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savannahsdeath · 9 months

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ELLIE WILLIAMS X ANEMIC!READER HEADCANONS

shes basically taking care of you n all:3

mdni please<3

warnings: anemia, a lil of smut

writers note: i swear its okay to read even if youre not anemic:3 i feel like shed do these thingss even to hers not anemic gf.. also this may seem odly specific because im anemic myself and idk this idea randomly came up to my mind so enjoyy !!

SFW

🌿lets start with the fact that an anemic person tends to become tired and sluggish very easily so they (most of them) enjoy any kind of support

🌿ellie knows that your health is fragile so she tries to be as patient and gentle as possible in your interactions<3

🌿when youre not feeling well shes is usually pretty awkward and she has no idea how to help you😓(my poor awkward gf) BUT whenever she doesnt know what to say she just offers to help you out in small ways like preparing food or running errands

🌿if you both live together her GOAL is to keep your house well-lit and cool as too much heat or brightness makes it hard to focus/uncomfortable for people with anemia

🌿she always makes sure you drink and eat well so you have more energy and all

🌿she always gets mad when you refuse to go to sleep because she knows you need to.. even if youre making a cute excuse like

"but els, i want to stay up so i can spend time with you!"

and then she'll roll her eyes at you and say "we can do whatever you want tomorrow, you need to rest now!"

and would even forcefully make you if needed🙏

🌿if its modern!ellie(just ellie having access to a phone), she'll secretly google things about your illness and things like "how to help your anemic girl from passing out every time she misses breakfast" I JUST KNOW SHED DO THAT ISTGG

🌿she would hate to hear you being guilty. like when you say "im tired of you making all the little house jobs just because i mostly dont have the energy to.." she'll go crazy. not in a bad way, of course, but she wont drop the topic until she makes sure you understand she doesnt mind.

🌿she also definitely hates when you want to convince her into letting you help her.

"fuck, ellie, its not cancer, its anemia! i can at least help you" you say angrily. like, really angrily. because youre kind of right (but she doesnt care)

"we've talked about this, lay down and wait for me," she answers sternly. so sternly you feel shivers down your spine.

🌿but when you eventually talk with her (you manage not to start an argument but really, simply talk) she understands your point and promises she'll let you help her with some things

🌿one time you told her that anemic people are sensitive to the cold and its true but now she overuses it as an excuse to cuddle up with you. like she couldnt just say she wants to be near you. istg, this woman...

🌿she ALWAYS lookout for things that could potentially cause bleeding

🌿she loves when you blush. more than anything. mostly because anemia makes the blood blah blah idc basically anemic people dont really blush so when you actually do she would just stare at you with a wide smile. and when you ask her why is she looking at you like that she wont admit it just like that, shed say something like "you just look more colorful than usual"

NSFW

🌿anemic people often have pale or translucent skin tone and that makes bruises really visible. and we all know ellie can be rough. so when she wakes up after a.. long night and she notices what she did, she feels so bad. like really bad. she apologies as soon as you wake up and of course you try to convince her it doesnt hurt, because it really doesnt and you, in fact, really enjoyed all of this, but she thinks youre just lying to make her feel better

🌿one time you woke up in the late evening after one of your naps. usually, ellie stays with you - awake, watching you sleep and drawing something in her sketchbook but this day you woke up to an empty bed:( you quickly stood up to look for her and after a few steps, your little anemic head started spinning from the sudden move. your vision got blurry and eventually completely black. you felt your knees getting weak but right before you could fall someone caught you. your lovely hero - ellie. you leaned on her as she held you from behind, what could look like a normal hug for someone who just saw you both like that, and you felt the bulge in her pants pressed against you. why the hell would she wear it now? you failed to stay quiet and you let out a soft moan. your girlfriend noticed that but she thought its caused by your health state

"shh, shhh... it's okay"

when your vision was back to normal, you turned around and kissed her as a simple way to thank her for being here with you. before you could think, you were grinding on her lap, getting ready to take her strap while she firmly held your hips, guiding them to move back and forth 🥰🥰

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams headcanons #ellie x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie tlou #anemia #anemic #health care

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fitgothgirl · 5 months

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Long write up about some issues of mine and the past, been wanting to get this out. Will probably send to my therapist lol... TW emotional abuse.

The more I think about, the more I know my dad and my ex really messed me up. I still defend my dad that overall he was a decent parent and he was only human. I had a very comfortable and happy childhood. He tried to be a good dad and was caring, but he also messed up a good amount of times. My ex on the other hand, fuck him. For the sake of whatever unknowing victim, I hope he never dated again for whatever reason, death included.

But they both contributed to one of my biggest weaknesses. Nothing is harder for me to do than speak my mind, stand up for myself, set boundaries, and so on. In my mind, a serious talk is synonymous with fight. There are always tears. I now know that ADHD can cause one to cry ridiculously easily or to just shutdown into silence during discussions because we can't handle the emotion. Makes so much sense, I do both those things. But it wasn't just the ADHD. Every important conversation didn't need to be an argument, or me getting shutdown, or something negative. So I have it lodged deeply in my brain that my interpretation of things is wrong. I'm always wrong, wrong, wrong. It's a mantra that often plays in my head.

My dad wasn't as bad as my ex. He was a single dad who worked a lot, who had two daughters that probably just reminded him so much of his crazy ex, who both ended up being a handful in their teens. He was just always stressed and had a short fuse and would scare me when he was pissed. He didn't do anything to me, just the way he talked through gritted teeth or how he yelled (or what he yelled) or how he was strict. I remember certain things would trigger both me and my sister to go to our rooms to be on our own - his car pulling up in the driveway, the sound of the garage door; we just wanted to stay out of his way when he first got home since we knew that's when he would be most on edge. I can also distinctly remember the sound of him walking up the stairs, when I would pause to listen if he would be turning left to our rooms or right to his room. I'd try to gauge his energy/mood in the subtleties of his step. Anyway, it wasn't the best atmosphere for standing up for myself or speaking my mind, etc. Parenting today has taken such a good turn where people are trying to move away from anger and yelling and punishments for mistakes, and instead treat their kids like people and have a more understanding and guiding attitude. But still, my bf is my age and I look at his family and they're just amazing... I know many people who felt like they could really talk to their parents. I know my situation was by far not the worst possible, but it also wasn't great.

And I went straight from that to some full on grade A emotional abuse for 3 years with my ex. Life was constantly walking on eggshells... Things I didn't know could be a fight were a fight. All I wanted was for him to stop criticizing me and yelling at me and I didn't know what to say to make it stop, which wouldn't happen until I was in tears (although not like that's hard). I couldn't win no matter what I said so I just shutdown and said whatever to appease him in the fewest amount of syllables. He had the final say with everything. No seeing friends without him, which was rare for him to agree to, unless I wanted to have it held over my head forever (along with any other "nice" or "lenient" things he did or "let" me do). Had to work 6 days a week but also be responsible for the cleaning of the apartment since I made less money than him. Panicking at work when I realized I left a dish out and he was going to be home before me. Trying to be as small as possible while he punched a hole in the wall. Not able to spend money without his approval. Sitting home alone before a 13 hour shift while sobbing and holding my cat about how utterly trapped I felt. And he didn't even fucking drive, I was his chauffeur... Oh and of course, at the end of every lash out, I was reminded how it was because he loved me and cared about me wanted me to grow as a person, etc. (If you're wondering, yes I'm embarrassed that I let myself put up with this.)

All this to say, the thought of any form of serious conversation is almost paralyzing. And I get so distressed that I forget things I want to say. And it always ends with me being wrong in some way anyway! This is not something I've imagined, this is learned from experience. It's not even me yielding to end the discussion - by the end I do see that I'm truly wrong and I wasn't thinking. So why should I speak my mind about things when I know I'm going to somehow end up in the wrong or otherwise judged or dismissed... And if something gets brought up by someone else with any tinge of anger or irritation or even seriousness? I just shutdown. If I have to speak then just have a one track mind to appease.

This all leads to me being the mediator (INFP-T for sure), the one to keep the peace. Always adding smiles and laughs to what I'm doing or saying to keep others at ease. Trying to steer things back when any negative emotion rises, silently begging against any conflict. Just fawn response all day everyday.

I've now been with a wonderful guy for almost 12 years and yet I often still feel so trapped inside myself.

#mine

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1000-directions · 2 years

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hey! this is the uni anon, I just wanted to ask you if you have any tips against scrolling? I have tons of studying to do but I get bored and overwhelmed and then because I'm stressed I spend hours of my days just scrolling, it's not even satisfying and I get so depressed over the fact that my life is so far from how I wish it could be. soo yea. do you have any tips on how to face your life and fears and not constantly run away from your problems? sending so much love to you! thank you for your blog, your daily reflections mean a lot to me <3

hi friend 💚 this is so tricky, and i know it's something a lot of people struggle with, myself included. honestly, i'm a huge procrastinator, and this is something i still struggle with. when i have a task i need to get done without distractions, i usually need to like physically remove myself from my home, like go to a coffee shop or library so that i can't just like start watching tv or whatever. at night, when i know i'm supposed to go to bed but i don't want to, i become a terrrrrrible scroller, i call it getting stuck in a loop, and it's something i still am trying to figure out. although sometimes just realizing like "i am stuck in a loop, i need to get out of this loop, what will get me out of this loop" is a good first step.

i know some other people have used apps that will lock your device for a certain amount of time, either locking it completely or blocking certain sites or apps so that you don't have access to them when you're supposed to be focusing. i've never tried these, but i know @whentherewerebicycles has used them and might be able to make recommendations.

it's been a while since i had to study, and i was very bad at it, but i found it helpful to make playlists, something i would look forward to listening to. you can also use those as timers, like you make a thirty minute playlist, you have to study for thirty minutes until it's done, then you get a break or a lil treat, then you have to study for another thirty minutes again, then you get another treat. yes, sometimes i literally have to bribe myself like a child in order to get small tasks accomplished, but for real, whatever it takes to get it done.

i also think it's important to set realistic expectations for yourself, like you can't do a semester's worth of assignments in one weekend, you can't do a year's worth of chores in one day, you know? make a list of what you think you can reasonably, easily accomplish. put one or two things on it, like very specific goals, like instead of "studying" you say "read assignment 9" or "make flashcards for chapter 12" or whatever. crossing things off feels so satisfying, and sometimes maybe you find you have a lil more energy and you want to push ahead and do a little more. but even if you don't, i think getting things done builds momentum and makes it seem like progress is possible. if you have a list of two things and you get two things done, that feels great! if you have a list of eighteen things and you get two things done, that feels bad! and maybe makes you not even want to try anymore! you really want to set yourself up for successes, not failures, and then you can build on that.

i always struggled with this idea that i was just going to like...flip a switch and magically become this person who had absolutely everything together forever and ever, like everyone else seemed to. and if i couldn't do that (and i couldn't), then why bother trying at all!! but when you're starting from a bad place, the goal isn't perfect, the goal is just a little bit better, then a little bit better, then maybe you have a shitty week and you take a step back, but then you try to get a little bit better next time. you are training yourself in a skill, whether that's study habits or organization or whatever, and you will get better the more you practice it, but you have to be kind to yourself and give yourself that time to grow and get better.

moving away from like building habits and just talking more about life in general... i am really sorry you are having a hard time :( for me, it's very important to like...look at my life and myself and think about what makes me happy, what makes me who i am, what is special about me, what activities do i do that make me feel most connected to myself and the kind of life i want to have? for me, that's things like singing and cooking and playing guitar and spending time with friends and drinking good coffee and going to the movies by myself. for some people, it's yoga or working out or playing with animals or cleaning or playing video games or reading or writing or gardening or doing crafts or any number of things. these are touchstones of identity, just little things that make us uniquely ourselves, and it's important to celebrate and indulge in these things.

in case no one has ever told you this: you are good enough now, the way you are exactly in this moment. you're a good person who deserves happiness and security. i know you want to be better, and i get that, and i want to be better, too, and i think that's a hallmark of a good person, striving to constantly become a better version of yourself. i spent a long time neglecting what i needed because i was waiting to turn into some hypothetical future better version of myself, and i missed out on a lot because of it. the person you are right now is a person who deserves respect and comfort and kindness, and sometimes if there is no one else to give those things to us, we have to give them to ourselves, because we deserve that, right now, as imperfect as we are 💚

#asks #uni anon #long post

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perpetual-fool · 1 year

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Violin Frets

I have a thing about frets, about them not being in tune. But there are other things about frets. You can't vibrato with frets, you can't slide (glissando) with frets. So it's weird that some of the higher-end electric violins have frets. But apparently frets on violin are not like frets on other instruments.

