#I’m tired of crying but I’m also scared for the day where it doesn’t hurt as much and I can think about him and not cry

[thecaroliner]

I’m now finding myself furious at the vet. it took nearly 2 years for him to get diagnosed with a low thyroid. all they did was treat the symptoms (btw the treatments were BARELY working) and let him just waste away. it wasn’t until January this year when a vet who was only at the office for that week saw him and got him a diagnosis. and then he was thriving.

come to find out this past week that low thyroid can cause pancreatitis! which the vet didn’t bother to treat! just barely treated the symptoms except pancreatitis is serious and needs to be treated ASAP.

my dog was - mostly - fine a week ago. and now he’s gone. and I know that all these “what if” scenarios do no good. maybe treatment wouldn’t have helped, but none of them even bothered to really try

needless to say as soon as JJ’s contract with this vet is up I’m taking her somewhere else.

[borathae]

Grief is a funny thing

"Grief is a funny thing. You think that you got over it until you are sitting on a random bench, on a random Monday night and it comes back to remind you that it will always be part of you."

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: Angst, married life!AU, Hurt & Comfort

Warnings: OC graduated yaay!!, but it brings up old memories for her and she is in a state of guilt & grief, talk about loss of family and grief that won't leave, tears, but Jungkook is there for her and he is such a comfort, i love him a lot

Wordcount: 2.1k

a/n: sometimes i have the desire to write something angsty for the aaol!couple. listennn, i reread some of the main chapters again and i wanted to write something about OC's grief over her brother and how Kook handles her grief episodes. soo that's why this was created <3

You graduated. You actually did it. You are officially a person with a masters degree. You are something. The degree is at home where you left it. On the living room coffee table next to an empty glass of water. 

You can’t look at it.  

Nobody would get you if you told them that you don’t want to look at it, because it’s insane. You are aware of it. For years, all you dreamt of was being something one day. And then it happened and you were able to pursue your dream education and to graduate. You literally fulfilled your biggest dream, it should make you happy and it does, but it also doesn’t. Deep down in your heart you know the reason for it, but you aren’t ready to admit it to yourself yet. It would make you cry. You hate crying for negative reasons.

Your phone rings. This is the third time it does and you know that you can’t ignore whoever is calling you any longer. 

Your heart stings when you check their ID. 

Your Jungkookie is calling. You pick up, feeling guilty as you do. 

“Yes?”

“Oh my god, finally. Thank god. Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you for what feels like hours. Are you okay?” Jungkook sounds distressed on the other side of the line. Understandably. It is currently one in the morning and you left without warning. 

“I’m okay, just went for a walk.”

“At one in the morning?” he sounds confused. Understandably so. You are normally sleeping at this time of day. 

“Yeah, well. Yeah, I guess.”

“It’s pouring buckets right now.”

“I guess it is.”

Silence on his side where he clearly tries to process what you are saying. 

“Where are you? I’m coming to pick you up”, he says in the end.

“Paradis. The bench in front of it.”

Another silence. Understandably. You never went back there again after quitting your job.

“Just…just stay there. I’ll be quick”, Jungkook tries to sound neutral, but the anxiety is clear in his voice.

“Yeah, okay.”

“I adore you.”

“I adore you too.”

The call ends. You shove the phone back into your jacket pocket and continue to stare at the sign while the rain pours down on you. Jungkook doesn’t need to worry. You weren’t planning on leaving this bench for quite a while. All of this studying about how to help people and you feel helpless. It almost paralyzes you and makes time pass in a blur.

Jungkook runs to get to you, getting wet even under the umbrella as the water slaps against him. He calls out your name. You turn your head slowly, looking at him with tired, empty eyes. 

“Oh my god, my love. You scared me so much. Why would you leave without saying anything?” he says, falling around your neck to hug you against him. 

Your body falls into him. He is warm and his hug is tight. He cradles the back of your head, twisting parts of your jacket with his other hand. 

“You made me worry like crazy. Please don’t ever do this again”, he says between little kisses all over your face and head.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Apology accepted, my love. Just tell me what’s wrong, please.” 

Now that he is with you and you are in his arms, the state of you is so clear to you. 

“I’m really cold.” 

“No wonder. It’s fucking November and you’re sitting here getting drenched.” He says, trying to warm you by rubbing your back. “Come on, let’s go home.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

You let him help you to your feet. You hook arms with him, hugging his arm with both hands. You even go as far as to rest your head against it. Jungkook holds the umbrella even though you and he are already soaked to the bones. 

“You’re worrying me, my love. What’s the matter?” he asks.

You and he walk back to his car at a slow pace.

“I don’t know”, you say.

“Why did you come here? Out of all the places?”

“I don’t know. I was at my old place too. It’s a storehouse for the restaurant these days.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t really get why you’re here and what you’re doing. I’m sorry.” 

“I can’t look at it.”

“Look at what?”

“My masters.”

Silence. You can watch him as he processes what you said. You can also see how he is trying so hard to be supportive.

“Please don’t take it the wrong way, but why? I’m not judging, just having a hard time understanding this correctly.”

You cuddle closer. He always knows exactly what to say. It feels reassuring when he is honest. He might not understand, but he wants to. This is what unconditional love feels like. 

“Whenever I look at it, I feel sick. I fulfilled my biggest dream and I’m happy, but I also feel lost.”

“I see. Now I understand. It’s scary knowing that something as big as college is over, but didn’t you play with the idea of doing your PhDs too?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“See? It’s not over yet if you want to. You have all the choices in the world. You can open your praxis or pursue your doctor’s degree. You have all the possibilities in the world. I’ll support you in any of them.” 

“I guess.”

“Unless that’s what you’re lost with. Do you struggle with deciding?”

“I struggle with accepting the reality that I am something.”

“No, my love”, he gasps.

“I feel unworthy of it. I had this life”, you say, gesturing at the general direction of Paradis. “And now I have a Masters in psychology with chances of becoming a fucking doctor. It’s insane. I shouldn’t have this.”

“Yes, you should”, Jungkook insists loudly, furrowing his brows, “you worked so hard for it. I had to carry you to bed sometimes when you fell asleep by your desk because you were so exhausted from studying. Remember?” 

“Yeah.”

“See? You literally worked your ass off for it. You should have it, for fuck’s sake. You wanted it for years and I won’t let you feel like this now.” 

You and he stop in front of his car. He shakes you by your shoulders gently as if to shake you awake from your self-deprecating nightmare. 

“You’re intelligent, resourceful and hardworking, ambitious and resilient and you got your degree because of that. You are amazing and you worked hard for it. You deserve it.” 

You nod your head, but say nothing to it.

“Okay, my love?”

He looks at you. You look at your feet.

“Okay, my love?” he stresses, caressing your cheek gently.

“Jungkook, I miss my brother”, you confess what truly hurts so bad, instantly breaking into tears.

“Oh ___ my love, I’m sorry. Come here”, Jungkook gasps, wrapping his unoccupied arm around you.

You melt into his chest, sobbing into it while he holds you and comforts you. 

“He and I, we always fantasised about how it would be to become something. He always talked about sending me off to college one day. But he’s dead and he won’t ever see that I actually did it. He’s dead. Why is he fucking dead?”

“Oh my love. I’m sorry. Life is so unfair”, Jungkook gets out, crying with you.

“It hurts so bad. He was supposed to see me off to college and, and see me graduate.”

“He was. He really was”, Jungkook agrees, sobbing afterwards which gives you so much comfort. It feels so reassuring and comforting so cry with him. You don’t even mind crying for negative reasons when he is with you. 

“I feel so guilty. He was supposed to escape this life with me. We were supposed to get healthy and be happy.”

“You were, my love. But it’s not your fault. He wouldn’t want you to feel guilty for changing your life for the better.”

“I know, but it still hurts.”

You look up at Jungkook, spilling tears. He does as well, cradling your cheek.

“He was supposed to know you. He was supposed to walk me down the aisle and, and be happy for me because I fell in love with someone like you.”

Jungkook smiles, sniffling. 

“He was supposed to be there on my happiest days. Why did he have to die?”

“I don’t know and it’s so unfair.”

“It is. He, he was supposed to be there for me on those days. He was…” A sob interrupts you. Jungkook soothes it with gentle touches to your arms. “It hurts so much to know that he won’t ever see who I became. I will always stay this little, drug addicted orphan girl to him. It hurts so bad that I never became someone different to him.”

“No, my love no. I’m sure that his spirit is still somewhere out there and he watched you grow up and become who you are today, my love.”

“Do you really think that?” you ask, looking at him with child-like hopefulness in your eyes.

“I do. I’m sure he is currently looking down at you and he feels proud and happy.”

“I hope so”, you say and lower your head. Tears drip down from your cheeks. “Urgh god, I hate crying”, you get out, wiping at your own face aggressively.

“Hey no.” Jungkook stops you gently. “Don’t. You’ll hurt yourself.”

You look up at him while he holds your hands. He caresses your chin with the same hand, using his thumb for it.

“Let’s go home, okay?” he suggests in a soft voice. 

You nod your head.  

“Come on, I’ll drive.” 

You let him help you into the car. You stare outside as he drives off and you continue to stare outside as he drives through the city. It’s late and it's raining, which means that the streets are almost empty for a change. Jungkook doesn’t have the radio on. The purring of the car and the rain against the window are all the noises you hear. He has his hand on your thigh, giving you constant rubs of comfort. It’s warm and it’s nice.

You and he drove for a while when you break the silence.

“I’m sorry.”

He glances at you.

“For what?”

“For running off without warning. For being so ungrateful for my masters. For dumping all of my stuff on you.”

“I’m not even gonna play into this right now because there’s nothing for you to be sorry for”, Jungkook answers you with slight anger in his voice. He isn’t angry at you, but your self-deprecating use of words.

You hold his hand.

“I’m just so messy and you’re so good”, you confess. 

“You’re tired and you’re exhausted. Today was a very overwhelming day. Don’t believe your thoughts anymore, my love.”

You and he stop at a red light. 

“You love me, right?”

Jungkook instantly leans over to kiss you. First your lips, then your forehead.

“I love you so much”, he whispers, cradling your cheek and gazing deep into your eyes. “I love everything about you, even the messiest and darkest parts. I always have and always will.” 

You can’t bear to look into his eyes anymore, lowering your head shyly. The red light switches from red to green back to red again in the time you and he sit in the car and let his words sink in. The rain sounds calming as it hits the car. 

“What are you thinking right now?” he asks in a quiet, gentle voice. 

“A lot. Grief and guilt and, and… I guess, I’m thinking that I don’t feel overwhelmed anymore now that I talked about it with you.” 

“Yes? This makes me happy to hear. I’ll always be there for you. And I’ll always come and get you from wherever you run off to.” 

He makes you laugh. Jungkook laughs with you, kissing your forehead. The light switches to green. He takes this chance and drives off, holding your hand as he does.

“Jungkook, I wanna take a shower and then talk in bed”, you tell him.

“That sounds good. We’ll shower and then we’ll cuddle and you can tell me all about your brother.”

“But I already told you everything.”

“And? It won’t ever be boring to me.” 

“Oh.” 

A deep breath fills your lungs and as it leaves you again, you feel lighter. You rest your head against the window, looking at him. The rainy night city passes him, the changing lights paint the prettiest of artworks onto his face.

“You’re the best goddamn thing that ever happened to me.”

Jungkook squeezes your hand because that is all he can do right now in fear of looking away from traffic for too long.

“I can say the same about you, my love.”

[bamboobooshark]

REMY LEBEAU X LITTLE!READER

⊹ ࣪ ˖🂱 ⋆˚⟡ BROKEN RULES : 840 WRDS

<RATING: PG, FLUFF, CRYING, AGERE>

A/N : “Bamb can we please get content other than X-Men agere?!” Not yet!!!!!! Please!!!!! My only CGs are fictional!!!! And I’m also in the process of writing a Wolvie request, Rogue headcanons, and tons of other stuff… ANYWAY uhm this is based off of one of my CG!Remy headcanons, so I hope y’all enjoy :]

<SFW INTERACTIONS ONLY, MDNI/18+ ONLY BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED>

Remy has been watching you all day. From the moment you came running to him because you had a nightmare at almost three in the morning, making you breakfast, watching Saturday morning cartoons, coloring with you, listening to some music, and playing card games with you. He was so tired right now. He tries his best to keep himself awake while being slumped against the couch. His hand absentmindedly runs up and down your back. You’re snuggled against his side with the back of your head pressing his chest. You kick your feet a bit off of the couch. Everything is so peaceful right now: Remy’s touch, his soft humming, your favorite movie on the TV, the sound of your legs moving against the fabric of the couch. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Remy yawnes loudly, unable to contain his sleepy demeanor any longer. He moves his arm from your back to rest against your shoulder, his thumb reaching up and rubbing your cheek. “Gambit’s sorry, cher. I’m tired right now. I can barely keep my eyes open,” he mumbles while looking down at you with a tired gaze. It takes you a moment to process what he’s saying considering how focused you are. Once you get a second to take in what he said, you pout softly. You paw at his chest and give him a pitiful look while whining. He lets out a sad huff. Remy hates it when you’re sad. He doesn’t get angry; he just gets sad too. You’re his favorite little kid. He can’t let you be sad.

“Stay awake a little longer. Please, papa. I don’ want you to go to sleep,” you whine to him. Remy nods in understanding to your gentle pleading. “I know, mon chéri. But I can’ stand to be awake much longer,” he tells you. He displays an odd look on his face as he attempts to come up with a compromise. When he does, he kisses your forehead out of pure joy for thinking of such a good idea. “How ‘bout this? You an’ I go upstairs an’ cuddle. You can stay wit’ Gambit and he can stay wit’ you, cher,” he suggests with a sure smirk. Despite his confidence in his idea, you shake your head no. Remy bites the inside of his cheek nervously in response. He subconsciously holds his breath as worry begins to set in. He can’t let you go unsupervised or not be by his side. You and him have to be practically attached when you’re regressed. The last thing he wants is for you to end up lonely or anything worse. You go back to focusing on your movie, and Remy trusts himself; he could take a little power nap. Nothing too long, right?

 

He may have been a little far off. Next thing he knows, he’s waking up to a startling clanging and the sound of your feet quickly padding along the floor. He rubs his eyes and cards through his messy hair while looking around. The second he hears you crying, he goes into complete panic. “Oh! Mon chéri! Where are you? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” he asks out loud while getting onto his feet and trying to find you. You’re cowering in fear behind the couch, terrified that Remy is going to yell at you or punish you. However, when he finds you, he gives you the most genuine smile ever. He squats down and holds his hands out to you. “C’mon. Gambit ain’t mad. He is worried t’ough. He was scared you were hurt,” he explains to you while motioning for you to come into his arms. You nod your head and try your best to get to Remy your vision blurred by tears. “Dat’s it, mon chéri,” he praises as he pulls you to his chest. He wipes your tears and gently pets the back of your head with his warm hands.

“Now, care to tell Ol’ Remy what happened?” he asks sweetly. You nod your head against his chest slowly. You point over to the curtain rod that had fallen on the floor. Remy looks over with wide eyes and winces at the idea of every possibility of what could’ve happened. “I was walkin’ by the window and I slip on the curtain. I didn’ mean to make the metal thingy fall. I’m sorry, papa,” you explain, your voice quivering as you start crying again. “No, no, no. Dat ain’t no reason to be sorry. I promise. I don’t got any reason to be upset with you either. Long as mon chéri is safe,” he assures you, lifting up your hand to kiss the back of your palm. You giggle through your tears when he gives you the gentle kiss. Remy wipes another tear from your cheek and looks at you endearingly. “Dat’s it. Show Ol’ Remy dat adorable lil’ smile,” he coos. Out of impulse to do so, he pinches your cheeks softly, only resulting in more happy noises from you.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Bully (Homelander)

Description: Y/N Bullies Homelander and he gets fed up

Word Count: 2,481k

Author’s Note: I have another version of this that ends differently if you guys want it.

She walked into the seven’s headquarters where everyone is at for a meeting. Everyone was already there except Y/N who just now walked in. Homelander had an annoyed look on his face as she walked through the door and to her chair. She sat down and smiled at all the members besides Homelander. “You’re late.” He said. She looked over at him, annoyed. “Can it, Cape Boy.” She said. Maeve and Starlight tried not to laugh. Y/N bullied him constantly and it was so funny. What was odd was that Homelander never fought back really. He would just roll his eyes and go back to whatever he was doing. Before Y/N came along he was the big bad Homelander but now Y/N seemed to run things.

