#drown the pain of having exposed your true self :(

[pengujoon]

A LETTER TO MY BELOVED

content. megumi x fwb!reader, fluff, angst if you squint, megumi wants to learn to love and accept being cared for by others. megumi loves you and realises his feelings for you

a/n. wrote this in megumi's pov in mind, although there's no names specific here. it's a different writing style than what I usually do! there's absolutely no smut, but rather just the status of a fwb

To my beloved,

From the moment I met you, something changed within me — a shift in the tides of my heart that I couldn't fully comprehend. You were a tempest of contradictions, a captivating blend of fire and gentleness. And as much as I tried to resist, your presence burrowed deep into my thoughts.

I've always found it difficult to love — difficult to let someone in, to expose my vulnerabilities, when all I've known is people leaving. The pain of loss has carved scars on my heart, a tapestry of wounds that I've carried with me for so long.

When we began as friends with benefits, it was a choice born out of self-preservation. I told myself that this way, I wouldn't have to open my heart fully, wouldn't have to face the possibility of another person walking away from my life.

But every stolen moment, every touch that we shared, only served to deepen the bond between us. Your laughter became a melody that I craved, your smiles an anchor in the storm of my thoughts.

And though I denied it with every fibre of my being, something within me recognised that you were different — that what we had was more than just physical.

I found myself choosing you, over and over again. I found myself seeking comfort in your presence, in your touch, in the shared spaces where it was just you and me against the world.

Yet, I pushed back the truth. I refused to acknowledge the way my heart skipped a beat when you were near, how my pulse quickened at the mere thought of you. I convinced myself that I wasn't capable of love — that I was too broken, too scarred to deserve it.

But love doesn't always follow the rules we set for ourselves. It doesn't care about the walls we've built, the reasons we've concocted to keep it at bay.

I tried to fight it, tried to drown my feelings in denial. But as each day passed, it became impossible to ignore the truth — the truth that I had fallen in love with you, with your laughter that echoed in my dreams, with your touch that set my heart ablaze.

I saw the way you looked at me, a warmth in your eyes that spoke of something deeper, something that went beyond our physical connection. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to believe that you could love me — a person with a past stained by loss and pain.

But maybe, just maybe, it's time to rewrite the script—the story I've told myself for so long. Because every time you're near, every time our fingers brush against each other, it's as if the universe is telling me that love is worth the risk.

So, here I stand, torn between the fear of loss and the desire to be truly seen, truly loved. And as I watch you from afar, I can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, you could be the one who stays — a constant in a world that's always been transient.

And even though the words are hard to say, even though the fear lingers in the depths of my heart, I'll whisper it to the wind, to the stars above — the truth that's been waiting to be spoken:

I love you.

I always have this headcanon that megumi has a fwb because 1) no strings attached and 2) doesn't involve him romantically. and also I hc that he finds himself hard to be loved and thinks that all the people he loves will eventually leave him, and therefore got himself into his current predicament.

then he eventually came to a realisation that he actually loves his fwb and since he couldn't admit his feelings outright, he chose to write a letter to reveal his true feelings. (such a megumi move)

[unzchtig]

@wayan9an said:

only because, you like to play these strange psychological games with him but you wouldn't pretend not to notice when things were a little off. a gaze held a millisecond too long, was all it took before the blond finds himself in the RPD showers with you. wesker is pinned, cornered like a rat by a sly cat playing with its food. him, still fully clothed, soaked from the running water disrupting the sleek look he had all day. you can only give him the corner of a rather lopsided, knowing smirk. " caught you staring, captain, why not make the most of it while there is all of me to see and touch for yourself? " you take one of his hands, putting the palm against your cheek, before slowly letting it caress down your neck, chest ... letting it rest at your hip. so close, too close for Wesker, but if he wanted to and was bold about it ...

     attraction  wasn’t  easy  for  him.      since  his  school  days,  wesker  had  been  the  odd  man  out.      always  hyper-analyzing  his  reactions  with  other  boys  and  later  on,  with  the  men  he  worked  with  under  umbrella.      the  constant  inner  feeling  of  embarrassment  and  self  hatred  had  stricken  his  core,  keeping  him  from  living  as  his  true  self.      hale  didn’t  seem  to  have  this  problem.          their  dancing  around  each  other  had  caught  the  eye  of  the  entire  stars  team,  and  it  was  apparent  to  everyone  but  wesker  that  there  was  something  greater  at  hand.      albert  had  tried  so  hard  to  keep  it  a  secret,  his  own  proclivities  wrapped  up  in  a  neat  little  bow  in  his  mind.      unfortunately  his  total  lack  of  a  girlfriend  and  protection  over  his  personal  life  hadn’t  been  lost  to  his  teammates.      especially  the  one  who  is  holding  him  under  the  showerhead.          the  cold  wetness  of  it  is  a  shock  to  his  system,  blue  eyes  blown  wide  and  pupils  even  wider  behind  the  darkened  lenses  that  are  now  covered  in  water-droplets.      there  is  a  simmering  rage  ⸺  how  did  hale  catch  him  off-guard  like  this  ?      able  to  grab  the  captain  and  force  him  into  the  showers  with  such  ease.      wesker  was  going  to  pretend  that  it  didn’t  turn  him  on,  behind  that  white-hot  anger  that  mingled  with  his  thoughts  of  lust.      hale  speaks,  but  the  words  drown  out  as  the  captain  watches  his  own  movements,  pale  skin  against  pale  skin,  his  thin  fingers  and  veined  hand  caressing  along  hale’s  neck,  his  chest,  and  before  it  could  reach  the  sergeant’s  hip,  wesker  looks  up  again,  cheeks  red  and  brows  furrowed  in  confusion.      albert  had  been  staring,  hadn’t  he  ?      a  little  too  long,  he  hadn’t  meant  to  linger;  wesker  had  let  his  own  wants  override  the  need  for  his  personal  protection.      exposed,  so  freely  and  openly  to  the  other  man  to  take  control  of.          ❝  why  are  you  doing  this  ?  ❞      the  blond  speaks  softly,  only  loud  enough  for  the  sergeant  to  hear.      the  opposite  moves  closer,  pressing  his  body  to  albert’s  uniformed  form,  and  the  captain  realizes  ⸺  he’s  never  been  this  hard  in  his  life.      there’s  no  running  from  this.      take  control.      albert  reaches,  finally,  fingers  wrapping  around  hale  expertly  and  giving  a  light  squeeze,  his  opposite  hand  reaching  to  peel  the  sunglasses  from  his  eyes,  exposing  the  painful  blue  that  has  spent  so  much  time  analyzing,  fantasizing,  undressing,  and  looking.      finally,  keeping  his  thoughts  from  seeping  out  of  his  brain,  albert  cranes  his  neck,  lips  seeking  the  wet  expanse  of  hale’s  jaw;  eyes  fluttering  shut  and  tongue  reaching,  too,  to  taste.

[aries-angel]

A Love Letter to June

You’ve been filled to the brim with nuance. About to spill over with love, gratitude, intuitive insights, and deeper meanings.

My heart stretched to fill new crevices in the cavern of my chest. It’s as if the Universe turned a rusty tap and truest love began rushing out. We’ve joked “when it rains, it pours” and my Goddess, did it.

Because of you, I’m diving deeper into the liminal space between past and present.

My old coping mechanisms have been turned upside down and poured out onto my bedroom floor. Forced to analyze why and where they’ve come from. Sifting through with gentle curiosity. Which do I wish to pack with me? What has taken a trauma response’s place seemingly unbeknownst to me except subconsciously?

I wish to scream into the void:

“Sorry I haven’t replied, we’re grieving the loss of new and old souls. We’re growing; the stretch marks still shades of pink and purple, matching the summer sunsets on our walks. We’re bidding my home state a tender farewell under this Cancer sun. We’re pulling all nighters connecting to loved ones; some still tethered to earth and some (not so) far away. The early morning shades of blue filtering through the curtains as we yawn and stretch. We’re celebrating the tiniest slivers of hope. The smallest victories are keeping us afloat.”

My beloved, you showed me just how fragile our lives are. I’m walking across bridges I thought were burned or lost in the fires of my rage and hurt. I’m giving myself permission to FEEL my rough drafts in the first place. To whisper inner truths and knowing. That alone is…otherworldly. Accessing that brought me to tears. “You don’t have to be afraid.” – Hunger, Florence + the Machine. I’m learning boundaries - not as a matter of limitation, but abundance and deeper connection. I’m unearthing my power. My Self. Breaking apart the effigies of myself. Crying into my love’s shoulder. Our tears intermingling. Holding each other through the pain, joy, and all that falls between. “Everything I thought I knew has fallen out of view.” I’m connecting with intuition and some days, I have felt as if I’m drowning in inputs. The nuance is I’m really just learning how to swim. “I wouldn’t give this to you if I believed you couldn’t handle it.” and that…has been the warm hug wrapping around my torso, squeezing tightly.

When you love someone so deeply, their pain is your pain. Their joy is your joy. Unfiltered, unabridged, unconditional. Trusting and humbling. Accountability and humility. Exposed and enamored.

I no longer wish to speak in absolutes about my future. (Did I ever?) They never made sense to me and this month has unveiled all the ways they don’t serve my path.

I will say this with the confidence you’ve bestowed: my life has been forever changed by my chosen family. I’m experiencing connection to others souls that I could not have fathomed in years prior.

Each sunrise has brought me a new perspective.

I’m feeling everything I needed to. My sensitivity is my strength. And my lens, my art. I’m uncovering how I’ve been acting as if I were dead. (Thanks 12th house profection year 🤪)

But, you urge me to face that I’m not dead yet. Actually, I’m more alive than ever. My echoing heart beat, goosebumps dancing along my skin, chills running up and down my body. Shuttering with emotion.

June: death, beginnings, remembering, celebrations, longing, abundance, and–my tried & true–rebirth reversed.

High As Hope - Florence + The Machine.

“Those heavy days in June when love became an act of defiance.”

[bookshelfdreams]

Hi, what are your thoughts about all these fine people drinking when they are separated from those they care about? For me it's sad on a level I can't quite grasp but seems to be connected to how I felt during the past two years (even though I only drink when I have company).

hi! haha, i didn't think anyone would actually take me up on this, thank you <3 Original post by @amuseoffyre here

Throughout the show, alcohol is used as a shorthand for loneliness. Of course there's social drinking; but if a character over-indulges, it's usually to show they feel isolated and fail to make connections.

The very first person we ever see drunk is, iirc, Mary in ep4, which is an interesting choice considering this is a show about pirates.

We only see her take a few sips, but when she speaks and stands up it's pretty obvious that she's rather tipsy. This is of course a comedy stereotype (day-drinking wine mom lol) but it's not played for laughs. She's sitting at a table with Stede but they're not enjoying a glass of wine together; she's drinking because she's frustrated and isolated in her marriage (she and Stede can't communicate etc etc).

The other, noticeably drunk person is, of course Calico Jack, who I don't thing we ever see sober (only hungover). When he first appears he can barely stand straight, and it only gets vaguely better; he is always drinking. Even at breakfast.

Now the interesting thing is here, while that could technically qualify as social drinking - neither Jack nor Ed drink alone! - it's still in line with my thesis. watch me make this work

If this show has a central theme, I would say it is the discovery and acceptance of the authentic self. It is about playing roles and conforming to expectations; and how, to achive happiness, you have to break through that. Only once you find, accept and love yourself can you build the life you truly want.

And alcohol is an obstacle to that, quite literally. It lowers inhibitions; it makes you do dumb shit; it changes how you behave and how you are perceived. Calico Jack is unable to function without it; his true, authentic self is buried under alcoholism at all times. As this really smart meta said, he may be fun at parties but you don't want to be there for the hangover.

Jack is completely hidden behind the pirate persona. Overindulging in drink is a shorthand for this lifestyle, and by drawing Ed into that he's drawing him away from the people who genuinely care about him. But he's not offering a genuine connection in return; he says it himself.

"Pirates don't have friends. We're all just in various stages of fucking each other over."

The image, the persona is what's important. Ed may have built relationships with people who care for him, but none of them are fearsome, badass pirates. They're losers and nerds, and they don't make him look cool, and are thus worthless (or that's what Jack desperately needs Ed to believe).

Something similar happens with Stede at Mary's art show in ep10, when all those men buy him drinks and want him to tell stories. Again, there's the overindulgence: look at all those mugs on the table.

For reference, this is what the table looks like when they invite Stede over:

And then this exchange happens. Someone: "And what's Blackbeard like?" Stede: "He's absolutely lovely."

"Oh, and of course, a bloodthirsty killer!"

They, too, don't care about the real Edward Teach, they care about the badass pirate Blackbeard. They don't care about Stede's real experience, they care about the story they want him to be for them. This time, the persona is projected onto the person from outside, instead of built up and maintained by the person themselves, but the message is still the same:

To conform to expectations is to be isolated.

To not be your true, authentic self is to be isolated.

To be your true, authentic self, however, can be hard, and scary, and painful. The persona is there for a reason; it lets you hide and deny all your insecurities and vulnerabilities. It lets you forget that you long to be loved. It protects you from the worst pain of all: rejection.

Alcohol is just another crutch to hide your true, authentic, messy and uncool self. The self you have to expose to get people to connect with you, even at the risk of rejection.

This is why it makes me sad that the sweet lads take refuge in alcohol when they're seperated from the people they care about :(

[spade-riddles]

Submission: I wanna talk a bit about Taylor representing herself as two girls over the years. How she represented her ‘duality’.

One to entertain the crowd while the other hides away. One is also shiny and bold while the other is shy and shaken.

The first time was in the You Belong With Me music video. The popular, bold girl that is chasing the boy, while the other shy, shaken girl is hovering behind. Not fully hidden and not fully seen.

In the YBWM MV the two girls were against each other, but after more time, they became a team. The shiny version is protecting the fragile one.

In 1989, we see it again in the OOTW MV. Taylor meets another version of herself after facing, storms, wolves, forests, snow and falling off a cliff and almost drowning. The beauty of the representation is that it collides with the pain of being in a bad relationship. It’s like she blends the pain of having to be two people in front of the public while almost losing your authentic hidden self in the process, with the feeling of losing yourself in a bad relationship, not knowing who you are anymore.

She faces the impossible to hang on to her true self, to not lose the girl she hides from everyone. The girl whom she can’t be. Playing a role could overcome your life to the point of being that fake version of yourself even when you’re alone, almost believing you could be this girl when doors are closed. But she doesn’t want to.

Then in Ready For It, we meet her again. The glass-box girl. The naked girl. The fragile yet authentic one.

The Taylor in the cloak is vicious and bold. She is brave and dark. She is what people see Taylor after 2016. Even Taylor’s “other shiny version” before Reputation kept her softness to a degree, but after 2016 she became a bit more tough. But also this is how Taylor thought she should be in her darkest moments. She should stop being soft.

The one in the glass-box is naked. She is exposed even though she is in the box, the box is transparent. She is visible, yet she isn’t. Being naked equals being vulnerable and this is how she sees herself, her true self. At the end she chooses to beat her “public” self. Which gives me hope that her plan isn’t to hide forever. Also the fact that the cloak Taylor turns out to be a robot when she gets destroyed.

Another two Taylors are present in Delicate. Yet here, Taylor reminds people that she is still the soft, sensitive girl she’s always been. She can’t be the dark, thick-skinned girl she thought she should be in her darkest moments. Which makes me feel like she is more able to embrace the two versions of herself to some extent.

The Delicate MV might be the most important want because the moment Taylor touches the mystical, magical note, she disappears. Which has the same golden halo present in Willow MV and the invisible golden string.

The moment Taylor touches the paper which equals, in my opinion, love, she has to disappear. She can’t be visible cause when she loves she has to hide herself. She has to hide that version of herself.

And while the magic of love and being loved makes her dance her heart out, she ends up being devastated and sad cause at some point, she wants to be seen. She desires living like everybody else. When the sudden rush of love fades, she laments being invisible and alone with her feelings.

When the women in the elevator looks in the mirror, for a second she is so happy that finally someone saw her. But she didn’t. And then she gets sad again.

Also like OOTW, she goes through so many places and stages but THIS TIME to find her love not herself. Which is almost hopeful, that she is already at peace with herself to some extent, she found who she is and is more content with that fact, that at this point, finding her lover is what makes life complete and full.

We see in The Man how Taylor is present in the end of the MV as the director. Directing herself playing a “man”. Which just represents for me Taylor is the mastermind behind her life while she does everything from a “male perspective”. It also is the same thing, two versions of herself.

What also goes with that, is in the Lover MV, there is 7 versions of Taylor, the story of a lifetime, despite being Taylor Swift, the only place she can show her true self is at her house. The 7 versions are the true authentic Taylor. The shiny Taylor isn’t present, simply cause she is home.

In Willow, it isn’t as obvious, it’s in fact a bit different cause when Taylor is locked in the glass-box, it isn’t the shiny Taylor, it is the authentic Taylor that’s why she panics. Which also makes me believe she is blurring the line between both, trying to make them both collide.

And now we come to the the Midnights duality. The Anti-Hero MV.

It’s the first time Taylor patently admits that there is two versions of her. She shows it to the entire world that she is two people. One is her public self and the other is her true self.

But this time the authentic true Taylor is feeling haunted and lonely even in her own house. Which fits the theme of Dear Reader “if you knew where I was walking, to a house not a home, all alone, cause nobody is there”. I believe that this is the time where she locked herself away and decided to hide from everyone around 2016, OR The Great War time.

But also the house could be representative of Taylor’s head and how her brain works. And how this who scene could only be her having a war in her mind, fighting voices from the past and the voice of her own self (shiny Taylor).

In Anti-Hero Taylor isn’t happy either way. Not being her shiny self or her true self. And this is might be a relapse, the darkest moment of her life when her career and success isn’t making up for her hiding. Hiding isn’t being tolerated even when success happens and her career thrives.

Which reminds me of the moment in MA when she says she was at the top of the mountain and said “now what”. Was it all worth it?

The in Bejeweled she does the same thing. She is two versions of herself. The first Taylor cleaning Scott’s shit all those years, locking herself in a cabin, serving others and not herself. Then the shiny Taylor.

This version of the shiny Taylor isn’t as toxic as the one in Anti-Hero which in my opinion means that Taylor in a constant fight with those two versions of herself. In the talent show, she wins through her talent, she gets the castle, but also she swings between the idea that her art is her way of confessing her truth but also it’s a curse cause it’s the reason why she is hiding in the first place.

[donutloverxo]

Good little wife

Note - Inspired by a request I got long ago and written for the happy hoelidays challenge I'm cohosting with my sister hoes @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18 . I used the prompts two idiots in love + Character A loves Christmas. Character B hates it. A melts Bs cold heart Dividers by @firefly-graphics .

