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#i was almost sobbing and my mum was like “What's wrong?” and how was i supposed to tell her my john lennon wasnt straight essay was perhaps
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Nothing to prove// F.W
Summary: you don't feel like you belong at the burrow and do everything that you can to impress his mom Molly Weasley
Universe: Harry Potter
Rating: mature
Warnings: brief mentions of insecurity
It was a warm, hot summer day at the Weasley residence and rays seeped through the glass and onto the skin of your shoulders. Your hair was tied up into a messy bun, your hands clad in a pair of golden rubber gloves as they worked to scrub each dirty dish. Mrs. Weasley's dinner was delicious but left quite a mess to clean. So you made sure to offer your help when she cleared the table after dinner.
You sighed as you took a minute to admire their home. Peering out the window and into the front yard, flowers bloomed from the Weasley garden where the plants were watered without any aid. The red-headed family seemed to be preparing for a game of quidditch. As a very talented yet competitive household, you weren't really surprised to see the twins on different teams. Fred's skin toned muscles peeked through the fabric of his scrimmage clothes as he walked to the front door. Even after each one of his practices, the sight never failed to cause butterflies.
"Why don't you come outside, Darling?" Fred chimed, his arms wrapping around your waist. He rested his chin against your shoulder, being sure to leave gentle kisses in it's wake.
"I'm almost done with the dishes. I promise I'll join once they're dry and put away," you smiled, letting out a tired breath as you slowly rinsed Ron's plate. You felt as Fred hugged you closer to his chest. Taking your chin, in his palm, he turned you to face him.
"What's wrong, Baby? You seem a bit stressed," Fred whispered as you allowed your sponge to sink into the soapy water of the sink. His gaze had the power to unlock every little emotion you had were bottling up.
"I'm fine, Freddie" you sighed, pressing a kiss to his lips. "I just promised your mum that I would help and I don't want to disappoint her."
"Baby, is that what this is all about?" He spoke gently, causing your eyes to soften and your smile to slip.
"I'm just- I'm just terrified she doesn't like me" you mumbled, allowing your eyes to hang low. Your thoughts drifted to Hermione and Angelina, who were so easily accepted into the family. They were perfect for the Weasley boys. What did you have to offer?
"Y/n, sweetheart. I promise you my mum absolutely adores you! You have nothing to prove my love."
He watched as you reached for another dish, beginning to scrub away it's contents. He could tell you were pushing back tears, searching for something to distract you with. He didn't want him to be the reason they spilled. You were startled as a quaffle from outside was launched into the wall, which caused you to jolt backwards and drop the soapy dish on the floor.
"Shit!" You shrieked, dropping to the floor instantly to inspect the mess. You sobbed as you saw the Weasley's china broken into several shards. You begin to hyperventilate, completely ignoring the wand in your pocket.
"I broke it Freddie! Oh, she was telling me all about how she adored these plates," you cried, frantically removing your gloves and searching for a broom.
"Hey Hey, Baby, it's okay. See?" Fred chimed, fixing the mess with just a flick of his wand. You felt stupid as you watched the plate become one once more, before all the dishes were set to wash themselves.
Fred took you into his arms, frowning as he heard you crying against him.
"My darling, don't cry," he cooed, lifting you to sit with him at the table. He began to stroke your hair, mumbling sweet nothings in your ear.
"You know I love you more than anything, right?" He mumbled pressing a kiss to your forehead. He was happy to see you nod, though your eyes remained closed
"Why don't I help you finish the dishes? Then we can join everyone else, how does that sound?" His tone was soft and gentle as he caressed your sides. He always knew how to calm you down.
"Is everything all right in here?" Mrs. Weasley sang as she peeked through the front door. She gasped at the sight she found, immediately rushing to help you.
"Oh dear, what happened? Did Fred do something, oh he can do his own laundry if that's how he wants to behave!"
"Oi! it wasn't me!" Fred scoffed, avoiding the fierce look in his mother's eyes. He smiled, when he heard you giggle.
"Would you like to come on a walk on with me dear?" Mrs. Weasley offered, paying no attention to the sink full of dishes behind you.
"That sounds absolutely lovely, Mrs. Weasley."
You released a shaky breath, smiling as Fred helped you up and squeezed your hand in his.
"Oh please. Call me Molly, dear!"
"I told you she loves you," Fred whispered into your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he walked out the door with you by his side.
Your arm joined Molly's as you walked alongside one another, glad to have finally feel that you had a place in the Weasley family and you owed that all to Fred.
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TOO TIRED
Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!reader Summary: you're too tired to do anything and Eddie can't help but suspect something else going on. Warnings: mentions of divorced parents, abuse, crying, SH. blood
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the cold evening air of your room tried comforting you, but your body was burning and was useless against the heat of your shaking body.
the silence of your room made your cries echo, sending shivers down your spine.
the way your body shook along with your sobs made you feel pathetic, and it was a given that if anyone saw you like this, they would think the same, that you were absolutely pitiable but didn't deserve the pity.
you were curled up on your bed, crying your heart out at something that anyone would say was small, that there was no reason for crying about.
but there you were, in your bed, your blankets abandoned on to the floor as you wanted to scream in your pillow, the slight lines of blood staining the white of your pillow as it dampened with your tears.
the stinging on your arms and thighs felt 100 times worse than usual.
but you seemed to freeze when you heard the phone start to ring from downstairs.
your mum had left to go to the mall and your brother went out for a run to cool off as your sister was at your dad's house, leaving you alone in your stress and troubles.
you let it ring until it stopped before you felt yourself start to drift off, but it started to ring again.
you lazily got up, sniffling back more tears as you trailed down the stairs to the phone, your feet stomping heavily as your got to the yucky red coloured phone on the wall, you picked it up, taking a deep breath as you heard a sigh on the other line
"____ Residence, how may I help you?" you rubbed your temple, a massive headache starting, making you feel dizzy.
"is that my beautiful girl I've been waiting to hear from?" you heard
"yeah" you said blankly, you surely didn't feel beautiful in the moment, your eyes puffy and a bright, deep red, your hair knotted all over the place as thick red liquid dripping from your wrists.
but Eddie didn't seem phased by your bluntness, he must not have noticed
"so I was wondering if you wanted to come over and hang out, I rented our favourite movie, we could go out to the record store and buy some tapes and we could either go out or order dinner" he suggested
"I'm tired, Eds" you responded, feeling your eye lids getting heavy
"of what, darling?" he questioned, his voice soft and worried, scared of the answer
"everything" you sigh "can we just do this another time, maybe Monday?"
"you're saying it'll take 2 days for you to not be tired? what's wrong darling?" you could hear the concern in his voice as he spoke carefully
"nothing, Eddie, I'm just tired and want to go to sleep, there's nothing wrong, I'm fine" you tried reassuring him.
the last thing you wanted was to make Eddie worried about you, because he's always had it worse than you.
you didn't want to complain about your parents because he didn't have any.
you didn't want to tell him your brother abused you, because he has been abused in almost every way.
you didn't want him to see the scars and fresh cuts on your forearms, because you had seen all of his, and they weren't just thin long dashes.
you didn't want to show him the bruises that scattered around your body, because he wore them almost every day as a kid.
"alright then, well uh- I'll talk to you later then I guess. I love you" he breathed heavily
"love you too" you yawned before hanging up.
but Eddie didn't care what you said, he got his jacket before grabbing his keys of his car, running out to his van before driving to your house, almost speeding.
after the phone call, you couldn't walk up the stairs, your legs gave up after the first step, so you weren't to the next room to lay on the couch, trying to sleep.
the baggy shorts hung low on your hips as your shirt clung to your sweaty frame.
you got up and stalked to the door after hearing the bang on the door.
you opened the door slowly, looking down at your feet. you noticed the dirty white reeboks only inches away from your socked feet,
you looked up quickly to see Eddie staring at you with his eyebrows raised. you went to shut the door but he held it open. his hand gripping the door as he slipped his foot between the door at the frame.
"have you been crying?" he asked, looking in your eyes.
"no" you shook your head, looking away from him
"please talk to me, I'm here for you, you know that" he pleaded, pushing the door open when your hands slipped from the handle
"I'm fine" you huffed
"I don't believe that"
"just go home, please" you begged, folding your arms against your chest, hugging yourself for comfort.
he stepped in the door and shut the door behind him, bringing you into a hug
"we don't have to talk about it" he shrugged
you starting sobbing in his chest as he rubbed the small of your back.
you breathed onto his chest as you grabbed onto his shirt.
"can we go home?" you choked
"this is your home" he responded in a confused manner
"this isn't home, I wanna go to your trailer"
"you don't wanna stay here?" he tilted his head
"please" you cried
"ok, yeah, go get what you need" he stepped away from you, you grabbed his hand and started walking to the front door
"I only need you" you whispered, and even though you were in this state, that still managed to put a small smile on Eddie's face
-
it wasn't until you walked into his trailer that Eddie noticed the scratches, bruises and scars on your body. it wasn't hidden but he was just more focused on your tears than your body
"ok seriously, what happened? what are all these?" Eddie sighed, holding you inches away from him
"is this why you didn't want to stay there?" he questioned
you only nodded as your nose began to feel fuzzy and your eyes starting to sting, you were going to break again.
"I don't wanna stay there, I want them gone" you whined
"who gone?" he leaned down to level with you
"them, My mum, Brother, Dad, Sister. I can't deal with it anymore. don't make me go back" you began shaking again.
"who did this?" he motioned to the marks on your body
"mum blames me for it" you admitted as your lip quivered
"for this?"
"for my brothers behaviour, says I'm gonna be like him when I grow up and keeps yelling and screaming at me" you wept
"she did this?" he rubbed your shoulder, being gentle of the growing bruise on your collarbone
"no" you whimpered "my brother did"
Eddie's jaw clenched as he inhaled sharply
"how often does he uh- hurt you?" he bit his lip, scared of the answer
"this was the second time" you whispered
you reached for him but he noticed your wrists before he pulled you in
"he did that too?" he grabbed your hands, holding them to give him a better view of your forearms
"it's too much, he's yelling and screaming every night, Mum get's mad at me for it and starts yelling at me, I try getting my sister to leave, I don't want it to be like this anymore, I want it to go away" you sobbed
"you did this?" he murmured, his voice barely audible to your ears as you wailed in front of him, your trembling body making it hard for you to stand as you felt dizzy again
Eddie held on your waist lightly, weary for any marks in that area as he led you to his bed and let you rest on his soft dark sheets.
he went to his bathroom, coming back with a dripping rag in his hand, he sat beside you as he held you arms, wiping the semi-dried blood off your wrists
"please don't do this to yourself, you're marking yourself forever with these and you don't want to look down at these in a few years and remember why you got them, I'll always be here to listen to you." he started
"I love you and I'd do anything to make you feel safe, even if it's from your own family. I want you to be happy, even if you somehow get it with me. understand?" he said sternly
"yeah" you nodded, flinching at the slight sting
he leaned in to your head and placed a kiss to your temple
"I'm gonna go, order us some pizza, we can watch a movie, eat ice cream and just go to sleep, that sound good?" he raised his eyebrows
"yeah, great" you yawned, the hot, salty tears dripping into your mouth
Eddie kissed your cheek and he brushed your hair out of your face.
"I'll be right back" he smiled at you warmly. he pulled off one of his rings and slipped it on your finger.
he walked out of his room and you heard him calling the pizza place before you slowly dozed off, your eyelids giving up on staying open.
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this was mostly for my comfort because something like that happened to me, but I didn't have anyone to comfort me. anyway, I'm sorry if you don't feel safe in your own home, home is a place where you should feel the safest but that's not always the case.
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veeluvss · 1 year
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bed time
jj x autistic!daughter
fluff
some words
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“i don’t know what to do em,” JJ sighed, running her hands through her hair. “every night, even when i’m not home she sleeps in my bed-“
“she’s been sleeping in your bed for 16years?”
“yeah! we did it when she was little and it’s just a way to keep her anxiety low at night. i never, ever imagined myself getting with someone, nevermind in a long term relationship,” jj explained. she put her head on the jet’s table and groaned loudly.
“how long have you and will been seeing each other?”
“almost 10 months now.”
“and he’s still not met her?”
“no! and he’s coming this weekend and she’s going to sleep in my bed but so is he and that’s not going to work!”
for the last 16 years, you’d slept in your mums bed. you took naps in your own bed, you played in your own room, hung out in your own room but at 10pm every evening, you climbed under the covers of your mums bed and snuggled up on the right side.
sometimes, she’d snuggle up with you, wrapping an arm around your waist and holding you close but sometimes she didn’t. she wasn’t always home but that was okay because regardless, you felt safe in mums bed.
“hey sweetie,” she mumbled, snuggling closer to you on the friday morning. you hummed, still tired from your mums tossing and turning but you settled when you felt her begin to play with your hair - the only thing you really let your mum do.
“can we talk about something?” she asked next and you rolled over, alarmed.
“what?” suddenly you were wide awake - concern flooding your mind.
“it’s okay, it’s okay,” she reassured, sitting up and grabbing hold on your hands. “i just need to discuss something with you.”
“what is it?”
“how do you feel about sleeping in your own bed tonight? and tomorrow too? maybe we start a habit of it-“
your mouth opened. “no mum,” you told her simply. “why?”
“because i think it’s time you started sleeping in your own bed at night baby. you’re 16, you can’t live with mum forever,” jj whispered softly but you shook your head.
“no you’re wrong. i don’t need to.”
“baby id like you to,” jj pleaded.
“why?” you asked, feeling yourself getting more and more worked up. “this is where i sleep! every night! mum you can’t kick me out, why don’t you want me anymore?” those words shattered jj but she knew that’s what her girl was really thinking.
“hey,” jj whispered, wrapping her arms around you. “i want you more than anything darling but sometimes, i need some grow up time without my daughter here too,” she said softly.
“mum,” you sobbed, unable to keep the upset back anymore.
you headed off to school, shaken up and upset at what your mum had proposed but you tried to let it settle to the back of your mind. you knew your mums boyfriend was coming over today and staying for the weekend, it had been planned for weeks but you didn’t think she’d kick you out !
that’s your bed, where you slept! not some strangers, you couldn’t comprehend why your mum would want to sleep with strangers anyway.
the day ended and you headed out to your mums car. she sat waiting in her usual spot and you climbed in the front.
“hi baby, good day?” she asked, starting the car. you only nodded, far too overwhelmed to speak, you knew what was waiting for you at home.
“wills at home, you just need to say hi and then you can go do your own thing, okay?” jj said softly. you nodded once again and the car fell silent.
you walked into your house and was instantly overwhelmed. will smelt different and he brought this smell into your home and he’s going to put it in your bed.
“hi! you must be y/n!” will said with a smile; walking over to you with his hand out to shake.
you didn’t reply, or shake his hand. you weren’t a hand shaker.
“y/n, will. will, y/n,” jj greeted you both and you nodded before heading off to your room. you couldn’t help but feel sick. who was this person in your home making you feel so horrid?
you trudged down stairs at the smell of your favourite, lasagne. you peeked your head around the corner of the kitchen and saw them laughing and joking together. will was funny, he made your mum laugh which you liked. you studied him from the doorway. you watched his body language, the way he moved himself when speaking. he would stare at your mum, completely stare and that made you uncomfortable just thinking about the prolonged eye contact.
“oh hey mouse,” your mum said quickly, noticing you. you waved at her slightly and then will turned to you.
“i wondered when you would reappear,” he said softly. you walked over to your mum, wrapping your arms around her tightly.
she wrapped her arms around tou, holding you close in the silent comfort.
it was 930 and you climbed out the shower. you felt nervous, sick. you couldn’t sleep on your own. not without her. you headed to your own room and got into your comfort pjs - hello kitty shorts and a top before plaiting your hair the way you did every night. but then you saw the time and audibly whined.
