#the end gets blurry but i went to one of the 'therapy' things and it was kinda terrifying

[steddieas-shegoes]

shit talkin' up all night

for @steddiesongfics song 'for the first time' by the script

rated m | 1,469 words | cw: alcohol, arguing | tags: angst with a happy ending, established relationship, robin buckley deserves an award for saving their relationship everyone say thank you robin, they're in love, eddie is just dumb for a bit

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The arguing started when Steve suggested they move back in with Wayne.

They were struggling; Eddie wasn't an idiot, he could see the told his unemployment was taking on their financial situation. They were able to cover rent from Steve's paycheck, but they had to cut back on literally everything else. No more date nights, no more trips to visit Dustin, no more buying the good bacon for breakfast.

It wasn't for lack of trying, it's just that Eddie only had a GED and no marketable skills outside of playing music. Any job he could get would make miserable.

"I just think if we take some time to save up, maybe you'll be able to find something you like and then it'll be better," Steve shrugged.

"I'm not moving back in with Wayne. He did enough for me already."

"Then I'll get another job."

"No, you're not working two jobs. I'll just...go work at the McDonald's."

"Eds, you would hate it there."

"Well, it's a paycheck."

Steve sighed and walked away.

And then it got worse.

Eddie did find a job. He worked part time at the music lesson school. It didn't pay nearly enough, but it was something.

Until one of the parents found out he was working there and threw a fit and he got fired. The owner apologized, but said if it came down to his business and Eddie, he had to let Eddie go.

Back to square one.

Steve was too understanding. It was frustrating.

Eddie started arguments just to make him mad.

Whatever would push him: leaving all the dirty dishes in the sink, staying out late without letting him know, buying the good bacon for breakfast when it wasn't in the budget.

It did start to work eventually.

"Why are you doing this?" Steve asked eventually, after two nights of Eddie coming home late for no other reason than to make Steve upset. He hadn't even done anything, just walked around downtown for a couple hours and thought about how much of a failure he'd been.

"I'm not doing anything," he'd say back.

Steve would push.

Eddie would push back.

Little things turned into big things.

And then Eddie came home drunk.

He hadn't even been to a bar, he hadn't been with anyone else. He'd gotten one six pack of beer and realized halfway through it that he hadn't eaten all day and kept drinking anyway.

The buzz was great until he was stumbling through the front door, waking Steve up from his half-slumber on the couch of the apartment.

Steve didn't even argue. He just shook his head and went to their bedroom, closing the door and making it clear he didn't want to be around Eddie.

The next morning, Steve was already gone when Eddie managed to roll off the couch.

"Steve's not gonna say it, so I will," Robin's voice made him trip over his boots on the floor. She was sitting in the armchair, glaring at him. "You're pushing him away because you don't think you deserve someone who is patient and loving. He used to try that shit with me, with the kids, with Hopper. Started shit just to see if we'd leave. Pretended he was the only one who could deal with his problems."

Eddie blinked back at her, vision blurry from sleep and unshed tears. He wasn't gonna cry in front of Robin.

"I could understand why he did it. He had shitty parents and shitty friends before all of us. Took him some time to get used to being cared for." Robin leaned forward. "But you've had Wayne for a long time. Us. Steve. So what is it that's causing this? Why are you hurting Steve? Why are you hurting yourself?"

Eddie had been to therapy for a month or so after everything. The government insisted on it. He'd even done what they asked of him. Talked about everything that happened, talked about his childhood, talked about being gay in a town that thought being gay was bad enough to send you to hell, but somehow still the least of Eddie's crimes.

The therapist told him it seemed like he was always preparing himself to get hurt, even with the people that he did trust. That was the last time he went to the therapist.

"Because this is all I'll ever be, Robin! Steve should get out while he can, find someone who isn't fuckin' useless. Someone who can get a real job or go to school or something."

"Is this because you can't be on your feet for more than a couple hours?"

Eddie was silent.

"Do you think that means you can't do things? Do you think Steve wants to watch you suffer more than you already have?"

Eddie shook his head once.

"Then here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna shower and clean up the house a little. You're gonna cook that chicken dish Steve loves so much because I went to the deli to get fresh ingredients for you. You're gonna open that bottle of wine I did not steal from Chrissy's restaurant. You're gonna talk to him."

"Okay."

"And then tomorrow, you're gonna come interview for a job at the museum. They're opening a new exhibit called Rock Through The Ages and they're looking for someone to do tours. It's four hours a day, five days a week. Pay is more than you made anywhere else plus tips. Interview is a formality, they already know you're qualified."

"Robin, I-"

"And you're gonna shut up. I love you, too, Eddie. And I love that dingus who loves you. So get your shit together so you can both be as happy as I know you can be."

Eddie hugged her for a long time, probably much longer than Robin would have ever allowed him to if it weren't for the circumstances.

He cleaned himself up, he cleaned up the apartment, he cooked dinner, and he opened the bottle of wine.

Neither of them were big fans of wine, but this was a $100 bottle. Eddie would drink every last drop.

When Steve came through the door at 4:39 on the dot, just like he did every week day, Eddie was holding a glass of wine out to him with a small smile.

"Eds? What's this?"

"Been a while since we've had a date night. Thought maybe we deserved it."

Steve stared back at him blankly, then let out a sob and walked over to him, burying his face in his neck.

"Sh, it's okay, sweetheart. I'm right here," Eddie wrapped him up in his arms, kissing his head. "I'm here."

"You promise?" Steve's broken voice nearly tore Eddie in two. How had he let it get this bad?

"I promise, Stevie. I'm sorry I've been somewhere else in my head."

Steve pulled away, sniffling and looking around the room as he realized that dinner was already set out on the bar and the dishes were done.

"You did all this for me?"

"For us."

"Is that chicken cacciatore?" Steve walked to the plate in his usual spot and smiled. "You made this?"

"I did. Hopefully it's edible. If not, I already have the menu for the Italian place down the road by the phone," Eddie pulled Steve's chair out for him and then sat down next to him.

They talked through dinner, mostly about Steve's day, and then about Eddie's. He brought up the interview and Steve beamed like the sun.

"That sounds perfect for you, Eds."

"I know. I think it'll be great."

The bottle of wine went down easy. Maybe a little too easy.

By the time they realized it was gone, they were giggling and leaning on each other, cheeks red and eyes glazed over with a buzz that was more than just the high alcohol content.

Steve leaned in to kiss him.

Eddie leaned in to kiss him back.

And for the first time in a long time, they stayed up all night, talking, kissing, touching in ways they'd nearly forgotten how to do.

When Eddie got the job, he sent Robin flowers. Nothing fancy, the pay wasn't that good. But he had to thank her for getting his head out of his ass and his ass in shape.

Steve didn't ask when he saw the bill for it, just smiled and kissed the top of Eddie's head while he got ready for his first day of work.

"I love you. Good luck today," Steve said as he fixed his glasses before grabbing his keys to head to his job at the youth center downtown.

"Love you too. Pizza tonight?"

"Sounds good, love. Wine?"

Eddie nodded towards the bottle of $3 wine from the liquor store.

Steve laughed. "I'll grab some Tylenol on my way home."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddiesongfics #angst with a happy ending #established relationship

[adventuringblind]

Sunrise

Oscar Piastri x Autistic!Reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: The fans and media get to Oscar’s girlfriend in a way he’ll never forgive

Warnings: SUICIDE AND SH depictions, toxic media, death threats, lack of communication, anxiety, Oscar is a mess.

Notes: …. We’re not talking about my patterns alright. I swear I’m in therapy.

Masterlist

Oscar is not normally an irrational person. He prides himself on his calm and collected state. Something that his neurodivergent counterpart loves because it makes him easy to read. Everything is clear to her with him.

He adores his girlfriend. Plans to eventually marry her one day. He doesn’t care that her body isn’t the ‘standard’ for beauty because he finds her stunning. He doesn’t care that she has deep passions for her interests and could talk for hours about it because he loves listening.

So why is it his fans don’t get that same thing? Why do the vultures have to attack her for doing nothing wrong?

He ponders these questions as he sits in the hospital waiting room. Fingers crossed he got to her in time.

~

She’d turned off all her notifications on social media. She had to. For some reason now that Oscar and McLaren are on track and fighting again, people are seeming to notice her more often.

Gone are the days of sneaking off into the quiet corners. Numbered are the days she’ll be able to spend with him at this rate.

The death threats started a month ago. To many things she’d rather not think about. The name calling is flat out unnecessary and something she doesn’t understand.

She knows logically nothing can come if it. But the nagging at her brain won’t stop for some reason. She hates it, being empathetic. She just feels so extremely that she can’t decipher if the words hurt her or if she’s angry and why she feels this way. It’s to much for her mind to process.

So she turns everything off. No social media for her.

She’d simply told Oscar the hate was to much and she needs a break from the internet. Which isn’t a lie, but she didn’t want him to worry about her and start doing poorly because of it.

Instead curled up underneath her blankets with music and switched off the world.

~

Oscar is feeling alright with fifth in Hungary. Not exactly where he wants to be, but it’s still considerably better then where he was previously.

As is routine, he gets into the garage as quickly as he can. The one thing he managed to negotiate for with his PR team: the he gets to check in on his girlfriend before he does media duties.

He peers inside. It’s mostly empty due to the incoming podium celebration. But there is no sign of her. Nothing is the garage or his driver room or Lando’s room, or the bathroom.

His heart thuds in his chest. This is routine, and she always sticks to her routine. If she’s not here then something must be terribly wrong. Oscar pulls out his phone to see he has a text from her and the weight on him lessens just a tad.

‘Sorry I won’t be there for the end of the race! I was feeling incredibly sick so I went back to the hotel room! I love you so much! 🧡🖤’

And suddenly that weight is back. If she left then something is clearly wrong. She’s stayed through blurry vision from migraines, endured hours of overstimulation for him, even dealt with his fans pushing her around. Yet she always stayed. If something caused her to leave then it’s definitely something to worry about.

