#I'm sorry i have a brain that seems to be under constant stress sense i was 14 and dose morning but dump cortisol into my body or

[im2tired4usernames]

I really love how fuckin asinine some of these weight loss tips people throw out at me (completely unprompted and unasked for also)

someone straight faced told me I should make my life miserable and sad and destroy a happy healthy strong five+ year relationship so I can "lose the happy relationship weight" and that "women gain weight when they are in safe relationships"

Which is fuckin insane I'm sorry? I'm glad you recognize I'm in a happy safe relationship with a good person such ye I fuckin love my wife dude! but I think you need to look at your relationship with yourself and your body and work on your own prejudices and self image because being willing to sacrifice a relationship??? To become thinner??????? Is fuckin miserable and unhealthy as fuck bro.

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (part 6 of ?)

gif by my queen @michaelgreys, i'm basically her fanblog now but im not mad about it :) i mean just look at him!!1! i almost fainted

a/n: first of all, if you stuck around to this point, tysm for reading!!! this has been one of the most amazing fics ive ever been a part of and it's all thanks to the gorgeous @stxdyblr-2k, who generously took control of the next few parts. her brain is beautiful and we all owe her flowers or something. when i read what she sent me i couldn't bring myself to change much except for some small edits, so pls give her lots of love if you like it!!!! i'm still working on requests as well :)

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four five | my masterlist

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland, @lilymurphy03

prompt: nothing this good can last forever. john doesn't know how to feel, and neither do you.

warnings: nsfw! a teensy bit of smut, angsty as fuck prepare yourselves accordingly, a lil fluff if u squint, yeah this fucked me up

Obviously, it wasn't the last time.

Over the coming months you had many last times; his mouth pressed against your neck said as much. As his responsibility at work increased, you'd find yourself heading to his office after your lectures and night classes more often, perched on his lap, smoking, while he finished up his numbers under your critical gaze.

Thomas was more than aware; his snarky comments made it obvious he had his ways of monitoring your actions. You'd seen the dark car lurking outside your rallies and lectures, and no matter how you'd try to throw him off, not even telling Ada where you were going and even, in a moment of desperation, through your neighbours back window, somehow, his silent shadow was still looming. He was practically begging you to make a mistake, to give everyone an easy out. You just couldn't give him the satisfaction. You knew Tommy saw the world as a chess board, always several moves ahead of his opponent. Even when you played him in chess club all those years ago, you could outflank him if you thought on your feet and kept him thinking he was winning until you obliterated him in the end game. It was brutal, sure. But as he told you, there were bigger games at play. You had your own. Thomas could read your mail, intercept your phone calls and have you followed, but he couldn't hear what you said out of earshot. Your lot could smell an interceptor in your ranks, so spying at that close of a proximity was out of the question.

That's why he'd decided to let you have John. You knew his silent approval and his constant management of the narrative meant he saw a tactical gain. There was only so much information he could get from Ada, but John? He just had to agitate him in the right way and all your secrets would come tumbling out. It was difficult hiding your world from John; of what he knew of, he was supportive, quizzing you over current affairs and political discourse, listening intently. Yet, you had to watch your mouth. You had to keep a barrier up and you knew John sensed the distance. Fundamentally, there was nothing either of you could do.

So here you were, in a comfortable limbo. Your days were filled with work, evenings were for lectures and reading groups at the city's university, Ada and you often stopped for a drink or three; you'd go by your flat to freshen up, and then to John's office. Sometimes, you wouldn't visit for a week or so when the guilt sent you over the edge, it was draining to be living so many lives and knowing you were betraying the person you loved most on earth. Ada was oblivious, taking you on her nightly adventures filled with men, dancing and waiting while she was busy kissing in dark corners. Sometimes a young blinder would ask if you wanted to be walked home. The first occurrence you thought was sweet, but as the nights it occurred coincided with nights John seemed extra pent up, you'd decided to ask. The boy, who couldn't be older than twelve but who you knew was trained in using firearms and had a revolver pinned to his hip and a razor in his cap, looked confused.

"Mate, it's not a tough question. Why do you come and ask?"

"There's a phone call." He shrugs, "Isaiah or Michael tells us to go and get you."

Isaiah and Michael were somewhat aware? Fucking hell. Your fling was basically a military campaign at this point, so many of your friends were complicit. The little lads who ran as messengers around Birmingham were complicit. You had to just end it.

But when you sat on his thigh, his chin hooked over your shoulder, it felt so worth it. He never turned you away when you came crawling back. He never mentioned it until after you were finished, hooked under his arm.

"Fucking missed you, gorgeous."

Sometimes he'd remind you not to be a stranger with a wink, but you could tell it was tearing him apart too. He never once came to you. That's how he could justify it in his mind; obviously, the bare minimum was not having sex with his sister's best friend, but in failing that, waiting for you to initiate it was somewhat better. He barely talked to Ada now, citing work as an excuse, but truly the guilt sickened him. He couldn't believe he was prepared to continuously hurt his little sister and betray her. But every time you turned up at his door, he couldn't find it in himself to turn you away. In his mind, every single time you came to visit him was the last time he'd let it happen, yet he was always waiting for you to come back, his blind closed to signal he was prepared. He never would call, it had to be your choice.

