#she can never win enough to forget the pain- not of 'losing' but of Being A Loser | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

0luv9 · 9 months

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this love || mattheo riddle

Summary: he should know better, he should understand that it's pointless but he is a fool, acting like he knows better despite the years of fruitless pining. He lingers just for the off chance- that you could be his.

[post hogwarts setting]

Beware: angst, a bit of fluff, minimal plot (the plot itself hasn't been explored much), she/her pronouns used, mostly written in second person, kinda fast-paced, brief mention of drinking, reader has been wronged, some parts of it are fast-paced, reader's oc boyfriend, marriage, misusage of magic, blood and fighting, hospitals.

(I don't know what I just wrote)

Words: 8.1k

He knew he was fighting a losing battle, knew that from the very moment, his eyes fell on you for the first time. Yet he can’t help but try, try and win this battle, to win you over because he knows it’ll be worth it. There’s no explaining behind this unreasonable love for you, there’s no clear moment where he came to the realization, that it’s something he’s always known, to be in love with you.

But you are in his arms, your boyfriend, the perfect man, the sight telling him to look away, telling him that you are off limits.

How can he forget you though? You are the reason he breathes nowadays, but you are so blissfully unaware of the turmoil you’ve caused. Whenever you are in his sight, his heart pounds violently against his chest, he has never felt this way towards someone else and he doesn’t think he’ll remain sane any further.

Mattheo was never a sane man, so why pretend otherwise?

He’s a fucking hypocrite, has made you a bad habit of his, he wouldn’t like it if someone stole you away from him, but he’d gladly steal you away from anyone else. But you are you, ever so loyal to your boyfriend, you've been with the guy for over 5 years now, sweethearts of Hogwarts and now sweethearts of the ministry.

It's been three years since you've all left Hogwarts he was waiting for you to break up with your boyfriend, but it never came, it wasn't some case of stupid teen love like he thought it was, in fact, it became even serious-

He should have given up long back, but he just couldn't help himself, he hasn't changed much over the years, old habits die hard. Troublemaker then, troublemaker now. Mattheo wanted to beat the shit out of your boyfriend Lucas, how could he though? It would hurt you and there was no excuse he could give; it would only strain your relationship with him.

He wants to make a move but knows your answer will always be negative, so he keeps a stone over his heart and pines after you from afar.

...

But it's not enough, it's never enough. One look at you entering the room with fucking Anderson feels like a hundred knives stabbing through his heart all at once. You are in emerald green, the same shade as Lucas' shirt, his arm around you, looking ever so beautiful. Mattheo closes his eyes, hand over his burning chest trying to calm himself down as Lucas leans down to kiss you.

"They look so good together," he hears Pansy gush from his side, his friends agreeing, and he can't even bring himself to look in your direction. Would it be the same if it was him instead of him? He can only imagine being Lucas, it's pure jealousy he feels towards the man.

Why did he even come to this party? To see you, of course, there hasn't been a single day where he hasn't seen you, but he fucking forgot that you wouldn't be alone, you are never alone, he's always with you. It wouldn't be the same without the two sweethearts, it was the ministry's doing after all.

He thinks though, would Lucas love you like him? Mattheo just wants you to be his, it pains him to know that he can never be with you. You have so much control over him, but you don't even know, he smiles when you smile, he's angry when you are angry, he's sad when you are sad-

Has memorized each detail of yours, made you a constant in his life, fell in love with you all over again, with every smile of yours, with every word of yours, with every hum of your voice, with every movement of yours, he just couldn’t help himself, you took over him, it was inevitable.

Ever since the day you walked into his life, he walked with you, always together. Two worlds of their own, revolving around each other, that was until you found your sun, found someone else to revolve around but he was still tied to you, still circling you and always ended up colliding with him.

...

Why did you have to choose Lucas and not him? He's known you longer, he's liked you long before him, you were his best friend before you were Lucas’ girlfriend but why did he come first in your books?

You turned his world upside down that Thanksgiving day during your sixth year, running to him smiling and blushing, he thought you were about to confess to him but instead, you told him about your crush on Lucas and how you had scored a date with him- all out of the blue, he never saw it coming, who even was Lucas? “Lucas Anderson, he’s in the same year as us, the Ravenclaw perfect!” Then he never heard the end of it.

You with that stupid smile of yours, it was a sickening sight really, he loved seeing you smile but he couldn’t stand to look at it when he knew it was because of your boyfriend. It was as though, he had been replaced, it was no longer “Mattheo this, Mattheo that-” “Lucas! I’ll be wearing this to the party, or should I wear that dress, you know the blue one you love,” hanging off Lucas’ arm, navigating through the mess you and the girls had made in the common room, with those lovesick eyes-

‘Get over it’ he tells himself, but he can’t help the ugly feeling creeping up on him, Mattheo feels like throwing up as the nostalgia surges through him at the sight, you used to hold onto him like that, he silently looks at you, there’s grief in his eyes.

As the days pass by, he realizes how you no longer sit with him, how far you’ve been. And he can do nothing but watch you from a distance, can’t object so he seals his lips together, never mentions it, waits for the sweet honeymoon phase to be over but it never ends...

It’s been five years, and you two are still sickeningly in love with each other, it’s all in his face, he steals a few glances in your direction, can’t spare much more than a few seconds because it pains to look at you all happy in some other guy’s arms, the one who does right by you, the one who never gave you a reason to walk away.

Anderson made it all look so easy, he swayed you off your feet the moment he met you and here he was, Mattheo Riddle, still trying to quantify his unending love for you, he misses you, so he drinks your favourite drink, in the memory of you, you are the star of the night, the centre of the ballroom, too bright for his eyes, too sweet for his tongue, like the wine and rum you drink.

But he savours it, it’s the closest he can get to you nowadays, he’s gotten used to living like this, in pieces, each part seeking you in different ways, some part of him begs to hear your voice, some part of him longs for your touch but he can do nothing about it because Mattheo Riddle doesn’t have the privilege of being loved by you, he’s just another man in the endless sea of your admirers.

Even the silence feels uncomfortable now, he can’t just stick to his old ways, he can’t just silently watch the two of you dance in each other's arms, moving gracefully around the expanse of the shiny floor, he excused himself, a strong drink in his hand. Tears prickled down his face the moment the midnight breeze made contact with his skin, his head spinning with images of you, the memories of you, of the last moments of you with him, the last time you properly talked to him.

Mattheo remembers how you’d clean him up after he was bloodied up during some fight, how you’d lecture him, how soft and careful you were with him. How you’d patiently listen to his rants, helped him with his short-tempered nature, helped him navigate through all the academic stress. He remembers the healing touch of yours, the way your fingers threaded through his hair, massaging his forehead, humming to him as he lay his head in your lap, easing him of the sharp stingy headache, continuing your ministrations until he dozed off comfortably in your lap while you rested your head uncomfortably against the wall.

His heart swells as he reminisces those days, those memories that probably meant much more to him than they ever meant to you, even today’s grief and sorrow can’t stop the fond smile from appearing on his face. He’s been on this journey for so long, he understands this feeling too well, letting his mind wander, smiling at the sweet times till he remembers how it’s no longer in his fate to be in your arms, reality punches him in the gut, old habits die hard- he had gotten into a lot of verbal sprawls at the ministry, it got physical a few times and you weren’t there beside him, instead you were beside Lucas, sending him a pitiful look and that was about it, he had come to expect of you to be by his side whenever things got nasty, you had always been there but now, you were a stranger, were you even there to begin with? The look of pity was so unlike you-

The loud conclusive thump of the band pulls him out of it, out of all the questions, of what was and what could’ve been. He hears footsteps nearing him and quickly walks into the first door he sees. Wiping away his tears, ruining the sleeves of his navy suit, it’s draining him to love you but but but he can’t just fucking stop.

Mattheo didn’t realise what happened in the next few seconds, the door to the closet he was hiding in opened and someone entered the tiny space closing the door after themselves, it was you, damn his unfair fate.

You look surprised as you take notice of him, your hand reaching the door handle shaking it frantically, locked.

You glance down at the handle whispering “Alohomora,” It doesn’t work instead your head feels heavy, and you don’t have your wand on you, you look at Mattheo and then look towards the handle, silently asking him to open the door, “Don’t have your wand?” you shake your head, it’s amusing, the situation the two of you are in, he has his wand with him but he’ll pretend otherwise, he’s gotten you with him after so long, “Me neither and I was never good at wandless magic,” it was a lie of course, but anything to be with you.

It was strange though, why wasn’t your wandless magic working, that too with such a simple charm, he pushed that thought to the back of his mind, he couldn’t focus, not like this, not with you so close to him. Breathing the same sir, enclosed in a tight dark place, it feels surreal, he’s losing it. Mattheo can feel your strong gaze on him, you try to create some space between the two of you, but he holds you close, there’s no space what were you even doing?

You close your eyes at the contact, the touch was cruel, it was intrusive, it felt as though your mind was being probed- it hurt, physically hurt. It felt wrong, it burned where he touched you but there was an itch his touch was scratching, the longer he held onto you, and you started melting, the pain minimising by seconds, it no longer felt like a punishment instead it felt familiar, comforting, knocking you off your alarmed senses. You slowly breathe in, taking in the smell of his cologne and the smell of strong whiskey on his breath and... and- strawberry daiquiri, his hand left yours as you opened your eyes, his eyes were sad, he was Mattheo, your best friend!

Your vision unfocused and focused back again, body aching at the loss of contact, mind blank, veins burning, he looks away for a second and your heart clenches uncharacteristically. There's no actual logic behind your next move yet you do it because you ache for it, you don't exactly know why but you pull his face down and kiss him. He pulls away almost instantly after the initial shock, what the fuck are you thinking?

The light that seeps through the little cracks of the door falls onto your face, lighting it up, making Mattheo gulp at the sight, you look up at him with eyes so unnaturally blown off, hazy and dilated- you tug his collar staring at his lips, Mattheo inhales sharply and bends down to kiss you because, "Fuck it."

He holds your face tightly in his hands, cold metal rings digging into your skin, it's all he has ever wanted, there's no morality to hone here not when he has you right where he wants and why should he care that it's wrong, when you clearly don't? Mattheo kisses you with such fervour that your mind spins, your knees going weak all of a sudden making it hard for them to hold you up and body going numb unable to pick up on the feel of his body against yours, darkness surrounding you even when you shoot your eyes open, you feel yourself sink and then- nothing.

Mattheo freaks out when you go limp in his arms, he mutters a quick spell to unlock the door and pulls you out, making you sit against the door, patting your face and trying to wake you up. “Riddle!”– it’s Lucas, rushing by your side, taking you from Mattheo’s arms into his own, the worry on his face is akin to the one on Mattheo’s but there’s terror in his eyes too as he looks up at Mattheo, “What- What happened–” he just looks back down at your unconscious self, gulping hard at the crease of your brows, easing the tension with his fingers, “I don’t know- I just found her, like this you know...” he lies through his teeth and Lucas shakes his head, not paying any serious attention to the man in front of him when his girlfriend is unconscious in his arms, “I’ll take her back home, don’t worry-,” then Mattheo hears the man mutter to himself, “I hope, she’ll be alright,” Anderson picks her up in his arms, spares Mattheo a quick glance and rushes out.

…

Are you even there-? He tries to be around you, but you always look out of it, never paying any attention to him, in fact you don’t even look his way while he’s out here staring at you, every thought leads up to you, it was tiring and worrisome because you are smiling, so brightly, so close to him but somehow your light doesn’t reach him anymore.

You both work in different departments of the ministry but he always has found a way to be around you, he’ll never stop. Why should he stay away from you? He doesn’t fucking like the fact that you are ignoring him and it’s more annoying because it’s not like you are actively trying to avoid him, you just act like he doesn’t exist, like he's some stranger, there’s no active effort in your actions- he is your best friend for fucks sake the least you could do is treat him like one.

How can he live with such distance from you, you who acts like he’s a nobody, he’s always near you, always around you but somehow you keep straying far away- how is supposed to handle you, the you- who pretends that the kiss never happened, who pretends that you didn’t stain his lips with your lipstick, the woman who tainted him and pretended like she didn’t do it, why’d you kiss him like you love him and then act like it didn’t fucking happen- running off to your happy to go relationship, there was something off, very off about you, you didn’t look bothered in the slightest, it wasn’t like you, at all.

Mattheo couldn’t stand to look at you kiss Lucas as though you weren’t onto him the other night, how can you just move past it?

…

It hasn’t even been a week since the party and his friends are getting ready for another one, he loves them, but he is in no mood to party not after what happened, how would they know anyway- neither you nor him have spoken about it, why’s there no guilt in your actions as you hold onto Lucas?

The party, yes something about ‘the current events that took place, call for a big celebration’ he didn’t pay much attention to his friends, not until they mentioned your name, “They both will love it, especially her-” “I am sorry, what are we celebrating?” he finally took part in the conversation, all heads at the table turned towards him, “She didn’t tell you?” Blaise was the first one to break the awkward silence, “Tell me what?” at this, his friends shared a look, as though he had said something ridiculous. Why can’t they just tell him, instead of asking rhetorical questions? His patience was wearing thin at their silence, he stared at Draco, the closest to him, gaze so intense it compelled the blonde to speak, “Anderson proposed-”

Mattheo was on his feet the next second, he had heard enough, storming off to your department floor, you had some explaining to do. You sure had the audacity to play with him, he never expected such a wound from you.

There you are, alone and working, he walks towards you in vexation, you stand up as you hear his angry feet, he stands in front of you breathing heavily.

There’s no longer a spark in your eyes as you look at him, you are within his reach, yet you feel so far away– your sweet smile is still there but it feels different. “Good afternoon! What can I do for you today?” your voice is polite, and his eyes fall to your left hand, there it is– the sign of his blatant rejection. You kissed him and now not even a week later you are engaged to someone else, he doesn’t get it. Should he be selfish and break the truth to Lucas, have you all for himself? Would you even want that- will you ever fucking choose him? He harshly grips your hand, pulling it up, in front of your face, as if mocking your decision, “what’s this?” he squeezes your ring finger so carelessly, it hurts him that he doesn’t seem to care about your happiness for once, you only smile at him tilting your head to the side, “An engagement ring, sir-” he drops your hand, your words sting but your actions sting more, there’s not an ounce of guilt on your face, you simply look at him as if he’s some rando, who has no place to question you.

Mattheo balls his hands into tight fists, nails digging into his palms, shutting his eyes, bringing the fists up to his forehead trying to soak it all in, it’s nauseating, what happened?! What’s happening- you looked, felt, heck even sounded so different, it was you but then he looks at you a second longer and he no longer sees the eyes he fell in love with. Your mere existence is like poison, spreading throughout his body without his permission, he tried, okay? Tried to get rid of you, tried not to fall in love with you-

You used to smile, and he used to look for the source, capturing the moment in his heart, trying to recreate it, he loved to make you happy. Mattheo doesn’t remember a life where he didn’t love you, he couldn’t just think beyond you once the inevitable happened, you made him happy, you made his life better, and he knows no other way of existing other than being helplessly in love with you, no matter how much it hurts, just tell him you love, even if it’s a lie.

No. Don’t do that, he won’t be able to let go of you, no matter what you do, you send his head spiralling, he just wants you to love him, is that too much for him to ask? You were his happiness throughout the years but why were you withdrawing now? After getting him hooked up, addicted to you, he blames you for this, but he doesn’t- how could he? You are so sweet, the one he loves.

He can’t handle it, it’s stupid to love someone who doesn’t love you back, he looks at the huge blue stone on your finger, and his hand itches to throw the ring out, but he can’t do that, so he walks away from the woman he loves.

‘There’s something special about diamonds no matter how generic. Colours are pretty, sure, but I love the simplicity of a diamond, if someone proposes, I don’t think that’ll ever happen ha-ha-ha, but I’d love a small, polished diamond imbedded in a thin rose gold band. Something fragile, worth the extra care, like this life of ours,’ He remembers your exact words, he had been pestering you near the end of the fifth year to tell him about your future, about your ideal wedding, it was him trying to plan for you, for both of your future together, both of you were tipsy when you had your heart to heart, it was a darn cringy way of doing it but back then he thought you liked him back, he thought it was given that you’d get with him when the two of you grew up, how fucking naïve-

…

Mattheo was tired, he was just existing for the sake of it, going through the endless files, signing here and there on parchments, he hadn’t spoken in the past few days, he held onto his silence, there was no point. “She resigned, honestly, I didn’t see that coming but if that’s what she wants, I support her,” there they were, his friends talking about you, “I mean, Anderson just got a promotion, he makes a lot of money, she doesn’t really have to work,” this was new, something was very wrong, did you really change this much? There’s no way you’d leave your job just like that, Mattheo knows how much you cherished that job, it was your dream job after all. Money was never in the equation before, but why is it such an important variable now? You told him you’d work that job even if you made only a few knuts throughout the year.

