#like it was my fault I wasn’t able to take care of myself (read: make my dad care about me) as a younger teen | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

k1ngpin42 · 3 months

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POV: 𝘼𝙗𝙗𝙮 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙙𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙧r- (mini fic)

Warnings: Dating, public 18+, dominant Abby, fingering

You, Abby, Mel, Manny and Whitney are sitting at a table in the WLF base. You and Abby aren’t allowed to be paired together on patrols anymore after Mel snitched about the time she caught you two fucking while on duty. To be fair, though, the door of the room you two were in had been locked from the outside, it wasn’t your fault Mel didn’t knock.

Anyway, not being able to see her throughout the day was fucking with you. Images of what you two would do the night and morning before you’d go on patrol, things you two used to do at any available moment on away missions. Against the wall when the other soldiers turned their back, on the floor, against an old car, on the table where you and the others would plan routes around seraphite camps, one time you even fucked while in a room full of clickers. (It was the most terrifying orgasm you had ever experienced if you’re being honest with yourself. Still amazing though.)

She sits down and the tension is immediate, you’d let her take you right here and now if she asked.

“Hey love, how were your assignments today?” She asks. Fuck. You didn’t know what was up with you today cause you were fucking wet at the site of her.

“What? Oh, yeah, it was alright…” You say, eyes scanning her body. You hear the others talk indistinctly and your gaze immediately drops to her hands.

“Did you really have to invite the game nerd?” You hear Mel whisper. You roll your eyes.

“Whitney’s my friend, Mel, don’t be a dick.” You tell her bluntly, and Whitney looks up at this. Mel looks at her with a guilty expression.

“Whitney I didn’t mean….”

“Oh it’s okay Mel. I can just sit by myself like I usually do.”

“Nonsense, you’re with us.” Manny reassures.

Once this drama clears up, Abby and Mel start telling the others stories about their mission today. Various jokes and exaggerations. None of this was relevant to you, though, cause for the love of everything holy, you couldn’t focus.

You watched as she enhanced her story with hand movements, her laugh was a melody in your ears, her voice a chorus. The veins on her hands were still prominent, she must have had to beat up some form of enemy, usually runners. Or maybe she had been lifting something heavy.

A smile smile pressed your lips at the thought of that. The thought of her big arms straining, she would groan slightly before the metal crate behind a door would move and she’d let out another satisfied sigh. Fuck. Those arms, those hands, you needed them inside you, on you, you didn’t care which.

“He grabs the EMPTY gun and points it at the woman. She’s got a fuckin club or something and he says….well, something in Spanish.” Abby explains to the group who have been intently listening, making you feel slightly bad for zoning out.

“ Estás acabado, cabron. You are finished, asshole.”

“Haha…nice.” Abby replies, taking a bite of her food. She looks over at you, who is still too focused on the way the vein on her right hand is more prominent than on her left. When she notices this, she smirks. That same cocky fucking smirk when she knows that, once again, she’s read you like a book.

“Hey so, that new training manual you read, what was it again?” She asks you as she slips a hand on your thigh. You’re wearing baggy blue jeans and even with them on you feel heat trickle down your spine.

“Oh the one about long guns? Well…the main premise is about rounds.” She moves her hand so it’s cupping your cunt through the fabric.

“I-“ You clear your throat. “Each gun has a unique gear that allows the rounds to move more fl-“ Abby cautiously unzips the jeans. “Fluidly.” You explain. She starts teasing your pussy with her index fingers and painting your clit with slick.

“Have you tested it out on a gun? The upgrade?” Abby asks, watching you with an amused expression as she increases the pace.

“Wh-at…oh um, yeah.” You stumble over your words.

“Ah well you can come improve my weapon, do you know how many times this gun has been stepped on? I’m surprised I can put new rounds in at all.” Manny laughs. Your eyelids flutter as she puts her two middle fingers inside you and circles your clit with her thumb. She does all this with her left hand, not even taking her eyes off of the group, she doesn’t have to.

How does this not make her uncomfortable? How does the fact that our whole friend group will watch you cum work for her in any way?

“Only if you gi-mm~” You stifle your moan with your hand.

“You okay?” Mel asks you. You nod.

“Just tired, I was gonna say, only if you give me a….ah~ a good gun too since he always hogs them all.”

“I do not.” He laughs.

Fuck, Abby’s hands rubbing you feels fucking insatiable but you need to be alone with her, you can’t stand how embarrassing this feels. You want her to fuck you till you can’t breathe, not tease you in front of people you have to interact with on the regular.

“I might go to bed early.” You say, attempting to push Abbys hands away. She grabs your arm tightly and gives you a warning look.

“Aw don’t be silly, we’ll go when you’re finished.” She pauses. “…Eating.” Abby adds, increasing her pace as well as the pressure on your clit. Fuck, you could scream at how good it feels. You want to scream.

“Who were you with today baby?” Abby asks. Fuck you could kick her right now. She’s clearly doing this on purpose to hear you make a fool of yourself in front of her your friends. It won’t work, you try to convince yourself.

“Um, I don’t know, it was me, two guys and a girl. The girl was dating one of the guys so me and the other guy did most of the patrolling while they probably, I don’t even know, did each other or something.” You explain, enjoying the feeling of her thick, warm fingers. Fuuuuuuck.

Mel looked guilty again. She always did, maybe this is just her resting face?

“I’m sorry that you and Abby can’t go on patrols anymore.” Mel utters, quietly. You roll your eyes but before you can even think to be annoyed at her, Abby pushes just the right place and you let out a gush of satisfied air.

“Agh~ all good.” You say, keeping your composure fairly well. Abby rewards this by easing up slightly and you instinctively buck your hips forward.

“Do you prefer hot places or cold?” Abby asked, and at this point you’re forcing your eyes open.

“What?” You ask, bitterly. Fuck you’re painfully close, you’re so gonna hit her when this is over.

“Abby…” You whisper to her, her smirk widens, cocky prick.

“Did you say something baby?” You sigh and poke at some of the food on your plate.

“Hot. I don’t like the cold or the rain, snow’s the only…f….um, exception.” You breathe out. Abby can tell by the look on your face that you’re cumming and she tilts her head, admiring you.

“I prefer the heat too. It’s always hot in Mexico.” Manny says, his voice just a murmer as you see colours through your eyelids. Holy fuck, you’d give anything to let out a loud moan right now.

“I’m actually pretty tired too, I think we’re gonna turn in early.” Abby explains to the others. Mel nods and Manny looks mildly disappointed, but doesn’t say anything.

“Have a good night.” Whitney says with a warm smile. You nod and Abby helps pull you up. You bite back a wince at how sensitive it feels to have your legs together and you hurry with Abby out of the hall.

“Abigail fucking Anderson.” You warn, simply. She smiles, kissing you playfully on the cheek.

“Yeah?” She asks. You punch her arm lightly.

“Do you like making a fool of me? All our friends saw-“

“Did you like it?” She asks, that seductive and almost arrogant smirk still evident on her pretty fucking face. You roll your eyes. She kisses your neck and leans in to your ear.

“I bet you were thinking about it. My hands, my fingers, I was just giving you what you want.”

“Yeah but…I mean at dinner? That’s just torture.”

“Aw.” She says with fake sympathy. “Want me to make it up to you?”

°..·°¯°·._.· 🎀 >.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·°🎀 >-.¸.·°¯°·.¸.·°¯

#abby anderson #abby x reader #abby tlou #tlou2 #smut #abby smut #abby anderson x female reader #ellie williams

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bari-the-witch · 1 year

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Couples Quiz Night Part 1

Part 2

Heya dear people of the fandom!

I originall wanted to post this as a whole but because my private life is a bitch right now it's going to take a while to finish this. I decided to post the first part now, so you don't have to wait for something to read. Don't worry, I didn't ditch this. I have too much fun writing this!

A few people wanted me to tag them. So, here they are:

@swimmingbirdrunningrock @grtwdsmwhr @lightwoodbanethings @eggrollofchaos01 @gamerdano @miss-hit @photoaesthetic @alexdesappho @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring (with cherries on top ;D) @gay-stranger-things @hopefulcookieoperatorpersona @thepainisspicy @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @alienace @ashwinmeird @satan-is-obsessed @ninjapirateunicorns

Hope you enjoy!

And beware: English is not my native language so there might be a few mistakes here and there. Even though I used two different spell checkers/grammar programs.

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Indianapolis, Indiana

July 10, 1987

“Honey, I’m home,” Steve called as he entered the apartment, toeing off his shoes and placing them neatly beside Eddie’s beaten-up sneakers and Robin’s red Converse before slowly making his way to the kitchen.

They had moved to Indianapolis half a year ago, leaving Hawkins behind for good. Between Steve’s shitty parents, Robin’s desire for freedom, and Eddie’s problems with the dear citizens of Hawkins even though his innocence was proven, it wasn’t a particularly difficult decision to make. They were still close enough in case their friends needed help but far enough away to finally heal.

Fortunately, they quickly found a three-bedroom apartment on the outskirts of the city and were able to afford it with their combined financial forces. Steve was glad he had taken the leap of faith to move here.

His life was a lot better now.

“Welcome back dingus,” Robin greeted him with a mock salute while Eddie just waved. They were both sitting on the kitchen counter together (although they had a small dining table not two feet away), sipping something that looked suspiciously like red wine.

“Already started without me?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you came back home this late,” Robin protested.

“Rob, you literally pressured me into letting you leave earlier so you could get,” Steve eyed the wine glass in her hands, “ready for tonight. I see you’re using your time wisely.”

“It’s totally Eddie’s fault. I swear!”

“Hey! You’re the one who wanted to crack a bottle to get all nice and tipsy before our night out. So you won’t lose your nerves because of Nan-.”

“Shut it, Munson!” Robin grinds out through gritted teeth, a deep blush darkening her cheeks. She smacked a hand over Eddie’s mouth to silence him....only for her to draw it back in disgust immediately. “Eww. Did you just lick my hand? What are you, twelve?”

“Why are you so embarrassed, Bucks? It’s not exactly a secret,” Eddie replied nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

Robin hung her head in defeat and sighed. “I know. It’s just… every time I meet her, I make a total ass out of myself, you know? I just want to be this cool person that doesn’t start spewing out unnecessary facts no one cares about.”

“With alcohol?” Steve asked amusedly, holding up his hands in defense when she glared at him. “Don’t look at me like that. Come on, Rob. Nancy likes you. Even your rambling. She thinks it’s endearing.”

“She does?”

Steve nodded. Nancy had told him a few weeks ago when they met up in a small cafe during their lunch break. She also said a few other things about Robin but it wasn’t Steve’s place to tell her that.

“That’s-. I need to get ready. I- Boys, see you later!” she exclaimed dramatically and hopped off the counter, marching straight into her room, and closing the door behind her.

“Well, she sure seems excited now,” Eddie chuckled.

They’re alone in the kitchen right now, and Steve is well aware of that. You see the thing is, moving to the big city and living together with his friends had not only made his life better but also significantly more complicated.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t always found men attractive. However, growing up in the Harrington household had taught him to keep these kinds of thoughts buried deep inside him. His father wasn’t very fond of queer people (an understatement) and would not have liked his son to be one of them (also an understatement). Moving here, living together with Eddie day after day, and finally being free from his father’s clutches had thrown him into the biggest sexuality crisis known to mankind.

At first, it was just mild infatuation that soon grew and spread into a full-blown crush, leaving him scared and confused. But it was OK, really. There wouldn't be anything coming out of it anyway. Steve was positively sure Eddie didn’t even like men that way, let alone him. So all he had to do was wait for this to blow over.

Well, that is, until Eddie decided to tear down Steve’s most effective defense mechanisms by outing himself a few weeks after moving in.

Suddenly, Eddie didn’t seem out of reach anymore, throwing Steve into the next crisis on top of the first. It got so obvious there was something wrong with him that Robin pulled him aside one night when it was just the two of them.

He finally spilled his beans that night. From the fact that he seemed to always have liked men as equally as women (bisexuality, Robin called it), down to his embarrassing all-consuming crush on Eddie.

She listened intently, asking a few questions here and there but otherwise letting him do the talking.

“What makes you think he doesn’t like you that way?” Robin asked earnestly.

“I just know,” Steve answered dejectedly and Robin didn’t press.

“Hey, Steve. You in there?”

Steve snapped out of his thoughts and shifted his attention back to the present. Eddie was standing in front of him, a worried expression on his handsome face.

“Huh? Sorry I- just got lost in my own head.”

“Shit, you really scared me there, man. Didn't we talk about not spacing out at random?" Eddie asked, relief evident in his voice. “For a second, I thought Vecna was back or something.”

“I know, I know, sorry.”

Only now did Steve realize how close they were. And that Eddie was grabbing both of his shoulders, the touch sending a spark of something through his body. The fact that Eddie was a very tactile person, touching Steve whenever he had the opportunity to, didn’t make dealing with his crush any easier.

"I, um," Steve started, trying hard not to stare at Eddie’s lips. “I need to get ready. For later. Shower, yes.” He stumbled over his words like a pre-schooler talking to his crush for the first time. Jesus, get it together. What happened to your famous Harrington charm?

“I mean, I’m gonna head to the shower. Or do you wanna go first?”

“Nah, I already did, so… It’s all yours,” Eddie answered before finally releasing his shoulders, and taking a step back. Steve nearly breathed out in relief.

“Well then, see you later.” Eddie patted him on the shoulder, grabbed the wine glass from the kitchen counter behind him, and made his way to his room. Before he stepped inside, he turned around again, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Oh and Steve? Just take your time. I know how much you like getting all dolled up for me.”

Heat shot to Steve’s cheeks while his heart did a full ballet routine in his chest. But befor he had the chance to react, Eddie disappeared inside and closed the door behind him.

Oh, did he forget to mention that Eddie was a notorious flirt, too?

Steve slammed the bathroom door with more force than necessary. He stripped down angrily and stood under the warm spray of the shower, trying to relax.