You'd been off and on for over five months now. It was so difficult to hide in plain sight, but you just couldn't stop yourself. Neither of you purposefully meant for this to be happen but fuck, was it fun.

For your birthday he'd gifted you a fur coat from the same shop his sister, aunt and the fashionable crowd of Birmingham had purchased theirs. He joked that you looked like a "proper razor chaser", kissing you when you pouted at his teasing, begging you to wear only the coat when you fucked him next. It was a practice for blinders to buy a coat for their wives and girlfriends as a status symbol. You were neither, but John claimed that being his "favourite lass" also counted.

John was a laugh, but you knew at any time he could close his door to you. Until he decided he couldn't be bothered with you, you weren't going to get caught. You just had to be careful until he got bored.

***

You did end up putting a foot wrong. It was a Thursday night; you were sitting on the edge of John's desk while he was ridding you of your blouse. It was past midnight, Birmingham was asleep. You almost didn't bother coming out tonight, but you knew John had lost a deal and you wanted to be there for him. Your skirt and stockings were strewn across the desk with his shirt, vest and waistcoat, muddled into the files and papers which were once neatly stacked.

His fingers were pumping in and out of you, his mouth lapping at your breast, your head tipped back in euphoria, groaning. The stress made him more affectionate and tender with you, and it was nights like these that made you wonder. Wonder if this could ever be something more, something real.

John's body suddenly pulled away from yours, quickly turning the light off.

"John, what-" You were cut off by John’s hand over your mouth, muffling your words.

"Shut up and get behind the desk." He hissed. "Someone's coming upstairs."

You quickly grabbed your clothes from the shiny oak surface and crouched, hiding yourself from view, quickly making yourself decent. You weren't going to get shot through the head with your tits out. You listened to the stairs creek, and it sounded like a group. You two were easily outnumbered. They were talking, but the thick panels of wood muffled their voices.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, the cracks in the door giving the room a dulled glow, you could make out the figure of John. He was free of his shirt, toned body on display, standing with his back flat to the wall, revolver produced from a discreet notch in the door frame, gaze fixed on where they'd enter. He was tense, ready. The door was unlocked from the outside, the door handle twisting.

John's lip shifted in confusion yet still he kept his trigger finger ready, not a single shake from your general.

The light flicked on and a shriek rang out. It was blinding, and you stood up slightly dazed. Finn was in the doorway, John next to him clutching his chest, panting and lowering the gun.

"Jesus Christ, Finn, can't you knock like a normal person? Scared the shit out of us." John bellowed, shaking as the adrenaline coursed through his body, resting his hands on the edge of the desk as he regained his breath.

"You're the one who pointed a gun at me! I didn't even know you were in 'ere!" Finn yelped.

The commotion had attracted the attention of Ada and Isaiah, who had come running and stopped in their tracks upon seeing you standing behind John's desk in the middle of the night. They weren't stupid. John was topless, your clothes obviously rumpled, both with matching tousled hair and practically stinking of guilt. You'd been caught red handed. Ada's eyes flicked between both you and John, and you could practically see the pieces of the puzzle clicking together in her mind, all the moments she found questionable since you'd returned suddenly making sense, realising she had been deceived by the two people who she was meant to trust most in life. Finn looked absolutely crushed, he'd never been able to conceal his emotions as well as his older brothers and sister, linking his fingers through Ada's, squeezing her hand.

"I forgot to drop this off earlier." Finn stated, holding up a money box, "Ada had keys so we thought we'd sneak in so I wouldn't get done by Tommy. We did call round yours, Y/N. We thought you were in bed."

"I'm sorry." You said. It was not enough but you just didn't know what else to say. You couldn't make it right, you'd really fucked up this time. Tears pricked at your eyes, as Ada examined you in silence.

John stepped in front of you defensively. "Look, Ada-"

"How long has this been going on?" She asked, her voice shaking with rage. You and John exchanged a glance. "I said, how fucking long?"

"Five months, six in a fortnight." He answered.

Isaiah whistled lowly. "That's fucked. I thought it was only a few times, that it'd finished."

"Never really over when it's John is it." Finn interjects, you glance to him, were you just one in a long string? You shouldn't be surprised but it was easy to pretend he may actually care about you.

"You've been fucking around for six months behind my back?" Ada yelped, Finn trying to comfort her but she pulled away from him. "And you fucking knew Iz."

"I'd expect this from you, yeah? Wouldn't put anything past you these days.." she sneered at John, "But you? You?! You're meant to be my best mate, but here you are sneaking about fucking my brother?"

"Ada-" you began, eyes welling with tears.

"I thought I could trust you. You're just another fucking razor chaser, aren't you?" She spits. "That's why you came back."

"No it wasn't, Ada-"

Her eyes flashed with anger, but this time John was on the receiving end. "You bought her that fucking coat ,didn't you? The fur one. You did! Fuck's sake!" Her fists were clenched, shoulders squared. For the first time in your life, you understood why crowds parted for Ada Shelby. Understood all the free drinks and cab rides, the nervous serving staff declaring your meal on the house (always acknowledged by Ada with a hefty tip), understood why the men of Birmingham didn't last long with her.