He ended up missing the podium celebration. His PR manager is looking for him. But he could care less and heads straight for Zak.

He gives a brief summary of what’s going on and defines is as an emergency. That word was what made Zak let him go as long as he promised to keep everyone posted.

Then he ran.

~

Race weekends have come to be one of her favorite things. The consistent hum of car engines stimulates her brain in a way that she loves.

What she doesn’t love is the fans. She wonders for a moment if all the WAG’s have this kind of hate. So she sets off to go find Lily and ask. She’s become close with her over the course of this year. She’s also passionate about things and it’s fun to listen to her get excited over her interests. Something the female can relate to well.

When she neared the Williams hospitality, she saw Lily and waved her over only to be stopped in her tracks by a few fans in McLaren gear. She instantly took notices of the very blatant disregard for personal space and the negative energy they carried with them.

Then they out in some fake smiles and handed her an envelope, walking away without a word.

She was left confused and stunned. But also curious. The envelope in her hands had some weight to it and she can’t help but wonder what’s inside.

She doesn’t hesitate to open it. Her eyes scanning over the contents. Every second she looks at it makes her feel sick to her stomach.

Someone had been stalking them. Not just her and Oscar, but Lando as well. Addresses, pictures, personal information, even images from intimate moments where they are very clearly without clothes.

She could see the possibility of her and maybe Oscar being stalked if these are the same fans who have been harassing her for a couple months now. But Lando as well makes her feel dirty and upset in a way.

It’s to much. She feels to much. It’s overwhelming.

She stuffs everything back inside and finally gets to Lily. A brief excuse leaves her lips that she’s going back to the hotel cause she’s feeling sick. She takes note of Lily’s instant concern and the female does her best to fight back every emotion. It’s utterly draining. She has no energy to sort out her feelings and other peoples feelings when she can’t understand any of them anyway.

Lily lets her go on the condition she texts her when she gets back to the hotel.

She agrees. She'll be messaging everyone when she gets there.

~

Oscar gets into his car and fumbles around for the keys.

He left them with his stuff. His stuff that he doesn't have. Now he's going to have to run all the way back.

He gets out and heads straight to the McLaren garage. Ignoring the strange looks.

He even tries pulling his phone out to call her. Straight to voicemail. Twenty times.

Halfway there, he runs into Lando. The Brit is winded and carrying Oscar's things.

"I'm driving."

~

She can't believe she's actually going to do this. It's not that she's never thought about it before. Feeling alien on your own planet will do that to you. But she feels like she has no other choice.

It's too much. The fans want her dead, and they are willing to do horrible things to get it.

She can't handle it. The feelings of all of it are overwhelming. She can't tell where her emotions end and someone else's start. The letter written to her only points out further.

The last few months have been beyond her limit. She doesn't feel safe in her own skin. Everyone is telling her she'll never be enough. That she is not meant for this life.

She'd thought about her friends as she wrote those damn notes. The blank looks when she says something lnnapropriat for the conversation. The times she's had meltdowns and they had to deal with her.

She thinks about Oscar, too. His note is three pages long. It's intimate, and she hopes he can understand it. Words she's written countless times the last months to make sure he understands her decision.

She lays it out where she knows he'll see it and then locks herself in the bathroom. The bathtub is filled with ice-cold water and not filled all the way to the top. Just enough to make things easy.

Is she really doing this because those damn fans are going to leak everything about their lives tonight if she doesn't? Certainly a factor in her decision. It seems the logical solution if she's to fix the problem. She hates herself for this; that she can't just be what everyone wants.

That thought brings the first cut.

She didn't bother taking off her clothes. She hates the feeling. They cling to her skin and it makes her want to peel her skin off.

The second cut is for her clothing.

Then the third.

And a fourth.

The fifth makes her dizzy.

The sixth causes her vision to dance.

The seventh and eighth she can't even register.

Everything is numb by nine and ten.

Then nothing.

~

Oscar and Lando take three steps at a time.

Apparently, Lando had run into Lily and found out what had happened. The Brit also felt his stomach drop with the feeling something is wrong.

Oscar sprints down the hall when they make it to the right floor. Fumbles around with his key card. Then, finally, he gets the door open.

He scans the room. There is paper stacked neatly on the table. An envelop almost thrown to the side.

He looks at the note addressed to him, and he chokes. Lando is searching for any sign of life but the Aussie can't see past the fact that there are fans asking her to kill herself. And that she felt the need to say yes because now they have stalkers.

He'll think about it later. Right now, Lando is screaming for him.

He barrels to where the voice comes from. Again, he chokes. This time on frantic tears.

Lando is looking like he might pass out, but the Brit is staying strong for his teammate and friend. He tries to get Oscar to help him.

She may be passed out, but the Aussie registers Lando saying she has a pulse. That she's still breathing even if it's shallow.

They work together to drag her out of the water. Her make it so that when they set her down, she immediately is sliding on the tile. They wrap her arm in wash rags. The only thing they can find to slow the bleeding. But the cuts are too deep. It doesn't slow.

So they call an ambulance.

Oscar doesn't register much after that. Listening to Lando instruct him on what to do, including breathing. Riding with her to the hospital. Watching her be taken away. Meeting Lando in the waiting room.

Now he has nothing to do but wait and look through everything he missed.

Her socials are where she's being threatened, sure. But it's the contents of the envelope that got Oscar angry. Way past the point of livid.

"Lan, I- what the hell." He shows everything to his teammate, and terror stretches across his face.

And then she was left with a ticking clock and an ultimatum. Disappear or have all this and more released to the public. What better way to disappear than to do it permanently.

It breaks him. He can't breathe past the thought of not having her around. He can't live knowing she left because the world is suck a cruel place. And he feels utterly selfish for wishing her to stay with him through it.

Somehow, he ended up on the floor, sobbing dramatically into Lando's sweatshirt.

But then others start to appear. It's not just the two of them because there are so many people that care for her.

Max shows up first with a certain Monegasque in tow, followed by Alex and Lily, the latter of which looks about as broken as him. Then George and Lewis appear, followed by Logan.

They explain what happened. Everyone is shocked, and there are no words between them for a few minutes as everyone processes.

"I don't understand why someone would do this." Pipes Max. He knows about death threats fairly well, but this is a new level of extreme.

"We could say something. Make a statement about it and start a suicide awareness campaign." Lewis suggests.

Oscar knows a campaign probably won't do much against whoever sent this, but a statement might. He wants to say everything on his mind.

And that's exactly what he did. His PR team be damned because this takes precedence.

~

She wasn't expecting to wake up. She wasn't supposed to wake up. So how is she awake?

She cracks her eyes open just a tad to assess her surroundings. Her arm is bandaged and she's underneath some of the worst textures to come in contact with.

The thing that catches her eye is the brown locks of a specific Australian. She moves her hand to them and runs her fingers gently along his scalp.

he shifts around a bit before relaxing into the feeling. At least she could give him this before she ruins his and Lando's life.

She's not sure how long they go on like this until Oscar sits up and yawns. He blinks a few times and adjusts himself to the florescent lights.

She's not sure she's ever seen Oscar cry before. Once at a really sad movie, but even that was just slight. Now he's crying tears for her. The sound makes her tear ducts spring into action as well.

"Please, don't ever do that again." He rasps. His voice crackles with the sound of sobs.

She doesn't say anything. She can't say anything. So instead, Oscar crawls into the bed with her. He just cradles her body into his.

"I'm sorry." Is all she manages to say. And after a few more breathes she continues. "I didn't want to be the reason you and Lando lose your jobs. Or be the cause of your stress. And then everything felt like it was too much, and I just wanted it to stop." She feels pathetic.

"I promise that I will never be upset with you for something like this. The fans pushed and pushed and then drove you into a corner. But in the future, you have to come to me. I can't help if you don't communicate with me."

"What about racing? And Lando? And all your personal information?" The weight she'd had before has made a sudden return.

"Should be taken care of. We beat them to the punch and made a statement about how someone close to McLaren had been threatened and the person responsible would be posting personal information." Oscar explains. She feels better knowing they didn't say it was her name. "I also said I would be taking a break from socials for personal reasons... and also said something about how much I love you."

~

The news came out eventually. It's not every day that F1 driver's campaign for mental health. But they've all been incredibly helpful. She is on the road to recovery and Oscar intends on being with her through every step of the way.

#x reader #fanficion #formula one #f1 fic #formula 1 #racing #f1 fanfic #angst #lando norris #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren racing #oscar piastri f1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar pastry #mclaren #McLaren f1 #papaya #formula one x reader #lando norris f1 #oscar piastri x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #op81 #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #ln4

[misguidedasgardian]

Blurred Lines (6)

VI. The Grand Finale

MASTERLIST

Summary:  Endings, beginnings and crossroads 

Warnings: Cursing, cheating, adultery, talks about body shaming, therapy, misogynistic undertones (“man of the house” and whatnot), Harwin is not a good person on this… and Jace isn’t either, implied tampering with birth control, spy cameras, a bit creepiness, pregnancy, inappropriate relationship MIGHT MISS SOME WARNINGS

+ 18 MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3,4 k

Notes: THE END TO THIS KINKY STORY! Sorry for the delay… I have been so blocked its funny and sad

Pregnant

The small screen teased you, but soon the vision was blurry because of your tears 

This couldn’t be happening, just couldn’t… You took those bloody pills religiously, you…

It was completely possible, you chided yourself, this was a perfect timing, four months since the first week you and Jace…

You whined, sitting on the toilet in the bathroom

What were you going to do?

Gods, you were going to be a single mother of two

Two children

Two under two…

You whimpered in fear, hugging yourself as you sat in the closed toilet

What did you do?

How were you going to move forwards?

Gods, what were you going to tell Harwin? You HAD to keep seeing him because of Aerea, what were you going to tell him when he catches on that you are pregnant again? Gods… you were going to get a divorce and you were going to need to prove that it wasn’t his so… You whined

You were almost thankful Jace was now out of the picture, got bored of you and left, you felt almost relieved.

