#ive been thinking man ive worked so hard to really control my emotions and grow as a person

[girlsexbattle2]

the next few years are going to suck

[cursedvida]

SAD EYES, BROKEN SMILE III (Buggy x F!Reader)

PART II // PART IV

WARNINGS: violence, swearing, Buggy being angry.

N/A: thirth part of this series, it's not gonna be so much longer. I hope you enjoy!

After revealing your ability to knock a guy down with just a couple of blows, your pretensions of going unnoticed within the crew have become quite impossible. You have caught the attention of Buggy, who on the one hand seems quite interested in your skills, but on the other is somewhat suspicious of you. And no wonder, in his eyes you have gone from being a helpless young girl to a killing machine, that has to confuse anyone. 

The day after what happened in the tavern he calls you to his cabin. It's the first time you've been alone with him since you found him that night in the ship's hold. You are very nervous, not because he might blow your cover but because he is so close to you. Buggy is not an overly muscular man but he is very tall, at least two feet taller than you. It was something you hadn't paid much attention to until now. Having him so close to you makes your chest tighten, making you feel ridiculous. 

"So tell me, Y/N.... why hadn't it occurred to you to tell me that you can finish a man off in half a minute?"

Buggy's voice sounds soft, almost seductive. He's using a patronizing tone. You've been watching him long enough over the past few months to know it's his way of hiding an impending anger.

"Do you think i'm an idiot?" There he is, he's just pulled out the genie. He abruptly turns to you and approaches, positioning himself dangerously close. "Tell me, do i look like a joke to you?"

You should be nervous about having to come up with some excuse but actually all you can think about is that you see him as a very kissable person. Obviously, you can't say that. 

"Did you really think I'm gonna believe the story of you not minding important to tell me about your fighting skills?"

"I..."

"Tell me the truth, Y/N. Now."

Buggy comes dangerously close to your face, his nose almost brushing against yours. He must think your nervousness is because he's caught you, but the truth is your heart is going so fast because you're holding him so close and it feels like a sin not to eat his mouth. Every day that passes your desire for him grows and at times like this you find it hard to control yourself.

"Well?" he insists, getting impatient. 

You snap back to reality, you must answer something. You sigh, perhaps the best thing to do is to tell the truth.

"Okay..." you nod, pulling away from him a little. You can't center your head holding him so close, his scent clouding your sense. "I had foster parents, they were Marines. They were working as undercover agents, but they ended up in prison for treason or something. When they were arrested my sister and I escaped, but we ended up as slaves and were bought by a horrible guy who was in the business of training children to sell them as mercenaries in the future. I was one of the best, escaped from there, got my own life and blah, blah, blah..."

You were not good at telling stories but that time you have excelled, you have told it with such reluctance that anyone would say that you are summarizing a very boring novel. Buggy stares at you for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. You don't understand what's so funny, maybe you don't like to make a big deal out of it because your personal traumas have turned you into a kind of emotional robot, but it's not to make fun of other people's misfortunes either. 

"Do you really expect me to believe something like that?" 

Wow, so that's what it is, the truth has seemed too far-fetched for him. Well, good for you. 

"I have to admit, you're a good storyteller. You could use that talent for some show." You stifle a smile, one of the things you like most about that fool is how sometimes he doesn't know anything. "But I want the truth, Y/N, or we'll have a problem."

You sigh. Fuck, that's lazy, now you'll have to make something up. 

"My father was a former marine" you lie "I was trained by him." 

Buggy grimaces.

"Yes, of course the earlier story was much more interesting, it had more drama."

"I thought if I told that my father had been in the Navy you wouldn't want me in your crew" you shrug. Well, in the end a boring, simple excuse was the most convincing. 

Buggy stares at you, weighing whether to buy your excuses or not. 

"Okay, I believe you" he nods. He folds his arms and leans slightly towards you, speaking menacingly "But I hate it when people try to make a fool out of me." 

"I never have ever intended anything like that" Actually at first you did. 

"Are you sure?"

"Fuck, of course yes!" You exclaim, exasperated, stepping completely out of your role. 

Buggy pulls back, confused by your reaction. 

"What, you're offended?" he asks, incredulous "I'm the one who has the right to be angry here!"

"For God's sake, Buggy, stop thinking the whole fucking world wants to fucking laugh at you."

You've never said swear words in front of him before, nor spoken in such a rude manner. It's the first time you show him your true personality and he seems quite surprised. And a bit angry, to be honest. 

"You're obsessed with what fucking people think. Fuck it, people are bullshit." 

"How dare you talk to me like that, don't you know who I am?"

"Of course I know, everyone knows. You love make everyone know" you reply, a bit fed up now "I'm just telling you the truth."

"You don't seem very enthusiastic, maybe you don't like being on this crew anymore."

You fold your arms, he's not the only one who can be proud and stubborn, you've always been known for that too. 

"Maybe not."

Buggy's gaze seems to be on fire with rage. He's really furious. 

"Well, get the hell out then."

"No!"

That really knocks him off his feet.

"No?"

Your tone has dropped considerably, regaining your composure. 

"I'm not leaving." 

"May I ask what the hell is wrong with you?"

At this point in the conversation, and considering that you've already discovered too many cards to give up the game, perhaps it's time to tell the truth. But the one that matters. The stuff about you working as a bounty hunter or that your goal was to kidnap him is not something that seems relevant to you.

You take a breath, take a deep breath and stare at him. 

"I like you" you reply matter-of-factly.

Buggy stares at you as if he has just seen a ghost. He's speechless, that's quite a feat coming from someone who is incapable of shutting his mouth for more than two minutes. He opens his mouth slightly to say something but he can't, he gets stuck. Your confession has completely thrown him off, right now so many things are going through his head that he is unable to manage. 

"I don't care about being a pirate" since you confess, you decide to confess completely "but I like you and I don't want to leave the ship. So stop accusing me like that, it doesn't sit well with me."

Not that it feels too good to your self-esteem to see the horrified look on Buggy's face at this point, but it feels genuinely good. You've finally let it out, you've been holding it inside for so long that it's been a lump in your throat.

"Your .... Eh.... Me?" It's the only thing Buggy finds himself able to utter. 

The idea being liked by someone is not something that crosses his mind often. Buggy can brag about all his exploits and constantly bravado about his abilities, but he has always felt considerably inferior than many of his peers. He knows he inspires fear, terror even, that some of his disciples look up to him but... liking him? Why would you like him? You're quite a bit younger and very pretty. In fact you don't know it, but more than one member of the crew has commented to him once or twice that they finds you very attractive. He's sure it's a ruse or something to confuse him, there's no way you really could like him. 

"Look, I'm not going waste more time, this is a childish conversation" You tell him, once you've made your confession it's like all the nerves and fear have disappeared. You are you again. "When you calm down you look for me"

And then you make the decision to do something you've been wanting to do for weeks. You were taught that if you decide something you have to go all the way, that has always been your character. So you approach Buggy, stand on tiptoe and give him a light kiss on the lips. He stands still, motionless, like a statue. You look into those eyes that enchant you and say:

"I really wanted to do that, I'm sorry." 

And with that said you leave, returning to the deck. Buggy stares at you, static, unable to react. 

What the hell just happened?

[yesimwriting]

hiii, this might seem weird but do u have any head cannons for when the reader is pregnant and how the Darkling would react?

a/n love this concept,, it's not weird at all!! i feel like there's so much here!! also i leave for college this month and im lowkey starting to freak out so ive been watching star wars movies for comfort 😭and now i have half a mind to write for them, especially the prequels (cough, cough,, anakin) 😭 😭 that should tell you where i am mentally

anyways lets get into the headcanons:))

--

- okay so like most of my headcanons, this is probably going to be all over the place bc i feel like so many different things could change how he would react. Like if the darkling x reader have been trying to get pregnant, or an unplanned pregnancy with someone he really likes, i also think whether or not the reader is a grisha affects his reaction too

- in general though, i think he'd lowkey have a breeding kink he'd def find something about the thought of you having his child really attractive bc for one thing, he wouldn't have to worry about being left alone and now he has an excuse to be a real 'protector'.

- also if youve read my other headcanons i am 100000% convinced that he has this thing where if he really likes someone he needs them to need him (let's all remember the whole 'i will strip you of everything you know and love speech until I'm your only shelter' speech he gave to Alina)

- also i kinda want to write a fic or blurb series or something that's just the darkling being super toxic in super thoughtful ways LMAO if that makes sense, like he's being super sweet but it's to make sure the reader is dependent on him

- and he def wants to be the protector to give himself some sense of assurance bc he's so desperate to not be alone anymore and bc the reader is the only person he has/loves, he wants to feel in control and like he's the less attached one

- okay,, let's get back to the pregnancy thing, anyways, your pregnancy is most definitely activating all of those senses and this was meant to be a sub plot but it kind of became it's own thing lol

- so lets get to the actual pregnancy reaction

if you two have been trying to get pregnant:

- when you tell him, he kind of like, pauses bc it's not every day that he gets surprised so it takes him a moment to register that he's experiencing shock lol, so he tenses and goes islent

- and then after he realizes that he's surprised and that it's bc of a good thing, he manages to relax

- meanwhile you're kind of freaking out bc he got so quiet?? you start to wonder if he's regretting ever wanting a child with you? and you're like two seconds away from a downspiral and then he...

- he touches your cheek and looks at you in a way you've never seen him look at anyone,, not even you

- the look is so warm and strong and full of fierce admiration that you feel foolish for ever thinking he didn't want this. And then he says something about how you're carrying his child and how he didn't realize he could adore you more and then he kisses you and it's all :)) warm:)

- he doesn't want anyone to know that he's expecting a child as long as possible bc of how many enemies he has and how he has to worry about you enough when people just know that you're his 'lover' (a title you never really liked, but one he tells you is necessary to make sure no one realizes the extent of his attachment)

- if you really want to tell your mother or someone of that relation, he won't be mad about it, but he just needs to know

- Genya is the only exception bc the darkling basically instructs her to look out for you,, but when you tell her she's like oh?? you guys just found out?

- miss girl most definitely noticed like a day and a half ago after you cried bc she couldn't find you ice cream the other night 😭and she just assumed you knew but weren't ready to tell anyone

- okay so this what i think is his most problematic expecting father trait would be. So i just ranted about how important secrecy would be to him but he's also the most overprotective person in the entire world,, like he was bad before but once he knows your with child?? yeah, if a man asks you about the weather, he's done for

- he's next to you in a second, ordering either you or the man to do some asinine task

- if you get mad about this (rightfully so) or even just point out how nothing is wrong and you having a casual conversation with a man who isn't even looking at you sexually won't hurt you or the baby, he'll lose rationality

- it depends on how much you push, but it'd be super easy to make him super possessive bc like i said, being bonded by a child has made him so much more intense (and he was pretty intense before)

- and if you push too much he'll lowkey forget about how cautious he's trying to be with you and pin you against the nearest wall and say something along the lines of 'are you already forgetting you're mine? that i own you, body and soul--is my child growing in you not enough of a reminder? because i'll give you another one if you need it.' (AH--i want to write a whole fic based on this line)

- also if the reader is grisha, especially if she's a sun summoner/special grisha like him, he def talks about the power that they've created and how proud he already is and how he can't wait to train together and be the most powerful family in the world

- not everything is perfectly happy though, bc now he feels more pressure to complete his plan and establish the world he wants his child to be born into

- so sometimes when he's working extra hard or is extra aggressive for no reason, you have to work at calming him down and reminding him that the best thing he can do for his child is be there for them (and the child's mother,, lol)

- sometimes he'll respond by actually listening to you and trying to make up for his absence or his aggression by being extra soft until you finally forgive him

- you never last that long, it's hard to be mad at him when he's coddling you and whispering such sweet things about he's so happy to have you and your future child

- overall, his first reaction is to swell with emotion, which he isn't used to, and so he becomes super protective but also extra lovey and you know that his overreactions are just him trying to show that he cares about you and your future child more than anything

If the pregnancy was unplanned:

- the initial reaction is pretty similar, only his state of shock lasts longer

- like i said at the beginning, he's not used to being surprised and an accidental pregnancy is so much more surprising than a planned pregnancy

- this really sucks for you bc he's not exactly known for his patience so you just kinda sit there and genuinely wonder if you're going to be a single mom or if you're going to want to deletus the fetus or something

- but then he takes a step towards you and you see how he's looking at you and you just know that that fierceness has to mean something good

- and at this point you're scared and nervous and feel so alone so tears are pricking at your eyes,, so he wipes his thumb across your cheek to wipe away tears you won't let spill

- he then whispers something really sweet about how you two are now together forever, as you should be

- it's really relieving bc you felt so alone and uncertain and he's such a smooth speaker that by the end of the night, you feel like this is a good thing

- if youre still hesitant/weighing your options, he's not above trying to (gently) manipulate you into thinking that what he wants may be the only way

- by that,, i don't mean outright tricking you bc he means everything he says, but he def is pushing the keeping the baby agenda,, especially if you're a grisha,, and even more so if you're a grisha with similar power levels to him

- he won't get angry at first bc he's not so out of touch that he's unaware of how shocking a pregnancy is to a woman who wasn't planning one,, but his patience is limited and if you fight it too much he will get mad and yell

- but unless you really don't want to have a child, it won't get to that bc he makes the idea of having a baby with him sound so perfect?? like you genuinely don't understand how he did that

- he chases away all of your worries and assures you that youre not alone and that even though it isn't planned he wouldn't rather anyone else carry his child

- the initial conversation would probably end in you two sleeping together again bc he finds the fact that you're carrying his child so attractive and bc being aware of the pregnancy makes him more possessive

- it's also a good way to fight any of your doubts

- speaking of being possessive though,, i feel like he could be a little more possessive/protective of a reader who didn't plan on getting pregnant bc your relationship has been less established

- no one sees you as anything to him and he doesn't want to start rumors now bc it's important to him that his enemies don't find out about you or his future child so he doesn't want that to change

- but he almost forgets about all of those reasons each time he sees a man get a little too close,, especially if that guy is flirty

- it takes all of his will power to not just go 'she's mine and if i wasn't worried about the stress that witnessing something violent would cause our unborn child, you'd be dead already, but if you're not gone by the time i turn around, i'll forget about caution'

- lots of close calls ngl!! at one point youre like 'if it bothers you so much, maybe you should tell someone??' and he's like 'no,, maybe,, shut up' and then you raise one eyebrow and he just closes his mouth and is like 'i mean,, i'll kiss you to shut you up, haha--dont be mad'

- youre the one that's pregnant but sometimes you think he might be the one experiencing the mood swings i swear 😭

- so your little theory gets tested,, he's not the type to gossip with his besties and be like 'guess who's officially my girlfriend, i knocked her up but it's not like it sounds--'

- so he's like ig you can tell genya

- once again genya is like ?? yall thought you were keeping that secret? couldn't be me

- but having it a little out in the open helps ease him just enough that youre actually capable of consoling him when he becomes jealous

- still though,, he's quick to go into possessive/pregnancy kink sex

- youre most def not mad about it,, unless pregnancy has you particularly sore

- he's normally pretty understanding about that and def doesn't mind pulling his weight in the bedroom when he needs

- honestly he'd be really good at being a source of calmness at the beginning, but as time goes on he becomes more and more worried about finishing his plans bc he didn't expect to have a child right now

- so he'd be more adamant about working/becoming more tense and would be more difficult to console if it was an accidental pregnancy

- when you call him out on it--or on anything while your pregnant--it's frustrating for you both bc the number one thing everyone knows is stress is bad for baby, so he's trying to keep you calm without backing down

- these argument always end with one of you clinging to the other,, and then the more angrier of the two just like shuts up, rolls their eyes, and lets go of the argument...at least for now

- the main difference between an accidental and intentional pregnancy would probably be how you perceive him,, bc an intentional pregnancy means youve talked about things but since you havent talked about anything your shocked about how soft he becomes ??

[collisiondiscourse]

say amen (bkdk drabble)

(a little drabble based off of one of my favorite posts that ive ever made)

Katsuki’s not a religious man.

Yeah, okay, he believes in deities and goes to temples, the blond will admit that much. The existence of a higher power isn’t really that far from the realms of possibility when he regularly interacts with people who have the head of a bird or engines for legs. He celebrates the holidays, and on days where he’s feeling especially magnanimous, Katsuki even buys temple charms and sends out a quick prayer to whoever might be listening.

But he isn’t religious.

He doesn’t like feeling like he’s indebted to someone. That somehow, somewhere, there is someone Katsuki should be grateful to for giving him all his successes. He worked hard to get where he is now all by himself, thank you very much. The idea that everything is somehow predetermined or controlled by someone he can’t even see is one that makes the blond break out into hives.

A man with any dignity such as Katsuki’s is too proud to kneel to any god.

But then again… Izuku Midoriya is no such god.

He’s very much human, Katsuki would believe despite the seemingly endless strength his short and stocky figure possesses. He’s freckles and sunburns and scars and toothy smiles and everything that used to make the blond’s blood boil. Deku can’t dress himself nicely to save his life and sings All Might show tunes in the shower when he thinks no one can hear. Katsuki’s seen the boy throw up on his dumb red shoes and laugh so hard he scared himself with his own snorts.