After the meeting was over they all got up to leave. Y/N walked by Homelander and bumped into his shoulder causing him to scoff. She turned towards him and raised an eyebrow. “Got a problem, Stars and Stripes?” She asked. “Yeah you bumped into me.” He said. She shrugged and turned away. “Go cry about it you mommy milk drinker.” She said. He was tired and sick of her bullying.

It was day after day that the team had to hold back their laughs as she said the meanest things to him. Nobody felt bad for him due to him being a dick all the time. “I am the Homelander and I really can do whatever the fuck I want.” He growled. She mocked him and laughed. “Shut the fuck up you pussy. You ain’t gonna do shit.” He was beet red after that. Embarrassed as he saw the team trying to not laugh. 

When Soldier Boy arrived it got worse. “You think you’re tough shit? Buddy you’re wearing a cape.” Soldier Boy said to him. “And Spandex too.” Y/N added. Ben looked at her amused. “You’re wasting your time with him. He’s nothing but a whining mommy milk drinking bitch.” She told him. Ben smirked at the woman. “I like this one.” He said and she smirked. Homelander didn’t know why but he got insanely jealous of that. “Your daddy doesn’t want you, go cry about it.” Homelander held back the tears in his eyes. It was humiliating. Y/N tore him to shreds with her words while Soldier Boy, His dad, laughed. He never got love or anything like that. Deep down that’s all he wanted but Y/N made sure he knew everyday that he didn’t have it and never will. 

Once he was alone he would cry. Her words felt like knives to him. He hated that she affected him like that. The one time she caught him crying she laughed at him. She cackled and cracked up as the man stared at her with tears streaming down his face. “Please you’re only upset because nobody’s ever stuck up to you before and you don’t like it. You don’t like that I'm not afraid of you and that you can’t control me like you can the others. Boo fucking hoo.” She said. She was right. He hated that she wasn’t scared of him or bowed down to him like most around him. But her words also hurt him because she made him feel like shit. She made him feel like he didn’t matter and that her words were right. 

He started coming into work not saying anything and not acting like a cocky son of a bitch. The team was confused by his silence but thankful nonetheless. He glared at the woman making his life a living hell as she walked through the door and into her seat. He stared at the table as she talked, not daring to look at her. Everyone saw the look in his eyes. She broke him. “Bitch boy stop zoning out I’m talking.” She said. He looked up at her with broken eyes. She chuckled. “Why the sad face?” She asked. “Why are you so mean to me?” He asked. The others decided to get up and leave not wanting to see this. They enjoyed seeing him not be a cocky son of a bitch but they admitted Y/N was harsh. “Aww does that make you sad? Are you gonna cry?” She mocked him with a frown. “I never did anything to you. Nothing and you make me feel worthless.” He said. “Good.” “But why? What have I done to you?” He asked. She scoffed at him. “Are you being serious right now?” She asked him.

“The big bad Homelander is actually upset by what I say?” She laughed a little. “You’re fucking evil.” She laughed at his response. “I’m evil? Have you met yourself?” She asked, standing up. “Homelander you seriously are a piece of shit. You have no emotions or care towards anything or anyone. You act like you can control the world just because you’re a strong man but in reality you’re a whiny little boy that never got love from mommy or daddy.” He had tears in his eyes at this point. He didn’t care that she would laugh anymore. “You’re a monster, Homelander. You deserve every word I serve you.” She said. He stood up. “No. I save people, I'm a hero.” He said not looking at her. “Oh my god no you are not. You made a girl kill herself, you talk down to regular people because you think you are above all but newsflash Homelander, you’re not.” She walked closer to him. “I may be the only person that tells you the truth in your life so get used to it.” She said and walked away leaving him in tears. 

From that day on he wasn’t himself. Not even to the world. This powerful tall ego he had was no more. He didn’t even want her gone, that’s the worst part. She gave it to him straight and he had to appreciate that but she was awful to him. She was powerful, a strong woman that didn’t need anyone to protect her. He watched her as she spoke to the crowd and the crowd loved her. She was beautiful and fierce. She would make a better leader than him. That’s what the people were saying. He read the article in anger and hurt. The people wanted Y/N as the new face of the seven.

He had enough of her games. He stormed into the quarters where she was and threw the paper down in front of her. “You happy now? You took everything from me.” He told her. She looked at the paper and smirked. “Someone had to.” He scoffed. “I get it you hate me, you think I’m a monster, you want my position. Well guess what? You may take my pride, my happiness but you won’t get that.” He growled. “I don’t want your position you dumb fuck. I want you to realize you are a terrible person.” She stood up. “What do you want me to say? That you’re right? That I seek validation from others and that I'm sad that I never got love from parents? That I think I’m better than everyone else but I actually am insecure but since I have powers I use that to my advantage? That I actually am hurt by your words because you’re right? Is that what you want?” He yelled. “Is that the truth?” She asked him. “Yes, okay? You’re right about everything you said.” She didn’t laugh or give him a smirk. “I hate myself because of you and you made me realize that I'm a shitty person.” He yells. She watches him as he breaks down. Tears stream down his face as he sobs and cries.

She got what she wanted but it didn’t feel that good. Right here, right now she saw a broken man. She walked over to him and he expected her to laugh in his face but she didn’t. He looked at her and she took his hands. “I know it sucks. But you needed to realize that.” She tells him. “Homelander you can always better yourself. You don’t need to be the villain.” She says. He looks at her with soft eyes. “You deserve love. Everybody does.” She whispers. He leans in and tries to kiss her. She backs away. “Oh right. You wouldn’t love somebody like me.” He says. She shakes her head. “No I wouldn’t.” He looks down and nods. “I should have known that.” He whispered. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Hey, you'll find somebody.” She whispered. He had tears falling down. “You said it yourself, nobody will love me.” “Someone will. I promise.” 

Everyone found it strange that Y/N didn’t bully him anymore and that he wasn’t a cocky piece of shit anymore. He wanted to better himself but just for her. She was the only one in his life that told him the truth and didn’t lie to him. He adored that. But he knew that her words were true and that she hated him. She spoke from the heart and that was just that. But Y/N maybe have had the act of hating him, she couldn’t bring herself to fully hate him. She could tell he’d been through so much but that didn’t give him the right to act the way he did. But after the last time they were alone she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

She saw the hurt in him, the need and want of love. “Ok guys that wraps it up.” Homelander said closing the meeting. Y/N stood up with the rest of the seven and went to exit the room. “Y/N can we talk?” He asked her. She turned around and looked at him. “Yeah sure.” She said. She walked over to her seat and sat in it. He cleared his throat and sat back down in his seat. “Are you okay?” She asked him. “Yeah uh I just can’t stop thinking about the other day.” He whispered. “Okay. Well I can’t either. Kinda crazy right?” She asked with a light laugh. “We almost kissed.” He said. “Well you tried to kiss me.” She pointed out. “I know and I’m embarrassed because I thought we had the same thought.” He said.

She looked at him. “Oh Homelander it’s not that, it's just.” She sighs. “Just what?” He asked. “I didn’t expect you to try and kiss me. I didn’t think you’d have feelings for me. I mean I was mean to you.” She said. “Yeah but I liked that you were honest with me and you make me wanna become a better person.” He said. She gave him a soft smile. “Why do I make you wanna become a better person?” She asked. “I wanna be good for you. I don’t want you to hate me anymore. I wanna be with you.” Her jaw dropped at his words. “Homelander, you don’t actually wanna be with me. You just liked that I told you how it was.” She said.

“No. Please don’t tell me what I want.” She nodded. “I know in my heart that I wanna be with you. I was so sad that you were mean to me because I love you.” “You don’t even know me.” She said, “Then let me.” He begged. She looked around. “Just a week ago we were enemies and now you wanna be with me?” “Yes. So let me take you out.” She looked at him and saw that he was being serious. “Okay.” She said and gave him a small smile.

She looked in the mirror and sighed. She would have puked at the thought of going out with him but now it doesn’t feel like that anymore. Her dress was a pretty red and pushed up her boobs. She wore her hair in a ponytail. She was nervous. She was going out with the man that she hated more than anything. She sighed and stepped out of the bathroom at Vought tower. She saw him facing away from her. He still had on his suit but she didn’t expect him to take it off. He turned around and smiled. “Hey wow you look beautiful.” He told her. She looked down at what she was wearing. “Well thank you.” He held out his arm and she took it. “So are we eating here?” She asked him. He looked at her. “I pulled a few strings and got us some of the best food in the city.” She looked at him confused. “Best food in the city?” He nodded. He opened the door to the quarters.

All the chairs except theirs were gone. The food was placed at the table with wine glasses. She looked at him. “You think you’re hot shit?” She asked. His face dropped. “I’m kidding. This is awesome.” She said and took a seat at the table. He shook his head and sat down. “Glad you like it.” He said. He watched as she eat her food and drank the wine. They talked about life and what he remembers. “So have you ever thought about leaving?” She asked him. “Like they would let me.” “You’re the Homelander. You can do whatever the fuck you want.” She told him.

He smiled at her. “Sounds way better coming out of your mouth.” He said. She chuckled and set her glass down. “Yeah well that might be the only time you hear me say it.” She joked. “Do you ever think about leaving?” He asked her. She looked at her food. “All the time.” “Why?” He asked. “I want to have control over my own life.” She said and looked at him. He thought about her words and how he would love to know that feeling and have it. The rest of the night went by smoothly. Until the end of the night the conversation was long forgotten about. “I think we should do it.” He said. She looked at him confused about what he was talking about. “We should leave.” Her jaw dropped. “Homelander you don’t mean that.” She said. “I do. We should leave this place and get one of our own.” She took his hand. “One step at a time, yeah?” She smiled at him. He nodded. 

At the end of the date he walked her back to her room. She turned towards him with a small smile. “I had fun.” she told him. “Yeah me too.” He said. She looked at his lips and bit hers. He saw and leaned down. She met him halfway and their lips touched. His hands went around her waist and hers went around his neck. They pulled away after a few moments. “Night.” She whispered as she opened her door. “Goodnight.” He said back, watching her close her door. She had a smile on her face as she had her back to the door. He walked away with a smile.

[lacucarachapisser]

sad to say i’m already yours colin zabel x gn!reader

a/n : okay omg it’s happening. beware of the cringe conversation and pathetic angst i really wanna punch myself in the face. no warning, this just too rush and lame and pretty basic also apologies if its weird cuz english isn’t my first im so so so so sorry. i just love colin sm. 1k wc.

this wasn’t the first time colin shut one's eyes to your presence. you’ve grown very used to his demanding job that takes energy, time, and even attention, which often makes you feel like you’re just a second priority. or perhaps not even counted. you think these all are pretty normal because colin is a very capable and responsible when it comes to work. and you get it.

you frequently texted him asking if he’s working late again. the dinner you’d prepared often ended up in the fridge. you waited for him with the light of the television or with an open book on your lap, while your eyes close from weariness. alone. his reply always comes with an apology buried in his deep voice. you get it.

sometimes you choose to sleep first, only to be awakened by the creaking of the door. your man, with his tired face, throws himself onto your shared bed.

"rough day?"

colin just nods, burying his face in the pillow with a long sigh.

“wanna talk about it?”

“can’t.”

he clearly didn’t have much contribution for the conversation he’ll just kill it. also, colin would likely act as if you weren’t there, so you just smile at his brief response. you actually not sure if you want to cry or laugh at that. the cases that colin handles are sometimes too horrific to share. besides, they’re confidential. you genuinely respect how dedicated your man is to his job. you get it.

colin turns his head slightly toward you, his eyes half-closed. you move closer, give him a quick kiss on his cheek and say goodnight. colin, already asleep, faster than you thought, doesn’t even flinch, nor does he say it back.

for days, communication between you two hasn’t been that intense— no dinners together, no movie nights like you used to plan on weekends, no dates. when was the last time you became intimate with each other? probably two weeks ago. or three? four? you get it.

“want me to make you some snacks?”

“no, that's okay baby.”

his voice was soft, and somehow, ironically you miss him so bad even though he was right next to you.

“i heard there’s a new coffee shop and they have like bunch of pet inside, interesting 'right?”

"uh-huh"

"yeah they have puppies! i really wanna go there,”

“sure. can we talk later, baby? i’m busy right now.”

although he comes home every day, sleeping in the same bed with you, his presence just clearly made you felt nothing but more alone. it hurts to see him come home every night as if you’re just a place to stay. never home, probably just a hostel. how cruel if he’d forgotten your efforts, how you filled his empty cup after what his ex did to him. you didn’t take the easy route to win him over. or maybe you were never capable to replace her in the first place? where did you went wrong? isn't it ironic to think how heartbreaking and sad that you already belong to him?

that day, he forgot his breakfast, and even the coffee you have made remained untouched. how long this has to continue? you don’t hate him, not for a second. it’s just that your efforts to make him happy always seemed to fail.

“colin, we need to talk.”

“about what?”

it takes courage for you to start this conversation. you’re actually scared to bring it up because colin might think you’re overreacting.

“i always tell myself that you don’t mean to hurt me— which makes it less painful. but you know what? you never really see me.”

you slowly touch his hand, feels the veins through his skin, strong beneath your fingers, firm and solid.

he gives you a crooked smile. “what’s wrong with you? of course i see you,”

“no. i know you’re busy with work, but… col, i’m right here. how long do i have to hold on to this if you keep acting like that? i can’t take it anymore,”

“baby, i have work to do,”

“oh can we talk later? we never really talk later. why can’t you at least recognize my existence that i’m here? talk to me,”

a bitter taste filled your mouth. it hurts to face colin's expression, one that looks disgusted with you—at least, that’s what you think. now he’ll even hate you because you crave his attention.

“okay, i’m sorry i’m always busy, it’s not my fault it takes up a lot of my time as if i have choices. but i promise—“

“no. stop,” you shook your head, protesting with what colin said.

“stop what?”

“you talk to me like i’m stupid. i’m not stupid. i didn’t blame your job, i would never,”

“i know you’re not stupid, but you did blame me for a stupid reason,”

there his classic maneuver. his words seem like a clever observation to shift the blame, but it's all wrong. that’s not the issue, it never was, and you’ve never blamed his job. your eyes start to fill up with tears, and soon they’ll spill over. the lines on colin's face looks vividly serious, gazing you with intense look.

“t-this is why your ex—"

colin’s hand quickly grabs your jaw. it’s not rough, but enough to surprise you and make you stop your sentence. you gasped at his furrowed brows, his expression so tense with his wide-open eyes.

“don’t.”

you immediately regret it. you didn’t mean to brought up his past, you truly didn’t intended to hurt him.

“please, don’t.” his hand is still gripping your jaw, but his fingers start to loosen, and his thumb gently strokes your cheek. your eyes are still locked with him, and then you realize that what you see in colin’s eyes isn’t anger. it was fear.

you throw yourself into his arms, burying your face in the crook of his neck, muttering apologies between soft sobs. colin wraps his arms around you, holding you tight by the waist. he hides his face on your neck, pressing his body into yours with all his strength.

“colin, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry…”

for a moment, he becomes a complete silent. letting you stay in each other’s embrace. then he finally speaks.

“don’t leave me. please, not again.”

[vixialuvs]

FLOWERS IN DECEMBER !

୨୧. pairing - yang jungwon x reader

୨୧. CW - angst to fluff. hurt/comfort, yelling, established relationship, non!idol jungwon, you go to the same uni and live tg, suggestive at the end

୨୧. summary - you and jungwon get into an argument, and he accidentally raises his voice and yells at you, causing you to start crying.

୨୧. a/n - this is lwk really bad guys i’m sorry…

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

december 20 was supposed to be just a normal day for you and your boyfriend of 3 years, jungwon. it was just another day of you overworking yourself at home, while he’s out with his friends. you don’t even check the time, too busy trying to understand punnett squares to care. the sun slowly disappears, leaving you to turn on a lamp so you can see the papers infront of you. your phone gets a call, but it is on do not disturb, so you wont see it.

two hours later, now one am, the entire dormitory silent, and here you are, still working. you are running on five cups of coffee and two oreos, but are starving and so tired. suddenly the door to your dorm opens, you can hear it through the thin walls but don’t get up because you already know its jungwon. you feel too dizzy to even move, just returning to your work. he comes into your shared bedroom, looking upset and worried.

