#i need to stop or ill disappear for a week again

[turtleplushi]

the art styles

[em-b-sides]

Cooking chicken drumsticks at 10 pm. Thriving. In my lane. This is what life is all about.

[ourhees]

THE SUNSHINE AFTER THE STORM ❨𝖲𝖤𝖵𝖤𝖭❩

𝒊𝗡𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗔𝗗 .. ❛ 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍

𝑜𝑓 · 𝖲𝖧𝖮𝖶𝓉𝖨𝖬𝖤 ⦂ bf! ot7 x gf! reader── && slight angst and fluff + argument and mention of not eating ❔ 𝖶𝖨𝖲𝖯 & 𝖪𝖨𝖲𝖲𝖤𝖲

◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞ ╱ 𝑠𝑎𝑣 𝑠𝑎𝑦𝑠 : sav comeback did so well, had to spoil my dolls even more 💌 enjoy !

𝖫𝖤𝖤 𝖧𝖤𝖤𝖲𝖤𝖴𝖭𝖦

heeseung walked in late again. ever since he picked up a new position at his office, he’s been coming home late nonstop. you knew he’d be more busy, but coming home at midnight for weeks straight, you grew a little fed up. tonight, you couldn’t hold back your frustration.

“you’re late again..” you said, your arms crossed along your chest. “how many times is this going to keep happening?”

“i’m trying alright? it’s just really busy.” heeseung sighed, rubbing his temples gently.

“but i’m here waiting for you! every night. i stay up extra late to spend time with you, but i cant, because you’re tired and you want to sleep.” you shot back, your hands trembling.

“i didn’t mean for it to be like this..” heeseung said quietly, stepping closer to wrap his arms around you. “im sorry princess, ill try to come home early so we can be together.”

you look up at him, frustration and sadness still lingering. “i just need you to be here..”

“and i will be.. okay?” heeseung kisses your forehead, his arms never latched off you. ( 𝖱𝖤𝖠𝖣 𝖬𝖮𝖱𝖤 𝖴𝖭𝖣𝖤𝖱 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖢𝖴𝖳 )

𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖪 𝖩𝖮𝖭𝖦𝖲𝖤𝖮𝖭𝖦

you and jay were enjoying a quiet evening at home, you sat on his lap as the two of you got caught up in eachother’s affection. what originally was a night of laughter and affection quickly disappeared when jay would constantly check his phone.

“jay?” you asked politely, frustration lingering on your voice. “can you put your phone down for a second? we’re supposed to be spending time together.”

jay looks up at you, his brows furrowed. “im just checking something real quick. why are you making a big deal out of it?” his tone came out rather harsh than expected.

“im not making a big deal, i just want your attention for five minutes!” you snapped. “you’ve been looking at your phone from time to time all night.”

“im not ignoring you, honey.” jay watched as you got off his lap, sitting a little farther away now to collect yourself. “well it feels like it.” you muttered to yourself, unaware that jay heard.

jay pulls you back on his lap, holding your chin so your gaze is on him. “i didn’t know you were feeling that way. i’m sorry honey, i’ll put it down.”

𝖲𝖨𝖬 𝖩𝖠𝖤𝖸𝖴𝖭

jake had been playing video games all day with heeseung and jungwon. you didn’t mind, considering he worked hard all week and barely got some time for his favorite things. it was one thing for him to barely speak to you throughout the day, but it was another when you felt like he was ignoring your presence.

“jake..” you called out from the doorway, coming to sit on the shared bed. “can you stop playing for a five minutes and talk to me.”

jake glanced over, however his attention quickly went back to the screen. “just one more round okay mamas?”

“seriously?” you couldnt hide your emotions, especially your frustration. “you’ve been playing for hours, you act like i don’t exist.”

jake paused his game, his attention quickly went to you. “im sorry okay? i just wanted a few hours on the game. i didn’t mean to ignore your presence.”

jake got up from his gaming chair and climbed onto the bed. he pulled you close to him, snuggling you tightly. “im sorry mamas.. do you forgive me? if not, i’ll make it better.”

𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖪 𝖲𝖴𝖭𝖦𝖧𝖮𝖮𝖭

recently, you felt as if your relationship with sunghoon was failing. some nights, you barely slept in the same bed. other times, you’d only have one worded answers to each other’s questions. sometimes when this happens, it causes you to barely eat. sunghoon silently picked up on it, he started to see how this was affecting you.

“you’re barely eating..” sunghoon speaks softly, his eyes soft but serious.

you avoid his gaze, silently surpised he picked up on your behavior. “im fine.”

“no you’re not.” sunghoon looked closer at you, his voice laced with concern. “we haven’t been doing well recently and now you’re not even taking care of yourself.”

you sighed, frustrated. “i cant eat when i’m upset, you know that..” you held your head, rushes of emotions hitting you at once. sunghoon could tell you’ve officially reached your breaking point.

sunghoon moved closer to you, his tone gentle. “i hate seeing you like this. we’ll fix things, but first you need to eat. you need to take care of yourself, and i’ll be here to help you,” sunghoon wrapped his arms around you tightly, as if he was afraid to loose you again.

𝖸𝖠𝖭𝖦 𝖩𝖴𝖭𝖦𝖶𝖮𝖭

jungwon has been going through a lot lately. either something hapoened with some friends, or his family, you couldnt point your finger on it. all you knew was your relationship was slowly declining because of it. jungwon felt more closed off, he wasn’t talking to you like he normally would.

“why are you so closed off?” you asked, your voice shaking. “you used to talk to me about everything.”

jungwon sighed, looking at you. “it’s not that i don’t want to talk .. i just don’t want to drag you into my problems.”

“well i’m here for you!” you snapped, your frustration boiling over. “you can’t just shut me out when you’re going through something.

“i don’t wanna burden you.” jungwon ran a hand through his hair, trying to process his thoughts.

“you’re not burdening me, jungwon. i want to be there for you.” you quickly responded, pulling him into your arms as you saw tears falling from his glass eyes. “im sorry.. for pushing you away. i really need you.” you heard his sobs, you tried to comfort him by rubbing his back.

𝖪𝖨𝖬 𝖲𝖴𝖭𝖮𝖮

sunoo wasn’t one to cancel plans with you, infact he always looked forward to the days he’d be able to see you. ever since you and sunoo began getting more busy at work as the days went out, it became difficult to see each other. even on days you both were exhausted, you didn’t want to cancel.

“you’ve been cancelling plans alot recently..” you sighed with frustration. “i feel i’m the last thing on your mind these days.”

sunoo looks at you, guiltier than ever. “i didn’t mean to make you feel like that.. work has just been draining me.”

“that’s all you’ll ever say.” you replied, your voice tightening. “i get that, but it’s not an excuse as to how you’ve been treating me lately.”

he sighs. “you’re right.. i’ve been distracted and im sorry.” sunoo runs his hands through his hair in frustration, yet understanding where you’re coming from.

sunoo pulls you into his arms, his tight embrace made you feel better. “i promise to treat you better, even when exhaustion creeps up on me.” you pull him flush closer to you, feeling bad you let your emotions out on him.

𝖭𝖨𝖲𝖧𝖨𝖬𝖴𝖱𝖠 𝖱𝖨𝖪𝖨

you didn’t know riki would have his friends over at his house today. you sat closely to riki, but no matter how close you say, he continued to ignore you. riki was too caught up in playing games with his friends, he forgot his own girlfriend was right beside him. you felt ignored, and most importantly you felt forgotten about. his friends left, which left you with some alone time.

“why did you do that?” you asked, standing up as if you’re ready to leave. “ignore me when your friends are here?”

“what do you talking about?” riki asks, putting the extra controllers away in a drawer.

“when you’re with them, you pretend im invisible” your eyes grew teary, you tried to look away to fix yourself before he saw you like this.

“oh baby.. i never meant to make you feel like that.” riki pulled you into his arms, you tried to push away wanting some space to yourself.

however, riki wasn’t taking that for an answer. he didn’t like seeing you push away when you’re upset, especially at him. “no baby.. no pushing away. i’m sorry for tonight and i’ll make it up to you.” riki kisses your lips gently, his thumb soothed your cheek.

[moonieandi]

snapshots | stanley pines x f!reader 

summary: a quick look through concerning the early months of your life “married” to stanley pines

warnings (TW): swearing

tags: fluff, early relationship described, vague-pining 

notes: this is probably just for me… but if anyone enjoys it then ill endeavor to continue it in some fashion. No note beyond that i just really really really like stanley.

edit 8/27/24: hello! below i have linked my new masterlist of parts concerning this one-shot turned series. thank you, and enjoy!

word count: 2.3k

| masterlist | part ii |

 His earliest memories of her are hastily intertwined with the abrupt disappearance of his estranged brother. 

There is a sudden break in his memory, between following Ford to the crumbling shack’s basement, to returning upstairs without him, and eventually opening the door to her very hazarded face. 

Her head had been engulfed by a too-big hat, hair matted and stringily stuck to her flushed face, thanks to the bitter winds that racked northern Oregon that winter. She had hauled ass from the “middle-of-nowhere” bus stop to in-town, to the shack. Miles, he had presumed, and her wet socks had solidified the fact. 

If he had known she would appear at the shack's front entrance not even a week after Ford had disappeared before his very eyes, then he would count himself lucky for the forewarning, because she made in through the front door like a tidal wave. 

He eventually welcomed the intrusion, of course, but it took not even 10 minutes for his hackles to rise after she implored at the whereabouts of his long-gone brother. Unfortunately for Stanley, she never once bought the practiced lie that he was Stanford. A lie that he only had the courage to voice now, but it fell weak on her ears. Of course, she had known poindexter… and of course, she had no inkling of Stanley’s own existence. Stanford had never spoken of his no-good brother then. Another nail in the coffin, next to the nails Stanley had put there himself. 

She spoke only in bursts as if it pained her. Voice dry from the winter air. 

“Where is he?” She frantically waved a pressed paper around, previously having been folded up in her pocket. “He asked for me, so where is he? Where is that idiot?” 

“Look hun, I have no idea what you're talking about.” Hands dragging through his too-long hair. “I’m him, he’s me, now what did I send ya again?” He moves to reach for the paper, but she crumbles it in her mittened hands, clutching it like a lifeline. 

His lie is weak, but he could do without the intrusion after the long week of attempting to compile his brother's ramblings in that god-forsaken journal. 

He didn’t even know her name for fucks sake. 

This was never the fault point in his lie to her though. Because she knew instinctually that he was not Ford, and that was all that mattered conclusively to her in the end. They shared features, that was something she could not easily deny. The same curve of their jawlines, the same texture of hair, the same set eyes, but she knew simply by the way he talked that this was not her former colleague. 

Her colleague was not nearly as broad-chested as the man in front of her. Not as sure-footed as the man in front of her, and despite them both sharing obvious features, wasn’t as striking as the figure painted in front of her. 

Unfortunately for her predicament, the man in front of her made her nervous, suddenly. Whether it was the sudden realization that she had entered this random man’s home, or that she was entranced by the way the distant kitchen light lit his features. She was unsure. 

Looking back at the paper, and then again at his large outstretched hand, she admitted defeat to her curiosity surrounding him. She would need a cup of coffee. 

Sighing, she brought the paper back to its original place in her pocket. Taking off her hat, her shoulders began to droop. She had walked miles, and she would get an explanation from him no matter what. 

“Do… do you have any coffee?” 

Movement in the shack was constant. 

He was used to the usual up and down the basement stairs nowadays, and the usual venture from room to room also. 

The woman had a habit of nesting. Much like his own mother. 

She constantly had to move things, change around Ford’s shitty sci-fi bullshit, and rearrange cupboards. The first month she took to doing it he figured it was her way of simply coping with the reality of their shitty situation, but after the third month, he changed his toon. 

My god was she short, but oddly fucking mighty. 

It was on the third month he had caught her rearranging the livingroom finally. It had been the most intimidating room in the shack, thanks to the mud-soaked 80’s carpet, and the mysterious tanks that Ford just had to store upstairs for some reason. 

Luckily in their cohabitation, they both agreed that Ford’s stuff all needed to be moved from out of site. Not really for them per se, but more so so they could both catalog all his bullshit. Cataloging was something she insisted on, so he got very used to random sticky notes with her small handwriting. He would admit that his knees began to ache not too many weeks ago from the constant movement of Ford’s shit to the basement, but he more or less refused to let her assist in the move when it came to walking down the very steep flight of stairs. 

He didn’t want her to fall, okay? 

He didn’t want anything to happen really, in regards to her. He tried to separate genuine feelings when it came to her presence in general. So when they eventually parted ways, it wouldn’t feel like another nail. 

But she had to goddamn move everything in this house, and he got the distinct feeling she didn’t enjoy the fact that none of it was really theirs to move. She had insisted though, one night, that it was important that they made themselves comfortable. 

“I’ll take the goddamn fall for this, mmk Stanley?” A slight upturned smirk on her lips. “Ford can yell at me all he likes, but if we are stuck here for some time let's not live like he’s just around the corner.” 

Despite his constant bickering about her and the stairs though, he found her upstairs one evening, attempting to move the long three-person couch from one of the rooms to the downstairs living room. 

She blushed, caught red-handed. “Okay okay, but this would be better downstairs in front of the T.V., no?” 

He tisked, hands on his hips. “And ya’ just couldn’t wait, huh.” 

She laughed while he reached for the other end, cursing under his breath. “Can’t leave you alone for a minute.” 

The couch did make it downstairs, but not without some cursing, teamwork, and some pinched fingers when taking it around the bend to the top of the stairs. Stanley leading in front, holding the majority of the weight the entire way. Not that he would tell her that. 

The couch made a home in front of the tiny box T.V. that they had, and they both enjoyed the comfort it brang. The shag carpet wasn’t as comfy to sit on as the couch. 

They both sat with a grunt, after adjusting the long couch. 

“Ah, now this I could get used to.” He flung himself onto the couch, closest to the back door. 

Popping down, she made her home on the other end. “Mhmmm. Good plan, good decision, go team!” Her hand extended out for a fist bump from him. 

His hand dwarfed her own as he met her in the middle. 

She was smart, he realized, too smart for the likes of him.

She was quick as a whip for sure, with knowledge of a hodge-podge of things, and half the time she talked when they were both downstairs he didn’t have a clue what she was saying. He hated it down here at times, her rambling reminding him of his faintly forgotten childhood. She was so different in the basement. She was so different from when she was upstairs. Like she turned it on and off. 

She herself knew that Stanely probably didn’t understand most of what Ford had been doing, but at times she felt she understood even less so. So she spoke it to him, to fill some void when they were down there. The void being Ford, of course, the bridge between the two.

She couldn’t help but get the inkling that Stanley did not think fondly of the basement, whether it was due to her ramblings, or because this was essentially his brother's coffin, she didn’t wish to ask. It was the one thing she hadn’t bothered to voice yet. 

He had been assisting with moving the portal's original structure all week. She needed the area cleared, to properly reassemble the shape of the portal and then lift it to its original place on the basement wall. The pulley mechanism was hastily drawn out somewhere in the control room,  but she also needed a proper understanding of the material's weight and durability to calculate the simple engineering equation. 

Of course, she attempted to do this without looking up from her scribbles. 

Stanley’s movement around the basement set her on edge. The sweat-soaked tank top, the curly messy hair, the broadness of his chest, the god-damn grunting as he moved material around. 

I mean, okay, she had asked him to do this specifically, but she… was beginning to forget why exactly she had. She had also offered assistance, too, which he shrugged off like he had the furniture.

