#and i want it to stay my coping skill
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#i wish cvting was more normalized ngl#i don't see babycvts as a big deal#even light styr0s dont seem like an issue to me#sure beans are a lot more dangerous#but like#why does it have to be seen as so weird and bad?#its a coping skill#and i want it to stay my coping skill#without it hurting my bf and anyone else who cares about me#god this relapse sucks
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honestly would anyone stop me if i were just super "cringy" being over-self-indulgent drawing niche interests constantly,, even w self-insert drawing
...who knows and who cares, i'm still coming around to loving the art process again and this is an unexpected source of motivation, but i'll take anything i can get
#i'm still ruminating on things and what to do in Life/Art esp to cope w the future + animation industry feeling dire rn;;#i just! want to be with friends and make friends! and maintain my love for friends living and drawing!! it's about love!!#yes i'm still working on my art skills to be a storyboard artist and stay employed for the future#but#i want to love friends. and love art. i want to live life and stay happy and keep going in all these not Just for a job if that makes sense#text#and yeah this is about#protocreed#being an unexpected train of nostalgia that's somehow made me more happy/motivated in drawing now haha
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I haven’t looked in on the unfinished side of our basement in a while and… my dad’s hoarding has actually gotten significantly worse. And we just heard from my grandfather last night that he’s pretty sure my grandmother is going to pass soon. And when that happens, my father’s hoarding is absolutely not going to get better. So. That’s a lot. I brought it up to my mom and she told ME to research psychiatrists that specialize in hoarding. It’s a very eldest daughter kind of day.
#it will be a relief when my grandmother passes mostly because it has been causing my grandfather so much pain to care for her like this#she’s been in decline since 2016 and has been in basically a vegetative state for the past 2 years#so we’ve already made our peace with that and started that grieving process#but I am the most worried for my father#he’s been in therapy for a couple of years#but he still doesn’t have many coping skills#his binge eating has gotten worse his hoarding has gotten worse#so we’re absolutely headed for a breakdown if intervention doesn’t happen NOW#and my mother has kind of resigned herself to it happening which means it’s all on me to make sure it doesn’t#because apparently I’m the only one in this house that actually gained coping skills#‘your parents trauma isn’t your responsibility’ i can hear my therapist saying#but Ashley I still have to live in their house so if I want to stay sane while living here#it has to be somebody’s responsibility#and like many times in my family history: nobody else is willing to do it so if I don’t do it it won’t get done#thank you for coming to my ted talk#taking a friend to see a movie later because his mother just had emergency spinal surgery and can’t walk#and she’ll be in a rehab facility for over a month#*heavy sigh*#eldest daughter syndrome
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it took one (1) walk to the beach to make me feel like I'm gonna die, I'm not surviving this vacation
#my diary#i had to stay behind while the gang gets groceries cuz literally the only alternative was to pass out or puke (or both)#i hate being disabled but I REALLY hate not knowing why. itd be so much easier to use coping skills if i knew what worked#not eating isnt helping but ive just felt too hot and stressed and sick to keep food down#so now im languishing in the airbnb alone trying not to have a menty b about it#my friends love me and want me to have fun too I just need to keep telling myself this#and hydrating. I need affirmations and hydrations.#and salt. probably.
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Nobody tells you that sometimes healing is swallowing the anxiety. It's continuing on because you have to. It's spending hours doing deep deliberate breaths bc otherwise you'll hyperventilate and you're at work. And while it is an improvement from being hospitalized bc you've been hyperventilating so long you've been hospitalized. It's bitter and painful and feelings like swallowing acid as your inner child screams as she downs in it wondering why nobody is noticing but nobody is noticing because you're still smiling still talking still working like everything is fine.
#Oversharing on the internet times#Anxiety#Ptsd#Panic attacks#Dont mind me just thinking about how helaing allows me to be functional and how it looks like nothings wrong#Where's that one post about how being healed looks a lot like faking mental illness#Also as I've been typing out this post I've decided I hate the word healed in this context#For me personally I've always been very good at pushing past my limits (hello that one time I backpacked 70 miles with broken ribs )#Where is that line for me? When does using my coping skills and staying functional cross the line into ignoring my limits and dissociating?#Not sure I'll ever know so far it's been a life long lesson I have to learn over and over again#I get a little better at it each time though#Anyway what an extremely inconvenient time for the emotional breakdown of realizing that one therapist who tortured me wanted me dead#The emotional breakdown couldn't have waited till I wasn't at work#Of course not why wouldn't it be inconvenient#Honestly surprised it hasn't happened sooner though
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you parents constantly telling u the shit that you've been trying to unlearn surely is smth
#my mum is very “tough it out” its all in your head meditate and never experience and emotional reaction this way. make rules for yourselfetc#shes the bhuddist equivalent of a bible quotes spewing christian basically. n its cool i know how to control my emotions and shit now but#thats my problem lmaooo. it took me counseling to learn how to feel emotions and im still not nailing it most times#also i used to be so strict about rules i made for myself like “u have to brish ur teeth before bed” that i would stay up until 4am not doi#anything because i was too tired to get up and go brush them until i passed out from exhaustion#unlearning that was very good for me right#mothers undiagnosed adhd most likely lmao and is just constantly teachibg me all the coping skills she developed#and its so fun cuz she just always tells me stuff she struggled with and im like mother youve been telling me this since i was born i GOT I#funnily enough i use all the meditation and bhuddist shit when talking to her specifically#every conversation is me going ok.. deep breath. think from her perspective. calmly explain and address. its not personal. getting agitated#would resolve nothing#and thats fascinating cuz when i moved out i was like oh you people dont receive the training of a bhuddist monk by age 5??#i had a roomate who i didnt get along with sadly who was the complete opposite and had learned to communicate via shouting and confrontatio#like thats literally how she communicated n i had such a hard time saying anything to her cuz id learnt to just go meditate till feeling go#away before talking to someone#like i never saw my parents shout at each other or argue in my life. they usually retired themselves from the situation#when i explained this shit to someone they were like “lucky u my parents fought all the time” my brother in christ youre not hearing me#you can be unhealthy in different ways.#my conclusion now is my mums a cool person just totally clueless on how to raise a child#like i remember feeling very unheard and bad about her becayse literally every sentence out of her mouth is a life lesson#and even if u catch her in a genuine social interaction with u she quickly corrects herself and brings the life wisdom back in#and even if she agrees with you shell go in a ten minute tangent because she wanted to talk about bhuddha when literally there was no point#fuck as a kid with adhd i remember it being torture#now i learnt how to deal with it better but good christ#and yeah just had to tell this to someone because i have the patience of a saint and its not being recognised#like even my cousin is always like you know how ur mom is cuz being lectured 24/7 is exhausting#and fr everytime i talk to her i have to be like “ok. now remind her subtly that you are a human being”#lmaoo#readme.txt
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I really don't know if I'm strong enough
I know lettin him do the shit he does just makes me worse n that effects everyone
I don't know if the system even has a way to keep me away from him if it's not a choice I make n I just can't force myself to make that decision
I tried but it scares me so fucking much I'm just. Frozen.
I'm sorry I really really am. I hate that the things I do effect others. I also know apologizing doesn't mean shit n at some point it becomes just another burden. I don't know how to do anything different.
#every night i go to bed my brain n body start screamin at me to go back go back go back#the only things i actively hate about myself are things he actively engourages n makes worse but#the only thing that makes me feel good about myself is knowin he wants me again#i know i'm just an object to him but at least i'm one he wants to own#i only ever managed to even start rebuilding myself n my life cause he got bored of me#it was never my decision not really#n if the system just takes that choice away from me n keeps me from him by force i. idk if i could get through that#i think i'd legitimately become a danger to the body#i try to imagine it n i just see myself clawin at his door screamin cryin beggin to be let back in#i can't fucking do it#i don't have any other coping skills. except substance abuse. which would escalate so much it'd also be a more immediate threat#i already need to dope myself up semi regularly just to have some relief w/o him#it's fucking pathetic i know#it's. a literal addiction isn't it? however the hell that works#they say no one ever stays clean til they've hit rock bottom#i guess i'm not there yet#i hope anyone of you that maybe read this shit know that you don't have to. i'm just venting#cause i can imagine it gets heavy to see me self-destruct like this. i try not to show it much irl but. yea#spdrvent
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on the one hand, i could come out and move away from my parents and do my best at being independent.
but on the other hand, free yarn
#the healthcare and financial stability (also housing) is the actual main reason i’m staying closeted and on good terms with them#but they buy me yarn for crocheting whatever i want. we say it’s essentially a therapy fee for my main coping skill.#but it’s a wonderful benefit of living here with them#personal
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2024 WRAPPED⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆
₊˚⊹♡TOP LESSONS LEARNT
Missing out gives you progress on your goals. So many times this year, I didn’t do things that I usually would’ve loved to do to make and maintain progress on my
goals. Simple things like cancelling plans, buying certain things and any other short-term pleasures. Allowing myself to overcome FOMO, and in return, I saw great progress in my goals.
People hating you has nothing to do with you. I dislike a lot of things because it's my personal preference. Someone who decides to hate you is a matter of their preference. However, if they choose to show that hatred to you, it's a matter of projection. People will project onto you as a way to cope with their own life, cause they can’t deal with their own.
Stop letting everything control you. Truly, you’re held back from nothing in life. Your circumstances, identity, environment and more can only hold you back so far. At one point, you’ve gotta start acting and stop blaming everything around you on why you can’t. This one… is still in progress for me. I do feel like my parents are a major factor in me being held back, but deeper down, I also feel that it's an excuse to not work up to my potential.
Trying to fit in is fruitless. I wear and listen to what I want. I decide what kind of content I want to consume, and what food I want to eat. This generation is notorious for tearing down anyone who doesn’t fit in a cookie cutter. Allowing your authenticity to shine through, will guide those who are meant for you, to you!
All problems are temporary. This one does not apply to everything, but it applies to a lot of things. Your issues will not last forever, so don’t let it leave a permanent mark on you. Don’t let your situation deter you from your goals.