Summary - Your husband makes up to you for being a Grinch and a meanie to you throughout your marriage.

Warnings - 18+ only, smut(m/f), dub con, older man/younger woman, arranged marrige, leaking nudes, daddy kink, blood play, virginity/innocence kink, loss of virginity, virgin reader, painful sex, misogyny, mob activities.

Pairing - Mob!Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 8k

“You look beautiful, cookie,” your mother raved, pressing her lips to your cheek, “He’s a lucky man.”

You only hummed. Staring at your refection, seeing someone you didn’t even recognize.

Your white lace dress somewhat conservative, still really pretty, something you would’ve been more than happy to wear if your circumstances weren’t so depressing.

You almost let out a sardonic laugh, you didn’t get to choose your husband but at least you chose your wedding gown.

“It’ll be alright,” your mother picked at your hair, noticing your evident sadness, you’ve never been one to hide how you feel anyway, “you’ll learn to love him. He’s very successful.”

“I always thought ‘money doesn’t make you happy',” something she had said to you so many times over the years.

“That’s just a fairy tale. People fall out of love, run out of things to talk about, men cheat, in the end all that’s left is how well he can provide for you,” she stated.

You checked your phone as soon as you could, going through your messages to see if your boyfriend, or rather your now ex boyfriend, had sent you anything. You still naively hoped that he'd come on a white horse and sweep you off and away, so you wouldn’t have to marry someone you’ve else. So you wouldn’t have to give up your freedom forever and just be someone’s wife.

But you saw nothing. He hadn’t talked to you, not since your father found out about you both. Since he was from a family your daddy hated with a passion, and you were supposed to as well, your father made you cut all times with him. Locked you in your room in a timeout till you came to your senses.

After over three weeks he came to you, telling you how he was ready to forgive you and move on. You were so happy. For a minute you let yourself believe that this was your father, he loved you unconditionally, of course he'd set aside whatever vain feud he has and let you be with your love.

All your hopes were crushed when he told you he had selected a husband for you whom you have to marry in just a month. That you had to drop out of college since you wouldn’t need that degree anyway.

You always did believe that he had your best interests at heart, you wanted to believe it this time as well, but you just couldn’t.

Cringing inwardly when he kissed your cheeks, “You look beautiful,” he told you, cold eyes staring at you, “Don’t try anything stupid. Andrew is a good man,” he looped your arm in with his.

“He’s more than a decade older than me,” you argued, biting your lip as he squeezed your arm to warn you.

You slapped a fake smile on your face, walking down, one step after another as everyone looked at you in awe.

This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life...

But when you looked at Andy waiting for you at the alter you felt nothing but grave anxiety which made your teeth clatter, his palms joined together at his front, he did look handsome with his tux and neat beard. You have had a crush on him for a long time but you’ve never even had a real conversation with him, you didn’t know him. No one did.

Your heart filled with dread as your father handed you over to Andy, patting him on his shoulder, “Take good care of her.”

“I will,” Andy smiled.

You weren’t really there, maybe your body was but your soul had left you to maybe make the whole ordeal less painful. The priest read the vows asking you if you were ready to take him as your husband forever.

“I do,” since you had no other choice.

“I do,” he repeated.

You felt a shiver jolt up your spine when his fingers grazed yours, putting the thin silver band on your finger before lifting your veil to press his lips to yours, giving you a chaste, barely there kiss as everyone cheered you on.

The rest of the evening was a blur, you could barely register what had happened, everyone sweetly calling you ‘Mrs Barber’ only making you more nervous.

Andy however, was cordial and formal as always, shaking their hands and thanking them.

Since you hadn’t really taken any dance lessons you were left to simply wing it with him at your first dance. With your clammy hands in his you tried to match his pace as he lead you, bumping into his feet with yours more than once.

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Relax,” making you shudder.

You looked up at him, he had barely said two words to you but your grandmother often said ‘Eyes are the windows to the soul’.

And Andy’s eyes were so... kind, like a blue ocean you could happily drown in. He almost looked at you as if he were fond of you.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad...

You didn’t really expect Andy to carry you over the threshold, that was just a silly little fantasy you’ve always had and you knew he’d never indulge you in it but he didn’t even hold the door open for you.

You looked around his condo, so grey and boring, looked like it was out of a magazine catalogue, you felt so out of place there.

Naturally, you followed him to his bedroom, watching him wake his coat off, followed by his cuffs as he rolled his sleeves up.

You went over what you wanted to say in your head, how do you tell your husband that you’re a virgin, on your wedding night--that was something your grandmother never gave you advice on. You could’ve used her wisdom then.

With your mouth suddenly dry you tried to speak as he poured himself a drink, “Um... I’ve...”

“What?” he looked at you, quirking a brown brow up.

“Nothing,” you shook your head as you took a seat on the edge of the bed. “This is a nice house.”

“You can take the guestroom,” he said bluntly.

“What?”

“You can take the guestroom. I’ve already put all your bags there, you can decorate it however you like but don’t touch anything else.”

“But I...I’ve never heard of husband and wife sleeping in different rooms.”

“That’s true, it is unusual. This is not a normal marriage though, is it?” His tone so frustratingly patronising, as if he was talking to a child.

You’ve never really been appreciated for your mind, women never are--not where you come from, even your love Alex only ever thought of you as a ‘pretty face’. But Andy didn’t need to spell it out for you, “You... don’t want me...” you realised.

He only scoffed. He’d never been one for long term relationships, he had tried but he could never give himself to another person, women often called him emotionally unavailable, his demanding and dangerous job did contribute a lot to that, but more than that it was his unwillingness to change. He was self aware enough to know that but he didn’t need anyone else. He didn’t want to be tied down or to have a nagging immature wife.

“But why...” you wondered. Sure, you weren’t thrilled to marry him, but now you had accepted it and wanted to make the best of your new life. You thought he wanted the same.

“Why would I want you?” he spat. “ You’re nothing but a spoilt rich girl who’s had everything handed to her. Who was ungrateful and stupid enough to fraternize with the enemy.”

You let out a shaky exhale, looking at him with teary eyes, “I loved him...”

“You don’t know the first thing about love,” he rolled his eyes.

“He loved me too! But I’m willing to put that behind me. I made a vow to you.”

“You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” you frowned.

He took his phone out of his pocket, opening his gallery to show you the compromising pictures you had sent to your ex, “He shared that with everyone, it was all just a ploy to humiliate your father.”

You gasped, taking his phone in your trembling hand, your breasts exposed as you shyly looked at the camera. You had flat out refused to send him a nude when he asked for it but then he threatened to break up with you, to go after your best friend, even called you a prude because you hadn’t slept with him. At the moment you felt as if you had no choice but to do it...

“He wouldn’t,” you sobbed.

“And because of your stupidity I had to marry you since no one else would ever want you,” he said. But then regretted it as you just started crying harder. He thought of maybe trying to console you but what would he even say?

He took the phone from you before you could even think of deleting the photos. He used them to pleasure himself almost every night. Maybe he was an idiot, he could have the real thing, yet he was pushing you away, “Go to your room,” he told you which made you sob even moreso.

You looked up at him, begging him for a hug, for some sort of comfort or sympathy but his face was cold and harsh. Finally gathering your wits you went to the other room, ready to cry yourself to sleep.

No matter how beautiful you were, you were still thrusted upon him, you didn’t love him, you never could because you never even had a choice

“Perfect,” you beamed, setting down the chicken pot pie you had just cooked up.

Your grandmama had always told you that a wife should be a cook in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom. So that her man would never stray.

And while you hadn’t had a chance to be a whore for Andy... something that you were looking forward to, you hoped the fresh home cooked meal, the holiday season and decorations you had spent the past few days working on would put him in the mood. To maybe accept you as his wife.

For the past six months you had tried everything, making him breakfast, packing his lunch, offering him massages, even trying to help him with his work but he was always so cold to you.

You feared that this is how it will be forever. He would never love you, not the way you’ve always loved him. Even when he was so cruel towards you.

But you were nothing if not resilient. So you said chuck it and went all out. Decorating your whole house, with a real tree for the past few days while Andy was out on a work trip for thanksgiving. Maybe you could surprise him and he’d realise just how much he lucked out with you.

You even went with a more risqué outfit than you usually would. Your little emerald green skirt with pleats was a bit too short and impractical for the cold winters but you were going to stay inside anyway. It was topped off with a tight burgundy blouse and a push up bra which made your girls look enticing and some red pumps.

With a pumpkin pie for dessert in the oven, your salads done and the gingerbread flavored candles lit up you were good to go.

So you sat on the couch, watching 'A Christmas story' for the hundredth time to kill time till he gets home and to distract your nervous mind.

After ninety minutes the movie was over but Andy still wasn’t home. You tried calling him but it kept going to voicemail.

Frustrated, but determined to follow through with your ‘Seduce Andy Barber’ plan you put on another movie, chewing your lip till it bled as you impatiently waited for him.

Soon it was midnight, your food got cold and the rumbling in your tummy became more prominent so you decide to eat your dinner, put the leftovers in the freezer and cut your losses.

You were almost done with your dishes when your husband coming into the apartment, turning around you saw him hang his coat on the back of the chair and plomp down on it. He groaned, pulling the sleeves of his shirt up to reveal his bulky forearms.

“You’re home,” you said, taking off your apron so he could see your little get up.

He didn’t smile at you like you expected he would, he didn’t say ‘Good job’ like you thought he would. He certainly didn’t look like he wanted to bend you over the dining table and take you then and there. He simply frowned at you. Looking at you as if your mere existence offended him.

“I told you; you were allowed to decorate your room however you liked. Not the whole apartment,” he growled, rubbing a hand over his face.

“What? I did it for you... I thought you would like it, ” you stood there, dumbfounded, shifting from one foot to another, “You don’t like Christmas.” You realised.

“No, I don’t. Christmas isn’t all fun and jolly for everybody. I’ve never had anyone to celebrate it with,” he did you a once over, his pants tightening uncomfortably as he took in your little ensemble.

He had never had a single good Christmas in his whole life. He’d usually spend it either working or drinking. But now, he had you, his good little wife who had gone out of her way to do all this just for him.

He could kiss your red lips then and there, finally do what he’s been wanting to go for the past few months and make love to you, eat the delicious meal you had made him because he was fucking starving.

But then he realized how easily you could be taken away from him. How this was all so fickle.

“Do you want a divorce?” he crossed his hands over his chest, as if daring you to give a wrong answer, “If you do, I’ll give you one right now.”

“I - ” you strutted, you didn’t really know, “Daddy would never let that happen.” To which he scoffed.

Your father would kill you both if this marriage failed. He knew that, why would he still be willing to risk everything?

“Where are you going?” you asked when he got up from the chair.

“To my room, to sleep,” he sighed.

He knew what you would say, he knew you were daddy’s little girl who’d die before disappointing her father, which was solely why you were with him, and yet he let himself fall for you and get hurt.

You tugged on his shirt, ready to beg him to at least eat the meal you made for him but then you frowned, inhaling the feminine perfume from his shirt, mixed with his own Cologne, you took a step back, your eyes brimming with tears as you realised he might’ve been with another woman.

While you were home slaving away to make everything perfect for him.

Your father had a handful of mistresses, a few of them younger than you. Your mother knew, all wives know and look the other way. That was how it was supposed to be. It was how you make marriages last...

And your poor beaten heart could take his coldness towards you, it absolutely could not bear him being with another woman. Your father had always praised him for being loyal, and it was one of the things you loved about him...

“Where were you?” you sniffled to keep the tears at bay.

“I was out working. So I could pay for your shopping sprees.” He spat.

You gasped, “I haven’t gone shopping in months! I only did now for Christmas!”

“That tree better be down by the time I wake up. You can out all that crap in your bedroom if you like. I do not what to see it.” He said gravelly, before slamming his door shut.

Something was horribly wrong.

Andy came home to an empty, cold house. You weren’t there to greet him like you usually are, in fact you hadn’t been for the past few weeks. He could hear the TV from your room, some kind of musical playing.

He checked the kitchen for some food, you used to make dinner every night, rave about your love for cooking and baking, but now it seemed that you lived on poptarts and McDonald’s.

He knocked on your door, to ask if you wanted some of the alfredo he was cooking up, also to maybe get you to have dinner with him.

Ever since he had married you, he had such a beautiful companion to have dinner with. To watch silly romcoms with, someone who waited for him to come home, called him all worried when he was late, asked him how his day was

It’d break his heart to say good night to you, you’d give him those puppy eyes, fluttering your lashes as if begging him to invite you to bed with him.

He wanted to ask you to come, to feel what it would be like to snuggle up with your soft body, to smell your hair, to finally fuck you, but he’d just go away to sleep in his cold bed with a heavy heart. Making do with his hand as he thought of you, it wouldn’t feel nearly as good as you would but it would have to do.

“Can I come in, honey?” he asked.

Letting himself in when no answer came from you. You were lying on your bed, blankets draped over you, your eyes trained on the television. He looked around your room, he had only been there a couple of times, he had expected to see some kind of winter wonderland since you were such a fan of Christmas.

But it looked just how it usually did... pale pink walls, a queen sized bed, a small closet and a dresser and a vanity. No tree or fairy lights or nut crackers.

He leaned against the door frame. “Did you have dinner?” He wanted to know.

You made some sort of unintelligible noise; which could mean anything. So he asked, “Would you like some pasta? I can’t make it as good as you do but I’ll try.”

“No.” You answered. Still not even looking at him.

“It’s Christmas Eve, do you want to go celebrate with your family?”

You shook your head in response. “No, I think I’ll just stay here.”

He had stolen your brightness and sunshine away, tainting you with his darkness. “Stop it,” he scolded, switching off the TV and standing in front of you to make you listen to him. “Get ready, I’m dropping you off at your fathers. You’re not spending Christmas in bed.”

“What difference does it make?” you huffed.

“Get ready. Right. Now.” He ordered, pulling your blanket away from you.

“No!” you whined. Sitting up, your face heating up with a simmering rage you had harbored for months. “Why do you even care? Do you want to get me out of the house so you could spend Christmas with her?!”

“Who’s her?” he furrowed his brows.

“Your mistress!” you yelled, looking around for something you could hurt him with, you grabbed a hold of your Mrs Bunny, your cute pink stuffie and threw it at his face. “I’m not going anywhere. And you’re not bringing her in to my house!” You said, throwing another stuffie at him which he caught with his hand.

“Honey,” he said, as if he was so disappointed with you, for catching him in his lies and deceit. “I don’t have a mistress. Where would I even find the time for one? All those late nights were spent at the office or in meetings.”

He would be the world’s biggest idiot to get a mistress when he had a wife like you waiting for him at home. A wife he hadn’t even so much as even kissed... given how pouty and tempting your lips looked, he didn’t know how he resisted for so long.

“Don’t call me honey,” you puffed out your cheeks, “And I don’t believe you.”

“Well, what can I do to make you believe me?”

You sighed, laying back down on the bedding, “There’s not much you can do. Except leave me be. I just want to sleep this Christmas away.”

He had to do something to get your spirits up. And since you has thrown away your old decorations he ran to every store in the town, waiting in the queue for hours, calling in as many favors as he could to get some new ones.

While he wasn’t able to get a real Christmas tree, he got a fake one which was a bit smaller than the one you had put up but not all that bad.

You had decorated the apartment with the traditional red, greens and golden he decided to go with a soft pastel pink theme. Hoping that you would like it and forgive him.

He had gotten you couple of gifts, a little babydoll he saw on the internet, it was pink and sexy, he thought of you the moment he saw it. Ordering it for you but he never really gathered enough courage to ask you to wear it. He wrapped it up for you in some festive paper, tying a ribbon around it.

He decided to get as many gifts for you as he could so the tree wouldn’t look so depressing, a Tiffany’s set, an advent calendar from a make up company he knew you liked, a box of cookies and one of chocolates, a new apron with floral patterns and frilly trimmings, some cozy socks, and a surprise gift he had been saving for you.

Looking around the living room, while it wasn’t as good as what you had done with the place he was still proud of what he could pull off in just a couple of hours.

He called out your name before knocking and entering, switching on your bedside lamp he sat next to you, stroking your hair, “Wake up, angel.”

“Seriously, stop it with the petnames,” you said, your voice groggy from sleep and irritated. Because he had only ever said your name with contempt before.

“I’m not going to stop, honey. You’re my wife, I can call you whatever I like.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled, rubbing your sleep away from your eyes.

“I have a surprise for you.” He smiled at you.

And while he had certainly smiled at you before that, when you had said something funny or silly (which you usually did just to see him smile), this one seemed so much brighter and warm.

“What is it?” you sat up. Still a bit crossed with him but excited to see what surprise he had for you.

“You have to come into the living room for that, and promise to stop being a Grinch,” he said, bopping your nose.

You scoffed incredulously, “I’m being a Grinch?! You were the one who made me take everything down in the first place!”

“I know, honey, and I am sorry for that. Hopefully I can make it up to you.” He winked.

You combed your hair, splashing some water on your face and then following him out to see what he had in mind for you.

You all but gasped at the tree in the middle of your living room, so beautiful, the soft glow of the fairy lights illuminated the room, little festive trinklets all over the room.

He had got you a pink stocking with sparkling silver hearts on it. His was a normal red one with ‘Andy' written with a sharpie or a pen. You giggled at that.

“You like it, honey?” he asked.

You nodded, observing the ornaments on your tree, “I do. Thank you so much, Andy. It’s so beautiful, I don’t think anyone’s ever done something so grand for me.”

Your rave gave him the courage to out his hand over your waist, pulling you into him, “I know this doesn’t make up for everything, but it’s start.”

“Yes! I think... I’d like a fresh start,” you beamed up at him

He excused himself to make some hot chocolate for you both, handing you a mug with little heart shaped marshmallows and sprinkles on top of it. You didn’t even realise how you ended up snuggled up next to him on the couch, Elf playing on the TV which he shockingly had never seen before.

“You know... for someone who hates Christmas so much you did a pretty good job saving it!” you giggled, kissing his bearded cheek.

“Well...” he looked down at you, wiping away the mustache the hot chocolate gave you before sucking his thumb off, “I don’t hate it anymore, because I’m not alone,” he said, his thumb pulling on your plump bottom lip.

“Um...” you face heated up as looked away, “You got me gifts!” you screamed a bit overzealous to change the subject, “Can I open one now? Please?! I’m just so excited!”

“Sure,” he murmured, a bit salty that he didn’t get the kiss.

He knelt next to you on the carpet as you pinked one up, shaking it next to your ear, scrunching your nose up so cutely as you tried to decipher what it was.

