#I’m a fat piece of shit who the fuck cares if I starve myself right

[bashirenthusiast]

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[sadstrever]

ok i’m sorry i contemplated not posting this because it’s almost meanspo so just don’t read it if ur triggered. it’s also just bad advice, don’t starve yourself and don’t be an (vodka) alcoholic.please recover love you i guess

first off i wanna preface this by saying FUCK YOUUUUU. if ur a little fat baby piggy no friends bitch i don’t want ur advice or opinions on my alcohol consumption while i fast😭😋!!! i’ve lost like 40lbs since i’ve started being an alcoholic and it’s had absolutely no impact on my weight, cuz just to irritate for the 100th time on this account: I NEVER EAT HOE! anwyays sorry maybe i’m just too drunk but that really pissed me the fuck off. like GOD OKAY RUIN THAT FOR ME TOO. like ok i never get any calories in except for alc but sure fuck it yk, because YOU said that alc has calories(you don’t think i know that bro?) i’m just gonna suddenly stop being an alcoholic. and now i just feel like shit because i consume calories from alc and someone thinks thats a “judgey” thing to say to me. now i feel fat so thank you. like if i could stop drinking that easily i WOULD and if i could start eating without gaining weight every time i do I WOULD. ur so dumb. ugh. i hate myself i’m sorry i’m so mean i love you people and i hope ur healthy and happy. i just need to put my anger out on someone lol. BUT also genuinely liek you guys do piss me off tho cuz you think it’s some crazy impressive thing to not eat for a week or eat like a grape a day…like guys… it gets worse and you will see and you’re gonna hate ur life. if ur ed is at that point PLEASE RECOVER AND RECONSIDER IT GWTS SO MUCH WORSE UGH. AND NO ONES GONNA LISTEN BECAUSE I DIDNT EITHER. i want to save you guys so bad. like i hate that people still get to romanticize it without all the pain and suffering every single waking moment of the day. also i’m officially underweight so someone send me a 0 calorie cake in the mail😝🙏

anyways this is somehow too related and will sound so fake but i swear on my whole life and my mamas and my brothers and my papas this is a TRUE STORY!!! i saw an old friend today and the first thing they said was “oh my god you lost so much weight” “like ur arms, face, whole body damn” BASICALLY LIKE THAT OBVIOUSLY I DONT REMEMBER WORD FOR WORD. but bro i have never felt so fucking seen in my life. like finally someone besides my family or best friend noticed my weight loss damn. AND SHE ASKED IF SHE SHOULD BE WORRIED FUCKKKKK. like no you shouldn’t cuz i’m never gonna get better but like fuck thank you bro. no one comments on people’s weight anymore and it pisses me offfff like i know it’s rude but i needed that comment to make me wanna keep starving!

am i a piece of shit? like genuinely did the eating disorder make me a horrible evil miserable person? i have this thought that even if somehow i recover physically(i pray to god i never get fat[by my standards] again ) that i’ll never recover mentally. i’ll always have this fucked up judgement of right and wrong that revolves around the stupid idea of being thinner. does it even matter? no. no it doesn’t. but it’s my whole world. my whole world is how skinny i am and it’s so tiring. the highlight of my day was being called worryingly skinny by an old friend who doesn’t care if i live or die. the second highlight of my day was the fact that i got 28k steps and burning 800 calories at the gym and bought another bottle. i’m tired of being a bad person. im tired of being annoying and stupid and dumb. such a fuckup. i’m sorry if i’m a bad person and you had to read this and feel like shit because you had to sit through reading my awful terrible judgment and thoughts.

LAST POINT:

tomorrow i have to eat my first meal in months(for real this time) and i am so scared and upset. it’s like a piece of myself dies everytime i eat. without starvation i am nothing. i am a shell of a person and when i eat i just become a shell that feels fat. i’m gonna take laxatives obviously and do some workouts but it’s never enough. i’m gonna make sure the meal that i’m forced to eat is as low calorie as possible because i’ll be drinking alcohol too and APPARENTLY i should just kill myself because it’s a crime to still be an alcoholic when you’re starving yourself.

also alcohol most likely won’t make you gain weight unless it’s beer or seltzers and it especially won’t if ur always drinking on an empty stomach. vodka on an empty(for months) stomach plus working out excessively won’t make yoh gain weight. shut up shut up shut up shut THE FUCK up you bitches piss me off.

FUCK YOU.

[bokunosimpfiction]

Yandere!Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Synopsis: Heisenberg kidnaps the reader. And she’s pissed about it. And so is he. Turns out there’s a lot more to it than it seems, tw: kidnapping I’m not tagging for violence because it’s less graphic than even the mild stuff in canon. Like reader gets a concussion and a dislocated arm, that’s it.

A/N: first time ever writing for Resident Evil. I haven’t even played the games, only watched a play-through and immediately fell in love with this hobo. Honestly, there’s a lot of room to make a sequel or some more from this but I have commitment issues and it probably won’t happen.

Oh and one last thing! Do you think I should add resident evil: village to my fandoms I write for or no. Let me know please!

             It’s dark in your small cottage, claustrophobic with the way you stumble to the front door as fast as you can. You try to take deep breaths, but you can’t, not with someone chasing you. You cut through the kitchen, and when he reaches out to grab you, you slam the door to a cabinet as hard as you can. You can hear his pained yell.

             “Don’t make this harder than it has to be, (y/n),” he says.

             “I’ll make it as hard as I damn please!” You put your hand on the handle to the front door, twist and right before you manage to open it, a body slams into yours and you hear your arm pop. Loudly. And it burns at the elbow like someone poured gasoline on it and set it on fire.

             You can hear his heavy breathing and feel the warm air on the crown of your head. “You put up a good fight, I’ll give you that much.” He presses his body further into yours, and you feel everything. The toned muscle under a layer of fat, the harsh fabric of his shirt and jacket, and the bulge that presses into the small of your back.

             “You’re so small,” he coos, like he’s talking to a dog, “I can’t wait to break you.”

             You manage to wiggle one arm free and jab him in the side as hard as you can with your elbow. You hear him say oof under his breath, and you take this as the opportunity to press your foot into the door and push back into him as hard as you can, to at least get him to stumble back.

             It doesn’t work, he just leans his whole-body weight on you and uses one hand to smash your head into the door. He could have done it harder, you reckon, but it still hurts like a mother fucker. “Shut the fuck up before I do something I regret.”

             “Like you don’t already regret breaking into my house and trying to kidnap me? Like you don’t regret slamming me into my door and dislocating my elbow? What are you going to do to me that you’ll regret? Huh?”

             He looks down at you through those yellow glasses of his, light from the glass peephole reflecting off of them but his hat shading the rest of his face. “I said shut the fuck up!” He presses your head even further into the door, and your temple digs into the frame. It hurts, and your eyes water from the pain.

             “Who even are you?!” You end up shouting. His grip loosens a little bit, just enough for you to move your head off the door frame and onto the actual door. “I’ve never met you in my goddamn life and you break into my house, say you love me, and try to kidnap me!”

             Something in him breaks, you can tell, the outline of his features look crestfallen. “You don’t know who I am?”

             “No… I don’t. And here you are in my house, chasing me around like I’m some goddamn animal you’re hunting.” Your eyes water. “I know you don’t mean a damn word you said this entire time.”

             “Shut your goddamn trap woman!” His grip on your hair tightens. “I love you and we both know it; I know everything about you.”

             “So, you’re a stalker? Huh, didn’t think I was pretty enough to have one.”

             “I knew you had a mouth on you, and it was attractive till it was pointed in my direction.” His voice is low and gravelly at this point, like a thin string that’s pulled taut and about to snap.

             “Well get used to it you fu-” You don’t get to finish your sentence, because a piece of metal from his hammer slams you hard in the face, knocking you out cold.

             When you wake up, it’s hard to open your eyes. It’s too bright and the room is spinning when you move your head up. That must be one hell of a bump on your forehead. You go to feel it, only to find you hands chained up to a metal pipe on the wall. Your feet are too, but that chain is a lot slacker.

             You’re lying down on the floor, a cheap scratchy blanket separating you from rough, worn down cement. It’s still hard and cold, but it didn’t scratch up your skin, so that’s something to be grateful for. You look around the room, only to find an old tv, that’s on, and playing static. That’s what was so bright, you realize.

             Suddenly the noise from the t.v. stops, and you hear a voice. It’s still sounds like static, but it’s audible enough to understand the words and recognize the voice. It’s the same guy who kidnapped you. You don’t really process what he’s saying, it’s just noise to you, and you close your eyes and curl up as best as you can. Maybe you’ll wake up, and everything will be okay.

             “Quit ignoring me girlie.”

             You snap out of your daydreaming. The days of that warm bed and leaky bathroom faucet are over, and this cruel situation is your reality for the time being.

             “Okay. Okay. But just quiet down my head hurts.”

             “I’d be sorry, but you brought that upon yourself,” he says.

             You can’t help but be snarky, you’re tired and already sick of this shit. “I’m sorry you don’t have the self-control to not kidnap people and knock them unconscious via flying pieces of metal.”

             “Touché.” You hear back.

             “Can you at least get me some Tylenol for my head or something.”

             “Why should I? After all the attitude you’ve given me, I should just leave you in there to starve.” Looks like he knows how to be snarky too.

             “Because you were the one who hit me in the head and locked me in here?”

             “Apologize and I’ll consider it.”

             You go back to your curled up position. “I guess I’ll just starve down here then.”

             The t.v. cuts off again, or you just tune him out, just run your hands along the chains to try and find a lock. You find the one attached to your left ankle and begin to plot your escape. Maybe you could pick the lock with a bobby pin? You run your hands through your hair, not only to find that it was down, but all of them were removed.

             You run your hands down your pajama pants. Maybe you have something in your pockets? They also turn up empty.

               “Are you looking for something to pick the lock with?” You hear from the t.v. You turn back to look at it, only to see his face. He’s not wearing his glasses, and he’s taken off his worn-out bucket hat, so you can see his untamed salt and pepper hair. “I took the liberty of searching your person while you were knocked out. I highly doubt you’ll find something to pick the lock with.”

             “You’re an asshole, you know that.” You find yourself saying. To be fair, you probably shouldn’t, considering that he: is holding you hostage, threatening to leave you to starve, and is clearly a psychopath, despite his claims that he loves you.

             “Calm down, you know it makes me upset to see you mad.”

             You can’t help but raise your voice at him. “Quit fucking taunting me! You won this stupid ass game. You kidnapped me! You can come down here and kill me now!”

             “You think I wanna kill you?” He asks, you can tell he’s just as furious as you are. He chuckles lightly. “You know I love you. I did this for your own good! There are people out there. People who want to taint you and your innocence! People who want to hurt you!”

             “I can handle myself just fine! I had before your psycho ass came along and kidnapped me!” Your furious, desperately searching for a weak point on the pipe with your hands while you yell at the t.v.

             “And what would have happened if I didn’t?” He asks you, “lady supersized bitch in the castle would have gotten to you first… I can’t have that.”

             “I’m sorry who?” You ask. Suddenly things have gotten more confusing.

             “I’m not the only one who’s after you,” he clarifies. “You think I’m the one who’s a psychopath, there’s a woman out there who wants to drink your blood and eat your flesh! And monster that wants to drown you and swallow you whole-”

             “Slow down! I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about!”

             “Don’t interrupt me! I want what’s best for you!” You can hear him take a deep breath. “I’m going to bring you upstairs and explain everything. And you’re going to behave, am I clear?”

             You just nod your head.

             “Good. Now stop trying to find a weak point on that pipe to get loose before I get down there. It has carbon monoxide in there, you’ll poison yourself before you get to that door.”

             You immediately stop twisting the connector and drop your hands to your sides.

             “Good girl…” His praise makes you want to vomit. “Now stay still while I come get you.”

             When he comes down and opens that iron door and unceremoniously tosses you over his shoulder, you can’t help but comment on it. “Am I a bag of potatoes to you?”

             “Don’t complain, I could be like that Dimitrescu bitch and turn you into wine.”

             You shut up immediately and grasp the back of his coat for balance. You don’t know why, but his empty threats scare you immensely. You watch the hallways blur into one another, trying to see if you can find a window, or an escape rout of some sort, hell, even a vent he couldn’t fit in but you could would work well.

             He smacks your thigh. Not hard, but enough for a slight sting and to get your attention. “We’re in the center of the factory, there’s no need for you to be tracking an escape route, especially because you won’t be leaving any time soon.”

             Eventually, you end up in a small office like space, with a desk, a cork board with several pictures of people on it, and a large grate that leads to a tunnel downwards. He pulls the metal chair out of the corner with his powers and places you in the chair. “Stay.”

             “So…” He turns towards the cork board. “Since your out of town, I’ll explain the run-down-“

             “I don’t really care for the details.” You stand up from the chair and go to walk towards him, but he crosses the room in a second and slams you back down.

             “I told you to stay in that goddamn chair!” He opens his mouth to explain but a whirring noise starts out of nowhere. It’s loud, obnoxious, and coming from the vent. He opens it. “Shut your goddamn trap!”

             “Anyhow, (Y/N),” he starts, “the other three lords decided that they’re interested in you, for whatever their reasons are. I’m assuming they want to kill you.”

             “That’s a veeeeeery extreme assumption.” You roll your eyes, and prop your head on your hands.

             “Well two of them are well know for turning people into dolls and drinking their blood,” he says casually, “it’s only a fair assumption they want to do the same with you.”

             “I’m sorry they what?”

             He turns to you, surprised for a moment that you don’t know what he’s talking about. “Super-sized bitch over here,” a sharp piece of metal lands on the photo of a pale, middle aged woman with bold red lipstick and a black hat, “is one of the other three lords, known for drinking the blood of girls like yourself. Wouldn’t suggest meeting her, she’s not that pleasant.”

             “Known for?”

             “Sort of, most of the towns people don’t know,” he turns to you and leans on the table by the cork board, “they’re too busy worshipping Mother Miranda.”

             “I’ve heard her name before,” you say, “doesn’t she protect the town?”

             You can sense the anger you caused before you can take it back.

             “That Miranda bitch doesn’t protect anybody from shit. She’s the one causing all the issues, kidnapping people and mutating them, killing them and throwing their lives away like table scraps.” You slams his hand on the table and you visibly flinch. He quickly apologizes.

             “You keep mentioning ‘the other three lords’ how many are there, and who’s the one your excluding in that statement?” You question as soon as you get the chance. He’s talking, loudly, quickly and it’s filling up the space in the room with an anxious sort of white noise.

             “Pardon me,” he says, and waltzes over, almost over-dramatically. He brings your hand to his lips and places a light kiss. You can feel his stubble and chapped lips on the top of your hand. He desperately needs to use chap-stick. “I’m Heisenberg, one of the four lords, but you can call me Karl.”

             “Okay… Karl.” You test the name out on your tongue. “What are you going to do with me, now that I’m here?”

             He gets down on one knee in front of you, still holding your hand. “Oh (Y/N), I’m going to treat you how you deserve, like a princess.”

[insidedyingim]

Daily Thoughts

"I'd do anything to lose weight"

"I wish I was skinny"

"I hate my body"

"I'm so fat"

"I'm so repulsive"

"I'm such a piece of shit"

"I can't believe how much weight I've gained"

"Who cares about dieting I'm worthless and can't do anything right"

"Just give up already, you know you're a failure"

"Keep eating to feel something"

"Eat nothing"

"Starve yourself"

"Eat until you feel sick"

"Throw that up you fucking cow"

"You'd be better off dead"

"I need to lose weight or I'm going to kill myself"

"I can't live like this"

"Why am I even trying?"

"I need to be skinny. I need to be skinny. I need to be skinny. I need to be skinny."

Repeat.

[tempestsreach-blog]

Fuck Diet Culture

This is going to be long.  It’s going to be rambly.  It’s going to be sad.  It’s going to be angry.  There’s going to be language some people don’t like. I can’t NOT talk about it though. 

Fuck diet culture.  Let me say that again.  Fuck. Diet. Culture. It has taken such a huge chunk out of my life.  I have lost pieces of myself I’m not sure I’ll ever get back.  The only way to heal is to go through.  I can’t go back.  I have to move forward.  But I can’t do it quietly.  I can’t hide.  I can’t live in the same shame I’ve spent the last 40 years in.  Literally.  40 years of my life wasted to this.  I can’t bear to live the back half of my life in the same way.  What the hell is the point? I’m not going to write this in any particular order because all of the thoughts and feelings swimming around are snapshots of things in my life that diet culture has broken in me or stolen from me. A lot of you aren’t going to agree with me.  That’s okay.  Truly.  This is about ME.  This is to help ME heal.  You can talk to me about your struggles, your diets, your ups and downs, your successes and whatnot.  I am here for you in all of it. But I won’t diet with you anymore.  Never again.

Currently I am having severe knee pain.  One knee is worse than the other, but both are bad.  I should go to the doctor.  I should have gone to the doctor years ago for it.  Want to know why I didn’t?  My weight.  I have injuries from overuse and over exercise and I am terrified that I am going to go to the doctor and the first words they’re going to say are “Well, if you lost 20, 30, 40, 50 pounds, it probably wouldn’t hurt so much.” instead of listening to me, examining me, scanning my knees and HELPING me.  I don’t feel this way irrationally.  This shit happens.  I am in pain.  I don’t know how to get help without being told to go on another diet that will not work.

Because diets don’t work.  Not long term.  I am excellent at losing weight!  I’ve done it over and over and over.  Then I stop restricting, counting, starving, and pushing myself.  Then my body says “What the fuck were you doing?” and puts it back. I lost the ability years ago to know whether I’m actually hungry or not.  I eat too fast when I do eat because if I snarf it down super fast I can get it in before my brain says “You’ve had too much.  Did you count those calories?  How many miles on a treadmill will you do to make up for that?  Did you actually earn this meal?”

Every time.  Every meal.  Every morsel.

I have never been officially diagnosed with an eating disorder.  Only been told by therapists and psychiatrists that I definitely engage in disordered eating.

No shit.

Every diet under the sun.  Cabbage soup.  Phen Fen.  Weight watchers (MULTIPLE TIMES), TOPS, Noom, My Fitness Pal calorie counting, intermittent fasting,  and every whacky bullshit thing in between promising results.  I’ve purchased fancy scales.  I’ve even tried one that wouldn’t show you your weight, but the color of your progress in the app.  Here’s a hint… if you gain, your color is black like death.  I’ve failed a million times and I’ve blamed myself.  I am the failure.  So I hate my body a little more every day and I stress about how I’m going to NOT pass my disordered eating and my food issues onto my kids.  My stress levels are through the roof and 98% of it is diet culture related. What the fuck is that about? Every time I start a program I hit it hard.  Last time I tried anything involving tracking or counting I was so starving by the time I got home from work that I almost ripped a child’s head off (not literally OBVIOUSLY) but I screamed at her at the top of my lungs because she hurt my feelings.  It wasn’t until after finally allowing myself to eat another morsel of food that I realized I was hangry.