But at the same time, it frightened you

Are you going to be able to do this alone?

Well, your job had incredible benefits and a daycare and… you could work from home and… you whined again

You loved children, you didn’t want to interrupt the pregnancy, you specially loved this little one inside of you, you always wanted a big family

You whipped you tears off of your face, you grabbed your things, and you went to work as nothing was happening.

Everything was going to be alright, it had to be

The news at your job was received happily, all things considered, and as a few weeks went by, you were getting accustomed to the idea, of course, you HAD to tell Harwin at some point, but that is something you were not ready to face yet.

Aerea was with him this week and that gave you time to daydream about the nursery you were going to prepare in the room that wa supposed to become your study 

You dropped your bag and coat on one of the couches and sighed loudly, your stomach grumbled, you were being hit constantly with weird cravings and you were dreaming about chicken nuggets with that special edition sauce of the movie “Prehistoric Valyria”, you grabbed the phone and make the order, and you waited patiently for it to arrive

And then the doorbell rang. You were surprised since it had been only like 20 minutes, you went straight to the door and opened without even looking through the “peephole”, Gods you were going to wish you had

You opened the door and when you saw who it was, you gasped, dropping your phone to the floor. He chuckled, with that devilish smirk you knew all too well. 

“Jace! What are you doing here?”, you asked as soon as he entered your apartment, he grabbed your phone from the floor quickly, he didn’t give it back to you, he just looked around with a shy smile. 

“You are not happy to see me?”, he teased, finally looking back at you, “I would have let you know I was coming but you blocked me so…”, he teased, he wasn’t even angry or mad you blocked him.

“How did you know I was here?”, you asked then, because his timing was… very particular, he had always been… precise in his timing, it was concerning. 

“I asked around”, you didn’t believe he asked Harwin, but he was a Targaryen, he had the resources

“You are supposed to be at college!”, you said then, worried

“I dropped out”, he said lightly

“No…”, you whined, “Jace, no! you are going to ruin your career”, you said, worried and concerned. He now didn’t seem to be the testosterone-driven young guy, he only seemed to be… someone else

“My business took off”, he said plainly, “I’ve come here to tell you…”, he said then, trying to lighten up the mood

“Well, I am happy for you”, you said back, not really knowing what this might be about, “and you discovered where I was, and came all the way here… to tell me that?”, you murmured

“No silly". He said smiling widely, “I’m here to prove to you, I’m a grown man that can take care of himself and care for you too”, he said simply, that…. you were not expecting 

“What are you talking about?”, you asked, truly concerned 

“We are great together, and now, we can finally be together, a couple, you are divorcing my father aren’t you?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean…”

“Yes it does”. He said, “we are great together are we not?”, he asked, his eyes looked all over your body, like he was looking for something in particular, made you feel uncomfortable 

“That we are good at fucking doesn’t mean we are good together and at being a couple”, you said bluntly, you did not like where this was going, “and furthermore, Jacaerys, this should have never happened in the first place, I don’t want to be with you anymore”, you said, looking everywhere but his eyes, you crossed your arms over your chest. You hear him laugh bitterly. But he didn’t seem angry, if anything, he seemed entertained 

“Sure”, he mocked, “cut the shit! what is really going on?”, he demanded 

“I mean it, Jace!”, you whined, but you didn’t, Jace sighed, rubbing his face in frustration, but then, he looked at you, really, really looked at you, and then, he smiled. he walked towards you, letting him, he placed his hands on your hips, it seemed like a soft gesture 

“You are pregnant, aren’t you?”, he said with a big smile, you frowned

“No, I’m not!”. The doorbell rang, and you rushed to open it, the delivery man handed you the package without further delay

“Enjoy your chicken nuggets with the special edition sauce”, he said, and left without even glancing at your direction. You turned around looking guilty with your treat in your hands

“The only time I have ever seen you eat chicken nuggets is when you were pregnant with Aerea”, he said with a cheeky smile on his lips. “You are a terrible liar!”, he mocked

“Whatever the answer to your question is, it doesn’t concern you”, you continued, you needed to fight this battle, and you needed to win it, of all the scenarios in your head, Jace being the active dad wasn’t in any of them, less of it you being together as a couple and having this child. 

“Oh, it doesn't concern me?”, he mocked, “I wonder is you reproduce on your own like the dragons in Jurassic Valyria, which the limited edition sauce came from, by the way”. he snapped, and you growled angrily 

“It might be Harwin’s”, you lied shamesly, not only admitting it, but now he finally showed some anger, he froze on the spot, his dark brown eyes looking for any glimpse of a lie 

“What? when?”, he demanded, jealous and angry

“It has to be!”, you said, more convincingly, maybe if you gaslit yourself you were going to be able to gaslight him as well, “it only happened once, but it was when he had moved back in, one night I didn’t want to get out of my room, I forgot to take the pill, and that night he…entered my room, we chatted and we did it”

Yes you were relying on placebo pills, Jace thought, good for nothing pills and you were using that to determine the paternity of the baby that it was obviously his

“What happened?”, he asked gently, trying to contain his anger

“He came at night… I had some wine…”, Jace opened his eyes in rage, he shaked and you honestly thought that he was going to start hitting the walls or something

“You are lying to me”, he said with certainty, and you needed to keep yourself together, “I’m gonna kill him!”, he grunted

“No!”, you said quickly, “it doesn’t matter, because he doesn’t know, yet… and I’m not going back together with him either way”, you tried to deviate from the conflict and massive lie

“We will come back to killing him later, but it doesn't matter, it is mathematically impossible for him to be the father, if you only did it one time, that baby is mine!”, he said, convinced 

“Jace, please”, you begged him, now desperately, how can he be so thick-headed? 

“You are going to make him think its his?”, he asked, angrily, “I’m sure you are lying to me, and you didn’t even fuck him, you want to drive me away”

“No Jacey, I’m not going to make him believe its his, but it doesn’t matter!” you whined, “of course I want to drive you away! take the win, alright?”

“What do you mean by that?”, he asked, frowning

“I’m not holding you up to this, I can do it alone…”, you said convincingly

“But I want to…”, he said back 

“No you don’t! please, this will ruin your life Jace”

“Ruin my life?”, he asked, “I came back for you! we'll be together, you, me, our babies”

“Jacaerys!”, you called, desperately, he was making this so much difficult that it had to be

“You want to be with me! I want to be with you!”, he said, increasingly more desperate, “I don’t buy a word you are saying”

“But this is way more complicated Jace”, you said, “please I don’t want to drag you into this”

“It takes two to dragondance my love, we are in this together”, he said softly, caressing your upper arms 

“Its Harwin’s”, you said, “it is the only time I missed the pill, it had to be”, Jace wanted to scream

“I want a paternity test”, he said gently. “there are none-invasive ones…”

“I’m aware”, you said

“Are you keeping this up?”, he asked, “you know it's mine, I know you would have never let him touch you again, don’t fight this anymore”, he said gently coercing you, and gods it was working. Why did he have to be who he was? your husband’s son? you only looked at the floor between you as you felt his big warm hand on your arms, trying to coarse you into looking into his eyes, effectively losing the battle 

“It's mine, you and I together, and our babies, is the only thing I’ve ever wanted”, he said softly as a siren’s song

“You don’t know what you are saying”, you whined, eyes filled with tears, “please Jacey, I don’t want to ruin your life, you already dropped off, I… I’m going to ruin you”, you cried

“You didn’t ruin anything… you helped me, you gave me space, and time, and because of you, me and my friend’s little company if being featured in the Citadel’s and… we are coming in green the first year”

“What?”, you whined

“I dropped out because I’m already a fucking millionare”, he said with a wide smile, “and I need to focus a fifty percent on the business”

“What about the other fifty percent?”, you asked

“To you, Aerea, and our baby”, he said softly, you sighed 

“Jace, you don’t even know…”

“WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP SAYING THAT?”, he didn’t yell, but you can tell he was getting exasperated

“Jace! you don’t know what is like… the last time I got pregnant, it was a horrible pregnancy, you are not going to want to be with me anymore once I start bloating like a blowfish…”, you tried him by other fronts

“My father was a cunt”, he muttered, “I’m not my father…”

“You think in the romantic part, not in the real one, sleepless nights, showerless days, having and raising a child is hard, and though…”

“I know that, from all my siblings, I was actively involved in three of the births and first years”, he said gently, you shook your head

“Please, leave now, because if you leave in the middle I…”, bitter tears started falling down your eyes, “I will not be able to take it, please!”, you tried to get away from him, but he just wouldn’t let you, he grabbed you and hugged you tightly against his chest, and you just sobbed

“You will be alright, I’m here”, he said, caressing your back softly, you couldn’t see it, but oh how was he smiling, “You won’t have to worry about a thing love, I will take care of you…”

He was so good with Aerea, he was so good with his little siblings, maybe… just maybe…

You could just, let go

He leaned in, kissing your cheek, you were so tired, so emotionally drained that you let him kiss your tears off your cheeks, and then his greedy mouth started kissing you in the neck, right up to that sweet little spot that made you moan.

Gods… you were so sensitive, and he was so… delicious

The damage was done right?

You didn’t want to fight it anymore. You surrounded his strong shoulders with your arms drawing him more to you. Gods you had been so sensitive, so horny the past few weeks, it was the hormones, you thought, but no matter… No more trying to resolve this “issue” alone, you had him.

Oh Gods, you were expecting his child, Jace’s child, he didn’t abandon you, he was just finishing some matters that he needed to attend to, his plan was coming back… for you… 

You didn’t know if you wanted to throw up or feel incredibly relieved

He sucked on your pulse joint making you see stars, and moaned shamesly, Gods you had missed this, missed him, who were you kidding? he growled, like an animal in heat, and grabbed you by the thighs, making you surround his hips with your legs. He took you to your bedroom, and almost dropped you in the bed, his shirt was already out of him by the time he caught onto you, devouring you again. He was hungry for you and you for him, well, for any kind of contact actually 

“You are so fucking mean, trying to keep me away”, he growled, literally ripping the clothes off of your body, “keeping my baby from me”

“Jace”, you tried to chide

“Keep pretending I’m not the best fuck you ever had”. he continued, kissing down your neck, biting too, “Nobody can fuck you like I can, nobody can breed you like I can”, his hands sneaked under your panties, and to no one’s surprise, you were soaked. You moaned when he sneaked two fingers in, fingering you, squelching noises making you shiver with embarrassment, but it was easily beaten by the pleasure he made you feel.

