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marleyybluu · 8 months

Text

Differences

husband!Rio x f!black!OC ( Toni - no relation to Miss Braxton.)

Word count: 3.2k

Content warning: 18+, smut out the ass, riding, fingering, p in v, creampie, use of the word cock sorry oops, baby-making boogie, doubts about marriage, doubts about kids, fluff, Rio being in love, lot of switching between his names, allusion to food play if you squint hard enough (?). lmk if I missed any.

A/N: this was orginally for... someone else iykyk mind your business, but I switched last minute. Also I gave Rio a middle name lol

(Not my gif, found off Pinterest. but FUCK ME he looks good)

They'd been married for four years. They enjoyed their marital life, going on various trips, spending their money all willy-nilly since it was just the two of them, having parties at their house every holiday but something was missing. At least for Toni. She always wanted to be a mother, children invaded her heart and soul her whole life. Her sisters had children that she loved to babysit, she was even in the delivery room a few times. She'd become a teacher for the sole purpose of spending her days with young ones, making a difference in their lives and loving them wholeheartedly as much as she could.

But it seemed like Rio wasn't in the same boat. Which was stupid because they made sure to have this discussion before they got married and he was on board one hundred percent, Toni wanted to make her husband a father, she wanted to see him cradle a little blanket in his arms, she wanted to see him snuggling next to the chubbiest cheeks and she wanted to see his face light up at their first word but, again, he seemed to not want it for himself.

It was frustrating.

She'd let the four years pass, it was a good time window, they had time to get their lives together and buy a house, fully furnish it, settle into a decent neighbourhood and buy an SUV to fit the little family they dreamed of.

Toni even made sure to let him know when she was ovulating, the perfect opportunity to try and make a child, but he'd shrivel up and disappear when she brought it up. Then she'd spend her nights quietly doubting his interest in kids, his interest in her.

They hadn't spoken in four days, the aftermath of their first real argument, the vibes in the house were heavy and sometimes a bit awkward. She even started staying late at work to avoid him even longer.

They weren't all that selfish, they still said good morning and good night but that was about it. Little to her knowledge it was killing Rio. He hated the silent treatment from her, she was his girl they talked all the time, this had been the best relationship he'd ever been in, he didn't want to fuck it up but it felt like he already did.

He tried sneaking his way back into her heart by leaving little love notes, cooking her favourite meals and turning on her favourite shows in hopes she'd join him on the couch but all he got was the cold shoulder and he understood. He fucked up big time.

"I'm ovulating." She stated plainly. Rio just blinked and shrugged. She groaned. "Christopher, I can't do this anymore, I'm dropping hints that I want to start trying and you... you ignore me."

"I'm not ready."

"When will you be? Because I am."

He chuckled nervously. "Come on, Toni, we cannot be parents. We'll fuck it up."

The look on her face sent his heart into the pit of his stomach, her eyes glossy with tears coming in, and a harsh; "Fuck you, Christopher!" To follow suit. It stung hearing those words, if she ever said them it was more so in a playful manner but this time she had rage, anger behind her words and rightfully so. But tonight he was determined to make amends, he could not keep living like this.

It was Friday, and Toni decided she'd come home a little earlier. Rio sat up quickly at the sound of her car door slamming and the keys on her keychain jingling as she sifted for the house key. The door opened and he tried his best to keep his cool. "Hi, darlin." He greeted.

"Hey." She said in the most monotone voice he'd ever heard. "Hungry?" He asked. "Nah, I'm cool."

Toni slipped off her shoes and crept up the stairs to their room, she placed her purse on a chair nearby and sighed, just ready to shower and lay down for the rest of the weekend. She walked past their bathroom intending to head to her Vanity but a red spot on the floor caught her eye, and then another... and another. But they weren't spots, they were rose petals, a trail of them leading up to the tub that was already filled with water, the smell of her lavender bath bomb invading her senses. On the counter were a few lit candles and her little speaker so she could play music.

She swallowed her smile and headed back to the room to collect her clothes for the night. Meanwhile, Rio was finishing the final touches on his persuasive dinner downstairs. He made Macaroni just the way she taught him, some rice and chicken, even topped it off with a red velvet cake... okay so he bought the cake but it was the thought that counted right?

He set up the table for both of them to eat together, he set up the forks and knives on the table with a small vase of her favourite flower, pink Dahlia's. His palms were suddenly sweaty, tonight was make or break. If he didn't fix things tonight he had no idea where they would stand after.

Almost an hour later, Toni decided she'd close the distance between them only because she was hungry. Her feet pressed against the carpeted stairs as she descended onto the main floor, the living room was empty, Rio left whatever he was watching on pause. Her head whipped over to the kitchen smelling a lovely fragrance, she followed the trail and stopped in her tracks at the opening to the kitchen. She watched as Rio scrambled to plate their food, she tilted her head and smiled lightly, her eyes slowly forming into hearts. Oh, how she loved him.

"Do you want help?" She asked making her presence known, Rio shook his head. "Just sit and be pretty." She giggled. "I have no problem doing that."

She sat around the table, her eyes landing on the Dahlia's, her smile widened. "You got these for me?"

"Of course," He replied walking with two plates in his hand like a waiter, he put hers down first and then his. "Any drink requests?" He asked. She motioned her finger in a 'come here' motion, his eyebrows knitting with confusion but following her non-verbal instruction, she cupped his face pulling him even closer until their lips, moulding into one. She'd been wanting to kiss him for days, she didn't know if she could ever hold a grudge this long again.

The kiss was quick, just a little show of appreciation. She could see a light shade of pink take over his cheekbones. "Do we have any wine?"

"Went and got two new bottles." He says matter of factly. Toni pecked his lips again before sending him off for her drink. He grabbed two wine glasses and the bottle. "You're going to drink wine?" She asked in utter confusion. He couldn't stand wine, his famous line was 'I don't know how you drink this shit.'

He shrugged sitting down. "I can drink wine."

"Christopher... baby you hate wine."

"I can learn to like it."

She knew he was doing everything to soften her up, but the look on his face when he took a first sip was priceless. "Go and get a beer, leave me and my wine alone." He chuckled and quickly grabbed a bottle from the fridge.

The two sat and actually conversed for the first time in four days. It was nice. They talked without missing a beat, he was making her smile and laugh, she told him about the kids at work and the twinkle in her eye at the smallest mention of them was beautiful. She truly loved her students, they made her day every day with the silly stuff they'd say to her. He was in love with how motherly she could be toward everyone, how forgiving she was of anyone and especially of him. He didn't deserve her and he'd made it known numerous times and in the same amount she'd reassured him that he was just for her.

In the middle of her ramble, she noticed the way he was staring at her and suddenly she became shy. "What?" She asked. "I love you, mama."

"I love you too, Christopher."

He shook his head vigorously. "No, I love you more than you could ever imagine, Toni. And I am so so sorry for what I said."

She sighed. "It's okay."

"No, it's not okay. You will be an amazing mom to our kids and I couldn't picture anyone else having them, shit I couldn't even picture having a family until you came, it wasn't in the cards for me." He confessed. "My whole life has changed and I'm forever grateful for it. I want it to keep changing."

She tugged on her bottom lip, trying her best to swallow her tears. "When I saw how my words affected you, baby, my heart broke. I never want to be the reason you're sad. Never. I've missed you these few days. I need you back. I'm sorry."

Toni was speechless, her lips parted to say something but how do you respond to the sweetest apology ever?

Her eyes darted between his pretty brown ones, she stood up and walked over to him, swinging her leg over his she planted herself comfortably on his lap. His hands instantly rested on her hips. She didn't say anything, just leaned down and kissed him and he could swear that on her lips he could taste his past, his present and his future and she was there for every step, for every second. He wouldn't dare say such foolishness to her again.

Toni could feel a little poke through his sweats, she quietly moaned into his mouth, his hands exploring her warm chestnut skin under her shirt, his fingers trickling down her back. His lips moved to her chin and down to her neck to the spot he knew oh so well, his facial hair tickling her skin only adding to the sensation and a ray of goosebumps formed on her skin. "Christopher...mmm." Was all she could mutter, her hips involuntarily moving back and forth desperately searching for friction to soothe the aching of her clit. He got the message though, firmly splaying his hands under her ample ass, he stood up and she wrapped her legs around him.

He was halfway out of the kitchen when he realized; "Wait, I got you a red velvet cake."

Toni laughed, and she kissed his forehead, god he was so cute. "Boy, forget the cake. Take me upstairs and you can eat a different cake."

Rio raised his eyebrows, didn't have to tell him twice. "That's why I married yo ass girl."

She gladly hung off of him while he carried her up the stairs and once they made it to the room he dropped her on the bed, her sweet laughter filled the room. He settled between her legs, peppering her with kisses and affection. "I can't wait to see you, walking around here with a little belly, carrying around our love." He twitched at the thought and she noticed. A small surprised look on her face. "Is the thought of me pregnant... turning you on?"

"No." He quickly denied it. "Christopher Javier Martínez, yes it does." She teased reaching in between them to cup his hardening erection. "Mm, so you want to fill me up? Hm?" Her voice was so smooth and silky yet seductive, her lips pressing against his only for a moment. "You want to see me carrying your baby around? How swollen and plump my breasts are gonna get? Practically spilling over my tops."

"Toni." He groaned. She giggled but her taunting was cut short when he reached into her (well, his) boxers, his fingers teasing her slit, her wetness coating him. Her back arched as he quickly dipped his fingers inside her heat and back out. "Stop playin' with me." She moaned. "Why?"

Her shirt slid up her torso and past her breasts exposing her erect nipples, his mouth quickly latching onto one, his tongue swirling around her pretty brown areolas, so delicious. His free hand massaged her other one, his thumb and index fingers playing with her nipple. Her back arched and her legs squirm under him.

"Christopher, baby, please." She whined. He chuckled and something about was kind of sinister like his intent was to tease her all night until she begged for what she wanted. He popped her nipple out of his mouth, planting a kiss on it before moving on to the next, his hips grinding into hers pressing his clothed cock on her needy clit. "Yes... oh, I need more, please." She gasped.

He kissed between the valley of her breasts, down her torso and finally reaching his destination above the band of her underwear, he tugs them off in almost a hungry manner, his mouth attaching to her pussy like a magnet. His tongue going to work on her clit, his thumb caressing the rest of her slit. Toni's entire body shivered, her legs slowly closing around his head, he used his free hand to smack her inner thigh, she squealed and spread them out, holding the under of her thighs for support.

Her eyes glided to the back of her head, she squirmed, her back arching just a little bit. "Oh... y-yeah." Her toes cracked while pleasure coursed through her veins. Rio hummed against her sensitive nub, his own hips losing themselves as he hunched against the mattress with neediness. Her thighs trembled as they partially rested on his shoulders. She moaned and whined, whimpered and croaked as he devoured her existence.

"fuck, baby, I'm so close." She warned with her jaw slacked as the hairs on her arm stood, her body stiffened, her nails scratched at his scalp with appreciation and love as he carried her through the tantalizing loops of her orgasm.

She was dripping down his beard and he smiled against her thigh, his teeth gently biting on the flesh. "Oh!... Mr. Martinez." She giggled. He kissed his way back up her body, his lips landing on her chin. "I'm so glad I married you." She hummed running her nails over his skin. "Hm, I love you, ma." He cooed pressing a kiss to her nose. Rio slid off his sweats and boxers, dick sliding between her soaking folds. Her hand reached between them wrapping her fingers around his well-sized shaft.

Their lips connect as she guides him inside her soft walls. She gasped and softly moaned as he eased his way in until she was stuffed. Toni wrapped her legs around his waist. "You good?" Just checking. She nodded, too full to speak. His lips occupied her neck, her mind in the clouds as he fucked her stupid. Mutters and mumbles of "fuck me! Yes!" Or "right there!" As he skillfully worked his hips. He held her close, his face buried in the curve of her neck. His thrusts were hard and slow, he was making her feel every inch, every bit of stretch he provided.

Her high creeping its way into her bones, her moans became louder as he consistently tapped against her g-spot. There was no way he was about to make her nut again in such a short amount of time. He could feel her juicy walls contracting around him, hugging him so tight. "You're so wet for me, huh, my pretty baby?"

Toni's jaw slacked while he talked to her, nibbling on her ear. "So fucking wet, can feel it dripping down my balls, fuck."

She whined. "I can't- shit! shit! ooooh!"

He chuckles as he pulls out, regrettably at that. Toni cried out, her climax so close yet so far. Rio fell onto the bed, slapping her thigh he said, "Get on top."

She sucked her teeth, in no mood to be on top, still irritated from being denied her needs. Rio pinched her and she yelped. "Ow! You dick!" She laughed slapping his arm. "Hurry up and get on this dick." He urged pulling her arm to help her over. She swung her leg across his body, perching herself on his lap like earlier. His dick resting perfectly against one of her cheeks. She looked down at him and he was so fucking pretty. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, her eyes landing on that notorious Eagle tattoo on his throat then down over the rest that he had scattered on his body, she moaned at that alone.

She leaned forward, raising her hips and skillfully lining him up with her entrance, no hands needed. She watched as his rosy lips parted slightly and a small crease in between his eyebrows formed when they came together. "Fuuuuck." He dragged out feeling his dick be re-enveloped in her velvety walls. Toni moved her hips back and forth with one goal in mind, to get herself off. She used her knees as leverage to lift her hips up and back down, her ass jiggling when colliding with his thighs. With her lip between her teeth, her head tossed back she got to work on him.

Rio's hands gladly squeezed at her sides, her moans filling the room once again. "You're so fucking pretty on top of me, mama." He encouraged, but he truly meant it, she looked like a fucking angel. "Oh god, oh god... fuck yes, Rio!" He felt himself twitch, his wife rarely called him by his street name, she only did it when she wanted to tease him, loved to do it when they were around others.

He groaned spanking her. She smiled, a hazy look in her eyes. "What's my name, mama?"

Toni cried out, her head falling forward as she bounced out her orgasm. "Fu-fuuuck, Rio!"

"Squeezing this dick so fuckin' tight, come on..." He sat up hooking his arm around her waist, his tongue darting out to the underside of her breast, tasting the saltiness of her sweat. Toni sang out his name, her back arched and her eyes rolled. He grabbed her hips and guided her up and down, her body going limp. "Shit! Oh... Toni, I'm comin' baby." He growled through gritted teeth, he pressed his forehead against her sternum and she softly smiled feeling his warm seed spread inside her. "Fuck... that feels so good." She giggled, she was cock drunk. He kissed her glistening skin.

They stayed like that for a moment, she kissed the top of his head, her hands on his shoulders as she slowly pushed him onto his back again, she climbed off of him and sighed in satisfaction. "You want something to drink?" He asked, she shook her head. "Nah, you gotta hydrate ma. I'm making sure I put a baby in you tonight." He laughed lightly smacking her thigh. Her cheeks warmed as a smile fell onto her face.

She watched as Rio, naked and all, left the room to go downstairs. "Bring the cake too!"Toni shouted, he could just hear the smirk in her voice.

"You are so nasty!" He yelled back.

"You love it though!"

If you liked this fic free to like this fic, likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated. peace and love, see you in the next one 🤙🏾 If you're interested in reading other fics based on songs just like this one you can find them here in 'The Mixtapes.' playlist.

tags: @darqchilddaydreamz @rio-reid-whoreee @skyesthebomb tags that might be interested: @bigenergy777 @realhotgurlshit @lovedlover

#good girls rio #rio good girls #smut #husband!rio #black!xOC #reader discretion advised #Rio fanfic #Rio smut #Spotify

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perpetual-fandom-brainrot · 15 days

Text

Shadow (Dark Link x Reader x Link)

Summary: The reader accidentally stumbles into Dink's boss room while scouting ahead for monsters.

MASTERLIST Warnings: 18+ themes such as gore, graphic descriptions of death and fatal injury, emotional/psychological manipulation, etc. coming up. Reader actually dies and is revived. This story is not suitable for small children and easily disturbed individuals.

The temple is completely silent aside from the moves of yourself and your best friend, Link. At first he'd warned you to stay in the safety of Kakariko, but lost that argument when you'd held your own in a sparring match.

Now, the two of you gaze upon the expanse of the room you'd emerged from. Lots of water, as expected, fills the area. You notice a plethora of hookshot points, platforms, and tectites. None of them see you or Link as you swim past them to a hallway entrance. You find that it leads to an underwater passage.