₊˚⊹♡ACHIEVEMENTS
It's small, but I feel like I’ve created my room to be fully intentional for me. While it still can be improved, my room is much better in terms of clutter and decor compared to 2023.
Consistent practicing soft social skills like keeping up small chats, giving compliments and handling disagreements gracefully. I ended the year with all B’s! Last semester was a bit of a flunk for me, but I managed to pull it up for the end of the year.
Saved like 500$ for purchasing things off my wishlist.
Read like 12ish books for 2024. Would’ve loved to read more, but I was in a reading slump and also didn’t have enough time to go out to my local library to borrow any books.
₊˚⊹♡HABITS / RITUALS
In bed by 9 pm, up by 6 am. Sleeping early has made me feel a lot more energised in the mornings, and I find that it's easier to get out of bed and continue with my routine. The later I slept will more I felt sluggish for the next day + waking up earlier hay motivated me to stay on top of my routines.
Daily walks after school. It gets my steps in, but it's a nice way to debrief after school and regather myself before heading straight into studying. I sometimes do walk home, and it's great to plug in my earphones and just not think.
Journaling. I preach it for a reason, as journaling helps plenty. It can help you to shift your mindset beliefs, identify self-sabotaging behaviours, allow us to truly reflect on who we are and see progress each day in our lives.
Lighting candles more frequently. It's such a little habit, but it brings me so much joy. Usually, they’re just collecting dust as decor however when I started to use them, I loved the whole experience. The smell and the small warmth that it brings are just perfect for the ambience.
Curating my social media. I have an absolute maximum of 5 hours per day, but I still want those 5 hours to count for something. I’ve redownloaded TikTok earlier this year, and I think it’s a great platform for looking for advice and inspiration. Creating a feed that works for you instead of the other way around, will definitely change how it influences you.
Having alone time in the morning and at night. I need this time to myself to slow myself down and regather my thoughts and it's just what I look forward to, to get through the day. I usually do whatever I like in this time slot, on the condition that I am completely by myself, free from any tasks or distractions.
Cleaning regularly. When I did a deep clean last year, it would just be vacuuming my room and wiping down all visible surfaces. That is good, but there’s a lot more to clean than you realise. One major thing that we forget to clean (yet is probably the dirtiest) is our devices. Wipe down all screens every single day!
₊˚⊹♡BEAUTY / FASHION TIPS
Turn down the toilet seat when you flush. The amount of times I’ve been in public toilets and flushed with the lid up is outrageous, and I just can’t believe that last year I didn’t even consider the bacteria that would fly up on my clothes or even my face. Not a major skincare tip, however, er I think this would affect it.
Know your undertone. I would only use undertones to know what kind of jewellery fits me, but it goes way beyond that. Before I start, I would like to say, don’t buy any more clothes or makeup just because they don’t fit your undertone. If you like your confidence will override any undertone clash. I used to walk around with really yellow makeup, and the difference when I got a foundation that had more of a golden undertone was like day and night. The same applies to your clothes. Warmer clothes will complement me, becausI’m’m warm-toned. So, I tend to stay away from cooler tones. I don’t use colour seasons, Is anyone wondering?
Stick to a palette that you like. Last year, I wasted so much money trying to experiment with new colours in my clothes and makeup, just to end up hating it. It’s also a bad consumerist habit, to buy things for your fantasy self. So today, I only buy clothes it's the colours I like and I only purchase makeup if its shades fit me. I’m not saying buy anything new, but keep it to a minimum to reduce waste and save your money for the things that you like.
Avoid fashion inspiration with faces. Highly attractive people can pull off anything, quite literally. Their face can influence subconsciously them ly to love the outfit, even if the outfit is ‘bad’. So, when saving pictures from Pinterest, TikTok or magazines, avoid any outfits that show their face. I said avoid it as sometimes you just really like an outfit and you know it's nothing to do with their face, which is okay.
₊˚⊹♡YOUTUBERS
JIlLZ GUERIN - Focuses on feminine energy, lifestyle and intellectual habits. I recommend her as many of her videos are new and fresh perspectives.
SANDY DIANA BANG - Mostly productive vlogs that inspire and motivate, with a sprinkle of wellness, health and beauty content. Her channel and vibes are so aesthetic too!
ROSIE GRAHAM & LIDIA MERA - Both are fitness influencers that focus on pilates. Their workouts are so good that they always leave me sweating and strained (which is good!! lmao). If one of your goals for 2025 was to start working out, I would use their videos.
THANK YOU BUBU - Another fitness channel that is one of my time faves, and they have a variety of exercises that target abs, glutes, legs and arms. Another channel I would recommend if I was starting to exercise again.
MINA LE - She does research and creates video essays on various topics, which many videos I feel are relevant in current times. She’s great if you want to expand and explore new perspectives.
HALIEY GAMBA - She’s for a more matured audience, but she’s such a hidden gem. All of her advice ly new things, not just the same things that have been rinsed and repeated.
KELLY GOOCH - She’s a beauYouTuberber who mainly discusses the beauty industry and its products while recommending some. She’s one of the only beauty influencers who I will listen to, as I feel like her opinions aren’t constantly swayed by sponsorships or promotions. Even then I would still take any beauty opinions and advice with two cents.
ELLE CHU - A smaller, but underrated beauty influencer. She discusses a lot of beauty products whether they’re worth it, overhyped or overpriced. She does sometimes talk about the beauty industry, but those videos are infrequent.
₊˚⊹♡BOOKS
(I have read all of them libby- a reading app).
NJUTA by NIKI BRANTMARK. All about the Swedish art of enjoying the present. If you feel like you have a simple and unexciting life, I recommend you read this.
SPARK JOY by Marie Kondo. A popular decluttering book that uses the KonMari method that emphasises items that you want to keep, instead of focusing on what you want to get rid of.
THE HEALTHY MIND TOOLKIT by Dr Alice Boyes. This is the ultimate guide of mindset shifts to target self-sabotaging or destructive beliefs and gives strategies to overcome them.
MINDFULLNESS ON THE GO by Jan Chozen Bays. A collection of little mindfulness practices you can do almost anywhere, almost anytime.
MY WISHES FOR 2025
To join any club at this point. It's hard for me to do anything outside of the house with my parents' schedules, and I do feel like it has eaten at my social life and the experiences, lessons etc I would gain. At first, I originally wanted to join so it's something I could put on my university application, however, I’m entering year 10 with absolutely no extracurriculars since year 7. (for anyone not down under, I'm talking about high school grades.)
Expanding my social circle. I feel like I don’t have a secondary community outside of school, and it's definitely what can amplify my slumps or depression without having that one person I can talk to freely, without the worry of school. I feel like I’m making no sense here.
Moving anywhere. I want to move schools, cities, countries, or whatever. Being in the same school since year 2 (elementary) has taken a toll on me.
A million dollars. Very unrealistic, but I still want it! I feel like money is the only thing that can actively change my life at this point.
thats it for this post! I encourage anyone else to do their own wrapped and tag me!
#becoming that girl#prettieinpink#that girl#clean girl#green juice girl#it girl tips#it girl energy#it girl#pinterest girl#pink pilates princess#dream girl#dream girl tips#dream life#dream girl journey#dream girl vibes#wonyoungism#high value woman#feminine journey#divine feminine#feminine energy#self control#self care#self confidence#self development#self growth#self healing#self improvement#self love#glow up era#glow up
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hey harker! very much enjoying the lucanis/illario/general crow posting, and im gonna encourage more: now that you’ve had some time to sit with the game i was really curious to hear more about your opinion on lucanis becoming first talon. i can’t help but feel like it’s completely glossed over that lucanis is definitely going to get chewed up by this job in most save states. i have mixed feelings about it personally - but setting those aside because i’m asking about yours.
i TRULY cannot express this enough: that villa is a tomb and if we do not get him out of there we are burying him in it
lucanis does not want this job. he has straight up canonically always avoided thinking about this by assuming he would die before it becomes something he has to deal with. he reacts with paralysed disbelief to being given it and seems to have barely registered it for the rest of the game. and even if he did want it, lucanis is not capable of this job. none of his skillsets are managing people, or making ruthless calls, or watching out for himself. the only driving force behind him being pushed into this is caterina, who will not be around to do the admin and protect him from external threats forever. and she only wants him to do it in the first place because she had a good heir—his mother—and has needed to project that dead daughter onto lucanis for his whole life, to believe she hasn’t already gambled and irrevocably lost her family’s future decades ago. but lucanis’ incapacity to ever say no to her, which is what lets him stay that eternal teacher’s pet, is one of the most obvious shining examples why he would be so bad for the job!
it would be an uphill battle for anyone to recover control of an assassin house that until last week was being run by your cousin who tried to kill you. it would be an uphill battle for anyone to lead the crows in the aftermath of the antaam occupation. it would be an uphill battle for anyone to cope with the fact that relying on viago and teia—which lucanis with his resources and skills has no choice but to do here, even if he didn’t simply like them and make choices based on liking people because he is not a strategist—presents them as an alliance that any other ambitious talon must cut down to get anywhere. three out of eight of the talons is such a ludicrously dangerous number. it does not take an overwhelmingly brilliant mind to notice that there’s more of us than there are of them
the best man for the job would still be fighting for their life, and lucanis is far from the best man. caterina was! and she still lost five children and six grandchildren holding it! that’s so many! have you guys ever seen that one post about people who kept getting a new outdoor cat every time the last one got eaten by cougars and it was pointed out they were basically just feeding cats to the cougars. that’s what caterina dellamorte was doing having kids
the points in lucanis’ favour off the top of my head are the weight of the dellamorte name and reputation, that his victory over illario was decisive and public, and simply the fear factor that he is a god slayer and, lest we forget, a fucking abomination. is that enough to keep him alive? for how long? under what level of constant anxiety and moral degradation for his very soft over-caffeinated heart? all for the questionable gain of several large and empty villas and the privilege of dragging out the slow and lingering death of a family that, you guessed it, you love it, it’s the thedas favourite: has no! next! generation! heirs! at all!!!