“Mmm... I can’t tell...”

“Why don’t you just open it?” he asked as his hand caressed your bare thigh, finding himself unable to keep his hands off of you now that he has you.

You ripped at the wrapping paper, opening the box to reveal the skimpy baby pink lingerie he had got you.

You pulled it out of the box and then started stammering, unable to form words once you realised what it was. “Is this... um..”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, it’s very cute and nice. Do you, want me to wear it for you?”

“If that’s what you want,” he said casually and then shrugged but then regretted it as your face fell and you let. He wasn’t used to half-assing things if he was going to tell you his true feelings, he had to go all out.

Taking a deep breath, “I have to tell you something I’ve been meaning to say for months.”

“What?”

“I... love you,” he looked down at your lap, because he couldn’t bear to look in your eyes if you decided to reject him.

“Oh, Andy!” you beamed, “I love you too! I’ve always loved you,” you crawled on top of him, throwing your arms around his neck you hugged him.

“That’s good then,” he smiled stroking your back, he pulled you back so he could look at your pretty face, cupping your cheek he pressed his lips against yours.

He had only kissed you once, months ago at your wedding, and while it was not bad at all it was too short and formal and distant, nothing compared to how he felt right now. Moulding his lips against yours, kneading the flesh of your ass, you tasted just as sweet as he imagined you would.

You gasped in his mouth when he rutted his erection up into your core. “Andy!” your chest heaving as you felt him pressing against your thigh.

“What do you say you go put that on for me, doll? Hm?” he instructed.

You meekly nodded, grabbing a hold of the lingerie which you just now noticed was so sheer and would not really leave anything to the imagination.

“Come on out quickly now,” his impatience seeping through his voice as he sat on the edge of his, or what would now be both of your marital bed, one leg crossed over the other, his foot tapping against the floor.

His pants already snug, just from imagining what you would look like with the flimsy thing on. It wasn’t as revealing or kinky as some of the other pieces he had seen, but he felt it would match your personality perfectly.

He groaned, calling out your name again, “I’m gonna fucking die of blue balls, if you don’t come out right now, I’m coming in,” he got up to his feet to do just that but then stopped when he heard the knob twist.

One smooth leg peaking out of the bathroom, “Um... promise you wouldn’t make fun of me?” you asked. Your eyes screwed shut, you didn’t really have much of choice but you had never been so vulnerable in front of anyone. You’d hate to not be satisfactory for him.

“I promise,” his face softened, he had to practice some restrain, at least until he breaks you in, “Now come on out.”

You opened the door, your meek eyes fixed on your hardwood floor, your hands hugging your midsection. You blinked when he said nothing for several long, tortuous moments. Peaking a glance up at him you found him staring at you.

“Uh, do you like it?” you asked as your hands played with the helm of the teddy.

He almost scoffed. Like would be an understatement.

He knew pink would be your color. The nightie so short, clinging to your curves, your nipples pebbled against the satiny fabric, you looked like a sweet little doll and a whole fucking meal to devour at the same time. He would burst before he even got to touch you.

“Twirl,” he made the motion with his forefinger to demonstrate it, “Let me look at you better. And hands to your sides.”

You took a deep breath, letting your hands fall, doing as he had asked, your heart hammering in your chest because for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out if he actually liked you.

“Stop there,” he instructed when he got a look at your pert, round butt, the cloth barely covering it, he could see the imprints of the thong you wore.

“What are you thinking?” you asked.

“If I like your front better or your behind.” He almost chuckled at the incredulous gasp you let out. “Alright, look at me again.” Definitely the front, because he could see your beautiful face. Taking his original position on the bedding, “Come here,” he patted his lap.

Like the obedient wife that you aspired to be, you followed, perching yourself up on his lap, your arms around his neck for some support, looking into his lust blown, dark eyes.

You bite your lip when you felt that pressing into your thigh. Unable to bear his intense gaze you hid your face in the crook of his neck.

He hushed you, snuggling your soft body closer to his, his fingers drawing patterns on your hip, “How many men have you been with before?”

It didn’t really matter whatever your answer would be. But he wanted to tell you, that how ever many there were before him won’t matter anymore. From now on you are solely his.

“None,” you whispered so lowly that he almost couldn’t hear you.

“What?” Holding onto your chin so that he could make you look at him, “None? How is that possible?”

“I’ve just been waiting for the right one... I was going to with Alex but then didn’t...” you said as your hands caressed the coarse hair on his jaw.

He hummed, the fact that he would be your one and only, forever, only served to entice him further.

“Have you ever sucked a cock before?” he asked, although he knew the answer.

“No...”

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you,” he promised, pushing on your shoulders to make you get on your knees.

You hissed at the cold floor, biting into the your calves and knees.

His dainty princess, he grabbed a throw pillow, instructing you to put it under, all the while staring at your cleavage peaking out like a creep.

Your eyes were fixated on his crotch, eager to see what a real penis looks like. You had watched some porn when you were a teen, out of sheer curiosity, but your friends had told you to lower your expectations. That real ones are much smaller and not so aesthetically pleasing.

You all but gasped when he took his cock out of the confines of his sweats, slapping over his abdomen. So big... and thick, with two veins over it, a bright flushed tip leaking with pre-ejaculate, and some soft hair dusted at the base of it.

You tried to stop yourself but then couldn’t help it, your hand shyly touching his tip yanking it down and then releasing it to see what happens. As suspected it flew back over, hard against his tummy, making you giggled.

“Oh gosh...” you slapped a palm over your mouth to stop from laughing.

He scrunched up the hair on the back of your head, yanking your neck back so that he could look at you, “What’s so funny?” he growled.

“Nothing,” you gulped, “It’s all just so strange and new... and exciting...”

He hummed as he took in your words. Grabbing the base of his cock as he rubbed his tip and precum all over your cheeks till your face was positively glowing with his essence.

“You wanna taste it?” he asked, to which you eagerly nodded.

Nudging your pouty lips with his tips before tapping on them when you didn’t get the clue, “Open.”

“Oh,” you said before opening as wide as you could, his length easing into your mouth. You hummed around him, the salty unique taste of him you had never really known before and couldn’t get enough of now.

He was barely halfway through inside you when he touched the back of your throat, he tutted, “Relax your throat,” he told you.

You didn’t really know what he meant but you tried loosening up all your muscles. Choking around him when he pushed in a few more inches.

Most of him was still out but it was as good as it’s gonna get, not that he’d ever complain... no... your mouth was like heaven. He had only known his hand for the past year Or so, and your mouth was almost too much.

Holding onto your face to keep it in place he started thrusting upwards into you, his heart swelling with tears escaped your eyes but you still tried to take more of him, to please him like the good girl that you were.

He stopped his hips, gently slapping your cheek to get your attention, “You always look at me when my dick is in your mouth. Got it?”

Since you couldn’t talk with your mouth full of cock, you just nodded.

You peered up at him innocently, fluttering your lashes, popping him out of your sloppy mouth, “Am I doing it right?” because you truly couldn’t tell.

He chuckled, smoothening a hand down your hair, “More than right... it’s too good but I want to come in your pussy. Maybe I’ll make you swallow my load latter, what do you think?”

“Yes, I’d like that,” you licked your lips to taste more of him.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered.

“Um... can I go fix my face before that,” you rubbed your mouth with the back of your hand, you doubted you looked very pretty to him then.

“No,” he stated, pulling you up by your armpits and all but throwing you on the bed.

You yelped and tried to protest, “I wanna look good for you...”

He pushed your legs apart to make room for him, smirking above you, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat, his prey, “This really does look pretty on you...” he rubbed the flimsy spagetti strap between his fingers, “but it’s served it’s purpose.”

You screamed, holding onto his wrists as he ripped the babydoll in two pieces, revealing your breasts to him, he yanked at it, throwing the remains away.

“That’s much better,” he gritted, pinching one of your peaks, capturing it in his mouth and suckling at it to his hearts content.

You pouted as you looked at the torn cloth, a bit upset that he ruined his gift to you. “I really liked that...” you sniffled. But couldn’t really ponder because Andy’s ravenous mouth was sucking hickies all over your breasts.

“I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you ten more,” he bit into the side of your breasts, your mewls and whines were like music to his ears.

“Andy...” you heaved, “Don’t leave marks... I have to go to dinner tomorrow to moms...”

He stopped abruptly, propping himself up above you and you were afraid that you had upset him, “You’re my wife now, honey. Your father gave you to me,” his hand snaking down your body, between your legs, he parted your moist lips, the pad of his fingers meeting your little pearl, “I can do whatever I want with you,” he reminded you, pushing a finger into you, “This cunt is mine now, got it?”

“Yess...” you whined as you squirmed under him, the invasion of his finger inside you too alien to your body.

“Which means you ask for permission before you touch yourself, or better yet, don’t touch yourself because that’s my job,” he stated.

“Have you ever made yourself come?” he asked, trailing soft kisses down your body till he settled between your legs, moving the strong of the thing to the side so he could get a better look at your virgin pussy, adding another finger inside you, your snug walls clinging to his digits, “You’re so fucking small. Can barely fit my finger. How will you take my cock,” he teased.

He’d make you take it.

You whimpered at the sting of it, “I’ll try, daddy...” throwing your head back as you massaged your breast.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him when he stopped his ministrations, “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” he quirked a brow. “Do you realise what you just called me?”

You simply shook your head because you hadn’t really called him anything, “Andy?”

“No,” he huffed, “You called me daddy, honey.”

You gasped, you didn’t mean to say it out loud! “No...” you shook you head from side to side, trying to pull away from his fingers still knuckle deep inside you, “It can’t be!”

“Oh, but you did,” he laughed, “And you’re gonna say it again. In fact, from now on, when it’s just the two of us that’s the only thing that you will call me. Unless you wanna get punished...”

“Okay...” you said, still a bit unsure of it all.

You had always called him ‘daddy’ in your fantasies. It was maybe a bit expected for it to slip out like that but still so embarrassing. You said it again just to make sure that he actually wanted you to call him that and wasn’t just teasing you.

“Good girl,” he winked, latching his mouth around your clit, fucking you with his fingers as he kept sucking.

“Daddy...” you whined, biting on your hand to muffle some of your noises, a knot building up in the pit of your stomach, “Don’t stop, please!”

You gushed over his mouth, he lapped it all up, making sure nothing went to waste.

“You did good, honey,” he said, your cheeks heating up when you saw his beard glistening with your juices. He rolled your thong down your thick thighs, “You wear this to dinner tomorrow,” he told you. “Since I’m going to be a real husband from now on I pick out what you wear.”

All so he could see you in those pretty flowy dresses you wear sometimes, but you didn’t need to know that.

He hastily pushed his sweats and briefs past his hips, throwing them off the bed before pulling his t-shirt over his head.

You bit your lip at just the sight of him. His shoulders so broad, chest so wide, dark hair dusted all over his chest, you just knew then that all those hours he spent at the gym paid off, you knew he’d be ripped.

But you absolutely did not expect, someone as uptight as him to have numerous tattoos all over his torso.

Something inscribed in Sanskrit on his chest that you didn’t really understand... the logo of your family’s mob on just under his pectoral.

You sat up to get a better look at them, tracing a skull on his bicep that looked much less sophisticated than the others, the lines a bit scribbly, it was already fading.

“That’s the first one,” he interrupted you, “I was a kid back then, got my foster brother to do it.”

You pressed a kiss over it, “I love it.”

His blue eyes beamed at you, he was so beautiful...

“Now for your gift...” he circled your wrist bringing it down to his pelvis.

“Hm?” you looked down, tears brimming up in your eyes as you saw your name written on just beside his hipbone, next to his hard cock, standing tall against his stomach. In a small heart, dark ink against his pale skin, “When did you get it done?” you sniffles, touching his skin to feel the texture of the tattoo.

“A few weeks ago. I just... I’ve never belonged to anyone. Never had a family of my own. But now I have you, and you have me, I’m just as much yours as you’re mine,” he confessed, finally feeling the weight of it lifted off his shoulders. You were a blessing in disguise.

“I love you,” you beamed up at him.

“I love you too, doll, now come on,” he pushed you till you were on your back, “Daddy’s waited long enough. Can’t wiat to fill you up, make you mine.”

He planted a hand on the mattress, so he could see what he was doing to your virgin cunt, look at you and her, as he defiles you and makes you a woman, his thick manhood nudging your glistening lips as he eased into you, he felt you stretching around him, your face twisted in pain as you begged him to go easy on you, he halted when he felt your barrier.

He looked up at your pretty face, sparkling with his spend and your tears, your sweet little whimpers filled the room, he stayed still for a moment to let you get used to him, he knew he should take it easy.

His wife was a delicate, fragile, sweet little girl. He should be more gentle. A better husband and man would be. But he had his whole life to become a good man for you, tonight he just wanted to take what was rightfully his.

Letting out a deep, almost animalistic growl, piercing through your seal, your innocence till you were screeching, your nails drawing blood from the sides of his thighs.

“It hurts!” you screamed.

“It’ll only hurt for a little bit, doll. Just ride through it,” he cooed, stroking your sensitive clit to draw your attention away from the pain, he withdrew his hips before snapping them back till he was deep within your womb.

“You’re so snug, honey,” he grunted, not letting up his pace as he kept fucking into you,

A proud smirk gracing his face as he looked down to see himself covered in blood, a sticky mess of both your bodily fluids where your sexes were joined. His dick somehow grew harder inside you knowing how he took something from you that you’ll never be able to give someone else.

Slowly your crying and whining was subsiding as you got used to have him inside you, but he wanted to hear you scream for him in a different way. “Don’t you want to make your husband, no, your daddy happy, honey?” He asked, each word punctuated with a deep, harsh thrust into you.

You nodded, willing your tears away, cringing when you saw his crotch covered in your blood, “Yes I do, daddy. What do I do?”

“Your cute dumb brain always needs to be told what to do,” he chuckled, moving closer to you he circled his palms around your wrists, pinning them above you, “Wrap your legs around me.”

You followed along, wrapping your legs around his hips and hooking them together on his back. Closing your eyes when you felt your body seizing up, your pussy pulsating around his length when you felt the familiar feeling creep up on you.

“Look at me!” he barked and you immediately opened your eyes, “You look at me when I fuck you.”

You gulped and dared not close your eyes again. Even as you felt your orgasm wash over you, clenching around his length. His face was scrunched up, his neck, face and chest flush as he chased his own release till you felt his warm release coating your walls.

He collapsed above you, panting beside you he kissed your hair, “You liked that, babygirl?”

You let out a meek little yes. Feeling empty and void of his warmth and hardness when he pulled out of you before settling next to you.

“But...” you trailed off. Not finding it in you to bare yourself to him like that just yet.

“But what?” he whipped his head to look at you.

“But I’m sorry if I wasn’t very good!” Since you had simple laid there and took whatever he gave you. You had heard that men don’t like that...

“Don’t worry, honey, you were absolutely perfect,” he sighed. “You’ll get even better with practice, we’re gonna practice a lot from now on.”

You tried to cover your breasts up with the comforter, still awkward about being stark naked right next to a man, a man who looked as good as like Andy, but he swatted at your hands, reprimanding you and telling you to stay still and let him look at you to his hearts content.

Soon you felt your cunt throbbing back up again, still so raw from the loving Andy gave it, you tried rubbing your legs together to ease it a little bit.

“It still hurts?” Andy asked as you nodded.

He snaked a hand between your legs, massaging your little nub and your lips, tutting when you tried to pull away from his touch, “Shh I’m trying to make it hurt less.”

He hummed when he saw his seed leak out of you, pushing a finger in you, much to your displeasure, to keep it inside you, where it belonged.

He would make you go on some form of birth control as soon as he could. While the idea of you all round and plump with his kid was more than appealing, he didn’t want to share you with anyone else just yet. You were young, he had plenty of years to breed you.

“You’d make a good mother,” he wondered out loud.

“Hm?” you blinked at him. Squirming from the torture he was yielding on your overworked sex. His lips curled up in a twisted smile as he pulled his fingers out of you, wiping your blood on your soft nipples, painting them crimson as you shivered.

You looked at his cock, hard again against his stomach. “Does it hurt?” you asked, your hands twitching to touch it again.

“Yes, it does. Do you wanna help me get rid of the pain?”

“Mm... can I use my mouth again? I’m sore...”

“It’s okay, honey, you’ll get used to it,” he promised, grabbing your hips and pulling you on top of him, your palms pressed into his abdomen as you looked so wrecked, “Guide me in,” he ordered.

You shook your head which earned you a harsh slap on your ass so you held onto the base of his cock, parting your intimate lips, before slowly sinking down on him.

You sighed as you settled, sitting on top of him with his cock nestled inside you, so full and strangely satisfied, his warmth soothing your aching walls, he spanked you again to remind you to move, so you started bouncing on top of him the best you could.

His hand groped at your bouncing titts before he wrapped a hand around your throat, applying the slightest bit of pressure as you whimpered and cried, just to remind you who’s in charge, not that you’d forget anytime soon.

His only regret was that he hadn’t done this sooner. He was an idiot to ever resist an angel like you. He’ll have to do a lot to make up for lost time.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm. Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

[yaomomvs]

TAKE OUR HAND

seijoh x manager!reader

in which aoba johsai vbc just wants you to take their hand, just as the many times they have reached for yours when they needed it

pls i’m sorry i just wrote this for comfort, in having a terrible week and so, i just really need my seijoh boys to comfort me even if it’s just in my head and just so you know, and as i’ve been trying to convince myself, things always get better

tuesday, [15:56 pm]

“nice kill yahaba senpai!” kindaichi congratulates his upperclassman.

his voice makes you react, it scared you. still holding your pen and the notebook you always carry around even on normal practice days, your hand threatens you in the most scary way possible.

fuck no, just... breathe.

you are quick to leave aside the notes, and so, you look around to the boys, who just after the coach’s whistle sounds they are quick to approach your spot.

you take the water bottles as quickly as you can.

“oh y/n-san, i know we are irresistible but you can’t just slack off admiring us!” makki teases you laughing.

“if our dear manager is admiring someone is obviously me” oikawa says, before taking a sip of his bottle, slightly making you blush even more.

“i don’t think she likes idiots who still watch youtube conspiracy videos at 3am”

“iwa!”

“weren’t you the one with a secret obsession for romance manga, iwaizumi?” it’s mattsun time to expose his friend. iwai mi doesn’t hesitate and he runs directly to matsukawa, while kunimi brings out his phone to start recording the chaos in the gym.

you don’t listen.

your head hurts, and then, you once again feel this weird thing in you stomach. you have been feeling like this for the past week, and you try to ignore it . but sometimes, you just want the world to stop.

you can’-

“y/n senpai?” watari calls your name, and you notice his furrowed brows looking at you, worried. you blink and correct your posture. you had just zooned out. “is everything ok?”