Fuck, he used to be good at this. Really good. With girls swooning left and right, just looking at them. He had been King Steve for fucks sake.

But then Eddie appeared and Steve’s famous Harrington charm, which was already in a nosedive anyway, crashed and burned to the ground, shattering into a million useless pieces. Eddie, with his stupid wide-brown doe-eyes, his equally ridiculous dark curly hair, and this fucking dimpled smile that always made Steve tremble and weak in the knees. And don’t forget all the stupid pet names he threw at him like candy, coming up with a new one every week.

Don’t get him wrong. Most of the time he’s glad the King Steve days are over. He just missed it sometimes, being that cocky, self-confident guy, strutting the halls of High School instead of this easily flustered tongue-tied idiot he was now.

Standing in front of the mirror after his shower, Steve had to resist the urge not to style his hair just to teach Eddie a lesson.

He dismissed that thought quickly, though. Not even that would make him leave the house looking like that. He still had some self-respect after all.

Steve stayed holed up in his room until Robin told him it was time to leave. He knew it wasn’t a permanent solution to his problem, not with them living and spending so much time together, but he just needed a break to collect himself.

The next few hours will be exhausting enough.

Going out tonight was all Robin's idea.

Since moving to the big city she had used every opportunity to get out of the house and into every gay bar she could get her hands on. She called it her ‘mandatory gay experience’ and Steve was glad she finally popped out of the shell she had built around herself while living in Hawkins.

And because Steve was such a good friend (the best) he tagged along when she asked him to, week after week. Sometimes just the two of the, sometimes with Eddie and Nancy in tow.

And so it happened that Steve found himself at one of those bars again on a Friday night, pressed against Eddie’s side, while Robin and Nancy sat across from them. The seating arrangement hadn’t exactly been Steve’s decision, but Robin had nearly knocked out his teeth trying to scramble into the booth beside Nancy. This left him with no other choice than to sit beside Eddie.

It was beautiful and terrible at the same time.

This close, Steve could feel Eddie's warmth through the layers of their clothes, leaving a tingling feeling wherever they touched. He tried not to show how much it affected him, but from the smirk, Robin was giving him from across the table, he was failing miserably.

Meanwhile, Eddie didn’t seem affected at all. He was his usual animated self, gesticulating around widely while telling Nancy a story about one of his co-workers who almost burned down the kitchen.

Unable to tear his eyes away, Steve followed the movement of Eddie’s mouth with his eyes. How he licked his lips from time to time or the way he bit his lower lip when trying to keep himself from laughing at his own story.

God, those damn kissable lips…

Stabbing pain shooting through his shin made Steve tear his eyes from Eddie’s mouth immediately.

He glared at Robin, who had a far too innocent expression on her face and only mumbled a soft “You’re staring again dingus” in return, before turning back to the conversation.

Oh shit. Had he been that obvious again?

Fortunately, Eddie didn’t seem to have noticed Steve’s brief staring contest with his lips (or so he hoped), being far too engrossed in telling the girls his funny story.

Thank God.

Later, Robin and Nancy had gone to get them a new round of drinks and from what Steve could see, it would take them a while to get back to the table. As the night progressed the bar had gotten steadily more packed which wasn’t surprising considering it was a Friday night. Steve was glad they had gotten here early.

As the girls returned with fresh drinks in tow and sat down again, Robin slid something into the middle of the table.

“You boys wouldn’t believe me what we’ve found,” she said delightedly, tapping at the small piece of paper with her finger Steve could identify as a flyer now. “Sounds pretty interesting to me.”

Next to her, Nancy nodded approvingly, sipping at her drink.

Eddie snatched it before Steve could take a closer look, tossing it back on the table with a snort a few seconds after.

“Couples Quiz Night, huh? I think I’d rather stab myself than join this, thank you very much.”

“What? Is that too uncool for lil’ ol’ Eddie?” Robin asked challengingly.

“You bet, Bucks. That shit’s only for couples that desperately try to make others jealous by showing how great they are.”

Eddie’s reply started a bickering match about the pros and cons of couples quiz night between him and Robin. Steve just rolled his eyes fondly, glad that the two most important people in his life had become such good friends and got along so well. He didn’t want to imagine a world where those two weren’t part of it at the same time.

Curious, Steve decided to take a look at it and grabbed the flyer off the table. Trying to tune out the agitated chatter of his friends he started to read.

The hand-sized flyer didn’t contain much information besides the name and date of the event written in big bold green letters and something about a prize you could win. Steve remembered doing something like this with his girlfriend Lisa (now an ex-girlfriend, fortunately) back in Hawkins. It ended in a complete and utter disaster because he and Lisa hadn’t even gotten one question right. It wasn’t exactly one of his proudest moments as a boyfriend.

"What?"

Steve flinched at Eddie's ear-splitting screech, immediately scanning the room for any signs of danger, his shoulders sagging in relief when he couldn't find any.

"Oh my god. Oh my god, I need them!"

Eddie looked at his friends one by one with big pleading eyes and, to top it off, even jutted out his lower lip. When no one seemed to take the bait right away, because they were all used to Eddie's antics, he fixed his gaze on Steve who still was none the wiser about what brought on Eddie's over the top reaction.

“Stevie?”

Steve quickly averted his eyes. He knew he couldn't say no to Eddie (to whatever he would ask of him) if he kept looking at him like that.

“Wait. That’s actually not a terrible idea,” Nancy said, sipping her drink like the traitor she is. “I mean, this is a gay bar, right? So there shouldn’t be any problems. And you two are so close, I bet you can easily fake it.”

Huh? Fake it?

Robin seemed to have noticed Steve’s confusion because she immediately started to explain. “Eddie wants to take part in the couples quiz night since he found out what the super secret prize is.”

“And … what does this have to do with me?” A sense of dread started to creep up on him.

“He wants you to join him,” Nancy answered matter-of-factly. “It’s a couples quiz after all.”

“But we aren’t a couple?” Steve asked perplexed. “Unless I missed something.”

The thought of him and Eddie being a couple made his insides all gooey and he quickly shoved it away.

“That’s why we’re gonna fake it, sweetheart!” Eddie laughed and threw an arm around, pressing him snuggly into his side.

Wait, what?

“You want me,” Steve pointed a trembling finger to himself and then at Eddie while trying to keep his voice even, “to fake a relationship with you to win a stupid prize at a Couples Quiz Night?”

“Hey, the prize is not stupid. How dare-”

“Yup. That’s exactly what he said.” Nancy answered nonchalantly, before taking a sip from her drink, giving Steve a look from under her lashes he didn’t like one bit.

“Yeah, come on, Steve, don’t be a spoilsport. It'll be fun!” Robin backed her up, of course, with a dangerous gleam in her eyes.

“Yes, Stevie. Listen to our friends."

“What happened to ‘rather stabbing yourself than joining this?’” Steve asked dryly, a last desperate attempt to wiggle out of this somehow.

“Steve. Steve-o. My best friend. Light of my life, did you not listen to anything the guy said?" Eddie asked sweetly and huffed when Steve only shrugged his shoulders. "It’s fucking tickets for a Metallica concert at Market Square Arena. That shit’s been sold out for weeks! Dude, I’d sell my soul for this if I could. So screw what I said before. I. Want. Those. Tickets.”

Steve felt his resolve start to crumble like a house of cards. He knew how much those tickets meant to Eddie. The guy literally hadn’t stopped talking about it for weeks and was totally crushed when he heard it was sold out.

Steve sighed deeply and closed his eyes.

He was absolutely sure that this was going to end in total disaster as it did with Lisa. And then Eddie would be mad at him about not winning those tickets, about him not being able to answer some stupid questions in a stupid quiz and -

- and then he made the mistake of looking into Eddie's pleading eyes.

Shit.

Rookie mistake.

Steve sighed, getting ready to succumb to his inevitable fate.

“Fine. But if we’re doing this, you owe me, Munson. Big time.”

“Oh my god, thank you! You’re absolutely the best! You won't regret it. Promise!” Eddie clapped his hands together a few times with barely concealed glee, bouncing on his seat like a maniac. Steve didn’t have the heart to tell him that he regretted it the moment he agreed to do it.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t cream your-. Hey, what are you doing?”

Eddie nearly shoved him off the booth and Steve quickly stood up to prevent himself from planting his face on the floor.

"What the hell, Munson?"

"Come on, come on. There are two Metallica tickets with our names on them, I heard.”

“I don’t think-.”

“Less talking, more walking, Stevie,” Eddie tutted, grabbind Steve around the wrist and dragging Steve mercilessly behind him without waiting for a response.

Glancing at the girls for help, Steve was only met with a thumbs up from Nancy and an overdramatic smooching gesture from Robin.

Screw Nancy's guns. He was so going to strangle them after this was over.

Eddie made it through the crowd with relative ease, slipping smoothly between the bodies on his way over to the bar while Steve bumped into people left and right, receiving tons of dirty looks in return. He didn't even have time to apologize, not with Eddie dragging him behind him like this.

At the bar, Eddie squeezed himself between two scrawny-looking guys, eagerly waving the bartender over. With Eddie's hand still clasped around his wrist, Steve didn't have much choice than to stand way too close behind him.

“Yeah? What can I get ya?”

“Hey, we heard about a quiz tonight and really wanted to join. Because I somehow can’t convince this knucklehead," Eddie turned back to him and had the fucking audacity to wink, then turned tack to the baarkeeper. "that we’re made for each other.” He put a hand on his heart, sighing deeply like he was carrying the whole world on his shoulders. “Maybe that’ll finally make him see it. You know?”

God, Eddie really was a theater kid, huh?

No way in hell someone would buy this little performance. Not when Eddie was laying it on this thick. Not in a million years.

But to Steve’s horror, the guy took a pen and a piece of paper from somewhere and shoved it over the counter. “Relationships are tough, man,” he nodded with a sigh, a look of pity in his eyes. Steve wondered if the guy was either a newbie or simply not good at reading people.

“Just write down your names here. We’re starting in ten minutes. So you better be ready.”

Then he left them alone to tend to some other customers demanding his attention.

“Ten minutes?” Steve hissed into Eddie’s ear from behind, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach running amok. “How should we come up with matching answers in ten minutes?”

Unimpressed by Steve’s tiny little freak-out, Eddie scribbled down their names in his neat handwriting before turning around. Their faces were barely a hair's breadth away and if Steve wanted to he just could lean forward and - no. Nope. Bad idea.

“Relax,” Eddie said, his breath caressing Steve’s lips, nearly driving him insane. “We don’t even know what they’re going to ask so I guess we just have to trust in the power of our relationship.”

“Which doesn’t exist," Steve replied dryly, proud of how even his voice sounded. "Listen, it’s always the same shit, like favorite color, favorite food, who kissed the other first yadda yadda yadda. So we need to-.”

“Wait wait wait. You did something like this before?” Eddie raised his eyebrows, his mouth twisting into a grin. “Stevie, you absolute romantic! You really know how to make a girl feel special,” he giggled, twisting a curl around his finger like a girl in those corny teenage movies Robin always made them watch as punishment for whatever.

“Yeah, I bet Lisa would disagree with you on that,” Steve grimaced, shuddering at the memory. “Whatever. Do you wanna go over some possible questions or not?”

Eddie tapped a finger against his lips, weighing his head left and right a few times like he was thinking really hard about his answer.

But then he leaned forward, bridging the gap between them and pressing his lips against Steve’s cheek. Just a short peck.

Steve's eyes widened in shock.

“I don’t think we’re going to need that, sweetheart,” he whispered softly before drawing back again. Which isn’t very far because they’re still unbelievably close, their noses almost touching. "Just trust in us, ok?"

Steve, whose brain had shut down the moment Eddie’s lips touched his face, nodded dumbly, his mouth open. Eddie’s smile grew and he took Steve’s hand in his, intertwining their fingers before pulling him toward the stage.

#steddie fanfic #steddie fandom #steddie

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sweetsimp · 10 months

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Dark Photographs || Obey Me x Reader -- Part One [Lucifer]

TW!!! Please read the warnings before proceeding.

A/N: HELLOOOOO sorry for the delay, ive been super busy with all of these classes, I havent been able to work on dark photographs. I WAS IN SIX COLLEGE CLASSES AHHHHHHHHHH also haha what if i opened up my tips..................... would you guys.... wanna... um...

ANYWAY I ALSO FINISHED RAINCOODEEEEE I FINISHED IT AND IT WAS AMAZING and if you dont know what that is uhhhhhhhhhh GO FIND OUT AHHHHHHHHH i might also write raincode stuff.................

also sorry?? for taking so long?? Ive been trying to get used to this move and i finally pushed myself to stop putting this off, but I WAS WRITING IT IN A SEPERATE APP CAUSE TUMBLR KEPT NOT SAVING MY WORK and then it just pasted as one whole paragraph and fixing it was the only proofreading that i did (clown honk)

Warnings: dark themes, kidnapping, threats, angst, angst, angst, assault, use of dr*gs, fighting, mention of not-alive, etc.

EXTRA WARNING this shit made me cry WHILE I WAS WRITING IT proceed at your own RISk

-- word count for imagine: 2257 (give or take a few maybe)

Lucifer

Sometimes he had his moments where he got on your nerves.

You get into an argument but he always makes it up to you.He'd always find a way to get under your skin, especially with the fact that he was basically the embodiment of Pride and the dictionary definition of a workaholic. He could spend hours trapped in his office, surrounded by mountain piles of paperwork, but only minutes with you.

The problem was, he seemed perfectly content with that, and it bothered you.

Now, you were kidnapped and had no way of knowing how he actually cared about you and especially in the ways that mattered most. It secretly tortured him that you could've died thinking that you were the least important thing in his life.

Was that his fault? Was he to blame?

He almost found it humorous how much he had been torturing himself, especially because he always had full confidence that he would solve the issue no problem, and everything would go back to the way it was. He forgot how fragile humans were until now. Of course, anyone that wasn't Lucifer seemed almost fragile in comparison to the Avatar of Pride, but you were a whole different thing.