9:50, time for bed. how did you do this? how was you going to do this?
shaking, you climbed into your own bed and almost immediately, JJ turned up at your door.
“do you want me to join you?” she asked and you nodded frantically. she slid into your bed, holding you close and although you settled slightly - it still wasn’t right.
you never fell asleep, no matter how much she played with your hair, no matter how much she tried to coax you to sleep. but you pretended to be and she left the room silently, making sure you were tucked in before turning on your night light.
at around 230, you headed to the toilet and you walked past your mums room. she was in her bed with will beside her, both sound asleep and you had an idea.
after washing your hands, you grabbed your blanket and slid in behind your mum. you made sure you were comfy but not taking up too much room before falling asleep quickly.
this happened for the rest of the weekend. they’d fall asleep without you but wake up with you. your mum knew you were trying though and that’s all that mattered to her. will went home on the monday and mum dropped you off at school on her way to work.
when you arrived home, you were exhausted- with hardly any sleep all weekend you weren’t surprised. you headed up to your room, expecting your mum to be at work but when opening your door, you were greeted by the team - re decorating your bedroom.
“your home early!” JJ gasped.
“i skipped last lesson. what are you doing?” you asked.
“we’re moving jj’s bed into here so you can sleep!” derek told you.
“without you?” you whispered, turning to your mum and letting your lip wobble.
“i’ll sleep with you ever opportunity i get baby but now; you can sleep in this bed whenever you like.” she replied. she wrapped her arms securely around you and you sighed, soaking up her love.
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babyblue711 · 10 months
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Redemption
Will (Salad Days) x Reader - Part 3 Part 1, Part 2 Summary: After a devastating loss, it's your turn to help Will navigate his grief during a difficult time. Your bond continues to grow as you lean on each other for support. Words: 6.3K
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Warnings: NSFW, smut, language, sexual content (18+), mention of death, loss, grief, depression A/N: Here's Part 3! I will never be able to thank you all enough for the love and support this fic has received. I have one more chapter planned after this! Thank you again to my incredible beta readers @megatardisbaby and @arcielee. *There's an additional note at the end of this chapter. Dividers by @firefly-graphic
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You jolt awake and blink into your dark bedroom, at first uncertain to what has awoken you. All is calm, the room around you remains shrouded in darkness, the faint light of dawn only just filtering through the curtains of the window. Half asleep, your brain feels like mush, barely functioning but you register that your phone is buzzing. You fumble to answer the call, recognizing Will's name flashing on the screen; concern spears through your chest as he’s never called you at this hour before.
“Will,” you mumble into the phone, “What’s wrong?”
“Y/N!” his voice panicky and instantly your heart jumps into your throat and your eyes snap open, awake and alert. “Y/N,” he says again, his voice trembling in distress. “I can’t get her to wake up…Nan won’t wake!”
The wheels start to turn in your head as you leap out of bed. “Will, call an ambulance, I’m on my way!” You’ve never thrown on clothes faster in your whole life as you rush to Will’s place and arrive just in time to see him climb into the ambulance as they pull away. You follow them to A&E, dread curdling in the pit of your stomach.
At the hospital, you clutch at Will’s hand, offering him what reassurance you can as you wait together in a private room, the anxiety and fear so palpable you can almost taste it in the air. Time stands still until the doctor finally emerges and delivers the devastating news: Nan has passed away peacefully in her sleep and there wasn’t anything more they could do for her. 
Your worst fears confirmed, you turn in time to see Will crumple beside you as the last of his strength gives out, his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with sobs. The wail that comes from him is almost inhuman and you immediately wrap him into an embrace. You don’t remember the doctor leaving the room as you hold onto him, rocking him, trying to console him with words of comfort that you know mean little and less in the moment. You cannot stop the tears that flow freely down your face as well, sharing in his grief and pain. There isn’t anything you can do to stop the tide of grief that washes over you both, dragging you down below the surface, back to the bottom of the ocean. 
Will sobs into his hands, deep wracking breaths that shudder his whole body. Nan was more than just a grandmother to him: she was a source of love and stability, a figure he cherished with all his heart. With her passing, a chapter of his life comes to an end, leaving behind an ache that words cannot fully heal. You still had your mum and dad, but what did Will have? Your love for him could never replace the solid foundation of the love of a parent or grandparent. 
You shush and coo into his ear while rubbing his back, as you know how he feels in this moment, the way heartsickness causes your skin to crawl and you want to escape the pain but there’s nowhere to go, trapped inside your own head. 
Nan’s words, spoken almost six months before, seem to reverberate in your head as you hold him and cry in that cold, desolate room. 
“Now you be sure to always take care of my boy as I know he will take care of you,” you can still hear her voice as surely as if she spoke the words right next to you.
I will Nan, you say to yourself, not sure exactly who you are speaking to at this point, I always will. 
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Head bowed, you breath deep and slow.
Time blurs; grief has a way of warping reality. 
As you sit in the pew, you can hear the priest’s voice as he drones on during the service, but the words simply pass over you, incomprehensible. You’ve tried to be strong for Will, but the truth was that Nan’s passing had affected you too, not only with her loss, but the empathetic pain in your chest as you witnessed his anguish and misery.
The crowd of well-wishers buzzes around you with their hushed murmurs, a blend of familiar faces and strangers offering their condolences and heartfelt hugs. You react automatically, expressing gratitude for their attendance and support, but your heart weighs heavy. 
Beside you, Will sits like a solemn statue, dressed in all black. Even in the midst of grief, you can't help but admire how handsome he looks in his fitted suit, but you wish with all your heart that his attire was meant for a joyous occasion, not one so sorrowful. 
It is evident that Will is navigating the funeral on autopilot, his emotions tightly restrained, his expression made even more severe by the sharp angles of his face. You feel a stabbing pain in your heart, knowing that he is carrying the immense burden of bidding farewell to the woman who had been like a second mother to him.
At the gravesite, you watch him place a single, white lily on her casket as he kneels, whispering a few words as he says his goodbye, a sense of finality settles over the gathering. Your black dress flutters in the cold breeze causing you to shiver slightly as he returns to your side, his hand seeking yours, and you squeeze it tightly, hoping to transfer some of your strength with your grip. 
The ceremony comes to a close and the mourners slowly disperse, leaving behind a sense of emptiness and longing. As you both walk away from the gravesite, hand in hand, you know that this is just the beginning of a long and challenging road towards healing for Will. 
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Since her passing, Will had stayed with you at your mum and dad’s house as he couldn’t face going back home without Nan there to greet him. You were thankful for your parent’s support and the fact that they loved Will like a son. They had been instrumental at getting you both through the last few days and the funeral planning process, and you couldn’t have been more appreciative of their unwavering love and care. 
Will was struggling. Once his tears had dried, an eerie calm had settled over him, a numbness that you couldn’t seem to penetrate. Having been intimately acquainted with profound loss yourself, you recognized this stage of grief. You saw it in the haunted, faraway look in his eyes. You saw it with every shallow breath he took. You saw it in the way he barely functioned. He slept a lot but was never rested, he picked at his plate of food, but was never truly hungry. 
Your mum and dad made it clear he was welcomed at your home for however long he needed to stay, but he chose to return to his own home the day after the funeral, a week after her passing. Anxiety and apprehension gripped your heart when you thought about him staying there by himself, but you wanted to give him the space he needed to grieve as well.
When the first weekend arrived after the funeral, you couldn't bear the thought of him facing it alone so you asked if you could stay with him for a couple of days, and to your relief, he agreed without hesitation. After work on Friday, you hastily packed a bag, determined to be a source of comfort during his time of need.
Upon arrival, you notice that the house is much the same as before, but it was clear Will didn’t have the heart to maintain small things like dishes or laundry. Determined to provide some semblance of normalcy and care, you brought dinner with you – fish and chips, a small gesture to ensure he had a decent meal that evening, even if it was just a simple one. The warmth of your presence and the aroma of the food filled the small kitchen as Will laid silverware on the table for the meal.  
You divide his portion onto a paper plate and set it down in front of him. Silently, but companionably, you eat quietly for a little while, until you can’t stand it anymore and you have to break the silence.  
“How have you been feeling, Will?” you are hesitant to ask because of course you know the answer, but you want to reassure him that he has an open channel of communication, to confide in you, no matter how much time has passed.
He stares down at his food, chewing thoughtfully for a few moments before answering. He takes a deep breath. “Well...some days I wake up and feel ok, but then other’s I can barely get out of bed in the morning,” his voice is low, morose as he picks at his food. “I just miss her is all….” he trails off quietly. “She was the reason to get up in the morning…it was my job to look after her…” he adds.
Even though you had expected this response, your heart still clenches at his words and you wish with all your might that you could take away his pain. 
“I know, Will, I know…you did such a good job caring for her…” you reassure him because you know in the back of his mind he harbors some guilt that he had been home when she passed but couldn’t have done more to prevent it. 
You continue, “And…it’s perfectly normal to feel ok sometimes too…don’t feel guilty about that. You know that Nan would have wanted you to be happy,” you reach out and grab his hand that’s resting on the table, giving it a squeeze of reassurance. “It’s a process, as you know…you won’t feel better overnight.”
“Yeah, I ‘suppose..” he says, “I just don’t want to end up like before…when I lost Mum and Dad.” 
He looks at you with anxious eyes. You were both so young when his parents passed; despite the years that had gone by, you knew he still felt their loss every day. It was a tumultuous period in his life that had led him down a dark path, getting into serious trouble, his rebellious teenage spirit perhaps searching for a sense of invincibility that you both knew now didn’t exist now that you were older. 
“You won’t, Will, you aren’t 16 years old anymore. You've grown, you've learned…you've become so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. You have a better foundation to cope now than when you did before...” you trail off, trying to comfort him. “And you’ll always have me.”
Your eyes meet across the table and you inexplicably feel a spark zing through you as you share a moment of understanding. He sighs. “Yeah, that’s true,” he squeezes your hand back and glances at you again, eyes still anxious, sad. “I know I haven’t said it much, but I do appreciate everything you’ve done for me these last few weeks.” 
You melt; you didn’t need his thanks, you knew that he appreciated you, but it warmed your heart anyway. “You don’t have to thank me, Will,” you say softly as you bring his hand up to your lips and kiss the back of it, desperate to let him know how much he means to you, that you didn’t need him to worry about you at this moment. He gives you a small smile at the gesture. “Now, please eat because you look like you need a good meal.”
With renewed vigor, he manages to finish his plate and you feel glad that you managed to have a real and genuine conversation about his feelings. But as evening progresses, he becomes more and more sullen and withdrawn again. You ask if he’d like to shower with you before bed, a rare treat that you didn’t get to enjoy with each other very often. He nods and follows you to the bathroom. 
Naturally, your mum calls to check on you at the most inopportune time just as you were about to get undressed. You tell Will that you just want to reassure her that you are both fine, and you’ll join him in the shower in a second. 
After a quick conversation with your mum, you undress, hearing the spray of the shower and head into the bathroom, where you are met with a devastatingly sad sight. You can see Will through the glass door of the shower, standing there, head facing the shower, bowed against the spray of water, unmoving; he looks like he’s trying to drown. Although he was always naturally on the thin side, you see his ribs move clearly under his skin as he breathes shallowly, you wonder idly how much weight he’s lost in such a short amount of time. Your heart catches in your throat as you observe his deteriorated state. 
“Will?” you ask tentatively, “Are you alright?”
No response. No acknowledgement. You might as well not even have spoken. You step into the shower behind him, and he doesn’t even seem to notice. 
You don’t know what else to do. You wrap your arms around him from behind and press your cheek into his warm back, the water cascading down upon you too. You hold him like that, unmoving, feeling his ribs move beneath your arms with the rise and fall of his breath. 
Finally, he seems to come out of his revere and turns to look down at you. He reaches for the shampoo.
“Here, let me,” you say, gently, taking the shampoo bottle from him. 
His eyes flicker and you see him nod, almost imperceptibly. 
Pouring the shampoo into your palm, he bends down in order to help you reach as you gently massage his scalp with your fingertips. He starts breathing more evenly, his shallow breaths dissipating, and you notice his eyes close at your touch. He sighs deeply, his hands slide down to grip your hips. 
After rinsing the shampoo, you work the conditioner through his hair and, while that’s soaking, you wet the washcloth you had brought in with you and start by gently wiping his face. This seems to get his attention and he makes eye contact with you, amusement dancing in his eyes. You wonder idly if he ever washes his face; he’s always had nice skin. Men, you silently curse to yourself. Irresistibly, you lean up and give him a chaste kiss on the lips. 
After his face, you wash the rest of his body, scrubbing diligently as if trying to scrub his pain away; he seems to enjoy his back being washed the most as he leans into your hand as you scrub. Helping him bathe is an intimate act, but in this moment, it is not driven by desire or passion, only an expression of care, a way to offer solace, hoping that the simple act of washing away the physical exhaustion will somehow alleviate the emotional burden he bears. 
He finally seems to come alive again as he rinses the conditioner out of his hair and you take the opportunity to wash yourself. 
“My turn,” he says, reaching for the shampoo. Now his fingers are in your hair and you can’t even begin to describe how good it feels. He works the shampoo all the way down to the ends of your hair, then brings his long fingers up to massage your neck and shoulders. You lean back against him, enjoying his touch as hot water pours over you. After your hair is rinsed, he turns you around, pulling you close, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his forehead against yours. Your eyes close and you breathe simultaneously with him, steady and deep once again. 
“Thank you,” he whispers, barely audible over the sound of the pounding water. You open your eyes and look up into his beautiful big blues. Rather than respond, you stand on tiptoe and give him another light kiss on the lips. He returns it, but it’s without heat, just a kiss of tender affection full of gratitude.
You and Will haven’t been intimate since the passing of his grandmother, but you knew first hand the way overwhelming grief and depression takes a toll on your sex drive. You didn’t want to rush him, but you did secretly hope that this moment might have turned into something more until he shuts the water off and steps out, grabbing you each a fluffy towel to dry off. You aren’t upset but you can’t deny that your body misses him and his touch. By the time you get done combing and drying your hair and doing your skincare routine, he has long since departed the bathroom. 
You open the door and see him already laying in bed, his back facing you, dressed only in a t-shirt and boxers. 
You join him in bed, sliding down in the covers next to him, facing him. He doesn’t say anything except to look upon your face, and you are both content to stare at each other, not speaking. You don’t need to. Your presence is a comfort to each other enough without needing words.
You start tracing patterns on Will’s arm, admiring the moles that dot his skin, connecting them with your fingertip like creating a new constellation. As you soothe him with your touch, he begins talking quietly, sharing stories from his childhood, reminiscing about Nan. He chuckles fondly.
“Remember the first night you stayed here…the morning after?” he asks, an amused grin lifting the corners of his lips.
You want to die, re-living the memory.
“Of course,” you snort, “how could I forget?” and you smile despite your previous embarrassment. The scene floods your memory again…
Upon entering the kitchen the next morning, you find Will serving Nan tea, a plate of buttered toast already on the table. She doesn’t seem surprised to see you there, as you sit down at the table next to her, you look down self consciously, realizing that you have put on Will’s clothes.  
“Oh, Y/N!” she says happily, “I thought I heard your voice last night,” she smiles sweetly, giving you a knowing look. 
Will blanches, almost spilling his Nan’s tea as he sets it down in front of her. He quickly returns to the tea kettle and busies himself with your cup of tea, pretending he hasn’t heard. Your heart jumps into your throat, mortified that she must have heard your unbridled cries of pleasure in the middle of the night and now you want to die of shame right then and there.  
You panic slightly, not knowing what to say and decide to follow Will’s lead and pretend you didn’t hear what she just said. 
“Uh, yeah Will and I got in late last night, Nan, we’re sorry to have woken you,” you mumble, not meeting her gaze as Will sets your tea in front of you.