“ah yes watari kun!” you force your self to sound relaxed because you feel the sudden gaze of the entire team “i was just thinking in a smart way to insult oikawa, but i’m worried he won’t understand tho”

“hey! you said i was your favorite”

you fake laugh once again assuring everyone that you were just fine. the day goes on, and somehow is becomes more difficult to just stay down not worrying about anything.

and they notice.

you don’t walk home with the guys today. instead you run to the bus not before excusing yourself with an ‘urgent family thing’

“just please don’t let makki eat so much ramen today!” you giggle as you run to the bus “i’m not in the mood to dealing with diarrea!”

“that was a secret between us darling!” the pink haired guy screams cheeks blushing.

and maybe you were just too distracted, but before you face them away some of them notice how quick your smile fades.

“you know guys” yahaba is quick to say “call me crazy but, why did she lie?”

—

wednesday, [10:22 am]

when was the last time you actually enjoyed school? not practice, but school itself. seeing numbers everyday in the board that you don’t understand is frustrating. your throat hurts, there’s has been a not there since the begging of the day.

swallow it, y/n, dammit

you decided to take this class, don’t blame the world, blame yourself. isn’t it supposed to be simple? why isn’t it being simple? is that... 

"Square root of 57 is equal to Xo, miss" 

"alright!" 

it is not like it’s a race, you want to say. why was the teacher obsessed with speed?, it’s unfair. your time is not the same as that of others. 

you drop the pencil and you recline in your chair, why couldn’t you do operations and analysis as fast as they could? you take a look around and the eyes of others look frightening. you see ambition, you see security, you see admiration.

the bell rings and you just want to run, and well in a way you end up doing it. leaving your homeroom, you tell your friends that for today you want to be alone, the halls of aoba johsai are big, for your fortune or misfortune. you go to the vending machine and when your drink falls, the minimum noise makes you startle, lately it’s like that, small noises or actions affect you way too much.

and iwaizumi notices it.

you don’t make a single move, it’s just the cold drink resting on your hands. and before iwaizumi could stop mattsun, he was already putting his hand on your shoulder.

“y/n!”

the orange juice spills and once again fear takes hold of you.

you see them both, you’re not stupid and you know hajime stares at you weirdly, and now mattsun, you hide your fear it a bit worse than yesterday, but you do anyways.

"someday, Matsukawa-san, YOU’RE GOING TO KILL ME! and what will you do without me?" you try to say cheerful, wanting to take away the suspicion, for a moment it works.

"flunk history, that leads me to..." 

"no, sweeheart, i won’t give you my homework" 

you walk and both guys follow you, one faster than another, very naive of the situation. "I begin to believe you hate me," says Mattsun, as the three sit on a bench near the school cafeteria casually encountering kunimi who quickly joins you, patting the folds of your skirt as you sit down, you rest on the table and admire his needy expression and as the tantrum of mattsun grows.

minutes go by, your chest pain grows, but somehow you know how to let it go.

 with your hands supporting your face, lunch passes between you and kunimi, you try to talk, you really try. 

but still, your eyes just glow, and kunimi notices how it’s not the glow you always have.

—

thursday [12:03]

your head is spinning, you can feel the cold sweat. will this be the time? why do you feel so small? why can’t you say it?

it’s familiar, you recognize this feeling, an ocean, you’re floating, you know you can swim, but, you’re in the middle of nowhere, you look down. Out of nowhere the intimidating depth of the ocean is beneath you. And then, you sink. You feel like you’re drowning, you feel like you’re fighting the tide, but you just can’t do it.

i just need...

no, it’s not time yet, it’s still training. the boys... you’re the one who should take care of them, you’re the one who has to be be fine. they had no time to lose, they had a goal and for the moment that was the most important thing.

On that bench, your gaze is absent, you know it is so.

and through the window that overlooks your classroom, oikawa notices it too

“y/n...” he mumbled.

of course he’d noticed. at first it was not so clear, but now he remembers.

when kindaichi pinned your dark circles to him, while admiring you by fitting volleyballs in a way not of your own.

makki watches oikawa from your side, you don’t even know the pink-haired guy is there, unaware that he’s sitting next to you. but he notices. he’s been noticing for days that your eyes are threatening to close in the middle of class.

hanamaki catches your attention and instantly that mask you’ve been wearing for weeks appears again.

"hanamaki, i’m fine"

it doesn’t convince them. they both look out the window and nod.

oikawa notices, and god, he wished he had no reason to.

—

friday [14:00 pm]

breathe.

please just... breathe.

you’re fed up. the feeling of guilt and discomfort is still there, can’t you be calm? people don’t need to know, but why do you want to shout it?

the dressing room is alone, the girls from the soccer team are out and it’s your only chance.

the team needs you, hold on a little.

your footsteps are heard in the hallway once again, a symphony you’re tired of listening to.

your chest hurts, your heart is aching, but you just need a little more. hands are shaking, the cold in your body, you need to stop.

you have to make them stop.

but when you walk into the gym, even with your eyes down, all you feel is warm. and it’s because, the boys were standing, aligned begging for you.

no, they beg for your sake.

and everything stops.

one hand from him on your neck, and one hand around your shoulders.

because oikawa, without warning, now has you in his arms.

and then, only then, you break.

tears don’t take long to come out, along with desperate sobs. your legs fail and out of nowhere, you and oikawa are on your knees.

with an alarmed look, the whole club runs towards both, surrounding you as sensibly as possible.

"i’m sorry, i’m sorry I’M SORRY" is heard from you, between hiccups.

“love, listen...” iwaizumi approaches you,somehow he managed to catch up with you, somehow he managed to hold your hand.

"i promise i didn’t want to, but i can’t, i can’t anymore, why can’t i? i try and i try and i keep trying but it’s never enough! IM TIRED OF SEEING SOMETHING AND NOT BEING ABLE TO PROCESS IT LIKE THE OTHERS. I’M TIREDD OF NEVER FULFILLING WHAT I SHOULD”

yahaba’s heart aches, and just as most of the team, is shocked.

your hands, oh your adorable hands, those hands that bandage his in the middle of an important game, he sees them shaking horribly between iwaizumi’s.

“AND I’M SCARED, WHAT IF I LOSE YOU BECAUSE OF THAT BECAUSE OF ME? BECAUSE OF HOW I AM I-“

watari is quick to place your hair gently behind your ear, a kunimi covers you with his jacket.

“I LOOK IN THE MIRROR AND I DONT RECOGNIZE MYSELF” you lower your voice, its cracked now “oikawa I don’t recognize myself, I want to be me again" you whisper, and a knot appears in the captain’s throat, and he puts a hand on your cheek "please... just let me be me again" your throat burns, your eyes get redder.

the gym goes silent, your words still echoing in everyone’s head.

“why didn’t you-“

“i just couldn’t” you blame yourself cutting oikawa off “look at us! we are waisting time on me when we should be- i’m the one who has to- im you support not-“

“hey hey, love...” iwaizumi whispers his voice is filled with sweetness, letting you sit correctly and softly rubbing his thumb in your hands “how many times have you been there for us? y/n your hand is always there”

“that’s true” kyotani says, finally saying something, emotions overwhelmed him a lot, but he genuinely wanted to help you.

“there’s something about you, there’s light” kindaichi follows up.

“no matter where, or how bad we are, somehow you always are helping us stand up” mattsun also tries to carefully approach you, he wants nothing more for you to feel safe.

and oikawa’s arms were still around you. he never stopped.

“we have reached your hand so many times, so now it’s time for you to please take ours” oikawa holds you face, and you see the sincerity and kindness behind his brown eyes, it feels like home.

mattsun does a sign asking the coach for a day off, both of them smile tenderly at you and give the green flag. iwa and makki are next to hold you carefully helping you stand up. they help you stop shaking but it’s mad dog the one who wipes your tears away with a tissue watari handled him. still not knowing if he did it the right way. you still feel kunimi’s scent. you still see kindaichi holding your school bag making sure nothing is missing. yahaba is the one bringing you water. and oikawa still refuses to let you go.

all of them feel like home.

“thank you”

and that’s how you know everything is going to feel fine.

because this club was yours and you were theirs.

this was home.

[furiousgoldfish]

So this is something I’ve learned only recently but boosted the speed of my recovery:

When the voices in your head start criticizing, shaming, blaming and terrifying you, you’re supposed to fight back. And I mean Fight. Back. Viciously. Come for their intelligence, come for their sense of reality, come for their competence, ask them to show you sources and proof, insult them back, physically beat them back with a wrecking ball in your head, expose them for lying and go ballistic at them for constantly sabotaging your life with indecent lies.

You’re compelled to listen ‘just in case’ or because 'you deserve this’ but know this: These voices are almost identical in every abuse survivor’s head.

We all hear how we should be ashamed of ourselves for existing, how we’re guilty and deserving of abuse, or how we’re stupid incompentent waste of space, or how everything is a clue that we’re going to end up alone, abandoned, homeless and dying on the street. And it’s never true for any of us. These scenarios repeat in our heads despite us never being less worthy of happiness, peace or security.

Also note that the voices are talking shit about things they DON’T and CAN’T KNOW. If they’re talking about how everyone is judging and hating you, how could they possibly know that, are they claiming to read minds? If they’re criticizing your every move and tearing you down, they’re trying to cause you to freeze and never be able to feel good doing anything, WHY? If they’re constantly threatening you with catastrophic scenarios, they want to keep you terrified, not safe! And they don’t know if any of it is true! Literally making shit up and relying on the hope that you will never fact-check their shit and be drowned in too much pain and shame and fear to process what just happened to you. Much like what abusers do!

Tell the voices you will refuse to doubt yourself any longer. Tell them you refuse to spiral into shame for who you are. Tell them you’ve had enough of lies. Tell them they have no place criticizing whatever the hell you’re doing, seeing that the voices do nothing but bully; nobodies are not allowed an opinion about you. Tell them how fucking dumb it is to pretend to be omniscient and predict the worst scenarios. They’ve been wrong every single time.

And once you learn to fight them, you’ll do so instinctively, you will shut them up at their very thought of opening their ugly mouths, and your self worth will restore to surface.

[slashersins]

hi! could you possibly do the masked slashers taking off their mask for the first time in front of their s/o? perhaps jason and michael and/or whoever else you want! thank you! 🥰

sad story . i was almost finished with this ask when my computer reset and i lost everything . i am very sad , and trying my best to rewrite it . 

hi! could you possibly do the masked slashers taking off their mask for the first time in front of their s/o? perhaps jason and michael and/or whoever else you want! thank you! 🥰

jason

his face . . . his deformities . it’s the reason he was bullied at camp . it’s the reason he was chased down the pier and shoved into the unforgiving lake . it’s the reason he heard laughter as he tried desperately to thrash his way to the surface . it’s the reason water filled his lungs . it’s the reason he drowned . the reason he died . so it’s no wonder that jason wants to hide that part of himself . the part that caused him so much pain and suffering . 

jason is so very aware of his current state . he’s been half alive , half dead . a corpse , powerful and deadly and vengeful for years now . and time hadn’t been kind to him . the deformities that once marred his face have been changed . everything has changed about him , leaving him feeling as if his entire body is marred , and it is . he knows you can see it . the truth of his undead state . his skin a pale blue grey . his blood thick and slow moving , black as it oozes out of him . part of his left side has been eaten away , showing his ribs . injuries he’s received leaving deep , lasting impression into his slow healing body . he isn’t human . not anymore . he knows this . he knows you know this . you’ve seen him and stayed with him despite him being a moving corpse . 

but his face . . . his face is different . long gone are the deformities that once marred his features . changed and warped into something he would find even more terrifying . you’ve told him so many times that you don’t mind how he is . that you love him besides it . but with a face that is mostly bone , strings of muscle and blue grey flesh keeping his jaw connected , how could you ever stay with him ? he was scared . terrified of what your reaction would be . he’s a monster . a monster with barely half a face . 

it takes so long for him to finally take off the mask . and his shoulders slump , already defeated , already preparing to hear you scream and run and curse him . ready for you to see him as the monster he is . undead . unlovable . he doesn’t look you in the eyes . he looks down , not raising his head as his arm drops weakly to his side , the mask gripped harshly in his hand . he doesn’t realize that he’s shaking . so scared of your reaction . 

the feeling of your warm hands cupping his jaw , those delicate fingers tracing over the bone , over his exposed teeth , over the flesh part of his upper cheek . the way you lift his head , looking over him , trying to find his eyes , trying to get him to look at you . you didn’t run . you didn’t scream . you stayed . still cupping his face as you whisper his name , wanting his attention . he’s slow to meet your eyes , but what he finds there has tears welling up , spilling over his broken face and your fingers . he finds love . so much love . so much acceptance . he can’t hold himself back now as he tugs you in , wrapping his arms around you . your forehead pressed to his as you whisper how much you love him , mask or no mask . 

what he found in your eyes as you looked up him shattered him completely . he found that he was beautiful . 

thomas

his skin condition hadn’t been bad . looking back at the very few pictures there were of thomas as a child confirmed that . it was obvious that there was something medically wrong , but nothing . . . dramatic . but the condition that thomas had wasn’t able to be treated . his family was poor , barely making ends meet each week . so thomas was not able to get the medical attention he needed that could had stopped the spread of his condition . there were no medicated creams to help heal blackened , dry skin . no pills to take that aided his body in healing . so it got worse . and worse . and people were cruel . and thomas found no sympathy for something he couldn’t control .

he was likened to a monster . a freak . diseased and dangerous . contagious almost . and he heard it from a very young age . he couldn’t help his looks . he didn’t know why people laughed , until they called him ugly . he didn’t know why people gasped in fear , until they called him scary . and being told this over , and over , and over , and over . . . he started to believe it . he was ugly . he was scary . a monster . a freak . hiding his face behind his hands , behind a mask , it made things easier for him , but that self hatred that lingered deep inside of himself only grew and grew .

thomas won’t take off his mask . he prefers to hide behind it . he doesn’t want to risk you seeing his face . to see how bad its gotten . he’s ugly . he is so ugly . and he doesn’t want you to see it . he doesn’t want you to change your mind . asking him to take off his mask has him flinching like you burned him . he’ll get up and stomp off , upset and hurt and self conscious . no , y/n . you can’t see . he can’t show you . he can’t bare to lose you . and he knows he loves you so much that he wouldn’t be able to let you go . and that would make him even more monstrous , wouldn’t it ?

the first time you see his face is an accident . it happens after passionate love making . the ties of his mask slipping and moving . he’s nuzzling into your neck , pressing kisses over sweat slick skin as he pulls up to look at you . oh , he loves to look at you as you come down from your pleasure . he doesn’t notice that his mask has slipped off . instead he’s too focused on staring down at you with adoration . 

your eyes widen as you see what he’s been hiding from you . and he thinks the look in your eyes just you coming down , he doesn’t realize it’s from seeing him for the first time . he sighs softly when curious fingers filter over his lips , his cheeks . closing his eyes as he melts into your touch . he’s never felt your fingers on the ruined parts of his face before and -

thomas is grabbing your wrists suddenly . eyes wide as he looks to the side of your head and sees his mask . he panics , he’s sitting up , blindly grabbing for his mask as he hides his face in his hand . he’s shaking , panting , terror and fear breaking him down . 

reach out to him . sit up and touch his back softly , rubbing slow circles there . oh , tommy . how could he think you love him any less because of his face ? kiss his back , his shoulders . wrap you arms around him . tell him how much you love him . that it’s okay . that it’s just a face . his face . the face of the man you love . and you love him for his face and despite it . hold him as he calms down . as he breaks and cries . as he’s reminded of the depth of your love and he basks in it .

bubba

bubba doesn’t see himself as ugly . fears of his face scaring others isn’t the reason he wears a mask . even all drayton’s yelling and shouting and cursing at him doesn’t make him feel ugly , it makes him feel stupid and useless . which is just as bad . so his masks have before kind of a buffer from that kind of abuse . they act more like a safety blanket . something to protect him from the outside world , from other people . the world is cruel and mean and dangerous . and he wants to feel safe . 

his masks also work as tools of self expression , as an extension of himself . he has so many different ones for different moods and feelings depending on the day . you’ve counted at least seven so far , seeing some more than others . and while you loved bubba , you can’t help but be curious . 

it starts innocently enough , just simply asking if you can see bubba without a mask on . sadly , the reaction you get isn’t what you hoped . bubba seems to panic . worried babbling and soft whines and violently shaking his head no . why would you want to take his mask off ? why ? were you going to hurt him ? were you going to be mean ? he didn’t want to take it off , he didn’t feel safe without it . why would you , the person he loves so much , want to make him feel unsafe ? 

he is going to be worried , keeping away from you and even hiding for a day or two . give him some time . tell him you’re sorry , and that you didn’t mean to hurt his feelings . smother him in kisses and love and affection and all those worries will melt away . he’ll be back to his normal bubba self before you know it , even it if means you don’t get your curiosity fix . 

the day you see his face is well . . . normal . simple . unexpected . lazing in your shared bed , reading a book , you only glance up and smile when bubba bounces into the room with barely contained excitement . you can’t help but smile as he goes through the closet and takes out his favorite dress . a little flowy blue number with yellow flowers and only the smallest of blood stains on the hem . bubba was feeling pretty today , you could tell . and gosh you loved seeing him so happy like this .

watching him from behind your book , enjoying this little moment of bubba , you stilled when he took off his mask . he wasn’t looking at you , no , he wasn’t even paying attention as he went through his many masks to find his pretty one . you were in shock . staring at his maskless features , taking in the true face of your loving country man . and you watched , even as he put on his other mask , the bright colors of make up on leathered skin clashing with his blue dress . but he turned and beamed at you , twirling and showing off . you could only laugh and compliment him . you hadn’t expected to see his real face , but you knew right here and right now that it really didn’t matter . you loved bubba masked or maskless . maybe you loved him more when he could express himself like this , 

brahms

he hadn’t wanted to wear a mask . to be completely honest he never even thought about it . it was his mother’s idea . coming from the fact that she couldn’t stand to see her son’s fire marred face . and brahms found out the truth after a tantrum was thrown about the mask , and his mother let this truth harshly fly out . he’d been devastated . his own mother didn’t want to see him . thought he was ugly . it’d been a painful experience . one that he kept close to his heart . he wasn’t the beautiful little boy his mother and father had once loved . now he was shameful and dirtied and kept hidden away . and he never took the mask off because of it .