You were his human.

It wasn't a lie when he said he was confident he would find you, but what he didn't know was if it'd be too late or not. He didn’t know what to do.

Were you devoured immediately or tortured? If you had been alive still, why hadn't you summoned him? What was he going to say once he found you?

The fire let out a loud crackle noise, interrupting his thoughts. He stopped in his tracks and sat down for a moment while resting his head on his hands with his elbows propped on his desk. He closed his eyes as small strands of hair tickled his skin and fell in front of his face. Shadows danced around the room to hide from the fire's burning light.

Why didn't they tell anyone where they were going? Why didn't they ask anyone to accompany them? The most likely possibilities had been work or shopping. They wouldn't go with any random demon that asked them to follow their lead, and especially if no one he trusted was with them. Why were they alone?

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Lucifer lifted his head immediately. "Come in."

Mammon hesitantly walked in, dipping his head in first before pulling the rest of his body into the room to face his older brother. It was strange to see his predictable behavior get washed away in a matter of seconds, but it was a relief for Lucifer that he had one less thing to worry about.

Mammon's otherwise mischievous tone and behavior dissipated even when he spoke. "We confirmed that uh… the human was workin' right before they disappeared. Thought ya might wanna-" Lucifer didn't let Mammon finish, standing up immediately to grab his coat and make a beeline for the door. "Are the others already investigating?"

Mammon nodded.

It was strange how much fear could affect even demons, especially because of the effect you truly had on them. It could've been possible that they were equally as afraid of what Lucifer would do if he lost you. It would've destroyed him, and they knew that the façade he would put up wouldn't be able to convince his brothers otherwise.

"Where?"

Mammon didn't hesitate to give Lucifer a slip of paper with the details, which Lucifer had basically ripped out of his younger brother's hand. Without saying another word, the Avatar of Pride dragged his brother out the door and let go once it had closed and locked immediately. Lucifer wouldn't have cared if Mammon went or stayed. All that mattered to him was finding you. Maybe he spent too long looking at your room or thinking too hard about your whereabouts alone in his office, creating a pattern in the floor with his constant pacing.

Either way, his vision seemed to have cut in and out with anger and worry-- but before he knew it, he was already there.

He was going to find you.

"This was found in the trash," Beelzebub spoke, handing over a ripped up picture that had been pieced back together. "There's two different traces on here. One of them is MC, but…"

"I know where to go." Lucifer spoke, "I'll deal with it. Just gather the others."

"Are you sure-"

With just the power of his glare alone, Beelzebub stopped mid-sentence and just nodded.

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

Click! Click!

"Before you go, I want to try and take as many photos as possible." The photographer spoke, "I could make millions with even just one photo. I can't imagine how rich and powerful I'll be with a hundred of them."

The photographer put his camera down again for what felt like the millionth time. The soft clanking noise made you feel only a small drop of relief, but it also filled you with dread because of what would follow after: More adjusting. Brighter lights. Different music. More clicking. More adjusting. Dimmer lights.

Silence.

It was nauseating, but none of it came even close to what that monster did to keep you under his control. It felt disgusting. Demoralizing.

What was the point in fighting? Why were you trying to hard to think of the words, when this was a deserved ending for a sad, pathetic human?

The anger and sadness had been building up with no possible way to get out, and you would die before it ever would. It would die with all of the other feelings you kept inside. The other truths you tried so hard to protect-- from the others and even yourself. Maybe they werent truths at all, just things you tortured yourself with that you believed so hard to be the truth that anything else seemed almost absurd and unrealistic. It gave you a false sense of hope that there was any chance of redemption for all the things that made you feel sick inside.

When the anger, the sadness, and the guilt proved to be too much, it made the tears fall faster than you could have ever expected.

Click! Click! Click!

"Oh my god! That's absolutely perfect. You're an amazing model." The photographer breathed, "If Lucifer and the others weren't a problem, I could sit here for all of eternity taking these beautiful shots of your purity. Your soul. It's too hard to resist. Human emotions are so complicated, aren't they? You must feel so awful about yourself."

Click!

"So pathetic."

Click!

"Worthless."

Click!

"But it's deserved and you must know that, but I mean…" The demon said in a hushed, soothing voice. "It's not like anyone will ever get to understand how you feel. You'll die before then. Alone."

He just kept talking. You wanted him to stop.

"Lucifer probably makes you feel worthless, huh? Like you don't matter. I get it. He's so obsessed with his paperwork, isn't he? Never makes time for anyone or anything else. You're just more work." The demon spoke, "I'll bet he's taking his sweet time finding you cause he doesn't want the wait the next few decades waiting for your timer to run out. Anything else is just for the sake of Diavolo's dream."

He paused, looking at the photos before speaking again. "I know them better than you think you know them. Demons are malicious and deceiving, and anything they show you is to give you a sense of security. The truth is, you're nothing more than just a sad, weak, human."

Please stop.

"All you want is Lucifer's touch, right? You're addicted to it. That's why you can't leave. He waves his demon charm at you. One magic trick and you fall in love all over again. You eat up his dominance and power over you because it makes you feel even more special that he's one of the most powerful demons here and he chose you."

Make it stop.

"And all of that makes you feel just a little less awful about yourself for being the only human who can't be trusted by themself. It makes you feel better about yourself, with this fake illusion of power that you have over these people who never needed you. Even after your time runs out, they won't care."

Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop.

"There we go," He hummed in a sick and twisted kind of satisfaction. "That's what real emotion looks like. That's the hundredth picture. That's how easy it is to break a human. I can see it in your eyes."

Cli-

Actually, no. There had been no click this time.

You couldn't blink away the tears fast enough to find the source of the loud, shattering noise and the sounds of metal clashing against the ground in pieces with pieces of glass scattered amongst the scraps. A flash of black and red made the photographer disappear.

You heard a familiar voice behind you with the sound of someone being slammed against the wall.

"There's a reason why demons like you are at the bottom." Lucifer snarled.

His voice sent shivers down your spine. There had been so much pain buried deep under his own rage.

"It's because you're all so incredibly humiliating. Did you honestly think you could get away with this?" Lucifer let out a low chuckle. "After you're imprisoned for the rest of eternity, I promise I'll make it even more unbearable than the things that keep you up at night."

BAM!

You winced, not wanting to know the source of that noise. A gentle gust of air pushed your locks of hair forward, making it sway and fall back into place right before he undid your binds and pulled you to him in one single motion. He didn't hesitate.

"I love you." He spoke, "Please forgive me, my dear. I was… I was so incredibly worried about you. I took too long to come to your side."

It was all too much. You didn't know when you started to cry, but it all came rushing out. There was no possibility of stopping. There was no chance of hiding the pain anymore once his warmth filled in the cracks that the photographer had almost permanently left you with before his inevitable demise.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." You sobbed, "I tried so hard. I just want you to be happy, but I can't do anything. I'm a human. I'm just another responsibility and you deserve so much more than that-"

Lucifer took your chin gently but quickly, clashing his lips against yours in a desperate and passionate way to prove just how much you meant to him. He knew that he couldn't heal all of your wounds as quickly as he would've hoped, but he would give up everything he had just to try.

He held you close, wrapping his arms tenderly around your waist. Despite how soft he was with you, he held you in a way that made you feel like he was never going to let go. He loved you more than anything, and his comforting presence alone made the photographer's words meaningless.

Lucifer wasn't just the Avatar of Pride when he was with you. He was just Lucifer. He was just someone who put his walls up high around everybody but you. He was someone who melted under your touch, even if he pretended to only be one of the most powerful demons in the devildom in front of others. You saw the soft side of him that he had kept hidden for centuries.

He pulled away, resting his head on your shoulder. "It doesn't matter to me that you're human. You're perfect to me. You did everything right, MC. I don't want you to ever have a single thought in your mind that any of this is your fault, or that you feel guilty about a burden on my shoulders that never existed at all. You're the only person I've felt this strongly about, MC. I mean that." He spoke, "You're good enough for me, even if you may not always feel that way. There's no one else in this entire universe that could ever come close to how I feel about you. You're what I think about after a long day of work. I think of you when I wake up. I think of you during the day, when I'm working. I'm confident I'll prove that to you, MC. You deserve all of that and more."

"Let's go away for a while, okay?" He whispered in your ear. "Just you and me. No paperwork. No pictures. No anything. I want to spend the rest of eternity making it up to you… but since we don't have an eternity, I'm confident I could do it in the time we have, MC."

You nodded, letting the tears continue to fall freely down your face. This time, it had been out of the love you shared with Lucifer rather than the pain of your kidnapper's words alone. You endured so much, but deep down you knew Lucifer would keep all of his promises. Even if it wasn't out of the love he had for you, he wouldn't have let himself be known as someone who couldn't keep his word.

But he loved you, and that was the only reason you needed.

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plasticflwrs · 4 months

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⠀⠀ ⠀┈─ NOTHING NEW ⠀⠀／ ⠀⠀ an oliver song story ( 2022 ).

RACH. I wrote it when I was 19, and I've written a lot of other things since, and it's just... what if... what if that was the one... what if that was the one, best thing I'll ever do and I spend the rest of my life just getting worse and worse and drying up, uninspired, and I never become great. — The Prelude by Dave Malloy.

WORD COUNT. 3.2k words. WARNINGS / NOTES. Discussions of mental health symptoms related to general anxiety and major depressive episodes. (Passive) suicidal ideation. Alcohol mention. Originally published in 2023, but now featuring small changes of names and timeline ( rip minghui 😔 ).

“GOOD TO SEE YOU, OLIVER,” Yeonghui smiles as she lets Oliver into her office. “You never answered my text messages. I was worried about you.”

Oliver knows what Yeonghui is doing.

She’s been worried about Oliver more recently as the bags under his eyes become more prominent and the schedule is more focused on going out with friends than actually writing their next album. This impromptu therapy session was not going to solve any of their current problems and he had other events to attend. Drinks with Rowan, Jiyeon, and old friends. A phone call with his mother. A real therapy appointment.

Oliver is a busy person and finding a break in their hectic schedule was almost impossible. If the opportunity presented itself, he was going to take it. In reality, he never fully disconnected from his idol life. Always created new voice memos for new music, hid behind a mask so he wasn’t recognized, and appeared on the social media of his closest friends to get the band’s name out there. He liked to create a separation between his personal and professional life but the lines had blurred at the end of 2020.

He doesn’t understand why this is such a big deal.

He had written some of their discography before this album and the rest had been solely written by Salem before that. Yes, they had been missing for sixteen months, but, he was not the only member able to write music. Since he had returned from the states a few months ago, these meetings to discuss "music" (read: his personal life) had become more often. She was more open about her demands for a new album and Oliver was growing tired of it. He knew Salem had enough drafts to cover them for a few years at minimum, Jiyeon had showed him a few things, and even Junyeong of all people brought up a new drum line during their last practice.

Why was Yeonghui not calling them every day? He never understood her actions.

Oliver gives her a smile, the same that fans gushed about on Twitter and he had perfected over the years before speaking, “I’m fine. You know I’m allergic to my cellphone. I never answer anyone.”

“I’ve known you for almost seven years so I’m allowed to worry,” Yeonghui replies, keeping her voice even and her smile is tight-lipped, a sign of annoyance. She’s known amongst the artists for her quick temper. “Everybody is worried about you.”

“Everybody?” he questions. Oliver knows for certain that some people could care less about his health right now.

“Yes, everybody that’s important, which is your managers and myself. You know we have a comeback scheduled for the end of his quarter and I needed to know how that was going. There’s a lot riding on this, as you know.”

Oliver leans back in the armchair and crosses his arms, defensively. “Have you asked Salem or JIyeon yet? They seemed… excited to run a project.”

She shakes her head and says, “we don’t want that. Plastic Flowers has been out of the public eye for ten months, so we need to retain any relevance from Teeth last year and that will only come from you."

“What if I don’t want to?” Oliver challenges and both of them are surprised by his attempts at talking back.

“We can’t force you, of course,” Yeonghui says, leaning closer to Oliver. “But, I can cancel this album and make sure it looks like your fault. Junyeong and Salem are already upset, Jiyeon just sent us a lovely demo to compliment what you’ve already written, and Deurim's growing restless without any work. It would be very easy to recreate that outrage. Your choice, Oliver.”

He’s quiet for a few moments, remaining in that defensive position as she meets his stare directly. Oliver has always had an interesting relationship with his CEO and has never gone directly against her in their seven years of working together. He is a people pleaser at heart and at this moment, he wants to continue the fight against her but also knows that Yeonghui isn’t one to bluff. Sure, she’s prone to exaggerations to get her way nonetheless, she would find a way to twist these events in her favor and they both know that.

“Fine. I’ll send you some files later tonight.”

“Great. Why don’t we find some inspiration right now though? We have big plans for the promotion of this album,” she smiles, satisfied with winning the conversation, and opens her notebook to keep track. “So, how have your days been?”

First, he wakes up at eleven-forty-five.

He pulls himself out of his bed and reluctantly puts on a new pair of clothes, brushing his hair of any knots before entering the living room. Salem gives him an annoyed look as she clears off the table from that morning’s breakfast. Junyeong is in the shower after his daily workout. Deurim doesn’t pay him any attention, she’s too focused on trying to learn all their old music from Minghui's poorly taken notes. Jiyeon is drinking her coffee and reading some book, pretending she doesn’t see him, but Oliver can see her eyes flicker around the room. She looks from the corner of her eyes to watch his every move like he was going to do something stupid if she didn’t.

Oliver can’t find it in himself to care.