Right, yes the weight she needed the weight. 

“Umm Stanley, have you been able to find in the journal what kind of material this is?”

He grunted, metal falling to the wayside as he turned to her. “Nah Doc, couldn’t find shit.” He lifted his tanktop end, dabbing at his forehead. “But I can tell you one thing, ain’t like anything I’ve seen before.” 

“Hmmm. You are right, this is almost too heavy to be normal steel, and it seems Ford didn’t exactly weld these pieces together. There’s no evidence of tig welding traditionally used.” 

He moved closer, his hand on his hip, the other extended. 

“Lemme check the diagram again, he leaves weird shit in the ledgers all the fucking time.” 

His hand grazing her own, she passes over the journal. 

He flips to the part of the portal page they have access to, his fingers meeting his tongue as he flicks from page to page. Contemplatively, his hand rests on his chin, and the entirety of the book rests in his own hand. 

Leaning over like that, he takes her breath for a moment. 

“See here.” He grabs her forearm, pulling her back in front of the journal still in his grasp. “He writes this cryptic message in the ledgers around the drawing, but it cuts off because we only got one part of this bullshit.” 

She sighs deeply, her hand running through her hair multiple times. 

“Fucking hell Ford goddamn it.” She quickly rethinks, hands waving to push Stanley back a bit. So she can breathe again. “I’m sorry, really, I just mean-” 

His laugh is low and shakes his shoulders until his head falls forward, his hand meeting her own on his chest. 

Breath gone, again. 

“Doc, ain’t no way we gonna get this done unless we curse him out from time to time.” His hand engulfs hers, making her form a fist he brings it to his head, knocking his temple. “I curse him too from time to time, but usually up here.” 

“Stanley, I really am sorry. I just-” A sigh, a shake of her shoulders. “I wanna know what the hell he was thinking, Stanley, I wanna understand I really do, but I don’t know what’s next. I don’t know what to do.” 

Three months of rearranging upstairs combined with the two additive months spent in the basement had drained her, and he knew it. 

She was different down here, changed. That’s why he fucking hated it down here. Because it upset her like this. She was too pale down here, too weary, and too goddamn self-conscious. 

The thing that had plagued him for so long, the inadequacy he felt all his life when compared to his other half, was seeping into her subconscious. Ford wasn’t even fucking here, and he had somehow made her feel less than. He had been working all his life to feel equal to him, but that was his own cross to bear, and his own nail to hammer. Not hers.

He didn’t think much of letting go of her hand, in favor of grabbing her chin. Tears made trails down her dirty round cheeks, eyes wide. He thinks she stole his breath for a minute. 

“Now listen here Doc, you ain’t gotta do this alone. I never wanted you to do this fucking alone, that’s not why I told you everything.” He takes a step forward. “I told you everything because I know we can figure this out.” 

She sniffles, moving closer, leaning into the warmth of his hand. Her own curled up into his dirty tank top, journal forgotten on the floor in favor of comfort. 

“It’s gonna take some time.” She mutters under her breath, only answered by the laugh in his chest. 

“Don’t I fucking know it Doc.” A pause. “But… I mean at least we got each other, right?” 

A smile blooms on her face, her heart slowing under the struggling reassurance Stanley was attempting to bring. 

“Mmm, yeah.” Sniffling, and nodding. “Ya, I have you Stanley.” 

“And I you, Doc.” 

He steps closer, encasing her in his large arms, her head making a home in his shoulder. He was warm, she noted, and strong under her withering confidence. 

His hand reaches up, knocking on her temple. “You can’t be calling me Stanley while we are upstairs, I hope ya know.” 

She nods in his chest. Only down here can he be Stanley to her now, even in her mind. 

[flopsxii]

“i’ve got my eye on you.”

jace was perfectly content with his pending arranged marriage, after all he had a duty to the people. however, once he laid his eyes upon you, suddenly he wanted more. despite not knowing your name or background, he was determined to find out everything.

jacaerys velaryon x reader 𝜗𝜚

(my first ever post on tumblr! this is bad, i got nervous writing it… however please request stuff and feel free to ask who i’m willing to write for; there’s a large number of characters i like!! thank you for reading <3)

jace had been riding vermax when he first spotted you on the shore front, poking around in the sand; he was unsure what you may be looking for. he wondered why a lady was alone, especially one as pretty as you were. he had scoped the area, finding no traces of anyone else being nearby; why were you alone? who exactly were you? curiosity got the best of jace, he needed to know.

once vermax had landed and bowed slightly to allow jace to dismount, you became startled and stumbled back slightly at the sight of a dragon and its rider. “i mean you no harm, my lady. i just wondered if you were alright, can i offer you any help?” jace asked, his hands behind his back as he approached you.

he finally was close enough to take in all your features. your shiny, unruly hair looked perfect despite its messy appearance, your glowing eyes staring up at him, the sand that dusted your cheek from when you accidentally rubbed there… you looked perfect. he noticed the collection of sea shells you had in your lap, shells of all different colours, shapes and sizes. but none of them could amount to your beauty.

despite the fact that jace had no idea who you were, it was the complete opposite for you. how had you managed to capture the heir to the iron thrones attention?

“no, my prince. i don’t need any assistance, thank you for the offer though, you’re too kind.” y/n responded as a red blush spread across her cheeks like a wild fire. “if you must excuse me, my prince… i must be returning home now.”

before jace could muster a response, she had gathered the seashells in her lap into her hands before taking off in the opposite direction to vermax and jace. he watched her figure disappear over the sand dunes, his chest was weighed down with disappointment.

he didn’t even ask for her name.

he spent the days following your brief interaction pondering about you. he had been kicking himself due to the fact that he didn’t ask for your name. he knew he could ask someone to find out your identity but he didn’t wish to scare you off. he intended to find you again, one day and formally introduce himself like he had planned to that day.

suddenly thoughts of his marriage and producing heirs was pushed to the back of his brain. whilst he spent months wondering what his marriage would be like to his future wife, now he could only think about you. your name. your identity.

he vowed to never stop searching for you, until he had asked for your hand. only then would he be at peace with himself.

𝜗𝜚

meanwhile your interaction with the prince had left your heart hammering away in your chest. never once had an interaction with a man left you in such a way. you wondered if you had come down with an illness, had the prince somehow bewitched you? no matter the reason, there was no point dwelling on it; there was no chance that your paths may cross again in the future.

that is what you kept telling yourself, until jacaerys velaryon had somehow appeared in front of you a week after your first meeting.

“my lady, we meet again.”

[imtryingbuck]

Dancing In The Rain

~gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: reader and Bucky dance in the rain

Word count: 927

Warnings: nothing

Masterlist

“He truly loves her, doesn’t he?” Nat speaks as she holds the cup full of hot chocolate closer to her chest.

“His thoughts are so loud whenever she’s around” Wanda leans her head on the other red heads shoulder.

Steve stands next to them watching his best friend finally find happiness “what do you mean?”

“Well when she’s not here I can’t hear anything coming from him but when she is here, it’s pure love, all the bad memories disappear because of her, he worships the ground she walks on” the smile on her face slips into a grin “and the sexy thoughts… let’s just say that’s he’s more than satisfied and creative in that department” chuckling as Steve starts blushing.

“Didn’t need to know the last part Wand.”

“Is it bad that I’m jealous of an 106 year old great grand dad with a metal arm and a staring problem?” A voice sounds from behind the trio.

“Nope not bad at all Sammy, all three of us are jealous” Winking at Nat and Steve when they give her a look.

All four of them now stand side by side, Steve speaks up again “What about her thoughts?” Curious to how the woman who’s captured his best friend’s heart really feels.

“Her thoughts are loud too. She really loves him, she’s not afraid of him in the slightest - you guys remember a few months ago when he had that really bad nightmare?-” Of course they remember that night, they all got woken up to him screaming, by the time anyone had the chance to calm him down he was up and out of the bed destroying everything in the room. He thought he was back at Hydra not realising he was at the tower and he was now safe, all of them tried to calm him down but nothing worked. Steve and Sam wore the bruises for a week as proof. It wasn’t until Nat ran back to her room to grab her phone to ring Y/n, who arrived as fast as she could, out of breath due to her taking the stairs because ‘the elevator was taking too long’. Still in her pjs, her hair was dishevelled and pure panic was written all over her face. All it took was her saying his name to stop him from throwing another punch into Sam’s already bloody face. All it took was her to gently touch his face for him to snap back into reality.

Continuing when they all nod “- she wasn’t scared of him but for him. She was scared of the situation, scared of us hating him for what had happened. But never scared of Bucky. And the other day when Peter ran into him making him spill his drink? He had to take his shirt off right, the names she calls Hydra when she saw the scar on his shoulder would make a sailor blush” chuckling at the memory of that day “She’s even thought of how she was going to make Hydra pay for what they did to her Bucky, she’d put you to shame Natty. She loves him so don’t worry Steve; she’s not going to hurt him.”

Steve smiles softly “Thankyou”

~~~

~ 20 minutes earlier ~

“No” pulling his hand away “Baby I said no, we’re not going outside. It’s raining baby and I don’t want you getting ill”

“Please Buck I want to dance in the rain!”

“You’ll get ill”

“You’ll nurse me back to health” smirking with her eyebrow raised.

“There’s no music” he copies her expression.

“Don’t need music”

“It’s raining”

“It’s romantic”

Sighing, he knows she knows he close to giving up but he’s determined to get his own way this time “No Y/n now sit that pretty arse down and watch Ricky and Morty”

“Rick and Morty”

“That’s what I said”

“No you said Ricky when it’s Rick. Anyways come and dance in the rain with me”

“Don’t even think about it” is all he says when he notices the change in her body language.

“You asked for this Bucko, you only have yourself to blame” inhaling a deep breath and exhaling slowly - she winks at him “please please please please please please please please please plea-“

“God damn it you crazy woman, let’s go then”

“Love you”

“Yeah yeah love you too”

~~~

The rain falls lightly as they make their way outside, even though he’s annoyed with himself for giving in he can’t help the smile that creeps it’s way on to his face, especially not when his girl has a huge smile on her pretty face.

Gently clasping her hands in his, he pulls her into him “have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“Everyday, but tell me again” smiling up at him she makes no attempt to get rid of the raindrop that landed on her eyelashes.

“I. Love. You. More. Then. Anything” each of his words are ended with a kiss to her lips.

“I love you too James. Can we slow dance?”

“Of course, my love”

As the rain continues to fall the pair slow dance already getting drenched Bucky hums a tune, one that she doesn’t recognise. A surprised squeal escapes Y/n lips when Bucky spins her around.

“We’ve got an audience” she confesses.

“Who?”

“Wanda, Nat, Sam and Steve”

They both burst out laughing when Bucky looks up and the four Avengers standing in front of the window drops down to the floor.

“They are aware we can still see them, right?”

~ banners credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

[backtothefanfiction]

Make Me Forget | tasm!Peter Imagine

Summary: After Harry nearly strangled you, things can never be the same again. (A follow on from Crushed)

Warnings: 18+ Only, smut, cheating, guilt, violent boyfriend, trauma, angst, hurt/comfort

A/N- I never planned on making a follow up to crushed but this just came into my head and I needed to get it out. This is a quick one before bed, but smutty because I’m trying to get my head back into the smutty game to complete some of my other WIPs. Also I haven’t written for Peter in a while and thought he deserved some love.

You: Hey…

You: Can we talk?

You: Please?

You: ….

You: Peter?

You: Please Peter, don’t ignore me.

You: ….

You: Please….

You: I need you.

It had been nearly two weeks now since the night Harry almost killed you. The night that Peter saved your life. The night you kissed him and asked you to stay. When you had woken the next morning, he had already gone and he’d clearly been avoiding you ever since.

You tried to push the whole thing to the back of your mind. Tried to play along with Harry and pretend nothing had ever happened. But ever since that night, it was like something had died inside you.

You didn’t want to look at Harry in a different light, but you couldn’t help it. Although you both tried the bruises around your neck, the one clear reminder of Harry’s little episode remained; and although you covered them with a scarf until they disappeared, you still felt them as if they were burned on your skin. Every time you breathed, it was like the scarf that covered them, grew tight and brought you back to that moment every time.

All you wanted to do was talk to someone about it. As Peter was the only other person who knew, you wanted to talk to him about it, but you hadn’t seen or heard a single word from him since that night. You dared not ask Harry about Peter either, for fear it would trigger something. So you just sat and let it eat you from the inside out alone.

In all truth, the moment it had happened you knew you wanted to leave Harry, but every time you tried to do it, you couldn’t, guilt eating at your insides like a parasite. Guilt for knowing it wasn’t truly Harry’s fault. Guilt for knowing his illness would kill him before long and not being able to make him go through it alone. Guilt for kissing Peter, Harry’s best friend…. and of course for wanting to do it again.

You: Peter, please talk to me!

It was no use. No matter how many times you tried, he just seemed to ignore any attempt you made to contact him.

2 weeks turned into 4. The bruises faded completely. Harry was trying to do everything he could to make it up to you. You knew Peter had been around because Harry began to bring him up in conversation again; but it was clear he was making sure to see Harry only when you weren’t around.

At 6 weeks, things began to turn again. Although he never laid a finger on you, Harry became spiteful again. He would rant about work. Rant about random people he’d run into on the street. When he grew extra heated you would see a flash of green in his veins at his neck or he’d smash a glass and it would take you straight back to that night. But he’d always see you flinch. Always realise when he’d gone too far… until one night, he didn’t.

“WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS?” Harry screamed, the highball glass in his hand collided with the marble floors and shattered into a million pieces. “I MEAN I-“ he said storming towards you, his finger prodding at his chest, “I!” He reiterated louder, “PAY FOR HIS FUCKING SALERY!”

You shrank back against the wall as he stomped passed you, crossing to the bar in the living room to fix himself another drink. You knew it was a bad idea to let him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him, worried it would only anger him more.

“The ONLY reason he’s still even on the board is because he was my father’s best friend.” He seemed to laugh at that. “As if you could imagine anything so ridiculous as my father having a best friend. SOME BEST FRIEND, LETTING HIM DYE ALONE!” He knocked back the last of his drink, before that glass collided with the wall. Suddenly it became all too clear this wasn’t about the guy on the board at all- but Peter.

“Harry-“ you said tentatively as you stepped forward, wanting to know what exactly had happened, but the closer you got, the clearer the green in his veins showed. When his eyes locked on yours, you knew he was gone.

“DON’T HARRY ME, SWEETNESS! WE BOTH KNOW THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!” He spat as he crossed the room towards you. “You in your little SLUT dresses! Fluttering your WHORE LASHES all over the place.”

It was like walking into a lions den wearing the famous Lady GaGa meat dress, you knew you’d fucked up, quickly trying to step back and run away before you got eaten, but it was no use as he charged at you. “Harry- stop- please!” You cried, “I don’t know what you’re taking about. I haven’t seen Peter in weeks. HARRY! PLEASE LISTEN TO ME!”

You raced around the room, attempting to place large pieces of furniture between you. To give yourself enough space to get out. At the memory of what happened before, your throat grew tight. Words began to fail you. You knew you were on your own this time. You had to get out. You needed to distract him. You used the only thing you could think of that Harry hated more than anything else lately- Spider-Man.

You made your eyes dart towards the window behind him and back again. Then you did it a second time, catching his focus before you said, “Hey, is that Spider-Man?”