There are demonstrations of doing vibrato etc. on frets, but going by how frets are on guitar that really shouldn't work. Apparently, the difference is that violin frets are very small. Normally you'd press down behind the fret and the string would get pinched off by the little metal bar. But if they're really short you have to press on the fret directly, and there's no reason you couldn't roll your finger more forward or back on it. Slides are still going to sound a little weird, probably. But is that really a problem? Like, people do glissando on piano and that thing can't bend notes at all. So it's really more like a tactile version of those little stickers beginners use; it doesn't really tell you where the note is, but it gets you close.

So then, why? You'd probably assume it's like guitar and that they keep you in tune. But they don't, you still have to tune by ear. But it does make it easier. Supposedly there are people who'd object to that being a valid reason? But why? to give you something to feel superior about? That's stupid. Anyway, also apparently that's very important/useful in loud settings where you may not be able to hear yourself. So like, in a traditional orchestra where everyone's playing acoustic instruments that's never going to happen, you're always going to hear yourself the loudest. But if you're doing a rock concert or something with the drums pounding behind you, you may not. Also would be significant if you're deaf. It doesn't make any sense to me why a deaf person would be a musician, but I've heard of at least one. And I guess there's novelty, experimentation, and in my case, refinement? I'm not really sure what my deal is. But for instance, five-string viola seems to be able to do everything a violin and standard viola can do, and gives up nothing to achieve that. So having one would feel personally satisfying for some reason.

And hypothetically, this opens up some possibilities for bass. Not guitar, since you still wouldn't be able to do chords with semi-frets. But fretted basses are cheaper and easier to get than fretless ones. And particularly, I want a multi-scale fretless, which essentially does not exist. But if I can just file down the frets then I can achieve the same effect, and I don't have to learn how to make guitars myself to do it. Though I'm sure I will learn on a long enough timeline.

- Tangent: it's hard to know what to pursue. I guess more fundamentally the issue is that I don't have the information necessary to solve the problem. In this case, I have limited time/energy/resources and multiple things I could spend it on. So, should I pursue bass things or should I pursue viola things? I could say that currently I have a bass but no viola, so the viola would have a more profound effect on increasing the amount of things I can do. Or I could say that working on bass would get me closer to resolving the bass problems, and getting a viola would open up a host of new problems. Although I suppose all of it is in service of trying to solve the 'living' problem. So I guess what I'm really after is the most accessible way to make the good brain juice.

But at what point am I supposed to be happy? Like, suppose I just save up the $1.4k for a Glasser 5-string. Problem solved? It still has the fragile wooden bridge, it still has the friction-fit tuning pegs, it still doesn't have any strap/harness system to avoid causing TMJ or neck problems. Okay, instead let's say I save up $2.7k for a five-string Viper. And for the example let's just say the amp and whatever else came with it for free. The problem is now solved. Then what? I move on to new problems?

Maybe this is all a consequence of believing I'm bad/not good enough. Like I'm looking for problems to fix, and finding them. But it's never enough.

I'm probably approaching this all wrong. There is this dumb thing I kind of feel good about. The problem initially was that I had a wooden cooking utensil soak up a bunch of beef fat, which then smelled strongly of beef and attracted ants despite numerous washings. So wood (some worse than others) has open pores, and I need to pre-fill those pores to prevent the utensils from becoming gross. Something like mineral oil is useless as it just washes off, and wax melts if you actually cook anything with your utensil. It would have to be a drying oil, or at least cured. I did try 'seasoning' wood as you would with cast-iron, just at a really low temperature. It seemed to work though it substantially weakened the wood. So the better option seemed to be an oil that dries on its own. The options and pros and cons aren't relevant to my point, I settled on using flax oil. For testing, I got a set of cheap wooden spoons, which I then shaped and sanded so they're smooth and not terrible. Then I started with the flax oil. The procedure is also not relevant to my point. I now have several very thin coats on these things. They are so smooth to the touch, but I can still feel the wood under my fingertips. It doesn't feel like it's coated in plastic. And all of the grain is starting to shine like medullary rays in quarter-sawn lumber. It's nice. It makes me happy?

Why? because it feels nice? because it looks pretty? Yeah. I feel some kind of way about that. Beauty?

I have not felt this way in a very long time. And never freely. I really am tired of making everything about her. But this is how she made me feel. This is the world I wanted and could never have. To me, she was beauty itself. Shall I compare thee to a wooden spoon?

Still, beauty is very difficult to achieve. I'm still me, I'm not a picky perfectionist for nothing. Everything grates on me. Everything falls apart if I look too closely. The only things I'm going to be happy with are things I've made myself, to my own standard. Of which I am not yet capable. I suppose I could break it down into smaller pieces. Like, I can't build my perfect bass yet, nor am I experienced enough to know that would entail. But I could find good strings for it. And then I could fit a new nut that's not worn out. And then I could adjust the saddle height. And then I could flatten the fingerboard. And eventually those little pieces should add up to something more.

Also, I suppose that sentiment of things falling apart should extend to her as well. Which feels.. cruel? Though it's hard to be sure, it wasn't until long after that that I determined I can't be the one who's wrong. What I'm about to say almost feels like too much of a stretch, but I think that's moreso because I'm not sure how to explain it. So, her music was flat, and generic, and poorly phrased. And that very much fits the pattern of what I've seen with music education. I know damn well she has things to express, but it's like she doesn't have her own voice to say it in. But it seems like the same kind of thing happens with communication. It's like people aren't ever really themselves, they're only ever performing a role they learned from someone else. And when understanding me, they shoehorn whatever I'm saying into one of those roles. That's where things fell apart. I was desperate to get past that, and I felt like it was my fault for not being able to figure it out. And if she were really the angel I believed she was, she would have seen that something was terribly wrong from the very beginning.

And I really don't know what to think about that. My impression is that people must be messed up in much the same way I was. That really there are wonderful, beautiful people buried in there that can't get out or don't feel safe. And sort of like problems in my household, it's not that the things that bother me aren't problems for others too, it's just that I'm the one who notices. But if they're in there, I've never been able to find them. Though some people seem quite nice so long as I don't look too closely.

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livingthesuperherolife · 1 year

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New Years [R]Evolution

It is that time of year again, and the plethora of resolutions begin to sweep through my mind. I need to lose weight. I need to read more. I need to spend less money. I need to work more to make more money. I then look back on the year and the changes I have had. All of these thoughts ring around my brain like wind chimes during a hurricane.

I am the resolution type if you wanted to know that. I like creating a plan for the year even if, like the majority of people, I veer off after the first couple months and need to create a new plan. This year, I wanted to do something different. I wanted to create a plan before the new year, which is why I started this blog in the first place.

Like many people, I have had issues with my body. I remember as a ten or twelve year old looking in the mirror and wanting to look different. I wanted to be both skinnier and more muscular. At the time, I didn’t know that was called a “Runner’s Build” or a “Swimmer’s Build,” but that was how I always saw the image of me in the mirror. I also saw myself as completely clean shaven with no hair on my chest, and with long hair down to my shoulders that had a bit of a curl to give it body.

At thirty-six, I have very little hair on the top of my head. I have a body very much full of hair, and a wonderful beard that has gray in seemingly strategic places that do not make me fret about the fact at thirty-six I have gray hair. I still want to be more muscular, and I know I can be. I just need to put my energy towards that. By looking at these two very different times of my life, I can reflect on the triumphs I have had leading up to this New Years.

I have overcome alcohol abuse. I spent years delving into a bottle of beer, a bottle of vodka, or a bottle of whatever was there. It led me to losing friends, scarring my body (& mind), and a helluva lot of dignity. But, I overcame it. I had help in my husband to put alcohol behind me and set myself on a new path forward.

I have overcome drug addiction. I spent years doing recreational drugs, and then, using almost daily for over a year and a half. Sure, it helped me lose weight, but it also led to two mental breakdowns, ruined relationships, ruined friendships, and expanding deeper into that possibilities, it could have cost so much more.

I have overcome those two major addictive challenges. There has been far more benefits for letting those go from my life than there has been detriments. If one of the detriments is I put on weight, then so be it, and I will find another way to get rid of that.

That leads me back to my resolutions. Instead of looking forward to what I want to change which is the fun of New Years Resolutions, I also wanted to look back on what I have gained (and not just the weight).

This year, I have worked my ass off, albeit not as literally as I would hope. I’ve started teaching beside my husband. We have gotten married. Our dog is thriving. We both work at a spiritual business academy. I have worked three jobs steadily for the last four months. I have even been a part of a table top role play gaming for three months. I have kept my bamboo plant alive for five months! Five months! I never thought I’d see the day when such a thing could happen! These are all things to celebrate and to cherish at least for me.

So what’s the focus pillars this year? What is the transformation that I feel coming in 2023?

Let’s start with the obvious focus: Embodiment. I want to focus on my health and wellness throughout 2023. Small incremental changes. One of these big embodiment pieces is adding yoga into my weekly (and maybe daily) practice which I have been trying to do for years. I have a Kundalini Yoga Teacher Training course that I have started, but I need to direct more focus towards it.

Secondly, Devotion: Devotion means my personal devotional practice which includes morning pages, artist dates, as well as adding to this practice with more meditation, gratitude, and further opening my channel.

Then, Creativity: I want to keep painting and I want to get the next draft of my comic book finished this year. I have the draft written, but I want to redraft it and finish it this year. If I can push a novel out besides that! Great! If not, let’s get that comic finished.

Finally, [R]Evolution: My husband always says “Evolution” happens, but ascension that is a choice. My evolution of self will happen this year. I will have lessons that I will move through that I will learn from.

Revolution in this case is communal ascension. The Revolution comes when I put all of this together filtered thorough my personal business to bring the change to the people around me. The Revolution is my link with the Renaissance platform, which represents the Revival of Creativity. The Revolution is my working with the BOW Academy to birth my souls body of work and helping others do the same. The Revolution is my marriage which continues to grow and flourish. All of these focuses together will birth the Revolutions of 2023.

The Revolutions are the Resolutions coming together to bring something new into the world. And that’s what I hope to do. Be new next year, birthed from the lessons I learned and the knowledge and wisdom I gained. And I hope that for all of you too.

#newyearsresolution #revolution #spiritual development #addiction #drug addiction #alcohol abuse #movingforward #livingthesuperherolife

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primsadventures · 2 years

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2022 H1 Reflection

Today is 17th July 2022.