“y/n? i was calling you. why didn’t you pick u—” he pauses in his sentence when he sees you hunched over your desk, taking notes on some stupid biology video. “y/n. we talked about this, okay? you can’t keep doing this, its so frustrating.. please. im worried about you. have you even eaten?” he says, his voice involuntarily getting stern.

you look up at him, letting out a soft sigh as your tired eyes meet his annoyed ones. “i’ve eaten a couple oreos. i’m fine, won. just.. go to bed okay?” you mutter, not wanting to argue with him. he isnt having it and snatches your pen out of your hand, earning an immediate “hey!” from you. he glares at you, actually getting mad you are doing this to yourself. “y/n a couple oreos isnt good enough. you need to be eating more then that. i’m not going to bed unless your coming with me.” he sounds pissed.. it makes you slightly nervous but you stand your ground.

you get up and off your chair, now standing infront of him as you cross your arms over your chest. “give me my damn pen.” you say defiantly, beginning to also get defensive but keeping your voice at a normal level. jungwon, however, is not as patient as you. his voice gets a bit higher, just ever so slightly. “no. your going to bed. now. i’m tired of this bullshit.” he protests, gripping your pen.

“jungwon come on, stop it. i’m almost done.. just-” you start, but he cuts you off. he really doesn’t mean to and doesn’t want to hurt you but raises his voice significantly. “no! stop it! just COME TO BED! i’m sick and tired of your shit, y/n! i already fucking told you! just stop this! god!” he shouts, but pauses and feels the instant regret once he sees you tense up and start to visibly tremble. he takes a step toward you and you take a step back.

“y/n, sweetheart, please baby.. i didn’t mean to yell.. i’m so sorry.. what are you doing..?” his voice is quiet now and his eyes are filled with fear as he watches you grab a pillow and a blanket from the closet and leave the room. he follows you like a scared puppy and his eyes go wide once he sees you setting up camp on the couch. he slumps against the wall and sighs quietly, deciding to try and give you space.

that night he lays restless in your bed, laying on the side you should be on, but you are passed out on the couch. he needs you in his arms, unable to even sleep without you, so he gives up trying to leave you alone and makes his way to the living room where you lie, asleep. he kneels down at your side and gently lifts you into his arms, bridal style, careful to not wake you. he brings you back into the bedroom and lays you on the bed, crawling in beside you. he immediately turns your sleeping body over and buries his face in your neck, his arms wrapping tight around you as he almost instantly drifts off.

in the morning, you are the first to wake, noticing you aren’t on the couch anymore, and instead in your bed, jungwon completely sprawled on top of you. he’s hugging you with an iron grip, as if you’ll leave if he loosens up. you sigh, remembering the events of last night, your head falling back on the pillow. your hand comes up to caress his hair, waiting until he stirs so the two of you can talk. eventually, he does, burying his head further into your neck and mumbling your name, his lips ghosting across your sensitive skin. you tilt his chin up to look at his face, which looks stressed and you can tell he was crying last night while he held you, dried tears on his cheeks.

“i’m so sorry my baby. i didn’t mean to yell at you. i’m just so worried about you and i want you to take care of yourself. i don’t think you understand how much i love you, sweetheart. i love you more then i love myself. i’d seriously take a bullet for you. please forgive me, y/n. i’ll make it up to you honey, i swear.” he says quietly, his voice laced with sleep, as he lays his head on your chest and caresses your neck. you let out the smallest sigh and kiss his head.

“you know i can’t stay mad at you ever, won. i forgive you. i’m sorry for always being a pain in your ass, always worrying you and being stubborn when you try to help me. i’ll be better, okay? i pinky promise.” you softly intertwine your pinkies and kiss it, giving him the tiniest smile. he sits up on you and leans down to kiss your lips, with a sudden fervor. it makes you whine with need, the way his touch feels so apologetic as he gently parts your thighs, nestling himself between them as he kisses down your stomach.

“let me make it up to you, yeah?” he murmurs, looking up at you with a knowing smirk, lust prevalent in his gaze.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

@vixialuvs . don’t steal my work !

[hughesysgirl28]

Request for Ethan Edwards. Please!!

Y/n falling in love with Ethan Edwards when Luke told her not to after he left to play for the Devils and they kept it hidden for almost a year

Thank you for requesting! I hope you like this!

Warnings: none

-

Forbidden

-

Before

Today was the day. Luke Hughes, one my best friends was leaving umich to play hockey for the New Jersey Devils. I walked outside where he was putting his packed boxes into his car. The rest of the boys had already said bye to him. “Luke.” I said grabbing his attention as he put the last box into his car shutting the trunk. I walked over to where he was hugging him which he returned the hug. “Goodbye, moose.” I whispered almost crying. “You’ll see me again soon. I promise that.” He said wiping away my tears as they fell. “But promise me one thing.” He says as we pull out of the hug. “Yeah?” I asked wiping the rest of my tears away. “Don’t fall for Ethan. You know the way he is…” Luke says muttering the last part. I looked at him kinda shocked at his request but nod. “I promise.” I say and he smiles. “I’ll see you soon y/n.” He said which I responded to with a sad smile then walked to the porch of the house as he got into his car and left. After that I went back inside sitting on the couch in the living room where the other boys were. “Our Lukey all grown up.” Rutger joked with fake tears causing me to laugh a little. “Yeah.” I said watching them play a game on the tv. “Don’t worry. We’ve got you y/n.” Ethan said throwing his arm around my shoulder giving me one of his smiles. Don’t fall for Ethan Edwards.

Now

I hadn’t kept my promise to Luke. I fell for Ethan Edwards and we’ve been going out in secret for a year. Well, a secret from Luke and the public. The rest of our group knows and I love the thrill of it but what I don’t like is I broke my promise and I’m keeping it from my best friend. Ethan was sweet to me unlike how I had seen him with his past girlfriends. He never did anything to hurt me and was never late to our dates. Our relationship was never boring. But, now, him, Rutger, Luca, Adam, Mark, Dylan, and I had all decided to visit him in New Jersey at a Devils game to surprise him. “How do you think he’s going to react when he finds out?” I asked while sitting in the passenger seat as Ethan drove and the boys were in the back sleeping. “He’s going to probably be mad at first. But, you know he’s never stayed mad at you for long.” Ethan said holding my hand, giving it a squeeze to reassure me. I was scared for Luke’s reaction after I had promised him I wouldn’t fall for Ethan. I was happy to see Luke though. He’s my best friend after all and Ethan was right. He never stayed mad at me for long. I fell asleep soon and when I woke up we were there in New Jersey early in the morning pulling up in the Prudential Center parking lot. I got out the car and helped Ethan wake up the rest of the boys who all started complaining. “Why did we have to surprise him at his early morning skate?” Luca complained stretching once he got out the car. “You boys do this all the time back home and never complain.” I said as they were all stretching as we walked to the entrance. Ethan was beside me and we were the ones leading the tired boys in. “Doesn’t mean we like it.” One of them mumbled and I chuckled as we walked in. “Is Luke Hughes out on the rink yet?” I asked the security guard as we came up to him and he nodded. I thanked him and we went to the stands sitting down in them waiting for Luke to notice all of us. Ethan was to my right, Luca to my left who was now leaning his head on my shoulder dozing off, Dylan on Ethan’s right and the rest sitting right behind us. I looked at the rink at all of the players looking for Luke. Ethan grabbed my hand holding it. “Y/n?” A voice asked and it was Luke. “Surprise!” I said with a smile waving as the other boys also did the same. “It’s good to see you guys.” He said with his goofy smile then scowled and I noticed he looked down at mine and Ethan’s interlocked hands. ‘Talk later’ he mouthed to me still with a scowl and I nodded gulping. “He’s gonna kill me.” I muttered shaking my head. “Stay still. He’s not gonna kill you.” Luca mumbled sleepily. I nodded quietly watching their practice as Ethan pressed a soft kiss to my head. Jack skated by waving to us which we returned back to him minus Luca who was now passed out on me instead of dozing off. After their practice Luca was finally awake and we all waited outside where we were told the locker rooms were. Luke came out and came up to us. He ‘bro’ hugged all the boys then gave me an actual hug which I returned. “I’m sorry.” I whispered to him where only we could hear. “Come with me.” He whispered and pulled out of the hug. “We’ll be back. We’re going to talk.” I told the boys and they nodded. Ethan gave me an almost worried look but I gave him a smile reassuring him I was fine. I then followed Luke to a more private area. “Why? Why didn’t you listen?” Luke asked annoyed and distressed. “Luke, he cares about me. I swear he’s been nothing like he was with his past relationships.” I said trying to reassure him. “What if he breaks your heart?” Luke asked me. I looked up at the 6’2 hockey player.

“I wouldn’t dream of hurting her.” A voice said and it was Ethan walking up to us. The rest of the boys following. I swear no one in our group knows how to not snoop. I looked to Ethan giving him a smile then to Luke who finally relaxed. “Just don’t hurt her at all and I’m fine with it.” He said taking a breath and I gave a sigh of relief. Ethan then came up wrapping his arms around me with a smile pecking my lips. “Ew! None of that in front of me though!” Luke said stepping back in disgust. I laughed looking at him then turning back to Ethan and kissed him then pulled apart from him. “You’ll have to deal with it Lukey.” I said and he rolled his eyes jokingly. We all laughed at it then all engaged in a conversation walking out of the arena. That didn’t go no where near as bad as it could have done. I’m thankful for that and thankful I didn’t listen to Luke about not falling for Ethan. I walked hand in hand with Ethan just smiling and laughing with our friends.

[dearest-painter]

I didn’t do anything wrong! PT.1

Summary: Y/N was just living their best life or as best as it can get as spider-man/women. Y/N misses their old friends but understands that they must be busy but once they go to a place that is filled with people wanting them as their child but also to write their story they get pissed off

TW/CW:Yandere behavior, unhealthy behavior, unhealthy relationship,abusive behavior,abusive relationship,Reader is Miles morals,Reader is tired and trying their best,very out of character characters,this is a series,Reader needs therapy,Reader will be forced into the spider society,I fuck up the movie a lot just so I can make this a bit more sense,Reader is forced to visit Spider society and be away from their actual family,Reader is paranoid and worried all the time now,this doesn’t completely go with the plot as it’ll be a bit different,Reader is mentioned to have selfed harmed because I wanna represent that more as I wanna show that everyone has had tough times even in wrong ways as I’ve selfed harmed in the past so this does mean a lot to me,Reader is basically forced to be around people they don’t want to be around,people might be out of character,tell me if I need to add more

PT.2

Hiding, that’s all your doing. Your panting and scared as people have chased you down for no reason at all! You covered your mouth as you started to cry, you wanted your mom, you wanted your dad, you wanted your uncle just so you can be comforted but no here you are stuck in some society that your scared of being in! It’s so easy for you to cry silently especially with your mouth being covered as you’ve done it many times in the past.

You want your dad to hold you again while comforting you as your mom made your comfort food as he also reassured your safe, you want your uncle Aaron to ruffle your hair while cracking up jokes to cheer you up. You just want to be with your family again but no your uncles dead and your in some strange place with people chasing you! What’s worse is that Gwen and Peter B seemed to be in on it!

Suppose you were to deep in thought to realize someone found you. “Heya” You jumped and crawled away very scared as you saw the women, she was pregnant. “Hey I’m not here to hurt you, I know it must be scary in a new place with new people” “Yeah especially when those people are chasing you and one of them literally has talons while you were unwilling forced to be here, of course I’d be scared! I just wanna go home!” You cried more. Jessica felt so bad, you didn’t deserve this but seeing you cry remind her of a child and she saw you as a child but her child even if you two weren’t biologically related.

She crouched down while holding her belly as she sat beside you, you were not crying because of fear now but now because of anger. “Listen…I understand that your stressed and scared but everyone here just wants the best for you” “and my biological parents are the best for me!? They’ve protected me and raised me all my life! What makes this place safer then my parents arms!” She sighed again, she knew it was to much to ask you to calm down as you had a right to be mad. “I know that it’s just…most people here believe that your safer here as no danger can get you and you don’t have to deal with being spider-man/women/person, even if you wanna be that person they are scared that you’ll lose one of those fights one day”

You scoffed, people who you don’t know are worried for you? That sounds creepy as shit. “Look I know your trying to comfort me but when you see it from my perspective it’s creepy as people I don’t know and didn’t know exist know about me and where I live, they know about my whole life basically and they worry for me. When your taken from the only place you know is home by people who know so much of you but you know so little of them it’s terrifying. You understand now?” She nodded her head. “Yeah now I do, let’s just sit here while you calm down” You nodded your head at the pregnant women.

“I’m Jessica drew” “Y/N Morales…nice to meet ya Ms.drew” she chuckled a bit at your formality, that was something she found cute about you other then your smile.

[jazztag]

A Cure for Solitude XIV

As M strolls down the corridor, a device emits a quiet beep. His attention is fully absorbed by the screen, where small dots drift slowly past a larger circle, each labeled with a serial number. Among them, a lone dot bears the label "W."

Coming to a halt outside the furniture store where he first encountered the creature a week prior, M notices a group of zombies near the entrance. They glance at him briefly, sniffing the air before losing interest and fading into the darkness behind him.

Faint streams of light filter through the cracked glass ceiling. The midday sun gently bathes the multiple furniture displays, offering glimpses into what was once a bustling commercial hub, now lost to the ravages of time.

The 'beep' starts getting louder as M wanders further into the vast halls. He keeps his eyes glued to the screen, where the dot labeled as 'W' remains, motionless. M notices some stains on the floor, a dark purple shade standing out on the concrete. He shuts off the device and drops down to his knees. Taking a closer look at the blood, he follows its trail and spots a big wooden closet against the wall. There's a clear handprint smudged on the handle.

The man walks quietly and stops right by the door, waiting to hear something, anything. But not a sound is heard. He opens his mouth, about to say something, but closes it again. He feels stupid. He doesn’t know what to say to a zombie. So he sits right next to the closed door and sighs. He crosses his arms and looks at his boots, absentmindedly. Then he hears a clear shuffle inside the closet and looks up.

“Don’t worry. It’s me,” says M. There’s an audible sob inside the wardrobe, and some more shuffling. M is about to add something more, but then again, he seems to be at a loss for words. For the first time ever, it’s W who speaks first.

“S-sorry,” mumbles the creature. His voice is muffled inside the wooden walls, but there’s audible pain in his words. M looks at his left arm, the one he bandaged last night. It still hurts; the bite got him deep. Even after a day, it still stings like hell, and he still can’t hold anything without flinching. M closes his eyes and nods silently.

“Don’t worry about it,” mumbles the man. He looks at the ceiling, at nothing in particular, actually. “How is your shoulder doing, though?”

W’s voice grows quiet. There’s more shuffling inside the closet. Then his weak voice: “H-hurts.”

“You need to rest, W.”

“Ca-an’t-t.”

M grows quiet. He finally gathers the courage to say it: “I’m truly sorry, W.” There’s an awkward silence. Then W opens shyly the closet’s door, popping his head out. His cheeks are wet from crying; his tears have left two purple trails that fall from eyes to chin. His trembling hands grip the wooden frame, and his curious eyes look at M’s. He is still mortified to come out of there, so he just stands there like an idiot. The dim light of the sunrays hurts his eyes anyway.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t fix it. I just- I just can alleviate it, I-… I” W’s hazel eyes observe the human’s bandaged arm. M looks back at him. The zombie is still stained from head to toe in blood, another human’s. He sits with his knees under his chin and hugs his legs, making himself tiny, still not daring to come out from his hiding spot. He looks so fragile, still covered in red nonetheless. W looks scared, embarrassed to look at him. But his eyes crave comfort, M notices. The Medic looks at his own hands.

“Humans destroying humans,” mumbles M. “Biologic weapons… We were so foolish, huh?”

W looks at him, without understanding. He’s so tired. He just wants to sleep, to close his eyes. He is also scared. He can’t help but freeze when the Medic gets up suddenly, startling him. Then his hazel eyes gravitate towards M’s gun, which he carries inside his case, hanging from his belt. The creature gets scared again, the memory of his shoulder hurting once again in his mind, like a fresh scar. W hisses aggressively at M and struggles to disappear inside the depths of the closet again.

The Medic stops right there, seeing W has hidden again from him. He looks at the weapon and curses, grabbing it and hiding it in his inner coat pocket.

“W… I am not going to hurt you,” speaks softly the man, getting nearer the wooden door. He peeks inside and distinguishes W’s tiny form, pressed against the wall and hugging himself. The creature looks to have been hiding there all day long since yesterday. The Medic inspects the tiny space and realizes the wooden alphabet toy is there as well.