(unless illario has a bunch of kids somewhere. i think that would be objectively pretty funny, a sentence i managed to type most of before feeling ill. oh god we need to get them out.)
i apologise that my tone here is somewhat hysterical but i have been living in the mind of my rook, a character very aware of the realities of crow politics who loves lucanis very much. it does not surprise me that lucanis was once again incapable of even conceptualising saying no to his grandmother and accepted the title, or that the idea of abandoning her legacy and his family would seem insurmountable to him when he has been raised to believe it’s all he’s for and he is the last one shouldering the weight. but i am saying this with total and absolute confidence: this is another prison and he is going to die in there if nobody gets him out.
#veilguard spoilers#lucanis dellamorte#it was a wild decision to have those insane two options for illario be his quest choice and not whether or not we get him out of this#but i went with more of an in-world response to this ask bc thats more fun to me.#crow studies
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Everyone's always telling Buck what he should do. Okay, sometimes he did ask for their advice, but every piece of advice he's followed through on lately has ended badly and everything they tell him to do he doesn't actually want to do.
He should want to do something if it's supposed to make him feel better, if it's supposed to be better for him, right?
Josh told him to bulldoze ahead and tell Tommy what he wanted. Tommy told him to re-enact his Buck 1.0 days and spend time with some indeterminate amount of people until he finds someone forever. Maddie and Chim told him to start dating again and also wait for the universe to bring him someone special; another someone. Hen and Eddie told him not to contact Tommy.
He doesn't want to do any of that! He wants to talk to Tommy, to see him, to get Tommy to talk to him instead of giving up on them and running away because he's scared. He wants to tell Tommy he loves him. He wants Tommy to know first and last aren't mutually exclusive. He wants to yell at Tommy, and kiss him, and hold him. He wants Tommy to apologise for breaking his heart and for being a dumbass. He wants Tommy to believe him when he says he won't do the same; well, he might be a dumbass sometimes - but he would never break Tommy’s heart. He wants to apologise for jumping ahead but also not have to apologise for wanting a life with Tommy or for being too much.
Since that first night Tommy kissed him, he's felt reborn. Not in some starry-eyed way that Tommy seems to think is fake and won't last, but in the way that he's shed the skin of past Buck upgrades and finally grown into his body, become comfortable in who he is instead of trying to fit a facade that other people would accept. Always too big, too much, not enough, never content to just sit in his self and be without his worries and insecurities moulding him into something else, something with a better chance of getting people to like him, love him, stay with him.
He’s never felt more himself or more at ease in a relationship that meant something to him than he did with Tommy. Never felt more wholly seen - the good, the bad, and the too-much and not enough - by his partner and adored anyway, wanted anyway.
Halfway through making swiss meringue buttercream instead of breakfast, he realises he's thinking about Tommy. His coping skill, as Bobby called it, has stopped working.
There's butter and sugar in the creases of his hands and nailbeds even after he hurriedly wipes them with the dishcloth over his shoulder. He can see it as he scoops up his phone from the charger and thumbs over to his message thread with Tommy, leaving greasy crumby residue on the screen.
i saw you bubbling
After it happened, after the Chief distracted everyone enough for him to grab his phone and retreat somewhere he wouldn't be disturbed, he'd stared at the space where the unsent message had appeared for twenty minutes waiting for the type bubble to reappear. Waiting for Tommy to hit send on whatever he'd backtyped.
Buck's mind had spiralled with all the possibilities and while it spiralled and he stared and waited he never got around to actually calling or texting Tommy himself. And then the bell rang.
He has time, now. He has things he wants to say.
you were going to tell me something an maybe i wont like what it was but just knowing you almost reached out is kinda driving me crazy bc i have a fridge full of baked goods bc everytime i think about calling you i bake and now i havnt cooked a proper meal in my own place in over a week bc i dont have room in my damn fridge to store anything besides chocholate chip bananan bread and baked alaskas
He wants to say: and it's all your fault! but that's not the whole truth. Buck played his part in this, set the wheels in motion that drove Tommy away from him. But how the hell was he supposed to know that? And Tommy should've known by now he doesn't really do 'slow'.
i'm not sorry for being too much bc i shouldnt haveto apologize for being myself
Screw it. Can't get any worse, right? Tommy's getting all of him whether he likes it or not.
i dont see you as some queer life coach or someone to fill space until someon else comes along
thats not who i am
i thought you knew me better than that but whatevr ig
i wanted to live with you bc i want a life with you bc i love you
i love you
i shouldve said that first
Send after send, typing like a man possessed, he gets out everything that's been pent up inside him since the shock wore off a week ago.
His chest is heaving as the adrenaline rushes through his veins. And his eyes sting. He has to blink away tears as he reads over the last message.
He never told Tommy. Tommy doesn't know. Maybe Buck wasn't sure that night Josh asked him, but he knows it now.
i wanted you to be my last
He still does.
i wanna hate you for giving up on us
but i cant seem to hate you
This whole thing would hurt a lot less if he could just hate Tommy for what he did. It would hurt a lot less if they could find a way through this mess, together, and come out the other side stronger because they know each other better and know they want to fight for what they have.
Real love is worth fighting for. Red taught him that. Real love isn’t found, it’s made. Old gay Thomas taught him that.
Well, Buck found Tommy. Or, the universe did. And he’s going to fight, dammit, because he wants to build a future with Tommy.
His vision has blurred with hot tears. Movement on his screen catches his attention from where his gaze had drifted over to the couch where Tommy had stayed to take care of him through his Billy Boils saga.
Tommy is bubbling him.
Buck’s heart lurches in his chest. His breath catches.
can we talk?
There’s a huff of something like manic laughter as he swipes at his snotty nose.
that’s what i typed
Hope blooms in his chest, sudden and bright and painful in the best way.
can we?
I think I owe it to you to yell at me in person
There’s a long moment where Buck tries to return his breathing to normal but its bated as he watches three little dots appear, then disappear.
Then reappear.
Then disappear.
Then:
I don’t want to give up on us either
Buck’s tears are still making his vision watery, but now they’re tears of joy. He did what he wanted to do - he reached out. And Tommy heard him.
He should take his own advice more often.
#bucktommy#fanfiction#911 8x07#fixit#.txt#s8!buck#evantommy#tevan kinkley firepilot#basically: everyone is giving buck terrible advice an dhe just needs to trust himself and follow his heart
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Love Me, That's All I Ask Of You
Sylus x gn!Reader
Apparently my brain can only cope with angst if it has a happy ending rn @comatosebunny09 YOU DID THIS (/positive)
Inspired by this post
Title from "All I Ask Of You" from Phantom of the Opera
Warnings: blood, injury, self-destructive behavior, swearing, requited unrequited love, angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending, kissing, ignoring the red string of fate, jealousy, soft Sylus
Word Count: 1,900
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The repetitive thwack of the punching bag keeps you going. Harder and harder, faster, more precise.
Your knuckles are bleeding. It stains the vinyl of the bag. They sting with every slight adjustment of your hand, with every punch. They’re probably misaligned, too. On the verge of breaking. But it’s not enough.
Sweat drips down your forehead and back. You’ve been down here for hours. You don’t want to leave.
It’s so fucking childish - you know that. But it hurts so fucking bad. Hearing the way he speaks to her, like you’re not in the room. The way he seeks out the banter and teasing conversations they share. The way he looks at her…
Is the only thing you’re good for your loyalty?
And it’s not like he hasn’t noticed the way you distance yourself. He’s brought up your over-the-top silence, saying he hasn’t heard your voice in a week. He’s tried asking what’s wrong, but you never answer. And when you stopped sleeping in his room altogether? He looked exhausted the next day, staring after you like he was working to decipher why he’d been left to sleep alone. The only company you seemed to seek anymore was that of Mephisto’s.
God, Mephisto. That crow had shown you their excursion to enhance her ability. You couldn’t deny the sick satisfaction you got when she still couldn’t Resonate with him, whether it’s because she found him “disgusting” or some other reason… But why did he have to look so offended by it?
You hit the bag so hard it rips. Sand pours out of the tear like water, draining onto the floor. You’re mesmerized by it. The slight hiss of the sand moving together, pouring out like a faucet and pooling on the floor into a steadily growing pile. It’s almost soothing.
Almost.
You kick the sand to the side. It fans out across the black floor in an arc of dappled white.
The prickle at the back of your neck puts all your nerves on high alert, but you know not to be afraid of it. You know the source. The cause of all your rage. The last person you want to see right now. You’d even take Little Miss Hunter over him.
You turn and meet his eye. Crimson, sharp with concern to match the furrow in his brow. It burns through you, all too familiar and, once upon a time, comforting. When he could look at you and so easily know exactly what you were feeling, even before your deal. They flicker down to your hands, crusted over with blood.
“It’s not like you to hide away when something bothers you,” he states, shifting his weight to his other foot as he crosses his arms. He’s right, too; for a while now, if something - anything - bugged you, he was the first to know, usually seconds after it started grating on your nerves. Still, you don’t say anything.
Sylus sighs. You’re nothing if not stubbornly persistent. He holds a hand out, motioning toward your own.
You think about obeying. Ever since Little Miss appeared, you haven’t really touched him. It was of your own volition - a sacrifice to pull yourself away and watch from afar - but you can’t deny how much you miss it.
His frown deepens when you stay exactly where you are. “So it’s something I’ve done.” Your face remains set and unemotive. His hand returns to its crossed position, finger tapping against his leather jacket. “Something so terrible you’d rather hide away from me.”
He looks you up and down, studying every small tell he can find, any twitch or involuntary muscle spasm. He doesn’t find any. Another frustrating skill of yours. The only thing he can latch onto is the state of your hands. He’s not used to seeing your own blood staining your knuckles. If you used your bare hands at all, the only blood you’d be covered in when all was said and done was that of your prey.
“And enough to harm yourself.”
He meets your eyes again. It almost feels familiar. That intense insistence on knowing you, on wanting to know every single thing about you even if it takes eons. But now it’s not out of an innate desire to unravel the secrets you wrap yourself in. It’s prying. It’s grabbing bolt cutters and breaking away each chain link one by one.