In fact, most hallways do, you realize as you trail Link throughout the temple. Most of that trailing is spent picking off monsters Link can't get to, helping point out puzzle solutions, and quickly stealing Navi's attention if her timing is inopportune. Conversation between Link and yourself is scarce, both a strategic decision and a comfortable one, especially for you. Too many other things might come up right now, things that will cause more problems than will be solved if you choose silence. So you do, especially underwater, where magic is your lifeline. Both you and Link have fully stocked up on bottles of magic for this reason.

That magic almost goes to waste when a sing-song voice calls Link's name. You resist a gasp as your attention is drawn to the literal princess who produced it. How in Hylia's name is she here? You suppose, as the sacred house to the water medallion, it's technically still part of the Zora domain, but you distinctly remember hearing how all of Hyrule's royalty is dead, hiding, or otherwise decommissioned. Perhaps Ruto is safe here? When you look to Link's face to read his expression, he looks shocked and semi-afraid.

"It's me! Your fiancée! Ruto! I never forgot our vows from seven years ago." The princess' words horrify the hero and leave you nearly choking again. Fiancée? Vows? Seven years? She's not serious, is she? "You were so mean to keep me waiting," definitely serious, "but this moment can't be for love. My domain, I know you saw it's completely frozen! A man named Sheik freed me from the ice. The others haven't woken, so I need your help to save them! As my future husband it's your duty!" Ruto, finally ready to drop the marriage topic, proceeds to explain the temple's three water control points, and even leads you to one of them. She's gone by the time you and Link reach the top, most likely continuing ahead without you.

Link reads over the symbols on the wall, muttering to himself the whole time you're inspecting this tiny room. A soothing song comes from that ocarina of his mere moments later. The water level lowers, much to your intrigue. Magic must be part of the architecture here, you think. Instead of vocalizing your curiosity about the subject, you wordlessly follow Link into the next room and help pick off the monsters you find, grabbing the map out of the chest that appears. After examining it, you decide to head back for the bottom floor. The string of rooms brimming with monsters and puzzles begins with that simple jump down. A puzzle, a new room, some monsters, a key. This process repeats twice to get you to the second water control point, which also has to be activated through song.

This one raises the water, although not as high as it was earlier, allowing you and Link to enter a newly revealed passage. It leads deeper into the temple, where the new area leads to a puzzle, more monsters, and another key.

"Is this what every temple is like?" You ask, fingers tapping against your weapon's grip point.

"Yep." Link grunts as he stores the key in his satchel. "There's usually more foes than this," he adds. Your chest swells and tightens at the same time, your eyes going wide with a harsh realization. He could die here. You could both die here. What if one of you gets fatally injured in the midst of a difficult battle? It would be a choice between saving the other person or trying to fight off the monsters quick enough to still have time to do so. What if you ran out of healing items?

"We should split up soon," you find yourself blurting, partially for good reason and partially for the selfishness of not wanting to potentially see Link die.

"Why?" He asks firmly. He was difficult to persuade when it came to your accompaniment, you hope this might be easier.

"We have no idea what to expect in here! Monsters, items, locked doors, sure we know that. Not what kind of monsters, or how many, or where any of those item chests might be. Plus, if you run out of supplies before we split up, I'd be able to smash a jar here and there to bring you back more."

At your words, the same reluctance from Kakariko this morning crosses his face. You know Navi can identify new monsters for him, but you also latch onto the glimmer of consideration adorning his eyes at your offer to pick some off and scavenge for extra items.

"Fine," he finally says, hesitance mostly gone. Warmth blooms in you at his trust that you can handle yourself on that level. This isn't something any random Hylian can handle. You keep that thought in the front of your mind as Link dives back in the direction you came from. You follow soon after.

The third and final water control point sits above a room containing a water geyser puzzle. You draw your bow to shoot the crystal once you and Link both stand on it, raising you to the door leading to the control point. With the water only partially filling the temple, the point you've entered appears to be a vantage point over the temple's main area. It becomes level with everything else when Link brings the water up, and on you go to the next locked door.

You instantly shoot down two waiting keese on the wall behind the door, returning it to your gear when no more show up. Link yanks you back as you attempt to step further into the room. You're preparing to be annoyed, but immediately take notice of how the room is built. You would have fallen clean off the area you now stand on and landed on a platform about 10 feet below you. That platform leads to more platforms, one of which sits on the same wall and four others slowly fall down a waterfall's current. You groan when you notice the hookshot platforms. Link laughs softly beside you.

"The hookshot is uncomfortable!" You whine in defense, while a much worse feeling creeps up your spine. How many rooms has it been since you last encountered a monster? "Tell you what, I have to get used to it anyway. Let me scout ahead now! I'll tell you all about the next puzzles when I come back," you hastily promise before snatching the hookshot from Link. You cross the room before you can back down and before he can protest. The next room, another hookshot puzzle which contains a crystal, almost makes you want to rip your hair out. You don't, instead keeping a cool head as you pass through the room, alternating between bow and hookshot to activate the crystal and cross gaps between the platforms.

You're about to celebrate when you see one last hookshot point, but your face goes pale when you notice spikes directly underneath it and a slime creature bigger than you waiting on the other side. With sword drawn, you hook onto the ceiling, immediately doing a downwards spin-slash to finish it off when you drop to the floor. The next door is not locked.

The room it leads to is not inhabited. Instead of monsters, puzzles, or chests, you're greeted by a peaceful scene. An endless expanse of calm, shallow water expanded on all sides. The only disruptions are the door you came from, the door leading forward, and a small sand mound with a leafless tree sitting between them. You take a step forward and find that the water reflects your face perfectly. You feel oddly safe to take another step despite no visual of solid ground. Your feet sink slightly, but nothing more. You walk, then pause when you notice the door ahead has bars on it. The room is empty, isn't it? You turn around in a panic, trying to spot anywhere a monster could hide. In the water maybe? You take a second look at the surface, only to see a lack of your reflection. The pit of your stomach sinks. This room, and whatever is going on, is fueled by magic. This thing didn't need to hide from you, it could hide itself.

"You're not the hero," a voice sneers, sounding as though the room itself is speaking. That tone, that slight rasp anyone else would miss, it sounds just like-

A hand suddenly covers your mouth, your body being pulled backwards against another. Your instincts call on your weapons, but your assailant grips your wrist with superior strength. A sob begins building in your throat. This is a foe, one who is clearly prepared for Link and not some Hylian girl. You're dead. You'll never get to run around the village again. You'll never get to train with a sword again. You'll never get to tell Link-

"That's right, you'll never get to tell Mr. Hero-boy that you loOove him~" the voice purrs against your ear, his its tone cruel and mocking in a level whisper. Your lungs freeze when you process the words' true meaning. this thing knows your deepest secret and deepest fear. Worst of all, its voice sounds almost like Link's with the exceptions of a heavier rasp, being slightly deeper, and a permanent sadistic venom lacing every word he it spoke.

"I'm so touched you know who I am," it continues. Your body is jerked in a 180-degree spin and shoved to the ground, leaving you sprawled out and disoriented. You're still reeling from being winded like that when you notice a blade at your throat and freeze. A familiar blade, only darkly colored rather than the hauntingly beautiful silver you're used to. You slowly bring your gaze upwards, eyes meeting Link's face when you fully meet the monster's. It's Link?

"I am not that foolish child of the light," it says with a snort, still sounding calm and deadly whilst amused. "No, I am the stronger and more courageous warrior he could not bring himself to be. That Link, that hero that you love so much, he will never be what you think he is. He will never be what I am. I will pry what is rightfully mine from his sinking corpse." The last sentence is a growl full of venom and jealousy that has you trembling. Something tells you this monster really does stand a chance against the mighty hero of time. You would be mad, you should be mad, but his blade still sat against your neck. You don't dare to move or speak as you try to form a plan.

"Tell you what, here's a plan:" Link's evil copy presses his blade against your throat more, "I kill you, possess your corpse, and force hero boy to choose between letting it kill him or mangling it in order to stop me!" The monster says it like it's trying to suggest a fun new game you haven't heard of before. His eyes are wide with a sadistic kind of glee, one that enjoys seeing you so terrified, meanwhile something in you stirs. At first it's slight, something you bite back, but you can't just let him talk about Link like that.

"Don't even-" Evil Link begins, slashing his blade, but you roll away in time to get slashed on the shoulder instead. It isn't too deep of a wound, but you need to make quick work of this foe or else you'll lose your edge. Springing up, you jump backwards before drawing your sword and shield. The monster charges at you with a cry not unlike your Link's. You try not to think about it as you raise your shield to parry the incoming slash. With the opening it creates you manage a minor slice on his its shoulder. It isn't the monster's sword shoulder, but if it causes any struggle it's worth it.

As you take the second to acknowledge your handiwork, you find your own wrist being slashed at. You get a mild cut, hand starting to shake as you force yourself to support your sword. You back away in even steps, Link's dark version matching your pace. He It suddenly sinks back into the floor below when you're about to reach the other door again. Your reflection not returning keeps you on guard. As you survey the room for the monster, its words pop back into your head. It talked about Link like he's nothing! You internally seethe. Clinking behind you gathers your alert and you turn around just in time to brace your shield against his blade. It bounces backwards harshly enough to dent your shield and send the monster stumbling into the wall behind him. You step forward and slash at him again, inflicting a gash on his arm that's severe but not deadly. He drops his sword and shield, one arm now too hurt and one arm holding the gash. He only grits his teeth at you and glares before disappearing again.

You smile victoriously and saunter back to the door leading forward. I never could've gotten a hit on the real Link, you think as you reach for the bars over the door-

Wait, what? Your heart speeds up immediately as you retreat from the door. That's impo-

You feel warmth travel down your abdomen, a very heavy warmth that makes you instantly sleepy. You yawn and reach down to try to pull it over you like a blanket, hands wrapping around something. Your hazed mind doesn't realize the object is sharp as you weakly tug on it, becoming frustrated when you have no success pulling it up. You tear up, but a soothing feeling settles in your throat when you try to cry rather than choking. Slowly, you find yourself falling asleep as your vision fades out.

You wake up what feels like hours later, to Navi's concerned voice and a fairy missing from your inventory. Exhaustion is still burrowed into your bones and unconsciousness keeps a desperate grip on the corners of your mind.

"Y/n! Y/n! Thank Hylia! What in her name happened here?!" The fairy's voice is fast, full of panic. You open your mouth to speak, but as the memories fade back you can't even begin to process it. Saying it proves impossible when you burst into tears, resisting the urge to scream when your body instinctively tries to choke.

"I- I'll get Link! Stay here!" You reach to try to stop Navi when she flies towards you, but you're too fatigued and a sharp pain in your abdomen stops you. You lose the ability to keep your cries silent. It hurts so badly, you don't even want to breathe because even that causes pain. You swear you can feel it in your organs, even. The little blue-winged fairy carefully, silently, sifts through your belongings and extracts the hookshot before she leaves the room. You curl up in the water, which no longer bears your reflection in the absence of the shadow being, and lift your armor slowly to peek at the wound.

Despite having a fairy's healing applied, the wound is horrendous, and looking at the surrounding skin has you in hysterics. Inflamed, red, with a bubbling rash and several tender bruises already visible. Not to mention the stab wound sitting in the center, looking somewhat scabbed over but still obviously new. You try not to think too hard about it, or about anything except Link, as you slip into the simplicity of the morning's memories for comfort.

"Link! Link!" You call excitedly as you jog towards the Death Mountain gate to greet the currently blue-clad hero. You notice he's brandishing a different sword than the famous Blade of Evil's Bane. "New tunic and a new blade in the same day? Awesome!" You cheer, skipping next to Link, who stays quiet beside you. "Where're you headed now?"

"Water temple," Link grunts. When he notices the spark in your eye, visible concern replaces his typically stoic expression.

"Do you need extra eyes?" You ask eagerly. "An extra blade to back you up?" Link turns to you and grabs your shoulders. You know what he's about to say when he opens his mouth.

"Y/n, it is my job to save Hyrule. Not yours. I'll be back before you know it. You're safest in Kakariko," he says in a firm yet comforting tone. A cheeky grin spreads across your face as you form a plan.

"Let me spar you! How about that? If I can't defend myself against you, I'll stay here!" You announce. Link sighs with a defeated look as you celebrate and prepare your gear.

The door opening and Link's alarmed exclamations bring you back to your unfortunate reality. You open your mouth to try to explain, but break all over again when he gently moves to shush you. You can't help but flinch away from his hand. He looks confused, hurt for a moment, before he notices a fairy missing from your healing items. Potion is immediately poured into your mouth, your eyes tracking the seams on the leather covering his hands. You physically relax as the calm warmth of healing comes over you, a much different and more blissful warmth than the one you remember from earlier. You drift back to sleep, barely registering a pair of arms lifting you as you fade away.

You wake in the middle of Kakariko. It's the middle of the night and it's foggy. Everyone is inside for the night. The village is dead silent. The moon and stars are absent, yet a gentle light is barely visible through the fog. It's beautiful, and red. You think it may be a torch at first, other villagers you can't see, but the light seems to shrink as you approach. Curiosity fills you, urging you forward. More characteristics about the light become distinct the closer you get. The source splits into two separate ones when you're what seems to be a few feet away. Their shape becomes perfectly circular.

Your blood goes cold. You freeze in place when you see Link. The evil one, the one made of darkness. The one who had... encountered you in the temple. A smirk crawls up his face as he yanks you towards him and pivots. You feel the edge of the abandoned well dig into your back. You don't have time to process how his eyes aren't red, how his hair turned white, how his skin turned grey. How he looks more human now. He completely fills your personal space, his body pressed wholly against yours as he tips you backwards over the edge of the well, lips poking your ear.

"Welcome home, y/n~" he whispers before shoving you over the well's rim. A scream rips from your throat as you fall into infinite darkness, Kakariko village, your home, getting smaller and smaller. You flail, you cry, you helplessly try to grab for anything that will get you out of this. The air feels like it's moving too fast for you to breathe.

"Help! Help!" You scream out desperately as your heart twists and your stomach flips inside out. Your hands finally grip something you can't see, and you squeeze as hard as you can, not caring when you feel tingling in your knuckles. You pray to Hylia for safety as you clench your eyes shut.

You wake in Kakariko, in your bed, in Link's arms. You tense, prepared to scramble away from him, and burst into tears when you process that this is your Link. Your hero, your best friend, your crush, not the monster that-

You choke at the thought. Link gently brings you into a full embrace, one you desperately want to find comfort in, but all you can think about is how many times that's happened to him.

"D- Does it a- always hurt?" You choke. Link lets out an audible breath and holds you closer.

When he departs for the temple again, you want to beg him to stay. You want to cry to him and tell him everything eating at your brain. Instead, you insist he at least takes your remaining healing items. Two fairies and five potions. You made him pledge to give the bottles back when they were empty, those things took years to gather. All you can do now is wait and hope he makes it back safe and sound.

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corazondebeskar-reads · 9 days

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the art of breaking, part two (coming may 25, 2024)

the art of breaking, part two: theory of decay

very dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

NOTE: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. this fic contains themes of abuse and extremely dark content.

words: 10k

summary: joel knows just how to make you his forever. a sequel to "the art of breaking"

warnings (new warnings in red) and a preview under the cut; reader discretion is advised.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, non-con, dub-con, very dark!Joel, BAD bdsm etiquette, not SSC/RACK compliant, sadist!Joel x masochist!reader, coercion, corruption, manipulation, isolation, gaslighting, glory hole, reader gives tommy a blowjob (joel and tommy do not touch), body modification, permanent marking, captivity, sadism, masochism, pain play, extreme punishment, whipping, impact play in general, mentions of vomit (no description), oral, vaginal, degradation, humiliation, Joel sees reader as property, inadequate aftercare, blink and you miss it piss "play," straight up abuse this time guys, overstimulation, forced eating, needles, voyeurism, objectification, human furniture, nipple/clit pumps, this one might be worse than the first idk sorry

Again, I cannot say this enough. This is a dark fantasy and should not be taken as representative of a good d/s relationship—it’s abuse masquerading. Just because I wrote it doesn’t mean I’m condoning it.