“Anderson asked her to leave the job and she just did, she really loves him to do that, he didn’t even have to repeat himself,” Even with Mattheo making much more than Anderson he wouldn’t even think of asking you to leave your job, the one you worked so hard for, the one you tirelessly competed for, nothing made sense anymore. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, had you really given up this easily? What’s going on? He can’t even talk with you without breaking down, he can’t talk to you because it seems like you no longer recognize him, he himself doesn’t recognize you, he doesn’t see you in these choices of yours.

Maybe he doesn’t know you like he thinks he does, you have changed but he still doesn’t find himself falling out of love, why can’t he stop caring? And why can’t he do shit about it?!

...

It’s been days since Mattheo has last seen you, it's night, and he hasn’t properly slept in days, why did you have to steal his peace? He roams the streets like a crazed man, he goes wherever his feet take him and it’s no surprise that they halt right in front of your house, what was he even doing here? You were getting married in a week, time was flying by so fast, and he was running low.

He wanted to tell you to not do it but what will he even say? ‘Don’t marry him because I love you?’ Would you even care- Does he even have the right to say something? Would his words even change a thing? Riddle didn’t come here to cry but he can’t help the tears, he’s a wretched man, he feels helpless, there’s not much his body allows him to do these days. He sinks to his knees for a moment, to shed tears at the nameplate on your door, it’s the name of the woman he loves, the one who is soon about to be an Anderson, taking the name of some other man, the one he could never be. He tries to collect himself and walk away like the coward he is.

Earlier he used to say, ‘at least she loves me in my dreams,’ but nowadays, he doesn’t sleep too well, the dreams don’t come to greet him anymore- his imagination is no longer blissful, the reality is too dark, too etched in his life to ignore, to think otherwise.

He gets up and kicks the trash can in front of your house in frustration, he doesn’t anticipate it falling over and making such a loud sound.

But you are glad, the noise breaks you out of the deep trance you were put in, you wake with a jolt, your heart beating rapidly, and there’s not much going in your mind, you take a second to look around, it’s your room but it looks so different from what you remember, you feel weak, drained. You peek out of the curtains beside your bed from where the sound came, it was Mattheo!

You jump onto your feet and run downstairs, swinging the front door open, you don’t have a single thought in your mind except the one that asks to see him, your heart aches, there’s no other way to describe this painful longing that burns you, you’ve numbed everything out, you don’t feel the cold floor beneath your feet, the sting of the cold air that pushes past you, you just want to be close to him.

The sight of you was like a wound to his chest, the dishevelled state of you, the weakness on your face, the visible lines of despair on your face. You freeze for a second when you see him but then you are onto him, throwing your arms around him, hugging him tight, it all came crashing down when his arms wrapped around you pulling you even closer. There’s unending comfort in his embrace yet it doesn’t take away the sorrow, all you feel is relief surging through your body at his touch, it’s overwhelming, everything dawns upon you, and the mind that had shut itself earlier now begins running a thousand miles a second, you can’t help the tears, there’s no other way of saying that you are not fine, everything feels too real, you feel alive- like you are breathing for the first time in forever. There’s so much left unsaid, untouched but you can’t pull away just yet.

But he can, he puts his hands on your shoulders, examining your face contoured with hurt, but there are no physical wounds he can whisper cures at. There’s just the continuous stream of tears gushing down your face, the ones that wet his shirt, he can only wipe them away. He watches you with such concern, so much worry, you open your mouth to tell him that it’s okay, but nothing comes out, his hands come to hold your face, you try again, ‘Mattheo’ no sound still, only your lips move, your throat burns, you cry again. What’s happening? There are just tears that could give him the answer, but he doesn’t understand, has no clue, your breath hitches again and through your blurred vision you beg him to hold you close.

He pulls you back into his embrace, rubbing your back trying to soothe you, the other hand holding your head close to his heart. Mattheo had always been stupid when it came to you, but it never hurt him this much, so stupidly in love with you, always overtaken by his delusions that if you were with him, he’d never let you feel any pain but now that you were in his arms, eyes pleading, he couldn’t do a thing. He just wants to take away all the ills that bother you, wants to take away all the pain but he doesn’t understand a thing, he begs the stars above to let him understand this silent cry of yours.

There are innumerable questions he wants to ask but he wouldn’t understand so, the words die on his tongue, like they always do when you are with him. This love that had always been silently killing him, hurt him like no other, was now threatening to spill all that was left unsaid into the silence of the night, words protected within the vicinity of his mind, it was overbearing, ready to spill, and it was getting hard to hold onto it.

You release yourself out of his hold and suddenly he feels a lot colder, the cool breeze seeps through the wet patches on his shirt, making him shiver but he pushes it all aside when you hold onto his hand and tilt your head. “Should- Should I take you in?” he hesitates as he speaks, all his focus on you trying to understand whatever it is that you were asking of him, you shake your head and point at him, “My house?” you nod, the frown on your face softening a bit at his words.

Mattheo holds you close and walks you to his house, but you stumble quite a few times for him to just ignore, he silently picks you up, you don’t protest, there’s no point, your mind is hazy, there’s no strength in your limbs, so you just hold onto to him. But the hold you have on him is suffocating to him, he can’t be happy about you being close to him, not when you were hurting.

Gaunt Manor, it's your first time here, he dreamed of bringing you here albeit the scenario was different, it was happy, but the present was sad, in his dreams he’d bring you into the house as his happy wife, but it never worked out, you were entering the residence of the man who didn’t dare to call it his home, it was never warm and welcome, it was just familiar, he doesn’t know how it’s supposed to bring peace to you, how it’s supposed to make you any feel better than the cold outside.

He places you on the couch of the huge living room, mutters a spell and the lamps light up the room, then he’s kneeling in front of you, waiting for you to ask anything of him, a bit disappointed in his inability to make things better. Your eyes are red and puffy, you try to speak again as you look at him instead your mouth runs dry, and you can’t feel your voice, it’s a sad attempt at nothing.

Mattheo suddenly rises to his feet, and an unwanted thought strikes him, you'd rather be with your fiancé in such a moment of vulnerability, “Should I call Anderson?” He doesn’t want to look at you because it’d sting to know that he’d never be your first choice- you are quick to shut his train of thought, you hold his hand and urge him closer, shaking your head, the thought left him as soon as it came, the tears were back, they tell him, that all this has something to do with Anderson and it fucking angers him.

His grip tightens around your hand as you try to pull away once he kneels in front of you, you frown when he doesn’t let go, there’s grief in your eyes, sorrow that he doesn’t get, he sighs lets go but keeps close and looks out for your next movement. You breathe in slowly, chest heaving with tension as you look at your left hand resting in your lap, the blue gem on your finger sending shivers down your spine, it was ugly, the feeling that it gave you, you close your eyes not wanting to look at it as you try to pull it off your finger, your jaw clenches, teeth crushing each other. Several small needles poke at your skin, they dig deep into your finger as you try to remove the ring, you feel the hot blood starting to ooze out.

Mattheo’s eyes dart up to your face, you can't scream, you can't tell him how much it hurts, you can just shake your head at him and cry, tears rapidly running down your face wetting your collar. You go to wipe them instead you make a mess, staining your face with blood, the scene breaks him, you being so helpless.

He wipes off the blood and tears, you don't shoo away from his touch instead you close your eyes and lean into it, biting your lip because the needles are still digging into your skin, his attention shifts to the ring, he tries to pull at it, but you flinch away, he instantly lets go, muttering all the spells he knows, it doesn’t work.

He asks if you can write it all down, you try to hold the quill, but the tremors are evident in your grip, your hands are shaking frantically, and you clench your fists trying to make it stop but it’s fruitless, like all your attempts at taking control over your body.

Mattheo clasps his hands over yours in a reassuring grip, the touch sends sparks through your veins, then you hear screaming, something trying to wake you up, then breathing becomes a manual task, you feel your throat tightening, you start coughing, pulling your hands away from his and cover your mouth.

You taste iron, then the salts from the tears and sweat along the way as you purse your lips. The vibrations of your heart started ringing in your ears, all your senses heightening, making you cower into the couch, it was cold, it was hot, you were being pushed into pitch darkness, and you hear different voices going round and round, it’s Lucas, it’s Mattheo, it’s your friends, all calling your name, you are falling- it's an endless loop you are stuck in. Why should you go through this torture when you did nothing to deserve it? When all he can do is watch, watch you go through all that pain. Lucas is in front of you, smiling and holding a bouquet, of all the flowers you love, you are in a white gown, he’s in a white suit, there are people around the two of you, and you are tied up? There are binds around your wrists and legs, and you can’t move a muscle while Lucas walks towards you bending down to kiss you- and black.

Happens again, he bends down to kiss you, but you don’t- can’t move, Lucas’ shirt gets red, his smile gets even wider as he pulls back, it stretches and stretches, and there’s blood on your lips, on your dress, you try to move but your body doesn’t cooperate, as though it has been paralyzed- “Mrs Anderson,” and it goes black.

Mattheo wanted to be your knight in shining armour, wanted to be the person you’d blindly fall back on but right now, things were different, he felt hopeless, and he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if something happened to you under his watch, he quickly grabbed a piece of scrap parchment and ink, writing to St Mungos, they’d know how to help you, right?

…

He��d always wait for you, even if it takes you an eternity, no matter how many lives it takes, he won’t truly live until you become his, happily his. He’d take anything you give him but he much rather take away all your pain than see you in such agony.

Mattheo sits by your bed, the surroundings worry him more, ghostly white all around, putrid smell of different potions, incoherent yelling from behind the curtains, he can’t seem to secure a private room, no matter how many times he tries, all the wealth and so-called influence seems useless now.

You wriggle and twitch in your sleep, his hold on you never falters, they put you on some drugs, and your body was trying to fight it, it’s been two hours since he brought your unconscious self here, you screamed and cried in your sleep. No one was telling him what was going on, all the nurses did was come ruin your peace every few minutes, pushing a vial of liquid past your lips making your body stiff with tension and then you’d cry, he could feel your skin get hot, could feel the quickening of your pulse.

He was about to yell at some people because why the heck was no one talking to him? They’d spare him a glance and then rush past him, they were hearing him, but they weren’t responding properly, dismissing every question of his with an excuse. You coughing up blood was his last straw; he grabbed the first nurse he saw; he didn’t give a flying fuck that she was an older woman, didn’t care about the nasty look she was giving him, “What’s going on with her?” he pointed to your bed, his eyes were red, tired and frustrated, they turned sombre at her scrutinizing gaze, “Please just tell me,” he was quite literally begging.

The woman walked over to your side, holding your hand, muttering a few enchantments and cutting the ring band off your finger, sighing as she faced Mattheo while checking up on you, “Strong dosage of Amortentia,” “WHAT?” Mattheo was towering over her, yelling, eyes wide with anger, “Yes, an accumulation of over four years-” “WOULDN’T THAT KILL HER?” “You would know-” ”WHAT?!”

” Don’t act so innocent, it doesn’t suit you,” and there it is, the filth that is attached to his name, Mattheo Riddle, son of Tom Riddle, a father he never had, the one who died before he was even born. But it’s the truth, his truth, one he could only wish to escape from. He had always been his son, it didn’t matter if tries to change his name, he’d always be Riddle, and everyone knew him as one. Abandoned by death, he never knew himself- Mattheo as someone who could love or someone worthy of being loved. It was unfair, to be treated as his father’s son, that’s all he could be.

Embraced by fellow Slytherin heirs, not because they still believed in blood superiority but because they were alienated and knew the fate that shone at his feet, for it was the same colour as their own shadows.

Maybe that’s why he fell for you, the first person to smile at him who wasn’t adorned in green.

All his life he had been paying for the mistakes he never made, and had been trying to get rid of the black stains on his name, they were slowly fading but it was hard, to have to constantly prove himself, there was no integrity in their judgement, he always had to walk an extra mile to show them that he was worth it, for years he tried to walk away from the very name he was, a Riddle. But today, he doesn’t try, he’ll gladly be what they made of him, son of the dark lord.

Because the spell is right at his tongue, he very well means it but it’s you that stops him, you sit up on the bed, looking around frantically, he rushes to your side and hugs you tight, sits on the edge of the bed, you wrap your arms around him, crying yet again but this time you call out his name, “Mattheo,” and there’s nothing he could be more grateful for.

And right on cue, the nurse gasped loudly rushing out the small space, realizing something. He looks at you though, in relief, your voice is back, “How are you feeling?” he whispers, distress visible in his tone but he tries to hide it from you, “hurts,” you croak out and it hurts to even talk, you hug him again, his touch was soothing, his presence was made you relax but it was short lived, few nurses rushed to your side, trying to pull you off him but you were crying not letting go, being away from his touch tormented you.

“It’s going to be okay, you are going to be okay,” he presses his lips to your forehead, he himself didn’t want to pull away but he knew no cure, he was dependent on them, he promised you again, there was hope in his words, it was definitive, you were going to be okay, he’ll make sure of it, he squeezed your face before being pulled away, “I’m here.”

They put you to sleep, some things happen right in front of his eyes but all he sees is the grief-struck face of yours, the sunken eyes and he tries not to think of what he had been told, he seals his eyes shut, the way yours are. But the horror is still present, it’s dark after all.

Lucas is there, walking up to you, his white suit turning red as blood drips off him.

Mattheo was about to beat Lucas up. He won’t though, not yet, not until you are breathing properly, and speaking properly. “I’m sorry,” it’s the nurse from earlier, she walks away just as he opens his eyes, “At least tell me what’s going on,” desperation clings to his words, the woman sighs glancing at your sleeping form, she gulps as she tries to find the words, there’s humility in her voice, “someone has been giving her small dosages of amortentia but gradually as her resistance level rose, so did the dosage and there are negative effects to this, the love potion has been perfected so many times, each version stronger than the previous one, the side effects also become worse. Retaliation makes it worse, she tried her best to break free.”

At this point, the woman started shedding a few tears, it was hard to believe such a monster would exist and it was not his son, these wrongs weren’t done by the man in front of her but because of the man in front of her. You should have burned from his touch, but you didn’t, he wasn’t the man he was supposed to be.

‘Antidote side effect- the victim will burn from everyone’s touch except for the supposed true love-’ Infirmary guidebook volume one.

...

You love him?

He is loved back?

There’s so much to feel, it overwhelms him. His chance at a good life was snatched away from him, his love was stolen from him, and he was angry. You were in love with him all this time, he would have never known if it wasn’t for his stupid heart walking up to your doorstep. He can’t bring himself to be happy because you are sad, you are in pain, you were about to die, a few more doses and he would have lost you forever. This dumb fucking love, it’s maddening.

Mattheo looks at you, the red patches on your legs, the scars on your arms, the uneven tones caused by bruises, the side effects, the reason you were covered up all the time. He wanted to knock fucking Anderson out but he dare not leave your side.

He wants to beat himself up for not noticing, he prided himself in loving you, and thought no one would look at you like he did, but what was this love worth when it couldn't save you from all this trouble. What was this pride even about? There was nothing to be proud of, not when he couldn’t see the bright eyes dimming, not when he didn’t see the unusual becoming the usual when he didn’t see constant becoming the story of the past and change becoming the new constant.

He blames himself; he blames all the excuses he gave, that you were doing alright just because he couldn’t put his pride away and just ask you.

He didn’t like that you had to suffer just because you loved him, was his name that cursed? In his dreams, for you to love him, the consequences were always bright. This love isn’t fair, he would’ve died not knowing any of this, the truth would’ve haunted him for the rest of eternity, and he’d forever be stuck in a loop of regret and guilt.

Why couldn’t it be simple? Why did you have to get hurt?