Why is living in a larger body not acceptable?  We all talk about diversity and equality as though we believe it with our whole hearts, but that doesn’t cross over to fat.  Or skinny if we’re really being honest.  How many times have you heard or seen online “Oh my god, she’s so skinny.  Feed her a damn cheeseburger!  She looks anorexic.”  I know I have.  I know I’ve said those words.  I will punch myself in the gut if I ever say them again.  

Every body is different.  We are supposed to be.  Let’s not BLAME genetics like it’s a bad thing.  Let’s realize that it’s what nature has intended.  My father is over 6 feet tall and a large man.  He’s just a big man.  He went on Nutri System when I was young, lost a ton of weight, and put a bunch back on over the years because he is a big man.  My mother was not tall, but was always large.  I hated her body because HER PARENTS told her all the time she was fat and unworthy and cautioned me not to grow up to be like her in any way.  Even when she was poor and homeless she was still large.  That was the way her body was.  I wonder how different her life might have been if the size of her body hadn’t been a factor in the way she was raised or treated.  How might that have made my life different?

I know a lot of you are probably rolling your eyes at me right now about being vocal about another health plan or saying to yourself “just because you have trouble with diets doesn’t mean they don’t work”  I know there are people close to me thinking “She just always gets excited when she discovers a new diet, that’s probably what this is.”  NO.  

This is me finally realizing that I can heal and healing doesn’t mean I need to weigh 157 pounds. (That’s the weight limit for women my height to enter the air force when I did in 1992) This is me finally realizing that I’ve been lying about the weight on my drivers license for 30 years because gods forbid anyone saw my real weight on that document. This is me realizing that I’ve spent my life trying to live up to other people’s ideals of what I should look like because I assumed they wouldn’t like me otherwise. This is me realizing how much unintentional harm I could have been doing when sharing another diet, another idea, another bout of “well this is working really well for me!” with people I care about. This is me realizing how much damage I’ve been doing to myself living with this level of shame for 40 years. Hiding what I’m doing.  Suffering in silence.  Hiding food. Restricting.  Binging.  Over exercising to compensate.  Spending money on one last diet.  Spending emotional energy on one last hope. We were in Las Vegas for what was supposed to be a fun vacation last week and I was so hot and miserable and so steeped in hating my body because my painful knees were betraying me that my internal monologue was a never ending loop of “I’ll hit weight watchers REALLY HARD when we get home and get rid of this weight, then I’ll figure out my knees and work on maintenance” Let me say that again, clearly.  I struggled to enjoy my vacation because I was obsessing about restricting food AFTER my vacation. One last time.  One last meal.

BULLSHIT.

We walked by shops with weird and pretty fashion dresses. (I freely admit I don’t understand fashion) the husband and I would both point out ones we thought were pretty.  My brain would get stuck on “Yeah, but they don’t make them in my size” or “Yeah, that would NOT look good on me.  It looks fine on that size 0 mannequin”  Pretty on other people.  Other people are pretty.  Not me. Diet culture is pervasive and all consuming.  In big ways and little ways.  I’m 5 ft 9.  I’m not a tiny person at any weight.  I’ve always been told I’m too big.  Even when I sit, I slouch a little and/or tuck my legs and feet up under me to try to make myself appear smaller and less invasive.  This is subconscious.  I don’t always realize I’m doing it until my knees remind me. Most of my life has been things that get in the way of my diets.  “I should start the diet today, but it’ll have to wait until next week because so and so’s birthday is this week and I want to be able to enjoy that.”  or “It’s late fall, I should just start now but first there’s my birthday, and then Thanksgiving, and December happens and there’s all kinds of treats then.  Better wait until January, but not the first because that’s new year’s...maybe the following Monday.” or the ever popular “I already had a bad eating day today, I’m a failure.  Why bother?  Fuck it.  I’ll try again tomorrow.”  That one was always followed by binging because of the last supper mentality.  If I’m starting a diet tomorrow I better eat EVERYTHING NOW. This is how I’ve lived my whole life.  The time not spent dieting was just the time in between diets where I was planning my next diet.  So much life wasted.  The only time I was not actively dieting or planning the next diet or suffering from “I’m just too exhausting to put effort into food right now” was during my 4 pregnancies.  I let myself eat whatever and whenever because I was nauseous all the time anyway and something in my brain made me fuel my body for the babies. When the youngest was born and the on call doctor who delivered her told me I was too fat to have my tubes tied I definitely started planning diets again in that moment.  I believe now, years later, that my diet and diet culture ruined mind and body is part of what kept me from being as successful at nursing the kids as I wished I had been.  I assumed my body was broken and not good enough for my babies.  The last time I lost a LOT of weight it was because I didn’t want to ruin someone’s wedding pictures.  True story.  This was nothing that person felt or anything they told me.  IT’s what my brain said to me.  It’s how I de-valued myself.  There are very few current pictures of me now because I’ve been stuck in a place where I feel shame when I see them. When I’m dead, memories and pictures are all my kids and grandkids will have, and I hate myself too much to let anyone take them. That’s not okay.

I dream about food.  I daydream about food.  Food I “shouldn’t” eat.  Food I “should” eat.  When to eat.  When not to eat.  Every spare ounce of energy is spent thinking about food or hating myself which leads to more thinking about food. I am not in a place where I can prepare dinner for my family right now because it’s too hard to put that much energy into food.  I force myself to pick the recipes from the app and get the shopping done via instacart so all anyone else has to do is pull up the recipe and make the food.  If I’m looking at the ingredients or trying to prep anything I stare at every individual thing debating whether or not I “should” eat it.  This is going to take me a long time to break free from.  Today I finally feel like I CAN break free. There is nothing wrong with being in a large body or a small body.  Food is not good or bad.  Food is food.  I have to say these things.  I have to repeat them to myself or I fall down the rabbit hole again.  None of this is work anyone can do for me.  I have to live it.  I have to work through it.  I have to figure it out. If you read this far, my statement stands.  If you’re on a diet, I will listen to your woes and hold your hand and I will not judge you for it.  This was very hard to write because I am certain some of you who believe in diets, ways of life, and wellness eating may block me now because I spoke my mind.  I’ve clung so tight to the people I love and refrained from being honest and speaking my mind for fear of abandonment.  I’ll have to live with it if that’s the case here, because people sometimes need to do what’s best for them.  Airing this out is one of those things for me.  It’s a scary thing for sure. I also want to say that I’m happy for this to lead to discussion.  I’m not going to shut anyone down for wanting to talk to me about this.  I am always open to learn new information and see different perspectives.  Just know that if I’m emotional and feeling a lot of strong things about how my life has been up to this point, and I am entitled to believe what I believe just as you all are.  I’m happy to share sources and books I’ve been reading on the subject.  They are not diet books.

Here’s to doing better from here on out.

Here’s to finally being free.

[fandom-necromancer]

Coffee, crushes and Complications Prequel

This was prompted by an amazing anon! just a warning, this short got dark real quick. So please, heed the warnings and stay safe! It has a happy ending, but I have said in the other parts Gavin hit rock bottom, so I had to make him hit rock bottom. He does recover in the end and gets back on track that has him being happy as we know from part 1 and 2. It’s just a hard contrast, therefore I wanted to warn you. I hope you still enjoy heavy angst!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Characters: Gavin Reed, Tina Chen (Warnings: depression, description of depressive behaviours, Character thinks about suicide, implied suicide attempt (that doesn’t happen, not even the attempt!), suicidal thoughts) If you want to skip the suicide related part skip from “It was two weeks...” to “Tina! Tina, don’t say anything!”

[Part1]   [Part2]   [Part3]   [Part4]

‚Hey, Boss, what’s up?‘ Gavin marched into Fowlers office with a grin and a spring in his step. He had all his cases solved in record time and had finally endured the cry-babies of machines that had come in lately with stories of assault and attempted murder. What had they expected simply stopping to work to looked like? But he had done nothing wrong, at least nothing Fowler could prove, and that was the most important thing. ‘You are fired, Gavin.’ Gavin blinked. He must have misheard something. ‘The phck?’ ‘You are fired, Detective Reed. Hand in your badge and pistol and pack your things.’ ‘What? Why?’ ‘Why?!’ Fowler stood up and leaned over the table. ‘You really even dare to ask that?’ ‘Errr…. Yes?’ ‘Well, then sit down and get comfortable, because I have a whole fucking list!’, the Captain shouted. ‘And I finally can say what I wanted to tell you for so long, because I will finally get rid of you now!’ Gavin did sit down, but not because he wanted to. His knees had suddenly failed him.

‘First of all: You are a real asshole.’ ‘Yes, I know but-‘ ‘I don’t mean it in a funny way!’, Fowler interrupted. ‘You are a true asshole. A bad person. You treat your co-workers as if they personally attacked you. You are unable to work in a team without sabotaging the whole mission for your benefit. You actively try to make others look worse than you are so you seem like the best one. You are so obsessed with getting promoted you fail to do your work, you are constantly breaking protocol and don’t think I didn’t realise! I did. I just never said anything because, shit, sometimes that was an advantage. But this was the final misstep, Reed! I can’t tolerate your shit any longer!’ Gavin swallowed, then threatened: ‘And what should that be exactly?’ He let his anger speak for himself, but deep inside his guts had twisted into a tight ball.

Fowler leaned back. ‘Your anti-android behaviour. Fucking hell, I thought you would learn with time. I thought you would catch up to the others. But no, you continue calling androids names, calling them “it” instead of he, she or they and treating them like malfunctioning machines. These people come to us for help and you laugh them in the face!’ Gavin huffed amused, then outright laughed in Fowler’s face. ‘Captain, that’s a good joke. You don’t actually believe… They are not human. They will never be. Phck, I wouldn’t even consider them persons. They are some fancy part of machinery, so complexly programmed that maybe they even believe themselves to be persons. But they are not! They are objects, robots. And some fancy revolution and new laws can’t change that simple fact!’ ‘And that’s why I have to fire you. I can’t have you interrogating someone knowing you will personally dismantle them if they don’t talk! They are machines. But they are persons too. And you have to respect that. Fuck, Gavin, what did you think?’ ‘I thought and still think they are not alive. It doesn’t matter what you do to them, it’s just simulated. They don’t feel a thing.’ ‘Are you really sure about that?’, Fowler asked, weirdly calm considering he had been furious just before. ‘Even after Connor?’ ‘Connor is a big reason for me being absolutely certain’, Gavin said.

‘Then hand in your badge and service weapon.’ Gavin stared at the outstretched palm. ‘Oh, come on, Jeffrey, you can’t do this to me. I’m your best man!’ ‘I can, I will and I must. And you haven’t been my best officer for a long time. Hank is back – thanks to that apparently lifeless android Connor – and the RK800 is the best Detective you can wish for. Now, I won’t repeat myself.’ Gavin was sitting there completely numb. He didn’t even have energy left in him to complain and that was saying something. He pulled his pistol out of the holster and handed it over, before unclipping his badge. He looked down on the polished metal with his name on it and thought back to the day he had been handed it. How proud he had been. How much of his pride still was engraved in this piece of metal. He had worked hard for this and by now… Shit, this little piece of leather and metal basically was his whole identity. He pushed his thumb over the letters. G. Reed.

‘The badge, Reed.’ He blinked, took a deep breath, held it and pressed the badge into Fowler’s hand. Then he stood up and pressed out: ‘That’s all?’ ‘That’s all.’ Gavin contemplated saying something. Something witty maybe, or something mean, something that would hurt and gave him that little satisfaction of revenge, even if it didn’t mean much. But he couldn’t think of anything, his head was filled with cotton and everything tingled with numbness. So, he just nodded and left, trying to keep up his composure. It was hard without the added weight on his hip that had made his step a bit broader than it normally was. He stared at the ground not to have to look into their faces. Would they laugh? Would they care? Or worse: would they pity him? Whatever they might feel towards him leaving, he couldn’t face it and so he just took what little possessions he had decorated his table with and left. ‘Hey, Gavin, what’s-‘ That was Tina, but Gavin had already passed the security gates and as soon as he was outside the building he ran to his car, dropping his things on the passenger seat and starting the engine to speed off. He was just moments away from a total breakdown, the fact that others might see him and that he couldn’t drive in that state the only thing keeping his composure up. He parked the car messily in front of his apartment, took his things and stumbled up the stairs in a hurry. He barely managed to unlock the door, dropping his keys once and failing to pick them up first try as his eyes had blurred over.

Then finally he was inside, had closed the door and dropped his things on his sideboard, before leaning on it heavily finally allowing his feelings to spill over. He knelt in front of the small wooden furniture, his hands holding onto the edge to keep him steady somewhere. How could this happen? He was untouchable. He was good at his job. He was damn good at his job. He wasn’t good at anything else. He had only ever been a Detective and… Oh god, he didn’t have a job anymore. He wouldn’t be able to pay his rent. He could make it a few months, but he would have to find something else soon and oh god, what if he had to give his cat away and phck he didn’t have a job anymore and… Did the whole world hate him?

He half kneeled, half sat there, crying, his stomach cramping and heaving and trying to keep his meal down through it all. His shoulders shook and he didn’t trust his hands or his legs for that matter. Standing up was out of question. He crawled over to the wall to prep himself up against it and the sideboard, that was about all he did that day, crying until no more tears would come, his nose was hurting and the muscles of his abdomen aching from overuse. He was thirsty, but at the same time it didn’t matter. He was cold but hell, what did that mean? He needed a shower to get out of his partially wet clothes and maybe feel human again. But he knew he wouldn’t even make it to the living room. So why bother? He didn’t move and tried not to think.

He woke up still in the same position and sat up with his back cracking. Something warm shifted against his legs and stretched. He looked down on his cat, who looked up to him as if asking why her human was so upset. ‘I phcked up, Bready. I’m sorry.’ He scratched her behind the ears. ‘And I haven’t given you anything yet, have I? Sorry. You must be starving. Come on, daddy will get you something.’ With that he finally managed to stand up, but still had to lean against the wall, waiting for his circulation to catch up. He carried himself into the kitchen, gave Bready her food and threw himself a frozen pizza into the oven not wanting any poor delivery guy to see him like this.

He rubbed his forehead that by now hurt like a thousand needles from his dehydration headache. So, he opened the fridge and his eyes fell on his liquor collection. Should he… But it would only make things worse. Could things go worse? To be honest, he just wanted to sleep. He should save the alcohol for tomorrow when he would need it. He ate his pizza, drank his water, forced himself to take a shower and dropped into bed. Maybe this was all just a bad dream.

-

It wasn’t. He was awoken by his alarm, had sat up and halfway left the bed as he remembered that right, no work to go to. Rubbing his face and scrunching it up as he rested his face in his hand, he thought about what to do. In the end he did stand up to give Bready her food and retreat back to bed. She soon joined him, a welcome weight against his legs. As he woke up hours later, she was still there, and Gavin watched her for a while. Damn, why couldn’t he have been born a fat, carefree housecat? He fetched his phone, tried to switch it on and sighed as it wouldn’t. He struggled to get the charger out without disturbing Bready. When he finally could switch on his phone, he immediately was bombarded with messages and missed calls from Tina. He read over them but deleted the notifications from the calls and left her on read. He didn’t feel like talking. He didn’t feel like anything at all. In the end he flicked through the same apps on his phone, fell asleep and circled them through again once he woke up. He stood up to get his cat some food, then went straight to bed. He didn’t want to eat, so he didn’t.

The next day he managed to eat breakfast, but only because he had switched off his alarm and his cat woke him up with screaming. He threw some water in his face, then returned to bed. Tina had called again. Had messaged too. Gavin put his phone on his nightstand face down.

In the evening he couldn’t lie in bed anymore, never feeling comfortable and always sore. He faced his fridge again and took the next-best bottle. When he fell asleep on the couch hours later it was empty.

The hangover was hard, but Gavin liked the sobering pain. He didn’t like throwing up in the toilet first thing in the morning though. He skipped breakfast and lunch lying in bed. As Tina had called for the millionth time, he finally got the energy to answer the call, shout: ‘Phck off, don’t wanna talk!’ into the mic and drop it back down. Dinner was some instant noodles. With lots of alcohol.

When the weekend came, his reserves had been depleted. He was left to water and stale coke. Maybe that was something good? Gavin didn’t think in these categories anymore. Then the doorbell rang. And it rang again. And again. Gavin would have appreciated it staying this way of it ringing and him not answering, but then the call came from outside: ‘Gavin, you absolute fuck, I know you are home and you know I will kick down this door, now open up before you have to pay for a new door and lock without a job!’ Way to go Tina. Gavin just sighed, but obeyed, opening the door. He had planned to tell her to go, but she somehow already had made it past his sluggish reflexes. ‘Holy fuck it reeks!’ The first thing she did was opening the windows, letting in fresh air. ‘How the fuck did you live like this?’, she asked pointing at the dirty plates on the floor. ‘And fucking hell, you look like death!’ Gavin just shrugged. ‘Feel like death too.’ She took him by the back of his shirt and pushed him towards the bathroom. ‘You will take a shower and if I have to watch you do it!’ Gavin tried to protest, but somehow he was already standing under the stream fully clothed. His hoodie began to weigh him down, but he didn’t care. ‘Gavin, I won’t mother you. You will get out of your clothes on your own. Call me if you need anything, I will cook you something.’ Gavin shook his head violently. ‘Tina!’ She turned around to look him in the eyes sternly. ‘You should go. I need more time.’ ‘You got plenty of time. I won’t let you destroy yourself like this! You got fired. That’s all. No one died. No one is ill. You will find a new job and better days will come.’ ‘Someone died’, Gavin disagreed. ‘I did. I died when I handed in that badge, Tina.’ ‘Oh fuck off you melodramatic asshole. I am speaking to you right now. So you fucking are alive and need to wash yourself. And you need food, so I will cook. And then we will talk.’

She had left, but Gavin still winced as if she had struck him with a knife. Talk. Oh, please, anything but that.