Please read responsibly.

preview:

“Y’ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry about, baby. I didn’t expect ya to remember. But you’ve been mine for two years now, and you’re still worried I ain’t gonna keep you. But I’ve been thinkin’, and I know how to prove it to you.”

If this doesn’t convince you, he thinks, nothing will. Never mind that his whole goddamn life revolves around you. Never mind that you’ve worn his collar for the last 731 fuckin’ days.

You’re busy wondering why he made you suck another man’s cock today if he cares about your anniversary. But then again, you’ve long accepted that what he wants won’t always make sense. It’s not your job to make it make sense. It’s just your job to do it.

“C’mon, let’s go downstairs,” he says.

You swallow hard around the sudden fear, and he laughs.

“What? Had enough yesterday?”

“No, sir,” you say. It’s mostly the truth. Mostly.

😬 see y'all on the 25th

#coming soon #joel miller x reader #dead dove fic #dark!joel miller #very dark #reader discretion advised #MIND THE WARNINGS #fic: the art of breaking #fic: theory of decay

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shayyprasad · 5 months

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weighing scale

tw: eating disorder (purging, not eating), bodyshaming, ed shaming

btw, if it's requested, i can turn drabbles into full oneshots!!!!!!!!!!!!!

you guys are beautiful the way you are, and nothing anybody ever says or does will ever change that. remember that gaining weight is totally normal, and you can always lose weight, too, but please, do it in a healthy way. if you ever need anyone to talk to, and this isn't just for eds, i'm here, and you can reach out. if not, there are people who care about you and love you.

you're amazing you beautiful mfs

(also i'm sorry if this might not be correct for you, everyone has different experiences with eds)

(also, also, i did 1st person ... and this is just the way i thought when i was going thru this so i kinda made it relate w/ me??)

100.

98.

96.

she watched as the numbers went down, satisfied despite the fact that it was only one pound less yesterday.

90.

88.

even if it meant that she'd always be cold, or that her hair would fall out. it was a small price to pay to be beautiful. to be skinny. to be like all the other girls that peter liked.

y/n kept telling herself that. and it was enough to keep her going.

{four weeks prior}

(first person)

they had little packets for us to take home, like forms. something along the lines of "annual health check-up." the form was just... well, it wasn't a form, really, but more of an opt-out. the paper said they'd just check weight, height, and some other things, like make sure you didn't have scoliosis.

honestly?

i was just happy to be missing a good chunk of math.

everyone got called down to the gym by period, and mine was 5th period, right before lunch.

our class was waiting for them to call us down, so mr. callen just let us do whatever until then. i glanced over to see liz, kayla, and chloe in the corner of the classroom, giggling and pointing towards some of the boys, and eventually, mr. callen.

he was one of the youngest members on faculty, fresh out of college. and i'll admit, he's not bad looking. in fact, he's hotter than most of the guys. and if it wasn't peter that had my heart, maybe i'd think about someone else.

not that the whole peter thing was going great anyways, he seemed interested in liz. so maybe that was my hint to move on. but i don't know. i've just liked him forever, it'd feel wrong to stop now.

i'm just really loyal, i guess.

or maybe this is some weird first love/crush thing, because no matter what, i keep finding myself coming back to him.

it took me second to realize that i'd been staring at the same spot for a while now, so i probably looked funny. i re-adjusted my position and looked at the clock, noting there there was just a few minutes until we'd have to go down.

i looked by at the girls, then at the teacher. did they not realize that he had an engagement ring on? or where they just dense?

because honestly, i'm having a hard time figuring out which one it is.

liz pushed chloe over to the desk, giggling like a manic.

chloe bit her lip, trying to hold in laughter. "hiiii, cal. you know, like, cupid's day is coming?"

me, personally, i didn't really believe in the whole dumb blonde thing, but chloe was changing my aspect on this.

cupid's day was on valentine's day, and you could pay a dollar to have a rose delivered to someone. normally, the freshmen girls did most of the planning. freshmen girls were annoying. they were always together, and i didn't remember a time i'd seen one alone.

i didn't get any on my first year here. last year i got three. but it didn't really count, because mj got me one and betty did. i was hoping that i'd figure out who the third person was, but three weeks into that investigation, i kinda gave up. if they hadn't revealed themselves to me at that point, i'd figured that they probably wouldn't.

maybe junior year will go better.

if you were popular popular, you got at least seven, so it was kind of embarrasing to only get one. and it was probably even more embarrasing to only have, like, one friend. which was betty. but she hadn't hung around me that often since she started dating ned.

mj was an observer, and i knew that much. it was probably the only reason she got me a rose, because she felt bad. but then again, anyone could see how pathetic it was.

peter and i used to be pretty close, but then he met ned, so the attention he gave me got halved.

i would have tried to be friends with ned, because i know he's really nice, but i stressed out too much about it for some reason and gave up. social anxiety, perhaps? it didn't matter, it was too late to do anything about it now.

after that, peter started hanging around liz and some of the other popular kids, and entirely forgot about me.

did forget about ned, though. maybe beacuse i was a girl, and so peter got called "gay" a lot for that. i didn't have much of a chance compared to liz, so i just admired him from afar. it's not that we didn't talk, because we did sometimes, but... actually, i don't know what.

if peter wanted to, he would have.

and it's fairly obvious, but i'm delusional and chose to ignore that.

the intercom snapped me out of whatever zoning out i'd gone back to, "block d, block d. i-is this on? oh, it is? i- yes, block d down to the gym."

everyone got up and pushed their way out the door, i didn't have that type of energy, so i just waited for everyone to get their butts outta the way and then went myself. i followed them down to the hall, staying behind a little. when i finally got over there, i ended up last, right behind chloe, kayla, then liz.

for the most part, it only took a minute or two for each person, so the line didn't take that long.

well, i suppose that's subjective.

it took 15 minutes, but whatever.

when liz was inside, she didn't take care to close the door all the way, leaving it a couple inches open. that's on her.

that's on her for being irresponsible, so it's not really my fault if i accidently hear. i leaned in a little, suddenly very interested in the wall, with all it's cracks... and... paint, and...

"and step on the scale, please... that is," she paused, and you could hear scribbling of a pen.

"121.3 pounds. perfectly healthy. that's actually the average weight for girls your age," another pause, "make sure to give this form to your parents. have a nice day."

liz said something in return and i stepped back, done admiring the wall. "next!" the lady called in.

i stepped inside the room, and it smelt strongly of hand-sanitizer. "okay, honey, step up against the wall... height is... alrightly. now the scale, please."

i did as she asked, keeping my eyes trained on the numbers.

149.7 pounds. basically 150. that was more than liz's, right?

"149, okay, you're good to go-"

"is that around average weight?" i asked, and it was impulsive, i didn't even think.

"well, it's somewhere around that. you're perfectly healthy."

the intercom came on again, signaling my time was over, and the lady thought the same thing, because she ushered me out.

as i walked back to the classroom, i couldn't help but think;

149? no, 150? around average? so basically, i was above average. 30 pounds heavier than liz? no wonder peter likes liz better.

god, that's disgusting. i'm disgusting.

i trudged back to class, unable to stop thinking about it. and suddenly, an idea popped into my mind; why not lose weight? if i lost a little, maybe peter would care about me again.

that's genius. god, i'm a genius.

yeah. i lose a little weight.

when i got back, he'd already started the lesson, not that i cared. i spent the rest of that class figuring out the kinks, like how many calories i'm allowed to eat per day.

i settled on 800.

it seemed like a decent number if i wanted to actually make an impact with weight loss.

stupid kale smoothies weren't gonna get me anywhere, nor idiotic influencer workout routines.

before i knew it, the bell rung and kids were hustling through the hallways. i was kind of on autopilot as i walked to lunch, not really watching where i was going. i'd by mistake shouldered some people, and they gave me dirty looks. i shot them right back.

i couldn't help but silently, in my mind, judge everyone's body that i saw. and not just their body, but other physical features, too. it was automatic, i didn't even mean to. but i couldn't help it.

she's really fat. the gym exists for a reason.

how is she so skinny? i know she's anorexic.

and it just went on and on.

i didn't know what was going on. why this mattered to me all of a sudden.

it was like i didn't notice these things before, i wasn't looking for them, but now that i knew they were there, i couldn't help it.

i couldn't help a lot of things.

when i walked into the lunchroom, i saw peter sitting by himself, writing on some piece of paper, and if i knew him, he wasn't doing the homework due tomorrow.

he was doing yesterday's.

it didn't seem like i'd be bothering him if i went to go talk to him, so that's what i did. i figured since we hadn't talked in while, it would be great to now.

and it'd be a great distraction, too.

i sat down across from him, "hi, peter."

he looked up slowly, a smile rising on his face. "uh, hey, y/n/n," peter paused, "what, um, what did you need?"

"huh? oh, i didn't need anything. just thought i'd come by and annoy the hell out of you."

"just like old times," peter snorted.

"math homework?"

"yep. i have math-"

"-next period," i realized my mistake after i made it. "um, 'cause i see you when i'm walking to class."

in repsonse, he nodded like he was considering it.

i didn't notice i was hungry until my stomach growled, but something inside of me made the thought of getting food and eating it repulsive. i hesitated before grabbing on of peter's fries and popping it in my mouth. he didn't say anything, or really even care, and i didn't know if i liked that or not.

"okay. you have chem next, yeah?"

i blushed at the fact he knew.

"uh, yep," i snagged some more fries, feeling myself loosen up.

and then i realized, that's what this was; i was just in need of some time with actual people who weren't my parents.

i liked this. i liked talking to peter. it was easy. this was easy.

we laughed about some other things, like flash's new donkey haircut.

and i stole more fries. ned, betty, and mj (who normally sat two seats away) came over. the topic of cupid's day came up.

"how many do you think you'll get?" betty asked.

i looked up, "roses?"

"uh-huh."

ned spoke up, "you won't need to worry, bet, i'll get you a whole bouquet." he looked proud of himself.

"i'm not worried," she giggled, like the lovesick fool she was. it was gross. and yes i admit, it was slightly because i was jealous, but whatever. betty didn't have to act so idiotic and desperate.

betty's skinny, too.

"what about you, y/n?" peter said, locking eyes with me.

"i dunno. i never really get any."

something changed in peter's expression, but as soon as it was there, it was gone.

i took another fry. they were really good, for some reason.

"fattie," peter laughed, pulling his lunch tray back, "and then you complain about not getting roses!"

that caused a round of laughs in the small group, but my heart dropped to my feet.

i was right. i was overweight. even peter noticed.

freaking peter noticed.

god, i was ugly and fat, and even peter saw that.

of course he liked liz. he'd be crazy not to. she was curvy and skinny and petite and pretty and skinny.

she was skinny.

i didn't have her hourglass figure.

never did i ever want out of my own skin more.

"y/n?" pete frowned. "i-i'm sorry, it was a joke, i didn't-"

"no, no, not that. i, uh, i... forgot i was supposed to meet with a teacher. sorry. i have to go."

i didn't go to any teachers.

i did go to the bathroom.

and i hid in the handicapped stall. i didn't cry, or sob, or weep or whatever it was stupid girls did in hallmark movies or stuff.

i stood in front of the mirror and picked out everything i hated, making a mental list in my head.

i didn't finish that list, not even after 30 minutes when the bell rung.

the rest of the day flew by rather quickly, it seemed. i felt like i was trapped in a warm haze, but not the fuzzy, happy warmth. i didn't like the way i was thinking. it's like i wanted my brain to turn off, these intruding, ugly thoughts were taking up too much room.

i felt icky.

when i got home, i didn't have my normal after-school snack like i usually did. i went straight upstairs and did homework.

i finished two essays (one that wasn't due until two weeks, and one that was due two days from now), my math homework and studied for my math test, started my science project, and did my french flashcards (and studied them a bit).

i must have been locked in my room for hours, because by the time i got up, it was dark outside.

i wasn't a studious person, and the only reason i did any of this was to forget for a little while. to snap out of it. and for a while, it worked.

"y/n, honey!" my mom screamed from downstairs, and as i glanced at the clock, i realized it was time to have dinner.

but i wasn't hungry.

well, i was.

let me rephrase that; i didn't want to eat.

however, i didn't want my mother yelling at me, so i went down anyways. not that i was planning to eat.

"mom?"

"oh, hey. i already set the table, you seemed like you were working hard and i didn't wanna bother you. dad's working late. go sit down-"

"not hungry."

she frowned. "well, you have to eat something."

"but i'm not hungry," i said, hating how sharply it came out.

my mom gave me warning look. "look, i've had a long day, so don't start with me."

"mommmm," i whined.

"sit."

so i did. i felt bad about bothering her.

i ate. small, tentative bites, forcing it all down. we didn't talk.

silently, i put my dish in the sink, before heading upstairs. the food sat at the bottom of my stomach, like a pile of heavy rocks. i wanted them out.

so i turned on the shower and locked the bathroom door, kneeling in front of the toilet. i pressed my fingers to the back of my throat and kept them there for a second. at first, all i got was bile.

but then i threw up.

peter and i started talking more again. i think he got in a fight with liz.

i asked him if they were dating, and he said no.

i think he started hanging out with me again because i got skinny. i know for a fact that i'm skinnier than liz. i weigh less then her now.

the numbers told me that.

but i didn't listen.

i didn't stop, and how could i? when i'd gotten this far?

we got in a fight. not the yelling kind, though. well, kind of. i yelled a bit.

i thought he was complimenting me. he said i looked skinny, so i thanked him.

"no... i-" he paused, trying to get his thoughts together, "you look skinny, yes, but not in a good way."

"what? what do you mean? like, there's only a good way," i laughed, slightly nervous.

peter ingnored that. "have you been eating enough, angel?" his voice was soft, but there was worry in it. why was he worried? this is the best i've ever been.

"do you ask liz that, too?"

"i- what?"

"liz is skinny. you don't ask her that."

"that- that is different. y-you haven't been eating, have you? is-"

"god, parker! stop! it's none of your business!" maybe if i hadn't been so flustered, i'd have come up with a better comeback.

i was hunched over the toilet, but nothing was coming out. everything hurt.

my head. my stomach.

my throat was scratchy and raw.

i didn't hear the knocking on the door.

i don't really remember peter coming in. i thought i locked it. what was he doing at my house? i couldn't remember.

i wanted to sleep.

i think i was crying. i don't know. i only vaguely remember the hot tears.

i slightly remember him pulling me away from the toilet and into his arms. there were lots of holes in my memory for that day.

he stayed with me, though. one thing i'm sure about is that peter never left my side. i can recall bright lights. tubes. i was laying on something. white walls. white sheets.

what was engraved into my head was peter whispering "i love you" over and over again. in the bathroom. in the car. was it a car? as they hooked me up to cables.

all that mattered, though, was that i was skinny now. just the thought made me feel light and airy.

to think that all it took was a little motivation and a weighing scale.

#reader discretion advised #tw ed #tom holland x reader #spiderman #tom holland #peter parker #peter parker x you

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emmyrosee · 1 year

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y’all gonna hate this and I’m okay with that. tw//feet. nothing explicit, but I hate feet so here’s your warning too LMAOOO-

Annoying Sunarin is your favorite pastime.

He’d be a liar if he said his wasn’t annoying you, but there’s just something so satisfying about the way he sits there and takes it, only to snap and turn completely feral right back at you.

And it’s not like your annoying is mean or rude, you do it strictly to inconvenience him- like eating all the crusts off his pizza, or drawing smiley faces all over his volleyballs (although, the one time you put “I love you!” sticky notes all over his car was one of the more aggressive annoyances) he still chooses to forgive you when you get under his skin.

This, you’re sure, is one of those times you’re extra determined, wanting his attention and his alone.

But instead he’s doing a stupid Instagram live, talking about his rest week before his team leaves for the next two.

You want war. You’re ready to fight it.

Creeping into the living room, you’re smiling at the sight of him, slouched over the coffee table and head resting on the glass while he talks about the team, his practices, and least importantly, how much he loves you.

That, definitely, is not going to fly.

“Yeah, It’s definitely been weird not having practice every day, but I do like being at home-“

Instantly, he sees your grinning frame standing in the doorway. He looks you up and down in suspicion, but even he can’t wipe his own smile growing on his face. “What’re you up to, booger?”

“Wanna see something cute?”