There would be no one left if there were no you, he’ll make fucking Anderson pay, he risked killing you just so he could keep you to himself, this obsession is not admirable, it’s unfathomable to do such things to someone you claim to love.

Mattheo will never be able to forgive himself, not when he ought to be the one who cared and loved you the most.

...

A week later you were on your legs, weak but stable, and both of you were summoned for Lucas’ trial. Your chest swelled when the judge declared a lifelong punishment, Mattheo held your hands in his as Anderson was being escorted out, you knew the reason behind the determination in his eyes, who were you to stop him? You sighed and looked down, it’s not something you could watch though, he gently kissed your hand and reminded you, “He deserves it,” yes, he does, you were still recovering from side effects, and others’ touch still burned. Therefore, Mattheo’s touch was comforting in ways beyond physical, you didn’t want that touch to be corrupted by his blood.

“ANDERSON!” before the man can turn around, Mattheo’s fist meets his face, there’s no stopping this, no spell would amount to the satisfaction the hit gave him. Mattheo won’t be done till death threatens the man, he loved you too you know but he would have never sacrificed your happiness for his, yes, he was selfish, but it never came at the cost of your peace, your freedom.

It was torture, to confine someone, to close all their options, make them braindead, to hurt someone, to steal someone away from themselves, to do all this without feeling guilty, doing it intentionally, over years and still not sensing the wrongs and fucking stopping.

No one tried to stop him, no one drew their wands up, they just watched- a man trying to find compensation for what he had lost, what she lost- he would never find it and Anderson needs to know that no amount of punishment would compensate his wrongs. No amount of begging or apologising would save him, he is what he made of himself. He knew what he was doing, till his blood wore thin, till he saw death, Mattheo won’t stop and for the first time, in the court of law, violence is the answer.

The people see a man they’ve wronged, they see the man they read incorrectly and the man they honoured and it’s not who they thought it was, they stay silent because it’s the only apology they can give.

In this eerie silence, all you can hear is pain, Lucas and Mattheo, the two men in pain but it’s so different from one another, one carries the wound that would heal within days and the other hones a wound of hurt that’d never heal, only fade.

You pull Mattheo away from the unconscious man, there’s only so much pain you could afford to see on his face, you don’t look back as you walk him to the restroom.

Between his legs, cleaning his wounds, not scolding him though, Mattheo smiles sadly, this familiarity strikes at his heart, “I love you,” his tone is solemn, this is what he would’ve lost- has lost, tears swell up in his eyes, Mattheo gently held your face in his bruised hands, with utmost sincerity you whisper those very words back, his lips met yours- in culmination of years' worth of longing, love, all things unsaid and all things lost. Amidst the darkness of all misunderstandings, all the mourning, there is hope, there’s love waiting to blossom, it looms over their wounded hearts, lips on each other like a seal, a promise of healing, there was no better confession you could ask for this love, the one that transcends words.

...

#mattheoxreader #matheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #matheo riddle x reader #slytherin boys #pansy parkinson #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #sorry it took me so long #i have an exam tomorrow but this is important #mattheo riddle

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seoafin · 10 months

Note

Okay, I know we’ve been talking about dilf Nanami being the potential father to ripmc’s ONS baby but like… can we talk about actually dilf Toji?

In a weird way, I feel like her going to Toji sort of makes sense. And I don’t mean she goes to him with the intentions of sleeping with him. No, she just tells him her plan of losing her virginity so she has more experience and is a better fit for stsg. And Toji thinks it’s hilarious, the idea of Gojo and Geto getting cucked, and he’s a bit of a dick, so he says, not so seriously, but seriously enough, that he would be happy to be of service. And ripmc stops. She thinks. She agrees.

After all, he’s in the game, there would be no awkward lies to talk away her scars. And she knows him as well as you can know a man whose children you semi-raised while he went off to do whatever it is a man like Toji does. And he’s attractive, even ripmc can see that.

I think Toji would definitely be surprised, but he’s Toji, so he adapts. He takes her back home with him, and proceeds to blow her fucking back out. If stsg managed to white her vision out, then Toji straight up makes her lose consciousness. It’s too much and not enough at the same time, and she tears his sheets and claws his back and when it’s over, she’s not sure if she even knows who she is anymore.

And Toji is smug for all of three months until ripmc tells him she’s pregnant lmfao

You’ve never quite seen your old Sensei at a loss for words. Despite his rough, derelict appearance and vagrant tendencies, you’ve always known him to be a smooth talker. When he wants to be.

“You’re a funny one,” Fushiguro-sensei (or is it Toji now? You’ve long graduated) finally says after a brief pause. “I always forget that.”

You blink. You don’t particularly think of yourself as a comedian, but you always seem to make Fushiguro-sensei laugh somehow. You stare at your drink. “It makes me nervous,” you say seriously. “I don’t know why they’d want to…”

Part of you still thinks it’s a joke. It must be. They feel bad for you. Pity you even. That’s why you resolved to at least be good for them. You’d lose your virginity, and maybe learn how to make Satoru and Suguru feel good. That required finding someone who wouldn’t mind being with you in the first place. Better said than done.

If you had little to no confidence in your ability to please a man then you had absolutely no confidence in your seduction abilities.

Your face warms, fingers curling shut. “I don’t want to mess up.” And you would. You’d do something, you’d say something. It happens more than you want to think about it, especially lately. You say the wrong thing, and Satoru’s face falls slack, lips pursed as if he’s eaten something sour. Suguru’s smile goes pained, throat bobbing as if there are things he wants to say. When you see Suguru easily conversing with another eager daughter of a higher up, all winning smiles and pleasantries, you wonder what you’re doing wrong.

If you were just a little more well versed in social matters, you’d know exactly what to say so that they’d only smile in your presence.

Fushiguro-sensei yawns. “Well, I’m always here.”

You lift your gaze to him. He’s grinning now.

You don’t…think it’s a joke. You pause, momentarily deep in thought. Rather than clumsily fumbling some poor individual, you think that, yes, this would be best. What’s one more lesson from the man you still called sensei? Things would certainly be easier.

After all, there was nobody more intimately acquainted with the ugly scar on your side than the man who had given it to you in the first place.

“How much?” You figure Fushiguro-sensei’s days of passing time as a gigolo are somewhat behind him. The least you can do is compensate him for the trouble.

That earns a short bark of laughter. “Call it on the house.”

There’s a lazy grin curving his lips. Oh, you think. Now he thinks you’re joking.

You take a deep breath. Uncharacteristically roundabout, you say, “I would hate to inconvenience someone.” The more you think about it, the more you think this could work. You don’t want Satoru and Suguru to regret it. Regret you. You think this is the least you can do for them.

At once, the amusement somewhat fades from his face. Trust your sensei to read in between the lines. He’s as good as Suguru at reading people despite his demeanor. You envy the skill.

His dark gaze glints as he raises an eyebrow. “And me?”

"I don't mind inconveniencing you," you tell him bluntly. "Does Thursday work?"

#you know i thought it couldn't be worse than the chaos of having the BD be nanami but GOD. this is so so SO much worse 😭😭😭#ripmc's bad taste in men strikes once again #also toji 100% definitely wrapped it before he tapped it that's ripmc's 1% bad luck #anyway megumi is never speaking to toji AGAIN.#ripverse au #m.jjk

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seneitut · 1 year

Note

omg your gekko fanfic is amazing, i love it so much a cute jealousy plot??? amazing can I req another gekko fic with a gn or male reader where there's some jealousy and physical touch involved? ty if you take the request! <3

“A little bit in love, a little bit dumb”

[Gekko/M!Reader]

Words: 7K

Tags: Fluff, slight jealousy, medical terms, gay crisis, Gekko being a simp for male reader, NSFW (+18)

[I kind of went wild with this request I'm so sorry and I hope is to your liking ;_;]

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

In the middle of training, you fail to notice Sage at the panel of control, regarding your fight from afar in silence.

She watches you swing from every corner, wasting many bullets and missing targets that were easily killable. The strain in your muscles, the tight expression tugging at the corner of your mouth, the wavering of your wrists when recoiling from firing; whatever training you were going under, it was hurting you in ways it would leave irreparable damage.

Warnings were made when you began with this masochist training, hours and hours put into polishing your aim and battle sense to its sharpness. And despite the multiple times Sage has called you out, you never yielded.

This is partly her fault, should she have seen the pain you were going through, actions would have been taken in advance instead of melee warnings. It is part of her duty to survey and keep in check every agent's health: mentally and physically. Foremore, mental stability is a priority to her after the many battles that have taken place; if she herself was in dire need of therapy and often tries meditation as a way to control her emotions, she doesn’t want to think how the others were fairing.

Perhaps a conversation might take place after you’re done, with the hopes you will hear her out. Watching you fight, she wonders how you’re dealing with the pain, and if there is any sort of backlash.

-------

You were having the time of your life! Although having a guardian instead of a vandal was rough, too used to the sound and precision the other gun gave you, it didn’t lessen the excitement coursing through you when you got a kill, despite missing multiple targets.

Sometimes missions could go wrong, and funds wouldn't be enough to cover for a pricey gun to carry and fight with; to master others weapons is what could determine a win or lose in the battlefield, and you don’t want to take any chances.

The recoil from the guardian was stronger than the vandal, not as close to the operator though, but somehow, your shoulders were having a hard time adjusting to this new hold, almost to the point the pain could be unbearable.

At last, the remaining bot drops broken, having head-shot it from a distance. Breathing out, and proud of the number you’ve got, you turn around to exit the range, not giving much thought about your score and brushing off strands of hair that stuck to your sweaty forehead.

You cannot wait to brag about this to Jett, giddy at the idea of impressing her and, maybe, annoying her with how far you’ve gone with the guardian. She’s always teasing and picking on you whenever your shots fail with weapons as simple as a ghost; it is not your fault she’s gotten the training way before your arrival at the protocol.

“Your frustrated expression is really cute.” Gekko commented once, a bright smile adorning his face. “It's a shame Jett has to annoy the shit out of you to witness it.”

Blushing furiously, you shake your head in hopes to clear it from the recent memory, ignoring the fuzziness and jumble of emotions it causes to your heart. Now is not the time to be swooning over a boy—whose chances of liking you are none to zero—your priority being to get better and, maybe, deal with this shitty feeling hovering over your heart.

For god's sake you sound like a high schooler.

When the doors open, you are soon to forget your mushy thoughts, facing Sage with her arms crossed and a frown visible between her brows. It feels like you’ve been caught red handed doing something you didn’t know about.

“Uh, something wrong?” you ask, biting your lip in anxiouness.

“Quite.” She replies, cocking her head to the side. “Do me a favor and raise your arms.”

Blinking, you follow her instructions, rolling your shoulders until your bone cracks. What follows is immediate pain, having to bite your tongue to not whine from the shuddering in your muscles. Gasping, you lower them, panic and confusion swimming in your eyes.

“E-Er, I'm good, as you can see.” you lie. Sage narrows her eyes. “It hurts a little, but is okay.”

The healer calls your name softly, exasperated, but keeping in the stern expression, “We’ve talked about this before. You can’t keep going like this without supervision.”

Wincing, you avoid her stare. Deciding to keep silent is the best course of action instead of talking back, since she’s right. Guilt gnaws your insides for overseeing her suggestions and demands on taking better care of yourself.

“Please, follow me.”

Leaving the guardian at the range’s weapon storage, you turn to the door with Sage leading the way. The silence enveloping you both was heavy, but neither of you dared to say a thing to break from it; you were embarrassed, and she was too submerged in her thoughts.

At the back of your mind, you find the situation odd. It feels embarrassing to feel like you were getting scolded for doing your job, sort of, and the least you want is someone witnessing the scene without context and assuming the worst.

Turning a corner, you bump into Gekko and Neon, the boy stopping dead on his tracks to not run over you nor Sage and extending his arm so Neon won't cause a domino effect. You blink at them, heart flipping inside your ribcage when Gekko directs a smile towards you.

“Yo’, what’s up?” huffing a breath of laughter, he greets. Neon waves her hand excitedly, a grin tugging her mouth.

Sage doesn't stop for a second, walking past them with an apologetic smile, “We're in a little hurry, if you will excuse us.”

“Ah, sorry Sage!” His hazel eyes travel to yours, squinting in the corners when he grins widely, “Will I see you later?”

Nodding your head, you try to tone down the excitement in your voice, “Yeah! Yes, sure, um, let me know when you’re free.”

Winking, Gekko grabs Neon by the wrist and tugs her down the hallway. She exclaims something along the lines of being electrocuted if he keeps his touch longer than necessary and the other manages to laugh brightly, dismissing her warnings.

Something about that scene tugs strings in your heart, numbness overwriting the giddiness. Your hands twitch on your sides and your lips tighten on a straight line, confusion beginning to engulf your insides.

When Sage notices you weren't following, she stands still for a while, wondering about the hold up when something more important was on the line. Her sight sets on the pair running down the hallway, just where you’re still looking at, and she can’t help but smile slightly at the silliness of the situation.

Ah, a boy in love, she thinks, to be young again.

“You alright?” Sage lays a hand on your shoulder, shaking you out of your thoughts. “Shall we go?

You nod absently, sighing deeply. Sage leads you away to the medical parlor.

Your mind is soon occupied with the many tests the healer runs on you. Some more embarrassing than others, but necessary for her to reach a certain conclusion about whatever was happening in your body. The memory of Gekko is forgotten pretty soon with the stern glare she throws your way when you try to escape throughout the process.

“Keep still or else.”

She doesn’t need to finish her threat for you to obey.

And with reason, when the report of your exams reaches Sage’s hand, you are sure whatever was inside the folder was not good. Going over the results, her eyes roam the papers at a fast pace, nervousness seeping from your pores at the mere prospect something was wrong with you.

“You are in the fine line between having rhabdomyolysis and being fine.” she determines, closing the folder. “And this is because of the hard-working training you have gone under by yourself.”

“Oh,” Touching your arm with care, you lock your eyes with her. “What even is randolosis?”

“Rhabdomyolysis,” she corrects, “to summarize, your muscles are deteriorating and dying without the proper rest in between harsh activities. There are toxic components the fibers of the dead muscles produce, and is life-threatening if it were to enter your circulation system, leading to possible kidney damage.”

The news shouldn’t have shocked you as it did, shuddering at the thought you were so close to something that could endanger your life.

“Is…easy to solve, right? Can you fix this?”

“Not as you might think, it is treatable because we've found it on time. But you have to promise me multiple things before we begin, or else you’ll be sitting out from future missions and scouting teams. Am I understood?”

The urge to refute is strong, but remembering you were at fault, you decide to accept whatever her conditions were.

“Firstly, I’ll assign you to physical therapy to deal with the damaged muscles, alright? Breach will help you out with that.” When you don't react in a negative way, she continues, “Secondly, I’ll ask you to please accept one of the seniors as your coach for your next sessions on the range and forward.”

“But-!”

“No, not hearing it.” She cuts in, “Either you choose your own coach or I’ll assign one to you, understood?”

You nod.

“Thirly, and most importantly, I’ll ask Omen to be in charge of you for mental therapy. He will help you try ways to reduce stress and hopefully, manage your emotions in a healthy way instead of tearing yourself into pieces at the range.”

Oh, you think, Omen?

Out of all the people she could think of, Omen was the most prepared for this sort of thing? You won’t go against her way of thinking, but the choice makes you doubt whether you will get along with the wraith to spend more than an hour together in a room.

Is not that you don't get along with him, rather you haven't spent enough time with him outside missions to know what he's really like.

“At last,” motioning you to sit on the bed, she fixes your short hair until you’re no longer a mess in her eyes, “If you feel any sort of way towards another agent, please remember to keep it a secret, since is not allowed these kind of…fraternization.”

You sputtered, flustered by the implication of her words.

“Is not my place to say this, but you are quite obvious with your infatuation.”

“Sage, I- no, please, don’t misunderstand things.” Trying to explain yourself is such a nuisance to your own ears, embarrassed to the core at being found out. “I don’t like Gekko like that, he’s just, he’s just a good friend!”

“I never said anything about Gekko.”

Oh.

“Please don’t tell him.” You beg, panic rising inside your chest, “Don’t tell anyone about it. I don’t want the other agents to know I-, that I-”

Sighing, she turns around to grab her device, “It is not my business, you should not worry about that.” Sage glances at you briefly, watching your expression turn sour and sensing you crumbling in her office bed over a simple crush.

