#cause i don't even know what i just wrote

[pinkyqil]

alexia putellas “you weren’t just a bet”

Something to you

alexia putellas x reader

Summary : she was just a bet but something to you either way.

A/n : hope you enjoyed this wrote it at 12 in the morning so it not proofread switched it up a lil cause have read some many fics about r being the bet so made i it the other way around hope you all enjoyed this fic and as always your feedbacks are appreciated and happy Friday loves 💗

© PINKYQIL

It all happened at a party you weren't really expecting any of this to happen which a lot of people had doubts about. You had made a bet with one of your friends that if you could get any girls number and make them fall for you within a week.

you'll get one of her families villa and obviously you weren't the type to back down from challenges like this. being known for your playgirl status around the football community every girl you had in bed always left satisfied and heartbroken.

The day of the party which happened to be a few hours later when you made the bet.

your eyes fell on the barcelona captain who happened to be sitting by herself in the bar section looking lively as ever. making you take the opportunity to approach her she was quite reserved and introverted which made you crave more about her. You felt something that you'd never had for a girl in your life wanting more of her. you asked to exchange numbers which she was hesitant about already knowing your reputation but later gave it too you.

After the party you spent week talking and taking alexia out on dates something that was out the ordinary with you. Finally found someone who loved you the same way you loved them back.

Your relationship with alexia was growing so well to the point where you both had planned on introducing your parents to each other making you forget that about the bet you made with your friends.

You were madly inlove to the point you told your friends about marrying her one day.

But as always there was something in the way the same friend had hosted another party were she had invited both you and alexia along with a few other friends. Everything was going well until your friend had a few drinks and started rambling.

"Remember the bet we made a few months ago if you could get any girls at the party you would get one of my family villa well count yourself lucky cause you just won the bet-". She said before getting cut off by alexia

"What bet?". Alexia asked

"Oh damm". She said laughing

"Don't tell me you haven't told her". Your friend said.

"Told me what exactly what are you hiding-". She paused before realization hit her.

"Ale I can explain".

"Explain what exactly that I was some type of messed up bet to you". She asked rage filling her voice.

"No no of course not you mean something to me". You tried convincing her

"Well it doesn't seem like it". This time around tears were in both of your eyes your friend realizing she messed up.

"I hope messing up our relationship was worth getting that villa cause were over ". She said before leaving the party it was quite obvious to everyone what was happening now.

"I'm so sorry I didn't mean too-".

"Don't cause I just lost the one person that actually mattered to me". You said in tears you couldn't believe you brought all this to yourself all for a stupid bet.

You we're madly inlove with her yet ruined it as everything was just a bet that could've been something real. she would always be something to you even though you messed it all up.

[menlove]

i saw on some of your posts that you say you aren’t an india truther, out of curiosity what do you think caused john and paul to have a fallout? do you think the resentment was more gradual and happened over 68-69? im sorry if you’ve answered this before but i love hearing about people’s theories of what happened in india and the aftermath.

sorry I totally forgot to answer this but for me.... hm. tossing under a readmore bc it got long oops

I think it was more gradual. like the way they act w each other in the get back sessions & just in general speaks more to something more unspoken happening than some big dramatic break up or rejection, at least to me. esp given how john & yoko lived with paul for a while in the summer of 68 (and talk about the world's worst throuple)

I wouldn't say I don't think Anything happened in india, but imo it seems more like.... I saw someone talking about how up until that point they were all on a lot of drugs & india was them getting off them for a minute & they sort of looked around and went "what the fuck are we doing? do I even know these people?" and that rings the most true to me I think.

some of the bigger reasons I have my doubts abt india being some huge thing where they fucked for the first time and paul rejected john are a) they still got along after that. things were weird but not much weirder than they'd been after brian's death b) paul wrote "i will" in india and I've talked before about how I'm 100% convinced that's about john and to me "will I wait a lonely lifetime, if you want me to I will" doesn't sound like the words of someone about to do any rejecting c) the infamous blowing the mic scene in get back is way too lighthearted and makes paul blush and giggle like they're just referencing fucking as a part of their relationship that happened enough to not be disarming. doesn't seem like john is being bitter or trying to egg him on and paul isn't reacting like someone that got called out for fucking john and then rejecting him. it reads more, to me, like just two lovers slyly joking around about a time they fucked that no one else can know about

which brings me to d) I'm also a "they had a sexual relationship" truther (which would be a whole other essay tbh) and so For Me Personally that just doesn't jive w smth big and dramatic happening in india. I just don't think they ever talked about what the fuck was going on between them, whatever it was, and then the typical band breakdown reasons coincided w a breakdown of their personal relationship as well. like just sort of dying out without much fanfare which can honestly be worse than some big rejection or breakup. and then ofc john goes full in with yoko and paul flounders around trying to settle down with a woman and marry her in such a weirdly frantic way. like that quote where he asks if he was supposed to be a 26 year old queer that never got married....... I would wager, imo, that things breaking down w john & then jane would've lead him to a bit of a Crisis about all that. but he found linda and went all in w her and she wound up pregnant so there you go.

which would lead them to a really weird place by the get back sessions, which I at least feel like is reflected pretty well- this awkward tension, paul's nervous desperation, nostalgia for the old times, lingering sexual tension. but not the attitude like they hated each other yet or had some big breakup or rejection. they're still joking and flirting, it's just awkward. the Big Moment would've been something else after that imo, probably john announcing he wanted a divorce but could've also been something more private that would go a long way to explaining why they were basically not on speaking terms at all by the abbey road sessions

again this is all Purely Speculation. mostly based on my more conflicting view from the fandom at large that they did have a sexual relationship and paul isn't as repressed/clueless as he puts on. so w those Two Beliefs in mind, this is sort of the trajectory that would make the most sense to me!

of course, without those two Core McLennon beliefs of mine I can see why people would point to india as the game changer if they think paul is a repressed bisexual who thinks he's straight while john pined over him. like it would make sense in that scenario if that's where the tension snapped & it was just a mess after that. but I very firmly and adamantly don't believe that so it's just hard for me to see the india theory as anything solid when there's a lot of other explanations for why india was such a shitshow

but all that is just me personally! don't have shit to back it up beyond what I can bring up about the evidence of a sexual relationship and paul being closeted that then lead me to these speculations based on that but yeah lmao

(and fun fact lmao whenever we publish it this is gonna be like half of the story of "i need you" so yall will get to see my fully baked opinion there mixed w just what I think would be fun or angsty dbshsjss)

[hum-budbak-hai]

Okay!! so aaj khul ke baat karte hai guys. Yeh mera life time experience hai guys. After a long time, I found this incident to be utterly nonsensical and perfect meme material. This incident is known to my one and only fav mutual and sister @intellectual6666 . Zoor daar taliya guyzzz!! You all need to have patience to read this.

Okay okay overacting band karke ishtart karte hai kahani.

Okay! So

It was 17th December 2023 when I started using tumblr. My main id is @amar-hiyar-majhe. I poured my heart into writing five blogs back to back, but to my disappointment, I didn't get any responses at all. I even started forgetting from December that I actually had tumblr.

Then in 20th January 2024 (that day I actually remembered that I am having a blogging app called tumblr XD) I wrote a blog about that "sometimes we don't feel like talking or writing, everything is like a okay,hmm accha types". Then I had an idea that why don't I search bengali people here and follow them and write about bangaliyana.

Okay coming to the point. I searched some bengali people and I got several of them. Among them I followed some, liked their posts as well. Morever they were popular so I didn't even expect that among them someone will text me and make me one of their mutual.

The very next day, in the morning I received a message from a well known blogger (can't reveal). He texted me, "thanks for liking my blogs I am so and so what is your name" (he actually texted me at 3am and I replied to him at 6am because that time I woke up to study B.St). We introduced ourselves to each other and we shared our photos as well (photo mane normal photo not dirty things, because some people here are really dumb, they think photo mane nudes, horrible). We were having a nice chat, all of a sudden he started asking about my "deep dirty desire" (3-D's lmao) I was shocked like main kyu tereko bolu mera desire, 1 ghanta nahi hua mile huye and I will shared everything so there will be nothing left to say to him. I straight away said "no I won't say anything cause its personal" Then he said " I am superb in sexting and all" so I was like "okay fine cool". Then we again went back to normal convos and things became good.

The very next day we again had a chat and we started talking about the fact that "Anuv Jain is not a good singer" just like taylor swift said in her song Tortured Poets Department that "We declared Charlie Puth should be a bigger artist" but just the opposite. (don't get me wrong but I really don't like anuv jain songs, its my opinion I found him cringe I don't know why, his lyrics are really well but he cannot sing them properly)

That very night he started telling me "lets sext because I am turned on". I told him, "toh main kya kar sakti hu I won't do these non sense with you" Then again things became good. These request of him that "lets sext with me thing" happened for back to back four days.