“SPIDER-MAN!” Harry fumed, his anger dialling up a notch, but with his new hatred peaked, he turned his back on you to face the window. As he stalked towards the rooftop doors, ready to fling them open in search of the masked vigilante, ready to curse him out, you ran. He barely had time to realise what you had done and come back and curse you out for it, when you were already in the elevator and on your way back down to the lobby.

🕷️ 🕷️ 🕸️🕷️🕷️

When Peter got back to his apartment, the last thing he was expecting was to find you, curled up in a ball on his doorstep waiting for him.

“Y/N?” He asked confused. When you looked up at him, he immediately knew something was really wrong. Your eyes were red and puffy from crying. He immediately knew it was because of Harry. Peter frowned, remembering what had happened last time, sudden fear coursed through him. Fear… and guilt. He should have never ignored you. Never left you alone. No matter how hard it hurt to see you with him. “What did he do?” He almost snarled, but knew it was the wrong move as he saw the panic and fear in your eyes.

He quickly softened and you picked yourself up off the floor so he could get to the door to open it for you both. Neither of you said anything more until you were inside. The silence as you both made your way through the tiny apartment, Peter dumping the bag of groceries that had been in his hand on the small kitchen side, gave you time to compose yourself, to wipe at your face and the last traces of tears on your cheeks, as you took in the boxy studio apartment. You sat yourself down on the end of his bed.

“Do you want anything?” He asked as he quickly put away his groceries; a carton of milk, a box of sugary cereal, eggs and three frozen pizzas- all pepperoni. “A glass of water or-“

“I want you to make me forget.” Your small voice said as you looked down at your hands.

His hand hesitated a moment, half frozen on its way to get a cup out of the cupboard. You mustered up some confidence and stood again, moving across the floor towards him. He slowly lowered his hand from the cupboard as your hands reached for him. Your fingers clawed at his shirt with need as you came to a stop and stared up into his soft brown eyes. The only eyes you had thought of for the last 6 weeks. The ones that had got you through. You then lowered your eyes to his lips. “Please, make me forget.” You spoke to them, your eyes heavy, your need for him now you were stood before him once more growing too great.

“Y/N, I can’t. You know- Harry- I”

“It’s over. Me and Harry are done. I’m not going back- I can’t- just… please.” You said, your eyes meeting his once more, softly pleading with him. He hesitated as he stared at you, clearly weighing up the right thing to do in his head. “Please, Pete,” you whispered as your hands ran back up his sides, your eyes falling back to his lips, “please just make me forget.”

You reached up on tiptoes to capture his lips in yours. When his hands gripped hold of your arms you stopped, moving your head away. Sure he was about to push you away. You watched closely as he fought to push away, to do the right thing- but he just pulled you in closer.

His mouth was on yours hungrily as you both leaned into the kiss, your arms flying around his neck, his arms twisting around your back as he lifted you off the floor, walking you both towards the bed. As he tried to place you back down on it, you refused to let go of him, pulling him down on top of you, your tongue reaching to lick into his mouth. He tasted of coffee and sugar, far from the bitterness and whiskey Harry tasted off.

His fingers were gentle as he pushed your hair back away from your face, his fingers tangling with it behind your ears, the safety and security of his touch making you soften beneath him. The realisation made you well up and when Peter wiped his thumb across your cheek and it came away wet, he quickly moved back.

“You’re crying.” He said.

“I know.” You replied as you reach to pull him back to you.

“Wait-“ he said.

“It’s okay. You replied, they’re happy tears.” You said softly, but he didn’t quite believe you.

“Pete, please, you just-“ you swallowed away your tears, willing him to believe you, “you make me feel safe.”

“And that made you cry?” You didn’t say anything, but he could see the truth in your eyes- and it made him soften. “I’m sorry,” he sighed, as he wiped away at the trail your last tear had left behind. “I’m sorry he did this to you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there-“

“You’re here now Pete,” you reassured him, “please, Peter, I don’t want to talk about him anymore. I don’t want to think about him. I just want you,” you said, breathing the last words into him. “Please… make me forget.��

He paused for a moment, letting you know with his eyes that he understood, a silent promise that he would. He had already let you down once- had been letting you down these past 6 weeks. He wouldn’t let you down again.

When he leaned back down to capture your lips with his again, they were softer, his kisses slower, more gentle, with more purpose. Lazily pulling every little tingle, relaxing every tight pent up muscle from you, one kiss at a time. He moved from your lips, to your jaw, down your neck, your fingers curling into the strands of hair on the back of his head. He suckled and licked his way all the way down the exposed skin on your chest. When he reached the neckline of your top he stopped, moving away and shuffling himself back, his fingers reaching for the fastening of your trousers.

He paused only for a second to double check this was truly what you wanted and when you silently nodded your head at him, too relaxed, too dreamy and drunk on him, he finally pulled down your trousers and your underwear, exposing your lower half to him.

When he knelt down and parted your legs, you barely had time to acknowledge the cold air against your sex as he covered it with his warm tongue, slowly licking and kissing his way between your folds. He relished every sigh and moan that escaped your mouth. You wanted him to make you forget, but he took his time, savouring every second so he would always remember.

When he sucked your clit between his lips, your back arched off of his bed, body squirming with over stimulation, breath hitching and squeaking in your throat. He hoped to all gods it was healed enough and that you’d let him slide his cock down it later.

When he began to work two of his fingers into your now dripping cunt, curling them, begging for you to give him all you had, you sighed his name and he swore he almost came in his pants.

He seemed to drag out your pleasure for nearly an hour, building you up, letting you cool back down again until you were a pleading puddle, putty in his hands with nothing on your mind other than him.

When you whined, “Peter, please,” after your third lazy orgasm, he finally obliged, climbing back up on top of you, safe in the knowledge that the only thing you will ever have on your mind now, for the rest of time, will be this moment and him.

[purplestanleypinkblanket]

A Witch Hunt, Moonlit Solace (1):

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader

Rating: M (16+)

Summary: While on a witch hunt, you and the boys unknowingly walk yourselves into a trap. A trap that opens up old feelings you have long tried to forget.

Warnings: Minor mentions of violence and blood, supernatural elements (aka witches and hex bags), mild language, heavy angst, mild unwanted physical contact (witch taunting the reader), Implied childhood trauma (is only in the final sentence but will be marked a different color and font, as well as will have a warning leading up to it. Implied childhood trauma is spoken about 'being that little girl again' and 'feeling alone'.) Reader experiences illness. Cliff hanger!

Genre: Supernatural, action, slow burn, hurt/comfort (in a sense), angst.

Word Count: 2,923

Master list: Coming Soon!

"Find anything?" Your voice echoed in the bunker's library as you leaned over Dean's shoulder, eyes on the laptop screen. One of your hands rested on the back of his chair while the other was on the table, both supporting your weight.

Dean glanced up at you, unable to keep his eyes on you for long after your last encounter in the garage. It wasn't an awkward moment, so why did he feel so...vulnerable...looking at you now?

"Yea. Some people went missing in Salem, Massachusetts. Looks like it could be worth taking a look at." His voice was slightly rough, well, rougher than usual. Dean lifted his hand off the laptop, bringing it to run over his lower face, thumb trailing his jaw.

"Sounds like you found us a job, Dean." You smiled brightly, relieved for a reason to leave the bunker. It had been a few weeks since the vampire hunt and your itch to see something other than the same damn walls was coming back.

"I don't know if you should come this time." Dean spoke up, sighing as he leaned into the chair, his back pressing against your hand.

"Wait, what?" Your eyebrows rose in surprise, had you heard him, right? He didn't want you to come? You had been with them for almost three years! Sure, it wasn't until recently that you had taken up the stabbing side of hunting, but you worked hard to be helpful!

Dean looked up at you, a frown falling on his lips. As if he could sense every single thought in your head, he spoke, "You just haven't been in-the-field hunting for very long, sweetheart." He lied, hoping his excuse was enough to mask the concern he felt. Dean couldn't just tell you that he suspected witches to be the perpetrators in Salem. Or that everyone disappearing were women who had similar features to you. He didn't need you to stress, to worry, or worse- to insist on coming even more so. You had always been so protective of others in your gender group. Dean could remember the day a man was hitting on a woman who wasn't the least bit interested in a bar you lot were at. He had never seen you rise into action faster than that moment; your fist met the man's face before Dean could even blink.

"Dean." Your serious voice broke him from his trance, "I don't give a flying fuck whether or not I've been in the field long. If people need help, I want to be there." A mutual, unspoken need to look out for the other passed between you. God, your stubbornness frustrated him. Despite how much it aggravated him, it was also endearing. You stuck up for what you believed in. That was something he admired about you.

"We don't even know for sure what we're hunting." Dean countered.

"Do you have any ideas?" You argued back, arms crossing over your torso as you stood strong.

Dean scowled softly at you, a look you returned instantly. A beat passed between you, a silent battle raging. Non verbalized words floated between the two of you.

'You're not coming,' he adamantly straightened his shoulders.

‘Yes I am. You can't stop me.' Rising to his challenge, you also straightened your shoulders, eye’s narrowing.

'Wanna test that theory?' You watched as his eyebrow lifted in the corner just slightly, a small cue to the deep rooted determination he felt. 

Finally, Dean let out an exasperated huff. "Damn it, fine. Just don't do anything stupid, got it? Don't be a hero." A beaming smile crept onto your face at his surrender, it wasn't every day you won an argument against Dean. With a victorious stance, you eagerly leaned down and pressed a thoughtless peck to his face. You knew he didn't want you to come but, boy, were you glad you could. Perhaps you did it because you wanted to cheer him up, to show him appreciation. Or, maybe, it was because of the bad feeling burrowing itself deep into your gut. All too suddenly, you were fully aware of your lips pressed to his cheek. You were aware of how delicate the action was, how your eyes had fluttered for a split second at the contact. Your eyes widened as you froze, you wanted to pull away, you were desperate to. Your face paled just before the storm, humiliation filling you. 

Pulling away far too quickly than you should've, you brought your hand to your lips. Desperate to say anything, to relieve the suddenly uncomfortable awkwardness you felt, you started to speak.

"I...."

Your face burned red hot- a dead giveaway to the deadly embarrassment flooding you. Why on earth would you kiss him?! Why make it awkward! Why wasn't he responding? You watched his jaw clench slightly, the bones of it flexing and unflexing. Dean wasn't moving, his gaze focused ahead. Oh god, what if he tried to talk to you about it? You could only dread the possibilities. With a stutter, you ushered a quick apology, racing towards the stairs in an attempt to escape the situation. Despite having reached the top of the stairs, you paused, looking back at him for a split second, waiting- no, welcoming him to say something. When he didn't speak, or even move, you left.

Dean hadn't untensed from your touch until after you were gone, his face pale as his mind wracked any form of connotation behind the kiss. He wished you had stayed longer and had given him a chance to speak. He wanted to explain why he tensed under you. He wanted to tell you that he was terrified to move only to find out you weren't there. He wanted the kiss to mean more but he found himself scared of that. Dean was petrified of caring for you, and you getting hurt because of it…of him. He looked towards the stairs you had raced up, a frown on his lips. If he had moved, had leaned into the kiss, had grabbed you before you could leave; would you have stayed? Deep down, Dean wanted you to come back, to tell him what it meant.

The only sound in the quiet drive to Salem was Sam. You and Dean had avoided each other for the last few hours, trying to hide from the awkwardness from earlier. 

"All women victims, none have been found..." His voice drowned on, just becoming another distant sound as you stared out the window.

Pain.

Searing, red-hot pain filled your limbs.

You looked down at your shaking hand. Before your eyes, claws sprouted from your nails. Jagged, desperate pleading fell from your lips but all that all that came out was an angry, pained roar.

"Hey, sweetheart." Dean's hands shaking your shoulders brought you back to reality, "You alright?"

"I..." Your gaze was frantic as you looked around, eyes finally landing on Sam and Dean. They had opened the door you sat next to; Dean was leaning inside while Sam peaked in. Concern was evident on both of their faces. "Yea, yea, I'm fine. Sorry." You murmured, shaking your head to get the delusions off your mind. The lingering stretching pain in your limbs continued to haunt you. "Just...spaced out there for a second." You shrugged, grasping Dean's hand as he helped you out of the car. Looking around, you immediately noticed all the small mom and pop shops filled with gothic or Victorian style elements. The town really seemed to embrace they're witch-rich history.

"I'll go get us a room." Sam spoke up after a beat, his eyes moving between you and Dean who still held onto your hand. You glanced at Sam, nodding. You remained silent; your mind still focused on what you had felt in the car.

Pain.

Soul-breaking pain. Your limbs cracked and snapped every which way, followed by a howl of pain each time.

"Hey," Dean called out to you, voice soft and low. His thumb trailed over the back of your hand, grazing along your knuckles. The action was simple enough, but it was exactly what you needed to return to the moment. The warmth of his skin was the perfect reassurance, the comfort of having him so close seemed to soothe the tremble of your fingers. "What's going on?" He asked, concern evident.

"I don't know." You confided, free hand finding your head. "But my head aches like hell." Dean frowned softly, pressing the back of his hand and knuckles to your forehead.

"You're super pale, and sweaty." He observed, brows knitted together as he wiped your sweat off onto your hoodie. Dean kept your hands together, savoring the feeling of your skin against him. He hated the circumstances that surrounded it though, he hated knowing you only let him do so because you needed the comfort.

"Yea, I feel like my body's stretching past its limits." You admitted, voice shaky.

"Why don't you stay in tonight?" Dean offered in a demanding tone. It wasn't a choice he was giving you, even if it was phrased as one.

Instantly, you shook your head, "No. I'll be fine, I just need to eat something, I think." You argued, eyes watching his jaw clench in reluctance. "Really, Dean. I'll be fine." You pleaded with him, hand tightening around his. You watched the internal struggle behind his green eyes. On one hand, he wanted to be able to keep an eye on you. Dean wanted to make sure you were fine, and he couldn't do that if you were in the hotel room. However, he was also worried about you. You were acting odd, spaced out. Like your mind was in a hundred different places but nowhere all at once. He wanted you to rest, to get better.

"We both know if you don't let me come with you and Sam, I'll just wander about by myself." You informed him, as if you could read every thought in his mind.

With a sigh, he finally relented, "Fine but you're staying in the car." He watched your grateful smile form, his hand squeezing yours slightly. He was happy you were smiling, proud even. Although, as the evening went on, Dean couldn't help but wonder if the price was really worth it.

You had been getting worse by the hour. You grew paler, face sickly, your limbs ached and burned more by the minute. Your hair had begun to stick to your face from sweat despite the freezing temperature of your body. Every time Sam and Dean returned to the car, Dean instantly noticed the slight differences in you. You no longer asked about how their questioning went. You never even noticed they were back in the car until the doors slammed.

"Sweetheart." Dean called out to you, snapping you from your trance. The look of concern on his face spoke volumes. Guilt swarmed you, you didn't want to be another burden- another issue. Not when all these women were going missing.

"They tell you anything?" You flashed a sweet smile that failed to reach your sunken eyes.

"Yea, they told us a lot. It's bigger than we thought." Sam added, "Maybe we should check in for the night. It's pretty late anyway." It was late? Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as you looked out the window, it was practically night.

"When...?" You started, startled by the sudden time shift. It felt like it was daytime not even five minutes ago. The cobblestone streets and iron decorative light posts added an eerie feeling to the neighborhood. Dean began the drive back to the motel, casting occasional looks at you through the rearview mirror. He hoped that if he stared long enough then the answer of what is plaguing you would be revealed.