that shame , that fear , that hatred of the ‘ ugly ’ part of himself is what keep his mask on once he’s out of the walls . you loved brahms the doll , the porcelain face it had . so it only made sense to him that you’d love him , brahms the man , and his porcelain face . he doesn’t think you’d love him as much if he took the mask off . his own mother came to hate his scars . you would too . he just knows it . so he stays hidden . as much as he can . 

he won’t take the mask off in one go . it’s slow . it comes in moments . more and more of brahms’ face being shown to you . it starts when he wants a good night kiss . a real one . on his lips . he’s so shy about it . nervous fingers lifting the mask up just enough that you have access . and once he takes the slightest of kisses , he’s pulling his mask back down . he’ll revel in the feeling and soon want more real kisses . outside of the good night ones . soon he’ll want more than just those quick small kisses , he’ll want more . and when he gets them his mask is pressed up further , over his nose . he tries so hard to keep the mask on , but it’s hard when you’re so addictive . the first time you see brahms for all he is , his half fire marred face standing out in the moon light is the first time you give all of yourself to him . he’ll still wear the mask , taking it off only for sexy times , and even then not always , or when he needs to bathe . but he won’t be as scared , he won’t flinch away when you reach out to touch his face . he knows you won’t leave him . you’ve had every chance to and you stayed . and maybe , just maybe , he feels like he isn’t as hideous as his mother made him believe he was . 

michael

you don’t get a choice on when this happens . you don’t get to ask . he’ll ignore you . or worse he’ll make it so you don’t ask him again . if he doesn’t want to take his mask off , he won’t . the entire reason he wears it is because it’s a comfort . like he’s in his own little world . no one can read him , or try to , there’s no pressing eyes of doctors and nurses looking for any twitch of muscle to over analyse . he feels strangely safe , strangely right , with his mask on . it’s the control he has with it on . no one knows who he is , what he truly looks like , and yet everyone knows who he is . it’s that fear , the fear of his prey not knowing , but knowing who and what he is . 

michael doesn’t take off the mask . not when he sleeps . not when he showers . not during the moments when you two are doing . . . things . the closest thing you’ve ever seen of his face are those moments when you look up too soon from eating just in time to see him pull his mask down over his mask when he’s finished .and even then he glares at you for staring . irritated that you might have seen something , that you might have seen him . 

it’s safe to say that you do not at all expect for a freshly cleaned and laundered michael to suddenly appear next to you while you were curled up on the couch watching tv .  you didn’t even hear the shower go on or off . you hadn’t even heard him enter the house . turning with a half smile , startled at such a sudden appearance , you opened your mouth to welcome michael back home only to shout in shock as who was sat next to you . 

instead of the masked man was . . . well a man . his face turned to the tv , but his eyes watching you in a sideways glance . there wasn’t any movement , michael stiff as you had your shock . he didn’t offer anything , just turning his gaze back to the tv . it takes a few minutes for it to settle in . for you to realize that this was michael . and you looked awed . your fingers twitching to reach out and touch him , but you know better . michael had already nearly broken your wrist once for simply touching over his mask before . as happy as you were to see his real face , you really wished michael would of chosen a gentler way of showing you . 

[khaleesiofalicante]

Hiiii, it’s me. Your resident overthinker. Back here to sob over such a beautiful ‘final’ chapter 🥹 I loved how this chapter was almost a summary of the journey of Tlnd and the different ways Malec kept healing and finding their ways back to each other (better, stronger). Some things from this chapter that really connected with me:

Magnus blossoming through the decades

I completely adore how each timeline we got to see Magnus transform from the boy who only showed the world a mirage of his true self to a man who stands proud in his unique self perception. The fact that Magnus escaped to Princeton in order to avoid his pain, stopped taking his meds to distance himself from his depression and adopted this fun and quirky surface level persona. It was almost like this new beginning for him, where he got to decide and control the parts of himself that others got to see. Where no one knew of his vulnerabilties, where he could tell his story the way he wanted to without outside influences trying to control his narrative. It was so interesting that from day one, Alec was the one bring that all down. Alec really was one of the main catalysts for Magnus to confront the reality of his depression, to realise that he is loveable, to accept that he can’t run and hide from his past. To realise that he had to learn to steer his own ship otherwise he’d lose more than just himself in the process.

I love that in their first reunion Magnus was the one to chase after Alec. Even though Alec wanted Magnus beyond reason, it was so important that Magnus realised he can’t just run and expect others to chase him. That Alec is the one person who will always be there to welcome him home, battered, bruised, broken and still he will see his beautiful. Even when Magnus ran across the across the country, Alec was always there to remind him of the happiness he can have if he’s prepared to stay and work through his challenges (together, always together). It was interesting how this dynamic went from Alec being like ‘I will do this for you’ to ‘I will allow you to do this for yourself’. Alec was the one to ask Magnus to stay with him time and time again until finally the ball was completely in Magnus’ court (with the divorce and getting together again). It was so cute to see Magnus trying to get people to reveal their secrets at LB family therapy. I really saw this as him being wanting others to initiate change as he was apprehensive of disrupting the comfort that they had all taken so long to create within the chaos of the divorce.

I think Magnus feels his most empowered when he’s with Alec but also his most vulnerable too. He knows that being with Alec means he as a higher chance of experiencing heartbreaking pain and in many ways the struggle with boundaries and his empathetic reasoning. In that he frequently allows himself to be taken advantage of, to be overwhelmed by his need to care for others, to both fear and yearn for the way Alec’s love cracks him wide open. I think this has always been scary for him because his ideas of love from young have always been about lack of control. The way a mother’s love is a distant unattainable memory, a father’s love about legacy and power, a girlfriend’s love about exposing weakness, the orphanage’s love about survival. All versions of love that consumed him, that he allowed his depth of feeling to overwhelm him to a point where he lost himself time and time again. This is why Magnus’ growth is so monumental to me because he went from relying on others to give validation and meaning to his self perception and the roles he plays (husband to Alec, client to Luca, father to his kids etc). Finally in the end we see him breaking free from that, deciding that he wants to be alone, that he trusts himself to care for his needs, that he wants to build a life with Alec again. That he is strong and courageous enough to navigate the challenges that life inevitably will throw his way. That he won’t allow himself to drown anymore, won’t allow himself to be easily consumed by his inner turmoils. That breathing is easy again, all because he chooses not to suffocate himself anymore. Magnus really said ‘if I want to I can’ and meant it.

New beginnings, new timelines.

All of the timelines were honestly so beautiful in the way they showed us the power and promise of new beginnings. From Magnus escaping his past and finding his future in Alec, to Alec escaping his past to be confronted by his past, to Magnus and Alec accepting their present to create a new future. It really showed us that Alec is the one fragment of Magnus’ existence that he can never truly run from, the one part of himself that will always push him to evolve. I love that even when they are not together, a part of Alec’s love always stayed with Magnus (and same for Alec). That even when they were divorced, Magnus carried Alec’s love around him like his own personal safety blanket. I love that Magnus was honest in being grateful for the divorce and being proud of choosing himself over trying to make others happy (especially after seeing how scary his ‘rock bottom’ was). It really showed how much he trusted in Alec’s love to always choose him, even when Magnus wasn’t choosing Alec. That Alec would make sure someone was there to care for him (Rafe), that Magnus would wear Alec’s clothes for comfort, that Alec stopped trying to win Magnus back and trusted him to heal.

I absolutely loved the conversation between Magnus and Luca. Magnus realising that he no longer needed all the replacement versions of Alec in order to function anymore. That he now was a Magnus who felt safe enough to stand by Alec’s side and know that he can hold his own, he doesn’t need to be protected by others, he doesn’t need to fear his depression, he finally has a choice. He might not get to control when and how things happen but he damn well gets to control how his challenges affect him. I found so much symbolism in Magnus taking off the screen in his room! Realising he doesn’t need that safety net anymore and allowing the light to shine into the darkest of places. That it is safe for him to bask in the illumination of the beauty of life again, that he can experience warmth and love without fear of it being taken away from him, without fear that there will always be pain to run from. I think this is so important because Magnus in the orphanage was always on the run, always moving around and never had a safe home. Now? He has created that home for himself, both externally in his apartment and in the family he created and internally in his self acceptance and belief in the power of love endure all suffering.

I was in tears for the second Malec reunion because it was so uniquely them. Not jumping into something because they need each other anymore. Deciding that they want to slowly build a new foundation together. I love that Alec became the one to slow things down, to turn a new page and recognise that their history is roadmap to their future, not a manual of how to avoid their separation. That they don’t need to rush anymore, they don’t need to cling to each other with desperation, that they can thrive without each other in their lives and trust in their love to guide them back to their happiness. They really said ‘fuck who we think we need to be, this is who we are now’ with their full chest. It was beautiful when they reintroduced themselves to each other, it almost felt like a promise to me that they would always be honest with each other. That Alec won’t sacrifice himself for Magnus anymore (eat the raisins), that Magnus accepts the distance between them (“I’m a divorcee ) and that one day Alec will show the world the strength of the united LB family again (putting the ring back where it belongs).

Alec finding his solitude

I find Alec to honestly be such a beautiful soul, through everything he has gone through, in hiding who he was, in not being able to control his emotions, in fighting to keep Magnus in his life, he never once stopped trying. I know he’s said and done some horrible things but I think seeing him come to a place of self acceptance has been such a beautiful journey. I was so soft when you mentioned that loneliness to him is being without love in his life, that living alone was no problem but not being able to care and be cared for breaks him in two. Alec is such a passionate lover, he gives all of himself to others and expects nothing in return. It showed in the way he first kissed Magnus after the party, the way he consumed Magnus, hands roaming his body completely. The way Magnus held him slow and steady, pouring his affections into that single point of contact, holding Alec in reverence in a way he never has been held before. I think a big turning point for Alec was realising how post divorce Magnus felt about him, something he knew all along but couldn’t make sense of (in the fact that their marriage fell apart). They have always done everything together, they have always been Alec and Magnus, he saw no other future but one where Magnus is by his side. I think not having his partner in crime to keep him grounded, to be a certified nerd with, to pour his love into, really made him confront his issues with control. I love that once he knew that Magnus was obsessed in love with him, he slowed it all the way down, he didn’t rush to consume Magnus, he sat back and waited for things to fall into place. He trusted in their love to anchor him into place, keep him safe in all his challenges and never stop pushing him to be his best self. He asked Magnus to call him Alexander again, he wanted the reverence that only Magnus can bring to his life, the power and sacredness that only Magnus can bestow. Where timeline 2 Alec rushed into passion and intimacy before they even talked, timeline 3 Alec waited for them to be on the same page before he even laid a hand on Magnus. He doesn’t need Magnus to breathe anymore, he doesn’t need his love to survive. It was really a moment when Alec told Magnus that he can be without him but he can’t be without his love. That no matter what, he wants and will have Magnus, his baby, his first and only love in his life.

“Feeling Blue.”

I loved this part because I think about how this idea of Magnus’ melancholic feelings were completely enlightened by his connection to the colour blue. How Alec’s eyes (as a symbol of all encompassing love), the blue earrings (as a gift of a mother’s love), his Blueberry (as the first love he nurtured himself) and the ocean (as ‘family’ and Indonesia) became a connection to beauty where sadness once resided. It was just a really beautiful reference that showed how much the LB fam been important anchors to him in creating a adventurous life and an everlasting loves he never knew possible. That gave Magnus hope where devastation once consumed him.

Notable mentions

- Raphael making Magnus realise he didn’t need to ‘pretend’, he could dress for himself and feel good about it too.

- Magnus and Luca ‘breaking up’, reminding Magnus of 20 years of healing and defying the odds.

- Alec always having claim on Magnus’ back pocket (hand, heart and harmony)

- Rafe wanting to create his own life with Anjali without his parent’s help. You do it your way babes!

- Max finding his passion in life again, in swimming, Edom and David. Finding his own direction.

- Smitten Alec giving Magnus his Princeton hoodie 0.23 seconds after this first kiss. You never stood a chance babe.

——-

Song for the true and infinite loves that are Malec: ‘At Last’ by Etta James (because self love is sweet but being loved by your baby is so much sweeter)

Thank you for such a beautiful story. It has been such an honour to be a part of his journey with you and all the readers! I’m so grateful for you sharing this masterpiece with us 🥰

CONGRATS ON 600K 🎉🎉🎉 U A REAL ONE.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

I genuinely don't know what else to say other than - Thank you.

i will definitely be coming back and reading all your analysis because it has helped me understanding my own writing better!

THANK YOU.

ALSO YAY 600K!

PS - fantastic song rec. top tier.

[metaphysicalash17]

In a pulse of light, Steve found himself standing in an alley in London. One he knew all too well since he had a penchant for picking fights in alleys. His time travel suit dematerialized and he was left in his usual uniform, which seemed a little too much for the timeline he came back to. The real mission was to return the Infinity Stones and get back to 2019, but he figured his Bucky wouldn’t mind if he took a little detour. He wouldn’t be here long anyway.

The back door of the Whip and Fiddle pub to his right was proof that he landed in the right timeline—somewhere in the 40s. He remembered that the Howling Commandos were in there. Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea going in there dressed like this.

Not to mention the absolute bizarreness if he met his past self.

But there was no turning back now. He opened the door slightly and peeked inside. The pub was more crowded than he expected. He felt completely out of place. And his new-found confidence fizzled out sooner than it came. Across the hall, he spotted his past self and a young Bucky seated near the bar, busy in drink and conversation.

Steve smiled at the sight of that bright-eyed, innocent Bucky who was willing to fight by his side till the end. This was the Bucky who didn’t know what was about to happen to him. And that was the Cap next to him who failed to protect him.

A pang of pain gripped Steve’s heart. But he brushed those thoughts aside and focused on what he came for. The future, seventy years from here, eventually turned out good, so he drew some reassurance from that.

He wondered if it was simply easier to just barge in there and talk to Barnes himself, but he didn’t want to attract unwanted attention. He had little time too.

Closing the door, he paced back and forth restlessly outside, trying to form a plan. A whole minute passed in that. The thought of his past self struck him. He didn’t stop to think how Bucky would be able to slip out without being noticed. Not to mention the fact that he would be subjected to two Steves.

“Shit,” he whispered.

Abort mission?

No. He came this far and wasn’t about to give up easily. He smoothed his hair, straightened his uniform, as though trying to impress a date. Steeling himself, he walked to the door and opened it.

And came face to face with James Buchanan Barnes.

Both froze, staring at each other for a moment. Bucky scanned him from head to toe, shooting a glance at the bar then back at him. “How...?”

Catching his arm, Steve pulled him into the alley and shut the door.

“How did you get out here so fast?” Bucky’s eyes darted to his uniform and his brows rose. “Am I missing something here? Did you change your hair?”

He couldn’t tell if it was his alcohol-addled brain playing tricks on him or Captain America’s uniform suddenly got an upgrade.

Steve couldn’t lie to him. He had to provide an explanation. Besides, he remembered Bucky’s fascination with the future. He remembered the sparkle in his eyes and his awe-struck face during their so-called date at the Stark Expo. At least, that was how Rogers saw it.

“Yeah, well... I’m not really Steve,” he stuttered. “I mean, I am, but not your Steve.” 

Your Steve. 

Sweet Jesus. 

“I’m from the future,” he added.

An awkward silence followed. So much so that he could imagine crickets chirping nearby.

Bucky gave him a blank stare. “Did you smoke something? Or did I drink too much?”

“No, it’s true. I—” Rogers was about to point to his to the time GPS when he realized it was better not to. “You know what, never mind. I came here because I wanted to tell you something I should’ve said a long time ago.”

Bucky’s mind still struggled to grasp what was going on. Because a few minutes ago, he was sitting next to his best friend, who was in his military uniform, and who then headed to the loo shortly after.

“O-kay?” he said.

This is it. Steve couldn’t afford to mess this up. His stomach fluttered and his heart thudded in his chest. With a deep breath, he mustered every ounce of courage he had. He’d said these words before, in another time, and yet, it still managed to make him nervous.

“For as long as I remember,” he said. “You were all I had. You were there when I picked fights and when I got hurt.” He swallowed. “When my parents died. You were always there. When I had nothing, I had you.”

Bucky's heart melted. But he wouldn’t show it, so he merely smiled. “It’s no big deal, Stevie.”

“It is for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you. And I wish I had told you sooner.”

The smile on Bucky’s face reduced when Steve came close. Too close. That golden hair swept back in a smooth quiff really did it for him. He sucked in a breath. His gaze involuntarily darted to his pink lips. Something about this Rogers was different. His fresh sky-blue eyes had the same glimmer and warmth that Barnes knew well, but something had changed in them. He couldn’t place a finger on what. Either way, they always seemed to stare right into his soul. Put him in a spell he couldn’t get out of.

He cleared his throat. “T-tell me what?”

He didn’t know his bright eyes cast the same magic on Steve.

“I love you, Buck. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.”

Those words had been weighing heavily on his chest for so long. Now that he finally got it out, he felt exposed. 

Bucky’s brows eased, “What?”

“You heard me. You used to--I mean--you were jealous whenever you saw a woman too close to me and I never understood why, because I never felt anything for them. Not the way I do for you. It’s always been you.”

Bucky didn’t respond. His brain stopped functioning a long time ago, and he wasn’t sure if his heart was still beating. He simply stood there, gawking like an idiot. His best friend was in love with him. All this time, he thought his feelings were unrequited.

He didn’t realize how long he remained frozen like that until Steve’s voice snapped him out of the trance.

“Will you say something, please?”

“Huh?” he blurted.

Steve huffed. “Oh, for God’s sake—”

Holding Bucky’s face, he closed the gap between them. Bucky gasped as Cap’s lips crushed his with fervor, tasting his whiskey-tinged lips, and setting his soul on fire. He pushed back instinctively, tugging at Steve’s lips with his teeth. Grabbing the straps on his uniform, he pulled him closer. Their surroundings were a blur, like nothing mattered except them. Every other sound—people and vehicles, all drowned in the background.

Steve would’ve stood there, kissing him for hours, if only he had the time. Slowly and unwillingly, he pulled away.

Bucky’s mouth dropped open as he exhaled a short breath. He might’ve forgotten to breathe the entire time. “Whoa.”

“Yeah,” Steve whispered. He took one look at the alley, checking to see if anyone was looking. “So sorry about this but um, I have to go now.”

“What? Where?”

“It’s complicated. But don’t worry, you’ll get there.” In about seventy years, give or take. “I have to go. Maybe you need to ask that jackass what he feels? The other jackass who’s technically me...”

“O-okay.”

Happiness filled Steve’s heart, like the warmth of the sun on a cold day. “See you around, jerk.”