And at this point, okay, Rintaro should know better than to say yes, or at the bare minimum tell you to show him later, but for whatever reason, he stupidly says ‘sure. Why not?’ and watches as you toddle over eagerly.

You take your spot on the couch and lay on your back, shuffling slightly to be comfortable, and suddenly, before he knows it, your fuzzy-socked-foot’s on his shoulder. He feels his annoyance grow, but he knows you’re doing this on purpose, and he’s not going to give you that satisfaction of making him agitated.

“Guys,” he begins, addressing the livestream which is filling with comments. “I think I spoke to soon about the happy to be home thing.”

“Don’t be rude!” You snap, poking his cheek with a pointed toe. “I’m excited, don’t be mean!” Your fuzzy toe moves to play with his ear, and he shrinks his neck at the feeling.

“Seriously?” He snorts, looking your foot up and down. “On Doja Cat’s green, Planet Her, you’re shoving your feet in my face? On my Instagram live?”

“I wanted to show you my socks!” You say happily, wiggling your toes. “They’ve got toe beans.”

“That’s nice dear, now let me get back to the people.”

“Uh, your live is not as important as my socks with toe beans,” you scoff.

“Please excuse my insignificant other’s nasty ass feet, they’re being a disappointment to their bloodline,” he says, poking his tongue in his cheek before casting you a warning look.

“You’re just mad because your bloodline likes me more than you!”

He blinks with a lazy smirk on his lips, and you, with your foot still on his shoulder, gently go to prod him one more time with your socked toe.

Except now, to your horror filled excitement, his massive hand wraps around your ankle, and you cackle in anticipation. “You’re on camera!” You warn, jerking wildly. He glances over at the Instagram live, comments now flying over the screen, and he shrugs, “they’re fine. You gonna behave?”

You don’t say anything, merely giggling and trying to tug your foot back. It’s another sign of your defiance without actually saying anything at all, and damnit, if it’s a war you want, it’s a war you’ll get.

Shrugging, he rips the fluffy sock off your foot and throws it back at you, looking at your foot curiously.

“Do you think I could fit your whole foot in my mouth?”

“EXCUSE ME?” you shriek, immediately trying to pull your foot from his grip, which only tightens as he looks up at you with a smirk.

“Do you know how famous we’d get on the hub? Just me, suckin’ at your toes, flicking them with my tongue-“

“GIVE ME MY FOOT BACK!” You cackle, swatting him with your sock as he chuckles and finally does release your leg, watching in full amusement as you scramble away.

He watches his viewers reactions to his filth fly across his screen (some of the more perverse ones having to be blocked) and he shakes his head at you as you escape quickly to the bedroom. “Keep your dogs in control, will ya? This live is important!”

“You were just talking about pregnancy cravings, no it’s not!”

He takes a deep inhale through his nose, then he sighs dramatically and shakes his head.

“I’ll log back on later, guys. Gotta go polish some piggies.”

“NAAAOOOOO!”

Needless to say, that would be a tactic you’d never use again to get his attention, this mission being unsuccessful.

Or… was it?

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wingedcat13 · 2 years

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Synovus: A Wishing Star

[Canonically, this takes place before ‘Call Me Menace’ - which is why there’s a notable lack of Alexandria and Minerva in this segment. This was requested by an Anon, with the prompt of Synovus being asked for by a Make a Wish child, through the Make a Wish foundation.]

[Trigger warnings for childhood cancer, descriptions of illness and hospitals, and discussions of suicide. Reference is also made to the possibility of substance abuse. Unlike most of my writing, for this, I cannot promise you will find this ending happy.]

“Your name came up today,” Rosie called up to you, laboriously walking laps around the cafeteria.

“Of course it did.” You replied laconically, keeping a careful eye on her progress from a perch in the rafters. Your shadows were ready to catch and steady her if she stumbled, though you both pretended you were too occupied with your knitting. “I am an incredibly interesting person. On a completely unrelated note, tell Dr. Grouch that he will receive payment shortly.”

That wasn’t an epithet, ‘Dr. Grouch.’ It was genuinely the man’s name. Dr. Jeremy Grouch, a pediatric cancer specialist, who had the good fortune of being the best choice for you to kidnap when Rosie had finally told you why she’d been half-joking about retirement. He was no longer your ‘guest,’ having returned to the mainland full time a few weeks prior, but he still communicated with Rosie quite often.

A bark of laughter had Rosie pausing, out of breath, to brace herself against the wall. She turned to rest her back against it, but since she didn’t sit, you didn’t jump down to see if she was alright. Even if you had stopped knitting.

“Not for the money.” Rosie assured you, when she had caught her breath enough to reply without wheezing. “He thinks you’re more than generous.”

“Dr. Grouch could stand to live up to his name a bit more.” You tsk’ed, “I kidnapped him, forced him to work for me. He didn’t even haggle.”

Not that this would have done him much good in the beginning. Historically, you did not respond well to threats or extortion. But you did respect a good hustle, and you were fairly certain that Dr. Grouch had been aware he could’ve pushed for more of a reward once Rosie was declared in remission. He hadn’t taken the opportunity.

“He isn’t hurting for wealth.” Rosie pointed out. The sardonic note to her voice had made you smile. You and your minions were in the business of exploiting greed and committing evils, but that did not make any of you less inclined to judge others for anything less than your own morality demanded. And that often included each other.

But Rosie’s tone shifted, becoming something lighter, “He said one of his patients asked to meet you.”

“What?”

“One of his patients wants to meet you.” Rosie repeated patiently. “Wished for it, even.”

You forced your tone to remain light, glad you were up in the rafters where she couldn’t see your body language. “Well, there’s a rarity. How many people ever say ‘I wish to meet Synovus?’”

Rosie sighed. “Usually just people who want to kill you.”

“Are we certain that isn’t what the child wants? I’m assuming it’s a child, adults usually know better.” You picked up another stitch, fumbled it, did it again. This time it stuck.

It wasn’t the idea of a child trying to kill you that had you so… disoriented. You’d been responsible for the deaths of a lot of parents over the years - you wouldn’t be surprised if there had been hundreds of vendettas sworn against you, or all villain kind, or even the heroes who had failed to stop you, over the years. But kids - children - you had a soft spot for.

You remembered too clearly what it was like to be young, sheltered, and out of control of your life. It was debatable, some days, how much of that still applied to you in some way or another.

“I’d bet on the kid.” Rosie remarked.

“I-“ You twirled one knitting needle, intending to point it at her, and snagged it in the trailing end of your yarn instead. It didn’t matter, because she couldn’t see you. “- take offense on the child’s behalf that you would doubt them.”

“Oh yeah?” Rosie perked up, “Offended enough to defend their honor in person?”

Frowning, you set down your knitting again. “What are you asking me here, Rosie?”

“I want to know if you’ll honor the kid’s Wish.”

There was something in the way she said it that gave you pause. You mulled it over.

“When you say ‘wish,’ you don’t just mean a general expressed desire, do you.”

It wasn’t much of a question, but Rosie answered anyway, “Nope. I mean the Wish. Apparently they hadn’t wanted to say anything, because they didn’t think anyone would let them, but they were talking to Dr. Grouch, and asked where he’d been -“

You groaned. You’d been assured of his adherence to HIPAA, but hadn’t pushed too hard on the ‘never tell anyone where you’ve been, ever, on pain of excruciatingly over described death’ angle. Maybe you should’ve.

“- yeah, I know, but apparently he only told the kid and asked them to keep it a secret, and the kid ‘lit up like it was Christmas.’” Rosie relayed this information, complete with air quotes, without moving from the wall.

To avoid thinking about the idea of being anyone’s last, true Wish - the big W, the heart’s desire, the crown of a bucket list - you instead thought about how Rosie had trapped you. You couldn’t just disappear because then she’d be alone, and could still collapse. You couldn’t call her physical therapy completed for the day yet either, because she hadn’t finished this lap.

Evil, your minions. Absolutely evil.

You sighed, sure Rosie would feel it, even if she couldn’t hear it at this distance. “Very well.” You conceded, morose. “When are we meeting this little miscreant?”

—-

Hospitals were not easy for you to break into. Not when you were in costume, at least. You could get terrifyingly far in a white coat with a coffee cup and a clipboard, but that came down to timing and confidence and an aura of ‘fuck off, I am incredibly busy’ that you’ve always felt most doctors cultivated on purpose.

That didn’t really work when you were in all black with a cape and a helmet. And this was a children’s cancer ward, so it wasn’t like you could just wait till everyone went home. Windows didn’t open up here either.

So you’d had Dr. Grouch let you in from the helipad on the roof.

“You’ve taken the precautions I requested?” He asked, as you paused outside of the ward itself. “Fully clean, as you would have for Ms. Rosie? You will not touch anything you do not have to, and will call for assistance if she seems overwrought?”

“Yes, Dr. Grouch.” You replied, accepting another antiseptic wipe for your gloves. “I am here to answer a summons. That is all. I swear that your charge will not come to harm from me.”

You did not point out he had been the one to arrange this meeting. His face made a strange expression, as though he were surprised, and surprised at being surprised, and a bit disappointed in himself for that sequence of events. Still, he recovered quickly.

“At least I do not have to remind you to wear a mask.” He granted, in an attempt at levity. Luckily for you both, you didn’t actually need to reply, because he was already triggering the ward doors for you to enter.

While Grouch moved to the ward station, motioning to calm the various staff on duty, you moved with purpose for the room you’d been directed to earlier. Grouch was telling the staff that he’d found someone willing to stand in for you, as a way of reassuring them. You weren’t sure they’d buy it, but it really wasn’t your problem for the moment.

You moved quietly. You weren’t sure whether or which other rooms were occupied, and you didn’t intend to scare anyone who hadn’t requested to see you tonight. For that same reason, you double checked the number on the door you opened, and lifted it faintly on its hinges, that it would open smoothly and as silently as you could make it.

The room beyond was dim, if not completely dark. The corridor behind you was also dimmed for the night cycle, trying to give the ward’s occupants a chance at sleeping, though the ward station was still well-illuminated. You made sure its light wouldn’t give you a halo or shadow as you entered, and quietly shut the door behind yourself.

You aren’t familiar enough with hospitals to say whether this room is average or not. Tiled floors, the bed that is also a gurney, sparse furniture, windows on the far wall. There are signs of life here, in the form of some decaying flowers on the dresser, with several cards propped around their vase where the bed’s occupant can see. A television is mounted near the ceiling on an extendable arm, but it’s off for now.

There’s a few sources of dim light - the distant aura of the streetlights casts the bars supporting the windows on the wall across from the bed. A floor light illuminates the tile enough to show any potential tripping hazards. The odd blinking light on the medical equipment provides a dash of color to the gloom.

And in the bed, there is a lump curled on its side, as far as the IV line and monitors will allow it, blankets pulled tight over the shoulder and tucked near the chin. Dr. Grouch told you some basics about the patient before you reached this floor, so you know who you are supposed to be meeting. You feel bad for waking her, but you’ve been assured she doesn’t sleep well anyway, and is likely awake. Judging by the faint rustling of a body’s small movements, that judgement was accurate.

You are reminded of Dr. Grouch’s planned lie, out in the hall. You do not want this child to think they are being tricked. So you stay where you are, in the deeper shadow of the door-well, and you summon your shadows to life.

The window frame shadows make an excellent trellis for your branching additions - they stretch out, forming words in deeper darkness than the natural shadow from which they are woven. If you are mistaken, if this is the wrong room, if the girl sleeps, you won’t have disturbed them.

But you see the streetlight illuminate the planes of a too-sharp face as it turns to focus bleary eyes on what you’ve written.

Hello, Loralai.

At fourteen years old, Loralai should still have the roundness of youth. She does not. Nor is she quite skeletal, despite the advanced nature of her illness. It almost seems, in the half light, as though a slight push would be all that was necessary to send her in either direction: back to the hale softness of health, or further on to the sharp stillness of death.

She blinks. Her eyes widen, then narrow, then widen again. You belatedly wonder if perhaps she needs glasses. Or what if she’s dyslexic? Your shadow-words are hardly the easiest things to read. Damn it, Synovus, now is not the time for posturing and-

“Synovus?” Asks a breathless, whispering voice.

“In the flesh.” You reply, because you are a melodramatic moron. Still, your voice is quiet, and you remain unmoving.

There’s some more rustling. The bed is already mostly elevated, so Loralai doesn’t need to try and sit up so much as readjust how she’s sitting. There’s a click of a lamp - and then there’s a real light source in the room, even if it’s dulled by the lampshade.

You step forward as Loralai rubs the spots from her vision with one hand. There’s an IV catheter taped to the back of it from some recent event, the bruising around it just beginning to ripen. You don’t remember what that might mean, if anything.

As she gets her vision back and examines you, you turn your helmet, pretending to survey the room. Eyes bright with curiosity flick from the helmet to the cape to the patterns of padding over your torso. She does not seem scared, but then, why would she be? Dr. Grouch had informed you she was well aware her case was terminal. You may be a specter of death to some people, but this child has already started staring down the real thing.

“You are Loralai Weber?” You ask, turning back to face her directly.

She nods, leaning back against her pillows. You can see exhaustion on every line of her too-young face, but it seems not to have any power over her at the moment. “Yes. I didn’t think you’d actually come to see me.”

You gesture aimlessly, “I am not often asked for.” You reply candidly. “You’ve piqued my interest. And.. one could say I was in the neighborhood.”

Loralai’s expression brightens, “Are you going to attack the hospital?”

You frown. The prospect seems to excite her. Still, you keep your voice casual, noncommittal, “Not tonight, at least.”

“Damn.” Loralai sounds disappointed now. You muffle your amusement at her cursing as she continues, “Any time soon, maybe? Like, in the next week?”

She can’t see you raise your brows, so you tilt your head to one side, “You sound almost hopeful, Ms. Weber. Why could that be?”

Loralai averts her gaze for a moment, plucking slowly at the top blanket of her bed. This is the moment of truth, really. You spent hours trying to figure out what you might be asked for:

Could you kill someone for her? A doctor, a nurse, another patient who was really annoying? Or could you attack the hospital, so she could help you wreak havoc, and have the chance to feel as powerful as a Villain? Alternatively, what if she were the one to stop you? You were dreading the deathbed request that you ‘turn good,’ but that doesn’t seem to be forthcoming. Maybe she simply wishes to witness a hero battle up close, and needs you to initiate it. Or-

“I want you to kill me.”

You freeze. Most of you, anyway, as your stomach seems to have left out the ground floor entrance. You had not anticipated this. You feel like you should have.

Remorseless for your shock, Loralai continues, managing to look directly at your helmet face as her words spill over each other, “I know I’m dying, and that I don’t have long left, but I’ve been dying for months, and I just feel worse and worse every day, and I - I want to die fast, not slow. I want it to be over. You - you could make it quick for me, couldn’t you?”

You have not been inclined towards religion for a very long time. Yet, in this moment, you see the appeal of dropping to your knees and offering a fervent prayer of gratitude to whoever or whatever might be listening that you gave Dr. Grouch your word in the hall. You do not want to answer Loralai’s question, or know what your answer would be. You refuse to acknowledge the burgeoning answer within you.

The horror of it all still threatens to overwhelm you. The shadows in the room thicken, automatically reaching for you to provide shelter from unfortunate truths and uncomfortable conversation. This is why she asked for you. Because you are evil. Because you are terrible enough to meet a child face to face and kill them at their own request. Because you are not beholden to law, morality, or sympathy.

The black pit of despair yawns, and it is only by the barest shred of your willpower that you stay out of it - as awful as you feel in this moment, as much as you know you have only delayed your own suffering, the fact remains: you are not the one dying here.

It does not matter how you feel, looking at someone younger than you were when you finally found freedom, and knowing they will never reach the same age, the same feeling. It does not matter how you feel about their request. Loralai Weber sits in a hospital bed, terminal at 14 years old, and she is suffering badly enough to seek the Scourge of the West Coast.

So you scrape yourself together, and move to the end of her bed.

“May I sit?”

Loralai nods, brow still furrowed, and shuffles her feet so you can avoid accidentally sitting on them. You perch there, partially leaning on the rail at the foot of the bed, and watch her for a long moment.

“Yes.” You say, finally. “I could make your death swift. There is little you could do to stop me.”

You have Loralai’s undivided attention. When you stop speaking, she waits. The clearer it becomes that you will not say more, the further her face falls. “Could.” She says tonelessly. “But won’t.”