Sam's voice filled the silence as he told you about what they discovered, "Supposedly, these women had started acting weird before they disappeared. They would start to look super sick. Stopped showing up to work, constantly talked about their limbs hurting." Sam shared a look with Dean, both of them clearly disliking how similar the experiences sounded to yours.

"Aint I flattered." You grumbled; voice hoarse. "So, who did it? Some kind of siren? Maybe a dragon?" You listed off the first creatures that came to your mind.

"It's a witch. We found hex bags in the victim's purses." Dean sighed.

The car fell silent as Dean parked at the motel.

"Hex bags...?" You frowned.

"Hex bags." Dean echoed, and, with sudden determination, hopped out of the impala as he strode towards the room.

"Dean?" Sam called out; voice filled with confusion. You shared a glance with Sam, brows furrowed, before you both clambered out of the car and raced to follow him. The door to the motel room was wide open and Dean was inside, your bag in his hands as he tossed your clothing and essentials out.

"Dean!" You gasped, racing forward to stop him. "What the hell are you doing?!" You demanded.

After a few minutes of trying to wrestle your bag from Dean's ripping grip, he pulled out a small hex bag.

"That's it. We're leaving." He adamantly decided. "Sammy, back our shit up in the car. I'll go pay the receptionist." Before either of you could interject, Dean was already out the door. You and Sam shared a look, confusion and concern evident. You cast your gaze down, staring at the hex bag that Dean had thrown aside angrily.

"Sam-..." You started, voice pleading. Women were going missing here, and maybe using this situation to your advantage could help you save those who had yet to fall target.

"Dean's right." Sam voiced; lips pursed with concern. On one hand, he wanted to help prevent other women from becoming victims. But on the other hand, he refused to let you sacrifice yourself. He and Dean had lost so much to the hunting life, and he refused to let you be another name on the list. He wouldn't do that to Dean, he couldn't. Gathering his and Dean's bags, Sam turned to you. "Look, I'm going to put these in the car, then we'll wait for Dean to get back. We'll find a way to fix whatever is going on." His tone was filled with a promise to you. You nodded, guilt and relief wracked your system as he walked out of the room, leaving you alone. You wanted to help these people, wanted to stop whatever was happening to them. Yet, you couldn't deny the relief you felt at the idea of leaving the town haunting you.

It had been almost fifteen minutes since Sam and Dean had left the room. You expected at least Sam to be back by now. With protective hesitance, you stepped outside the room. Cold night nipped your skin as you looked around the parking lot, no sign of Sam near the impala.

"Sam?" You called out, voice holding a strength you currently didn't have.

No response.

Looking around, you stepped towards the impala. "Sam...?"

Still nothing.

Sucking in an ice-cold breath, you frantically looked around, "Dean?" Any strength in your voice was gone when Dean hadn't responded. You could feel your heart pick up its pace as you moved towards the main area that the front desk resided in. Stepping inside, you noticed just how trashed the room was, as if a fight had occurred. Papers and utensils were scattered, chairs flipped and torn. Blood coated the walls and wood lined floor in inconsistent splotches. You knew Dean wasn't here, but that didn't stop the frantic call of your voice. "Dean, please." You stepped into the room more, hand reaching for the small silver pocket knife in your jeans. "I swear to fucking god, Winchester..."

"I don't think God would take too kindly to that." Someone interrupted you. The voice was cold, icy. Whipping around, your eyes landed and a brunette witch with pale eyes, a grin on her lips. Her presence was overwhelming. Just her stare made you want to run away and cry for your mommy. Standing straight, you pulled out your silver pocket knife, arming yourself.

"What in hell did you do to him?" You growled out, prepared to fight. "Tell me or I'll-"

"Or you'll what? Pretty me to death?" The witch taunted. You stepped towards her, suddenly aware of how sluggish your body was. How exhaustion wracked you. With determination, you continued to move towards her despite your failing body. Your jaw clenched when you found yourself stumbling to your knees in front of her, blade falling from your hand. The ache in your limbs was overpowering, and your eyes felt as if they hadn't found solace in sleep for almost a year. "You fought pretty damn well." The witch pointed out, patting your head as if you were a new trophy, "Lasted far longer than the others. And you're still going!" She laughed. "Yes, you'll do nicely."

Darkness closed in around you as you fell to the floor, no longer able to fight back whatever charm she had put on you. You felt alone, scared. Dean wasn't there, he wasn't there to take your hand, to call you sweetheart. Sam wasn't there to tell you lighthearted stories that humiliated his brother.

(Warning: Implied childhood trauma)

It all came crashing to you how alone you truly were right now. How you hadn't felt this alone since... A sob wracked your body.

Just like that, you were the little girl you tried so hard to leave behind. 

[necroneol]

replaying twilight princess for the 4th time just to show my fiance. it has been very nice. comforting. and also this is my first time even touching my ipad in 2 weeks so im rusty as hell lol

thanks again for everyone’s patience with us. if you havent seen our story updates our very dear grandmother passed away right before Christmas. its been a nightmare. ill never stop missing her. but for now im focusing on my grandpa who is still here and needs my help, and prioritizing my mental wellbeing. ill get back to all of our current commissioners as soon as i am well enough to do so. for now, enjoy this little doodle. and now ill disappear again

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Can you make a story where reader protected Donna from danger that almost cost her life. Donna manage to save her but reader hs been unconscious for a weeks. While she's taking of her, Donna couldn't forget what almost happened to her lover. This became worst because of the severe mental illness that Donna has, but this time she's actually losing her sanity at this point but still clinging to the reader because she's the only one can make her sane. Miraculously the reader woke up, still injured but alive. Donna felt a sense of peace in her soul.

Note: Reader almost died because a soldier tried to kill Donna but she save her. The soldier is possibly a BSAA agent.

It's in Donna's POV, I want to see things her perspective especially when she starts breaking down.

Donna is also shy and weak not like most of her siblings so she struggled with this to.

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

Come back

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, Donna's POV, mental health issues, Donna being Donna

Word count: 5,650

Summary: Please, let you light come back to my darkness...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“Come on, Donna, it's just a walk,” you said in a tender voice, with those eyes you knew perfectly well I couldn't resist.

I sighed, shook my head and fought the gentle tugs you gave to my hand.

“We, we're better off at home,” I murmured, looking away and causing you to sigh tiredly.

Your pleading look didn't change.

“Come on, today is a too great day to be locked up in this horri… I mean, wonderful, dark house,” you said jokingly, swinging my hand with yours. “Please…”

“(Y/N),” I said a bit nervous, shaking my head again but, surprisingly, starting to think about your offer, as always.

You always did with me what you wanted, and I let you. I would do anything for you, always, (Y/N), always.

“Is that a yes?” you asked with a sufficient smile, completely ignoring my protests. I wish, (Y/N), I wish for once, you hadn't insisted.

“I didn't say yes,” I said, frowning, gently pulling you along, with an amused sigh.

“Now you did,” you joked in my ear.

How could I refuse?

“W, well, okay, okay...” I whispered defeated, unable to make you see how comfortable I was at home. I don’t liked going outside. Of course, you were always there to make those fears, which you said were irrational, disappear.

You jumped for joy and stole a kiss from me, one that relaxed my nerves even more. Your kisses had that effect on me, a wonderful effect. I returned it, unable to do anything but look at your eyes, your smile. You were my only addiction.

With a brief triumphant smile, you walked towards the door and I followed you, reaching out for my black veil, the one I never left off if I had to go out for some reason. I already knew I was a monster, you did too, but you denied it, you always denied it.

“Hey, no, leave it there,” you said, giving me a gentle slap to get me to let the veil go before I cover my face.

“But, but, (Y/N)… I have, I have to…” I stammered, trying to make you understand that I needed that veil, that the sunlight was a privilege that someone like me didn't deserve.

No, the world didn't need to see my deformed face.

I couldn't stop you from seeing it, but I could stop nature from being disturbed by my horrible appearance.

“It’s just a walk through the grounds. There's no one around here, you don't need it,” you said in a soft, comforting tone, definitely moving the cloth out of my reach.

I, in my perpetual madness, tried to snatch it from you, without success.

“Donna, stay still,” you said, this time with a firm voice, forcing me to remain paralyzed and nod defeated once again. “That's it... Good girl,” you whispered, pleased by my answer, by my shoulders falling helplessly and my slightly angry look.

“You like to make me suffer,” I hissed, unable, again, to face your decisions.

Deep down I knew you did it for me, you always did it for me.

“Yes, yes, I like to make you suffer...” you repeated rolling your eyes, without letting the smile disappear from your face. “Stop complaining and come here,” you ordered softly, gesturing with your hand. “Come on, come here.”

A bit reluctant, but motivated by that look, by that smile, I obeyed, grabbing your hand again as we left the estate. It was the first time in a long time that I could see the sun clearly, and it was blinding.

“If you feel sick, you get nervous or want to go back, just tell me, okay?” you said as we walked.

“I want to go back,” I whispered, in an embarrassingly childish tone. You laughed amused, arching your eyebrows and squeezing my hand tighter.

“You’ll see how good the fresh air is for you,” you said, ignoring my protest and kissing me on the cheek. “Besides, I’m here with you, holding your hand very tightly, see?”

I looked down, distrustful, looking at our intertwined fingers, my hand next to yours, fused into one. I don't know how you did it, but your advice always worked, relaxing my spirit.

Before I met you, I thought my life had only one purpose, one that I even doubted: to exist, to attend to the requests of my savior, Mother Miranda. Being named Lord was not a relevant change in my life.

I spent all those years alone, as if the world itself had forgotten me. I cannot be surprised by that. I, Donna Beneviento, never knew the meaning of appreciation, affection, love...

My misfortunes haunted me. I was unable to escape from my demons, from the illness that damaged my mind. Feeling powerful, with control over people should have been enough to give meaning to my life, but it wasn't.

The hours, the days, the weeks... Not even the passage of time had meaning in my old estate, I wonder if it ever did. No, nothing in my life could keep me away from the darkness, nothing could silence the voices in my head, my cries in front of the mirror, the nightmares…

Angie was a good support, but it wasn't enough. I guess my father thought the same when he gave her to me. It's a shame that she didn't serve any purpose. It was just to increase my problems.

People, conversations, human contact… All this stuff always sounded like something impossible in my head. I was aware that there couldn't be anyone, that no one would be able to understand me.

Solitude became my name. Isolation was my home. A horrendous monster, was my appearance.

I had already assumed my sentence, my sentence for existing, for being born in that cursed place, in that cursed family. There would be no remedy for my soul, or so I thought.

Then you came.

(Y/N), a girl from the village who dedicated herself to weaving, to selling her fabrics. What a curious coincidence. I needed those fabrics, you made them. Always, even before I met you, you had something I needed, something I craved.

Love was a dream for me. I could only get close to it in my books, in my dreams where a female hand held mine.

Was it your hand from the beginning? I have no doubt.

But, thanks to you, I knew what it meant to have someone by your side, someone who… loved you. Maybe it wasn't hard for me to fall in love with someone like you, a beautiful, smiling, cheerful girl… However, I still wonder what you could see in someone like me, (Y/N).

 I was, I’m a monster.

Your lips silenced my doubts with a kiss, one you gave me under my black veil. You said you never cared about what was underneath, you only cared about knowing if I was as crazy about you as you were about me.

I was, really, I was.

Loving you was easy, the fear of losing you wasn't. You should have abandoned me when my demons forced me to yell at you, to hurt myself. You didn't, you never left.

Like an angel I never had, your presence illuminated me. It revealed to me the little light left in my soul. Your hand, the one I dreamed of before I met you, held mine tightly to calm me down, to return to being that good monster you wanted to kiss.

The little sanity left in my tormented soul was like a thin thread that your perfect hands held. There came a point where I couldn't, I didn't want to live without you.

“Are you okay?” you asked, taking me out of my thoughts, entering that dark forest, walking slowly, in silence.

I nodded, smiling as I remembered you, as I thought about that first kiss, about all the ones that came after, about all the things you showed me. You showed me to love, and to be loved, just thinking about it could make my deformed face smile.

“I was just thinking,” I said, clearing my throat.

You nodded slowly, leaning towards me, resting your head on my shoulder, sighing in conjunction with the calm of that forest.

“Nice things, I hope,” you joked with a purr.

“Of course, tesoro, I was thinking about you,” I said whispering, making your cheeks blush while your gaze became shy.

Silence was our company again. That walk was certainly not a bad idea. Nothing could be bad if it was with you.

“You are very sweet, Donna,” you sighed, stopping and turning my head to give me one of your kisses, a gift much more divine than the Black Gods themselves.

“I try,” I said amused, moving your hair out of your face. I hated it. I hated seeing how the locks got in the way of your beauty.

Did you also feel the same when I put on the veil? No, impossible, you were an angel, I was the devil, a monster.

“Look, let's sit down, the sun is about to set,” you said, changing that sweetness into enthusiasm, pulling my hand towards the edge of a cliff, where an old tree seemed to catch your attention. “Come, sit down.”

I looked at you strangely, but I nodded, obeying you. I would always be faithful to you, (Y/N), I would do everything you asked me to do.

You let yourself fall in front of me, leaning against my body, completely relaxed.

“Are you comfortable, tesoro?” I asked, trying not to disturb the romantic atmosphere of that place with my husky voice. You laughed, looked at me, and shook your head.

“No,” you said abruptly, searching for something with your gaze. You located my arms, grabbing them and passing them around your waist, snuggling among them. “Now I am.”

You were right, it was a beautiful sunset. Maybe it was because you were beautiful. Gods, I love you so much…

“Donna,” you said, interrupting that relaxing calm, playing with my hands with a playful expression.

“Mm?” I murmured, resting my head on your shoulder, kissing you slowly on your soft cheek along with shy laughs.

“Come on, do it,” you said, moving away and looking at me expectantly. I frowned, confused.

“What?” I asked amused. Your cheeks blushed even more.

“You know…” you said with a soft voice, with shining eyes. “Speak to me in Italian, you know I love it,” you asked me, biting your lip.

I opened my mouth to fulfill your wishes once again, but some unpleasant cawing prevented me from doing so. The crows that used to rest in the trees of the forest flew away. It didn't take a genius to know that this was a bad omen.

“Wow…” you said, looking at the birds, curious like me. “What's wrong with those birds?”

“I, I don't know,” I said with a different look, worried.

My hands were starting to shake. It was time to go home.

“There are no lycans around here, right?” you asked, getting up scared by the strange behavior of the forest animals.

“No,” I said, standing up as well, looking around for the source of that horrible feeling that was starting to run through my body. It was like someone was watching us.

“I have a bad feeling,” you whispered, as if you too were focused on a danger you couldn’t see.

“Me too, let’s go home,” I said, grabbing your hand, almost pulling you along, heading back to the path that led us back to the safety of my darkness.

“Donna, wait,” you said, planting your feet on the ground, stopping abruptly. “Have you heard that?”

I shook my head nervously, grabbing your hand again. The chills were getting more intense. You, horrified by something, stopped again with your eyes wide open.

“Don’t, don't shoot,” you said with your hands up, looking towards a corner, where an armed man was crouching, with what looked like a rifle pointed at us.

“Get away, civilian,” that masked man said, focusing his attention on me.

I was paralyzed. I didn't know how to react to that strange threat.

“Donna, watch out!” you screamed, lunging at me just as a thunderous shot echoed in the forest, followed by a flash of light. There was no doubt, that man had come to kill me.

“Back, stay back (Y/N),” I said, pushing you away from my body and dodging another shot. I should have noticed you, I should have.

“Shit,” the man whispered, trying to reload his gun. It was too late for that poor bastard.