He’s seen Deku at his worst. Crying and crumbling, body all bloodied and torn up after giving it his all. He’s seen him angry--borderline murderous even--with rage consuming him and leaving him gasping for breath as he saddles closer and closer to the line betwean life and death. He’s seen Deku broken and hollow, unable to eat for days and smelling like a decomposing corpse because the demons in his eyes had all but haunted him from even getting up to shower.

The point being, Katsuki knows that Izuku Midoriya is flawed.

He should, at least. Having seen these cracks and imperfections over and over should’ve cemented the idea that Deku was far from perfect. He sees sides of Deku that even their best friends, let alone the public have never seen. Bakugou knows that Izuku Midoriya is not a God--and is in fact very far from one.

But fuck if he doesn’t worship him like he is.

When Izuku confessed to him in their second year, Katsuki thinks that he learned what it feels like to die.

As dramatic as it sounds, it’s true. Watching those green eyes peel away from their locked gaze on his red ones to stare nervously at the ground causes Katsuki’s heart to jump. His palms were sweaty and blood roared in his ears, deafening him from all sounds except Deku’s voice. He’d initially thought that this was it. This was Deku preparing to tell him that he couldn’t stand being his friend anymore, that no matter how much Katsuki tried to atone for himself, Deku finally realized that Katsuki would never be worthy of his love.

It built up and up until Katsuki couldn’t breathe, willpower alone keeping him from gasping for breath as he awaited Deku’s rejection. The sun set in a brilliant cast of oranges and purples, but neither boy on the rooftop could stand to appreciate it when the sights in front of them were far more important.

“Kacchan,” he blurts at last. A sliver of his pink tongue peeks out to lick at his chapped lips. Katsuki’s chest constricts with want. “I like you.”

And it’s at those three words that Katsuki truly believes in an afterlife.

His heart clenches and stops for a different reason--a different feeling entirely. The world tilts on its axis and his breaths come up short, yet Katsuki’s never been happier to have been wrong. Parts of him shrivel up. Shudder in anxiety. Embers of raw anger and determination (leftover from years of scars and charred notebooks) tell him that he’s not worthy of Deku. That Katsuki is yet to even deserve to take the hand that has been waiting for him for his whole life.

Admittedly though, Katsuki Bakugou is a selfish, selfish man.

He stares at that freckled and blushing face like it’s a reflection of the universe itself. Green eyes that mistakenly take Katsuki’s silence as rejection grow watery, and yet as Katsuki stares into the molten pool of emerald and moss, he thinks he may see his entire life in those pretty eyes.

“...Kacchan? It’s okay if you don’t, uh, like me back. I u-understand if you feel uncomfortable or no longer want me be your friend even if it kinda s--”

“W-well really, it’s more of love. I... love you. Like, a lot. Have for a while I mean and I tried really hard to hide it but I’m sure it was obvious from the beginning and well, Uraraka said I was really bad at lying so I wasn’t really sure...” he mumbles. Stutters, because he’s human and very much not a god.

Katsuki Bakugou kisses Izuku Midoriya for the first time.

He kisses Izuku Midoriya because he wants all of him. He wants the sorrow and broken bones. The awkward laughter and nervous tics. Katsuki wants those green eyes to never stop looking at him and that mouth to never stop muttering the most inane nothings. He wants the beautiful and the ugly, the victories and the losses. He wants and he wants and he wants and he wants, and now that all of it is within his reach dear god is he never letting go.

The blond pours his soul into the kiss. Mouth harsh and unyielding, ever determined to prove to anyone watching that he’d throw away his life for this boy in a heartbeat. The desperation in their kiss practically daring anyone to try and pull them apart. Katsuki wants the kiss to say everything that he, in his weak and human state, cannot even begin to phrase. That somehow a single kiss could show the other that Katsuki loves him so much it breaks him inside. It’s so good that it’s painful. It’s painful and excruciating but fucking hell if Katsuki pulls away for one moment he thinks he might actually truly die.

They’re training to be pro-heroes, so of course their pain tolerance is higher than most. They’ve been taught to fight in any environment no matter what—could probably fight five people underwater for an hour without breaking a sweat. All of those hours of training somehow still mean nothing to Katsuki in the brilliance of the storm that is Izuku Midoriya.

Because as they kiss and breathe in each other’s air, Katsuki forces himself to pull away with a gasp.

Izuku thinks he’s hurt the blond accidentally, somehow. That he’d been too rough or pushed Bakugou into it or even just took his breath away from him in the literal sense. What the green-haired hero didn’t expect was the sheer devotion in ruby eyes.

(It would’ve scared him, if it didn’t make his knees shaky and heart rate speed up in exhilaration.)

Meanwhile, Katsuki’s drowning.

He’s drowning so deep in emotions that he’d never let himself feel until now. Drowning in his insecurities and greatest desires. Drowning in emotion and vigour. Drowning in the feeling of kissing Izuku fucking Midoriya. Part of him screams in agony, protesting this weakness as it fucks with his mind and squeezes at his heart.

The rest of him lets it happen.

Bakugou pulls away, gasping for breath. It’s too much and not enough, because he loves this boy so goddamn much that it actually hurts. He’s crying, and it’s kind of pathetic, really. So undone by a single kiss that tears streak down his face while white spots appear in vision of ruby eyes. A man so weak--so overcome with emotion that he can’t help but sob at the torrent of devotion that overtakes him. His heart throbs painfully and he struggles to take gulps of air, because Katsuki doesn’t truly love many people but there’s something about Izuku Midoriya that destroys him so thoroughly.

Ever understanding, ever patient, and ever too good for his damned, hell-bound soul, Izuku holds him close. He lets Katsuki weep into his jacket and runs scarred fingers through pale blond strands as the other boy tries to stifle his sobs. He hushes him with a light kiss to his temple and listens patiently as Katsuki whimpers every variant of ‘I love you’ under the sun.

Izuku Midoriya is no such god, but Katsuki Bakugou worships him like one nonetheless.

[hoodieofholland]

Okay, what Im requesting really angst so I get if you don’t want write,

boyfriend!Tom starting to feel things to his co-star while y/n is waiting for him to come back to her and when he coms back he tells her the turth. She runs pf with tears and have a serious car crash and Tom regrets what he did and blames himself for her injures.

(Oh god I love jerk Tom so much)

(love your writings <3)

a/n: took a little while to write this, but it's done, finally! Hahah. Feels like ive been writing a lot of angst lately lol, what you guys think? Thanks anon for requesting, hope you like it!

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating, heartbreak, mentions of blood, car accident, language.

Broken. That’s how you felt, staring into those brown chocolate eyes, full of regret, guilt and fear. Your heart clenches inside of your chest, desperately trying to find some sort of comfort while your heartbeat only seems to increase each second you pass looking at him.

“What?”, your voice is cracked. Your eyes are glistening with the threatening tears.

You still can hear the reverberation of his words inside of your head: I think I’m having feelings for someone else. Someone else. His co-star. Tom had just admitted to you he was having feelings for his co-star.

You and Tom have been in a relationship long enough to know this would inevitably break your heart into pieces. Those words didn’t even make sense to you. Though both of you were feeling a little off lately, like your relationship wasn’t the same anymore, you were sure this was just a phase, you were willing to bring you two back on track. But right now you could see you were the only one with hope and this made you feel ashamed of just standing in front of Tom, feeling extremely exposed and weak.

He sniffles, averting his gaze to the ground. “I- I’m so sorry, y/n. I didn’t mean to blurt it like that, it’s just-“

You blink your tears away, your whole body shaking slightly, not under your control anymore. Your hands close into fists as you try to control your emotions and the unbearable pressure on your chest. “What is it, Tom? What is happening? I- I can’t understand, I thought-“, you didn’t even know what to say. You bite your lips to prevent you from crying. “Since... since when, Tom?”

He breathed out, cheeks buffing as he runs his hands through his curls. “I don’t know. Honestly”, his voice was full of sadness, “I just- I realized it today”.

You feel your knees getting weaker. “Did you-“, you gulp, too afraid to ask, “Did you cheat on me, Tom? Did you do something with her? Did she touch you? Did you touch her?”

Though you knew pretty well none of that was important anymore, that betraying your feeling while still together was equally as bad as kissing or sleeping with someone else, you couldn’t ignore the feeling that physical contact would make the whole thing worse. You couldn’t stand the thought of being there, waiting for Tom to come home and maybe have a nice dinner so you could enjoy time together and make things work out again, while he was out there fucking another girl.

But he shook his head no, and you released a sigh in relief. He had a frown between his brows, genuinely hurt by the path of that conversation. “I’d never, y/n”, he rubbed his eyes. “I know this doesn’t make me a better of a man, but I- I swear to God I just realized it now. It was today, when we were filming and... and I couldn’t go another minute without telling you this. This is so fucked up and I am so fucking sorry, but I thought that it would be better for both of us if I just told you this and-“

A sob coming from your parted lips breaks his attempt to explain, watching you fall apart for something he has done. Tom didn't stop loving you. It felt different, but he still cared about your feelings and how you'd deal with the fact that your relationship wasn't working anymore. He felt guilty and even disgusted at himself for breaking your heart. But that didn't stop him neither.

"Can we talk about this, darling?", he mumbles, trying to reach your hand, but you step back, body trembling as you fight back the need of giving in to his embrace.

"Don't. Don't call that", you cry out, letting the tears fall freely on your cheeks now. "Fuck, Tom, what did I do? I didn't deserve this. I- I was by your side, I never left. I knew this day would come, but I was trying my best..."

"It's not like that, y/n", he mutters, feeling defeated. He didn't intend to take it this way. He never wanted to make you cry. He promised he would never make you cry. "I've tried. And I love you, I love you so fucking much, but I... I don't know what happened".

You wipes the tears away furiously, too frustrated to care about the look on your face right now. You just didn't want to look fragile, or broken, or weak - all of the things you actually were feeling like.

You look at him clearer, the man you so desperately love, the man you most felt affection to. Tom was everything you always dreamt of. If there was a man you could say you trusted in, it was Tom. And he betrayed your feelings.

It wasn't his fault and you had to admit that. He fell for another woman. He just didn't feel the same about you anymore, and though you were suffering, you couldn't blame it on him. It was just human nature. Life itself, playing tricks on you, when you so certainly believed to have found the love of your life.

"I know", you say through hoarse voice. "I can't blame it on you. It's not your fault. I just- I thought we could work this out, y'know? Thought you wanted this with me". You give him a sad smile and couldn't help but let more tears roll down your face. You felt pathetic and you were sure you looked just like that.

Tom swallows the thick knot on his throat, chest aching at the sign of you. He wanted to say something, but couldn't think about anything good enough.

Ashamed of your position, you nod a couple of times for nothing in special and make your way to the front door.

"Wait! Y/n, what are you- where are you going?", Tom shouted, eyes wide as he tried to take your arm. You pulled it from his reach and raised your hand to prevent him from coming any closer.

"I'm leaving. What else do you expect me to do, Tom?" With bloodshot eyes, you stare at him, lips pressed tightly in a thin line, holding everything in you to not make even more a fool of yourself.

"I don't know", he almost whispers.

You can't seem to contain the growing anger inside of you for his words, sobbing a little more as you try to come up with the right thing to say. Why does he have to do this to you?

"Guess what? I don't know neither. All of a sudden, my long-term boyfriend told me he is falling for another girl. Do you know how much it costs me to look at you right now, Tom? I can't even- I fucking hate you right now and I know it's not even your fucking fault, but I can't help it!" You scream, hand covering your mouth as you try to regain some composure. "Just leave me fucking alone, Tom!"

Without another word, you run to the front door, yanking it open and slamming it shut, letting your whines finally scape through your gritted teeth.

---

Tom checked his phone one more time before slipping into the covers and lay down on his empty bed, facing the ceiling for a long enough time to get sick of it.

His mind was running wild, thinking about the things he said to you, and the thing you said to him. It was hard to face the fact that he made you cry and feel miserable. Tom never intended that. He knew both of you were slipping apart, gradually giving your relationship an end, but that was a whole different level.

He closed his eyes, thinking about the moment you stormed out the door, thinking about the feeling he had previously in the morning, while working with his co-star. It wasn't the strongest thing he felt in his life, it wasn't even near to the things he felt when meeting you, but he knew he should be honest with you from the moment he realized there was something going on.

But even know, he felt like he messed it up real bad.

Tom has been calling you since you stepped out of the house, but you never answered, or called back. He left a message in your voicemail, asking you to come back home so you could talk. Aware of the fact that this had no coming back, Tom just needed to look at you one more time and apologise for being a dick. He couldn't afford to have you out of his life.

And then his phone rang.

He was quick to pick it up and press to his ear, waiting to hear your voice, but what he heard was something much more unexpected.

"Hello, can I please speak with Thomas Stanley?", an unrecognizable voice came to the phone and Tom sat on his bed.

"Uh, yes, it's me. What's the matter?"

"I'm calling because you're at Miss y/n y/l/n's emergency contact. She was brought to the hospital after an accident, a car crash. Miss y/n is passing through an emergency surgery right now and I need to inform someone in the family..."

The woman kept talking, voice too steady for something so breath-taking. Tom was surely out of breath. For a few seconds, he felt like he had gone blind, not able to see anything besides a black spot in the darkness of his room.

He couldn't believe he was hearing that. It couldn't be real. He tried to come up with any excuse, with some explanation, but everything that ever crossed his mind at the moment was the sign of you laying flat on some ciment busy street, blood coming out of the corner of your mouth and eyes wide open with no brightness on them.

"Sir?", the woman spook again and Tom was snapped out of his thoughts.

"Can you give me the address?", he jumped out of bed and started to look for his keys frantically. The woman gave him instructions and he quickly made his way to the living room.

"Fuck... where 'my fucking keys!" He yelled desperately, throwing the pillows on the sofa go the ground to look better. "Fuck!"

Tom sat on the couch, heavy breathing making his whole body shake. His hands holds his head and his eyes go wide. He felt a heat rise in every part of his body, but mainly on his chest.

It was his fault, he knew it. You were supposed to be at home, you were supposed to stay with him. You were going to have dinner together, and you wouldn't be driving before having a car crash.

Why did he mess up? Why did he say those things to you? He shouldn't have let you go outside in that state. He shouldn't

Tom heard the front door crack open, and he raised his head with silly hopes of you stepping inside and all of this being a fucking cruel joke, but instead, it was Harrison passing by.

"Tom, I was just going to- Dude, what happened?" Harrison puts a worried face when he saw the bloodshot eyes, trembling lips and shaking hands, all parts of Tom's nervousness.

He almost couldn't put his voice to work, and if it wasn't for the fact that he needed to reach out the hospital in no time, to make sure you were fine, maybe he wouldn't be able to say a single word.

"You gotta drive me. I can't- I can't find my keys. And she needs me. I need her. I need to find her, Haz. She- fuck, she needs me and I can't find my fucking keys", he said in desperation, letting himself become a sobbing mess in front of his friend.

---

There was no small talk between the two of them whilst the drive to the hospital. It seemed like you have done a long way from home; the distance was killing the eye browned boy.

All that was on his mind now was the thought of you - moments you've spent together, days of happiness and things that he loved about you. He remembered the first time you met, the day he asked you out and the first time he heard you say you loved him. He questioned himself when was the last time you said that, when he heard his name coming out of your lips with an "I love you" next. He couldn't remember and he felt disgusting for that too.

Because Tom realized in the way to the hospital that he couldn't live without you. If you were gone, there would be nothing. He never thought about this day, never thought that one day he'd be losing you, but the bare possibility of this happening made him realize he wouldn't stand it. He needed you, in more ways than just one.

"She'll be fine, Tom", Harrison told him for the third time, when they were sitting in a corridor, waiting for a doctor to call for Tom when you were brought to the room.

"'S all my fault. Shouldn't have fought her. Shouldn't have let her think I didn't love her", Tom muttered more to himself, voice hoarse.

Tom was bouncing his leg rapidly, eyes closed tightly an heart aching for every second he spent without any medic information.

"Mr. Holland?" A voice came next to him, a doctor, a comphreensive smile on his face, which eased Tom a little bit. "Miss y/n is in her room now, you can check on her".

Tom got up immediately, rubbing his sweaty hands on his jeans while walking down the aisle with the doctor to your room. When he reached the place with white walls, white sheets and an audible beep from the machine that was monitoring your heartbeat.

"She's asleep right now, might wake up in about an hour or so. Then a nurse should come check on her", the doctor says, reading through some papers on his clipboard. He sighs lightly and look at Tom, whose eyes are glue on you. "I might say she was lucky, Mr. Holland. It was a serious accident, and others victims didn't have as much luck as Miss y/n", he friendly pats Tom's shoulder. "Don't know what you believe in, but I think you should be thankful. She's a strong girl, she'll be fine", he smiled and after a few seconds, left Tom and you alone in the room, closing the door behind him.

Tom was hesitant, taking small steps towards your bed as he looked cautiously every part of you body. You had some big injuries on your face. There was a bandage on your nose, which was broken when you entered the emergency. Your lips had cuts and there was a purple spot on your forehead and around one of your eyes.