This is the first time in a few years where I haven’t set any New Year’s Resolutions … this is because I was feeling pretty down during the first 3-4 months of the year. It’s hard to explain but I just felt really low and frustrated, and at one point I wondered if I was depressed … Looking back, I don’t think I was, but it was a new kind of low that I’ve never experienced before, and I think these are the reasons why:

- Covid situation not getting better, so I felt really claustrophobic because I felt that I couldn’t really see the light at the end of the tunnel. 2020 was okay because everything was new and chaotic, 2021 was also okay because I understood that the world needed time to heal and recover and slowly ease back into things, BUT THEN in 2022 there were still new variants popping up and Bangkok was still semi-lockdown and I obviously had to stay cautious.

- Seeing my friends go on exchange abroad also made me feel bad about myself at times. Of course I was happy for them and glad to see them having fun, but at the same time it highlighted the contrast between my lives and theirs in terms of freedom and going out/living life Covid-free. It made me think things like: what am I doing with my life?

- My job was not fulfilling. I couldn’t help but get frustrated by the lack of work I was given. To be fair, this frustration was a gradual accumulation since August 2021 … so I guess after 5 months or so I was at peak frustration. It was hard because its not something I can directly control, and yes I’ve tried to find other ways to be productive during those free hours, but its still not the same. I felt like I was so eager and energetic to learn and do things, but I was being treated like an intern. Its even harder because everyone is so nice, and I could really see that they had a lot on their plate … I understood that assigning more work to me also requires more time and effort from them. Also, it seemed like all the other trainees were working really hard and had many things to do. So I kinda feel my impatience and annoyance was justified.

- Another reason is I think my acne patch project was going by really slowly. It’s not that me and my partner don’t want to do it, but I guess we both have other responsibilities and commitments to do in life, so its not always easy to share the same “bursts of motivation and proactiveness” to get things done. It’s really not easy to consistently show up and get shit done.

During those times, what really helped me was what I call “escapism therapy.” This was when I dove into the world of K-drama and BTS and it was really fun to be exploring something new. It all started when I read a quote somewhere that if you can overcome the 1-inch barrier, you’ll discover a whole new world. And I think its true! Getting into Korean culture has really made me reflect on many things. It’s made me realize that we have the same humor and jokes, and its made me prouder to be Asian for some reason. BTS made me laugh so much, I’m really thankful that they were able to make me smile during those times. Things like seeing BTS at the Grammy’s made me feel proud that an Asian group is there and made me question why we all put American music and Hollywood etc. on the highest pedestal. When did we all decide that only music written in English can be the best?

Jin’s words also comforted me during this time (see below) and made me come to peace with having minimal work and just try to enjoy relaxing as much as possible, even if it means spending more time watching videos, playing games or whatever, and not productive. Suga’s words also made me feel better about not having a clear dream of what I want to do or who I want to be. (see below) Sometimes I get frustrated that I don’t have a 5-year plan to focus on, cause it’d be much easier to hone my energy on a specific goal, but I’m trying to enjoy everyday life more and have small dreams like learning a new language etc . But to be honest, lately I’ve been wondering if I really don’t have a goal or am I just avoiding the process of having to sit down and think about it …

So I guess this is the end of my H1 2022 reflections and the next post will be about my H2 2022 ambitions, as I’m starting to feel better bit by bit :)

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yuyuluvs · 2 years

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There is a certain level of life I would like to maintain. Not in the traditional sense, of money and such. Rather, I want to maintain a certain level of joy. Small but absolutely undeniable happiness. I would love to take a page from the book of those I look up to. Yet the disconnect of the lives we live makes that hard. I can remember this fire in me as a child, this want to be the best at what I did. When I spent so long wanting to be a creative (I went from wanting to be a songwriter, to a novelist, to a journalist, to a singer), this want seemed fed and happy. The possibility for greatness, for field-topping feats, felt possible in these careers. I don’t know where to put this need now, this energy of achievement. I think something like content creation would be a good area. Nothing big, but perhaps spending some time creating a video or two every week would benefit me when I graduate. I do not want to lose my sense of greatness I carry for myself. There is some kind of need in me to be adored and recognized by more than just those in front of me. I could do it if I tried, I know. It’s a matter of trying. I feel as though I cannot wait any longer to make steps towards my dreams, whatever the hell they may be. I don’t know if I want to teach anymore. Or what I want to do. History makes me happy. History brings me such a fascinating sense of wonder. I wish I had the time to learn it all. I could spend years I think, learning it. There’s a lot I could do with it, a lot I could make money from. I don’t think I have to know yet, really. I’m miles ahead of whatever the fuck average is. Why in the hell should I be worrying about what I’m going to do in 3 years when I don’t even know what I’m doing tomorrow. Part of learning to lucid dream is learning to be present in the present. No thoughts of the past, no expectations for the future. All signs are pointing that I’m exactly where I should be. There is no point in a grand future with a forgotten present. I realized my mistakes with tarot recently is asking about something that doesn’t matter when I draw the cards. I want to create, I want to enjoy things, I want to play games and make friends and achieve things that make me feel good throughout the whole process. but it is more than a want. It is a will. An ‘I will’. There is a certain level I’d like to maintain. A small but undeniable happiness.

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wizkiddx · 3 years

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this deleted itself but the req was for an ill reader who likes to try and carry on even if they feeling shit and tom noticing I think?!?

Summary: you take start to feel a bit shit at toms family barbecue and get caught out and taken care of

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It should've be lovely, an evening in the rare but much appreciated British summer sun in Dom and Nikki’s garden. Everyone was there; all the Holland boys; both sets of Tom’s grandparents; Haz and his long time girlfriend Lucie. It was a reunion of sorts, although no one had been away working, you’d somehow all timed your individual holidays simultaneously. You and Tom to Australia; Sam and Harry to south-east Asia; Paddy, Dom and Nikki to Sweden. Having all returned in the space of a week, everyone was catching up, involving great British barbecues (which are always a little disappointing) and a fair amount of booze.

You were sat on the garden furniture with Tessa (Tom’s grandma), Nikki and Lucie. Very much a ‘girl power’ meeting if ever there was - which in a family full of boys was often needed just to keep the peace. Everything about the evening was lovely… except perhaps your body. God knows why, because you rarely got ill - having not had a day off work in two years. As much as you’d been trying to push away the slow creeping feeling for a couple of hours - it was now getting impossible to ignore. The slightly unsettled feeling in your stomach had you fidgeting in the wooden chair constantly, trying to ease it by shifting positions... to no avail.

“Y/n… Y/n?” Looking up to see three pairs of beady eyes trained on you, you faked a smile, looking over to Nikki who had been calling your name. “Tess was asking how long the flight back was?” “Oh sorry, was miles away!” You tried to cover, shifting once again, this time pressing a hand to your lower abdomen in the hope that’d distract you as you turned slightly to make eye contact with Tessa. “And I think 11 hours ish.” The girls all pulled a grimacing face in sympathy, to which you chuckled at. “No no honestly cos Tom spoiled me completely so we were in the fancy seats, I honestly was spark out of it the whole time!”

It was enough of a response for the girls to all nod, carrying on the conversation as you, now not the main focus, rubbed your pulsing temple with your other hand - in the hope to relieve some of the building pressure. Clearly, though, you weren’t a subtle as you thought - since Lucie got your attention by bumping your shoulder and leaning in closely. “Come to the loo with me?” It sounded like a question, though it very much wasn’t - the stern look in her eye enough to scare you into agreeing. With a word to Nikki and Tess, you both stood up and made your way to the inside, not stopping until you were locked into the thankfully spacious downstairs loo - the brunette eyeing you intently. “You look like shit.” “Thanks Luc, that’s exactly what I needed to hear right now.” You sighed, sitting on top of the closed lidded loo heavily. “What’s up?” Her tone was harsh and to the point, but secretly there was a look of worry in her eyes. She was one of your best mates but sometimes could also scare you shitless. “I think I’m just tired, it’s my stomach and my head, I’ll be fine.”

Lucie didn't really seem to believe you, but respected your stubbornness and after providing you with two paracetamol capsules from her bag, she let you off - both going back into the garden, where, by now Sam was plating up the slightly charred burgers.

Naturally, you’d sat next to Tom, who had pulled your chairs right next to each other - so that his leg was pressed up against yours, his arm pulled around your shoulder. That was just Tom, away from the prying eyes of the public and media, he really was an affectionate person. He just liked to feel you there. God knows how long you all sat in those same positions, but it was long enough for the sun to set. In fact, you most definitely weren’t the person to ask, because at some point, unbeknownst to you, you’d zoned out. Nobody had noticed, under the cover of the low sunset light, until Tom felt your head briefly fall against his shoulder before it shot up once again - your eyes blinking heavily.

He frowned at the sight, seeing you huddle your arms across your body, which was bizarre due to the unbelievable hot weather in London. Yes, it might have shifted into nighttime, but it was still at least 24 degrees. So as his Dad had the entire table captivated recounting some long and complex tale of his touring days, Tom took the opportunity to squeeze your shoulder - grabbing your attention.

“You alright love?” In response you just hummed, eyes shifting up to him after a little delay - similar to how your reflexes became stunted with alcohol, though Tom suddenly realised you’d barely had more than half the glass of beer he’d poured you when you’d both arrived. “ I’said are you okay?” “Yeh… yeh I’m fine.” You forced a small tight lipped smile, whilst Tom took his arm that was round his shoulder to rest on the crown of your head before slowly stroking down your hair. “Sure? You seem a little out of it?” He pushed, still in a whisper so as not to draw attention to the two of you. “Maybe just tired.” Flat out lying, you shifted back into the backrest of the chair a little more making his hand accidentally land on your forehead rather than your hairline. He didn't move it though, instead sitting and swivelling in his chair, pressing the other side of his hand to the skin as well. “You’re burning up Y/n/n” he spoke a little louder - eyes full of concern as he looked you up and down. “No I’m a bit cold if anythin-“

That was when Nikki, from across the other side of the table got involved. She’d obviously been silently observing the two of you, now feeling the need to send you both home. “Oh, we forgot dessert! Tom, Y/n would you mind helping me bring it out?” Thank god for Nikki, for finding a cover story and stopping everyone's eyes on you. Because for someone dating, three years deep, an A-lister - you hated any sort of attention, even from those closest to you. Especially sympathy, you had absolutely no time at all for that.

Leading you into the kitchen with his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, Tom waited till the door was shut before turning to you.- claiming you were boiling and looked not so great. “I’m just a bit cold if I can borrow one of sam’s jumpers then-“ “Love, please go home.” Nikki interrupted as she wormed past Tom to put her own hand on your forehead too. “You’ve got the chills and you’ve not been normal all day. Am I right or am I right?” She was the worst to argue against. That was completely due to the fact she was always right. With a defeated nod from you, she clicked her tongue, pushing you to sit down on one of the barstools. “Tom go get a jumper from Sam’s room and order a taxi, I would drive but we’ve all been drinking.” “I can just go back by myself T, you don’t get to see your grandparents a lot and -“ “I love you but please please shut up.” Having rounded the back of your chair he pressed his lips to your temples as confirmation before scurrying off to the back of the house.

“You know he doesn’t mind at all? My son never was at my beckon call like he is with you.” There was a little smile teasing the corner of her lips as Nikki placed a glass of water in front of you, as though instructing you to take small sips. “I just feel bad, he’s always telling me how he regrets not spending more time with all of you and… well I’ve had him to myself for the fortnight in South Africa.” “Your just as much a part of the family as me or his grandparents are okay? Now when you get home..”