I walked slowly, keeping my monstrous gaze on that strange mask. He was going to pay for what he had done, no doubt. With a strange calm, which I needed to use my powers, I extended my hand towards him. He couldn't see my face, but I knew that I terrified him.

“Wait, wait,” the poor man begged, crawling on the ground, throwing away his gun and trying to flee.

Soon my powers began to take effect, forcing him to writhe in pain for things that didn't exist, to grab his gun, point it at his head, and pull the trigger, ending his existence forever.

“Bastardo…” I hissed, kicking the lifeless body of what was, without a doubt, a soldier.

“Donna…” you said, in low voice, crouched on the ground, hunched over yourself.

I looked at you, still filled with the adrenaline that came from using my gift. I ran towards you, I bent down to help you up, but when I looked at my hands, there was only blood on them.

On your belly there was a wound, a wound caused by that weapon, by that stupid act of throwing yourself at me.

 Once again, I was paralyzed, horrified, I only saw blood, your blood.

“(Y/N), (Y/N),” I said nervously, checking your condition.

Your eyes danced, your skin paled dangerously. My hand pressed your wound to stop the red flow that stained it. No, it couldn't be possible, it was a nightmare.

“Donna…” you sighed, letting yourself fall into my arms, losing strength. I didn't know what to do. I was just trying to keep the light that wanted to leave your gaze. “I saved you…” you whispered with a smile, before fainting completely.

“No, no, no, no…” I repeated furiously, holding your head up high and my hand on your wound, looking for help with my eye, a help that wasn't going to come. “(Y/N)!” I screamed furiously, passing my hand over my forehead, bathing it in your blood.

Do something, stupida…

The voices in my head rebuked me for my frustration, forcing me to take your unconscious body in my arms, running you back to the home we should never have left.

“Resisti, (Y/N), per favore…”

I couldn't say how I got home. All I saw was blood, your blood desecrating your beauty. All because of me, all, because, of, me.

“In… In… In a coma?” I asked when Mother Miranda, in her eternal mercy, came to my call for help. The priestess looked at me after bandaging your unconscious body.

“The bullet has pierced part of her spleen, be thankful she's not dead,” she whispered, closing a briefcase and looking at me with hatred, with the hatred of not being able to save you, surely.

I, still nervous, soaked in your blood, couldn't stop shaking, I couldn't think of seeing you like that, almost lifeless in bed, with your beautiful eyes closed, would I ever be able to see them again?

“Did you kill him?”  Miranda asked, distracting me from the task of squeezing your hand, like you taught me, like you told me all problems passed. “Donna!”

“Yes, yes,” I answered without looking at her. I should have been grateful to her, but I couldn't, I could only hate myself.

“Fine...” the blonde sighed, with that golden glow blinding my eye. “That rat has been causing problems for a while now. I guess it finally got what it deserved.”

I suddenly let your hand go and got out of bed, furious at what those words implied.

“Did you know? Did you know that bastardo was lurking around?” I asked furiously, feeling my temples throbbing as if, without your hand squeezing mine, I would lose control of my actions.

“Shh, calm down,” Miranda said, with a grimace of disgust, without moving, without blinking. Stoic, all-mighty  as always. “Of course I knew. The BSAA never gets tired, right? I assumed it wouldn’t be a problem for you.”

“Not for me…” I whispered, squinting, clenching my red fists tightly. “And for her?!”

“Stop, yelling, Donna,” the witch said, pressing her eyes shut with her fingers, again, not even slightly fazed by my behavior. “I couldn't possibly know that your girl was going to play heroes.”

I growled furiously, pacing erratically around the room, thinking of a thousand ways to kill my adoptive mother, to end it all, to make everything go up in the air. I couldn't stand it, I couldn't stand that you had risked your pure life to save a monster's. Anything but that.

“I'll come back next week to check on her,” the blonde said, disinterested. Of course, you were a mortal, she didn't care about you.

I cursed all her ancestors. I really wished that her body and her golden robes would fall down the waterfall where my family died.

“Take care of her in the meantime, or kill her, I don't care,” she whispered, making me growl in horror. “But I don't want you to give me any trouble, is that clear?”

When Miranda disappeared, everything collapsed around me, my body collapsing against one of the bedroom walls. There was no more laughter, no more gasps, no more moans of passion in the dark bedroom. Only my agonized crying echoed off the walls while my hands pulled at my hair, hitting the floor in rage. A pathetic scene that I couldn't avoid.

When I managed to calm down, I saw that Angie was next to me, as always.

“Is she dead?” the doll asked unpleasantly pointing at your inert body. I shook my head, realizing that I had hurt myself, that the blood dripping from my head was mixing with yours on my hands.

“No!” I shouted, angrily pushing the puppet away. “She's not…” I said, this time sobbing, burying my head in my hands, sinking into my knees the shame of not being able to save you.

“Bad Donna, stupid Donna!” Angie protested, damaging my ears.

I was about to, about to deactivate her, but I needed her, I needed someone to speak for me, someone to keep reason in my head, to keep madness away from my sick mind.

“I'm sorry,” I said, getting up from the floor coldly. Angie nodded without resentment and climbed into bed next to you.

I approached slowly, taking your hand in mine, squeezing it again like you taught me.

“She's asleep, huh?” Angie said, getting too close. I controlled my impulse to mistreat her again, with an absurd idea in my head.

If you were asleep, that meant I could wake you up, right?

“Wake up, wake up…” I whispered, caressing your cheeks, your soft, addictive skin. There was no response and I took a breath again, resting my hands on your shoulders. “Come on, tesoro, wake up…”

“Wake up, you fool, wake up!” the doll shrieked, moving you too. Yes, it was true that Angie was jealous because you had captured all my attention, but she appreciated you, really. It was impossible for her not to, she was part of me.

“Per favore…” I begged, sobbing again, seeing that your body still didn’t react to my gentle movements.

My breathing became agitated and my hands trembled as they moved you more and more roughly. My heart was about to explode.

“Svegliati, (Y/N), svegliati!” I shrieked, moving you roughly, desperately. I knew it was a good idea not to deactivate Angie, she stopped me.

“Hey, hey, Donna, stop, stop, you'll hurt her!” the puppet shouted, uselessly placing itself between your body and mine, clinging to my unhinged arms.

I finally left you alone, sinking beside you, crying on your chest, pathetically settling next to you, wrapping my arms around you, just the way you liked it.

“Don't do this to me, tesoro, please... Don't leave me alone...”  I sobbed, staining your skin with my tears, crying until at some point, my monstrous body gave in to exhaustion.

A day passed, two, you didn't wake up.

My desperation seemed calmer, but it wasn't. I took care of you, I looked after you, but in my head there was only a flash, a horrible sound: the light of the shot, the sound of the bullet that pierced your skin.

That bullet must have pierced me, not you.

You had saved my life, what for? Why would I want to live in a world without you?

It was absurd, (Y/N) I should be dead, not you, you should wake up, smile, light up the world with your smile. It was too unfair.

Little by little I forgot to eat, to drink, to live…

I tried to stay sane while I read you your favorite books, hoping that the words that made you feel those emotions would revive your soul and I could see your beautiful eyes again.

But I was never well, I was always sick. Without you, without the thin thread that kept my sanity, I began to take small steps into the darkness.

“I sat with them at the table, next to Queequeg, and mentally prepared myself to listen to some stories about whale hunting…” I read calmly, next to you, my disastrous body didn’t separate from yours for a second, my hand always held yours.

Donna…

A dark voice interrupted me, a voice I knew, that I knew where it came from. Shaking my head, I tried to ignore it, but it wasn't possible. In that old book the words danced, making me dizzy, that dark voice sounded louder and louder.

She's dead…

That voice spoke to me again. I dropped the book, pulled my hair as I bent over myself, preventing it from continuing to speak in any way.

“No… No…” I said nervously, kicking the floor hard.

Yes, of course she is… Because of you…

“No! (Y/N) is alive!”  I screamed neurotically, to respond to someone who didn't exist, who only lived inside my crazy head. “Stai zitto!”

Really? Check her pulse…

Knowing that they were just trying to undermine my morale, that those voices weren't there, just as you always told me when they appeared so I would stop listening to them, I ignored your own words and brought my trembling hand to your neck.

You were cold, frozen, there was no sign of your heartbeat on your neck and, in front of me, your body began to crack, to calcify.

“No… No!” I screamed with my hands on my head, falling to my knees on the floor, crying, pulling my hair, unhinged again.

Yes, Donna, you killed her…

“Basta! Basta!” I yelled crying, covering my ears to uselessly silence the voice of my demons.

It's your fault! It's your fault!

“Donna, Donna!” a squeaky voice interrupted that horrible spectacle. It sounded like Angie, but I couldn't be sure. In my mind, I only saw your body falling apart, breaking into a thousand pieces. “What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t answer, I just pointed at your body with my finger. The doll climbed onto the bed, the bed I didn’t want to look at.

“What? What’s wrong with her?” the doll asked, with a confused voice.

Dead, dead, dead…

“Angie, (Y/N) is…” I murmured, swallowing my own tears, hitting the floor helplessly, furiously. I had to fall apart into a thousand pieces, not you.

“She’s what? She’s still asleep,” the doll said, getting off the bed to stand in front of me, tilting her head curiously.

“She, her body is…” I said in a low voice, making an effort to get up and dare to look at your broken body. It wasn't, you were still intact.

Your chest rose and fell calmly. Your expression wasn't cracked, but serene.

Confused and scared, I ran my hand over my sweaty forehead as I sat next to you, relieved to see that it had only been my imagination.

You will kill her, Donna… She saved your life, and you will kill her…

“Gods… (Y/N),” I said, resting my forehead against yours, keeping my face very close to yours.

“Are you okay?” Angie asked, suspecting what was the cause of my attitude.

“Yes, I…” I lied, moving away to let you breathe. “It, it was nothing.”

“Why don't you cut her throat and end her suffering?” Angie asked, with an amused tone. I stood up in surprise, grabbing the puppet by the neck.

“What did you just say?” I hissed as the doll struggled against my grip.

“Hey, let me go! I said why you don’t keep reading,” the puppet protested.

I let go, shaking my head, confused, overwhelmed by the situation.

I was losing my mind, and I knew it.

“Ugh, you need a break,” the doll said, comically shaking her dress. “And a shower, you stink.”

I closed my eye, breathing slowly, like my gardener, Josef, had taught me. It was true that I was a monster. That man was good, and I killed him.

“What I need is for her to come back…” I said sobbing, succumbing to crying again, squeezing your hand tightly, trying to beg you to come back to me.

“I miss her too,” Angie said, tenderly stroking your hair. Not even the fact that Angie acknowledged that she appreciated you was enough to reassure me.

“Please, (Y/N)… Please… Come back to me… Don’t, don't leave me alone, I need your light to get me out of this darkness…” I begged, squeezing your hand perhaps too tightly. The voices returned.

She will never come back to you, she never loved you. You will never feel her lips again. You will be left alone, with us, Donna, in the darkness where you belong.

Three, four days passed, or so I thought.

I lost track of time as well as I lost my mind. The voices were already a constant sound in my mind, the panic attacks, the hallucinations began to put you in danger. I decided not to get too close. My hands could turn against to you.

I kept repeating how much I needed you, how bad I felt without your comforting presence. You were my light, (Y/N), and you were fading away.

The weakness that my mind felt soon entered into harmony with that of my body. I was hungry, I knew it, I had to eat, but I didn't want to. I didn't want to leave you alone. I wanted to be with you, to cling to your unconscious body to feel that I wasn't lost, that there was still hope for me, and for you.

Exhausted, sitting on the floor against a wall, I closed my eyes tightly so as not to hear the voices that now asked me to leave everything, to abandon you, to abandon the life that was granted to me by the grace of Mother Miranda, that second chance that I didn't deserve.

She is like this because of you, you should die, Donna...

But no, I couldn't succumb to those requests. You needed me. You needed my care, for me to be by your side. You had saved my life, I couldn't abandon you, but neither could you.

“Don't you dare to leave me,” I sighed, my voice broken by crying, my weak body struggling to stay awake, in pain from the blows caused by the wounds caused by the crises.

My madness worsened as the hours passed. Reality, my own existence became something inexact. I didn't know when it was night, when it was day. There were no windows in that bedroom, you were always sleeping.

“Hey, hey, Donna,” a strange voice, which didn't come from my head, scared me, waking me from my exhaustion with some soft slaps on my face.

Cagna... She's coming to fuck her.

Ignoring the warning from my subconscious, I managed to make out my sister Alcina leaning over me.

“What...? What are you doing here?” I said, leaning on the wall so I could get up, ready to fight for you until the end. I didn't care if she was really there or it was another vision.

I was always jealous of my sister.

“You didn't come to the meeting. Miranda is asking for you,” the tall woman commented, walking sensually towards the bed. I couldn't move as fast as I wanted, and weakness made me stumble against the lady in white, who held me with her raised eyebrows.

“Vaffanculo…” I whispered, letting my sister guide me until I sat on the bed. “Get out.”

“You're a mess…” she murmured with disinterest, fixing my dress, almost torn by my own attacks. “How long has it been since you ate, dear? Not to mention how you stink…”

“I told you… to get lost…” I said furiously, pushing her with pathetic force. She just laughed, was she really there? “Porca puttana…”

“How vulgar…” Alcina laughed, holding me by the shoulder, dodging my furious attacks. “Aren't you supposed to take care of her?”

“I take care of her,” I said furiously, crossing my arms in a childish manner.

“Do you? I doubt you can take care of yourself, dear,” the lady in white mocked.

I growled again, guiding my gaze towards you, searching for your hand and grabbing it with the little strength I had left.

“Alcina… I'm…” I said calmer, relaxed by the softness of your skin. Maybe you were right and your hands were magic. “I'm losing my mind.”

“Oh, that's not new,” the vampire said, with a mocking expression.

 I ignored the comment, suppressing a sob.

“I feel, I feel that without her I…” I said with a broken voice, letting Alcina lay me down on the bed, next to you, sighing with pity.

“That's it, draga…” the big woman whispered, making sure I was comfortable. “You must stay strong, it's the best for (Y/N).”

“I don't, I don't know if I can do it… Alcina… I, I don't want to be alone, I want, I want her to come back,” I said, noticing how sleep attacked me again. At least when I was about to sleep, the voices didn't attack me.

“You must come back first, Donna,” my sister whispered, caressing my messy hair while covering me with a blanket. “(Y/N) needs you… Sleep, my sweet Donna…”

Those were the last words I heard before the darkness of my nightmares invaded me again.

Even today I still don't know if my sister's visit was real or if it was just a last breath of my sanity demanding me to come back, to force my demons to stay in a cage.

Three more days passed.

The voices continued to harass me, but something changed after that unexpected visit. My desire to fight my madness, to get you back, was much stronger. I even dared to accept the fruit that Angie brought me. Eating gave me strength, the softness of your hands kept the flame of hope alive.

“Actually I had always felt that way...” I read, like every day, another one of your favorite novels.

Miraculously, the voices that whispered horrible things to me no longer interrupted my words. I felt strong, or so I tried to show. With each passing day, the vision of the light of your smile became more blurred.

“…Without being able to explain why. I had never wanted to accept that life was so grey and indifferent, so without secrets or wonders as people pretended when they said…”

“That’s life…”

I read the end of that paragraph and nodded with a sigh. I soon realized something strange. No, it wasn't a horrible voice in my head. It wasn't Angie's voice that continued my reading.´

I dropped the book, let it fall loudly on the wood when I noticed something warm in my hand, yours, squeezing it tightly. Afraid that my mind would play tricks on me again, I closed my eye, opened it again and looked at your hand in mine, moving.