I asked him a very dumb question that, "do you like me what huh? Want to date me or what?" (This is really dumb hiya bhattacharya why did you ask this??!?) Anyways he said acting as if nothing happened and said "yaah I like you but agar tum college mein hoti toh main date kar leta I really like you do you like me?" I said that "I kinda like you too" (why??? Kyuuuuu?? Keno?? Kirkore?? How??)

Anyways then we had jhagra and the next day he said that he won't date me and I told him that "minor ko sexting ka request kar sakte ho lekin pyaar mohobaat nahi areh waah re waah"

Then the next day I found a girl who was horny like 24/7 she is horny so I told her about him so she told me to give her id to him so that they can sext.

Anyways I don't know what happened between him, he started acting different. He apologize (basically I made him realize his mistake then he apologized) several times he said that he won't do these things anymore phala dhamkana. I forgave him (I shouldn't have, block Kar dena chahiye tha). Then things became normal and we became good friends.

One day I spammed him and the next day he startef shouting that I was obsessive and clingy. And he was so rude my god.

I stopped talking to him. Then again the next day he told me sorry and was talking like the picture given below

MATLAB KUCH BHI....

Things started to fall apart after these things and one day we started talking about trauma and he started glorifying it like all the things were my mistake I was wrong, immature, childish wagera wagera. Then from other mutual of mine I got know that he asked several girls to meet him and all. He wanted there insta ids etc etc. He thinks he is the crush of tumblr.

I wrote a blog indirectly telling my female mutuals to stay away from him. Then after maybe five hours he wrote a massive blog claiming indirectly that I defamed him.

Wah bhai wah. I texted him like what happened and he never replied. So I understood it was about me. Then after one month I got to know that he was going around telling that I was stalking him creating a new account. Who are you broo? Srk?? Tom Cruise??

Anyways this is the end of my funny experience in tumblr. Hope you all had fun bye

[nightinggail-writes]

Back To December

I was so disatisfied with Bridgerton season 3 as a whole, that I decided to just rewrite the whole thing myself. Some things I will keep, but others I won't be (looking at you entrapment comment) I don't know how many chapters this will be but I'm assuming at the VERY least 6. Anyway enjoy the first chapter!

notes: severely unbeta'd, 2k words, dual posted on AO3

When Colin Bridgerton arrived back to the inn that he was staying in while in Paris, the last thing he expected was to receive a letter.

Now don’t get him wrong, he certainly received letters from his family, as few and far between as those responses are, but this letter in particular was one that he was both anticipating and shocked had been delivered. He had written to Penelope Featherington of course, but unlike with his last tour, she nary responded to one of his letters; so receiving a letter from his oldest and dearest friend filled him with a joy he could not even begin to describe.

Colin snatched the letter from the innkeepers hands—far too eager to have any sense of propriety-–quickly thanked the man, and rushed over to his room.

The letter was opened faster than the door could close from behind him. But he did not even get through the first sentence before the smile slipped from his face.

The further he got through her missive, the more distressed he became. There was no possible way that his Penelope could have been the one to write him this letter. Lady Featherington must have been the one to write this, he thought to himself, Pen would never do this. As much as he tried to delude himself into thinking that she did not write this letter, he could not deny that this was her writing. He knew in his heart that she had written this letter.

As he scanned the letter, his skin paled, and his heart dropped into his stomach. It would only happen in one’s wildest fantasies—they would have to be mad to think as much.

Are you mad? He had laughed, I would never dream of courting Penelope Featherington. Not in your wildest fantasies, Fife.

Good god, she had heard him.

She heard him.

Her silence made all the more sense now. She had heard the words he had spoken while under the influence of many a drink, the words he had spoken to men who were truly not his friends—words he only spoke to fit in. Words that held no real truth in them at all. Words that he had spoken while under the pressure to impress those around him.

He could not possibly continue his travels now that he knew how much he had hurt Penelope. How could he possibly continue traveling the coastal cities of the Mare Nostrum and the mountains and plains of Central Europe, when he had left his dearest friend, the friend closest to his heart, in pain. Pain that you caused, a voice whispered in his head, You are a fool if you think she will forgive you after what you have said. Behind her back, no less.

“If I am a fool to think she will forgive me,” He whispered to himself. “Then I am a fool on a mission.”