He didn’t make you beg, gladly, in a few minutes he was fucking you slowly, not stopping but slowly, letting you adjust to his size, gods he was so big. He filled you so perfectly 

“Fuck I missed this cunt”, he grunted with a smirk

“Ever the romantic”, you grunted, which turned into a moan because of a hard thrust 

He took you in your bed, kissing every spot on your body, he made love to you desperately and sensually, making all the walls you put up stumble.

You were surprised to see a phone call from Harwin the next morning, and you raised your head to see it, Jace having you trapped between his arms as he was sleeping.

“Hey Harwin, is Aerea alright?”, you asked

“She is fine, we were just… putting everything in boxes around the house and, I found some cameras? I really wanted to say that I’m so sorry for making you feel you had to install cameras in our home to prove my infidelity, I never brought her home, I wanted you to know”, he said, he sounded so conflicted. But you frowned

“Cameras? What are you talking about Harwin?”, you asked

“I found a camera in our room, and then another in the living room”, he said, now he was truly concerned, you could hear it

“They aren’t mine”, you said, sitting on the bed, Jace grumbled at your side, but didn’t wake, or at least, you thought so

“If they are not yours, and they are not mine, who are they?”, he asked. You whined, concerned, was it Aemond? no, there was no possible way he could have installed cameras in your place, no way, at least he sneaked in, but that sounded so insane, you didn’t even entertain that possibility. You stood up from the bed to continue the conversion in private.

“I’ll send you a picture”, immediately you checked it, it was a small round camera, cordless, in the side it had a strange symbol

“That’s the brand?”, you asked, gods, if that camera was pointing at your bed, for how long it had been recording? you suddenly felt cold, cold sweat running down your back

Gods

“Harwin”, you called, he hummed back, “I need to ask you something, tell you, more or less”

“I know, I’m sorry for not telling you, I went back to her”, he cut you

“To your co-worker?”, you asked, feeling relieved, at least you weren’t the only one with the 22 year old 

“Yes, I’m sorry”

“It’s fine Harwin, at least it was worth something, but still this doesn’t answer the cameras”

“We will figure it out”, he said firmly

“You are not the one that had been filmed for who knows how long”, you muttered

“We will figure it out”, that sounded like a promise, “I’ll call a guy, and I’ll let you know”, he said trying to hang up

“Harwin”, you called again

“Yes?”, he asked back

“I’m sorry”, you mumbled

“For what?”, he asked

“Please don’t hate me”, you asked hopefully

“I could never hate you”, he said with certainty

“Never say never”

“Look I need to go, I’ll talk to you later, please don’t be upset, relaxed”, you barely nodded, a single tear fell from your eye, when he finds out what you had been doing, he was never going to forgive you

You sat on the couch, signing loudly, not knowing what to think 

You had to freak out, didn’t you? you felt weirdly calm, like you had some sort of drug that didn’t allow you to feel anything anymore, maybe it was just the good sex. 

But then, as you saw Jace’s bag that you haven't seen before, his laptop was peeking out of it, and in it… there was a sticker.

Another tear fell down your eye, but you whipped it quickly when he showed up 

“Was what that about”, you looked up at him, trying to hide what you just found out

“Nothing, it's just hard”, you muttered, he smiled at you, only wearing his boxers, he placed his hand on your shoulder

He had been spying on you

“We have a dinner tonight”, he said simply, you raised an eyebrow to look at him

“What?”

“A dinner, in my mother’s house”, he said so easily, like you were a normal couple

“Jace”, you called, like he had finally snapped 

“What?”, he chuckled

“Do you think that is appropriate?”, you asked, “is not your birthday anymore”, he looked down at you with a smirk, and a dark look in his eyes you didn’t like, that plus… the camera

“She knows”, your heart stopped then and there

“What?”, that smile made you shiver

“Oh darling, she knows”

“How? why?”

“Well, she suspected by my birthday and then I had to tell her, when Aemond visited you trying to blackmail you to fuck him”. And then you stopped breathing

“You knew?”, you choked out

“I found out”, his demeanor, his stance, his eyes… his smirk, your bottom lip quivered, more tears fell down your eyes

“Don’t cry love, the only one left is my father, then, we can finally start our lives together”, he leaned in and kissed you on the cheek. “And don’t you worry about work, already called them and explained, they will send your things”

Alright! this is it! had to make it short, sweet, kinky and a bit dark! I know it leaves a bit open... but I want your kinky minds to fill in the gaps! muahaha what was the saying... "Is worse what you imagine?" maybe is in spanish! hehe anyways thank you for reading and hopefully I'll see you in my next kinky history.

taglist! @champomiel @urmomsgirlfriend1 @sweethoneyblossom1 @lukepattersin @ladylyanna91 @snowflake-latte @bruher @bellstwd @inesven @iamavailablesstuff @haydee5010 @happinessinthebeing @agqrtz @ajanauia @joliettes @lightdragonrayne @ivoryluvs @fairysluna @cumslutforaemond @possiblyafangirl

#misguidedblurred #jacaerys strong #jacaerys velaryon #harwin strong #hbo house of the dragon #jacaerys x y/n #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x you #jacaerys x oc

[vynwan-cbq]

U can ignore this if you're not taking requests but i just heard that miguel cried when he first was lil spoon!!? Um.. I need a fic of that

YES. OH MY GOD YES I SAW THIS REQUEST AND IMMEDIATELY STARTED WRITING IT. I kind of got ahead of myself because it's more than just spooning but I hope it doesn't take too much away from the original request <3.

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

Spoon

Pairing: miguel o'hara x gn!reader

Warnings: loss, crying, implied panic attack, angst as HELL but it's soft at the end, I didn't proof read bc my vision is blurry from tears.

Don't ask me to pay your therapy bills.

~~

It’s only been a few months since you and Miguel started dating, and Miguel’s still reserved. His thinking is that he doesn’t deserve you. That he doesn’t deserve happiness because the last time he was selfish enough to try to be happy, he lost his daughter and billions of lives because a universe collapsed. You do your best with consoling him in this, and it’s been working. He’s not as reserved as he was when you both started dating. You started cuddling just about a month ago and have kissed a week after that.

But he still has his moments. Like now.

It’s Gabriella’s birthday, and he woke up at 5, went to the tower, and buried himself in his work.

He came home at 9, not even bothering to take off his suit before he fell on the bed and hugged a replica of the teddy bear Gabriella loved.

You know today’s significance, and you’re worried for him. You were trying to contact him all day and he didn’t answer his phone, which was on DND at home the entire time. You knock on his door and unlocked it with your spare key.

“Miguel?” You call through the home, not finding him. You step into the bedroom and find his figure under the sheets. He’s awake, you observe, but he doesn’t want to talk. Doesn’t want to do anything. You place a hand on his shoulder and the soft exhale he lets out translates to “I need a hug”. Still in your hoodie and jeans, you get into bed and kiss his shoulder. Moving up so that your head is above his, you hug him from behind so that the back of his head is against your chest. One arm has his head resting on it and the other is cupping his cheek and soothingly petting it.

His heart spills the emotions he’s been holding in all day, and he cries.

He hasn’t cried in front of you before, never even came close to it, but here he is crying because you’re spooning him. “Oh, Miguel,” You whisper, your heart also aching at his heartbreaking sobs.

He simply grips the stuffed animal in his arms and curls up, nuzzling himself backwards a bit to be in your arms. “She’d be 10 today,” he hiccups between each sob. Tears prick in your eyes at that, and you hold him closer. Your leg wraps around his waist to keep him close and he lightly squeezes it as if he’s trying to bring himself to reality.

He eventually turns around and stuffs his face in your chest, pulling you in by the waist roughly and muffling his cries into it. He’s holding on to you for dear fucking life because he cannot lose you too. “Miss her so much,” he mumbles a few times, sometimes also whimpering “I can’t breathe”.

Doing your best to pull yourself together, you make him look at you and see him breathing heavily. “Hey, Mig,” you whisper and wipe a tear from the corner of his eye, “shhh, it’s ok.” He looks up at you with the prettiest fucking doe eyes and tries to calm his breathing down. “Name three things in the room, honey,” you coo, and he hiccups before looking around.

“Curtains,” he rasps, hiccups again, then looks around a little more. “Clock,” and he looks down in his arms, “teddy bear.” You smile at him and peck his forehead, “good job. Now name three sounds.”

He looks at you with his eyes still sparkling from tears. “Honking,” he hums softly when you wipe a tear from his cheek again, “wind,” and he squeezes your waist softly before saying, “your heartbeat.” You hum and kiss his nose. “Now three body parts, baby, almost there.”

He wiggles his fingers, touches his cheek, and then his tummy while saying all three. You’ve never kissed him so softly and he sighs at the feeling again. The both of you part and he wipes one of your tears, softly smiling at you before placing his face against your chest again.

“Tell you what,” you cup his face and make him look at you once more, “why don’t we buy a cupcake and put some candles on it? We can sing happy birthday to Gabriella.”

“She wouldn’t want you sad on her birthday,” you trace hearts onto his jaw and kiss his nose.

And his eyes well up in tears again.

Not really sad tears this time, though. You’re the sweetest being he’s laid his eyes on, and he’s all yours and you're all his. He couldn’t believe that fact.

So you did get a cupcake. Her favorite flavor, chocolate with vanilla icing, and he even bought pink sprinkles because she loves them. Carefully carrying the items to his apartment, the two of you settled on the balcony with a picnic blanket and a plate. You help him place the sprinkles on the cupcake, and lit a small candle to put on top of it.