“Oh that’s alright, love, it sounded like you had a good time,” she smiles smugly as she sips her tea and raises her eyebrows at her grandson. You know for a fact she is torturing you both on purpose. Will takes his seat and says nothing, wilting under her gaze a little as he sips his tea, his face beat red. 
Your eyes meet his briefly and you immediately look away, the guilt between you two is palpable, and you’re not sure if you want to cry or laugh at that moment.…
You and Will snicker at the memory shared. 
“Nothin’ ever got by Nan,” Will chuckles nostalgically, remembering the look of horror on your face and the amused look on Nan’s. 
“Yeah, good ol’ Nan,” you sigh in contentment, still chortling lightly.  
You talk for a long time that night, reconnecting with each other again as the memories seem to weave new threads into your relationship, bonding you, strengthening your ties to one another. For the first time in a while, you see a glimmer of the old Will, before his grief had weighed so heavily upon his heart. He falls asleep before you, and you can’t help but to watch his face as he relaxes into slumber, his pain fading away, smoothing his features. You hope that he has an untroubled, peaceful sleep as you curl next to him and sigh, breathing in his scent as your eyelids get heavy and you drift off too. 
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The next few weeks passed in a blur. As a part of Nan’s estate, she left Will everything she owned. He now had her house, her car, and her inheritance, though he would have traded it all in an instant to have her back, to hear her voice one more time, to feel her reassuring presence. 
Will had good days and bad days. He was…different after her passing. Although there were moments of normalcy and he welcomed you to stay with him at his house as often as you could, you felt Will’s cool mask return, hard and unbothered, but you knew it was just a facade to shield his vulnerable heart. You tried not to take his coolness personally; you knew everyone processed grief differently. He had, also, been instrumental in helping you heal during a very difficult time in your life, and now you hoped to do the same for him in return; you knew patience was key. 
You respected his coping mechanisms, but, after a while, your heart missed him and the void left by his emotional withdrawal weighed on you, creating a bittersweet ache in your chest. You missed bantering together, his teasing smile, the feeling of being connected to his deepest thoughts and feelings, and, oh, how you yearned to be physically intimate again too. 
You missed his touch, the weight on his body on top of yours, the wholeness you could only feel when he was inside you. You never wanted to seem callous or inconsiderate but the lack of intimacy was starting to wear on you; up until that point, you and Will had had a healthy sex life. You had a vibrator but hated the thought of using it, because he always did it better. But you would never rush him in his healing process given that you knew exactly how he felt. In the depths of your own depression, you swore you would never love nor have sex ever again. So you were patient and you knew he would come back to you, given enough time that he needed to heal from his immense loss.
And you were right; it started with a few extra kisses here and there, hand holding while walking down the street, a tight embrace from behind while you were doing dishes in the evening. Each gesture, though seemingly small, was a sign of the gradual return of the Will you had come to know and love.
He spoke more freely now, sharing the happenings of his day and thoughts, occasionally telling a joke or two, and you felt your emotional connection becoming whole again as he shared what was on his heart. You smiled to yourself at his progress, knowing that, although time eases the pain, it never truly leaves us. You were glad to see him come out of the dark tunnel on his own and reach for the sunlight on the other side. 
One lazy Sunday afternoon, the house is relatively dark and quiet, spring storms have rolled in consistently throughout the day. Bored and without much to do, you decide to lay down for a nap but the continuous roll of thunder has kept you up thus far. The window is cracked open and the curtains sway in a gentle breeze, the soft whoosh of the rain and distant rumble of thunder is like a lullaby, but you still couldn’t find sleep.
You hear the door creak open and Will slides down into the bed next to you, he hooks an arm around your hips and pulls you back against his body. His hand slides over your bare leg and he realizes that you only have a t-shirt and underwear on under the covers.
“What are you doing?” he whispers into your ear.
You giggle at the sensation, shoulders coming up to protect your ear from his ticklish breath. 
“I’m trying to sleep…” you say. “Wanna join me for a nap?”
“Yeah, I suppose so,” he says. “Or…maybe there’s something else we can do to help you sleep,” he whispers suggestively. 
He starts trailing his fingertips up and down your leg, over your hip, under your shirt, across your ribs. You stretch and mewl like a cat against his body, relishing in his touch. It had been so long since you had been intimate, your body literally thrums from his attention as his warm hands caress your soft skin.  
He’s content to stroke you for a little while, tension building, when he speaks again.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so…absent, recently,” he says softly into your ear, you hear what sounds like guilt in his tone.  
You roll over on your back to look at him as he props himself up on his elbow, big puppy dog eyes staring into yours. Your eyebrows knit together.
“Will, you never have to apologize. I know how you’ve been feeling,” you say, as you gently cup his cheek.
He takes a deep breath through his nose. “I just didn’t want you to think that I didn’t want you anymore,” he says sincerely and you appreciate his openness, showing you his heart.
“I know that...probably better than anyone. It’s okay, Will. You know I will always be here for you…however you need me. I’m here,” you say quietly, reassuring him.
He takes your hand that's caressing his face and kisses your palm.
“I know,” he whispers.
He leans down and captures your lips with his own and you instantly melt into him, sighing softly into his mouth. You turn towards him, pressing yourself against his chest as you grab the back of his hair, feeling desperate to have him. He responds, arms encircling you to hold you closer as his tongue gently pushes into your mouth. You grant him access willingly, enjoying the familiarity of the taste of his tongue as it slides over yours. You feel the slick forming between your thighs almost immediately. 
You suck on his bottom lip as you feel his hand slide down your side before he takes hold of a chunk of your ass and squeezes, kneading lightly. You can’t contain yourself anymore, so needy for him as you hook a leg over his hip and grind into his pelvis. You feel him smirk under your lips.
“Missed me much?” he whispers, amusement in his voice.
“I think you missed me too,” you whisper back seductively, as you slide a hand in between your bodies and stroke his length through his sweatpants; he’s already hard and wanting. 
His hand moves from your ass to lightly press on the outside of your underwear that's covering your slit, already feeling how wet and ready you were for him. You turn your hips so he can reach more easily and spread your legs, completely aware how desperate you look in this moment but you were far beyond the point of caring. You moan pitifully at his touch.
Your kissing intensifies as he slides your panties to the side and runs his fingers through your wet folds, groaning deep in his throat when he feels how wet you are for him. 
You’re already panting as his fingers skate over your opening and start circling your bud, pleasure coiling deep within; you tug on the back of his hair, needing more. 
Thunder rumbles, closer and louder now, the sound of the rain picks up. You smirk to yourself idly, wondering if the thunder has any chance at drowning out your cries of pleasure for what you know Will is about to do to you next.
Will breaks the kiss. “Roll back over,” he says as he hooks his fingers into your panties, intending to slide them down. You reach down and help him take them all the way off, realizing he wants you on your side next to him. 
“Take your clothes off too,” you say impatiently, eager to feel his skin against yours again. You pull your t-shirt off over your head, your hair spilling down your back, your nipples pebbling from the cool air, and slide your naked body back down under the covers and face away from him. You feel the bed sink down from his weight as he maneuvers behind you, the heat of his body practically scorching the skin on your back as he pulls you flush against him. His lips are on your neck, his hand sliding up and down your hip and ribs again. He caresses your breast and you give a low moan, turning your head to capture your lips again with his, bringing a hand up to hold the back of his head.
Foreplay be damned, you couldn’t wait to have him inside of you as you press your butt into his groin, grinding against his hard thick cock while spreading your legs again, opening yourself up to him.
He grunts into your kiss and reaches down your body again to play with your pearl. You rock your hips gently into his hand, needing more friction. 
Normally content to take his time with you, Will seems to have lost his sense of self control too once he sees your body responding to him, already so wet and willing. After a few more tantalizing moments, he grabs his cock and leans back to line himself up with your entrance and you arch your ass back towards him so he can reach your opening more easily.
He takes a moment to rub the head through your silken folds, accumulating your slick on his cock. It almost drives you mad with desire and you moan desperately, begging for more. You feel his thick length tease your entrance as he pushes the head in. The stretch is different from this angle and, although you are wet, you gasp a little at the unexpected twinge of pain as he buries himself inside your tight, wet heat. He rocks gently into you, sliding in slowly, deliciously; you breathe deeply and bite your lip to keep from crying out again as you adjust to the feeling of his cock filling you up.
At last, when he is fully sheathed inside of you, he grabs your upper body and pulls you back against him, stilling for a moment as you adapt to his size. One hand slides down to play with your pearl again, the other arm slides under your pillow, cradling your neck and head. Although facing away from him, there is something so erotic about being spread open with him holding you from behind as your bodies meld together as one. At last, you finally feel complete again. 
He trails kisses from your ear, down your neck, to your shoulder. After a moment, you start to squirm and mewl, and, slowly, languidly, he starts to move his hips. Your eyes roll in your head as the first couple strokes against your g-spot almost has you coming undone. A loud moan escapes your lips as you savor the sensation of his thick cock dragging along your soft velvet walls, pleasure already coiling low in your belly. You’re lost in this moment of feeling him between your legs, splitting you open, where only he belongs, his body connected to yours in a place that was made for him. 
You roll your hips back into his, matching his speed, your breathing picking up. Oh, how you’ve missed him, missed the heat of his body, the smell of his skin, the strength of his arms holding you close, the feeling of his teeth grazing your neck, all combined to the way you missed how he consumes you. 
He sets a steady pace and you realize you are on the precipice of your orgasm and you try to hold back, your breaths coming in quick pants with the motion of his hips against yours.
“C’mon, babygirl, don’t hold back…I know you wanna cum,” Will growls low into your ear as he feels your pussy clenching around his cock. He picks up the pace just for emphasis, his cock thrusting harshly against your walls, knowing you won’t be able to stifle your orgasm with the increased friction as he also rubs your pearl furiously. 
Through your half closed eyelids, you see lightning flash outside, momentarily illuminating the dark room, just as you feel lightning coursing through your body as your release crashes over you. You cry aloud as the thunder claps, intense pleasure surges through you as Will continues to rock his hips into you, sustaining your pleasure through your peak, grunting in your ear. At last, when you stop shaking from the aftermath of your climax, he chuckles gently behind you as he pulls out, clearly amused with just how quickly you came.
Normally, if condoms aren’t handy, Will always pulls out and paints your body with his release, but you don’t feel anything warm on your skin. Your brain is mush from your intense orgasm and you ask him stupidly, “Did you finish?” 
“No, not yet anyway,” he says mischievously; Will has never not finished. 
“Hmm, well let me help you with that,” you purr sensually as you roll over to him and climb on top, mainly sitting your weight on his upper thighs. Seeing him spread out, naked, before you, your breath catches in your throat for an instant, appreciating his beauty. The skin of his abdomen is unblemished aside from a dusting of freckles and moles; you watch the rise and fall of his chest as you admire the silver cross pendant that nestles in his chest hair. You run your hands over his toned chest and abs, savoring the feel of his powerful muscles beneath your hands. 
You lean down and kiss him briefly on the lips before moving down his body, nipping, licking, and grazing with your teeth all the way down. You kiss every mole you come across as you head south towards his thick cock that glistens with your slick, stopping to leave a love bite on his hip bone before you settle between his legs. You grasp his thick cock, head weeping, and immediately take him as far as you can into your mouth and moan, savoring the taste of yourself on your tongue.
You flatten your tongue as you lick him clean, slurping and sucking, using your hand to pump what can’t fit into your mouth. You make eye contact with him and watch his face as you suck his cock hungrily. His lips are pressed together as he breathes in deeply through his long nose, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
You take a deep breath as you slide your mouth up and down, swirling your tongue around the tip as he reaches for your hair, entangling his fingers into it. He starts thrusting along with you, matching the rhythm of your mouth. Normally, he matches your pace, but you notice him thrusting a little harder and deeper than before. You breathe through your nose and try to relax your throat as he bucks his hips, sliding himself in and out of your mouth. You feel the tip of his head hit the back of your throat and tears start to form in the corner of your eyes as he fucks your mouth and throat. You’re sure you look positively wrecked in this moment. 
Your fingers dig into his thighs as he continues his steady rhythm and you hum low in your throat and watch as the vibration makes his breath hitch. 
“Fuck,” Will grunts, panting and you can tell that he’s close. After a few more strokes, his cock starts to pulse in your mouth, his spend hitting the back of your throat, causing you to choke a little as you work him through it until he stills, growling deep in his throat. He pulls his cock from your mouth, his thumb on your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly. 
“I want to watch you swallow,” he says and you do as you're told. His eyes are dark with lust, watching as your throat bobs before flicking back to meet with your gaze; his look is something akin to pride and you feel yourself flush, preening under his heady expression. 
You crawl back up his body and kiss him again, thinking that if you taste yourself on him then he can taste himself from you. You savor the intimate moment as your lips meet and he sucks on your tongue before he pulls you down next to him under the covers and holds you close; you melt back into the heat of his body. 
Thunder rumbles, rain still steadily beating on the pavement outside and a cool breeze blows through the room. Pressed against Will’s hot body, the chill doesn't phase you, actually a welcomed relief on your hot and sweaty skin. Snuggling, you hold each other and listen to the patter of the rain.
“Will?” you ask quietly after a bit.
“Hmm?” he murmurs, a gentle acknowledgement that he is listening. 
“I think we should go away for a weekend. Travel somewhere. Just to have a little bit of fun,” you say. You had been wanting to bring this up but the timing just never felt right. You thought a weekend trip would be good for Will, good for you both, a change of scenery and some time away together could be exactly what you both need. You have yet to take a trip together as a couple. 
He pauses for a moment before responding.
“Yeah, alrigh’, let’s go then,” he says as he places a tender kiss on your cheek.
>>>Part 4
A/N: For those that have made it this far, I just want to thank you all again for reading. I realize that I write about topics that can be extremely painful and triggering for some, perhaps even hard to read at times. For those that have ever struggled, know that I see you and that I know how hard some of those dark days can be, some months can be, some years can be. It does get better, in time. 💙
Tags: @peonamay @quinnquinn317 @multyfangirl @aemondsscar @pandemonium105 @cyeco13 @chainsawsangel @sylas-the-grim @boundlessfantasy @bellaisasleep
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prettywordsyouleft · 24 days
Text
Every Damn Time
Pairing: Park Jinyoung x female reader
Genre: emotional angst-fluff
Tropes: established relationship
Warnings: mentioning of declining health of side character, main protagonist is expressing their fears over it.
Word count: 659
Author’s Note: I wrote this back in January, when this situation happened to calm myself down from the fright of it all. Naturally, this piece is a little personal.
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Jinyoung barely had a moment to react, and yet he did so instinctively. Catching you before you knocked both of you to the ground, he went to laugh and asked why you were so greedy for his embrace, only to stop himself when he felt your body shudder.
Instantly, he was on red alert. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”
“Need you,” came out with a choked sob, and Jinyoung rearranged his hold on you.
He pulled you firmly against him, caging your shaking body so you felt protected and safe. And that was enough to unleash your emotions. It killed him to have no clue why you had entered his home and ran to him like this. He wanted to rage in your honour, ask who did this to you, uncover every little detail so he could put together a plan. So he could be the one to solve this and never let it make you break like this again.
But as he continued to hold you, rocking your body and letting out soothing noises, his mind came down from the height it had gone to.
Jinyoung had been working late yesterday and into the early hours of today, which wasn’t unusual for him, and he had almost sent you a message out of habit but realised the time was late. He remembered frowning when he had seen your last active time stamp to be after one am, yet he considered you probably had struggled to sleep and then fallen into slumber eventually.
But now he wasn’t so sure. What had kept you up so late into the night? He had his suspicions, and you finally confirmed them a moment later. “She fell.”
“How?”