He takes a slow step forward, testing the waters.
You don’t move.
He takes another, dropping his arms to his side.
You study him in return. He’s tense. You see it in the set of his shoulders.
He’s five feet away when Mephisto appears in a whirl of smoke on your shoulder. He caws twice before projecting a video on a little holographic screen.
Little Miss Hunter, searching for the brooch. Yesterday, Mephisto had snuck it off Sylus’s body and brought it to you. You’d had a brief moment of fun teasing Little Miss with it, silently taunting her as you twirled it lazily between your fingers while she threatened you. You have no doubt after hiding it that it found its way back to Sylus.
You watch his face as he watches the screen. The intensity leaves his eyes, replaced with the calculating stare of a businessman in his trade. He watches her frustratedly try to break the lock on a cabinet, determined to check behind every item on display to make absolutely sure the brooch isn’t hiding behind them. When she turns to the bookshelf in a huff, she pauses. Sylus’s eyes narrow a fraction. She runs over to the shelf and starts emptying it out book by book, fanning through pages for any sign of a secret compartment to hide something inside. There was one book of such a nature; you’d hid the brooch inside of it, just to see if she would be hell-bent enough to search through every single one.
He looks away from the projected images, eyes softer than before. He’s figured you out, you’re sure of it.
“Search me,” he says. It’s not a demand, it’s an offer. Your expression falters for a millisecond, but he catches it. Of course he catches it. He opens his arms, inviting you in. Mephisto’s video feed disappears from view as he flies up to sit on the broken punching bag. “Find the brooch.”
You glance him up and down. There are plenty of places for something that small to hide.
Hesitantly, you step forward. His eyes follow you, but he remains still. This close, you refuse to look at his face. You haven’t been near enough to feel his radiating heat like this in so long…
You feel his sides first. The pockets of his leather jacket, both inside and out, are empty. There’s nothing concealed in his waistband. You don’t look at his face as you reach up to feel along his collar and lapels.
You pat along the length of both his arms. Aside from muscle, you find nothing. You reach into his pants pockets, but the only thing you pull out is his phone. You slip it back in before feeling down the long length of his legs. You pull up the bottom hem of his pants and check the top of his socks that peek out of his shoes, but there’s still nothing there.
You stand up, hands falling back to your sides. You meet his eyes. He doesn’t have the brooch.
Mephisto caws again. You turn to look over your shoulder. Little Miss Hunter, surrounded by a pile of books, triumphantly holds up the red-jeweled brooch, dropping the book you hid it in into the mess. Gentle fingers glide along your jaw to turn your face back to him.
Sylus looks at you in a way you never thought you’d see again. He’s leaned down to reduce the strain on his neck and be closer to you, but there’s still about a foot of distance between you. Even the way he touches you is reserved, like he’s waiting for you to pull away or punch him.
“I’m sorry.”
Your breath hitches. He… apologized? Of all the things he could have said, you never expected that.
“Whatever binds me to her,” he whispers, “it holds nothing to you. I should have made that clear much sooner.”
“What binds you to her?” Your voice is raspy from disuse. His shoulders relax, just so relieved that you’re speaking to him again.
He shakes his head slightly. “A past I should have buried a long time ago.”
It’s vague, he knows it. You wish he would tell you more, tell you exactly what happened that has him so inextricably connected to Little Miss Hunter. But he never pried into your own past, for better or worse. Maybe you both need them to die, buried at least 12 feet under and covered with a block of cement.
You lift your hand to trace his cheek. He sighs, leaning into the touch. Your fingers are rough and cracked, blood drying on your knuckles. The copper twang is hard to miss. He turns his head to kiss your palm, eyes closing in reverence. You fully cup his cheek and draw him in, kissing him softly at first.
Your lips tremble with overwhelming emotion. The anger that burns in your heart is slowly snuffed out by the soothing balm of his quiet sigh, a hushed whisper of your real name, not your moniker. You wonder for the first time since this began if he felt the same loss you did when you began distancing yourself from him. When you went back to your old room instead of sleeping in his bed, if he looked so tired the next night because he couldn’t sleep at all without you there beside him.
You get your answer in the way he desperately pulls you into kiss after kiss, burning with passion and trying to catch up for the time lost. In the way his hands hold your face, tangling with the hairs at the back of your neck as he keeps you close. In the way he sighs and gasps so longingly, savoring everything you give him.
He feels how much you missed him in much the same way. In the way you step closer until your bodies are pressed together. In the way you grab onto his jacket’s lapel. In the way you dig your bloody fingers in his white hair.
You’re both panting when he finally pulls away, breaths mixing in the centimeters between your faces as he refuses to move back any farther, forehead resting insistently against yours. Neither of you say anything for a moment, basking together in the quiet aftermath of the storm.
His hand is warm and gentle when he pulls yours from his hair. He turns it over to press featherlight kisses along your busted up knuckles. “Let’s take care of you, sweetheart, hm?” His eyes are half-lidded with affection when he looks at you. “The auction is tomorrow night. I need to show everyone just who I belong to.”
Your heart skips in your chest as you draw him in again by his leather jacket, biting down sharply on his lower lip. He hisses at the sting, but groans with want when you pull away. His eyes are drawn to his blood on your lips. “I’ll make sure they never forget.”
---
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@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021
#fanfic#fanfiction#sylus#sylus x reader#love and deepspace sylus#lads sylus#lnds sylus#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#lads#lads x reader#lnds#lnds x reader#gn reader#x gn reader#gender neutral reader#x gender neutral reader#angst#hurt/comfort
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My dear lgbt+ kids,
I feel like advice on loneliness comes in only three flavors:
"It's all mindset, learn to embrace being alone and you'll never feel lonely!"
"Your head is lying to you, you have friends and they love you!"
"Here's a list of places you can go to hang out with people and make new friends!"
Those are usually well-meant and I'm sure there are situations where they do help someone feel better - but they're definitely not universally applicable.
The first one is even plain wrong: connection is a basic human need. You can't just "change your mindset" and turn that off, the same way you can't turn off your need for food or air or mental stimulation. Humans are group animals. We absolutely need social interactions to stay healthy and sane. It is true that some people do not need a large number of friends and are happiest with just one or two close friends, and it is also true that some people prefer to fulfill their social needs in other ways than what's traditionally defined as friendship - but that's not something you can (or should) try to train yourself to do, that's just natural differences and preferences!
The only thing you could "train" yourself to do would be to learn to ignore your social needs and bury them deep down under layers of denial... and you don't need me to explain to you why that's a very unhealthy idea. It's sad enough that so many people have to do that to not lose their minds in loneliness, we certainly don't need to celebrate an unhealthy coping skill as a "superior mindset".
The other two at least get a bit closer to the truth: the solution for your unmet need is not to kill the need, but to fulfill it... but that's easier said than done, isn't it?
After all, "Don't worry, your friends love you!" doesn't help if you have no friends. Loneliness is not always "all in your head": Maybe you moved to a new place and don't know anyone there. Or you cut off contact with all your friends after a big fight. Or you grew up neurodivergent (or got mentally ill at a young age) and had no chance to learn how to make friends at the age most kids do, and by now you have been friendless for so long you don't even know where to start.
Same with "just go to a bar and talk to some new people" or "Take a pottery class and you'll meet some interesting people there" - that's not factually wrong, but also not helpful if the reason you feel lonely is that you struggle to make friends (or even struggle to just talk to people). Which can also be part of neurodivergence or mental illness, or just be a part of your personality (shyness), or be a result of isolating circumstances (like having spent a lot of time in a closed environment, for example a long hospital stay, and now feeling unsure how to connect with people outside of that environment).
And those are just a few of the many, many possible explanations why someone may be lonely that require a more individualized approach - which is why we can’t solve loneliness with any one-size-fits-all solution.
That may be a somewhat disappointing-sounding conclusion in a letter on loneliness, so let me also tell you: hope and support are always within reach, even if it might take some time and patience to find them. The key is to remember that your feelings are valid and that you're not alone in your struggle.
First, recognize that admitting that you feel lonely, and wanting to take action based on that feeling, is a sign of strength, not weakness. You’re pretty insightful for recognizing your loneliness and super brave for wanting to reach out!
Secondly, be kind to yourself and allow yourself to take small steps. Small, actually manageable steps are crucial in any healing journey! If it’s not an option to just go to the bar or that pottery class, then it’s okay to start somewhere else. Maybe a therapist, a support group, or even online communities can be valuable “training sessions” for social connections. Even reaching out to one single person can make a significant difference over time. Your journey to finding companionship and connection might be different from someone else’s, but that doesn't make it any less valid (or achievable!).
Lastly, do consider embracing new activities that you may enjoy - but not just for the sake of meeting others. It’s important to nurture your own happiness and well-being when you’re feeling lonely. Those can be activities you can try out alone and even at home, for now! Anything that enriches your life is good. Long down the road, maybe it will lead to opportunities to connect with others, but even if it doesn’t: it’s important to incorporate new experiences into your life.
While there isn't a universal solution to loneliness, I truly believe there is a path forward for everyone. It's all about finding what works for you.
With all my love,
Your Tumblr Dad
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𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 . . .
⟣ sypnosis. you’re fed up with your rich abusive husband and finally decide to hire a skilled assassin to get rid of him in secrecy. one night when you’re left alone in your penthouse, you invite the assassin named toji over to give him the money he’s demanded to accept the job. things turn for the worse when your husband comes home early that day and catches toji and you together.
⟣ note. eeek. never thought i’d be here to write this out but i did and it turned pretty detailed if i must say. hope u all enjoy and appreciate my hard work. feedback / comments are greatly appreciated ! if the fic does well, i can make an alternative ending that’s smutty :3 wc: 7.4k
⟣ tags. toji fushiguro x female reader. angst, comfort. themes include abuse. reader is in an abusive + toxic relationship with her husband. implied age gap with husband. implied size difference with toji. mentions of guns + blood + m.urder. knifes.