So Colin Bridgerton walked over to the desk in his room, pulled out a piece of parchment, and wrote.

~~~~~~~

The letter came in the middle of their family dinner.

“Mr. Bridgerton, a letter has arrived for you from your brother. It’s marked as urgent.”

Benedict sighed, put down his silverware, and took the letter from his valets hand. “This better actually be important, and not a description about the mountains of Switzerland or the coast of Sicily. Or a request for more funds, if he’s requesting more funds, I’ll leave him stranded where he is, with no funds to speak of.”

“Benedict Bridgerton, you will certainly do no such thing! I doubt Colin would send a letter marked urgent, if it weren’t so.” Violet said.

���I do hope Colin is not injured, I can not think of any other reason that he would write us an urgent letter.” Hyacinth interrupted, saving her elder brother from their Mama’s scolding. “Read it aloud so that we may know that he is well.”

Benedict sighed again, wishing that Anthony would make haste and return to Aubrey Hall from his honeymoon with his Viscountess, so that he could go back to his paintings and get far away from managing the household funds and accounts about crop rotations, as well as being in charge of all of their younger siblings, save Colin and Daphne.

Upon opening Colin's letter, another rolled up piece of parchment fell out, one that had clearly been opened already and re-waxed closed, Benedict set that one aside to focus on the one he opened.

“Well, it’s an awfully short message. So it’s not one of his ramblings about the scenery of where he is.”

Eloise, who’s attention had previously been directly on the book in her hands, finally looked up and acknowledged the surrounding conversation, “Would you just get on with reading the letter? He’s probably just requesting funds. It cannot possibly be that important.”

Gregory sat up in his chair, “What if he’s died?”

“How would Colin send us a letter if he has died?” Hyacinth piped up.

“Gregory, Hyacinth, do not speak about your brother this way. He is not dead, and hopefully shall not die any time soon.” Violet exclaimed tiredly.

“Family, I believe we should let Benedict speak now.” Francesca, who had been quietly observing her rather rowdy family, spoke up. “He is looking rather exasperated.”

“Thank you, sister.” Benedict spoke, rolling his eyes, “You are now my favorite sibling. I’m tired with the rest of you lot.”

Finally, after at least 5 minutes of the Bridgerton family squabbling over each other, they finally quieted down enough to listen to what was so urgent for Colin to write about.

“Benedict,

As Anthony has gone on his honeymoon, I shall address this matter to you. Due to a grave error made last season, I will be returning home far earlier than planned. I must return home as soon as possible to rectify my mistake. I will go down on my hands and knees and beg her for forgiveness if I must—”

“What could Colin have done that was so horrible that he is coming home early? And who is the lady he must have offended so horrifically to justify ending his tour” Eloise blurted, sitting up in her seat.

“That is rather curious,” Francesca replied. “Colin does not regularly associate himself with many young ladies. At least no more than is required of him for proprieties' sake—”

“Would you all let me read, please! It is almost over!” Benedict exclaimed.

Eloise shrunk down in her seat, and Francesca reverted her eyes down to the table and ate some of her roasted pork.

“The mistake in question is referenced in the letter I received mere minutes ago that I shall attach to this one.

Do not bother replying, as I am departing for Aubrey Hall as soon as possible, preferably within the next day, and as such will arrive shortly after you receive this message.

Colin”

Hyacinths face brightened as she leaned forward, “So, Colin will be returning soon!”

“At least he isn’t dead!” Gregory stated.

Eloise barked out a laugh, “He’s not dead right now, but I imagine he will be when he goes to talk to the young lady he has earned the ire of.”

“I do wonder what young lady he angered. Although he did say it would be stated in the letter he attached.” Francesca pondered.

“Mother, you’ve been awfully quiet. May I ask whatever is on your mind before I move on to the next letter?” Benedict asked.

Violet sighed, her brows creased together in thought, “I can only imagine what Colin may have said to this young lady. I truly hope I am wrong on whom I think she is.”

Ever the gossip, Hyacinth perked up at this. “You know who she is, mama? Oh, you must tell us, please!”

“Hyacinth, I am not entirely sure, and no I will not be telling you. We will find out who this young lady is in no time at all, I assure you. Benedict, would you be a dear and read us that second letter? I must know what your brother has done this time.” Violet replied.

“Gladly,” Benedict responded. Rather unusually, the remaining five Bridgertons present did not interrupt the second-eldest son as he read the dooming letter that Colin had received; the dooming letter that has prompted him to return to England earlier than he had planned.

“Mr. Bridgerton,

It seems as though my lack of response has not thwarted your attempts at contacting me and your pleas for my own response to your letters; I only hope that my words will be what you listen to, if not my own silence.

It is in my belief that we should go our separate ways. I intend to marry this upcoming season, and do not want the inconvenience of potential suitors inquiring about our correspondence or friendship and whether or not you intend to, or have been, courting me. After all, that would only be in one's wildest fantasies, would it not? In fact, one would have to think himself positively mad to think as much, would they not? In regards to your statement of the protection of me and my family at my mama’s ball at the end of last season, I do not need—nor do I want—your protection. You are not my father, you are not my brother, and you are certainly not my husband. It would be for the best if you kept your distance from me this upcoming season so as to not cause confusion. Our former friendship was already toeing the line of impropriety, and as Eloise and I are no longer on amiable terms, there is no excuse (nor has there ever been, truly) for our behavior. As I do not wish to cause further scandal, it is for the better that we part ways.

I do hope you enjoy your travels and that you continue to find yourself and your purpose while doing so.

Regards,

Miss Penelope Featherington”

All was silent for but a few seconds until Hyacinth burst out “Penelope! He insulted Penelope, of all ladies?!”

“She seemed to have taken direct quotes that came out of his mouth as ammo to use against him. Her passive-aggressiveness is quite eloquently done.” Benedict noted.

Violet closed her eyes and sighed through her nose, pinching the bridge, “I knew it must have been Penelope. Who else would he write letters to besides her.”

“Whatever he must have said must have been cruel for her to address him as Mr. Bridgerton and not by his given name. I do not think I can recall I time when she did not refer to him as Colin.” Francesca noted.

Throughout this whole ordeal, Eloise remained silent. She was still cross with Pen for what she had written about her. In the past few months, she has come to realize that Penelope had only done it to protect her from the Queen. However, her own pride refused to let her accept that as the answer to what Penelope had done. Her pride would not let her reply to any of her letters, or even read them for that matter. Her pride, preventing her from forgiving her best friend, still her best friend as Eloise can never name her as anything else, no matter how furious she was with her.

And while Eloise does not think she can face Penelope herself. That does not mean that she wishes for her to hurt more than she must already be hurting. Eloise cannot help but wonder when Colin had said what he had said, and hoped that it wasn’t the same night that she had called Penelope an “insipid wallflower”. She could not fathom losing two friends in one night, with both saying cruel words directed to her, in her own home no less.

Despite their distance at the moment, Eloise still cared for Pen; far more than her wounded pride would let her admit. And so, Eloise Bridgerton decided that upon her brother's return, she would have a few select words for him.

[the-writing-mobster]

Because I constantly get hate for WDYW Chapter 49,

(I get it, it's polarizing) allow me to like,,, explain why I went with the plot point? I don't really owe anyone an explanation, and literally fuck any of my haters, they're ants, but I think my readers/people who actually like my writing would like to know the lore behind my choices.

So, context, in chapter 49, Frisk is drugged into obedience by Muffet and Muffet, being the money hungry cunt that she is, sells Frisk's body on the black market. It's a really uncomfortable concept, and when it happened it caused a lot of readers to drop the fic or rant at me in the comments, talk shit about my fic in private forums behind my back, or even imply a bunch of horrible things about me as a person lmao.

So why did I decide to go with this plot?

Well, for one, it all stems from two books: The Hunger Games, Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins and the Empress by S.J Kincaid.

In both of these books, there is a pivotal character who is drugged, manipulated and used for political gain by a dastardly authority figure. In The Empress, this plot point was ESPECIALLY devastating, because it completely changed and corrupted the character into a horrific shell of their old self to where they were actively antagonistic and irredeemable!

This plot device has intrigued and fascinated me ever since. Drugging a protagonist to make them wholly dependent on their abuser/villain, manipulating them, having them at rock bottom is, in my opinion, one of the worst things that can happen to a character... And seeing how the character can overcome it is the greatest triumph!

Ever since reading these books, this plot device has buzzed in the back of my mind and there is a part of me that always tries to recreate it, but I can never come close to perfecting it.

Either I always miss on the addiction part of the manipulation, or I can never commit truly to character corruption. Either way, the closest I've ever gotten to scratching this itch has been in WDYW part 3, but even then, I barely came close to getting it right.

My second reason for choosing the route; In WDYW, Frisk's whole arc is about having control over her own agency/autonomy/fate. What happens to her in Part 3 is the culmination of everything she's ran away from, fought against, and her greatest nightmare come to life. It was the lowest point I could bring her character, and make her face her past demons in a horrifically evil way. But my plan had obviously been that despite all of the torture she survives, that she not only survives but fucking WINS!

That was the whole point, but when I wrote it I was like,,, 17/18 😅, so there was definitely things I wasn't as graceful about.

With that said, would I change anything? Yes. If I could change anything I wrote about part 3, I would do a couple things:

1. Take out that obedience spell Muffet puts on Frisk. The reason I made that was because it was like a catch all spell to keep Frisk in Muffets clutches? But it was pretty OP and seemed like a hand wavey excuse to brush aside plot holes. I should've just simplified the spell to where she was simply tethered to Muffet's soul so Sans couldn't kill Muffet, or teleport Frisk away.