Nikki switched the tone to then list off all manners of ways that you needed to look after yourself once back, which she then repeated as soon as Tom returned with a black hoodie that you gratefully pulled over your head.

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By the time you got home, you were feeling so incredibly shit you weren’t even considering keeping up your brave face. Tom had wordlessly led you up the path to your shared home, unlocking the door and telling you to go straight to bed.

Perhaps he was so concerned because in the whole three years together he’d never ever seen you ill. Yes, the odd headache or whatever, as well as the occasional morning after the night before when you’d opted for a ‘tactical chunder’ to try and protect your modesty. But other than that, you were always the one being sympathetic to him. When he was tired, both emotionally and mentally from work; when he hurt his knee and was on forced bed rest for a couple of days ( which turns out to be the hardest time for you too, dealing with the whiny and fidgety boy man).

He came up a couple of minutes later, by which point you’d already pulled joggers on and wrapped yourself as tightly in the duvet as physically possible. If felt so bloody cold your teeth were actually chattering as you curled up into the smallest ball possible. In his hands was a small tray, carrying a steaming mug; a collection of all the different pill packets you kept in the medicine cabinet (as Tom himself had no idea which one was right so decided to use them all); a hot water bottle and what looked like a damp towel, all scrunched up.

No matter how shitty you felt you had a smile at how sweet and doting Tom was being... and as much as you hated the sympathy - if it was always given by a ripped and beautiful brunette with the sharpest jawline you’d ever seen… well just maybe you could get used to it. After snatching the hotwater bottle up immediately, then letting Tom fuss over you in every which way he wanted you gave in, losing the ability to entertain his puppy energy.

“Can we just go to sleep please?” You whined, which Tom nodded to - quickly getting changed and ready before joining you in bed.

As soon as he felt the way the bed was practically vibrating with the chills you were suffering from, he pulled you up into his chest. Now you had both your own personal heater and a hot water bottle to try and warm you up. “You wake me up if you need anything kay?”

Pressing a kiss into the crown of your head, which was nestled between his shoulder and neck. “Promise me ‘kay?” Him needing the reinforcement caused you to arch back up, looking deep into his brown eyes with the warm glow of his bedside table lamp. “You’re too good to me Tommy.” He tutted at that, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek.

“Oh no” He whispered exclaimed, making you immediately ask him what in response. “I think this fever is making you go all delusional love.” You quirked your head, causing him to continue with a cheeky grin. “Well for one, nothing would be too good for you darling and two…. When the hell have you ever called me ‘Tommy’” With him chuckling at his own joke, you rolled your eyes at his cheekiness, firmly planting your head back on his shoulder as if to shut him up. “Alright, I’ll let you off just this once cos your all feverish… get some sleep love.” “Thankyou Tommy.” “Shh love.”

And that’s how you fell asleep, finally finding a bit of warmth in Tom’s arms.