You both sing the happy birthday song to which he adds “happy birthday, mi niñita” near the end. He tries not to sound like he’s already crying as he sings the last part, “Happy birthday to you.”

He holds your hand, still looking at the candle with a soft smile and a tear rolling down his cheek.

And you didn’t even have to blow the candle. The wind did, but it almost didn’t even feel like a coincidence from how immediate it was.

He leans onto your shoulder and the two of you let the soft background noise of Nueva York below you take over. All he’s doing is running his thumb over the back of your hand.

He eventually turns towards you and admires you. Smiling, you ask what he’s doing.

He shakes his head and says,

“thank you.”

~~

Gonna cry now.

#across the spider verse #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel x you #spider man: across the spider verse #spider verse

[shining-star-system]

So, for our recent experiences of our silly little issues, I want to talk about something relating to therapy.

Just because it “might be good” for someone does not mean you get to force it on that person.

What about those that are too afraid to get therapy like we are? What about those that shut down and quite literally cannot speak like we do when therapy is mentioned? What about the people that have such a bad anxiety episode about having to find the only good recommended therapist and not wanting to because they look like a past abuser?

Therapy isn’t possible for everyone. We understand that it “might be good” for us to help us work out our trauma and understand what’s going on more, but we can’t. Not in a “I can’t because I don’t want to” but in a “I can’t because I cannot speak on some things, I am too anxious, I’m afraid.”

Therapy isn’t something we want currently. We’ve been used to working things out on our own due to a majority of reasons and one of those is because we’ve been raised to believe that therapy is bad, we’d be a disappointment if we went into therapy or got professional help, if not that we would be physically hurt for getting help from a professional. And that is doubled and seemingly forgot about when people around us bring it back up.

I understand that we’ve been recommended a therapist by a family member, but we’re putting it off because we don’t want therapy, we don’t want to look for a therapist when we’ve been helping ourselves and it’s helped us. We don’t want to go see someone that looks like a past abuser. So understand when someone doesn’t want to do something, please.

Even if it goes against what you want for them, it is their decision at the end of the day.

~ Too blurry to sign off

#did #did system #system #plurality #dissociative identity disorder #osddid #endos dni #dni endos #shiningstarspeaks

[coupleofasexuals]

─ OC Profile ─ Serena Gray

"The world is wonderful even if you can't see it."

【Ｎa m e：】

— Serena Lina Gray

【Ａｌｉａｓ：】

— Lina.

【 B i r t h d a y：】

— February 14, 1977

【 Z o d i a c S i g n：】

— Aquarius

【 A g e：】

— 14 - 23

【 B l o o d t y p e：】

— O+

【 H e i g h t：】

— 150 - 163cm / 4'9'' - 5'3''

【 W e i g h t：】

— 45 - 55Kg

【 G e n d e r：】

— Femenino

【 S e x u a l i t y：】

— Heterosexual

【 A p p e a r e a n c e：】

— Serena is a girl of short height, with light brown coloured hair and green eyes with white pupils. Her hair arrives to her upper back, wearing a lifted bang to the right. She can normally be found wearing a brown sweater with a robust, moss green colored jacket. Black tabled skirt, brown colored leg warmers, red sneakers and a red scarf. Thanks to the abuses of her mother, she often appears with bandages and bruises.

【 E d u c a t i o n ／J o b：】

— Highschool Student / Braille books transcriber.

【 F a m i l y：】

— Claire Gray (Mother).

【 F a v o r i t e F o o d：】

— Lemon Pie.

【 H o b b i e s：】

— Recording casettes, listening to music,going out with her friends, being out of home in general, knitting crochet.

【 P e r s o n a l i t y：】

— Thanks to the constant abuses from her mother and father in general, during her whole life, Serena has learnt to be a closed and quiet person, keeping her desired of meeting good people that would love her for who she is. During her childhood she was an energetic kid full of life until the moment she lost her vision, where not only her parents started to neglect her, but she also had to adapt to a new world that was leaving her behind. Her accessibility problems caused her to save her thoughts and feelings for herself, because her parents were never up to listening to her and the kits only made fun of her. As she kept on growing she developed an empathetic and kind personality, but still saving for herself everything she felt. Once she met Sal and the rest, she started to look much more bright and extroverted, but still with the fear of bothering her friends with her feelings.

【 R e l a t i o n s h i p s：】

× [Close Family]

— Claire Gray (Mother)

Despite staying with her and "mantaining" her, Serena's mother has been an abusive and violent person with her, blaming her for his father leaving the house and calling her useless at each opportunity. Claire never supported or helped Serena with her visions and ever since she only uses her to take out all of her anger. Even though, Serena doesn't hate her mother, and just wishes deeply that the day in which she changes and receives therapy arrives.

— ? (Father)

Serena has blurry memories of her father, and just remembers the moment in which he discussed with her mother because of her blindness diagnose. In the morning he wasn't home anymore, and she hasn't seen him since then. Serena doesn't have any burden agaisn't her father, and often blames herself for making him go away.

× [Friends]

— Nina Brown

Ever since Serena found out that Nina wasn't able to (or more accurately, didn't want to) speak, the brown-haired centered her attention on her, insisting pretty often and playing games with her just to make her talk. Thanks to this, the both of them became to get closer to each other, finding mutual likings and helping each other. Soon the both of them became best friends, being Nina's house the place to where Serena always went to run away from her mother, spending a great amount of days, afternoons and nights together listening to music or speaking nonsense things. In the end, they support each other because they understand each other, developing a strong bond.

— Larry Johnson

Serena has always admired Larry's humorist personality, being one of her favorite persons in general. Every time she needed help in something he lent her a hand if he knew something, which Serena appreciates dearly. The both of them never were so close, but they still appreciate each other and help the other with problems about their best friends (Larry helps when Serena has a problem with Sal and Serena helps when Larry has a problem with Nina).

— Todd Morrison

Todd and Serena mantain a very casual friendship, but still, they got their touch of strangeness. Todd often asks Serena things about her blindness, which leads to a long cientific talk between the two, in which Serena listens with attention trying to understand everything that Todd says. In the end Serena is a fan of Todd's knowledge, she appreciates his curiosity and she recurrs to him when she needs a logic and objective opinion.

— Ashley Campbell

As with Todd, Ashley and Serena don't have a very close relationship, however, Serena recurrs to her everytime she needs a crazy opinion or any advice on "girls things". Serena really likes Ash's secure personality, and for Ash, Serena is like a small child to take care of, so she helps Serena every time she can.

— Travis Phelps

During their highschool years Travis and Serena had a weird dynamic, despite his constant bullying to Sal Fisher, Travis didn't seem interested in- or rather, he avoided at all costs -making any mock or joke towards Serena. She used to think that it was because in the end Travis had a limit, and he felt too bad to make fun of a blind girl. Despite this, and despite all of the insults and jokes towards Sal, Serena never hated Travis, because during a conversation she got to know about the abusive relationship he had with his father. This not only moved Serena, but also made her feel empathetic of Travis, trying to get closer to him in various attempts that didn't work out well.

After the conversation that Sal had with Travis, Serena was able to approach him and, eventually, they become quite closer until the day in which they decide to run away from their homes with Nina's help. As they are all living together now, Travis eventually softens himself and goes to the point where he holds a good frienship with all the band in general. Serena is very lovingly and kind to him, plus she supports him in anything. The two of them maintain a very pleasant relationship of mutual help.

× [Couple]

— Sal Fisher

Upon meeting him, Serena felt great attraction to Sal, in the sense where she thought he was a really interesting and peculiar person. For Serena it was the first time she met someone so unique, so she started to make better efforts to get closer to him and get to know him better. As their relationship kept unfolding, and they started to go out more together, Serena started to fall in love with him, especially thanks to his kind and empathetic personality. Due to their great shyness, none of them was sure about what the other felt, and so, they started to relate romantically in the shadows, without anyone knowing, until the breaking point came and the both became a couple officially (Even though they had been doing "romantic things" since a couple of years ago).

Serena and Sal had shared with eachother things that no one else knows, things about their past and their feelings, they have tried to help eachother in every way possible and have spent a long amount of hours together. Serena hasn't felt this bond with anyone in her life, and is scared that Sal may leave her, therefore, she always tries to keep him happy and make his life more enjoyable, also giving him all her support about the ghosts theme. In the end, she tries to be his emotional support every time she can, giving him all her love. It's the first time that she feels so in love with someone, and wishes to stay with Sal forever.

"People think that you're hard to understand because they can't see your expressions.. They clearly don't know how to analyze your words and actions."

─ Actual Sprite (Placeholder)(Picrew):

This OC belongs to Admin Mina :3

#sal x oc #sally face game #sallyface #sal fisher #sally face #sally face x oc #sal fisher x oc #larry johnson x oc #larry x oc #oc #original character #sally face oc #sally face fanfic #sally face headcanon #sally face headcanons #headcanon #Serena Gray #Nina Brown #Travis Phelps #Ashley Campbell #Todd Morrison #larry johnson

[star-going-supernova]

I can't help but imagine a crossover/combination of the strings verse and the siblings verse, with Gregory thinking "somebody put this thing in my sister and i never noticed until now? unacceptable" after pulling them out of her. (in this case the wires just make her turn a blind eye or make her not see Vanny like how freddy couldn't see her) also his protectiveness is turned up to freaking 20 after everything

Okay, so this is like a combo deal with these two AUs and this is absolutely not canon to either. The line where they collide is somewhat blurry, even to me, lol. This one ended up with more of a horror angle than I expected, but honestly, I love it. 

Imposter

Something had been wrong with Vanessa for weeks now. Maybe longer, but Gregory had been away at an extended summer camp until recently, so he had no idea when this started. Just that, before he left, his sister had been her totally normal self. 

This was just the newest point to add to his growing list of Reasons Why My Sister Has Been Replaced By An Imposter. 

“You quit therapy?” Gregory asked, fork frozen halfway to his mouth. “Why?” 

“Because I don’t need it anymore,” Vanessa said, easy as anything. She was relaxed, he could see that. Unconcerned, but distant. “It’s been a few years since the crash. I’m fine.” 