“what is a successful marriage?”
that is one of the many questions that keep you up at night. you’ve laid awake for hours on end ever since you’ve married your husband, in search for reasonable answers. you’ve got many of them sorted out, however that specific question is one left unanswered.
it is very subjective—many can vary about the concrete answer. but one thing you know for sure is that your marriage is the exact opposite of what ‘successful’ means.
you were so full of yourself. you didn’t realise that your pride would also be your downfall one day; you’d constantly brag about having a rich husband who gets you everything you wanted. you were too blinded by love—or actually—by his money to notice the real him. the real, twisted and manipulative face of the man you were determined to marry.
his name was daisuke. from the yamamoto family. a family known in japan for its generational wealth and the many buildings and famous corporations it owns. you’ve worked at one of those companies and had met daisuke whilst he was on a visit. you’ve heard about his image by the public; sweet, caring and apparently wouldn’t hurt a fly.
unfortunately, the true him matched none of those descriptions. the true him only you—his wife—came face to face with at your shared home. you remember when it started. when daisuke began to turn into a nasty, abusive man whose anger is never restrainable.
your dating years were nothing but a dream. or, maybe you were too gullible to notice the signs and red flags your then boyfriend was showing. his love bombing, the manipulation, the gaslighting—you didn’t know better. if you complained about a minor thing that he had done, daisuke would apologise by sending you lots of money and presents. toxic, isn’t it?
but you didn’t care. you were happy and content with that being your compensation. the money was the evildoer that made you lose all your morals. the teenage you who said that you’ll never put up with a man’s disrespect was long forgotten.
even now, 4 years later, you put up with his verbal and physical abuse just to continue staying in that big mansion you live in. to continue getting everything paid for you. to continue getting lots of money by doing nothing but be his wife—his trophy wife, at this point.
it’s an easy life; ‘all i have to do is get through his abuse and it’ll be just fine’, you tell yourself that every night. it’s the only thing keeping you sane—a coping mechanism of some kind.
however lately, daisuke’s never skipped a day without being abusive towards you. he’d enter your home yelling and shouting, complains about the tiniest speck of dust in the house (which is not even your fault, it’s the maids’), reminds you how worthless you are in his eyes and the list goes on. he sometimes gets physical and throws stuff at you, causing multiple bruises and cuts to appear on your body after he’s done having his daily tantrum.
he might even kill you one day. it’s scary to think about; if he would, he easily could. he could one day just decide to be done with you and stick a knife in your body, leave you to bleed out and then order one of his men to get rid of your corpse. just like his family does to whoever stands in their way of success. you don’t want to discover how many people your husband has killed.
daisuke can easily get away with murder after all—the law is nothing but a thing to exist to keep the common citizens in the government’s control. to the rich, it’s like those rules don’t exist. court? justice? the so called independent judge? nothing money can’t buy. after all, money is power. money is innocence.
after four years of sticking with that rich man, you were getting tired. you were staying with him for his wealth, but was it actually worth it? besides, if daisuke hates you so much, why wouldn’t he divorce you instead? you don’t have anything going for you. except for your looks and youth, probably. that’s the main reason why daisuke coaxed you into marrying him—to show you off during events or parties. a complete and utter trophy wife you are.
you’ve been going to sketchy bars lately to let off some steam. you weren’t even there to drink alcohol. the sole reason for attending pubs was to forget about your own situation. you’d get weird stares since you’re always alone, sitting in that one spot in the far corner, no one wanting to come up to you because of that gloomy aura you’re emitting. and because you’re always dressed modestly from head to toe—not an ounce of skin showing. it was all the opposite of what most people would normally look and act like in bars.
‘what is normal?’ also a subjective question. society has turned it into an objective one, however.
“good day, miss.” a deep voice had interrupted your thoughts one day whilst you were doing your usual routine; sit near the bar counter, get a non-alcoholic drink, stare at the table for hours and question your purpose in life before going home to the reason of your problems.
a man, probably in his late 30’s or early 40’s, sat next to you on an available stool. he nonchalantly ordered a drink before making small talk. it was a nice change of pace for some reason. you had asked him his name. it was shiu.
that stranger had kept you company for hours until a call from your husband made you snap back to reality; you had to be home as soon as possible. judging by daisuke’s tone, you were in big trouble.
you remember how shiu outed his concern for your well-being by pointing out the bruises on your arm which you didn’t even know were showing.
you dismissed his worries with a fake smile and told him it was nothing, quickly pulling your sleeve back down. shiu seemed to let the topic go, but before parting ways with you, he handed you his business card. you didn’t know what it was for—what kind of services he could offer;
“call that number if you need someone to get rid of your problems,” was all you got before the mysterious man walked away. you couldn’t shake off the emphasis on the word ‘rid’. it sent a shiver down your spine.
that sentence of shiu’s echoed in your ears as tears streamed down your cheek after you arrived home. you were in your personal bathroom, hands shaking as you put a bag of ice on your fresh bruise, the small red and blue-ish area stinging. once again—you couldn’t avoid your husband’s wrath.
after having slept for a mere two hours that day in your bathtub, you’ve awoken to an empty house. daisuke was gone for work. luckily for you.
you hastily grabbed the business card in your purse and dialled the number. staring at the card, you’d think it was some kind of house cleaning service. that’s the kind of vibe it gave. little did you know that it was far from that.
a few rings later and you heard the same familiar deep voice in your ear; “good morning. with shiu kong.”
your heart was beating in your throat as you couldn’t gather the right words to say. maybe it was due to the little voice in the back of your head that warned you for something—you couldn’t pinpoint what the specific cause was just yet.
you answered eventually, “hi. uhm, you said i could call this number if i needed someone to get rid of my problems.” you pause and inhale deeply, “wh-what if my problem was.. a person? would you…” your voice trailed off, but the implication could not be missed by anyone if they heard the tone you used.
shiu seemed to recognise your voice, though stayed silent for a second or two at your request. when he replied, it sounded like he had expected you to ask him this—like he’s heard this many times before; “certainly.”
that’s when you realised what you’ve gotten yourself involved with. you were sweating and you had trouble breathing as you realised that.. this was your chance. to get rid of that man called your husband. your abuser.
you had decided to take on that opportunity and that’s how you ended up getting a phone call from an anonymous number right after your talk with shiu. the agent hadn’t told you anything other than the name of the person who’d contact you; ‘toji’, and said that he’d help you further.
you stared at the ‘no caller ID’ on your screen. this was him: the person who’d help you get rid of your problem. you gulped before sliding your thumb across your mobile to answer the call.
“hi, good m—”
“location.”
the husky male voice cut through your introduction and got straight to the point. your lips were parted to answer the man whom you guessed was ‘toji’, but your breath got caught in your throat for a second. do you just randomly give your address to a stranger? was that okay to do? you didn’t know—no, you didn’t care. if you got killed in the process or something similar, that’d be way better than to live another day in hell with your husband.
you dropped your address after some hesitation and toji just added a quick, ‘be there in an hour or so,’ before hanging up on you.
fast forward to 50 minutes later and you were pacing back and forth in your living room, trying to breathe properly and not have a second panic attack. daisuke wouldn’t be home until noon, so at least he won’t see whoever will enter your mansion in a few minutes. and if there’s a possibility that you get killed by this stranger, you’re sure that your husband would be more than happy that the job was done for him.
a loud tune. the sound of your doorbell. normally, you’d find the short melody relaxing, but now it sounded like something out of a nightmare. you made your way to your intercom and looked at the small screen—seeing a tall black-haired man with a compressed shirt and beige baggy pants standing near the gates. that must be toji—the man you talked to an hour ago.
he must be confident in his abilities since he didn’t cover up his identity at all when coming all the way over here.
you press a button and the gates open with a buzz. toji disappears from the little screen as he enters your front yard. the screen fades to black and you’re left alone with a sense of dread in your stomach. that only lasted for a couple seconds since the doorbell of your front door goes off.
“c-coming!” your voice cracks. you make your way over to the entrance of your home and breathe in. you open the doors slightly, peeking through the gap at the tall, intimidating man standing before you.
toji was kicking a rock to the side whilst waiting and looked up when you opened the doors. he seemed laidback, as if this was nothing but child’s play to him, “took ya long enough.”
you were appalled as toji simply barged into your home like he owned it. his strong, masculine cologne wafted through the air as he passed you by without giving you a second to process his intrusion.
your shaky eyes followed his bulky figure—the muscles that bulged through his shirt, which tensed every now and then. his aura was no joke either; it was horrifying to someone whom didn’t even know who he was or what he exactly did for a living.
“phewww,” the dark-haired man let out a low whistle as his eyes scanned the interior of the entrance hall, shamelessly touching a few expensive looking decorations, inspecting the material, “pretty damn rich, ain’t ya? this y’r daddy’s money?”
you shake your head and close the door behind you, staying there in case you needed to run. you are still wary of this situation, even when you had been the one that started this all.
“h-husband’s.” your voice was a quiet whisper. toji raised an eyebrow and turned his attention towards you. his eyes scanned you from head to toe. you looked pretty young. a fragile little thing, is how he described you in his head.
“husband? you?” toji chuckles dryly, before stepping closer to you, his body towering over yours. he lowers his head and stares at you from up close, his hands in his pockets whilst wordlessly looking at you.
you swallowed a bit of saliva and glanced back at the big man whom belittled you twice in just a couple seconds. you fumbled with the sleeve of your hoodie as the silence grew deafening—the only sound being your own soft yet shallow breathing.
your fingers scratched at the bruises under the fabric of your clothes, causing the cloth to slightly crinkle and glide up a few centrimeters with each rub before coming back down once your fingers stop. the instant you start touching those bruises, the itching just wouldn’t stop.
toji noticed this and looked down at your arm. his eyes caught a small glimpse of a wound on your wrist, but he didn’t seem to comment on it. with a sniff, he straightened his back and cocked his head to the right—face cold again as he glared at you;
“do ya know what kinda stuff i do?” his voice was booming, the deepness to it making you shiver. you press your lips together and search for answer, only to find nothing;
“n-no, i mean—“ your itching increases the more nervous you felt, “th-the man who directed me to you said you’d explain things further. all i know is that you can get rid of uhm— a problem of mine.”
toji scoffs and mutters something incomprehensible under his breath about his ‘stupid agent letting him do all the work’ before turning around. he lazily walks ahead as if he had all the time he needed in the world. once arrived in your living room, the man plops down on your couch, spreads his legs and leans back against the cushions. he really acted like he owns this place.