Tom felt sick to his stomach thinking about how much pain you had gone through the last hours. He stood beside your bed, taking your fragile looking hands on his. It was bruised too, and Tom pressed a very light kiss to your palm, letting a silent tear roll down his face till reach his chin.

"I'm so sorry, my love", he whispered with a croaky voice. "You'll be fine, it's gonna be alright", he reassured, more to himself than to you, who was drifted on sleep now, too far from the chaos that was going on outside.

Tom sniffles, rubbing a hand on his wet nose, and blinks a couple of times to get rid of his tears. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I know it's my fault. And I was wrong".

He breathed out, looking at the ceiling as he remembered your conversation that evening. "There's no one I love more than you, y/n. It was dumb of me thinking that there's anyone I might be in love with besides you. It's only you, love, you're the person I can't live without".

Tom felt like a kid, crying over your hand, squeezing it ever so lightly and praying that you might hear his apologies and his pleas.

"And it was unfair of me not putting as much effort as you in this relationship. This is my fault too. But I love you, and I don't care about anything else, your love is the only thing I'm going to focus on when you wake up".

Tom realized that nothing was more important than your relationship to him now. Not even work, which has taken so much of his time that he was slowly slipping apart from you. Not even whatever feeling he fooled himself to believe in. It wasn't true. It was his fear of not being in love with you anymore, of being too far to bring you two together again. But by that moment, Tom knew he couldn't be afraid of nothing else than losing you. And now he just prayed that you could forgive him and the things he said, while he left himself fall in tears and regret.

********

Taglist:

@dreamy-clousds @pinkrockstar19 @onyourgoddamnleft

@spideyspeaches @miraclesoflove @heavenlyholland

@zspideyy @marlenetough @nsxvision

@xoxohollands @siriuslyslyslytherin @mathletemadison

[nitannichionne]

Luna IV, Chapter 4: Dinner and Dessert (Cavill Syverson Fanfic)

You take your time cooking. You investigate the kitchen slowly as you go, giving yourself time to acclimate and hopefully get a better grip on your feelings. You can hear Sy stirring about the house, though you don't know what he is doing or where he is inside it, for that matter. You take deep breaths to soothe your nerves, allowing the smell of food to relax you and waft through the house. You are suddenly thankful you spent time with the cook growing up; you can make a meal for two or for a party.

Tears fill your eyes. You never dreamed your imprisonment would be this way. You are ready to fight other women. You are ready to protect poor soul like Gabrielle. You are ready to be in solitary confinement. You are ready for a lot of things, but not this. You simply are not ready for him, your private jailer, your private warden to “train” you.

You assessed Sy even as you bucked against him earlier. He is not a violent man, at least, not toward women. He is a no-nonsense man; you smile, noting your warden's similarity to your father, missing him so, but immediately steel the warm feeling that comes with it. Sy is shorter than your father, smaller, but he looks just as strong...perhaps because he is younger.

You didn't miss that body—Sy looks battle ready even if he hasn't seen it in some time. His eyes are very blue, and you watched the tint change with his mood-steel calm, glints of gray with concern, electric blue when he was lighthearted, a storm at sea when he takes you...stop it, you tell yourself. Don’t drown in those eyes, just learn to interpret them so you can find ways around them, you tell yourself, no matter how beautiful you think they are... That stupid system you hate had picked your jailer, and you have to mentally give them credit: They picked right.

You are plating food as Sy enters the kitchen, reminding you of a beast led by his nose. He stands behind and almost over you as you go about your task, seemingly inhaling the meal that promises to be delicious, but you feel like he is also sniffing your hair.

“Jasmine?” he murmurs.

“What?”

He shakes his head, and swallows hard. “Nothing.”

Your whole body tingles with awareness. He was sniffing your hair. They allowed you to pick your scented soap, which you thought was ridiculous, but now makes sense. And he was right-you used jasmine…and he likes it.

He sits down and looks at the food as you bring it to him.  “You can cook.”

“My father had a chef.”

“This will be quite a pleasure then,” he says, still looking at the food. “I have not had a trainee in some time. I am usually in charge of the others to make sure they are not abusive, but they asked me to take you on.”

You have nothing to say to that. You go to the cooling unit and see quite a few choices to accompany the main course. You turn and put your hands behind your back in “at ease” position. “What would you like with this?”

He recognizes the military stance, and tenses.

That’s right, you got more than you bargained for, you tell him with your eyes. You don’t know who you’re fucking with.

His gaze roves over your body and again, the sets the unwanted sensual tension between you. You lift your chin, telling yourself not to care, and await his answer. "I don't care, really."

"May I suggest you eat first, and wait a little on drinking?" you ask as you turn to the cooling unit to make a selection.

"To speed my digestion."

You turn with a fruity but light wine. "Yes."

He smiles slowly. "Thank you, I'll take your suggestion." He gestures for you to sit.

You warily do so, hoping to eat alone, but now you realize he expects you to eat with him. Your gazes lock, neither taking eyes off the other. You realize he is going to be the most formidable opponent you’ve ever had in your life, mostly because he is compatible with you. You work to not allow your gaze to waver. This was a staring contest, but he is already playing dirty, allowing his eyes to smolder as if he has more on his mind than food. A small smirk crosses his features and you realize the flush of your cheeks might have been visible. Damn!

He lifts the plate to rotate and sniff it. He gives you a look of approval that doesn't surprise you and takes his first forkful. The food melts in his mouth and he closes his eyes for a moment to enjoy it, then opens his eyes and frowns. "Where is your plate?"

"I can eat now?"

He suppresses a chuckle at your sarcastic tone, and you are disappointed that he is not easily irritated. "Of course. I'm no brute." You do not move, and he whispers your name to make you lock eyes with him again. “I’m not.”

That remains to be seen, your glare tells him. Maybe if you stay this way, watch him eat, you will eat alone--

"If you didn't make enough, I will share with you."

Your eyebrows rise at that.

"Yes, I think that's a good idea," he smiles, seeing your discomfort.

You take a deep breath, and close your eyes briefly. He is amused at your struggle to control your temper. You have been trying to prick his and got nothing but amusement from him. Your words are slow and measured: "I assure you—"

“I don’t mind feeding you, pet.” He voice is smooth, seductive, letting the double meaning sink in fully. “Not at all.”

You go and get your plate, almost slamming the platter down, but slowing just as it touches the table. You sit and look up at him, burning with frustration. He had won this round. He raises his fork in salute and you begin eating.

He keeps looking at you as if he wants to say something, ask something, but doesn’t. He is giving you time to adjust and you wish he’d get on with it, give you reason to hate him. "I want you to know that I am not a cruel man, and have never been a cruel warden. I meant what I said: you will determine how difficult things get."

You tense. This whole system is bullshit, you want to tell him.

He doesn’t miss your expression and takes a deep breath as you avert your eyes. "What is it?"

"That may be true, but you are part of a cruel system."

"That may be true, but you killed someone."

Your head snaps up, your eyes sparking. He looks like he wished he hadn’t said that, but he made that mistake-his first. "One that you know of." You swallow hard; there was no victory in that.

He takes a napkin and dabs at the corner of your eyes and you snatch it, angry at yourself for one drop of emotion escaping you. "I realize you seem to have deep seated anger—"

"Seem?" You laugh, but now you feel floodgates threatening to open. The death of your father, being under scrutiny, having everything taken from you, being offered like a piece of meat to a man you barely know and don’t want, only to be convicted for not allowing him to claim you, being humiliated, convicted, jailed. NO! He is part of that system, you tell yourself. You look at the plate, and drop your fork.

"What?"

"I'm not hungry."

"You must eat," he says softly, slowing his eating with concern in his eyes. "You have not eaten in over twelve hours."

"I am not hungry," she smile with a sneer, your voice a whisper. You don’t care if the tears are in your eyes.

He sighs heavily and avert his eyes, only to raise them to you again, his expression soft and pleading. "Please...I want you to stay as healthy as you are now."

Your smile fades. You are conditioned for certain kinds of combat, of punishment, but not kindness.

He pours you a small glass of wine, and leans closer. "Please."

He watches and waits for your reaction. You were going to fight him and the moons?! If he came any closer, it wouldn't be just food you would have to try to fight your desire for. You pick up your fork again, and avert your eyes.

“Thank you.”

Sy finishes his dinner, and you expect him to get up and leave.

He doesn’t.

He watches you eat.

You are nervous, and your stomach probably can't take more than a little at a time right now. Every time you take a bite, he licks his lips. Every time you drink, he stares at your body in building appreciation and lust. You become a bundle of nerves under his gaze. When you finally finish eating, he drinks the last of his wine, and rises from his chair. You exhale heavily, thinking he was going to walk by you but he grabs your wrist, and leads you back to the lounger.

He settles you back against the pillows, taking the dress off you again. "That was delicious."

You squirm under him, unsure if you are trying to get closer or find the chance to escape.

"I trust you can make desserts...with the same skill?" He begins kissing the hollow of her throat, and murmurs your name, urging you to answer.

"Y-yes,” you breathe, the sound of your name from his lips stroking your nerves in a delicious way.

"Good." With that, he kisses you slowly, and you both release a small sigh of pleasure at tasting wine in each other's mouths. He lowers his head to your breasts, gently taking turns on suckling each as he thrusts his fingers inside you, making you gasp and whimper at how wet and ready you are for him, how the ache leapt within you and spread. He uses a slow rhythm on you, calming you yet helping you learn to revel in the satisfaction he can give you. You arch and gasp as your wetness flows over his fingers. "Good..." He lowers his head between your legs, his fingers still in place, and works you again, his fingers thrusting in a slightly faster rhythm as his tongue sucks and laps at you.

You pant and twist, clawing at the pillows around you. He reaches up with his free hand and brings your hand to the back of his head slowly, and you bring the other down to him, cradling and caressing his head as your hips come off the lounger. He moans in response to your cries drinking you as you feel lightheaded. Finally he climbs over you and thrusts into you again. You arch to him, reveling in how he stretches and fills you, and your body instinctively clasps to him as he begins a hard quick rhythm that would satisfy you both.

He begins pounding harder as your body yields everything to him and he holds you in place. Your arms and legs embrace him as you scream. He keeps his piston-like rhythm going, and you pulsate around him uncontrollably as your head fall backs back feeling his seed heat and coat your inner walls as he growls in your ear and then bites your neck softly, drawing small tremors from you.

Sy picks you up, and carries you to bed. He lays you down on your side and positions himself behind you, his hands stroking your limbs to soothe you. "Sleep now," He purrs, kissing your hair. "rest." You want to stay awake to spite him but with all the events of the day, sleep takes you in minutes.He could tell she wanted to stay awake, but with all the events of the day, sleep takes you in minutes.

Let me know if you want to be tagged for this story! Thanks.

[silverselfshippingchaos]

Ash of the Turks meets Genesis for the first time. They bond over Loveless together.

No warnings aside from some swearing and some guns.

Ash was tired.  But despite the dark, cloudy sky, her day was far from over. 

Her boots clacked against the floor of Shinra HQ with each step she made. The building was beginning to empty up around this time of day, the normal employees thankful to finally be able to return to the comfort of their homes. There were a few left on the lower floors of the building where Ash was, but they quickly averted their eyes upon seeing her. 

A pristine black suit, a gun strapped to her thigh, several orbs of Materia hanging from her waist, she was a Turk. Being a Turk went much further than just the suit, of course. It was a way of life. Once you’re a Turk, there’s no such thing as backing out. After all, there’s only one way to truly leave the tight-knit team.  But she wasn’t thinking about dying anytime soon.  Well, hopefully. No promises. She didn’t have much control over where her on Gaia her missions took her.

But her current mission, however, is one she chose for herself. And she was willing to risk her life to complete it. 

To walk to the cafeteria and get a fucking snack. 

She had just gotten off assignment. A simple job, just taking out monsters. But she couldn’t help but feel exhausted. Conjuring Blizzaga icicles into the skulls of random beasts wore her out a bit more than she’d like to admit. 

A small smile makes its way onto Ash’s face as she approaches the cafeteria. The lights were slightly more dim than usual, but the vending machines with her favorite energy drink and Chocobo Chocolate bars seemed to still be working just fine.  She walks into the large room, but is interrupted by... poetry? 

“Infinite in mystery is the gift of the goddess. We seek it thus, and take to the sky. Ripples form on the water’s surface, the wandering soul...” 

Loveless.  “Knows no rest.” She mutters. It was mostly instinctive; Ash knew most of it by heart. It was one of her favorites.  In a cafeteria is a young man, not much older than Ash herself. He’s dressed in all red, a sword sharpened to perfection resting beside him as he leaned back against a table, a pocket copy of Loveless in his hand, which was also gloved in red. 

He looks up at Ash from the pages of his book, blue-green eyes seeming to almost glow in the dim light of the hollow, empty room. Eyes infused with Mako energy, huh? A SOLDIER. A damn popular one, at that.  Genesis, if her memory serves correct. One of the First Class. Who didn’t know him? 

“Act I, Loveless.” Ash says, giving him a small nod and pulling out some gil from her suit, popping it into the vending machine against the wall.  “Correct.” He says, shutting the book, “Not many know the pages by memory.”

Ash shrugs, “It’s one of my favorite stories.” She reaches into the vending machine to grab her cold drink. She opens it and takes a sip with a sigh of relief. It felt nice to be able to sit back and relax.  “Same for me.” He says, and Ash gives him a polite smile. Goodness, they weren’t lying about the firsts being rather... good-looking. 

“I certainly didn’t expect to see a SOLDIER here. First class, for that matter.” “And I didn’t expect to see a Turk here.” He spat back, brushing some auburn hair out of his face. 

Ash chuckles, “Good to meet ya. I’m Ash. Of the Turks. But you already figured that part out, huh?” 

He looked almost amused.  “Right, the suits and the mannerisms give it away. You guys really do make being a Turk your whole personality, hm?” He remarks, and Ash just smiles back at him.

“Yeah, it’s our only fatal flaw.”

He looks her up and down.

“... And you are?” She added after a beat of silence.

“Oh, you don’t know?” He crosses his arms over his chest, and that shit-eating smirk of his only seemed to grow.  This man is a fucking shitbag, isn’t he? “Oh, no, I do. I was just trying to be polite.”

“Well then, Ash,” He bows, but it seems to be more teasing than respectful, “Commander Genesis Rhapsodos, SOLDIER First Class, at your service.”

Ash holds out her right hand, “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Commander Rhapsodos.” 

Genesis takes it, and his grip is firm. “The feeling is mutual. And I assure you, just Genesis is fine.” 

“Well then, just Genesis,” Ash takes a sip from her energy drink, “What brings you here? I’m sure there’s better places to read Loveless than this place.”

Genesis tilts his head in thought, “It’s quiet and dim. Not many come in here at night, and I prefer to be alone when I’m reading.” He absentmindedly runs his fingers over the cover of his book, “And you?”

“I happened to be passing by and needed a quick boost, that’s it. Unless, of course, I’m here to gather intel,” She shrugs, “The world will never know.” She giggles, her eyes now staring at his hands. Or, more importantly, the copy of Loveless he had. 

“Hey, that’s one of the older prints, isn’t it?” She asks, pointing to it.

“You’re much too relaxed to be- Huh? Oh, yes. The ones with the white, leather covers are a rare find. This one was actually one of my first copies, it was a gift from a friend.” Responds Genesis.

“You have multiple?! I only have one of the usual copies of both the original and the novelization, and then a special edition of the novelization too. The one with all the fancy gold foil on the cover! It’s so pretty, right?” Genesis noticed how her eyes seemed to glimmer as she spoke, her hands waving around excitedly. He felt somewhat happy. The soft curve of her smile, the way her hair rested on her suit, the red glasses sitting low on her nose, framing large, warm eyes.

It felt like something out of Loveless.

“I own almost all of the editions. Loveless is a... very strong passion of mine.” He chuckles, “It’s such an interesting tale, is it not? The hero was always my favorite.”

“Oh?” Ash takes a seat on the table he was at, taking yet another sip from her drink, “My favorite is the prisoner. I really liked the traveler when I was younger, too, but I’ve come to the realization that he’s a rather bland character.”

Genesis sighs, “That’s true. Wasted potential, honestly. But I try not to think about how things could’ve been too much. I always admired the hero for thinking like that.” 

“That’s a good way to think. Especially in this line of work, huh?” She chuckles, “I’ve never been too big on the hero, but I can see why you’d like him. The way he reached out to the traveler in Acts III and IV makes me emotional every single time.” 

Genesis nods. “Right. His character gets explored a bit deeper in the play.” 

“Ugh, the play?!” Ash pouts, “I haven’t gotten a chance to see it yet! I’m rarely free.” 

“It’s well worth the watch, and much of it focuses on the prisoner, if that’s up your alley.” 

“Oh, that sounds fun. I’ll try to see if I can snag some tickets, they’re really hard to find.”

Genesis smirks. “I can pull some strings to help with that, if you’d like.” 

“That sounds grea-” Ash was interrupted by the ringing of her PHS. She sighs, “Gimme a sec.”