"Did it feel good to swan about town in that fucking coat, while acting as though you cared about me? It's so fucking embarrassing. All trussed up because my knobhead big brother makes you feel special? Thanks for rubbing it in my face."

"Ada, I love you. I never meant to hurt you, I got caught up and that's on me. It's my fault."

"You're not acting like you love me. This isn’t what love is, Y/N." She retorted.

You couldn’t do anything but nod. She was right.

John opened his mouth to speak, Ada silencing him, a scowl darkening her features.

"I don't care what you have to say. Any of you. Who else knows?"

"Thomas, Michael, Arthur-" John listed off slowly, each name prompting Ada to break down a little bit more in front of you.

"I didn't know Arthur knew." You said pointedly, John sending you an exasperated glance. He was planning on dealing with that later, but right now was about his sister. Fuck him if he thought you were going to stick around much longer. You didn't want to hear him justify everyone else knowing about your fling with your best friend being left completely in the dark.

"That all you have to say for yourself?" Ada snaps at you.

"I have fucking no defense, do I Ada? I should've walked away." You pushed your hair back, frustrated at yourself, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You begged yourself not to cry. Tears wouldn't help anything.

"Why didn't you?"

You didn't know. Your silence only riled her up.

"Why didn't you fucking walk away?" Ada yelled, slamming her hands on the desk.

You felt hot tears run down your face, quickly moving your hands to dab at your tears.

"Don't you dare fucking cry. After all you've done, you don't get to cry in front of me." Ada growled at you, John going to shush her, obviously wanting to comfort you. "You can all fuck off. You've all lied to me and gone behind my back. Fuck’s sake, you could've just told me. You could've just told me."

"We didn't want to hurt you." John said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder but she flinches away.

"This hurts so much more. You get that you all lying to me is so much worse, don't you?"

"We weren't thinking."

"You really fucking weren't." Ada laughs bitterly, shaking her head, blinking away tears. "Fuck you lot."

She stormed out, tailed by Finn, begging her to slow down and talk to him, protesting his innocence in the situation. Isaiah hesitated in the doorway, his eyes flickering between you and John.

"I had no idea you two've been at it for so long."

"Iz, fuck off yeah? I've had enough today." John shot back, sliding across the desk towards you. "You alright, lass?"

"We're done here, John."

He slid off the table, his hand cupping your face, "Hey, gorgeous, I get it but don't go breaking my heart tonight. Can we just leave this for tomorrow? Sleep on it."

The idea of getting any sleep at all tonight was laughable, you'd be up all night replaying these moments and torturing yourself. Tonight couldn't get any worse so you had to finally end it. Now was the right time.

"John, it should've never happened."

"But it did."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's over."

"Y/N. You know for me it was never just about-"

"You're making it difficult. Stop making it difficult. Whatever you say isn't going to change that right now we have to do the right thing."

"I know you're right, but I don't want to let go. Is it so wrong to want you? I adore you, you know that."

You wouldn't meet his eyes. Sighing, John pressed his forehead to the side of your head, chin brushing your shoulder, eyes closing. He was begging you to stay with him. There had to be a solution, you'd figure it out together. His voice was cracking, eyes glassy. He looked so much younger when he was pleading. The tall bloke who terrorised the Midlands with his razor rimmed cap, a revolver in his hand, and a ruthless trigger finger had vanished. You wanted to stay, burning to curl up with him and for him to kiss it better.

"I should go." You told him. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, letting out a shaky sigh before pulling away, nodding.

"I'd drive you home but obviously-"

"Obviously."

John suddenly turned from you, eyes narrowing at Isaiah who was still hovering at the door. "Thought I told you to fuck off. Make yourself useful and get Y/N home safely." His tone was ice cold once again.

Isaiah nodded, offering his arm to you. You reached the door and instinctively looked back at John. His eyes met yours, staring at you from his desk, just as you knew he would. He prepared himself to watch you leave every night, but this time was different. That was it with you two.

Isaiah strode down the street with you in silence. You were tucked into his side as was customary with the upcoming blinders who were particularly ambitious, but there was no relaxed chat.

"Isaiah. What’re you thinking?" You asked, voice tinged with nervousness.

He sighed, running his free hand across his jaw, "That was intense in there."

"Just how he is." You shrugged.

"Does he love you or sommet?"

"Fuck knows… does it matter?"

"Of course it does. Do you love him?"

"Drop it. None of that matters, it shouldn't have happened in the first place so it can’t," You snapped, the anger at the situation you'd created suddenly overwhelming.

Isaiah whistled, raising his brow at your obvious turmoil. "You're in fucking deeper than you want to admit."

He walked you up your path, watching you turn the key to the side door leading to your bedsit. You paused, turning to him.

"Iz… I don't know what to do next."