He wishes Jiyeon a good morning, the smile and light excitement in his voice not reaching any other part of his face. He’s never been that good of an actor. Jiyeon smiles back, small, and thanks him before returning to her book, leaving them in silence as the microwave hums. He wishes he could be better for her and provide their relationship with something indispensable. Instead, their days were spent inside his shared bedroom with Minghui and recounting the one-sided disagreements between the oldest members and Oliver in their debriefs. It was all they discussed recently and he wanted to bury those feelings of resentment. There was nothing Oliver could do to change their minds and he was not going to make the first move to repair their relationship. Salem had said enough during their last practice session.

( She had gone on and on and on about how boring his latest composition was. It played too much into the tropes of the last two albums and whatever he released on Soundcloud. The fans were going to get bored and he could not handle their criticism as she could. The last single she had written performed at the same level as they did in 2019, right after his Superband appearance. It was Oliver that had given them popularity in the first place and she hated that.

“Have you written anything yet?” he asks, not hiding his annoyance. That shuts her up and they return to working in silence, the only sounds coming from his pen scratching against paper and her acoustic guitar. He sighs and almost apologizes. Almost. )

Jiyeon is good friends to have, despite the lulls in their conversations these days. He knows it's his fault for that too. She provided feedback on his latest demos, offered to plan a celebration for his return to South Korea, and gave him enough time to melt into his bed after long meetings. She never rushed Oliver into hanging out and understood that he needed some time to himself. He needs to step up and be there for her. Invite her out or something, stop locking himself in his room. She deserved better friends than Oliver.

“Are you nervous about tonight?” Jiyeon asks, testing the waters of that day.

“Not really, um—” Oliver begins to answer as his phone rings in his pocket. Another missed call from his mother. The third of that day. He gives Jiyeon an apologetic look before slipping back into his bedroom to answer. “I’ll be right back.” She just nods and goes back to her book.

“Hi mom,” he tries to sound happier and it almost works. “How are you? Isn’t it like close to midnight back home?”

His mother, despite the time difference, is ecstatic to hear from him. “Oh, Oliver,” she gushes. “I’ve missed you so much. I couldn’t sleep and wanted to see if you would pick up.”

Kathleen Suh is a wonderful mother and person, easily one of Oliver’s favorites. Until his step-father taught Oliver how to play the piano, he wanted to emulate her. He wanted to attend Harvard University, he wanted to study history, he wanted to have a family of his own, and he wanted to be happy. His mother accepted the idea of his debut easily, wishing him nothing but the best for those years of training. She would send him money for food, new sneakers, and anything that the company needed. Oliver was forced to just take it since she would not take no for an answer. Now, he does the same and plus some extra gifts for his family. Two weeks ago, his checking account showed a small dip as he provided Harry, his younger brother, with a new Macbook for his final years of high school.

She’s happy to hear from Oliver, unsurprisingly. It's been two full months since they’ve last spoken and Oliver covers it with an excuse about being busy with writing for their new album. She accepts it and they move on to a conversation about his siblings with Ivy’s recent engagement still being the talk of the town and Harry’s already joined the poetry club, making friends already. He’s glad to hear that they are happy and healthy. Maybe he should call them this weekend… Did they even want to hear from him, though? Oliver wasn’t sure. It had been months since he initiated contact and would not blame his siblings for ignoring his future attempts to reach out.

The call continues like this for almost an hour. They go through the important details that Oliver would have missed from the stateside and Oliver give her any information about Plastic Flowers. Its a nice change of pace compared to the rest of the week, which was spent dreadfully alone. Oliver is an introvert at heart, but having these catch up calls with his mother wasn’t the same as meeting friends. They could never drain him.

However, the tone changes for the worst.

“You know I’m proud of you, right?” she asks and any good feeling leaves his body at that moment.

Oliver hates when she does this to him and closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. He gets it, really. Not hearing from their children would get anyone in a sentimental mood but Oliver hated discussing his current feelings with anyone and did not want to worry his mother. After a few moments, he answers, “I’m fine, mom. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ve just been busy preparing for this album,” A pause in the conversation. Neither of them speaks so Oliver ends the conversation there. “It’s late in Boston so I’m going to hang up now. I love you.”

Before he ends their call, his mother bids him goodbye and tells him that she loves him too. A hand goes through his dark brown hair, recently fixed from the bleaching sessions of the year prior, and he sighs loudly, flopping onto his mattress. Oliver, for the thousandth time within two hours of being awake, wishes that he was a better person and most importantly, a better son. If he didn’t feel like this, his mother would not have to worry about him and life would be easier for everyone.

Without him…

Nevermind.

Jiyeon don’t want him thinking like that anymore. ‘It’s not good for the band,’ Jiyeon had said a few months ago, sitting on the balcony with three bottles of white wine between them. They always ended up back there, like in the old days, where they felt on top of the world and like nothing could truly hurt them. The days before he realized the band’s relationship breaking down in front of him and along with the divide between his personal and public life. It has always been the three of them against the world with Salem and Junyeong drifting in and out, depending on their feelings toward the youngest members at the time.

He still remembers the celebrations that came with their first single to enter the top ten in the music charts. At the moment, it felt like things were changing for the better. Less glaring and more attempts at working together, the creation of 403 a few months later, and securing their first win.

It was going well… until it wasn’t.

And the world would turn without Oliver Song for a comeback. He was sure of it. It might not reach the same success as Salem indulged in a more niche audience and the general public was not her biggest fan these days, but that was okay with him. It was the company's problem and they would have to work hard to rectify that. If Yeonghui could turn the world against him, she could definitely change the public opinion of Salem in a matter of a few weeks. At the same time, the band might not survive without the input of Oliver as the public’s favorite member and the lead vocalist of Plastic Flowers. While Oliver could take himself from the equation, with the fanbase also divided between favorite members, showing a weakened lineup could spell disaster. Rumors would circulate and the world would stop turning and Oliver would be lost forever, with—

“Oliver? Are you okay? You’ve been in here for, like, three hours,” Deurim's voice interrupts his spiraling and she’s standing just outside of the doorframe with an odd look on her face.

Glancing down at his phone, Oliver could have sworn it was only two in the afternoon last time he had checked and now it was nearing four, closer to the end of the day than the beginning and yet another day lost to his downward spiral. This had been happening a lot more lately, with days blending into nights and the inability to be in the moment. He was always stuck between the past and the future, there was no time to worry about the present and he could not stop moving even for a moment. There was always something to do, even if that was nothing in reality.

“God fucking—” Oliver swears as he sits up, all the blood rushing to his head, and goes to his closet. “I should have set an alarm. I’m going to be so late.”

Deurim watches as he stumbles around the room, pulling a sweater and a new pair of socks from his bedside table. “Late for what?” she asks.

“I have a meeting with Yeonghui in a few minutes. She’s having one of her moments about a new record, I just need to appease her for now. I’ll still make dinner later.”

“Are you sure you’re well enough to go? You look like shit, Oliver,” Deurim remarks.

“What are you talking about?” It's at that exact moment that Oliver gets a closer look at himself in the mirror and pauses for a moment. “Oh. Well, that’s nothing a bit of makeup can’t fix. I’ll just put it on in the car, no big deal,” Oliver’s voice is quicker than normal as the nerves start to get too much and he offers his roommate what should be a smile. Things are suddenly moving miles per minute. “Reservation is for seven, right? I can meet you guys at the restaurant if she runs over time, I’ll keep you and Jiyeon updated, yeah?”

Oliver is not doing well and someone else had noticed. So much for not making anyone worry anymore.

Anyone could see that from miles away. He hasn’t only lost weight over the last few months, but the dark circles have grown, and much more affect his naturally bright appearance. Before this moment, he never had the chance to truly look at himself in the mirror but it seems that the reaction of not only Deurim but the small gasps from the makeup artists was warranted. Oliver isn’t sure when it all got this bad, but, he can fix it, no problem. Starting that night he would change his life for the better. More meals, a peaceful rest, and spending time with Jiyeon was first on the list. That would help him feel better. (Hopefully).

Deurim nods, still looking uncomfortable. They both know stopping Oliver from going to this meeting would be near impossible, he hated missing tasks. “Sounds like a plan. Good luck with the meeting.”

In a few minutes, he is not only ready for the meeting but his plans for after. Their manager knocks on the door and Oliver and escorted to the Superbloom Media headquarters, just ten minutes down the road. The ride is quiet save for the soft lull of whatever song was currently going viral in South Korea and his manager taps the steering wheel to the beat to save them from complete silence. Oliver is thankful that he doesn’t ask many questions and just goes along with whatever the members were feeling to keep his job. At some points, Oliver thinks that the manager is looking at him before remembering that checking your mirrors is always an important safety measure, especially as he turns street corners.

They park in the artists-only lot, the third floor of the private parking garage and he is left to his own devices. The manager has to pick up something else for the members, something that Salem requested from the shop down the street and he wishes Oliver good luck. They both know that he would need it.

That was Oliver’s day.

That had been Oliver’s day for the last three months and it seems like nothing will change.

The only changes come from whatever plans are happening at the same time, guided through the motions by either his bandmates or manager. Nothing ever seemed to change and after a while, it all blended together. Yeonghui isn’t satisfied with his answer and she stopped writing a few minutes into his attempts at recounting his day.

“And, how long have you been like this?”

“Three months.”

She is silent for a moment. “That’s a long time.”

“I know.”

“What happened three months ago?” she asks, trying to get more information out of him.

Oliver shrugs. “I’m not sure.”

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drdemonprince · 9 months

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I’ve spent over a decade learning the science we know (and don’t) about weight loss. I’ve also spent so much time in treatment for my disordered eating, therapy for CPTSD, and learning to see and unlearn internalized fatphobia. I’ve spent time in community with other fat people learning how to take care of a very fat body and how to find joy in it despite marginalization and oppression at large. Explaining why I still am taking this medication and hoping for weight loss is so tender: there is such a desperate panic to realize you may not fit into a car you bought, despite a lot of research and test drives to find a car that safely fits your body. Or of a partner who loves you but can’t move beyond their internalized fatphobia. Or of a peer who died after surgery to cut off a big belly — like I fantasized about doing for years. The panic of not being able to wipe well in a hospital’s tiny PICU bathroom, not designed for fat bodies, trying to take care of yourself enough so you can take care of your kid who nearly died. The terrible fear and anger of being denied medical care, over and over, by doctors who think we deserve it. None of this shit is my fault, but they’re all very fucking serious in how it impacts your life and well-being. Knowing all I’ve learned and unlearned, loving myself, and connecting with people who feel similarly doesn’t protect me from how other people can ensure my marginalization, isolation, and death. Hoping for weight loss is hoping to live longer simply by people being fractionally more willing to give me medical care. Hoping for weight loss is hoping for more safety in car rides. Hoping for weight loss is hoping for enough ease to make the hard times in life bearable. I think part of why I feel so disconnected from the fat community these days is because it doesn’t feel safe to talk about these feelings out loud. For most of my life, I was the type of person who makes it unsafe. I brought so much trauma to the table that there wasn’t room for anything else. I’ve felt so wounded by fat celebrities who choose bariatric surgery and by smaller-bodied influencers that get to be beloved and uplifted despite leaving behind fatter fans in their collabs and collections. I haven’t been able to connect with so many others over the years due to the ways trauma isolated me through my own fear and panic.

Please please read this beautiful, clarifying, candid essay about the many internally conflicting feelings of starting Ozempic as a superfat person and fat liberationist, written by my friend @photopotamus.

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buckyownsmylife · 2 years

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when it’s said and done - king!steve rogers smut

The one where you’re pregnant and Steve is infatuated

Warnings: smut, dirty talk

A/N: This was conceived to be a follow-up to my In the middle series, but it can be read by itself

Steve’s P.O.V.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. It didn’t even matter that I knew all of the men in the kingdom who got to see her like this, round with my child, could barely pry their eyes from her too.

She deserved it. There never was and there never would be anyone nearly as beautiful as her. And now that she was bearing the future of our people, it was like she shined.

My perfect little wife.

Ever since it became clear she was pregnant, it was like my need for her had tripled. I wanted to touch her all the time. I hated the sight of her in a dress, I loathed the fabric that hid her supple body from my eyes.

She was mine. It was my right to take her, anytime and anywhere. And I was going to take full advantage of it, right here and right now.

“Leave us,” I ordered to no one in particular. Everyone in the throne room knew better than to stay behind. My darling queen, however, just looked shocked as she stared up at me with her mouth open.

“In here? In the middle of the day? Really?” It was impossible not to chuckle at how adorable she was. I’d had her countless times before, in much more open spaces than this one, even in front of the guards once, and she was still the shyest little thing. “Do you really think it’s a good idea?”

Instead of immediately answering, I just pulled her onto my lap, capturing her lips with mine, my hand falling over her grown belly instinctively. “I think it’s time you understand all of my ideas are great.”

She didn’t seem to want to argue anymore, so I bunched up the skirt of her dress until I was able to run my fingers over her lower lips, humming appreciatively at the wetness I found there.

“So ready for me already… I know you don’t do it on purpose my love, but you tease me so much.” My words were enough to reignite the spirit of disagreement inside of her, but I wasn’t about to let her have her way. So I filled her with two of my fingers, immediately pumping them while keeping her legs open with my own.

“Oh, yes… Listen to these sounds, darling. Hear how well your little cunt takes me.” I was enchanted by it, even after all this time. “I wish I could have my mouth on you, but for that, we’ll have to wait until we’re in bed, my queen.”

Her answering mewl was all I could take before my resolve crumbled, and with one effective flick of my wrist, the scraps of her dress pooled on the floor as I turned her around to face me.

“Hmm… It seems I am insatiable when you’re like this.” Her hand covered my nape, and she pulled herself closer to me so she could kiss my lips, making me smile.

“Only when I’m like this?” She teased, and I could only chuckle. She had a point there. But of course, I wouldn’t give it to her.

“You’re the one at fault, my queen,” I insisted, making quick work of my own clothes so I could rub my member directly at her entrance. “Your presence enamours me. I find myself unable to work or do anything other than sink myself into your delectable body. And you know what?”

“What?” Her question was breathless, almost pained as I shoved myself inside of her.