In the end, this detour was well worth it. He tapped his band and the time travel suit materialized before Bucky’s widening eyes. The latter stared, slack-jawed, at the magical transformation. And in a pulse of light, Rogers disappeared.

Barnes stood there for a moment, staring at the space where the man stood a millisecond earlier, trying to comprehend if all that was real. He cautiously reached a hand out, thinking he’d feel something, anything, but his hand simply waved in the air.

The guy literally just vanished.

“What the fuck...” Bucky breathed. What just happened?

He could still feel Steve’s lips on his. Like a damp, invisible imprint left behind. Dazed, he went back into the pub.

His Steve stood near the bar, raising his arms outwards. “Where did you go off to?”

I met your future self. Or at least, I think I did. “Just went out for some fresh air.” Bucky shrugged, trying to be as casual as he could.

“Well, come on, we’re gonna be late for the briefing. The team’s waiting outside.”

Bucky needed to convince himself that whatever happened in the alley was not some bizarre manifestation of his mind. “Wait. I need to ask you something.”

“What is it?”

“Do you... you know...” Come on, Barnes. Get it together.

“Do I what?”

He bobbed on his feet. “... L-love me?”

Steve stared at him for a moment, mouth parting slowly. Bucky wasn’t sure if that was a good sign. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck. The last thing he wanted was to ruin their friendship. It was the one precious thing he had.

But he had to know.

A smile crept onto Steve’s face. He blushed as he scratched his head. “I guess. Yeah.”

The relief Bucky felt was palpable. He shook his head, laughing a little under his breath. His heart did the Jitterbug in his chest. A part of him wanted to smack the blond idiot at the back of his head for not telling the truth sooner.

“Stupid punk,” he said.

“Yeah, I guess I deserve that,” Rogers replied. “How did you find out anyway?”

“Well, you keep giving me these googly eyes all the time! I didn’t know if you really... felt that.”

“Of course I do. You are my whole life.”

Bucky scoffed and looked away, hiding the surging happiness inside. The volcanic eruption in his heart.

“I’m sorry,” said Steve. “I should’ve told you. I was waiting for the right time.”

“Yeah? When exactly is that? Your retirement party?”

Steve tilted his head, looking at his friend with those big, blue puppy eyes and a smile that said ‘please don’t be mad’. Bucky absolutely hated it because he could never resist that face.

“Fine, never mind it,” he said. “You wanna... have dinner or something?”

“I know the perfect place. We could go tonight. Eight o’clock.”

“Sounds good.”

The two of them left the pub, walking so close beside each other that their fingers brushed. Good thing the rest of the Howling Commandos were too drunk out of their wits to notice the love in the air.

-- The Words That Should’ve Been Said. (Read full on AO3)

[wizkiddx]

...surprise part 3

{part1} {part 2}

I got there in the end!!!! sorry I felt like this dragged quite a lot but just quite happy to get it done ahah. Any feedback / advice would be greatly appreciated :)

TW: this is pretty heavy angst, miscarriages / thoughts of self harm / death pls don't read if this could strike a cord x 

Summary: Y/n has absolutely not a clue how to tell Tom and that only strains the both incredibly. 

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The drive home was deathly silent. Tom’s Audi seamlessly drove down the near-empty roads on a sleepy Sunday evening. The whole time Y/n sat with one leg curled up by her chest as she absently stared out of the passenger window. Honestly, though, she was not taking anything of the view in, all processing power in her brain was in overdrive. Souly focused on how the fuck she was going to tell Tom what she had done. She knew Tom kept glancing over at her, with the panicked hint to his eyes- no matter how comforting he was trying to appear. His grip on the steering wheel was every tightening, he felt as though right now that was the only control he had. Still with no idea what was going on - but this time his mum knew too. And his mum when she came to get him from the living was not calm either.

Something he always admired about his mum was how cool she was in a crisis. Even if Paddy likened her to the ’rage monster’ at times when she was pissed because he’d left the freezer door open, or something equally as stupid, when it came down to it, when there was a really serious issue… she was composed. Calm and collected. So when she came in and called Tom, taking him away from his brothers, he could tell something was wrong by the look in her eye. She was upset, that was clear to him, but there was something more. It wasn’t straight up panic (not like if Y/n had passed out or something) but it was… it was a quiet urgency.

It meant it was bad.

Without the need to ever consider it, Tom knew this wasn’t anything to do with Y/n being unfaithful. It hadn’t even crossed his mind. And that meant, something must've happened personally to Y/n - which maybe scared him even more. If it was a betrayal of him, that would principally hurt Tom himself - which would kill him, but he would deal with it. It was the fear of the unknown and the complete powerlessness in this situation that had Tom wishing the drive away so he’d finally understand.

The drive felt painstakingly long for Tom… yet far too short for Y/n to come up with a plan.

When the pair finally pulled into the driveway, they both didn’t even exchange glances before heading out the car and slamming the doors shut. The crunch of their shoes on the gravel path to the front door was deafeningly loud as Tom fished the keys out of his pocket - this time with a sense of dread that contrasted so strongly the excitement he’d felt less than 24 hours ago doing the exact same thing.

Tom held the door open for her, as she fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve; eyes still glued to the floor. He flicked on the light to illuminate the hall as she slipped off her shoes. He mirrored her action and then for the first time since his parents' house looked her in the eye. Just that action had him near spilling his guts about how worried he was about her, before Y/n beat him to it.

“I’m…I’m gonna take a shower.”

And it had him floored. How could she just ignore the bloody massive and luminous elephant in the room? He couldn’t even respond, his brain was so confused as to what the fuck was going on. So she just nodded smally and headed straight upstairs. Leaving him in a stupor by the doorway.

Meanwhile, Y/n was just about holding it together until she got behind the locked door of their ensuite. Then it broke. She broke.

She pulled the clothes that drowned her off frantically, scratching and grabbing until the garments ripped off her body and were thrown across the room in haste. In the mirror, the reflection of the person that stood there somewhat had her transfixed. Tilting her head to the side, Y/n took careful steps up toward it - her eyes transfixed on her exposed abdomen. She was hollow. So very empty and it had her hypnotised. How barely weeks ago she was growing a real human inside there - creating something that should’ve gone onto laugh and smile and grow and learn. And love.

Now she was empty.

The poor thing though had been so deprived by their own mother; so unwanted and hated. They had been starved of all love by the person who was supposed to love them the most. The person who was supposed to be half their world for the first few years at least.

It was her fault.

Y/n hated herself, heck she wanted to punish herself for what she’d done. And yet, there was something so pure about her stomach, about where that angel had been. She wanted to punch herself, to kick and hurt, to make her feel pain. Except for this little life force, or the remnants of them - had her respecting it. Instead, she gently rubbed her stomach, which was flat rather than full like it should’ve been, and yet it felt like a relief. At a snail's pace, she trailed the tips of her finger across her belly just drawing (what she thought were) random patterns - however to anyone else they would have noticed the silhouette of a small human.

She took her time int the shower, having the water close to blisteringly hot but not quite there - using it as an attempt to purge her body of the thoughts, of the guilt. Eventually, though she couldn’t drag out the bathroom routine any longer, she had to go and face him. In reality, Y/n was well aware of how unfair this was on Tom - he had been terrified on the way back here, she knew that. But the thought of admitting to him this truly abhorrent thing she’d done, selfishly she didn’t want to tell him tonight. Just one more night sharing a bed with him, one morning of seeing his puffy eyes and bed hair, one last time hearing his gruff morning voice. Before he found out the real her and before he left.

Thankfully, when she finally drew the courage to unlock the door and leave her sanctuary, their bedroom was empty and she took that opportunity. As fast as she possibly could, Y/n changed into an old nightshirt before huddling under the covers. Tom had been so careful with her feelings today, he might just leave her be. Delay the conversation till tomorrow. It was the dream.

And dreams don’t come true.

Tom walked in, she could hear the soft pad of his feet on the cream carpet as she tried to act fast asleep - regulating her breathing and relaxing every muscle she could. When in fact that the whole process was the opposite of relaxing, she was on such high alert, waiting for a sign of him leaving her alone for the evening. Quite expectedly though, it didn’t quite go down that way. She heard him sigh, felt him sit on his side of the bed as her body rippled with the dip on the bed, felt his eyes piercing her.

“Y/n…” the tone of his voice had her wincing internally, he was hurting. “Y/n please… just talk to me?” She was too scared to move. “ I know your awake Y/n we both know who’s the actor here” Y/n knew Tom was trying to lighten the mood, trying to make her feel a bit more comfortable but then he switched back to an underlying hint of desperation. “Please talk to me.” She didn’t have a choice, he wasn't going to let up - Y/n could tell. So she rolled over and opened her eyes facing him.

“I’m tired, Tom. Can we do this tomorrow?” His face completely morphed and she knew she fucked up. He wasn’t upset or worried or scared any more.

“I’m sorry but that is not fair.”

“Please just-“

“NO. ah” He sighed, as if disciplining himself for the instinctive angry tone. “Look- I-I’ve been going at your pace. I’ve been treading on eggshells all day. I didn’t want to push you but I’m bloody terrified! I mean you told my mum! And she’s worried so that means I’m even more stressed and-…. Just please Y/n. You know I’d never judge you I’m just worried because I care.”

And just like that, she didn’t have a choice. She was really hurting the man she loved.

As a result, Y/n pushed herself up into a sitting position, still hugging the duvet around her in a protective blanket as she looked into his glassy eyes. It tore her heart out.

“I’m really sorry” she pursed her lips blowing out an exhale, trying to collect all her thoughts, feelings and emotions together. “I’ve been trying to all day but-.. it’s just I’m finding this really hard to express in words.”

“I don’t mind if it takes all night, just I-I want to understand.” He was just too kind and she didn’t deserve it. So picking at the duvet while pulling her legs closer in protection she nodded.

“Okay, so-so I just take you through it chronologically? And-and then I can go to Y/f/n’s place so.”

“Why would you got to hers?” He asked, his eyebrows drawn tightly together in confusion. He knew you hadn’t been unfaithful - his mum most definitely wouldn’t have reacted in the way she did had Y/n betrayed Tom.

“Just… just listen first.” She didn’t want to answer that question, to speak it into existence. Him kicking her out, in a rage of fury and anger at how evil she could be. She thought he’d just reply and accept it, not feel the need to calm her.

“I could never ever hate you Y/n please, it’s a bit insulting to me that you think I would.”

His words had her a little shocked - she had definitely not expected that reaction. His offence.

“Umm okay just… just don’t promise till you hear.” He gave her a stern look, not enough to make her back down or change her mind from what she thought was inevitable. “So. So it was when you were away. You’d just gone to Atlanta I think and-and I woke up one morning and was sick and it was weird I don’t know… um so I took the day off but I was okay until the next morning and-and I was sick again. It was weird so I took the next day off because you know Elliot I work with? He’s-he's got some broken immune system or something so we really can’t go in if we are ill. But I was fine until the next morning again and-and then it kind of hit me. I hadn’t had a period in ages and-and yeah.”

“Your pregnant?” Tom asked, trying to wrap his head around the current situation and what she was saying.

“Was…” Her voice wavered and she paused a second “ I-I was. I was shocked you know? We…we weren’t ready.” Y/n shifted uncomfortably, pushing herself closer to the headboard. “You said you didn’t want kids now and I mean … we- we are barely adults ourself right? It-it was so stupid but I couldn’t tell you could I?… Phone you up and say by the way I’m pregnant with a kid you don’t want!...” She dared to look at him, only for a second, seeing the way he just stared at her as though transfixed. She couldn’t keep looking at him.

“So I was waiting till you would get back … er next week, well when you were supposed to be back anyway.” She scoffed lightly at that, how the whole entire situation had been completely flipped on its head. “I would have had the scan then. And-and I went and it so stupid because they were a blob but-shit. They were so beautiful.” She hadn’t even noticed, suddenly absorbed in what she was saying but Tom leant over to grab one of her hands because it was trembling so vigorously. It wasn’t that he wanted to comfort her, he needed to. Because really? When it mattered, he hadn’t and that was already eating away at him.

“And I stupidly…. So fucking stupidly… I thought what if? I got excited and in my head… I don’t fucking know I just thought that I-it, it might work. I really - really thought it could work.” She couldn’t feel it but Tom wormed his arm around her shoulder, squeezing her into his side. “But by that point, I’d already filled them with so much hate. I wanted them out for so long and…and then I just- well I got what I thought I wanted.”

For the first time since she started her speech, Y/n wasn’t absorbed in retelling the story. Noticing her position with Toms arms protectively wrapped around her, she dared to look up into his eyes. And they weren’t right. It was wrong. Because here he was still looking at her with these incredibly soft warm brown eyes, his thumb rubbing up and down on the back of her shoulder blade.

“Love, I’m so so sorry.”

She was bemused. What the hell was he doing? Was this just a double bluff, acting all soft before he was about to rip her heart out - even if it was what she deserved, that was exceptionally cruel?

“No Tom your not listening. I-I couldn’t keep your baby alive! I-I wished them away… I wanted them gone!” Now she was plainly hysterical, shouting and yelling at Tom as her hands shook.

It broke Tom’s heart. He knew this was his fault - at least a little. Clearly, she should never have been in a position to have to deal with this herself, that was obvious. And it made him guilty… but what hit harder? She had very clearly implied she was worried about his reaction, he should never have let her worry. Because Tom knew he loved Y/n unconditionally, at this point that should be a given - for all he cared there was nothing, within the limits of reason, she could do that would make him seriously reconsider his opinion of her. Even then, if his opinion were ever forced to change so dramatically... he still knew he wouldn’t be able to stop loving her. Loving isn't an option, it is not a choice. You helplessly surrender yourself to it. And yet she was apparently less sure of this fact.

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with this by yourself.” And he meant it. He truly meant it. However, Y/n was not having it at all - in her state, in her frame of mind, this was him just torturing her; acting it out only to break her heart. His words and her position wrapped protectively in his arms dawned on her. It had her leaping up from the bed, tears streaming down her face as she gestured wildly.

“Tom that’s not fair! Don’t you get it? I KILLED YOUR BABY! They were alive and then I wasn’t enough for them! IT’S MY FAULT!” To put it simply, she looked insane. Screaming, with tears streaming down her face, arms flailing about as she yelled at Tom, who was still sitting on the bed.

He’d never seen her like this- with so much anger. What was even more disturbing was the fact that it was targeted so inwardly at herself.

“This isn’t your-“

“BE ANGRY TOM. For fuck sake… I-“ She choked out a sob “I murdered your kid! RAGE AT ME SHOUT AT ME it’s-it’s what I deserve.” It was insane but the look in her eye was one that seemed to Tom as though she needed him to hate her. As if in some fucked up narrative that was how the story should end.

He was not having one bit of it, tearing his eyes away from her maniacally shaking frail frame and instead to the corner of the ceiling. There was no precedent, no guidebook on how to deal with this, no past experiences to rely on. Unlike if Y/n had had a shit day, Tom knew then to subtly keep her within reach, to silently be there so she could literally and figuratively lean on him when she was ready; unlike when she was angry at ignorant politicians, he knew not to argue but prompt her to explain more, give a more reasoned argument so anger became thought through intellect; unlike when her grandma had died, when she just needed his contact, she needed his thumb rubbing against her hip, needed to sleep listening to the rhythmical thumping of his heart. None of these were applicable - his touch seemed to make her worse; his words seemed to anger her more; his mere presence didn’t seem to be doing an awful lot of good.

And yet, he couldn’t leave her even if it seemed to be the most logical option. Because she was wild, not herself and not logical and he, for the first time, was terrified of the danger she could be to herself.

Y/n stared at him, wide-eyed, waiting for him to react. She saw his Adam's apple bob up and down - readying his voice to scream at her. She saw his brown eyes collect a sheen of tears of rage - ready to bore holes into her skull as he degraded her to what she was worth. Which was very little. Then, as if in slow motion, his sharp jawline tilted back level and his eyes met her. He was frozen as if a statue, ready to rage at her.

“I love you both. So much and equally.”

Tom was pretty sure he could imagine Y/n’s runaway train in her head slam on the breaks. Her eyebrow twitched a little, as she stood completely still trying to analyse his words. Because to her, it didn’t make sense. So he took this moment of (at least surface level) calm to smoothly and slowly stand up, actions much like mirroring how someone approaches a spooked cat on the streets. Movements slow and preplanned, trying not to set off the fight or flight response on the women in front of him.

“That little baby you made… I didn’t know he ever existed till minutes ago but…but I know for a fact I love them.” He was trying to both figure out and decode his own emotions while explaining them in a way Y/n would accept and understand.

“I love them because… they are made by the love of my life. And that’s incredible and indescribable and just… just part of you, an extension of everything you and me together are… They would never have been perfect right?” Tom softly asked, though realistically knowing he wouldn’t get a response from a still motionless Y/n - besides a single tear, which appeared to have a mind of its own, escaping over her bottom lash lid. Tom watched it roll down her cheek as he composed his next words. “No they wouldn’t, no ones perfect… neither me nor you. But they would’ve been safe and have been loved. They were loved, you-you loved them right, even if you didn’t think you did or when you were terrified?” This time Y/n nodded minutely and Tom mirrored this, taking a small step a little closer to her. “And I did love them while they were in your stomach because they were part of you and I always always love you…. So they were so full of love okay? There's no rhyme or reason to why what happened happened but it’s… it’s definitely not because they were starved of love okay?” Y/n still didn’t have appeared to have released a single breath since Tom stood up, so he made a calculated and risked assessed movement to reach his hand out to touch her upper arm. In reaction, she sucked in a sharp shaky breath and then expelled it just as quickly - just like Tom knew she would. He physically felt a pull in his chest seeing the torment in her glassy eyes, now barely a rulers length from her.

“This, it’s an awful… awful situation. It’s sad and heartbreaking but I really need you to know that it changes nothing about how I feel about you. I need you to really understand how much I love-and always will-love you, and how I love them too.” Another tear escaped the same eye and Tom reached up with his other hand so his thumb could brush it away before the glassy orb met her pronounced jawline. To be honest he was quite grateful for the moment as he felt his voice getting a bit sticky in the back of his throat. She still wasn’t ready to speak yet and he was okay with that.

“We’ll never forget them and we will always love them, but I want to do that with you, as we get older together. They tie us closer and I refuse to disrespect them and force ourselves apart….a-assuming you don’t want to either?” Still cupping her cheek with his left hand Tom felt as well as saw her nod, this time more emphatically, her eyes darting between focusing on his left and then right eye - as though she was just checking they were saying the same things as his mouth.