“No.” You confirm quietly. “I will not.”

“Why?” Loralai cries. She tries to gesture to herself, to the room that she’s in. “You’ve killed so many people! What’s one more to you? Why not me? Is it - do you want me to suffer, is that it? Would this be too merciful for you?”

You let her yell, and gesture, even when she comes within several inches of you. “No, Loralai. I do not want you to suffer. But nor do I think this would be an act of mercy.” You avoid addressing the issue of your body count.

Loralai looks offended and confused, gaping at you for a moment. “Does this look like a life worth living?” She demands.

Your answer is without hesitation, “Yes.”

The girl’s face contorts with incredulity, then despair, then anger. Her eyes are increasingly red-rimmed, and there’s a wet quality to her wavering voice when she responds, “Fuck you.”

Grimly, you brace yourself for much worse before the night is over. She hasn’t ordered you out yet, so you have to attempt to explain. Even if you cannot give her what she wants, you can be an outlet for her anger, and the face she cannot show to her doctors.

“There are cards on the dresser.” You point out.

“Classmates I’ve never even met.” Loralai responds flatly.

“Flowers, too.”

“Another parent bought some for the whole floor after their kid bit it. It’s a pity gift to make them feel better, nothing to do with me.”

“You still have family.”

“So they should get the honor and joy of watching me die? Paying a fortune for every extra hour I sit here and wait for it to be my turn?”

“It is worth it, to them.” You explain, matter-of-fact. “Every penny. Every extra shift. Every loan. Every night on your fold-out couch. How did you convince your mother not to be here tonight?”

Loralai flinches. “She has a bad back.” She mutters, “She - it’s better for her to be home, in a real bed. And so what if it’s worth it to them? What if it’s not worth it to me? Can’t I choose how and when I die?”

You sigh, “If that were true, the world would be full of immortals. And suicides. You realize that is what you asked of me, yes? An assisted suicide?”

Loralai draws back at the word, but doesn’t deny it. “It’s not like it would be anything new for you.”

The truth of that statement is painful. For a moment, you hear a distant ringing with no physical source. You are acutely aware of the shadows in this room - their patterns under the bed, on the wall, the sky behind the window, in the spaces under your skin-

“I am not your tool.” You rasp, before remembering that Loralai couldn’t possibly know about your past. She is a teenager. A hurt one. They always have a gift for striking true, even when they lash out blindly.

You take a deep breath, and suppress the shadows again. You don’t want to know how far up your arms they reached before you regained your senses. “And I will not be baited into killing you either. You are right - I’ve killed. Plenty. I will again. But I do so for my own reasons, and not because someone asks me to. You asked for me by name, Ms. Weber, out of all of the villains on the West Coast, so I’m guessing you know that.”

Loralai opens her mouth to respond - then looks away.

“You have every right to be angry.” You continue into the silence, “With me, with the people around you. With the doctors and nurses for how often they check in and the poking and prodding they do. With the kitchen for the quality of the hospital food. With your parents for not sparing you this life, or being overbearing in their concern, or not being able to balance what it is you really need.”

You pause. Loralai doesn’t respond. You continue, “I would be angry. I would be furious with every car that passed by and honked its horn, because I’m stuck up here dying, and they only care about the stupid traffic. And I would be even more angry about the fact I can’t tell anyone that without becoming the bad guy, who can’t take their situation with grace.”

“But you won’t kill me.” Loralai says finally, “Before I do something I regret. Or become a husk of myself.”

This time, it’s your turn to remain silent. Loralai turns to look at you, even if she can’t find your eyes in the mask. She’s crying now, but so far managing to hold off actual sobs, “Why can’t I be selfish? Just once?”

You offer her your hands, and aren’t surprised or offended when she doesn’t take them.

“You should be selfish.” You tell her, and the ferocity in your voice takes her aback. “You should be as selfish and greedy as you can. You should seize every moment - every conversation with your parents, every breath of conditioned air, every chance you get to actually smile. Even if you only get one more of those, Loralai, it’s one more than you would get if I did what you’ve asked. Dying isn’t selfish. It isn’t selfless either. It just is, the same way taxes are due and commercials always take too long and the drivers outside your window have road rage. It’ll happen whether you want it to or not. Don’t lean into it.”

Converse to your own advice, you lean towards Loralai, adding, “Kick the bastard in the balls.”

On reflex, she gives you a confused, watery half-smile.

“Yes!” You cry, as though this is a great victory. “Just like that! Rip and tear your joy from the universe.”

That wins you a snort - though the amusement doesn’t last.

“I’m not strong enough to do that.” Loralai deflects, turning a hand over in your general direction. “I’m not like you. I can’t literally steal happiness from - banks, or whatever it is you rob.”

“Banks.” You admit, “Though usually their corporate offices instead of the average buildings. Irrelevant, however: how many of my fights do you actually see me win?”

Loralai frowned. “Uh….”

You don’t leave her hanging long, “It depends on your definition of ‘victory’ really - but if I count it like the heroes do, where a victory is when I have my opponent in my custody, I haven’t won a single fight in over ten years. My track record is abysmal.”

(This is not strictly true - but it does count for your fights with heroes. Interpersonal villain matters you handle rarely make the news.)

“So, what, you’re bad at your job?” Loralai says bluntly, sarcasm tingeing her voice.

“I’m fantastic at my job.” You can’t help the rebuttal, it’s too much in your nature. “Because even if I don’t take down the hero who comes after me - and let’s face it, they’ll keep sending them endlessly, it’s exhausting - I still do what I set out to do. Sometimes that’s steal something. Kill someone. Make a scene. On bad days, just get out and away. And if you use that metric, well, darling, my track record is spectacular.”

Loralai considers this for a moment, staring into the middle distance between you. It’s impossible to figure out what she’s actually thinking of.

“Your metaphors suck.”

Well okay then. “My metaphors are elegant contrivances -“ You give up when Loralai gives you a look, and sigh instead.

Still, what you’ve said seems to have made some difference. Loralai has stopped crying, and she doesn’t feel as.. raw, as before. You hope it’s the right kind of difference, and that you haven’t just chased her further into a shell. You wait for her to break the silence again.

“So you think I should live, for the people around me?” She challenges, indicating the flowers and cards. You both know that’s only a fragment of your argument, but you’re willing to play ball.

“Nope.” You reply succinctly. “I think you should live for you and your own experiences. However, I think you are currently in a position where you have to see your joys in others before you can see them for yourself. If they anchor you, use it.”

She’s staring at you now, expression unreadable. “And you think that will get better.”

You almost answer ‘yes’ - but you know that isn’t quite what she’s asking. There’s a second half to that statement that is a question, left unspoken: ‘will it get better before I die?’

And for all of your lies, you answer her honestly. “I don’t know.”

Loralai nods. You want to clarify, to explain that even a chance is a chance worth taking. You want to give her some of your own rage at the world, the defiance that makes it possible to simply refuse to die. The conviction that let you kill a god.

No, maybe not that. You’re not sure that would be a blessing after all.

“Okay.” She says, after several moments. “Fine. I get to live. For now. But when I die -“ Loralai’s attention abandons the far wall and the middle distance, zeroing in on you, “- if my life gets any worse between now and then, if I don’t get any more good stuff like you’ve described, I’m haunting you.”

You believe her. “I believe you.” You say solemnly. “And there are few things in this world more terrifying than a teenage ghost. No, that isn’t sarcasm, I’m serious. Once-“

—-

You spend the rest of the hour telling stories of the teenaged ghost you’d met once in New Orleans, back when that wasn’t quite anyone’s territory. It’s not nearly enough time to share all of her stories - but it is enough that you remember her fondly, and smell the faint scent of bergamot and citrus that always heralded her presence.

When you spoke to her more regularly, you teased her about being a ghost who smelled like Irish Spring, and she ensured your cape got caught on everything it possibly could. You feel a tug on it, as you are moving to leave, and understand the prompt.

“Here.” You tell Loralai, unclasping your cape from your shoulders, and draping it over the bed.

“Does this have magic powers, or something? Is it bulletproof?” Loralai lifts it’s edge, rubbing the fabric between her fingers. She’s in higher spirits, but the bags under her eyes have deepened. She’s also cold, though you don’t think you’d be able to get her to admit it.

“Nah.”

“Then why would I want it?” Remarkable, how little your status matters to teenagers. You aren’t sure if it’s your curse or a trait of the species.

“Capes are cool.” You reply confidently.

There are other reasons too - it gives your ghost friend an anchor to stay with her better, it’s warm, it will remind her this wasn’t a dream. If her family needs to, they can sell it to cover some of the medical bills, since (unlike some heroes and villains) you rarely leave a trace behind, and collectors would love to get ahold of one of your capes. Actually, Tallflawes might even buy it at an exorbitant price, just to taunt you with it. But this isn’t a lie: capes are cool.

“Whatever.” Loralai says sleepily, resting back on her pillows, your cape tucked up under her chin. “Goodbye, Synovus.”

“Goodbye, Loralai Weber.” You say gently. You aren’t sure if she even notices your shadows flip the switch on the bedside lamp, returning the room to darkness. Your shadows muffle your exit back into the hall.

You leave as quickly as possible, after that.

—-

The good thing about being a dramatic fool on purpose, is that when you are having a public meltdown, it can appear as though you are simply performing again. The shadows contorting and swirling around you? Ah, Synovus, making an entrance. Disappearing between one blink and the next to the unobservant, because you’ve turned and booked it into the dark? A classic exit.

Your minions know you too well for that facade to hold. They also know you too well to ask.

You stalk down the halls, lights seeming to ripple in your wake with the amount of shadows you’re dragging, like a toddler with their blanket on their way to throw a tantrum. But you skip the training room. You wind up in the kitchen, as Oflok watches from a distance.

You spend an indeterminable amount of time staring at the collection of alcohol. You don’t indulge, because you are terrified of what might happen if you lose control of yourself. You know you are a walking bomb. Your minions can partake as they like, however, and today, reminded of how destructive you are, you want very badly to join them. To get wasted beyond memory.

“I want you to kill me.”

You get as far as reaching up one hand for a bottle. You don’t know which, you didn’t bother to read the labels. You lower your hand. Spin on your heel. And leave.

—-

It’s Rosie and Doll who hover in the corner, silent witnesses while you dig through the cabinets in the infirmary. You grab the first ampoule of a drug that looks like it would force you out of your mind that you can get your hands on. You have a tray laid out with syringe, bandages, tourniquet, disinfectant wipes, before you realize what you’re doing.

“Does this look like a life worth living?”

You walk out without a word.

—-

The grave at the bottom of the island is not well tended. It is not a monument to be remembered. This is the third time you have visited it since you stopped obsessively checking for signs of disturbances, in case it’s occupant decided to crawl back out.

You tell the empty space about Loralai Weber. What she looked like, what she asked of you, what that means. This time, you’re free to cry, though whether it’s for her or yourself, you’ll never be able to parse. By the end, you are screaming in the dark cave, knowing it’s all pointless at this stage in the game.

The man in the grave could heal himself, when he wanted. And very rarely, when he was convinced it was ‘appropriate,’ he could heal others too. He wouldn’t have counted Loralai Weber as ‘appropriate’ for his gift. You would. It doesn’t matter, though.

It’s the one part of his powers you never inherited.

—-

[Thank you for reading Synovus: A Wishing Star - if you want to read more of Synovus, you can find the rest of their stories on my blog, in the pinned post. Further, if you want to find out more about the Make A Wish Foundation, you can read stories of children they've helped (in rather different ways than Synovus) on their website, or donate here.]

[I do not have a personal story to share for Loralai's inspiration. However, I did tap into my experiences as a chronically ill individual, and the mental state I experienced both before and during treatment. There are still days I wonder as Loralai does - but I wholeheartedly believe as Synovus says: This life is worth living. It is for you too.]

#synovus #synoverse #Synovus: A Wishing Star #tw cancer #please dm me if you feel additional tags are necessary!#reader discretion advised #tw suicidal ideation #tw implied child death #tw self destructive behavior

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idontplaytrack · 1 month

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Pick Up The Phone

Janis ‘Imi’ike x fem!reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, coarse language, descriptions of anxiety & disordered eating behaviour. Reader discretion is advised.

In which reader hasn’t respond to Janis’ texts in a day and Janis tries to call her multiple times but to no avail.

Please excuse the lack of formatting / separation of paragraphs😩 enjoy this drabble!

The day Janis found out or rather, realised, what you’ve been dealing with, you would’ve thought that she would dump you if you didn’t know her any better. She began noticing a pattern emerge about half a year into the relationship- on weekdays, you’d claim to wake up at 6:30. And have breakfast by 7:00. Now, if you were even just a minute later, you wouldn’t have anything to eat until they let out for lunch at 12:30. On weekends however, Janis picked up that you’d essentially been eating one meal a day sometimes and trying to convince her that you’d already eaten. Little by little, more and more of your behaviour unveiled it to her- your meals shrunk in size on certain days, but other days, it was ‘normal’. You’d act as if you didn’t just restrict yourself the day before. It was like pendulum, either one way or the other. Also little by little, Janis’ worry grew. She was thinking about how to talk to you about it. But she was rendered clueless despite how straightforward she always was.

The only way she had realised was because of how much time she’d spent with you to know your routine by heart. Once she’s got a hang of it, it began to seem clear to her that your relationship with food was not so good.

Janis was no stranger to self-loathing- so she knew whatever this was, it was a terrible thing, and detrimental to both your physical and mental wellbeing. She thought that you were the most beautiful person she’s ever laid her eyes on, and Janis always tells you that. But she also knows that your mind wouldn’t let you take her word for it. She’s had some moments like these of her own.

“y/n, pick up your phone.” She left you a message. Message number five.

You haven’t been online since after school yesterday- after some guy at school made a comment about how you were ‘spilling out of your shirt’ and how you were going to be ‘ripping your pants’. Janis immediately gave those guys a piece of their mind, but there was no turning back for you- those comments made you feel like crap, way worse than you’ve already been feeling after some stupid remarks from your Mom the night before about similar things.

Janis just knew it in her heart that you wouldn’t be picking up her calls anytime soon, so after school, she went over to your place. No one answered the door but she lets herself in, knowing where the spare key was hidden. She heads up the stairs to your room, and there you were. Thank God. Thank fucking god you didn’t just leave your phone at home so that it would show your location as that.

“Babe.” She knocks on the door and you got startled.

“Shit, why are you here?”

“I told you never to do that- I get that you’d want some time alone, and some space. But always, always tell me. You can’t just not respond to anything I’ve sent you and expect me not to worry one bit.

“Okay, leave me alone.” You shrugged, not even looking at her.

“It’s too late for that now.” Janis almost scoffed, but held back, “I know you haven’t eaten all day. So we’re gonna make sure you eat something.”

“I don’t need to.” You tell her.

“Yes, you do.” She sits down in front of you and grabbed your hands, “Look at me.” You refused to, so she repeated herself. Reluctantly, you turned your head to look at her. “Have you not been hearing the same things I do? I don’t need to be eating.”

“No one should be denied food- not when they haven’t eaten anything. We all need some food to survive too, and right now, I know for a fact you haven’t eaten.”

“Believe me…I’ve tried my best to let them just run their mouths, but I can’t fight them and the voice in my head forever. As hard as I try, they always win. I always fall and can’t-”

Part of her was a little angry, but she soon shook off that feeling and listened to you- putting herself in your shoes.

“I’ve been dealing with this for as long as I can remember. It’s hard, Janis. So fucking-”

She engulfs you in a hug, rubbing your back. That’s what you needed, instead of having someone raise their voice at you- you knew Janis meant well, but unfortunately, your parents? Not so much, they both only spurred on your disordered eating, saying that it’d be great for you to lose weight. So, well- your brain has somehow been conditioned to listen to their negativity over the years. That’s always how it’s been like for you- that’s all you knew. But when Janis found out, she didn’t get mad at you, she was patient and wanted to know more about how she could help you. She’d opened your eyes to how things were supposed to be like when you were struggling. You’ve spent years shoving it way down, or channeling your focus on the wrong things that have been harming your mind and body. The effects have become apparent- Karen mentioned how much weight you seemed to have lost last week and that triggered an anger in Janis that she didn’t know she even had. But of course, Karen did not mean it in a bad way. She never really does mean anything she say in a negative way. Also, no one knew about what you were going through other than Janis. So there’s that.