“You’re the only one who gets me like this.” Her laugh was like a balm to my overexcited body, calming me down so I could enjoy this moment more thoroughly, and focus on her own enjoyment too.

“I should hope so,” she teased me back, making me join in on her laugh, but then I touched her nub and adjusted her position so I could drive us to desire, and there was no more laughter. Only moans could be heard in the giant and empty throne room.

“Yes…” I groaned, licking a stripe up her neck and watching as she shivered from it. “And you’re the only one who takes care of it, huh?”

I knew other kings might have many women ready and willing to please them, but I only needed one. My queen.

I wanted to hear her cries of pleasure, wanted to delight myself in them, but she was holding herself back. And I knew exactly why…

“If you’re so scared about them knowing what we’re doing in here, I can always stop, my love…” That got me the response I wanted, and she stopped nibbling on her bottom lip and began crying out loud to the empty throne room.

“So sensitive…” I ran one hand down her body to touch her little button and once I did, she exploded around me, taking me into bliss with her.

“Only you can make me mad enough not to care what others will think,” she whispered, and all I could do was snuggle her against me because I wasn’t ready to pull out of her.

#my fics #steve rogers smut #steve rogers #smut #royal au #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers reader #steve rogers reader insert #steve rogers reader inserts #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fics

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raccoontho · 3 months

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Promise to the Moon

A @mcyt-valentines gift for @paradoxlemonade :D! Read the fic here, or on AO3.

Words: 1,077 Characters: Rendog, Martyn Inthelittlewood Tags: Hurt/comfort, Werewolves, Werewolf turning, Sickfic (technically), Ambiguous Relationship

Summary: With how well Martyn and Ren have gotten to know each other over the course of 3rd Life, things were bound to get a little… wild. Especially if werewolves are involved. The two face the consequences of their actions, getting closer than ever before.

“Martyn…”

“I’m fine.”

Martyn didn’t look fine. He was pacing across their base, going from task to task with seemingly no goal in mind, so it was tough to see just how big the bags underneath his eyes were without standing still. How pale he looked. Opened an enchantment book. Put it down again and walked up the stairs. Plucked a few handfuls of wheat. Back down the stairs again. Martyn’s brows were furrowed, eyes slightly sunken. Eyes that were more amber-coloured than they looked before.

“Martyn…”

Attempted to trade with one of their villagers again. Gave up halfway through and started to make the beds instead. Dropped their pillows to the floor. Gripped the sleeves of his shirt with clenched fists. Walked back up the stairs to peek over the walls. Back inside to check their supply of lapis.

Ren knew this specific kind of restlessness. Usually, if he knew ahead of time what he was in for, he could go with it and let himself shift and avoid the pain altogether. But Martyn, well, he…

“Martyn, please stop this. I can almost taste your stress, dude.”

“I’m not stressed!” Martyn threw his hands in the air. “I’m doing fine! I’m taking care of things!” He spun back around to go do something else. Ren strode up to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Ren—”

“Listen, man. I’ve gotten to know you a little more over these past few weeks. Maybe even a little too well. And I know that this isn’t like you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Martyn said through gritted, sharpened teeth.

“You’re holding something back.” Ren peered into Martyn’s eyes. Martyn responded by gripping Ren’s wrist to break away from his hold. Ren let him. Sharp nails dug into his skin.

“I’m just saying, seeing you pace around the place like this, like it’s your territory…”

“Ren, please, don’t—”

“It’s highly likely that you’re turning into a werewolf.”

Martyn winced, shutting his eyes. When he opened them again, they were even more golden than before.

“That’s not the thing I’m worried about. I mean—”

Martyn rolled his eyes.

“—It’s that you’re denying it.”

“You’re seeing things. No offense, my Lord.” Martyn pulled back his collar to show off the wound. It had healed, since, but especially now, so close to the full moon, Ren saw the thick, blond fur that had started to spread from it.

“A bite’s just a bite. It wasn’t even a full moon,” Martyn says with a confidence that almost has Ren believing him. “It’s nothing. I’m fully capable of defending our land as I am.”

“Dude, you’re barely able to focus on anything for more than thirty seconds.” Ren picked up the pillows off the ground and fluffed them up back on the beds. “I know it’s hard, but with how much you’re resisting it, why don’t you try to lie down for a moment?”

Martyn shakes his head. His hair looks tangled and thick. “If I lie down then there’s nobody to watch over you. If I lie down, then… then I can’t distract myself.” He walked off again, at that. Ren jumped up and grabbed Martyn’s hand, feeling the growing claws dig into his skin as he squeezed it.

When Martyn turned back around, tears brimmed in his eyes.

“Oh, Martyn…”

They easily fell into an embrace. Ren hugged Martyn close, one hand in his blond hair, scratching softly at his scalp.

A sob wracked Martyn’s body. “This’ll blow over, right? It’s just a flu. A werewolf flu.”

“I’m so sorry, Martyn.” Ren squeezed him tighter. “I should have known better. I should have known.”

“It’s not your fault.” Martyn nuzzled into Ren’s neck. “I think, somewhere, I even wanted, or hoped…” He hummed. “It’s just that it’s…”

“Happening a little fast?” Ren felt Martyn nod. “I know. I’m right here with you.”

That part he meant in multiple ways. Ren would be right there through Martyn’s first full moon shift. He’d guide him as best he could, for he himself would turn into a wolf all the same.

When Martyn loosened himself from their embrace, Ren winked. That got Martyn to smile, a little. He let himself be guided back to their beds, at least. A little sluggish. The moon always demanded a lot of energy, which would only find its way out properly when it was at its highest point in the sky.

Ren tucked Martyn in, smiling at the way his fully wolflike eyes made him look like a big puppy.

“Don’t worry, dude. Sleep, first.”

Martyn nodded, eyes drooping slightly.

“What will the others think? It’s barely even been a month.”

“Who cares what they think??” Ren grabbed Martyn’s hand. “All that matters to me is that you’re okay. Which you’re not. I’ll be here to teach you everything you need to know. I know it’s terrifying, but it’ll be okay. I’m here.”

Martyn nodded, eyes suddenly squeezing shut as another sob wracked his body.

“It hurts,” he growled.

“I know it does.” Ren brushed the palm of Martyn’s hand with his thumb. “I’ll get you some potions to help. But you have to see it through. Think about what comes after! We’ll get to run underneath the moonlight together! Terrify any zombies and skeletons and other people!” Ren’s tail started to wag at the thought. To fully wolf out, with Martyn, just the two of them…

“Wait, the walls—” Martyn tried to sit up, but Ren gently held him back down. “We have to—”

“Shh, what’d I tell you? Rest now, we’re safe. I’ll take watch tonight.”

“Mmm.” Martyn let himself fall back into his pillow. Ren gave him a soft smile.

Then, before he knew it, Ren was pulled in under the covers as well. He held Martyn until he fell asleep, listening to his breath. Feeling his muscles relax, more fur slowly creeping in.

Ren would get him a few regen potions and food ready, if only he could escape from Martyn’s grip.

Martyn let out a sigh in his sleep. He was finally allowing himself to rest, which meant that he was allowing himself to change. He wasn’t denying it anymore. Ren let himself relax in Martyn’s grip. With it, he felt his own fur creeping up his back. He was quite exhausted from holding back his shift, too, he realized.

He yawned. Tomorrow. Tomorrow they would continue worrying. Right now they’d sleep.

#mcyt-valentines #writing #fic #treebark #happy valentines !!!!!! I hope you enjoy :D #I enjoyed stepping a bit out of my comfort zone when writing this #ren and martyn the beloveds ever

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5ivebyfive · 7 months

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whumptober day 26: “Sometimes I get so tired; I don’t even know myself.” fandom: power rangers (2017) ship: trimberly note: Set vaguely in the universe of such a beautiful disaster. You don't have to read it to follow this, but you should! (and I'm gonna work on updating it) tw: drug use mention, super angst Kim had good days and bad days. Then she had very bad days. She was over the withdrawal of the drugs, but her mental health wasn’t good. It was like everything she had suppressed with cocaine was finally rising from the water. Trini could handle it all though. She loved Kim and anything Kim brought, Trini was there. But the very bad days were hard for her. It was like there was nothing she could do to console her girlfriend, and it angered her. She wasn’t angered at Kim, but at the whole situation.

Kim going through withdrawal and starting life without drugs had taken a toll on Trini. She tried so hard to be strong for Kim, but some nights, when Kim was able to fall into a deep sleep, Trini cried. She mourned for ther Kim before the drugs, and she mourned for how broken Kim was still. But she powered through it, kept it to herself, and kept going.

Trini was sitting on the couch in the living room. Kim was taking an afternoon nap, and as much as Trini wanted to join her, she just needed a break. So she called Zack and listened to the phone ring.

“Yo, Trini,” he answered.

“Yo,” Trini replied with little energy.

“You okay?”

“I don’t know,” she said. She didn’t often talk about everything with Zack because it was Kim’s business. But sometimes she needed to let some of it out, and she couldn’t with Kim. So Zack it was.

“What’s up?” He asked in concern.

“I’m just…tired,” she said with a sigh.

“Are you sleeping?”

“It’s hard to sleep. I lay there and worry about her, and…it’s like, if I sleep and something happens…”

“You gotta take care of yourself, too,” Zack said.

“I don’t know,” Trini said. “Sometimes I get so tired; I don’t even know myself.”

“I say again, take care of yourself.”

“Yeah,” she said distantly. Then she jumped because suddenly Kim was in the room, and she didn’t look happy. “I gotta go,” she told Zack. She hung up and looked at Kim. “You okay?”

“I’m a burden on you,” Kim said softly. “You don’t sleep because of me.” Trini closed her eyes. Kim wasn’t supposed to hear that.

“Princess, you’re not a burden. Never.”

“You just told Zack I am,” Kim said with a stubborn tone.

“I didn’t.” Trini got up and walked towards Kim to take her in her arms, but Kim pulled away. “I don’t care if I never sleep again,” she said. “As long as I’m taking care of you.”

“Yeah,” Kim huffed. “Then you’ll pass out or something and it’ll be my fault. Just…forget about me, okay?” She turned on her heel and went back into the bedroom to slam the door shut behind her. Trini immediately followed and tried to turn the knob on the door, but it was locked. She started to panic. A locked door was bad. She knew Kim was clean and was working hard to stay that way, but a locked door scared Trini. She had no idea what was going on behind it.

Trini’s whole identity had become taking care of Kim. She was on sabbatical from work so she could be there 24/7. And all that time together often led to fights. At least, on Kim’s end. Trini tried to acquiesce and not fight back. She didn’t want to fight with Kim. She didn’t want to make things worse for Kim. So she felt like she was disappearing. Everything that made her her was gone, because all she was, was Kim’s keeper. And she wanted it that way, but it was difficult. She was overtired, burned out, and depressed. She just didn’t let that show in front of Kim.

“Kim,” she called through the door. “Open up. We can talk.”

“I don’t want to talk!” Kim shouted back.

“I need to talk to you.”

“To talk about what a burden I am?” Kim said with a growl.

“You’re not a burden!” Trini shouted, losing the control she tried so hard to have around Kim. The door swung open and Kim glared at Trini.

“Yeah, it’s my fault you’re not sleeping.”

“No, it’s my fault,” Trini argued. “I’m the one who makes myself stay awake as much as I can. I’m the one who’s in control of that. I’m the one who decides to do that.” Kim looked at the floor, crossing her arms. Trini tried to approach her again. She put a hand on Kim’s arm and looked at her, even though Kim didn’t look back. “I love you. So much. I just…can’t help worrying about you.” Kim kicked the floor with the toes of her foot and her frown deepened.

“I don’t want you to worry about me so much,” she said quietly.

“Well…I do,” Trini said.

“You don’t have to,” Kim said. “I can go stay somewhere else and you can sleep and…not think about me.”

“You’re not leaving,” Trini said thickly.

“You can’t make me stay,” Kim replied. “I’m an adult.”

“You want to leave me?” Trini asked, sad fear in her voice. Kim looked up, her gaze clouded.

“Wouldn’t it be better for you if I did?”

“No! You can’t…would you really do that?” Trini asked. Her brows furrowed and she shook her head. Kim didn’t say anything. “After everything I’ve been doing for you?” Trini was starting to get mad.

“You deserve a break from me.” Kim glanced up.

“I don’t need a break from you. But I do need you to stop assuming what I need.”

“You’re doing too much,” Kim murmured. “I’m draining you.” Trini sighed and nodded.

“Yeah, you are. But I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m tired of being…like this,” Kim said, her eyes welling with tears. “I want us to go back to normal. Before…everything.”

“So do I,” Trini said. “But you still need time.”

“I need time…away,” Kim said, looking away again.

“You’re still in a place where you could relapse,” Trini said.

“I won’t.”

“How will I make sure of that?”

“You don’t have to,” Kim said. “I can take care of myself. I’ll stay with my parents.”

“Kim…” Trini felt hopeless and her heart was breaking. “What…what does that mean for us?”

“It means…we need a break. I need a break. And I think you do, too.”

“I don’t!”

“I’m going to go pack and call my mom,” Kim said, turning to the bedroom door.

“Kim!” Trini moved closer to grab her, but Kim pushed her off. Then Kim went into the bedroom and closed and locked the door. Trini deflated. She stumbled over to the couch and fell onto it. A break? She couldn’t handle a break. She couldn’t handle how much she was going to worry with Kim so far away. She leaned her head back on the cushion and closed her eyes as silent tears fell down the sides of her face. She loved Kim more than anything else in the world. She didn’t care what happened to herself if she could just take care of her. But it was difficult. It was draining. Loving Kim in this period of their lives felt…like she was being pulled in multiple directions while her tooth was being pulled. It was killing Trini. She knew it, but she couldn’t say it. She didn’t want to say it. Kim was going through so much and Trini couldn’t fix it. She often felt like she was drowning. Like she couldn’t breathe. She walked on eggshells around Kim, hoping not to upset her or guide her into falling back into drugs. It was so hard. It was straining their relationship. It felt impossible.