It was so dark, you could see his face only by the lit cigarette burning to embers between his fingers. He inhaled deeply, pausing before delivering his carefully laid out plan of avoidance. Obviously the event of him crossing the Shelbys and losing their good graces weighed heavily on his mind. You nodded, listening intently, noting his ideas of relocation but he explained they were a final resort. The best thing to do was try to regain their trust; in the long run, he had calculated, it was the only option that didn't result in your life being haunted by the Shelbys. Even if they left you alone, their enemies would make a point to go after you, seeing you as an easy target. The other option was to leave the country.

"Good luck, Y/N. I mean it." He muttered as you turned the handle to the temporary safety of your home. You nodded, offering you cheek for the polite good night kiss you'd become accustomed to. He rolled his eyes and obliged, pressing an affectionate kiss to your cheek and ruffling your hair. "I'm serious. Watch your back."

***

John broke down when he finally heard the lock click shut. His eyes had been prickling with boiling tears, his jaw tensed to hold them back. He yelled out in anger, flipping his desk with force, a loud crash as the wood splintered against the stone flooring, glass shattering from the photo frames. His hands went to his head, unable to stop the gasping breaths escaping from his trembling lips, his face reddening.

"Fuck’s sake." He growled. He'd fucked everything up. He had nothing, just as he'd told you the first night you returned. The consequence was no surprise, he'd anticipated the fall out for a while, but he couldn't resist you. He was completely guilty and had no defense; his only justification being that you made him think with his cock, not his brain.

Fuck’s sake. Polly was going to murder him. She'd always had a soft spot for Ada, as the only girl in the family, and was no stranger to lecturing him over his flirtatious behaviour around Ada's friends. She'd murder him. He had a half mind to never go home. He rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles. Polly had no use for tears. That's what she'd tell him when he was a boy coming home with a skinned knee. This was far worse.

He was also sure that he was a worse brother than Tommy, perhaps the worst in the world. His baby sister, who he'd helped to toddle, carry proudly on his shoulders after school and race with her on his back through the fields on the outskirts of Small Heath, had walked in on him obviously in the midst of fucking her best mate. If he had swallowed his pride and actually talked to her, he wouldn't be in this mess. He could've told her that things changed, that for the same reasons Ada loved Y/N he had fallen for her, that he was truly sorry but she had to know before it got too far and someone got hurt. He couldn't go back.

He should've never approached you that night.

He should never approach you again.

He looked over the mess of his office, the splintered wood and shards of glass, a confetti of paperwork. Now nothing mattered. None of this mattered. He'd lost everything and he had only himself to blame.

[midnxghtsunwrites]

SMOKESTACKS | 16, NO MORE SURPRISES

previous post

warning: ⚠ domestic abuse ahead ⚠

FOR THE SIXTH TIME IN TWO hours, Nadine's phone blares its annoying ringtone. She could only assume that those calls are coming from the same people she's been avoiding for the past week. Nadine has managed to take the week off of work to avoid seeing Gemma and/or Jax.

Now, she's sat in a bar on a Friday night, sipping on a gin and tonic and bobbing her head to the music playing over the speakers.

She glances at her screen to see the familiar name pop up.

Jackson Teller.

She was in her feelings when she changed his name in her phone and she doesn't see herself changing it back in the near future. Honestly, she doesn't know what to do. It seems impossible to avoid these people considering everywhere she turns, someone associated with the club is in her face.

Of course, her friendship with Lyla was the only constant and based on the fact that the porn star brings up Jax in every one of their conversations, he knows it too. Does she want to just wait it out until they're tired of trying to reach out to her or does she try to make another getaway?

She just got here and she loves her job and her kids and she already can't imagine leaving them.

Guess she'll have to suck it up.

"I really can't tell if you're drunk or just vibing," The voice belongs to a black woman who'd been sitting beside Nadine for the better part of thirty minutes. She has an eyebrow raised and a glass of scotch raised to her lips, "Or both."

Nadine shakes her head in amusement, "Definitely both." Sticking a hand out, she introduces herself, "Nadine."

"Amelia." The woman shakes the teacher's hand, "Why haven't I seen you around before?"

"That is a great question," Nadine jokes as she sips her drink. She's barely tipsy, which is far from where she wants to be. The conversation continues to flow as the woman is drowned out by Nadine's phone blaring obnoxiously for the third time in ten minutes, the teacher ignoring every call.

Noting this, Amelia tilts her head in interest, "Boyfriend?"

The teacher scrunches her face at the thought, "Nope."

"Girlfriend?"

"I wish."

"Almost boyfriend?"

At Amelia's teasing tone, Nadine rolls her eyes in amusement, "Definitely not."

NADINE WAS DOWN THREE GLASSES of whiskey before she felt the effects of the alcohol on her senses. She giggles, fruitlessly as she tries to drink from her glass only to miss completely and basically pour it down her shirt.

Amelia bursts out into laughter, drunk to her ass. The women had been drowning themselves in tequila shots — for reasons they choose not to admit. Apparently, Amelia has lived in Charming her whole life — she's an OR nurse at St. Thomas's Hospital and extremely talented when it comes to her job.

Nadine didn't get much more than that.

"Oh, crap," Nadine snorts as the woody aroma from the alcohol wafts to her nostrils.