Safe to say he very much didn’t sleep so well. Yes, you felt cold - but Tom was bloody boiling. Still he didn't move because if you were comfortable, his discomfort didn’t matter. It was also a physical impossibility for him to relax until he felt (yes, technically not the most scientific way) your fever coming down. Every five minutes or so he’d gently press the back of his hand to your forehead. This boy was so whipped for you... but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

~~~feedback is really really appreciated~~~~

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#tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom x reader #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagines #tomholland #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #tom holland angst

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years

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Chapter 11

WC: 2077

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: full on angst, discussions of emotional trauma, mild depictions of blood/gore, mentions of self h*rm & su*cide, mentions of child abuse, discussions of physical disabilities, institutionalization, some dialogue & plot canon to TV show, hurt/comfort

🧠

The rest of the conference went by much like the first day did. Both you and Laszlo bought a few books for your collections. An ease had settled over your conversations with the help of Sara and John's presence; you spoke more freely with each other. You tell yourself it is not because he's going soft on you or vice versa, but rather that you have found yourself in this imaginary bubble where you happen to get on well. It's inevitable that it will pop once you’re back at school and Laszlo will revert back to his usual callous state.

Laszlo. It still felt odd to think of him like that, rather than by his title. You couldn't lie, it gave you a sort of thrill. Even in your dreams you had only called him by his honorific. Thankfully you didn't have another dream after Friday. You couldn't escape the feeling that you'd said something incriminating in front of the man in question. So you chose to pretend it didn't happen.

Monday morning came and you headed to the train station. Once again he had secured a private cabin for the journey. This time you came prepared with a book since you had yet to replace your broken phone.

"Thank you again for inviting me to this, I really enjoyed myself. It was really nice of the department to foot my travel expenses, the hotel was really fancy. I may have helped myself to a mini-bottle or two," you joked.

"There is no need to worry about the department's finances; they were not involved."

You pause. He paid for you? Laszlo did say he would take care of the arrangements; but the four-star hotel, the private compartment train tickets, the admission to the conference, and every meal? Shit, that must have been a fortune, hundreds of dollars at least.

You don't know what to say, so you settle for an awkward "oh." A moment passes before you add "I appreciate that, um, I can pay you back. Might take some time but I can."

The professor is flippant in his reply. "There is no need, it was well spent for the research and knowledge acquired." He opens his book signaling the conversation is over.

You lick your lips. Fine then, I'll just consider it payment for emotional suffering and damages of the last eight weeks.

The first few hours of the journey were spent reading one of the new books you picked up at the convention. Occasionally you would peek over the pages at the professor. He was engrossed in his own selection; sometimes he would pause to write down a thought.

Around the seventh hour of your journey you had given up on reading anymore in favor of looking at the fields outside. The silence was comforting.

Laszlo had trouble concentrating on the book in his hand. He saw you as a conundrum. One minute you could be sociable and teasing with your comments, then next you were biting at his throat with your quick wit and fierce ideals. He decides that he wants to know what made you into who you are today. Now is as good a time as any.

His eyes on you cause a tingle up your spine but you ignore it. Laszlo breaks the silence; "may I ask a personal question?"

"You just did," you answer, still peering out of the large window. He huffed once, amused. At his following silence you face him. You raise your eyebrows to signal him to go on with his question. Curiosity grows at the thought of what he intends to ask.

"Twice now you have made implications of a traumatic past," he begins.

Bubble popped.

Interrupting, you snark "is this the part where you psychoanalyze me, doc? Because trust me, I've been through enough of that." You pick at the lint on your jeans.

Laszlo tries to choose his words more carefully the next time he speaks. "What I mean to say is, the first afternoon in the classroom where you defended that student you implied you had been witness to a trauma. You then displayed signs of anger and embarrassment before leaving prematurely. Yesterday you mentioned having entered a psychiatric facility. As an alienist I can't help but find myself curious about your experiences."

You slide your eyes to meet his from across the cabin. Your face is devoid of any emotion. "We all have our demons. Even you can't argue with that."

Your jaw clenches. Everyone had warned you. They all said he would try to worm his way into your head to figure you out. All the reviews, the gossip, everything. It was a big fat 'I told you so'. You give a pitiful laugh at the situation. "You know, everyone told me that you would pull this stunt."

He seems confused by your statement. "And what is that?"

"That you'd get inside my head and try to figure me all out or whatever. You already know I googled you beforehand, what everyone says about your methods. By now I assume you've done a little research yourself. I promise you there is nothing exciting here," you scoff and point to yourself.

"You would be correct in your assumption." You chew at your cheek as he starts. "I do know some of what happened in your past. Yet I also know that society likes to dilute the truth into something either more palatable, more entertaining, for people to consume greedily. What I want to know is what you have faced. How you have not allowed the experience to overcome you so much so that your humanity is erased like the characters I lecture on."

Eyes closing of their own volition you are thrown back in time to that night so many years ago. You didn't talk about it anymore. Bitsy knew of course, but that was the extent.

Laszlo waits. He knows this is likely to push you over the edge if your history with him means anything. Quite frankly, anyone would be tossed to their limit at his interrogation had they gone through what you had. John always told him that he needed to work on his bedside manner; that he had a habit of coming on too strong in his pursuit of learning the intricacies of the human mind. But your earlier comment about being sent to a so-called 'nuthouse' rubbed him the wrong way. It left a bad taste in his mouth. He needed to know. He needed to understand.

Laszlo can imagine the reprimand that he would receive from John and Sara for this. Just as he considers apologizing for his intrusion you open your eyes.

"She was fine. None of us suspected anything was wrong. I came home from having dinner with some… boy, and she had locked herself in the bathroom. She- she must have started over the sink and moved to sit on the side of the tub. She was hunched inside it when I got the door open. I pulled her out. Blood was… everywhere." Your voice is clinical as you explain.

"After, I shut down. So I checked myself into a psych ward a few days later when I couldn't get the feel of her blood off my hands. It's slippery, you know. And it smells. You wouldn't think so but it does." You clear your throat. "I did the therapy, took the meds they prescribed, all the standard treatments. Later I started watching true crime documentaries. I'd heard about exposure therapy so I figured the more I saw the gore, the less the image of my dead roommate would bother me. And it did help. The nightmares stopped after a while, I came back to school. I was better, just not the same.” You had watched the passing landscape as you explained. Turning to face him you speak again. “That's why those pictures didn't bother me. They weren't anything I hadn't seen before."

He contemplates you. The discovery and subsequent loss of your friend in this manner would no doubt cause lingering effects to your psyche. A stain that would forever remind you. "I offer my sincerest condolences. I do not presume to know what that would be like to experience, but I am glad you sought help afterwards. To make the choice to alleviate yourself of your own suffering where possible.”

As he says this he realizes that your anger towards the idea of being enslaved to unconscious impulse makes perfect sense. It explains why you focused so much energy on defending your belief in free will. That you have the power to choose how you carry your joy, your anger, your healing. It reminds him of how he held onto his own guilt and hurt, ignoring how it festered within him for so long. He feels as though he needs to share a piece of himself with you.

“I played piano as a child, quite well too. My mother hoped I would someday make a career of it. I vividly remember playing Mozart’s Concerto for Piano No. 20 in D Minor at a holiday party when I was seven years old. It was my favorite to play.... It requires two hands." You finally look at him. "My father...” He pauses to gather himself.

Now it is the doctor that cannot meet your eyes. As you listen you feel your confusion grow. How could he have been a talented pianist if he only had full use of his left hand? Unless..., the realization dawns on you just as he continues, his words slow.

“My father had two sides. One loving and the other brutal, the two often coexisting. It was something as trivial as putting me to bed, I recall... A game of tug of war. We were laughing…” He inhales a sharp breath. Already you can feel the tears begin to blur your vision. “I don't remember if he was drunk or if I said something that offended him. He must have pulled my arm behind my back.” Laszlo exhales shakily. “In small children, fractures can often affect…” he trails off, unable to finish. You can hear how he barely holds himself together.

Your heart aches for the broken man that sits in front of you. He never let on how much his arm bothered him, at least not within your presence. Suddenly you don’t see him as this rude, insufferable, obsessive man, but instead as someone that spends his life trying to protect himself. He projects his own anger and hurt so that he may, just for a minute, forget about his own demons. He wants to help others even when he feels he cannot bear to help himself.

But unlike you, he has to live with the physical reminder of his past every day of his life.

You stand and move to sit on his right side. Before allowing yourself to think too much of your actions, you place your hand atop his own, curling your fingers around his palm and squeezing delicately. You don’t bother wiping away the tears on your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Laszlo;” the whisper is barely heard above the sound of the train. A second passes where you fear you have overstepped and offended him by touching the affected limb. When his thumb tightens against the backs of your fingers you know he is not. He holds you in place.

“You asked me how I kept my humanity. How does anyone really? We learn to take what we get and we carry it in a bag. Sometimes you have to drag the damn thing behind you. But eventually the weight gets less and less if you allow yourself to move forward, even if it’s still there with you all the time. I dealt with what happened years ago and it does still haunt me. It’s easier now than it was, but… I- I suppose I’ve learned from you too. Sitting in those lectures and hearing you talk. We can either let it haunt us for the rest of our lives… or we can accept it… and use the memory of our pain to help ourselves and others.”

“I’m not sure the choice is entirely in our hands.” His tone is mournful.

You turn to smile at him through your tears. His own eyes are bloodshot. “I disagree. If it weren’t, if we didn’t have the freedom to choose that, we’d all be murderers.”

Tag list

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#the interpretation of dreams #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo x reader #laszlo kreizler #the alienist #the alienist angel of darkness #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #laszlo kreizler fanfic #laszlo kreizler daniel bruhl #scuttle-buttle #tw self harm #tw suicude #tw child abuse

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mikauzoran · 2 years

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Lukadrigaminette: Broken (One-Shot)

@dancinglifeboat asked for Lukadrigaminette.

Summary: Adrien’s father might not support him, but he knows he can always count on his real family.

Read it on AO3: Lukadrigaminette: Broken

“Let’s just…watch a movie,” Marinette suggested as she brought a plate of snickerdoodle cookies over to where Kagami and Luka were cuddling Adrien on the Dupain-Chengs’ couch.

“I personally volunteer to sing along with you to whatever Disney film you choose,” Kagami offered as a testament to how much she loved Adrien.

“Me too,” Luka agreed (a much smaller sacrifice on his part but appreciated nonetheless).

“Me three,” Marinette chimed in. “We’ll make it one big singalong.”

Adrien swallowed and blinked the tears out of his eyes as he struggled to find his voice.

He looked at the small cardboard box over in the corner by the TV, and a fresh wave of tears hit him.

That was everything he’d been able to smuggle out of the Mansion in his haste to escape after coming out to his father earlier that day had ended poorly.

“I don’t—” His voice cracked. “I don’t think I feel up to singing.”

Marinette set the cookies down on the coffee table and took a seat at Adrien’s feet so that she could join in loving on him with her other two partners. “Is there anything you do feel like doing? Even just a little bit?”

Luka gave Adrien’s hair a nuzzle. “Doing literally anything else would be better than sitting here and feeling miserable, Perfect Fifth.”

Adrien shrugged, sinking even further into his partners’ embraces. “I just…I’m kind of panicking right now. I don’t think I’m ready to be distracted yet. I’m still kind of in survival mode. I mean…I don’t even know where I’m sleeping tonight. I’m homeless, and I don’t know how I’m going to pay for education and food and—”

“—Adrien, calm down,” Kagami commanded in her no-nonsense tone.

“Obviously, you’ll come live with one of us, so there’s no need to spend energy worrying about that,” Luka remarked matter-of-factly.

“We have a small flat on the ground floor of the bakery that’s supposed to be used for a live-in apprentice,” Marinette offered. “It’s pretty much just storage right now, but we could get it cleaned up for you. If you want, I’ll talk to my parents in the morning.”

“Or you could come live on the Liberty,” Luka added. “We have plenty of cabins filled with junk that we could clean out and make into a room for you. Take your pick.”

“I’m sure Chloé would put you up as well,” Kagami chimed in. “Unfortunately, I think my mother will side with your father, so I’m unable to offer my own home. In fact, I may need to put myself at your mercy as well when I tell my mother about the four of us because I anticipate that she will have a similar reaction to your father, Adrien.”

Everyone’s hands went out to rest on Kagami.

She shook her head. “I don’t mean to make this about me. I am merely explaining my inability to offer Adrien a place to stay. Until I am forced to confront my mother and possibly break ties with her, I will do my best to siphon off resources in order to prepare.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and your mother will take it better than my father did,” Adrien muttered, resting his head against Kagami’s.

She gave his hand a reassuring pat. “So. It sounds like housing is decided. I’m sure wherever you end up staying they’ll feed you, so there’s no sense in worrying about that either. As far as paying for things…do you still have a job at Gabriel, or was your employment terminated?”

Adrien’s brow furrowed. “I’m…not sure. He didn’t exactly disown me or kick me out even. I just… The things he said… I couldn’t keep living under the same roof as someone who would say such ugly things about me and the people I love, so…”