But Trini didn’t care. She would let Kim grind her down into nothing, as long as she could be there. And Kim wasn’t letting her. Kim was shutting her out again. Trini shifted and laid down across the couch, eyes still closed. She curled into a ball and cried. She cried for all the fear and pain she had been through with Kim ever since everything had been off while Kim secretly did drugs. She cried for not being a good enough caretaker which was pushing Kim out the door.

She heard Kim come out of the bedroom and didn’t look at her. The air was thick between them. Trini just wanted Kim to go already. She couldn’t take it. Then, she felt Kim climb onto the couch behind her. Kim’s arm went around Trini and pulled her back against her chest. Trini wanted to pull away. She was sad and angry about Kim leaving. But Kim hadn’t held her in so long. Trini leaned back into Kim. Kim kissed her neck.

“I love you,” Kim whispered. “I’ll be back.”

“Don’t,” Trini begged.

“Ssh,” Kim hushed. She curled into Trini. Trini couldn’t fight it anymore. She stayed silent and sniffed, her face itchy from drying tears. She squeezed her eyes shut and just let herself be in the moment. Kim pressed her lips to Trini’s shoulder and held them there. They lay there silently for a long time, Kim just holding Trini, until eventually, Trini fell into a deep sleep.

#trimberly #trimberly fic #power rangers 2017 #my fics #beautiful disaster tag #wt23 tag #lemme know if you like it #reblog please!#queue sera sera

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dialovers-translations · 1 year

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Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN ー Ruki Ecstasy [Epilogue]

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

ー The scene starts in Kino’s room in the Ghoul’s manor

Yuuri: Kino. Those two have just left the area. They are headed towardsーー

Kino: Eden, duh? That guy really thinks and acts just like a human would. Although that makes it easier for me to read his moves.

Well then, shall we go after them? ーー Seems like it’s finally our time to shine after all.

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the outside of Eden

Yui: ( ...Thank god. The war hasn’t started yet. However... )

Ruki: It’s suspiciously noisy over here. ...I suppose the Vibora will soon launch their attack.

Yui: Anyway, we have to look for Kou-kun and the oth...Ah!

Kou: Ruki-kun!? And M-neko-chan as well!

Yui: Kou-kun!

Yuma: Ruki, ya say!? Took ya long enough, dude! What have ya been up to this whole time!?

Azusa: Ruki...Welcome back...!

Ruki: ...I’m home now. Sorry for taking so long.

Kou: Exactly! Things were so hectic without you arou ーー Whoops. ...Sorry.

Ruki: Sorry for what? Why apologize?

Kou: We shouldn’t say those kinds of things, right? ...That’s why you grew sick of it, didn’t you?

Ruki: ...? What are you talking about?

Yuma: Ya refused to come back home ‘cause we were always naggin’ ya to take care of all the shit, no?

Ruki: ...I have no idea what you’re talking about. I believe you guys might be misunderstanding something?

Azusa: ...Did Kou jump the gun on this one...?

Yuma: Eh? ...Kou, you bastard!

Kou: Wah! Wait, hold up! It’s not my fault, is it!?

A-Anyway, we have more important matters on our hands! The Vibora might come to attack soon!

Yuma: Che, look at the dude tryin’ to change the subject. Shuu will do somethin’ ‘bout that so it’s not that urgent, is it?

Yui: Eh? ...Shuu-san’s here?

Azusa: Yeah...The whole Sakamaki family came.

Ruki: ...Just as I thought. That’s a relief.

However, if it comes to a war, they will most likely need our help as well. Before that happens...

Kou, Yuma, Azusa. There’s something I want to tell you guys.

Azusa: Tell...?

Yuma: ...Seems like it’s somethin’ serious. Let’s head inside first then. Who knows when the enemy will show up here.

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the entrance hall at Eden

Kou: ーー No way...Karlheinz-sama is the one who...?

Yuma: He’s the true mastermind behind that Revolution? ...That’s not somethin’ to joke ‘bout, mate.

Azusa: But...Ruki would never joke about such a thing, would he...?

Ruki: ...Yes. I don’t want to believe it either, but all the evidence points in this direction.

Can you guys...forgive him for his deeds?

Kou: ...

Yuma: ...

Yui: ( ...We knew that it would come as a shock to them. However, Ruki-kun chose to tell them regardless. )

( In which case, I should also confront them instead of running away from the issue. )

...I won’t deny that Karlheinz-san has committed a crime. And perhaps this led to you guys’ misfortune as well.

However...The fact that he saved all four of you is just as much the truth.

Azusa: Eve...

Yui: I’m sorry...Perhaps I’m in no position to say this when I wasn’t there to experience it all.

Azusa: No...That’s not true. I feel the same way.

Even if it was but a mere coincidence that he chose to save us, or even if he had an ulterior motive to do so...

If he had not done so, I would have never been given the chance to be part of such a warm family...

Perhaps it’s because I never once thought of myself as all that unfortunate but...I believe I am able to forgive him.

Yuma: ...Ya do have a point.

I mean, it does make me wonder how things would have turned out if that Revolution never happened. ...I lost many things ‘cause of it after all.

Still...Just like Azusa said, we were given a chance to meet as a result of it.

In that case, perhaps it wasn’t all a mistake after all.

Maybe I would think differently ‘bout it if I was still miserable to this day, but luckily, I can say that I’m happy right now.

Ruki: Azusa...Yuma...

Kou: ...Yeah. I agree with both of them as well.

I’m pretty sure that under normal circumstances, one wouldn’t be able to look past his crimes. Just like...How your biological Father can’t.

However, in our case, we didn’t just have everything taken away from us.

He gave us something back in return as well. Not just anything either...but something incredibly valuable.

To be honest, I’m much happier now than I was as a human. I mean, now I have the best family in the whole wide world!

Ruki: Kou...

Yuma: You’re makin’ me cringe, mate.

Kou: What!? You don’t feel the same way?

Azusa: I do...

Kou: Right? Of course Azusa-kun would understand me~

Yuma: I never said I don’t agree, did I!?

Yui: ...Fufu.

Ruki: ...

Yui: Hey, Ruki-kun. It’s okay now. Everyone...This family you have here, it won’t fall apart no matter what happens.

Ruki: ...

Kou: I’m pretty sure that it’s the hardest on you to acknowledge the things which Karlheinz-sama has done.

But listen, Ruki-kun. Everyone makes mistakes, you know?

We did as well, and I’m pretty sure Karlheinz-sama is no exception to that rule either...

Perhaps he even realized his own mistakes, which is why he tried to start over with a clean slate?

ー Ruki recalls Christa’s words

Christa: That hurtful look in one’s eyes, capable of even making the hearts of those watching ache in pain...What is it that is making you suffer?

Ruki: ...Good question. I believe it is my own self-hatred which is causing this pain.

Christa: ...Fufu, the two of you really are similar.

ー The flashback ends

Ruki: ...I see.

Giving life once more to the people who died as a result of his own mistakes...Might have been his way of trying to start over again.

Ruki: ...Aah, damnit...

Azusa: Don’t cry, Ruki...

Yui: ...No, go ahead and cry if you need to.

You can do so right now. I mean, it’s in front of your family after all.

Yuma: ...Good point.

Ruki: ...It’s true that man might have committed a crime.

However, to me ーー to us, he remains an important individual who made this family possible.

I believe that he is our true Father after all...

Kou: Yeah. Which means that you are our older brother. No matter what happens.

Ruki: Ah...Yeah...

Azusa: Ruki...Uu...

Yuma: You’re cryin’ as well now, Azusa? Geez, my bros are a bunch of crybabies!

Kou: Says the guy with tears in his eyes~?

Yuma: Haah!? Says who...!? ...I mean, she does as well, see!?

Yui: S-Sorry...I’m just so happy...

Ruki: Hah...We really are alike, aren’t we? ...As to be expected of a family.

ー They can hear a commotion outside

Kou: ...That sound just now...!

Yuma: ...So the Vibora have arrived at last?

Ruki: Seems like this isn’t the time for tears.

Let us go. ...Right now, I can proudly say this.

I want to protect Eden. ーー This place which I shared with my family.

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #ruki mukami #lost eden #diabolik lovers translation #lerukiecstasyepilog

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bunny-j3st3r · 1 year

Photo

Ref images courtesy of @hollowsart

for the sake of explanation even though it’s just my sona I’m gonna refer to myself in third person lmao.

In canon Au Sai is a mutant that was a marine biologist (I am not that irl sad it was something I wanted to study tho :( ) and had the ability to go to deep depths that humans typically couldn’t descend to because of there body having gills under their fur and their fur being basically insulation for deep waters (they would come out somewhat dry after being in the water, think magic and but not perfectly dry) and this was how they found Ferrol.

In this other au I think they would still be a marine biologist but they never went out to the trench at that time, maybe a punishment from Norman for trying to be a smart ass when they accused Norman of dumping oil and trash into the oceans.

So they got down graded away from the aquarium and ended up having to do a lot of paper work write up at a different lab, this lab happened to be where geneticized animals where being tested on to see if they could more helpful in the future for human kind.

Being a mutant they weren’t all to keen working in this area and they where pretty sure that’s why Norman placed them in there but the plus side was they made decent friends with a couple of the scientists there and would often go and see what they would be working on and give there opinions and thoughts.

At some point of time testing on spiders had began, now because of this they avoided the main labs for a short time as having a fear of spiders they didn’t really want to be around them, until they got an alert email.

A genetically modified Theridion grallator spider had seemingly gone missing, as small as it was they weren’t sure what damages it could do since they had yet to test this out.

As they read this and thought about leaving for the day till they found it, they felt a sharp nip on there neck, instantly slamming a hand down on to there neck they then found the poor creature, ah, they knew the other scientists weren’t going to be particularly happy but they were at fault for this one, should of taken better care of it.

Over the course of a few days they began to find themselves going through some changes, sure they where a shape shifter but there body was doing things that they knew couldn’t normally do and it was then that the process of Jester spider began to come into play.

some lil bits of info

- There spider name is Jester Spider due to the spider that bit them being called a clown faced spider, they designed there costume around a jester but they also gain a more exciting and freeing personality when in costume, thus calling themselves Jester.

- When in costume Sai does not speak, they use squeaks and honks to respond to situations, this is beneficial for them as not using there voice makes it a lot harder to figure out who they are.

- They modified there webbing so it acts still like webbing but also looks like silly string, each shot comes out a different colour. it’s also bio degradable so will often waste away after a day or so as if it were never there.

- Out of costume they seem to be more relaxed and almost tired all of the time, they prefer to take it easy. In costume they are more hyper and playful but they are also really hard to read, this makes them a rather chaotic foe for enemies as they really can not judge there next move.

- Before they got bit there tail wasn’t really that strong, it could be used to help them swim but they couldn’t really do much else with it, after getting bit they seem to be able to use it like a third arm, it’s able to pick things up as well as able to hang them from high places if they don’t particularly want to waste webbing.

- They have bells on there costume but for some reason can still move extremely stealth like, the bells only seem to ring excitedly during fights.

- They are extremely nimble although it does not look it from there size, but they can move and play the same way a jester would act and perform tricks.

- They don’t shape shift in costume, harder to do and they would be found out quick who they were.

- More mutant types are to be expected in this au and ‘Jester’ has been accused of favouring them over humans, which isn’t true but when humans are protesting mutants just living peacefully it’s a little hard not to choose sides.

- JJJ still calls them a menace so in defiance they break into JJJ’s office a lot and leave small harmless pranks around, they think it’s funny but only seems to annoy JJJ more.

- They have there own villains to deal with here but because of there unpredictable nature, villains tend to find ‘Jester’ very hard to deal with, espically since ‘Jester’ just tends to go in with no game plan other than stop villain and keep civilians safe, but villains aren’t actually ever sure if Jester would keep civilians safe just to stop them because they act so chaotic. (the answer is yes Sai will protect civilians even if it doesn't seem it)

- They can pull tech things they need out from under there hat, this includes web bombs, spider drones, etc, the fun part is they don’t ever actually know what they might pull out, so it could be helpful, might also not be.

#spidersona #jester spider

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iohourtime · 1 year

Text

Yamada Ryosuke x Yoshine Kyoko

anan 2296 Close Up

(I paraphrased a little. Please let me know if there are any errors. They also did individual interviews but I'm to lazy to translate. Photos in the bottom.)

- This is the second time you have shared a screen together, but this time, you are playing “Azakawa* man” Maruya Kousuke and the “Robot woman” Sanada Izumi who was unmoved by his killer smile.

Yamada: Since it’s a love comedy, getting the right balance between us is the most important thing. Izumi didn’t have a lot of lines and was very hard to read in the first half, so Kousuke was very frustrated & kept asking (himself) “What’s wrong with her?” This mismatched feeling is a point to watch.

Yoshine: Of course we have to make each character memorable in their own way, but we also need to make sure the charms of each character play off each other to become even more than that. Recently, I acted by making an effort to anticipate how Yamada-san would react / feel.

Yamada: To what extent will she go to play the “robotic woman”? I could see how hard she worked [in those scenes] .

Yoshine: “What do you think?” I asked frequently.

Yamada: I said something like, “Ah, it’s annoying.” (laughs).

Yoshine: And I said something like, “Well, that’s OK then.” (laughs)

Yamada: We go back and forth like that.

*Azakawa = Azatoi + Kawaii, which basically refers to people, usually female, who use their cuteness to get their way (whether for good or evil).

- Then Kousuke realized his cuteness will expire soon, he kept hitting brick walls at work. When you hit a brick wall at work, what do you do?

Yamada: I don’t think much about walls. Although there are times when I thought “Wah!”, I am the type who does not think there are walls that cannot be torn down.

Yoshine: For me, it’s now!

Yamada: Eh?

Yoshine: This role. I’m trying to overcome it now.