She reaches inside her back pocket and flips the device open, “This is Ash. How can I help, chief?” 

Her face hardens into something much more serious than what Genesis saw before, and he can faintly hear some orders over the line, but he couldn’t exactly make out the words.

“... Got it, sir. I’m heading out now.” She responds, shutting the device and shoving it back in her coat. She stands up, tossing the wrapper of her candy bar into the garbage can nearby. 

“Welp, nice talking to ya, Genesis!” She gives him a warm smile, and Genesis can’t help but smile back, “But work calls and I need to go before the chief yells at me. He’s a real scary guy.” 

Genesis had briefly met the director of the Turks. Verdot, was it?  He couldn’t help but agree. Even he felt nervous in his presence. 

“It was nice to meet you, Ash.” Says Genesis, giving her a small wave. 

“Nice to meet you too. See you around.”  Ash takes out the gun strapped to her thigh, nimble fingers flipping open the Materia flap and swapping out the glowing orb for something else on her belt in a matter of mere seconds. This one was green, and seemed to be much more deadly than the yellow one she currently had equipped. She put it back in its holster and ran out of the room.

[ladybugsfanfics]

(red flags look like normal flags when you’re wearing) rose-tinted glasses

pairing: Tom Hiddleston x platonic!reader

style: one shot

WC: 2.7k

summary: requested by anonymous on tumblr: “Reader is small and have an Danish Dog, thats actually an giant drool dog. While she's taking the dog to the park he start running with Bob while on the tab and he keeps pulling her until Tom saves her. Then Bobby start growling at her, and they think that is bcs he's jealous...”

warnings: angst, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIPS, ABUSE, PHYSICAL ABUSE, EMOTIONAL ABUSE, ANIMAL ABUSE, please note the abuse, this fic contains it

A/N: this was really hard to write and i want it to be clear that ive never been in an abusive relationship so ive done my best to portray it and how hard it is to break out of it, but i dont have firsthand information. please let me know if something seems unrealistic or weird. i want you all to know that there are explicit abuse, but that it's not very violent but it still has an emotional impact. please don't read if you know it won't be good for you, and there is a happy ending even tho ive made the relationship between reader and tom platonic (that's more for realistic purposes).

The tall man startles as the bark sounds through the park. You widen your eyes at the sight of the little brown the male walks with. 

No, no, no , you think. 

Your dog, or actually your boyfriend’s dog, is rather big. The giant of a dog also barks whenever he sees brown dogs (as if the dog can be racist, honestly you have no idea how it works, but there are many things that can be the reason), and the dog that man walks with―  

You don’t want to think about it. 

Nor do you get the chance as your tight grip on the leash seems to be your downfall. The dog has almost leapt into the air as the barks rip through the quiet silence of the park. 

“Yoshi! Stop!” you yell, but to no avail. He keeps running, stronger than you even as you put your heels down on the ground and try to brake. 

The tall male has turned around. You send him a pleading look as your dog, almost literally, attacks his little one. In the sudden change of speed, where Yoshi goes from running and barking to hopping around and barking, you trip over your own feet and find yourself on your way to face planting with the ground below. 

A pair of strong arms around your hips keep you from falling and you’re put back up on your feet with your back pressed to a muscular chest. As you regain your balance, the arms fall away. They don’t go far, only to grip the leash of your dog in an attempt to help your arm not dislocate. 

“Thank you,” you say as you crouch down to keep Yoshi under control. He’s stopped barking, and with your soft strokes along his neck, he stops hopping, too. 

“You’re welcome,” replies your saviour. 

Standing up, you find a handsome male looking at you. Curly ginger hair, the most reassuring smile you have ever seen, and gentle blue-green eyes that makes you feel at ease. The way his eyes trace over you make you drag down the sleeve of your jacket slightly, and then you return his smile to the best of your abilities. 

“He can be a little unruly at times, I’m so sorry.” You press your lips together in a tight lipped smile, shaking your head to let your hair come back to the front and cover your neck where your scarf fails. “I think something might’ve happened when he was a puppy because he only reacts to brown dogs.”

The stranger’s smile crinkles his eyes and he lets out a slight chuckle. Your heart beats faster at the sound. You will it to shut up. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I’m Tom, by the way.”

“I’m Y/N.” You swallow the lump in your throat. Throat dry and heart steadily beating faster, the pounding like a drum inside your head. “I’m sorry, again. For the whole… thing. But I should get going now.” 

With a little tug of Yoshi’s leash you turn to continue down the path you were headed. A wait from Tom has you turn back around. He steps closer to you, tugging with him his own dog that so far seems rather docile and that you find super cute. 

“Could I possibly get your number?” he asks. 

If your heart hadn’t already lodged itself in your throat from talking to him, it definitely shot there now. With a steady breath (as steady as you can) you nod. “Yeah, sure.” And you take the phone Tom hands you. 

It takes no time typing in your number, but you nearly drop the phone when Tom’s dog starts barking at you. Big dog eyes that look at you, nose high in the air and the barking growing steadily louder as he continues.

Tom frowns at his dog as he accepts his phone. He shakes his head and tugs at the leash, telling ‘Bobby’ to quiet and that there’s nothing to bark about. “I’m sorry,” he says. “He’s probably a little jealous.”

You try for a smile and a soft laugh but it comes out more strained. “Yes, jealous. Makes sense, I guess.” With a deep sigh, you turn to look at Tom again. “Again, so sorry. I guess I’ll hear from you. Bye.”

And now you leave with Yoshi in tow before Tom can stop you. 

You wonder what he’ll do if he finds out you won’t answer his messages. Wonder if he’ll do the same as your boyfriend does whenever you forget to answer or don’t do something as he wants. 

After all, fear was the only reason you did give Tom your phone number. That reassuring smile fools no one, and those gentle eyes are the same gentle ones he uses in front of others. 

Sorry, Tom, but I won’t exchange him for someone worse . Even if I might deserve it . 

 ---

The door is unlocked when you get home. The shoe rack kicked over and the few sets of jackets that hung in the closet have found their way to the floor. Your heart stops beating as fear settles in your gut. 

This is never good, but neither is cleaning it up before he allows you to, so you kick off your own shoes and let your jacket fall to the floor instead of hanging it up. You unclasp Yoshi’s leash and let him pad into the living room and greet his owner. 

Clenching your eyes shut, you regret letting the dog go in before you. The whimper has tears forming in your eyes. You will them back. You can’t cry. Crying just leads to a worse… you don’t know exactly what to call it. 

“Babe?” you call as you take the steps in after the dog. 

Your boyfriend’s rage filled face meets you. He’s locked the dog in its too small cage, and he hits Yoshi on the snout rather hard as the dog lets out another whimper. 

“Babe, huh?” The retort has your gut churn, nervousness courses through your veins. “What the fuck took you so long?!”

There goes the level voice. You keep from closing your eyes, embracing for impact. He likes it more when you face him head on, as if it’s some kind of challenge. Pressing your lips closed, you let your eyes wander over his face. 

You note the down-tug of his lips, the anger boiling like a hot fire in his eyes, and the flare of his nose as his form towers over you. “Bitch, I asked you a fucking question! What the fuck took you so long?!”

“Yo-Yoshi saw a… a dog. I-I couldn’t hold him back and we-we went on a detour.” God, you sound weak. I am weak , you think, too weak . 

“Couldn’t hold him back, my ass.” He takes a step closer to you. Your body moves on its own when it takes a step back. It continues until your back collides with the wall and he locks you in. “Give me your phone!”

You fish your phone out of your pocket and pray to God Tom hasn’t texted you. You haven’t gotten the chance to block his number yet and if he has texted you, well, life for the next three days will be even worse than usual. You’d deserve it, too, probably.

Fear the only thing holding your body up, you hold your breath as he checks. First when he throws it away with a silent grunt and it lands on the couch, and he doesn’t yell, do you let yourself breathe again. 

“Fucking good for you there was nothing there.” His voice is a rough whisper, hoarse and with an underlying tone of want. He doesn’t say more before he presses his lips to yours, pinning your arms to the wall and pressing your head against it. 

When one of his hands falls to your hip, pressing you close to him, pressing you close to the growing bulge in his pants, you know it’ll bruise. Just like you know the grip on your wrist will bruise and that you won’t be able to walk in the next twenty four to thirty six hours. 

You know because that’s how it always is. 

How it always has been. 

 ---

[07.47] Unknown number Hi, this is Tom. I didn’t have time to send a text yesterday, but I still wanted to tell you that I would like to meet you again. Hope that’s possible. - Tom

[08.29] Unknown number I know you haven’t replied yet, and it’s probably because you have yet to wake up, but when you do, would you be up for a cup of coffee? Either lunch or breakfast, whatever sounds best for you? - Tom

[11.32] you Hi, Tom. This is Y/N. Very sorry, but I can’t meet with you. I have plans all week and the next months. Work is taking my time, so is having a boyfriend and friends. Very sorry about my dog, again, but thank you for saving me from the ground. Have a lovely life.

🛇 Blocked

To move this conversation out of Archived and get messages again, unblock xxxxx-xxxxx 

 Unblock

---

You’re unsure what it is that has you think the thought. It pops up from nowhere, really, but it still sounds… reasonable. 

With aching moves, you pack your things. A suitcase is more than enough for everything you own (your boyfriend keeping your hobbies to a fair minimum), and everything for Yoshi.

As you pack the bare essentials, your body shakes. Every few pieces of clothing thrown into the suitcase lands outside on the floor and your heart hammers in your chest. In the bathroom, finding your toothbrush, you hear a noise from the hallway and your heart shoots into your chest. Rushing out and to the living room, you only find Yoshi with one of his toys. 

Tears prick at the back of your eyes. Fear an ever lurking presence. Putting the leash on Yoshi, you hope he isn’t close. You fumble with the clasp and use far longer than you would have liked to put it on, but thankfully, the dog’s big eyes and somewhat smile and the wagging of his tail, helps put you at ease. 

His work day still has three more hours, meaning he won’t be here for another four. That should be enough time, right? More than enough time…

You leave the door unlocked, having left the key to the apartment on the kitchen counter. If anyone robs it… you fear the repercussions, but by the time he comes home, he shouldn’t be able to find you. 

Even as you walk with Yoshi and the suitcase down the street, finding a taxi and asking him to take you to the police station, you don’t know what has settled in you. You don’t know where this is coming from. This… courage.

You’re unsure whether it was the show you saw last night where the relationship between the two romantic leads, even when they were alone, never had any hitting or bruising or anger in the same way he shows. Or if it was Tom, and the way his face still sits at the back of your mind. How you’d compared his gentle eyes and reassuring smile to his fake mask in front of others. 

Has it really taken you so long to see the difference? To see that Tom’s, despite how instilled with fear you were, actually showed genuine compassion and care, and his is always with an extra layer that it takes a lot of study to see (but what else do you use your time on when you can’t look at others when you’re out?). 

You pay the cab driver as he drops you off and you find your way into the police station. It takes a long half hour before you walk out again and sit down on the curb. It takes another three hours to stop crying and shaking. In those three hours, Yoshi lies his head in your lap and lets the weight of him being close reassure you. A man who tries to help and ask what’s wrong is quickly barked away by the dog guarding you. 

It warms your heart.  

A police officer on her way home asks you what’s wrong, and, as you don’t tell, she tells you to contact someone. She also leads you into the waiting room and tells you to sit there until you find help, even if help doesn’t come from the police. In the hour you sit there, you delete the find my phone app and you block him and everyone associated with him on everything you can remember you share. You wish you’d done it sooner. 

In your phone, you’re left with few options. 

The unblock button is easy to press. The text is everything but easy to send. Your fingers shake as you type, and there are countless spelling mistakes. Finding them all takes a few minutes, and even after telling yourself you’ll send it, your finger hovers over the send button. 

Exactly seven minutes and thirty-eight seconds later (you counted), your finger falls down and you press the send button. Watching it turn blue has your heart beat faster and faster, and you press back the tears pricking at your eyes. Swallowing hurts as your throat is unbearably dry. 

The reply comes a lot faster than you would expect, and it helps ease some of the fear lodged in your body. The tears that fall now are a mixture of relief and fear, and Yoshi lying his head down in your lap again helps you regain your composure. 

Tom picks you and Yoshi up at the police station half an hour later. He offers up his guest bedroom, but you refuse, saying you’ll stay at a hotel until you can find something. You don’t refuse his offer of going somewhere to talk over a cup of coffee.

He helps you find a hotel that allows dogs, helps you check in (unlisted) and joins you for a walk with Yoshi before you find a quiet cafe to sit down at. You sit outside, Yoshi quiet by your feet, but regarding everyone who passes by with a steady look. Being a big dog, you see more than one person a little frightened. It warms your heart.

And the coffee in front of you warms your hands. 

“Thank you, Tom,” you say, after the silence becomes too much. “I haven’t told you anything about why but you’re still willing to help. Thank you.”

Tom smiles. One of his hands leaves his cup and when it comes close to yours, you instinctively flinch―though you don’t move it (that has never gone over well in the past). Tom’s hand hovers over yours and his eyes study you as his brows crease into a frown. Your heart pounds in your chest. “I won’t ask, but I hope I can help. However you need.”

Taking a deep breath, you bite your lower lip and look down at your hands. Both now clench around your coffee cup. The steam rises in the cool air and the smell stirs something in your gut, something that has tears prick at the back of your eyes. You let your hearts incessant pounding die down before you look up Tom. 

“I could use a friend,” you say, eventually. The smile you try to show is crooked and unsure, and you know the fright is visible through it. 

Tom still smiles. His eyes are gentle and reassuring, and it warms you that there actually does exist someone who doesn’t raise his voice at weakness and vulnerability. Someone who wants to help, and who doesn’t demand answers. 

You could use a friend. A friend who lets you find your own way and lets you take your time. 

“Anything you need, Y/N,” replies Tom. “Time, space, money, a hug, a friend . Anything.”

This time, when you smile, it crinkles by your eyes. It’s still crooked and unsure, but most of the fright is gone. 

You’ve finally taken off the rose-tinted glasses.

A/N: you’ve reached the end so please let me know that you’re alright, i care!

permanent tags:  @devilbat @adefectivedetective @gamillian @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @heartislubbingdubbing @wiczer @chillcan @geeksareunique @fandom-imagines1 @murdermornings

tom tags:  @inlovewith3 @bookgirlunicorn​ @mindlesschicca​ @justawriterinprogress​ @wolfsmom1 @loser-alert​ @satanskatze​ @timetravelingsociopathicwalker

[taylorroger-s]

the great pretender [2] // billy/four x reader

a/n hi!!! here’s the second part of “the great pretender” and the third 6u fic ive posted. i have so many wips right now (because i have no self control and keep on starting stories i dont have the time to finish). i sat down like 4 hours ago and this is what came out of it. i’m kind of vibing with this story ngl. sooo here's part one, please reblog, etc.

masterlist!

warnings: none!

enjoy :)

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the address the blond man had given you led to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. you tentatively stepped out of your car, eyes scanning back and forth across the area. it suddenly occurred to you that you could have been led there to be murdered. you could walk back to your car, drive back home, and forget you ever met the british man. but you didn’t, and continued to walk towards a set of steel double doors. 

it was unusually warm for that time of year with not a cloud in the sky as the sun beat down. you drew closer, searching the surrounding lot for some sign of other people. nada. the building stood about twenty feet high, a few small windows placed at even intervals on the concrete walls. definitely felt like a prime murder location. aren’t i here to “die”? you mused, hand closing around the door handle. you breathed in, out, then pulled the door open and stepped inside the dark warehouse. 

it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, and you flinched when the heavy door shut behind you. taking another deep breath, you started walking around the room, eyes tracking the catwalks hanging overhead. the only light streamed through the small square windows, dust drifting through the air. the light all joined in the center of the room, one spot free of shadows.

“hello?” you called out, hands clenched into fists by your side. for a moment, there was only silence, and your anxiety was steadily mounting by the second. your heart nearly stopped when you heard a set of footsteps from the other side of the room. then another. someone sounded like they jumped from one of the catwalks. another set of footsteps. and another, until you could tell that there were six people in the room besides yourself. you were frozen, waiting for the mysterious group to make the next move. your eyes were glued to the circle of light as a tall man stepped into view. 

“well well, looks like four was right. you did show.” his voice was relatively neutral, and he spoke fast. he had close-cropped, light brown hair, and a short beard; a few gray hairs sprinkled throughout. he gave off heavy egomaniac vibes. you automatically were suspicious. some part of you was struggling with vague recognition of his frustratingly handsome face. had he been on the news at some point? but you couldn’t put your finger on it and let the question slide. 

“i did. might i ask why you wanted me to come here in the first place?” he tilted his head to the side, crossing his arms over his chest. you could just barely make out the outlines and shadows of more people lingering behind him. you unconsciously readjusted your stance to feel more confident, lifting your chin to look him in the eye. 

“in the simplest of terms, you’re an asset,” he spoke without letting through a whisper of emotion, a small, cold smile on his lips. his light tone was mildly irritating, and you were eager to get to the chase as to why you were there. but you already knew the answer, of course. piles of money and classified statistics would make you useful to any illegal operation. yet you decided to play dumb. letting out a breath through your nose, you placed a hand on your left hip. 