2. Frisk's "obedience" to Muffet should've been entirely addiction based, which would make the plot point of Frisk using determination to burn out her addiction in Part 4, and then eventually Determination becomes the addiction instead, (because overcoming addiction is really fucking hard actually and a constant struggle) a lot stronger.

3. I would probably be much more careful with my word choice in chapter 49. Some of it comes off as sexualization. Not my intention, but it was because I was writing in the creepy photographer's pov and he was objectifying her. In my head I was like, "surely people can read between the lines right???" (They can't. Only a select few fanfic readers have media literacy apparently)

So, TLDR, No chapter 49 was not some author's barely disguised fetish (that's honestly a really gross way to think about my writing and about me as a person) it was my genuine worst nightmare as a woman, and one of my favorite plot devices from two of my favorite books 😭 Please lay off me about chapter 49, and Part 3.

Last but not least... Some art is meant to disturb the comfortable and comfort the disturbed.

.

.

.

[im-no-jedi]

In Need of Cuddles

I'm feeling the effects of the monthly blood curse and needed some comfort, so I wrote a little something to deal with that. and because it's Wednesday, I chose the bestest sweet boy Wrecker for that 🥰

this is super short and fluffy, no warnings except for an allusion to suffering from depression 💙 also in case it wasn't obvious, this takes place in the MLWTBBverse✨

___________________________________________________________

"Knock knock!"

Hannah's attention was drawn to her front door. The familiar, boisterous voice from behind it immediately drew a smile to her face.

"Can I come in??"

"Sure," Hannah replied with a giggle.

The front door slid open to reveal the massive visage of Wrecker, who stepped into the room with all the graniose he normally had. A bag was draped over one of his shoulders, and he held a smaller bag in his other hand.

"Clank asked me to bring these up to you!" Wrecker stated as he plopped the bags onto the kitchen counter. A few fruits tumbled out and rolled across the counter, but Wrecker quickly caught them before they went too far. "Hope this is enough groceries for ya!"

Hannah let out another giggle. "I'm sure it's fine. Thanks, Big Guy."

Wrecker grinned at her, then placed the caught fruits back into their respective bags. He was about to start rummaging through one of them to search for a snack he'd brought for himself, but paused just before his hand touched the bag.

Something wasn't right.

He hadn't given much thought to it at first, but Hannah hadn't moved from her spot on the couch since he'd come in. Normally, she would either come over and start unloading groceries right away, or she would give him a little welcome hug. As far as he knew, Hannah wasn't sick or hurt, but maybe he was wrong.

"You doin' ok, Hannah?" Wrecker gently asked.

Hannah gave him a clearly forced smile and replied, "oh, I'm fine. Just... tired today, that's all."

Wrecker's brow turned down. It wasn't unusual for Hannah to hide her true feelings, especially when she wasn't feeling well. And although it was frustrating to deal with, Wrecker knew that was just how she processed certain things. Luckily, he had a knack for picking up on others' emotions, so it wasn't too hard to suss out that she was holding something back.

"Ya sure?" Wrecker began to step closer to the couch. "Cause you're not acting right. To me, anyway."

Hannah let out a small sigh and shook her head. "Sometimes I forget how empathetic you are, Big Guy."

"That's the word that means you can feel other people's feelings, right?"

Hannah nodded with a small chuckle.

"I thought I felt somethin' off about you!" Wrecker came right up to Hannah and bend down closer to her. "You're not sick, are ya?"

Hannah shook her head in response.

"Are ya hurt?"

Hannah shook her head again.

"Did ya get in a fight with Hunter?"

Hannah once again shook her head, this time with a snicker.

"So... what's up then? You can tell me."

A grateful smile spread on Hannah's face, and her eyes began to well with emotion. She let out a shaky sigh before she spoke. "I'm just... do you ever just randomly get sad? Like, for no reason?"

Wrecker thought for a moment, then shook his head. "I only get sad if I see or think about somethin' sad. Like, sometimes when I think about losin' Lula or... ya know, when Kamino went..." He made a noise replicating an explosion and spread his hands out for emphasis.

"Yeah, same. But... sometimes I just... I get sad, and I don't even know why. And it makes my body tired, and I can't make myself do anything. It's kinda like being sick, but not."

"Sick with sadness?"

Hannah managed a laugh. "Kinda, yeah."

Although he didn't understand how such a thing could happen, Wrecker couldn't help but feel complete compassion for his dear friend.

"Aww, Hannah..." Wrecker sat down beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry... is there anything I can do for ya?"

Immediately after touching her, Hannah's eyes began to well up more and a sniffle escaped her nose. "I don't know, I just... I'm just..."

As soon as the first cry came out of Hannah, Wrecker threw his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. "Aww, don't cry, Hannah! It's ok!"

Hannah's cries morphed into small sobs as she clung to Wrecker's massive figure. Her face buried into his chest, and her whole body shook as she cried. Wrecker could only hold her, firmly but gently, as he let her get her emotions out.

Eventually, Hannah's cries turned into just small sniffles, and Wrecker used that opportunity to offer her a tissue. He pet her head as she blew her nose, then moved his hand to gently rub her back.

"Ya feel better now?" he asked, still gentle as ever.

"A bit, yeah," Hannah answered with another sniffle. "Guess I just needed a good cry."

"And a good hug!"

Hannah let out one of her signature resounding laugh. "From you? Always."

At that, Wrecker pulled her in again, making more laughs come out of her. "Glad I could help! I hate seein' ya so sad!"

Hannah's arms tightly wrapped around Wrecker's waist, and she nuzzled into his chest once again. "You definitely helped. Thanks, Big Guy."

"Anything for you, Hannah!"

"You're too sweet," Hannah said with a giggle. She sighed and continued, "I think sometimes I just need some good ol' affection like this."

Wrecker let out a chuckle that rumbled through Hannah's whole body. "Well, whenever Hunter's not around to give ya some, I'll gladly give it to ya myself!"

Once again, Hannah let out a boisterous laugh, loud enough that even Wrecker could feel it. "And I'm perfectly fine with that!"

[come-away-with-me87]

Modern Hearts Chapter 18

Chapter 17 here

******

When you finally got to your door to open it, there stood Shouta, leaning against your doorway.  "Shouta..." you trailed off, "I'm sorry, please, come in."  He walked into your dorm, apologizing for bothering you so late.  "No bother at all! I'm assuming training is over with the students?"  He just nodded his head in response.  You invited him to sit down on your couch, and asked him if he would like anything to drink.  He politely declined, saying, "I don't plan to take up much of your time, I just wanted to stop by and ask you something."  You gulped at this statement, and felt a blush creeping up your face.

"Sure, what would you like to ask?" you asked him.  He paused for a moment, and stated, "before I ask you, I wanted to tell you something.  I know you don't remember anything past knocking on my door on Friday night, but I remember everything.  Before you fell asleep, you had told me that you wanted to kiss me, and that you wished it was me who asked for your number that night."  You felt yourself blush even harder, "I...I said that?" He looked over at you thoughtfully, "you did. You know how they say that drunk words are sober thoughts, or in this case, I at least hope they are."  He paused for a moment, "which leads me into my next question.  Y/N, I know I'm being bold by asking you this, but I haven't been able to get you out of my mind. Will...will you go on a date with me?"

"Oh, Shouta..." you said quietly.  You didn't think it was possible, but you felt how hot your face was from blushing so hard.  For a very brief moment, you thought of Keigo.  You only had one date with him, and even though you two kissed, you weren't exclusive with him.  "Shouta," you said again, "I would love to go on a date with you."  He looked over at you and beamed at your answer.  "Yeah? What about Hawks?"  You looked over at him in return, "what about him? We had one date, we're not an item." He responded to that saying, "fair enough." 

"Now, I am going to ask you one last question, then I'll get out of your hair.  May I have your number?"  It was your turn to look at him and beam, "absolutely."  He didn't bring his phone over with him for you to plug your number in, so you got up from the couch, grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and wrote down your phone number, sat back down, and handed the paper to him.  When he took the paper from your hands, your hands accidentally grazed, and once again, you felt that same bolt of electricity.  

If he felt it, too, he decided not to say anything.  He got up from your couch, looked down to where you were sitting.  "Thank you, Y/N. I'll plan something soon."  You looked up at him and smiled, "I look forward to it."  He took his free hand to caress your cheek, then took his leave.  If you thought you felt a bolt of electricity with his hand patting your knee, or accidentally grazing his fingers, it was nothing compared to the way you felt when he caressed your cheek just now.  Your skin felt hot where he touched you, and you felt your heart practically pounding out of your chest.  

By this time, it was about 9:15pm, so you decided to call it an early night.  You did your usual nightly rituals, and fell into bed around 9:45pm.  You couldn't help but lay there and smile to yourself; you were going on a date with Shouta Aizawa.  You felt excited at the idea; maybe you liked him more than you realized.  Suddenly, your phone buzzed on your nightstand.  You picked it up: it was from Keigo.  Shit, what were you going to do with him?  All it said was, "thinking of you, pretty girl ;)"  You thought about it some more; you could date both of them, you were a single woman.

For some reason, though, you felt like dating both of them would end up causing hurt to at least one of you in the end, particularly Shouta since he evidently loved you since you were children (even though you weren't supposed to know that).  Besides, you weren't really a multi-dating type of person.  Some people could do it, and that was fine, but you were a monogamist at heart, even when it came to dating.  You decided to not respond to Keigo's text right then, and instead put your phone back on the nightstand.  You eventually felt your eyelids getting heavy, and you fell asleep, dreaming an intimate dream about an ebony-haired, onyx-eyed man.

******

To be continued...

******

Tag list: @jaguarthecat ; @lili-pond ; @big-denki-energy

[starry-bi-sky]