“We need a lawyer,” Marinette realized. “You’re nineteen, so you should have access to any trust funds you’re the beneficiary of now, and surely you have money somewhere from your work as a Gabriel employee. It’s just a matter of finding it and gaining access to it.”

Luka gave Adrien’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “So, it sounds like you’re not destitute after all, and you can stay with me or Marinette, so that takes care of your food and housing. I’ll call Penny first thing in the morning about an attorney. She should be able to point us in the right direction.”

“Okay?” Kagami gave Adrien an appraising look. “Do you feel a little better now?”

Adrien swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. That’s… Okay. It doesn’t feel so much like the world is ending now.”

“Good,” Marinette sighed in relief, going up on her knees to give Adrien a quick smooch.

Kagami and Luka both followed suit, and then they all stood for a group hug.

They stayed in their huddle for a long time, waiting for Adrien to be the first to pull away.

“Can we maybe have a sleepover?” he tentatively inquired as he looked around the circle. “Like…can we do the Disney singalong and hair and nails and makeup and everything?”

Kagami’s eyes went wide and began to sparkle with excitement as she looked to Marinette and Luka. “Can we?”

“And can we make a pillow nest and sleep in a puppy pile?” Adrien added, holding his breath as he pushed his luck.

“I’m game,” Luka easily agreed, looking to Marinette as the final say.

She shrugged with a smile. “I’m sure my parents won’t mind, so long as we’re not too loud.”

Adrien had to fight to contain his squeal of joy.

Kagami also suppressed her own trill of excitement.

Adrien looked from one partner to the next with an expression overflowing with love and gratitude. “You guys are the absolute best. I am so lucky to have you.”

“I feel like we’re the lucky ones,” Marinette replied, necessitating another round of kisses and hugs before they broke apart to prepare for makeovers, snickerdoodle cookies, and singalongs.

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anime-fan93 · 2 years

Note

Hello!! I'm here to request a platonic encanto matchup please. Take all of the time you need for this! I use any pronouns and I would prefer if you used gender neutral terms when referring to me, thank you <3

I’m a very animated person, kind of like I popped out of an animated movie, like Encanto really. I am very expressional with my face, waving my hands around and just moving like I’m a smoothly done animation. I have a lot of nervous energy and I always need to be stimulated in some way, like moving my hand rapidly or playing with my hair/hands. I’m sorta like a cat, in the sense that I make cat like screeches and I’m very jumpy, I even jump at things I’m not really scared of lol.

As a friend, I tend to flirt a little(just for fun), so I would prefer not to have anyone who may take that the wrong way please. I genuinely find it really hard to show affection so I show it through playful kicks, punches and sometimes bites. I backtrack really quickly when I actually say something I’m sincere about, like how much my friend matters to me and such. I find it really hard to be comfortable and I’m always on edge. Commitment issues affect my friendships a lot tbh.

Lil rundown on me in general: I’m a really humorous person(I’m hilarious, trust me) and I can be really honest with people I don’t like. I find it hard to concentrate and remember things well, especially if I’m not interested but just in general. I’m a really petty and angry person in general, I find it hard to let things go. I take things at face value and I find it really hard to pick up on things like people dropping hints irl but I’m really good at identifying it in shows and stuff so that’s something!

HOBBY TIME!! I really like to listen to people talk!! I also love talking myself too but listening to people talk is so enlightening and rewarding I love it! I really love looking at media discussion and analysing, it’s one of the main things I connect with people over. I love talking about interpretations of characters, especially underdeveloped and under-used ones, they’re like a playground of inspiration! I love challenges like jigsaws and lego, so I like when the reward is a small building or an image from the jigsaw! I’m a theatre kid, I do dance, I act, I sing(badly). I also play guitar! I paint as a way to figure out how I’m feeling and process those feelings, which helps because my brain works very visually. I love creative things in general! I read and write a lot, and I sometimes get the urge to act out scenes, which is helpful when I’m writing because it helps me figure out if what I’m making the character do is physically possible

Uhhh I don’t really have anything left to say I’m sorry! If you do have any questions or want to clarify anything don’t be afraid to message me!! I hope this is enough, but also not too overwhelming. Remember to take your time and take care of yourself. Hydrate and get yourself something to eat. Have a great week and happy writing <3

Hi, thank you for requesting! This is my first platonic match-up, so please let me know if there's something I mixed up or wrong.

I match you with...

Isabela!

Isabela would love spending almost all of her free time with you. Telling you everything, eating with you and you two staying at each other's houses at least 4 times a week.

She would love you being animated, it makes her more energetic and more eager to listen to whatever you're talking about, and would want to watch horror movies with you so she can see your reactions to the scary parts.

I feel once she got used to it, she would definitely flirt back with you, in public, around family, wherever. Mariano was confused and slightly concerned when he first saw it. She would understand that you struggle to show emotions, so she would never get upset if you hit or kicked her a little hard.

If you were expressing something you cared about, she would listen close and let you take your time so you could say everything you needed to. If she knew that you struggled to get comfortable, she would try her hardest to get you comfortable fast, so you two could have the best times together.

She would help you with remembering things, challenging you a few times a day on some important things coming up. She would never do anything to intentionally make you angry or upset with her, knowing that you don't let things go easily and not wanting to lose you.

She would talk to you all the time even if she didn't know that you liked listening to people talk, but would sometimes think she had been talking too much and get quiet to let you talk.

She would sometimes solve the jigsaw puzzles with you, but would usually just watch, loving your reactions when you finished. She would dance with you whenever you asked, while you would both sing (I'm sure your voice is amazing), and she would love listening to you play the guitar after a stressful day.

She would watch you paint, trying to figure out what you're painting could mean, and would encourage you to act out the scenes while reading or writing.

I hope you enjoyed, you gave me the perfect amount, I love writing longer ones! And again, if I did anything wrong or if there's anything you would want me to change, message me! Thank you for requesting!

#isabela madrigal x reader #encanto x reader #encanto #encanto matchups #encanto isabela

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bi-bard · 3 years

Text

I Stumbled in at the Wrong Time (Pt.4) - David Budd Imagine (Bodyguard)

Title: I Stumbled in at the Wrong Time (Pt. 4)

Pairing: David Budd X Reader

Other Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Requested: Nope

Word Count: 1,613 words

Warning(s): mentions of bombs, death, and violence

Summary: After losing Julia, (Y/n) was heartbroken at David's sudden silence. However, (Y/n) was more heartbroken at how the two of them reconnected.

Author's Note: This is the second to last part. The last part is going to be an epilogue more than anything.

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

I didn't see David after the day at the hospital. He was busy, I knew that. I also knew that he wasn't really my bodyguard, he was Julia's.

I still wish he was there.

He was obviously in pain. I was still in pain and all I wanted was to have someone there that could understand my pain.

I didn't leave my room in the safe house. They still wouldn't let me go home so I laid in a bed that wasn't mine and tried to grieve.

One day, I finally woke up with enough energy to get out of bed and get ready. I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror.

At first, I noticed the results of my crying. Tired eyes, messy hair, distinct parts of my skin that look like I had cried. It was awful.

Then, I could only see Julia. I could see every similarity I had to her. It was like whatever force was in power was taunting me. Reminding me that I had to cope with Julia being stolen from me.

"You did so much more than I could," I mumbled quietly, like a prayer to her. I leaned down, rinsing my face with water.

I was finishing up my process of showering, getting dressed, and my other things when there was an emergency broadcast on the news.

I watched for a moment before my breath stopped.

David. In the middle of a park. A bomb strapped to his chest. He looked panicked. He was yelling something but it didn't seem like anyone was even attempting to listen to him.

I jumped when the door opened. A bodyguard was standing there.

"We need to evacuate," he explained quickly.

I followed him until we got outside. I asked where we were going. Once I found out what direction he was going, I ran the opposite way. I wasn't sure why I thought that this was a good idea. I wasn't going to be of much help but I felt a need to be there.

I found the group there. The police and... the woman that I was assuming was David's ex-wife. I walked over, ignoring the officers trying to keep me away.

"You're Julia Montegomery's sibling," one of the officers said as I kind of shoved my way into the group. "You need to go."

"No," I replied simply.

"We have reason to believe that this man is behind your sister's death," she explained.

"Good thing I know better."

Blind faith was not something that I was used to but David and I had been through a shit ton together. In a matter of maybe weeks, I felt like we were connected on a different level than most.

I'm pretty sure they called it trauma bonding.

"David," I called.

"(Y/n)," he called back, confused. I nodded. "What the hell are you doing here?"

I shrugged. I didn't know. I needed to be though, I just knew it.

I turned to look at his ex. She seemed confused to see me.

"You're the one he was on the phone with," she mumbled. I thought she was going to be angry with me. I nodded. "You really helped him that night... I'm sorry about your sister."

I nodded again, not sure how to respond.

The rest of the experience was a blur.

David led the entire bomb squad out of the park, down the road, and to an alleyway that I didn't recognize. He knelt on the ground, holding his arms out. He was talking about something, something to do with my sister's death but I didn't understand a word of it.

The people were talking about how best to defuse the bomb, the danger of someone being there to do it, or the risk of David doing it on his own when he didn't know.

I was too worried to care about my own safety. I grabbed their camera and the kit, walking it over to where David was.

"(Y/n), get out of here," David snapped quietly.

"Shut up," I mumbled. I turned to the police. "Tell me how I need to move this thing!"

"This is so stupid," David said.

"I'm not defusing it," I replied. "I'm just trying to speed up the process before they let you die."

"I didn't choose to do this... I didn't- I didn't kill Julia."

"I know," I looked him in the eye as I laid out the kit they had. I moved the camera however they told me.

When I moved back, I stayed next to the camera. I didn't want to leave David during this time. I couldn't. I physically couldn't pick my legs up to walk away from him.

"How many times are we going to be connected by an explosive," I asked.

David had just taped the weight down on the dead man's switch. He looked at me for a moment as he stretched his cramping hand.

"I hope this is the last time," he replied. I grinned a little. "Coffee would be better."

"Are you making a joke right now?"

"Coping, sorry," David muttered before looking to the group of people for the next explanation.

He was just finishing up the process when he looked at me again. I picked my head up a little bit, letting him know that I was here to help.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. I furrowed my eyebrows.

He finished the process, took off the vest, and then ran. He jumped over the half-wall on the other side of him.

"David, no," I yelled, going to look over the wall's edge.

A cop grabbed me, leading me away from the scene before I could even look for him.

After that, I didn't hear anything. I watched the news as much as I could but no one had any new information. The cops wouldn't tell me anything, despite keeping me in their main office for an extended period of time.

I was finally led to the safe house hours later.

They wanted to move me because David was still considered dangerous. I held onto my blind faith, refusing to go anywhere.

"I have guards and he can't scale a building," I explained. "I'm fine here. I'm safe."

I shut the door in everyone's face. I was not going to spend my life jumping from safe house to safe house. I wanted to go home but I didn't get everything I wanted.

It was the next day maybe when I heard about the arrests and the developments in the case.

"Sir," I asked the bodyguard outside my door as he hung up his phone.

"Mr. Budd has been proven innocent," he confirmed. I smiled widely. It was the happiest I had felt in weeks.

"I wanna meet with him," I said quickly, going back into my room to get dressed and cleaned up.

I was sitting at the counter of a small cafe, my obnoxiously sweet coffee sitting in front of me. I would drink it but it was too hot and I was honestly too nervous.

I looked at the door as David walked in and started walking over to me.

I stood up, taking in his appearance. Tired eyes, bruises and cuts on his face, and hair that was an absolute disaster. He seemed overwhelmed seeing me.

I grinned, tears in my eyes.

"Thank you for trusting-"

I hugged him tightly. He stopped talking, clearly not expecting the hug. I was usually good with boundaries... well I thought I was. I felt David slowly hug me back.

"Thank you for trusting me," he mumbled into my ear.

"It was really easy," I said quietly, chuckling through the tears building up in my eyes. I slowly stepped back, "Sorry."

"It's okay," he nodded.

We sat down at the counter after David had gotten a drink. We were talking about everything. What happened on the train, what happened to Julia, the fact that he was just almost named a terrorist. All of it.

"It's strange to think about," I said. "We are only in each others' lives because of tragedy."

"We can help each other," David suggested. "Heal together."

"'Together,'" I asked.

The idea seemed sweet at first glance but it didn't sit right in my stomach. Something told me that doing this wasn't going to be a good idea. Linking our progress wasn't going to be good for either one of us.

"David-"

I was caught off guard by David leaning over and kissing me. It was soft, nervous. I almost got lost in the moment before I realized what I wanted to say. I put a hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly.

"David," I said softly as I pulled away. I wanted nothing more than to kiss him again. "I'm sorry."

I leaned back completely.

"I... I don't think this is healthy," I explained. "I want to be with you, I do... more than anything. But neither one of us is okay. Not right now. I think going forward now would be good for us."

David slowly started nodding, leaning back, away from my hand.

"I'm sorry-"

"No, no, I understand," he replied.

There was a moment of silence.

"Maybe one day," he asked quietly.

"Maybe," I replied, grinning at him.

Soon after, we went our separate ways. I tried to hide any of my tears as I was led back to the safe house. I instantly started packing my bags. I was going home as soon as possible to pursue normal life... with the addition of much-needed therapy and professional help.

I had stumbled into David's life at exactly the wrong time... and nothing broke my heart more.

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