Something clicks inside him. He remembers W’s eyes lit when telling M his own name. “Won’t you come out?” asks M. Hiding in the shadows, W shakes his head profusely. Then he stays quiet again, as if waiting for M to leave.

“Fine,” blurts out the human. He stands up. “You stink of blood anyway.”

W hears M walking away. He then smells his left hand. Indeed, he is still covered in dry blood. He sucks his fingers absentmindedly.

Taglist: @whump-blog @cupcakes-and-pain @crunchypuppy06 @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @kona-luu (comment to get added/removed from the list!)

[safetycar-restart]

hiiii!! my brain is rotting bc of last weekends race with Logan and im on my period so thinking about it is making me sad but, how do you think his dom (and oscar?) make him feel less upset cuz seeing him have to stay out there for so many laps by himself made me cry. he was doing so well :((. i think that to him it jus kinda reinforces the idea that he doesn’t really deserve a good dom (which ofc he does, he’s so perfect) but it hurts his soul sm. idk tho, I’m really tired, xx 🎾

Seeing Logan just sitting there for so many laps was so sad!!! Poor baby!!! I’m also assuming this is d/s au since you mentioned Logan having a Dom. And wow I’ve missed writing for these two!!! Poly!logan/oscar has such a special place in my heart (also anything Logan has a special place in my heart).

After Logan crashed out, you seemed to be the only one in the garage who actually cared where he was. You knew Logan had gotten out of the car, but no one had gone to fetch him, and the next shot of that area showed the car had been removed and Logan was no where in sight.

The team explained to you that there wasn’t an easy way to fetch him from that location, and seemed happy to just let him stay wherever he was until the race was over. You couldn’t believe they weren’t more concerned.

Though you knew you were a little biased. As Logan’s Dom, the thought of him all alone in the cold somewhere after he crashed out was terrifying. Your sub was cold and sore and alone and there was nothing you could do.

Logan, meanwhile, is having the worst time ever. He feels so useless and sad, having crashed out once more. And he just… he needs his Dom. He needs to be held and told he’s still a good sub.

And the longer he’s sat all alone, the worse he feels. He just wants to be alone with you and Oscar. That’s it. That’s all he wants.

He can’t stop himself from thinking about all those things, because he’s all alone. His thoughts spiral and all he can think is how Oscar is still out there racing and how you’d be much better off if you didn’t have to deal with him and just had Oscar, just had someone who could actually race.

By the time Logan eventually gets back, he’s soaked from the rain and shivering and so so close to just breaking down because he’s so sad.

The moment you see him, you just pull him right into your arms, shocked at how cold he is and immediately bringing him back to his driver room to warm up and get him into some comfy clothes. It’s a testament to how scared Williams are of you that they don’t even try to speak to Logan. They know better.

To your surprise, the moment you have Logan alone he’s apologising? Saying he’s so sorry he’s such a useless sub and he’ll do better and he just needs another chance.

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Logan gets left out in the cold and yet he’s the one apologising?

You try to reassure him, promising him that you love him and he will always be your sub, that being your sub will never ever be contingent on performance. Never.

Just as Logan starts to calm, Oscar arrives and he wants blood.

Oscar had heard about how Logan was left out in the cold and the moment the race was over he was sprinting to the Williams hospitality to find him. The moment he’s there, he’s grabbing Logan and pulling him into his arms, holding Logan so tight that he can barely breath.

“They left you out there,” Oscar mumbles, “they fucking left you out there. How dare they??”

Logan relaxes into Oscar, sagging into his arms out of pure relief that Oscar isn’t mad at him.

“It’s fine,” logan says against Oscar, “I deserved it.”

Oscar pulls away, pouting, “no, no you didn’t. Don’t say that, do you understand me? Don’t say that!”

As it turns out, you don’t even need to give Logan the talking to about his self worth, your other sub is doing it instead.

Oscar goes on a tangent, telling Logan he deserves so much better than how he was treated and how everyone makes mistakes and one day it will be his day and if he dares to suggest that he deserved it one more time, Oscar will will hit him.

Once Oscar is satisfied with telling off Logan, he turns to you and asks if the three of you can finally go back to the hotel so that he can suck Logan’s dick.

[shadowisles-writes]

Innocent (Part 3) [Elucien]

A/N: Hello friends! Part 3 is finally here and in typical fashion it's not the last part it's supposed to be and a 4th part is in the drafts and hopefully coming soon <3

Summary: Lucien had always thought his life would be normal—or as normal as it could be growing up in a werewolf hunting family. All it took was one full moon for the truth to unravel in front of him and force him to make hard decisions. His fate was forever changed, and no amount of trying running from it could prevent it from catching up to him.

Read on AO3

It's alright, just wait and see Your string of lights are still bright to me, oh Who you are is not where you've been You're still an innocent - Innocent, Taylor Swift

Elain

Every soft jingle of the bell above her door made Elain’s head jerk toward it. It had been two days, and the customers pushing it open were never Lucien, but she couldn’t control herself. She had seen him for mere minutes, yet it was like she was sixteen all over again, walking through the halls of their old school after he had left and chasing every glimpse of red hair with her eyes. For months she had fooled herself into hoping she would see him again, but that shade of red always belonged to one of his brothers.

Elain wished she could remain closed off and erase his brief visit from her memory, but her head was swarming with questions. Mostly, she wanted to know how he had gotten such a brutal scar on his face. Sadness had radiated off him that day, but all she had felt was hurt and anger. 

When he had left, the only thing that had allowed Elain to bury his memory deep within her mind was knowing he would never come back. For years, it had been enough, but seeing him unraveled all of the lies she had told herself to hate him. Now that the memories had resurfaced, Elain wasn’t sure how she had ever managed to forget about him.

And so, her head snapped toward the door of her shop every time she heard it open. She was exhausted from being on high alert, her heartbeat kept on turning frantic and no amount of work could distract her.

“Good afternoon, darling,” a man called out as he walked through the door.

Elain jumped as she turned around and exhaled slowly as she recognized her friend.

“Hi Pete, how are you doing today?” She forced a smile on her face.

“I’m good, but you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Peter rested his forearms on the counter and tilted his head to take her in. His fangs were visible when he spoke, but Elain had gotten used to seeing them a long time ago.

Coming from a town where werewolves were hunted, Elain had needed time to adjust to them openly roaming around this city. Peter had been her first encounter, and after laughing at her for a good half hour for being scared, he had taken the time to answer each of her questions.

Werewolves weren’t the uncontrollable creatures she had been taught they were, and becoming friends with a few of them had quickly desensitized her.

“Ah, something like that,” Elain chuckled, the image of Lucien in her shop still fresh in her mind. “How’s Sarah doing with the baby? You must both be tired still.”

“We are, I’m running some quick errands and I wanted to get her flowers. Hopefully it doesn’t make her cry when I get back.” Peter cringed at the thought.

“I’m sure it’ll even out soon.”

He sighed and nodded. Peter was a caretaker, always bending over backwards for his wife, but there was nothing he could do against the hormones that made her cry. “The baby sleeping through the night would sure help.”

Elain stepped out from behind her counter and began looking through her bouquets for something her friend would like. “Just wait until he gets old enough to howl at the moon with you.”

“God I hope there’s time for that,” Peter laughed and followed behind her, his eyes also scanning the bouquets.

“How about this one?” Elain pointed to a composition full of bright orange blended with softer tones that leaned into pastel yellow.

“Can’t go wrong with orange when it comes to Sarah, you’re a gem Elain,”

“It’s almost like I knew you’d be coming when I made it this morning,” she picked up the bouquet and got ready to wrap it up.

It only took a minute for Peter to pay for the bouquet and hurry back to his wife and newborn. Elain had thought she was successfully distracted until he was gone from the shop and silence settled in once more.

Her thoughts were free to run wild again

Her eyes remained trained on the door for long minutes, scanning the crowd of passersby on the street for the shape of his body. It was hard to believe that after all those years he would come into her shop once and never show his face again.

When evening fell and the sun lowered to bathe the city in a golden light, Elain finally breathed. There was only an hour left before she closed up, and it was rare she would get a customer during that time. Occasional, one or two people walked in, but on most evenings she used this time to tidy and get ready to close up.

Elain was sweeping some fallen bits of leaves from one of her stands towards the back of the shop when she heard the bell again. Immediately, her eyes shot up and her heart hammered against her chest.

There he was. He looked better than the last time she had seen him, dressed in clean navy blue pants and a well ironed white shirt. It must still have been warm outside, because the sleeves were rolled up and his long hair was up in a tight bun. One small strand fell from the top of his head, and Elain got the urge to brush it away from his cheek.

“What can I do for you today?” She was proud of herself for keeping a steady voice as she set her broom aside and wiped her hands on her apron.

He didn’t even pretend to look at the flowers, walking straight to the counter and tucking the strand of hair Elain was staring at behind his ear. “I came to apologize.”

“I haven’t seen you in six years,” Elain forced herself to shrug. She looked for ways to pretend to be busy, but there were none. “What could you possibly have to apologize for?”

“Leaving the way I did.” He held her eyes, his tone completely serious.

Elain felt her heart flutter at the intensity emanating from him. It had been the same when she was a teenager, she had blushed and stumbled all over her words before they started dating. She wouldn’t lose herself to the butterflies in her stomach again.

“We were sixteen, Lucien, I’m sure you’ve gotten well over that, and so have I.”

“I guess you’re right, but it looks like we live in the same city now.” He motioned to the shop around them. “I thought it might be strange not to talk at all.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Elain sounded too casual to her own ears, and it was no surprise when Lucien cocked his head knowingly.

“Or maybe you still don’t want to talk to me.”

“Oh I wanted to talk, Lucien,” she scoffed, unable to help herself. Elain had been stewing in her rage and confusion since she had seen him again. “Six years ago. You didn’t, and now neither do I.”

“You don’t want to know why?”

“Not at all.” She gave him her best glare, but he’d always said she was no less terrifying than a fawn could ever be.

“Alright, if you say so.” Lucien shrugged so obnoxiously Elain knew he didn’t believe her. “I live a few streets from here, if you ever change your mind. It’s the yellow house with the olive tree.”

Her blood boiled, telling her to scream there was no way she’d change her mind. Why would she want to talk to him after what he’d done? Why should she care after all these years?

Lucien smoothed his hands over his clothes before he turned around and made to walk out of her shop. Elain watched, determined to remain silent, but she couldn’t stop herself before he reached for the door. There was one question that had been nagging her endlessly since she had caught her first glimpse of him.

“How did you get that scar?” She blurted out.

There was nothing but concern in her voice, but Lucien stilled. He turned with a blank look on his face, probably looking for a way to avoid answering her insensitive question. “I’m sorry,” Elain said when the silence became too heavy. “That was really rude of me.”

“It’s a long story.” Lucien eventually said.

“Of course,” she nodded. “You should probably get home, and I have to close the shop so…”

He took the dismissal with a half smile. “Have a good night, Elain.”

She barely managed to wish him the same before he disappeared in the dimly lit street.

There was little left to do before she could lock the door to the shop and drive home. Her mind was thrumming with their conversation, repeating every word over and over. There was so much to agonize over even all these years later that she couldn’t remember if she actually stopped for a red light before she reached her house.

It was small, compared to the other neighborhoods in the city, but it was enough and Elain was proud to own it. The outside was made of rough stones all in shades of gray leaning into beige, with windows and doors all built in wood that gave her home the appearance of a rural cottage.

Apparently, it was one of the oldest buildings on the street, the only one that withstood the storm that ravaged most houses before Elain was born. She was thankful for it and every sign of wear she could see inside. Her house was a home, full of memories and history she hoped she would add to one day.

Elain walked up the three steps that led to her door and gently pushed it open. She waited for the usual feeling of comfort to wash over her, but her mind was still high strung on Lucien. There would be no resting for her until she made peace with his presence in her city.

How long had he lived here? Did he suddenly move and coincidentally choose a place close to her? Or had he always been here and in the years that Elain had taken to build her shop they had simply never crossed paths?

She had too many questions and not enough answers. Remaining busy was the only way to prevent madness from settling in, so she began cooking and paced through her kitchen whenever she needed to wait. She couldn’t focus, her thoughts filled with Lucien and whatever explanation he had meant to give her earlier at the shop.

She ate mechanically, chewing and swallowing without really tasting her food until her plate was empty. She resisted until the end of her meal, then forced herself to do her dishes and eventually let out a groan of defeat. 

Unable to help it any longer, Elain got into her car and began to drive to Lucien’s house. The streetlights bathed the road in a warm light, but the full moon high in the sky made everything look colder than usual.

His neighborhood was close but far wealthier than hers, the houses three times as big. It only meant they were easier for her to identify with Lucien’s vague description.  She drove slowly through several streets before she finally spotted a yellow house in front of which was an olive tree. It was unmistakable next to the other houses, the olive tree resisting through the years despite being in the wrong climate. Lucien must have had a real way with plants to be able to keep it alive.

A car was in the driveway, so she pulled up behind it and gathered her courage as she walked up the three steps leading to his porch. Elain didn’t give herself time to chicken out and knocked.

The wait was excruciating, but there was light coming from the window, so she counted down the seconds until it was appropriate to knock a second time.

No one answered.

Someone was home. She was sure of it with the car and the light turning off in one room then on in another. Elain was done waiting, she was getting cold and she needed answers.

She slammed her fist against the door again.

Everything between them had happened six years ago, and she was sick of having to make up answers for his behavior in his mind. The Lucien who had broken up with her in that hospital had been a different person from the boy she fell in love with and she was determined to prove it, even if it was only to get a little bit of closure.

She was just about to pound against the door one last time when it swung open.

A wide eyed, shirtless Lucien was the first thing she saw. The sight of his bare chest was distracting, but Elain stepped forward and got ready to ask questions when he interrupted.

“You can’t be here.” He tried to shut the door, but she was already halfway in.

“I need to talk to you please.” Elain made it inside and heard the door click shut behind her.

“Get out.” Lucien’s voice came as a growl this time.

“No.”

He staggered back two steps. His chest grew with each breath he took, as if his entire body was elongating and broadening. Some part of Elain knew she should have listened to his order, but there was a fascination that kept her eyes trained on the changes in his body

Within seconds, his body grew a whole foot. His shoulder became wider and the shape of each of his limbs changed. Elain tried to move but her back only met the door that had shut behind her. She was trapped, watching as the changes affected his face too. It grew longer, fangs appearing past his lips and fur beginning to cover every inch of his skin.

Lucien was a werewolf.

Elain nearly panicked. She had never been face to face with one of them transformed, but running would likely make her look like prey and she had no idea how much control Lucien had over himself on a damn full moon.

No wonder he had told her she couldn’t be at his house.

His house . His house, in the middle of other humans, which meant she had startled him and he may not be able to hold back shifting, but he was probably not fully murderous either. Elain took her chance and slid down to the floor, kneeling and looking down as not to appear threatening in any way.

Not prey. Not a threat. She could hear her heartbeat at her temples, but she didn’t dare move or meet his eyes. Lucien growled, the sound of claws resonating from his hardwood floors as he stepped closer to her.

“Lucien,” she whispered his name, because there was nothing else she could say. She repeated it again, softer as he approached and placed his massive paws on the floor by her thighs. “Lucien.”

He stilled above her, his scarred eye an inch from her face. She tilted her head up slowly and watched him closely, not daring to breathe anymore, but Lucien had lost his threatening stance. He remained above her for several moments, the sound of his heavy breathing covering the beat of the blood at her temples.

“Lucien,” Elain murmured again and something like recognition sparked in his eyes.

Slower than it had happened the first time, Elain watched his features change.His body morphed back to its human shape, the paws by her thighs shifted back into familiar hands and his face settled back into normal.

“Lucien,” Elain breathed out in relief one last time as he kneeled in front of her.

“You’re okay,” he gasped, his hands cradling her cheeks. “You’re okay.”

“Of course I’m—”

Lucien’s chest shook with a sob and he pulled her tight against his naked chest. “You’re okay,” he kept on murmuring, hands clutching her as if he had to reassure himself she was still there.

Elain was speechless, but she closed her eyes and felt the warmth of his skin against her cheek as she carefully put her arms around him to hug him back.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he murmured with every breath.

“Of course I’m okay,” Elain could feel each thud of his heart, still racing with each scattered intake of air.

She listened carefully to the broken breaths he kept on taking until they came to him smoother. It took time for his chest to rise and fall at a somewhat steady rhythm.