“oh? to what?” you did your very best to fill your words with a mocking lilt, though it wasn’t necessarily convincing, as his eye roll betrayed. the flicker of a scowl crossed your lips before you slid back into a poker face. you heard a faint snicker from behind the man, and then a subsequent hush. they were listening. 

“our crew. we’re just like you. tired of the bullshit. and we decided to do something about it,” the dangerous vibe you found on the group on a first impression seemed to be confirmed. it made you wonder what made each of them an ‘asset’ to this group, and if it was a bigger operation than just an agreement between the people in that room. 

“and we know you do too.” they certainly remember my outburst last night, you thought, cringing at the memory. once you stepped into the cab, it was impossible to think of anything else but what you did and what you were thinking of doing. the rest of the night was spent on the couch in your apartment, analyzing the piece of paper the british man gave you, even dipping into the fbi database with your account to dig up any other information. you were surprised to find there was nothing you came up with except for the location and ownership of the place he wanted you to find. apparently, it had been owned by some big tech company but was later abandoned and left to fall into disrepair. besides that, your hands came up empty of all information and you ended up falling asleep while watching tv, still holding tightly to the note. 

“what exactly am i in for if i say yes?” curiosity from the night before still simmered in the back of your mind, and you were becoming more and more willing to take the leap you spent the last twelve hours considering. ‘death’ in exchange for a life of freedom. it dawned on you that this man must have faked his death to avoid the very government you were employed by. 

“well, this is less of a request and more of an opportunity. you can take it or leave it.” now it was your turn to roll your eyes. your original assumption that the man was egotistical came to mind again. he certainly sounded like some boys you had known in college: rich from daddy’s trust fund, filled with unearned confidence, and owner of a severe superiority complex. 

“wow, you really know how to make a lady feel special.” a louder laugh sounded from the shadows behind the man, and you instinctively flicked your gaze to where it came from. an annoyed, whispered curse (in… french?) followed the laugh, which only made the person laugh harder. 

“ooh, she’s got a mouth on her. nice choice quattro.” the man’s voice was rich and warm with a slight accent to his words. quattro meant four. was that a name? nickname? 

“ANYWAY, you’re gonna be dead in every way, except physical. without the law to hold us, we can do anything.” the man sunk back into a slightly patronizing, dreamy tone, trying to paint a picture of the future you left your boyfriend for. freedom from your earthly responsibilities. but the cynical analyst within you won over. 

“as someone who works for the government, that is highly irresponsible.” you felt almost like a mom scolding her children for cooking up a dangerous activity. the man’s smile looked sharp enough to draw blood, brown eyes growing a shade darker. you had to stop yourself from taking a step back. 

“didn’t bring you here to lecture me about my poor life choices, i hear enough of that from seven. this is your chance to make the mark you have been dreaming of. now, what do you say?” another number. you had to admit, he was highly convincing. he had such sheer charisma it was hard to resist, but you drew together the best argument you could think of and forced it past your lips. 

“i’m not sure… it seems like you are up to some questionable vigilante justice,” you were about to continue your motherly scolding when you felt a person move to stand behind you. their body heat sent a startling chill across your skin. they leaned in closer, mere inches from your ear. 

“love, this is what you have been looking for, right? i promise you won’t regret it.” your breath hitched at the british man’s voice. he didn’t sound as confident as he had the night before, somehow seeming younger without his gorgeous features clouding your thoughts. you tried to fight back against the part of you completely convinced by the two men, but it grew stronger by the second. oh god… am i really going to do this? you took a deep breath in, out. there was no more debate. you knew exactly what you wanted, needed. 

“what do you need me to do?” you breathed out, pressing your lips into a thin line as soon as the words left your mouth. the blond man behind you relaxed, and you could almost see the smile he was most likely sporting. the man in front of you nodded approvingly, rubbing his beard with his left hand. 

“excellent. first step, your name is now eight. i’m one. take a wild guess as to what everyone else’s names are. second, fake your death…” eight? what? the two numbers mentioned before made sense. they were names. your name was now eight, something that you had not expected in the slightest. but you didn’t had time to argue. you listened carefully as one explained how you were going to fake your death, along with finer points about your new fellow ‘ghosts’. a few minutes later, you were caught up. you turned around to greet the others, forgetting that the blond man was standing right behind you. you stumbled, the man’s strong arms keeping you from falling. you could feel the embarrassment rise as he looked down at you. 

“glad you joined up… eight.” your cheeks grew hot with every passing second he had a hand on you. clearing your throat, you reluctantly stepped out of his arms.

“that’s gonna get some getting used to.” you laughed nervously, inwardly cringing at the obvious worry in your voice. he just smiled, raising the ambient temperature by 2 degrees celsius. his gorgeous green eyes were locked with yours, and you couldn’t help but offer him a shy smile in return. you were usually much stonier when it came to complete strangers, but the man’s casual confidence was annoyingly attractive. 

“you’ll catch on quick. you’re family now.” you softened a little at the care in his voice. you broke eye contact and glanced down at your shoes. a beat later, you looked back up, smirk on your lips. 

“then what’s your name, casanova?” 

“four,” he matched your smile, reaching out a hand for you to shake. you took it, praying he wouldn’t notice the sweat on your palm. his hands were rough with callouses, skin hot to the touch. 

“pleased to meet you, four.” you responded, doing a mock curtsy once you let go of his hand. he smiled, winking at you playfully. 

“likewise.”

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yayayydufaysudf it’s done! hope ya liked it

[for-ests]

Always Enough- Peter Parker x Reader

Okay so this imagine was an anon request that I had previously posted, but I accidentally deleted. I didn't mean to, so here’s a re-upload. Happy finals & sorry my dumbass clicked the wrong button on tumblr mobile because im stupid

Summary (bc the request deleted w/ the post): The reader realizes she had been neglecting Peter because she was stressed over school. Peter thinks there might be another reason because she has become distant. Confrontation and angst follows!

Word count: 2, 360

✭♡✭♡✭♡✭

Finals were a killer, especially for a nursing major like yourself. The stress of it all made you want to curl up into a ball and cry. Cry for hours until you couldn't cry no more. 

But that wasn't an option. What you dreamed of becoming, something simple, yet incredibly difficult, was growing out of reach. Your hours of studying had led you nowhere, only to barely tangible grades. Grades that were barely above average. You were disappointed, discouraged, and running out of options.

What else would you do with your life? Becoming a nurse was the only thing you had ever wanted to be, it was all you knew. Ever since aliens rained in the sky, your only motive was to help the ones who couldn't help themselves. But how could you ever hope to do that when you couldn't pass biochem?

What didn't help your anxious mind was the house you had to stress over, and your minimum wage restaurant job that didn't add to your required expertise. Tears welled in your eyes as you remembered you had to lay a payment down on your ever-increasing student loans. Maybe college wasn't for you. Perhaps it was never meant to be. Your summer money was running out and fast.

Just breathe. You repeated. I don't have time to cry.

You could cry after you studied. And right now, you had barely glanced at your flashcards for more than ten minutes. It seemed like you were paralyzed, sitting in bed with your flashcards scattered around you, all of them laid out and waiting for involvement.

Just as you were about to pick up the first card, your phone buzzed beside you. Instinctively, you glanced at it, your heart dropping when you saw Peter's name flash across the screen.

Date. You had a date night, and you forgot.

"Fuck!" You cursed out loud, the tears you had tried so hard to control seeming to burst over your eyelids. How could you forget?

Peter: I'll be there in 15 minutes :D

You replied immediately, glancing at yourself in the phone's reflection. You looked terrible and distraught beyond compare.

Y/N: Peter…im so sorry I forgot, i'm not ready

Peter: oh

Y/N: i have a huge exam soon, maybe its for the best that we rain check? i'm sorry I know ive done this before but im really stressed about it

Peter: we havent talked for days, y/n, i think theres more going on than what youre telling me

Y/N: what? of course not wtf

Peter: im coming over anyways, ill be there soon

Y/N: why?

Peter: we have to talk.

Your heart dropped down to your stomach. Those words were what you had been dreading, and all focus you had managed to gather vanished into thin air. You knew you had been neglecting Peter's affections. Even if every fiber in your being wanted to make him the single most important thing in your life.

It had been almost a week since you'd seen him, and honestly, it was painful in the most innocent way.

But Peter didn't have to worry like you did. He was gifted and already had his entire life ahead of him, set in the middle of Stark industries. But you never asked for a handout, you never asked for help. Even though you knew he was the smartest young man around. You were proud to be his, and the thought of that disappearing was more detrimental to you that failing your upcoming exam.

Y/N: ok, front door is open

Tears were rolling down your cheeks at this point. You had been with Peter for over a year and had gone without seeing him for longer, but he was right. This time was different. This was the third date you had canceled without wanting to, but sometimes apologizing wasn't enough. Peter deserved a lengthy explanation of what you were really going through.

You were so used to holding back your emotions, that times like this were an occasional reoccurrence. You had always been so afraid of unloading your burdens onto others that you still sometimes forgot that having a boyfriend came with that perk. He was still going to love and cherish you if you asked for help and advice. Hell, you needed to realize that he wanted to.

That was a factor of why you were so in love with Peter. He always listened, and sometimes, even push the truth out of you when he could tell you needed it.

"You're already crying, huh." A sad smile was on Peter's face as he opened the door. His sudden appearance startled you, and you managed to chuckle despite the circumstances.

"You know me." You sniffled, immediately embarrassed by the state he had caught you in. Instinctively, you brushed your hair to the side and dabbed the tears from under your eyes. You could feel the remnants of Make-up drying to your skin.

"I didn't mean to ruin your study-"

"But we need to talk." You finished, shoving your school supplies to the edge of the bed. You made enough room, so he was able to sit comfortably.

Slightly embarrassed, you kept your gaze averted as best as you could. Just Peter's presence made your heart flutter, and a part of you was trying to prepare for the worst. You might really lose him this time. And for what? Yes, school was incredibly important, so, so important. But so was Peter, and you needed to find a balance.

Your silence was enough to beckon Peter's thoughts into the open.

"I just need to make sure you're still serious… about us." His voice was soft as if it was struggling to stay neutral.

Finally, gaining the courage to look at him, you locked eyes. Peter's gaze was heavy and forthcoming, and it took all of your willpower to swallow the knot in your throat.

"Of course, I am." The conviction was entirely evident in your tone. So much so, that Peter fell silent. His accusations seemed to die in his throat, but he knew that if he didn't get them out now, they would creep back to him later.

"It's hard to tell sometimes," Peter muttered, unable to gaze at your confused expression. You looked so hurt.

Your silence beckoned him to continue.

"I haven't properly talked with you in a week. You've canceled our last three dates… it seems like you never want to hang out with me anymore."

Peter winced. He was a grown man, and he sounded like a child. Yet, he had let so many things slide, hoping you would come around, hoping you would make it up to him. Perhaps he had been selfish to only think of himself in the relationship. He failed to realize that maybe in attempts to please him, you were putting your own future on the line. 

"I know you're going through a lot, but you can't even seem to talk about it." Peter's shoulders felt tense, his eyebrows knitting together in an agitated expression. His leg was bouncing up and down uncontrollably. He looked like he was about to burst.

"I'm sorry." You said, trying to swallow the knot in your throat. Pausing, you tried to gather your thoughts into cohesive sentences that would soothe his anxious mind.

"There's nobody else, right?" He suddenly blurted, actually turning his head to look at you. Insecurity was glazed in his eyes for the first time.

"Why would you even think that?" You said, startled. The question felt as if he had shoved your head underwater and held it there just long enough for you to choke on the liquid.

His expression was blank for the first time. Vulnerability at its finest. "My life isn't perfect, you know. I overthink just like you. I need reassurance."

Peter was so calm, so calm that it worried you. Though you were already afraid of how this conversation would go, it hurt you to realize that this conversation was the result of your actions. You failed to make Peter feel special like you had promised. Like he had promised you. Relationships go both ways, and for the last couple of weeks, it had only gone one.

"No, Peter. There will never be anyone else."

He sighed, relaxing slightly. "You've been acting weird. I don't really know what to think."

"I told you a billion times, I'm studying. After work, that's literally all I do. And I need to focus."

"I feel like there's more. It feels weird to not see a text from you when I wake up. It feels weird to not hear your voice. I don't… I don't like it, Y/N. Even if that's selfish."

And selfish it was. Peter expected you to be transparent while he was hiding possibly the biggest secret in the world. Maybe that was why he was so worried about how much you loved him. Peter wanted to be honest with you. He wanted you to know he was spider-man, but right now, he still couldn't bring himself to. Perhaps he was looking for a reason.

"I'm sorry." Your hands were clenched in your lap. "I've never had to deal with this before. Everything is so new, even if we've been together for a year. I've never cared about anyone like this, and I can't manage my time."

Peter paused as if every word in this conversation pained him to no end. His eyes were glossy, his mind unclear. He was desperately trying to understand why you were isolating himself. "You can't make any time for me?"

"That's the thing, I can't focus on anything else when I'm with you." Your lip quivered. "And that's a problem."

"It's not for me." He said quickly. "I make time for you, and you don't for me. And you need to tell me why."

You glanced away, embarrassed. No matter what you said, the reason wouldn't be good enough. You were just a bad girlfriend.

Peter reached his hand out and pulled you to him. You rested your chin upon his shoulder, soothed to feel his warmth once again. "You need to tell me, Y/N. We've made it work for this long, and all of a sudden, it stopped."

Your body started to shake. Trying to muffle your sob, you brought your hand to your mouth. It was all too much.

"-You have your whole life together, Peter. I have nothing, I still have to work for it. I'm not as smart as you, I'm-"and that's when the tears started to flow. It was a literal flood, tear after tear poured over your eyelids until they were bloodshot, until pressure pounded through your head.

Before you could finish, your face was pressed against Peter's chest. He held you tightly, his sweatshirt dabbing up your tears of sorrow. You gripped tightly to him, releasing the stress that had been building up inside of you for the last two weeks.

He did not know what else to do. Showing you that he loved you seemed like the most viable option. Sometimes all you had to do was listen, and that was enough.

"I got a bad grade on my midterm exam, one that I didn't study for because I spent my time with you—I thought-"

"Shh." He stroked your hair, understanding what you meant without a complete explanation.

"I work so hard, and it's never enough-"

"It's always enough, Y/N."

"I got so caught up in it that I neglected you in the process. So much so that you thought I was cheating on you" you inhaled sharply, whimpering against him, so many different emotions swirling through your mind. "You're the best thing in my life, and I put you second…"

"Look at me, Y/N." He cupped your cheeks in a swift movement, forcing you to look at him through tear-filled eyes. "You are enough for me. That's why I bothered to have this conversation with you. That's why I care." He pressed his lips against your forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too, Peter." You tilted your head up to kiss him wholly on the lips. You were a mess, but Peter had always told you that you looked beautiful when you cried.

"Rosy cheeks." He whispered, patting down your hair, inhaling your scent, and appreciating the beauty you constantly radiated.

You chuckled, sniffling loudly. Peter always said that after you had a successful mental break down, your cheeks brandished a rosy shade.

"Shut up." You whispered, tightening your grip around his torso. His back fell against your bed, and you shifted to lay completely on top of him. The firmness of his chest underneath you caused instant relaxation, instant relief. Maybe, just maybe, being in his presence was enough to get rid of the stress from everyday life.

The corners of your eyes were raw and red, yet it complimented your shade. Peter vowed from the moment he had met you, that he would never let any harm come to you. The last thing Peter had ever expected was that he might be the reason, instead of the world.

At least, for now, he had the power to fix it. You were the love of his life, and he had never felt so gratified to be in anyone else's presence.

Peter's fingers traced light, small circles on your back. He could hear your heartbeat slow. The softness of your finger against his was enough to help him close his eyes.

He was at peace, real peace for the first time in weeks.

"We need to remind ourselves to talk about shit more." You mumbled sleepy, almost inaudible. "So this doesn't happen again, because I hate it."

"Me too, babe." He whispered, content with watching you rise and fall in sync with his breathing.

"I couldn't bear to lose you."

[countess-destler]

Im here

Plot:You are Christine's older sister who is secretly helping the phantom be with Christine but when he gets in trouble what will happen next?

~Angst~

Movie+Stage Version

------------------------------------------

It was rehearsals for Don Juan Triumphant and you were one of the ensemble members while Christine had the biggest role in the whole opera, you knew the plan, Erik or as people know him as,Opera Ghost, has set for your sister, you had just recently known that she has been taking lessons from him and recently he's been.....controlling of her.

You were furious of all the things he has done to your sister, telling her to only sing for him and even pushing her too much to her limits, but how can you deny those eyes that seem to hold all the sadness of the world and his touch more comforting than harmfull.

You approved to help him but to a certain extent.

"Those who ta? Tangle with Don Juan!"

"No-no Piangi i already told you"

This was probably the hundredth time he was stopped today and from the looks of it not the last.

You see your sister sneaking of rehearsals and taking her cloak with her.