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#david budd imagine #david budd fanfiction #david budd x reader #bodyguard imagine #bodyguard fanfiction #bodyguard x reader #imagine #fanfiction #x reader #richard madden imagine #richard madden fanfiction #richard madden x reader

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mostlycompetentwriter · 3 years

Text

Domesticated Drabble

Pairing: Bang Chan x Y/N

Genre: Marriage AU; Sequel; Drabble

Warnings: So. Much. Fluff. (small smut scene at the beginning); language

Request:

A/N: Finally finished this one! Please enjoy another taste of my favorite AU!

5 Years Later

“We’ve got five minutes,” I whispered against the pulse point on Chan’s neck, the throbbing vein pumping hard as he panted for breath from above me, eyes shut tight together as he moaned.

“I’ll blow at any second,” Chan cursed, laying sloppy kisses wherever he could reach while fucking me hard and fast.

“Your cock feels amazing,” I practically purred, digging sharp nails into the milky white skin of his back, legs closing in around his waist to keep him close.

“Oh, sweetie, you’re laying it on thick this morning, aren’t you?”

I clenched a vice-grip around the length pumping inside me in response, sending Chan’s hips stuttering against my own. “I’ve got kids in the next room who can wake-up at any second. Excuse me for trying to inflate your ego.”

“That’s not the only thing inflating,” Chan gasped, curling his fingers through mine.

“You’re gross,” I huffed, closing my eyes and throwing back my neck as best as I could in this position: laid out under my husband, orgasm approaching at a meteoric-level speed, and sweat coating my skin in a delightful sheen as the muscles around my abdomen worked overtime to milk Chan for everything that he had before the moment was ruined by my kids.

I half-expected them to burst into the room unannounced at any second, oblivious to their parents fucking in much of the same way that created them in the first place. Locked together with limbs intertwining, sucking in each other’s air, and kisses rough and demanding.

Fuck it had been far too long since Chan and I had last done anything even remotely this intimate, and it was still necessary for us to go at it as fast as possible to prevent unwanted eyes from accidentally catching us at the height of our passion.

I couldn’t help but glance at the clock, realizing that we had been fucking for almost ten minutes, and the alarm had been set for 7:00 AM so that I could somehow wrestle my kids together for their first day of school.

Damn, this is gonna turn out to be a very long day.

“Are you close?” I asked Chan, connecting our lips for a sweet kiss since I personally knew that they were a weakness of his.

“Yeah,” he said, features collapsing into a look of pure concentration as a guttural moan found its way crawling up his throat to release itself at the same moment when I could feel his release emptying into the condom separating us from complete skin-to-skin by a thin layer of latex.

But I insisted on wearing them now.

“You’ll cum too, sweetie,” Chan whispered, laving his tongue across the pad of his thumb before reaching down to connect with my clitoris, drawing rough circles in random patterns to snap the physical breaking point: holding my tongue to prevent myself from screaming as I rode the waves of pleasure until nothing was left but a delicate haze and the sensation of Chan’s cock still stuffed inside my spent pussy.

As it turns out, aftercare with Chan was the equivalent of my husband spewing my praises while insisting on letting his cock soften completely before pulling out: cock warming at its finest.

“Do you plan to pull out?” I asked him, smirking when he whined and buried his face into the side of my neck.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been like this,” Chan remarked.

“The kids need to get up soon,” I said, although there was a sleepy pull weighing down my eyelids. A good fuck tended to wear me out. “They’ve got their first day.”

“Yeah,” Chan agreed, but he made no effort to separate us. In fact, I could imagine us both easily falling back to sleep.

“You’re coming right?” I asked around a yawn. “To their Kindergarten orientation or whatever the hell they call it.”

“Of course,” Chan said, and he finally lifted his head from my shoulder, gaze soft as he took his time to explore my features. “I can’t miss that.”

“What? Watching the teachers drag them away for the first day of the education system they’ll be stuck in for the next thirteen years?”

“You have a way with words, sweetie.”

I grinned. “Maybe I’m just using words to deny the weirdness of my kids starting school and making me feel like I’m 100 years old.”

“It feels like they were just born,” Chan agreed, and he slowly rose himself into a sitting position, climbing out of bed to give me the best view of his naked ass.

“Your ass looks great by the way.”

“Thanks,” Chan snorted, reaching for a pair of black slacks from the floor. “I’m taking a shower.”

“Fine,” I groaned. “I guess I’ll go awaken the sleeping monsters.”

“Let the chaos begin,” Chan announced, closing the bathroom door behind him as I reached down deep into the reserves to muster enough energy to finally get out of bed.

At the risk of sounding too long-winded, the best way I could describe my twins was with a touch of irony. Because, despite looking identical to one another, my girls couldn’t be more opposite in terms of personality.

Leah, the eldest by one minute, was boisterous, loud, and unapologetic when it came to being herself. She was the epitome of a social butterfly, jumping from one person to the next and asking questions that occasionally raised a few eyebrows because of their brazenness.

Her sister, Rose, was nothing like that. In fact, Rose hardly spoke at all, choosing to listen instead, and offer her voice only when she truly felt the need to include it. Of course, side-by-side, they were another thing altogether, far too energetic for me to handle.

This morning was no exception, chasing Leah around the house because she refused to change out of her pajamas, questioning me relentlessly on why it mattered that she had to change.

“I should wear what I want!” she insisted, and I had nearly lost my patience with her until Chan entered the room, and he was one of the only people who could talk through to Leah.

Him and Felix, of course.

Before Felix moved out, he and Leah were practically inseparable, and I could see her uncle’s influence in a lot of different ways.

“You want to look your best to make new friends, right?” Chan asked her, and after a laughable look of concentration, Leah nodded and allowed me to change her into a much more suitable dress.

“There,” I grumbled, turning my attention to Rose who was more willing to be dressed.

“Let’s go have breakfast, yeah?” Chan whispered to Leah, and she smiled and giggled at her father as he took her hand and led her into the kitchen.

I scoffed at how easy he was able to manage her, glancing at Rose who was even more quiet than usual. “Aren’t you excited for your first day?”

She shrugged, looking down at her hands. “I don’t want to leave you.”

I could feel my heart breaking at her sweet words, cupping her face between my hands as I tried to reassure her that she would still see me in the afternoons and evenings. “It’s just a little break,” I said, but I knew that Rose was harder to convince.

In the meantime, Chan and I worked together to have both twins fed and ready to leave the house, packing them lunches for school before ushering everyone out the door because we were teetering on the edge of being too late.

At least Chan had the wherewithal to warm-up the car, and it gave us more time to fasten everyone into their car-seats before pulling out onto the main road, speeding into the downtown district with the clock ticking away. “Well, at least the other parents will think we’re irresponsible.”

“I’ve got this,” Chan said, and I shivered as he toed the gas and grazed just going over too fast.

“At the risk of getting a ticket-”

“Relax, sweetie,” Chan interrupted, reaching over to take my hand. “I’ll handle everything.”

“Uh-huh,” I murmured, glancing up into the rearview mirror to see Leah and Rose engaged in their learning tablets. Even if they were a few minutes late, my kids would still be the smartest. I had made sure of that, spending countless hours with them reading as many books as I could buy, digging out paper and pencils to practice their names and alphabet letters, and reading tons of online articles about the best methods to ensure your child’s early learning set them up for the most success.

Right? So what if we were a little late.

“Mommy? Why can’t you both stay with us at school?” Rose suddenly inquired from the backseat.

I sighed, turning around to face her. “Mommy and Daddy both have to go to work, okay? We’ve already had our turn at school.”

“Our turn?” Chan chuckled, and I pivoted in my seat to glare at him.

“That’s the kind of language we should be using with them!”

“Did you read that from an online expert?”

“As a matter of fact, I did!” I huffed, and I caught his smile, letting me know that he was just messing around.

“I just want them to do well,” I whispered, and his expression instantly softened at the sound of my tone.

“You’ve done so well, sweetie,” Chan reassured me, squeezing my hand even tighter as he turned into the school’s parking lot, finding an empty spot near the back.

Immediately, I was at the back door, reaching inside to help Rose out of her seat, spinning her around to help her with her brand new bookbag. “There,” I said, once her attention was on me again. “You’re ready.”

“I don’t know...” Rose trailed off, and her eyes held all the uncertainty of a five-year-old who was used to staying at home with her parents and uncle. Not the unfamiliar presences of her peers.

“Hey,” I said, kneeling down to meet her gaze straight-on. “I know it seems scary, but I promise that you’ll really love it. I was the same way too on my first day, but my mom gave me the same advice, and guess what? She was right. I ended up loving school, and if there’s a little piece of me in you, then I know that you’ll have so much fun that you’ll forget all about your mommy and daddy.”

Rose’s eyes grew bigger, shaking her head in a manner that was quite endearing. “I won’t ever forget you.”

“I know, sweetheart,” I said, pulling her close for a hug as Chan and Leah emerged from the other side.

“Everything okay?” Chan asked, looking between me and his daughter.

“Just fine,” I said, ruffling Rose’s hair before standing tall again. “Let’s go inside.”

The classroom was already full of students, and I was glad to see some parents lingering, which meant we weren’t as late as I had thought.

“Told ya,” Chan snickered, and I gave him a playful glare before turning my attention to the approaching teacher: an older gentleman with a head of pepper and salt colored hair and kind eyes.

“Hello,” he said, addressing me first. “I’m Mr. Park.”

“Hi,” I said, accepting his handshake. “These are my daughters: Leah and Rose Bang.”

“Ah!” Mr. Park remarked, glancing down. “I’m excited for our twin students! Please, have a seat wherever you’d like.”

“Go on,” I encouraged them when I caught their matching looks of insecurity. “You have each other,” I added, reaching down to wrap their fingers together, giving them one last smile before Leah bravely led her sister further into the room, selecting an empty table near the back.

“Well, it’s so nice to meet you,” Mr. Park said, and I noticed that he had grown a little too close, gaze lingering for far too long.

“Yes,” I agreed, “And this is my-”

“I’m Chan,” my husband interrupted, inserting himself between me and Mr. Park with a brusque movement. “The father.”

I rolled my eyes at his tone, watching as Mr. Park hesitated before nodding and shaking Chan’s outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you.”

I smirked, waiting until Mr. Park had moved on before leaning in to Chan. “What was that, dear?”

Chan scoffed, searching the room for a moment. “He was flirting with you, sweetie. What did you expect me to do?”

“Well, it could be from our morning romp, but it kinda turned me on.”

Chan raised a suggestive brow at my comment, but I gave him a cheeky smile in response before walking in the direction of Leah and Rose’s table. “Look at you two,” I remarked. “I think you made a good choice.”

“I like seeing outside,” Leah said, and I nodded and tucked away a wayward strand of hair.

“You’ll both stay together, right?”

I received synchronous nods in response, and there was a lot of relief on my end knowing that my girls would be just fine.

“We’ll be here to pick you up at 2:00,” Chan said, pointing to the analog clock above the door. “Okay?”

Two more nods. “Remember to have fun. You’re gonna learn so much, and maybe you’ll even be smarter than daddy.”

I managed to elicit two laughs in response to that, and Chan chuckled as he wrapped an arm around my waist. “Be good, alright?”

“Yes, daddy,” Leah replied diligently while Rose nodded her head, attention drifting to a book sitting at the edge of the table.

I smiled knowing that she was showing interest, and then I realized that there was a deeper part of me that was having just as much trouble leaving the girls as they were having with leaving me and Chan. But the other parents were starting to leave the room, and with one more exchange of our goodbyes, Chan and I were walking away from our girls, keeping our own hands locked together as the door closed behind us.

“Woah,” I sighed once we were outside in the hallway. “That was harder than I expected.”

“It’s a big step,” Chan said, and he wrapped an arm around my waist to pull me closer. “But they’ll be okay because they’re ours.”

“Oh,” I laughed. “Is that so?”

“Of course,” Chan said, giving me a perfectly serious look before a smile overtook his features, and any previous doubts were vanquished by the sincerity in that smile, and I knew that as long as I had Chan, then nothing would ever be too difficult to overcome.

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h34rtizuku · 3 years

Text

𝔭𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔶

i hate angst without happy endings, but i’m also self-destructive. therapy is expensive, but ripping your own heart out and bearing your insecurities into a full-fledged story for you and others to read? free.

warnings : angst without a happy ending, insecurities, jealousy, mayhaps toxic behavior?? idk if ur looking for a good time, this isn’t for you bestie <3 also i might misspell uraraka’s name wrong a few times, i’ll fix them later :*

being quirkless had its advantages. with such a small number of us being born without powers, it left a lot of the mundane jobs open.

which is why, as soon as pro-hero deku opened his agency, i came to him with the request to be his assistant.

on the daily, he had people coming up to him asking for internships or to be his sidekick. but he never had anyone ask to be his assistant.

being the number one hero often meant that every day things, things one may take for granted or deem insignificant became just another list of things on the busy man’s to-do list.

therefore the appeal of having someone file his paper work and run to get him coffee in the morning was great enough to hire me.

and i was glad he did.

this is what i have been working for since i was a first year in high school. after watching the freckled boy break limb after limb to defeat his opponent.

yeah, i saw it as irresponsible and stupid that he had to break his own body to save others. but i was willing to overlook it.

my one goal during my remaining years of high school and up to college was that wherever that little green haired boy went, i would follow.

and that reigned true as his assistant. i would shuffle after him like a duckling following it’s mother, wherever he needed me.

if he needed me in a briefing to take notes for him, i was there. if he needed me to put in overtime to help him file the last minute paperwork, i was there. if he wanted a particular pastry from a specific bakery half way across town, i was there.

izuku was never mean, or demanding. always thanking me profusely for anything i ever did for him. leaving me to remind him that this was my job, and any way to make his life easier was good enough for me.

but maybe i should have held onto those blushed cheeks and crinkled eyes as he thanked me for the coffee that he didn’t even know he needed, for a just a little bit longer.

you know how a child will open a new toy on christmas and it quickly becomes their new favorite toy? playing with it non-stop, taking it wherever they go. until one day, they grow bored of it and never touch it again as it grows dusty at the bottom of their toy bin.