Amelia points in amusement, her eyes squinted as a loud laugh escapes her, "You smell like a bar!"

The teacher nods and leans back on her stool, almost falling on her back, "That's 'cause we're in a bar, silly!"

Staggering forward, Nadine peers through the mirrored wall behind the shelves of alcohol — the clear space allows her to look at the rest of the bar patrons behind her. She takes note of the large spot on her grey shirt and groans, exaggeratedly as she throws her head back.

Luckily, drunk Nadine still has some sort of logical reasoning, "I'll be right back — I gotta clean this up before it stains."

Amelia just tilts the rim of her glass of scotch towards the teacher and sends her a dopey smile, "Have fuuun." She sings, joyfully.

"I willll," Nadine mimics as she throws cash for the drinks on the bar counter.

Fortunately, the dark spot hadn't dried in the time it took Nadine to go through the line of women standing outside of the bathroom. A lack of stalls seemed to be the verdict for the long queue. Standing there in the bathroom, she hovers over the sink, wiping a damp paper towel over her tank top.

The stain is almost out — the woody smell being replaced by stale tap water. She should've just kept the stain there if that's the case.

Suddenly, it's like time stops. Chills run down her back and the hairs on the back of her necks rise. Goosebumps line her arms as she furrows her eyebrows. There's a sinking feeling in her gut — so deep that Nadine is knocked out of her drunken stupor and forced to grab on to the ceramic sink.

Almost as if she could predict it, there's a knock on the door. Nadine blinks profusely and calls to the person, "Someone's in here." That doesn't make the person on the other side back off — no, instead, the doorknob that was once locked is twisted and pushed open.

So much for locking the door. She ponders.

The figure that enters is tall — and so familiar. It's too dark for her to see a face but for a moment, Nadine assumes that Jax found her. She didn't put it past him considering he has so many connections that probably tipped him off and she doesn't put it past him to break down any barriers between them.

This leads her to her beginning sentence, "You don't have to check up on me, Jax. I just need time to myself."

As the figure steps closer, Nadine's breath hitches in her throat. Fuck. Tears fill her eyes as she looks upon the man that's caused her so much turmoil for two years. The man she fucking ran away from. Ezra Moore in all his mysterious obscurity stands just feet away from her.

She tries not to let her gaze shift to the pepper spray in her bag.

The man smirks, sadistically as he steps further into the room, almost steps away from his target, "This place should really get some better locks."

As his patronizing tone, Nadine jumps towards her bag on the sink, only to be shoved backward by her assailant. Her back lands against the filthy tiled wall and he holds her there, a grimey hand wrapped around her neck.

There were times when she loved to peer into those chocolate brown eyes — they used to give her a certain comfort. Now, they're the epitome of terrifying.

"What? You thought you could get away from me, you little bitch?" He growls, leaning so close into Nadine that the palm of his hand pushes into her larynx and the stench of cigarettes and nasty beer invades her senses. "No matter how far you go, what name you use, or if you change your phone — I will always fucking find you."

"Please —"

"Shut the fuck up!" He yells into her face, spit flying to land on her cheek (the way my COVID brain just threw up). "You know you can't run from me, Nadine." His voice lowers as he jerks her head to the side and leans towards her ear. His lips wrap around her lobe, bringing tears to her eyes. His grip tightens, taking her breath from her — "You've been a little slut since you left me, haven't you? Fucking Jax Teller? That little biker I've been seeing around here?"

She can't speak. She can't breathe.

Ezra doesn't care.

"Answer me!"

Whipping her head around swiftly, she shakes her head and gapes her mouth, wanting to speak but no words can make it past Ezra's tight grip. Seeing this, he loosens it for a split second so Nadine can muster a small, "No."

That wasn't the answer he was looking for, "Don't fucking lie to me! That's all you've been doing since I met you." He forces her to look at him, frowning for a moment at the sight of tears running down her cheeks, "You're a fucking liar, you know that? And such an actress. Even right now — all these crocodile tears that you've been saving for me. For two years. All that fake love. Did you even love me?"

Nadine watches in pure horror as Ezra's voice breaks and tears begin to fly down his face. This man is insane, she sobs. Thoughts flurry through her mind as his grip loosens significantly. She's so taken aback that even her mind seems to be lagging. She wants to go home where the locks work.

"I did." She whispers, cringing as her voice cracks, "I-I do. I do love you, Ezra." It pains her to speak these lies, but she has to go and the only way to do that is to feed into his crazed actions, "I love you, baby. So much." She lifts a shaky hand to cup his cheeks, willing her tears away at the thought of touching her oppressor. "I'm sorry I left you. I don't know what I was thinking."

Her back stiffens when he falls into her, dropping his head into the crook of her neck. He sobs, savoring the feeling as she runs a hand through his scalp. It was something she did years ago to help him out whenever he had a stressful day — she used to love doing it.

Now, she feels like she needs to take a shower in acid to scrub the feeling of him off.

Her neck is sore when he releases her — surely, she has bruises.

Now is her time to get away — with that thought, she swiftly thrusts her knee up in between his legs and pushes him off of her body. He falls to the floor with a pained groan, cupping his groin.