It took Janis a lot of coaxing to get you to eat something. But first thing’s first, was what to eat. “We can cook it together, alright?”

You nodded in agreement, leaning against the kitchen island as she stood before you. “How does some pasta sound?” She suggested, “We could do a broccoli and cheese sauce, add some ham for protein?”

Yeah, Janis has learnt a thing or two. Including the fact that it tends to help you be more okay with eating if you two prepared the meal together and ate together. Or for her to just keep you company while you ate. You were quiet for a little bit to think about that and any other options. You agreed to her suggestion.

“Alright, attagirl. Let’s get cooking.” Janis smooches you on the cheek. She grabs a pot, filled it with water and a pinch of salt before letting it come to a boil, “What kind of pasta do you want, baby?”

“Um, the bowtie ones.” You decided. She grabs that particular bag off the pantry shelf and handed it to you. You poured some out into a bowl then put the snack clip back to keep the bag closed. “Okay, that’s good.”

Once the food was all done, you and Janis sat on the floor, at the coffee table in the living room to eat. “I know that sauce came from a can, but it’s really good.”

“I know.” Janis chuckles, “Might need to convince my Mom to switch over to this brand now.”

You smiled a little bit, “Jan, thank you for being so patient with me. I really appreciate that, even though sometimes when things get bad, I lash out. I want you to know that I don’t mean that. And please don’t hesitate to snap me out of that, or yell at me.”

“Babe, yelling at you is not the way to go. I’m never gonna do that when you’re having a bad day especially.” Janis told you.

“I’m just saying, if the time comes when you need to yell at me for anything else. Please just yell at me and tell me to wake the hell up.”

“No promises.” Janis shrugged, “I love you too much to be raising my voice at you, baby.”

You gave her a full smile this time, “I love you so much, Janis. You make me so fucking happy. The most happy I’ve ever been.”

“I love you more, baby.” Janis brushes her thumb over your knuckles, “I’m always gonna be here for you. Call me or text me, show up to my house whenever you wish to. Okay? No matter how busy I am, I’ll always make time for you. I’ll always pick up my phone for you.”

“I’ll make sure to tell you if I sense things getting bad again because I know you’ve been trying to help, and I am so thankful.” You promised.

Janis nodded, a smile now plastered on her face as if reflexively, “Thank you for trusting me and loving me for who I am.”

#auli’i cravalho #janis ‘imi’ike #janis ‘imi’ike x fem reader #x reader #female reader #reader insert #queer #lgbtqia #lesbian #fanfiction #oneshot #angst #mature themes #reader discretion advised #drabble

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somer-writes · 3 months

Link

Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Twilight & Warriors (Linked Universe) Characters: Warriors (Linked Universe), Twilight (Linked Universe), Original Hylian Character(s) Additional Tags: Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Febuwhump 2024, Truth Serum, Kidnapping, Torture, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Drugging, Needles, Tongue Piercings, Whipping, Blood and Violence, Psychological Torture, Hurt No Comfort, Twilight (Linked Universe) Has a Bad Time, and i mean a Very bad time, Warriors (Linked Universe) Has a Bad Time, To Be Continued, Permanent Injury Series: Part 20 of The Realities of Being My Favorite Character During a Leap Year (Febuwhump 2024) Summary:

In the captain's era, Twilight causes problems for Warriors politically. As Wars tries to avoid Twilight, the two are kidnapped in an effort to reveal the location of the Fierce Deity mask.

PLEASE READ ALL THE TAGS

---

ITS HERE IM SORRY THIS IS SO LATE IN THE DAY

ty to @wanderlustmagician for being a wonderful lovely beta reader and also victim of my ramblings and supporter of twi torture <3

day 20 whump is truth serum ft wars, twilight, and an absolute psycho

#somer writes #febuwhump #lu fanfiction #lu warriors #lu twilight #reader discretion advised

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no-hwei · 4 months

Text

Kayn/Rhaast, graphic depictions of death and violence, gore, suggestions of guro, Rhaast typical nonsense Remember us— if at all— not as lost Violent souls, but only As the hollow men The stuffed men.

— ts eliot, the hollow men

The weaklings are afraid of them. It makes Rhaast's soul sing, the skid of panicked feet against the ground as they run or the stuttering hesitation as they pass them in the corridors. Kayn watches them with contempt, but Rhaast, Rhaast loves it,

The only thing better than the miasma of fear that dogs their steps is the blood they bathe in when unleashed.

Kayn makes a disgusted little noise.

"Messy." he mutters under his breath, the little hypocrite.

You love it. Rhaast tells him, because Kayn does. Rhaast lives in his head, his heart and guts and very fucking soul, he can tell when the brat is filling himself up with the sensation of blood drying sticky and thick on his bare skin.

Kayn doesn't answer him, just flicks his head so his hair thumps against his back, accompaniment to the discordant thrum of emotions he's not even trying to hide from Rhaast.

The denial, the smug pride, the professional detachment, the part of him that aches to scream, the part of him that aches to kill.

Rhaast presses a sense memory into his head.

The last twitches of a dying body, claws deep in the intestines. Those things don't die easy, the muscles writhe and contract around their hands. The thing below them, their kill, breathes their last, and Rhaast smiles down, stroking a thumb gently through the cavity they ripped open from sternum to groin.

Don't you love it, baby? he asks. He thinks of stroking Kayn that way, deep inside.

Kayn shudders.

He doesn't need to tell Rhaast with words. He can feel it under Kayn's skin, the way he wants to be touched.

#rhaayn #rhaast #kayn #ficlet #reader discretion is advised

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captainkurosolaire · 6 months

Text

An Undying Companion

Gale winds of relief blew away the vaporized disastrous fog clearing away allowing the Captain to his rigging aboard and embark. Collecting rubble left aboard noticing Casta’s journal left to them now completely ruined and water-logged scrolling through the pages that defined and she often documented her experiences and often wrote about him in a Tale. He felt such guilt, rumors of many librarian’s beliefs; that you can often tell much about how a person treats their books. Though it wasn't his keepsake in a particular way, his obligation was to provide security over cherished. Luckily knowing the source-material helped. Working with his old skills of forgery and actual genuine experiences began piecing together a new journal for his dear Crewmate’s hopeful return in extra commentary and more heartfelt personal. During his ship-voyage, believing alone going forth for a while, maybe forever onward, this would keep him sane. Below his cabin a noise was heard below sounding of barrels and storage in the hull being rummaged through. Sharp ears shooting up, “A stowaway, again? Seven Hells! Or is this one another ghost? I pray it's a bewitching company ov’ ever bountiful desire.” Quite alarming how common this was but knowing his fortune it’s probably the eighteenth assassin, maybe was him going crazy from detoxing away from his substances. Down-below in the bowels, lights were still damaged absent from the last-fight, making things rather gloomy. Within the corner hearing a chewing of meat to bone. He stayed vigilant before kindling a match to ignite a belt-lamp bringing forth the light to his shadow-invader. Pupils flared-disbelieved opening widely, tearing up but never releasing the valve, his fingers fidgeting, before his lips curved in unadulterated; happiness.

Disobediently a crewmate went against his Captain’s words to split for the Summer, or disband knowing internally quite closely his leader. Undying loyalty stood up with cackling chains chewing on a former rabid chocobo’s dismemberment head chewing through the grates of his mouthguard messily eating eye-entrails like mortal’s spaghetti. The resident ghoulish horror on his Crew departed but struggled akin to a hound. With understanding Captain’s true intent or wishes of him disappearing, knowing somewhere Captain faintly, didn’t really desire to separate from his Crew in the slightest but did it to safeguard the traitorous attacks.

Witnessing the ship depart as Captain faced the traitor to reveal itself in confrontation. Couldn’t stop staring back, his intent was obvious; follow. Until the wise Zieton, Elezen observed before encouraging the creature of accursed fright, “You’re going to go after him, huh? Good. Guess I’ll tuck this aetheryte shard in your pocket I conjured, find yourself in peril, or catch-up with danger notwithstanding our agreed reconvening before the foreseeable Moons, I’ll know.” Waving off and walking none of this verbiage seemed like it was processing to a gluttonous creature who seemed to have its animalistic imprint to a degree, committed to repaying his unholy existence. Two others of Crew’s company sent him off for success, Slafhota who was to be a guardian for him had a strong-sense of emphatically knowing beings and creatures, sweetly asked the Ghoulish to not stray away or become consumed by his hungering ways, trained and conditioned to eat ill and spoiled flesh, that which was diseased, or in some cases, the absolute worst. Individuals that played farce to being monstrous those who sharpen teeth to the softest skin. Whilst the peculiar, bubbly personality, Viera, Whyte energetically added, “I want to go too! …But catching up with a ship seems like an awful lot of work. Instead, I’m going to do what the Captain said and find something that brings me fulfillment so I can come back and bring him joy with what I learn! Maybe go shopping too with Me-Me! And-and! O~ Anyway maybe you can track him with this friendship bracelet Captain made with seashells. If it doesn't help snuff him out maybe help you know we’re all with you.” She wrapped it on the ghoulish Xaelaen’s horn. No-signs of amusement from any of them but a fiendish growl. Just glad silence came after they were done. Stoically rushing off following the coastline chasing the sea-vessel in the distance. Encountering multiple ravenous beasts, things proving as obstacles, but cut-through all them, ate them whole with consuming eagerness until using the little hunting in him, spatial perception and enhanced hearing brought him to a mission success.

A rare occurrence of disobedience being accepted Captain couldn’t escape a smirk, the amount of humane emotions urging out of him was defeated by something as detestable, devilishly foul, but it felt so authentic. It brought a realization and revelation just how different things were now, Captain perceived things were returning to him losing everyone or something all-over again, but karma perhaps for the recent event, seemed to be returned instantly. Signs of hope and jolly. “Mate this is gonna require a celebration. I’m glad ye came back. If certain, then we’ll sail this ongoing black together. Plenty of stuff I could use to help in fixin’ up ‘ere. I’m going to need t’ drink-jollies until I’m o’ alabaster white-dead-to-right in complexion, near my grave like ye appear my grim’n’crim lad! But ye make me feel entirely otherwise ~ alive.” Though it wasn't ever vocally echoed back, the ghoulish ink sclera, blood-viciously sanguine hues absorbed, no doubt constantly observing things in powerful details, deciphering and puzzling together; anything with intent, with heartbeats, their expressions slightly shifting and moving. Whenever its curse or affliction showed reprieve, all this would prove to be a pandora’s box, of unbridled importance to determine a genuineness of his nature. A deadly-sounding shriek snarled out as the Xaela was uprooted off the floorboards in a ferocious bear hug of impressive degree before lowered. Captain confessed, “That’s how one typically shows their fondness n’ greetin’s to a fellow-lad. That or they get a bit more raunchy or share n’ some adultery with company or another, but that can be a lesson in another dawn-break. I’m sure you’d be quite popular as a courtesan, t’ them, I’d reckon you’re an exotic specimen.” Startled the godless fright look paralyzed and confused before finally motioning back, seemingly understanding the motive behind Captain’s first sentimental words, he grabbed the Seeker and tossed him overhead with a overzealous amount of strength, thinking it came down to power to determine who dominantly cared more about their treasured friends. Bearing that in mind, he’d surely kill them; win if required. The competitiveness of the Xaela still swelled in that bloodstream. Captain let out a painful howl until colliding into a bunch of barrels crashing. Stricken dazed seeing stars before shrugging it off, “...Ow.” Folded up like an accordion, before recomposing with a heartwarming boisterous laughter and treating this as a challenge to Captain approved, “Alrighte toss’n’ me round’ like the cheapest Eorzean whore?! I wouldn't gone that far, that's comparable to wrestlin’ but I respect yer spirit! Aye… Y’know let me repay that n’ full.” Crackling each knuckle and popping his neck committed to spare, back and forth they’d beat the brakes off another, tossing the other around, punching each other until what should’ve been a common-hug shared became near physical brawls anytime they’d come across another until swelled bones, bruised aches and nearly breaking their bones on each contact putting iron sharpens iron into their bond that was forging. The Worldly Finder teetering slightly through ebbs and flow, piercing through smashing waves partaking off to the Far East where his Father awaited who could finally provide the answers to his Seeker in a Son. A new-waving flag ruffled through trifling breezes.

[Prev:Chapter]: Fog x Quest ~ ♪"The Curse"♪

#reader discretion advised #-Captain Kuro Solaire #FFXIV Writing #Tales of the Goldbrand #Nihlius Brood #Creative Writing #Scarlet Destiny: Volume 4 #Cerberus #Whyte #Zieton Luiard XII #Slafhota Guhtgeim #Scarlet Destiny #SCD4

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marleyybluu · 1 year

Note

You and rio bring too loud and the kids having an idea what y’all are doing

Thin Walls

Rio Martinez x black!fem!reader

WC: 2.5k

Warnings: 18+, smut, not so sneaky sex, oral f!receiving, cussing, p in v sex, creampie bcus i have a problem, use of 'daddy', use of y/n, shitty ending cus i ran out of things to say.

"Mmm, you always starting shit." Y/n groaned as her husband kissed down her neck, his warm arms wrapped around her waist as she washed the dishes. "Come on baby, just a little quick one."

Yn giggled as he nibbled on her earlobe, his sneaky hands running up her shirt. It had been a while since they had any alone time and if she was honest, it felt like she was constantly throbbing with every touch he gave her, even a simple wink made her want to jump him. How could she not? Rio was so fine, well-tatted, he treated her like the most precious diamond in the world and when he put it down on her he made sure she could barely speak after.

It's not like they didn't have the time for it, but there was always-

"Mommy!"

-little interruptions.

Rio kissed his teeth and chuckled getting off of her as tiny footsteps came closer to their environment. Their thirteen-year-old son Marcus and their nine-year-old son Marcello came with poked-out bottom lips. "Can we have a snack please?"

"Why don't you ever call for your father huh? Y'all only call him to play ball or video games." She was joking, if the boys needed her for anything they could always rely on her and they knew that but sometimes it'd be nice for them to holler for their father more often. "He doesn't make good snacks." Marcus scolded. Rio scoffed throwing a plastic cup that she just washed at him, she kissed her teeth and glared at her husband, sometimes it felt like she had three kids instead of two.

Rio searched the pantry for some goodies, he tossed a bag of Cheetos on the counter and told them to snack on those. They groaned but grabbed the bag and went back to their activities upstairs. "Easy peasy," His hands found their way back to her skin. "Now where were we?"

Yn ignored him, well tried at least, but her body's response was a dead giveaway. She inhaled sharply as his teeth playfully grazed across her shoulder blade, he squatted down behind her— he smirked lifting her little skirt that she may or may not have worn on purpose. She sighed when his teeth sunk into her cheeks, not hard enough to hurt but just enough to leave a faint outline. Yn leaned forward giving him further access to her pussy, he moaned at the prettiest sight in front of him.

His tongue danced between her glistening slit, she quietly gasped at the quick contact. "I'll fuck you right here if you want it." He teased. She didn't want to say it, every time she begged for him she sounded like a desperate little bitch. And maybe she was.

"Rio..." She whined pushing back, he spanked her. "I wanna hear it."

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Please fu-"

BOOM! A loud thud disrupted their moment and a faint argument started upstairs. Both parents let out a frustrated sound. "You've got to be fucking kidding me." Rio cursed. Yn snickered. "That sounds like a problem for Dad."

He put her skirt back down and pressed a quick kiss against her neck. "I'm not done with you mama, trust me."

Those words lingered in her atmosphere long after he'd left, she was wondering if it was too late to call someone to watch the boys so she could get some time with her husband but they had school tomorrow, what was one more day before the weekend?

The day felt like it was passing so slowly, the couple shot little looks at each other and small touches as they passed by. The boys did their homework, ate dinner, showered and were now downstairs playing video games until their bedtime. Rio found this to be the perfect opportunity to resume his actions from earlier. He double-checked to make sure they had their headphones on which they did. Rio snuck upstairs peeping through every room until he found his wife right where he wanted her.

Yn was minding her business with her towel wrapped around her tits, she was fresh out of the shower and going through her skincare routine. Rio slid inside the room gently closing the door and locking it. The tick of the lock made the hairs on her neck stand at attention. "Hey baby," He smiled walking over to her. "Hi..." She responded curiously watching him remove his shirt and toss it on the floor. "What are you doing?"