If Gregory knew his sister—and he liked to think he knew her very well—he knew that Vanessa was far from fine. There was a reason they didn’t own a car, after all. She didn’t even have her driver’s license. 

They’d both been going to therapy almost as soon as they’d been released from the hospital and Vanessa had been granted “supervised custody.” Which was like a weird babysitting program to make sure she could take care of him and herself. One of the things they’d been recommended to do was attend therapy. It was a good faith thing or whatever, since it hadn’t been an official condition. 

It had helped massively—was still helping. No way would his actual sister just… stop. And especially not without warning. 

“If you’re sure…” he said hesitantly. What else could he do? If this was actually the sister he’d said goodbye to before camp, he’d eat all his vegetables without another complaint for the rest of his life. And knowing that she wasn’t herself, whatever the actual truth was, was supremely unhelpful. 

What if he called her out on it? Would this imposter hurt him? Would she laugh it off and get better at pretending? Would she send him away? 

Gregory quietly returned to his food, trying not to tremble. 

What if Vanessa, his Vanessa, was gone? What then? 

• • •

It was like her protectiveness had vanished overnight. Vanessa didn’t get twitchy when he went to a friend’s house for a sleepover, she didn’t insist he text or call her when he got to places safely, she didn’t even glance at him when they crossed streets together. 

Gregory had taken to locking his door whenever he was in his room, scared of the stranger living in their home. He tried to act normal, like he wasn’t suspicious, but sometimes, he’d catch her looking at him like she couldn’t decide what to do with him. Narrowed eyes, lips a tight line, tapping fingers. Decisions, decisions. 

They hadn’t hugged since he got home from camp. The one time he’d tried, when he barreled off the bus and nearly knocked her over in his excitement, she had only patted his back awkwardly. 

His teacher pulled him aside one day as the rest of his classmates headed off to lunch. “Is everything all right, Gregory?” she asked kindly. “I couldn’t help but notice you seem tired. Maybe a little unhappy?”

He couldn’t tell her. As much as he wanted an adult to take care of this for him, he didn’t dare. Either she wouldn’t believe him, or he might be taken away. And even though his sister had been replaced or something, he couldn’t let that happen. 

“I just haven’t been sleeping very well,” he said, trying to muster up a smile. It was true. The nightmares were awful. “And I miss some friends I made at camp.” 

His teacher looked like she only half believed him, but she merely reminded him she would be happy to help him if he ever needed anything before letting him go to lunch. 

• • •

Vanessa had gotten a new job that summer, a night guard position. She’d applied after school ended and was accepted mere days before Gregory left for camp. It was the first summer post-college for her, and she had said it would be a good addition to her resume. She would only have the job while he was gone because she refused to leave him alone all night, and the timing of his camp really was perfect. 

But then Gregory came home and Vanessa was all wrong, and she didn’t quit the job. She left after dinner, right around his bedtime. Every night, he double-checked every door, every window, pulling and pushing to make sure they were locked. 

Despite her shift lasting until early morning—they sometimes crossed paths when he was getting up for school and she was eating before going to bed—Gregory would swear that every now and then, not often, he would hear her come home in the dead of night. 

And he’d hear the floor creaking, doors opening and closing, the shower running for a long time. He put a nightlight in the hall outside his bedroom, and once, at 4 a.m., he cowered under the covers when he saw two shadows block the glow beneath his door, perfectly spaced apart for a person standing there, motionless, silent. 

It had all started, Gregory realized eventually, with the new job. Vanessa had been a perfectly normal sister before that. It was the only thing he could think of that had changed since. 

• • •

He snooped once, and only once, in her room. In one of her desk drawers, he found a small slip of paper. A list, comprised of a dozen names. 

They’d all been crossed out. All but one. At the very top of the list, the only name that didn’t have a heavy line of red struck through it was Gregory’s. It was followed by a question mark. 

Something about it sent chills down his spine. He begged a friend to let him spend the night, and even then, he still barely slept. 

• • •

It was six months after Vanessa began her new job, three months after he got home from camp, and a mere week and a half before Christmas when Gregory made his decision. 

And that night, he did something he had never done before. 

He followed Vanessa to work. 

• • •

Not an imposter. Worse.

A puppet. 

#i answered a thing #anonymous #fnaf fic #fnaf security breach #star's stories #life and times of star

[marlasomething]

(my) Mag a Week:  Sharp Therapy

Hello there!

I am participating in the "mag a day" idea by @a-mag-a-day which is BRILLIANT and I decided to do "statement a week", rolling dice with the characters and fears that were ftw that week in the episodes I have listened and...this is the first one! (Eps. 1-8)

As usual, please do forgive my quick tipper and non-native speaker mistakes, Marla

Allons-y!

CW: mentions and discussions of mental health issues, family issues and death. The Slaughter usual content with a bit of more physical violence

Also on AO3!

Statement of Martin Blackwood, regarding his encounter with Sasha James in her never-ending search for revenge for the allegedly provoked death of Tim Stoker.

Recorded by Gertrude Robinson, Head Archivist of The Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

  I don’t understand why you make me write this down, since I can clearly see doing absolutely nothing through the blurry window of this ancient office. However, I guess I have no other option…and I need to get this out of my system.

For my own good, but also for the good of all those I care about.

  It all began a few weeks ago, when I went to pick up my boyfriend from one of his therapy sessions. I won’t say his name, nor his predicament, but let’s just say…he finally embracing the fact that he needed the kind of help a loved one is unable to provide was a great relief.

This is all secondary, though, and I am only mentioning it so you understand why I was rather jolly and willing to speak to anyone non-suspicious enough while I waited for him with a couple of overpriced coffees burning up my hands through my thin globes.

The woman came to me with grieve covering her rather pretty features; she was around my age, which is to say, late twenties/well-kept early thirties; had auburn curly hair, was towering tall and wore too many layers of colourful clothes, though somehow she made them look formal.

In spite of the clear pain she was experimenting, she was quite charming and introduced herself as Sasha, saying she had just recently lose her… should-have-been-boyfriend due to a work accident and was there for the “Lost Family Members” Association, to which she asked whether I was in for the same reason or not.

I froze, because, you see, I actually lost someone. When I was quite young, my mother died. I was only four and, according to my father, it was a good thing she was gone but, though I don’t have a bad relationship with my dad, he can be…well, I’d rather believe my dead mother was a good person, thank you very much.

The point is; it wasn’t an accident. It was actually even spoken about on TV without giving her name: remember the woman who felt from a boat in that creepypasta-worthy video? That was her.

Nobody ever proved who had done it, but someone had and, which was worse, likely for no good reason at all.

Stammering, I asked what had she meant by that and she just replied that she was quite good at reading people and that, even if I wasn’t there for the reunion, I would always be welcomed…and then she started talking with me about this and the other until my boyfriend arrived.

By this point, I had already decided I really liked Sasha James.

  I actually felt convinced enough to the meeting the next week and it was…bizarre just barely covers it.

Everybody in there felt extremely friendly on a first glance, quite put together. Especially taking into account the reason we were all here present for.

However, as time passed and we started positioning for the round circle…I started to perceive the pain in everybody’s eyes.

Well, the pain and something else, something made out of pure fire, something that danced within the part of the soul that only the eyes can properly reflect.

Then, we started talking and…nobody talked about their lost ones, or how they lost them; nor how that made them feel. Instead, I found myself hearing about the people that caused their deaths in extreme detail, one way or another, about their personal lives and even the minor infraction they accidentally committed as almost toddlers…

…but they didn’t stay in their past. They also where they were today and what were their weak points. All speaking in an organized, almost militia-like style; taking turns and not letting at any moment the heat of their very arguments make the worst of them.

I tried to stay behind since, after all, I had no clue of what had happened to my mother but, in the end…

…there is something almost magical about sharing a common enemy, even if said enemy is more of a concept incarnated by a myriad of individuals with no relation among themselves whatsoever.

I…I am not proud but…I made something up, something so believable that only Sasha raised a suspicious eyebrow but, thank God, waited until the session had ended to come and speak with me personally.

  “I know you lied” she said. “But I understand, it’s a bit…too much…Still, trust me, you will go looking for answers, eventually.”

I doubted I was even coming back to the Association, but I’d rather not argue with the only person who had noticed how full of it I was.

“Is that what happened to you?” she shook her head, dismissing my question with one hand.

“Not at all, I had already all the answers the first time I came in, right after I resign from my former job…the one that got Tim killed” she hadn’t spoken today, but I deduced quite easily she was referring to the same person she had mentioned (but not by name) the previous day. “I was full of grieve, and anger, and I just wanted to take them down but, then, I realised, just hunting them…it made no sense. Would Tim’s death mean anything more if I become the hunter of the people responsible for his demise?

Of course not. However, this planet had a cancer, a cancer I had not even noticed before: we are a selfish species, ready to provoke the death of others sometimes not even being conscious of it.

That is what this program taught me: to be part of Something Bigger, to canalise my anger into a proper purpose, to join an army that, as a difference from the ones assembled by countries (or most fictional groups, to be honest), had a worthy reason for existing: fighting back the people that cause death and destruction without even noticing so.

It’s almost a melody in my head. The Song of the Good Fight. Not only that; we know we are doing it right because…you see? We already have a proper rival association. I like to call them The Ultimate Apologists, though the rest of the group think it’s a bit too quirky for such a serious matter. I don’t blame them, but I had to honour Tim’s memory somehow and he…he would have loved that title.

Sorry, I digress. This other group, they honestly believe everybody can make a mistake at any point without it being anything of relevance, and the offended people of nowadays are just too easily triggered. So they had decided to keep us in their line in a very similar manner as we do with them…but without being right.

That is one of the reasons I told you about us, apart from your obvious pain. You seem kind and sweet, but you are also objectively huge; and we need both things combined. So they won’t see the attack coming, it’s all part of our…” her eyes turned a shade of… red for an instance and I felt I shiver coming up my spine “… my cause.”