realizing i have. a lot of untapped trauma potential for clone^2 danny because i just Fully Processed Four Months Late the fact that his parents were capturing and torturing ghosts in the basement before he became Phantom. and the fact that he was on house rest for 2 weeks. during that time period. and he wasn't really leaving the house. he could hear their screaming through the floorboards

*points at clone danny* i can give you suuuuuuch a bad time babe ahaha. i've got two untouched years before you meet damian what fucks you up before then

[furiousgoldfish]

Speaking from a bad place, so bear with me. Has anyone thought about how being important or special to other people is based just on the people closest to you?

We regard strangers as people who are fairly irrelevant to us, because they have little to no impact to our life, and their lives and struggles won't generally touch us. In contrast, lives of people directly around us have a great impact on us, and they decide our relevancy. We give them roles in our lives, like friends, mentors, partners, lovers, caretakers, and in that regard they're special to us, irreplaceable. We also want to have an equally strong meaning in their life, to have a warm place in their heart and respect in their minds, as they do for us.

When people around us who hold great relevancy for us, also give us that same relevancy back, we feel important, we know we're special to them. That our role in their life shapes their experience, gives them gratitude and they've accepted us as someone they want and need around.

In contrast to that, when people in our life refuse to give us that same respect, warmth and relevancy, then we wonder what is wrong with us. What is missing so we can't be appreciated and regarded with the same love and respect that we show to them. Lack of mutuality makes us sink down with insecurity, self doubt and deep feeling that we're not enough, that we've done something wrong, not to deserve the same that we give to others.

And it also works out the same in isolation, if you have no one close to you, no one who has your well being in mind or cares for what becomes of you, it feels like you're important to no one, like you are not special whatsoever, even like you could be disposable if nobody cares at all.

But none of that is based on what's inside of us, who we are or how much love and good we are capable of giving and showing. It's nothing even related to our behaviour and actions, you could put anyone in these situations and results would be generally similar; person who is not experiencing reciprocity, or is left to fend for themselves alone, will lose the feeling that they're important or special in any way.

Isn't that weird? That we can end up judging our own worth based on nothing we did, or nothing we are, just based on how people around us are treating us, or whether we have anyone around us at all. In our essence we didn't change at all, it's just who is or isn't around, that determines our worth.

If we're put in a group of people who want to create bonds based on good things they see in us, we'll become able of seeing that good in ourselves. If we're surrounded by people who all feel the same as we do, act on the same moral code, readily reciprocate respect and warmth that we show to them, we won't feel like anything is wrong with us. We'll feel at home.

And since this is so intrinsic to being a person, to long for this and only feel relevant, safe and cared for in these circumstances, isn't it natural that we all deserve that? To be surrounded by people who make us feel like nothing is wrong with us, and like we're at home? Who help us focus on everything good in us, and give us no reasons to believe that we should be rejected or banished at all? Since abuse did the absolute opposite, and forced us to believe there's only reasons for abandonment, hatred and contempt, I believe being in the environment where people see many reasons to want us in their lives, would heal us.

[starwarjotta]

there’s a special place in hell for people who take the time and go through the effort of leaving negative comments on fanfics, like-- what is wrong with you, what is LEGITIMATELY wrong with you? I’m so angry and so devastated on behalf of everyone who has been harrassed like this and who is going through something like this right now. There’s no excuse for shitty behavior - if you intentionally leave a hurtful comment on something someone created and put out there for other people’s enjoyement, for free, after spending probably HOURS if not WEEKS or MONTHS or longer on it, you’re an incredibly shitty, disgusting, miserable waste of space of a person be better

[hamartia-grander]

Starting to slowly realise I'm really not doing well mentally and it's. concerning. I feel like I should take a break from tumblr bc it takes some of what little energy I have but it's also my source of joy with friends so idk what to do, like I'd miss y'all more than I'd feel good about being away. But if you notice me talking less/not responding in days it's bc I just cannot. I leave your message notifs up so I don't forget tho <3

[arklay]

seeing stars.

pairing: diana x albert wesker words: 7.0k warnings: migraine, nausea and vertigo, brief mentions of food and alcohol, internalised ableism [read on ao3] — [part one]

A long exhale sounded from the en suite bathroom. It wasn’t one of relief. No, it was strained, wavering as it left parted lips – the evidence of a day riddled with nothing but stress.

Wesker slowly opened his eyes and looked up at the mirror from how he had hung his head, his hands resting on either side of the basin. The figure behind his reflection caught his eye instantly – dark hair a stark contrast to the white doorframe its lovely owner was leaning against. She was simply watching him with this faint, barely-there frown strewn about her features.

Despite being rather annoyed at Diana for sneaking up on him, or more so at himself for not noticing she had done so, he was glad she had kicked off her heels under the dining table. The last thing he needed right now was the shrill clicking of those awful things on the tile floor.

His head already felt like it had been put in a vise and someone was turning the handle; he didn’t need more noise to aggravate it.

“Where are your glasses?” Diana asked, and Wesker could only wonder if he’d imagined the worry clinging to the edge of her voice.

Could she tell he was in pain? That his sunglasses weren’t just some fashion statement people liked to tease him for? Had she put two and two together so easily when most were too dense to?

Wesker’s eyes darted up to lock on to hers in the mirror, though for only a split second, before he looked down again with a small huff. “I don’t know.”

He’d truly had a shocking day. It had been one thing after another, and at some point he had taken his glasses off to rub his eyes then forgot to put them back on. It wasn’t like him to misplace his belongings, and certainly not his shades, of all things, but the stressors piling up ensured the whereabouts of where he’d set them down slipped his mind faster than he thought possible.

It had all started with that pig, Brian Irons. The initial cause of his foul mood. That poor excuse of a man had proven himself to be a thorn in Wesker’s side time and time again; the police chief thought he could undermine those ensuring his unsavoury past was kept under wraps, but Wesker wasn’t going to stand for such insolent behaviour. He made sure to discuss the issue with William during his visit to the NEST around lunchtime, calling for a shorter leash.

However, the day only seemed to continue to go downhill once he’d returned to the station.

The problem wasn’t simply the piles of reports taking up space on his desk; the image of Diana wouldn’t leave his mind. He shouldn’t have stopped by her lab with coffee and spoken to her at all. He needed his focus to be solely on his work. The way she could capture his attention was quite bothersome, really. And that prompted a rather foolish decision on his part – a phone call with plans for dinner.

It didn’t end there. The newest S.T.A.R.S. recruits were a headache in and of themselves, yet getting a call from Sherry’s school the moment he left work had been the icing on the cake. She hadn’t been picked up hours beforehand, and being the next emergency contact, Wesker was informed of such incompetence.

William’s obsession with the G-Virus was getting out of hand. He’d always been more preoccupied with his work than the people around him, but forgetting to pick Sherry up from school was something else. Something Wesker didn’t quite like.

Not to mention it completely ruined his plans for the night.

With a suppressed clearing of her throat, Diana pulled him back to the present. She pushed herself off of the doorframe and made her way closer towards him. “Would you like me to look for them?”

Wesker shook his head and immediately regretted it; the sudden movement made him wince as a short wave of splitting pain made itself known right behind his left eye, causing him to grip the edge of the counter until his knuckles went white. The pain wasn’t unbearable yet, and he was glad his typical nausea seemed to be at bay, but he had no clue how long that would last. Not long, if he had to guess, given his luck with the rest of the day’s events.

Taking a deep breath through his nose and out through his mouth, he steadied himself. With each count, he found it easier to tolerate the ache, though it didn’t subside in the slightest. It would have to do though; he needed to get through his nighttime routine.

He reached over and slowly pulled his toothbrush out of its holder, making sure to not move more than what was necessary.

“No.”

Wesker glanced up at the mirror again with one of his brows quirked in genuine confusion, and he watched as Diana’s reflection inched closer. Then her hands were covering his. Why he found himself frozen at her touch was beyond him, but her soft fingers pressing against his skin was a welcome sensation.

She only pried the toothbrush and paste out of his grasp, far more gently than she needed to, then she placed them back to where they belonged.

“You are obviously unwell. You don’t need to brush your teeth when you feel like this,” she said, voice soft and oddly soothing, as opposed to the hammering against his skull.

Diana took Wesker’s hands in her own again, and her thumbs brushed along the raised veins on the backs of them in slow circles. It wasn’t just comforting to him, it was familiar, intimate, and the point at which he’d begun to embrace her touch rather than shun his craving for it was lost on him.

Her eyes finally landed on his own and she directed a small nod towards the door, making him aware of what she was about to do next. Then she took a step back. Then another. And she carefully pulled him along with her, guiding him towards his bedroom without so much as a word from him. Wesker couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. He didn’t know what to say, what to do, and with how tired he was, he could only let her take the lead. She seemed to have her mind set on making sure he would rest, and that made his chest feel much too tight.

It was almost as if she cared.

The trip to the foot of his bed felt much longer than usual. Diana’s cautious approach made sure of that. He was not intoxicated; she didn’t need to hold his hands and ensure he put one foot in front of the other. And yet she did. He felt like an absolute fool, but he still let her pull him along, regardless.

Once there, Diana sat him down on the edge before she quickly knelt down in front of him, tucking her legs beneath herself as she did so. Her attention went straight towards his boots and deft hands worked to untie their laces.