But, in honesty, it goes way deeper than that.

Coming from a society where loving people of the same sex is frowned upon, openly admitting to liking someone who is a boy drives you into anxiety that is not easy to control. Having to sit in silence for the many years upcoming and hiding who you really were from everyone’s eyes has been hard; but that doesn’t deterrer you nor stop you to accept whatever fate had ready for you.

The story changes when you’re exposed unwillingly. Completely out of your control, you don’t know how to handle someone else knowing about this delicate topic.

“Why do you seem in so much distress?” She asks, approaching you with carefulness in her actions.

Biting your lip, you shake your head. Both your hands are tight in fists, controlling your breathing with heavy intakes of air to keep yourself calm and collected. There is a slight moment of consideration of telling Sage about your worries, thinking that she might understand your situation; but the fear is bigger, clouding your senses.

Sage calls your name softly, worry overtaken her features. “Hey, breathe with me, inhale, and exhale.”

She holds your hands through the whole ordeal, waiting for you to calm down and come back to your senses. It takes a long while for you to register that she's still there with you, holding your hand and rubbing your back in soothing motions.

There is a moment of rushing panic when someone knocks the door; eyes raising to see Omen hover over the threshold. Caught off guard, the wraith apologizes and goes back into the hallway while closing the door, giving you both time to compose yourselves.

“Are you alright?” Sage nudges your elbow softly, trying to get your attention.

Not trusting your own voice to come as steady as you want it, you nod, squeezing her hand holding you still. Sage brushes your short hair in soothing motions, giving you time and silence until you're better.

Once your heart stops beating furiously and evens to a normal rhythm, you nod, letting her know all is okay now and can get a hold of yourself.

“So…therapy?” you ask timidly. Sage sighs tiredly, a smile tugging at her lips for the change in conversation.

“Quite.” she replies, asking Omen to come inside the medical room. “Your mind needs to find a healthy way to let loose the straining and manage your emotions.”

Drained to the core, you ask, “Are you calling me emotional constipated now?”

“Yes.”

You wince at her boldness, but it is a fair assumption, “A little rude, but okay.”

“Omen will help you channel your energy into something less violent and helpful for your mind. While you go at it, I'll be requesting an IV for your treatment later today,” Making her way to your files, she revises them in silence, leaving you and Omen standing there awkwardly.

A few seconds pass by until the healer notices both were still there.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Sage frowns, shooing you both, “Go off, both know what to do. I’ll get back to you later when I’m finished with my tasks.”

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

The way to the common sharing space in the protocol is quiet. The wraith has said nothing the entire way but to follow him to a more secluded area for privacy.

Despite the room being open and for everyone, most don't spend the time lounging here, but rather take their time to do something more productive instead of lacking off.

“So, Omen,” you begin, breaking the ice. The other acknowledges you with a soft hum, “what is it you're gonna teach me to…uh, canalize emotions?”

“I will help you with focus,” he replies. Mouthing an ok, you follow him to the couch.

Taking a seat, you watch him go around the room gathering a basket and yarn from a box in the corner. He fixes some long needles in his hands before approaching and handing them to you.

“What-”

“We're gonna knit.”

What the fuck.

He goes over a few of the yarn he's brought, choosing one with a soft gray color and knots them into his own needles. You follow his movements with a closer look, trying to memorize the patterns but futile with how fast he goes over his first row.

“Um, Omen?” you ask, “I didn't quite get what you did, do you mind doing it slower?”

“Of course.”

He detangles what's done, and this time, he goes over the motions at a slower rate to which you are thankful. The knots being made are repetitive and easier to follow, concentrating on every little detail before trying to mimic it.

Omen kneels in front of you when you settle with the tools, watching in silence how you knot the yarn to start making your first row. He leaves his needles on the side to focus entirely on helping you out.

“I’ve never thought knitting would help you relax.” you mutter. Omen grunts softly, fixing your hands position with a nudge of his knuckles. “Is harder than I thought, though.”

“It takes patience.” Taking the gray yarn, he detangles a few strands to help you ease the thread. “You get used to it, it becomes mechanical with time.”

You keep on pushing the tip of the needle until it takes part of the yarn, the first stitch, and repeat the motion with the next loose loops, finishing your first row of the knitted yarn within a couple of minutes.

Omen nods approvingly, “Good. Keep a strong grip on the needles. Here.”

His hands are cold to the touch when he covers yours to fix the positioning and grip. He guides you in slow motion the next step, to transfer the first row to another needle, a thicker one, for easier access. He’s speaking in a low voice, reverberating your insides pleasingly with how smooth it sounds.

The closeness of Omen feels strange in some ways.

Since his body is not entirely corporeal, you can feel the vibrations and smoke that tries to escape from the wrapped bandages around his body. When Omen speaks, there is an after sound that seems like he is purring when concentrated; is low, but easily detectable. Was it on purpose? Unconscious?

You want to tell him it sounds cute, but not knowing if it would cross any boundaries, you refrain from making the comments.

It is tempting, though.

“There, now you’ve got it.”

It takes you a while to know what he’s talking about, watching between the needles at hand to him in front of you. Omen doesn’t have facial expressions, so it is hard to guess what kind of thoughts are running through his mind right now.

But when he laughs softly, a blush spreads to your cheekbones to the point you want to hide your face underground. The lines of light on his face vibrate with every chuckle coming from him.

You shouldn’t be finding that attractive just now.

“Did you hear anything I said just now?”

“Yeah! Yes! Of course, I-!” leaning on the backseat, you cough embarrassed. “Um, I did not.”

Omen nods in understanding, but you doubt he actually knows the whys of the distraction. Does he even know how distractible he is?

“Let's go over it again, shall we?” when you nod, he hovers his hands on top of yours again, hesitating whether to touch again or leave it be.

When you smile, it gives him the green light to proceed with his explanation and this time, you hear the instructions and try to concentrate on his words instead of the pleasing touch of his hands.

Once the second row is finished, you think you get the hang on it.

“I think I got it!” You say. Omen nods approvingly. “Will you keep helping me if I get stuck?”

“Of course,” resting his hands on your lap, he continues, “is not always that I have a companion for when I knit. Would love to have you around for longer.”

Touched by his words, you swear to keep him company for as long as he wants you to be here.

“Maybe when I get better at this, we can do something together!”

Omen laughs softly, “It would be lovely.”

“Sorry,” a voice cuts in, making you gasp in surprise, “am I interrupting?”

In the middle of the room, Gekko stands there awkwardly, a deep frown apparent on his face, looking from the joined hands to the position he's found you both in.

You blink, surprised to see him there. Usually at this hour, Gekko spends his time at the range with Harbor to train his abilities, not lounging around the base aimlessly and lost like he does now.

Omen is the first to react, squeezing your hands before standing up. “You are not interrupting. Do you need something?”

Shifting his weight, Gekko glances at Omen and back to you, coughing slightly and mouth tight on a line.

“I thought you were going to be alone,” he says, muttering your name. “Are you going to take long?”

Looking between the needles at hand and Omen still standing in front of you, you nod, quietly apologizing for the inconvenience to both of them, “Sage has recommended me for some therapy, it hasn’t been ten minutes since we’ve begun so I’ll stick here for a little more.”

“Kay’, cool.” Gekko walks to where you’re seated, plopping on the couch and crossing his arms. “You don’t mind me waiting here, right?”

The wraith shakes his head, “On the contrary, feel free to do what you must.”

Next couple of minutes ends up with Gekko keeping silent while he watches you interact with the other, eyes narrowing whenever his hands guide yours in a complicated thread you get lost in.

Omen’s voice is soothing enough it makes you forget your nervousness of having your crush right there, concentrating fully on what you’re making. Despite your initial thoughts, the mental therapy could end up being something you could do in your free time. Because just like Sage suggested, your focus is solely on the object at hand instead of the events happening around you.

To canalize and handle your emotions better, will it really go to that length where you’ll be able to not melt under Gekko’s stare whenever his attention is on you? You know she didn’t mean your romantic emotion towards the other specifically, but rather how to deal with the whole package in stressful situations.

Looking from the corner of your eyes, you stifle in embarrassment when you cross his eyes. Gekko’s expression, sour and obviously upset, warps into a more open and happy one. Feeling cheeky, Gekko winks at you, making you falter in your action and warmness fills your face at being caught.

“Enjoying the view, pretty boy?” he teases, a grin tugs at his lips.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Gekko laughs brightly at that, leaning in to get a better look at what you’re doing. Your fingers work quicker now, pressure building the longer he stares without saying anything. And you don’t know what’s worse, having him right there sitting in silence, or rather wanting him to talk non-stop with his bad flirting and comments to make you flustered.

“How’s it coming?” Omen asks from another couch, his own work laying on his lap. Raising the little rows you’ve made so far for him to review, he grunts in approval, leaving his yarn on the side.

He kneels in front of you, inspecting the loops with carefulness. Once again, he guides your hands to the next steps, widening the size of what you’re doing. His hands feel warmer this time, softer, and you chase after the feeling when he tries to back away by taking it between your hands.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, voice uncertain. You shake your head, sending him a soft smile.

“You’re warm.” your thumbs run over his palm, fascinated with the waves of smoke coming from the bandages, “Is…really warm now, compare from before, how?”

Turning his hand around, he inspects it quietly, “Not certain.The composition of my own body is unknown, and so are the changes it goes through most of the time.”

Nodding, you let go of him, a little nervous for may have crossed a boundary right here. But Omen doesn’t say anything for a long time, his hands lay on your lap, unmoving, considering your words about whether his warmth had something to do with you or just the occasion of sharing one of his hobbies with someone else.

“So I was interrupting something.”

Gekko huffs, annoyance clear on his expression, leaving with angry stomps echoing the room, creating a bad atmosphere for both of you.

Neither you nor Omen know what set him off to be this upset, glancing between the place Gekko’s just left to each other, confusion palpable in the air.

“I’ll go get him, make sure he is okay.”

“Sure.” Stepping to the side, Omen lets you gather your things inside the basket he’s brought from the beginning, fixing your needles with care onto the side and handing it back to him.

“Is it okay if we continue this tomorrow?”

“Of course,” patting your back, he lets you go after the other agent.

Is not until you are out of sight does he sigh tiredly, starting to organize the baskets and yarns laying around.

Sage was right, your mental health was the least of your problems if you have someone as jealous as Gekko going after you. The poor thing didn’t understand Omen was able to perceive others emotions through their wavelengths and heartbeats, similar as to what Reyna does to intimidate her enemies.

Gekko’s love, or strong feelings towards you, was enough to overwhelm him. It got harder to deal with when he spotted you both knitting together, innocent as it might look, the other felt threatened by the sight of his loved one in hands with another who wasn’t him.

The animosity is something he doesn't like to perceive, he hopes whatever you do might calm him down next time for your session.

Anyway, at the end of the day, it was up to you two to figure out whatever was going on there.

He has enough with his own love life to deal with another’s.

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

Finding Gekko is not that hard if you know enough about his habits, spotting him at the range with an operator and shooting bots after bots with a ferocity that makes you tremble.

An odd sight, in truth, and it could only mean one thing.

He is pissed as fuck.

Have not been spotted yet, you walk right outside the windows while admiring his figure from a distance. He is not sporting his usual green vest, only a simple black t-shirt hugging his torso in the nicest way possible. The straining in his arms is noticeable, even from where you’re standing now, his muscles are big and to die for.

Gekko's always been easy on the eye, eye-candy, as some would say. Attractive, handsome, with a pretty face and a body that makes you stare for hours and hours to not end. You hate it makes you feel nervous whenever he is in the vicinity, by just a simple glance, he has you wrapped around his finger and you bet everything he has no idea about that fact.

Killing his fifth bot in a row, an ace, you decide to enter the range, ready to face him and start questioning his behavior with Omen back then.

The opening door echoes within the place, enough of a big call for Gekko to know someone else was with him. But before you could say anything, he beats you to it, not even turning around to acknowledge whoever was behind him.

“I don’t want to talk.” He shoots one bot down. “I’m not in the mood to entertain you in conversation, Neon.”

Neon?

“Estúpido Omen,” another bot down. “I thought I was being obvious enough, but he didn't get the hint and now he's all cuddly wobbly with Omen.”

Confusion and embarrassment is written clear on your face at the confession; mostly confusion because what the fuck does cuddly wobbly even means?

He misses one shot, “Fuck! I can't even think straight now!”

Sighing in irritation, he leaves the operator to the side and sits on the floor, whining in annoyance and covering his face with his hands.

“Am I the stupid one for reading the cues wrong?” Gekko laments. “What am I supposed to do now?”

Anxiousness is the first reaction your body seems to process, making you unable to mutter a word because of the implications of what Gekko just said. There is silence hanging in the air where all you can hear is your own heartbeat and heavy breathing, grounding yourself with your fidgeting hands.

Is it weird? You think is weird, the whole situation is weird and odd and ridiculous and, your brain is going into overdrive and making you all jittery and panic and an overwhelming urge to scream gets stuck in your throat.

“I love him.” Groaning, he turns around this time, “I really love h-”

Oh boy.

His expression is priceless and quite funny; eyes wide open in surprise and mouth hanging open mid sentence. But you are unable to comment on it, panic seizing you, and mimicking his face from the sheer surprise.

Gekko has just confessed his love for you, openly and honestly.

You should feel happy about it, right? Jumping around in excitement and holding his hand while you confess your own feelings to him and then you can have your own happy ending like you’ve always wanted-

Next you know, you’re running away from the range.

It becomes something out of a romcom, where one lead follows the other while they run away. The first thing that comes to mind is Pride and Prejudice, the scene where Jane runs from the church and Darcy follows after her to profess his love and how madly in love he was with her.

The rapid footsteps behind you proves to you this is not any kind of romantic movie, but out of a horror one with how close Gekko is approaching. When you dare to take a peak you cannot help the screech of fright at seeing him just a couple of steps behind.

“Why are you following me you sicko?!”

“Because I need to explain myself!” he replies, trying to catch the back of your shirt. “Stop running, please! I’m already so tired!”

Turning around a corner you open the first door you see, cursing loudly when it happens to be a simple bathroom instead of another passage like you wanted it to be. But by the time you back away, Gekko is closing the door behind him, blocking the exit while he tries to catch his breath.

“Dios! You run so fucking fast, what the hell.” Leaving the lock on, he then begins to approach you, taking heavy intakes of air.

Cornered, you try to make distance in the tiny space, nervousness crawling on your insides with how heavily he’s looking at you. You feel your cheeks warm at the sight of his own flushed face and shirt sticking to his chest, gulping nervously when Gekko smirks.

“Eyes are up here, sweetling.”

Shut the fuck up, you want to say, but bite your tongue to not fall under his teasing.

“I won't go around the bush, since I've opened my heart to you already; although mistakenly because I thought I was talking to Neon.” Taking your hand slowly, as if testing the waters to not scare you, he leans on and lets you touch his chest, right above his heart. “Can you feel it? It's beating for you right now.”

Trembling, you clutch at his shirt, lips tightening and heart screaming with euphoria and love from his open admission.

“Gekko,” gulping down, you dare to look him in the eye, “don't, I'm—”

“You don't love me?” he asks, a devastated expression paints his face.

“No, no! I'm just— confused, I guess…” when he doesn't say anything, you decide to keep going, “I thought you…you weren't like me. I thought you liked women just like everyone else.”

Gekko blinks at your statement.

“You know what I mean, right?” he clearly doesn't. “Neon was the possible candidate to date you, and it seemed you were really close…”

Bursting out laughing, Gekko backs away, trying to calm down with the sudden fit by covering his mouth. The ridiculousness of your situation is hilarious, because how? How is it possible you were blinder than him in all aspects in the matters of love?

And to expect him, out of all the people, to like Neon? His bestie?

“Boy, Neon is not into me, as you might think.” He giggles, “I bet you didn't even know she was with someone else already?”

“...no.”

“Figures.” With the remainder of his laughter, he approaches again, this time with a more confident stance. “If that was your concern, you are safe to assume we are nothing more than friends.”

A serious stare and an open hand, he goes on, “I want to question you now, if I may, is there something going on between you and Omen?”

“Huh?” frowning, you shake your head. “Today you've witnessed my first interaction with him.”