“i’m not the type to beat around the bush, little lady,” toji starts whilst his eyes follow you as you nervously sat on the chair next to the sofa, “so i’m gonna get straight into it. and if ya back down after this or get too scared ‘n call the cops, unfortunately, y’r pretty ass gotta go.”
toji swipes a thumb across his neck to indicate what that latter meant; killed. you’re gonna get killed if you learn his real identity and decide to expose it to anyone, especially the police. you blinked your tears away whilst thinking of that possibility and shook your head, putting on a determined face. you need to take responsibilities for your actions. you were the one who started this.
“all right. i promise that i won’t back down.” you reply after getting yourself together. toji’s eyes had left yours for a second to look around the grand living room—as if inspecting for something—before settling back on you. he quickly exhales through his nose; leaning his head on his hand while his piercing gaze burned holes in your skin,
“i’m an assassin.” toji says in a bored tone. he’s done this little introduction to his job so many times before to clients who hire him in for the first time, “i kill people in exchange for money. so, ya basically hired me to get rid of someone ‘nd i’m here to collect the money and information i need to finish the job. got that?”
there it was. the confirmation you needed and got without an ounce of hesitation coming from the man in front of you. you had expected this outcome (from the many you created in your head), of course, thus you weren’t that surprised. yet the fact that you actually have a hitman in your house, someone who can easily kill your husband, still makes you nervous.
“yes, thank you.” you eventually replied and nodded, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. you looked up at toji and this time it wasn’t in a nervous way. this time it was in a determined way. toji notices this change and the scarred corner of his lip curled into a smirk.
“how much. . . money do you want for this job?” you go straight to the point. the dark-haired man grins whilst scanning your figure up and down shamelessly, enjoying the confident look on you. it suited you better.
“depends. who is it that i gotta kill?” toji asks, using his thumb to crack his index finger. you look around as if anyone could hear you. you were sure that no one was there with you, no maids no bodyguards no husband, yet your anxiety was still at its peak.
“my husband.” you reply quietly and point at the big picture frame on the wall near the chimney. it was a picture of daisuke and you. you seemed happy there, but it was all for show. that photoshoot was simply for his benefit, “daisuke. daisuke yamamoto.”
toji raises his eyebrow and stares at the picture. he’s heard of that name before. it was mentioned many times in the articles he reads. the assassin stands up with a grunt and walks to the chimney, letting out a small hum like he was thinking about it. not about if he could get the job done—no, his pride told him he easily could—but about the amount of money he wanted to get out of this.
there was a silence before toji turns around on his heels and walks over to the couch again, plopping down on the soft cushions whilst propping his feet on the table in front of him, “around seven million yen will do.”
that was about 50.000 dollars.
your jaw slightly dropped. it’s not like you haven’t seen nor heard of such big numbers before, it’s just that it was a little unexpected. but then again; nothing you can’t afford. with your husband’s money. the same money that ruined your life, is going to be used as a weapon to save it.
daisuke’s own money is going to be the death of him. and you’re the one to guarantee that.
“all right. i can get you that in cash.” you nod idly. your mind was clearly somewhere else—trying to remember the password to daisuke’s safe that was situated in a hidden room near his office. you recently found out that he keeps most cash, gold and other valuable pieces there, away from your sight. he was bad at hiding that fact from you, however.
one night, he came home drunk and it ended up with him confessing to you that he ‘won’t ever let a gold digger like you near his money again’ and proceeded to spill that he ‘has a secret safe which you won’t ever get your hands on’. eventually, you did. after a bit of snooping around, you easily found the hidden room behind a bookcase.
those fat stacks of money in there definitely add up to more than seven million yen. you’re sure of it. the only obstacle in your way is gathering that money. most of the time, daisuke locks his office before leaving home—or if he doesn’t—his maids will be in there cleaning.
“it will take me some time, but…” your voice trails off as a pensive look falls on your face. you bite your bottom lip and try to figure out something—a plan. toji catches your attention again by letting out a deep sigh. he dismissively waves your worries away with one hand;
“tha’s fine, lady. i need some time to prepare for this job too—it ain’t an easy one after all.” the assassin comments whilst scratching the scar near his lips, also seemingly deep in thought about his own plan, “bet he got lots of guards on his ass, too. tch.”
there was another thought in the back of toji’s mind that bothered him. normally, he’d be pissed off if his client didn’t prepare any kind of money beforehand. maybe some compensation bills, or at least a little thing he can have before they give him the full amount.
but with you, he seems not to mind. he wouldn’t be mad if he left this place empty handed for the time being. maybe he actually feels pity for your situation. or was it something else?
toji scoffs at his wandering mind and inwardly tells himself to shut up about such dumb stuff. getting his money is what’s most important to him. if you die afterwards, he wouldn’t care.
that’s what he tells himself.
“anyways. you should gimme all ya know about him. y’re his wife, right? ya should know his routine ‘n stuff that i can work with.” toji speaks up after the ten seconds of silence. you nod at his question—he wanted every single piece of information about your husband, so you’ll give him everything. no details excluded.
you pull out your phone and show toji pictures you took from daisuke’s computer in secrecy. pictures of his daily schedule for the upcoming month. your prior intention by taking those was to know when to be back home or when to avoid him, but they could be useful for this as well.
you continue to explain when and where daisuke holds his breaks, where his main office is located, the bodyguards that accompany him every day and when they leave him alone— all the information you gathered.
toji can’t help but be amazed by your memory. and the fact that you can recall everything, small or big, about your husband. it certainly did make his job easier; now he doesn’t have to pry out more hints on daisuke himself.
of course, you had your reasons for knowing all the miniscule facts about daisuke. it’s how you managed to survive those four years of marriage.
“good. tha’s enough.” toji nods and stands up with a grunt, stretching his arms—the muscles retracting. you couldn’t help but stare at them; he must have gone through a lot of training to become an assassin. a skilled one at that.
“before i go,” toji continues as he walks past you without looking back, heading straight for the exit of the living room, “you should delete all cctv footage that ya got going on ‘round here. i’ll take care of further evidence, yeah?”
toji moves his index finger in a circle, pointing at all corners in the house. he doesn’t want to risk anything, “i’ll call ya once i get things sorted out. then i’ll get to work when ya hand me the money.”
you nod and make a mental note for yourself to do that immediately once toji’s gone. you still had an hour or two before your husband would return. you don’t think he checks the cctv footage often (otherwise he’d have caught you sneaking into his office before), but it’ll be a big problem if he actually does and sees a random man in his home.
“will do. thank you.” you reply to toji and get up to politely see him out of your house. that’s when the realisation kicked in; your husband will be killed by this man right here in front of you. goosebumps appeared on your skin—not from fright. but from… happiness?
this stranger will end years of torment for you. yes, it’s his job. he’ll probably disappear after he’s got the money and completed your request, and yet, you can’t help but be extremely thankful.
without thinking, you reach out and grab onto toji’s wrist to stop him from moving. the assassin doesn’t stiff or tense up by this sudden touch. in fact, he’s already sensed it coming and allowed it.
toji’s actually more surprised by the fact that his mind and body allowed you to touch him. if it were anyone else, he’d probably have avoided their touch, broken their hand or worse—cut it off.
he moves his head to the side and looks at you from his peripherals, though not fully turning to you yet. he doesn’t speak up either; he’s waiting on you to go first.
your heart was somehow starting to beat even faster. you bit your lip and mentally cursed yourself out for pulling such an action; you could’ve just waited to show your gratitude through the phone.
well, either way, there was no going back now so you might as well spill your words of gratitude right this moment. you took a deep breath and parted your lips, ready to talk, but was then interrupted by your biggest nightmare.
a familiar, chilling voice. your heart drops. your body freezes.
“i knew it.”
a looming figure stood near the entrace to the living room. you recognised him instantly, as did your body, which went into an almost paralysed state. your mouth went dry, your hands started shaking and your eyes widened to the point you weren’t blinking anymore.
your husband, daisuke, appeared out of thin air in front of toji and you. his gaze was solely focused on the way your fingers were curled around toji’s wrist. to top it off, he had only heard the last bits of your conversation: something about deleting cctv and money. his brain hadn’t heard the entirety of it—he had already taken wrong conclusions in his head.
daisuke’s veins were on the verge of popping as he took two big steps towards you—you taking two steps back in response.
“i knew you were cheating on me, you fuckin’ slut.” daisuke spits with his finger pointed right at you. he was ignoring toji’s presence for the time being. he had to deal with you first;
“i work my ass off all day and night to provide for you and this is how you repay me? by inviting a random dude over whilst i’m gone? ungrateful bitch.”
two insults in a row; one more and daisuke’s putting his hands on you. it always went like that. your mind felt like it was emptied, but you somehow felt relieved that your husband didn’t seem to know the real reason of why toji had come over. daisuke really thought you were just cheating on him, and that your words of ‘deleting all cctv footage’ was to hide that infidelity.
“it’s n-not.. like that, daisuke.” you try to soothe the raging man in front of you, but your attempts were futile. he was just three quick steps away from resorting to physical violence.
toji, in the meantime, had stepped off to the side. you were only his client, thus there was no need to interrupt a couple’s ‘dispute’. you weren’t anyone dear or special to him—just a client. a stranger that owes him money to perform a job.
the assassin leans against a nearby wall, crossing his arms over his chest whilst watching the scene unfold. it was unfortunate that toji’s target was right there in front of him; he could just kill him right now. get the job done and over with. but, once again, toji only got to work if he had the money. he only assassinates when his skills are paid for. not any earlier and not any later. those were his morals—the rules he lives by.
if toji wanted to, he could simply walk away and let you handle this stuff by yourself. daisuke accusing him of being your ‘thing on the side’ didn’t bother him. as long as your husband doesn’t know his real identity, he’s fine with whatever accusations that get thrown at him.
but, for some reason—the same reason from earlier—his body was yelling at him to stay. toji sighs; he knows he won’t ever win a battle against his heart’s needs. he decides to stay.
daisuke still doesn’t seem to care about this; all the man wants is to out his anger and accuse you of things he now has enough ‘evidence’ for. he was seething and fuming at this revelation.