“Lucien,” she whispered carefully.

“I’m sorry—Are you… Are you alright?” He pulled back just enough to look at her, one hand cradling her cheek while the other slid down her left arm. His fingers came to rest on the inside of her wrist, as if he had to keep feeling her pulsing heartbeat to reassure himself.

“I’m fine, are you?” Elain was more worried about him than herself with the way he was acting.

“I guess so.” Lucien nodded with no apparent plans to let go of her.

They stared at each other for far longer than what was comfortable. Elain was the one to clear her throat carefully, because if they were going to keep sitting on the floor like this, they might as well have a conversation. “You’ve got a long story to tell it seems.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out. “I’m usually more in control than that. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“It’s alright, I’m fine,” Elain reassured him again. “I assume it’s hard for you to think clearly when the moon is out,”

“Yeah, I’m sorry if I scared you.” Lucien reluctantly let go of her wrist and pushed himself back to his feet before he offered her a hand.

Things were no less uncomfortable once they both stood, but it gave them a semblance of normalcy.

“You didn’t,” Elain said. “You seemed more scared than I was.”

“I-” Lucien exhaled slowly and braced himself, his hand subconsciously coming to touch his scar. “I hurt someone I cared about, three years ago.”

The pain in his eyes was so obvious that Elain felt the need to give him a way out of this conversation. “Do you have some tea? Maybe we should take a minute and sit down, or something.”

Lucien turned on his kettle and busied himself with pulling out two mugs. He wrapped the string of the tea bag around each handle to prevent them from falling in. Elain watched him prepare that and counted the minutes by stealing glances at the clock. He looked lost in thoughts, as if there were too many events for him to organize in his mind before he could begin talking.

Elain followed him to the couch silently, took a seat first and accepted the hot mug when he handed it to her. Lucien sat on the other side, his tea gently sloshing in his cup because his hands were shaking. It took a deep breath to steady them.

Then, Lucien looked up at Elain and told her everything.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Cold Comforts

Prompts: Sorry if this is too much, but do you think you could maybe do another hurt Roman fic. I absolutely eat that stuff up. My idea what the after POF Roman just disappears. He’s not in his room, the mind palace, the house. The others think they’ve checked the imagination to its full extent, but they miss one part (but you can’t necessarily blame them). Roman has trapped himself in a hidden and/or invisible castle on his half of the imagination. Slowly, he begins to fade/disappear, believing the others would be better off without him. But, as he goes, so do the things that belong to him. Items in his room start to go missing. Small trinkets turn to computers and posters. Computers and posters turn into chairs and furniture. Furniture turns into literally every single thing in his room, and then that turns into the room itself. Roman won’t disappear until everything he’s tied to does. That means his room disappears, the gifts he’s given others vanish, the videos he’s featured in start to glitch and have to be taken down, his writing and art are nowhere to be found. Everything he’s made in the imagination goes poof, but that also means that castle he’s made to ‘protect’ himself. Since that’s last things that needed to go, Roman is on the brink of disappearing forever when everyone finds him. I would write it but I just don’t have a lot of motivation right now, and I’m so tired my writing comes off as gibberish. I don’t mind any ships, but I’m definitely leaning towards found family and I really love how you write the creativitwins. That’s all I really have. Throw however much angst in as you want. I just like projecting onto imaginary characters :) thanks - anon

hi again! i’m still obsessed with your Roman angst writing. Amazing, by the way ☺️ I hope you don’t mind me asking for more. So how about some Logince where Logan and Roman have a heated argument that results in Logan snapping at Roman. Roman is scared off by that and sinks out while Logan regrets his actions. Roman then avoids Logan all day and doesn’t talk to him. Until later in the middle of the night when Logan finds Roman crying on the kitchen floor and eating Crofters. Logan then takes that chance to make things right and learns a lot more about Roman. Some concerning stuff and some interesting stuff. I hope that isn’t too much! Keep up the good writing, friendo! - lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-doubt, self-esteem issues, ducking out kind of

Pairings: gen

Word Count: 5151

Some arguments between Logan and Roman stay as little bits of contention.

Logan will bring up a point and Roman will read it wrong; either he'll make a joke that won't be received well or he'll take it as an insult when it wasn't intended that way. Logan will explain what he meant and the two of them will settle a little, at least until they can get back into the flow of the conversation and move past it.

Or Roman will let slip a comment he should've kept to himself and Logan will draw himself up, at least until Roman can apologize and claw it back, or he'll smirk and let loose a quip of his own and forgiveness will go unstated. They'll bounce off of each other until the conversation gets back on the rails.

This isn't one of those arguments.

"If you were capable of seeing reason, we wouldn't be in this position in the first place."

"Oh, and you think that just because you're Logic that you hold the monopoly on rationality?"

"Yes. By definition."

Roman throws his hands up, almost knocking over some of the papers. "So why do the rest of us even bother? Matter of fact, why do you even bother with the rest of us? If we're so unteachable and ridiculous?"

"Believe me, I've had the same thought many times." Logan juts his chin upward and looks down his nose at Roman. "Although some of you are more teachable than others."

"Oh, here we go again! 'Roman's stupid, Roman's dumb, Roman's un-teachable—'"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to! It's written all over your stupid prideful face every single time I say something that doesn't line up perfectly with what you want to hear!"

"Resorting to exceedingly childish insults isn't making you look any better."

"Yeah, well, what else am I supposed to do?"

"Perhaps take a breath and listen to me so then I can explain why you're wrong."

"But I'm not wrong. Maybe you should take a breath and listen to me."

Logan laughs, loud and cruel. "I should listen to you? When I need to fill my head with nonsense I have much better sources for it."

"Nonsense?"

"Yes, Roman, nonsense. This is nonsense, right now. We should have been finished about half an hour ago but you keep insisting that—"

"Because you don't know about this!" Roman gestures emphatically to the papers scattered about the table. "You don't know how to do this, you don't know how to come up with things like I do, so you have to come to me! And you have to listen to me!"

"I don't have to do anything, Roman."

"Well, if you want a halfway decent idea, then yeah, actually, you do."

Logan's mouth twitches and his hand tenses on his pen. "Arrogance is not going to do a better job of convincing me than insults."

"I'm not being arrogant, I'm telling you the truth."

"Thinking yourself irrevocably better than someone else is arrogance. Or have you somehow forgotten the meaning of the word?"

"I know what it means, don't patronize me. How come you get to be Logic and say that no one else is capable of rational thought but I can't say I'm Creativity and thus I'm naturally better at coming up with things?"

"Because I didn't say that no one else was capable of rational thought. I said that you of all people are incapable of seeing reason."

"What the hell's the difference?"

Logan smiles smugly, sitting up a little straighter. "Perhaps if you were capable of understanding reason I wouldn't need to explain it to you."

Roman growls, his hands curling into fists and Logan raises a scolding eyebrow.

"Careful, Roman. You're letting your emotions get the better of you. Again."

"I'm letting—you're antagonizing me!"

"I'm not sure you know what that word means either."

"I don't—don't you sit there and tell me I don't know what an antagonist is," Roman splutters, pointing a finger like a dagger at Logan, "and you don't have the high ground right now either."

"Why not?"

"You're insulting me as often as I'm insulting you!"

"So you can admit you've been insulting me."

Roman fumes. "So have you!"

"No. I have been pointing out facts."

"Insulting facts."

"Facts are most often insulting to people who lack the intellectual capacity to understand them."

"Lack the—are you capable of going a single sentence without calling me stupid?"

"Go a single sentence without being stupid and I won't have to."

"And here I thought you were supposed to be useful."

The room stills. Logan's face freezes for a moment and Roman winces internally. That's a button he shouldn't have pressed. Sure, maybe he wanted to needle Logan for making him so upset but he shouldn't have gone there. That's a sore spot that hasn't healed yet. He should apologize. He should apologize right now.

"I—"

"I am useful," Logan says, his voice dangerously low.

"Logan, I—"

"You, on the other hand," he continues, ignoring Roman's attempt to apologize, "are nothing but a waste of time."

Any words Roman may have had in his throat choke off. He gulps around empty air, staring at Logan.

"Are you capable of thinking of anyone but yourself? Do you understand that you are not so important that everything revolves around you?" Logan hasn't stood up, but the way he's just glaring at Roman makes it feel like he's looming over him. "You think yourself, what, some great presence or some great menace that I have to vanquish?"

Scrabbling for words in a filling grave, Roman grabs a chunk of dirt that buries him alive.

"I'm not Remus."

Logan's eyes flash dangerously. "No, Roman. You are not Remus. Remus has a function. Remus serves a purpose. And Remus, despite what you think of him—"

I love him. I love him, he's my brother, he's my Remus. I'm sorry, Re, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry.

"—is actually capable of listening to reason. You, Roman, you are not. At best you are a nuisance and a mild inconvenience, one easily dealt with and not worth the time it takes to do so."

He takes a moment to collect himself.

"I am busy. I cannot afford to waste time on you. If you are so determined to thrill me with impossible feats, go and find somewhere you are wanted."

Roman's chest burns.

He stares wordlessly at Logan, who just stares back at him. Against all hopes he wants Logan to take it back, the way he was going to, to apologize or realize what he just said or something, something, but he doesn't. He just stares at Roman and glares and then he turns away.

He packs up his things and leaves.

Roman is left alone.

He stares after him for a long time, still in shock. The words bounce around and around his head like bullets ricocheting off metal plates only to score grazes in every surface. They replay over and over and over until they threaten to swallow him whole.

He's not stupid. He's not stupid. He knows that there are ways to draw attention to himself that aren't good and that he—he can be a nuisance sometimes. And in being a nuisance, he's cultivated an atmosphere where the lack of him is to be looked forward to. But he—he's not stupid. He knows that where that comes from is the opposite; everything he's done, every part of the persona he's crafted, is in defiance of that invisibility.

This isn't a revelation, he realizes, but the difference between knowing and knowing. The kind that gets sobbed into your pillow in the dead of night.

And in that petty, spiteful, semantic kind of defiance that children are so often accused of, he sinks out to his room because that's where Patton said he wants him to stay.

He stumbles around the room in a state of shock, clumsy and inelegant and utterly irredeemable, knocking into his bookshelf and his desk and almost tripping over a notebook he left lying on the floor. He strips off the prince costume and throws it away like it burns to touch, staggering to the bed in nothing but undershirt and boxers and crawling under the covers.

He shouldn't be doing this. He's just proving Logan right. But he doesn't want to be something other than he is right now and if Logan thinks he's a stupid child that throws temper tantrums and sulks when he doesn't get his way, then he's allowed to curl up into a ball and clutch his hand to his chest. It's still hurting, the words still dragging themselves over his exposed nerves, and he curls up around it like he could offer it protection.

He should go to someone, he knows. They've all been trying to get better about asking for help and support. He should get up and go—but who would he go to?

Patton would want to hear everything that happened and he'd be scolded for being so mean to Logan. Patton would make him go apologize right then and there and he doesn't think he could bear going anywhere near Logan right now.

Virgil would take Logan's side immediately, he's sure of it. Virgil calls him stupid all the time, he'd probably be happy that someone finally told you like it is, Princey, deal with it.

Janus would take Logan's side too. Not because he'd necessarily agree with him—even though he would—but because it's not Roman's side.

Remus…Remus would hate him.

A pained noise leaves the safety of the covers and Roman only belatedly realizes it's him. He doesn't want to go and expose himself anymore to the possibility of being hurt. He wants to run away and lick his wounds and be upset all by himself. He doesn't want to be accused of being attention-seeking and overdramatic and all of that, doesn't want to be lectured and scolded and then—only then—offered the barest scraps of comfort like a starving animal being tossed a bone. He doesn't want to be hurt and then have them say it's for his own good. He doesn't want that, he doesn't want that, he doesn't want that.

He wants someone to just come and hold him. To say it's okay that he's upset—not even that he was right or that Logan shouldn't have said that or even that it's all going to be okay.

He just wants someone to comfort him. It doesn't have to be big or sweeping or anything, they don't have to stay for a long time, they don't—it doesn't have to be large or—or complicated, he doesn't—he just wants a hug, okay? Or not even a hug, it doesn't have to be a hug, it can just be a touch or something—or not even that, it can just be a—a look, or a nod or—okay, it doesn't even have to be that, okay? He just—he just wants—

He just wants, okay?

Roman's eyes start to grow heavy and he curls up tighter, limp and aching fingers brushing against his face as he almost nuzzles into his hand. He moves his head until he can get his nose tucked into the space under his thumb and feel the shuddering of his own breath against his palm. Oh, he wants and wants and wants and in the safety of the covers he can pretend.

"Shh," he mumbles in a half-voice that he's more thinking than saying, "shh, shh, it's okay. It's okay."

He brushes his lips against the skin there and it almost feels like a kiss.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay, shh…it's alright. It's okay. It's okay, it's okay." He does it again, trying to narrow his focus down to just that, the gentleness of the touch and the shaking voice from his own throat. "It's alright. Shh, it's alright."

His fingers twitch from a small gust that blows under the blanket and he moves, pressing it deeper into the chasm between his chest and the bed and lets his breath blow warm and stuffy over the skin again.

"Shh-shh-shh," he warbles in broken half-tones, "it's okay, it's okay, it's okay."

Slowly, he works himself back from the brink, mumbling the half-comfort to his hand until the thought of moving no longer threatens to tear him apart. He keeps at it as he drags himself from beneath the covers, as he drags on a t-shirt and shorts, mumbling that it's okay, we just have to go get something to eat, then we can come back and sleep. He keeps the hand pressed to his chest, holding his breath as he creeps down the stairs.

It's late. Well past midnight. The others are likely gone to their separate corners of the Mindscape. Had he the wherewithal to notice he might feel ridiculous, stealing away like a thief in the night as he makes his way to his own kitchen, but all he has space for is the lifeline of comfort that he still murmurs in the darkness.

"Just a little further," he mumbles, "almost there."

The kitchen looms in sharp lines and cold surfaces. He lumbers in and goes to the cabinet, reaching up for the one food he knows he can eat. The fingers on his useful hand brush against the cool glass of the Crofter's bottle and he takes it down, slumping to the floor and curling up, only belatedly realizing he didn't grab a spoon and groping around until he can get one.

It's his jar, almost empty, but just enough left that if he eats it he can make it until morning.

The spoon clinks and rattles as he props the jar up in his lap, eating clumsily until he can scrape the spoon around the edges and get the last of it. He starts crying somewhere in the middle and he only notices because it starts to taste salty.

Almost done, he thinks to his hand, almost there. It's okay. Shh, shh, it's okay.

He's just about to throw the empty jar away and skulk back to his room when the stairs creak.

Don't come here. Oh, god, please don't come in here.

The footsteps get closer. He curls up tighter, thinking maybe he won't be seen in the dark. They get closer.

A shadow looms in the sliver of light from the window.

Don't see me. Please don't see me.

A figure rounds the corner and stops, staring down at him. Its eyes narrow behind glasses as it sees the jar clutched in Roman's hands.

Logan doesn't get the chance to say anything before Roman is gone.

He drops into some random part of the Imagination and just runs. His bare feet cry out in protest as he runs over jagged rocks and sharp stones but he pushes onward. His hand lies useless in the wind, just aching from the memory of harsh words and the panic of being discovered by Logan. The frightened animal that lives in his brain digs its teeth into the soft part of his heart and makes him run faster, faster, faster.

Somewhere he's wanted. Somewhere he's wanted. Somewhere he's wanted.

Unbeknownst to him, the Imagination is building him something. A tall tower, high enough that its head loses itself in the clouds, invisible save for the way clouds can't pass through it, where he can curl up in a small room and be far away from everyone else. It waits until he collapses from sheer exhaustion, carrying him up, up, up, closing itself around him until he's locked in.

Roman doesn't notice any of that. He's too busy curled around his hand again, trying to murmur to it, comfort it, drag himself out of this ache again. He chokes on the words it's okay and it's alright and so he gasps out shh, shh, shh.

Sobs force their way out of his throat and it just hurts. He keeps trying, struggling to shush them, to shush his hand, to shush himself, to give himself something, anything, just to make it stop.

But his hand is just a hand and the pain is just pain. There's no tragedy in it, no pity in it, nothing redeemable or salvageable from the mess he's made.

He really is stupid.

* * *

A jar, discarded and empty on the kitchen floor. It clinks as it rolls over the boards until it comes to a stop, resting in the shadow of the stove.