‘Any plans what to do now?’ ‘Any idea what kind of job you would like?’ ‘How about going out to a movie tomorrow?’ ‘Gavin, fucking talk to me!’ Gavin swallowed hard. ‘You should leave, really. Thanks for the food and for kicking my ass, but I’m not ready yet. This job was all I ever wanted and all I ever had.’ ‘Bullshit.’ ‘No! No bullshit! For once I’m completely serious Tina! What do you think I have except for it? Everyone phcking hates me, I can’t do anything else and I don’t have anyone to help me! All I have is this flat and my useless phcking cat! I. Have. Nothing! And I’m sorry if a few nice words from pity-party Tina won’t suddenly make me function again!’ ‘Pity-party?’ ‘That’s what this is, isn’t it?’, Gavin shouted. ‘You secretly enjoy it, don’t you? Oh, look someone that has phcked up! Let’s pretend we actually like the guy and don’t just profit from him! Then we can say: see? See how he got better? That was me!’ ‘Gavin!’ ‘What?’, Gavin spat back. ‘Tell me that’s not what you are trying to do! Tell me you mean it, it will be a real nice joke, I can tell you that!’

Tina stood up and in exactly that moment, Gavin had realised he had made a mistake. Another mistake. He had wanted to be angry, about who and what didn’t matter. But well, it did. ‘You know what, Gavin Reed? I’ve been your friend for a long time. Do you really think I listen to an asshole like you, to talks like this and fake being your friend? What weird twist of logic is that? I wanted to help! I really wanted to. But if this is how you respond to that, I clearly wasted my time! Goodbye.’

And Gavin’s days turned back to lying in bed with his cat and stupid phone games, getting up only when he needed to pee, when Bready needed food or when he couldn’t postpone eating any longer himself. One day he actually went out to get some canned food that was easy to prepare, food for Bready and alcohol. Lots of alcohol.

It was two weeks after he had been fired, that he sat in the corner of the living room, a bottle next to him and the shards of a broken glass in his hand, that he carefully pulled out. He didn’t even feel the pain. Not really. Should he… It was tempting. He had no one, he had no job, no goals… Was it even worth it? He had looked far too long at the blood pooling in his hand and the largest shard in his other. It was just a movement after all. But then Bready’s head suddenly appeared and Gavin cursed. ‘No, bad! Shoo! This is dangerous! Damn cat!’ He let the shard fall to the ground and picked up his cat with his uninjured hand, carrying her over to the kitchen and keeping her busy with some treats. Once he was sure she was occupied, he returned to his corner outfitted with a dustpan to pick up the shards so Bready couldn’t step in them.

Only when he saw the bloody shards, he flinched back. He had seen these pictures far too often. Had filed them away as evidence. Had asked himself how people could do something like this, often leaving family and friends behind. And now… Phck no! Phck no, not him! He wouldn’t… He had always been a fighter, hadn’t he? Then why had he given up just moments ago? No, he wouldn’t… He would. He would finally get his ass up and act! What had Tina done last weekend? What had she done…

Open the windows. He retraced her steps after he had gotten rid of the shards and bandaged his hand. He opened the windows, looked to the ground and fetched the dirty plates. He put them in the dishwasher. He cuddled his phcking lifesaver of a cat extra-long and took a shower – this time without his clothes. Then he took his phone from the shelf he had put it on to ignore it and sat down on the couch. He dialled the number on autopilot and waited until he got an answer. It didn’t take long.

‘Tina! Tina, don’t say anything! I don’t know if I can build up this courage again if you say something. Just listen, please. I was an idiot. I was a total asshole to you, and I understand you completely if you don’t want to talk to me or ever see me again. But I really need your help and I want to make up to the terrible things I said to you. I may not have much left, but I have my fantastic cat, I am still alive, and I hope I still have you. I need someone to kick my ass and I know you are best in that. I need you right now. I want to look for a new job, I want to start again, and I don’t want to lose you as my friend.’ He pressed his eyes closed and waited for an answer. ‘Tina?’ ‘What? You told me to shut up and listen! I’m already on my way over to your place with job offers from a few newspapers, you giant asshole. Should I get takeout? Are you hungry?’ ‘You are not mad?’ ‘Oh, believe me, I am mad. But I am also proud of you, Gavin. And if you think you can get rid of me, you don’t know me!’ Gavin audibly exhaled. ‘Oh, Tina, I don’t know what I would do without you.’ ‘Yeah, sometimes I wonder, too. I’ll hang up now, okay? Gotta go place our order. Just wait for me, okay? We’ll fix this shithole of a situation you are in in no time, believe me!’

Gavin smiled, the first time in two weeks. The call had already ended, but he still whispered: ‘Yes. I believe you.’

[>next part]

[thepoorperformer]

So, what does it mean to perform? Does it solely involve me making a fool of myself onstage in hopes of inspiring laughs? Is it me butchering the lyrics of my favourite musical in the privacy of my own room? Perhaps now, right here, I am performing again writing this new piece. It feels very disconnected from my person, feels pretentious, yet it also seems to leak from my own core.

I recently had to tell my friends that I can not be around men this summer because they make me want to perform femininity. It has only dawned on me tonight that I have been performing long before Bugsy Malone. I wanted to be like the other girls so bad. I wanted boys to have crushes on me, I wanted to look dainty in cute getups. I wanted to be involved in juvenile dramas surrounding boys, just like every other girl my age. For that to happen, I had to look the part. Act the part. Jesus, probably the worst performance of the decade. Anyone can wear stage makeup, not everyone can necessarily bring it to life. There are not enough dresses in this godforsaken world that could ever make me feel that femininity I desperately craved. I was fat. I am fat. No damn boy was going to pick me up. Shit, I could pick him up. I would never tell this to little old me, though, bless her soul.

It is a little funny how being bigger automatically makes you non-human. Non-desirable. Just another pig in the farm probably headed for slaughter. Reading about other fat women feeling disconnected from their womanhood combined with my recent love for non-feminine pronouns...well. A lot just clicked. I am 20 now. I am done crucifying myself for my body, but I'm pretty certain the world isn't. Who gives a damn? Honestly. It is so tiring living and breathing dreams of thinness. It is unattainable, unsustainable. It is a journey, of course, but at least I no longer feel the loud longing of my fasting app. We must be one again, it screams from my phone. Fuck off. Almost 5 months of regular eating. Am I eating healthy? Hell no. But I'm eating and I haven't made a single fucking meme about starving myself so it's a win in my book.

We celebrate birthdays like our old selves have been dragged into cold, damp graves. Little old me who wanted to be feminine like her straight size peers still lives within me. She's annoying as hell, but she deserves care, too. I still catch myself wanting to be small. I still look smaller in my daydreams. I have a flatter chest and smaller arms...you know how it goes. I guess she's also very angry. I'm angry with her. Why the hell was my hand not being held? Why was no one asking me to the movies? God, anything. I am still very sad about that particular experience of womanhood: to be desired. Loudly, proudly, with no shame or conditions. Just another girl in someone's eyes. Like, who's daydreaming about me?

This whole thing is a poison, honestly. I have someone currently interested in me and all I can think about is they only desire me because they have feelings for me. I am almost sure that is not true. Still, my desire to be desired without romantic attachments remains. I want a boy or a girl to see me, and all my 200+ goddamn pounds in the flesh, and think I'm hot. Just that. Jesus.

P.S. For an atheist, I sure use God and Jesus a lot. This isn't even a proper P.S.

Anyways, here's to my gender fluidity and queerness, and my beautiful fat body that I will now love in rebellion.

The Poor Performer

[bethhxrmon]

do flowers exist at night? -chapter nine

Chapter Nine: Here Comes The Rain Again

Pairing: Steve Harrington x OC

Chapter Summary: Exactly one month after the events of the Upside Down, Annie is trying to pick up the pieces. Meanwhile, Steve is worried about what will happen after he eventually graduates high school.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Swearing, trauma recovery, fighting, a plot twist

A/N: Thanks for the encouraging words, hopefully I’ll be able to keep writing. Now all that’s in my way is my college classes taking up my time. Really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter because I’m really excited about it! You can find the other parts here.

~*~*~*~

One month. It had been almost exactly a month since everything had truly been swept out from underneath Annie and any perception she had of reality as she knew it. Something that she thought was accomplished by moving to New York and her parents then divorcing. Things couldn't have possibly gotten more messed up after that. How naive she had been.

Lunchtime was simultaneously the best and worst part of every day. On one end, it meant there was only half a day left and she could hang out with Steve for a while. However, she hated eating and she hated finding her way to the auditorium. It was always a matter of how quickly she could pick the lock and get in. Seeing that Steve was cornered by Billy just a few yards away made her pause.

She could go over and stop it. She should go over and stop it. Except, she couldn't go over and stop it. Not after last time. Wasn't a month ago enough to tell her she couldn't possibly do anything to help? Things would only be worse.

So instead of doing anything, she picked the lock to the auditorium and let herself in, closing and locking the door behind her. Once Steve knocked, she opened it, but she didn't want anyone following her in. That was the whole point of this place. It was the only safe place in the whole school.

It was even safer when she lit up the whole space. Staring into the shadows and seeing the things she thought she would only see in her nightmares became all too common. Shouldn't she have been over this by now?

"I got my last college letter," Steve said as he ate, "Well, community college to be exact."

Annie looked up from her book, "Oh, really?"

"Yeah, I don't know if I'll go there. I've got a few options."

"Oh, um, that's really good!"

Any positive tone just felt too forced for Annie's taste, but Steve never seemed to notice that. It wasn't that she wasn't happy for Steve. He was getting out, that was good. Except, what did that mean for her?

Deep down, Annie knew that was the most selfish thought she could have. Steve wanted to leave, it was so obvious. Everyone wanted to get out, but so few did and she really thought he had a chance. Getting away from everything that happened sounded like a dream come true.

The problem was that she still had another year. It was another year with Billy Hargrove and whoever he ended up befriending once Tommy graduated. Who was she supposed to talk to? Even after being at the school for over a month, she had yet to find any group of people she truly wanted to be around.

Sure, the kids would be freshmen next year, but did she really want to sit around them every day? She had to put on some kind of act for them so they didn't worry about her. Still, it seemed that Steve was better at doing that with them.

She didn't even fully realize what she was crying at as she got to the epilogue of War and Peace. The characters she cared about the most seemed to make it to the end. Yet she didn't even realize what she was doing until the large book was thrown across the stage.

Steve jumped, "Are you okay?"

"Um... yeah, Tolstoy's just a shit writer," she pursed her lips.

He shook his head, "What happened?"

"Sonya... she was my favorite, you know? And you know what happens to her?! Sh-she... she ends up all alone! Every engagement she had fell through an-and she's living with everyone, but everyone hates her! They say nothing's wrong with her but they just hate her so much and-" she choked out a sob and buried her face in her hands.

Steve's eyes widened and he quickly moved next to her and attempted to hug her, but she was quick to move away before he could, "Hey, maybe if you ate something-"

"I-I'm not hungry."

He huffed, "That's bullshit. I've barely seen you eat since I've known you."

"Just because you haven't seen me eat doesn't mean I'm starving myself," she snapped, looking up at him.

"You think I don't notice?" his brows furrowed, "Annie, you put on mascara in my car when I drive you to school. You wouldn't do that if you got up early enough, so I know you're not eating breakfast. I haven't seen you eat lunch in, like, a week and I don't know about dinner, but I'm sure when your mom's not home you try to get away with not eating anything. I'm not an idiot-"

"I never said that and you know it. It's not your job to fucking babysit me. I'm not one of the kids, and it's not like you're gonna be around in a few months anyways so don't even bother acting like you care," she said, getting up to pick up her book and then to leave.

Steve could only sit there as the door closed, and Annie preferred it that way. If she wanted him to follow her, she would have said something different. Maybe there was a part of her that wanted him to follow her. Hell, a part of her wanted him to hold her and tell her that he would visit even if it was a lie. Just something to keep her from feeling like everything was crashing down all over again.

Even in their one shared class, Annie didn't bother looking in his direction. Mainly because it was embarrassing to think that she cracked like that. Though, she was sure he had enough of her by that point. If he noticed all those issues with her, then he probably didn't want anything to do with her.

That idea in mind, she stayed in the girl's bathroom for what had to be another half hour. By then, she was sure that Steve would get the hint she wasn't coming and he would just go on his own way. Never mind the inch of snow on the ground or how she only had her black vans to help her walk through it all. She would get over it. Obviously this would be the norm once Steve left so she may as well try and get used to it.

However, she didn't expect that anyone would still be lingering that long after. Trying to sneak around Billy right in front of the school was impossible.

"Need a ride?" Billy asked, putting an arm around her.

The stench of cigarettes made her want to scream, but she couldn't say anything. It felt like she was just watching it all happen to her. She wanted to push or do something.

All she could think of was to run, so that was what she did. Annie ran so hard that her lungs burned. Except, she didn't get too far because of how slick the sidewalk was and she landed on the ground, smacking her side against the concrete.

Annie tugged her sweatshirt around herself even as she felt the ice cold snow digging through most of the fabric. The sound of a car pulling up was lost on her.

Steve was in front of her and she wasn't sure what part of that shocked her the most. That he stayed the whole time or that he was trying to help her up. At least nothing physical had been broken.

"Are you gonna say anything?" he asked as he drove.

Annie crossed her arms, "I can take care of myself, you know."

"Right, you did such a good job of that when you were eating shit on the ice," he said, "Look, Anne-"

"Don't fucking call me that!"

His grip on the steering wheel tensed, "Can you please not yell right now? I get it, you're really pissed off or whatever, but it's really icy out and I need to focus."

Annie simply stayed silent after that, not even commenting on how the radio was going haywire. When he pulled up to her house, she just got out and went inside without another word. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn't bring herself to apologize when she knew she was right about having to get used to not having him around.

The only consolation of the day was that Erik curled up in her lap as she finished the last part of the book she had been working through for the last month. If only she could move on from everything that happened the same way she could close a book and put it back on a shelf.

It was the phone ringing that snapped her from those thoughts, and she rushed to pick it up. Her mom said that Scott was coming over for dinner since Thanksgiving had gone less than smoothly.

"Hi, who's this?"

"Anne, I'm looking for your mom," her dad said.

"She's not home right now. Not that I'd tell her you called."

"You know, if she isn't looking after you right, I can take care of-"

"Fat chance. Like I'd want you taking care of me," she said, clenching the phone in her hands.

He sighed, "I'm just saying, the custody battle isn't entirely over."

"Why would you wanna take care of me when you won't even pay child support?! What's the point in having you just torture me for the next ten months when I'd just be miserable the whole time!" 

A surge of pain went through her hand that made her drop the phone. The phone was completely fried and her hand was a little bit burned. She simply stared for a few moments before going to take care of it in the bathroom.

That was when she saw a bit of blood coming from her nose. It contrasted with her light brown skin and she was quick to wipe it with a piece of toilet paper. She then focused on bandaging up her skin. However, a question of what happened was still in the back of her mind.

Had she done that?

The kids always talked about how Eleven's nose bled when she used her powers. Annie didn't get nosebleeds often. Before right then, the last time she got a nosebleed had been after she woke up with all those things crawling on her.

It was a weird and unrealistic theory, though. Two nosebleeds didn't mean anything. Her paranoia was probably through the roof. The odds of her simply finding parallels that weren't there was more likely than anything else. Besides, why would she have powers now?

There wasn't anything super different about her. Sure, her birthday was just over a month ago and she was seeing the Upside Down, but that had more to deal with being near the lab. At least, that was the feeling she and Steve decided to go with. The lights would flicker on and off every time, though.

As much as she didn't buy it at first, none of that stopped Annie from spending a good amount of time on the lamp in her room. She brought a box of tissues and concentrated as much as she could on the light bulb.

"Okay, this is really stupid, I know it's stupid," she said, glancing over at Erik who simply continued his nap in the middle of her bed.

Still, she continued to stare at the light in front of her. Something had to happen. After all, it was clearly possible to some degree. She didn't know her biological parents, maybe they were like that or they were part of something. It was worth trying and the only one watching her fail was her sleeping cat. Steve wasn't going to sneak up on her. Not after she completely screwed that friendship up.

"Come on, you're making me look like a dumbass," she glared at the light.

It had been a month and she wasn't over anything that happened. The least that experience could have left her with was some form of powers. Maybe that could keep her safe from all those shadows at night. She deserved something after all that she lost. Everyone had someone else. And sure, she had Steve at the time but she knew she messed that up beyond repair. Maybe it was for the best. When had she ever had something go right with a guy?

The light sparked a bright, light blue and she almost screamed from how suddenly it lit up. Annie stared at it with such intensity. The light continued to beam brightly and stayed that same distinctive blue. It was beautiful. Was this really the only thing she could do, though? 

All that trauma and for what? All those nightmares and flashbacks out of nowhere and all she got was the ability to turn on some lights. There was also the chance to traumatically flip-flop dimensions. She couldn't forget blowing up the phone either.

With all of those thoughts swimming in her head, the light shattered. Glass clattered all over her desk.

"Shit."

At dinner that night, Annie sat with her mom and Scott over some soup that was quickly heated up at the last possible second. Still, it tasted just fine and Annie made sure that her mom knew that. Well, after she explained that the phone freaked out on her.

"So, Scott... I was watching Carrie the other night and I was wondering, like... could someone be able to have those types of powers but with electricity in real life?" she asked, some of her hair falling in her face.

Scott took a spoonful of soup as he thought, "Interesting... I believe you're asking about electrokinesis. Everyone has an electric current inside themselves, being able to control that would be a psionic ability that has yet to be proven by science. Though, we're making new discoveries all the time. It's always in the realm of possibility."

"Um... and what do you think they could do?"

"I suppose someone with that power could control everything with an electrical impulse. Lights, electronics... even other people. That would have to take a lot of power, though," he said before shrugging, "No one really knows, but there is always research to be done."

For a moment, Annie couldn't help thinking about Billy and all the other people at school who did something to make her life hell in the last month. If she tried hard enough, she could really do some damage.

Would that be enough, though? She needed to show someone and figure out what to do. The only person who could come to her mind was Steve. This was huge, surely a sudden onset of psionic abilities was enough to completely discard the things she said. If there was anyone she trusted with something so important, it was him.

After dinner, she thought through what she was going to say. Once she had something in mind, she grabbed her jacket and snuck out through her window. It was freezing outside, but she didn't notice as she hurried on her walk.

There was no reason to fear the shadows if she could just zap something away. Sure, she still turned at every slight noise. It was the first time she walked to Steve's this late at night. She didn't take too long to get to his house. The issue at play was figuring out how to get up to Steve's room.

It took a bit of walking around the house, but she did manage to scale the house, knowing where Steve's room was. The room was right above the pool that was covered and most likely drained. She could see the window light was on.

There was never a worry that Steve would be asleep. He was like her in that way, neither of them slept a whole lot. Probably for the exact same reasons, but she never asked.

The only problem with his window was that there wasn't any roofing below it. She mentally prepared herself to jump when she saw a breath in the dark air. With the way the wind blew, the smell of cigarette smoke hit her face and her heart dropped.