'Going to fathers grave again perhaps?'

You followed her going to the stables to fetch a horse for transportation.

Just as you were going to tap on her shoulder a hand reached to your hand pulling you far away from your sister.

"E-erik? What the hell are you doing? I demand you to let go of me-"

Just as you were rambling Erik covered your moth with his hand and shushed you.

"Shhh you're gonna get us caught"

"Your sister,Christine, is she going to your fathers grave?"

"Yes she is now would you please remove your hand"

You look at his eyes which was now twinkling with mischief looking at your sister leaving the stables as  his smirk grows larger.

"Look whatever plan you have, go for it as long as my sister is safe and unharmed Ill let you do what you want to do"

You lay your hand on top of his hand that was formerly on your mouth but was now at your shoulder.

"I know how much you love her Erik, but i must warn you the vicomte will probably suspect her gone any minute now and will follow her"

He looks at you and moves his other hand that you werent holding to your cheek, as you struggled not to lean more to his touch he looks at your eyes with a glimmer of hope.

"Thank you (Y/N)"

"You know you are the only one I trust with my life"

Those words made your heart skip a beat and possibly make you smile a bit, you look away from him knowing he needed to leave to go to where your sister is.

"Be careful out there Erik"

A while later

You had knowledge of Eriks underground lair and had already known every passage and every path it takes to get to it, but right now you were sitting at his boat which had one of his cloak (he probably has a dozen) on it as you sit and wait you find yourself drifting off to sleep as you wrapped the cloak around your body (It probably is cold in the catacombs)

Dark, that was all you can see but for some reason you could still hear the music Erik composes when you were at the catacombs, little  melodies floating inside your head as if its lulling you asleep that is until you heard loud thuds of footsteps coming from one of the many passages in the catacombs.

You open your eyes to see Erik who was now trying to keep his anger down, a failed attempt, not the first it happened.

"Erik?"

You approach but as he sees you all the anger in his eyes begins to fade away and without knowing you pulled him to a hug.

"A-are you ok? D-did the vicomte hurt you? Hows my sister, fine I suppose? A-and what happened to your hand?"

You had already released him from the hug and was now inspecting his arm for whatever was causing the redness and rash

"Ah.., Im fine so is your sister, its just that insolent boy and I got into a heated swordfight I suppose when he pinned me to the ground I scraped my hand to hard against the ice"

"You got what! He didnt harm you did he? I know his love for my sister is strong and his anger towards you stronger but please Erik you must take ca-"

He put a hand against your mouth to make you stop rambling again, he slowly and hesistantly enveloped you in a hug, it surprised you ofcourse Erik wasnt one to give affection.

"W-why are you so concerned about me?"

This is it the do or die moment, you had to admit you were starting to hold feelings for The infamous opera ghost, he isnt all bad he's just misunderstood, cast away from society.

"I-i"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"I uhmm n-need to go I leave some bandages here often now since you get in a lot of trouble"

You let go of his hand as you turn to leave the catacombs while Erik stands there still confused on what just happened

The day of the performance

This is it, this is the day Erik was gonna try to make Christine his, you being nervous was an understatement not only did you fear for the danger your sister might face but also the dangers Erik might face.

The Opera Populaire was surrounded by policemen at some point even though you saw the teasing Erik did earlier (which made the police that was on the pit shoot box 5) you were still a tad bit worried that this plan might not indeed work.

"Hey Chrissy?"

You reached out to your sister and enveloped her in a hug immediately.

"Good luck out there ok?"

"And umm I promise"

You caress her hand and look her in the eye with a sincere look

"He will never hurt you"

This seem to confuse your sister, she held your hand with a grip and looked at you with a confused face.

"Wait, you know him? B-but  Ive never even seen you even meet hi-"

Christine looks back at you she starts to add things up with you disappearing  without a trace and not seeing you at the crack of dawn.

"Y-you were with him this whole time?"

"..."

"So what you just became bestfriend with the opera ghost without even telling me?!"

"Its not like you told me you were taking lessons from him either!"

You breathed in and out in attempt to ease the tension of the situation that was unfolding and by the look of it your sister still felt betrayed.

"He isnt a bad man Christine I know deep in your heart you know that"

Your sister looks away from you possibly from betrayal but still holding both of your hands(meaning she probably wasnt that mad)

'Look with your heart

And not with your eyes

A heart understands

A heart never lies'

You sing to her that was the only was you can think of on how to diffuse this entire  arguement.

"Miss Christine Daaé, you are due on stage in 5 minutes"

Christine looks at you with mixed emotion in her eyes and gives you a hug that was too quick to notice.

"I-i must go to my position dear sister"

She lets go of your hand and started to walk away and to her postion to the song where Erik was gonna be on the stage

'The Point Of No Return'

After a while

"Past the point of no return"

The song went by so fast in your head, you can see the police at the sides of the stage ready to aim and shoot at him but you assumed the vicomte didnt let them shoot yet.

Just then you heard screaming when you pushed past the crowds of people to get a close look on the stage it seemed that Christine tore off Eriks mask, your heartstrings tugged a bit the mask was the only think Erik kept close and without it he must have felt some weakness.

You turn to see the chandelier falling but all you could concentrate on right now was where the danm mask was as you finally found it the chandlier was so close to crashing on you but you were pulled aside by Madame Giry.

"(Y/N) for gods sake please be carefull we cant have another Daaé getting hurt tonight!"

"Vicomte! I know where they are you must follow me but remember to keep your hand at the level of your eyes"

You heard Madame Giry exclaim you turn to see Meg teaching the Vicomte how it is done and begged her mother to come with him.

Ofcourse you knew where they were being held but at the corner of your eye you see the policemen giving the Vicomte a gun.

No this cant be good, men with such anger as the Vicomte holds right now may do horrible things.

You rush down another path that leads to the catacombs being carefull not to get spotted by anyone, as you start to approach the catacombs you hide behind a pillar being carefull not to be spotted.

'Have you gorged yourself, at last, in your lust for blood?

Am I now to be prey to your lust for flesh?'

It goes on like as Erik placed the veil to Christines head and as he tries to explain the horrors of having a face like his

'Wait! i think my dear we have a guest!'

I suddenly spot the Vicomte behind the gates of the lair, he starts to beg Erik to release Christine and to show some compassion

'The world showed no compassion to me!'

You felt just how hurt Erik was at the moment but to your suprise (and to Raouls and Christines) Erik opened the gate and turned to walk away to possibly retrieve something.

Thats when you saw it the punjab lasso.

'Why would I make her pay, for the sins which are yours!'

He wrapped the rope around his neck and tightens it but not enough to kill him just yet, thats when Erik made Christine pick between him and Raoul, either he dies or she stay with him.

'Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of like have you known? God give me courage to show you, you are not alone'

As Christine kissed the phantom you had to admit that it hurt you but who were you to judge, in the eyes of the phantom you were nothing but a friend, at least that was what you thought.

After Christine kissed Erik he seemed to have a change of heart he released the Vicomte and Christine then begged them to just leave him.

But the Vicomte,he was still angered furious really,as he and Christine was sharing a hug he started to reach behind his back, when you looked back at Erik he had his back facing them as he was still wallowing with the pain.

It was from instinct you broke into a run then hugged Erik.

"(Y/n)? W-what are you doing here I thought you had also left me-"

Just as he was talking a gunshot could be heard echoing across the catacombs.

"AAAAAAA!"

Christine was the first to react but when you heard her scream you released Erik from your hug then dropped to the ground.

It took a second for Erik to realize but when he did he kneeled down quickly and craddled you on his arm as he tries to stop the bleeding from your stomach.

"N-no no please GOD PLEASE!"

"Please take anything! Anyone! Please anyone besides her!"

Christine rushed to your side as she grabbed both of your hands and squeezed them tightly.

"N-no! D-dear sister d-ont worry it will be alright, it has to be alright!"

You were already feeling weak probably due to the loss of blood on your body but you still managed to caress her cheek with little strength you had.

"O-ofcourse everything will be alright Chrissy"

You smiled at her but you ended up coughing blood.

"Shh (Y/n) save your energy for now love please"

Erik pleaded as he craddled you closer to him.

"Huh,love, thats a new nickname for me isnt it Erik?"

You tried to make the situation a little better but it seems Erik wasnt listening to you as he was now crying  on your shoulder.

'Love never dies

Love never falters

Once it has spoken

Love is yours'

This seemed to get Eriks attention as he looks at you with sadness in his eyes

'Love never fades

Love never alters

Hearts may get broken

Love endures

H-hearts may get broken

L-love e-endures'

With what little strength you had you pulled his head towards you as he kissed you not caring about the blood that might get on his lips.

As he felt your hand which was at his cheek fall his heart broke as well.

"No no no! NO!"

He was now looking at your closed eyes with a smile still obvious on your face he pulls your body into an embrace as his cries gets louder and more tears fall from his eyes.

'Love never dies

Love will continue

Love keeps on beating

When you're gone'

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

answers (16)

Anonymous said: A lot of these secrets are really serious and sad so heres a lighter one: me and my sister are knitting christmas socks for the whole family as a surprise. Ive never knit a pattern before but im really good!!

Amazing!! 

Anonymous said: idk if your still doing this but my secret is I fear im a terrible person who only acts nice to rick people into liking her and ik that actually does make me an okay but i still feel im doing it for the wrong reasons and someones going to get too close and find out the truth and hate me

That’s very self aware of you, I think-- probably too self aware. You’re absolutely right to say it’s the trying that matters, but I’m not gonna blame you for worrying about it. I have similar concerns about myself sometimes. I’m aware that for me personally they’re partially justified. Some of my kindness is self motivated. 

I think though (and it seems like you already know this) it’s the effect of the kindness that matters. Maybe it’s better for me if I have “pure” intentions, but if I don’t, I should still do the kind things anyway, right? Because at the end there’s still going to be good. And there’s nothing bad about actively trying to be good, which is all we’re doing. 

Anonymous said: my secret is that ive been chasing after a dream my whole life but im not sure ill ever achieve it. times running out and i dont know what to do if i cant. i feel like my whole life has been put on standby and i dont know the way out. i know ill be okay in the end but i dont know what the end will be and that scares me.

Shit that’s relatable. You really will be okay, but it’s terrifying in the meantime, isn’t it? To have those turning points bearing down on you?

Things will happen. You can’t stop that. Time is gonna continue, but you’ll still be there at the end. Your head’s already in the right place. 

Anonymous said: My secret is that I really, really like one of my friends, but he has a girlfriend and slept with one of my best friends when they were both super drunk. I want the feelings to stop and go back to being just friends, because I honestly think I don't have a chance, but there is a small part of me that doesn't want to let go. I don't know what to do.

Well that’s a bitch of a situation, isn’t it? Romantic feelings aren’t really my area, but I understand holding on to things you consciously want to let go. Emotions always feel like part of me, you know? I don’t want to tear them away. Sometimes it’s better to do it, though. I don’t know from a few sentences if that’s the case here, but I hope you find the way that’s the best for you 

Anonymous said: My secret is I used to be suicidal, in my pre/early teens. I had realised I was lesbian in a small, largely Catholic town and hated myself for it. I was awful at social situations and couldn’t make friends. I hated myself for having baby fat because I danced part time. Then as I got older I slowly got more confident until one day a friend died I realised that holy shit I used to be suicidal and I could have killed myself. I’m terrified that I might get like that again and actually do it

Honestly, and I know this is gonna sound cliche, but I’m always in awe of folks like you. I don’t handle my own mental health issues super well most of the time, and to hear about someone growing? Changing? Getting better? Amazing

Anonymous said: If you're still taking these... my secret is that I don't want to give birth to children ever, and would consider adopting instead (when I'm older), but if I were to voice that to any family member or even an acquitance, they would shun me for it and make sure they try to talk me out of it. I really hate how conservative people put so many expectations on my shoulders

Heyyyyyy same. I’m not planning on birthing any kids, but my parents have come down pretty heavily on the single-women-should-not-adopt-children thing, which is.... bullshit. I’m gonna adopt some kids one day, whether they like it or not. 

You know your own mind and your own plans. Other people don’t have to be happy about them, even (maybe especially) family members. 

Anonymous said: My secret is that I’m a bad friend. I don’t make time for the few friends I have and spend most my time working or being in my room. They deserve better than me.

I don’t think you’re a bad friend. Not being around isn’t bad-friend behavior. You’re not hurting anyone. You’re not doing anything wrong. And I certainly don’t think that it justifies the idea that they should leave you. Relationships are always kinda a difficult balancing act, but you don’t have to be perfect at balancing it, you know?

Anonymous said: My secret is that I'm extremely self-sufficient, I've always had to be. But because there's no one else taking care of me it's so hard to invest my time in others because I'll neglect my own mental state. It make sit hard to develop stable relationships. Every once in a while I re-realize that I'm no one's priority so I have to be my own. And it just sucks.

Shit anon that’s really really rough. It makes me sad with you. I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong, because I don’t know, do I? But I hope you are. 

Anonymous said: My secret is I imagine myself as OCs I create for certain fandoms like Young Justice or Castlevania, and I spend all my time daydreaming of how I would act in episodes and how I would interact with the characters. I think it’s because I’m not satisfied with my life, and I’m also afraid that this makes me either weird or crazy.

Oh biggest mood

I do that too. I’m not in a position to say whether that’s a good or bad thing, but I like to think it just makes us creative. For me, it eventually found an outlet in writing, and that’s been a big source of joy in my life. I had some unpleasant experiences sharing that stuff with people in the past, but for me? I don’t worry about it anymore. I know a lot of people that do similar stuff.

Write some fanfiction, maybe :) You might be real good at it

Anonymous said: My secret is I’m secretly attracted to people who are better than me at stuff

That’s not really my area, but seems to me that’s a pretty good thing to be attracted to. One of the sweetest things I hear around school is people talking about how their partners are going to be such good lawyers. It’s cute. 

Anonymous said: My secret is that my anxiety is crushing me. I don't want to feel this way anymore.

Oh, anon. I just.... feel you. I’ve been really struggling lately with the idea that other people move through life without that handicap, and it amazes and angers me. Why don’t I get that? Why am I like this? It isn’t fair. 

And it isn’t. It just isn’t. You didn’t ask to death match your brain every second of the day. You’re not any worse than everyone else, so why do you have to suffer? I don’t know. I really don’t.

The only happy thing I can say to you is people do heal. It’s bullshit that it takes so much time and effort, but it is possible. I’m better off now than I was five years ago, even if it did take five years and a whole lot of therapy, medication, and energy. You shouldn’t have to fight like this, but you can, and you can win. 

Anonymous said: My secret is Im so bitter most of the time that I cant be happy for others. Me and my best friend are both singers but I can never be happy for her when she gets compliments or any success bc im jealous and im scared I'll never learn to be selfless and happy for other people

You’re only human. You have human emotions. You have every right to feel them. The only thing that matters is your choices, because that’s the only thing you can control. 

I’m so sorry you’re scared. That’s another emotion you have every right to feel 

Anonymous said: My secret is that sometimes I hated myself for not express what I felt because I thought they'll hate me or make distance of me but I'm learning to express my feelings to others and try to be more confidence :) I hope you'll be brave too and do whatever you want to do 💜

I wanna be anon when I grow up 

Anonymous said: My secret is that my hands hurt all the time but in different ways, and I’m scared to get help because I’m scared they’ll tell me I’m making it up or being dramatic.

Man do I hate the shit people put you through to get medical help. Everybody’s entitled to ask, aren’t they? So why are we all making that difficult? Why are we making people feel bad about their own pain?

I understand your fear, but I hope you start asking questions anyway. Other people’s opinions about it aren’t your fault

Anonymous said: My secret is that my dermatillomania has gotten way worse since I got to college, so I’m having to wear headscarves again to keep myself from picking my scalp. I smuggled my scarf collection out of my room without telling my parents.

I’m sorry, anon. That’s difficult. That sucks. That’s bullshit. 