Its label, half rubbed away from being handled, still clings stubbornly to the glass. One of the letters is still visible, just slightly, the single 'R' barely more than an outline in the faint light from the windows.

The lid is still up on the counter, laid on its back, cold and alone on the flat surface. The jar is somewhere else, air blowing through the empty spaces where it should be.

It fades away as the morning sun dawns, still empty.

* * *

"Hey, Pat," Virgil calls as he walks downstairs, "have you seen Roman?"

Patton frowns, glancing around the living room. "No, I haven't. Why?"

"Something really weird is happening and I think it's his fault."

"What's going on?"

Virgil comes into the kitchen and holds up his phone. One of their videos is playing but as they watch, it starts to glitch, skipping back and forth as though someone's dragging the slider.

"Huh. That's weird."

"Right?"

"Why do you think Roman has something to do with this?"

"'Cause all the parts it's skipping are the parts with him in it. And look at this." Virgil taps through a menu. "See?"

The thumbnails with Roman in them are conspicuously missing a certain prince. Patton puts his hands on his hips. "Well, that is strange."

"That's what I said. So yeah, we need to find him."

"I haven't seen him in a few days, I don't think. I guess I thought he was busy."

"Well, great, who was the last person to see him?"

"See who?"

"Do not do that," Virgil grumbles, helping himself up from the stair rail as Janus strides from the shadows, "you'll make me break something."

"Oh, relax, you're fine."

Virgil mutters something decidedly unflattering and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Have you seen Roman?"

"Not for a while, no." He frowns. "Why, is something wrong?"

They show him what's happening to the videos and he hums.

"That's…that's not good."

"No, it isn't."

"We need to find Remus."

"Wait, what? Why Remus?"

"He's the one who'll most likely know what Roman's done to cause this." Janus is already striding away. "Come on. We need to hurry."

They do, because as they walk they realize that Roman's poster is gone. Then his paintings. They break into a run when they see that his door is no longer bright red.

"Remus," Janus barks as they tear into the other living room, "Remus, we need you now."

As soon as Remus appears they know he knows already. He's almost frothing at the mouth, his hands itching around his Morningstar as he glares at them.

"What did you do," he snarls, "where is he?"

"We were coming to ask you," Virgil says, his hands raised, "we haven't seen him. We don't know."

Remus glares at all of them before looking at Janus, who nods. "He's Fading. He's trying to disappear. We need to find him now."

"Wait, Fading? What's that mean?"

"Like ducking out but worse, 'cause he's Creativity and I'll be happy to explain this once he's back. Now who saw him last?"

"Not me," Patton says, "I only saw him at breakfast a few days ago with everyone."

"That's the last time I saw him too."

"Janus?"

"We met up briefly to discuss a show but he had to leave early. Said he was…"

Remus growls as Janus trails off. "Said he was what?"

"…meeting with Logan. He had to go meet with Logan."

No sooner has Janus finished speaking, Remus reaches out a hand and yanks. A body falls to the ground in front of him.

"Start talking, bitch boy," he snarls, stalking over to loom over Logan, "what the fuck did you do to my brother?"

"I didn't—I don't know—"

An animalistic roar leaves Remus's throat and he hefts the Morningstar, ready to bring it down when Virgil catches his wrist.

"Hey, hey, easy! If you hurt him, we won't find out what happened!"

"He hurt Roman."

"We don't know that for sure, Remus, just—just take a second, okay?"

"I don't care—"

"Look at him," Janus interrupts quickly, "Remus, look at him."

Remus growls and tears himself free from Virgil's hold but does. Logan is still on the ground, his hands raised in surrender, glasses askew on his face. His shirt is dirty, tie mussed and torn, scratches on his arms and neck.

Wait.

"You were looking for him," Remus spits, "in the Imagination, weren't you?"

Logan swallows. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you're right. He's Fading and he's not anywhere else and that's the only place he can be but I don't know where else to look."

"Why is he Fading," Patton asks as Virgil has to hold Remus back again, "what happened?"

Janus gives Logan a warning look as he opens his mouth.

"…we had an argument."

"I get into arguments with Princey all the time," Virgil says sharply, "they don't end with Roman Fading."

"I may have said some things."

"You're going to have to be more specific."

"I—we're running out of time, we need to find him—ah!"

Remus, quicker than Virgil, shoots forward and pins Logan to the wall, Morningstar thrust against his chest. Logan winces as the spikes dig into him and Remus just growls.

"If you do not tell me exactly what you said to him," he says in a calm voice, "you and I are gonna run a little experiment on how hard it is to break the human spine."

Logan swallows. "I…I called him stupid. I said he—that he was incapable of listening to reason and that he—he should go somewhere where he was wanted."

"Why," Virgil growls, "in the fuck did you do that?"

"I was angry," he defends weakly, "I—I didn't mean it, I just wanted to hurt him—"

"Congratulations," Janus says lowly, "you did. You hurt him so badly he wants to disappear."

"I didn't know that," Logan says impatiently, "and I was trying to fix it! I went and looked for him the moment I'd calmed down enough to realize it was wrong and he wasn't anywhere! I only managed to find him that night in the kitchen and he vanished before I could say a thing!"

"Remus," Janus says softly, pulling Remus back, "we need to look in the Imagination. You know it better than the rest of us, where is he?"

Remus glares at Logan one more time before stalking to the door and ripping it open. "He's going to be hidden. The Imagination is him when he gets like this, if he's scared and hurt it's going to protect him."

But the Imagination they step into isn't rolling fields or towering castles or fairytale woods. It's glitching messes of clumps of grass and loose bricks, a white and lifeless sky overhead. Remus growls and breaks into a run.

"Look for anything that is still intact," he barks over his shoulder, "that'll be the last to go."

They run for hours.

A broken scarecrow, its arms dangling by the thinnest splinter as a crow glitches in and out of existence.

A frog, frozen mid-leap as its legs reach for nothing.

A bridge, splintered and torn by something massive except all that's left of it are shards of wooden boards.

They're losing him.

"There," Virgil shouts, pointing, "the tower!"

A single tower, the only thing still intact, stretching as high as the clouds, its shadow as long and thin as a needle as it pierces the last of the ground. They race towards it and crash through the door.

"Whoa!"

"I've got you, I've got you."

"Is everyone alright?"

"Don't fall!"

For there are no stairs inside this tower. Only a bottomless pit that stretches into yawning nothingness. Remus blocks the path with his body, Janus's arms around his waist as Logan and Virgil cling to the crumbling walls.

"How the hell do we get up there?"

"We climb."

"You can't be serious."

Remus hoslters the Morningstar star and digs his hands into the brick. He hoists himself up and glances down. "Sooner or later the rest of this is gonna go. You wanna be down here when it does or you wanna be closer to Roman?"

Brick by brick.

Hand over hand.

Inch by inch.

When Remus finally touches smooth wood, feeling around for the latch of the trapdoor, he shoves it open and they pile in, panting from the effort of it as he looks desperately around for Roman.

In the center of the room, surrounded by a wooden shell, is a pile of blankets and pillows. If he strains, he can hear quiet mutters coming from within. Leaving the others on the floor, he stands up and cautiously makes his way over, crouching down and peeling back the very top layer.

"Oh, Ro…"

Roman lies there, curled into a ball, cobwebs and dust caked on his skin. The only parts free from it are his face and one of his hands, his lips moving just enough to let air circulate and blow it away. Tear tracks are evident in the soot, his voice so overtaxed only the faintest sounds still audible.

Just enough to make them out.

"Shh, shh, shh, it's okay. It's okay. Shh. Shh. It's alright. Shh."

A lump rises in Remus's throat and he reaches out shakily, pulling the covers away. "Roro, Roro, it's me. It's me, Ro-Bro, I'm here."

Nothing.

"Roman, it's me," he tries desperately, "Ro-Bro, Ro, Roman!"

"Roman?"

"Roman, it's us."

"Open your eyes, little prince, we're here, it's okay."

Roman twitches slightly as Janus speaks but doesn't stir.

"Why isn't it working? What do we have to do?"

Remus shakes him harder. "Roman, wake up!"

"It won't work."

They all turn to stare at Logan.

"What do you mean," Remus hisses, "that it won't work?"

"He needs to be comforted," Logan says, slowly approaching the shell too, "he—he's trying to comfort himself. Let me try."

Virgil glances at Remus and tugs Patton and Janus back. Remus glares at him but doesn't stop him.

"If you fuck this up—"

"Then I'm your lab rat, I know."

"Good."

Logan takes a deep breath and looks in.

Oh, little one, he thinks as he takes in Roman's poor state, oh, I never meant for this, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.

He lifts a shaking hand and fits it clumsily around Roman's.

"Shh," he murmurs, "shh, shh, it's okay. It's alright. It's alright. Shh, shh."

Roman's hand twitches.

"It's okay," he says again, "shh-shh-shh, it's okay. You're alright. It's all okay."

Roman stills, then slumps. Logan fits his other hand to his face, not wincing at how cold it is.

"You're okay," he keeps saying softly, "shh, little one, you're okay. It's alright. It's okay."

The ground rumbles. Color begins to bleed back into the sky. Logan leans down and puts his mouth to Roman's ear.

"I'm sorry, little one," he whispers, "I'm sorry, it's okay. Shh, shh, I'm sorry."

"It's working!"

"Keep going, Logan, it's working."

"Come on, Roman, you can do it."

"Shh, little one, it's okay." He runs his fingers through Roman's hair, shaking loose the dust and debris. "It's all okay now."

Slowly, painfully slowly, he coaxes Roman's Imagination back to life. He brushes away the dust and the cobwebs and murmurs that it's okay, you're alright now, it's going to be alright. Every word that leaves his lips leaves Roman looking a little more like he's just asleep.

He debates with himself for a moment, before leaning up and brushing a kiss across Roman's temple.

"I'm right here."

Something shudders.

"Roman?"

Roman's eyes flutter and slowly open. "L-Logan?"

"Hello, little one," he whispers, "it's okay. I'm here now."

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[farfromstrange]

Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter 4: You See Right Through Me

Masterlist ° Chapter List

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader

Summary: Michael opens up a little more, and your defenses start to crumble when you realize how similar you truly are.

Warnings: ANGST, lots of crying, mentions of child abuse and child death, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 5.2k

A/n: I cried while writing this, and it hurts more if you listen to The Archer while reading this🤝🏻 But also, Mikey does his own dishes and the bare minimum should not be this attractive.

It’s one in the morning.

Michael has moved to lay beside you, your hand still on his face as you stroke his cheek. His eyes are closed, but he isn’t asleep. They are red and swollen from crying, his lips cracked from the dryness after not being able to breathe through his stuffed nose. 

You held him as he told you the truth. You held him as he cried. It went on for a long time, but you eventually managed to calm him down. 

You begin to think again. His day went awful, but yours wasn’t great either. The picture of the body bag being rolled out of the gas station only a few hundred meters down from your home is still stuck in your head, and it attacks the fear center of your brain slowly but steadily. 

“Michael?” you whisper into the silence. 

He hums, acknowledging your voice and showing you he’s listening, he’s just too tired to talk.

“I have a question.”

He opens one eye to look at you. “Ask,” he says. 

“Something happened earlier. It’s been bugging me, and I didn’t want to add to your plate or annoy you or whatever, but…”

“Yer not annoying.”

“My question might be.”

“You can tell me anythin’, love.”

“Well, I was driving home earlier and– you remember the gas station we passed this morning?”

Both of his eyes are open now. You take it as a yes. 

“I’m used to hearing it got robbed, you know? It happens a lot, and it often ends in a small investigation that they leave be for whatever reason, but… there were police everywhere this afternoon, more than usual, and– and I think someone got killed this time. I heard on the news that shots were fired, but–” 

When you look at him, not a single muscle in his face is moving. 

You sigh. “I’m sorry, forget it.”

“No,” but his voice sounds weird; he sounds like someone pressed a button inside of him that caused his jaw to lock up and sends anger straight through his veins. “Tell me,” he says.

You shudder slightly, not sure if you want to hear the answer. “Was it your family?” you ask then, your voice barely above a whisper. “Is it a front for the mob? Am I living next to a constant active crime scene? I don’t understand.”

He reaches out to touch your face this time. “Love, I…”

“So it’s true?”

“No!” the answer comes suspiciously quick. “No, yer safe. Don’t even think about it. Whatever happened, it has nothin’ to do with you or me or my family. Nothin’ can hurt ya, I promise.”

“But it’s true?”

“Leave it be.”

“No.”

You are stubborn by nature.

Death can happen fast. Accidents happen. You could lose your life in a second. Wrongful death, intentional death, that’s where it gets tricky. Murder is tricky. It means someone is willing to take another person’s life either for the thrill of it or personal reasons, but it’s still murder. Whether it can be excused or not is a debate that severely depends on the situation.

Death itself is a hard pill to swallow for most people, especially when it’s someone you love or it comes at random to someone too young to die, and then the world of everyone around the dead person crumbles. 

And there is nothing we, as humans, can do to outrun the hourglass or the hurdles life might throw our way and could end us in an instant. 

“Death doesn’t scare me,” you admit quietly. “But not-knowing does. And it is killing me inside that you won’t talk to me.”

Michael isn’t scared of death either; he has stared it in the face more times than he can count. He is afraid of the consequences, maybe, because he knows how much it can hurt. Death is a force of destruction. It can lead nations to chaos, or ruin your own life. Death often leads to a series of repercussions. You can’t escape it. 

He didn’t tell you everything to protect you, but not-knowing scares you. You just said it. You’re not scared of him or death or his family, you are scared of the uncertainty, and he is at fault for that. In a way, he does scare you with that.

What he told you painted a clearer picture of his pain and the person he is deep inside, but he still kept parts of his life hidden, which means you don’t know him. You know his essence, but you don’t know his life. 

You want to be part of Michael’s life, and you accept every rough edge he might show you, even if it’s dangerous and painful and might end in death. That becomes frighteningly clear to you, and you recoil at your train of thought. 

You avoided violence because you grew up with it, and now you want to be in a relationship with a man who, some time ago, lived a life of violence? But it’s different, right? It has to be different. 

Or maybe you are sexually attracted to danger, after all. Michael treats you well compared to the men you were with before, so accepting a little danger is something you can manage. Right?

You’re thinking too much. And Michael is thinking too much, too. He wants to tell you, he wants to admit that he lied, but his tongue is tied. He looks at you and his thoughts only go out to protecting you, and there is still a part of him that wants to guard what’s left of his heart that you haven’t seen yet. He protects himself with that, in a way, but also keeps you from harm – emotionally and physically. 

Why he chose to put himself in this position, he doesn’t know. It scares him, and he doesn’t often get afraid. He isn’t afraid of many things except for this. 

His thoughts flick to what Jimmy told him about Eamon and the danger that he projects. He owns them, and he wants to own even more to the point the Kinsellas will only be mere slaves in the business anymore. Eamon would move mountains to get what he wants. 

More than one person has been causing trouble lately, so Frank is weary. Michael gets that. This life is dangerous and no matter what, threats will pop up anywhere they go. It’s only natural if you’re a Kinsella, and if he were still with them, working for them, he would tread carefully. He would make sure everyone is safe the same way he is keeping you safe now, and he needs to keep Anna safe, too. 

It’s not about self-pity anymore, it’s about the duty he appoints himself. He won’t let history repeat itself. 

He said he would burn this bridge if it comes to it, but it hasn’t come so far and his family is capable of many things. They can handle it. Jimmy will find someone to help him. Eric isn’t him, Michael is aware of that, but he can still be used to get a point across, and his brother won’t have to work alone and subject himself to the danger on his own. 

He hates that he still cares so much and every living thought revolves around his family, even after all the pain, but he grew up with them, was loved by them, and worked for them for a long time because it was the only way he knew how to live. His name comes with a certain sense of responsibility that is almost impossible to shake, but he told Jimmy he can try, and he is trying. He just can’t fail again. 

You sit up. Frustration is etched into your features. You hate not-knowing, not being able to understand, and your thoughts and his lack of words only make it harder than it should be. It fuels the anxiety and feeds the fear. 

“It wasn’t my family,” Michael says. His eyes gloss over with guilt and unshed tears, but he is too exhausted to allow himself to cry again. “But it was someone, and they’re not robberies.”

Your shoulders are tense and you look scared. He hates when you’re scared. He hasn’t seen you like this before, but he knows he can’t let it happen again. And so he ends up telling you, anyway. 

“He‘s dead,” he adds. 

Death doesn’t scare you, you said. You appreciate the honesty. 