She could only cry out when she slipped on the slick roof and started to fall forward. A scream caught in her throat and wouldn't leave, but she felt something grab at her arm.

"Annie?!" Steve whisper-yelled, "What're you doing here?"

She stared up at him, "I- um... a little help?"

"Thought you could help yourself or whatever," he said as he dropped his cigarette out the window and helped her up into his room.

Getting inside Steve's room made it obvious that talking about electrokinesis to start things off wasn't going to cut it. She wasn't blind and could easily see the red rims around his brown eyes.

Annie chewed on her lip, "What's wrong?"

Steve couldn't bring himself to say anything and instead handed Annie a letter from his desk. She took it, reading over its contents. It seemed that Steve got waitlisted at the community college for one reason or another. 

"I don't get it... I mean, sure that sucks, but you just said that you got into a few places. What's wrong?" she asked, setting down the letter.

He laughed bitterly, "Don't you see? I lied about that. This was my last option, and I couldn't even get into fucking community college. Looks like I am gonna be around in a few months."

There was a long pause as Annie processed his words. Everything about her abilities completely went out of her mind. Of course she wanted Steve around for more than a few more months, but that didn't mean she wanted him to be stuck in Hawkins.

"Are you gonna say anything?" he asked, trying to look at her as though that could give him half a clue as to what she was about to say.

She looked up at him, "I'm sorry, like, really sorry. I shouldn't have said the things I did today and I know I shouldn't have freaked out on you. Um... I know what I said was really shitty, and- and I know that because I was trying to push you away."

"An-and I wish I could say that if I knew what was going on with all this college stuff that I wouldn't have said those things, but it really doesn't matter because I said them anyway and I'm so, so sorry. You don't need to go through all this alone," she said, doing everything she could to keep herself from crying.

Steve sighed, "You don't need to apologize, I already don't have a future. You probably want a friend who isn't a screw up and an idiot and-"

"Steve! Don't you dare talk about my best friend like that ever again," she said, her voice cracking as she hugged him, "You're so smart. I mean, come on, you see right through whatever act I've got going on."

He hugged her back, "Right, because tearing apart your brain is a good way to make money.... that's nice but I'm still a failure."

"No, absolutely not," she frowned, "Maybe things don't look great right now, but you know what?"

"Hm?"

"Everyone thought Cats was gonna suck, and it ended up so critically acclaimed and has more great songs than it had any right to have."

Steve blinked, "You're comparing me to Cats? Cats the musical?"

"Um... yep, I am," she gave a hesitant smile when she looked up at him.

He couldn't stop himself from laughing and he looked down at her with a look she could have sworn he never gave her before. One of his hands went to brush some of her hair out of her face. A finger traced her scar and for once, for the first time, she didn't flinch or pull away. Neither of them said anything, but she could have sworn Steve was leaning down and she knew that she was about to tip toe up to his height.

There was a knock at the door and suddenly they were both looking at each other with wide eyes. Steve nodded to his bed and Annie immediately got under the bed. She had been so used to his parents not being there that she forgot they would even be around.

Her heart was pumping through her ears and she shut her eyes tightly. Why couldn't she have had the power to turn invisible? It would make life so much easier. Why did it have to be a month? Why couldn't she be over it?

"Annie?" Steve whispered, looking under his bed and helping her up so she could sit on his bed next to him, "Hey, what's with your hand?"

She gave a small shrug, "The phone broke while I was talking to my dad."

"Oh..." he looked over the bandage, "Why'd you come tonight?"

"Guilt? I don't know, I um- I guess I needed to make sure you didn't hate me or anything."

He shook his head, "I don't hate you. Did you hurt me? Yeah, of course you did, but I couldn't hate you. I know it's been exactly a month, and you've gotta be really stressed."

"You knew?"

"Yeah, I didn't think you'd wanna talk about it," he ran a hand through his hair, "And I never really knew you before everything went to hell, so I don't know what's normal for you, but I don’t think this is it."

She stared down at her lap, hair falling in her face, "It's not normal, I don't think it is, anyway. I mean, like, I'm a girl and I've been stupid and I've done stupid stuff and been talked into doing stupid things with people, you know?"

"Right..." he nodded for her to continue.

Annie sighed, "I've felt like I wanted to sink into the floor before, but Billy and those demodogs and my parents all at once? I-I just wanna disappear or to control something or destroy or just- just something that lets me actually feel."

"Anne-"

She winced, "Stop. I know it's just a dumb nickname, but that's what my dad's always called me and- and he did nothing but make me feel like garbage in a ten page letter. That part’s not important, but I can't for the life of me distinguish the two things."

"Okay, okay, I won't call you that. I promise," he reached over to her hands, "But I can't stress how much I don't want you to disappear on me. So I need you to tell me you didn't mess up your hand on purpose."

She nodded, "I didn't, the phone went haywire. My mom's buying a new one tomorrow."

The pair stayed up talking about everything from a month ago. Including how Annie was going to go to Barb's funeral. No, she didn't know the girl, but Annie knew that could have been her. Maybe the fact that Steve didn't deserve to be at that funeral on his own was also why she planned on going.

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added!): @dungeons-and-demodogs​ @nxncywheeler​ @ilovebucketbarnes​

[lumifuer]

Stock Up

Pairings: Negan x Reader Words: 870 Warnings: Negan being himself, swearing Request: #20 Negan and plus size reader Thanks

Summary: The reader worked her way up in the Saviors’ ranks but some of Negan’s men still have doubts about her skills.

🎅 SEND ME SOME CHRISTMAS REQUESTS 🎅

You've been with the Saviors for roughly a few months, but you quickly worked your way up in their ranks. It was because you've spent the first years of the apocalypse on your own, carefully planning your next moves and balancing risks and rewards. Joining Negan's group allowed you to use those newly acquired skills to grant yourself a place within their inner circle and use all the privileges that came with it. And the man himself appreciated your help. That, and your presence alone.

But not everyone was as cheery about it.

Since you've been appointed the one responsible for planning raids and rationing supplies, a few of Negan's men started to look at you differently. You would notice a glimpse of distrust or blatant hostility in their eyes, but you couldn't care less - as long as the job got done. But everything changed once the temperature dropped and you started to feel winter's chilling breath on your neck.

When Negan called a meeting to discuss the group's next step, he couldn't have been more impressed by you.

"Well, I'll be damned if that's not the first time we can spend winter with our feet on the table. We've got all sorts of food in the pantry," he exclaimed, putting you in the spotlight. You smiled softly, feeling the pride overcoming your body. You'd be lying if you tried to deny the connection between Negan and yourself. He was showing his interest in you from day one, and despite your best efforts, the Saviors' leader grew on you eventually.

"I know we're all stocked up," you began, coming up to the map lying on the table and placing your finger on it, "but I'd like to request one more trip before the snow falls."

"Go on," Negan nodded, licking his lips.

"It's a small shop. Not too far from here. It holds a lot of canned food in the basement. We could grab something extra, just in case."

A loud scoff could be heard from the opposite side of the room. You didn't have to look up at the person to know its source.

"Any problems with that?" you inquired.

"Why don't we just sit on our asses instead of risking another raid?"

"The risk is low compared to the price. I can check it myself first and make sure no one discovered the stash."

"It's pointless. We could grab something for your extra Christmas dinner or something from the Kingdom or --"

"They won't be able to produce enough. And there's not much use of them if they starve," you shrugged.

You glanced at Negan to check for his approval and, of course, he was wearing this smug smirk of his. He enjoyed watching you stand your ground. In the beginning, he was trying to be your knight in shining armour on more than one occasion, but it turned out he prefered seeing you handling your own business.  

But this guy just wouldn't give up. He came up to the map and glimpsed at it briefly.

"It's right by the road," he pointed to the shop, "if someone drives by, we're fucked."

"The hills offer a great vantage point. We'll be able to tell if someone's coming from miles."

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with blind fury. You knew this wasn't about the raid.

"Fuck that. I'm not going out there when we have enough supplies just so the fat cow can have her dessert."

The atmosphere in the room changed. The guy knew he fucked up.

Negan, who was playfully rolling his barbed-wired bat on the table a second ago, glanced up. His expression was one of a man driven by madness, with a slight grin to accompany his cruel gaze.

"Say that again," he commanded.

The man didn't dare to open his mouth. He went pale and began to cower in fear, trying his best to appear smaller.

"This fat cow has been putting food on your plate for months," you spoke. "If it wasn't for me, you'd still be sending men to the same places to get slaughtered over dog food. Shut the fuck up and sit down."

Negan cocked his head to get a better look at you. That's how you liked you the most. Your confidence, composure, pure and natural leadership skills beaming out of your body made it hard for him to resist you. He needed someone like that by his side.

"Get this piece of shit out of here. He's spending the winter in the cells and might skip on some meals until he appreciates them more," Negan ordered with a smirk.

Despite his loud protests and apologies, the man was soon dragged out of the room by two other Saviors. You didn't even flinch.

"Pick some of my men, sweetheart, and bring something for the festive dinner he mentioned."

"So we're celebrating Christmas this year?" you scoffed, resting your hands on your hips. "You think those hard-working elves of yours earned it?"

He smirked in response. "You did. And you’re the cutest elf I’ve ever seen so it's worth it. Just  don't take too long and get your ass back it one piece."

"Sure thing, boss."

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! ♥

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[tussive]

I don’t care anymore.  I used to have some type of social relevance in my act, and there was a point where I really gave a shit about stuff to a point where it was ruining my life.  And I guess like 10 years ago I thought well, yeah, you know, I’m gonna change the world. I’m gonna talk about stuff. In 20 years of comedy, I’ve probably had a dozen good points that I reflect on and go, “That was actually a really Fucking good piece, and it really, it had a point that made sense.”  But that whole changing the world thing never really kicked in.  The revolution I was starting where I thought I could yell at 200 people in a bar every night and change the world, yeah, it’d didn’t quite happen like Egypt or Syria.  Yeah.  And it’s frustrating, because you do a bit and then you’d go, “Oh, that’s a fucking really good-” and then it just appears, the problem is still there.  And someone will say, “Oh, abortion is back in the news.”  And you go, “Why?  I already solved that on a 2004 release.  How can it possibly still exist?  I’ve yelled at thousands of drunk people about that.  Maybe I’ll rewrite it and repackage it.”  It gets frustrating as shit where you’re like, I don’t care.  Fuck it.  Fuck everyone. It’s as frustrating as if you lived in a world full of starving people where occasionally you could point out food that no one else seemed to notice, for a living.  Where you go on stage and you’d go, “Did you ever notice there’s a plate of nachos right over there?”  And people would go, “Oh, he’s so right, there is a plate of nachos.  I never noticed that.”  But instead of eating them, they shove them up their noses and assholes for entertainment value and get no nutrition out of it even though they’re fucking starving to death. And it’s not just the audience or the world, even my own social circle, people who fucking, “Doug, you know, what you said about gay marriage, that was right on the money.  Marriage itself is an antiquated institution.  It has no place in a progressive society.  It has nothing that anyone needs to do.  I’m still getting married on Saturday, though, cause Janice doesn’t really get your act.  She doesn’t think you’re funny, so we’re getting married. [pouring beer in eye]  But it’s a really good point, though. “And what you said, that one thing you said, overpopulation.  You’re right, Doug.  You’re not really funny anymore, but you’re right.  What you said about overpopulation, most of the world’s problems are based on overpopulation.  There’s just too many goddamn people.  We’re still gonna have the baby, cause Janice’s biological clock is ticking, and plus, we live in a gated community.  It’s not really overpopulation if you can afford to send them to a Montessori School, is my take.  But it’s right, what you’re doing is a good thing, and you should keep doing it, and don’t die on us. "What you said about drugs, you’re right on the money, Doug.  Drugs, I never thought of it like that.  It’s a private property issue, all drugs should be legal cause your body is your own private property.  You own your own meat.  If you own nothing else in the world, you own the fucking meat that’s packing your bones.  Yeah, so all drugs, yeah, it doesn’t matter what it is.  Drugs, put a fucking needle in your arm, tattoo yourself, pierce yourself, fucking eat cheese sandwiches, throw cheese sandwiches down your top hatch until you’re so fat you have to pay for two seats on Southwest Airlines.  That’s your prerogative, cause you own your own meat, do whatever you want to it.  Drink yourself silly.  You find something living rent free in your uterus?  Evict that motherfucker.  This is private property.  There’s no squatter’s rights, pay rent or quit.  "That’s a good point Doug, drugs should be your own prerogative, whatever it is.  Huffing a gassy rag, that’s what you wanna do.  Except for heroin, cause that’s what killed Hedberg.  That’s why we really need the federal government to come in and stop this.  And I can’t understand why I’m so fucking thirsty all the time! [pouring beer into nose, ear, and eye]  You’re so right.  You’re so right.  I just don’t listen.  I just don’t listen.” So I just don’t give a shit anymore.  That’s what I do for a living, I try to write more fistfuck jokes and enjoy myself more.  It doesn’t matter.  We ain’t winning shit.  I got to a point where, like my act was making my entire life miserable where it’s just…and it’s still not good, but it’s, I just hate everything and fuck it.  It’s so dumb.  Doesn’t anyone see how dumb this is?  Like some people go, “Isn’t the world a crazy place?”  And they’re fine with that.  And I’m like, “This is fucked up.  This is really fucked up.  We’re like Dark Ages people and I’m not even smart.  And that’s the most terrifying part, when you realize I’m not even a bright person, but I’m still probably in the top 3% of the smartest people on this planet and I’m pretty fucking dumb.  And you go, "How alone are we?”  And then you go, “I don’t give a shit.”  At one point, you go, “I’m 44.  I’m way closer to dead than I am life of the party.  And I don’t have children, so why am I getting so enraged about all this nonsense?  I don’t care.  I don’t care getting all upset about the fucking planet.  I’m gone pretty soon.  I left no litter behind.  That’s your problem.  I’m treating this planet like the fucking rental car that it is and I’m turning it in trashed with a bumper hanging off.  Fuck your insurance.  Fuck the environment, I didn’t ask to be here.  Someone created me.  Yes, I know that’s a selfish thing.  It’s a selfish thing.  But you know what?  I’ve cared about other stuff and yeah, me not caring about stuff will affect it as much as me caring about stuff, which is none.

Doug Stanhope

[lisinfleur]

Under Her Skin

Author’s Notes | I would like to thank this dear anon for this request. Such as the one I did for Sigurd (Here, for the ones who want to see!), this request treats about a very delicate and important theme that must be shouted out to the four corners of Midgard: eating disorders aren't mimimi or bullshit. They're real, they're diseases that can consume a person entirely and drag someone into an endless vortex that will lead whether to permanent sequels or death. Always treat this theme with patience, comprehension, and dedication. Be gentle, kind, and supportive with a victim of these conditions. Many times, support is everything a person needs to get rid of Mia’s chains or Ana's cold embrace.

Universe | Vikings Pairing | Hvitserk x Reader Info | Viking Age AU, requested by anon for 5CW6. Suggested soundtrack: All I need (Within Temptation) Words | 2264 ⁑ Warnings: ANGST, mentions of eating disorders, romance. Caution is recommended: the following content may be triggering.

You thought he was stupid.

Hvitserk was convinced you thought he was stupid enough to think that small stains of sauce in your plate were enough for him to believe there was food over that surface and your fingers were really cleaning your mouth with that absolutely clean napkin in your hands.

He was observing you through the last months since his fingers noticed your stomach were flatter and your waistline reducing...

You stopped making your meals with him, dedicating yourself to make company to your husband, sometimes even serving his food in his mouth, but almost never taking pieces to yourself.

It started when Torvi asked you if you were pregnant in the last time his brother Björn feasted in your house with his wife and kids. You were surely in your fertile days - after years by your side, Hvitserk was used to see how your lines and curves were more attractive when you were in these days - but somehow you took his sister in law's curiosity in a different way and now, you were thinner and thinner and somehow any food he could buy or hunt for your cabin was lasting longer...

Of course. The two of you would devour a pan of stewed rabbit with vegetables in a day. But he would take two meals to finish the same pan.

And making the math, sometimes he was taking really twice the time to see the meat finished at the pans or the leftovers going out to the pigs and the cattle to avoid the loss of good vegetables...

You weren't eating.

And now he was sure, for you weren't even disguising it properly anymore: you were so used to his lack of perception that you forgot to simply mess with the food into the pans to pretend it was eaten this time: the rice and mashed potatoes were untouched. Your plate was dirty only with a small stain of the meat's sauce.

Hvitserk giggled, disgusted. The cap of the pan in his hand.

"What? Is there something wrong, husband?" you asked, afraid you had cooked anything he didn't want or didn't like.

You were sure that was one of his favorites!

Yet, he looked at you, serious and seeming to be angry.

"Why are you lying to me, wife?"

That question caught you unprepared and you frowned at him, surprised.

"What are you talking..."

His anger was so vivid that Hvitserk didn't let you express your confusion, bringing the subject straight to the table and taking the surprise away from your face, putting on a horror expression when you realized he discovered what you were hiding so far.

"Don't play me the fool anymore! You're not eating, Y/N! And don't come to me with this stained plate pretending you did anything but spread some sauce in this thing. You didn't eat, such as you didn't eat today at breakfast, yesterday at dinner... Such as you have been skipping meals all the time, thinking I'm stupid enough to not to notice my wife is fucking disappearing inside her clothes!"

You weren't expecting to be uncovered this explicit way and your first reaction was, obviously, trying to keep the disguise, giggling at his absurd comment.

It was absurd, right? You weren't "disappearing into your clothes" as he said. Instead, your dresses were awfully strange in your body and you were sure it was because you were fat like a pregnant woman swollen with the child the gods still didn't have brought into your marriage, but you were already showing in your large body.

If it wasn't like this, why would Torvi insinuate you were enormous enough to be confused with a pregnant woman?

"I don't know what you're talking about, Hvitserk. I'm not losing weight..."

But again, he interrupted you, coming closer.

Those wrinkles in between his frowned eyebrows causing his face to look pretty annoyed.

"Do you think I'm blind?"

You weren't understanding all that anger in his eyes, but Hvitserk was pretty annoyed with that whole situation. Did you really think he was that stupid to not to notice such a change in your life?

"Do you think I care this few about you? To miss such a thing like you skipping all the fucking meals we should be doing together? This is how you see me as a husband? A careless bastard who cannot see his wife's skin gluing to her bones?"

His pride was offended. But his words were making no sense for you! You were fat! You were sure it was the reason why Torvi was so sure of your pregnancy! How could he think you were thinner this way with such a small time and little effort?