“I’m not sure. I was in bed and woke to a loud bang. I thought it was one of the cats and went to check, but the TV had crashed into the wall and she was completely dazed,” you said quietly, not objecting when Jinyoung gently led you to the couch and pressed you down until you sat before he crouched down in front of you.
“She’s completely fine, well, a few bruises are going to come up, but I was just so scared. I keep having these moments where I get complacent with Mum’s illness and then she declines and something like this happens and I just—” Tears welled in your eyes and he reached forward to brush them aside, your watery gaze connecting with his. “It’s only going to get worse.”
“With time. Your mother has plenty of time still.”
“I feel like I’m going out of my mind. I could barely sleep worrying something would happen as she rested. I’ve made plans to move my things out to the study nook so I can be right there if she needs me. I’m going to have to monitor her closely. It all feels so overwhelming.”
“You should have rung me. I would have come over immediately. “
You sighed, nodding softly. “I wanted you there.”
“You needed me,” he corrected, and you nodded a second time.
“I always need you. I worry the strain I’m holding will end up breaking you when I lean on you.”
Slapping a shoulder, Jinyoung cracked a grin. “Why do you think I built these up?”
It delighted him when a small, exasperated smile curled up your lips. “You fool.”
“You need me at any time of the day or night, and you know I’ll be there.”
“Really?”
“What are boyfriends for if they can’t promise that?”
“To look pretty and carry heavy things?” You pretended to ponder, and Jinyoung tsked loudly before reaching for your hands, rubbing the coolness out of them.
“I don’t ever want to let you stress to the point of crashing into me like that again. But if it does happen, I’ll catch you, okay?”
“You’ll catch me?” you repeated, eyes wide with emotion.
His throat felt tight as he nodded. “Every damn time.”
_________________
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daisyblog · 1 year
Text
Kiss and Make Up
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Our Story Masterlist Summary: Harry and YN have their first argument. Warning: swearing
YN’s POV: The Take Me Home tour was well underway, I felt so lucky to be able to join the boys on the tour being Louise’s assistant. I’d learnt so much already and it had only just begun. Tonight the boys are playing at LG Arena in Birmingham, they had just finished rehearsing ahead of the evening show so were now free to do as they pleased. In the boy's shared dressing room, Niall was sitting on the arm of the large sofa, that Liam was laying across, strumming random tunes on his guitar and Louis and Zayn were yet to appear. Harry’s arm was draped over my shoulder as we sat as one on the opposite sofa to the two boys. I was scrolling through my Instagram and Twitter as the boys chatted about the tour so far, how they were excited to play in their hometown and just overall how happy they are.
“So..Liam are your Mum and Dad comin’ tonight ‘en..because Birmingham is close to them isn’t it?” Niall asked as he continued to strum his guitar. “Uh yeah they are actually..I dunno if my sisters are though” Liam explained from his position on the sofa “Do I need to warn them about your thing for the boy's sisters Harry?” Liam teased.
I felt Harry chuckle next to me, and the next thing said made my chest tight and my stomach twist “Yeah..once I get bored with YN, I’ll charm yours and win them over”. The three boys laughed but Harry’s arm around you suddenly felt heavy on your shoulder. Was that all I was to him, someone to use until he found better? I couldn’t stay in this room any longer, I needed to get out. I could take a joke, heck I loved the jokes and pranks the boys would pull but this wasn’t funny. I got up without saying a word and stomped towards the door “Where you going?” Harry asked, completely oblivious to what his words had done. I ignored him, not wanting to talk right now and continued to walk out the door and down the corridor heading towards the bathroom at the end of it. The tears were going to spill any second, I felt them in the corners of my eyes making my vision blurry.
“Aww there she is..you alright Tiny?” my brother’s voice startled me. The minute Louis saw the tears streaming down my face, he panicked and pulled me into his chest “What’s wrong? What’s ‘appened?”. “H-h-harry..” I sobbed into his chest, I didn’t get the chance to finish explaining what had happened because Louis left me to go and headed towards the dressing room. I was going to tell him not to but there was no point, once Louis had something in his head he was going to do it regardless. I just carried on heading towards the bathroom to avoid what was about to happen.
Harry’s POV:
YN had just walked out of the dressing room door without answering me when I asked where she was going. “What’s wrong with her?” Liam asked no one in particular. “You know what girls can be like…fine one minute and in a mood the next..hormones or some shit” Niall spoke “Are you gonna go after her?”
“No, she’ll be fine..probably gone to phone her Mum or something” I said “I know she’s been missing her a lot since the tour started” The door flies open and almost hits the wall behind it, and Louis appears. “What the fook ‘ave you done to my sister?” Louis raised his voice at me. At this, the two boys looked at me and matched the same confused look that I had. “Mate..nothi-“ Liam began. “I’m not askin’ you Payno..I’m talkin’ to Harry” “Lou..I-I..I don’t know what you're talking about..she just walked out without saying anything” “Well why the hell was she just sobbing in my arms and all I got out of her was your name?” Louis spoke “Do me a favour..go and find her and sort it out..will ya? ‘cause if you don’t I’m gonna punch you this time” Niall and Liam adverting their eyes back and forth at the seen in front of them.
I got up from the sofa without saying another word and headed towards the door. I didn’t understand what had happened, and how things can change so quickly. One minute we were cuddling on the sofa and now she’s crying because of me. It almost felt impossible to find her in this building, I’d looked in every room almost and no sign of her anywhere. I’d asked Louise if she had seen her and all I got was ‘thought she was with you’, I’d asked the 5SOS boys, who were our opening act, but still no luck. The crew members who were sitting having some lunch in the kitchen hadn’t seen her either. I almost gave up looking until I passed Paul in the corridor, and he told me he saw her going into the small room at the bottom near the toilets. As I approached the room, I took a deep breath before pushing the door open. As I walked in and let the door close behind me, I noticed she was sitting on the red sofa with her knees tucked up in her chest and wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her jumper. The scene broke my heart. My legs took me over to her “Baby..what..why are you crying?”. “Just leave me alone” she mumbled. “No..no..I’m not going anywhere until we talk about this”, I went to wipe a tear that was rolling down her cheek but she swatted my hand away. “YN..Baby please” “Just fook off…you’d rather be with someone else anyway” she spat out. “What are you talking about?” “Once I get bored with YN, I’ll charm yours and win them over..I think that’s what you said” she repeated my words from earlier. “Aww c’mon…that was a joke and you know it” I defended my words. “No..jokes are funny…that was just arrogant” “You’re just being sensitive now” I snapped at her. “YOU JUST DON’T GET IT” she shouted “Nobody ever gets it” she whispered the last part. “THEN FUCKING TELL ME YN…'CAUSE I DON”T COME WITH A CRYSTAL BALL TO KNOW WHAT YOU’RE THINKING..FOR FUCKS SAKE” after raising my voice, I regretted it instantly “I’m sorry..I didn’t mean to shout” She was silent for a few moments until I heard her voice “Do you know how many comments I read every day telling me I’m ugly and fat..o-or how you could do so much better than me…thousands…and when you said that you would move onto someone else once you get bored of me..It made me think maybe they’re right..why would Harry Styles want to be with me, when he could have anyone he wanted” “I don’t want anyone other than you” I spoke “and if I can’t have you then..I don’t see the point” I spoke gently. She sniffed and wiped a stray tear that rolled down her cheek and hit her lip “It really hurt me what you said” “I know..and I’m really sorry baby” I held my arms open for her, and she slowly moved so her head lay on my chest. I kissed the top of her head and moved my fingers up and down her arm in a calming motion. After a few moments, I decided to speak “Baby?”, she lifted her head to look up at me “You’re beautiful…please don’t listen to those comments…they’re just people who don’t have anything better to do than tear people apart”, I dipped my head to meet her lips and moved mine with hers softly. I brought my hand up to the side of her face as the kiss deepened and became a little sloppier. As I was about to move for her to fall on top of me, the door abruptly opened. “Ahh fook...me eyes” Louis's dramatic voice startled us “Right..well I’m glad you’ve made up…but maybe keep the kissing part until later yeah…right well..umm…I’ll leave you to it” and walked back out, closing the door behind him. As I looked back at YN we burst into laughter at what just happened. “I love you” I confessed, leaving a peck on her lips “I love you” she mumbled against my lips.
Tag List: (let me know if you would like to be added) @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower
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soapppp · 7 months
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CW: talks of abuse, hallucinations, ABO, homophobia and slurs
Ghost has helped Soap keep his hidden gender as an Omega secret for well over a year. He figures it out instantly, trying to tell himself it was because of his training and his status as an Alpha, not the fact that they might well be fated mates. It’s rare, but it’s also said that in every ten alphas one will have a fated Omega, so not impossible.
Soap didn’t realise that the other knew, pretending not to know that he clicked Ghost as his intended on the first day. He assumed Ghost didn’t realise because of Soap’s lies of being an Alpha.
But then his heat hits on a mission and he watches as Ghost kills three of their own operatives after two of them tried to force Soap while he was vulnerable. Later he would process that Ghost killed the other poor sod, a Beta, simply because he knew what Soap was. Ghost himself held back, biting a hole into his tongue as he got Soap to safety and made up lie after lie about a spontaneous rut.
Yet, even though Ghost knows he’s an Omega and that the two are fated to be intendeds, he does nothing. I’m fact, he seems almost awkward. Somehow trying to get as close to Soap as he can but also snapping at him or not speaking at all.
It’s after two weeks that Ghost subtly asked Soap to visit his room so they can talk. Soap, angered and hurt, is ready to yell and scream at him for not doing his job as an Alpha and caring for his Omega. But before he can, Ghost speaks in the quietest voice Soap has ever heard. Broken, small, and so unlike the man he knew.
“I kept your secret, Johnny… can, can you keep one for me?”
Soap looses all his rage in an instant, worry and relief at the trust being shown to him. He nods, a warm and hopefully safe smile taking over his face.
Ghost, though Soap has the feeling it’s actually Simon, fiddles his fingers like a child, “I, um, have these… fuck, I have these voices. In my head but not, like they talking to me without being there. My dad, my brother… sometimes me mum. They say things to me, horrible things, bout me being weak and a fag. Saying I can’t, can’t love ya.”
Johnny can’t help the tears that well in his eyes. He’s heard the rumours of what Simon faced, abuse and torture, but being followed by such things with hallucinations? It was a torture in himself. Was that why…?
Simon continues, “I thought they were right for so long. It’s man and woman and all that, but then you showed up. You’re nothing like they describe. You aren’t a slut or submissive, not weak and needing control and it’s confused the fuck out of me, Johnny. You make everything they say, then and now, so wrong, yet… this feels so natural. I’m scared, Johnny. Only my mums voice is nice to me but she’s… she’s fading. Don’t say much any more these days. Last thing I heard was, ‘be good to any omega, be better than him.’ But Johnny, I don’t fucking know how to do that!”
That’s it for Johnny, he too looses his composure and holds a sobbing Simon to his chest, cooing and kissing at his hair. He holds him as tight as he can, letting all the love he dreamed of giving his intended and their future kits take form in his gentle purring and careful touches.
“It’s alright, love. I’ll teach you.”
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obitohno · 2 years
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primeval | 02
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satoru gojo x reader
synopsis ⤸
you have never believed in fairy-tales. besides, werewolves don’t actually exist… right?
chapters ⤸
៚ contents
៚ prev | next ᝰ
themes ⤸
fem! reader, 18+, dark fic, werewolf! gojo, human! reader, slow burn, soulmates, omegaverse, werewolves, mating bond, smut, masturbation, cunnilingus, blowjobs, anal, breeding, creampies, ruts, heats, action, angst, graphic depictions of violence, mentions of blood
word count ⤸
6.1k (edited, lowercase intended)
a/n ⤸
thank you to everyone who shared the first chapter of ‘primeval’. i honestly didn’t think many people would like it bc the first chapter doesn’t jump straight into the smut… it’s coming, though, dw. this chapter is a little more action packed, which i’m still getting my head around on writing, but it was fun to write. also!! i actually edited this one?!?! wow??!!! feeling v proud of myself bc this’ll probably never happen again, lmaoo
reblogs are appreciated ~
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two:
when you come to, two days have already passed. your mother’s face is the first you see, and you're bewildered at the sight of unshed tears that glisten in the very eyes you’d inherited from birth. 
‘mum?’ 
your mother barely contains a muffled sob, shaking hands reaching to embrace you into a bone-crushing hug. you groan, head swimming as you reluctantly return the gesture with an awkward pat to your mother’s shoulder. 
‘what’s wrong? i—’
your mother’s voice is grave, with an expression to match, as she leans back from the embrace to stare at you, ‘we need to leave.’ frown forming between your brows, you move from the bed, standing on shaky legs. with a glance, you realise that you’re still wearing your dress, the fabric crinkled and matted in places, and your frown deepens, lips parting to question just how long you were asleep for, but your mother interrupts you, ‘now.’ 
before you can even think of a reply, your mother’s fingers are curling around your wrist, pulling you towards the door. your temples throb and you wince, a wave of vertigo hitting you just as she pulls you to the bottom of the stairs. your left hand flails to catch your balance on the wall, but your mother doesn’t wait, pushing you towards the front door. your confusion doubles when she doesn’t even allow you time to tug your shoes on. ‘what’s going on—?’
‘no time,’ she snaps at you, yanking the front door open and pushing you out of it. stumbling, you wince as the gravel bites into the soles of your feet. ‘get in the car.’ 
doing as you’re told, you slump into the passenger seat with an exhausted sigh. you’re unsure of why you feel so tired, but there’s no time to dwell, your mother sliding into the driver’s seat, slamming the door closed. she wears an expression of panic, and whilst you have so many questions to ask, they die on the tip of your tongue when the car rumbles to life. your mother wastes no time in reversing the vehicle out onto the road, almost colliding with a passing car, the sound of their horn cutting through the air. wide eyed, you gawk at her, she who pointedly concentrates on the road, kicking the car into drive. 
the small car makes it to the other side of town in record timing, and you’re sure that your mother has broken just about every road law along the way. just as the car starts down the long winding path that leads the way out of the town, you dare to ask, ‘where’s dad?’
the car speeds even faster and you grip the door handle to keep yourself from slamming into the door as the vehicle swiftly veers off to the left. 
something is definitely wrong, you think. horribly wrong. 
‘w-wait! dad—we can’t just leave—!’ 
something suddenly slams into the car from behind, the tyres skidding across the tarmac so roughly, the noise rings in your ears. your body is lurched forward, hands flying out to stop your head from colliding with the dashboard and your seatbelt groans under the strain of your weight, the fabric burning into your shoulder. wincing, you do your best to ignore the ache in your forehead, your mother letting a sharp yell slip past her lips. it isn’t long before the car skids to a halt and your entire body trembles, breath mixing with the warm air, steaming the windows from the inside. with shaking hands, your mother reaches for you, and you look up, horrified to see the blood pooling from her temple. 
‘m-mum—!’
a low, animalistic growl echoes from the outside, the sound tracing its way down your spine until it reaches the tips of your toes. and then, you smell it again. freshly cut grass, only this time, it intermingles with the scent of… dog? it reeks, seeping in through the metal framework until you have no choice but to inhale it. your nose crinkles and you have to force down the urge to gag. 
‘did we hit something?’ you dare to whisper, hand reaching to wipe the condensation from the window. the sight of a large shadow makes your stomach churn, your back hitting the seat as you slump, slack-jawed. the shadow moves closer, close enough that you can just make out the shape of four legs, accompanied by a tail. ‘oh my god—i-is that—?’ 
your mother’s fingers are pressing the button on your seatbelt and she leans over, throwing the passenger door wide open, ‘you need to run!’ 
your head head whips to gawk at her, ‘do you not see that? it’s a fucking wolf!’ tears cloud your vision, ‘oh god—dad! he said… i… i should have—’
she shoves you, hard. hard enough that you lose your balance, body hurtling out of the side of the car. your left wrist takes the brunt of your weight, the impact shattering its way up the length of your arm. a shriek is punched from your lungs and your bottom lip wobbles, pain stinging your now bloodied hand. dazed, you look up to meet your mother’s panicked stare. 
