Yes. But it doesn't last all night."

“Hmmmm. It depends on the company."

"OK. And when the company is busted after the first fuck?” Peña laughed again.

“Then I send her away and watch TV, or whatever movie I have around the house.”

“Um, what kinds of movies do you have out there? That are not pornographic.”

“It reduces the possibilities. But let me see. What do you like?”

“Something to help me sleep.”

“Okay, I have something perfect here then.”, he kept looking until he found the movie he had in mind. "Here it is."

"What? Do you have Dead Poets Society?”, you asked incredulously.

“Is it really that weird?”

"I don't know, I thought you only watched Rambo or Terminator."

“And I have those too if you want to watch them but you said you wanted something to help you fall asleep.”

"Wait a minute. Is Dead Poets Society a bedtime movie for you?”

“Hey, don't be offended. I've seen him so many times that every now and then I fall asleep watching it. And I thought it could help you.”

“Hmm, I never imagined you falling asleep with that movie as background.”

"Well, it seems you don't know me as well as you thought."

“Looks like it.”

“And you think about what I do to fall asleep?”

“And there he is again.”

“I'm just messing with you. Sit down on the couch while I put the movie on rewind. Do you want something to drink?”

"A glass of water?"

“Of course, I'll be right back.”, he ended up saying as he headed to the kitchen.

You sat down on the sofa, with your legs stretched out and your feet on top of each other. Good thing today my pajamas have shorts., you thought to yourself with a shiver running down your spine. He came back, handed you the glass of water, put his beer down on the small table in front of the couch and went to press play on the movie before sitting down.

“You are so far away. Are you afraid of me?”, he asked when he saw you leaning against the arm of the sofa.

"I don't but I don't want you to think I'm going to hit on you just because we're watching a movie together."

“Don't be stupid.”

“Hey.”, you said, not liking the word.

“Yes, don't be stupid. You think I can't watch a movie with a woman without jumping on her?”

“Can you?”

“For that I don't need a movie. You are a colleague in need of help at resting. And I'm here to help. Come over here closer to me.”

With great difficulty you realized that he was right and dragged your ass across the couch until you were closer to him, leaving a small space between you.

“Was it really that hard?”, Peña asked with the corners of her lips raised.

“Let’s watch the movie.”

As the film progressed you realized that sleep was still not coming and you started to get nervous.

“Are you okay?”, Peña asked when he saw you running your palms over your legs.

“This isn't working.”

“Calm down, at least you're watching a great movie with an even better company.”, he replied with a wink. “Would you like some hot milk?”

"I don’t drink milk." Javi looked at you sideways. “I am lactose intolerant. I only drink milk when I want to kick someone out of my house.”, you said a little more quickly.

“Okay, I don't want to have to leave my own house. But then I don't have anything hot for you to drink to snuggle with.”

“Do you happen to have any tea?”

"Tea? Am I the Queen of England?”

“I'm not either and I drink tea.”, you said again with the nerves in your voice. “But just forget it. Let's continue watching the movie.”

Javi looked at you for a bit, the weariness on your face, and finally spoke. “I have an idea but I don't know if you'll like it.”

“Say it, I'll accept anything.”, you said dropping your head on your arm that was on the back of the sofa.

"Are you sure?"

“Tell me what it is.”

“Why don't you lean against me?” he asked in a lower tone.

“What?”, you replied almost screaming.

“Hey, it doesn't take all that. It was just an idea.”

“What a hell of an idea.”

"Why? My body is hot, and it seemed to work when I was at your apartment. You managed to fall asleep leaning against me.”, he said, avoiding talking about the fact that he was also hugging you.

“Damn you.”, you said after listening to him, knowing that what he said was true. You thought about it yourself before you went knocking on his door.

“Come closer, very close.”, he said between laughs as he raised his arm for you to lean against him.

"Lower your arm, I don't need you to snuggle me."

“Okay, I’m just going to put it on the back of the sofa, so you can get closer to my body.”

“Okay.”, you ended up saying reluctantly.

He put his arm on the couch and you leaned against him, touching his bare torso with your arm, immediately feeling the heat that emanated from his body and the cold of another shiver running down your back. His dark skin was soft, smooth to the touch and warm even with the beads of sweat that covered it. He looked down to see you moving closer to him, letting yourself lean against him. He felt your skin on his and closed his eyes to try to smell your perfume. Soon the scent of vanilla reached him and a smile spread across his lips. He liked having you this close, smelling you, even though he knew nothing would happen between you. For the first time he craved a woman's touch without having sex in mind. He liked the way you fit against his side, the way you smelled in his nose, the softness of your skin against his. As time went by, your proximity worked and you began to let your head fall as a sign of sleep. It was only then that he let his arm fall around you, pulling you even closer to him. Under the effect of sleep, you shook your head and, lifting your chin, you stuck it between his neck and shoulder. He could feel your lips on him, your soft breath brushing his skin, the hand you'd just placed on his chest, open-handed, your fingers moving without you noticing. He brought his nose close to your hair and took a deep breath before getting on his feet and picking you up, looking for your keys to take you back to your room. After lying you down on your bed he left your apartment in silence and entered his own, becoming more and more aware of the throbbing pain in his cock. He palmed himself to calm down a bit as he went to his own bed, already thinking of relieving the pressure between his legs but when he got there and closed his eyes to imagine you massaging his hard penis, he could only remember your calm face leaning against him, the soft sounds you made when you breathed into his neck, and he gave that up, not wanting to let those images be linked to another short moment of pleasure. He tried to relieve himself a little more with the palm of his hand and ended up lying on his side, remembering you next to him.

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