“Hello, darling…” a hoarse voice, broken by tiredness reached my ears, your voice, your angelic voice, your voice that came back to illuminate my dark path.

“(Y/N)…” I whispered, looking slowly into your bright eyes, half-closed but shining. “(Y/N)!”

I threw myself into your arms, burying my body in yours while my hand squeezed yours, to confirm that it hadn't been a dream. Not wanting to waste a second, I captured your lips in a kiss, crying with joy, crying for having you back, and scared in case it was just a dream.

“Hi… Hi…” you repeated, fighting against my gestures of affection, laughing weakly.

“Let her breathe, silly Donna!” Angie shrieked, pushing me away from you, jumping with joy on the bed. “You're back, you're back!”

“Yes, yes, it seems so…” you said coughing, in pain from the wound in your abdomen, trying to sit up, something I prevented.

“Don’t, don't move, you could... You could hurt yourself,” I said, playing nervously with your hair, with your hands, with everything that was within my reach.

“Hey...”

“Tell me, tesoro,” I said nervously, hoping to hear a request for water or food.

“I'm glad to see you again, Donna...”

“What are you talking about?” I asked confused, shaking my head. “(Y/N)... I'm, I'm the one who...”

“I told you a long time ago...” you sighed, exhausted, exhausted but awake. “That I would never abandon you...”

[mystic-kitten-writer]

Update :)

It's funny how it's been such a long time since I've posted here, yet it still feels like home—hello, loves~!

It goes without saying that I owe an explanation as to why I disappeared from the face of the Earth for so long.

The last time I was able to truly connect with you was when my family and I caught Covid (great times, let me tell you) - after that, I totally disappeared, and as much as I would love to say it was for good and positive reasons, to be very blunt and straight to the point, it wasn't.

For those sensitive to the topics of illness and mental health, skip to the image of a giant cat for the good news!

Once again, as everyone knows, my whole family got COVID-19. While my Mom, Dad, and I weren't too hot, we were functioning. But my husband was really struggling. And when weeks passed, and his health started to get worse and worse, we realized that this was something more than just COVID-19.

My husband is hesitant to provide full details about what occurred, primarily because it's still a recent event and something he's currently grappling with. Still, my husband went from being a healthy, physically active person to being bedridden.

It was a really hard time for everyone because my husband is like the sun. All smiles and outgoing - to suddenly unable to eat or hold down food, needing help with showering and to be very blunt, depressed and suicidal because he lost everything due to this sickness.

Unfortunately, cancer runs in his family, and while he got tested multiple times and came back negative (yay!), he is still not out of the dark. He has done numerous surgeries in hopes of getting better (his most recent this January), and at this time, his last resort is getting a colostomy bag. He is currently undergoing some experimental treatments because doctors don't want to do the surgery based on his age.

It goes without saying why I haven't been posting and updating anything. There's been a lot going on, and I want to be on his side as much as possible.

But there is some good news!

I am mainly posting this message because he has improved greatly these past few weeks and is now in a much better physical and mental state. Seeing him get his feet back on the ground has given me the confidence to resume writing.

I have never stopped writing, but I have stopped publicly posting my writing mainly because I didn't have the time to sit down and properly edit.

My friends behind the scenes have been real stars. They have kept me going and encouraged me to keep writing.

I aim to post small works and drabbles until I feel confident enough to finish my biggest baby, Limerence.

To all those messages saying you missed Yue and Zuko, they're back - sorry, not sorry.

Thank you to everyone who has written messages to me. Trust me when I say I read them all, and I truly appreciate them. It meant a lot to get them and read them when I was not active because there were a few dark moments during my time away with everything going on, and honestly, it made me really happy. While I could never express my thanks in enough words, please know I greatly valued it.

I wanted to keep this short and sweet, but as we know, I am not known for short things (I try I swear askdjahjhksdj)😅

Thank you, and I wish everyone a fabulous day with tons of hugs and kisses.

I can't wait to write to you all soon~ ❤️

[silenttrxxs]

mafia boss! choi san x reader

Your birthday was around the corner, you had been spending the last few months working your ass off to afford the dream holiday. You was finally going to Italy, you texted your friend after landing in the country, hoping you wasn’t going to be left at the airport looking like a lost sheep. You gripped your suitcase tightly before rolling on your heels. You looked around hoping to see the familiar car your best friend always drove. You looked out noticing a car pulling up to the airport you rushed forward thinking this was your best friends car. Boy was you wrong.

The door swung open and a man stepped out, he was dressed sharply in a black suit, it hugged his curves beautifully, your eyes trailed up his body and landed on his face. He smiled a quick smile as he locked eyes with you. Before donning a harsh glare your way, He opened his mouth to speak. “Watch it beautiful” he said before pushing his way past you.

You rolled your eyes and gasped as you stumbled over the curb a little. You grabbed your phone shooting your best friend a text.

- ^^ -

“Yo, come get me right now, just bumped into the worlds biggest asshole at the airport. He’s lucky he’s good looking or i would have cursed him the fuck out”

Your friend replied back almost immediately.

“I know, i saw the whole thing you do realise i was the car behind him, and that isn’t just anyone honey, that’s someone you must not mess with”

Your mind was now racing you was more curious than anything now, you placed your bags and suitcase into the car and hopped in the passanger seat making your way to the hotel you had rented for the week.

You got to the hotel, in awe of its sheer beauty you dropped your bags of at the room and got ready, heading down to the bar. You grabbed your best friends hand dragging her to the dance floor. Your heart stopping as you bumped into someone. Your drink spilling down their white suit. You looked at the stain you had caused and mentally cursed yourself before looking up and feeling your body pause completely, you had not only messed up once with this man but twice now. You turnt looking to find your friend but she had disappeared. You whined and turnt back around.

“Well well well, looks like we have a little issue to fix here dont we, firstly id like to introduce myself, i am Choi San, son of the highest order mafia in Italy” He extended his hand as a sign for you to take it, of course you hesitated but took it, shaking his hand and introducing yourself to him.

Before you could speak you felt him pull you towards him his breath fanning your neck as he whispered into your ear.

“You have 365 days to fall in love with me, no questions asked or my men will deal with this little issue you caused” San explained. He knew it was a little irrational to be thinking this or even saying it out loud but his heart couldn’t help but thump loudly in his chest whenever he got close to you. This was a strange feeling to him. He’d never felt this before, it was something that excited him, he wanted to feel this more. The only way he thought he could get closer to you was to do this. He smiled and held you close by your waist. His teeth grazing your earlobe before pulling away and pulling you to the bar. Grabbing a cocktail for you and a strong whiskey for himself he clinked the glasses with you and started a conversation.

The more you spoke together you felt a pang hitting your chest you knew you shouldn’t be getting close to someone like this but something about him seemed different, he seemed softer around you the more you got to know each other. You looked at him with doe eyes. A smile being shot your way before you opened your mouth.

“Ill do it san, ill spend the next 365 days with you, if you do not let me go after this i will leave and you will never see me again” You winced a little at your own words but you needed to ensure that you had a way out if anything was to go wrong.

“Okay baby girl, Its a deal” San held out his hand and the agreement was made. You was now his. He was going to spend the rest of this time showing you that you belong to him, the life that you had always dreamed of was within grasp, scratch that it was there for you, handed to you in the palm of your hand.

- - time skip - -

It was coming up to the end of the year, you’d be lying to yourself if you said that you had not fallen head over heels for this man. You was treated like royalty no matter what, how could you not love this man.

You was now sitting on a boat, the sun blasting down on you, you fixed your sunglasses and moved your back facing the sun now. You was taking this as a much needed time for you both to rest. But san had other ideas the way you looked in the bikini he had bought you was driving him insane. He felt himself aching in his swim trunks as he walked out handing you a glass of water before placing a kiss to your lips. You drunk the water and put the cup down, getting up slowly and straddling san. You was never oblivious to his feelings, you saw the tent in his trunks as he walked out. You audibly groaned as you saw it. You moaned as you sunk down onto his lap.

“Oh my darling, want me to help you relieve yourself, is daddy feeling a little frustrated” you cooed at san before locking your lips to his neck, your teeth grazing over his skin. His throat moving as he tried to gulp away the moan that threatened to rip through.

“Oh daddy, you feel so good” San smiled before picking you up and taking you to the room in the boat, throwing your body onto the bed. He stripped off before looking at you, his eyes trailing down your frame before he ripped your bikini off. Throwing it across the room. Climbing over your small frame he wrapped his hand around your throat, lining himself up with your heat he pushed himself in, bottoming out almost immediately.

The room filled with both your noises, you felt yourself getting closer to your orgasm. A high pitch scream leaving your body, as you felt san thrusting into your soaked core. You smiled a little letting your eyes roll back, the wave being pushed so close to but somehow being ripped away from you. You opened your mouth ready to beg, but you gasped and choked on a moan as you felt san spit into your mouth, his lips taking away your breath. You clenched around him harder than ever and this elicited the most delicious moan from him. You pushed into him, not wanting him to stop, his cock felt too good nestled inside you. You wrapped your legs around him and forced him to stay inside your hips moving at their own accord. He slowed a little moaning at the feeling of your walls contracting around him.

“F-fuck baby you’re beautiful like this” he moaned out.

You whined loudly as he spoke. His hand caressing your cheek as he spoke, sliding down and wrapping around your throat. He pistoned his hips into you, driving you towards your nth orgasm.

“F-fuck i love you san” you whined out, his shocked expression taking you back, you silenced him but pulling him down, your lips intertwining with his. You smiled as you pulled away. Your head spinning as he continued thrusting into you, his hand releasing from your neck and caressing your cheek. “I love you too” he replied before you both released.

[bitterbutblue]

november 1998 (上)

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SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE CHAT it's been a longgg week and ill try to pre-write dec 1998 so it can come out next week because from oct 25 to nov 8 i will pretty much be dead on tumblr aside from reblogs because of coursework but after that i will be revived!!!!!!!

i feel like this is getting slightly messy im sorry i am ill and mildly burnt out writers block butim going o try my best

my inbox is always open for requests!! and i love getting messages from u guys so please do not hesitate to ask and i will respond as soon as i can <3

this chapter is split in 2 parts! november 1998 (下) and december 1998 will be released quite far apart icl ill try my best though...

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Slide, roll, up and down- five, six, seven, eight.

The meticulous eyes of the trainers have her feeling weak in the knees, hawks with their eyes peeled for prey to stalk on. She wants to collapse to the floor, her feet are blistered and her knees are sore. She can feel her entire body slowly fading as she moves but she can't stop because she's so close. The last time she was in this position she gave in, collapsing onto the ground and panting. She wasn't good enough, she never would be. The trainers just sighed and told her she wasn't good enough and that she never would be good enough. The last time she was in this position, she swore she'd work hard. She'd work until her knees bruised and her muscles ached if it meant doing better than before. If it meant for them to finally see her in the light she wishes they could see her in.

She holds the ending pose, a bright smile on her face but everything that held her body together was threatening to break down in that very moment as her chest heaves and she offers them a polite bow. She strides out of the room with a put-together, confident aura that had the other people auditioning staring and whispering, saying that she will most likely pass the auditions, that she was the one they need to look out for. But she's fighting for her life to not collapse until she's outside the building, until she's away from everyone's eyes.

The second she exits with her bag in hand, she drops to the ground. Uncontrolled sobs flowing out as she buries her head in her hands. Everything hurt, her legs ached like never before and her lungs felt like they were collapsing. She could barely hear the sound of her own brother calling out her name as she dug her fingers into her scalp, head buried in her arms.

"Robin, Robin can you hear me?"

It felt horrible, feeling the sky and all its weight on your shoulders is a horrible feeling. She wants to melt into the ground, dissolve into the pebbles and rocks that are scattered beneath her feet. She feels someone grab onto her shoulders, feels someone pull her into their arms and she feels a familiar thump along with the scent of cigarette smoke. Three squeezes on her shoulder, an attempt to keep her grounded. Holding her tight, an attempt to stop her from trembling like a bomb about to explode.

These breakdowns have been happening more frequently, the worst one being the one right after her dad had to disappear and sent her to live with Sunday in a country too far away but also too close to home. A country she tried to dissociate herself from for the longest time, a country where you were in. Back to the city she left you in.

"Sunday?"

He just holds her tightly.

He's been smoking again, she can smell the tobacco on his jacket and breath, the scent that has her nose crinkling in disgust but she can't blame him anymore.

"Are you okay?"

His voice is as soft as always, a twinge of hoarseness coating his words now. He sounds older, as if he had aged a good twenty years in the span of six months.

"No."

She can't bring herself to lie because she's tired of lying, tired of telling people she's okay and that she's alright when she feels like breaking down all the time. Sunday could only swallow back the lump in his throat as he lets out a soft sigh, holding her close.

"It's going to be okay."

It's not. Neither of them would be okay.

Sunday offers to take her to a convenience store after, driving down the streets in his second-hand car that he got for cheap that is probably older than he is. Robin leans her head against the car window, feeling the slight bumps on the road, watching the city fade slowly into greenery and nature as they drive up the hill back to where they live. The familiar yellow and green sign comes into view as the car slows down, and she sighs as she gets out of the car slowly.

"C'mon, let's get something good." Sunday wraps his arm around her shoulder as they walk through the door. The little bell near the door dings and she was so lost in thought she didn't even realise that there were in fact 2 people at the counter and both of them quieted down the second she walked in with Sunday. She didn't notice as she walked down towards the drinks section to get her puffergoat milk. As she walks back to find Sunday near the counter, her eyes widen slightly. Stelle and you were sitting close, a little too close for her liking and she feels this pang of.. what is it? The same feeling she felt when she first saw you on television, on the news, everywhere. Jealousy. But not of you this time, of Stelle. Stelle must've noticed her staring because she quickly pulls her hand that was resting on your knee away and clears her throat. You had a light blush on your cheeks as you quickly stood up.

"Is that all?" You ask with a slightly forced smile on your face. She looks over at Sunday, who smiles at you with a genuine smile and not one of his old forced corporate smiles.

"Yes, that's all. Thanks, Y/n."

She hates how you look at him with a softer look, a gentle smile on your face that you have yet to look at her with. But to be fair she doesn't deserve that smile and she never will, especially not what she did to you. Sunday slides a bill across the counter and you quickly give the change back.

"You doing alright?"

She stands in the corner, fully aware of how herself and Stelle are purposefully trying super hard not to look at each other and it is incredibly awkward.

"I'm good."

She hears you click your tongue.

"I saw on the news about your family, I'm sorry."

You never told her that. She feels an ache in her chest as she looks down at her battered trainers, scuffed from hours and hours of training as she fidgets with the bracelet on her wrist.

"Don't be. Congrats on your win, by the way. War Dance at fifteen is an accomplishment you should be proud of."

"Hah, yeah, thanks."

She hears the cash register close, and her brother clearing his throat.

"I'll see you around, Y/n."

"You too, take care."

She doesn't look up when Sunday walks up to her, and just follows his footsteps out the door. She can hear the quiet whispers between Stelle and you and it bothers her how intimate the two of you are, how close you are.

Why is she so bothered?