“I’m sorry I-“ Finally feeling the connection between her brain and voice box, Y/n stated to jiltedly speak but was interrupted as Tom tentatively feathered his lips on hers. “You can be sorry for scaring the crap out of me today, you can be sorry for shouting and you can be sorry for not telling me at all… I don’t think you should, but if you’re staying sorry that’s all you can be sorry for.” He was barely speaking, more like just moving his lips against hers, yet they knew and understood each other completely Y/n got everything. So she sighed and repeated.

“I am sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for you not having the faith to know I’d be happy, that was my fault. I’m sorry for not being here and not noticing when you were struggling on the phone. I’m sorry I crept up on you last night. But I don’t think there’s anything else for either of us to apologise for.”

“Okay” Y/n then pressed her lips firmly and almost desperately against his, feeling his warmth wrap around her, as he literally wrapped his arm around her waist, from where it had been on her upper arm. And really she was very incredibly desperate since it was very very incredibly clear now with him pressed against her that he might’ve been all she needed this whole time. Tom went with it for a couple of moments, but then broke them both apart - it sounds odd but he sort of felt like he was taking advantage of her.

“Darling you’re grieving. We can tackle this together …. But your grieving so we need to look after you first. And, and we’ll remember them and face this. But we gotta look out for each other too and…”

“I’m ill aren’t I?” He was oh-so relieved that she could see it too.

“I’m not a doctor but I think so… think we need to get you eating properly.”Y/n nodded and Tom kissed her forehead, pulling her completely against his chest - only exacerbating and exaggerating his awareness of how boney she felt. It hadn’t gone unnoticed how she’d spent the whole of Sam’s dinner pushing the meat round on her fork - rearranging it numerous times- whilst picking at a few carrots. “We can do whatever you feel will help you this evening but you need to tell me what you want to eat.”

*

You agreed but you still felt incredibly nauseous, so managed to put off the whole snacking thing in lieu of cuddling up on the sofa with Tom. You were still incredibly confused, feeling slightly detached from reality if you were completely honest. And you knew Tom was a good actor, his career kind of speaks for himself yet, all the same, the sheer truth in his eyes, voice, heart. It had you feeling safe. He no longer felt a flight risk and although you still couldn’t understand why he was forgiving you so easily, you believed he was. In the softest voice, he kept just saying ‘your grieving’ when you tried to challenge his logic- admittedly proving difficult in your scattered and hazy mind.

So you found yourself lying almost completely on top of his right side, your head tucked underneath his chin, a fluffy blanket weighing down on your back to keep you nice and toasty. Silently Tom had trailed his fingertips tentatively, under the hem of your t-shirt, round over the top of your hip to his stomach. Initially, it had felt like the worst and most alien feeling in the world- but he told you to relax and you listened; he told you to take deep breaths and you listened; he told you he loved you and you listened.

It must’ve been incredibly boring for him, I mean the TV wasn’t on neither was the radio and you knew his phone was in a pocket you were currently lying on. He didn’t complain though, he just let you lie there. Just sort of being with him.

*

At some point Tom realised she’d drifted off, after a long time fighting exhaustion, as though she were worried about what Tom would do once she finally gave in to sleep. It wasn’t surprising though, considering her energy intake from food for today was limited to a couple of roasted carrot slices, Tom knew her falling asleep on his chest was inevitable. The time it took had also given him enough time to fully digest and process the whole day as well as for deciding what he needed to do. So once she appeared fully out of Tom dared to worm his hand between their bodies and, with a few muted grunts of effort, phish his phone out his back pocket.

‘Hi, I know this asking a lot but would you mind getting Sam to make that pasta bake Y/n likes and dropping it round? Just she’s asleep but I don’t want to leave her alone but could do with getting something in her?’

‘Sams already on it and it doesn’t take long. I’ll be at yours in about an hour, shall I just let myself in?’

Tom was so grateful for his family, and for how they’d taken Y/n in to. Although she’d never admit it, her tougher than average upbringing always had her feeling a bit isolated- she never had ‘her’ people. The people who completely accepted her for who she was and never judged her. But as soon as he’d introduced her to them, it was as if she'd always been there. He endlessly appreciated the talks Nikki and you had, the way his Dad would come over when she was home alone to help with the simple stuff like knowing what lightbulb to buy for the lamp that had blinked out.

She had a place in his family.

Quite impressively, Sam had managed to bake the dish and then Nikki had managed to drive round before barely three-quarters of an hour had passed. Y/n was still completely out, so when he heard his mum unlock the door with her spare key, he felt able to wiggle out from under her without disturbing at all. He met Nikki in the kitchen, leaning against the door frame as he watched his mother fly about the kitchen - preheating the oven on a low temp to keep it warm while pulling plates and cutlery out the drawers so it was easier for Y/n and Tom when you woke up.

“Thanks for all this” Tom announced his presence with a soft sigh as he padded further into the kitchen. Nikki instinctively threw her arms round her eldest’s shoulders, squeezing him tightly.

“You guys okay?” Tom replied with a rather uncertain hum, before recounting the evening to his mum in a low voice - as though Y/n could be disturbed from the other side of the house. Nikki was in two frame of minds at this point, clearly heartbroken for the pair; but also incredibly proud of her son because it appeared he’d reacted and said exactly the right things.

“And you?… it must’ve been a shock?” To be quite honest, Tom hadn't thought about his own emotions yet, he’d put himself on the back foot for the time being.

“I mean it’s just a bit surreal… I don’t know I didn’t really have anything to do with it but - I just know that it's made me so certain that one day we will... you know?” Nikki hugged her son again with a little nod.

“Well I won’t outstay my welcome but I do want you to give this to Y/n too.”’ With those words, she fished a square box out of her handbag - it was about the size of two matchboxes and Tom raised his brows in curiosity. “She’ll understand when she sees it.”

And with a brisk parting gesture, Nikki left, Tom tucking the box into his side pocket before getting the pasta ready.

////////

Waking you with a gentle rub on your upper arm, you mewled a groan and pushed your head hard into the sofa below you in an attempt to alleviate the tension that instantly rippled through your skull. With hazy eyes, you blinked heavily, slowly focusing on the pale yet soft skin of the boy crouched opposite you.

“Hey darling, nice nap?” Nodding gradually, you still tried to completely recollect and piece together everything that had happened today “… you need some grub before we head upstairs yeh?” Again you nodded in compliance because at this point, even having been asleep for the last however long, you really didn’t have the energy for any conflict or disagreement. With a little prompt and poke from Tom, you reluctantly sat up, grasping the plate he offered to you while still rubbing one of your eyes. Busying himself with running back to the kitchen and grabbing his own plate and drink, you had time to look at the food and notice what was served to you. Tom plopped himself next to you and turned his head with a small smile, meeting a bemused and slightly suspicious look from you.

“You didn’t cook this…?” Really it wasn’t a question. You knew for a fact Tom was not and would never be a good chef. No judgement though, since neither were you, meaning the pair of you heavily relied on the ingenious invention of uber eats most evenings. Tom chuckled at your perceptiveness and admitted defeat without even trying to feign it.

“Nah mum dropped it round. Though I think Sam cooked it so a joint effort.”

“-didnt have to-“ You hated feeling like a burden. You hated people worrying because you just felt bad. Not worth the attention and effort. And Tom hated you feeling like that - naturally then, he had the need to shut you down instantly.

“No, you’re right. But they did.”

The air was filled with the quiet clinks of ceramic against the silver or the cutlery as you forced mouthful after mouthful down your throat. He was trying to be subtle, and yet you could feel Tom’s concerned glance checking you were eating. Truthully, you really didn’t feel like eating at all (even if it was Sam’s gorgeous tomato and sausage pasta bake - an odd combination but it worked). However, what more crucial in that moment was not disappointing your incredibly sweet boyfriend.

After having consumed as much as you physically could - which Tom deemed suitable with a small nod- he took your plates away and came back to sit beside you. More and more silence.

“Are-are we okay?” Whispering quietly you felt Tom’s body seize up into a rigid state, his face whipping round to look at you. He chose to reply with actions first reaching up so that his hands cupped your cheeks, he turned your head and then slowly leaned into to press his lips softly against yours. Once retracted, he pressed his forehead onto yours.

“Of course. I bloody love you and we’re going to get through this together.” His eyes were almost intimidating, with the seriousness he placed in his gaze - just to make sure you knew he meant it.

What you had done to deserve this boy you’d never know. But you were so incredibly grateful for him.

It gave you the confidence to take the first move this time, pressing your lips against his, holding for a moment before arching away - a small yet real smile on your face.

“Oh… nearly forgot” He muttered, leaning forward and grabbing a black leather box that you’d failed to notice had been placed on the coffee table. For the second time this evening, you were caught off guard and bemused as to how he’d sourced this item within the time frame. “It’s from mum… she wouldn’t tell me what it is but said you’d understand.”

His words had you biting your lip, in a weird way eager to see, purely because you knew Nikki understood you. And understood what you were going through. With one last look to Tom, you reached out and grabbed the box, thumb running over the sleek leather exterior. Once your thumb reached the bottom you flicked the lid up, unveiling a simple silver chained bracelet. It had five dainty silver charms hanging off it, they looked a bit like leaves but were kind of too small to tell. Moreover, it looked a little worn and preloved but it didn’t stop your eyes from watering when you saw at the bottom another charm, not yet attached that looked newer and pristine.

5 charms already attached and 1 new one.

“Oh” Tom muttered, also clearly very much intrigued, hovering off you left shoulder to see properly. ”That’s mums bracelet. She never really takes it off… that’s nice I guess?” He was obviously confused and it had you chuckling wetly, at how oblivious he could be. You did love your dear idiot.

5 charms for her 5 pregnancies… and now one for yours. One to wear forever, to love, to keep close to your heart.

They were tears of happiness, you were certain of, however, Tom was not at all sure why your flood gates opened again and was worried.

“You-you don’t have to take- I mean if you don’t like it don’t worry-“

“I love it” You breathed, looking up at him with glassy eyes before hastily picking up the extra charm and with shaky fingers clasping it onto the chain next to it. Tom perked up, if still bemused, wrapping his arm around your shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t know how you convinced her to take it off, I’ve been trying to buy her a new bracelet for years but she’s always stuck with this old thing.”

“Because it’s beautiful!” You yelped in argument, making him laugh at how suddenly you’d switched into a happy and overexcited mood. Though don’t get me wrong, he was loving it.

“You Holland women I will never understand.” He whispered into your ear whilst you looked back at the chain, fixing it round your wrist. His comment made you freeze up, as you felt his grip tightening on your waist as he realised exactly what he might have just let slip out. “No I er- I don’t mean… but-but one day maybe if-if you wanted.”

“I love you” You sighed, kissing him once again to save him the embarrassment of watching his cheeks flush and ears pink up.

“I’m serious though… one day because… because you’re my family and when it happens our family will grow too.”

He was right. And you would, one day,

But you would never forget the two little lives remembered on this bracelet.

tagging people that might be interested (sorry if u don't care ahah): @wayfaring----stranger @vanillanestor @333dolans @thevelvetseries @whitewolf51 

[hieromonkcharbel]

"We often fail to realize the depth of evil, terrifying as it is. I am not speaking only of the selfishness of the wealthy, heaping up riches for themselves, or of those who sacrifice to achieve their self-selected goals. Or of the dictator who breathes in the incense due only to God.

I am speaking of the selfishness of good people, devout people, those who have succeeded through spiritual exercises and self-denial in being able to make the proud profession before the altar of the Most High, 'Lord I am not like the rest of men.' Yes, we have had the audacity at certain times of our lives to believe we are different from other men. And here is the deepest for of self-deception, dictated by self-centeredness at its worst: spiritual egotism. This most insidious form of egotism even uses piety and prayer for tis own gain.

This becomes a form of insult to the altar itself. It is when the very desire for holiness itself is turned upside down. It is not love and imitation of Christ Crucified, it is the desire for glory. It is not charity, it is egotism.

I believe very strongly that a large proportion of the good intentions which drive us on to seek God are ruined in this way. One can reach the point of consecrating oneself to God for egotistic motives, becoming a religious for that reason, building hospitals, doing all kinds of good works.

There is no limit to such self deception. And the path, once entered upon, is so slippery that God has to treat us harshly to bring us back to our senses.

But there is no other way of opening our eyes. It has to be painful.

But often it isn't enough. Disaster, illness, disappointment hover like birds of prey over the poor carcass that had the temerity to say, 'Lord, I am not like the rest of men.'

How can we possibly entertain the idea that we are different from other men, when we shout ,cry, feel afraid, lack determination, and behave atrociously just like everybody else?

Yahweh my God, I call for help all day,

I weep to you all night;

for my soul is all troubled,

my life is on the brink of Sheol;

I am numbered among those who go

down to the pit,

a man bereft of strength:

You have plunged me to the bottom of the pit,

to its darkest, deepest place,

weighed down by your anger,

drowned beneath your waves. (Ps. 88)

It is the purification of love, the refining fire which exposes our nakedness.

And God himself, who is love, is not powerless.

On the contrary, because he is love, he acts with greater determination.

If the soul does not free itself by way of the cross it can never be free. It is the tremendous surgical operation which the Father himself carries out on the flesh of his son in order to save him. And it is a dogma of faith that without the cross 'there is no forgiveness.' A mystery, but it is so. Pain purifies love. It makes it true, real, pure, love. It frees love from pleasure which falsifies it like a mask. It makes it a gift freely given.

When the flood of pain has passed over the soul, what remains alive can be considered genuine. Certainly not much remains. Often it is reduced to a thin shrub. But on this the dove of the Holy Spirit may rest to pour out his grace. It is reduced to a 'yes' murmured among tears and anguish, but echoed by the all powerful 'yes' of the dying Jesus . . . "

(C. Carretto)

[slashersins-abandoned]

anonymous asked :

hi! could you possibly do the masked slashers taking off their mask for the first time in front of their s/o? perhaps jason and michael and/or whoever else you want! thank you! 🥰

jason

his face … his deformities . it’s the reason he was bullied at camp . it’s the reason he was chased down the pier and shoved into the unforgiving lake . it’s the reason he heard laughter as he tried desperately to thrash his way to the surface . it’s the reason water filled his lungs . it’s the reason he drowned . the reason he died . so it’s no wonder that jason wants to hide that part of himself . the part that caused him so much pain and suffering .

jason is so very aware of his current state . he’s been half alive , half dead . a corpse , powerful and deadly and vengeful for years now . and time hadn’t been kind to him . the deformities that once marred his face have been changed . everything has changed about him , leaving him feeling as if his entire body is marred , and it is . he knows you can see it . the truth of his undead state . his skin a pale blue grey . his blood thick and slow moving , black as it oozes out of him . part of his left side has been eaten away , showing his ribs . injuries he’s received leaving deep , lasting impression into his slow healing body . he isn’t human . not anymore . he knows this . he knows you know this . you’ve seen him and stayed with him despite him being a moving corpse .

but his face … his face is different . long gone are the deformities that once marred his features . changed and warped into something he would find even more terrifying . you’ve told him so many times that you don’t mind how he is . that you love him besides it . but with a face that is mostly bone , strings of muscle and blue grey flesh keeping his jaw connected , how could you ever stay with him ? he was scared . terrified of what your reaction would be . he’s a monster . a monster with barely half a face .

it takes so long for him to finally take off the mask . and his shoulders slump , already defeated , already preparing to hear you scream and run and curse him . ready for you to see him as the monster he is . undead . unlovable . he doesn’t look you in the eyes . he looks down , not raising his head as his arm drops weakly to his side , the mask gripped harshly in his hand . he doesn’t realize that he’s shaking . so scared of your reaction .

the feeling of your warm hands cupping his jaw , those delicate fingers tracing over the bone , over his exposed teeth , over the flesh part of his upper cheek . the way you lift his head , looking over him , trying to find his eyes , trying to get him to look at you . you didn’t run . you didn’t scream . you stayed . still cupping his face as you whisper his name , wanting his attention . he’s slow to meet your eyes , but what he finds there has tears welling up , spilling over his broken face and your fingers . he finds love . so much love . so much acceptance . he can’t hold himself back now as he tugs you in , wrapping his arms around you . your forehead pressed to his as you whisper how much you love him , mask or no mask .

what he found in your eyes as you looked up him shattered him completely . he found that he was beautiful .

thomas

his skin condition hadn’t been bad . looking back at the very few pictures there were of thomas as a child confirmed that . it was obvious that there was something medically wrong , but nothing … dramatic . but the condition that thomas had wasn’t able to be treated . his family was poor , barely making ends meet each week . so thomas was not able to get the medical attention he needed that could had stopped the spread of his condition . there were no medicated creams to help heal blackened , dry skin . no pills to take that aided his body in healing . so it got worse . and worse . and people were cruel . and thomas found no sympathy for something he couldn’t control .

he was likened to a monster . a freak . diseased and dangerous . contagious almost . and he heard it from a very young age . he couldn’t help his looks . he didn’t know why people laughed , until they called him ugly . he didn’t know why people gasped in fear , until they called him scary . and being told this over , and over , and over , and over … he started to believe it . he was ugly . he was scary . a monster . a freak . hiding his face behind his hands , behind a mask , it made things easier for him , but that self hatred that lingered deep inside of himself only grew and grew .

thomas won’t take off his mask . he prefers to hide behind it . he doesn’t want to risk you seeing his face . to see how bad its gotten . he’s ugly . he is so ugly . and he doesn’t want you to see it . he doesn’t want you to change your mind . asking him to take off his mask has him flinching like you burned him . he’ll get up and stomp off , upset and hurt and self conscious . no , y/n . you can’t see . he can’t show you . he can’t bare to lose you . and he knows he loves you so much that he wouldn’t be able to let you go . and that would make him even more monstrous , wouldn’t it ?

the first time you see his face is an accident . it happens after passionate love making . the ties of his mask slipping and moving . he’s nuzzling into your neck , pressing kisses over sweat slick skin as he pulls up to look at you . oh , he loves to look at you as you come down from your pleasure . he doesn’t notice that his mask has slipped off . instead he’s too focused on staring down at you with adoration .

your eyes widen as you see what he’s been hiding from you . and he thinks the look in your eyes just you coming down , he doesn’t realize it’s from seeing him for the first time . he sighs softly when curious fingers filter over his lips , his cheeks . closing his eyes as he melts into your touch . he’s never felt your fingers on the ruined parts of his face before and -

thomas is grabbing your wrists suddenly . eyes wide as he looks to the side of your head and sees his mask . he panics , he’s sitting up , blindly grabbing for his mask as he hides his face in his hand . he’s shaking , panting , terror and fear breaking him down .