Huffing, he rolls his eyes, “Suuuuuurely. He seems to get acquainted real quick.”

“He was just helping me knit?”

“As if!” he exclaims, “Omen was flirting with you, and you didn't even notice!”

“I don’t understand where Omen falls into this conversation. This is the first time I had an interaction with him.”

“Yeah? Doesn’t seem like it, he got real handsy with you huh.”

“What even? And why does that concern you?”

“Are you for real now?” He takes your face between his hands, noses touching and lips inches apart. Your heart jumps inside your ribcage at the closeness,and any impulse of flight evaporates with a single touch, “I’ve told you I love you, that I don’t want anything with anybody, and you ask me why does this concern me?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Are you this dumb?”

“What the fuck, you’re so rude! Let me go!” You try to push him away, but he doesn’t move nor let you go. “Gekko, really, let me go now, I need to meet with Sage before she gets upset at me.”

“I don’t understand.” he mutters, his thumb strokes your lower lip, stopping your fight, “You’ve yet to reject me if you don’t feel the same, but all you’re doing is changing subjects or trying to get away from me.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why?” His breath mingles with yours, his hazel eyes don't leave yours at any moment, “Why won't you say either answers? I love you.”

At the touch of his lips, a whole shiver runs down your spine, seizing you to close your eyes and follow his lead. Your arms go by slowly, engulfing his neck with a tight hold to keep him in place while he moves his lips softly against yours.

It’s heavenly. Gekko tastes heavenly, with his soft lips and tongue intertwining with yours, you kiss him like you’ve never kissed anyone in your life; swallowing every noise and grunt coming from him, passion and love pouring with every move.

He breaks from the kiss, breathing heavily and cheeks shaded in a darker color; the silly smile on his face is a wonderful sight.

“I love you, tonto.” he whispers, stealing another kiss. You gasp into his lips when his hands find purchase on your thighs, roaming your sides with want until he grabs a handful of your ass shamelessly. “Why can't you understand that?”

Because up until today, it never crossed your mind Gekko would be just like you. A little bit dumb and head over heels for another man. And this time, the boy you are so in love with is accepting everything you are and more despite not giving him a straight answer.

Gekko cages you against the wall, bodies flushed together and hips slotting against yours; his hands are touching, pinching and smacking with greed every inch of your body and you don't know how to deal with the overwhelming urge to keep begging for more when his hands try to go under your shirt, feeling you up without shame. His mouth travels from your lips to your neck, sucking at one particular spot in your collarbone that has you weak in your knees, breath hitching in surprise and hands clinging onto his broad back.

Finding that leaving hickeys in plain sight of your body has him reeling in desire, Gekko dives in to keep biting and sucking on the tender skin until it changes to a darker color.

No matter your protests from taking this somewhere else, embarrassed someone might walk in, he keeps going, licking a strip from your neck to your earlobe and kissing your cheek with tenderness when you rut your hips unconsciously. His hand travels to your ass again, squeezing it with greed, and helping you guide your movements with more precision against his own hard-on.

“I've been in love with you for so long.” he confesses, whispering your name with sweetness. “I am in love with you.”

“Gekko…”

He doesn't let you finish, claiming your mouth once again, kissing you with fervor and passion that ignites something else in the pit of your stomach and awakens your own sex; Gekko decides he's going to claim you in whichever form he can right now. He can't let this opportunity slip from his fingers, not when he's waited for so long and now he's burning with an unrestrained passion.

He doesn't know where this sudden spike in confidence comes from; whether from your flustered face, whining his name in a tone that has him tight in his pants and fueling his ego or how desperately you were getting off to his touch and kisses, making him feel in power and control of your pleasure.

You hang onto his back as a life line when he begins pushing his thigh against your cock, gasping into his mouth and groaning in tandem with desire pouring through your every whimper. Gekko chases your lips, tongue making its way into your mouth and fighting for dominance until you give in, reeling in the euphoria from feeling your body and having you crumble under his loving ministrations.

The flush in your face, the soft moans in between sloppy kisses, your hands trying to find purchase behind his head; gods, what did he do to receive such a treat?

“I can feel you getting hard, love.” he whispers, he raises his legs again and applies pressure just right where you want it, moaning his name. “Just how long will you make me beg until you profess your love to me.”

Oh god, this man is going to kill you.

You grab the back of his head to help you guide his lips to yours once again to shut him up. The taste is addictive, way too good to have it once, and tongues toying with each other sends your head into overdrive.

Biting his lip, you moan his name once again, hips rolling against his leg until you both are frotting against each other in desperation for release. Gekko whispers your name lovingly, to which you swallow with greed for more.

“God, Mateo—”

You want this man to ravage you and make you sweat with lust, you want him to fuck you stupid with his cock until you can't think of nothing but him and being filled to the brim. To be folded against the mattress, to have him behind you, bending you over and thrusting without respite, any way he wants it, you need him desperately.

Feeling his hardened dick, even through the clothes, is making you delirious in ways you never thought was possible. Your own swollen member wants to be touched by his hand alone, to help you reach your climax while you chant his name in groans and moans, releasing your cum between your bodies while he fills your insides with his own seed.

“Please, Mateo, fuck me—” the boy grunts your name, lost in the feeling of your rolling hips. “I'm so close, fuck, fuck!”

“Wouldn't you like that, amor?” he teases, his hands tightens his grip on your ass, and moves you with harshness. “

At one last slide, the coil tightening in your belly snaps, the orgasm hitting you with shockwaves of pleasure that Gekko helps you ride out, keeping on rubbing against him until he reaches his own end as well.

The tingling in your body doesn't disappear immediately, your mind still clouded with the post-orgasmic experience and cock twitching with the last remaining of your cum. Your hands reach for his face, caressing his cheek with tenderness; he’s breathing heavily, eyelids low and a look that has you melting on the inside.

Emotions swelling inside your chest, you finally give in, “Oh my god, I love you.”

Full of love, full of satisfaction, you lean in to close the gap for a kiss, slower this time, tasting him to the fullest and deepening it. The sensual action of having his mouth melting with yours is a dream; sighing happily when he makes some distance and dives back in.

Gekko laughs in between the kisses, smooching your face with tiny pecks until you’re fully giddy with his affection.

“Who would've thought, huh?” he mutters, hiding his face in your collarbone. He keeps on mouthing softly your skin, leaving love bites after love bites until you sigh loudly when he sucks a hickey.

“About what?”

“That for you to tell me you love me, I had to make you cum.”

Mood shattered, you groan in annoyance, pushing him away, and pouting when he begins laughing in earnest.

“You fucking horndog, is your fault it led to this,” moving around feels uncomfortable, the stickiness of your cum drying inside your trousers was hard to ignore now. “I need to shower, I can’t go back to Sage like this.”

Gekko hums, caging you against the wall once again, “Yeah? How about you and I take one together?”

“Ha! You wish.” Trying to avoid his lips, you duck and try to crawl towards the door to escape. “Now I know I won’t be able to deny you anything if you get me in the mood.”

Bold as ever, Gekko jumps on you from behind, both tumbling down on the floor from his weight and trapping you between his arms and legs.

“You won’t escape then!” he exclaims, burying his face at the back of your neck.

“Mateo, this is disgusting! Let me go, I wanna shower!”

“Nah, boy, you stuck here with me until you tell me you love me again!”

Whining, you keep struggling against his hold but to fail horribly; but in honesty, seeing the muscles in his arm flex and tighten when trying to apply pressure was way too hot to keep missing out.

Huffing, you yield, “I love you…”

“Not good enough, try again.”

“You fucking-!”

Sage will have to wait for a little bit longer.

#*jazz hands*#gekko x reader #gekko x male!reader #valorant fanfiction #seneitut writes #gekko smut

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aita-blorbos · 11 months

Note

AITA for vehemently hating a beloved hero?

I (???, M) am not your usual lifeform. You could say that I'm similar to clouds. Despite being similar to clouds, I also somehow have an eye that allows me to see. I'm capable of raining down lightning bolts.

The first time I fought this stupid hero (???, M) was a very long time ago. I don't even care to be courteous enough to allow this imbecilic thing to be referred to with an initial, I hate him that much.

I really wanted to beat him in a fight. But instead, he beat me. He humiliated me. It made me so, so angry when I had to accept the fact that I was bested by this dumb kid that's somehow incredibly powerful. I know it might sound petty to be hating on a child, but I do not give two cruds... HE MADE ME TOO EMBARASSED!

I tried to fight him again as revenge. But he beat me again. It made me even angrier, it made me want to keep plotting revenge.

But as I kept fighting him again and again, I never won. He keeps kicking my butt every time, humiliating me every time.

Curse that insufferable, overrated hero. He can go sit on a cactus.

I'm also quite influential, by the way. I've been depicted in art by a well renowned young artist. Apparently, I've heard stories where she was mind-controlled by some evil force, and summoned art versions of me that got destroyed by that same unbearable, dreadful hero.

... Makes me want to find that evil force to combine with them, if that's what it takes to finally triumph that little cretin once and for all. But even then, I doubt it, because of course he'd probably still win anyways. For crying out loud... can he EVER lose?

I've never given up fighting him, by the way. I know I should probably stop, but UGGGHHHH... I just don't care. I hate him too much. I want to finally beat him, and so I never give up. I will never stop being mad.

There's tons of variants and branch-offs of me, showing how influential I am. It shows that some people do support me in trying to finally stop this awful, insufferable hero. If I have to be the most evil thing ever while trying to fight this stupid kid, then so be it!

Sometimes in my fights with this dumb turd, there's smaller versions of me that try to help. I like to consider them my children, due to how close they are to me and how loyal they are to me in trying to fight the same enemy. But sadly, they don't help much, and that atrocious kid has the gall to kick their butts too! It makes me hate him even more. It builds enough hate in me to keep fighting, even if I darn well know that it's to my detriment. I... simply... don't care!

Surely, this intolerable, detestable and aggravating hero must know how much I hate him, right? He's gotta realize it by now.

...Did he think I'd forget? The time he smashed me with his high jump? That time I was betrayed by ones that were supposed to help me! Or when I was replaced by that mechanical knock-off of me! I-I... sniff... there's something in my eye.

AITA, despite the pain and suffering I go through?

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

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lya-dustin · 1 year

Text

All is bliss

Chapter 32

Cw: mentions of voyeurism, infidelity and past murders

Gif by @fxtxdsxuls

Taglist @mercedesdecorazon @darylandbethfanforever9 @aemondx @ewanmitchellcrumbs @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy

They negotiate a truce.

She will give him a chance if he begins giving her what she is owed as his wife.

Her affair with Aemond would continue with conditions.

Conditions that she agrees to because to lose Aemond would kill her desire to live.

Aemma is aware that she could survive a breakup like that, but Aegon knows she was not lying about those thoughts that creep into her mind telling her to jump.

But Aegon will need more than one heir because Targaryen babies are as fragile as porcelain dolls ---and occasionally born without hearts, covered in dragon scales and filled with maggots.

“Fine, I suppose Aenys will need a sister to marry or we might need a spare in case he dies, but I will watch as he seeds you.” Aegon threw up his hands as he caved.

Aemond will hate it.

But he negotiated with Aegon about the terms of their affair without any input from her whatsoever the first time around. The queen supposed this was karma reminding Aemond she never forgets a bitch.

Besides, Aemma will make Aegon hate it, hold eye contact as Aemond ruins her pussy in front of him and cry out his brother’s name in a way she will never say Aegon’s.

It’s the perfect plan.

“Why?” she asks playing dumb. Aegon likely wants to stake his ownership of her that way or at least make it awkward enough to make them break things off themselves.

Oh, Aemma is going to make him wish he had never married her.

“I enjoy watching people fuck.” He said with a shrug. “Besides, I’m curious as to how my One-Eyed baby brother gets you to scream until you’re hoarse. Once I am completely recovered, I may deign to share you with him, you have not known fucking until you have had both ----"

“Orwyle said a year, by then I suppose I will be sufficiently recovered from the birth. You do not need to paint me a picture.” Aemma is embarrassed by how freely he speaks of this, of how his eyes dilate as he paints a vivid image of her being fucked by both brothers.

“Ah, yes, but what a picture it would be. A reversal of Aegon the Conqueror with me being the Visenya and Aemond being the Rhaenys.

Next son we have will be named Maegor, to complete the portrait, obviously.”

Her plans of torturing him until he annuls their marriage have been dashed to pieces now that because this fucking shithead gets aroused just by speaking of it!

Gods, she can never win against this man!

“If you want us to perform for you, you will have to give me what I am owed as your wife.” If she must lower herself for this and drag Aemond with her, it will cost him.

For Aegon’s sake, Alicent graciously moves out of the rooms she has had since she was made queen.

He wants to fix things with the conniving little whore who smirks as she directs her servants into adjusting the chambers to her tastes.

The green fabrics and images of the faith are the first thing to go.

Alicent chooses to move into the Tower of the Hand with her Father than accept lesser chambers here.

Aemond has moved into Rhaenyra’s old chambers as Prince Regent and interim Prince of Dragonstone, Helaena and her husband kept their modest chambers by the royal nursery and Daeron has moved into Aemond’s old rooms as they are perfect for a young and unattached prince.

Alicent refuses to let them see this as an insult to her.

“She is his queen; it is only appropriate for her to reside in the queen’s rooms.” She says when Criston pretends to be offended on her behalf.

Criston is to guard the king and queen because he is also Aegon’s Hand.

This Aegon had said when he threatened to have him punished for breaking his vows with the king’s wife when he still lived.

“Taking Rhaenyra’s maidenhead I can forgive, she was unwed and stupid, you, had Aemond in crippling pain from the loss of his eye and your husband alive in the next room,” Aegon had said eating an apple as he ruled from his bed. “Kingmaker, I should call you mother fucker.”

Aemma had managed to get her grandfather out of the Black Cells, her mother’s ladies sent home and now Baela Targaryen was back in her household.

Jena Wylde was her Mistress of the Robes, Samantha Tarly and Baela as ladies-in-waiting. Elinor Stokeworth and Elinor Swann were made her cupbearers, and Septa Teora was returned her.

Alicent does not wish to know what sort of price Aemma paid to get all this.

“I know, but it is that sort of thing you are not into.” Alys quips as they begin moving in her things into the mistress’ chambers in the Tower of the Hand. “Well, you aren’t, but our dear Lord Commander has had the occasional fantasy about.” The witch adds with a wink and Criston answered with an annoyed scoff.

“Keep out of my mind, witch. Do not forget many would like nothing more than to be rid of you.” He threatened, but by then Alicent was no longer paying attention.

She lived here as a young girl, after mother died and she began to run father’s household.

When Lyonel Strong lived here it was occupied by the eldest of his daughters as he had never remarried after his second wife’s death.

Then after the rooms had stayed empty.

Until now, that is.

“I see your son has tossed you aside as well.” Her father comments with that ‘I told you so’ she has been dreading since Criston returned with Aemma fettered in iron chains.

“Something must be done to curb her influence on them.” She confides in him once Criston leaves and Alys busied herself with the day’s work.

“Yes, a shame we must wait until the babe is born to be rid of Rhaenyra’s whelp.” Her father said, casually hinting at murder as they had supper together. “The first Aemma died birthing the heir for a day, her mother died from childbed fever and your darling stepdaughter bled to death, if our little queen were to perish then, none would be the wiser.

You are not the only one with blood on your hands, my dear. I killed the first Aemma, now allow me to kill the second Aemma.”

He looks at her knowing she killed Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra who was her soulmate and sister and only true friend.

Would her father look at her with pride when he discovers she killed little Ellyn too?

A part of her tells her he will be prouder than he has ever been before.

After all, he just admitted to killing gracious queen Aemma who never did anything to him except exist.

#aemma velaryon #aemond targaryen x velaryon!oc #all is bliss(in the court of aemma the great) fic #all is bliss fic #aemond targayen x oc #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aegon ii x oc #aegon ii x oc x aemond #tom glynn carney #alys rivers/alicent hightower

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quietwingsinthesky · 6 months

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I think, while I’m messing with shit anyway, that what I have to do for Tentoo in this AU is make her humanity a choice. Obviously, because I’m committed to the Chamelon Arch bit now, but also because it feels important that she chooses it. Even if there wasn’t much of a choice at all between that and a slow, painful death from not having nearly enough Time Lord in her to keep herself alive but too much to escape the burden of it.