‘run! you have to run!’ her eyes are glossy, the tears staining her cheeks in a way that you have never seen before. when you don’t immediately heed her order, she all but screams at you, ‘fucking run!’ 
heart in your mouth, you scramble to your feet, body wavering as you almost trip over your feet. to your horror, the wolf is much closer that you had initially thought, not even a few yards away. behind you, the forest takes form again, and you take another wobbly step back, debating on the possibility of you escaping into the thick foliage.  
what the hell are you even thinking?  
if the wolf gives chase—which seems likely as its steely gaze is glued to you, completely ignoring your mother’s frantic wailing—there’s no way you could out-run it. just the sheer size of it seems unnatural—is it even possible for wolves to grow to such a size? even the colour of its fur seems ludicrous. the palest of silvers seems to gleam, almost white in colour, and if not for the animal advancing closer, you would stop to admire the sheen that spreads across its spine. the scent of freshly cut grass grows stronger with each step the wolf takes towards you, and you match its pace with one step backwards. there’s another scent in the air, something you can’t quite decipher, but you don’t bother to question it, stumbling back with another unbalanced step.
the ache in your temples has now spread to the back of your head and you suddenly find it a little harder to keep your eyes open. 
your mother calls your name again, begging, ‘run… please, you have to—!’ 
the beast releases a growl so loud that you feel it vibrate beneath your bare feet. something snaps to your left, a branch, perhaps, but you don’t stick around to find out, legs moving of their own accord. faster than you’ve ever moved before, you lunge towards the tree-line, barely processing your mother’s voice that echoes after you, egging you on. your feet sink into the soil, branches whipping past your head as you weave through the heavily crowded birch trees, the trunks stretched high above your head. the further you run, the denser the trees become, making it increasingly difficult to move. you duck under a particularly low hanging branch, feet pausing as you strain to listen. 
the forest is eerily quiet, the canopy of the trees blocking out the sunlight, making it harder to see. you listen as best as you can, sucking in air between your lips, nursing your injured wrist to your chest. your teeth bite into your bottom lip in order to muffle the cry that escapes, eyes welling. blinking rapidly, you sniffle, continuing your escape with a limp hindering your movements. you don’t think that you’ve been followed, but if you have, there’s no way that that huge, muscled body would ever be able to follow you through the thickening tree-trunks that now make it a task for your frame to slip through. 
you quietly pray that your mother has gotten to safety.
you’re unsure of how much time passes as you walk, but suddenly, there’s a break of light in the swarm of trees. you rush forwards, tripping over your feet just as you burst past the last of the roots, falling as you do so. you make the mistake of bracing your weight onto your injured wrist, unable to stop the pained shriek that ripples out into the darkening sky. it’s far too late when you slap your uninjured hand over your mouth to swallow the sound, and for a tense moment, you lie still, dirt caking your clammy skin, buried under your nails and matting the hair that sticks to the space behind your ears. 
then, you hear him. 
his footsteps are slow, calculated and not at all rushed. yours, however, are panicked, trying your best to stand, but soon realising that your right foot is trapped, squeezed into a tight gap between two large birch trees. this time, you don’t bother to hide the chest-wracking sobs that escape you, scrambling into a sitting position to try and dislodge your foot. it makes no difference, and the more you pull, the faster the pain throbs its way up your leg, dizzying. a pained moan breathes past your lips, blood ignited with adrenaline. 
he’s closer now, heavy footsteps almost deafening as he stalks towards you. he seems to be moving cautiously, which would have confused you had you not been focused on wrenching your foot free. but to your trepidation, the beast approaches, stepping into your line of sight, hackles slightly raised. 
stilling, you tilt your head back to look at the animal towering above you. and much to both your relief and horror, it’s not him. gone is the fur lined with silver; this beast is coated in a dark brown that almost looks black. its eyes, as equally as dark, watch you for a moment, before taking a slow step forward. immediately, the fear returns by a tenfold, and you begin to struggle again, your ministrations more urgent, panic-driven. you cry out as your foot twists painfully and in your distress, you almost miss the sight of his body morphing before your very eyes. 
the sound of cracking bones makes your stomach lurch, and you’re only just able to swallow the bile down, glossy eyes wide as the wolf disappears, only to be replaced by the large frame of a stark-naked man. 
you blink once, twice, thrice, absolutely baffled as to whether your eyes are deceiving you. 
but then he takes a tentative step closer, and your heart immediately lurches into your mouth. 
‘g-get away from me,’ you stammer, twisting your leg once more. 
the man raises his hands, as if to prove he means you no harm. something you’re unable to believe, especially when he just transformed from the form of a wolf. your father may have warned you of the wolves out here in shirakawa, but you wonder what his reaction will be once he hears the wolves can shape-shift into humans. the thought of your father is enough for the tears to return, features settling into a quiet cry as you attempt to twist your foot once more. 
the man is slow to approach you, and you pretend that you can’t see his penis hanging between his legs, as naked as the day he was born. ‘i can help,’ his voice is quiet but you are just able to hear him over the sound of your buzzing blood echoing in your ears. the mere thought of this… man? wolf… hybrid? whatever the hell he is…. the thought of him touching you makes you shiver and you look at your leg, miserable. there’s only one option that you can think of to aid your attempt to escape, and just imagining it makes you grimace. but you have no choice. the man seems to guess your next move and with surprising speed, he’s rushing towards you, shouting, ‘no! don’t!’ 
but it’s too late. 
gritting your teeth, you use the momentum of your weight to twist your leg as far as it will go, before the tibia bone eventually gives way under the pressure. the snap! rings down your eardrums, followed by a choked scream of pain. blood rushes behind your eyes as you somehow manage to wrench your foot free, but that’s as far as you get, your body immediately giving in and crumpling to the floor. 
the naked man is by your side, his hands reaching for you. you don’t even have the energy to move out of his grasp. he lifts you easily and you babble unintelligently, head lolling over his forearm. black clouds your vision and your entire leg now throbs, body barely able to process the pain that throbs underneath the surface of your skin. 
‘fuck,’ you are just able to hear the man curse, eyelids heavy as you try to blink up at him. your injured hand hangs limp, dangling in the air as he begins to trek away from the shadows of the trees. you attempt to tell him to leave you behind, to remove his strangely human hands from your body. but your tongue is heavy in your mouth and whatever you plan to say is rendered useless as you slip in and out of consciousness for the remainder of the journey. 
when you eventually come to for the fifth time, it is when a light is shone directly into your left pupil, and you groan, eyelid snapping to shut out the intrusion. someone gently shakes at your shoulder, but when you try to blink your eyes open, your sight is blurred. blinking your pupils back into focus, you recognise that you’re now indoors, lying on your back, head tilted up towards the ceiling. the first face you see is of the man who had carried you from the trees. you instinctively flinch at the sight of him, although, your eyes continue to peer at him curiously. his lips seem to be curve into a slight smile, and although he is now clothed, the memory of your meeting makes you flinch, grimacing. 
you attempt to sit, bracing your weight on your uninjured hand. your left wrist is bandaged, the fabric wrapped neatly to secure the injury in place. you don’t dare to look at the damage of your leg, an ache pounding across your forehead as you successfully pull yourself into an upright position. 
‘careful,’ the dark haired man coaxes, his expression one of barely concealed amusement. his words gain the attention of the other person in the room, one you hadn’t even noticed. he’s a pink haired man who stands to your right, torch in hand. he grins down at you, toothily and welcoming. he appears to have a peculiar taste in facial tattoos, and you can’t help but gawk at them. is that a mouth?
his grin broadens. ‘humans,’ he tuts, but he’s still grinning, ‘so jumpy.’ 
you grimace, tearing your gaze from him, back to the brown haired man to your left. he’s still watching you, his expression unreadable now. ‘don’t worry,’ he assures you of worries that you daren’t acknowledge out loud. ‘everything will be—’
the door flies open so wildly that it ricochets back off the wall behind it. you have to bite the inside of your cheek in order to stop yourself from yelping out in surprise. your eyes flicker to the doorway, along with the two men in the room, the three of you peering at the man who enters the room. 
you stare. 
it’s hard not to. 
especially when the first thing you notice of him is the wild mass of white hair that sits atop his head. you tremble when he steps inside the room, all but slamming the door shut behind him. 
‘so jumpy,’ the pink haired man repeats, chuckling. 
you sit frozen on the tabletop that you’ve been placed on, watching the unnaturally tall man stare down at you with a scowl that makes the bottom of your stomach churn with nerves. you swallow, the room silent as no-one dares to speak. you have so many questions, most of which you’d never thought that you’d ever have to ask, but your tongue doesn’t seem to want to work, frozen stiff in the confines of your mouth. you dare to inspect the white haired man, who is yet to say a word, or to even blink an eyelid.
if he’s at all bothered by your stare, he doesn’t voice it, taking the time to look you up and down, electric-blue eyes loitering on the expanse of skin that is bare to the world as your torn dress has ridden up your thighs. you try to not look so jumpy as you clench your thighs shut, eyes sweeping over his abnormally large form. his biceps strained under the neatly ironed dress-shirt that he wears, crossed over his chest, and you try to not notice the freckles on his lips, nor the way his trousers fit perfectly around his—
someone clears their throat and your eyes snap away from him, cheeks hot as you realise that you’ve been caught staring. 
‘now she’s awake, i’ll go fetch the male,’ the pink-haired man announces to no-one in particular. 
he crosses the room, brushing past the white-haired man whom is yet to stop staring at you. ‘what of the female?’ his voice is deeper than you expect, the sound charming its way into the centre of your abdomen.
a pair of brown eyes glance towards you before he answers, ‘sedated.’ and then he’s leaving, closing the door shut behind him. you feel the ache dull slightly and you manage to exhale with relief, good hand reaching to massage at your temples with your index finger. 
‘i can get you something for the pain,’ the dark-haired man—your saviour, you think bitterly—offers. but he seems to decide for you, already rising from his chair. however, his white-haired companion beats him to it. he crosses the room faster than you can blink, sneering down at you before his canines elongate and harshly sink into the meat of his own wrist. horrified, you watch him leer over you before his other hand snaps out to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling your head backwards.
yelping at the sudden pain, you recognise your mistake a second too late. he presses his bloodied wrist to your open mouth and your cry is muffled against his skin. with your uninjured hand, you attempt to slap him away, gagging at the taste of iron filling your mouth, coating your tongue. his grip is relentless, however, and he doesn’t budge, his fingers tightening in your hair. 
‘you’re hurting her,’ the other man says, and you close your eyes so that neither of them can see the tears that bubble beneath your eyelids. you scratch at the hand that twists your hair until the roots begin to burn. 
‘fuckin’ drink,’ he hisses into your ear, the sultry tone of his voice sounding very much electric as it shocks down your spine, your body unwillingly slumping against his, weak. you cave, reluctantly swallowing down the metallic liquid that’s begun to thicken inside your mouth. your stomach lurches, but his grip tightens to prevent you from wiggling away. the iron scent taints the air and the more you drink, the warmer your body tingles, sweat trickling down your spine. his blood is hot on her tongue, and you shiver, his chin resting on the top of your head, his chest pressing to your spine. 
the door clicking shut is barely registered by either of you, but you soon recognise that the two of you are now alone. the ache is slowly dissipating from your forehead and you shakily exhale from your nostrils. you moan against his wrist, swallowing, goosebumps etched across every inch of your skin. his chest rumbles against your back and you realise that he’s practically purring in your ear, the sound enticing another embarrassing moan that slips, uncontrolled, from your bloodied lips. 
a few minutes pass before his blood ceases, his wrist slipping away from your face. to your utter embarrassment, you have to stifle the whine that builds upon the tip of your tongue, with a cough. satisfied that your stomach is now bloated, his fingers retrieve from your hair, and suddenly, the spell is broken, and only then do you feel disgust. 
disgusted by him feeding you his blood. appalled that you’d allowed him to do it. mortified that you had actually enjoyed it. 
but before you can begin to feel alarmed by what has just transpired, his fingers are curling under your chin, tilting your head towards his. he leans over your shoulder with ease, eyes staring down at the blood staining your lips. up close, curiosity spikes and without thinking, your index finger is tracing the faint, but jagged scar that cuts through his left eyebrow, his eyelid fluttering shut to allow you to ghost over the skin that’s slightly raised. he makes a noise, something a cross between another purr and a growl, electric orbs blinking open to meet yours. 
something screams at you to escape from his embrace, that there is something terribly wrong with these shape-shifting people, that you most definitely should not be thinking about kissing a man you met just minutes ago. but there you sit, allowing him to press his nose to your cheek, listening to him inhaling deeply. when he moves his head again, his nose traces yours, his breath hot against the gentle slope of your chin. 
he closes the small gap between the two of you, his mouth moulding to yours, and he shudders against you, panting heavily through his nostrils. for an ungodly reason that you don’t understand, you do your best to return his kiss, but he’s frantic, desperate, almost animalistic as his tongue pushes its way past your lips to taste the inside of your mouth. he licks everywhere that he can reach, a low growl hummed against your skin when your fingers dare to tangle in his hair, tugging. his fingers bite into the soft flesh of your thigh and his breath shakes, almost whimpered into the crook of your neck. 
the spell is broken by a knock at the door. 
there’s a flash of cold air that whips you in the face as he all but rips his body from yours, practically flying to the other side of the room as he straightens his clothing, running his fingers through his hair and clearing his throat. he composes himself in a way that gives no indication towards what just happened, expression now stoic as he glances at you. you’re bewildered, unable to comprehend what the hell you’ve just done. 
you’re unable to hide the confusion from your face, even when the door is pushed open to reveal the same pink-haired man as before, along with his brunette companion. but the third figure is the one who gains your attention, the kiss rapidly forgotten. 
‘dad?’ 
he rushes into the room, arms curling around you as he pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. ‘oh god,’ he’s crying, eyes squeezed shut as he pats your matted hair with a heavy hand. ‘they said you’d broken your leg—i thought—!’ he pulls back to look down at your leg, and you follows his gaze with your own. only, when you wiggle your toes, there’s no flinch of pain, not even a twinge nor an ache. 
dumbfounded, you twist your leg the other way, leaning forward to pull it towards your groin. you prod at the bandage with a lone finger, confusion doubling. you had definitely broken your leg, for you can still feel the ghost of the nauseating reverberation of the bone snapping, and the searing hot pain that had shot up your entire leg. 
‘i—’ you don’t even know what to say. you lean back on both hands, baffled when your sprained wrist doesn’t so much as throb under the pressure. you tug the bandage from your hand, expecting the skin to be swollen underneath. but to your surprise, your wrist appears perfectly fine, even when you proceed to twist it to the left, to the right, and back again, just to make sure. 
looking up, you meet the stare of the white-haired man who remains brooding in the corner of the room, only to look away when your father pushes your hair back from your face. he’s frowning down at you, ‘why is your mouth bleeding?’ 
your hand flies to your lips, wiping at the corners. dark red comes away, staining her fingertips. 
‘it’s not mine,’ you say faintly, hand dropping into your lap, limp. the dots start to connect, and when you realise exactly why he’d forced you to drink his blood, you’re both disgusted and relieved at the same time. you also feel a twinge of bitterness. you’d sacrificed the use of your leg in order to escape, but here you are, sat in a room you don’t recognise, with people you don’t even know. 
your efforts were in vain, and yet, you are still alive. you could be relieved with that, at least. 