"You bitch!" He screams at her as she shuffles along quickly to make her getaway. She snatches her bag from the sink, grabs her pepper spray and unleashes hell on the man writhing on the floor. He screams bloody murder before Nadine exits the room, closing the door behind her.

Nadine tries to wipe away the messy mascara under her eyes before heading for the exit of the bar, ignoring as Amelia calls after her.

The teacher drove home in fear that her shaky hands would make her swerve into oncoming traffic. That and her blurry vision, eyes filled to the brim with unshed tears. She's spent too much of her life crying over that man — she'll be damned if he gets anymore from her.

Taking extra precautions, she checks behind her every few seconds to make sure she isn't being tailed — even taking the long way home.

When she arrives at her apartment complex, she double checks the locks on her car before making her way up the stairs, her key already in one hand and her pepper spray in the other. When she sees another figure crouched by her door, the woman jumps. She doesn't want any more surprises tonight.

As she steps closer, arm extended with her pepper spray, her eyes catch sight of the familiar dark hair and the lit end of a cigarette. Nadine holds her breath as she realizes that that cigarette belongs to the woman she's been ignoring for the past week.

With a broken voice, Nadine freezes and whispers, "Gemma?"

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[kiirogirl]

Don't you shiver

25th March 2020

Her first ever date.

Hand in hand round the food stalls.

Brokenhearted when they part with an, "I'm sorry, it won't work. Your legs are just too fat"

That's what the future had in store for her. It's written in her book, after all.

But little, hopeful Nene seems to have forgotten about this little detail when Fuji-kun, one of her hot classmates, asks her out.

Well, it's actually not her fault if her brain short-circuits when a hot guy is involved. It's just how she is.

But she can't blame no one else either if now she feels like her heart has been ripped from her chest and cut into little pieces.

The only thing she can blame is this stupid feeling of hope that grows in her stomach every time she sets her eyes on a boy who seems like a good person. That kind of hope that makes her all giggly inside. The hope of making someone smile by just being herself.

The hope of sharing something special with a boy who makes her happy.

The hope of being loved and appreciated for what she is.

Nene knows she sounds selfish and maybe immature, but she really needs this. She needs to be loved. She needs to know if she ever crosses someone's mind, 'cause sometimes she just feels like she could disappear and nobody would care.

She is literally afraid of this. Afraid of waking up one morning and feeling terribly lonely. Feeling like she isn't enough for anyone, not even herself.

Because it was never about Fuji-kun or Minamoto senpai or that guy she fell for in middle school. Screw them. It has always been about her and her constant attempts to search for love and validation in a relationship with a popular guy.

And no matter how many times she felt rejected, she never gave up. Because her hope, her desire, never faded.

But now.. Now, she feels like something in her has broken.

She's tired of trying, tired of being stepped on… tired of exposing her heart just for it to be tossed away like trash.

That desperation, that fear of being unable to connect to other people in a way that makes her feel like she's worth of someone's love.. It feels more real than ever.

And it hurts. Her chest hurts. Her stomach hurts. Her head hurts.

She feels like she could throw up at any moment.

And it's all because of her stupid legs.

She hates them.

Nene cries loudly, unable to contain herself.

It must be the reason why Hanako finds her. Or maybe it's the bond, at this point she's not sure.

"Yashiro! There you are" he says as he approaches her. She just stays there, sitting on the dirty floor of the school greenhouse, not saying anything. The look of relief in his face suddenly changes when he sees her crying.

"Do you have any idea how worried I was?" Hanako asks, the anger in his voice in contrast with his concerned eyes.

It's actually very rare to see him like this, all serious and not his usual buffoon self.

His worried expression reminds her of when Hanako took his hat off at the confession tree and for a moment she feels the same reassuring warmth she felt back then.

But then Nene remembers that he led her on too, making her feel stupid for hoping he liked her not just because he needs an assistant but because she means something to him. And her chest hurts more than ever before.

Unable to look at Hanako any longer, she lowers her head, trying to hide it between her crossed arms.

Surprisingly, the boy doesn't say anything at all.

It's so quiet that for an instant she thinks he has left, but then she feels a cold body enveloping her and she doesn't need to look to know that it's the ghost.

Nene actually wants to reject him, to yell at him to stop playing with her feelings, to stop pretending that he cares just because of the bond.

But she doesn't.

"Leave me alone" she whispers instead, knowing perfectly well that he won't listen.

"You know I would never leave you alone when you're like this" he just says, softly kissing her temple while caressing her head.

They stay like that for a while, Hanako holding her tight while she cries her heart out.

It's unfair, Nene thinks. It's unfair that a cold, stupid, kind ghost can make her feel so warm inside. It doesn't make any sense.

"You're unfair" she gives voice to her thoughts as she finally raises her head.

"Well, I need you to be more specific than that" he says jokingly, then with his thumbs he delicately wipes away the tears from her eyes.

Nene can feel her cheeks getting warm under his cool touch.

"Better?" then he asks smiling.

"Yes, I think.." that's the only thing she can answer because yes, she momentarily feels slightly better, but her heart still hurts at the thought that she's gonna die alone.