“god knows what else you’ve done behind my back. i bet he isn’t the only one you’ve fucke—“
“stop! i’m not cheating,” you finally yell back. it was the first time in a while that you had gathered the strength to do so. it felt good now that you had stuck up for yourself, but you knew how this would end for you—probably on the floor. crying.
despite all of that, you decided to keep on going. it’s now or never: all you have to do is make up a lie, probably withstand daisuke’s anger again and hope it doesn’t kill you. just this once; all you have to do is survive this once and then you’ll be freed from him.
you’ll give toji his money and he will do the job for you. just a few more days—
“he’s.. he’s my friend’s husband. i invited them both over and he just arrived earlier than expected.” you quickly made up. it sounded a little convincing to you. toji’s low snicker of amusement in the back confirmed that it maybe was the opposite of convincing.
daisuke scoffs at the pathetic attempt of hiding your ‘infidelity’. with another step forward, he raises his voice a notch; “yeah, right! what a pathetic excuse.”
a second step—you were waiting on that third curse. that third swear word that would set hell loose in this house, “do you really think you can fool me with that? huh?!”
it hadn’t happened yet. you still had time to think of a plan to perhaps escape this situation. your eyes flickered over to toji, although it didn’t seem like he’d be of any help. of course, he’s just an outsider after all. a stranger whom you just met today.
assassins have already disregarded their heart emotions the moment they decided to go down the path of killing for a living. you wouldn’t even blame toji for not stepping in. you’re also but a stranger to him.
toji could see the glimmer of hope in your eyes when you looked at him. or maybe it was a call for help. a desperate look. he can’t tell the difference. though, what he can tell, is that there was a gnawing feeling in the pits of his stomach. a gut feeling that told him it’d be smart to interfere.
but there’s his rational thoughts that tell him to not get involved—to avoid any more trouble than needed. besides, what other benefits would it bring him if he did? toji doesn’t want to be seen as a hero or saviour by anyone.
his jaw clenches as the time ticks. only a couple seconds left before the cold-hearted assassin has to make a decision.
daisuke’s patience was running low. the tension was increasing and could burst at any given moment now. one wrong move and you’re done—
one wrong breath could result in the worst possible outcome.
your silence spoke volumes to daisuke. the way you held your head low, your eyes that flickered from the floor to the ceiling, your fingers that nervously fumbled with your clothes and your bottom lip that trembled unstoppably. that pissed him off.
everything about you pissed him off. daisuke didn’t see any benefits of having you around anymore. he hadn’t for the long time, however didn’t know how he’d get rid of you.
divorce? no, he’ll have to give some of his earnings to you. kick you out? a possibility, but that would ruin his reputation. blackmail? that option was now the best choice. he’s caught you with another man after all. with camera evidence.
but, daisuke wouldn’t be satisfied with that outcome. his rage was blinding him—more than usual. he has to make you learn your lesson. in a way that will have you begging for your life to be spared.
and thus, the last step was made. the deciding hands were raised—aimed for your neck. the final curse had left his lips;
“come here. i’ll show you how whores like you should be treated.”
killing intent. it was the first time you’ve seen daisuke’s gaze darken that much, his demeanour emotionless yet full of rage. you close your eyes and expect for the worse.
“tha’s enough.”
everything went blank to you. it was silent, your vision was black, your hands were above your head, your heart felt like it wasn’t beating anymore—had you met your end? had you already been murdered?
in that same instant, you could feel drops of liquid splatter on your face. a faint ringing sound in your ears—it sounded like fireworks had been set off. a loud ‘pop’ sound.
something hit the ground right after. it wasn’t your body since that someone or something landed right at your feet.
after that: utter silence.
you gathered all your strength once more and slowly opened your eyelids. your vision was a bit blurry, though the first shape you could make out was one of a man on the ground. and not just any man—it was the man whom you hated most. at your feet.
you would’ve never thought of seeing that image before. of your husband laying at your feet; both literally and figuratively. a red liquid gushed out of his head and soaked into your shoes.
a normal wife would’ve let out a blood hurling scream at the sight of her lover laying lifelessly near her. a normal wife with a healthy relationship, that is.
you did let out a scream at the sight of your husband laying lifelessly near your feet. but that wasn’t done out of panic for your husband’s life—or due to the pain you were in to see him dead.
it was purely because you hadn’t seen a corpse before.
“d-daisuke..?”
a normal wife would’ve called out her husband’s name in a futile attempt that he’d answer back. that all of it was a dream. that her beloved wasn’t dead.
your reason wasn’t anything close to that. you called out that name in hopes he wouldn’t answer back. that all of it wasn’t a dream. that your abuser was dead.
it was real. you were glad, yet extremely disturbed by the fact that there was a corpse at your feet. you didn’t want to see all of it happening—that wasn’t part of the plan.
you stumble back a bit, hands clutching onto the chair you bumped into as you did your best to avoid the gruesome scene before your eyes. you just wished someone would clean the mess as soon as possible.
it’s then that your gaze fell on the other person present in the room; the man who was standing with a gun in his hand. toji scratched his head with the barrel, cold eyes looking down at the corpse with a faintly visible disgusted expression.
the assassin clicks his tongue as he walks towards the lifeless body and puts the sole of his shoe on daisuke’s cheek as if he was stepping on a pile of dirt, moving the head back and forth to check for any possible ounce of life in there.
there was none. the soul had left its body almost instantly after that bullet went through his brain. toji sighs; this time at himself for acting irrationally, “should’ve tortured you to death for tryin’ to put y’r hands on that lady instead of givin’ you the easy way out.”
with a harsh kick to the head on the floor, toji gathers some of his saliva on his tongue before spitting on the man. doubling the disrespect; “consider yourself lucky.”
toji cocked his head to the right. that’s where he spotted you with a familiar look on your face. the expression of someone who just went through a traumatic experience. he’s seen many people react like you when facing a near death experience or when witnessing somebody die before them.
usually, he’d tell them ‘it’s normal, get used to it’ and leave it at that. this was different. it felt different with you.
“are you okay?” the words slipped out of toji’s mouth before he could hold them back. his tone was a mixture of genuine concern and confusion. the latter was due to his own state of mind at the moment.
you didn’t answer, but you put your hands on your mouth as if you were going to puke any moment now. your vision was getting blurry with tears, head spinning and body feeling numb and weird.
toji hesitates before stepping towards you. his hands reached out to hold you, though he stopped them. he’d figured you wouldn’t be comfortable with him touching you in any way or form. he just killed someone in front of you—
it’s not like you cared that it was your husband. that much was clear. you sniff and glance up at toji with such a relieved yet devastated expression that his arms instinctively wrapped around you and pulled you into his warm embrace.
it was an awkward hug since toji doesn’t really know the basics of comforting someone. he was a bit stiff, but you didn’t show any discomfort due to that fact. instead, you clung onto his body and left tear stains on his black shirt.
“shhh, shh. it’s fine. it’s okay.” toji whispers, whilst his big hands indecisively move around, trying to find a spot to rest on. one eventually lands on the back of your head whilst the other starts to slowly rub up and down your spine, “it’s over, yeah? all of it—it’s over.”
toji doesn’t have a clue about the exact details of what your life was like. why you asked him to kill your (now ex-)husband was none of his business. all he knew was that he was going to get paid for it, so he didn’t care what the reason was.
it wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed the scars and bruises on your body throughout your conversation either—but that as well—was none of his business. assassins do their job without any further questions. there was no need to have personal connections or relations with their clients.
yet, toji was going against those unspoken rules once more. all because of you. for you.
“thank y—you.” your voice was weak as you speak up. it sounded hoarse and tired, though the sense of gratitude was undeniably there, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”
a series of ‘thank you’s’ leave your lips whilst your body and mind were still trying to recover from the whole ordeal. toji was trying his best to keep by your side until you calmed down. that’s the least he could do—after the fact that he singlehandedly got rid of the main problem in your life.
“no need to thank me, lady.” the dark-haired man whispers, allowing you to mess up his shirt with your tears and tugs, “i did what i had to do.”
toji didn’t actually have to do what he did. he never does his job before he’s guaranteed the money. however this time, it was a different story. he did it without thinking. he had to. his body was telling him to move—and in a flash—it was done.
he tries to tell himself that it’s just him slacking off. that he isn’t possibly starting to care about another person. he shouldn’t; those complicated emotions would stand in his way. and yet. . .
“c’mere.”
toji lifts you up bridal style while you keep quivering against his shoulder. his hands had a tight grip on your body, his eyes a sharp gaze on the mess he created. with a sigh, he takes you upstairs to a random room—kicking the door open.
toji carefully puts you back on your feet and guides you to sit on the edge of the kingsized bed. he absentmindedly brushes a few strands of your hair back after wiping some more tears away from your face;
“i know it’s a lot to take in,” toji kneels down before you, looking up with an unreadable expression whilst wiping the tears from your cheeks. his warm palms make contact with your skin and it’s like you’ve forgotten all about what just happened, “but is it okay if ya stay here while i go take care of the rest? i’ll come back once i’m done.”
toji has his own ways of cleaning up after he’s done a job and most likely wants to put one of those techniques to use before any maid or guard comes to check in on the house situation. you sniffle and hiccup afterwards, trying to form a verbal response through your broken sobs, but to no avail.
you simply nod and lean into toji’s calloused hands—such rough and masculine hands—ones that were meant to protect instead of hurt you. you weren’t able to trust men after your marriage, however this one in front of you was unlike any other. even if he may not seem like it on the outside.
his touch was gentle yet firm. the pads of his thumbs swiped the wet skin under your lower eyelashes and you could’ve sworn toji’s gaze had softened for a split second before he caught himself.
he had to stand up, get rid of the mess and leave the place before he got too attached to you. the assassin cannot make such a grave mistake.