Perhaps the truth is you were her first and only good friend. It was hard to make friends in a country like Penacony where she was the outsider, the one who 'got into the school because of her parent's money', the one who's always sitting alone. She never fit in well there, despite her best attempts to appear put together in front of you over text and email, she was breaking down slowly. Now, she's back and in the same position as before. Alone. Yes, she had friends, but how many of them actually cared for her? How many of them actually wanted to talk to her her and wanted to know her and her dreams and aspirations, instead of only talking to her so that they could date her for her looks? She sees the way some of them eye her, the way they whisper about her behind her back. Aventurine was a nice guy, but him and his friend group are so tight already that she is always just sitting in the corner and forcefully laughing along with them.

She misses you.

She misses the feeling of having a friend she could always rely on, who she always knew had her back even though they were oceans apart. Now she's left with those memories ruined, only haunting her each day as she has ruined all the good she had in her life.

Of course she did.

She didn't even realise they had arrived back into their home until she hears the sound of the car door closing. Upon arriving back into her own room, it really settles in how alone she is. Their family all split apart so they wouldn't be found or put each other in danger, only living with her brother in a small run-down apartment building at the edge of the city. A room with nothing of her own, a city she no longer finds comfort in. She crawls into bed, not even caring that it's 4pm in the afternoon because god she's just so exhausted. Physically from the auditions, mentally from everything else.

By the time she wakes up, the sky had darkened with only traces of the stars and moon illuminating her room.

4:32.

A full twelve hours later she sits in her bed, staring out the window and wondering what you were doing.

You throw your glasses down, rubbing your eyes as you let out a tired groan. The words on the textbook were barely coherent at that point and you just wanted to go to bed but the idea of giving up before you finished this final topic fills you with such intense stress it makes you feel like clawing yourself out of your skin. It's a trapped feeling, you want to break down but if you break down that's wasting your time.

You finally put your pen down, hand shaking as you finally let out a sigh you hadn't realised you were holding in. You check your clock.

4:33.

You rub at your eyes again, feeling your heavy eyelids threatening to shut when you feel your pager buzz. Looking down, you mumble 'what the fuck' to yourself as look down.

A series of numbers.

You tilt your head to the side, picking up your cell and dialling the number.

"Hello?"

"Y/n?"

The familiar but groggy voice has you feeling a leap in your chest.

"Stelle?"

"Yeah."

"Why are you calling me on this number?"

"It's a burner."

"What happened?"

You hear the shaky sigh, the tightening of the throat.

"Can I come over?"

"Yeah, of course." You lick your lips, worry filling you up to the brim as you lean forward on your desk, looking out the window. "Meet me outside?"

"Mhm."

Ten minutes later, you outside in the cold in nothing but pajamas and a coat, she shows up. Her eyes are red, cheeks tearstained. She's wearing not nearly enough clothes and she's holding a duffel bag.

She's holding a duffel bag.

Oh god.

"Stelle, oh my goodness, are you okay?" You whisper-shout as you run up to her, cupping her cheeks as she drops the bag. You yelp out quietly as you feel her pull you into a tight hug.

"My mom found out."

"Huh?"

Stelle begins trembling in your arms, and you swallow back the worry as you pull away to look her in the eyes. You see how her eyes are welling up with tears again and your heart leaps up to your throat in worry.

"What happened?"

She takes in a shaky breath, looking down as she squeezes your hand.

"I- I'm not straight. I'm a lesbian."

Oh.

Stelle takes your silence the wrong way, she takes the way you stared at her the wrong way. She begins to back away, a look of hurt evident on her face.

"What? Are you upset about that too?"

"No, no!" You quickly clear your throat, heart racing for no reason in particular. "Stelle, thank you for telling me, really. I- do you need a place to stay?"

She nods, sniffling as she wipes away at a stray tear.

"Please."

Your mom is going to kill you tomorrow morning if she finds out, but before you even think twice you open the back door and let her in. She follows you like a lost puppy up to your room. She looks so exhausted and tired, and you're worried thinking about what happened that lead her to use a burner phone at 4 in the morning. You tell her to sleep in your bed, and you find yourself curling up on the couch- unable to bring yourself to sleep in the same bed as her. The thought haunts you, your parent not accepting you, never loving you- because you know it's partly coming true for you. Your mom has always had just a singular set goal for you and if you don't follow along, it's bound to fall apart. You just bring your knees up to your chest as you hug the couch cushion tightly, closing your eyes as you let out a shaky breath.

"Y/n?"

You flinch violently, squinting as the lights are turned on and you see your mom standing there, bleary-eyed but visibly upset.

"What are you doing?"

It's exhausting. All of it. You can feel yourself breaking down as you pick up the cushion, swallowing back the lump that has formed in your throat but to your surprise your mom isn't actually mad. She sits down next to you, stiff and awkward but worry seeps through her and you can feel it coating you too.

"Why are you on the couch."

You sigh.

"Stelle is in my room. Her mom kicked her out."

You were surprised when your mom didn't say anything, when she didn't get mad or start shouting at you for letting a friend in so late. Instead, she just nods.

"Does she need anything?"

You try not to let your surprise show as you look over at her, and she's not looking at you but you see the concerned look on her face as she looks out the window.

"Just somewhere to stay."

She nods.

"Okay. Sleep in my room tonight."

You are too tired to disagree tonight, just following her to her room and getting into bed. She doesn't follow, switching off the lights and closing the door to her room as you lay in her stiff bed. It's uncomfortable, rock hard and hurts your back but it's the safest you've felt in a long time as you bury yourself into the pillows and close your eyes. It's been a long month, and it's about to get longer with exam season coming up next month. A sound of a phone buzzing has you groaning, blinking groggily as you search through your pocket for the phone you never took out.

"Hello?"

There is only silence on the other end.

"Who is this?"

The phone eventually cuts off and you curse angrily, tossing it to the side before burying yourself into the bed once more.

Please, you just wanted to finally get some sleep.

Robin stares at her phone, swallowing as she stares at the remains of the call that had just happened. Her heartbeat echoes in her ears as she puts her head in her hands, taking in the last of your voice. Your voice when speaking to her with no malice or venom, pain or hurt. It was all she wanted for now.

[megalony]

Heartache

This is a new Prince Eric (The Little Mermaid) imagine that will either have a follow up or a mini series. I hope everyone likes it, feedback and requests are always amazing.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread

@jonahhauer-kingg @melaninjoys​ @luna2034 @mystiqueprincess

Masterlist

Summary: While Eric is away on a short voyage, (Y/n) becomes ill and when he comes back he finds his wife's state deteriorated and a secret lurking in the shadows.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Do you have to go soon?" (Y/n) looped her arms around Eric's waist and binded her chest up against his back with her lips pressing light kisses between his shoulder blades. Effectively stopping him from getting dressed, leaving him stood in his trousers and his shirt laid on the back of the chair. She could feel the shiver running beneath his skin and his hands that came to rest over her own that were clasped together on his lower stomach.

One week wasn't nearly as long as some of the other voyages Eric had made in the past, but it was still a long time to be parted from him. (Y/n) didn't like sleeping on her own and when he wasn't here she felt at a loss for what to do.

Eric let his eyes wander over to the clock on the bedside table and held his breath for a few seconds. He did have to go soon, everything was packed and ready to board the ship and they needed to set off on time to be right with the tide.

"Afraid so, but it's only a few days sweetheart." He wiggled round until he was facing (Y/n) and brought his hands up to cup her face. He had to go soon, tardiness was frowned upon and he had to set a good example. The crew would be less accepting if he turned up late with his mind on other matters and his role became slacking.

Leaving had never been so hard until (Y/n) came around, then Eric found himself lost, torn and uneasy whenever he had to go and she couldn't join him. The days became longer and the destination was never as joyful as returning home to the girl who held his heart in her hands.

"You'd best get dressed," (Y/n) mumbled her words against Eric's lips and scratched her nails along his hips. She didn't realise how badly she was enticing him to stay right here and void this voyage for another time.

The willpower Eric had built up was slowly wavering as he looked down upon his wife in his arms and brushed his thumb along her cheek before he captured her with a kiss. This image was going to power him through until he came back home to her. The thought of (Y/n) stood there with her hair falling freely around her shoulders, her dress loosely sliding off one shoulder and a smile that had the power to kill.

"I love you."

"I love you too, now you need to get ready."

With his shirt and overcoat thrown on hazardly, Eric tangled his fingers in his hair, taming the wild curls down enough to look presentable before he turned back towards (Y/n).

"I'll be back in a few days," He confirmed with a nod of his head before he leaned down to capture a gentle kiss. As soon as the touch was there it was gone again and he was retreating, smiling brightly but longingly before he disappeared from the room.

"Just a few days," (Y/n) mumbled quietly to herself with a nod of her head. She just had to get through this week without him, then she could have Eric back to herself and find a way to tell him her news.

that gave her a whole week to wonder how he was going to react, what he was going to say and what would happen after he found out she was pregnant.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 'I'll be back in a few days.'

Those words kept running circles through (Y/n)’s mind and when she closed her eyes, those words and Eric’s smile were all she could see. That was all she could think of these past five days, there had been a silent countdown in the back of her mind just waiting for Eric's voyage to come to and end and for him to come back home. It felt like he had said 'we'll talk tomorrow' because tomorrow was never here, it was always today.

Rubbing her reddened, sore eyes with the back of her hand, (Y/n) tipped her head back like she was trying to tip all of the tears into the back of her head to stop them from falling. She felt like she had shed far too many tears already over the past two hours, but they kept on coming and her face felt sticky and tight from the saltwater. The shaking she had felt for over an hour now didn’t seem to be over yet and (Y/n) wished she would just blackout at this point to make everything stop.

The bleeding hadn’t stopped yet but it wasn’t too extensive, the cramps were dull to the point (Y/n) could ignore them, her body was shaking but not as horribly as she had been earlier. She felt like she was beginning to overheat despite the bathroom being very cold and (Y/n) only being in her flimsy nightgown. If she blacked out now and went to sleep for a little while it would be a blessing in disguise.

What was she going to do now?

If she had told Eric before he left about being pregnant, she wouldn't know how to approach him when he eventually came back. What kind of conversation would have happened then if he already knew? How would she tell him she had gone and lost the baby while he'd been away on business?

Maybe this way it was better. If fate planned for (Y/n) to lose the baby, she would rather not have Eric know in the first place. She didn’t want the pity he would feel for her or the way he would hover around her to check if she was alright or walk on egg shells around her.

She didn't want the conversation that would occur if she told him that she had been waiting for the right moment to tell him she was pregnant and then went and lost the baby anyway. Eric didn't need that kind of pain when he came back.

(Y/n) didn't want him or anyone else knowing. She didn't want the disappointment people were going to feel towards her or have anyone wrapping her up in cotton wool to smother her with sympathy she didn't deserve.

But her mind was still conflicted.

Her mind was certain that Eric being oblivious was the best thing for him but her heart was crying out for him. She wanted his arms wrapped around her and his lips on her skin and his voice lulling in her ear, calming her down and helping her to sleep.

Even though she knew he would be heartbroken, conflicted and desperate to help her, she wanted him here. She wanted the affection and comfort Eric would make her feel.

(Y/n)’s aching heart wanted Eric, but her mind was desperate to keep him away.

With a shaky breath, (Y/n) pushed herself up from leaning against the wall and moved onto her knees instead. She couldn't stop the cry from bubbling past her lips when she tried to move her hands but they weren't under her control from how badly she was trembling.

She pushed the two bloodied towels into the corner of the room before grabbing the shirt that had been crumpled up on the floor when (Y/n) first stumbled into the bathroom. It was one of Eric's dress shirts that (Y/n) had been clinging to since he left because it still had his smell and cologne and during the nights, it was a comfort to help her sleep.

(Y/n) let all the energy dwindle away from her body and with little effort, she flopped onto the tiled floor on her side. Her knees coiled up to her aching stomach, her arms bound around her chest and kept the shirt tucked between her hands. She tilted her head down to bury her nose in the collar of the shirt and took a deep breath, inhaling Eric's scent like it was smelling salts to make her feel better.

She didn't care how cold the floor felt against her burning skin or the light chill in the midnight air creeping through from the bedroom. Even the bright light shining down upon her didn't bother (Y/n) anymore. With her eyes closed and her face buried in his shirt, she let her mind wander and welcomed the darkness with open arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Eric couldn't hide the slight disappointment from his face when the first person he set his sights on was his mother. He loved her to pieces, he truly did and even when they didn't see eye to eye, their bond was never severed. But right now, with his bag in his hand and Grimsby stood on his right, all Eric wanted to do was set his sights on his wife and wrap himself around her.

A week had gone by quickly but it had felt like a week of withdrawl symptoms for Eric to be away from (Y/n). He had to sleep without her at night and refrain from reaching his arms out in the dark to find out where she was. He had to keep himself busy every minute of the day so his mind didn't wander too far and get lost on the thought of his wife, miles away and out of reach.

If Eric ever went on a voyage without (Y/n), he could guarantee that the moment he stepped through the castle gates, there she was. Stood at the doors waiting to jump into his open arms and whisper how much she had missed him.

He didn't get that today.

(Y/n) was always the first person he set his sights on when he came back, always. And she wasn't here. He wanted to find her and tuck her back into his heart where she belonged.

Eric didn't like the look on his mother's face. She didn't look angry, he knew that expression well. And she didn't look disgruntled or irritated but he couldn't place how she was staring at him.

Uncertain; that was the word that best described what was written all over her features.

"I'll get the rest of the bags, sir."

"Thank you, Grimsby." Eric patted his shoulder before he dropped his bag down at his feet and moved to embrace his mother. She gripped his shoulders tightly like she thought he was a ghost standing in front of her. Nothing bad had happened on his voyage, everything had gone to plan and they were home a few hours earlier than expected, but they let the palace know of this beforehand.

So why was she looking at him like that?

"I haven't been gone that long, mother. Is everything alright, where's (Y/n)?" Leaning down, Eric pressed a kiss to her temple but he couldn't stop himself from looking around the hallway in case (Y/n) were to come out from the shadows at any given moment.

He moved his hands to hold her elbows, steadying her but also keeping her close while he waited, somewhat impatiently, for a response.

"It's been a trying week. (Y/n)'s upstairs in your room-"

"Great, I'll go up and see her."

"Eric, she's not well."

He spun round on his heels, halfway between walking away from his mother and being pulled back towards her when she called back out to him. Something sparked to life in his vibrant blue eyes but his shoulders raised and tensed when he watched his mother press her lips together tightly in a way she did when she was nervous.

"Why, what's wrong?" He didn't like the way his mother reached back out to hold his hand tightly. It was something she did when she wanted to try and calm him down and that told him all he needed to know. Something was very wrong with his wife for his mother to be this worried about his reaction.

"I don't know. She locked the door yesterday and won't let anyone in, she won't even take any food the maids left outside the door. We didn't know what to do."

"Grimsby, with me now please."

Eric flagged a hand out towards Grimsby who was just walking back through the doors before he set off in a run up the stairs.

This had never happened before. (Y/n) didn't like people around her if she was ill, Eric knew that from experience. He was the only person (Y/n) would allow to be around her when she was ill, she didn't even let the maids in the bedroom if she had been sick, no one came near her she didn't like it. She didn't like the looks of pity or the fussing unless it was Eric caring for her and he was much the same.

But he'd never known (Y/n) to lock herself away like this, but then again, he had never been away while she had been ill. He was always here if (Y/n) was sick or feeling under the weather. His mother had never had to try and look out for her or look after her if she was unwell and Eric wasn't around to help.

His feet bashed loudly against the polished steps as he propelled himself around the corner and up the second set of stairs before making a beeline down the corridor. His chambers had never felt so far away than they did in this moment and he was sure the corridor was getting longer, stretching out before him to add more distance between him and his beloved.