i know izuku wasn’t doing it on purpose, he didn’t have an intentionally mean bone in his body. i guess you could say, some other toys came around and took his attention away.

and that toy, was a particularly difficult mission in collaboration with uravity’s agency.

the two spent long hours cooped in his office as they went over notes, plans, intel, etc. until the conversation melted into talk about the old days and the wonderful memories they had together in high school.

i went to work the following days with absolutely no energy to handle whatever would be thrown at me. i hadn’t been able to get much sleep, as when i closed my eyes the only thing i could see was the look in his eyes when he saw her.

my patience was already thin given the events of the most recent week, but when the printer started malfunctioning leaving me unable to fax the papers izuku wanted me send, you could say that was the first domino.

i swatted and kicked and pressed any button on the stupid machine. telling myself i was merely trying to get to stupid thing to work, but deep down i knew that the printer was just my temporary punching bag. an outlet to unleash my anger and emotions onto something instead of letting them fester inside me.

so when one of izuku’s sidekicks came by, giving a snarky comment about my behavior, i was able to brush it off with a roll of my eyes and an equally snippy comment back.

but as the hunk of plastic remained steady in its plan to ruin my day, the lack of sleep and lingering resentment started to bubble within me once more.

i heard footsteps behind me and a joking voice say, “having a bit of trouble are we?”

if it weren’t for the white hot anger buzzing in my ears i may have been able to identify the voice before i lashed out on them. but we already established this was not my day.

so as my hands moved to clutch the machine below me, most likely to restrain my abuse to merely verbal instead of physical. i spit out, “listen i’m fucking trying okay? so how about you get off my ass and do something useful.”

i turned around to face who i thought would be another sidekick sent to push my buttons. but i instead came face-to-face with the green haired man himself.

eyes blown wide, mouth agape in shock, a light blush dusted under his freckles as he fought to handle the situation the best way he could.

but i beat him to it with a deep bow and an endless flow of apologies, opting to only blame my anger on the malfunctioning piece of junk behind me and not the several other reasons i was plotting murder in my head.

with a gentle smile and a soft chuckle he placed his hand to the back of his head, rubbing at the baby jade hairs of his undercut. “i see. bad days happen to the best of us.” he replied, his voice like honey.

i became drunk on the minor interaction he was giving me, bringing me back to the beginning days at this job where we would spend late nights trying to keep each other awake under the only singular yellow light as we finished paperwork. or where sometimes he’d invite me to spend lunch with him as he felt he’d enjoy the company.

i got lost in the intricacies of his face as he tampered with the printer. thin eyebrows furrowed in concentration, bottom lip captured between his thick scarred fingers as he muttered to himself.

i fell in a trance, locked on the slope of his button nose, his gemstone eyes, and chubby caramel cheeks dusted in freckles.

he looked essentially like the same boy i saw on the screen all those years ago, yet matured and hardened by the realities of life.

i wanted nothing more than to reach out and protect him any way my small quirkless body could. to be there for him the same way he was for everyone else.

he eventually got the printer to work with a boyish smile on his face as he told me that despite the good roughing up i gave the machine, he was able to locate and handle the issue. “next time, skip the punching and come find me, yeah? i’ll help with any problems you face.” he joked as he made his way into his office to resume his work.

i didn’t know it was possible to fall harder for that man, but he proved with every day of his existence that the impossible didn’t apply to him.

i was finally able to get some sleep the next few nights as my eyelids filled with the blush on his cheekbones and his gaze of concentration.

but my trip to cloud 9 didn’t last very long as the occasional meeting with uraraka became trips to her agency, and occasional meetings in civilian clothes to civilian places, like coffee shops and corner stores.

to anyone else, those would read as dates. to me, they read as dates. but izuku assured the gossiping sidekicks that it was strictly professional ~ nothing more, nothing less.

i knew that i would end up with more fits of restlessness and sleepless nights as i pictured the two of them laughing over a cup of coffee. so i sought out a replacement.

a moment. a look. a sentence.

anything directed at me that would choke out the ugly thoughts and images my brain would show me of the two of them together.

so that afternoon as i brought him his lunch, i placed the box safely onto the table beside him as he continued skimming through the papers littered across the desk.

he muttered a small ‘thank you’ but it wasn’t enough. as my hand moved to place his drink that i held in my other hand next to his food, a different idea popped in my head.

my hand moved faster than my brain could register what it had just planned to do. squeezing just enough for the lid to pop off and slip from my fingers to tumble into his lap.

as soon as the liquid and ice hit his lap he flew up from his seat and away from his desk.

my hands flew up to my mouth as a string of apologies fell from my lips. eyes watering in guilt as they moved around the room trying to locate something to soak up the mess with.

“i am so sorry, my fingers slipped and before i knew it i had lost control of the cup. i-i can’t tell you how sorry i am.” i rambled as i took my blazer off to wipe at the wet stains starting to form at the bottom of his teal suit.

“hey, hey, hey.” he said softly, taking my tinier hands into his large and battered ones. warmth enveloped my clutched sticky hands as he gently urged me to stand from my crouching position in front of him.

“it was an accident. no harm, no foul.” he said with a soft smile.

i should feel bad, as it wasn’t entirely an accident. but the warm and gentle look in his eyes made what little guilt i felt crumble away.

his thumbs rubbing soft circles to my skin as he worked to get the tears to stop streaming from my eyes was enough to get me to sleep like a baby for a good 2 weeks.

until it became a cycle. he would spend too much time around uraraka, and then i would do something all in the name of garnering his attention back on me.

was it wrong of me to do, to take advantage of his kindness? to take advantage of the fact that he was naive to my true intentions? maybe.

but i felt i deserved it. i felt i deserved to be looked at the same way he looked at her.

i wasn’t any different than she was. with the way she used her big brown eyes to pull him in. or the way her cute behavior made him blush. or the way her sweet way of talking made him laugh.

i can’t be her, or compare to her. so i found my own way around it. and no one could fault me for doing so. they just couldn’t.

at the end of the mission, uravity decided to throw a party in celebration of their win. a nice formal gathering, with everyone she had involved.

when izuku pulled me aside one late night to tell me that he was extending the invitation to me felt akin to a marriage proposal.

i wasn’t involved much in the case, merely being used as the one who provided them their lunch on their long meeting days. or filing and organizing the paperwork and notes that they would compile. i wasn’t out in the field, breaking bones like izuku or saving lives like uraraka.

i didn’t deserve to go, but i didn’t care. izuku had invited me personally and damn it, i was gonna be there.

yet, i shouldn’t have gone.

i shouldn’t have spent the hours on my makeup. i shouldn’t have enlisted the help of my best friend to do my hair as i gushed about how izuku had personally invited me, how he was the most perfect man ever, and how i was undoubtedly in love with him.

i shouldn’t have spent the week leading up to the event going from shop to shop trying to find the prettiest dress that was just the exact color of his eyes. i shouldn’t have spent about half my paycheck on said dress when i found it.

i shouldn’t have decided to face my fears and step out of my comfort zone to join a group of heroes that i knew were old classmates of izuku’s as they whispered about something that clearly was a raving topic.

because then i wouldn’t have heard how izuku was planning on confessing to uraraka. i wouldn’t have heard how this mission caused old high school feelings to rekindle. i should have known my place.

and that was far away from here, from the hero scene. i should have grown up to be an accountant or a chef.

when my father took me to get that checkup when i was 5, to confirm that there truly resides no quirk inside me.

i should have left it at that.

when i was riding my bike that day as a first year and i saw the group of boys huddled around a screen as they tuned into the u-a sports festival, i should have kept riding.

as maybe it would have saved me a lot of pain.

i backed away slowly, heels tapping against the tile floor as i hurried out of the building.

i didn’t realize how suffocated i felt until the chilly autumn hair brushed my face and into my lungs.

my whole body felt hot, i felt numb. i stumbled onto the sidewalk as i looked into the dark azure sky glittered with stars.

the tears finally spilled from my eyes as the stars muddled together into a messy blur. my stomach swirled and tensed as pit of nausea sunk in my stomach.

my chest heaved as it tried to process the crisp cold air into oxygen, but my throat was too tight to let much in.

i gasped and sobbed as my back hit the brick behind me, my legs wobbling unable to carry my weight much longer.

i slid into a crouched position as my tears mixed with the black of my mascara. streaming in pools down my cheeks, neck, and chest.

in the midst of my sobbing and heaving, i called my friend who was still at my apartment awaiting details of that night when i came home.

knowing it was far too early for me to be calling her she picked up the phone with confusion. it didn’t take much words from me, not like i gave her much, to convince her that she needed to come pick me up.

as she hung up the phone, my hand slipped from my ear, falling limp to my side as i placed my head into my other arm resting atop my knees.

this was inevitable and i knew it. no matter how many ways i was able to manipulate a sweet glance from him, it didn’t mean anything.

izuku was nice to everybody. sweet to everyone. kind to anyone.

but with her, it was different. he treated her that way, not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

they had years of memories, of laughs. they were perfect for each other, both smart, and kind, and always looking to help others. never acting selfishly or for personal gain.

they shared soft touches like they did old stories. they looked at each other with the same respect and admiration.

i was wrong. uraraka and i are nothing alike. she didn’t have to beg izuku to look at her like she hung the moon, he did so without asking.

unbeknownst to me, as i was manipulating izuku into these fabricated moments of gentle gazes and kind words, i was manipulating myself.

lying to the deepest parts of me that knew that this wasn’t real. that i wasn’t her. that he didn’t think of us the same way.

to him, uraraka is an old friend, who views the world the same way he does, who shares his same passions, who built her quirk to do some good within this world.

to him, i was a coffee-getter, the girl who knew his lunch orders like the back of her hand, the girl who filed his papers. the quirkless little fangirl who practically begged him to give her a job under him.

i heard the metal door open and snap shut announcing that someone was now outside with me. however, i just assumed it was a party-goer stepping outside for a smoke or a phone call so i didn’t bother to look up.

i also wasn’t in the mood for if the person happened to be a drunk girl who was ready to become my therapist as she saw me crouched on the sidewalk wishing to become one with the cement and simply cease to exist.

“there you are, i was wondering where you went?”

i would have taken the amateur therapist over this.

the voice belonged to izuku, dripping with sugar and default kindness.

if i could become one with the bricks just a little bit faster that would be great.

“hey, are you alright?” his tone became worried but i still didn’t dare to look up from my arms.

“do you feel sick? did something happen? do i need to take you home?” there he goes, into hero mode. ready to drop anything to help anyone facing the slightest of inconveniences.

“please just leave me alone.” i mumbled, throat tight and voice wavering as i try to hold the tears that still remain to fall.

“what did you say? i didn’t quite hear you.” he said softly, gently setting his large hands onto my exposed shoulder.

they should feel like welcoming warmth, but instead they felt blistering hot as i shoved them away as quickly as i could.

“i said leave me alone.” i said, slightly louder as i no longer was stuffed in my arms and knees.

he immediately saw the mess my face was in, i could tell by the way he quickly reverted fully into deku.

“hey, what’s wrong? whatever it is, i can help. didn’t i say you could come to me whenever you ne-“

“oh my god just stop! i can’t take it anymore.” i snapped, finally able to look him in the face.

but not for long as i saw the same look on his complexion as the first time i snapped at him.

“you’re too fucking nice. leaving you vulnerable for people to take advantage of you. giving them a reason to be selfish.”

“i dont-“ he tried to start but i cut him off.

“i don’t need a hero, izuku. there are people you just can’t save.”

as he worked to wrap his head around what was happening, my friend pulled up in my getaway car.

i bent down and grabbed my purse, but before i could fully escape this night, izuku grabbed my wrist causing me to stare into his eyes.

now lit aflame with desperation, “please just tell me what’s wrong. let me help you.” he encouraged softly.

but i wasn’t going to fall for it, not again.

i wasn’t gonna be played for the fool as i took the soft look in his eyes for anything but the gaze of a hero hoping to add another save to their statistics.

“god you never know when to quit!” i yelled as i yanked my wrist back. “and i hate that i-“

loved that about you?

no, love that about you.

i shook my head, thankful that for once my brain caught my actions before i spilled and made a mess again.

i walked quickly to the car, opening the passenger door almost as fast in hopes that within its metal sanctuary i could finally escape this hell.

“y/n- i-“

“mr. midoriya.” i just about whispered, my energy long since drained.

he laughed gently and i cursed the way my heart squeezed a little at the sound.

still head over heels for the angelic sound.

“you haven’t called me that in a long-“

“i quit.”

“w-what?” he muttered in disbelief.

i wouldn’t believe it either, not after the way i came to him nearly 4 years ago saying i would even be willing to clean toilets if he asked me to, so long as i got to work for him.

“i quit.” i repeated.

“you don’t mean that.”

he’s right i didn’t, not really.

hot tears started to dribble as my lower lip puckered in a sour quiver.

“no i do, sir.” i shook. “i will send someone to collect my things on monday.”

and with that i closed the door.

“drive.” i whispered to my friend who after a moment of looking at me, trying to read me, silently put the car into drive and started forward.

leaving izuku behind to stumble after the car, mouth muttering, trying to form any sort of sentence or sense.

but i couldn’t see him, knowing not to look at the mirrors situated on the side of the vehicle.

for they too are liars, as objects in the mirror are farther than they appear.

*** my little blue bitch working overtime

🧼 also mayhaps “soap” by melanie martinez fits this story… unintentionally ~ but if i’m wrong it’s cuz i haven’t listened to it in a while

#izuku #izuku midoriya #deku #deku x reader #izuku x reader #my hero academia #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #izuku angst #deku angst #deku headcanons #deku imagine

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