Wesker couldn’t quite wrap his head around her behaviour. He wasn't sure what to think. On any other day, he would’ve thought her kneeling between his legs quite amusing, especially with how she kept roughly pushing her stubborn tresses that kept falling in front of her face back behind her ears. But his head hurt far too much, and there was just this horrible warmth searing through his chest and up his neck, settling across his cheeks and threatening to join the burning at his temple.

The question in her eyes whenever she’d glance up at him certainly wasn’t helping either. It was almost wary, as though looking for permission to continue. Or perhaps assurance.

Her fingers wrapped around his ankle, carefully grasping it as she pulled off his boot. That made him feel far too odd, but she only repeated the action with its counterpart. He was thankful for the way she placed them next to one another by his bed though, all nice and neat, instead of simply tossing them to the side like anyone else would.

Diana pushed herself up off of the floor using her palms and moved to stand between his legs. Soft hands reached forward to cradle his face, the cool pads of her thumbs brushing along the high points of his cheeks. But she was only looking into his eyes, searching for… something.

He wasn’t quite sure what she was doing, to be completely honest. However, the repetitive movement along his cheekbones was calming, almost strangely so, and he hated that his eyes threatened to flutter shut and his hands itched to reach out and hold onto her sides – perhaps even pull her closer, if he dared.

How could she draw such a reaction from him? Especially given the circumstances.

The last thing Wesker needed was for her to look at him like he was some injured animal; he didn’t want her pity. It was enough that he let her drag him out of the bathroom when he was in the middle of carrying out his routines, as though he was caught in some sort of trance. But to look at him in such a way, to help him undress… It was ridiculous. He didn’t need to be fussed over.

Wesker reached up and closed his hands around her wrists. His grip was tight, though not enough to hurt her – merely cautionary, much like the glare he sent her way. Astute as she was, he had no doubt she would get the message.

Diana’s fingers fell away from his cheeks, curling in on themselves, but she didn’t move to break the distance between them. She only continued to hold his gaze, eyes still scanning his own in search of some answers, even as he loosened his hold on her wrists.

It had been wishful thinking, anyhow; he should’ve known she’d remain defiant.

Wesker pulled her hands further away from his face while he slowly rose to his feet. Then he let go, making them drop to her sides in a rather lifeless fashion. He didn’t miss the question in her eyes, or the way a crease formed between her brows, but he simply focused on manoeuvring around her towards his dresser – unsuccessfully at that, as his side brushed against hers with how he staggered.

Movement made the pain behind his eye considerably worse. The familiar sensation of tiny knives stabbing, leaving puncture wounds in their wake to obscure his vision, made it incredibly hard to keep his eyes open any longer. Wesker took a deep breath to try and steady himself, keeping as still as could be so as to not cause himself more pain. If only for a moment of relief.

One of his hands settled on the surface of the dresser while the other moved to open a drawer. He hoped Diana didn’t see how he fumbled with the pull handle. He wasn’t even sure why that bothered him. But he moved to correct his error far too quickly, causing him to lose balance slightly.

The sight of plain black, white and grey t-shirts folded up and sorted by tone brought some level of structure back to the chaos that had been Wesker’s day, and it pleased him more than it probably should have. The shirts were simply for when he was too cold to sleep shirtless – he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing them casually, otherwise – and he removed one from its designated place for himself, and one for Diana.

The next drawer he opened contained his pyjama pants, all monochromatic and devoid of patterns, akin to his shirts. Just the way he liked. There were a couple of blue pairs though. Not like that mattered; he chose black, as usual.

A tired sigh left him then.

“Diana.” The sound of her footsteps crossing the distance between them seemed to reach him later than when they’d occurred, because she was already standing at his side. Wesker simply handed her the t-shirt he’d chosen for her, then he spoke again without looking her way, “Would you like pants?”

Diana chuckled at that, and the corner of his lips twitched. He treasured that sound. Well and truly treasured it.

“I doubt anything will fit me,” she whispered, the smile in her voice telling him she was trying to subdue her laugh.

“You have long legs.”

She let out a low, sweet hum at his dry response and positioned herself behind him, lifting her chin to rest it on his shoulder as she watched his hands comb through the pairs of pants in the drawer below. It was clear to Diana that he wouldn’t find anything that would fit her, considering she was barely two thirds the width of him, but she let him figure that out for himself. Instead, her hands ran down his sides and towards his hips. She stood on tiptoe to press a lingering kiss to his cheek while one of her hands travelled between them.

“Doesn’t change that you have more hips than I do,” Diana said between another kiss, tone playful, while her hand squeezed a handful of his firm backside.

Wesker reached behind himself and swatted her hand away, but he couldn’t stop the slight chuckle that bubbled up in his throat before it escaped him – one that mirrored her own. Her arms changing position, wrapping around his waist with her chin settling against his shoulder once more, was not what he expected in response, however. The feeling that brought up inside of him was not something he wished to confront tonight.

He needed to place more distance between them.

“Drawstrings.” Wesker held up a pair of pants that could be tightened at the waist, negating her claims that there couldn’t possibly be anything of his that may stay up for her.

Diana held back another sigh as she loosened her arms and plucked the pants from his grasp. Their short moment of joking around certainly didn’t last long, but she wasn’t sure why she even expected it to. It wasn’t the time or place, but she simply didn’t know how to deal with the situation at hand; it was always difficult for her to navigate when someone wasn’t feeling well.

On the other hand, Wesker was none the wiser to Diana’s inner turmoil. He only withdrew from her slack embrace and returned to where he’d been sitting at the end of the bed earlier, entirely focused on ridding himself of the rest of his work clothes. Without her interference.

Nothing seemed to be in his favour today though, because the moment his hips met the bed the entire room began to spin. It wasn’t like he had sat down too fast – or maybe he had finally lost his bearings – but the way the room was warping around him with stars dancing across his vision caused him to squeeze his eyes shut. His teeth ground together of their own accord and he cursed himself for it as that only amplified the pain at his temple.

All Wesker could do was turn his attention towards the buttons of his shirt, trying to ground himself as best he could by focusing on the feeling of one beneath his fingertips. The way the edges pressed against his skin as he pushed the button through its assigned opening felt so much sharper than usual. And it didn’t help that he fumbled on the first go.

“Let me help you.”

The almost desperate plea from the voice across the room couldn’t have come from Diana. Surely. Not even the distinct accent and low, gravelly quality of it could convince him; she had never done such a thing, never sounded like that, even when he’d reduced her to ruins in bed.

The Diana he knew wasn’t so willing to offer assistance.

Wesker scoffed, perhaps a bit too harsh judging by the frown he received, and only roughly unfastened the next button on his shirt. “I do not need your help.”

Oh, how he wished that were true.

The bile burning the back of his throat begged to differ. And it was getting increasingly difficult to just keep his eyes open, like his lids were being weighed down by some invisible force.

The soft sound of a zipper made Wesker glance over to where Diana stood, only to watch as her skirt pooled around her feet. His hands paused what they were doing as his eyes lazily wandered over her, mesmerised by the way she was carefully rolling her tights down her long legs. It wasn’t until she moved on to her shirt and made quick work of the overpriced garment that he shook himself free of her spell. To say she was stunning was frustratingly accurate.

She stripped down to nothing but her panties before pulling his massive t-shirt over her tiny frame, adjusting her hair the minute it was over her head. That shouldn’t have made him smile to himself. The thought that she was cute shouldn’t have even crossed his mind in the first place.

It wasn’t that long ago when he’d considered her vain for constantly worrying about her appearance, and the first time she had worn one of his shirts he had thought she looked absolutely ridiculous – comical, even. It was only endearing now. He chose not to look too close into that change, convincing himself that the pain he was in was simply making him delirious.

Fuck, he just wanted to go to sleep. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to close this day and reset in the morning.

Despite struggling with each one, Wesker managed to finish undoing the buttons of his shirt and he weakly shrugged it off of his shoulders. It went no further than that, however, even with another attempt. The motion only made his stomach lurch, like waves roiling at sea.

A defeated sigh left him at that, but he was too tired to fight it. He must have made for a pathetic sight, one he wished there was no one present to witness.

That would’ve been grand, if he was so fortunate. Diana was standing in front of him again after dropping the pants in her grasp and crossing the distance in only a few quick strides. Before he could protest once more, she reached forward and laid her hands flat against his shoulders; cold fingers dipped beneath material, causing a shiver to run through his entire body, before she gently pushed the sleeves down his arms. It was unnecessary, but Diana held his forearm as she pulled the sleeve off by grasping the cuff, making sure to not turn his shirt inside-out.

He’d kiss her for that if his head didn’t feel like it was going to explode at any minute.

As soon as she freed him of his undershirt with the same meticulous care, Diana returned to what she had started earlier, before Wesker had stopped her. This time around he wasn’t nearly as tense when she took his face in her hands. In fact, it was the most at ease he had felt all day.

The chill of her palms provided some relief to the burning beneath his skin and the stabbing behind his eye. Even if it was only for a moment – until his cheeks warmed her hands and ripped that pleasant sensation away from him.