Anonymous said: my secret is that when one of my family members says something homophobic I'll laugh and agree because I'm afraid that they'll disown me if there's any shred of proof that I'm LGBT and it makes me feel like such filth

That’s not your fault. It’s theirs for making you feel unsafe, because your safety really should be your first priority! That’s okay! You’re not being a bad person by doing it. You’re just protecting someone. You’re allowed to make that someone you

[crafiet]

1-50 OC questionnaire !!

ill use ary

1. What’s their full name? Why was that chosen? Does it mean anything?anyone else paranoid about people stealing their unpublished work or ideas or name bc me. her name is ary and i found it from a generator [lmao so original] and i thought it was cute. her last name is like pretty standard for fantasy and it inspired me to have everyone elses last names in a similar vibe2. Do they have any titles? How did they get them?WELL lmao shes had a lot. prisoner #22876, the wraith, princess ary. ive scrapped all except the prisoner one and u can guess how she got it3. Did they have a good childhood? What are fond memories they have of it? What’s a bad memory? she was raised among royals and nobles so she has a lot of good memories with her parents and other kids her age running around doing dumb shit. most of her bad memories happen once she becomes a teenager4. What is their relationship with their parents? What’s a good and bad memory with them? Did they know both parents? she has an overwhelming love for her parents, she idolizes them heavily and is grateful for how much they taught her. a good memory is probably them teaching her how to use magic for the first time and she being unable to control it and almost burning her eyebrows off lmao5. Do they have any siblings? What’s their names? What is their relationship with them? Has their relationship changed since they were kids to adults?no siblings6. What were they like at school? Did they enjoy it? Did they finish? What level of higher education did they reach? What subjects did they enjoy? Which did they hate?tbh i havent thought much about their education system as young kids, since its not really relevant and i dont tend to worldbuild stuff that never shows up. however she did attend an academy specifically for her magic caste and she had a fun time up until some shit went down and she deserted. shes pretty competitive and liked versing her friends7. Did they have lots of friends as a child? Did they keep any of their childhood friends into adulthood? she was one of those weird kids who preferred hanging out with her parents over everybody else. so she had one good friend in the academy whos still her friend today, but otherwise she would race home and annoy her mum lol8. Did they have pets as a child? Do they have pets as an adult? Do they like animals? no pets. she has a soft spot for horses though, because she has had so many in her “career”9. Do animals like them? Do they get on well with animals? horses like her, i guess they can sense shes good with them. at one point in the novel she sees some jackals and is afraid of them so shes probably not a dog person10. Do they like children? Do children like them? Do they have or want any children? What would they be like as a parent? Or as a godparent/babysitter/ect?she doesnt have anything against kids, but shes not very good with them, shes never been one for baby talk or dumbing herself down. in one draft she takes care of some adolescents and lets cyri take over bc he loves kids lol11. Do they have any special diet requirements? Are they a vegetarian? Vegan? Have any allergies?nahh12. What is their favourite food? uhhhhhhhhhhhhh13. What is their least favourite food?uhHHHHHH14. Do they have any specific memories of food/a restaurant/meal?man idk, its not like my characters arent well rounded realistic people but im not gonna know her favourite fucking colour bc it doesnt matter in the story lmao15. Are they good at cooking? Do they enjoy it? What do others think of their cooking?i would say shes ok, she doesnt burn anything but shes not a gourmet chef [despite having lessons as a child]16. Do they collect anything? What do they do with it? Where do they keep it? ohh i used to have an answer for this but she probably doesnt now just bc shes pretty nomadic and usually only has the clothes on her back lmao17. Do they like to take photos? What do they like to take photos of? Selfies? What do they do with their photos?cameras dont exist in her world my dudee. but if she lived in modern day which ive thought of, shed be the type to take a bunch of pics of her friends and stuff she likes bc she likes having the memory in a solid form, her actual memory is shit lol18. What’s their favourite genre of: books, music, tv shows, films, video games and anything elsehmm i suppose shed be a horror fan, and shed love making fun of stupid characters19. What’s their least favourite genres?man idk. romance? shes kinda #2edgy4me20. Do they like musicals? Music in general? What do they do when they’re favourite song comes?hmm i think shes more a soft music fan, just something idly playing in the background. ex. a bard playing something for the crowd while she kicks back w friends21. Do they have a temper? Are they patient? What are they like when they do lose their temper?she has a short temper. shes easily triggered with any emotion so shes quick to argue or whatever22. What are their favourite insults to use? What do they insult people for? Or do they prefer to bitch behind someone’s back?id like to think shes witty, and she always says stuff to peoples faces bc a bitch has rabies and wants to fight apparently23. Do they have a good memory? Short term or long term? Are they good with names? Or faces?bad memory, shes gone through physical torture and isolation [wew] so. shes better at names, growing up with royals she got to learn a bunch of family names etc24. What is their sleeping pattern like? Do they snore? What do they like to sleep on? A soft or hard mattress?a light sleeper. crazy light. and she can sleep anywhere, so she has no problems sleeping on the ground unlike others25. What do they find funny? Do they have a good sense of humour? Are they funny themselves?she pretends to be stoic but when u get to know her her humour’s pretty lame, shell laugh at anything if just to make u feel better26. How do they act when they’re happy? Do they sing? Dance? Hum? Or do they hide their emotions? she tends to hide them under an indifferent mask27. What makes them sad? Do they cry regularly? Do they cry openly or hide it? What are they like they are sad?despite being able to hide her emotions, she does succumb to fear a lot and cries openly, but will continue to do whatever shes doing through tears so shes scary in that regard28. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared?abandonment is a huge one. shes not a fan of predatory animals. shes brave though, and will do whatevers necessary, kinda like unwilling exposure therapy lol29. What do they do when they find out someone else’s fear? Do they tease them? Or get very over protective? she doesnt like exploiting people so shell never use someones fear against them. for friends, shell protect them and warn them if something like that is gonna happen30. Do they exercise? Regularly? Or only when forced? What do they act like pre-work out and post-work out?lmao she walks or goes horse riding everywhere and is severely malnourished31. Do they drink? What are they like drunk? What are they like hungover? How do they act when other people are drunk or hungover? Kind or teasing?i just wrote a scene like this!! shes louder in general, laughs more. her guard comes down more and more with every drink. she can hold her liquor pretty well but when shes blacked out shes pretty much useless32. What do they dress like? What sorta shops do they buy clothes from? Do they wear the fashion that they like? What do they wear to sleep? Do they wear makeup? What’s their hair like?she prefers comfort and mobility over everything else. she tends to dress pretty masculine, and never does anything with her hair. does she know what a brush is?33. What underwear do they wear? Boxers or briefs? Lacey? Comfy granny panties?...................ask her lol idk. probably just basic comfy ones34. What is their body type? How tall are they? Do they like their body?she is 5′9. when shes healthy, she has a willowy figure but more on the boxy side than curvy. she doesnt really attribute much to her body [imagine living life without dysmorphia mfg]35. What’s their guilty pleasure? What is their totally unguilty pleasure? i dont she counts anything as a ‘guilty’ pleasure. she just enjoys what she enjoys, fuck whatever people think36. What are they good at? What hobbies do they like? Can they sing?she loves fishing! she used to do it a lot with her dad. i dont think shes a particularly good singer37. Do they like to read? Are they a fast or slow reader? Do they like poetry? Fictional or non fiction?yeah she likes reading. she reads pretty fast and prefers nonfiction. she thinks poetry can get too pretentious lmao38. What do they admire in others? What talents do they wish they had?#deep but i think she admires kindness and care in others. she wishes she was a better person at times and wants to be able to express how much people meant to her39. Do they like letters? Or prefer emails/messaging? lmao letters are the only thing in her world. if she lived w us shed probably be all about texting 600 in a row and then calling when u dont reply “what do u mean you cant answer. its called INSTANT messaging for a reason!!”40. Do they like energy drinks? Coffee? Sugary food? Or can they naturally stay awake and alert?she stays awake through sheer willpower shes a beast41. What’s their sexuality? What do they find attractive? Physically and mentally? What do they like/need in a relationship?shes bi/pan. not really a thing about labels in her world. she loves long hair and soft personalities42. What are their goals? What would they sacrifice anything for? What is their secret ambition?plot spoilers!!43. Are they religious? What do they think of religion? What do they think of religious people? What do they think of non religious people?shes not religious. there is a heavy theme of religion in the novel [which i need to write better in the second draft] but she was kinda skeptical as a child and probably lost faith entirely after she went through some harrowing stuff 44. What is their favourite season? Type of weather? Are they good in the cold or the heat? What weather do they complain in the most? winter. she prefers the cold and hates heat45. How do other people see them? Is it similar to how they see themselves? i think people see her as scarier than she is. shes a formidable opponent and does not give a fuck what you say, but her reputation precedes her a little bit, a lot of things she did out of fear or force are seen as ‘badass’ and ‘brave’46. Do they make a good first impression? Does their first impression reflect them accurately? How do they introduce themselves?shes a compulsive liar, and a good one at that. so she tends to show herself differently to almost everyone she meets, but usually its a false potrayal47. How do they act in a formal occasion? What do they think of black tie wear? Do they enjoy fancy parties and love to chit chat or loathe the whole event?ugh she haaaaaates formal stuff and parties. she grew up royal and had to suffer through many a dinner and gathering. at this point in her life youd never get her in a dress that impeded her movement. shes ok with dresses but really big poofy ones she refuses to wear48. Do they enjoy any parties? If so what kind? Do they organise the party or just turn up? How do they act? What if they didn’t want to go but were dragged along by a friend? in our world shed be one for a chill house party. show up with a case of beer, sit outside by the barbie, listen to music and talk shit. shes not good at organising so she doesnt tend to host, and if she were dragged by a friend itd probably be to a formal event or with people she didnt know so shed just sulk in the corner49. What is their most valued object? Are they sentimental? Is there something they have to take everywhere with them?she abandoned her material possessions before the story a. bc she was forced and b. they bring back way too many painful memories50. If they could only take one bag of stuff somewhere with them: what would they pack? What do they consider their essentials? food, change of clothes, weapons. thats about it. she tries not to be super nasty and find an inn to shower and stuff but shes also poor af

[peckhampeculiar]

Twerking nine to five

PECKHAM’S KELECHNEKOFF STUDIO OFFERS FITNESS CLASSES RANGING FROM POLE-DANCING TO TWERKING TO YOGA. We meet its inspirational founder – the personal trainer, actress and Peckham resident Kelechi Okafor

WORDS JUMOKÉ FASHOLA PHOTO DILESH SOLANKI

I don’t think you could find anyone prouder to be a south Londoner than Kelechi Okafor. Born in Nigeria, she arrived to join her mother in Peckham at the age of five and the area has been her home ever since.

Describing herself as a ride or die Peckhamite, she not only lives locally, but has also established her Kelechnekoff fitness studio here.

Kelechi is a fierce, fun and fabulous woman, with boundless energy, who sees her remit as one of reclaiming the narrative about what it means to be a strong black female in the age of social media.

Her studio, based in the Sojourner Truth Centre on Sumner Road, offers everything from yoga to pole-dancing to twerking. Why twerking?

“One of the things I wanted from having a space like this,” she says, “is to allow women across the board to be tender and engage fully with their bodies.

“Because society has hyper-sexualised the female body so much, and the black female body specifically, there are women who just want to be as far away from that narrative as possible, not understanding that our power lies in the sexuality and sensuality of being a woman. That’s what I want us to take back.”

As an actor, director and personal trainer who specialises in twerk and pole-dance fitness, it’s been a challenging road to get to where she is today – from the homelessness she experienced as a teenager to supporting her mother and brothers, to depression, therapy, having to integrate into a new family when she first arrived in the UK, childhood sexual abuse and a lot more.

She has survived and is very open about her personal journey to date, particularly on social media. No topic is off limits – black issues, police brutality, mental health, her own recent miscarriage.

She has amassed a following of almost 35,000 people on Twitter, with a further 12,400 followers on Instagram. Where did her fascination with social media start?

“It was probably around 2013, when the shift started happening and I just felt that we had something here that allowed us to communicate with everybody, worldwide,” she says.

“I’ve always been a writer, and when Twitter came along I just took to it, because I thought, ‘This is a space where I can say what I’m thinking and I can put it out there as a form of microblogging.’

“I joined it when hardly anyone else was on there and I remember when the influx of celebrities started joining us. I thought, ‘There goes the neighbourhood, they are going to ruin everything!” she laughs.

“But it has changed and I’ve changed with it, as I saw how it allowed us to have our own voice separate from the narrative that we were getting from the media.

“I feel that this is where the power is. It’s an opportunity for me, Kelechi, to give you an alternative narrative to what you’d normally get from the mainstream.”

But in being so outspoken across her social media platforms, has there been a cost? “Yes, there has been, but I think that for anything that matters to you, there is always a sacrifice,” she says.

“Occasionally I will go online and there will be someone calling me a black b**** or a black this. Sometimes I save the tweets. Perhaps one day I’ll take it to court and then they’ll have to show up and explain that email or tweet they sent. But it hasn’t really got there.

“I did have horse manure sent to me in the first small studio I opened in Clapton, though,” she remembers ruefully.

“I had been speaking that weekend about the appropriation of black culture by mainstream pop artists.

“I was pointing out that when it’s ‘appropriation’, there’s always someone with more power who benefits from it financially. If it was ‘appreciation’, the person who has less of the power should be benefiting from it but they’re not.

“I was explaining that and someone got extremely upset with something I said, because soon after, I got horse manure posted to me anonymously.

“Although,” she laughs, “it didn’t even offend me because it was so well packaged and 100 per cent organic.”

What was the response to that experience from her social media followers?

“I have a lot of black female followers who care about my safety and care about my wellbeing. So, someone wrote an article for BuzzFeed about it, which basically helped promote my studio.

“Many people, men and women, sent me flowers and books of poetry including one by Maya Angelou. I just received so much love.”

Whatever the challenges she has faced in life, keeping fit has always been her way of working through issues.

“I’ve always been active and into sports”, she says. “Growing up, I played football and netball. It was stuff I didn’t have to try hard at, it was just a skill that I had.

“I had wanted to be head girl at school but my teacher thought I was too boisterous for that, so she said I could be sports captain instead.”

Her love of sport comes not just from her innate ability, but also from the discipline that it requires.

“When I was in secondary school I joined the air cadets. All I’ve ever yearned for, after not seeing it in the family home, is discipline. I like routine and structure.

“I think we were in year eight when we had a talk from the air cadets. And I thought, ‘Yeah, that’s it, I’m becoming an air cadet.’”

True to form she worked hard at it and for her, “the psychological part of the training gave me a break from being the one who did everything at home and having to be in control of everyone. I wanted and needed that break.”

Alongside fitness, her other passion is acting. It was a choice of career that her mother was dead set against.

“I can understand why,” she muses. “If you’re losing your home and don’t have a regular job, what you want for your children is a steady job. You want to know that they will never suffer or want for anything. Mum was like, ‘Just be a lawyer, you are such a great orator’.”

As a compromise, Kelechi found a course that would allow her to study both drama and law at Liverpool Hope University.

“I’d never been to Liverpool before,” she says, “but that’s the only place which was offering that degree.”

Coming back to London, she started working at a call centre and found it soul destroying.

“I remember going through London Bridge one day and just thinking, ‘There has to be something I can do where I’m not at the mercy of this corporation’. And I just thought, ‘I’ll become a personal trainer’. Fitness was the thing I loved most after acting.

“I saved up my money from my job, paid for a distance learning course and then I did lots of work experience in different gyms.”

Her business took off straightaway, courtesy of her followers on social media.

“When I did qualify, there were already women on Twitter and Instagram who were like, ‘Just come and train me’.

“So I went into that and that’s when I started to see the kind of freedom and flexibility that I could have access to without being at the mercy of big corporations.”

Her personal background means that she has a real desire to see women embrace who they truly are, not just physically but also emotionally and spiritually.

“What I really want for women to understand, especially when it comes to our bodies, is that we only have this one body,” she says.

“When I start training people, I want them to understand that there’s nothing I can do that’s going to make them more beautiful.

“I can get you slimmer if that’s what you really want. I can get you more toned, but none of these things are actually going to make you more beautiful, because it’s not really based on what you look like.

“[It’s about] getting my clients to understand that to me, personal training is 80 per cent psychological and emotional, and 20 per cent physical.

“You didn’t come to me because you care about your fitness, not really. There’s something else that’s happening there. What is that thing?

“If we talk about that ‘thing’, then the fitness doesn’t feel so bad. I’ve had women and men break down into tears when we’ve been having a session because I will say things like, ‘I just feel today that you’re holding a lot in’.

“I can feel it and then they let that out. And that’s what they needed. Then they feel safer because they know that I will spot it if they’re holding a lot that day and we taper the session to create space for them.”

She’s irritated by men who try to dominate in gyms. “I’ve had it myself when I’ll be training at the gym and a guy who clearly knows nothing about fitness comes up to me, just because I’m a woman, and says, ‘So when you’re doing this you really want to do it like this.’

“Wait, you’re telling me, the actual professional, how to do it?! And then they often have the temerity to say, ‘Don’t grow too much muscle though, because you don’t want to look like a man.’”

She dislikes the way Christmas and the new year are promoted to us commercially.

“It’s interesting to me how around Christmas time, the focus in adverts is on massive turkeys, chocolates etcetera, pushing a form of gluttony on us.

“Then as soon as January hits, it’s ‘You, disgusting fatty, get to the gym, get fit’, and I just think that we have to pull ourselves out of that. We are being sold one thing while being beaten with another. What does that do to your self esteem? We never know where we stand because companies were just telling us five minutes ago to eat all of the food!”

What’s on offer at her own gym is a way, according to her, of connecting women to the “divine feminine” through dance.

“With the twerking classes at the studio I wanted to celebrate my African-ness while still paying homage to the ways in which it has changed and how it’s now become linked with hip hop culture,” she says.

Also available at the Kelechnekoff studio are very popular classes in pole-dancing and also yoga, which she is particularly keen to make accessible to all, especially those on lower incomes.

She hopes in 2019 to include a few more aerial disciplines, such as aerial hoops and also Wing Chun defence classes. Primarily though, whether it’s a twerk hen party or a pole-dancing class, her dream is that the studio continues to be a fun place that celebrates all women.