Right, you weren't eating more than an apple per day, hiding the parts in a napkin into the kitchen to eat a quarter of it in each meal and it was keeping you kinda alive; drinking water enough to fill a barrel and that was it. Hiding from Hvitserk's eyes by dirtying your plates and pretending you had eaten before him or throwing up the food you were obligated to eat in the collective feasts at the Hall by his side.

It wasn't that much for him to be so annoyed or worried... Was it?

"I... I have been trying to lose some weight, but... It's not that much, husband, I don't see a reason for you to be so annoyed," you said, really confused by all that anger in his eyes.

But he giggled again, looking at you in disbelief.

"You don't see a reason maybe because it must be hard to see yourself in the mirror! For the gods' sake, woman, you're starving yourself! You gonna find a way to get yourself sick! Now stop this shit right now and put some food for yourself or else I won't eat as well and then we can see which one of us will faint first!"

He was so pissed... Why?

Weren't you trying to be pretty for him? Wasn't him your reason for all that effort? Why was he so pissed off when you were trying to prevent him from being mocked because of his wife's terrible appearance?

It wasn't fair! And it annoyed you he was being so rude. Well, he could go to Hella's embrace if he wanted: you wouldn't become a whale just because he didn't know how to be grateful!

You placed a full plate for you, filling it as much as you could and looking at him disappointed and annoyed.

"Are you satisfied now, Hvitserk?"

To what he answered annoyed as well.

"No. The plate is still full. Sit and eat, wife!" he almost ordered, causing you to grunt in anger.

How could he be so ungrateful?

You ate that food until the last grain, pushing it inside with the bigger amount of water you could drink in between the portions. The bigger was the quantity, the easier would be throwing that up after that meal, so you didn't try to economize.

But Hvitserk already had observed that behavior in you as well. Whenever you were in a feast on the Hall, you were eating like that, unnaturally filling yourself with mead, water or whatever there was to be drunk, swallowing the food in large portions. Getting up as soon as you finished.

"I hope you're satisfied. I'll go out to piss now if you don't mind this as well, husband," you said, aggressive.

Out to piss...

Hvitserk didn't miss that either. His eyes followed your steps and he waited for some minutes before following you outside to find exactly what he was predicting: you, on your knees near the bushes, vomiting out everything you had tried to swallow so fast.

"I knew you were doing this!" he pointed out, furious, scaring you, causing you to almost choke and cough a lot. "I knew you were fucking throwing up! What the fuck is wrong with you, Y/N?" he complained, helping you to put yourself straight and pushing a cup of water into your hands. "Why are you fucking doing this, uh?"

He was being so rude! So, you decided to be rude against him as well, drinking the water just to put yourself straight enough to answer him with the same angry tone he had against you.

"I'm doing it for you, you idiot! Cause I don't want you to be mocked by the others because your wife is a damn whale! I'm fucking doing everything I can to keep me pretty for you and this is what you give me in exchange!” you yelled, hurt.

Feeling he wasn't being fair to your sacrifices.

His face twisted in a shocked expression.

"For me? You're fucking killing yourself and you think it would be something good for me?"

Why was he being so extreme?

"I'm not killing myself, Hvitserk. I'm not even thinner!"

"The fuck you aren't! Y/N you used to have curves! Now look!" he placed his hands around your waist and his fingertips almost touched each other in a perfect circle: index near index in your back, thumb near thumb in front of your belly.

Your flat and small tummy you thought was swollen...

You looked at the fabric of your dress, compressed in between his fingers, almost as if it was the only thing preventing his fingertips to touch each other surrounding your waist perfectly. His hands were shaking in nervousness.

"You're fucking starving to death, Y/N! Throwing up meals, fucking skipping them, drinking more water than I never see a human being able to hold and do you really think I didn't see you chewing the pieces of that damn apple you cut in four every day?"

He was so nervous...

It wasn't anger. Your eyes faced his and he didn't look angry for you anymore.

Hvitserk was... Afraid?

"I'm fucking seeing what you're doing! I have been watching you! Stop freaking lying to me!"

He was cursing so many times... His voice was trembling just like his hands and he pulled you into his arms, causing your heart to skip a beat when you felt his heart rushing so fast into his chest.

"You're fucking killing yourself! I'm fucking losing you and I don't know what to do to make you stop! Fucking stop, Y/N! Just stop! Please..."

You could feel his hands into your hair and around your waist, his kisses to your forehead and the top of your head.

"Stop..."

His voice was so cracked, so worried. His heartbeat so fast.

You were doing that for him but... It wasn't making him smile. Or proud. Or happy.

Instead, Hvitserk was scared in a way you never have seen before, holding you as if releasing that embrace would mean losing you to whatever was taking you away from him.

You held him back, slowly. You never wanted him to feel so worried or scared that way.

"I... I just wanted to be pretty for you," you mumbled. "Torvi thought I was pregnant that day... And... I didn't want you to be mocked by your brothers... Or the others... I just wanted to be pretty for you, I swear."

You were shocked. You never thought you had gone so far.

You were feeling weaker these days, but you thought it was a normal thing for someone in a diet, right? You never thought you were that thin...

The image of his hands around your waist was kinda impressed into your mind.

"You are pretty. You are the prettiest woman in Midgard and I don't need you to starve yourself this way! You say you're doing this for me. I don't want to, Y/N!" he said, cupping your face, touching his forehead to yours, "I don't want you to do it. I don't want this. It's not making me happy. I don't wanna fucking lose you, Y/N!"

Your poor sweet prince... He was so scared! So full of fear...

Your hands touched his face, caressing his beard softly the way you knew he liked to feel. And he held your hand, kissing your palm, allowing you to notice there was really a huge difference between your fingers and his.

"Promise me you won't do this again..." Hvitserk asked, kissing your fingers. "Promise me you won't leave me, Y/N."

Leave him...

You wouldn't think about such a thing. Ever.

But his fear was so palpable... Maybe you were really hurting yourself that much.

"I... I don't wanna leave you, my love, I never wanted this to happen," you said, keeping the small caresses, feeling his thumb sliding through your cheek.

"Then stop it. Come back inside. I'll make you some tea to heal your stomach. Then, you'll eat with me, every meal. You don't need to eat that much! But eat with me, like you used to do... I don't mind your curves, Y/N. I love every inch of you and you're taking my inches away..."

You laid your head against his chest, nestling in his neck, kissing softly his jawline, nodding in agreement to his ask, feeling the way he seemed to slowly relax with the idea that terror was over and you wouldn't fight him about that anymore.

"I don't feel hungry..." you mumbled, "But I'll try to make it for you."

"Yes," he mumbled back, near your ear. "This is something I want you to do for me... I want you to live with me, love. I want you to stay with me."

If he wanted that, then you could try.

For him, you could do anything.

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[gingerbread-in-july]

About Time Ch. 2

Here is the next chapter! Thank you so much for your feedback! <3  Warning for this chapter: No smut yet, but this chapter does contain sexual tension, a few crude remarks, and a couple of scenes that are a bit on the suggestive side that did make me blush just a bit! Also, feels.

I hope you like it!

You had picked out a dress for the wedding a month ago. Although it was nice enough, you decided that it just wouldn't do. One doesn't just wear a dress for a date with Chad on a date with Rich fucking Tozier. Oh, no. You couldn't just bring your A game; you had to throw out the rules and rewrite the game entirely.

The strapless wine red gown you had picked out was certainly classy and sophisticated but it had a sexy, scandalous edge that was undeniable. You weren't about to starve yourself just because some butthurt bitchboy had called you fat when you wouldn't do what he wanted, but you made it a point to drink plenty of water and work out every day leading up to the wedding.

You scheduled a hair appointment for the morning of. You hadn't planned to bother with as much for Chad but you knew you didn't have the skill to create something of the caliber you wanted on your own. "Make me the hottest bitch there," you told the hairdresser.

You did your makeup far more elaborately than you typically did, but there could be no stone left unturned. Not when you had to keep an old flame in his place and make him eat his heart out; certainly not when you were showing up on the arm of the one and only Rich Tozier. You made sure to use the most bold, provocative perfume you had and you did not use a light hand; there was no place for subtlety this evening.

The doorbell rang. You surveyed yourself in the mirror one last time, struck a pose and answered the door. There stood a dashing, impeccably dressed Rich Tozier...

...and there on the ground in front of him lay his jaw.

You twirled around for him. "What say you, Mr. Tozier?"

"Wow," he breathlessly gasped before rediscovering his voice. "What did I to to be lucky enough to score a front row seat to this smokeshow?"

On another day, you would have blushed. "You don't look so bad yourself, Richie." "(Y/N), I can promise you that nobody there will be looking at me," he said, unable to keep his eyes from wandering all over you. "I will. Damn, Richie. You're making me wish we didn't work together."

"Then I'll wear sweats to work Monday. Then you'll remember who you're working with."

"And you'll still be Rich Motherfucking Tozier. I knew what I was doing when I invited you to this wedding."

"You obviously didn't know me in Derry, Maine throughout the 80s and most of the 90s."

"Yeah, well I wasn't always the smokeshow you see in front of you, either. Hell, I'm not even this smokeshow ninety percent of the time these days."

"(Y/N), hot stuff, I'm going to be choking on all that smoke for weeks to come, if not months."

"Then I'll wear sweats to work Monday myself."

"Go ahead. The damage has already been done. Don't you know that secondhand smoke kills?"

"I see my lectures have finally gotten through. You ready? As much as I'd love to stay here and keep enjoying the view, we've got a wedding to attend."

"I hope you're not too attached to the bride because I don't think she'll be wanting to stay friends with somebody who shows up to her wedding looking that good. That is, if she doesn't decide to run off with you."

You took Richie's arm. "Let her try. There's not a man or woman alive or dead that could stack up to my date," you said as you walked to his car. You could have sworn that you saw Richie blush just a little bit before he looked away.

You wound each other up the entire drive to the wedding, neither of you letting the other lose sight of your mission or of just how goddamned stunning the other looked. By the time you arrived, the two of you were ready to take on the world, already fully absorbed in your plan and enjoying every split second of it.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N), you wrote in the guest book before handing the pen to Richie. He signed the book and set the pen down with a satisfied smirk.

You guffawed when you saw what he had done, adding onto your entry so that it now read (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and the luckiest son of bitch in the place, in two differing scripts. "I could kiss you for that," you whispered, never more thankful in your life that Rich Tozier could be utterly shameless at times.

"Hope you wore smudge proof lipstick," he whispered back, giving a shit eating grin to all passersby. Yes, all eyes were definitely on the two of you. Chad's would be too if he indeed possessed the balls to show up; if he did he sure wouldn't have the balls to say jack shit to either of you.

Not surprisingly, the professional photographer that had been hired for the event stopped the two of you for a photo. "Enjoy the view from behind, it's just as sweet!" Richie exclaimed to the photographer as you walked on, causing you to blush and cackle.

"You're amazing, Richie," was all you could say.

You took your seats and waited for the ceremony to begin. "You see him?" Richie asked.

"No, and I don't care to look. I've only got eyes for you tonight."

"That's true. We do have a show to put on," he said, giving you a look that you were sure had caused you to soak your seat. In fact, you even said as much.

"Don't make me soak my seat, Tozier."

Richie didn't say anything, just gave you a smoldering smirk, knowing damned well what he was doing. He may have come a long way from the scrawny, bespectacled trashmouth with the target on his back but he would always have a bit of the little shit left in him deep down.

You decided to give him a taste of his own medicine and leaned in, gently grazing his lips with yours. God, they were fucking soft. They felt every bit as great as you always imagined they would. You kissed him again, gently taking his bottom lip between your teeth before releasing it and pulling back.

"My God..." Richie marveled, as if meeting you for the first time. "Who are you? I always knew you were something, doll, but Jesus Christ..."

"Why, Mr. Tozier, I'm yours, don't you know?" you answered with feigned innocence.

Richie smirked and gave your leg a squeeze. "Let's take it down a notch, I don't want us to get kicked out before it's even started," he whispered before placing a quick kiss on your neck and turning to face forward.

You took his hand and the two of you made small talk about your surroundings. You sat through the wedding, unable to really focus on anything that was happening. All you could think about was the man beside you that you craved more than anything and the tension building between your legs. You clapped with everyone else when it was done, though, truthfully, you only knew to do so by watching Richie.

The wedding may have finished, but the fun was only beginning for you and Richie. Everyone knew that the reception was where the good shit really went down and it was there that the two of you would have to give your strongest performance. Thankfully, you were both warmed up.

You watched as the bride and groom made their way to the floor for their first dance and you couldn't help but feel a tug at your heartstrings. You'd never seen laid back, sweet-faced Tyler look so dashing and sophisticated and Amy, ethereal in her white gown with her flaxen hair gleaming in the light, looked like the angel on top of the Christmas tree.

"Doesn't she look beautiful?" you asked.

"Yeah, she does," Richie agreed and you had to give him credit for not adding on a crude remark like he typically would have done. The opening notes of Ed Sheeran's Thinking Out Loud filled the room and the couple began their dance. Richie groaned in annoyance.

"Really? This song? Why did I let you drag me to a millennial wedding?"

"So basic," you concurred, although you felt your eyes misting regardless. "I wouldn't have picked it...but it's a pretty song. Well, it was the first two hundred times or so."

Richie saw you lovingly admiring the couple, lost in the moment and he smiled at the chip in in your tough, sassy exterior. He couldn't help but wrap his arms around you from behind and rest his chin on the top of your head as he watched them with you. "Yeah, it is," he admitted.

Throughout the evening, Richie played the doting date to the hilt. At your table, you made a show of feeding one another bites of cake by hand, dragging it out as long as possible, neither of you admitting aloud that it was just as much for your own benefit as it was for that of onlookers. A downright devilish grin broke across Richie's face as he finished languidly sucking a dollop of frosting from the finger you had between his pillowy lips, in his soft mouth as you simultaneously did the same thing, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of his finger wrapped in the velvet expanse of your tongue, reluctant to let it go. He released your finger from his mouth and kissed your fingertips before speaking. "I see him." His dark eyes were alight with mischief.

"Oh yeah? Does he see us?"

"I don't see how he couldn't have clocked such a babe, especially as she sucked the frosting right off my fingers."

"You know, we haven't quite finished if you want to keep it up because I'm enjoying the hell out of this."

"Tempting, but I've got something else in mind."

"Is he alone? Did he bring a 'real woman?'" you asked with amused derision.

"If by 'real woman' you mean what is quite clearly, as I called it, a paid escort and what appears to be a discounted one at that, then yes."

You rolled your eyes, heavily make up for the occasion. "Okay, what are we going to do?"

"I'll tell you what we're going to do, you're going to get your sexy ass out of that chair and we're going to get out on that floor and give everyone an eyeful."

For the first time since you'd been there, you faltered. "Richie, I don't know..."

"What, you aren't backing out on me now, are you? What happened to my hot piece of ass?"

"I won't look like such a hot piece of ass on the floor, Richie, I can't dance!"

"Sure you can. Anyone can."

"Can and should are two very different things!"

"You can. You will." He stood up and extended his hand down to you. "May I have this dance, beautiful?"

If there was one thing you couldn't do, even more than you couldn't dance, it was deny Rich Tozier.

"Of course, handsome. But you're leading."

"Absolutely. Gotta take care of my girl," he said as he led you out onto the floor.

You sure as hell couldn't dance and, truthfully, you didn't know if Richie was really all that much better, but he had more than enough confidence for the both of you. You followed his lead, never breaking eye contact.

"See, (Y/N)? You're doing it."

You had no idea what was going on around you. Everyone else could be dead for all you knew. All you knew was that there was music (you didn't even know what song) and motion and that you were being held and twirled by your love and, goddamn it, he sure was the most charming man you had ever seen, you sure wanted to kiss him, and you wished more than anything that this was for real and not just for tonight.

The song ended. "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Richie, I-"

You were cut off by the announcement that it was time for the bouquet toss. Richie's face lit up with mischief and he pushed you into the crowd of rabid single women who were desperate and ready to knock some lights out for some meaningless bundle of flowers that didn't truly foretell a thing. "Go on! Get it, (Y/N)!" he exclaimed in mock enthusiasm.

You want it, Tozier? you thought. Then you've got it. You couldn't have cared less for the tradition, but didn't you have an act to uphold?

Amy tossed the bouquet and you leapt for it, damned if you were going to let Chad's third rate hooker come out with it or anyone else, for that matter, since Richie had wanted to be cute and shove you into that sea of lunacy. No, that bouquet was your target. You leapt like a gazelle, swerved, and took ahold, yanking it out of the path to another woman's hands.

Everyone cheered and a few women shot death glares as you held up the bouquet, smiling smugly as you made your way back to a smarmy, smirking Richie who was clapping exaggeratedly. You tossed the bouquet at him. "As requested, your bouquet," you said before grabbing his hand, holding it up in the air and shouting, "Here he is, boys, come get him!"

Once the laughter died down, you mirrored the smug expression Richie had just been giving you.

"Laugh it up now, sweet cheeks, but you're about to be really sorry," he warned.

"Oh, yeah? What are you going to do?"

"Wait for it..."

An amplified voice filled the room. "All right, all you eligible bachelors, line up!"

"That's me," Richie said, handing the bouquet back to you and giving you a wink before joining the crowd of men who were gathered as Tyler removed Amy's garter.

That doesn't mean anything, you thought. There's plenty of men. Richie probably won't even get it.

Richie, however, had a height advantage over the other guys in the crowd, men just didn't care about things like this the way women did and you came to the sudden realization that you and Richie's plan had worked a little too well. The two of you had already established yourselves as the it couple of the evening, second only to Tyler and Amy themselves. Everyone had taken notice of the two of you and you could have sworn that you saw Tyler, that cheeky son of a bitch, deliberately toss that damned garter directly to Richie- who caught it, of course, much to the delight of the entire building.

Richie made his way back to you, victory all over that gorgeous, immaculately sculpted face of his. "Are you gonna sit down and make this easy for me?" he asked, teasingly.

You weren't about to give him the satisfaction of besting you. You sat down without protest, eyes smoldering, unable to contain your smirk as you lifted your dress to expose your legs, commanding Richie to the ground with a nod of your head.

The crowed ooohed and Richie made a show of dropping to his knees and crawling the brief distance to your feet, the garter clenched between his teeth. He reached up to gently take your ankle into his hands and slide the garter over it, taking his sweet time gliding it all the way up to your thigh, never once letting the garter slip from between his teeth.

"I gotta get a shot of this," came a voice near you, obviously the photographer. Richie looked at the camera, still on his knees, garter at your thigh still held between his teeth, and gave a very satisfied thumbs up to the camera as the photo was snapped. Only when the moment had been immortalized did Richie, at last, release the garter from his teeth. You let your dress fall back down over your legs.