reach out to him . sit up and touch his back softly , rubbing slow circles there . oh , tommy . how could he think you love him any less because of his face ? kiss his back , his shoulders . wrap you arms around him . tell him how much you love him . that it’s okay . that it’s just a face . his face . the face of the man you love . and you love him for his face and despite it . hold him as he calms down . as he breaks and cries . as he’s reminded of the depth of your love and he basks in it .

bubba

bubba doesn’t see himself as ugly . fears of his face scaring others isn’t the reason he wears a mask . even all drayton’s yelling and shouting and cursing at him doesn’t make him feel ugly , it makes him feel stupid and useless . which is just as bad . so his masks have before kind of a buffer from that kind of abuse . they act more like a safety blanket . something to protect him from the outside world , from other people . the world is cruel and mean and dangerous . and he wants to feel safe .

his masks also work as tools of self expression , as an extension of himself . he has so many different ones for different moods and feelings depending on the day . you’ve counted at least seven so far , seeing some more than others . and while you loved bubba , you can’t help but be curious .

it starts innocently enough , just simply asking if you can see bubba without a mask on . sadly , the reaction you get isn’t what you hoped . bubba seems to panic . worried babbling and soft whines and violently shaking his head no . why would you want to take his mask off ? why ? were you going to hurt him ? were you going to be mean ? he didn’t want to take it off , he didn’t feel safe without it . why would you , the person he loves so much , want to make him feel unsafe ?

he is going to be worried , keeping away from you and even hiding for a day or two . give him some time . tell him you’re sorry , and that you didn’t mean to hurt his feelings . smother him in kisses and love and affection and all those worries will melt away . he’ll be back to his normal bubba self before you know it , even it if means you don’t get your curiosity fix .

the day you see his face is well … normal . simple . unexpected . lazing in your shared bed , reading a book , you only glance up and smile when bubba bounces into the room with barely contained excitement . you can’t help but smile as he goes through the closet and takes out his favorite dress . a little flowy blue number with yellow flowers and only the smallest of blood stains on the hem . bubba was feeling pretty today , you could tell . and gosh you loved seeing him so happy like this .

watching him from behind your book , enjoying this little moment of bubba , you stilled when he took off his mask . he wasn’t looking at you , no , he wasn’t even paying attention as he went through his many masks to find his pretty one . you were in shock . staring at his maskless features , taking in the true face of your loving country man . and you watched , even as he put on his other mask , the bright colors of make up on leathered skin clashing with his blue dress . but he turned and beamed at you , twirling and showing off . you could only laugh and compliment him . you hadn’t expected to see his real face , but you knew right here and right now that it really didn’t matter . you loved bubba masked or maskless . maybe you loved him more when he could express himself like this ,

brahms

he hadn’t wanted to wear a mask . to be completely honest he never even thought about it . it was his mother’s idea . coming from the fact that she couldn’t stand to see her son’s fire marred face . and brahms found out the truth after a tantrum was thrown about the mask , and his mother let this truth harshly fly out . he’d been devastated . his own mother didn’t want to see him . thought he was ugly . it’d been a painful experience . one that he kept close to his heart . he wasn’t the beautiful little boy his mother and father had once loved . now he was shameful and dirtied and kept hidden away . and he never took the mask off because of it .

that shame , that fear , that hatred of the ‘ ugly ’ part of himself is what keep his mask on once he’s out of the walls . you loved brahms the doll , the porcelain face it had . so it only made sense to him that you’d love him , brahms the man , and his porcelain face . he doesn’t think you’d love him as much if he took the mask off . his own mother came to hate his scars . you would too . he just knows it . so he stays hidden . as much as he can .

he won’t take the mask off in one go . it’s slow . it comes in moments . more and more of brahms’ face being shown to you . it starts when he wants a good night kiss . a real one . on his lips . he’s so shy about it . nervous fingers lifting the mask up just enough that you have access . and once he takes the slightest of kisses , he’s pulling his mask back down . he’ll revel in the feeling and soon want more real kisses . outside of the good night ones . soon he’ll want more than just those quick small kisses , he’ll want more . and when he gets them his mask is pressed up further , over his nose . he tries so hard to keep the mask on , but it’s hard when you’re so addictive . the first time you see brahms for all he is , his half fire marred face standing out in the moon light is the first time you give all of yourself to him . he’ll still wear the mask , taking it off only for sexy times , and even then not always , or when he needs to bathe . but he won’t be as scared , he won’t flinch away when you reach out to touch his face . he knows you won’t leave him . you’ve had every chance to and you stayed . and maybe , just maybe , he feels like he isn’t as hideous as his mother made him believe he was .

michael

you don’t get a choice on when this happens . you don’t get to ask . he’ll ignore you . or worse he’ll make it so you don’t ask him again . if he doesn’t want to take his mask off , he won’t . the entire reason he wears it is because it’s a comfort . like he’s in his own little world . no one can read him , or try to , there’s no pressing eyes of doctors and nurses looking for any twitch of muscle to over analyse . he feels strangely safe , strangely right , with his mask on . it’s the control he has with it on . no one knows who he is , what he truly looks like , and yet everyone knows who he is . it’s that fear , the fear of his prey not knowing , but knowing who and what he is .

michael doesn’t take off the mask . not when he sleeps . not when he showers . not during the moments when you two are doing … things . the closest thing you’ve ever seen of his face are those moments when you look up too soon from eating just in time to see him pull his mask down over his mask when he’s finished .and even then he glares at you for staring . irritated that you might have seen something , that you might have seen him .

it’s safe to say that you do not at all expect for a freshly cleaned and laundered michael to suddenly appear next to you while you were curled up on the couch watching tv .  you didn’t even hear the shower go on or off . you hadn’t even heard him enter the house . turning with a half smile , startled at such a sudden appearance , you opened your mouth to welcome michael back home only to shout in shock as who was sat next to you .

instead of the masked man was … well a man . his face turned to the tv , but his eyes watching you in a sideways glance . there wasn’t any movement , michael stiff as you had your shock . he didn’t offer anything , just turning his gaze back to the tv . it takes a few minutes for it to settle in . for you to realize that this was michael . and you looked awed . your fingers twitching to reach out and touch him , but you know better . michael had already nearly broken your wrist once for simply touching over his mask before . as happy as you were to see his real face , you really wished michael would of chosen a gentler way of showing you .

[taurianskies7]

ASTROLOGY: DETERMINISM VS FREEWILL

I think people miss the point with the determinism and free will argument in astrology. They go off the track when they focus extensively on the materialistic manifestation of astrology, which is of course, important but in the pursuit of empirically proving astrology as true, you're forgetting the inherent occult and spiritual essence tied into the roots of astrology.

A few things to note: Astrology isn't deterministic in the way that it is 10/10 defining everything about you, astrology speaks of patterns, of habits, of the circle that you inevitably fall into if you keep unconsiously moving forward in life. Thus why, for a lot of normal people, astrology and its tied predictions are often very dangerously close to the truth, and those who pursue spiritual paths are often seen overcoming the very pattern. This is where the "free will" argument can settle in, these patterns and habits that can be read through a chart - you can choose to actively go against them, it's much like trying to break out of habits but in a more deeper sense (it is no wonder the 8th house is tied to this very change), but most people won't, through choice, purpose or subsequently their own karma, they are less inclined to want let alone walk in the path of breaking the cycle. These tendencies borderline on an almost addiction-like pattern, because more often than not, the reason we are on this earth itself is because of [ desire ] in its various forms, a soul urge that is tied to the cycles of birth. If you know, you think reincarnation is a thing, which is like an argument for another day - I have stopped wanting to convince people of these spiritual or philosophical topics mostly because it would be useless unless your soul has chosen to go down this path. Live and let live. Some people aren't meant to be spiritual and that's fine, it's their journey after all. Their desire, if you will.

Let's examine the spiritual houses in astrology to understand. 4th, 8th and 12th. The 4th house is the hidden self, it is also known as a house that gives a direct revelation or teaching from the divine [ in a lot of religion and spiritual practices the mother is seen as the "most" divine existence in relation to our earthly body, the act of creation, so that could be one of the reasons this is also associated with the mother ], this is the foundation for the soul, if you look at a child's first 7 years, good astrologers tend to not read their chart mainly because the mother's karma is deeply intertwined at that point. Anyway, it is only through looking and contemplating our very foundational beliefs, our inner biases, can we slowly uplift the veil of the world - the illusion of emotions and understanding. This is the base, where we find and reevaluate our core beliefs. The 8th house is the house of spiritual death and rebirth, if the 4th house is allowed to be explored and flourished, we look beyond our own understanding, to look at the world in a way that was hidden to our eyes before, slowly exposing and cultivating the intimate knowledge of the other, we experience the change that comes with it - enlightenment, or at least, the path that leads to a better understand of the whole picture, beyond the surface level gaze, beyond the things buried by others to be never looked at again, due to how painful this shedding of skin, this shaking of foundation could be like. There is a reason knowledge is valued but this kind of knowledge, the one that the eight house provides is deeply personal and revolutionary, it burns everything yet leaves you with fresher eyes. Finally acknowledging the depths for the vast ocean. Then, the 12th house, oh this one is famous, for being the reflection of the things you do not see, the house of loss and spirituality, the isolation and final shedding of one's mortal coil. The 12th house is the house of surrender, the place where you drown yourself in the light of a divine vastness that you could never comprehend, but you let go anyhow, knowing that material stakes are not as important as they are impermenant, there is a reason this house is the absolute of isolation. Through isolation, surrendering and finally freeing one's self of their desires can they "break" of the patterns that bind their soul. It is also the place where the soul breaths its final breath in the current incarnation.

Those who pursue the path of spirituality to its truest essence, especially yogis and whatnots, are said to be unaffected by the movements of the planets. They have dedicated their life to break the cycle and that is their path.

I hope that was easy enough to understand, I don't know what got into me but I suddenly had the urge to write this up.

[justmeandmysickies]

@angstyaches this is probably not exactly what you had in mind but I hope you still like it!

Bonding

characters: Nick and Joe

warnings: emeto

„Please come over, I’m sick.“ That was all Nick had said, before the line clicked, indicating that the call had ended.

Now usually Joe would have called him right back to give him a piece of his mind – he wasn’t Nick’s mother after all – but it was different this time.

Nick was always whiny when sick. His usually so stoic and smug self would be replaced by the attitude of a needy 7-year-old as soon as he had the sniffles. And that was never a reason to worry. He’d be back to behaving like himself after a few days of resting, so Joe usually wouldn’t bother going over there to take care of him. Since Nick would be either sleeping or harassing him 24/7 it was simply not worth it.

But something about Nick’s call had Joe in his car and on the road in a matter of seconds. Something was wrong. Nick hadn’t sounded whiny. He had sounded like he was in pain. Genuine pain. And Joe didn’t like the idea of that one bit.

He arrived at Nick’s building several minutes later, grocery bag filled with sick-day-supplies in hand.

Joe briefly wondered if his boyfriend had been smart enough to leave the apartment unlocked for him but fortunately the door swung open with ease.

Upon entering the small but cozy living room, he was immediately greeted by Fork, the red cat Nick had adopted just a few months prior to the beginning of their relationship. Joe had never understood that decision – he wasn’t particularly fond of the general concept of having pets, especially not the ones that could kill you in your sleep if they wanted to.

Nick however seemed to love his miniature tiger, so Joe had to live with that. Still, he couldn’t help the face of disgust as Fork rubbed up against his leg, leaving behind a trail of red hair on his black jeans.

Despite his obvious dislike for the cat, Joe stepped into the kitchen to check if his ill-stricken boyfriend had remembered to feed his pet. The food-bowl seemed reasonably full, so he started putting away the few groceries he had bought, ignoring Fork who was looking up at him expectantly as he opened up the cabinet that contained the cat treats.

Satisfied with himself, he closed the cabinets and grabbed some Gatorade for Nick to drink. Now came the hard stuff.

Joe had no idea how to care for other people. His entire life he had been taking care of himself but when it came to others he was at a loss. Maybe it was his lack of empathy. Or maybe it was his fear of things that aren’t in his control. Or he was simply scared that people would see that he actually cared. Whatever the reason, he usually avoided having to take care of someone at all costs. But this was his boyfriend, and he needed his help, so Joe had to suck it up.

And that’s why he braced himself with a deep breath and took off down the hallway to Nick’s bedroom, Fork right on his heels.

Joe opened the door in one swift motion, letting the two of them into the room. It was dark; Nick had pulled all the curtains closed. The sick man himself was only a lump buried in pillows and blankets.

Joe stood still for a few seconds, trying to figure out if his boyfriend was asleep, momentarily forgetting about the cat that had followed him into the room. And before he could stop him, Fork had already jumped up the bed, immediately cuddling close to his owner’s face.

Nick groaned and Joe could have slapped himself. He had probably been asleep before Fork decided to get in his face. “Fork, how the hell did you open the door?” The blonde asked, voice heavy with sleep as he gave his cat a little shove.

“He didn’t.” Joe answered as he stepped closer to the bed.

Nick looked up in confusion. He obviously hadn’t noticed Joe standing there. “Josh? What are you doing here?”

Joe frowned. That was alarming to say the least. “You called me.” He put a careful hand on his boyfriend’s forehead, fearing the worst. Nick just hummed, leaning into Joe’s cool palm, who clicked his tongue in concern. “You’re burning up. Have you taken your temperature?” He drew his hand back and Nick whined at the loss of contact.

“I didn’t feel like it.” He mumbled quietly, burying himself deeper in his pillow.

“What do you mean you didn’t feel like taking your temperature? Have you at least taken some medicine?” Joe couldn’t decide if he was very irritated or very concerned.

“No, didn’t feel like doing that either.”

Irritated. He was definitely very irritated. And it took him every ounce of willpower to not yell at the sick man in front of him.

Joe took a deep breath. He could do this. “I’ll get you some medication in a second. First, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Everything.” Came the reply from deep within the covers. It was clear Nick didn’t feel like talking but in order to help him, Joe had to know what was going on.

“Babe.” Joe sighed impatiently, waiting for a useful answer.

Nick groaned but stuck his head out from under the covers anyway. He was quiet for a moment, before he answered. “Everything. I’m not kidding. But mainly my ear. It hurts so bad, when I first woke up this morning I actually cried for a while.”

He laughed nervously after the last part, trying to play it off as a joke but Joe knew it was true. Nick was honest when he wasn’t feeling well.

His concern only grew when Nick winced visibly, closed his eyes, and started taking deep breaths.

Joe thought for a moment and then it hit him.

“Are you dizzy?” Nick hummed affirmatively. “Feel sick?” Another hum. “Does it feel like there is pressure in your ear or your head in general?” Nick stilled for a second, seemingly thinking about his answer before nodding.

“You have an ear infection.” Joe stated matter-of-factly. Unfortunately, he was all too familiar with the concept. He used to get ear infections all the time as a kid and even as an adult he still dealt with them every other year. The pain could be excruciating, at times having you unable to move. No wonder Nick was feeling so awful.

The latter only groaned, too exhausted to form words or even sentences.

“Alright, here is the deal.” In a way Joe was glad it was an ear infection – that was at least something he would be able to deal with. “I’ll get you some fever reducers and something to drink. You’ll take a bath and then you’ll go back to resting. If this isn’t better by tomorrow, I’ll take you to a doctor.”

“Why do I need to take a bath?” Nick whined, once again burying his face under his blanket.

Rolling his eyes at his boyfriend’s childish behavior, Joe pulled the blanket lower to expose Nick’s face. “Because you stink. And it might make you feel better.”

Nick wanted to argue but Joe had already left the room to grab some medicine so there really was no point. He returned seconds later with some pills.

The next step was the bath. Nick reached his arms out and Joe pulled him upwards with seemingly no effort. In hindsight, that was a horrible idea. A wave of dizziness hit Nick like a truck as soon as he was upright. If it hadn’t been for Joe, he would have crumpled to the floor right then and there.

Joe held his partner close, encouraging him to take some deep breaths when suddenly Nick’s entire body convulsed with a dangerously wet sounding retch. He was trying to decide whether to get a bucket or get his boyfriend to the bathroom, but Nick made that decision for him as he bolted towards the door, a hand clamped tightly over his mouth.

He was so dizzy he could barely see where he was going – it was like his body was moving on autopilot. It’s a miracle he didn’t run face first into a wall.

He crashed to the floor in front of the toilet, just seconds before last nights meager dinner made a reappearance, along with the medicine he’d just taken.

Joe went after him hesitantly, wanting to help but not knowing how. He ultimately settled on keeping Nick’s hair out of his face. It wasn’t much but it was appreciated.

The entire ordeal seemed to be a one-and-done thing. The blonde was left panting and spitting excess saliva into the toilet for a while, but his stomach seemed to have calmed down for the time being.

“Why the fuck do you puke, when your ear is infected?” Nick asked breathlessly while wiping some sweat from his brow.

“I’m not a doctor but I’m pretty sure it’s cause of the pain.” Joe answered, getting up to turn on the water for the bathtub.

At that moment Fork casually strolled into the bathroom and right onto Nick’s lap where he immediately settled down, purring lovingly. The blonde couldn’t help but smile a bit as he scratched his cat behind his ear.

The three of them sat there in silence for a while, Nick being too exhausted to talk and Joe not knowing what to say anyway.

Joe once again helped his boyfriend to his feet, when the bath was ready, although a lot slower this time. He even helped the sick man undress before he turned to leave the bathroom. “Wash up, I’m gonna change your bedsheets.”

“But I’m too tired to bathe by myself.” Nick whined as he struggled to step into the tub.

Joe turned around slowly, not quite believing what his boyfriend had just said. “Are you telling me that you need my help bathing?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Please?” Nick pouted, which was a rather bizarre image, considering that he was muscular, over 6 feet tall and covered in tattoos.

The younger man sighed in defeat. “Fine. But I’m not getting in with you. I literally just showered two hours ago.”

“Deal.”

Turns out, it was a good decision not to leave Nick alone. He was sleepy and if it hadn’t been for Joe, he would’ve probably drowned in his own bathtub. Right now Joe was carefully massaging shampoo into his boyfriend’s scalp who was about to drift off to sleep. He had been fighting to keep his eyes open for the last ten minutes, but it was a losing battle. It was impossible to stay awake with the heavenly feeling of Joe’s fingers in his hair.

And the latter didn’t mind. Any other day he’d yell at Nick for sleeping in the bathtub but not today. He could use the rest and Joe was there to watch him, make sure he was alright. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt him. So Joe started rinsing out the shampoo as Nick fell asleep.

Fork, who had been forced to get up from his owners lap several minutes ago, now decided to settle into the brunette’s side. He still wasn’t a fan of pets but maybe he could get used to this one, Joe thought, unable to hide the fond smile that had snuck up on him.