‘dad,’ you whisper, hoping that your voice doesn’t break despite how desperately you wish to cry. ‘where’s mum? she—’
your father’s expression is grim, eyes gleaming with exhaustion. he sits before you, his hands curling around yours. ‘i need you to listen to me carefully…’ 
and then he begins to talk slowly, as if talking to a child. most of what he says goes through in one ear and out of the other, but you process the more important details. your mother, always so strong, so beautiful, is now rendered weak, induced into a coma because she’d worked herself into a state. ‘it’s for her own safety,’ your father explains when he sees the fury burning in your eyes. the very same eyes that you had inherited from the woman he’s adored for the past thirty years. he continues to explain, and he’s rambling, talking about things you don’t —can’t—quite comprehend. 
‘did you just say…’ you interrupt him, whispering. your gaze sweeps over every face in the room, before focusing on your father’s once more. you swallow, disbelief plastered into your tone when you utter the word, ‘werewolf?’ 
the other men immediately bristle at the word, the white-haired one straightening his spine, arms crossed over his chest. he sneers as he spits, correcting you, ‘wild.’
you are unable to help the shrinking of your spine, cheeks enflamed by your mistake. you don’t even know why you feel the urge to apologise, but you’re able to swallow it down as you look to your father once more. your hands shake under his and he sighs, head lowered as he mutters, ‘i know it’s a lot to take in, but—’
‘a lot?’ you scoff, bitter smile smacked across your face. ‘it’s crazy.’ you pull your hands free from his hold. ‘do you even know what the hell you’re saying? werewo—wilds,’ you correct quickly, ‘they’re not… they… they don’t exist.’ your hands shake as you push your knotted hair back from your face. ‘i-i don’t know why you’re saying…’ your words trail off, unshed tears forming in the ducts of your eyes. ‘mum… she told me to run… i tried.’ your bottom lip trembles and the first tear escapes, four pairs of eyes watching it roll down the curve of your cheek. ‘i-i tried to… but then i fell and then he… he—’ 
your head tilts to look at the dark haired man who remains standing by the closed door. he almost looks sorry for you but all you can recall is him reaching for you in the forest, your body pressed against his naked skin as he carried you out of there, just before you’d passed out. unconsciously, your eyes dart down to his clothed groin, barely registering the way he squirms under your stare. 
‘oh my god,’ you croak. 
you had watched him transform from beast to man in the blink of an eye. 
the reality settles into the pit of your stomach, just before the organ violently lurches inside you. you barely manage to hunch over to the side before you promptly heave, emptying your stomach out onto the carpet. the stench of blood, hot and metallic, fills the room, and you gag, eyes squeezing shut. 
‘the carpet, man,’ someone groans, exasperated, and you guess that it’s the pink-haired man. 
someone touches your back, stroking soothingly, pulling your hair back from your face. 
‘i-is that blood?’ you hear your father ask, suddenly no longer by your side, his voice quiet from the other side of the room. 
the hand on your spine stills when they feel you stiffen. you soon realise just who is trying to comfort you and your stomach lurches again. empty bile burns its way up the back of your throat before spitting out past your lips, a dry cough filling the tense silence. when you feel it safe enough to straighten up, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, a thin sheet of sweat now coating your entire body, and you shiver, willing away the tears that threaten to spill. 
‘this isn’t happening,’ you whisper to no-one in particular, eyes boring up at the ceiling. the presence beside you is domineering, yet somehow comforting, but you hate how your body instinctively leans into his touch, allowing him to hold you upright when a bout of dizziness almost unbalances you. 
you flinch from his touch, not noticing how he bristles at your rejection. 
‘dad…’ you wince at the sound of your voice cracking, tongue now dry. you try to ignore the lingering scent of your vomit, another ache forming between the crease of your brows. your father is by your side once more, his hands wiping at the blood that is smeared across your cheek. 
‘i’m so sorry,’ he sounds pained, guilt-ridden. ‘i should have told you sooner, but your mother… she didn’t take it well and by the time i followed her home…’ he chokes back a sob, ‘she’d already taken you.’ 
tears well in your eyes despite your attempts to blink them away. you point to your leg, ‘how did…?’ the question is frozen on the tip of your tongue but your father still answers. 
‘so… you know the stories of wolves… wilds and their mates, yes?’ you don’t respond, staring at him blankly. he sighs heavily. ‘wolves—wilds are destined to a mate from the day they’re born. someone that they’re bonded to… for life.’ 
you frown, headache worsening, ‘what? like soulmates?’ 
‘if you like, yes,’ your father nods. he pauses then, glancing to the white -haired man who you are yet to look at. you would be a fool to not see the apprehension in your father’s gaze, your own flickering to the very man whose blood you’ve just consumed, stomach twisting with nausea once again. ‘you see,’ your father starts, pausing again as if he isn’t sure how to best word his sentence. but he doesn’t need to. 
you’re now staring up at the man before you, memory flashing with the sight of the white-furred wild whom had all but ran head-first into the family car, the memory of the taste of the the heat of his blood on your tongue, and you are forced to inhale the overwhelming scent of freshly-cut grass mixing with the very human smell of someone who is entirely, one-hundred percent all male. 
‘mine,’ he croons, his large hand curling around the back of your neck to hold you in place. the word alone is enough to cause the heat that pools into the space between your legs, similar to the sensation of pride. taken aback by your own reaction, you attempt to tug back from his touch, but your own body betrays you, quickly relishing in the heat of the palm of his hand. his thumb strokes at the jugular vein on the right side of your neck, and you watch, wide-eyed, as the corner of his mouth lifts as he feels for the rapid pulsing. then, as if he remembers that you’re not alone, he’s leaning back, your neck suddenly cold now that he’s no longer touching you. you blink, dazed. 
your father clears his throat, a tad awkwardly. 
‘him?’ 
the lone word that escapes your lips causes a mixed reaction. the dark-haired man, along with his acquaintance, both gawk at you with expressions of disbelief and amusement. the pink-haired man pulls a funny face as if he’s trying not to laugh, the brunette peering down at you, a dark brow raised. your father, however, looks mortified. 
‘… gojo-sama is very well respected,’ he sings praises as if he hadn’t just met the other male just a couple of days ago. ‘he owns these forests, and this town, too. he—’
‘do you know what happens when a wild finds his mate?’ 
the room is silent as he speaks and you dare not to raise your head to meet his gaze. you feel his fingers tapping under your chin, tilting your head up to his own. your eyes zero in on that scar of his, your fingers itching to touch it again, but you settle for curling them into the tattered fabric of what was once your favourite dress. his breath fans across your cheek and you become all too aware of just how close he’s leaning, uncaring of your small audience. his hand seem to scorch your skin, pulse thumping against your neck so rapidly that it’s almost uncomfortable. 
‘my blood heals you,’ he murmurs, voice suddenly much deeper. ‘and yours…’ he trails off, your spike of fear suddenly hitting him square in the face as the tips of his fingers brush against your brow in order to calm the throbbing in your neck. the taste of your fear doesn’t sit right with him, and it loiters in the air, thick. 
his wild itches to ease your discomfort, but gojo presses down the urge with a deep inhale through his nostrils, willing it away as his hand slips from the side of your face. 
‘yours strengthens my very being.’ 
‘alpha blood,’ itadori chimes in, grinning. ‘s’like liquid platinum.’ geto roughly elbows the younger man in the ribs, and itadori grunts, rubbing the sore spot with a scowl, ‘what was that for?’ geto glares down at him, and even the human male shares the same expression. 
you fixate onto the word alpha. 
something changes within you. he scents it before your expression shifts, eyes filtering a shade or two darker. 
both geto and itadori stiffen by the door, sharing a look as they await the order that they are sure is to come. your father, the human male, nervously shifts on the spot, but gojo isn’t paying attention. 
he watches your pupils expand until they are blown wide, unfocused as you peer up at him. a small, pale hand stretches to him and he allows his eyelids to flutter as his wild greedily welcomes your touch. it’s not enough, he needs more, he thinks, his eyes daring to dart down to your lips. your palm flattens against the side of his face, index finger tracing that wretched scar again. you appear entranced by it, and your attentions warm his skin. 
and then, you do what none of them expects.
you brace your weight on your left hand as you lean closer, right hand disappearing into the hair at the base of his neck, your fingers twisting into the locks of snow. you lick your lips, and his stare is transfixed to the slant of your neck, his gums itching as he feels his canines elongate. there’s already a heat forming a sweat under the collar of his shirt and his stomach twists, with nerves or anticipation, he’s unsure. he struggles to not announce his desire to the entire room, although he’s sure they can sense it anyway. swallowing hard, his throat bobbing as he does so, he exhales through his nostrils, struggling to hide the shiver that trickles down his spine. 
and then you whisper one word, calling out to the wild that quivers under the surface of his skin. 
‘alpha.’ 
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newtonsheffield · 2 years
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Okay, I understand that kids can be cruel but making fun of poor baby Hyacinth because she doesn't have a mum? My heart is breaking 💔 I would have hoped those kids' mums would have stepped in with some compassion. What is it like when Kate shows up with Hyacinth for Mother's Day?
Anonymous asked: Can we see Kate at Hyacinth’s Mother’s Day at school in modern bruises???
okay, Let's take a look at Kate attending her first mother's day event
"Hey, how big of a deal is it if I can't come to London on the 17th?"
She heard the confusion even before Edwina spoke. "I mean... not a huge deal? Mum and I can drive up Saturday afternoon. Everything okay?"
Kate's stomach churned a little, "I... fucked up? And I didn't realise that Hyacinth's class was doing a Mother's day morning tea thing and it's really important to her that I go and I just... I have to be here."
Kate's heart had sunk in her chest when Hyacinth had burst into tears this afternoon, awful gut-wrenching sobs right there outside Tesco. And as soon as she'd told Kate what was wrong, it had sunk like a lead weight. And she couldn't stop thinking about it, how she'd been that little girl once, in almost the same situation, with a mother's day card she'd made at school, unsure if Mary would accept it.
"Yeah, you should stay." There was almost too much understanding in her voice, gentle and calm. "And don't be too hard on yourself. You didn't know, okay?"
"I didn't... I forgot that they did things like this and last year Daphne went and I just thought. I thought she'd want Daphne to go instead of me."
"I think that you're really underestimating how they all care for you. You have... a big impact on their life and they want to appreciate you. Just be open to it."
She'd let it wash over her, even as she sat on the sofa with Anthony's arms tight around her, his nose pressed against his neck, his sweater warm and soft behind her. Safe.
"I'm not going to London on Friday after all."
Anthony stilled behind her for just a moment, "Is everything okay? Mary and Eddie still coming up for Sunday?"
"Yeah I just - Hyacinth asked me to go to the Mother's day morning tea, and I don't want to disappoint her."
she heard it, the emotion in his voice, his fingers fiddling with the rings on her left hand. "I really love you."
That settled in her chest as well, stinging at her eyes, "Yeah, I really love you too."
Kate couldn't stop the anxiety that rose in her chest when Hyacinth slipped out of the car that morning, scrambling back to look at Kate through the window. "You're coming back right? You promised me."
"I'm just going to pick up Daphne and I'll be back. I promise, petal."
"Okay, 10 o'clock! Don't forget! And you know which room is mine right?"
Kate couldn't help but smile, "Yes, petal, I'll know exactly where to find you."
"Okay! I'll see you later then!"
"Don't let them scare you." daphne hummed as they got out of the car not so very long later, ladened down with muffins.
"Don't let Who scare me?" Kate tried to seem confident, making her way through the school, sitting outside the classroom on a tiny bench next to her sister in law.
"The other mothers. Honestly, they're vicious but you have just as much right to be here as they do."
Steadily they arrived, the women whose eyes had followed her since she'd arrived with Anthony on that Saturday morning with his hand in hers and stars in her eyes and fallen in love with all of them.
"Daphne, who's your friend?" A woman called out with a snide little lilt in her voice, tilting her head.
As if you don't know. Daphne had muttered before she turned towards her. "Have you not met Anthony's wife, Jane? This is Kate."
She'd held her hand out, her eyes skimming over her. "Mmm, I thought I recognised you from your... adverts." She waved her hand.
"Nice to met you." Kate mumbled.
Jane hadn't returned the sentiment. "Nice of you to support poor Hyacinth. She doesn't have anybody the poor dear. I suppose the two of you almost count."
Kate's chest had felt tight, railing against it. "I... might not be her mother but I'm Anthony's wife and I am one of her main caregivers."
"Oh of course you are."
Kate had almost responded, almost bit angrily back but at that moment, Mrs Danbury opened the door of the classroom and Hyacinth's voice screeched through the tiny courtyard.
"Kate! You came! Mrs Danbury! My Kate's here!"
And nothing else mattered but the fact that Hyacinth sat right next to her for the rest of the morning, her tiny hand clutching Kate's hand as she introduced her to every other child in the class.
"This is Kate! She married my Anthony so she's like my Mum now!"
And she didn't look anything but happy.
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fatherforgivethem · 9 months
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A modern au of Helaena and Alicent because they are two women who deserve so much love and something as simple as a hug
Alicent woke to the sound of her phone wringing. It was a loud and alarming sound when being compared the content silence that had passed through her bedroom only moments ago.
She had rubbed her eyes in an attempt to make the sleep that threatened to take over leave. She moved towards her phone, the sheets wrinkling with the movement, and accepted the call.
“Hello” she said, her voice thick with sleep.
“Mum?”
The sound of Helaena’s voice, and more so how her voice was laced with emotion, made her sit up straight. “Helaena? What’s wrong?” She asked with worry.
“Mum,” Helaena sobbed over the line, “Can you please just answer the door. I-I’m out front. I know it’s late I’m sorr-“
Alicent stood from her bed and quickly walked out of the bedroom and down the hall, “I’m opening the door.”
She had practically run to the front door. She yanked it open, and the sight of Helaena almost made her crumble. Her sweet daughter was standing on the porch, drenched from the rain, and sobbing.
Alicent pulled her into her arms and closed the door behind her, “Helaena, what’s wrong? What happened?” She pressed for answers.
Helaena, through her sobs, was unable to answer her. Alicent pushed back the wet stands of hair from her face and cupped her daughters face between her hands gently. “Oh my sweet girl, what’s happened, my love?”
Helaena looked up at her and shook her head, “You’re going to be so mad.” She said in a whisper. Alicent shook her head and gave Helaena a gentle smile, “Never, my love.”
They stood there for a moment, and when Alicent noticed the shiver to her daughters shoulders, she wrapped her arm around Helaena’s shoulders and began to lead her up the stairs and towards her bedroom.
“How about this, you take a shower and get in some warm clothes, I’ll make us some tea, and you’ll tell me what’s bothering you at this hour. Hmm?”
Helaena turned to look at her and gave her a nod. Alicent stroked Helaena’s cheek gently and nodded her head as well, “I’ll bring the tea up for us.”
—————————
The two sat in Alicent’s bed as they sipped on their tea. The warmth of the tea brought both of them a sense of comfort. Though, when enough time had gone by, and Alicent couldn’t wait any longer, she placed her tea on the night table and turned to Helaena, “Are you ready to talk?” She asked.
Helaena drummed her fingers along the cup, but eventually, she placed her own cup on the night table and turned to look at her mother.
“Please promise you won’t be upset.”
Alicent picked along the skin of her fingers, “Helaena, the more that you hide away from the reason you’re here in the middle of the night, the more nervous I get. Did something happen with Aegon?”
Helaena shook her head, “N-no Aegon didn’t do anything. I mean, it involves him- but he didn’t- he’s not- we didn’t fight or anything.”
Alicent placed her hands atop of Helaena’s and held them firmly, “Helaena.”
Helaena nodded and took a deep breath, “I-I took a uh- I took a test,” Helaena blinked up at her and sighed, “Mum, I’m pregnant.”
Alicent felt like the world had gone silent. Or if she had lost all of her hearing. Like the sound of the world around her had been snatched away with the two words that slipped from Helaena’s lips.