At that very instant is when I realised why I was actually there, what had made me take the decision to come in. It had been Sasha’s tone; she was commanding, yet charming. She was angry, but she knew how to dissolute said rage in her speech, so you got soaked in with it without even noticing so. Drawn to her and her cause as if it was a universal undisputable truth.

I wanted to run away, but I couldn’t. Partly out of the fear itself and part because…she was convincing me. After all, she was proposing me to give purpose to one of those painfully nonsensical realities we are doomed to live through.

So I stayed, just promising myself I was not going to get involved.

  I kept going to those reunions, in which it kept becoming more and more abundantly clear Sasha was the leader, giving tasks and dehumanising our rivals.

That rhetorical speech, the two antagonistic bands, just becoming more and more usual. With the Them in the Us versus Them constantly getting wider…

…and it spoke to me. Without even properly realising it, I was being lured into… murdering. Now, look, I was lucky enough to still have my Tim (sorry Sasha, I know you are hurting).

  See, my boyfriend can be quite observant and he…look, these reunions had made me lose track of his appointments, and, since his job demanded a lot from him, he had decided to leave therapy aside, for later on.

And I haven’t even opened my mouth about it. Not only that, but I started to be more reactive to anything and anyone who bothered me.

Hell! I yelled at the mailperson for giving us the neighbours’ newspaper!

He…he put some reason into me and, alas, I stopped going to the meetings.

With apparently no negative result on my life.

Apparently.

  It was already a few weeks later when I heard a voice in my head, still half asleep. A sweet melody that made me feel home, part of something bigger…just as I felt in the Association.

Then it came another voice: Sasha’s.

“You don’t have to resist, you know? I used to think this was a bit too much too, but then…if you let your anger and pain, your fear act properly….I promise, you won’t regret it. It is much calmer in the frenzy of the rightful fight, come back to us, Martin. This place was a mess when I came in, with you, I can make it ever more orderly. We can take it the next level” even if she hadn’t said it properly, I knew what her next level was. It was always the same once your brain got stuck in that very frame: global fight, forcing your ideas, your cleansing, upon everyone and everything.

And all started because she was hurting too much and, I am almost certain of this, was far too scared of how it would affect who she still was back then if she acted upon the anger consuming her.

Now, she had left all that behind; and she wanted me to join…and I was tempted.

Good thing I had a strong safety net and I could convince myself with their very voices, fighting back all the instincts that tried to kick in.

I completely woke up, hug my boyfriend until I almost broke his ribs and pretended nothing had happened.

  However, once again the voice in dreams came back a few days ago and, with it, Sasha just popped into my little apartment, having forced the door with a strength she shouldn’t have had…

…just as she shouldn’t have been able to put me to the wall, knife out, eyes fixed on me.

“You know, sometimes wars have civilians loses” she pointed to a picture of me, my boyfriend and some of our friends.

I panicked, but she had already left and, I noticed, the humming voice was back, echoing inside my skull.

  It hadn’t left since then, and I am genuinely worried, of what Sasha might do, of what I might do… I think I shall join her, I went in too deep and then…it’s what I must do.

Not for me, but for the safety of my people. However, if you happened to know how to stop her…

…do it. Prove War was never the option.

 Statement ends.

Well, it is good to hear from my former assistant. Though I must admit I am quite disappointed; such a promising young woman, completely lost for the sacrifice of a man that felt really short for her.

I don’t regret counting with Mister Stoker’s help for destroying The Stranger ritual; though Sasha was misfortunate enough to encounter a group that loosely rendered cult to The Slaughter so early in her grieve. Otherwise, she might have found out that, tragically enough, Tim is not dead, but turned into an ally of my dear Jude Perry…

…never mind any of that. After all, these are not the first assistants lost while fighting (and winning) against a Fear…even if she is the first who turned herself into a Leader to fear such as The Fairchilds or the Lukas. I won’t be surprise if I started hearing about the James in a few years…

The important thing, though, is to make sure that my plan against Elias works out tomorrow…

…Miss Cane, I know you are listening. Please, do not interfere.

You and Your Mother will regret it otherwise.

Recording ends.

#mag a day #mag horror #statement #original statement #au #the magnus archies #fanfic #tma #magnuspod #sasha james #gertrude robinson #martin blackwood #fic #the stranger

[khaleesiofalicante]

Hola Dani!!! How are you?? Are you back home??

You Worry Too Fucking Much

THE BEGINNING

Magnus is wearing the Princeton hoodie – Alec’s one of course. His hands are hidden behind his back.

Alec wants to marry him yesterday.

Who wouldn't?? Is Magnus Bane 🙌🏼🥰

"It's not a cat," Magnus scoffs and holds up the creature. "It's a kitty."

Too cute... 🥰😍🥰😍

Let's not have an argument about the scholarship si vous plaît  🙏🏼

How the fuck are people affording this shit?

I wonder the same thing 😔

“You want to withdraw how much?” his father blinks.

“$40,000,” Alec informs. “Give or take.”

Holy shit, My twin really is considering the sugar daddy life... good for you!!!

“Money complicates relationships, Alec. It leads to feelings of obligation and guilt.”

Add in the fact that you suck at communicating... I hate to agree with Robert 😒

“Yes. Of course. But if you start using that as a valid reason to get what you want, it will be hard for you to stop.”

Also true 🙄

“Perhaps you should start there,” his father notes.

Oh come on 😤 fine Robert unfuck you or whatever

He looks at the chat. 

She is online. 

Noooooooooooooo FUCK CAMILLE!!!!

There's so much that's wrong in that conversation I don't even know what to complain about first

Fuck Camille 🤬

THE MIDDLE

Rafeee 😍 mi bebé precioso, lo amo demasiado!!!

Since Rafael is adapting to his new temporary environment, he has come with some changes too.

My child needs therapy so bad 😭😭

He will do anything for the people he loves.

Here's an idea... LOVE YOURSELF!!!

Only when he sees the man breathing does Rafael relax.

Poor Rafe, I went through something similar with my mom during my parents divorce and it is terrifying I was even afraid of picking the phone when it was an unknown number 😭

Rafael doesn’t want to go to London.

🥺🥺🥺

“I’m sure you can, Rafael,” Alastair smiles. “But if you start doing things just because you can, you will never know when to stop.”

Thank you Alastair... 🥰 Rafe listen to Alastair 🙏🏼

Anjali my Godess I am LOVE you 🥰

“Technically, you can do whatever you want, Rafael,” dad says. “You’re an adult.”

No, he's not... he's a baby 😭😭

“I want you to choose Magnus.”

😭😭😭 oh my god... this is not at all how I thought this conversation had gone 😭😭😭

This too much... my poor Rafe 😭😭😭😭😭

And my twin 😭😭😭😭😭

“Don’t make me. Please don’t make me,” Rafael cries. “Daddy. Please don’t make me do this.”

Stop it... make it stop!!! It hurts too much 😭😭😭

"Rafael," dad whispers. He is crying now too. "I can't understand you."

I wish I couldn't understand him 😭😭😭

Wait!!! Is this the secret???

Rafe todavía es un niño 😭

The man takes Rafael’s hand into his. He swallows. A tear escapes him. “Magnus left me a letter.”

“He wants to go to London,” is what Rafael tells him. “I don’t want to go to London. I don’t want to leave New York.”

Everything is clearer now... I mean, I understand cuz actually all these tears have made everything blurry as fuck 😭

Rafael would believe him.

If it wasn’t for the tears falling onto his shoulder.

Well this is officially the saddest thing I've ever read and I'm including the rest of this story in that list

THE END

Oh Magnus...

“I don’t think estrogen is going to fix your dumbassery,” Catarina points out and then chuckles. "Talk to Alec. I gotta go.”

All hail Queen Cat!!!

His heart nearly gave out the last time Alec did it.

Mine too!!

“I’m sorry,” Magnus blinks. “Who the hell is this Ben person?”

You know what?? Fuck Ben... 🤬

“I could ask you the same,” Alec points out. “Look. Call me when Rafael is home. We need to talk.”

“About what?” Magnus asks.

“About Rafael,” Alec sighs.

Shit's about to hit the fan at wrap speed

If they were going to have a chat about their boys, Magnus had expected it to be about Max.

Nope... my sweet chaotic child is doing great thanks to David (I used great very liberally here)

“Don’t do it!” he hisses at himself. “Don’t do it, Magnus.”

Snooping is bad!!!

Magnus I know you're anxious and scared and super worried but please call Alec and wait!!!

“Jesus Fucking Christ! Can you get off my back for a fucking a minute?”

Oh  no 😔  He going off

“I gave you so much and you just kept taking! Everyone just keeps taking from me! And I am so fucking tired, and I have nothing more to give! I’m done! Leave me alone!”

😭😭😭😭😭

"Rafael is gone."

I don't know what I want anymore, I want Rafe to come back but I also want him to be happy and he is not happy with Magnus

I am glad that he has finally said all the things he's been keeping inside, hopefully it will help him find himself

Anjali is a fair Godess she won't just leave you Rafe!!

Thank you Dani, you broke my heart so much is basically made of sand now, I absolutely loved this chapter my poor Rafe 😭 I do hope things start to get better for him soon 💚💚💚💚💚

THANK YOU.

AND OMG I LOVED THE GAME OF THRONES GIF HEHE.

#tlnd

[vermillionsstuff]

Sup everyone, I'm writing this as an honest look at the world from the perspective of someone with ASPD (among other things; comorbid BPD + NPD traits). I'm hoping to help people understand ASPD through how my experience made me who I am. I'm already well aware that my behavior in the past was unacceptable and am currently starting the recovery process btw, hopefully you find this educational as it was intended.

MANY TRIGGER WARNINGS AHEAD

So right from the jump my life wasn't off to a good start, I was born into less than fortunate circumstances and only had a single alcoholic parent to take care of me along with my grandparents. We didn't have any money ourselves and often fell back on their financial support, which wasn't a big deal at first. Despite their demons, my parent had decent skills in civil engineering and landed a good job. Most if not all of the money they earned went straight into alcohol and only further fueled their dependence. It started to cause issues between my grandparents and my parent so much that they kicked us out and I spent 3 years living alone with my parent.