The only difference from when they’d found themselves in this position earlier was that Diana now leaned down to place a brief kiss on his lips. Wesker expected some level of warmth in her gaze once she pulled away, but he was only met with the look someone would have when scolding a child who had just hurt themselves on the playground.

If she was insinuating that he was being childish, they’d have a whole other problem on their hands.

Diana readjusted her hold to cradle his face in a more secure manner, fingers pressing firm against his skin. “I know you don’t want my help, but I will not see you make yourself sick because you are too stubborn to let someone look after you.”

Wesker glared up at her. Well, he hoped it was a glare, because whatever left him was all that he could muster in his state. From the way one of Diana’s brows raised, he sure did something, even if he had no idea if it was what he had intended.

They simply looked into one another’s eyes, holding the steady gaze for far too long – a familiar occurrence that usually took place when she challenged him. He supposed it was the other way around this time. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her help, it was that he didn’t want anyone’s. He thought himself above that, and he had managed being in this position countless times before. Even if on some of those days he had gone to sleep without being able to change his clothes.

Perhaps he needed some help.

“Fine.” Wesker relented with a long blink, and allowed himself to settle against her touch and relax some more.

That earned him a faint smile from Diana before she leaned in again. His eyes fluttered shut out of habit, but her lips didn’t connect with his own. Instead, they landed on his forehead, and his moment of ease faded away instantly, his hands balling into fists at his sides the longer she lingered there.

The pit in his stomach seemed to lessen when she withdrew and dropped to her knees again. But his head felt absurdly heavy without her hands holding it up. There was too much running through his mind, it was getting overwhelming. And it wasn’t just the hammering at the side of his skull. He wanted her but he tensed up at her touch, he needed her but he hated her assistance, he… He shouldn’t have invited her over tonight.

What had he been thinking?

Slender fingers curling into the waistband of his pants pulled Wesker from his thoughts, and he looked down at Diana, who had glanced up at the same time with that question in her eyes once more, asking if it was alright to continue. He simply nodded and she focused her attention back to what she was doing; he even lifted his hips to allow her to pull his pants off. Whenever she had dealt with the button and zipper eluded him.

He despised that – the feeling that he was no longer in control, losing his vigilance as the pain distracted him too much. It wasn’t just that though, the woman before him also played a part in causing his dazed state.

It was strange. Wesker couldn’t recall ever having a lover treat him like this. She wasn’t telling him that he was going to be okay, that she was there for him, or any of that superficial nonsense. She was just assisting him, doing whatever needed to be done so that he would be comfortable enough to hopefully get some sleep. It brought about another dreadful sensation to the mix already pestering him.

He lifted a hand and placed it over Diana’s when she reached for the t-shirt he had haphazardly dropped on the bed when the vertigo had hit him. She only looked down at his large hand enveloping hers for a moment, seeming to be the one stunned now. Then her eyes finally darted up to his face, and the steely determination in them from before melted away into that look that unsettled him far more.

“I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?” she asked, a slight trace of a chuckle clinging to the edge of it, as though she was almost embarrassed by her behaviour.

Wesker let out what was probably supposed to be a laugh in response, but little more than an exhale came out. “No.”

He paused as his next words died on his tongue. Or more accurately, they didn’t seem to want to leave his throat and even get that far. Diana was none the wiser and just rose to her feet, hand slipping free of his own and taking the t-shirt with it. Wesker chewed on the inside of his cheek for but a fraction of a second before he swallowed his pride.

A sharp inhale, then he lifted his head to look up at her. “Thank you.”

The genuine smile that crossed Diana’s face made him feel far too warm, like the sun was bearing down on his skin and reaching the deepest parts of him; it wasn’t quite a grin, teeth staying hidden, but the corners of her eyes crinkled and the indents on her cheeks deepened somewhat. She didn’t give him much of a chance to admire it though, too preoccupied with making sure she didn’t move him around too much as she carefully pulled the shirt over his head and helped each of his arms into the sleeves.

“I take it you have photophobia,” she said matter-of-factly. It was almost too clinical-sounding for Wesker’s liking, odd as that may seem. The term alone just left a bad taste in his mouth.

It was sort of his own fault, which he didn’t like owning up to. He’d always had trouble with his sensitivity to bright lights, but he was only meant to wear the tinted glasses Umbrella prescribed him when in the lab or outside. It had been the relief he felt without a migraine clawing at his senses that made him forget he was wearing them at all, and in turn, that developed into a habit of leaving them on for nearly all waking hours. His eyes adjusted to the conditions and it only worsened his sensitivity when he was without his sunglasses.

What he wouldn’t give to have his youthful eyes back.

When Wesker didn’t respond to her, Diana gently cupped his cheek. He tried to meet her gaze, but her eyes were focused just below, where her thumb was brushing across the dark circle marring his skin. Another thing he wished he could reverse time to prevent.

As useful as her help was, Wesker couldn’t understand why she was doing this, why she was being so… kind. So tender. She wasn’t a nurturer, or the type to worry about others. Maybe she did actually care for him, more than she let on. That didn’t feel right though – it just left him profoundly uncomfortable. His mind had to be playing tricks on him with how exhausted he was. That was the only reasonable explanation.

Diana’s thumb paused its repetitive motion and she simply held her hand in place. It was just for another second or two, but her touch lingered well after she departed, leaving a pleasant tingle across his skin.

The last obstacle in the way of Wesker being able to just collapse into bed and hope that his migraine was gone by the morning was the pair of pyjama pants Diana was bunching up so she could help him change into them easily. His tired limbs seemed to move on their own, slipping into each pant leg with little input from him, but the moment he lifted his hips as she tugged the fabric over them, another surge of intense pain hit him, causing him to keel over.

It felt as though his head was being split in two, torn apart from the inside out. He could have sworn the eye taking the brunt of the pressure was going to pop out of its socket at any minute. The only thing he could do was rest his head in his hands and endure it, pressing his thumbs down on the innermost part of his brows in hopes to alleviate some of the pain.

Diana shuffled closer and reached forward to place her hands on his thighs. They only ran up and down the sides of them in a gentle, reassuring motion while her mind scrambled to recall the locations of where she’d seen every thing that could possibly aid him in his house.

Her brain was being just as helpful as his was, because she drew a blank, too taken aback by the sight in front of her. The intimidating Albert Wesker slumped over in pain – that was something she thought she’d never see. He always seemed so… invincible. Nothing could tear down his powerful image and break through his composed demeanour this easily, and she couldn’t quite believe her eyes.

“Albert?” Diana’s voice was so soft he almost didn’t hear it, but his name always sounded so much nicer spilling from her lips compared to anyone else’s. “Do you need a bucket? Or…” She paused for a second then let out a frustrated huff. “Where do you keep your painkillers?”

“They don’t work,” Wesker grumbled.

Of course they don’t, she thought. That would’ve been too easy.

Or he was being overdramatic. So, she pressed on. “Not even a little bit?”

The crease between his brows only deepened, and he squeezed his eyes shut. So, that was a definitive no.

Diana pursed her lips as she tried to think of what else she could do for him. She wasn’t familiar with actually dealing with a migraine, even if she knew all of the treatments on paper; she was fortunate enough to never get them, and she couldn’t remember the last time someone around her had. She could list off every over-the-counter painkiller and triptan that was used to specifically target a migraine, but that would do her no good. She didn’t know what worked for him.

There had to be something though. Diana moved to stand and go take a look at what was in the medicine cabinet in his bathroom, but Wesker fumbled to take her hand in his own.

That made her freeze on the spot.

She had no doubt he was cursing himself for doing such a thing, for how it almost seemed to be a reflex more than a conscious decision. Or perhaps he just needed something solid to hold on to. Whichever it was, Diana didn’t care, so long as it helped. Even if the way he was gripping her hand hurt like hell; she’d been through far worse, so the possibility of a broken bone was something she would simply bear.

“Here,” she whispered while carefully pulling Wesker up to stand a moment after she did so herself. He stumbled on his feet when upright, but Diana was there – the pillar to hold him up and save him from toppling over.

The arm not reaching for his – right hand clasping his own – was wrapped around his back. It served to keep him stable as she slowly guided him over to what she had long since been acquainted with as his preferred side of the bed. This whole ordeal would’ve been much easier if he wasn’t leaning his entire body weight against her, but at least the trip wasn’t too lengthy.

Their hands only parted when Diana let go to lean forward and pull back the covers for him. Wesker really hoped she didn’t see how his fingers extended on instinct, as if to chase her touch. It was utterly pathetic. The urge to hold her was getting increasingly annoying, and he wished his body would just try to not embarrass him for once.

He couldn’t exactly exert much control over his innate reactions in his condition, but if Diana noticed, she didn’t say anything. That was one positive, he supposed.

And the fact that he managed to sit on the bed on his own without dragging her down with him. That probably would’ve earned him a bony shoulder digging into his chest, and that would just make matters worse.

Diana didn’t have to, but she went so far as to help him lie down as well. In a way that wouldn’t make his head feel as though someone had taken a hammer to it, that is. All slow movements and firm but gentle touches, manipulating his limbs for him as they felt too heavy for him to move on his own. And when she was done, one of her hands reached up to smooth back his hair.

That brought about that dreadful flutter in the pit of Wesker’s stomach. Or maybe that was the nausea. He couldn’t tell at this point.