Finally, you think. You should celebrate the fact he finally told you something, but what he tells you isn’t exactly satisfying information. 

You nod slowly, processing his words. “And whoever was killed–” you said. 

“Connected, but not family.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Workin’ for us,” he explains. “A dealer. I, uh, overheard a conversation.”

“So drugs?” you ask. 

“Yeah,” his eyes only grow guiltier, “but that's not somethin' you should concern yerself with. It’s dangerous and there is a reason I didn’t want to tell ya.”

“And this…” your hand motions to nothing at all, but he knows what you mean. “This was once your life?” you ask, your voice quivering slightly. “Guns, bodybags, and bloodshed? It really is that serious? It’s not just some result of fiction or- or an overstatement?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

“And your brother – Jimmy, was it? – and his wife, they want you to go back to that life with the possibility of being shot even though you have a daughter?”

“Mhm.”

“You could die?”

“Yes. It's a risk I've come ta accept."

“Jesus Christ, Michael!” You bury your face in your hands. 

"But I knew tha' from the beginning," he adds. "It's what my life has always looked like. Death doesn't scare me."

You cry out, your voice dripping with the pure essence of frustration. "Maybe, in your case, it should!" you snap.

He slowly sits up and approaches you. His hand hovers above your back, but he is scared to touch you. What if you recoil? He shouldn’t have told you. He might lose you now. He might have screwed up another good thing. His hands are capable of destroying so much.

But you raise your head again after a few seconds and turn around. The look in your eyes isn’t one of fear or disgust; you look at him with the rawest empathy he has ever seen a person possess. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry you had to grow up like that, and do all of that, I–”

“I hurt people. I killed people,” he whispers back. “I am not the victim. Why don’t ya get that?”

“I do get it, Michael, that’s what I’m trying to tell you!” Your voice is louder now, more desperate. 

“Then why do you stay?”

“Because no one chooses this life,” you say and grasp his hand tightly in yours. “You were born into it, and I am so sorry you didn’t get to live a happy suburban life with your wife and daughter a-and a dog, maybe. I’m sorry you had to grow up with so much death and blood and that you had to carry the guilt of your actions without anyone to take care of you. I’m sorry you had to do that–”

The word ‘killing’ strikes a chord, but it’s a low note that doesn’t reach the speakers. It doesn’t reach your ears. He’s a victim in your eyes. 

“Your family expects so much of you, don’t they?”

Michael’s face contorts. Lightning strikes him. His face falls. His expression has never been clearer. You managed to press your finger straight into the wound and twist it. You read him like an open book, but this time you didn’t miss even the slightest inch. The obvious punches him in the face. 

“Good Boy Michael, your family’s obedient servant–”

He calls your name. He’s not sure where you got the dagger from, but it’s starting to hurt. That’s not your intention, not even when you get up and stand before where he’s sitting on the bed. The rain cloud above his head opens up. His brown eyes falter in their sternness. You tore the very last bit of the veil that kept the very core of him covered and tore it off, and now there is no going back. 

“You didn’t deserve that. And you don’t deserve any of this, either,” you say, your voice a gentle breeze that blows over his wounds. "What's happening right now. You don't deserve it."

You didn’t inflict them, you simply reopened them, and now he is bleeding on the floor. His heart is bleeding out for you. It’s a tragic picture, a tragic metaphor, but you seem to live for the drama of a good metaphor. You are a writer, after all, and all good love stories have someone bleeding out for the other, burning for them, willing to die for them…

You reach out to touch his cheek. He says your name again, but it doesn’t come out right. 

“You’ve always deserved better, Michael.”

There are a few things you know now, and they ignite a fire of determination that is hard to put out. 

For one, you hate Jimmy and Amanda. You’ve never met them but alone the thought of ever doing so repulses you. When Michael told you about the fight at his house a few days ago, the things his brother said to him in a fit of rage, and how he and Amanda tried to convince him to join the business again after he explicitly told them that he wants to prioritize Anna, your blood boiled and you recoiled. You died inside.

And two, you can tell he is holding back. He’s not a terrible liar, but he can be exceptionally bad at it when he’s in a bad mood. 

He asked you once if you ever get angry, at the café when he found you after a bad day and offered some comfort. The first day you kissed. The truth is, you do get angry; it’s often silent anger and you hate violence - you loathe it - but there are times when silent anger isn’t enough and you become absolutely furious. When it comes to the people you love, there is nothing you wouldn’t do. 

Love. 

Do you love him? It hasn’t been that long and feelings tend to be confusing. You thought love at first sight was a fairytale and it only happens in romance books – it has always been fiction to you. But if it’s fiction, why do you feel this way?

Maybe it’s a ‘right person, wrong time’ situation. You found each other when you needed it the most, neither of you knowing that was the case and now you’re here with him, sharing a bed, and you want nothing more than that. You want this reality. You want to forget about your past. 

But it’s not that easy. Your sister is living in a household that is slowly destroying her inside, and you feel helpless. You want to take her in, but she’s a minor and that would be a crime without custody, even if it’s your own sister. And you haven’t been in contact for a long time. She might see you differently now. 

You were scared of reconnecting. You openly admit that. You were a coward. You were scared of facing any part of your family again after everything that happened; you wanted to hide the pain and move on. It was more about pushing the ghastly memories of your childhood and beyond away than it was about making yourself happy. 

You ran because you had to. You prioritized yourself, but looking at the situation at hand now, you regret it. Ignoring the inevitable is never a good idea, and you should have known living in denial wouldn’t last forever. Perhaps you were more than delusional when you thought moving to Dublin and chasing a dream that is so far away, still, would be a good idea. 

“No child–” your voice cracks. The tears start burning in your eyes like a steadily spreading wildfire. You were so strong in the beginning, now you’re breaking yourself apart. “No child should grow up with violence,” you whisper. “No child should feel trapped in their home, because of their name or- or like they’re not good enough. It’s not fair. It’s not…” You suck in a sharp breath when the first tear escapes the corner of your eye.  

“Hey,” Michael says. He utters your name for the third time. “Love…”

Oh, that little pet name breaks your heart. 

“I’m so sorry you went through what you went through and I don’t… I don’t care that you hurt people because I know… I’ve hurt people too. And I know you would never hurt me, Michael. I know it may be foolish of me to stick around, but you didn’t do any of the things you did because you’re vile. You just had to survive and I don’t hate you or could ever hate you for wanting to survive. You never had a choice.”

His eyes are sore from crying, but fresh tears start building up anyway. The sight of you so broken and vulnerable and sad for him is something he can’t stand, and he just wants to know who hurt you. You were the spitting image of sunshine, and now your light has dimmed. The candle is about to blow out. Up until now, he didn’t believe that was possible. You were so happy, so cheery, so perfectly yourself with your little apron, your butterfly clip, and your jokes – now you're a crumbled mess, and your heart is bleeding into his, staining the carpet under your feet like red wine. It's maroon.

“Don’t feel sorry fer me,” he says, trying to console you. “I made the mistakes tha’ led me here on my own, no one else.”

You wipe your cheeks furiously. “But this is no life to live, Michael,” you tell him. “People die. Children die. I mean, how many people you love have you buried? That is not something you should even have to ask yourself. You’re supposed to be human. Your life should not be a haunting existence. It shouldn’t be– it’s not supposed to be so painful that you can’t breathe anymore.”

His eyebrows furrow. He gets the feeling this isn’t just about him anymore. You’re making conclusions, and it sounds like less what he experienced and more like the memories of someone else.

He lets out a shaky breath, pulling your forehead down against his, his hand curling around the back of your neck. “What happened to you?” 

“Nothing, I… you went through so much–”

“This isn’t ‘bout me.”

“Yes, it is.” You choke back a sob. 

“Hey–“

“No, I can’t. You- I-” You can’t breathe. “I just want you to let me in so I can help you.”

“Let me in first.”

You can’t allow yourself to cry. It is you who should take care of him. It is he who suffered the most. It wouldn’t be fair of you to cry, to be weak when he has every right to be. 

“This is not your burden t’carry. You don’t have ta fix everythin’ that’s remotely broken. Yer human too, and I can tell yer in pain, so please…”

Your body shakes. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest, and that’s all it takes for days of pent-up emotions to break out of you. No, you’re lying. It’s not just days, it’s months or years, or decades, even. Because being held is not something people do for you. 

At first, you struggle against his grip, the feeling so alien, you don’t want him to see you like this.

Whenever you’re like this, you’re empty. You’re useless like this. That’s one of the reasons why you cry in the shower; you don’t exist there. And once you’re done crying, you can put your mask back on and pretend you’re okay until you’ve convinced yourself.

"Stop," he tells you firmly.

He's stronger than you. You have nowhere to run. You have to face it.

"Stop," he repeats, and you let your limbs hang loose in defeat.

He holds you close to his chest as you curl into a ball, and that's when you start crying violently. You're not just sobbing; your body shakes with the force of your tears, and you can barely hold on as the flood threatens to take you away.

Michael is overwhelmed by the force of your emotions at first, but his instincts take over almost instantly when the sound of your strangled sobs reaches his ears. Whatever or whoever hurt you, the scars run deep. He wouldn’t have guessed from looking at you, which is why he’s so shocked when the waterfall crashes into you. You sound like you’re in pain, and that hurts him.

You told him your parents weren’t appreciative or supportive of your career choice, but he’s starting to feel like you lied to him. Or you convinced yourself that it was the truth to protect yourself. You’re good at being in denial. 

Someone with so much pain inside has to carry a deeper secret than unsupportive parents.

You cry until there is nothing left. You’re reduced to a shaking, whimpering mess, but he doesn’t pull away. Michael holds you through every last aftershock as if he was born solely just for this, and in his strong arms you find solace. You find a sanctuary from the tornado that follows you everywhere, ready to take you out whenever. 

He strokes your hair. He is affectionate, too affectionate, and the sweet nothings he whispers into your ear echo in your brain, instantly picked apart by the voices and the beast. 

“I’m sorry,” you choke out. 

“For what?” Michael asks softly. 

“Crying.”

“Why– Jesus Christ, what happened to ya?”

You don’t reply to his question. “I’m so sorry,” you repeat instead. 

You cried, you made it about yourself, and you can feel the sharp nails of guilt tearing your heart and soul to shreds. 

“Cryin’ is natural.”

It may be, but you’re not allowed to. Your next intake of breath comes gurgled. Your lungs refuse to accept the oxygen, choking you a blanket over open fire.

“Shh, it’s okay, just breathe,” he says. “Breathe.”

You inhale, then exhale through your mouth. 

“That’s it. I’ve got ya, and I’m not lettin’ go.”

He holds you until he feels your breathing calm down and your muscles slack under his touch. Your chest rises and falls in a steady but exhausted rhythm and you nuzzle closer to him.

He’s the first man you feel safe with. Michael protects you, even if it’s just from yourself right now, but he’s there. You’re not used to being on the receiving end of comfort, just like him. 

You remember being told that crying is a weakness, so you stopped. You knew crying would have consequences. You found other ways to channel your emotions. You swallowed them all and projected them on other people, constantly trying to fix them so you wouldn’t have to deal with yourself, and that slowly made you sick. 

But it has become an addiction; no therapy in the world can make this black hole in your chest go away. You’re supposed to be the light of everyone’s lives, and it is so strange to have someone hold you when the candle is about to blow out. 

Fuck. You are falling for him. 

Sleep evades you. He holds you for a while after you finally lie down, but he falls asleep to the sound of your heartbeat before you can. Every time you close your eyes, a million faces flash before them. 

You tried to bury the memories of your past a while ago, and it worked, but they are starting to resurface. Remnants of broken bones, split lips, and black eyes turn into an army. You remember the words that cut deeper than a knife, and you start tearing up again. 

Every time you close your eyes, you relive the godforsaken day in the hospital, a tiny body attached to several machines, and the steady rhythm of the heart monitor turning into a flat line. The constant beeping turns into a monotone, high sound, cutting straight through your heart. You remember feeling numb, your eyes filled with cotton as your mother broke down, and it was your responsibility to take care of her. You always had to take care of them because he never did. 

You push the blanket off your body. It’s getting too hot and the thick air makes it harder to breathe. The floorboards in the hallway offer a cooler temperature that soothes your skin. You’re wearing one of Michael’s shirts. It was comfortable only a few hours ago, but now the cotton is scratching at your skin like thousand tiny needles, and you tear it off your body. 

Wrapped in your silk robe, you retreat to the kitchen. The oven clock tells you it’s three in the morning. You settle at the dining table with a fresh cup of piping hot chai tea and allow the cinnamon to comfort your overwhelmed senses. As so often, you feel like you’re losing yourself, but this time it seems like you can’t reach for your own hand anymore. 

Your life is spiraling out of control, faster than you thought it would, your past catching up with you. It was bound to happen eventually, but it comes suddenly and without warning and that is terrifying. The unknown is terrifying, and you can’t even save the person you love more than anything in this world – you’re so caught up in the grief of the past that you pushed away what you had, and now here you are, standing before the crumbling construct that is your life. 

The door to the kitchen opens. You don’t notice at first because you are lost in thought and except for a vanilla candle you lit, there is no light in the apartment. You jolt when you catch a glimpse of a tall shadow, your lungs grasping for her as your muscles tense up and you flinch hard enough for your head to hurt from the sudden movement. 

Michael turns the light on, causing you to jump out of your chair only to relax visibly when you see him. You let out a sigh of relief, but the tears well up in your eyes regardless. You’re supposed to feel safe. 

“‘m sorry,” he mutters sleepily. “Didn’t mean ta scare ya.” His accent is thicker, you notice.

His hair stands in all possible directions and he looks as if he woke up from a very deep slumber. 

You place a hand against your chest. “It’s okay,” you lie, “I just got startled.”

“Are ya okay, love?”

“Yeah.” Your words are all lies. 

“Hm–” he rubs his eyes. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Nightmare?”

“No, just couldn’t sleep.” You wipe your nose. “Chai tea?” you ask him. 

Michael shrugs but takes your mug anyway to take a sip. “Thanks,” he says. 

“You should go back to bed.”

“Comin’?”

“No.”

“Then ‘m not goin’.”

“Stubborn.”

“Yeah.”

“You want your own chai?”

“That’d be grand.”

And that’s how you end up on your living room floor in complete darkness at three in the morning, each of you holding a mug with hot Chai Tea in it. His has a little more cinnamon and you experimented with some caramel. He poked fun at your unicorn mug, but when he saw the dinosaur cup on your shelf, he quickly shut his mouth and took that one. 

Sitting with him in silence is comfortable. The warmth of the chai tea seeps into your hands. You watch the fragrant steam rise. The taste is familiar and has often carried you through bad times. It's your comfort drink.

The world outside feels insignificant now as you're sitting in the darkness together. The rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall becomes a lullaby. You focus on the sound that has a consistency to it, distracting you from the elements of your subconscious that keep resurfacing. Time seems to hold its breath.

You reach out to touch his thigh. He takes your hand, seeing right through you. You’re not sure how he does it, but he has a way of seeing you that makes you feel important. It makes you feel like you might be good enough without trying too hard. It’s all you have been waiting for. You’re not religious, and you don’t pray, but you often hoped for more than just a plane ticket to Dublin but for someone or something to find their way into your life and somehow make you feel seen for the first time in your life. And you’ve been through many partners before meeting Michael, all of them failing miserably at treating you the way Michael proves that you deserve. 

“Are we ever gonna talk?” you ask. “Or are we just gonna pretend there’s no secrets between us?”

He lifts his head from the cushions. He glances at you, then at the clock on the wall. 4 am. “I dunno,” he answers honestly. 

“Yeah, me neither.”

“I just want ya to be okay.”

“I know. That's what I want for you, too."

"But my life is complicated. I told ya. You saw it. Yer far too good for the kind of shadows that surround me."

"Maybe there are things you don't know about me," you whisper. "Have you ever thought about that?"

Michael raises his eyebrows. "Somethin' ya want t' share with me?" he asks.

You shake your head. "No. Just saying."

"Yeah, that's what I'm doing too. Just sayin'."

You're speaking without saying anything, and that's not a healthy foundation, but you need each other.

Each second feels like an hour. Your eyes meet Michael's, and you see the longing and trepidation within the honey-hazel color of his irises. The vulnerability at that moment is palpable, and you find solace in the fact that you're not alone.

You’re both people who hate uncertainties and perhaps you’re not the only one terrified of not-knowing. It’s a frustrating state of being. 