"I'm sorry if this morning I yelled at you. I have no rights to tell you that you can't go on a date" then he says, holding her hands.

"No, I should apologize for calling you a jerk and not listening to you. At the end you were right… I shouldn't have gone with Fuji-kun" she apologizes, looking at their intertwined fingers.

She wonders if Hanako is aware of the chaos he's creating in her head with these little affectionate gestures.

"He said my legs are too fat for him" then she confesses with a bitter smile, "it was written in my book and even if I knew it was coming, it hurt as hell."

Nene can feel the tears forming again at the corners of her eyes but she immediately wipes them away.

"Yashiro.."

Hanako squeezes her hand and "He's the real jerk. He doesn't deserve you" he declares.

"You're saying that just because I'm your assistant" she decides to confront him.

The ghost searches for any trace of irony in her face, but she looks away.

"What? Why would you say that?" he asks incredulously.

"Because it's true. Sometimes I feel like you only pretend to care about me because we're bonded".

"Yashiro, look at me" Hanako says, lifting her chin with his finger. "I don't know if you're joking or not but this is actually the stupidest thing I have ever heard in 60 years" he affirms.

Nene almost feels offended.

"First of all, why would I do that? Second of all, what would I get out of pretending to care for someone? I'm dead! This is so stupid" he seems actually angry.

"But-"

"I really, really care about you, Yashiro. I care way too much about you. I don't know how you could even think about something like that! Why do you think I'm always worried sick about you? Why do you think I'm always trying to protect you? For the same reason I didn't want you to go on that stupid date! It hurts me to see you hurt, ok? And it hurts me that you think so low of me" he concludes. It seems like he won't allow a reply.

"But Hanako-"Nene can't finish her sentence: it's a moment and her mouth is shut by a pair of cold, pink lips, interrupting her line of thought.

She's shocked and her head spins and her heart feels like it's exploding, but she doesn't pull away.

One of Hanako's hand reaches for her face, starting to caress her burning cheek while her mouth is cuddled by his soft, thin lips.

The kiss is brief and sweet and it's enough to make both a blushing mess.

Hanako is the first to pull back and he's as overwhelmed as Nene.

"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have kissed you without your consent! I'm terribly sorry!" he yells, getting more and more flustered.

"I" she says, trying to regain her mental abilities.

It was her first kiss. She finally gave her first kiss and it tasted like candies, donuts, summer festivals, fireworks and spaceships. It was perfect.

Nene feels like she could melt at any given moment.

"You shouldn't be sorry, I really liked it" she manages to say and in a spurt of courage she reaches for his lips once again. It's another gentle kiss, but it makes Nene heart race and the butterflies in her stomach go wild.

Hanako is melting too, how ironic. He takes his hat off and "now you understand why you shouldn't think that awful things?" he timidly asks, looking at the hat in his hands.

Nene blushes and nods vigorously, unable to say anything.

Then the boy visibly gulps, raising his look to meet her eyes.

"I know you're in a difficult place right now and that you're emotionally hurt and confused, but I really like you, Yashiro, and I'm sorry if you feel overwhelmed because of all of the stress I'm putting you through. I don't expect you to return my feelings or to give me an answer right away. I want you to take your time to think about it and to recover from your heartbreak. I really want to do things right with you, even if you decide to be just friends. I don't want you to take a decision you'll regret or to rush things. You're very special to me and I just want what's best for you. "

Nene can't help but tear up a little, really touched by the ghost's words. She doesn't really know what to say, feeling too much at once.

But she knows that she really likes Hanako.

"I sure hope this is a real confession" she says as she leaps into his arms, making him laugh.

"It is" he smiles at her, then he leaves a kiss on her forehead.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a certain someone to torture" the boy grins pulling out his knife and making the most terrifying face Nene has ever witnessed.

"Tell me you're not planning to use that on Fuji-kun, please" she says pointing at the weapon.

".... Maybe?"

"Hanako!"

"Ok, ok, I won't torture him."

"Good"

"But maybe a little push down the stairs.."

At this point she just stares disappointed at him.

"So you don't want any kind of revenge?"

"No, I don't want to waste time on that jerk"

"Then we may have a problem…"

"What?"

"I told Kou about your date and he immediately went to that guy to beat him up"

"Kou WHAT?"

"Yeah.. I guess I'll go stop him, then" Hanako says as he disappears, leaving her a last kiss on her head.

Nene just stays there, staring at the spot where the boy disappeared with a blushing face and a storm of butterflies in her stomach.

And maybe there's still hope in her. Maybe she doesn't mind exposing her heart once again…

Because she has the feeling that this time, she will not regret it.

Also on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23304325

Hope you like it❤️

[azalynestudios]

(I don't have a tumblr so you'll have to deal with anonymity, I'm afraid) What I came to ask you: when will you admit that you have lost the drive and motivation to continue the project? It has been made clear by now that you bit off more than you can chew, both by constant delays and excuses and by how the writing quality in alpha version have steadily deteriorated. I don't want yo be mean, but someone had to say it. Whatever interest and hype there were for your game, they're mostly gone.