"You bastard. You fucking bastard," you said breathlessly, smiling in spite of yourself.

"Hey, is that any way to talk to your future husband? We're next, dollface."

"Well played, Tozier," you commended, clapping slowly.

"What do you say we give the people a little victory dance?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

And so it went, dance after dance the two of you shared, long since losing track. Song after song, fast and slow until, at last, you looked up at him, towering over you, all lips and cheekbones, hair unkempt and sexy after an evening of activity. Dark, beautiful eyes were looking right back at you, soft, round and bearing into you. Eyes that had never looked into yours so long without saying something or, perhaps, had never looked into yours so long, at all. Richie was usually so good at talking, usually knew exactly what to say, so unlike you. Come on, Richie...say something... But nothing came out of him or you. All you could see was him, all you could think about was that moment, and all you could feel was everything you had ever felt for Richie, all at once and amplified, running through your blood, through every atom of you.

So, you kissed him.

Not for the sake of putting on a show, not for the benefit of any onlooker, but for you. Just your lips on his. No thought, just feelings, kissing him until you thought, at last, that you might die if you didn't stop for air because God knew you had forgotten to breathe.

You pulled away. Richie blinked, absentmindedly running his tongue over his lips. "Damn," he muttered offhandedly before returning to his senses. "Was Chad watching or something?"

You didn't know what to say. Truthfully, you had no idea if Chad had been watching or not, nor did you care. You had long since lost sight of your initial reason for bringing Richie to the wedding in the first place. You couldn't ruin things forever between you and Richie, but you couldn't lie to him, either.

"I don't know," you answered. "It just felt right."

"Felt right?" Richie didn't sound upset; just confused.

You couldn't just stand there not knowing whether or not you had just made the biggest mistake with Richie that you possibly could have. "Yeah, you know how it is," you cheerfully dismissed. "Doesn't it just feel right sometimes? Don't overthink it." The irony was not lost on you; you knew you would do precisely that. "Anyway, I'm sorry about that, Richie. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm gonna go to the bathroom. Do you want me to get you anything on the way back?"

"A drink."

"Anything in particular?"

"Surprise me."

"Ice?"

"Tons."

"Gotcha. Be back in a few." You headed toward the ladies' room as quickly as your dress would allow which, for the sake of appearances, was not very quickly, thankfully.

You locked yourself in a stall. "Fuck,"you whispered, dropping to a seat on the closed toilet. No matter how you fought them, tears sprang to the surface. You were glad that you had worn waterproof mascara. You allowed yourself a few moments of panic and despair before forcing yourself to dry up and get out. You touched up your makeup in the mirror until you were satisfied.

"You better get back out there to that man of yours," a woman said in passing, "or somebody else will be glad to take your place."

You laughed dryly. "Don't I know it?" you muttered to the empty bathroom.

You stopped to get Richie his drink, putting about as much thought into making it as he had into requesting it. You were sure to fill the cup with enough ice that it didn't really matter what else was in it, anyway. You scanned the room for Richie, perplexed that he was nowhere to be seen. Fuck, you thought. I've gone and run him off.

Just when you were about to dig your phone out of your purse, you felt a hand gently touch your arm from behind. You turned to face Richie, all smiles, back to his old self. You smiled and handed the drink to him. He set it on the nearest table.

"No time for drinks now, my love. While you were away, the DJ announced that after a brief intermission, the last song of the night was coming up."

"Thank fuck. That guy sucked. If it were my wedding, I'd pay him to stop. He's no Rich Tozier, that's for damn sure."

"Cut him some slack. I don't think Rich Tozier could have done any better, seeing a fox like you out on the floor."

"Nonsense. Rich Tozier is the king. He's been carrying both of us on the floor all night."

Richie smiled and offered you his hand. "I see the guy coming back. You ready to show them how it's done one last time?"

You took his hand. "Been ready all my life."

You made your way to the floor as the music began. It was a slow song, thank goodness, and you were ready to savor every second of the dance. It wasn't lost on you that it was the end of the night, the final encore, and you and Richie would soon take your last bow. It wasn't a show for you, though. It never was, and it had never been more plain to you than it was at that moment.

You looked into Richie's eyes. They were sparkling as he smiled at you. You smiled back and laid your head on his shoulder, playfully nuzzling his neck before settling. You felt a soft, whispering laugh in his chest before you felt his lips place a chaste kiss on the top of your head and then your hand that he held as you danced. He held his head down, his face resting gently in your hair.

In that moment, you could have sworn that he was enjoying this every bit as much as you. Deep down, however, you knew better. If he was loving this with you, it was no different than the way he had loved so many others for a moment or two before going back to his same old single life.

I love you, you thought. You mouthed the words against his shoulder, only because you knew he couldn't see. Was this how people felt on the way to their executions? Desperately clinging to every fleeting second of precious time as the end grew ever more imminent? You thought that it may very well have been; to some greater extent, of course, but still in the same vein.

You felt Richie's hand on your back, rubbing softly as your hand slowly traveled up to rest securely in his dark curls. Inevitably, no matter how fervently you wished that you could have frozen time, the song reached its end. Your heart began its slow break. Richie smiled down at you and kissed your forehead before wrapping an arm around you as you began the agonizing walk back to the car.

"What a night," you marveled aloud once you were both in the car.

"I'm sure Chad is eating his heart out and choking on it," Richie assured you.

You blinked, giving Richie a mischievous sideways smile. "Chad who?" You were playing coy but the truth was that you had hardly given him a passing thought the entire night.

"You pulled it off without a hitch, (Y/N)."

"Easiest thing I've done in my life- thanks to my fantastic partner, of course."

You raved about one another the whole way back, rehashing the evening, not wanting to let it go just yet. Unfortunately, you had to.

"Well, Mr. Tozier, it's been grand but I'm afraid this is my stop."

"Let me walk you to the door." That was just Rich; ever the gentleman.

He walked over to your door, held his hand out, and smiled once you stood before him. You took his arm and made your way to the door, thankful for once in your life for how much of a pain in the ass it could be to get to your apartment.

At last, you were at the door. The clock was ticking, the spell was breaking, and in spite of your dress, your professionally styled hair, and all of the makeup, you were starting to feel increasingly like your true self. "Thanks for doing this, Richie. It really means the world."

He smiled softly. "Nothing I would have rather done, dollface." You smiled up at him before yawning in spite of yourself. He laughed. "Go get some sleep, (Y/N)."

"You too, Richie."

He leaned in and placed a soft kiss onto your cheek. "I'll see you at work, baby." You thought he sounded as if he were talking to a child.

"Drive safe, Rich. And thanks again," you said before letting yourself in, not looking back for fear that Richie would see your heart all over your face.

The clock had run out, the coach had turned back into a pumpkin, Rich Tozier was just your older, wittier, more charismatic and successful friend and co-worker, and you? You were just you again, in your pajamas, sensational red dress discarded in the corner. Face bare. Eyes round and innocent. Lips returned to their natural shade. Bye bye, smokeshow, you thought.

You brushed your teeth, pulled your still styled hair into a messy bun at the back of your head, and climbed into bed. The sultry scent of your perfume still hung in the air. You knew it would be back to reality come Monday but, for now, you allowed yourself to drift to sleep on a cloud.

@caitlin-la @princessvulpecula13 @campcampie @itstheamandashow

[crzcorgi]

Take Us Home

Catch up on Number 6 here!

Negan x wife Number 6 (reader - Y/N)

Y/N=your name

Warnings ~ Negan’s glorious language, some violence

I apologize for the lack of fics lately, and for my less than stellar writing.

4200 words

Want on or off my taglist? Just let me know! Tags at the bottom

I ran to the nearest truck, Simon on my heels. As I began to climb inside, Simon grabbed my arm.

 “Passenger side boss, don’t think it would be in either of our interests havin’ you driving.”

 I didn’t have it in me to fucking fight him. Besides, he was right. I couldn’t think straight, wasn’t thinking straight. I’d probably get us fucking killed. All I wanted right now was to find doll. Find those fuckity fuckin’ fuckers that took her. Before they had any chance to harm her.

 I sat high in my seat, leaning on the door, my eyes peeled for any unknown vehicles. My mind was fucking spinning. All this time I was worried about keeping y/n safe on the run. Fuck that. I couldn’t even keep her safe in her, our, home. Jesus.

 “Boss?” Simon tapped my arm. As I glanced up, I saw he was looking at my leg. I had been holding Lucille so tightly against my leg, the barbed wire tearing my pants and blood oozing.

 “Shit, fuckity fuck!” I placed Lucille top down on the floor, grabbing some rags to push against the cuts. Fuck, I didn’t give a shit. I fucking deserve it. I deserved so much worse than some pussy ass cuts from Lucille.

Y/N POV

 I woke up in a dark room, at least I thought it was a room. But it was so dark I couldn’t tell if I was outside, inside or somewhere else. What I did know is that I was far away from the Sanctuary, and away from Negan. And for the first time in a long time, I was scared.

 My eyes began to adjust to the unnerving darkness. I was definitely inside. I could make out shelves, mostly empty, some dusty boxes. I tried to readjust myself but was met with painful resistance, both my wrists and ankles bound and restrained.

  I began to panic, what if my captors are dangerous? They know who I am. They probably are dangerous, Jesus y/n, they know I’m Negan’s wife they’re going to use me as leverage, as bait, to get him here, wherever here was. I knew it had to be a trap, why the fuck else would they want me?! Why now?! No! I started to panic.

 Negan’s POV

   We’d been driving for awhile and no sight of any fucking trucks. It was beginning to get dark and I was fucking angrier by the second.

 “Jesus Simon, how fucking far could they have gone? We weren’t that far behind the shitheads!” My leg was fucking throbbing at this point and all I wanted was doll to be in my fucking arms.

 After a few more minutes of mind numbing silence,  fucking continuing to scan the roadway, a voice came over the radio.

  “Boss? You there?”

 Simon grabbed for the radio but I was quicker.

 “Yes, What is it Fat Joey? Do you see them?!”

 “Think so sir. There’s a black pickup parked by a strip mall. Should we head in?”

 “NO! We’re almost there, stay where you are. We don’t need to be tipping them the fuck off already.”  I dropped the radio on the seat, turning towards Simon. “Fucking step on it!”

 Y/N POV

   I could hear muffled voices, they were raised, but not in an argument. My heart began beating faster. When the door flew open, I instinctively made myself as small as I could, my chin tucking into my chest, my legs attempting to pull upward, but the shackles around my ankles stopping me. I refused to look at them, my eyes shut tightly.

 “Grab her!” A woman’s voice.

 “Where we takin’ her? There ain’t anywhere safer!” A man, he sounded scared.

 “We’re gonna propose a trade, a bargain of sorts. Just keep her wrists bound and bring her out front. Don’t mess this up!”

I slowly opened one eye just a crack. I saw a young man, no older than 20, leaning down to undo my ankles. Surprisingly, he was careful, not rough at all. The people that brought me here were not at all gentle, my body feeling bruised all over. And it scared me.

 “I ain’t gonna hurt ya, jus’ doin’ my job. K?” I opened my eyes to look right at him. He looked scared, not at all like the Saviors. This was obviously not behavior he was used to.

 “Do you do this often” my voice was rough sounding.

 “Do what?” He questioned me.

  “Kidnap people.”

 He shook his head, helping me to stand up. “No, but our circumstances kinda changed.”

 “Circumstances?”

 We were walking towards the door, but he stopped, turning to look at me. “You’re Negan’s wife, right?”

 I’m sure he knew who I was, why was he questioning it? “Yes, I am, why?”

 “Then you should know what he does. With the communities your people come across.”

 “I do. He saves people, rescues them from horrible existences. He saved me and so many more before and after me.” My comments made his demeanor change, his face hardening, his grip on me becoming much tighter.

 “Saves them? Try enslaving them.” He turned back, pulling harshly at my arms making me squeak. “He’s forcing us to give up everything we have, my people are starving!” He opened the door, yanking me over the threshold, causing me to almost trip.

Negan’s POV

  We reached the Savior’s, I took no time throwing my door open and jumping out, forgetting my leg. “Jesus fuckity fucking Christ!” I leaned against the truck, catching my breath.

 “You ok, Negan? We can do this without you.”

 “Yes, I am okay, Simon.” I was walking towards where my crew was standing. “And fuck no, you won’t do this without me. That’s y/n that’s in there, I don’t need any fuck ups, you hear me?!”

 “Yes sir.”

 “Did you see any movements, fucking lookouts, anything?”

 “Nothing sir, we just saw their vehicles, nothing else.”

 “Thank you Joseph. They don’t have a fucking clue what their doing, bunch of pussy assed fuck ups.” I was bouncing back and forth, kicking up some dirt. I couldn't just stand here, waiting. I needed to get to y/n, make sure she was fucking fine. “ okay, we’re not fucking around, we are just going to head right in.” I started across the parking lot, careful not to trip over old broken tar pieces. I heard Arat and Simon barking out orders behind me. Good.

 As I reached one of the storefronts, the door opened, a woman stepping out.

 “That’s close enough, Negan.” I heard guns cocking from all around me.

 I laughed, turning my head to see multiple fuckers encircling me and my Saviors. “I’m not playing games, where the fuck is she?”

 “Who, Negan?” She tipped her head a bit to the side, trying to act like she had no fucking idea what I was talking about.

 “Do.Not.Give.Me.That.Shit! Do you hear me?! WHERE THE FUCK IS MY WIFE!”

 She smiled at me, acting all fucking brave. But I could see how nervous these fucking pieces of dogshit were, shifting on their feet, looking at each other, all fucking hesitant of what to do next. I made a slight movement with my hand, a long time signal I had with Simon, he knew what it meant. But just as we were going to attack, I heard a scream, y/n’s scream.

Y/N’s POV

 We stepped out into what looked to be an old stationary store, notebooks, paper, broken pencils scattered about on the floor. His grip still tight on my arms, but he let go of one, trying to navigate us through the mess. I kept tripping, almost falling over the debris, trying to keep up with his pace.

 “Come on! Keep up!” He yanked on me even harder, causing me to slip on paper and fall face first into the floor.

  I heard the loud snap before I even felt the pain. My wrist twisted in the cuffs as I fell, his grip never wavering and causing my wrist to break. The awareness of the pain came quick enough and the silent tears started falling. I tried to hold them back, but the pain was excruciating. I was thankful though that the only pain I felt was in my wrist.

 “FUCK! Amanda is gonna kill me! Why’d you have to go and trip pretty girl, huh?” I flinched at his nickname, if Negan had heard him… the thought made me smile through the pain. I realized he was crouching next to me, taking in my now strangely angled hand and wrist.

“Could you please remove these?” I sniffed, realizing that my wrist was also swelling and soon could very well be cutting off blood flow to my hand.

 “Shit, NO! I’m already in fucking trouble because of you, so get up now, pretty girl!” That damn name. He stood, grabbing my other arm, which was still attached to the other by the cuffs, causing me to scream out in excruciating pain.

Negan’s POV

 My hand came up to signal Simon to stop. “What. The. Fuck. Was. That?!” I started walking towards the building.

 “Stop right now!” The bitch had the fucking balls to yell at me. I didn’t give a fuck and pushed her out of my way, knocking her on her ass, to get inside.

 “Y/N? Where are you doll?”

  “Stop where you are or I’ll shoot her fucking pretty brains in!”

 I was fucking fuming those fuckity fucking asswipes had my girl.  “Who the fuck are you?! Let me see you, both of you!”

 I stood in the doorway, flanked by the shitheads, my people flanking them. I was pissed, more than pissed. But unbeknownst to anyone else, I was also scared. This is my doll, my sweet baby girl. And they had her. Fuck!

 I saw movement towards the back of the store, could hear crunching of boots.

 “Amanda?”

 “Bring her up, Will, but stand behind the counter. Gun on her at all times.”

 The fucking cunt turned and I swore she winked at me. It took everything in me not to fucking flatten her. But y/n’s safety was at stake, so I fucking bit my tongue and tightened my grip on Lucille.

 I turned to make sure my Saviors were still in place, giving Simon a nod. I quickly swung my head back when I heard a whimper, a cry.  Instinctively, i stepped forward, knowing it was y/n.

  “Get back, Negan!”

 I obliged, but only because of doll. I glared at the bitch. She would fucking pay for this little fucked up stunt.

 I saw two figures coming closer, saw doll, chained and practically being fucking dragged behind some fuckwit. She looked up, zeroing in on me, a smile trying to form on her beautiful face but quickly turning into a grimace. She was dirty, her clothes obviously torn, her hands in cuffs, and she was in pain.

 The skinny assed bitch waved at the fucker, stopping them about 30 feet from us. She turned, waving her fucking pistol in my face, making me clench my teeth.

 “This is how it’s gonna be, Negan. You are going to back down, walk away. No more threats, no more ‘taking half our shit.’ Just forget all about us.”

 Jesus fuckity fucking Christ, I was fucking biting down so hard my fucking teeth were creaking, my hand so tight on Lucille my knuckles were cracking. I was afraid to speak, wasn’t fucking sure I could keep my shit together. . “Or?!” I barely got it out.

 “Or,” she gave me that creepy ass smile, “you’ll be taking home your girl in a little plastic baggie.”

 Y/N POV

 The pain was becoming worse, the constant pulling on me the dickwad was doing not at all helping. I tried to keep quiet but it became unbearable.

 “Shut up! I hear something!”

 I was now standing up behind him. I could see he had a knife on his belt, but it looked to be in a snapped holster. But he also had another gun on his left side, just stuffed into his belt. But how the fuck could I grab it when I was basically handless? I was snapped back to reality when I heard him, Negan, my Negan.

 I went to yell back but he aimed his gun at me, and I was in too much pain to test him. He yelled to the woman who instructed him to keep coming. So once again, he pulled me tightly moving forward towards the voices.

  I clenched my teeth, trying to ignore the sharp jabbing pain coursing up my arm. I wanted to see Negan, I wanted to be in his arms, safe again. I was looking down, not wanting to fall again and do even more, possibly worse,  damage to myself.

  I looked up for a second and there he was. Negan. I tried so hard to smile at him, he always makes me want to smile. But as soon as my lips curved up, he pulled on the cuffs and I felt my vision blur.

Negan’s POV

 I began laughing, “Whoo! Whoo! Look at you, all puffed up threatening the big bad wolf!” I stepped closer, making her back up, her gun, shaking in her hands, still pointing at me.

 “Bac...back up!”

 “Hehehe.” I made a hand gesture and with a loud bang, her group were down. “Now, why don’t you hand…” I couldn’t fucking finish my sentence when the fucker shot me. “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! YOU SHOT ME BITCH!”