Yamada: Oh, I see.

Yoshine: Up till now, I have acted in many “Believe in what’s inside me!” roles. But this time, I have to be more conscious of the “robot” feeling than I thought. So I feel like I’m hitting a roadblock when I have to hide the “think of myself as a weapon” kind of thought. I felt the difficulty even during the table read. But when I asked Yamada-san “is it OK”, he said “just act like you do right now and you’ll be OK”, and I thought “I’ll believe him and act”. Your words pushed me through the first day, so if it didn’t work, it’s all his fault. (laughs)

Yamada: Ha ha ha (laughs). It’s my job as the lead to take full responsibility.

- You feel the many charms and strengths of your partners, right?

Yamada: Yoshine san was able to fully immerse in [her role] even during the table read of “Kiokuya: Anata wo Wasurenai” last time. I think of a table read as the place where you work out the closeness and balance of your scene partners, so when I saw Yoshine san fully committing at that stage, it felt really shocking and thrilling. Also, although I’m shy, since we played childhood friends, I worked hard to try to shorten our distance…

Yoshine: Because I rejected [him] (laugh). I’m also shy, so I don’t know how to shorten the distance.

Yamada: Although I wasn’t able to do anything for Yoshine san, who had a lot tough scenes last time, I really felt “this person is a genius” with the way she was able to immerse in her role. Since it’s a love comedy this time, I am glad we can have fun.

Yoshine: Yamada san is very good at taking care of people. Not only that, I think he is very good at maintaining a balance, whether it’s last time or this time.

Yamada: I’ll take that. (laughs)

Yoshine: Last time when I was struggling, you kept a good distance between us. I am the type who likes to be alone when I am concentrating, so a lot of people try to be careful and stay away. However, Yamada san still had me in his sights despite us not talking. I thought he gave me a really great sense of security… (joking)

Yamada: Thank you. (laughs)

Yoshine: Since you had sown a lot of seeds to get close to me, so I didn’t feel shy. Although I already announced that “I am shy”.

- Kousuke’s rival has appeared, do you think you must have a rival?

Yamada: It’s probably good to have one. I think it’s nice to have someone who can give you a good challenge, this way you can work hard so you won’t lose to that person. I don’t think it’s a bad thing to have [a rival].

Yoshine: I also don’t think it’s a bad thing, but I’d rather make friends than have rivals. I’m sure there are many ways a rival can exist, but I want us to be able to go forward shoulder to shoulder. It’s definitely more fun this way, to work hard [together]. I really hate losing to myself more than anyone. If I don’t do my best now, I will probably regret it.

Yamada: I can feel that a lot when I see that.

Yoshine: It's stubbornness to hate to lose. It’s a really bad personality trait. (laughs)

Yamada: No, no. It’s a good thing and is necessary for this job. This time too, you’ll probably win against yourself in spite of the hardship.

- By the way, you’re playing salespeople this time. Sell this drama!

Yamada: Each episode is worth 10 million yen!

Yoshine: If you watch it, your skin will become healthy.

Yamada: It will, next day!... No, that’s not what they asked for! (laughs) But really, it’s a drama that will make you feel happy the next day.

Yoshine: There is not a single hateful character, so it’s really refreshing.

Yamada: For people who want to feel your heart beat faster, and for those who want to laugh, please watch.

#yamada ryosuke #yoshine kyoko #anan 2296 #translations #Orekawa #ore no kawaii ha mou sugu shouhi kigen #my cuteness is about to expire!?#is my kawaii about to expire?#俺かわ #俺の可愛いはもうすぐ消費期限!?

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quietly-by-myself · 2 years

Text

Shadow By My Fireplace - Chapter 26

Masterlist

Thank you to @darkthingshappen for beta reading! You're awesome.

CW: slavery whump, past intimate whumper, conditioned whumpee,, low self-esteem, PTSD/flashbacks/phantom feelings, references to past noncon, scars, discussion of human trafficking, past human trafficking, internalized ableism

===

It didn’t take Sacha long to make up his mind. In fact, his mind was made up right when he saw those other human trafficking survivors in the pictures. Even if he’d never met them, he felt an immediate kinship with them. He wasn’t the only one with scars. He wasn’t the only one with a brand. He wasn’t the only one with a Master.

He wasn’t alone.

Part of Sacha worried, though, that if he showed too much interest too quickly, he might seem impulsive.

Now you’re a survivor.

The words echoed over and over again in Sacha’s head. He was a survivor, wasn’t he? Sometimes, his trauma felt so small and insignificant. Other times, it was huge and suffocating. When he looked at those pictures, he began to wonder how his trauma compared to theirs. Did it even matter? He was a survivor all the same. He’d come out the other side. He was alive, somehow.

The next day, Sacha awoke and for the first time in years, couldn’t remember having had a nightmare. When he came out of that groggy fog, it was like a storm had cleared in his head.

Sacha was strong. Master’s death wasn’t his fault. He was safe. Everything was going to be okay.

So, why then, did he feel a lingering sense of grief?

It’s those complex emotions you have to work through now.

How was he supposed to even begin to process what he’d gone through? How was he supposed to be held together? How was he ever going to get a job? How was he ever going to talk to someone who didn’t understand like Cyril did?

The questions bothered him. He had a life ahead of him, now. Was he going to be too weak to take advantage of the opportunity that Master’s death provided him? It wasn’t like someone else would come to get him.

Sacha decided to wait until the next day to tell Cyril what he intended to do.

How exactly was he supposed to address Cyril?

I don’t see you as property.

Cyril wasn’t Sacha’s Master, was he? Should he call him Cyril, like he did before? Somehow, that felt right. Despite the years of training, Sacha found himself able to call Cyril and only Cyril by his name.

“Cyril?”

Cyril turned to him from his place by the door with a big smile on his face. “What is it, Sacha?”

Sacha took a deep breath. It took more courage than he cared to admit to speak to Cyril. To ask him for something. To be selfish for a moment and to think of himself. It felt so wrong. It felt foreign to have wants. However, Cyril had offered and Sacha knew that it was appropriate to take him up on his offer. Cyril was sincere. He wouldn’t punish Sacha for taking him up on his offer.

“I’d, um,” Sacha paused. “I’d like to get tattoos to cover my brand.”

Cyril looked a little surprised and a small look of concern washed over his face. “You don’t feel like you have to for me, right?”

Sacha shook his head. “This is for me. I want to be beautiful like them.”

Cyril’s face got emotional in a way that Sacha had only seen a few times. He smiled softly at Sacha, his eyes glowing with pride. “Of course. You’re perfect the way you are, but if this will help you reclaim your mind and your body, you should do it.”

Sacha sat in silence for a while, running his hand over Amber’s head as she curled up next to him. “I don’t know what it would feel like, to belong to myself, but I want to find out.”

“You will, Sacha,” Cyril’s voice began to crack a bit. “You will. I promise you that.”

—

The next part of the process was perhaps one of the most difficult. Sacha hadn’t taken his shirt off around Cyril since the very first couple days. However, the tattoo artist had requested photographs of what Sacha’s scarring and branding looked like to know how well she could do on it and Sacha had to oblige.

“Are you sure you want to do this today, Sacha?”

Cyril had his camera ready. Sacha was sweating, shaking, and cold with fear. The contents of his stomach had come up in his throat and formed an immobile ball.

Finally, Sacha managed to speak. “Better now than later.”

Cyril nodded. “I understand. I’ll turn around and whenever you’re ready, take your shirt off.”

Quickly, Cyril turned around. Sacha took a deep breath. As he moved to take his shirt off, he could vaguely feel the chains around his wrists and ankles, the hands of his Master on his body. Sacha’s breath grew shaky with each movement of the fabric over damaged skin. Would Cyril judge him? Of course not.

“I’m ready.”

Cyril nodded and turned around. Sacha hated the way his breath caught when Cyril saw the full damage to Sacha’s body.

“Which ones do you want covered? It’ll make it easier if we just take pictures of the ones you want her to work on.”

Sacha took a deep breath. He looked over the tattoos that Master had given him. There weren’t many of them, but each one was a horrible, painful reminder of what he’d been through. Most were words meant to degrade him, little inside jokes that Master had about him.

“I, um,” Sacha tried not to cry looking at himself. He hated having to look over the scars.

Maybe it’ll be easier once I start to cover them.

“Th-the brand. And I’d like to start covering the scars on my shoulders.”

Cyril nodded. “We’ll only take pictures of those ones. You’ll, um, probably want to have your other tattoos removed, right?”

“Or covered. Take pictures of those too.”

Cyril took a deep breath and began his work. Sacha felt like he did back then, being appraised by sellers at the auction. He hated the feeling. It was like worms crawling under his skin. Even if he trusted Cyril, even if he knew that Cyril wouldn’t wrong him, Sacha was afraid. He was right back to being on the bed with Master and on the stage being auctioned to the highest bidder.

Time passed slowly and quickly at the same time. Before he knew it and after what felt like hours, Cyril finally chirped that he was done.

As Sacha put his shirt back on without Cyril looking, he found himself still stuck with those phantom touches.

“Cyril.” Sacha felt selfish for even thinking about asking for something, much less actually trying to ask for it.

“Yes, Sacha?”

Sacha took a shaky breath, working up the courage to speak. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

Cyril’s face creased with concern. “I won’t be, Sacha. What is it?”

“I just need to be alone for a little,” Sacha blurted. If he didn’t say it all at once, he was afraid that he would never say it.

To Sacha’s utter shock, Cyril smiled a bit. “It’s understandable, Sacha. I’ll go work in my garden for a while. I’m not upset. I’m happy you’re standing up for yourself, okay?”

Sacha nodded, though he didn’t understand. Why wasn’t Cyril hurt?

As Cyril left, Sacha found himself feeling empty. Sacha moved to the fireplace, picking Amber up and placing her on his lap. Quietly, he pet her, holding her close to his body. Eventually, she climbed up onto his shoulder.

Sacha smiled a bit. The weight of Amber on his shoulder grounded him and brought him back. He wasn’t with Master anymore. He was with Cyril.

So, then, why did he feel Master’s hands on him, even after all was said and done?

—

Sacha and Cyril sat at the dinner table in silence, as they usually did. Since Sacha had the pictures taken, he’d felt like he was back in the fog. Back with Master. Back under his thumb.

Sacha hated it.

The silence broken only by the clattering of utensils didn’t last long, though. Cyril took a breath like he was about to speak, but didn’t start speaking until a couple minutes later.

“The tattoo artist - Hayley - she said she can get you in for your first appointment for next week.” Cyril took another breath. “She said you’ll need laser treatments for the tattoos, but she’s very excited to meet you and wants to start covering your brand and scars as soon as possible. She’ll go over the details about the laser treatments with you next week.”

Sacha nodded a bit. “Thank you, Cyril.”

Cyril looked Sacha in the eyes. “Something’s on your mind.”

Sacha jumped a little, his face flushing. “Um, it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. Even if it’s just your feelings, it’s okay to talk about it. It’s okay to not be okay right now. You’ve been through a lot.”

Sacha thought about what Cyril said for a while. He didn’t want to burden Cyril with his thoughts. He didn’t want to upset Cyril. However, something in Sacha told him that if he didn’t tell Cyril, Cyril would be hurt.

“I can’t believe he’s dead.”

Cyril put down his utensils and looked at Sacha, attentive and alert.

“It’s just… he was so powerful. How can he be dead? How can he be dead from something as simple as an infection? He was strong. He was healthy. If he died from an infection, what does that mean about me?”

“Absolutely nothing, Sacha. You’re not weak because the person who hurt you was killed by an infection. Flesh-eating bacteria are very deadly, especially the kind that he had. It was bad luck, not weakness.”

Sacha bit his lip, tears welling in his eyes. “But I am weak. I can hardly feel happy that he’s dead. I just feel relieved and sad.” Tears began to flow down Sacha’s face. “Why did I go through all that just for Master to die by some random infection?”

Cyril sat quietly in thought for a while, looking at Sacha carefully. “Would you have wanted him to be brought to justice?”

Before Sacha could think, he blurted more. His mind was a pot of boiling water spilling all over the stove. “My family is poor. Maybe I could’ve gotten some of his money so they could live happily without having to work or worry. My life is worthless now. My body is ruined. It’ll never be the same. I’ll always need people. At least if I could give you or them money, my life wouldn’t have been wasted.”

The two of them sat in silence for a long time. Sacha was frozen with fear for admitting the truth about his family - that he had one at all. He hated feeling like such a waste of space, a burden dependent on other people. Maybe, just maybe, if he’d gotten some of Master’s money, he would’ve been worth something.

“Sacha, I,” Cyril hesitated. “You don’t need to be able-bodied and healed to be worth something. Your life will always have infinite value, regardless of what happened and what will happen.” Cyril took a deep breath. “Sacha, people need other people. You aren’t a burden for needing someone else. You’ve, um, taught me how damaging it’s been to live here alone.”

Cyril wrung his hands together. “I’m thankful to have found you. I’m thankful to have your friendship. I’m thankful to have been a part of your journey to recovery. So, please, don’t say such awful things about yourself.”

Cyril stood up and moved near Sacha. “Can I give you a hug?”

Sacha nodded, his chest heaving with sobs. Cyril wrapped him in his arms, pulling him tight.

“Everything will be okay. You’ll relearn your value, one day.”

===

Tags (always open): @whumpsday, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @pigeonwhumps, @darkthingshappen, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @darlingwhump, @maracujatangerine, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @flowersarefreetherapy, @octopus-reactivated, @quietshae, @whump-blog, @inkkswhumpandstuff, @whumpycries, @whumpkinz

#shadow by my fireplace #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #cw are above #whump fic #whump community #sacha #cyril #ptsd #scars #references to noncon #human trafficking

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to-each-based-on-need · 11 months

Text

Reason I miss drinking 1/1,0000:

I miss being able to quantify how unstable I am at any given minute. I wish so much that I had been carrying around a breathalyzer every day that I ever went out. I’ve read hospital reports telling me my BAC was so high I should have been in a coma. In those moments, I was talking nurses into letting me out of the hospital. At I’m sure around that same BAC, I was deciding to move back to Boston to be with my ex. I was seducing people I have no memory of sleeping with. I was deciding to stop living. I was mean to the people I love. I was putting myself and others at incredible risks.