He shrugged loosening his belt, his hands coming into contact with her soft skin. "I can't just sneak up on my lady once in a while?" His warm arms held her waist as she applied her serum. "You can." She quirked an eyebrow, "You look suspicious, what'd you break?"

He sucked his teeth. "I'm trynna break you." She blushed pushing back against him. "The boys are downstairs," She reminded. Rio shook his head and pressed his lips to the column of her neck, and moved up until he got to the back of her ear, whispering. "You don't miss me?"

Her eyes fluttered as she felt her towel loosening, "I do." She mewled, "They're playing video games," He explained delivering another smooch, "Headphones are on," His sneaky nimble fingers danced against her thigh. "They won't hear shit."

Before she could respond his hands left her body, she whined yearning for them to return to their places. She watched through the mirror as Rio, who was now stripped to his boxers, made himself comfortable on the bed, she was fighting the urge all she could but it'd been so long. She turned to see his eyes glued to her, waiting for her to make her decision.

One round wouldn't hurt.

His eyes flashed with joy as the towel hit the floor, her pretty naked body presented in front of him, he licked his lips darting his eyes to the various tattoos that soaked into her coffee-coloured skin. He nodded for her to come over and she giggled skipping over to him. The bed dipped under her weight, she straddled him, his hands resting on her thighs. "I swear when them boys leave this weekend..."

Her hands lay flat beside his head as she came in closer, plump and glossy lips dangerously close to him. "What's gonna happen, baby?" She teased flicking her tongue against his pouty bottom lip. "I'll fuck you all over this house girl, stop playin' with me." She squealed after receiving a hard slap on her ass. Y/n leaned down pressing their lips together, tongue tangling in a sweet dance, she moaned as his hands travelled down the side of her thighs pulling her forward to sit right on top of the tent in his boxers.

Her clit twitched feeling the material brush against it. "Fuck, maybe we should wait." His lips moved down the column of her neck and down to her chest. "You sure?" He teased, the way she was not-so-subtly grinding against his erection, gave him a whole different answer. "No." She whimpered. Their bodies tussled as they switched positions, Rio sat back on his knees pulling down his boxers, her eyes glued to his hard dick, so pretty and begging to be sucked.

"Later," He said as though reading her mind. He left smooches down the valley of her heavy breasts, taking one in his mouth, his hand doing the rest of the work in finding itself between her legs. His middle finger slid between her lips, she flinched, just one touch could spark her whole body up. He ran it back up her slit, joining his ring finger into the mix-- the pads of his fingers slowly toyed with her sensitive bud. She let out a deep sigh, "Baby, please,"

"Let me have my fun, don't worry about it."

She groaned, she was impatient, and just because the boys had headphones on does not mean they couldn't just burst in. They were on a time crunch. He moved his mouth down to replace his fingers, his tongue now playing with her emotions, she bit her lip to suppress her moans but failed miserably once she felt those fingers return, stretching her out a bit. His fingers quickly became slick with her arousal, "Fuuuck," Her eyes closed as she just allowed the pleasure to encapsulate her body, her toes curled and nails scratching at his scalp. All she could manage was a consistent string of "Oh, yes." and "Fuck, fuck!" Him constantly reminding her about the boys as if that wasn't her main concern just a few seconds ago.

She clenched around him once and he removed his digits and whined when he placed a gentle kiss on her clit. He went back to sitting on his knees, his fingers gliding against the smoothness of her inner thighs. She used that opportunity to try and nudge his boxers below his waist, he caught wind of what she was doing and immediately jolted her legs back. "Hm, maybe we should wait." He taunted. She whimpered.

"Hold your legs." He instructed, her hands resting in the crook behind her knee holding them apart giving him a full display of her pussy, he groaned pulling down his last piece of material. He tapped his sticky tip against her clit before sliding down her slit and pushing inside her heat. An almost pornographic moan left her throat, her own hand covering up her mouth to muffle another sound. He pulled back and slowly re-entered her warmth, shivers running up his skin. He could never get tired of this feeling. How cozy she felt, so tight and snug around his dick-- sticky and wet just for him. Y/n's shaky hand pressed against his belly button to hold him back from giving her too much.

Rio smirked shaking his head. She was lucky he wanted to make this quick otherwise he'd pin her down. A string of whimpers was all he could hear, "Yes," Her head fell back, the pleasure creeping up her skin. He leaned down resting his head in the curve of her neck and shoulder, lips finding their way to her hot skin. The dip at the base of her throat glistened with sweat. "Ohhh, Christopher."

"You feel good baby?"

She gripped his bicep. "So good, so fucking good."

Her eyes rolled back, her nails scratching his skin leaving numerous red trails. His name flowed like a river out of her mouth, her back arched pressing their chests together, and her walls convulsed around him. His hands went under her back and she wrapped her arms around her neck while he showered her in more affection. She was receiving an overwhelming sense of pleasure that she didn't want to stop, his tip was ramming into her soft spot she was dripping down his dick, her juices even running down his balls. Tears brimmed her lower lashes, she was getting close. "Baby, fuck, I'm gonna cum."

"Cum on this dick, don't hold out on me." He growled.

Y/n felt her eyes cross and her mouth open but no words left only her panting which in itself was enough to send Rio over. His thrusts becoming sloppier she knew he was just as close as she was. "Y/n, oooh I'm cummin' baby." His voice was raspy, and his body heat increased. "Nut in me, please."

Her toes curled as she leaked onto him, her walls quickly tightening around him and her body falling almost limp. She gasped feeling his cream ooze inside of her and quietly giggled at their mess.

Of course, he'd get her messy after she just came out of the shower. He leaned down giving her a quick kiss before pulling out. Y/n slowly sat up and looked over at him. "I just got clean you know."

He shrugged and chuckled at the fake irritation in her eyes. Her naked body slipped out of bed and wandered to their shared bathroom, she reached her hand out for him. He did not hesitate to chase her inside the shower.

The next morning was off to a late start, Y/n rushed downstairs searching for something to make for the boys' lunch which she usually did the night before but obviously got distracted and forgot to do it. She ran her hands over her face in frustration as she instead searched for her purse so she could at least give them money for lunch.

"Good... morning." Marcus greeted side-eyeing his mother as he walked around the other side of the kitchen island. "Morning, sweetheart, how'd you sleep?" She was still a bit flushed about last night's events. "I don't know."

She scrunched up her face. "You don't know. Okay. Well, what do you want for break-"

"We had breakfast already, I'm just waiting for Celly so that we can go." He answered quickly continuing to avoid eye contact with her. Her eyebrows squeezed together leaving a small dimple in her forehead that she often got when she was confused. "You're not going to say bye to your dad?"

He snickered and shook his head. "Okay, Marcus Emilio Martinez, what is going on this morning? Why won't you look at me? And what was so funny about what I just said?"

Marcus exhaled dramatically and finally looked over at his mom but cringed when he did so. "Don't you mean to call him, Daddy?"

Y/n clutched her imaginary pearls, fuck sake-- they heard them. She buried her head in her hands, her shoulders bounced as she awkwardly laughed about what was being discussed so early in the day. "Marcus..."

"Marcello doesn't know anything, he fell asleep in the middle of the game, I carried him upstairs and heard... some things."

"Fuck..." She mumbled. "Heard that a lot too."

Y/n was utterly embarrassed, she just scarred her kid for the rest of his life. She beat herself up for falling into that trap, she tried her best to be quiet. "Marcus, I am so sorry-"

"I don't want to talk about it, I'll take Marcello and we'll catch the bus today."

On cue, her youngest walked in. "Morning Mommy,"

"Morning, honey. Sorry, I didn't make it down on time for breakfast."

"It's okay," He shrugged flashing his almost toothless smile. Oh the innocence of that boy, naive to all that had transpired between last night and this morning. Marcus checked his watch and urged his little sibling to grab his bag. She bent down pressing a kiss to his head, it was Marcus' turn but he inched back a bit. "I'll give it twenty-four hours." He laughed, and he hugged her as a replacement.

She handed him a bit of cash, enough for himself and his brother and he headed out the door. Y/n sighed, she turned around to see Rio finally entering the kitchen. "Mornin', pretty girl."

She crossed her arms poking her tongue against the inside of her cheek. "What?"

She grabbed a nearby towel and chucked it at him. "Marcus heard us last night, I told you we should've waited until this weekend."

Rio found it amusing really, he laughed and shook his head. "This was a team effort mama, you didn't want to wait either."

"Don't pin it on me too." She pouted, he snuck up behind her encasing her in his arms his lips returning to her neck as if they weren't on her all night. "Well, I mean... they're not home now."

She gently elbowed him in the stomach. "Become familiar with your right hand."

"Come on, really?"

"Yep."

If you liked this fic feel free to like this fic.

Comments and reblogs are appreciated.

I still have no idea what Rio's last name is (If he even has one in the show I dont remember) so I'm just gonna use Martinez from now on.... I think it suits him. Peace and love

tags: @skyesthebomb @rio-reid-whoreee

(also tagging who I think would be interested): @darqchilddaydreamz

#rio x black!reader #rio #goodgirls #rio fanfic #marleysfanfictions #marleywrites #good girls rio #rio good girls #viewer discretion is advised #rio x reader #smut #rio smut

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dark-andtwisted-raven · 9 months

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* Attention *

For those of you that like Smut, Psycho Killers and Story time, read below!

This is my first time writing any Smut like stories, so feel free to leave comments on how to do better, or give me new ideas.

Doom-Head x Reader (Y/N)

This story is written from the perspective of the reader, who has been taken to MurderWorld (31).

* This includes sexual scenes, sadistic killing in horror movie style and blood and gore. Reader discretion *

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Today is October 31st 2023. The last thing I could remember was waking up to a phone call from my best friend talking about dressing up for Halloween and going to some slutty party, getting drunk and finally doing something for the holiday. Me and Hayley got dressed in skimpy nurse outfits covered in blood with fake knives, getting tipsy from the few shots of tequila we had whilst heading to a random party we found online.

I started thinking to myself 'how did I end up here, how did it turn out like this' as I was hanging from chains in the middle of a church style building with blood dripping from my body. I felt so numb and disorientated, not being able to work out whether the blood was mine.

As I felt myself coming around, I heard chains to my right shaking and I looked around to see Hayley struggling. I could see the cuts on her face and chest. She started screaming as she looked up to see a strange figure on a balcony above looking down on all of us. I couldn't recognise anyone else who was captured, but I counted five of us.

The figure above lit up as a spotlight shone over him, where he began to explain where we were and why we were here. 'The game is called 31. Each of you will go through a maze throughout 12 hours, but this is a survival game afterall, so you'll be meeting The Heads along the way. There won't be any mercy if either of them finds you'.

That's when we met Sick-Head, who tortured us mentally before undoing the chains and letting us run. 'What sort of fucking game is this?!' I thought to myself as I ran to find somewhere to barricade myself. I could hear Hayley screaming in the distance as she ran a different way, and all I could think was how the fuck was I going to get out of here alive. More to the fact, where the fuck is 'here'?

I ran down a long dark corridor with flickering lights before realisation came upon me about what was going on, and that I was going to die. I leant up against a door and my eyes became blurry as I started crying, wondering how long I had, and when I was going to be killed.

'Snap out of it (Y/N), you will find a way out of here. Or you'll die trying'. I thought to myself, before the door behind me collapsed and I fell to the ground. Slowly I sat up to find a large piece of wood with nails in, probably from the doorframe, leant slightly up against the wall nearby. I looked around to realise I had fallen into some toilets, and saw one cubicle with a door that looked stable enough, so I grabbed the plank of wood and hid inside.

'Ahahahah' I could hear down the hallway. That little bastard Sick-Head was on his way, and I knew deep down I wasn't prepared. I could hear one of the males I saw chained up shouting at him, telling him to open up a gate, as I heard a knife or an axe scrape against the wall past the toilets. It wasn't long before Sick-Head had crept into the toilets and was tormenting me with his laugh and stupidity, calling my number out in spanish. I could hear his footsteps walk around outside the cubicle door, before he pushed it open with force and tried to attack me.

Adrenaline came over me and I fought for my life, and before long Sick-Head was down on the ground. His head was caved in from the wooden plank, as it stuck out of his forehead and nails dug deep into his skin. Was it wrong of me to suddenly feel turned on by the horrors around me? Was it wrong to feel excitement from killing him?

Those questions didn't last long after an announcement came through the speakers giving out the odds for each 'player'. One down, god knows how many more left, I thought to myself. After a few more hours of 'playing', we had only just over 4 hours left, and I had no idea who was still alive, or what came next.

Walking further down what seemed an empty corridor, I came to a large metal door with a small window in, but as I stepped closer I could see a figure of a man with his hair slicked back and white paint covering his face. He had blood dripping from his lips as he smiled eerily towards me before he turned away. 'Doom-Head'. The words slipped from my lips as a whisper, remembering some drawings I had seen on the walls of all the different 'Heads'. I didn't know anything that was going on, or what was going to happen, but I knew he was the one to be the most scared of.

There it was again. 'Is it wrong to be turned on by this? Is it wrong to feel something when I saw him look me deep in the eyes from the window'? What the fuck is wrong with me, I kept thinking to myself.

I found myself in a large room with metal bars as barriers, and multiple giant containers scattered around. I started wondering if I just needed to survive the timer, and what would happen to me if I did.

Two more hours went by in complete silence, sat inside of a locked container. That feeling came back, and the darkness in me settled down. I could feel myself wondering that if I was to die, why sit here in fear waiting for it to end. My hands wandered down my body and underneath my dress, as I tried to think about being somewhere else. Thoughts of the party and being drunk raced through my mind, as I was dancing with some guys and feeling a rush of ecstacy. But then floods of thoughts of having Doom-Head stood infront of me with his knife to my throat made me whisper his name. Ofcourse, I didn't know his real name, but 'Doom' was enough to make me feel the pleasure I was looking for.

And at that moment, I heard a knife scrape up against the wall of the container, as I covered my mouth to silence my heavy breathing. This was it, the end. The container door slid open and he stood there in a dull light, but I could see his smile through the makeup and blood, as he gazed upon me, my skirt lifted up showing me in all vulnerability. I waited as I stared at him, wondering when he was going to attack. But he didn't. Not the way I expected.

'Tut tut tut' he muttered as he slowly walked towards me, lowering his knives and sliding them into the back of his waistband. 'It's a shame (Y/N), I enjoyed the way you fought for your life. I wanted to watch you scream beneath me before plunging myself inside you'. And there it was again, that damn feeling rushing to my head. 'Plunging himself inside me.' My thoughts were definitely different to his.

And after I blinked, there he was. Stood right infront of me, grinning showing all of his teeth and the blood dripping from his lips. 'What's the matter, little girl?' He asked. I could feel my legs shake and my lips tremble as I couldn't bring myself to speak any words to him. 'A little shy are we?' He asked as he took his gaze down my body to see my dress lifted up to my chest, showing my skin underneath. I didn't know where to look. His eyes? No. His hands incase he grabbed his knife. No. I looked up to find him biting his lip as he mentally undressed me completely. 'Do you want me to beg?' I whispered in fear. 'Do you get pleasure watching the vulnerable kneel before you?' I knew how I meant it, but did he?

His eyes looked back into mine as he smiled and took out his knives from behind him and placed them against my throat. 'Oh, you'll beg for me.' He slowly lowered my body down to the ground guided by the sharp blades and lifted them up to force my chin, making me look up at him. 'Is this how you want me?' I shamefully asked, not knowing if he was about to slit my throat for his own pleasure.

Before long, Doom-Head knelt down to grab the bottom of my dress and ripped it off. 'Another shame' he said. 'I quite like a woman in roleplay', hinting at my nurse outfit. I found myself smiling as he did, hoping deep down he wasn't going to kill me just yet. He ran his blades up my legs before getting to my thighs and shouting at me. 'Stand up!' I shot up before he dropped a knife from his right hand so he could place his hand around my neck, continuing to slide the other blade between my legs. 'Is this what turns you on?' He asked. 'Your wet self is cleaning my knives for me'. I could feel the blood from them wiping up against me as he slide the knife against my body, as he continued to smile his evil smile.

Thoughts raced through my mind. How far was this going to go? When would he stop playing and tormenting me?