 I fell back on my ass onto the debris. I looked down to see it was just a graze, right where I had Lucille’d myself. Jesus fuck. I looked up to see Simon holding the shooter, a look of pure panic on her face.

 “YOU KILLED THEM ALL!” She screamed out. “WHY DIDN’T YOU SHOOT ME TOO!”

 I heard Simon telling her why we didn’t shoot her, dumbass fucking bitch. I stood back up, carefully, my leg almost giving out again. I looked around Simon, who was now holding the trigger happy bitch. And I saw her, my doll. She was standing next to the asswipe that held her captive, now dead. She looked right at me, a sad scared smile upon her face. I took off as fast as my fucking crapped up leg would take me. I needed her in my arms.

 Y/N’s POV

 I heard Negan and that woman,  Amanda?, yelling. I couldn’t take it in, my whole body being affected by the pain. I stood there, my eyes closing, wishing, waiting, for my Negan to come get me. Yes, I was being the helpless damsel in distress, and I didn’t give a fuck, not anymore. Because Negan was my knight in shining armor. And anyone else could go to hell for all I cared.

 Once again, I was jolted back to reality with a loud bang! I felt my arms being pulled downward, the pain the least of my worries as I realized my captor was shot. Was I next?! I fell down with him, my arms partially trapped by him. Maybe I’m safer down here. I looked at his face, seeing a bullet hole right between his eyes. Dead, but not for long.

 I panicked, pulling my arms out from under him as quick as I could, the pain almost stopping me. But the thought of the fucker reanimating on me urged me on. I got free, realizing soon enough that no more shots were heard. So I stood carefully, my eyes scanning for any danger. And I saw him. He was coming for me.

 Negan’s POV

 As I came up to y/n, I could see she was in fucking pain. Fuckity fucking fuckers, Jesus.

 “Baby girl.”

 “Negan”

 I pulled her into my arms, gently. “Where are you hurt sweet thing?” I tilted my head to get a look at her without letting her out of my grasp.

 “My wrist, it’s broken. And it hurts like a motherfucker!”

 I couldn’t stop the big laugh. “Fuck doll! It must hurt for you to talk like me! Woohoo!” I reluctantly let her go to inspect her wrist. It was swollen, but not so much to cut off the blood supply. “Shit darlin’, let me get these cuffs off.” I turned around, taking a quick scan of the building, making sure my Saviors were doing as they should. I then found some boxes for y/n to sit on. “Sit here baby girl.”

 She sat down, grimacing. She must have seen my concerned face. “I’m fine Negan, just bumps and bruises, honest!” She smiled, a much more genuine sweet one. I nodded, then bent down to search the dead fucker’s pockets to hopefully find the fucking key to the cuffs.

 “Fuckity fucking, BINGO! Hahaha!” I held the key up in victory.

 “My wrists, Negan?” She giggled, then flinched.

 “Sorry baby, just fucking nice that something went right.”  I swiftly moved to kneel in front of her, but falling on my ass as the pain swept up my thigh. “Fuck!”

 “Negan! Your leg! What happened?! Are you shot?!” She tried to move to me but I was too quick, up on my knees in front of her, stopping her from moving.

 “I’m fucking fine doll! Just had a bit of a scuffle with ol’ Lucille! Fucking flesh wounds baby girl!” I laughed, internally fucking crying like a baby. I paid attention to my breathing, in, out, in, out, ignoring the stabbing pain. I unlocked the cuffs but when I went to remove them, y/n screamed.

 “Okay, okay,” I held the cuffs in place, looking for something to take the place, obviously the cuffs were holding everything in place, the movement causing her excruciating pain. I ran my hand over my face, realizing I had my scarf on when my fingernail snagged it. Grabbing it with one hand, I brought it down, under her hands.

 “Okay, this is going to hurt like fuck darling. I’ll be as quick as I can, okay.” I dipped my face so we were eye to eye, I needed her to pay attention to me, just not on what I was doing.

 “Ok, okay Negan.” Her voice so much like a little girl. Fucking breaking my heart here darling.

 “Okay, so, I’m going to count to ten. When I reach it, I’m going to pull the cuffs off, then bring my scarf up and around your wrist, using this,” I fished a broken ruler out of the trash on the floor, making sure the edges weren’t too sharp. “to keep your wrist immobilized. Okay?” She looked into my eyes, fucking total trust in ‘em, and nodded. Fuck I love this girl.

 “One, two,” I placed the ruler on top of the scarf under her wrist. “three, four,” I took ahold of the cuffs, making sure her uninjured wrist was free “five, six,” I smiled, looking right into her eyes, watching her lips twitch up in that fucking adorable grin she only shows to me, “seven, eight” I pulled the cuff off the injured wrist, bringing the makeshift splint up and around her wrist, catching her totally off guard.

 As I finished tying it up, I felt a dampness on my arm. I glanced up to see tears just fucking streaming down her face. “Jesus doll, I know it hurts.” I stood up, favoring my fucking bum leg, hoping she wouldn’t notice. “Come ‘ere.” I bent enough to place my arms around her body, gently easing her up. With small whimpers and moans, she wrapped her legs around me. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to carry her with my fucked up leg, but I pushed through, carrying her to the front of the now empty store. She had tucked her head under my chin, her sniffles letting up a bit.

  Placing a soft kiss on the top of her head, I spoke quietly , “Let’s get you home baby, let the doctor fucking fix you up.”

Y/N POV

 I swear, no matter where I am, what I am doing, that man takes my breath away. Every damn time. Here I am, kidnapped, beaten up, I should just want to go home, to safety. But as he approaches me, I gasp. He takes me in his arms and everything is fine, I don’t feel pain, I don’t feel fear, it’s all okay. I know if I told someone my thoughts, my feelings, they’d most certainly call me crazy. Maybe so, but in this fucked up world we’re living in, I’ll take my good feelings wherever I can find them.

 As he carried me out of that place, I saw the dead. My breath hitched, it always shocks me. But I know why he did it. I won’t get used to it, it’s not a practice I would adopt, but I get it. It’s why people like me follow people like Negan. We need him to survive. “Don’t look at them sweetheart.” was all he said, guiding my face into his chest tightly. And I was okay with that.

 Negan’s POV

  As I stepped over the threshold of the building’s entrance, I tried to shield my eyes from the fucking sunlight, shit was bright. I carried doll over to the truck, Simon grabbing the door for us.

 “Hey kiddo, lookin’ a bit ragged there, hard day?” Simon laughed.

 “Yeah, asshole, ya think?” She pulled away from her tucked into me position, trying to reach out to fucking slap Simon. I won’t lie and say that sometimes their odd as fuck relationship didn’t piss me off. But he knows what’ll happen if he tries anything with her.

 She flinched, pulling her wrist into herself. “Fuck you, Simon! You made me hurt myself!” She hissed at him, making me laugh.

 “Not my fault little girl, let your daddy get you into the truck. Sounds like you need a nap.” He stepped back, letting me place her into the cab.

 “He’s my Daddy alright, aren’t you baby?” She smiled up at me, then winked at Simon.

 “Oh, fuck, not something I want to know.” He made a gagging sound, making y/n giggle.

I smiled, leaning over to kiss her cheek, my hand running over her dirty hair. “How about a nice hot bath when we get back baby girl? After the doc checks you over first.”

 “Yes! Perfect!” She yawned, her hand coming up to my face. “He’s gonna check you too, Negan.”

 “Yes, Mom.” She moved her hand down, lightly slapping my chest, making me laugh. I kissed her hand, placing it gently next to her injured one on her lap. I closed the door, starting around to the other side.

 “Sir!” I turned to see Fat Joseph running, more like fast walking, towards me, Lucille in his hand. “I found her in there, I knew you were concerned with y/n and probably didn’t mean to leave her behind but I also knew you…”

 I leaned forward taking Lucille out of his hand, interrupting his fucking babbling. “Thank you, Fat Joey, I might not have noticed she was fucking missing right away.”

 “Yes sir, glad to have helped. I hope y/n is okay, sir?” He was trying to see into the truck to no avail.

 “She’ll be okay soon enough.” I gave the fat fucker a smile and opened the driver’s side door, climbing in beside doll, placing Lucille behind the seat.  “Ready to go home baby?” I looked over to see she was trying hard to keep her beautiful eyes open.

 “More than ready, Negan.” She started to sidle over to me, her broken wrist hindering her.

 Placing my arm around her back, I gently pulled on her waist, carefully moving her body into my side. I started the truck up, feeling her good hand landing on my leg, her fingers lightly caressing it.

 “I was scared, Negan.” She spoke quietly, like she almost didn’t want me to hear her.

 “Shit darling, I’m sure you were.” I pulled out onto the deserted road behind the others. “I was fucking scared too.” I looked away from the road, leaning down to place a delicate kiss on her forehead.

 I heard, felt, her sigh. “I mean, really scared. It’s been a long time since I’ve been scared at all, you’ve done that for me, I don’t have to worry anymore. So this, this happening to me, it just, it made me realize how much I need you, how safe I really am. I need to feel safe, be safe, especially now.” She yawned.

 “Baby girl, you will always be safe with me. Things are going to change, new safety precautions are going to be fucking put into place.” My brow furrowed when I realized what she had said. “But why especially now, doll?”

 She quickly glanced up at me, a hesitant grin forming on her lips. “Cause it’s not just me anymore, Negan.”

@mypapawinchester @kijilinn @may85  @mamapeterson @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @negandarylsatisfaction @rapsity @strangersangel9 @wickednerdery @hannibalssweaters @ladylorelitany @angelak72081 @scarygoodfanfics @superpinkkcat @gageef @ericas-negan77 @miss-nori85 @ali-pennell @smuttwd @purplejellybean @concertxjunkie @magical-spit  @jotilpip @thedeadwalks @negantrashlucille23 @pandainfinitely @xdaddy-neganx @almostinwonderland @myheart4ever47-blog @lauryphelps1d @texasgal2222  @rizflo-blog @catleesi-xo @negans-network    @melodicdolls @ohmyneganimagination-twd  @kitcat44  @jmackie1983 @bulletscrossbowpie @astrangegirlsmind @negans-dirty-girl @theatricalbride @jasoncrouse @neganscatleesi @yesfangirlfan @jdmsgal @sherrilynn67 @cherieann-2001

@haleyea @tennantsforever @heartbreakgirlposts @warriorqueen1991 @foreverplagued  @collette04 @azanoni   @negans-network

[gayoongles]

Don’t Leave Me Alone (I Love You)

Chapter 2!! 

Chap 1 | 2

Chapter Summary: Yoongi finds out Jimin has been starving himself again.  POV: 3rd/Jimin

          The next time that Jimin starts “dieting” again, a few months had passed and the younger boy is being more careful about it; eating more than just a few pieces of fruit every few days so that he doesn’t pass out again. What Jimin doesn’t realize though, is that Yoongi knows.

He finds out that his boyfriend knows about a week after he starts to starve himself again, much to his dismay.

Yoongi stalks into Jimin’s room and Jimin tilts his head up with a bright smile, about to greet his boyfriend, when he’s interrupted by a sudden pressure against his lips and wrists. Yoongi is straddling him, wrists pressed into the mattress under him and a pair of soft lips pressed with bruising pressure against his own.

Jimin’s first thought is that Yoongi tastes faintly of chocolate, but soon enough, all of his thoughts are chucked out of the window upon hearing a growling sound coming from the boy above him.

Jimin then notices that his hyung’s lips aren’t on his anymore, and is about to protest but stops mid-word when he sees Yoongi looking at him expectantly with an…angry–Jimin can’t tell–look on his face. Had Yoongi said something to him?

“Wh- what?” He manages out and the same growling sound as before escapes Yoongi’s lips. The sound sends shivers down Jimin’s spine and blood rushes straight to his dick.

“I said,” Yoongi digs his fingernails into Jimin’s inner wrists, emitting a whine from the younger, “why are you starving yourself again, hm? Did you think I wouldn’t notice just because you were being careful?”

Jimin lets out a noticeable gulp but doesn’t say anything. He simply looks up at his boyfriend with eyes wide and lips parted.

Yoongi digs his nails in harder, ignore the wince quickly spreading over Jimin’s face, “answer me.”

“I- Because- I’m still fat Yoongi-hyung.” He trails off, voice getting softer towards the end.

Yoongi bites his lip–Jimin assumes it’s to keep from getting angry–and climbs off of the younger. Jimin whines but doesn’t move to grab for Yoongi, despite the fact that his dick is pressing painfully into the zipper of his skinny jeans.

“Yoongi— hyung, please. I’m sorry.” Jimin sobs.

Yoongi doesn’t respond, he just stares at the younger with a look that’s mixed between angry and contemplative.

Jimin squirms under the intense glare and decides to take matters into his own hands, literally. He knows that even if his boyfriend gets angry, he’ll still do something, anything, which is all that Jimin needs right now.

Jimin stares straight back at Yoongi as he slides his hand down his body and bites his lip.

Yoongi gives him a warning glare as if to say “don’t,” but Jimin ignores it and pops the button of his jeans, sighing in relief at the release of pressure, and shoves a hand in his pants, palming his erection roughly through his boxers.

He tries to keep his eyes on Yoongi, he really does, but they end up fluttering shut (not before seeing his hyung’s jaw clench, though) and he lets out a broken moan, hips pushing up into his hand for more friction.

“Hyung-” He’s interrupted by a hand pulling his own away from his dick and he opens his eyes to see a very angry Yoongi hovering over him.

He’s back to straddling the younger, so Jimin takes the opportunity to grind against Yoongi’s thigh. He’s quickly stopped again when Yoongi slides up so that he’s sitting on the younger’s stomach, not his thighs.

“Hm, you’re not getting what you want until you admit that you’re not fat. Can you do that for me baby boy?”

Jimin lets out an affirmative and tugs on the collar of Yoongi’s shirt, crushing his lips against his hyung’s.

Yoongi ‘tsks’ and pulls away, “No. Sincerely. Otherwise I’m not gonna fuck you like I know you want.”

Jimin whines again when Yoongi gets off of him once again, pulling Jimin up into a sitting position as he does.

Yoongi pulls off the younger’s shirt swiftly before pushing the younger back down onto his back and moving to remove his pants.

Jimin watches as Yoongi unzips his pants and pulls them off, with a little trouble, taking his boxers with them. Now free from the confines of his too-tight pants and underwear, his dick curls up against his stomach, painfully hard and leaking pre-cum. Jimin moans.

He can feel Yoongi’s eyes burning holes into his skin so he glances at the older, gulping when he sees the expression on his face. Yoongi licks his lips, looking at the younger like he’s the most beautiful god-damn thing he had ever set his eyes on.

In a blink of his eyes, Yoongi is hovering over him again. His hot breath is engulfing Jimin’s dick and it takes all of his willpower to not moan out load.

Yoongi smirks and shifts up a little bit, lapping at the pre-cum that leaked onto Jimin’s abs –  purposefully avoiding his cock, the fucker. Once he’s gotten it all, he shifts once again and starts biting at Jimin’s jaw, hands pressing his waist into the bed so that he can’t rut up against Yoongi.

Yoongi alternates licking, biting, and sucking as he moves along Jimin’s jaw and down his neck, ‘painfully slow,’ Jimin thinks.

Yoongi finally stops the attack on his neck–he’s probably gonna have to wear scarves for a while, so luckily, it’s winter–and moves down his chest.

Jimin gasps at the sudden contact, writhing under Yoongi and whining, desperate for more contact than he’s currently getting.

Yoongi takes a nipple into his mouth, scraping his teeth over it, which sends shivers down Jimin’s spine as he arches his back completely off the bed, letting out a breathy moan. Yoongi then soothes it over with his tongue.

He repeats the action for what seems like hours. His dick is aching for contact and he can’t even reach down to start jerking himself off, because then Yoongi will stop completely and also order Jimin to not touch himself and Jimin would most definitely die.

Yoongi finally removes his mouth from Jimin’s nipple, and the younger whines in both relief and disappointment, but Yoongi just smirks and does the same fucking thing to the other. Jimin feels like he’s gonna explode.

“F-fuck, hyung please I- I can’t, I-” his words get cut off with a moan as Yoongi slaps the inside of his thigh

“Shhh baby, no talking.” Yoongi trails down to his stomach and, expertly avoiding his cock again, licks and bites at his abs, “So fucking beautiful, sweetheart.” He whispers into his skin.

Jimin whines and blushes, but he’s not sure if it’s from the words or the sinful actions that Yoongi is carrying out on him.

“So fuckin’ perfect.”

Jimin is practically shaking in anticipation because Yoongi goes lower down his body and he thinks that Yoongi is finally gonna stop teasing and suck his dick already, but Yoongi keeps going, not paying any mind to the swollen red cock right in front of his face, and moves to nip at the inside of his thighs.

“Look at your thighs, baby. So thick and muscular, shit. You have no idea how crazy your body makes me, Jiminie.” Yoongi sucks small red marks into the skin and Jimin is shaking.

Yoongi suddenly stops and Jimin looks up at him expectantly with hooded eyes.

“Jimin, sweetheart, can I- can I fuck your thighs?”

Jimin thinks he stops breathing right then and there. He nods dumbly, not trusting his voice right now.

“I need you to use your words, sweetie. Yes or no?”

“Fuck, hyung, yes. Please- fuck. I need- I-“ He cries and Yoongi shushes him.

“Good boy, such a good boy for your hyung, Jiminie.” Yoongi praises the younger boy.

Jimin whines and Yoongi peels his own clothes off, sighing and tugging at his dick a few times before pulling Jimin up and pressing him against the wall next to the bed, which Jimin is somewhat thankful for. He doesn’t think he could stand on his own right now.

Yoongi spreads open the boy’s thighs a little bit and slips his dick in between them. Jimin can feel the slick lube coating his lover’s cock and briefly wonders when that happened, but his thoughts are cut off by a moan ripping from his throat when Yoongi starts moving his hips. He subconsciously tightens his legs around Yoongi’s dick, but not hard enough for it to hurt the older.

Yoongi lets out a breathy moan every once in a while, and praises of “So good, Jimin,” and “So good for hyung.”

He even lets Jimin rut against Yoongi’s stomach and Jimin practically sobs out in relief. He’s cumming all over his and Yoongi’s stomachs, and normally he’d be embarrassed about barely even lasting 2 minutes, but he’s been hard for so long and the friction felt amazing against his aching cock.

Yoongi is cumming soon after, moaning out Jimin’s name softly and then picking the younger up, laying him back on the bed, “Are you gonna tell me what I wanna hear now sweetie?”

Jimin nods.

“And are you gonna mean it?”