When she had noticed the fear that covered Helaena’s features, she realized that she had been silent for to long. Alicent inhaled, and exhaled. And then she did that a few more times until it felt like the air was actually returning to her lungs. Her sweet daughter, her beautiful girl who used to make Alicent play dolls with her in the flower beds because that’s where all of the bugs were. Her Helaena who used to come into her room when the storms would scare her. Helaena who would hold her hand when they would walk along the edge of the lake.
Her Helaena who cried tears of joy when Aegon and her had finally admitted their feelings for one another. Her sweet girl who still likes to go to lunch with Alicent twice a week because she was “never too old to hang out with her mom”. Her sweet baby girl who she held in her arms when she was only twenty years old, had just told her that she was pregnant at only twenty-one.
She looked at her daughter now, at the fear and unshed tears that pooled in her beautiful eyes, and she wanted nothing more than to comfort her in the ways that no one else had when she was this young.
Alicent placed her hands on each side of Helaena’s face and chuckled a wet laugh. She leaned forward and kissed Helaena’s head, “Oh my sweet girl. I could never be mad at such a blessing. I could never be angry with you for this.”
“You’re not angry?” Helaena said as silent tears fell down her face. Alicent shook her head firmly and whipped away the tears with her thumb, “Never.”
Helaena smushed herself into Alicent’s arms and Alicent pulled her close to herself and kissed the top of her sliver head. “I’m so scared.” Helaena whispered into the crook of Alicent’s neck.
Alicent nodded her head and rubbed a soothing hand along Helaena’s back gently, “I know my love. But you have Aegon, and your brothers, you have me. You have a family who loves you so much. A family who never let anything bad happen to you. We’ll all be here for you, my love.”
Helaena snuggled closer to Alicent and Alicent rocked her back and forth absentmindedly, “It’s ok to be scared, my darling. It’s ok. I promise you that it’s ok.”
Helaena leaned up and kissed Alicent on the cheek, “I love you, mum.”
Alicent pulled her daughter closer, “I love you too, my sweet girl.”
(If you read this, I really hope you liked it!! I love Alicent and Helaena and I couldn’t get this idea out of my head and I needed to write it down! I’m really sorry if this has any mistakes lol because it’s really late and I’m half asleep!!)
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super-predictable98 · 4 months
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The Galaxies of Gallifrey
Chapter 2: This is Ace
Word Count: 1,8 k
Warning: SPOILERS FOR THE GIGGLE
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2023: Guarujá, Brazil 
"Not bad, huh?" The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS and then held his wife's hand as she followed. "Seems like a nice place. Perfect for our very very very belated honeymoon. Do you like it?"
"I love it, Doc," Gallifrey wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him lovingly. "I can't believe we are finally getting some peace and quiet... it's like a dream." 
"We just gotta keep the TARDIS nearby to translate for us, Portuguese is not one of the languages I speak."
"But I do," she nudged his arm. "My father was Brazilian. I've been here before, that's why I suggested it." 
"You have? What other secrets have you been keeping from me?" The Doctor stared at her in disbelief. 
"Guess you'll have to find out... if I remember correctly, there was a pizza place with the best pizza in the world, we can order that later. And I need to find the Cafe I used to go to, they have the most divine cake, just a ferry ride away. Oh, look! The bakery and the newsstand are still here, it's been ages!" 
"Alright then, for once you're the one leading the expedition," he chuckled as he looked around, taking in the scenery and the delicious smell of the sea.
"How about we have a walk on the beach then? I miss it so much." 
"Sounds good, but we need to be careful. I don't want sand in the TARDIS."
"We don't need to go back to the TARDIS so fast... My grandma has a flat right there, we can stay for as long as we want."
"Gal! What else don't I know about my wife? A whole flat? We'll need to bring Mel, Donna, and the family sometime."
The couple held hands and made their way to the seashore. For the first time in their lives, they felt normal, a normal couple enjoying their time together without worries. 
"Are you going mad already? Regretting your decision?" Gallifrey asked before picking up a shell off the sand hoping to find a hermit crab inside.
"Not one bit, this is our new adventure. Living one day after the other, having our family, finding jobs, buying a house, having your mother over for dinner, visiting Donna... I never thought that's what I wanted, but I've been fighting all those battles and now I know what for. I've never been so happy in my life," the Doctor smiled, genuinely satisfied with the feeling that he was exactly where he was meant to be.
"Speaking of my mother, we should probably call her soon, she's been worried. I can't imagine her as some fearless, rebel adventurer."
"Your mother was insane, she wasn't scared of anything! Well, almost anything. I often had to tell her to back down, or she would've exploded the universe already."
"That doesn't sound like her at all! I need to see this side of her... I admit I'll miss adventuring, we had some awful times but some really good times as well. We can never forget it, never let these memories die." 
"Don't worry about that, I have an exceptional memory, I remember every second with you," he wrapped his arm around her. 
"Every second?" 
"Every second." 
*
Late 2006: London 
Gallifrey Gale McShane woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, her Charitable Earth shirt was soaked and she cried. She sobbed uncontrollably, enough for her head to hurt.
"Mama!" 
"Gallifrey!" Dorothy barged into the room and took her daughter in her arms. "Gallifrey, what's wrong? Are you hurt?" 
"It hurts, Mum! It hurts my heart! My chest feels like it's on fire." 
"Did you have a nightmare, sweetie?" 
"Not really..." she took a deep breath and coughed before being able to talk. "There was a beach in Norway, the Bad Wolf Bay, there was a blonde girl, she was crying. There was the man in a suit, he disappeared. I don't know what I was looking at, but I know it hurt. It was forever." 
"Forever? What was forever?" 
"Their goodbye." 
"Aw, Galli... it was just a dream. You're always dreaming of the man in the suit, he can't hurt you."
"I don't think the man will hurt me, Mama, he wouldn't. But I can't reach him, he's in my dreams and I can't reach him. I feel like I'm meant to be there, I'm not meant to be here!" 
"You're meant to be in your dream with the man?" Dorothy chuckled. 
"Yeah! He's... he's the answer." 
Gallifrey was a very sensitive girl, she had just turned 20 and had plans to start university pretty soon. She wanted to study history and maybe teach or... or end up working in her mother's charity as Dorothy always had planned, no pressure of course. 
"Sweetheart, you're half asleep, you're not thinking straight. Just let me get you a new shirt, and you can get some sleep. The man in the suit won't come back." 
"That's what I'm scared of. He needs to come back. He can't leave me here." 
"Mummy's here, love," Dorothy kissed her forehead. "Now let's get some rest, big day at the charity tomorrow." 
Gallifrey switched her shirt and fell back against her pillow. It had been over a year since she started having those dreams. Dreams of other worlds, time travel, aliens... and love.
The next morning Gallifrey was feeling very tired, she wasn't able to rest at all. Not after that dream. She just cried and cried for hours until she practically passed out. 
"How are you feeling, Galli?" Dorothy asked. 
"Like hell." 
"I'm sorry, do you wanna skip the event today? Get some sleep." 
"I can't sleep right now. I wanna go, it'll keep me distracted. Just give me ten minutes and I'll be ready." 
Gallifrey fixed her hair in a ponytail, she put some makeup on and a dress. It was December so her mother warned her to get a coat. 
"Can I borrow that blue one you have?" She asked. "It's the only one that matches this dress."
"Of course, it's in the wardrobe," Dorothy mindlessly said.
The wardrobe looked the same, it had the same clothes as always, but this time... this time Gallifrey's hand didn't find the blue coat, instead it was instantly attracted to the very back where she found a black jacket covered in patches and pins.
"This is so cool," she breathed before putting it on. "Wow, who knew Mum could be cool?" 
Having that jacket on felt different, it felt electric. So much energy surging through her and she had no idea why... couldn't possibly be the jacket. Right?
*
Early 2006: London
"Jesus Christ you scared me!" The Doctor jumped when he entered the TARDIS and saw her standing there. "Wait... where's Rose?" 
"Rose? I... I don't know. Where the hell am I? What happened?" 
The Doctor analyzed her carefully and suddenly his face lit up.
"I know that jacket... you know Ace!"
"Who?"
"Ace McShane of course."
"I don't know who that is. This is my mother's jacket, you must be mistaken."
"Your mother?"
"My mother, Dorothy McShane from Charitable Earth, you might've heard of her."
"Ooooh yeah, I get it," the Doctor nodded, remembering what happened and how Ace's memory was wiped before she was returned to Earth. "What's your name?" 
"I'm Gallifrey," she mumbled. "Wait a second... You're the man in the suit!" 
"I suppose I am. Gallifrey?" He chuckled, a big goofy grin on his face. "Guess she didn't completely forget me after all." 
"What am I doing here? What is this place?" She started freaking out a bit. "I was just in my mum's bedroom, I blinked and I was here. How did that happen?" 
"You're in the TARDIS, time and relative dimension in space. It's my ship, it travels anywhere and to any time you want. Usually I have a companion, but she seems to be lost right now..." 
"Is your companion the blonde girl?" 
The Doctor nodded, hating the way her voice trembled. The idea that something might've happened to Rose broke his hearts.
"Have you seen her?" 
"Yes... in my dream. I- I'm sorry, she's gone. To another world." 
"What? When?"
"Last night, December 20th." 
"Gallifrey, today is February 5th." 
"2006?" 
"Yeah, you saw my future and somehow changed my present, but how?"
The Doctor thought for a moment. If there was a way to get Rose back, he would take it, but if their future was a bitter goodbye in which she was forced into another world... did he even want that? Wouldn't it be better to save them the heartache? 
"Rose went to another universe? So it's possible her existence was completely erased from this one. Her time with me... it's all a memory."
"Maybe we can find her!" Gallifrey suggested. 
"We can try, but the timeline is already fixing itself. It required someone to fill her place and you were just soaked with time travel radiation because of the jacket. So it sent me you, the TARDIS knows you." 
"Radiation? Is that dangerous?" Gallifrey looked down at herself terrified. 
"No, it's completely harmless. It's just the sort of radiation that accumulates as a result of one traveling in time. Your mother had lots of it and she must've passed it onto you too."
"My mother? She traveled in time?" She laughed, it was such a ridiculous notion. Her mother, the biggest homebody she knew, the most cautious person ever!
"Oh yeah," the Doctor grinned. "With me, when she was younger and went by Ace. We were best friends!"
"Yeah right..." 
"Why else would you have the name you have? Do you know what your name means?" 
"No, always thought she got it from a fantasy book or something."
"Gallifrey is the name of my home planet, I'm a Time Lord. Unfortunately, I can't show you since I'm all that's left of that planet, but she knew about it. Her memory was wiped but in the back of her brain she remembered." 
For some reason, she wanted to believe him. She did believe him. It was like somehow she knew him of old, like they were connected by this invisible string. The man in the suit wouldn't lie to her, she was sure of that just as she was sure he wouldn't hurt her.
"So what now?" Gallifrey asked.
"Now we look for Rose like you said, it's worth a try... I'm the Doctor by the way." 
"Doctor, Doctor who?" 
"Just Doctor." 
"Alright then, Doctor. Let's find Rose!"
"You seem excited already," he teased. 
"Well, I finally found the man in the suit I've been looking for in my dreams for a year. This is ace! Let's go, Professor."
"What did you just call me?" His eyes widened.
"Um, I don't know..." her brows furrowed, but she shrugged with a smile. "Wicked."
Tag list: @jozstankovich
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dorianslayyy · 1 month
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13 Books Tag Game
Tagged by @bubblegum-blackwood
1) The last book I read:
Iron Flame by Rebecca Yarros - I absolutely devoured this sequel, omg. Obviously it’s nothing fancy or anything like that but hey what’s wrong with a smutty YA? Not to mention DRAGONS
2) A book I recommend:
Perfume by Patrick Süskind - when I read it I had no idea it was a whole entire modern classic, I just picked it up at Oxfam for like 3 for £1 or something but, wow, I can 100% understand how it earned that status! If you like an eery not-too-long horror story with the most beautiful imagery describing some fucked up gothic storylines and a lot of social commentary, you’ll love this book!
3) A book that I couldn’t put down:
Ahhh ok, im gonna say In Memoriam by Alice Winn. The ending was… idk I wasn’t really a fan of the ending, I thought it kind of disengaged and took away from the struggles and severity of war and sexuality the rest of the book portrayed but until that point the rest of the story was everythingggg, there’s a sweet forbidden romance/coming of age/found family in the 1910’s propelling into a story of the horror of WW1 and losing everything you know. All I can really say is that I read it all in one go (more or less) and it had me laughing and sobbing throughout
4) A book I’ve read twice (or more):
I mean… there’s an obvious choice here - The Picture Of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. HOWEVER I’m going to absolutely cheat and also say Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë, the drama, the trauma, the vast majority of these characters are awful and I love it 🤌🤌
5) A book on my TBR:
So many… so so many… I’m gonna say House Of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski tho because it was expensive and it’s cool looking and I’ve actually been meaning to read that for a while but boy howdy it’s huge
6) A book I’ve put down:
The Tale Of The Body Thief by Anne Rice UGHH I’m trying so hard!! It’s so many words with so little going on, and I do enjoy it, I really do, it’s so goofy, but it’s so.. i mean verbose isn’t really quite the right word but you know what I mean. Sorry mutuals :( I just need a break to read something short and silly - which I’ve almost finished the little series I’m currently reading
7) A book on my wish list:
Prophet Song by Paul Lynch - it sounds absolutely soul crushing and miserable, I know this completely contradicts what I just said about being in the mood for a silly read but <333
8) A favorite book from childhood:
Omg 10000x the Skulduggery Pleasant series by Derek Landy, guys you don’t understand, as much as I would love to talk about how my mum and I used to sit and read Anne Of Green Gables before bed or my Enid Blyton obsession when I was like 6, Skulduggery Pleasant was my absolute jam - I must’ve read that series (the original 9 + spin offs) a million times in primary school. I did keep up with phase 2 when that was coming out but I don’t know if I’ll bother with phase 3, I’m just too old now and phase 2 wasn’t all that imo - I think it’s sort of beating a dead horse at this point :( but the original 9 and Maleficent Seven/Armageddon Outta Here were my childhood and I definitely absorbed Valkyrie Cain into my identity as a child so that series probably shaped a big part of who I am and my hobbies as an adult
9) A book you would give to a friend:
Love On The Brain by Ali Hazelwood. Silly, nerdy, fun, a cute little Pride and Prejudice-esque enemies to lovers feat. women in STEM
10) A book of poetry or lyrics that you own:
Ok so anyone who’s seen my other poetry blog @apoemadaykeepsthehoesaway knows my obsession with The Complete Poems of Wilfred Owen (I have a lot of difference versions) AHHH by far my favourite poet - as you can imagine with such a young man, you can clearly see his changing mentalities, his growth as a person and a writer, his influences, and really gather a lot of context for what’s going on with him in general through his poems. And he grew up in all the same areas I grew up in and hung around as a kid/younger teen, which I think adds to my personal interest in him too. Idk ig we’re very close friends on a parasocial level lol.