Let’s set it like this—Donna burns because she’s trying to hold the universe in her head when she doesn’t, can’t, make enough room, and Tentoo is that universe without the fundamental physics to keep it in motion, collapsing in on herself no matter what she does.

Donna doesn’t get a say. That’s the tragedy the Doctor chooses for her. And the worst part is, maybe, that Tentoo has to watch and has to know that, gun to her best friend’s head, she’d do the same thing. Whatever the Doctor wants to claim about who she might be, whatever fire she was born in, they are, right now, still the same person. Until the moment Donna forgets, they’re the same person.

Because she’s got to start building herself somewhere, and she sets the foundation there. She won’t leave Donna. She’s survived having her hearts torn across dimensions before, she’ll live through it again, but even now, she has to know, losing Donna will kill her.

(She’s underestimating Rose, of course. She should know better. No one chooses themself as the crash dummy for a dimensional cannon unless they know they’d pick to stay where they land, no matter what breaks on the way. Maybe it isn’t the right choice, and god knows there will be five, ten, twenty, a hundred times Rose will regret it every time she realizes she’s never going to hear her mother’s voice again or see her little half-brother (full brother? the specifics of dimensional dna weren’t her specialty at her torchwood) grow up. She’d never pick differently, though. Fix this point in time. It can never be changed, no matter how it hurts. That’s one of the first things she learned running with the Doctor.)

It doesn’t change what’s coming. I think she’d wonder how many regenerations she has. Maybe they split the last one right down the middle, and neither of them will come out this next death whole but only half-formed and struggling to breathe. I think she wonders what would win if she asked for a breath of regeneration to fix herself from the Doctor she came from: his need to save a life, or the pragmatic decision to let his own end if it might save someone else in the future. And I think she realizes that she doesn’t want that power in his hands. Donna’s mind was spinning out a thousand new ideas the Doctor never would have dreamed of. Tentoo only needs one.

There is no halfway measure to it. All or nothing. Cling to being a Time Lord till her dying breath or roll the dice on humanity, hope she comes out the other side as someone she recognizes.

She’s choosing Donna. She’s choosing Rose. She’s choosing this terrifying not-quite-death, a new self, to change into someone who can survive this.

Because right now, she’s looking into the eyes of the man who never would. And part of her hates him for it so much she could scream. And part of her understands far too well and only wishes she had the words to fix it. To be honest, she doesn’t know which part is more Donna and which part is more Doctor. The lines are more than a little blurred. They think one thing in unison when she settles into the Chameleon Arch, and that’s I hope you’re happy like this.

She’s going to become Johanna Tyler (nee Smith.) (Not at first. Give her a little time. Gender is hard enough for humans, let alone aliens turned human who didn’t have it figured out either way.) Tomorrow, she’ll wake up from the strangest dream she’s ever had, and her best friend will be recovering from amnesia, and her partner will ask her if she’s okay many more times than she thinks she’d ever need, and the world will spin without her feeling it. She wouldn’t change her choice, either.

#i think tentoo deserves autonomy in being human. and also identity issues. because i love her.#idk. is this anything. am sleeby.#im realizing i didnt actually mention even this whole post alsjfkfjskdj rip to them #theyre frozen in fear and being actively trajmatzed forever by whats happening in front of them. and then they get a watch. so.#dw oc

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allycat75 · 7 months

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Hey Boston Dumb Fuck, your life must suck right now!

Once, about 6 or 7 years ago, RDJ paid you a compliment, saying you were "shrewed". But that was while you were protected under Disney's skirts and it turns out you were skating by using only your charm and privlege most of the time, whether you knew it or not. And when push came to shove, you didn't have the mettle to hustle like most of your peers had to do to become successful.

No, you took your hands off the wheel and eyes off the road and gave your career, no, your whole life, over to your incompetent team, who are probably driving around LA in brand new G- Wagons and Bentleys paid for by your carelessness. Once you did open your eyes, it has been one bad decision after the next to fix the problems caused from playing these junior high manipulation games. Too bad that money and time couldn't have gone to acting lessons and therapy to get you unblocked to determine why you hate yourself and want to dissociate from your life.

You have very few options left, BDF. "The Gray Man" and "Lightyear" were disappointments, followed by the abject failures of the Tell-Not-Show trilogy-"Ghosted", "Pain Hustlers" and the most likely DOA "Red One". You need a win. Not just a "he did ok", but an actual win and that could only come from "Honey Don't" (I don't give much hope for the "Materialists" since you and Dakota Johnson are just "in talks" and would have absolutely no chemistry. Besides, she is not a strong enough actress to play against- coming to the project with her own list of failures. Rom-Coms are also not your strong suit- not that you have any right now, and I am not convinced you would take direction well from a woman, given your performative feminism the way you treat your fake wife, even if she is awful).

But with the reception of "Drive Away Dolls" with critics, at the box office and particularly with audiences, considering "Honey Don't"s ties to it does not bode well. This needs to count, but how can it if the script may follow a story that at best was "forgetable" and at worst was a "waste of time and money". And how can you give an authentic performance when everything in your life in completely inauthentic- your wifey, your houses, your sightings and trips, your insipid political website, your woke views, your charity videos... it is all artifice and we see it. Are you a good enough actor to overcome your empty soul and move beyond this lazy, too-cool-for-school performance style?

Some can, but I almost hope you can't because you shouldn't be rewarded for this behavior. You will never even have the chance to learn if you find even an ounce of success being this shady and dishonest.

You are an almost 43 years old with little to show for it at the bottom of a super deep hole and I have to ask, do you think you have the skills and stamina to get out of it? We are just talking about the bare minimum of getting you back to sea level, not even talking about having you climb and grow to be a decent human being.

I keep asking to prove me wrong, but everytime I turn around you do something else that makes me lose more respect for you, but I am still gullible enough to have faith one day you will surprise me.

#This is what shushing gets you #all at once i knew i was not magnificent #white privleged mother fucker #liars suck!#i don't like hypocrites #i hate manipulation #brian wilson vibes #do better #coward #get some help #is your mom still proud?#People Magazine's Most Pathetic Man Alive

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hearthstonc · 9 months

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title: moonless sky when: post the tinkerer where: rome trigger warnings: grief

Regina loses herself.

The wolf loses her pack, the woman loses her wife, the lycan loses her sanity.

At first, she thinks they can survive it. At first, she can almost imagine a happy ending for her and Hazal. Then, in the blink of an eye, that almost happy ever after is wiped away. Hazal is killed while she is out patrolling, Haven falls while she is mourning her wife.

Her world dies, and her humanity dies with it.

The beast within wins, and she spends ten years on all fours, devouring everything on her path with reckless grief and endless hunger. Wounds don’t matter, when there is not enough of your mind to fear death. There is no time for self-reflection in those ten years, no time for anything but violence and despair and all consuming wildness that guides her as if she had been predestined to lose her mind for love.

She howls at the empty space the moon should be, begging it to bring back her love, to bring back the wife that had loved her too much to kill her and had broken her heart instead.

The moon never answers her pleas, not for ten long years.

Then, one day, in the middle of the reckless abandon of combat, it does.

The beast that had once been Regina dies in Forsaken Rome, not understanding the rebels plans, not caring for the machinations of heroes and villains alike.

She doesn’t understand how much she owes them until she opens her gaze once more and finds herself years before she loses the love of her life.

Regina can’t act logically after that realization.

She tears through the streets in wolf form, leaving behind her pack and her Alpha, only one thought in mind as she runs.

She needs to see Hazal.

When she finally finds her witch, the lycan throws her arms against her frame and breaks down, not caring to check if the other would understand why she was acting the way she was. After ten long years, Regina is finally home.

What comes after, it’s harder.

Regaining her humanity is a slow process, one she does not dominate. Her temper has frayed over her time living through the apocalypse. There is little that she remembers of the ten years she spent as a feral creature, but her subconscious won’t let her forget. The nightmares wake her up nightly, to the point they become a constant companion, but she refuses to admit anything is wrong.

Many had sacrificed it all to save them, and she will not make a mockery of their sacrifice by being weak.

She keeps her pains to herself, and sets to work. Once Tibet’s elder, her love remains the same despite the broken edges she can no longer hide. Working with the council, she sets up housing for visiting lycans and for those who choose to stay, ensuring they will always find a home there.

Regina has never been one for politics. After all, all that she had ever wanted was to build herself a home.

She hopes that she can finally do that.

#{ drabble }#{ musings } who let the dogs out? woof woof!

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unchosensarchive · 3 months

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battle thread: cassius, arthur, & victoire

Cassius: He had targeted Arthur Weasley upon first seeing him, fighting no doubt alongside the rest of his godforsaken family of blood traitors. It was past time they were rid of them all, Arthur first of the lot. A devastating blow for the Order, Cassius had thought, the adrenaline of battle not yet making him forget calculation, and diverted his path towards Weasley, sending a Blasting Curse ahead. His features, hidden by his mask, were alight with excitement, the smile of a predator drawing closer to a kill. “Come on, old man. You don’t really think you can save them, do you? It’s just a matter of which of your family we kill first.”

Arthur: He’d been having a good time, laughing with his family, and then there was chaos. But despite his age, Arthur wasn’t one to back away from a fight. “Maybe not by myself,” he spoke as he defended himself. “But we’ve managed so far.”

Cassius: Were it not in the heat of battle, Cassius would have rolled his eyes. “Then it’s past your time,” he said coldly and slashed his wand viciously in three strikes, a non-verbal Diffindo aimed at cutting Arthur’s torso into bleeding fragments. He was so well-practiced at the severing charm that it had yet to fail him, stepping closer to watch it take effect on Arthur. He would bleed out in minutes. “Don’t worry. You’ll all be together again soon.”

Arthur: Had Arthur been thirty years younger, he might’ve stood a chance at protecting himself. But as it stood now... he felt the pain before he’d realized what had happened. “At least we fight for what is right,” he bit out as he fell to the ground. There was so much blood. He hadn’t been covered in this much blood since he’d been attacked by that snake all those years ago. “And we will win.”

Victoire: she tries to remain focused . on task . as soon as the chaos erupted, she found herself doing everything she could to help get people out . to get them someplace safe . she’s not a fighter — she’s never been one . her instinct, her gift has been to heal . to mend . so she does just that — using her timid strength to lift the injured, and her magic to heal the damage beyond normal repair . throughout this all, she does her best to keep her distance . she can’t be of help in the fighting sense . but there’s one figure : menacing, tall, and cloaked in black that she can’t quite take her eye off of . until she loses him altogether, and her racing, concluding mind is able to refocus on her main task . she’s searching the ground for someone in need of help as she spots him again — and at once she forgets her task together . not because of him, though . but because, even at a distance, she recognized the figure on the ground to be her grandfather . in that moment, she comes to the most fatal conclusion, and she feels a agonizing, heartbreaking scream climbing in her throat . but before it does, instinct and anger calls for to fight back for once . “ STUPIFY . ” under normal circumstances, she’s no match for him . she knows that . not on the offensive, at least . but the curse is sent in pure desperation, pure emotion, and so even at a great distance, it’s enough . at least, she hopes it’s enough . she doesn’t wait to see before she rushes to her grandfather’s side, forgetting everything else .

Cassius: If there’s one thing that gets old, it’s being preached to by the dying - the fucking obsolete. He’s about to scoff, perhaps to perform one last Cruciatus on the dying Arthur Weasley to truly remind the man of how hopeless his defiance is, how powerless when all Cassius needs to do is flick his wand to destroy him entirely. But his power to do so is taken from him with a single curse. He’s not sure whether he hears or feels Victoire first but he does know, sense, without a doubt, that it’s her. Perhaps he’d recognise the sound of her fury unleashed anywhere, even in the fervour of battle, or maybe it’s that her magic feels distinct, all the more so when it’s aimed at him. Whichever it is Cassius recognises her mark on him, hitting with blunt force, before he has time for defence, as he falls not far from where he left the Weasley patriarch dying. His last thought is an inextinguishable lust for vengeance.

Victoire: " it's okay . you're going to be okay . " she assures her grandfather again and again, ignoring the battle in the background . ignoring, and not considering at all that she's left herself, and her grandfather open to retaliation . the fallen death eater ( cassius, she's certain of it ) is the last thing on her mind — as is the other death eater closing in on them . moving him could be fatal, so she almost choose to ignore it — chanting " vulnera sanentur " as many times she can before she's interrupted . before it's too late . there's nothing more important than stopping the bleeding, than him being okay .

#ii. cassius rookwood #discord thread

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erraticrat-blog · 6 months

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Of daemons and children part 2

"Lulu, fetch!" I chase the stick thrown by Emma, my ears flop with every leap, my tail wags frantically, wind blows fur in my eyes. It's been months since the summoning. Emma, David and Jess seemed to completely forget about the ritual. Resurrecting the family pet with the help of a demonic soul is something best kept out of your mind. Parents welcomed Lulu back with certain hesitation and unease, but they couldn't deny that she was alive. I quickly learned what it means to be "the best friend" for those kids and I dedicated myself to fulfilling my duties. I used to fight on the front lines of the Division wars, alongside one of the first Defiants. Now I carry a name that makes mockery of him and chase balls around the park. I have never been trapped in the flesh for so long. I can feel my soul being shaped by this body. In my dreams I'm still the Fallen, shifting between planes, going up and down the stream of time, taking part in gods' games. When I'm awake though, my thoughts are filled with simple instincts and desires. Day by day, week by week, I'm becoming a dog. Being a family dog isn't a bad life if you're of a basic mind. You don't have to worry about anything as long as you play your part as a pet. Like a slave. Not so long ago, just a thought like that would be enough for me to erupt in anger. But not anymore, I'm losing myself. I need to get out of this contract before I forget who I am.

Then it happened. I was being walked by kids’ parents, something that I had to accept as a pet, when I was struck by a piercing light. Suddenly I became myself again, ready to fight against the blinding shine, waking up every inch of my real self. I recognised that pain, only one being could smite with such force - Luminous! I haven't crossed paths with one since the division wars. Yet there it is, sitting high on a tree, blinding me with its aura. I gathered all my strength, all hidden fury and charged towards it, ready to re-live old glory. Lulu's body could barely handle my strength when I leapt forward, only to collapse when the collar choked me and pulled me to the ground. "John, help me, I can't hold her!" both parents struggled to keep me on the lead, but to my surprise, they won, they pulled me away. A demonic fury could not win while entangled in a dog's body. Luminous disappeared amongst the trees. I looked one last time, what is it doing here? How did it manage to stay hidden? I have to find out! My mind was racing when I was being pulled back home. - John, what happened to her? - Don't worry Marry, she is very old, must be getting a bit crazy. - A bit? She lost her mind because of a squirrel!

#short story #writing #writers on tumblr #doggo #squirrel

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annaschampagneproblems · 11 months

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a love letter to myself

I have to admit, it hurts me that I have to write this. I always promised to take care of you. It was the most important thing to me. I’m not sure why I listened to subtle implications that you weren’t good enough for someone. Nobody ever told me that upfront. How could they? It’s not true. At the very least they know I wouldn’t believe them. The best they can do is try for a reaction. Even then, a girl who controls her emotions instead of the other way around is hard to sway.

I am not reactive. I walk at my own pace on my own road. The walls are too high up for me to see who might be looking in. I just assume they are, because people get curious. I’ll be ok if they are. I’ll be ok if they don’t. It doesn’t change anything.

I was beautiful and smart before they told me so. Those are just observations, not awards.

You forget sometimes that not everybody is like you. Some people have to muster up the courage to compliment someone. Some people truly view themselves as below others. It’s not your fault if people can’t tell you the things you know about yourself. You do not need other people’s validation.

Act in a way that is true to yourself and you will not need anybody to confirm who you are. Nobody can be you. Not if you picked them up and put them in your place. You can’t expect them to know if you’re doing it right.

Real life is not a movie. In the movies, people are secure enough to fawn over impressive characters. That is made up, at your age. People grow out of it. But for now, admiration is sour. It is silent. For some, it’s painful . A beautiful, strong young woman cannot rely on other people’s attention or validation because people don’t necessarily like that about you.