You place your head on his shoulder. His lips brush your temple. Your fingers are still intertwined in his lap, and he takes his other hand to stroke through your unruly bed hair. The clock keeps ticking while you stay there in silence, not moving until the first red glow of the sunrise shows on the horizon. 

“I often sleep on the floor,” Michael admits then. “In prison, the beds were hard, so I sleep on the floor now.”

You close your eyes, a singular tear rolling down your cheek. “God, I’m sorry,” you whisper in a fleeting, hushed tone. 

“It’s not your fault.”

You reach up, brushing away your tears, and a soft smile tugs at the corners of Michael's lips. His touch lingers on your cheek. 

“C’mon, let me get the mugs.” He takes the empty chai from you, followed by his own before he makes his way to the kitchen. With precision, he washes the dishes and stacks them on the rack beside your sink, leaving them to dry. 

When he turns around and heads back into the now dimly lit living room, you are curled up on the floor as he so often does, your eyes closed and your body lulled into a state of forced relaxation. The exhaustion must have knocked you out, and he doesn’t blame you. Your body needs it. 

Michael lifts you up carefully, making sure not to drop you as he carries you back to bed. He may be sleeping on the floor rather often, but that’s not something he wants you to do when it’s not necessary – your back will eventually suffer. 

You don’t seem to mind the mattress for you roll onto your stomach and fall right back asleep when he lays you down gently. He remains next to you throughout the early morning hours, watching you sleep and hoping that once you wake up, you can feel at least a little better. 

Tagging: @bellaxgiornata @shouldbestudying41 @your-not-invisible-to-me @glowstick-lesbian @ms-murdockswift @acharliecoxedfan @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mattmurdocksscars @roseallisonparker @1988-fiend @norestfortheshelbywicked

[rainydaydally]

Here in this labyrinth (I’m trapped) Chapter 6

WARNINGS: Transphobia Deadnaming Fighting Misgendering

“Well, I’m sorry that I’m just worried about my son getting hurt!” Sheila retaliates. “Ma, you KNOW Stan. He would never hurt me! You just want me to seem perfect and Stan to be the bad guy!” Kyle says. Sheila opens her mouth to say something but Kyle doesn’t let her get it out. He stands up from his seat at the dining table and stomps up the stairs to his bedroom.

When Kyle enters his room, he shuts the door, locks it, and lays down onto his bed. He looks at his phone and sees he got a text from Stan. “Came out to my mom as bi.” Kyle smiles and texts back. “Thats amazing! I’m guessing it went well?” Stan replies a minute later. “Yeah, she’s really supportive. It was still scary though. Was coming out to your parents as trans scary?” “Well, even when I was little I never felt like a girl. I woud cry when my parents put dresses on me LMAO. So, they weren’t too surprised when I came out at 8, then everything kinda went from there.” Kyle texts Stan, but then hears a knock on his door.

Kyle puts his phone down, but doesn’t answer the door right away. “Kyle?” Sheila’s voice says, small and calm. “Open the door, please.” He groans and unlocks the door and then walks back into his bed. She enters his room and walks to where he’s lying. “Bubbie, I’m sorry. You know how I get. I’m just worried about you.” Kyle nods as his mom pushes the hair on his forehead back. “Stan isn’t just your boyfriend. He’s also your best friend. I should know that he wouldn’t hurt you and I’m sorry.” Kyle sits up from where he is in bed, and hugs her. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I yelled at you.” Kyle says. Sheila places a kiss on his forehead before saying, “I’ll save your dinner plate for later.” And walks out of his bedroom.

Kyle goes back on his phone and messages Stan for a bit, and then goes into the bathroom to take a shower. He avoids looking at himself in the mirror at all costs, showers, and then puts his clean clothes on. He does his hair, washes his face, and then finally goes to bed.

Even though it’s only 8:45, Kyle hides under his covers, forcing himself to sleep. He was extremely tired, so he didn’t need to force it much.

The next day, Kyle wakes up to his horrible alarm again. He wishes Cartman had atleast outed him on a Friday instead of a Monday. Whatever, he had yesterday off so today is already half way through the week. Kyle yawns and gets out of his bed,

He gets ready for school as usual, and exits his house. “Hey.” Someone says as he walks out his door. He looks up and sees his boyfriend, Stan Marsh. “Hey Stan.” Kyle says, as him and Stan start to walk to the bus stop together. They don’t talk much, but they don’t need to. They’re basically one step away from reading eachother’s minds.

They arrive at the bus stop, and (thankfully) Cartman isn’t there, just Kenny. “Cartman must be too scared to show up.” Stan remarks as the three of them wait for the bus. Kyle and Kenny laugh. “He got his mommy to drive him to school.” Kenny says. “No, Dude. His mom definitely hates him now, too. He’s probably walking to school.” Kyle says matter of factly, but still with fun in his tone. “The little sh*t deserves it.” Stan says, looking at Kyle.

Suddenly the bus shows up, and the three of them climb into it. Kyle and Stan sit next to each other, and Kenny sits next to Butters. “Hiya fellas! Great to see you back, Kyle! Hope ya doing alright.” Kyle smiles. “I am, thank you Butters.” Butters really is a sweet kid, just sometimes he talks for what seems like hours on end.

The bus eventually arrives at their school, and they all go inside. “You ready to go back?” Stan asks Kyle. Kyle holds onto his hand tightly, and nods. Kyle, Stan, Kenny, and Butters enter the school.

They all walk to their lockers, preparing for the school day. “I’m going to head to the bathroom before class.” Kyle says as Stan nods, continuing to put things in his locker. Kyle walks through the hallways to the bathroom, looking down at the ground. He really doesn’t want to make eye contact with anyone. When he arrives at the bathroom door, he sees Cartman leaning on the open door on his phone.

Kyle eyerolls and walks past him, but Cartman quickly stands in front of him, blocking the entrance. “Dude, what the f*ck? Let me through.” Kyle says, anger rising. “No girls are allowed in the boys bathroom. Kylie, you should know this.” Kyle knows people heard, and are starting to watch. His deadname rings in his ears. “There’s no f*cking way I’m using the girls bathroom. I’m obviously a boy.” Kyle’s voice raises, as he tries to shimmy his way past Cartman. Stan and Kenny hear commotion around the boy’s bathroom, and go there to see what was going on. The scene unfolds in front of them. A few seconds later, Kyle stops trying to get around Cartman, and stares at him dead in the eyes.

“What do you mean ‘obviously a boy’? You have long-ish hair, long eyelashes, a girly face, and- most importantly- a GIRL BODY. You’re a F*CKING GIRL, KYLIE!” Thump.

The sound of Kyle’s fist hitting Cartman’s face. The crowd around them errupts into gasps. Cartman holds the part of his face that was hit, now red. “Goddammit, you f*cking tr*nny.” He punches Kyle with his other arm in his chest. Kyle stumbles back a bit, but quickly hits Cartman right on his temple. “F*ck. I am not gonna get beat up by some stupid girl.”Cartman says under his breath, punching Kyle in the gut, and then his face. Kyle wraps his arms around his stomach, sucking in sharp breaths through his teeth. His ribs hurt so, so bad.

Kyle goes to punch Cartman again, but feels his arms almost being locked. He just now notices Stan and Kenny holding his arms back, and Craig and Tolkien holding Cartman’s arms back. “No, please… he deserves it..” Kyle says, his voice shaking, his breaths sharp and weak. “I know, Kyle, I know.” Kenny says in Kyle’s ear as he holds him back, and they drag him away.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Ao3 Link

Wattpad Link

[ruminate88]

Getting Real With Me:

Getting real honest with myself: When I met my husband, I was sooo tired. All men were pigs as far as I was concerned. All men leading up to him made me feel like they only want sex. Men didn’t value me as a human. Most men got my nudes and then dated other women. I didn’t get to have feelings and crying only made men run from me. They made me feel so weak for crying. I was told on Twitter that “I was too fragile”.

So when my husband was so nice, I wanted his “friendship” but didn’t know if I liked him. He asked me out but I told him no. 🥺 but we talked 3 months and be continued to be nice. Then I asked him out this time and he said yes. THEN my ex Andrew tried to come back and it hurt so much. Ugh. Andrew disturbed my peace and got me all upset again. 😭😭 why did he want to hurt me so much???? All I wanted was to love Andrew. I KNOW I married my husband to get away from Andrew and to get “safe”.

I move forward with my new man and he continues to be so ever nice but things heat up before we get married becuase we’re trying to plan the future and I was scared to get hurt. We get married and stuff happens right before the wedding with my family. My wedding day was both beautiful AND sad. My honeymoon was GREAT but also very emotional. I cried a lot. My poor new husband had to deal with me being emotional and weird. I felt so uncomfortable and frustrated but couldn’t understand why.

the first year of marriage is okay, I’m sick at Christmas in the hospital for 4 days but then the next year shifts drastically. My new man wants to escape work life through video games and doesn’t always wanna go places with me, making me feel alone. I begin to complain how I fear he prioritizes video games over me. (I was being triggered from abandonment and neglect wounds but didn’t understand it yet)

For the first part of my marriage, I have NO IDEA why I feel so disconnected or upset at my man. I couldn’t stop obsessively having Intrusive thoughts of my ex Andrew. It was very bad. I was comparing everything my new man did and said to Andrew. I was low-key angry at Andrew but didn’t know it and so I look at my new man with almost frustration and anger. I slowly started building walls.

in 2021, my new man surprised me with a very expensive gift which made me feel horrible and then took me on my dream vacation at Christmas and I forced myself sooooooo hard to enjoy it. It was my dream!!!! He made that dream come true but also complains and stresses about money so giving me my dream but I feel so bad for it too.

I was soooo uncomfortable but tried so hard to enjoy myself and my man. It’s overly uncomfortable to open up and talk to my man about my feelings. I couldn’t express to him that I’m stilll obsessively thinking of Andrew and I’m angry cuz I think it will hurt him and upset him.

I want nothing from my husband. I’ve lived just to exist. I married him just to survive. I he’s a nice guy and a very hard worker. I care about him and want to be there for him. I would be upset if something bad happened to him and can’t go to bed anywhere but with him…. Sounds romantic but I AM SO TIRED 🥺🥺🥺🥺 I overthink and over analyze every move, word or choice he makes. I don’t force anything really now. I’ve reached a point where I’ll do my wifely duties and be fair to my man but whatever it’s just going through thr motions. He goes to work, I clean and cook then he comes home, I feed him and repeatedly ask him “ARE YOU OKAY???” It annoys the shizz out of me. WHEN DO I STOP ASKING IF HE IS OK EVERY SECOND??? 😝 I hate that about me. I worry to upset him all the time when I KNOW it’s all in my head.

some people have said “you need to have an honest conversation with your husband” like…. Scary. No thanks. I don’t wanna tell him I think about my exes every day and feel so stupid and small. Just the thoughts of it make my knees buckle. I feel fake when I’m trying so hard to be a good wife. I do everything for him, get up at 3am with him and blow him a kiss before he drives out of the garage for work. I pack his lunches and do his laundry. I do it all and I want nothing back 🥺💔❤️‍🩹 just don’t be upset at me or hate me or hurt me. I don’t EVER wanna hurt the way Cody and Andrew hurt me. I’m sick inside over it all.

I just wanna sit alone in my thoughts. I don’t beg my husband to turn off the video games and spend more time with me cuz whatever, I’m done fighting for men. I gave Andrew all my fight and begged Andrew to spend time with me. I’m not doing it again. My husband will either be with me or he won’t. I do feel like most of the “disconnect” is me and not my man causing it but I just don’t want to push myself. This healing journey has made me wanna just be with myself and listen to music.

[satoruan]

DAD-UATION — JUJUTSU KAISEN

✧･ﾟ Welcome to dad evaluations! Toss the condoms, grab the prenatal vitamins and peak into your feature with the jjk men!

( CW ) f!reader, pregnancy, established relationships, adoption, modern!au 

EVALUATING: Choso Kamo, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru 

authors note: most of this is me just rambling + omg I’ve been on a fluff high I can’t stop writing fluff

☾ CHOSO KAMO  

1 boy, 1 girl 

I know everyone thinks Choso is a girl dad, but I feel like he has a baby boy first! When he found out he was having a boy he freaked out. He didn’t want his son to turn out like him, responsible for his younger siblings and missing out on a childhood. You had to reassure him that he wasn't going to damage his children the way he was damaged. He attends all the classes and appointments, reads all the books, and ensures you take every vitamin you’re supposed to take. He’s so sweet to you during your pregnancy it’s like he fell in love with you all over again. 

When your son was born Choso was scared to even hold him, afraid he’d drop him, but soon after you get home from the hospital he starts to bond with the baby. You guys thought you were doing something wrong because he’d scream for hours and only sleep in small intervals. The doctors told you he was colicky. Choso wanted to slap himself in the face for not recognizing the signs after reading so many books. Choso loves standing under the warm bath, holding his son to his chest while they listen to white noise because it’s the only way your baby falls asleep.  

It’s when his son is older and not as dependent that he gets his baby girl. His sweet baby girl who—like your son—took after you in every way. When he finds out you’re expecting again he holds ‘older brother’ lessons with his son every weekend where he teaches his son how to protect and care for the baby. In those lessons, he always reminds his son that he’s still a priority and he’ll never set him aside.  His heart melts every time he sees his babies interacting because it just reminds him of how he took care of his younger siblings.   

☾ GOJO SATORU   

2 boys, 1 girl 

Always wanted one of each so imagine his surprise when you tell him you’re expecting twins. He jokes that his sperm is just too strong, and then breaks down and cries into your stomach because he’s wanted a family so bad. You go through a decent pregnancy, some ups and downs with an overbearing Satoru always by your side. He may joke about how ‘pregnant women aren’t helpless you can do it!’ But he’s the first to tell you to sit down because he doesn’t want you to hurt yourself. Almost passes out during the labor but refuses to leave you alone so he just rests his forehead on yours and whispers how proud he is of you. (Thinks another baby was hiding when you have to push the placenta out.) He convinces you to name the twins matching names because he loves cliches. 

Would I be wrong if I said the twins were naughty? They’re respectful but…Gojo has spoiled them a bit too much that sometimes they have trouble understanding boundaries. Their terrible twos stretched into terrific teens and tiring twenties, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Your children took Satoru’s personality and looks and ran. On the bright side, they also took Satoru’s soft spot for you which is why you have a hard time believing what everyone says about them when they hang onto your every word and run around the house helping you.

You have another son a few years later, and Gojo cries again. This time though, he has an audience who teases him endlessly for crying like a little baby. This little boy is quieter and can sit in silence for hours by himself. He either takes after you or you’re just as hyper as Satoru and it cancelled out to a quiet kid. Satoru vents to you one day about how he doesn’t feel connected to him, but you tell him to stop trying to make your son do extroverted activities and try doing something introverted. He decides on drawing and schedules daddy-son dates where they just sit in silence and color. One day his son holds up a drawing of the two of them hugging and Satoru gets so emotional because your son is finally expressing his love for him. Hangs it on the fridge and years later after these kids have moved out it still hangs up with a ‘world’s best dad’ magnet. 

☾ GETO SUGURU 

3 girls

Your pregnancy with your little girl was perfect. Suguru was always there—you had so much support you were suffocating in it. Your girl was perfectly healthy, and she was such a well-behaved baby you and Suguru didn’t have any of the problems you were warned about. Life was calm and whole with her. Imagine your surprise when Suguru comes home begging you to foster two little girls... 

You’re on the edge at first because you just had a baby several months ago, and you’d feel overwhelmed taking care of 3 babies at once. He promises to switch to part time—you have more than enough savings—so you won’t have to do anything alone. It was the look in his eyes that convinced you to say yes, he looked so haunted by what he heard the girls had been through. Within the week the 2 girls are in your care. All his friends joke he was destined to be surrounded by girls; he agrees, he loves being outnumbered by his girls. Suguru’s favorite thing to do is come home and scoop the babies up and lay them on his chest before pulling you to his side. The girls are such daddy's girls when he's home they follow him like a shadow, mimicking everything he does. Their favorite thing to do is play mermaids and laugh at how girly Suguru looks with his bright neon tail.  

The day the girls were officially adopted was one of the best days of your lives. The girls were crying you and Suguru were crying, and the judge was in tears too. Suguru held you all so tight when you got home that day and when the girls fell asleep in your bed between you two, he cried and thanked you for being such a good mother and wife, how he could never repay you for giving him a family, but he’ll spend his life trying to.