And ofc there really aren’t that many poets around that give such visceral, truthful, and emotional insights to the First World War as Owen does (also a queer icon). He was my intro to war literature and I have tattoos relating to him, he and his work are just incredible to read about, would highly recommend having a look at Siegfried Sassoon’s war poems too; another very blunt poet who was a celebrity and war protestor at the time and happened to mentor Wilfred Owen, as well as being linked with other influential folks of the time such as Robbie Ross, Stephen Tennant, Rupert Brooke, and Ivor Novello. Ok Ill move on :,)
11) A nonfiction book you own:
Surprisingly I quite like nonfiction, mainly history and essays from philosophers and the like. Speaking of, Friedrich Nietzsche’s Beyond Good And Evil is a pretty solid one I own, I’ve never read anything where the author begins by calling himself and all his coworkers socially inept incels 🥹 but even though I don’t remember the specific reason I bought it (I was reading it to argue against some other philosophers in an essay in college and I really don’t remember who or what it was) I remember it being a really interesting read
Or yknow in a more traditional sense of non-fiction, I also have Notes On A Nervous Planet by Matt Haig. Really helped me get through some stuff, if you’re struggling with anxiety or feeling a bit down lately I’d very much recommend
12) What are you currently reading:
Omg ok, The Hitchhiker Trilogy by Douglas Adams, I’m currently on book 3 of 5 - Life, The Universe, And Everything. Really silly and nonsensical space bs but somehow also a bleakly satirical social commentary on the unseriousness of our ‘serious’ world. Really enjoyable, fairly political to some degree, really short (around or less than 200 pages a book), really fun. Martin Freeman truly was the perfect casting for Arthur Dent in the film of the first book. Full of that quintessentially British cynical humour and of course plenty of cups of tea
To give a little preview, the second book literally opens “The story so far: In the beginning, the Universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.”
13) What are you planning on reading next?
Books 4 and 5 of The Hitchhiker Trilogy, and then I suppose I had better carry on reading The Tale Of The Body Thief :D
Tagging whoever wants to have a go, it’s super fun, sorry if I went on a bit on some of these 😅
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tobthoughts · 6 months
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fuzzy memories
saturday, november 25th, 02:29am
tw - child sexual abuse, s/h
i’ve always battled with addiction. always. it runs in my family. both parents were smokers. my dad’s an alcoholic. he used to do coke off the kitchen sides when i was little.
my memories of childhood are always disjointed. my therapist told me i’ve compartmentalised a lot of it. it’s a coping mechanism, she says. i have a lot of those. i was disconnected from my trauma for so long that i don’t know what to do with the knowledge.
i did emdr to recover some of my lost memories. well, buried memories is more fitting. i hid them so deep in my mind that i had to go through three different forms of psychotherapy before i remembered it. i know there’s still some in there. the worst ones. emdr stands for “eye movement desensitisation and reprocessing”, where they shine lights in my eyes while they make me talk about what happened to me. it worked, i remembered, but it didn’t help. now i am cursed with the knowledge of how it felt. how it hurt.
i started hurting myself when i was too young to know what the longterm effects would be. i was 9 when my mum took me to the doctor. they ran tests to see if the injuries were allergic reactions or something more. when they told her it was nothing medical, that i was harming myself, she was shocked. she didn’t know about what was happening to me. i was just a “normal” kid. i had good grades. i had friends. there was nothing outwardly wrong with me. so why would i self harm? i had scrubbed patches of my skin off while trying to cleanse myself. my face, my arms. my legs. leaving open, weeping wounds where he had touched me.
i became open about my suicidal thoughts and tendencies with her when i was 11. this is when i started cutting, properly. this was the beginning of my self harm addiction. i remember breaking down in my kitchen sobbing to her because she asked me if i really wanted to die. telling her i did. telling her i didn’t know what was wrong with me, i just felt dirty all the time. that dying would make it stop. she still didn’t know what he had done. she set me up with my first therapist. i think it helped.
everything came out when i was 12. the last time i saw that man. the man who ruined me, who took my childhood from me. the man who still, 6 years later, haunts my dreams. my nightmares. my dad brought me and my sister home after spending the day at his house. i said goodbye to him, said hello to my mum, and went to shower. i scrubbed at my skin until it was raw. i wanted to get rid of the feeling of his hands on me. i wanted to be clean. it hurt to keep scrubbing but it felt like all i could do. when i finally got out, i discarded the tainted clothes in a pile under my bed - out of sight. i put my pyjamas on. i went downstairs and had the hardest conversation i’ve had in my life. it’s the only part of the next chain of events that i have a clear recollection of.
“mum?”
“yes?”
“you know john?”
“yes… why?”
i paused for just a moment too long. i was holding back tears.
“what happened?”
i could hear the panic creeping into her voice.
“he touched me.”
almost a whisper. the only thing i managed before i broke down. i sobbed, hysterically, into my mother’s arms. i know she tried to ask me more but i couldn’t respond. couldn’t do anything. i just cried. she told my stepdad to call the police, and he did. it took 45 minutes for them to come to our house. they took my statement, and my clothes. my auntie, a probation officer, came over to our house to try to comfort me. she used her work voice on me. it didn’t help. i told the police everything i could about the two times that i could remember, the one that i told my mum about, the one that had happened on that day… and the one that happened while my parents were still together. i was seven when they split up, which places my age at around five or six. i remember wearing uncomfortably tight jeans in an attempt to stop him from touching me. to prevent him from taking me to that bathroom. i couldn’t remember anything more at that point - but the knowledge that i wore those jeans to stop him meant that it had already happened at least once.
there were so many people there on that day. SO MANY. women, my dad’s friends, who asked me if i was okay. they all got so fucking plastered that they don’t remember. one man, i don’t remember who, saw me and john in the corridor outside of the bathroom and said “is everything alright here?”. i kept quiet. terrified that if i said anything, he would take my tongue, too. as if what he was doing wouldn’t take enough of me. i know that my abuser said yes, and i know that man just left me there. 12 years old. i felt like a lamb being sent to slaughter. once he left me i knew i would just have to let it happen, just as i had before. it hurt so, so much. less than the first time, but he was so violent with me… i feel sick.
my mum was swearing a lot when i recorded my statement. she cried a lot, too. she said he used to babysit me when she and my dad went for days out. how many times had it happened before? how much did he really take from me?
i know that she felt like she had failed as a parent. she didn’t. it’s not her fault, just like how it’s not my fault. she works with victims of crime, that’s her job, so she blames herself for not seeing the signs. there were so many signs…
but you wouldn’t know unless you were looking. and she wasn’t looking.
i’ve remembered more now, through years of intensive therapy. i still get flashbacks of what he did to me. i still get nightmares. it doesn’t go away. everything made sense when i finally spoke up. why i felt dirty. why i hurt myself.
i never really stopped hurting myself.
i’ve had some flashbacks recently. i think that’s one of the reasons why i’m getting bad again. i don’t know what’s triggering them, so i can’t make it stop. i can, however, keep using my addictions as an attempt to cope. i smoke a pack of 20 in a day, on a bad day. i had previously quit smoking. i keep cutting, i haven’t been clean for more than two days at a time since i first relapsed. i’m addicted again. i knew it would happen. i think about it all the time, it’s the only thing that gives me a release, even temporarily.
except writing. i wrote this so i could keep the thoughts quiet for a while. it worked. but i know when i stop writing i’m going to want to do it again.
oh well.
at least i’m still here.
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somatheking · 1 year
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“Is this what you’re really like, or was that an act?”
"No, I—" he says, drying his cheeks with the sleeve of his lab coat. “It might be hard to believe, coming from someone like me,” he started, trying to let out a chuckle and instead releasing something that resembles a shuddering sob. “But yeah, this is what I’m really like. Not many things get me this sensitive, though.” 
There’s tears streaming down his face that just keep on coming no matter how hard he’s trying to force himself to stop, and he really is trying, but he’s powerless to do anything against it. He can only stare at his wet hands in a mixture of disbelief and wonder before giving up. It’s nighttime, he’s just returned from a game and today more than any other day there’s a sensation of wrongness that permeates the air; the songs aren’t blasting as loud from the speakers, the strikingly vibrant colours of the Beach (swimwear, cocktails, the almost sparkling bright blue from the swimming pool) all seem dull and faded. The delicate veneer of safety, comfort and purpose the Beach brought was especially thin tonight, and it feels like the Borderlands are mocking him as much as all the players. A pawn, a different kind, but a pawn nonetheless in a game with no end to it.  
So for once, for once, he lets himself sink into the cathartic feeling of sadness that creeps up on him every time this particular subject is mentioned.
‘I want to go back to my mother.’
He still remembers the last day he spent in the real world with a clarity it wouldn’t possess had it just been another normal day. In another circumstances, it would’ve blended into the blurry amalgamate of dayshoursmonths that had formed after The Incident. But as it was, he could still feel the blazing sun, the gust of wind blowing through Shibuya and rustling the leaves and the trash, an agitation in the air, as if it was already attempting to warn them of what was to come. 
A weight in the right pocket of his jeans. Text from Mum: “Please call me. I’m worried about you.”
That was the last thing his mother would know of her son. A text that had been left on read for days. Unanswered calls. Knocks that echoed into the hallway and rumbled across the walls of a silent apartment. And after last having seen him, pale and stumbling on his words and keeping her at arm’s length when he went to confess what he’d done, the next time they’d meet each other would be with Soma in a casket. Some people claimed that a parent’s worst tragedy would be to bury their children, and knowing his mother, he was certain it’d be true for her. 
He remembers a quote from one of Kuzuryuu’s stupid books, right as a murderer is about to confess to his crime, accompanied by the woman he loves: “I wanted her tears, I wanted to see her terror, to see how her heart ached! I had to have something to cling to, something to delay me, some friendly face to see!”
If he’d been allowed to see his mother one last time before making the decision, he’d have chosen differently. He's certain. If he’d been allowed to see his father, he’d have chosen differently. If Kuzuryuu had been right beside him, he’d have chosen differently. 
But, bitter and alone, he’d decided to stay. 
He looks into Kuina’s eyes, brown and innocent and with a spark he knows he lacks. It’s something he can’t help but adore; there hasn’t been a single moment during the borderlands where he’s stared at himself in the mirror and seen a light behind his eyes, but he loves finding it in the players’ gaze. A will to keep on fighting, love, written so clearly all over her face, pouring out with every word she speaks. Love, love, love… He wants it now, wants to snatch it and treasure it like a zealous miser hoarding his money; it’s mine now, I’m not letting go of it, when’s the last time I’ve ever felt anything? Let me keep it, let me fill my empty chest, sate my hungry heart… And so, he stares. Hypnotised, mesmerised. As if he is trying to absorb her drive and determination by osmosis alone. 
He hadn’t been strong enough to choose to return to his life, but Kuina is. And in that moment, in the five seconds of despair he felt as they looked at each other and Soma was reminded of what he’d sacrificed to become a citizen, he would’ve given her anything she asked for. It’s too late for me, but not for you. If there’s anyone in this godforsaken place who deserves to go back, it’s her, and luckily, he can actually do something to help. Not much, just a push. She still has to walk down her path, but he can be there to take away any stones he finds along the way. 
“I really hope you get back to her, Kuina,” he says, possibly the first time she’s ever seen him this serious. Maybe because, in a way, he’s offering these words as a promise. “And I hope you haven’t become a different person once you do. It’d be a shame. I rather like you as you are.”
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renee-writer · 2 years
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Out of Time Chapter 2
AO3
She holds her breath as she passes the windows. How much it would help is anyone’s guess. The problem is the building, though well made, isn’t completely sealed. The windows need more weather sealing. The mist, whatever it is, can come through it.
She takes a deep breath when she enters the storage closet. Good, the gas mask is where the doctor said it would be. Now to see if it is up to date and rated high enough. She sits on an overturned mop bucket and studies it. Good. Very good. The terrorism that has plagued Great Britain has made the administration cautious enough to keep the mask ready. Is there more? Is this a terrorist act?
Okay Captain Beauchamp, first things first. Let’s check out what you are here to do. Has the blasted mist dissipated at the sun fall?
Faith watches Doctor Jamie pace around the room. If he is nervous then, what of them? Though only four, she is quite bright. Something is very wrong. If her mum and papa are alive, they would be with her. They know how she gets scared. That thought brings a sob she can’t hold back. He turns to her.
She slips it on and opens the door. The building isn’t the real test. Deliberately, she slows her breath. Okay, you have trained for this, she tells herself as she approaches the first door to the outside. The darkness beyond is complete enough to make seeing if the enemy was still present impossible. She pushes the door open and walks out.
“Faith?” he walks over to her. She sits on the couch, her broken leg laying across it. The other children lay asleep on the other two chairs that make up the break area.
“Their dead ain’t they, my parents?”
“My love, I’m sorry. They are.” He had seen them among the dead in the corridor adjacent to the ward the children were in.
She sobs as he holds her, helpless to do more. He prays that Captain Beauchamp has good news when she returns. He prays she does return.
She knows immediately. Though the darkness still hides it, it is a feeling, a creepiness, like the air is trying to find an opening in. The good news is the gas mask work. The bad? The mist that killed all the others is still here. If they are to get the children out, they will need a way to protect them from it.
She hurries back in, shuddering from in invasiveness of it. It is almost alive, or so it seems. Shaking her head, she heads to he closet and to bleach to decontaminate the mask before removing it.
He jumps when she enter the room. “Sorry I didn’t …” Seeing the little girl still sobbing in his arms, she stops, “she knows.” He nods.
“Yes, any luck?” She takes a seat beside him and begins to rub the child’s back.
“Some. The gas mask works. If we could find more…”
He gets it.
“It is still out there.”
“Yeah.”
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mytherapyjournel · 4 months
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entry 1
Have you ever sat there one day and asked yourself "what the fuck did I do in my past life to deserve this" because there is no way that one person deserves to be handed this much bullshit in one life? I have done my fair share of therapy sessions, been told to journal in all of them. Have I ever done it? Yeah. Did it work? No. Probably my fault for not taking it seriously enough, but let's give it a go then hey.
I think I feel more anger for the things that has happened to me from a young child to an adult at the ripe old age of 27 (almost 27 I should say, there's still 6 days) I hate the look of pity in peoples eyes when I'm anxious in a conversation and accidentally overshare a memory that my brain has numbed myself into thinking is normal. "I'm not a sob story, I'm a success" I tell them, as if that makes what I just said any better.
My therapist told me it's normal to think about the life I could have had if my dad wasn't an alcoholic, the thing is, I know what it would have been because I had it when he was sober. He was a great dad, stern but fair. He taught us right from wrong, how to be a strong woman and stand up for yourself from a very young age, this is all until he had a few too many beers and spirits to wash away his own trauma. Unless you grew up with an alcoholic parent its very hard relate to the feeling of having two dads; The great, supportive, incredible father every child deserves and the angry, violent, and irrational father no child should ever have to witness. It's almost like whiplash with how quickly they can turn into a different person but you learn to adapt. When I'm asked in job interviews "how do you adapt to be successful no matter what situation is thrown at you" a part of me wants to scream "I HAVE BEEN DOING THIS SINCE I WAS BORN" but I just give a bland, stock standard answer that usually gets them nodding their heads.
Anger. I held so much anger towards my mother for staying with my father, I now know it isn't fair. I have a vivid memory of my mother crying on the bathroom floor on the phone to one of her friends apologising for my dads behaviour after a day at the races (he got drunk and accused the friends husband of stealing his money, but he put the money away and forgot about it). She was sobbing, begging her friend to not tell anyone. This was the first time I as an 8 year old asking my mother to leave my father for her own happiness, but it would take another 9 years for her to build the courage and succeed at it. My mother was always the strict parent, she wanted her daughters to be raised right with high morals and self respect, until she left my father and I was allowed to go any party I wanted, drink alcohol underage, stay out all night and not worry about school. I was once again experiencing whiplash, but you tell a 15 year old they can do whatever they want and they think they have reached heaven.
I did many things I am not proud of in my younger years, I put myself into risky situations that I have no idea how I survived. I blamed my mum for this for a very long time, I would to think myself "why would she let me do that, she's meant to be a parent". Really I was just young and immature and couldn't hold myself accountable. I remember bringing this up to my therapist once and she turned to me and said "she did the best she could with what was provided to her, she had to choose between being mother or to survive and if she didn't survive, you wouldn't have a mother who is alive" Harsh? Yes. Correct? Absolutely. I hugged my mother tight that day, I thanked her for everything she has done to keep a roof over my head, food on the table and most importantly a safe place to sleep every night.
This when I knew that if I was actually going to be a success story, it would be up to myself.
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