Sometimes things get heavy. I have always expected that. I underestimated a girl who has conditioned herself to be the strongest in every room. This girl has always been in control. She didn’t get thrown into something she wasn’t expecting. She has always stayed on her feet, never so much as a stumble. She’s better at this than i thought, and maybe nobody wants to see her fail as much as I do.

The only time she doesn’t win is when she doubts herself.

I’m sorry for being your worst, and only true enemy. I surrender. I accept your power and strength and kindness and wisdom and beauty as factual. I won’t dispute it anymore. It’s a losing game.

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milady-pink · 1 year

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Waitress AU

Warnings: Food/baking, domestic abuse, unplanned pregnancy, cheating

Summary: Working at a dead end job, waitress Christine soon finds herself with a new problem: an unplanned pregnancy. Life is all about trying to find the sweet spots and luckily this pie genius has a new (and pretty adorkably sexy) OBGYN, who isn’t too happy at home either.

TL;DR Quirky cute and sexy Erik as a doctor, lab coat and all.

Word Count: 2477 || Graphics: @firefly-graphics

"You Matter To Me "

Recipe Book

AO3

It was going to be a long day, Christine could already feel it. Her casual fling with her doctor has occupied so many thoughts, she almost forgot she was carrying a child she wasn’t too happy about.

Almost

The biggest reminder was her bladder was losing more and more of its control, and her stomach was slowly getting a little rounder each week. She wouldn’t have noticed if it weren’t for her deadbeat husband, still not looking for a new job, was paying more attention than she was. His favorite way of reminding her was dropping needlessly to his knees, and plopping some unwanted kisses to her bump. The whole thing only made Christine feel uncomfortable, and a tad guilty for wanting to take away his child.

But she knew too well that the second he heard that baby cry for more than three minutes, he would have been over it.

So, keeping her thoughts on her work and not the two opposing men in her life, Christine walked over to her favorite customer of the day.

“Hiya Jo, how are ya?” Giving him her best fake smile.

“I’m the same bastard I was yesterday, Christine. The question I wanna know is how are you?”

She gave him a sad smile, “Same train wreck as yesterday.”

“What about that charming husband of yours?”

“Charmin’ as ever,” she answered sarcastically.

Taking no notice of her tone he continued to ask, “And the lipstick smudger?”

“Huh?” She asked, confused.

“Oh you know, the dog on the side?” Then, almost to purposely make her squirm, he loudly declared, “The affair.”

“I am not havin’ an affair.” She hushed. “We just—“

“Are cheating with each other. Your lipstick smudged so bad it looks like someone gave you a good one.” Christine pulled out a napkin and tried to fix her makeup after his comment. “When you finish wiping off your indiscretions, ya wanna hear your horoscope?”

“No.” She told him, not entertained.

“Aquarius,” he starts, not caring what she said, “‘Even if your husband is a miserable snake, you probably shouldn’t go havin’ an affair, ‘cause its beneath you and people might look at you like a common hussy. Not to mention the pain you might cause other people.’” He finished the supposed horoscope, and continued to tell her his order.

“This afternoon I want the ‘Singing Tuney Fish Casserole’, no pickle. Well-done frenched fries, on their own plate. And can’t forget Christine's ‘Devil’s Food Oasis Pie’. Which is the one you should bake for that contest, by the way. Then once you leave your husband you can smudge your lipstick with whoever the hell you want.”

Deciding to ignore his rather insightful advice about her marital affairs, Christine instead focused on what he said about her baking. “You really think that’s the pie good enough to win?”

Folding his menu and placing it flat on the table, the old man looked deep into Christine’s eyes, showing how serious he was being. “That pie is a thing of beauty….with every flavor opening itself up, one by one, kinda like chapters in a book. First ya get flooded with a dark and bittersweet chocolate, like an old flame…then the strawberries, they taste the way strawberries were always supposed to taste, but you never knew how….and— ya know what? Forget the other crap, just bring me a slice of that dan pie. Whattaya standing around for?”

Christine let out a soft chuckle at the old man’s antics. “I don’t buy for a single second that you’re as mean as you try to look. You’re the best tipper in this diner.”

Over at the counter, after giving the old man his pie, Christine made it to the other waitresses just in time to hear about how Nadir had awakened something feral and horny inside of Meg. She eventually got to telling the girls that she was going to meet his mother tonight over a formal steak dinner. It seemed to be going fast, but the two work well with each other, both in and outside of the bedroom. The whole talk got Christine thinking of a new pie.

Sugar

Butter

Flour

Mix together Golden Delicious Apples with melted free flowing brown sugar….add cinnamon and some allspice…fold in to some cocoa chiffon until they merge together perfectly….top with peaks of everlasting Chantilly cream…

The Pursuit of Happiness Pie

“Mrs. DeChagney?” Asked a voice, breaking Christine of her mental recipe book.

Looking towards the voice she was surprised to find Nurse Norma walk through the exam room door, not Eri— Doctor Destler.

“I’m sorry, but Doctor Destler and his wife had to go back East for a funeral.” She explained to her.

“He flew East with his wife?” She questioned, feeling deflated that she wouldn’t see him today. And to be reminded he was married.

Looking up from her chart the nurse commented, “Are you feelin’ okay? You look like shit.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just— you know the baby.” She tried to deflect.

“Course. So, how has it been working with the doctor?”

“Oh he’s very…uhm..professional.”

The nurse lets out a laugh. “That’s what they all say. Such lovely bedside manner.” She then spotted the treat in Christine’s lap. “Is that pie for me?”

“Uh…yeah…” she answered rather distractedly.

“MmmMmm. What kind is it?”

“The Pursuit Of Happiness Pie.”

“I think we could all use some of that.” Placing the pie on the table, the nurse placed her stethoscope over Christine’s middle. “Strong and steady heartbeat. Here, take a listen.”

Without replying in the negative, the nurse placed the eardrums onto Christine’s. Sure enough, a loud heartbeat filled her ears, reminding her for once that she wasn’t alone, even after all of these weeks. It caused Christine to think of a letter for the child.

“Dear baby,

Let me start by saying I’m sorry. Please, don’t take it personally, if I don’t seem as excited as the other mamas jumping with joy over themselves. I wish I was excited that you’re with me. Or have faith that I’ll be as good as the other mamas, even if my life is a sticky mess, and this world isn’t nearly as pretty as they want you to think it is in those baby books. I don’t know what I can give you, baby. What if I don’t win that contest and we can’t leave Raoul? What the hell am I gonna do with you then, huh? Some days I wish I could just give you away to a good family that gives you everything I know I can’t. I wish I could run away from it all. What kind of mama is that?”

After a regular checkup, Christine leaves the doctor’s office to return home, feeling more alone than she did before she was reminded that life was creating itself inside of her.

Sugar

Butter

Flour

“Christine?”

She turns around to see who said her name. “What are you doin’?You can’t just come in here.”

It’s been weeks since the doctor’s appointment, and even longer since the last time she saw Doctor Destler. Today was a long day, as usual, but Piangi promised Christine that she could stay in the kitchen late today to make tomorrow's pies for the diner. There was a soft rain outside, which has been falling all day, making Christine feel like she’s living in a fog or a dream.

Makes sense then for a ghost to show up in the evening.

“I had to see you, it’s been weeks and…I can’t take not knowing how you are.” He told her, concern making its rounds through those amber eyes.

“Doctor Destler…we can’t keep doin’ this, it has to end.” She told him.

“Wha— Why?”

Trying to steal her nerves, Christine began to answer him. Honestly. “Because,I’ve been thinkin’ a lot while you were gone with your wife…an—and I can’t live with myself.”

“I’m not going to have a conversation about how insane this is, how bad my judgment’s been, or how sorry I am. I would only be lying.” He told her, earnestly.

Taking a deep breath through her nose then letting it out through her mouth, she knew this talk couldn't go on for too long, otherwise they risk the chance of ending up in each other's arms. “Please, don’t say anything else, don’t talk me out of it, just leave. I don’t even know how to do this, haven't felt like this…in a very long time.” She said, mostly to herself.

“Neither have I—“

“So, now what?” She asked, hoping he would leave her to her heartache alone.

Looking down at the various ingredients layer out before her on the counter, he motioned with his shoulder. “Maybe…you could teach me how to make a pie?”

Of all the reactions, that was not one of them she was prepared for. Slowly blinking as if he was a figment of imagination, she asked, “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He nodded.

After thinking about it for a minute, Christine realized she hasn’t taught many people and this man that has done so much for her deserves to be part of it. “Sure, I could do that.”

“I actually have something for you….a present.” He disclosed, handing over a wrapped box from behind his back, never noticing.

A little suspicious but quite frankly, kind of grateful, she opens the box to find a black, stainless steel pie dish. It was beautiful, something Christine would look at for hours on a fancy restaurant warehouse website. Something that reminded her of her mama.

“I, uhm, had your name engraved on the back.” He pointed, eyes curios and versus to see if she likes it; if it wasn’t too far.

“Thank you, it's the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Blinking away the tears that gathered in her eyes, she tried to distract herself. “Uhm, I have some gorgeous blackberries.”

“I love blackberries.” He answered with a small lopsided smile.

“Great. We’ll make one my mama used to call, ‘Lonely Chicago Pie’. She made hundreds of different pies. They all had real weird names too.” She told him, crinkling her nose at the memory.

“Like mama, like daughter…”

“She had such big dreams for me. It would make her so sad to see how my life turned out.” Christine lets out a sigh. “Maybe I’m talking too much.”

“No.”

The simple word reinforced her sureness and continued on. “She would sing to me right in the kitchen when my daddy was in one of his moods. She taught me everything about baking… We had this song we used to sing together. ‘Let’s make a new one, mama what do you say? I like it when you let me pick out the name. Sugar, and butter, and flour, and mother.’” Christine helped pour each ingredient in the order she sang them.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” She asks him.

“I’m learning how to make pie.” He replied, slightly confused.

“No, I mean in this town. Why here?”

He takes a while to answer, even if his words hurt a little when he does. “We came because of my wife; she’s doing her residency here.” He can’t meet her eyes,but Christine is thankful for the honesty.

“Are you happy with her?” Christine blurts out, then, “Don’t answer that,” after regretting saying anything at all.

Even though she didn’t want him to answer, he gave her one anyway. “I’m not very good at happy. I tend to be a bit neurotic…” He smiles at her. “You calm me down. You…make me feel peaceful— needed even…. And you’re so beautiful, Christine.”

With her insecurities amplified by one-hundred percent because of how big her stomach has gotten, she finds it hard to believe. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about…”

The doctor does something bold then. He moves around Christine’s body and envelopes her with his arms, his chin resting comfortably on her shoulder with his hands holding hers over her stomach. Even his cheek, the unmasked side, fit perfectly next to hers, sharing the same breath.

“Christine,” he begins, his voice so soft and soothing on her wounded soul, “I can’t put into words, what your presence has done for me these past few months. Something about your eyes, like they hold words and sentences that I think and feel, but could never say out loud. I see all the words you wish you could say, and that made me feel so seen, noticed. I know what we’re doing is wrong, there’s no excuse for it. But if somehow we could have met under different circumstances, I wish we could have tried….to be more than what we are. Give each other more than what we can give right now.” He positions their bodies so that they now face each other, Christine craning her neck up at his tall form, and places one of his hands over her cheek and one of her’s over his masked cheek.

“I won’t lie to you and tell you emotions I don’t feel, but you matter to me. Your life crossing with mine has meant everything, and you were just being yourself. Whatever happens with us in the future is your decision, but know that what you’ve given me with what little time we’ve had will forever be remembered by me. Even if you want to forget and move on with your life, I’ll cherish every moment we had together.”

She feels safe, Christine thinks, here in his embrace. So she lets herself freely cry, every emotion running rampant through her she needs an outlet. Looking deep into his eyes where she sees a very hurt and scared boy hiding behind the mask of a well adjusted man, she tells him the same. “You matter to me, too. More than I could ever bake into a pie.”

The sentiment made him give a soft laugh, a hearty one. She removes her hand from his cheek, instead finding refuge in his arms hiding herself in his chest in a loving hug. They hold each other for a while, long enough for Christine to think of something else she’d like to tell her baby.

“Dear baby,

I hope that someday somebody wants to hold you for 20 minutes straight. They don’t look at you, they don’t try to kiss you, and they don’t pull away. All they do is wrap you up in their arms without an ounce of selfishness to it. I hope that you become addicted to it, baby. Addicted to saying and doing things that matter to someone.”

That night is colder for sleep, both for the scarred boy with years of harmful words thrown at him, and for the little girl who has her own scars from years of abuse, only hers were marked on her heart.

#phantom of the opera #christine daae #raoul de chagny #erik destler #musical fanfic #sara bareilles #waitress musical #pies

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ml-1998 · 1 year

Text

“Love”

When did love become pain

Happiness became sadness

Hope became hopeless

You became a stranger

I loved you so much

You’ll never get a grasp of how much that was

I would have done anything for you

It hurts that this is how it ended

How did we go from being everything to each other

To me being nothing to you

I don’t doubt you still love me

But I believe you pushed that far down

in order to forget and make yourself believe

You could let me go

But I forgive

People get pushed back into a wall and

They don’t make the best of decisions

I have been selfish and selfless in love

Selfish because I wanted you more than anything

So much it became an obsession. Or maybe just love

I was selfless in love to everything you needed

I loved you so much in the good times

And I loved you harder in the times

when you needed it most and weren’t easy to love

But I loved you anyway

Always did, and then you left.

I guess I understand why you did

But last year you were a dimly lit light in the distance

So far I couldn’t tell if you were moving further away

Or closer to me

Today is a new day.

It’s pitch black darkness

I look around there’s not a source of light in sight

Just echoed voices saying

You’re not good enough

She doesn’t love you

She’s better off without you

They’re closing in. I know these are deep

Insecure thoughts creeping on me

I’m vulnerable. Defenceless.

I’m losing the battle and the voices are winning

It’s dark and I don’t know where they’re coming from

But I hear them all around me

Just a matter of time till they win

And I accept that you’re gone

I’ll blame myself for awhile

I hope I can try and move forward

to find some light

Because you took all of it

Which I don’t blame you

Because you gave it to me in the first place

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waitingformyfavoritesongs · 2 years

Text

14 fe bru ar y 2023 Sdsy autocorrect being weird: SDSU stay.. was trying 2 type Tuesday 12:24 am pdt

they never mean anything they say unless it has to do with dying. Killing me. I anticipate dying pain abdomen stomachache? Piercing pain 12:25 am pdt see? I can’t though Bcz you’re not here.

A classmate of mine decided to collect people’s cell phones 📱 & put them up on a wall as a social experiment contest. Prize was a new phone 📱 if the last one. I have (1:18 am pdt gave) her mine for 2-3 days. I did not win. Then after I graduated 2009, she went on a camping ⛺️ trip & died in a car accident. She was a philosophy & art practice major. 12:29 am pdt

12:30 am pdt in Kroeber hall I think it was I was walking 🚶🏿‍♀️ through the halls & a guy who I didn’t see his face did a weird pivot in front of me, & I thought It was strange. Someone seemed to call (heart pain 12:32 am pdt heart ♥️) out to that guy “Amar!” Autocorrect: Brendan I A... ok. Amar is a familiar name to me. I hung out with someone named Amar. But I didn’t know this Amar. 12:34 am pdt so it caught my attention, too. 12:35 am pdt (#3 feels 12:35 am pdt & hot 🥵) if you recall, Amar Malik helped write ✍️ Stereo Hearts ♥️ so there’s that, too. Lots of coincidences. 12:37 am pdt

≈12:23 am pdt incubus was burning my back & pulling apart my hip bones 🦴��😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭12:38 am pdt

12:39 am pdt I also found online in 2017 that Amar Malik reviewed cell phones 📱. A weird thing I also found on Wikipedia ≈2013/2014 forget when that he was originally a computer programming major. At Virginia tech? 12:41 am pdt some weird stuff was going on with my MacBook’s WiFi... weird. Also ≈2015/2016 I looked inside that laptop 👩🏻‍💻 & found some wet silver stuff... I don’t know where this wet silver stuff is coming from. I bought the laptop in 2007 & this was not a part of the laptop 👩🏻‍💻 that I usually looked at. 12:43 am pdt

going back to university... there was a day everyone’s projects were playing & on display & it’s near the end of the semester, in the gallery open to public. A tall thin brown skin young man was next to me wearing a bright red T-shirt. 12:45 am pdt

12:46 am pdt the lights of the room I think is off, w/ natural light 💡 filtering in through the hallway windows 🪟???? Right shin pain 😖😭😤🥵😤🥵😤🥵 12:47 am pdt my dvd 📀 of my project was playing & near the end I’m screaming in it & made a hole in the wall w/ a chair 🪑. The guy standing next to me yells out “she’s crazy! She’s really crazy!” & I almost say to him “I’m right here” but I don’t. I didn’t have enough confidence? To talk to this stranger? Often also I don’t feel like I can speak 🗣. 12:50 am pdt I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️ if this guy is the same guy who pivoted in front of me at that other moment. I think I sometimes don’t have a very good visual face memory? 12:51 am pdt

beats 🎧 audio head phones are also (weird farting I don’t like 😩😖😭head right side temple stabbed pain 12:53 am pdt) I think incubus is going to kill me afterthis. In music video maroon 5 give a little more. 12:54 am pdt Steve LaMar & Steve LaMar 2 different guys? 12:55 am pdt Sierra LaMar’s dad.