I seriously debated whether I should answer this one or not. Not because I’m not on board with full honesty, but because there’s enough unhappy things in the world and I have been purposefully trying to keep my personal unhappy away from everyone here because you are all so lovely.

But ultimately I decided I should respond just in case there’s lots of people thinking the same thing.

Here’s a short version for people who aren’t up for a discussion of health/mental health/world talk/real talk (and don’t feel bad if that is you!): I have 100% not lost interest or drive for the game. Although it has been taking much longer than anticipated, It’s coming along. And while your opinion on the writing quality may vary, I personally think these last weeks have some of the best moments in the game. If it’s not to your taste anymore or you are sick of waiting, that’s totally fair. Thank you for your support this far and I wish you all the best!

okay the rest under the happy kittens cut:

Okay, real talk time, full disclosure. With a possible side of TMI.

So I don’t think it’s a surprise to anyone when I admit that I haven’t been as great about responding in a timely fashion and this last update took way longer to complete than I would ever have guessed. And it’s recently gotten out of hand in a way I am deeply ashamed of. I feel very much like I have let you all down and I am really truly very sorry. It doesn’t have anything to do with any of you, you have all been (for the most part) completely lovely and kind and patient.

So here the honest story of how we got here.

-So despite everything, I definitely underestimated how much increasing work every week would take. Like I knew it would compound but I didn’t have any idea HOW MUCH it could compound. A big part of the delays is just how much more complicated everything is to write in these later parts of the game. It’s no exaggeration to say just this week seven update took HUNDREDS of hours of HARD work. (Some scenes used to be relatively easy to write. Nothing in week seven is fluff, nothing was easy to write.)

-A couple years ago I was getting a massive amount of asks a day. Trying to keep up with everything was seriously cutting into my work time as well as making me feel stressed and always behind. I started to cut back on responding and noticed that delays led to much less asks/emails. Less asks meant less stress. As things got worse for me the temptation to have delays so I didn’t have so much to respond to also got worse. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t working on other things, it just meant I wasn’t updating and answering properly.

-You guys have to remember that except for the art, I am doing 98% of this game completely solo. It is a lot for any game, especially one of this size.

okay with that all in mind, here’s what’s been happening on my end.

-Trump is elected. Faith in humanity takes a major hit. News/internet becomes a trash fire of bad. 

My stress levels and anxiety levels (already high because of the game and always, always feeling like I’m behind and not doing enough) spike to epic levels. I even get a few early gray hairs. (They seem to be gone now, thankfully.)

-For the sake of my mental health I have to drastically cut down on my general internet use and where I go (including tumblr, sadly)

-My health starts to take mysterious nosedives. For like 6 months I’m having serious stomach pain that is keeping me up at night. I’m also puking 3-6 times a week during this time. 

Things start to get better and I get back on track.

-My grandma dies out of nowhere from a brain aneurysm. I don’t get into my family situation on purpose, but my grandma is the only person in my entire giant family outside of my mom and my brothers that I have ever really believed actually cared about/loved me as I am.

And presto, I’m back in a bad place.

My stomach issues finally work themselves out, but my immune system still hasn’t recovered. I’m getting minor infections, colds and flus at least once or twice a month even now. 

All this time I have been working hard both on the game and on getting my mental and physical health back on track. I have my good moments and my bad.

There are two major ways how all of this has affected the game/my communication with you guys. 

1) Like I said, everything is 100% me. If I’m sick or in an anxiety spiral there is no one else to take over to communicate or bug check or whatever. Progress is completely tied to me. Which leads to the next point…

2) There’s a really bad loop. When I’m feeling anxious/stressed/depressed I can’t get everything done that I want to. Which leads to me feeling like shit/super guilty. Which leads to more anxiety and stress. And a deep, deep fear that when I check my email/asks, it will be full of people who are mad at me or disappointed or whatever, and the cycle continues.

I don’t say any of this to make anyone feel bad, or guilty or anything. In my good place, I truly love communicating with you guys and I truly think you are the most amazing people ever.

And I don’t say this as an ‘excuse’ in the sense that I think any of it is anyone’s responsibility to handle but my own. No one is obligated to wait for this game or for me. When I took money, I was taking on a professional obligation. All failures to live up to that and handle things in a more professional and responsible manner are on me and I deeply apologize for not being live up to your expectations. 

But no matter how bad things were for me, I never for a moment thought about on giving up on the game. And I promise you, I will finish the game. And it’s honestly very close. (Not that I don’t anticipate the epilogues and million game ending variations to take a long time to write and debug) but compared to where we started we have come lightyears.

You can be assured that everything that has happened during this development I have learned from and taken from heart. I now have a much better idea of what works for me and what doesn’t. In the future, if I manage enough support and interest to continue this as a career, I won’t be making the same mistakes again. Rather than doing a backer/alpha system I most likely will only release major news/announce games when they are close to finished. 

Thank you all for your patience support and interest all this time. 

(p.s. While I appreciate your concern in advance, I assure I am already on top of what I can to work things out on my end. While I appreciate your good wishes, no health/mental health advice please. Thank you!