The wild thing is, in all thise moments, I know I really believed in what I was doing. I believed in the validity of my feelings. I didn’t think I was drunk or out of my mind. I didn’t think I needed help making decisions, and certainly didn’t trust the people around me to make them for me. I wish to god I’d had some way to tell what my BAC was because I think I could have trusted those numbers to tell me the truth about my mental capacity. Now, in sober life, I don’t get to know. There are days where leaving my house feels like the least reasonable decision. There are times when talking to my friends sounds wonderful but unhealthy, and times where it sounds miserable and medicinal. I don’t trust my therapist or my psychiatrist, and it’s not really their fault; it’s the nature of a capitalistic and legalistic mental health care system. I know that my brain will be different when it’s properly medicated again, but I don’t know when that’ll happen, and I don’t know how to trust my decisions between now and then.

Side note: if you’re considering taking time off school because your mental health is in decline, do it right now. Do it. I waited too long and my GPA tanked. When I went back, I was only there a year before I graduated, and while I did a lot better, it wasn’t enough to bring my GPA up to something good. Now I’m almost thirty and I can’t get into grad schools because I couldn’t do school as a super depressed 19 year old.

Okay, diary entry over. In other news, I guess it’s good I’m still alive. My Guinea pig fell asleep in my arms today. She’s happy I’m here. That can be enough.

#personal

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cephei-ea · 6 months

Text

Some self indulgence, if you will.

No one has to read this I’m just posting to vent about something I can’t talk to anyone about.

I thought it would be fine when I got with him. I thought it would be fine when I started things, talked to him, got involved with a guy I knew was not going to care about me like I cared about him for three years. And in all honesty it’s my fault for having told myself, having known exactly how things would turn out, that I could make things work. I liked him since high school and knew enough to understand that he would never be capable of reciprocation. He was too quiet. I knew at the bottom of my gut that he would never feel the same, only say whatever he could to make me believe he did. And I’d convinced myself that despite it, my adoration for a guy who shows no effort would be able to change him. If not change him, then at least be the one to open him up after being closed off for years. And I also new it was unrealistic but I told myself that anything is possible.

And when he broke my heart for the first time as I crouched to the cold pavement sidewalk outside his house, he was just as clueless to how it pained me to watch him kiss my best friend and pretend it meant nothing as he was to my long term affection for him. It was inexplicable the way I cared for him, the way I worried for him, to this day, I can’t think of a real reason why I felt so inclined to pursue him. So finally, finally, after 2 years, I managed to capture his attention. It ended in a strange amalgamation of emotion, regret, hysteria and general pain and self loathing. Again, my fault. Perhaps if I had decided from a single moment prior to his gaze landing on me— maybe when he took my best friends hand despite her knowing how I felt, maybe when I spoke to him for the first time and he could only manage a single word response, maybe when I realized how unfathomably quiet he was— that I should simply find someone who suited me more, I would have avoided the searing pain I felt when it ended.

It began with a simple word at his game. It began with a simple “You did well,” on my part and a “No. That wasn’t good.” On his. The “it” that began having been the messages and the interchanged photos on a daily basis. With a person like him, it really couldn’t have gotten much better at the time. In the position we were in, where the most contact we made was with our eyes in the crowded halls filled with overgrown teenagers, neither of us had any obligation or expectation to hold each other to. I had no real need to be loyal in the way I was to him Regardless of that fact, I progressed things.

Though he never denied me, he could never reciprocate my initiative. After our last school year together, after countless small conversations, countless mutual photos, he finally acted. For the first time, and really the last, he approached me in the stairwell at the very last second of the last minute of the last hour of the last day I would ever see him in school. It’d been 3 months and 27 days when he finally called my name for the first time and confessed he thought I was “cute”.

The embarrassment was all too real, my cheeks red and my throat unable to produce anything other than a stutter. People passed. Or maybe they didn’t. I really would not have known, considering all I could do was tremble violently and stare into his face— not even his eyes, just his face. And after two and a half years of constant longing, unwilling loyalty and confusion, I had gotten what I wanted. Like an idiot, I wiped my sweaty palms and explained briefly that I’d liked him for a long time.

He knew that already. It was no secret.

Never was.

Another two months of summer vacation suddenly passed in an instant without incident. I wouldn’t see him again in person until the day before the start of classes. I was sick of it at that point. Having agreed to take things slow, I thought that two months was enough time for there to have been some kind of progress. Unfortunately for me, when I suggested slow, I didn’t know how different our definitions of the word “slow” were.

So I waited those two months.

And when I finally spoke to him about how I was done wasting my time, we came to an agreement to start seeing each other. So then I had my first relationship and though late in my life, it was innocent and it was real. All too real. I hadn’t learned my lesson, however. I was fool to think that our first anything, past date, would be arrive quicker. That after all my initiative, all my advances, he would take a hint and talk to me. Or make an advance and prove to me that he actually liked me and not just left it to “I think you’re cute” on that day that began my torture.

He did nothing.

It was me. It was me making advances, it was me proving my affection, it was me the entire time. And because my affection had blinded me, I never took the hint that

he felt exactly the way he said he did.

And nothing more.

I shouldn’t have seen it as “He’s told one person that he likes me and even though never to my face or even over text, it’s okay because he must feel the same way.” And instead, I should have taken it as exactly what he said and nothing more. After all, men tend to be very straightforward and say only what they mean.

So after another 3 months of waiting

And waiting

for so much as a single advance, a single sign of affection other than a hug, I realized I had decided long ago that I would quit. It was breaking me down. In a weird way, being with the man I had grown to almost love and never having been told more than twice that I was attractive over the course of a year by him, any semblance of confidence I had, had vanished as if it never existed. I didn’t realize that fact until i formally decided to end things. Honestly, I hadn’t realized a lot of things. I didn’t realize how he didn’t initiate simply because he didn’t want to, not because he was so nervous. I hadn’t realized that he didn’t feel the profound emotions I did for him. I didn’t realize how my self worth had diminished just because of some guy. Not the hottest man. Not the smartest. Not the most talented. And certainly not the most worthy.

All for the foolish excuse of liking him.

Maybe I more than just liked him. I would come to that gut wrenching conclusion when after our last call, I found myself rolling, not metaphorically, on the floor in agony. Pain. Disbelief. And an unrivaled sense of disappointment. The weeks, or months, leading up to our last phone call, were some of my worst. For hours on end I would sob at the mere idea of leaving the man I liked so deeply for so many years. The one who had me wrapped around his finger without having done anything. It didn’t end at my break down when I ended things in that last phone call. For the next two months I would fall into a fluctuating depression unlike anything I’d felt in years. Hopelessness.

I hoped for any escape, searched for any means— any means— to distract myself and drown the voices in my head until I forgot all about him. All about the pain he caused me for a year.

Nothing would work.

Nothing would work because ultimately it was my own doing that broke my heart and I was the one to end things with him after a year of being so damn patient for him. I broke my heart. That’s what I would tell myself because I hated to have hurt him and myself only to blame it on him. But in reality, I knew in the back of my mind that despite every effort I put in, it never would have been enough. Because he was the one to not like me enough. He was the one who was unable to reciprocate. And he broke my heart so many times over the course of a year. He broke my heart when he’d only ever spoken my name one time. He broken my heart when he never truly confessed to liking me. He’d broken my heart when he ignored every opportunity I’d offered to him to progress things.

More effort on my part.

And he broke my heart when he gave back none.

He broken my heart when after I’d poured every one of my pathetic emotions into a wine glass and served it to him on a silver platter, an obvious plea for him to fight for us, all he felt like saying and everything that he thought our year together was worth was

“oh.. okay. I’m sorry.”

And a whole lot of fucking silence.

So I hung up. And then I cried like a child who’d been spanked. And then I didn’t leave my room for three hours. And then for so many weeks, the thought of him sent a painful spark to my gut. Not the tingly kind. Not the kind that makes you twirl your hair. The kind that makes you want to run to the bathroom and lean over the sink, trying to grasp at any semblance of collectedness. If I thought thinking about him was painful, I had another thing coming for me when I saw him in person again.

The feeling of his hands and his warmth and every touch he gave me haunted me like a fucking wraith. Every muscle in his body was a vivid reminder of what I’d lost. What I didn’t have to have lost, but what I needed to have lost in order to keep my sanity. For my own good.

Every look, every thing he did was enough to make my head ache. Maybe it was the attachment issues. Or maybe it was the dire need for a distraction. Or maybe it was the hormones.

Or maybe I was just a terrible person.

One way or another, the Saturday prior to our end, I’d attended a trip for my music class. It was fun. Unfortunately for me, all I could think about was the fact that I needed to break up with the man I practically had fallen in love with. Our lead instrument player, a good friend of mine, had accompanied me there. Being that we hadn’t talked in a while, we spoke for hours on the trip.

He’d revealed that for months he was planning to break up with his girlfriend of one year. A younger girl with immaturity issues and a real knack for pettiness and making her lover feel like dog shit. I always worried for him. It was clear to tell when he was upset. It was clear when it was bothering him, she was the only thing that really bothered to the point that he would go silent. She was the type of girl that would hurt your best friend and the type that you would hate for it. But they somehow manage to keep your angel of a friend wrapped around their finger. And I hated to hear all the crap she’d pulled with him.

Our situations were identical.

Other than some differences here and there, I’d never met someone I could relate to so profoundly. It being that he was not, in fact, my ex and he was able to progress things with his girlfriend, he’d long since passed falling in love with her. And it was clear that the day prior to my own breakup, when he had ended things with her, it killed him.

So we talked. And talked. And talked more and more.

And I got attached much too quickly. It’s entirely possible that we were just rebounds to each other, but he made me feel understood, safe, supported and comfortable like I’d never felt with anyone in my life. And he managed it in a matter of weeks. When our sport season started, him as a player and me as the manager, things were bettering. Though he’d been previously psychologically improving in his situation while my feelings about mine remained at a standstill, his feelings began to worsen. He wouldn’t respond at times, he would talk slow and quietly. We had gotten so very close and spent so much time together and it hurt to see him so destroyed. I’d truly believed he was getting better. And I’m sure he was. He liked to give me the credit for that. And I’d give him the credit for my improvement.

Again, my constant of a shit mood remained for a long, long, long time. But his worsened again. And during the first tournament of the season, when my advanced athlete ex was playing, I had to watch. Manager things. And it hurt like no other. As the tournament went on, I felt my mood worsening and since my “rebound” was trying to cope with the idea of his ex girlfriend coming to visit and watch him play, he wasn’t speaking to me much. I didn’t realize when she arrived, otherwise i would have tried to stop him from walking up to her in that attractive damn walk he does. I would have stopped him from talking to her. Or done my very best to.

But by the time the break in between games arrived and quickly passed, it was time for the surprise of my life. The surprise of finding out that he lied to me. Holding her hand.

I get it. I did. I still do.

Love is an emotion powerful enough to make one do some crazy shit. But after having started things between us, gotten me wrapped around his finger and promised me he wouldn’t take back his ex given the chance, I almost cried when I saw him holding hands with her. The break was over and instead of being there for me, like I’d been there for him, through those forty minutes when I was having multiple panic attacks and trying to cope with the memories that plagued me when I looked at my ex, he spent those forty minutes attached to the woman that treated him like crap and forgot I existed. Instead of reciprocating in the same way I’d been there for him and done my very best to help him move on, even if just a little bit, he punched me in the gut. He’d lied to me, used me and baited me into thinking he would give us a try.

He used my comfort to help him feel better, pretended like I never existed when I needed him most and shit on every feeling I’d developed for him by doing exactly what he said he wouldn’t.

I couldn’t believe my eyes.

To put it blatantly, my heart broke again.

It was my fault. I was the one to get attached. He never liked me in the same way. I couldn’t believe it. I simply could not believe what my eyes were conveying to my brain.

I hoped to everything above that he felt guilty. That he ripped at least one hair out when he turned around, walking down that hallway to the last game of the tournament, holding her hand, and met my eyes for the first time since we arrived. I hoped so dearly that he felt like shit. The memories of those nights of being so close to him, feeling his touch as a coping mechanism, listening to him play his instruments so intoxicatingly, hearing his voice and relying on his comfort crashed into my brain all at once. And utter grief, from not only my ex but him as well now, smacked me in the face like a cruel joke. He had to be joking.

So when we arrived to the last game and we made eye contact, he told me,

“I’ll give her one more chance.”

And that was it.

And my grief had turned into gut wrenching dread every time I looked at him. Knowing he had abandoned me. Knowing he did so without remorse. Knowing he would never feel bad about it.

And knowing I would never be able to beat her.

Everything he made me feel in a month that my ex could not in one year tripped me and forced me into the nearest bathroom to rip my hair out.

Sadness quickly turned to anger.

Every day talks turned into silence. And comfort and nights of warm conversations and flirty glances turned into a deep hole I wouldn’t dig myself out of for a long, long time. And though my ex may have pushed me to hang onto the edge of the cliff, the liar was the one to grab my hands, pretend like he would lift me and then turn around and drop me for the girl he swore he wouldn’t return to. Resort to. My ex pointed the gun, I pulled the trigger and the liar was the one to pick it up and fire it at me himself again.

I simply couldn’t believe it.

The wound his absence left was fresh. And stung with my every memory of him. I so badly wanted to quit our sport and instrument so I would never have to see him again.

How is it possible that I managed to stop myself from telling him to fuck off when he used his shitass “one more chance” explanation on me? It was because he was so kind. And I could never say something so heartless to the man that made me forget. To the man that did nothing but fall in love.

And really, the whole thing was my fault.

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