Jimin hesitates and bites his lip. He nods, “Y-yes hyung. I- I’m not fat. I’ll try not to starve myself anymore…” He trails off and looks down at his hands.

Yoongi smiles softly and runs his knuckles over Jimin’s cheek. Jimin looks up at him with lips parted, swollen and red from biting them. Yoongi pressed a brief kiss to them before leaning over to the bedside table and grabbing the lube. He coats two of his fingers and presses them to Jimin’s entrance, looking up at the younger boy for approval. Jimin simply nods, croaking out a yes, and two of Yoongi’s fingers are inside of him.

He finds his prostate easily, thrusting his fingers in and out and hitting it every time. Jimin is a mess beneath him, wriggling and mumbling out what sounds like curses and Yoongi’s name.

Yoongi adds a third finger to make sure he’s stretched enough and then pulls out his fingers. Jimin lets out a high-pitched whine and pouts at the older, who just laughs and reaches for a condom.

“Hyung.” Jimin says softly and he’s not even sure if Yoongi can hear him.

Yoongi cocks his head at the boy, confused, “Yes, Jimin-ah?”

“Can we…” he blushes, “Can you not use a condom? Wanna feel hyung.”

Yoongi’s breath hitches and he nods, “Anything you want baby. Been such a good boy for hyung.”

Yoongi reaches for the lube again and lathers a generous amount onto his dick, lining the head up with Jimin’s entrance.

Jimin hooks his legs around Yoongi’s waist as the older pushes in slowly with a grunt.

Once he’s all the way in, he stops to make sure Jimin is okay.

“Hnggg, please move hyung. More- I need... I need more.”

Yoongi nods and pulls almost all the way out before slamming back into the boy.

Jimin chokes out a moan and clenches his eyes shut in pleasure. His back arches up and shivers run up his spine when Yoongi finds his prostate again.

“So pretty for me baby. So wet and hot and good, feels so nice.”

Jimin whines and sits up to grab onto Yoongi’s shoulders. He digs his nails into the older’s back as he moans.

In between the waves of pleasure coursing through Yoongi and the breathy moans he’s emitting, Yoongi reaches a hand down to Jimin’s neglected cock and jacks him off in time with his thrusts, using the pre-cum leaking out of the tip as lubricant.

Jimin is clinging to Yoongi for dear life once Yoongi starts running his thumb over the slit every once in a while.

Jimin’s body is buzzing from all the pleasure and stimulation and it’s too much but it feels so good and he doesn’t want it to end.

He feels a familiar heat pooling in the pit of his stomach and manages out an “I’m close,” seconds before he’s sobbing out Yoongi’s name like it’s the only word he knows how to say as he cums over Yoongi’s hand and stomach. He goes limp against the older boy, who’s getting sloppier with his movements.

Yoongi cums inside Jimin with a shout of the younger boy’s name. He rides out his orgasm before pulling out and falling onto the younger.

They’re both panting and they’re sticky, but neither of them wants to get up because that would mean one would have to leave the other, if even just for a moment to get a wet cloth, and that doesn’t sound good to either of them right now.

Yoongi eventually starts feeling gross and gets up reluctantly to grab a washcloth and rubbing the lube and dried cum off of the two of them.

They lie together in silence and Jimin is dozing off, curled into his boyfriend’s side, when a voice snaps him awake.

“Did you mean it?” He hears Yoongi ask. He almost sounds scared for the answer.

“Mean what?”

“Mean what you said about not starving yourself anymore.”

Jimin looks over to Yoongi and sees the hopeful look on his face. Jimin feels guilty for scaring Yoongi like he has been ever since Yoongi found him passed out.

“Yeah, hyung. I meant it. I’m still gonna be dieting because I do need to stay fit, but I promise that I’ll actually eat.” He kisses Yoongi on the forehead before cuddling into him again.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but Jimin feels him smile into his hair and the arm draped around his waist gets tighter. Jimin accepts that as Yoongi’s answer.

He decided right then and there that he doesn’t want to scare Yoongi anymore. He hates seeing Yoongi sad, especially when it’s because of him.

Though, he wouldn’t mind having the mind-blowing sex he just had because of it again.

[wildandrunning]

03: No Rain Drops On Roses

Andy’s blood was boiling. His icy blue eyes were locked onto a man near the side of the stage. He was clearly out of place among the young screaming fangirls that made up the majority of the audience. He was probably around their age, dressed in a black jean vest and ‘Iron Maiden T-shirt. He had a long black beard and several facial piercings. He clearly wasn’t here to see Black Veil Brides, all throughout their first few songs he was flipping them off, and mouthing the word ‘faggot’ at Andy. 

Ashley noticed the man, flipping him the middle finger back. Typical hecklers, they had been showing up at their shows since the start. Something about pretty boys in makeup really got under the skin of metalheads. Most of them were just club regulars who liked to make their disapproval known. Ashley didn’t think much of them, not everyone is going to like you. As long as they weren’t hurting fans, he could care less. Andy on the other hand... it just seemed to eat at him. 

The word faggot had always been somewhat of a trigger word for Andy. It was the word of choice for all the bullies that relentlessly went after him his whole school career. His memories of middle and high school were filled with the taunts of the ‘cool’ kids. In high school, someone even spray painted ‘fag’ on his locker. That’s what he got for being different, for not looking like the all American jock. 

Even after he lost weight, even after being ‘emo’ became cool, it never stopped. It was the main reason he dropped out when he was sixteen, he just couldn’t take it anymore.

Fat, stupid, ugly, loser, freak, devil worshiper, worthless, he’d heard it all. Faggot, that one bothered him the most. He kept telling himself that it wasn’t true, they were just saying that. They were just trying to hurt him. Couldn’t they see? He had more women begging to fuck him than they ever would. 

Being in a band, being in the public eye; it was just like high school. Only somehow worse... He got called the same names. The words affected him just as much. 

The song ended, and the stage lights came on, lighting up the crowd. “Hey, hey, can I get everyone to be quiet real quick?” Andy asked, setting his eyes on the man. 

“This motherfucker has been flipping us off the whole show,” he said, pointing out the guy. The hoard of fans turned their attention to him, booing and yelling things. 

“You got a fucking problem with me tough guy?” Andy challenged, walking up to the edge of the stage. 

“Yeah, I don’t like fucking faggots!” the man yelled back, smirking. 

“Faggot? You think I’m a fucking faggot? You fucking wish you fat piece of shit! Suck my fucking dick!” Andy yelled, the anger finally boiling over. 

The fans started to cheer and chant his name which only fueled his adrenaline. He felt someone grab his shoulder, pulling him back a bit, “Andy... that’s enough just let it go” Ashley whispered in his ear. 

“You think you’re just going to come to our show and fucking call me a faggot? You must be fucking in love with me or something. So why don’t you go home and fucking jack off to this?” the younger boy’s normally calm voice was laced with spite. 

He felt hysterical and out of control like someone else was speaking. The man lurched forward towards the stage. Before he could make it more than a few steps though security was on him, wrestling him towards the exit. The fans went wild, once again chanting the singer’s name. 

“That’s right get the fuck out of here!” Andy yelled before taking a deep breath and trying to compose himself. “I’m sorry everyone, I just get a little heated sometimes.” 

The rest of the show went without incident, but Andy couldn’t calm down. With shaking hands he left the stage, the adrenaline and rage still pumping through his veins. He slammed his fist into the wall of the green room, the force leaving a slight indentation. 

“Hey, hey, hey, that’s enough.” Ashley proclaimed, grabbing the singer by the arm and pulling him back. 

“Let go of me!” Andy screamed, jerking his arm free. 

The next thing he knew he was slammed against the wall, Ashley had both his arms pinned. “Fucking cool it kid, it’s a fucking heckler let it go!” he growled. Despite being shorter, Ashley was stronger than Andy. 

“You can’t keep fucking blowing up to anyone who calls you a name. You’re an adult act like it.”  “Why am I just going to let someone call me a fucking faggot?!”  “Oh my god Andy, it’s a word.” Ashley rolled his eyes, letting the singer go. 

“Yeah, and I got called it my whole fucking life. Excuse me for standing up for myself.”  “Well, it looks really bad when you fucking fight people like that on stage. That shit could cost us opportunities, who wants to work with a band that throws a hissy fit on stage?” 

Logically, Andy knew that Ashley was right. It was a bad look to fly off the handle over little things, and venues didn’t want to book artist that did that. Emotionally though, Andy couldn’t accept it. It cut too deep. 

“Fuck that!” Andy spat. 

“Oh yeah, fuck our careers. Get a grip on yourself you sound like a child. Why do you even care what they think? Just ignore them. You know what they say isn’t true so who cares?!” 

Andy shook his head, digging through his bag for his pack of cigarettes. His hands were shaking as he struggled to light it, inhaling deeply. He waited for the rush of nicotine to calm his nerves, but it wasn’t cutting it tonight. He tried to keep the tears from falling. He wasn’t even sad, he was just so fucking angry. Mostly at himself, Ashley was right he shouldn’t let someone make him act like that. 

“Just sit down and cool off for a bit, we’ve still got the signing to do,” Ashley said before leaving the singer by himself. 

---

Andy watched as Ashley flirted with the busty bartender. It was after midnight, and all the fans from the show were long gone. All the bands on tour had decided to get drinks at the bar across the street to celebrate the first show. They were all pretty plastered at this point, all except Andy and the guys from Motionless in White. 

Since he wasn’t drinking that left him at a table all by himself, sipping on a diet coke. He had no interest in the drunken foolery and desperate attempts to bed the hostess that was going on. He flipped through tweets about the show, mostly fans talking about how he ‘sure did show that hater.’ 

“Hey, is this seat taken?” Andy looked up to see a man standing in front of him. He looked like he was in his 30′s, with long brown hair tied back in a messy bun. His arms were covered in black tribal tattoos, and he had emerald green eyes. 

“Um, I guess not?” Andy replied, taking another drink of his soda. 

“Awesome, just so you know I’m not a creep or anything. I was at your show.” the mystery man flashed a smile, showing off his pearly white teeth. 

“Oh, really?” “Yeah. I mean it’s sort of my job. I work at the venue, I’m one of the sound techs. I liked the set though.” 

Andy smiled, “Thanks.” 

“Sorry about that guy by the way. He’s a regular, and he likes to try and cause a scene with bands he doesn’t like. I’m Ryan by the way.” he said, extending a hand. 

Andy hesitated before shaking it. “I’m Andy.”

“So why aren’t you over there with the rest of your band Andy?” the way the man said his name made a shiver go down the singer’s spine. 

“I don’t really drink, it’s not my thing.”  “That’s respectable. You smoke?” Ryan asked, holding up a pack of cigarettes. 

“Yeah.” “Wanna go outside then? You seem kind of bored in here. Plus it’s quieter out back.”  “Sure.. why not,” Andy said, a million questions running through his mind. 

Who the fuck was this guy? And why did he give a shit about him? Either way, if it meant free cigarettes, then Andy would entertain whatever it was this guy wanted to talk about. He probably was hoping to snag a gig as one of their tech guys or something for a future tour. 

Andy followed Ryan out behind the bar. The cool night air was refreshing compared to the stuffiness of the bar. Ryan handed him a cigarette, lighting it for him. 

“So you liked our show?” Andy asked, breaking the awkward silence. 

“Well I mean, I liked you,” he smirked, leaning against the brick wall of the bar. 

“Um, thanks?” Andy blushed, nervously messing with his hair. 

“I’m not really into glam-rock, but you held my interest.” he chuckled. Andy could feel the man’s eyes on him. 

Andy finished his cigarette before tossing it onto the concrete. His heart was pounding in his chest, but he kind of liked the feeling. He felt the rush of hormones go through his body. This guy wasn’t looking for a job with the band that was for sure. He stepped closer to the man, almost as if on autopilot. His brain was screaming at him that he should go back inside, but he didn’t obey. 

“You’re very beautiful.” Ryan purred, letting his burnt out cigarette fall to the ground. He wrapped a hand around Andy’s waist, pulling him in. 

“I’ve been told that before.” Andy smiled, draping his arms over Ryan’s shoulders. 

The older man leaned in, hesitating only inches from Andy’s lips. Andy closed the distance, locking lips with the other man. Ryan’s hands drifted down to grab the singer’s ass. Andy’s mind was racing, how did he end up here? Like this? He didn’t want to stop though, he wanted more. He was beyond starved for affection. 

“Mm- fuck” Andy moaned into the kiss. He shut his eyes, feeling himself get hard as Ryan kissed down his jawline, nipping at his neck. Their lips found each other once again. 

Ryan’s hands were all over Andy’s body. Slowly though the euphoric feeling started to fade as the reality hit the singer. ‘Oh god what am I doing?’ he thought, feeling the panic rise in chest. 

“S-Stop!” Andy yelled, pushing the man off of him. 

Ryan gave him a bewildered look before he could even get a word out Andy ran back into the bar. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, what the fuck was he doing?! He felt a sick feeling sinking into the pit of his stomach. He needed to get out of this place... now. 

“We’ve got to go!” Andy stated, practically grabbing Ashley by the collar. The rest of the band was nowhere to be found, probably already back on the bus. 

“What? Why?” Ashley stammered, clearly not wanting to leave the hostess he’d been charming the whole night. 

Andy looked behind him to see if Ryan had followed him inside. He hadn’t, but that didn’t make him feel any better. The sick feeling was getting worse, and he could feel his gag reflex starting to kick in. “We just have to go now!” Andy insisted. 

He bursts through the doors of the bar that led out front. Ashley followed closely behind him. “What the fuck Six? What are you freaking out about?” 

Andy’s legs were shaking as he braced himself against a trashcan by the curb. He pushed his hair back before throwing up the little he’d had to eat that night. The images from minutes ago kept flashing through his mind as he struggled to catch his breath. 

He dry heaved a few more times before finally managing to calm down enough to get a deep breath in. Ashley was standing a few feet away, staring at the singer. 

“What?” Andy asked, wiping his lips. 

“Are you really not going to fucking explain all that? Dude I was this close to banging that chick, and you freak the fuck out and pull me away?!”  “I want to leave. Where are the other guys?”  “On the fucking bus, Andy what the fuck?” 

Andy’s heart was still beating wildly in his chest, and he started to feel sick all over again. “I-I just really need to get out of here.” 

Ashley sighed, realizing that something was clearly wrong with the younger boy. “Okay, well you’re not going to throw up anymore are you?” 

“No.. I’m fine. I just had.. a panic attack or something. Let’s just get on the bus.. please?” Andy said, looking around frantically. 

“Bus it is then, but you owe me.” 

[dear--charlie]

Dear Charlie,

Just a warning, there’s A LOT of cursing in this.

I’m so fucking sick of my family. You can’t fucking do that shit. You fucking CANNOT do that shit especially to a goddamn kid. I don’t give a single shit if that child is yours, you have no fucking right to treat them like garbage just because you don’t understand them.

You cannot fucking treat your sibling like a maggot because you feel like it. You cannot rip away the FIRST AND LAST FUCKING PIECE OF SELF CONFIDENCE THAT THEY HAD IN THEMSELVES BECAUSE YOU’RE A GODDAMN FUCKING BITCH OF A PERSON WHO FEELS LIKE YOUR OPINION IS THE BE-ALL-FUCKING-END-ALL. Maybe I wasn’t completely fucking confident in myself but I didn’t starve anymore and that’s more than I can fucking say now. I may not have been happy with my appearance or my weight but I no longer cried at the number on the scale and that’s more than I can say now. Why would you even goddamn DARE to say things as horrible as those when you fucking know what the mindset of the person youre saying them to is? WHY WOULD YOU SAY THEM TO ANYONE AT ALL! Just because being healthy is fucking easy for you doesnt mean it is for everyone else and maybe take into some fucking consideration THAT I WAS EATING BECAUSE I WAS HUNGRY? That it’d been hours since breakfast so one fucking pastry before lunch didnt seem like the end of the goddamn fucking world?

But, you know, who cares because clearly the increased appetite and metabolism I have just means I’m a fat fucking tub of lard to everyone else. Nevermind the basic fucking knowledge that humans eat when they’re hungry and I’ve been going to the gym more than I ever have because of the increased chances of cardiovascular disease I’ve got thanks to lovely genetics. Clearly HER opinion was right because she’s a skinny fucking bitch who thinks she knows the first thing about diet and exercise for everyone just because of how it is for her.

And you can’t use symptoms of your fucking child’s mental illness against them just because they’re inconvenient to you. You fucking can’t. I mean, the last I checked, irritability and a short temper are symptoms of not only manic depression but other mental illnesses WHICH (HOLY FUCK) I HAPPEN TO HAVE. Just because I’m quick to annoyance and agitation doesn’t mean you weren’t being a bitch when I got like that. How many times will I be accused of being fucking rude or mean just because I have feelings on something? THEN YOU FUCKING DEFEND HER AND THE HORRIBLE THINGS SHE SAID TO ME BECAUSE YOU THINK I’M OVERREACTING. Like, thank you so much for just taking her side like you always do and making me feel: 1. invalidated and 2. disgusting

And, as a follow up, after JUST treating your kid like shit about two minutes ago you can’t pretend everything’s a fucking rainbow and be annoyed when they’re still angry.

How many times do I have to almost die for them to realize I’m not okay? All they fucking care about is themselves and that I’m “taking too long” to recover. Nevermind the fact that I’m still in a goddamn ice age and my recovery is as genuine as the earth is flat. Nevermind the fact that every smile every response of “I’ve had a great day” or “school was good” is usually a fucking lie. Nevermind the fact that my parents are commenting on how proud they are of my “quick recovery and happiness” while I’m still doodling in my notebook about how some days death seems better than the sadness I’m stuck in. It’s all about them.

Then, there’s Gavin and work over scheduling me (again) and my teachers’ annoyance with me not getting work done BECAUSE of my job and my medications being fucked up and the fact that I have to use the money I earn at my over scheduled job to either pay for me and my (awful) sister’s food or just to fucking hand over to them when they ask only to never get paid back. There’s the fact that I don’t see my future anymore and nobody would give a shit if I dropped dead right in front of them and that if my name stopped getting called in attendance nobody would even notice and that my soul is fucking breaking under the weight of agony in the time period that’s supposed to be called the ‘best years’ of my life. if these years are the happiest I’m going to get then I hope I fucking die tonight because I’ve experienced enough heartache and woe to last a thousand lives. Maybe that’s a hyperbole foul, maybe I don’t care.

I’m sick of being the poster child for the Lost and Found kids. I always wanted myself to root in the fields of household names but look at me now — I’ll never be anything more than a sob story. I’ll never be anything more than the catastrophes that run in my veins and the tragedies embedded in my skin.

Yours Always, Walking Supernova