Another announcement came through the speakers. '31 minutes left, let's have a good time.'

'That's enough time for a whole lotta fun, don't you think?' Doom-Head whispered as he looked into my eyes and smiled once more. 'I guess so' I muttered with fear. He gripped around my neck tighter and tighter before he shouted 'fuck!' and pushed me up against the wall of the container. He looked at me with anger and rage in his eyes, but he still didn't seem to want to end it just yet. He was enjoying this game as much as I was.

Doom-Head grabbed my hair and dragged me to turn me around, facing the container wall. His knife softly scraped down my spine before I heard it drop to the floor joining the other one. I turned my head to see him taking off his suit jacket and tie before he shouted again. 'Turn your fucking head back around'. I heard the buttons on his suit trousers and felt his hand grab my waist as he lowered them to his ankles, before digging his fingers into my skin on my lower back as he grabbed me and pushed himself inside me. He didn't start slow and soft. He just rammed himself inside me hard and fast, gripping tighter and tighter.

I lost track of time as the pleasure overcame me, feeling him deep inside me and hearing him breathe in a heavy pace, feeling every part of him ruin me.

The buzzer sounded and the announcer stated 'Weapons down, weapons down. This is the end of 31'. 'FUCK!' Doom-Head shouted again as he was about to finish. 'You fucking whore' he said as he pushed me away from him when he was done. I fell to the ground, hitting my head on the floor.

I finally came back around finding him kneeling down infront of me, leaning over with his hand on my cheek. 'You cost me money, little one'. I looked into his eyes as he smiled and the sound of his knife flicked. He could see the fear in my eyes as I looked him deep into his, begging for my life. I looked down to see the other knife still on the ground next to him. 'The game is over, but I have to get out alive' I thought to myself. I thrusted my body forward to grab the knife but Doom-Head knew my next moves and grabbed it before I did. 'That's not how you play fair' he said to me with a softer sounding voice. 'And I demanded double pay this year.'

'You'll have to make it up to me then, won't you' he stated, as he grabbed me by the hair and lifted me up to my feet. 'And you'll do as you are told for being spared.' He smiled at me again before he ran his knife over my lips and told me I had to join 31 with him, so he could watch me kill others and do this all over again with him.

Ofcourse, I agreed.

#rob zombie #horror #smut #stories #doomhead #rob zombie 31 #michael myers #otis driftwood #art the clown #reader discretion advised

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multifandoms27-blog · 9 months

Text

Content: Eyeless Jack HC's

Warnings: Obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, toxic relationship, emotional manipulation, he chains you to the bed without permission but asks permission for everything else, cannibalism. Viewer discretion is advised. Minors stay away.

Notes: Inspired by my Toby list, and the song I LOVE YOU HOE (w/ 9lives) by Odetari.

• ───────────────── •

(Art by Kageniec on DeviantArt)

❥General

First lets nail down his personality, it'll make this easier for all of us.

Jack is normally portrayed as a quiet and reserved guy, normally sticking to the shadows and observing.

It's hard to befriend him, he doesn't normally associate with anybody regularly, he's just kind of...around. He'll patch up other creeps and join in on movie nights, but he'll likely not say anything. You'll also never catch him without his mask.

If you see black splotches on the floor, that's Jack.

He does have a mating season, but I think nobody really knows about it. If he's not in his lab, then he's locked away in his room.

He's very territorial about his things. If you take something of his, he will track you down and get it back.

He's a big gloomy demon that wants nothing to do with the world (other than harvesting organs).

• ───────────────── •

❥Romantic

First things first, this will not be a healthy or normal relationship by any means. With that in mind, continue on lovelies (TW's are posted in the warnings above).

Jack is normally pretty good at finding out when new people enter the mansion. He doesn't like, sense them or anything, but he's just very observant.

He's also pretty introverted and quiet, so he's not really gonna say anything to you or come up to you first, you're gonna have to do that.

I feel like he's the kind of person that would have to even consider someone to be friends for a while before even thinking about romance. You don't have to be a demon, you could honestly be anything.

If you manage to befriend him, he'll act like a cat. He'll find some obscure thing he thinks you'll like and either leave it at your bedroom door, or quickly slip it to you before walking away. He might not talk to you so much, but that's okay. He's like that with everybody.

I think you'd only be able to romance him through cheesy pickup lines. At first he despises them and thinks you're messing with him. But then he grows to like them.

Eventually he becomes so attached to it that it becomes his favorite part of the day. He'll come seek you out bump into you in the day so he can talk to you and maybe pry out a pickup line or two from you.

He becomes so into it that he might actively become territorial over you, and try to limit your interactions, which would limit the chances of you giving others pickup lines.

This would be around the time he mght try to romance you himself. Aside from staring (?) at you longingly from across the room, he would attempt to court you by bringing you flowers. No one knows where he got them from. He'd compliment you and go so far as to run his hand through your hair or place his arm around your shoulders if you'd let him.

He'd eventually grow impatient with trying to hint at you, and would straight up tell you he likes you.

As he warms up to you, he'll be a little more chatty, and would drag you into the shadows with him

He's territorial, and only feels safe with you talking to the other creeps when he's standing next to you. If he's not next to you, don't think about it. It can be a little isolating if he's not with you in the mansion.

Would try to make you move into his room once the relationship has gone on for a while. When you do move in, he installs cameras so he can see you when he's away on his harvest missions.

Might instill a curfew for you to be in the room, and always knows if you don't make that curfew.

If you two have a fight about his possessive and obsessive behavior, his excuse is that he's lost everyone else since his transformation, and he's scared of losing you. This is true, but he also saying it so you don't break up with him. It works, and you comfort him.

I don't think he'd show you his face until he hits his first mating season with you. Before it happens, his behavior would be dialed up to 11, and you'd have fights about it. During those fights is when he'd tell you about his upcoming mating season.

It's a heat cycle for him that lasts a few months every year (spring), and he lays down the law for you. You're his mate, so he's going to be protective over other competition and want you to listen to him 24/7. When the season starts, he'll want you 24/7.

With your permission, he'd mate you. During sex, if you'd asked him to take off his mask, he would do so. He'll kiss you to claim you, then move to your neck to begin biting and sucking hickies into your neck.

His mating season really amps him up, and so he'll eventually tie you to the bed. Whether that be by rope, cuffs, twine, anything really, he doesn't care. He'll chain you there until his cycle is over so no other creep can take you.

He still makes sure the sex is consensual, and if you tell him no he will back off. It's hard for him, but he'll step into his bathroom to take care of himself.

When he lets you go, you'll get into a fight about what he did. His excuse is, again, losing you and his mating cycle heightening everything. It works again, and you stay with him despite it.

He'll get into the habit of taking off his mask when it's just you two in his room. That way, he knows nobody will barge in.

He likes to cuddle too, but this man is fucking cold. He likes curling up in your side, because you're just so warm...

He likes putting his head on your chest to hear your heartbeat when you cuddle too. Part of it is his cannibalistic desire to consume you so nobody really can take you away, but part of it is a reminder that you're still alive, something he doesn't plan on changing soon.

Jack is a cannibal, and you need to remember that and keep track of his food stores, especially around his mating season. Otherwise, he might just get hungry and begin to devour you alive and not realize it until he's done.

• ───────────────── •

Here is my Masterlist in case you want to request, or look for more of your favorite character!

#eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack x y/n #creepypasta ej #creepypasta mansion #tw obsessive behavior #tw possessive behavior #viewer discretion is advised #18+ only #I tried to keep it as light but realistic as possible

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shayyprasad · 5 months

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waiting | peter parker

summary: you're trying to be paitent with him, the war with thanos can't possibly have been easy to deal with, much less the trauma. you've given peter all you have, but it's gotten too much.

angst? mentions of past ed, mentions of purging, mentions of sex (like one), cursing a bit, mean petey, panic attck kinda

after the war with thanos, peter had grown distant. and you didn't blame him, you figured that he was giving himself a break, he was taking time to heal. and you understood that, peter was grieving.

you always tried to be there for him, but he made it hard sometimes.

never did you hold it against him.

peter had lost his mentor, his teammates, and beyond that- his family. you didn't expect him to move on, it was a lot at once, even more so with the blip. he was still adjusting (you were too, but this was different).

he spent nights on the couch, outside who-knows-where, and sometimes... sometimes he would drink. you took note of the fact he tried not to do it around you.

but some nights he would come home late, stenched in the strong odor of beer and sweat. peter would be drunk and snappy, and yes, at times it scared you.

not that you'd ever tell peter that.

but his "grieving" grew unhealthy, and who were you to let that slide? he wouldn't eat or drink properly, god knows about his hygene, and he wasn't getting enough sleep. so you made him cooperate, which did result in many arguements, but it did work for the most part. but your relationship, you felt, wouldn't ever be the same.

date nights? what were those?

kissing? nope.

sex? no. never. (not that it was a big deal for you, you could care less about that.)

no hand-holding.

and no cuddles. cuddles. none of those.

peter snapped at you often. he struggled to contain his temper, and easily grew annoyed. it was like even the smallest remark could lead to something big.

"peter, you have to eat. you didn't have breakfast."

"you didn't either."

"that's different. i haven't been skipping my meals."

"why? you've been throwing up instead?"

he watched as your face twisted into disbelief and pain. but you pushed it away, dead-set on getting peter to eat.

"this isn't healthy, love."

"neither is you getting on the scale a hundred times a day."

you had been checking your weight more frequently again, part of the reason being the fact that you were scared peter didn't love you anymore because you were getting fat. but it wasn't unhealthy.

you recognized the problem. you told your therapist, stopping it from becoming something bad.

but peter wouldn't know that. he wouldn't know anything.

"please don't go there," you whispered quietly, "i just want you to be happy, okay? and healthy." that must've been where he felt like the conversation had ended, so he left. you didn't know what to do anymore. so you cried. because that felt like the only thing you could do right.

(first person)

"i just don't know what to do-"

"you know you have, like, an actual therapist for this, right?" mj asked, raising an eyebrow.

"well, yeah, but she doesn't know peter like you do."

she sighed, locking eyes with me, "y/n, peter's being a dick, and i don't know when he'll see that you aren't somebody for him to take his anger out onto. you shouldn't be taken for granted."

"mj, it's not like that. he's just-"

"what? grieving? is that what you've been telling yourself? babes, this isn't even that anymore. it's unhealthy. not just for him, but for you. yeah, he lost people. i did, too. my mom died, y/n, she died. and i wasn't in that hospital with her while she was on her deathbed. why? because of the fucking blip. but i've moved on. everyone has, because where will moping around like an alcohol addict get you?

"know what? i'll answer that for you. nowhere. it'll get you nowhere. i get it, you want to be there for him-"

"no! you don't get it! i love him! i-i need... i need to be there for him," my sentence broke into quiet sobs, and mj pulled my close to her, rubbing my back.

"i know, i know," she cooed. soon enough, my crying ceased, and i pulled away with red eyes.

"what do i do, then? just leave him? he doesn't have anyone."

"talk to him. maybe he'll change."

"and if he doesn't?"

mj gave me a look, because i already knew the answer. yes, in a way she was right. it was an unhealthy, toxic relationship. peter was pulling me down, and he was breaking off a piece of my heart every passing day.

thinking about not being with him, left me with a dull ache, but at the same time, it was a crushing sensation, one that broke me down completely. i couldn't imagine a life without him.

he was my life. he... is my life? was it too late to be speaking in the present tense?

maybe mj was right. maybe i needed to talk to him.

but i was scared. i was really, really scared. what if...? what if it ended horribly? and i never saw him again?

what if i left him, and no one was there for peter... and he'd- he'd die? because he wasn't sleeping right? or eating enough? or staying hydrated?

what if he needed someone to help patch him up? but no one was there? would he simply bleed out?

my heart sped faster at the thought, and my breath came out ragged.

"woah, hey, breathe."

i pushed away any and all thoughts of him, focusing on inhaling and exhaling, trying to get my heartbeat to normal.

(peter's pov)

"peter!" y/n chirped, a grin on her face. i sighed, already feeling a migraine come on. i didn't want to talk. i wanted to sleep, or... i don't know. just not talk.

"you know that book i've been reading? it's really good, by the way, i think you'd really like it. there's this boy who reminds me of you," she wiggled her eyebrows, "he's like, super scared of spiders. which is ironic."

i tried to tune her out, but her voice was loud. really loud. my head was blaring, and i kind of wanted to puke.

stop talking. please.

"-coming here! they've got a convention and everything? can you believe it? and, get this, i got us both freaking tickets! we can, like, have a date or something. it's from 2:00-6:00, so we can get food at this fancy new diner that just opened up-"

has y/n always been this annoying? there's no way. if i'd known before, i doubt i would've started this.

i gritted my teeth, ready to pull all of my hair out. how much would it take for her to fuck off?

"oh my god," i muttered, completely done and exasperated. "do you ever consider carrying around a plant for all the oxygen you waste everyday?"

i watched her smile drop instantly, satisfied. for once, it felt good to hurt someone. i was so goddamn tired of always helping everyone. this was barely a tenth of how i felt. she blinked rapidly, and i went back to the web shooter.

damn thing just wouldn't-

"can we talk?" i inhaled sharply.

"what, y/n? what? what could you possibly have to say that you haven't already said yet?"

"i-i, um, i-"

"is that all you know how to say?"

"no, i'm sorry. no, wait, no i'm not. you're the one being a dick. which is precisely why i wanted to talk."

"jeez. what do you want me to say?"

"you don't have to say anything. not yet. can you- can you just listen?"

i didn't answer, going back to tinkering. if this would make her feel better, then whatever.

"i just... i feel like we aren't the same. you aren't, at least. and maybe i've changed too, i don't know. i can't really dicate that for myself, that wouldn't be fair," she laughed, and i could practically feel her nervousness. y/n's heartbeat was loud, too, so loud that it felt like it was banging the in the back of my head. i could smell the sweat on her hands, too.

what did she possibly have to say that was freaking her out like this?

"i love you, peter. i haven't stopped."

"...okay?"

"i'm trying to say that i want things to go back to normal. i don't know if that's even possible, but i know we can try. because i'm willing to make things work, and give you another chance."

i spun around, narrowing my eyes at her. ""i'm sorry, 'another chance'?"

"um... yeah?" y/n said, and i could tell she was getting less confident.

"why the absolute, and i cannot stress this enough, the fuck would i need another chance?"

"do you hear yourself? the way you're speaking to me? how- how did we go from that... to this? my gosh, you used to be the sweetest boy ever. you apologized for things that weren't even your fault, and you said 'thank you' for things you didn't need to say to. what happened to that?"

"spider-man happened. and why are you making me sound like the bad guy? i save lives because i can, out of my free will."

"i miss you," she whispered. "i miss my peter. this isn't- you aren't-"

"aren't what? go on. because i-"

"shut up. shut the fuck up and let me talk. for once in your life, listen," i snapped my mouth shut, waiting, and shocked.

"a memory. a faded picture. a failed potential. because that's all we are now, right? why fight for something i know will go nowhere? why fight for someone who can't fight for me back? you know what i've realized?

"i've realized there is so much more to the world than this, than you. i realized how much love i could give to the world and how stupid i was for only giving that love to you when you didn't even deserve it.

"this is what i feared the most. this moment right here. the transition between having something and having nothing but regret. and it's happening right now, right in front of my eyes, and there's nothing i can even do about it.

but, peter, this is for me. this is so i can grow and let go. because now i know that you won't change. if this is the way that it's going to go now, i want no part of it."

she was crying now, and i scoffed. "what the hell are you even saying? what do you mean?"

"what i mean is, i'm going to stop watering a dead flower, expecting it to grow again. it's over. this is over."

i didn't know what to say, so i gaped at her. what did she mean "over"? y/n wasn't going to just leave, i knew she didn't have that in her.

"so that's it? because once i get out of that door, what we once had will perish. i'm afraid i'm not ready for that yet. maybe i never will be."

"fine, then. leave. you'll be back anyways," i shrugged, and she sighed, shaking her head.

so i let her. i let her leave.

and then i waited for her to come back.

i waited a long time.

i still am.

that's when i realized how she felt.

she'd been waiting, too.

the only difference was that we'd switched roles.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #peter parker #spiderman #peter parker x you #angst #peter parker x reader #reader discretion advised

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