Weary eyes tried their hardest to stay trained on the figure lingering in front of them. But they were unsuccessful. Wesker couldn’t keep them open any longer, not when everything was spinning around like this. He couldn’t even make out what the expression strewn about Diana’s features was.

It didn’t even matter, because her comforting touch left him before the sound of her feet padding across the floor reached his ears – quickly, like she was in some rush. Unnecessary, Wesker thought. He wasn’t exactly going anywhere, lying there in agony.

He didn’t think it would get this bad. It had been so long since he’d had a migraine like this. The nausea, visual disturbances, and all of that nonsense was typical for him, but the vertigo would come and go. Every time it showed itself he was caught off guard; there was no getting used to the feeling of his body swaying back and forth when he was lying perfectly still.

That wasn’t even the worst of his problems.

His mind decided it wanted to be louder than the rhythmic pulse behind his eye, yelling at him to the point where his thoughts felt like they were what was causing his pain by bouncing around and colliding with his skull.

Weak. Pitiful. Unacceptable. Over and over again.

How could he let someone see him like this?

Not just someone, but her, of all people. The woman who would roll her eyes when one of the researchers called off work, the one who boasted about never getting sick, the one who carried herself like nothing could strike her down. Just like he did. And yet here he was, reduced to rubble by a bit of pain.

That’s what was confusing Wesker. Why was Diana being so considerate of his plight? He had no doubt she’d rather be at the lab, or really anywhere else, doing something worthwhile instead of this. She should just leave, honestly. There was no reason for her to stick around; it wasn’t like she felt anything more for him beyond fellowship. Sherry was wrong in her assumption; Diana wasn’t his partner.

She may have been his, but he certainly wasn’t hers. No, she just enjoyed toying with him.

Now was not the time to fall into thinking about that rubbish again. He should’ve never asked her if she wished to stay the night. Or invited her over for dinner in the first place, for that matter.

“Alright.”

That pulled Wesker out of his head. It may have only been low, simply a hurried mumble under one’s breath, but that entrancing voice was unmistakable to him. His little pity party hadn’t lasted long – privacy breached once more as Diana returned from whatever she had been doing. He really did despise that she was witnessing him in this state; this wasn’t how he wished for her to find out he suffered from migraines.

With her hands full, Diana crossed his room with the stride of someone on a mission – full of purpose. First, she placed a glass of water down on his nightstand, then she used her now free hand to pull the bucket she’d found in the laundry out from under her other arm, where it was sitting awkwardly and digging into her side. 

Once she set it down beside the bed, she crouched in front of Wesker and placed the ice pack she’d wrapped in a tea towel in one of his hands, which he lifted to his forehead immediately. Diana had no idea if that would help him or not, actually. She preferred heat for pain relief; being sensitive to the cold always made her recovery with injuries from ballet growing up a horrid experience. Maybe she should have looked to see if he had a heat pack instead. That would help alleviate the tension in his neck and shoulders.

No. She had what she needed, she wasn’t going to run around and make an even bigger fuss. It would probably make him feel worse, anyhow.

The only thing left to do was close the curtains and block out any light that threatened to seep into his room, whether that be from the street lamps illuminating the suburb or the bright moon itself. The significance of his blackout curtains now made much more sense to her.

When she stood to round the bed, Diana had no idea why she took the hand by his hip in her own and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her thumb even brushed across the back of it for a second. There was just this odd need to show him that she was there, that she wasn’t going anywhere.

Even as she pulled the curtains shut, the thought didn’t leave her mind.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

Taking care to not make the mattress dip too much, Diana climbed into bed next to Wesker. The last thing she wished was for her getting comfortable to cause him any undue pain because it jostled him about. It was only then, when the covers brushed across her bare legs, that she realised she was only wearing his shirt – the pyjama pants he’d chosen for her long forgotten somewhere to the darkness.

Wesker decided to be rather ungrateful for her cautious approach, as he moved on his own. Diana couldn’t help how her eyes wandered over him, taking in every detail she could as he began to slowly roll over; his brows were knit together, deepening the lines between them, his lips were pulled down in a frown, and his eyes were screwed shut. It was rather obvious to her that he was trying to not bring up all of his dinner, and that sent her heart plummeting down into her stomach. What he was going through really sunk in then.

She wished she could just take the pain away, make it all disappear and guarantee it would never return.

It was an awful feeling, watching the man who had only ever given her these tiny glimpses of vulnerability do what looked to be such a practised motion, as though he had a tried-and-true method for dealing with his nausea for so long.

She felt helpless. But why did she even care? Countless lovers had come and gone, not ever leaving an imprint on her heart, but he seemed to tug at every string.

A loud thump, immediately followed by a rather feeble sound, pulled Diana from her thoughts. It wasn’t quite a groan, but not nearly a whimper either, and she never thought she’d hear such a sound come from Wesker.

While turning, the ice pack had fallen free of his weak grasp and landed on the floor, causing the disturbance. Diana opened her mouth to speak, to ask him if he wanted her to pick it up for him, but she didn’t get a chance; he curled up against her side all of a sudden, resting his head on her chest. That was something she wasn’t prepared for. He had never done that before, and she wouldn’t be surprised if he heard the way her heart sped up at the act.

Diana kept her eyes fixed on the ceiling, not daring to look down at him while her arm hesitated to wrap around his back. What was she even supposed to do? This was all new territory for her, for them, and… it was overwhelming. She didn’t know what to think; there was just this massive weight that had been dropped onto her chest. And it wasn’t Wesker, or the way he slung his arm over her waist.

It was that somehow, despite everything, he had managed to worm his way past all of her defences and make her actually care for him.

But friends do care for one another, yes? That is a fact. And it’s not like their dates meant anything; she had gone on many with casual partners in the past, and they were merely a formality. The longing she felt for him was nothing beyond physical.

The arm around her tightened its hold on her side, pulling her closer, and Diana looked down just in time to see a grimace twist Wesker’s features before he turned his head to rest his brow against her breastbone. Whatever he grumbled as he did so, Diana couldn’t quite make out what it was.

She chewed on her lip while bringing a hand up to the back of his head, gently cradling it and holding him close. She found herself hesitating again, unsure of the implications of her touch – how it could be perceived. But the urge grew too strong soon enough. Whatever was going on between them was just that, and she wasn’t going to complicate matters by overanalysing it.

Her fingers ran through his hair, pressing firm against his scalp in somewhat of a massage. Diana absolutely hated the feeling of pomade residue on her fingers, but seeing the way his shoulders relaxed eased her disgust, if only slightly. She’d just have to deal with the waxy feeling on her skin, she supposed. It was a selfish thought but she wished he’d at least managed to rinse out his hair. She knew he hated it as well, though; his routines were always so important to him.

Wesker let out a long exhale and Diana paused the motion, unsure if what she was doing was actually making matters worse. He didn’t say anything, but the way he held her closer while his legs tangled with her own made her stomach flip, as though she was the one who was going to be sick.

The arm around his back held him firm as she leaned in to press a kiss to the top of his head. She never wanted him to go through this again, and she would find a way to ensure that.

For now though, she made a note to have a look for his glasses first thing tomorrow, before he woke.

[apollo-zero-one]

Man I can't believe I had the chance to go to a performing arts school up through middle school and I fuckin quit after 6 months just because I got bullied. BRO YOUR HOMEWORK WAS POETRY!! YOU HAD TO PRACTICE DANCING TO COTTON EYE JOE AS YOUR BIG UNIT TEST. GYM CLASS HAD A CIRCUS UNIT!! YOU HAD A WHOLE DAILY CLASS ON IMPROV!!! YOU FOOL!! YOU ABSOLUTE IMBICILE!! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN A YOUTUBER!!! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN ONE OF THOSE TWEENAGERS GETTING LOADED BY MAKING SHITTY YOUTUBE SHORTS IN 2008-14!! But noooOoooOOOoo little miss Noellie (who WANTED TO GO!! who worked SO HARD and sent in an application essay and did an INTERVIEW to get in!!) couldn't handle disruptive classmates or little scuffles and petty grudges and general Attitude of the other students and cried to mommy to put her back in public school. I am EATING MY HAIR over what Could Have Been. I COULD BE SOMEONE'S ANNOYING YOUTUBER!! I could be a DISGRACED DISNEY CHANNEL STAR!! I could be an America's Got Talent winner! A mild to moderately successful comedian! I could be making short films!! But no no no precious thin skinned baby me heard a few new cus words and watched a teacher get heckled and begged to give up The Dream in favor of?? Quiet math tests?? I am such a fucking quitter I quit everything the second it gets too hard I always take the out as soon as it's offered what's my fucking damage.....

[thewritingpossum]

Forgot to mention it but there was a huge debate at my study group the other day about wether or not you could call yourself an historian after getting your bachelor degree and two of my favorite profs were defending opposing views and they were trying to keep it light and funny but you could see that they were getting lowkey heated and for a so-called academic I actually don't do that well with conflicts so I was like haaa mom and dad stop arguing!! T_T but anyway, my one german prof that some have called 'intimidating' went to see me me and my buddy who accidentally started the debate earlier (by joking that he was about to graduate and could finally call himself an historian), put his arms around our shoulders and kindly told us that we could call ourselves historians if we want so I guess that was some nice validation lmao

[nbstevonnie]

only you - good film

[ss-trashboat]

can i make another goal for 2023? cause like. i really want to write again.

it's been like. eight months since i've written anything. and seeing everyone else do it and making me feel things i just. wanna try again