“i promise,” toji speaks up after a bit again, standing up after giving you a soft pat against your shoulder, “you’re fine. i’ll be back—ya have my word.”
there he goes; making promises he knows he probably can’t keep. ‘i’ll be back’, will he? he can’t. for your own safety. he has to treat you as just another client. none of what he did in this house could be spoken of anymore.
he slipped up this once. it needn’t to happen again. money. he does his jobs for money—when he obtains the money. he doesn’t kill his targets for the sake of others, for the protection of others.
he doesn’t kill for love.
toji wishes that all of this had never happened, because he knows that his heart will lead him back to you at the end of the day. he knows he won’t leave once he cleans up the mess downstairs. he’ll come right back to you.
and you have faith in that. you trust this stranger whom had practically saved your life with just one shot.
“i don’t know how to repay you.. thank you.” you manage to mutter through shallow breaths. you stare at the back of toji’s head as he makes his way to the door. he stops in his tracks to reply to your comment.
he stands still at the doorway and looks over his shoulder at you—the scarred corner of his lips twitching;
“prepare the money. tha’s how you can repay me.” toji replies and you don’t know if he’s joking or being serious because of that little grin on his face. a breathy chuckle follows and then the assassin disappears.
the door closes and you’re left alone in this space. left alone in the silence of the home that had treated you as its prisoner. you remember how your husband used to lock you up in your bedroom whenever you had done something to piss him off; taking away your freedom by keeping you in a room.
now it’s yours—your life is yours. you’ve fully gained your freedom back and can decide what to do for yourself. it seems like a foreign situation, a foreign world, a foreign concept; you can now actually do whatever your heart desires. without any restraints.
“what is a successful marriage?”
well, to you, it’s one with a satisfactory ending.
🏷️ : @satoruhour @squicksquak @omgeto @xmintpie @cursingtoji @obsidiannero @elmoees @x1aosg1rl @fushironi @ceceher @ajax1230 @toji-is-hot @jayugh @rinshoe @sligerate @satoryaa @luveblad3 @happystrawberrytyrant @ezraiix
#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader#toji x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x you#toji x you#jjk fic#jjk x y/n#toji fushiguro x reader#i tried my best :#:(…
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Yan arena beasts/fighters + handler reader. Reader is an average human working at a zoo/shelters abducted and thrown into a life of caring for a galactic tyrant's playthings due to their experience with animals. Not an idea choice for the job, but with everyone who's had the job before being maimed, killed, or worse they were running out of options. Reader does the best with what they're given. They find solitude with the other captives to an extent and some of the more feral creatures remind them of stray cats and dogs they knew back home. They treat those who allow as those same poor creatures out of habit and to cope with their new life. Others are so aggressive they have to be blindfold and sedated to even get close. Reader still tries to comfort them despite the many scratches and bites they receive
A little mix up happens where a warrior meant to fight the big bad of the area had already been slain by the beast. With no alternative, reader gets sent out instead as sacrifice to appease the blood hungry masses. They cower in the corner as the beast's mask is removed, praying their battered body at least gets shipped home so they have a proper burial and their family has some clue to what happened to them. They cast their small dagger away still unable to defend themselves against what they only see as a frightened animal protecting its own skin. The beast lifts them off the ground like a ragdoll holding them high for the crowd to see as its fangs draw from its scarred lips - breaking the band around its wrist that would seal reader's victory.
The beast ties the rope around reader's neck as the announcer declares them victor by default. The crowd boos, but as the beast snaps the neck of one of the guards and throws the limb body into the arena their demands are met. Reader quakes from the sheer disbelief of the whole ordeal, and still being trapped in the beast's arms as it coos. It takes over a dozen guards to get them to separate the two. They try again with another beast reader has care for and the same thing happens. Watching the live footage closely it's clear to experts the skilled fighters allow themselves to get injured to be coddled and tended to by reader. When rations are given they try to feed reader a share of their meals. The number of casualties skyrocket when reader's taken away or new caretakers are introduced. The beasts demand their head pats and ear scratches for their winnings and they want it from one source alone.
-
The emperor is quite amused by this revelation. It perfectly masks his paranoia in the case of his pets rising against him for whatever reason and choosing the earthling as their new overlord which few have spoken of in whispers. He's torn between killing them to null his fears and befriending them to puppeteer his pets craftfully from the shadows. He decides on the latter since getting rid of them would only anger his pets. That and it would be so easy to trick the human with his charms. Few can resist the words and body of a king, after all.
"Y/n, darling, it's so good to see you! So glad you could make it. How have things been, hm?"
"I'd like to go home, please."
"Hahaha! Oh, you're so cute with your little jokes! You may enjoy your meal in due time, but I have a favor to ask of you from a friend to a king. In the case of I don't know - my pets slaughtering my entire legion and storming my castle walls to behead me and crown you ruler - would you pretty please ask them to - not do that?"
"That....sounds like it would be out of my hands."
"Right. Changing subject, you are aware I have been topless this whole conversation and my bed is right behind me. Why haven't you attempted to have your way with me by now? Not saying you could - but you can always try."
The emperor upgrades their room to one right next to his, but they hardly sleep there favoring their time caring for the others and because they'd rather stay there than see him in a state of undress on their mattress. The emperor mimics the cooing that gets wounded beasts extra smothering from their handler, but reader mostly ignores him. He grows jealous seeing them fast asleep in a cell kept warm by the body heat of the battle scarred creatures around them. He's been scarred by attempted assassinations in the past - why doesn't he get cuddles too? Combats this jealously by making a royal decree that reader has to sit with him during every battle and on his lap if they wish to stay out of his sight afterwards. Requests for reader's fredom and hand in marriage and when a champion is chosen are banned almost immediately.
#yandere imagines#yandere headcanons#yandere scenarios#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere blurb#yandere insert#yandere oc#yandere emperor#yandere harem
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Possession
Pairing: Yandere Tom Riddle x (female) Reader
▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.
More at Masterlist
SUMMARY: You try to expose Tom’s dark side to Dumbledore but it doesn’t go well.
WARNINGS: Toxic relationship; Slapping; Threats.
AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.
--
“Professor, wait!” you breathlessly yell, running through the hallway as you try to catch Dumbledore before he enters his private chambers.
He turns around, his surprised expression quickly being replaced by an understanding one as he notices it’s you. Dumbledore has always kept a close eye on Tom, even more so after finding out that he’s in a relationship with you.
Someone that shares little common interests with him as you’ve always stayed away from all the problems that seem to involve Tom’s close circle of “friends”.
“How can I help you, Miss L/N?” he asks once you’ve reached him.
“Professor, I have something I wish to say. It’s about…” you suddenly trail off, feeling a pair of deadly eyes burning holes in your back.
The whole aura in the long corridor has changed and you can feel it, a darker presence lurking around.
You’ve unwillingly developed this skill as a coping mechanism. Being around him has made you more alert towards everything, especially knowing when he’s arrived.
And he has, you can feel it.
The thought of him catching you talking to Dumbledore, whom he absolutely detests, makes your arms weak and the heavy books that rest on your forearm almost fall, but you grip them harder.
“Miss L/N, you can speak freely. Do not fear anyone, if that’s your concern.” Dumbledore gently speaks as he lowers his voice, his eyes catching Tom at the opposite side of the long corridor as the young boy quickly charges forwards towards the both of you.
You hesitate for a moment, Dumbledore's sharp blue eyes freeze your mind and the incessant sound of the footsteps getting closer doesn’t help.
Conflicted is a weak word to represent how you’re feeling, but time is running out and you have to decide now.
“I-”
“Y/N!” Tom shouts, the booming voice makes you panic, resulting in the heavy books you’re carrying falling to the ground. You panicky kneal, trying to grab the books back and you feel Tom standing behind you, not bothering to help you.
You hurriedly get the books back and stand back as Tom takes a step forward, partially hiding your frame away from Dumbledore with his body but not before he sends a chilling look your way.
“It’s only a small doubt she had regarding our latest Transfiguration’s class, Professor, but I can assure I’ll clear all her doubts.” Tom starts, quickly regaining his calm appearance as he maintains eye contact with Dumbledore. His voice sounds soothing, like he’s telling the truth.
“I apologize for disturbing you for such an insignificant matter, Professor. We’ll be leaving now, have a good evening, sir.” he continues, slightly bowing his head to Dumbledore, who doesn’t look entirely convinced by Tom’s explanation but he relents.
“Good night, Tom. And Miss L/N? Do not hesitate to reach out if further clarifications are needed.” Dumbledore leans to his right, trying to catch a glimpse of your face and you weakly nod, mumbling a small greeting as Tom grabs your hand and pulls you away, leaving Dumbledore there.
His pace is fast, it’s clear that he wants distance between him and Dumbledore and you have to rush to keep up with him. He doesn’t say a word but the way his jaw is clenched, you understand that you’ll pay the price for doing such a risky act.
Tom pulls you into an empty classroom and before you can say a word, he roughly pushes you against a wall.
You gulp in fear, tightening the books against your chest as you gulp in fear. Tom’s eyes pierce through you, his hands on each side of your head.
“You think you can beat me down by going to Dumbledore behind my back? Is that so?” he questions you. Fear boils inside you and you frantically shake your head.
“N-No, Tom. I wasn't-"
“Enough!” he silences you, the back of his hand meeting your cheek. The impact sound resonates throughout the entire room and you press your lips together, trying to keep a pitiful sob in. Tom hates it when you cry.
His hand sneaks towards your throat, pressing it only enough so it doesn’t leave any marks. He inspires a deep breath, cracking his head to the sides before looking back at you.
“There will be consequences to your actions, love. You’re mine. You should know better, that I don’t let anyone take away my possessions, not even Dumbledore."
"Not one will ever save you from me.”
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