Eric was out of breath by the time he arrived in front of his room and for a few seconds, he stood deathly still and as silent as a mouse. His harsh breaths were the only sound in the corridor, other than Grimsby's fast approaching steps.

He leaned close to the door and waited, listening for any sounds, whether it be (Y/n) crying, coughing, screaming or even laughing. Eric just wanted to hear something that gave him an indication of what was going on behind that door, but he heard nothing.

He tried to jiggle the handle, just in case the maids had simply presumed it was locked or (Y/n) told them it was to keep them away. Or in case she knew he was coming back soon and had unlocked the door ready for him to come and see her.

It was locked.

"(Y/n)? Sweetheart it's me, I'm back, can you open the door please?"

Eric heard something on the other side of the door and he pressed his ear against the wood to try and work out what it was. Something muffled, (Y/n) had said something but it was too quiet and distant for Eric to try and work it out. He couldn't hear her moving though, all he heard was (Y/n) mutter something before the room went quiet again.

"(Y/n) open the door."

Tilting his head, Eric glanced over at Grimsby in case he had any bright ideas but the older man looked just as stumped and worried as Eric felt. Was there a spare key to this lock? The only key Eric knew of was the one on the other side of the door that always stayed in the lock, just for safety. Eric had never been locked out of his and (Y/n)'s chamber before, he'd never been on the outside, begging to be let in. He hated it.

Jiggling the handle again, Eric almost pulled it from the door before he sighed through gritted teeth. The door was going to open one way or another, he would make sure of it. He had to get in that room and see what was going on with his wife. If (Y/n) was ill, Eric had to be in there with her.

His hand curled up into a fist and before he could stop himself, he thrashed his knuckles on the door, loud enough for (Y/n) to hear wherever she was in their room.

She was crying.

Eric heard a cry as clear as ever and he felt Grimsby take a step closer to him, signalling that he too had heard her begin to cry.

"Sweetheart talk to me, what's going on in there? If you can't open the door tell me because I'm about to break it down." He wasn't waiting around for very much longer.

If (Y/n) had had a fall or she was too ill to come and unlock the door all she had to do was tell him and he would break the lock to get to her but she had to talk to him. He needed to know if she was badly hurt or just in pain or if he had to get the doctor out to come and assess her. If she could open the door she had to do it now before Eric lost his patience and kicked the door down to get in.

"Sweetheart I'm begging you to talk to me, I'm not gonna ask again. What's going on?"

Both Eric's hands planted down on the door and he tipped his head forward until his temple was against the door. He would pray if needed to get him inside and for (Y/n) to be okay when he got in there but he couldn't wait outside forever, begging to be let in.

Something was wrong with his wife and if she hadn't opened the door by now that told Eric that she couldn't physically get to the door to let him in.

Someone should have tried to find the spare key or pick the lock and see to her before Eric came home. But (Y/n) didn't want anyone in there with her, maybe she had been waiting in agony for Eric to come home because she didn't trust or want anyone else.

"I'm breaking it."

Eric moved his hand towards Grimsby to make him take a step back before Eric himself moved back. He gripped either side of the doorframe and counted to three before he lifted his leg and smashed the heel of his boot into the door. Another swift kick broke the wood and sent the lock flying across the room as the door swung open wide.

He didn't know what he would be walking into and his mind tried to brace him for any and all kinds of situations behind the door.

It took Eric a few seconds to locate his wife. He peered to the left towards the adjoining bathroom but the light was off and the door was partially open, she wasn't in there. He took five long strides into the room and looked around.

The bed was askew. Pillows were strewn all over the bed and two were on the floor like they had been tossed away in anger or frustration. The covers were knotted up into a ball and partially hanging off the end of the bed and a thin sheet was tangled up on the floor.

When Eric moved towards the end of the bed and stood near the closed balcony doors, his heart lurched up into his throat.

There she was.

(Y/n) was curled up in an awkward ball on the floor, half wrapped up in the tangled sheet like she was failing miserably at trying to hide herself away.

Eric collapsed down to his knees beside (Y/n) and reached his hands out, trying to be delicate and careful when he cupped her face in his hands. He brushed her fallen hair out of her eyes and gently tilted her head up so she was looking up at him. Tears were stained all down her face and her lower lip was speckled with blood from how badly she had bitten her lip while he was away. He could feel the way she was shaking, her tremors were vibrating into his bones but it was her fever that sent a spike straight through Eric's heart.

"Fetch the doctor." Tears welled up in Eric's panic-stricken eyes when he looked over at Grimsby who was taking in the state of the room with worried eyes.

"No," (Y/n) lifted a shaking hand up to cup Eric's wrist but all she could do was choke on her words and lean into his touch that she had been aching for all day yesterday and all last night.

"No? Baby, I've just broke down the door because you're collapsed down here. You're clearly not well, you are getting seen by the doctor whether you like it or not."

It was almost laughable, here she was either trying to tell Eric she was okay or deny the fact that she was ill enough to warrant the doctor when he could see with his own eyes that she wasn't well. She hadn't been eating for almost two days, his mother had told him that, she was hiding herself away here and she was barely conscious on the floor. There was no way Eric was risking not calling the doctor to check (Y/n) over.

He looked up to see that Grimsby had already fled the room to call the doctor and it was a relief. It meant (Y/n) had no reason not to talk to Eric now that they were alone and he could get her back to bed and try to figure out what had been going on while he was away.

"Alright baby, I'm gonna pick you up now, okay?"

(Y/n) stayed limp on the floor but she loosened her muscles enough for Eric to move her with ease. He looped her arms around his neck before he scooped her up in his arms bridal style and held her close to his chest. Her mind fogged over when she tucked her face into the crook of his neck and inhaled his scent that had all but vanished from the shirt she had been cradling for the past week.

He tried his best to be careful when he laid (Y/n) down on the bed but when he went to pull away, (Y/n) found some hidden strength in her arms and deadlocked them around his neck.

She could feel him sighing into the crook of her neck before he suddenly climbed over her and awkwardly moved onto the other side of the bed so he was next to her. He laid on his stomach, hovering over the top of (Y/n) without resting any of his weight onto her. His hands dug comfortingly into her hips and he kissed his way up her neck and along her jaw until their noses were brushing together and their lips were centimeters away.

"Tell me what's happened baby."

What was she supposed to say? Was she supposed to tell him the truth and break his heart as well as hers? Would it be fair to keep such a secret from him?

Yesterday had felt like a dream, everything had happened so quickly and (Y/n) couldn't remember most of it.

She remembered waking up in the bathroom and crawling through the bedroom until she could lock the door and keep herself safely tucked away in her room until Eric came home. Every time Hannah, the maid, would knock, (Y/n) had sent her away. She didn't have the stomach to touch any of the food left outside the door and all she could do was sleep away the pain and fatigue she felt.

It had gone smoothly until this morning.

The cramps came back with vengence and her vision started to spin and blur until all she could do was keep tilting her head whichever way the room was turning. When she tried to get out of bed her legs didn't cooperate and she had no idea how long she had been laid on the floor.

Hearing Eric's voice made her cry out in relief when she knew for sure that she wasn't imagining him.

He had come home, he had come back to her and he was here right now in front of her, just like she had cried and prayed for him to be. But now she didn't know what to tell him or what to do or what to say. If the doctor came and examined her they would find out what had happened and if they told Eric it would hurt him and she didn't want to do that.

But if the pain didn't go away, (Y/n) knew she would need a doctor soon.

"Baby, talk to me." Eric brushed his fingers beneath (Y/n)'s eye and across her cheek when it looked like she was about to pass out or fall asleep. He needed to know what was going on, she couldn't fall asleep on him yet.

"I- I didn't know what to do, everything hurts a-and then I couldn't get up. I just wanted you home."

"I'm here now, sweetheart. We'll get you better, everything will be fine I promise."

She could feel him kissing her temple and his words soaked into her skin like a soothing remedy but it didn't stop (Y/n) from shedding tears. Everything wouldn't be fine when Eric found out what had happened, how (Y/n) had failed while he was away.

(Y/n) just wanted to sleep, everything would feel like a dream in the morning.

"Hey, hey no you stay awake with me. I've just come home, you can't sleep yet baby." Eric rubbed his thumb against (Y/n)'s cheek and tilted her head to try and stimulate her and keep her awake but it wasn't working. He watched her eyes flutter to the back of her head before her head lolled against his arm and she was out.

With a sigh, Eric reached down for the cover and draped it over them both because he could feel (Y/n) shaking despite how flushed she was. His fingers slowly carded through her hair and his lips pressed to her temple. All he could do was wait with her for the doctor to come and assess her.

He shouldn't have left.

[emo-batboy]

Lately, I’ve been thinking about Battinson who actually has naturally curly, dirty blond hair that he got from his parents. Picture this:

Bruce whose hair is a kaleidoscope of golden blond and strawberry blond and dirty blond that can’t be tamed when it’s humid out because it’s too wavy and curly and voluminous all at once

Bruce who looks so bright and cheerful with his soft facial structure and crazy hair that cannot be replicated because it’s so uniquely Bruce

Bruce who is a spitting image of his mother’s gorgeous natural color and his father’s wild mane

Bruce who absolutely destroys his natural hair because it reminds him too much of his parents

Bruce who tries desperately to avoid the gut-wrenching comments from those stupid rich people who thought they can bring up his parents just because they used to be friends

Bruce who feels physically ill whenever he hears “Oh you look just like your parents.” “They should have been here to see you.” “You’re a spitting image.”

Bruce who religiously dyes his hair a boring brown and straightens the shit out of it until it’s damaged beyond belief by the age of 18 but at least he doesn’t hear those stupid remarks anymore

Bruce who forgets to wash it sometimes but doesn’t care because his hair is his least favorite thing about his appearance

Bruce who gels the ever-loving fuck out of it to avoid it getting it in his eyes, but he also hates getting haircuts so it gets way too long and happens anyway

Bruce who gets greasepaint in it all the time, wears hats and hoods whenever appropriate, just can’t stop messing with it but hates bringing attention to the thing so he has to glue his hands to his side in public

Bruce who is a stranger to everyone and himself, especially his hair

Bruce who mourns it like he’s still mourning his parents

Now imagine:

Bruce who is going through the aftermath of the Riddler case and the floods

Bruce who only just realized that vengeance is not the answer

Bruce who wants to become Hope but doesn’t know how yet

Bruce who decides that he can’t hide himself behind a cowl all the time now so he chooses to develop a better public image

Bruce who realizes this requires a public appearance as well

Bruce who is way too busy saving the city to keep up his hair dye routine so he forgets to touch up his roots a couple of times

Bruce who is advised to stop gelling his hair back so much because it makes him look less approachable

Bruce who feels so awkward and vulnerable when his hair isn’t hidden behind a hat or some product or his cowl but he goes through the motions because he wants to try his best to be the hero Gotham needs right now

Bruce who walks into Mayor Real’s office one morning, hair sticking up all over the place after stopping no less than 10 muggings the night before, his natural dirty blond in full effect and strikingly…warm

“Did you dye your hair?” Real asks. Bruce pauses. “Uh, no. I stopped dying it a few weeks ago.” “I didn’t know your hair was blond.” He braces for the comments, but she doesn’t mention his parents. Instead, she just smiles. “It suits you.”

Bruce who genuinely doesn’t know how to handle the simple compliment so he just awkwardly shuffles around it and into their discussion on infrastructure

Bruce who stands outside of her office for five minutes after their meeting because he hasn’t stopped thinking about the mortifying reality that his natural hair is visible again

Bruce who also can’t stop thinking about how she said it. It suits him.

Bruce whose natural hair suits him?

Bruce who finally gets the time to dye it again after two months of nonstop work but when he thinks about what Real said…he decides against it. For now

Bruce who starts getting used to seeing his dirty blond hair in the mirror again, even expects it. visualizes it

Bruce who knows when it’s getting too dirty because the small peaks of gold disappear so he starts washing it more regularly

Bruce who watches the volume come back and doesn’t hate it

Bruce who sees the rat’s nest in the morning of golden brown and random reds and even a streak of chestnut and doesn’t immediately reach for gel and a straightener anymore. Instead, he just runs a hand through it and thinks ‘to hell with it, it’s fine like this’

Bruce who gains favor from the public along with a new look, a fresher one

Bruce who becomes a familiar face on TV as the soft-spoken billionaire with the dirty blond hair that never looks right but it’s personable

Bruce who shakes hands and holds babies and hugs kids and the most compliments he gets are for his hair

Bruce who always has just a few strands of hair sticking up in the most random direction but he just swats it away (in another wild direction) and that’s that

Bruce who stops caring so much about being clean-shaven and now sports a bit of stubble because he just likes it that way

Bruce whose hair gets naturally much lighter in the summertime because he’s outside so much now and so his golden roots bleed into a rich strawberry blond

Bruce who has so many unflattering photos from the press of his hair actually looking like a rat’s nest, like seriously how does it look That Bad (Alfred thinks it’s hilarious)

Bruce who gets haircuts regularly now and always asks if they can use as little product as possible because “I don’t like when it’s sticky” but he always likes when it’s just a bit long too

Bruce who tugs on his hair, not to push it away but to fidget with it during meetings, making it even crazier

Bruce who can be recognized from the back by his crazy swirl of hair

Bruce who’s been sporting this new hair for a year now, the summer has passed and his hair is comfortably golden brown again (emphasis on the golden) and it’s bittersweet because he actually finds that he misses the striking blond streaks in July

But it’s all worth it when he notices his curls are finally coming back in the front

Bruce who looks like a completely different person than before and he’s so so happy

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for not going to the doctor?

TW for discussions of health and periods.

I (30F) have chronic health issues. Most are undiagnosed because I am overweight and that's all the doctors ever see, but I know I have arthritis and PCOS.

(Side note, I will be ignoring any responses to the tune of 'oh but you'd feel so much better if you lose weight'. This is not the point of the post.)

My period is late. Like, day 69 of my cycle late. My partner and I are trying for children, but due to my PCOS we were told we might have trouble conceiving, and there's been nothing for about 2 years now. I was on the pill for 10 years before we started trying, and were told that it might take some time for my body to normalise after so long on hormonal birth control. I did lose my cycle entirely for almost a year due to the pill, and it took about 6 months to come back after I stopped taking it.

All this to say that a 69 day cycle isn't entirely out of the realm of my history. My cycle has normalized a bit however, and for the past year or so it's usually between 12-40 day cycles. I've taken tests of course, but all have been negative so far (about 10?). I have been feeling quite off recently, but I was ill about a week before I noticed I was late (just a cold), and some of my other symptoms might be related to my chronic conditions.

My partner however wants me to go see a doctor. His argument is that even if it isn't a pregnancy then the doctor can tell me what else might be wrong with me. My argument is that I don't want to go see a doctor unless it's definitely is a pregnancy, because doctors have almost never helped diagnose me, and in fact I have my diagnosis because I put in the research and told the doctor what I suspected, and had to push for testing to confirm it.

I had undiagnosed back pain for 3 years because my doctor kept blaming my weight. Similarly, the disappearance of my period was blamed on my weight, and surprise, I have PCOS that might have been able to be treated better if it was found sooner (and also causes weight gain that is very difficult to control). I don't trust doctors to be able to tell what's wrong with me, because all I'm ever told is that I need to lose weight. I've been to many doctors, all said the same things.

Am I the asshole because I don't want to go to the doctors only to be told once again that I need to lose weight while ignoring anything that might actually be wrong with me?

What are these acronyms?