1:18 am pdt I don’t like the way this is going with incubus I really don’t trust them. He’s going to tear me apart. I’m going to not have legs 🦵 soon. 1:19 am pdt or I will be dead soon. I’d rather die than live with out legs 🦵. I’ve been through enough misery/agony. 1:20 am pdt

6:59 am pdt diarrhea feeling when I wake up 🆙 a few mins ago. They really destroyed too much of my brain 🧠 it’s giving me anxiety.

7 am pdt I don’t see a happey ending. They really told me so. I am losing the ability to keep reality & emotions straight? Logic - ability to hold onto it? One thought 💭. They came clean to me, that everything is a manipulation tactic. 7:03 am pdt I’m guessing from now on they cannot hold onto the lie. Bcz they are probably going full force on killing me.

7:04 am pdt they had folded pages pages of my dictionary to tell me that I was going to be extremely damaged to win at near the end of last year - the fight to improve society - a martyr but I guess that should have been my hint that they’re lying 🤥 about being my husband & children 👶. They all manipulated me w/ showing me tears & puffy eyes 👀 as if they don’t have control over how damaged I become. They beat me up. If I ever point out something. 7:07 am pdt they are destroying me. 8 billion is a lot. Why keeps going up? They have capabilities to support a bigger population but they don’t want a bigger population. How many stars ⭐️ are there in the universie? Are we really alone in the universe? 7:09 am pdt

7:25 am pdt the question 🙋🏻‍♀️ is I guess as a beast w/ the head injury 🤕 who healed ??? Coming from the oven ocean 🌊.............. are you going to stand alone hidden in agony or out in the open for everyone to see so that you can really see that god is a liar 🤥 w/ no intentions of making society better????

ANYONE who doesn’t help me, will be considered GUILTY of supporting human (pain. ! Brain 🧠 inside ow!) s*x trafficking. If Amar Malik & whoever knew him to be at UC Berkeley December 2008 doesn’t come forward & anyone who knows the voice did not originate in Holland doesn’t come forward. You will all be speculated to be guilty of supporting human s*x trafficking. Beats audio head set is alink. 7:30 am pdt & so am I. If you don’t come out with the truth, you will not be set free. You can do what the devil incubus wants or you can make this easy. 7:31 am pdt 7:32 am pdt

would you rather go down swinging alone or out in the open so we can show the world 🌎 what a liar god is? 7:32 am pdt

Joe, you need to stop hiding from. Me. 7:33 am pdt I believe you told Simon cowbell something & that’s why he’s like that now. L

7:43 am pdt 7:44 am pdt that includes you Instagram stop 🛑 suspending my account you’re hiding evidence from everyone. 7:44 am pdt

7:45 am pdt I saw on YouTube that heather hamptons real last name is heather lean ≈2013. Same last name as “Brendan” [email protected] 7:46 am pdt linked to the link

7:55 am pdt incubus will kill when he wants. Simon barely said a thing & he destroyed him. He was standing alone at the time? 7:55 am pdt

7:58 am pdt my head is burning 🔥 I guess no one will help me. So the world 🌎 will be always the same. I will be gone. But every one who could have spoken up 🆙 will most likely die too after I’m gone/dead. 8 am pdt

8:44 we can go down swinging punches tiger tiger together in public or die alone. 8:45 am pdt

8:46 am pdt I guess only

robots 🤖 are reading 📖 my tumblr 8:47 am pdt

9:44 am pdt guess I am crazy . No one’s going to help. No one cares. Everybody likes human trafficking. “Porn makes the world go round.” - incubus. Porn = s*x human trafficking? A component of? 🤔9:46 am pdt

guess we are really doomed to continue on like this forever. 9:48 am pdt I didn’t realize that we would be after all the brain 🧠 washing last year. Have to readjust again to the idea 💡 of a tortured painful life & death ☠️ again. Up 🆙 down up 🆙 down roller coaster 🎢 9:51 am pdt unfortunately.

tick tock autocorrect: tock to kill. 9:54 am pdt death ☠️ is enevitable. You think incubus is going to keep you? He’s interested in very young woman 👩🏻 for s*x only. That’s why he cheats. He likes them naïve. 9:56 am pdt

9:57 am pdt if you like old duck 🦆 d*ck 🍆who will dispose of you easy... 9:58 am pdt

probably only today I have left to live. 10:05 am pdt the way it’s going. After today it will probably no longer be possible to change anything. 10:06 am pdt time will be up. Written in stone. 10:07 am pdt

10:08 am pdt Scott once went w/ a bunch of his friends to the science 🧬 academy museum place? W/o his best friend J. J. Was so mad they went w/o him & (10:12 am pdt he was working), including J’s girlfriend who I think he recently married. They all took a picture together, w/ J’s girlfriend standing in front of Scott. What a great best friend. Forced nicolatian? Possibly. Not sure. Speculation. But maybe worth thinking about & keeping it in your memory. Own idea 💡 alluding to what the future holds & the present. 🎁 brain 🧠 acid & sandpaper pain. Scott I think 🤔 might have taken another young woman 👩🏼W/ them. I think her name was joanna something like Dunham? I forget. 10:14 am pdt my bRain 🧠- probably a bad omen. The accidental spelling. I guess a lot of guys like that sort of nicolatiam stuff including incubus Bcz it looks like he’s threatening me w/acid in my brain 🧠 again w/ accidental spelling w/ R capitalized = acid Rain 🌧 in brain 🧠😞 10:17 am pdt

I forget the name of the place probably San Francisco 10:17 am pdt I guess incubus thinks it is love to tell a middle age man to rape an 11 year old girl 👧. That’s incubus love. Never ending story. 10:19 am pdt

10:23 am pdt maybe in other situations it would b ok if you don’t already have a partial commitment to someone that’s meant as a trial run to marriage if it was a group date, but he’s king 🤴 david w/ a lot of power. Can’t say no in the land of nod. 10:23 am pdt helicopter 🚁 passing by. 10:25 am pdt

Americas funniest home videos

Scott’s mural at a pizza 🍕 place

fuze? YouTube video

a clip from will Ferrell animated movie 🎥 in an interview show

I will look 👀 for urL of the fuze. I got ta go I think 💭 11:36 am pdt

11:57 am pdt can’t find it. /watch?v=v60lwuZczSk

might an i or an L not sure this is different that came up 🆙 in search 🔦. 11:59 am pdt coughing difficulty breathing pain skull 💀 brain 🧠 when coughing 12 pmpdt hot 🥵😤🥵😤

about 20 mins ago I started feeling greedy like I want all the money 💰 I’m the world 🌎 I’m greedy I’m greedy I’m greedy I’m greedy I’m greedy I’m greedy I feel wicked & cruel. Why? Bcz I saved money 💰 & didn’t share w/ my aunt & cousin? 😞 I didn’t kick them out. My mom did. I feel guilty though Bcz I gave her a hard time about hand washing, the way the trash was taken out, making a mess won the kitchen floor when they ate. It was a lot I thought I remembered at the time - for a second made me feel wicked about talking about it. That’s what a table and placemat is for. Eat on the table. Don’t let it fall on the floor. I vacuumed literally minutes b4 she came &!started eating then my cousin copied her soon after. At the time my aunt believed I was bad, & my mom sat w/ her in spark (12:15 pmpdt park) to talk to give her a second chance to convince her not to kick her out. I grew up having to be quiet & not interrupt her sleep 🛌. Whenever my mom woke up Bcz of a noise I produced she got very mad at me. My aunt & cousin didn’t seem to try to respect that at the time. My mom made excuses for them at first saying, I should really be up 🆙 at 7 am anyway. We were both in btwn jobs. & I think I was paying for 3/4 ? 2/3? Of the rent at the time. I think I remember admitting to my mom that I should not have been as hard about it to her as I was, that I should not have yelled at her? I think 🤔 I said that. But something really made my mom want to kick 🦵 her out. Was it me? Was it them? Was it something else? 12:14 pmpdt I was extra hard on her Bcz I was afraid to live together. I actually wasn’t comfortable with the idea 💡 but my mom said we had no choice? I should have been not as hard as I was. I think 🤔 though if she didn’t give me a hard time about some things like that I knew better about eating 🍽 the chocolate burnt hard rock cake, therefore it was wrong of me to complain about them being noisy at a time I was trying to catch up on sleep 🛌. Does brain 🧠 damage from getting punched in the top of the head. Does that make you more likely to not be able to control your cravings & eating impulses? 😱😰 🧟‍♀️🧟🧟‍♂️😱😤🥵😤🥵😤🥵🥺 I think I might have had a fear that she was going to walk all over me at some point. Is this unlikely? Unfounded? I should have not complained. They weren’t going to be around everyday. I probably should have just tolerated it. I wasn’t comfortable w/ the idea 💡 of living w/ them though Bcz of myself. Bcz I was too afraid of my past. Bcz I condemned myself. I guess she’s really mad at me for getting kicked out. Maybe if she was not noisy & didn’t intentionally interrupt my mom’s sleep 🛌 maybe we would have stayed together? Maybe my fears would have subsided & eased into the new living arrangement? Maybe? I feel like I am full of it at that thought 💭 but it probably could have worked out if we talked? We lived w/ each other periodically b4 & I did live at least once w/ a roommate in college for a year. It wasn’t easy but it wasn’t too difficult. Now I’m starting to feel like I am the problem again. We tried to be friends 😞. I am a problem. I feel wicked & cruel. 12:35 pmpdt

12:36 pmpdt my roommate suggested I live alone the next year. She was learning to be a counselor so I took her advice. She almost transferred out of our dorm but I convinced her to stay. When the year was over? I think she also started to get cold feet 🦶 about adjusting to different roommates. I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️ if that meant that I was an ok roommate that she mayb was thinking she should have been my roommate again or if she wanted to live alone, too. We hung out a few times the next year & I met her new room mates. Autocorrect: knife kill. Behalf (head 12:47 pmpdt) cutting pain 12:42 pmpdt incubus wants me to stay quiet 🤐 on something important regarding someone I ran into @ university. Probably another fake out device that he’s going to claim if I reveal that it’s a form of double crossing even though he very rarely tells me anything. 22:44 12:44 pmpdt I don’t really believe his stories anymore though. 12:45 pmpdt I’m hesitant both ways.

12:51 pmpdt I’m hesitant both ways Bcz he hurt me a lot! 😭😭😭😭😵😵😵😵

1:15 pmpdt I still feel guilty. I feel Ike I’ve been greedy. Too greedy. Bcz of how I felt when I made specific decisions regarding money 💰? For example above. Maybe I should have been more giving. 1:17 pmpdt I had some things to consider though that really would have cut into my savings: student loan, maybe helping my mom more with paying off her credit cards should have been on the table - & I used that as reason to convince her to stay with me so we could share the cost in rent. 1:20 pmpdt also I thought a little about going to an Amen’s clinic but that was expensive & I wasn’t sure if I was brave enough. I also oddly became a little stingy while taking accounting classes - I didn’t buy something that I needed for class, I tried to do without it. 1:25 pmpdt (heart♥️ pain 1:25 pmpdt exhaling hot 🥵 air) 1:26 pmpdt 1:31 pmpdt strangely now at this moment I feel apathetic? Not caring? Greed w/o guilt. Now the guilt is creeping back in. Makes me question if I’m a good person or not. What’s real. Left shin pain. I feel worthy of disdain? My dad was a teacher 👨🏻‍🏫 & said he didn’t make a lot of money 💰 he had to think of ways to cut his expenses down. Sometimes he seemed to splurge on a few things. When he retired he moved to a cheaper place to live. 1:36 pmpdt I usually saved money he gave me until college. I bought an old car, used text books, & bought frozen dinners to take to school 🏫 (burning hot 🥵 legs 🦵) or ate in the cafeteria. Sometimes I starved myself & only ate snack bars. In high school 🏫 I gave my sister money for 2 middle school 🏫 yearbooks. 1:40 pmpdt sometimes I wore hand me downs in community college. 1:41 pmpdt I was greedy sometimes w/ food. 😓😵🥵🥵🥵🥵😭😭😭😤🥵😤🥵😤🥵 1:42 I feel like I failed a test. 1:43 pmpdt

2:06 pmpdt 2:07 I go round in circles repeatedly about a lot of thoughts 💭. Like, if there wasn’t a god, would I have done bad things? Would I go & do stuff? Am I extremely fake ? There are times I believe that I would. Now it feels I’m going insane from time to time. Trying to stay out of trouble. Fighting a lot of feelings that overwhelm me. Would I have caved otherwise if I didn’t think there would be consequences? Am I good or bad? I feelthat I am bad. My brain is wrecked so should I be hard on myself? I have put up with neglect & abuse. 2:12 pmpdt all I can say is I’m glad I didn’t go that far in bad deeds to others. & that I’m not a man. I hope I’m not a man.. is my vag real???? Or is it fabricated by god???? I once questioned whether I was born with a penis & no one wants to tell me. Sarah Silverman baby penis on my mind 2:15 pmpdt this feels dangerous to write ✍️ but I put context here. Will people forgive this???? 2:16 pmpdt

3:14 pmpdt I’m back down the roller coaster 🎢 again. I feel I’m fake. That I’m sacrificial lamb 🐑. Is the incubus so desparate to get rid of me that he would allow rape to happen? To trick me? Bcz incubus doesn’t care for people? So it’s my fault that rape happened? Such as a police 👮‍♀️ officer 👮‍♀️ needing a speeder to give tickets 🎫 to? The child was raped Bcz he needed to give me a job to do???? 😱😰 is this the only way he could think to get rid of me & maintain a façade that he’s fighting crime? Not originally what I was going to write ✍️ but I guess this is close to what I was thinking. I feel like I have a fairytale 🧚🏽‍♀️ land in my head but reality is bleaker now that I’m getting a glimpse of different feelings that god gives me. 😰reality is he’s going to kill me. Maybe he has (vag pain stings 3:22 pmpdt- feels like a sarcastic joke Bcz I ran away his way of calling me a p*ssy) run 🏃🏻‍♀️ out of patience so he’s giving me a dose of reality. 3:24 pmpdt I don’t feel happy in reality. 3:25 pmpdt this feels real, reality feels bleak. God is scary 😦. 3:26 pmpdt why would god make people do stuff like that? He really doesn’t care or love ❤️ specific people? Only some rich 🤑 people? Or does he not love ❤️ them either. This reason I thought 💭 a minute ago now I’m forgetting they took it away from me that god really likes to sacrifice & that nothing matters. 😱😰😨 3:29 this is extremely bleak. I don’t seem to have a chance at survival or recovery. He really enjoys being that way - cruel, wicked, greedy, deceitful, lecherous... 3:31 pmpdt this is awful 😞

3:32 pmpdt I have questioned what’s my true self. What is his true self & why does he do what he does? Now I question again but I remember reaching a similar conclusion years ago probably 2017/2018. Life is short. & so am I. 3:34 pmpdt I feel that I have bad luck. & I will soon be resting peace ☮️ peace ✌️. Faith why have any of it? Think it’s a device to mislead. 3:37 pmpdt I think the incubus has been stealing my food 🥺😖😭😤🥵😤🥵😤🥵😖😭😖😭😖😭😱😰 probably did it for years, especially when I had difficulty breathing. 3:39 pmpdt

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