On a personal level as we approach the new year, she’s living by her own mantra: “Don’t stop striving for that thing that makes your heart warm. You deserve it. You can achieve it.”

[abtoddler]

A little melancholia for the day

It’s interesting how far we come and sometimes

Its no where near far enough. When i was younger, I couldn’t tolerate my mother. When shes oh hey, im goin to be a bitch for days, then expect me to talk to her. Its already bad enough shes super dismissive or hateful, and then super concerned so she can ear another tick in her caretaker personality.

Which explains why i need a daddy so much. I al thankful to mine, and my big bro champ, the two of them create a world where i dont have to worry about what occurs outside the front door. - a bit of backstory, and the strings of complaints, spoonie comments, support groups and things like that: i have a chronic pain condition with compression and the slow approach to parapalegia while on the medication, the norco and muscle relaxers to help the sensation of walking on nails, and endless buzz, this is a gift from 14 years ago, that keeps taking the feeling and control of my legs & feet. I also have an inflamatory bowel disease, so its like shitting hot lava. This has been occuring more regular then a ladies period, and has been occuring since longer then I can remember.

Growing up, i would throw up while shitting at the same time for hours ans hours. Get up in the middle of the night and just let it go. Ive turned memory of this shit to another thought. Right now its about how much time i have left, 20 years? That wouls make me 54, if i go out then, or even in the next 35 years wouls make me younger then my adoptive parents.

Now heres a funny thing, since my dad doesnt really keep up with me, mostly my fault because i hate talkin on the phone, and cant exactly travel at the moment. The point is, “oh you still have to go through that, i hadnt heard so i assumed it went away”, its not that” oh i assumed you just stopped having a horrible mutiple times a month for my entire life stomach pain, just stops, because nothing is said about it. Or the trying to convey that i just do not have the means to emotionally handle it, and so cant make effort to do stuff that hurts my heart. The same is whether or not my mother means it. But shes always been cunty when shes not put first, or in control. It’s interesting she abused drugs and alcohol when i moved into my own house the first time. Then the abuse from her starts, getting mad, being dismissive, just down right fucking horrible for no good goddamn reason.

This then causes me to have an emotional shut down, this abuseive crap, this shit makes me not want to be around her. She cant “do” being alone, and it makes her really mean. The more mean she gets, the more i have no desire to fuck with that. The endless complaints, rudeness, snide comments, endless streams of just foulness. Thank you to everyone whose not like this, is what i want to say. Thank you to daddy and champ. Those who “choose” us, and so help up the folk like me who have all sorts of shit to deal with. Its nice having an insulation.

I do not want contact with people who are sneaky and will put someone else under a bus, i do not want folks who do not give more then lip service to”bdsm full exchange” and “demands” that put them ahead of what they want to do with my daddy. Theres so much in this life that i wont be able to do. I have less then most folk i wager. Going by the wayside, posting to the empty vaccum where the internet remembers.

I can do this. I can do one day at a time forever, one moment, that is an endless cycle of sleep. And meds, and pains. The reason i can do this. Family. Good people raised me, but im home for the first time with these last 6 months, 50 or 60 years ahead of me is not enough time for my daddy, for my big bro. There is a ton of the world to see.

These are the thoughts, and feelings ive had since loosing my hope on handling something just a bit better. Its been super dark, with looking at end of life affairs, looking into kinds of burials, and assisted suicide. Everything that would mean i miss everything i want with my family. I do not mind a death I choose. I do not mind my final wishes. What i mind; the knowledge of folks with my kinds of stomach shit dont really see much longer to the older age brackets. It scares the piss out of me, that it could just be done, i wont be able to wake up and work on my grimoires, i wont be able to tell my daddy I love him. Anytime i feel it, i have to say it. That way in all the tiny moments of time, and if folks can remember me. He will know i would always love him, thank him, appreciate him. He is the scope of my world. Anything less then forever is an unacceptable amount of time. The thought of leaving him early scares me. Its my greatest worry, that i will never know enough, or see enough of his life to only see it really start.

Its hard, it sucks. So thats why my grimoire projects will not, end. My desire to be little, and safe and cared for, must be followed right back into daddies arms, and the worlds hes helped build. I ve been trying to process this, its taken a few months, in suspected truth, probably it will be always there. But, i try and focus on projects, on the little things that can be done in a day. I cant care about my mother demanding i go and see her. Or her being a bitch when i do, and leaving her with a “see you whenever” i said “what ever” and just walked out of her apartment the other night.

So, while she feels i should be doing what ever she asks depite my lack or to too much sleep according to her. Not the exhaustion i get subjected to after the fire of hell erupts from my asshole, and causes me to throw up anything left in my stomach. Yea, between that 1-4 hour production of “this is your life” in food I attempted to eat earlier. Shes got stupid questions that have no bearing on day to day shit, and now that shes done fucking making threats at me, she can shut up, while I sort out how to handle her ass, while being with wonderful people, for what will be the rest of my life. However long i can make it. Daddy, makes it worth it, i want to see him and champ be their best selves. I can instead only do everything that i am able to set their roads up, even if i wont get the chance to see how it ends.

I cry, at night, most nights pooh bear has earned his keep as the cuddle surrogate to daddy. My barking dragon doesnt bark, it would randomly do it; making it hard to sleep with. I know that this internet void, is a public place where people will know, coo!. But I need to post this, i need to put it into the world while I think about how i am going to master the coming years, and not let shit get between daddy and champ and all our dreams.

So, while i get word vomity, and sad. The horizon has this light of the future, the single moment of now, stretching on to the morning. The linear path of all actions, thoughts, life and the experiences, its easy when in thinking of daddy, that i can just aim to make the most of the moments with him. That they know he is the best man i have ever known, the range of his character. His way of dominance, his love and zest for life. The way he steps one foot a time to get the big picture. I will walk with him til my story ends. But, daddy i love you, and thank you. I loves that we have forever and ever. Its not long enough.

But anyway this isnt something i can stop thinking, so my hope is putting just this stuff here, will get it out, and lets me sleep tonight. I am trying to post more, to have a place to unload my thoughts. Thank you for anyone who reads this, its just hard to identify the situation at hand, so many moving pieces. I will try not to post to much of this philosophic ramble, and depression.

I will figure on how to deal with it but tonight, it did it’s job and has cleared my head, and given me a look at what i feel is going on. Night tumblr. Thank you for this medium.

[kienova66]

May is the one who finds him, tucked away in the stock room with wide, panicked eyes, dark circles beneath them and skin pale. His grip on the shelf is bordering on worrisome, knuckles white and fingers pressing so hard against the steel that she was concerned that the shelving would cut into his palm at the slightest movement.

“Fitz,” she said, moving carefully into the room until she can put a hand on his shoulder. She watched him jump, eyes snapping to her face but remaining terrified. “Fitz, I need you to let go of the shelf.” He blinked, his gaze taking a minute to focus before he slowly unfurled his hand, hissing as blood rushed back into his fingers. “Tell me what’s going on.” The words were not a question, but rather a gentle command, her own worry shining through each syllable.

They had all been on edge since returning. Every tear in the nightmare rift sending at least one of them into a moment of terror. Coulson and Fitz had been the ones most impacted. Coulson refused to tell her what happened. Fitz’s fear had been easier to discover. He hadn’t taken well to finding the Doctor manifest in front of him. He had regained enough control to defend himself, in the end, but May could still see the cracks in his resolve even now, a few weeks later.

“It’s Jemma,” he managed after a moment, voice tight. “She’s sick. Really sick. A-and I’m terrified.” May frowned, leaving her hand where it had been since she got his attention, knowing he needed something to ground him. “I – I don’t know what to do.”

“What’s going on?” the specialist pressed, slowly leading him over to one of the crates until she could force him to sit down, his knees nearly giving out at the slightest pressure from her hand.

“S-she started getting sick during the night. V-vomiting. It was… she couldn’t stop. I’ve never seen her like that. S-she was s-so weak she could barely sit. I was h-holding her up b-because I thought she was going to aspirate. I-I had to put in an IV. Haven’t done that since basic medical training at the Academy. But s-she was so de-de-dehydrated t-that –” the words came out choppy and disjointed, Fitz’s chin falling to his chest as he fought against the tears stinging at his eyes. May sat down on the crate next to him, her arm easily wrapping around his shoulders as she tugged him into a side-hug. “I asked Daisy to sit with her because I… I just… needed a minute. W-what if she’s dy-”

“She’s going to be okay Fitz,” May insisted, cutting off his thought before he could fully voice it. He let out a choked sob, curling into May as his emotions overcame him, his face tucked into her neck. She hesitated only a split second before wrapping her arms around him, rubbing circles on his back.

“I-I can’t lose her.”

Neither of them noticed Deke in the doorway, a concerned look on his face before he slowly backed up, disappearing into the shadows of the hall.

--

“Daisy?”

The Inhuman looked up from where she was curled on the sofa, her tablet on her knees as she regarded the man, frowning.

“Yes?”

“What’s wrong with Jemma?” he asked, edging into the room, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He had spent nearly an hour wandering aimlessly around the base before his feet had dragged him into the common room, worry gnawing at him. Daisy sighed, crossing her arms.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Daisy responded.

“I know, okay. But I’m here. I’m part of this mess whether you like it or not and I just want to know what’s going on. Maybe there’s something I can do to help. Go get some medicine, or something,” he rambled.

“Look, if we need to get Jemma something, we will. There’s a full stock of medical supplies downstairs. For now, we just need to wait and see what happens and then figure out what we need to do,” Daisy said.

“I-I know but… Fitz seems really worried and, uh,” he stammered, one hand moving until he could rub at the back of his neck.

“Look, I know you probably mean well, but you don’t know anything about them-” she started. Her words seemed to set something loose in him, his eyes widening before he started pacing, hands shaking.

“No, I don’t know anything about them. You know why? Because they died before I was born. Because my mom couldn’t talk about her parents because it hurt too much. So, you’re right, I know nothing about them. I didn’t even get to know their names because it was too much for my mom, alright? Growing up on the Lighthouse meant not knowing your family because they were killed and then no one wanted to talk about it anymore! And my mom died before I was old enough to start asking those questions. Because I was too young to understand all this shit and my dad didn’t talk about it. Ever. All I know is that my grandfather couldn’t live without my grandma. And I just had to watch him breaking down to May because my grandma might be dying and I don’t know anything!” Deke yelled, his hands flailing about for a moment before he grabbed the back of the chair, chest heaving as he fought against his emotions.

Daisy blinked, jaw working but no sound coming out.

“Grandparents?” she asked finally, confusion lacing her words. Deke sucked in a breath, eyes widening at the realisation of what he had just said. “What are you talking about? Did you eat something that messed with your head?” He let out a watery laugh in response, sinking into the chair.

“No,” he responded, wrapping his arms around himself. “I just… I haven’t said it out loud before.” Daisy got off the sofa, edging closer until she was standing next to him.

“What are you saying?” she pressed.

“Fitz and Jemma are my grandparents.” She stared at him for a long moment before letting out a slow breath, pulling the other chair out from under the table until she could sit across from him.

“How?”

“The… the fear dimension. I saw my mom a few weeks ago, before she got killed. And something she said… Jemma said the exact same thing to Elena. And she had the monolith and the ring that looks like my grandma’s and I just… its them. And Fitz can barely stand me and Jemma is always hesitant around me. But she might be dying and… and I don’t know what to do.” Deke explained, breathing ragged. “I don’t know how to tell them. Or if I want to. I just… I just found them. I don’t want to lose them.”    

“Come on,” Daisy said, swallowing hard as she stood up, eyes filled with resolve.

“W-where are we going?”

“To see your grandparents. Wow. That is such as weird thing to say. You’re all basically the same age and – never mind, later. We can talk about the rest later.”

--

“We should give her doxylamine-pyridoxine, 10mg twice a day, until the symptoms stop,” May stated, tablet in one hand and the bottle of pills in the other.

“What does it do?” Fitz questioned, eyes tired as he looked up at her, his fingers still tangled with Jemma’s where she lay sleeping on the bed.

“It controls and relieves severe nausea and vomiting. Can be taken daily and it’s- well, she’s not at risk from it. She might be drowsy or get dizzy and irritable, but the rest of the side effects are no worse than something you can get from ibuprofen,” May explained, coming to sit on Jemma’s other side before she gently tried to wake the younger woman.

“Is it going to interact with the ondansetron I gave her?”

“No,” May responded, watching as Jemma’s eyes slowly fluttered open. “Hey Jemma. I need you to sit up for me so you can take this,” she said. Jemma let out a slight whimper.

“D-don’t think I can keep it down,” she murmured.

“It’s going to help,” the older woman insisted, watching Fitz carefully prop Jemma up in his arm as May pressed the pill to Jemma’s lips followed by a few small sips of water. Jemma immediately sagged back into Fitz’s shoulder, eyes closing again.

“I don’t feel well,” Jemma whispered, turning her face into his chest.

“I know,” Fitz replied, kissing the crown of her head. “I know.” May gave them both a weak smile before leaving the room, the pills left on the table.

“I need you to draw some blood. Maybe it’ll tell us what’s wrong,” she murmured, feeling Fitz cringe against her hair. “You can do this,” she assured him, voice exhausted. He kissed her head again before gingerly getting up, laying her back against the pillows as he moved to get the necessary supplies. He ignored the way his hands shook as he did the basic blood draw, trying not to feel sick at having to slide a needle in his wife’s arm for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. “You need to run it-”

“I know,” he said, making sure to hold pressure on the puncture site until it clotted before moving to the other side of the room, glad that Mack had brought basic medical equipment in. He dropped the test tube into the machinery, typing commands into the computer before immediately returning to Jemma’s side, taking her hand in his. “How’re you feeling? Still nauseous?”

“A bit. Mostly just drowsy right now,” she replied as Daisy knocked on the door-frame, Deke close at her heels.

“Can we come in?” Daisy asked, keeping her voice low. Fitz frowned at the sight of Deke before turning his attention to his wife.

“Deke and Daisy are here,” he whispered to her, watching her struggle to open her eyes. “Are you alright if they’re here?” Jemma managed a tiny nod before drifting to sleep again as Daisy edged into the room.

“Is she okay?” the woman queried, tugging the vacant chair from the other side of the room closer to the bed. Fitz shrugged, eyes downcast as he stroked Jemma’s hair.

“I-I don’t know,” he confessed. Deke fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, weight shifting from one foot to the other.

“Is there anything I can do?” Deke questioned, voice smaller than any of them had ever heard it. Fitz cocked his head to the side, exhaustion warring on his features as he regarded the other man. Daisy shot him a look that confused him, her expression telling him to keep his temper in check.

“Uh, no,” Fitz managed. “Not right now. Thanks.”

“Has there been any change?” Daisy queried, tension rolling in her stomach at the knowledge that was now in her head. That Deke was the descendant of Fitz and Jemma. That her friends would be killed in the future. That their daughter would be killed.

“The medications have been keeping her from getting sick but we don’t know what’s causing it,” Fitz answered. “I’m just waiting on some tests.” Daisy nodded, playing with Jemma’s fingers, careful of her IV. The three of them settled into an uneasy silence then, both Fitz and Daisy focused on Jemma while Deke’s attention fluttered about the room, moving from the prone woman on the bed to the hunched figure of her husband, dark circles under his eyes and fear radiating off him in waves.

The computer beeped a while later, drawing their attention to the other side of the room. Before Fitz could move, Deke went to grab the tablet, his eyes skimming over the information.

“Uh… do I just read the ones that are flagged?” Deke inquired, feeling his palms sweat against the plastic and metal of the tablet.

“Yes,” Fitz grit out, feeling his stomach tying itself in knots that there were flagged levels on Jemma’s tests.

“Something called ferritin is low. It says shes anaemic? What does that mean?” Deke asked, eyes wide as he looked up.

“She has low iron,” Fitz managed. “She can take a supplement to fix it. Is there anything else?”

“Nothing else is low. But her hCG is high. 56,000. W-what is it?” Fitz sucked in a deep breath at the words, eyes wide as he looked down at Jemma.

“Human chorionic gonadotropin,” the engineer said, voice catching in his throat. “Jem. Jemma, wake up,” he murmured, nudging her until her eyes flickered open.

“Fitz?”

“Jem, I know what’s wrong,” he whispered, ignorant of the panicked looks that Daisy and Deke were exchanging behind their backs.

“W-what?”

“Your hCG is high,” Fitz explained, a smile spreading his face, watching as Jemma’s tired eyes widened.

“So that’s-”

“I think so.”

“And this-”

“Hyperemesis, yeah, probably.”  

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“We’re…we’re really-”

“Looks like.”

“Fitz,” she breathed, starting to cry as he leaned forward to kiss her.

“What’s going on?” Deke hissed, leaning closer to Daisy, the tablet still clutched in his hand. She shrugged, grabbing the tablet and switching to the internet, looking up the test results until a gasp escaped her.

“You’re having a baby?” Daisy blurted, eyes filling with tears. Deke sunk to the floor at the words, his vision going spotty. His grandparents were having a baby. They were having his mother.