These years are when all of the significant damage was done, most of it is very blurry but I still recall that I was beaten and disowned. I was 7 at the time and my grades began going down rapidly, it caused a lot of concern from my teacher who also started to report my behavioral issues at school. I'm not proud of any of this... but, yes, I bullied people and would act VERY shitty to anyone nice enough to be my friends.

I began to get ostracized as we all grew up due to my bad behavior and I internalized this anger, I felt like I couldn't fit in anywhere. I always ended up making people upset without understanding why they felt this way and eventually I started to feel even more alienated from my peers into high school where it all reached its boiling point.

High school was a mixed bag in terms of how fondly I remember it. On one hand, I met a lot of like minded people who didn't care about society's norms and finally had a chance to socialize and form some kind of relationship with someone. On the other hand, the school was onto me and I still had no comprehension that anything was even wrong with me. It felt extremely overbearing as I was forced to attend weekly meetings regarding my grades and behavior, this constant pressure created a rift between my parent and I as many of these meetings ended in me arguing and fighting with them.

Eventually my school determined I was just too much to handle as I wasn't improving whatsoever and sent me to an alternative learning environment. By this point I didn't care much for schoolwork and only got into a few fights out of self defense. I still wouldn't have considered myself violent and it stayed that way until I went to my new school, because now I was just surrounded by other little shits who made my behavior even worse. I was introduced to self medicating by the people at that school and my friends would drag me into fights constantly. It was hell and I hated everybody, there wasn't a single moment where I felt at peace. I felt like I had less than nothing and was forced to fend for myself in any way I could to get what I felt I needed (money, substances, favors, reputation, etc).

After graduating and entering the real world I struggled with unemployment and snagged a few jobs that I quickly lost and watched all the friendships I made in high school deteriorate before reaching what I consider to be the lowest point of my life.

Now we're at present day. Just a few months ago I finally caved in, I couldn't stand not understanding why I just couldn't fit in or seemingly have a single moment of peace no matter what I did and seeked out help through online therapy. After looking through my history and understanding my behavior they concluded that I met the diagnostic criteria for ASPD and now do a lot of reflecting. I was always told that people like me didn't feel ANY emotion whatsoever and were almost like machines put on this planet purely to manipulate and kill, this obviously isn't true lol. I feel emotion and even empathy on a cognitive level, meaning that if you came to me with horrible news of a relative's death I wouldn't necessarily feel sad about it, but I can understand how that would effect someone and I would support them in any way I know how. I'm not upset and I don't hold nearly as much resentment as I used to for my past.

So yeah.

This is my story. I tried to stay informative while sparing the unneeded details, if you have any questions be sure to ask me and I'll answer if I see fit. Take care.

- Vermillion

#antisocial personality disorder #aspd #cluster b #mental instability #personality disorder #trauma

[notsno]

I’m not a poet so don’t come for me

Just need to put this shit somewhere

There are things I’ll probably never be able to say to people who are probably never going to be in my life again. But Solange Piaget Knowles was fucking right. I’m glad at my young old 28 years of age that I do not crave to drink this shit away. I barely drink, I am so happy about that. I barely even want to smoke about this shit. I don’t dwell in it either, I let it come and go as the waves that it is. I go out, but I also stay in. I date, hang with friends and fam, and I take my own time alone.

This shit will be with me forever. You’ll be with me. Forever.

To one of them:

- All that, just to become a figment? A figment of my imagination? I can’t even take a hot shower or bath without being reminded. How are you in there, how did you do that? So warm. Water running down my body reminds me of yours.

To you:

- I’m sorry. We were both right. We were both wrong. We just wanted to love and to be loved. I’m not running away. I’m facing this head on. I’m proud, I’m so proud. Of us. For taking a chance. For giving up. For not letting shit get even worse. Even if you’ve hardly changed at all, I’m proud of you. Proud of you.

Proud of me. I did that shit. Years later, I stood up. I deserved better. You deserved better. We all did. Let this be the LAST time either of us treats anyone the way we did. We should’ve ended long ago but we weren’t strong enough. I* was not strong enough. I don’t blame us for wanting what we wanted and trying. We are worthy and oh so deserving of love and life and partners with the same ideals and all the other things. I am so proud of me for not doing what I’ve done in the past. For not even wanting to. I am a goddamn 28 years old today, when you know better? You fucking do better. I have my moments, I do. My counselor brought up harm reduction therapy and that shit can be applied in many places. Relapse is a part of it. I’m proud I give myself *grace.*

It is so important to get this shit out, I know. I can’t help the mental image of me apologizing to you in my mind lately though. Something that will probably never happen, because what would come of it? It would only serve me, at least in theory. After everything… the way we ended. Are you the same? Are you different? Would you receive it? A small part of me wishes you could. Why? Could I say sorry, could you accept it, could we move on in that way. Could we be friends. Could we be more? Did we need this to finally see? And do it right? And get it right?

I cry because it’s not true. We were not right, we are not right. So much would have to change. I know and see now. I’m really just sad about the way we treated each other. And it’s hard to process something two people went through together alone. Such a singular experience. I talked to you all the time, now radio silence. A hard, lengthy adjustment is on the way and transpiring now as we speak. Or don’t. lol.

Shit stays. I am barely reading for fun again at my big age because I couldn’t read alone. Still mostly can’t. 18 years getting to escape, explore, find and seek refuge and comfort in books while my family was physically around me?

That one man. That first man. Still with me. A ghost, blurry around all edges. Not even a figment, a fragment of my imagination. And yet. And still. In the same cities for years and never running into each other. A sign, what a sign. Prototype.

I had an idea of what I wanted in my mind for so long. Then I met him. Then he was the idea for so long. I realize even though these people stay with you forever (for life. Whoever said you’ll get over people LIED! The fire just dulls. Some/ most times it’s almost nothing. But always there. Always will be there.) they are feelings too. Come and go, catch and release. It’s so important that I no longer chase an idea (an ideal?) People are people, they are not ideas. I was young and didn’t know so I forgive myself.

Now I will go through life with clear goals in mind. Who I date is the least interesting thing about me. Love in the romantic sense will come and go. Even when/ while it was committed, it came and went. It will come and go and I will let it. I want to build a life. I want to have a long one. I want to have a kid, and be able to give them as much as I can. I want the challenge of preserving myself while raising another being. I want to be old. I want to live. And so far, I’m doing that.

[lomaaltakid]

Trauma.

To this day, I still don’t understand it. So many days gone in therapy and still I feel like a lot of things are unanswered. 

But there’s no turning back now. I’m unpacking things I didn’t think I ever would. It’s quite possibly one of the most challenging things I’ve ever had to do in my life. It’s been the reason why I’ve had a break down of some sorts almost every day now and I need to regain composure. Certain topics get easier to discuss little by little, but the water works come out the flood gates whenever something triggers it. Where does my trauma stem? From my past of course. My childhood. Growing up, I was always feeling like I came from a place of privilege, but I wasn’t happy. I could tell you about certain moments that were somewhat memorable, but the dialog gets blurry. It’s been so many years and I’m afraid that my mind tries to hold onto both the good and the bad memories but it’s hard really pinpointing it all and achieving a somewhat “breakthrough” moment that I’ve been led to believe about therapy.

Lot of things trigger the pain... Memories of my parents together, certain smells, certain sights, Annie Lennox’s “No More ‘I Love You’s’”... the latter which I’m currently using as the inspiration to help draft this post in a pool of dried up tears. 

My parents are the source of my trauma. I didn’t have my emotional needs met as a child. I’ve tried over the years to confront my parents about this and in muddled attempts of trying to explain myself, I can’t retain composure and ultimately can’t bring myself to lay it out in a coherent manner. The emotions are too much to bear, the pain is too much to handle, the fear is there... But the fear of what? Abandonment I guess. 

I don’t remember getting held up at gunpoint as a kid, but I sure remember hearing that story an awful lot growing up. After those experiences, our family remained vigilant and my parents held me even tighter in their grip. Ultimately, that led down a path of punishment and discipline that morally wore me down, but family was everything. It was all we had. 

I didn’t have any friends, and it surely wasn’t easy to make friends growing up. I was bullied, ridiculed at school and by the neighbor kids and include that with the discipline I received at home, I didn’t have a safe space for myself at the time. Luckily through my dad, music ended up filling that void, but the only reason I ever took it upon myself was because I wanted to make my father proud. I wanted him to finally be proud of me, and what better way for a father to be proud of his son that for the son to follow in his father’s footsteps in something he loved to do... By now you know the rest of the story... My parents were never approving of anything I did. My father and I would fall out several times and eventually my parents would split. They still live with each other to take care of my special needs brother.  But now fast forward to today. I’m now 30. A lot has happened in my life. I’ve had my heart broken several times, I went through a long bout of depression and self-destruction that surely would’ve meant a much bleeker outlook for my life, but after all that pain and struggle, I knew I had to do something if things were going to change. I got my act together, cut out the self-destruction that I was previously pursuing and now I’m in a much better position. I’m in love again and this time it’s a love that even I have trouble believing.  But that shadow of my past still lingers through every foundation and fiber that makes up my emotional psyche. I struggle with it on a daily basis now that I’m opening up more to embracing the past pain and heartache and realizing that there is a future, but it gets tough. I’m witnessing my parents own demise right in front of me. The two people whom I learned to love the most (who also hurt me the most) are now getting older and developing more problems and the older they get, the more their actions get on my nerves. Those old wounds resurface like rubbing alcohol on a deep flesh wound whenever they set a trigger off and I get so riled up about it. “HOW DARE THEY! THEY’RE MY PARENTS! THEY’RE SUPPOSED TO KNOW BETTER BY NOW AND KNOW MY TRIGGERS AND STOP SETTING THEM OFF” I scream in my head at the top of my lungs. But those screams fall on deaf ears. And now I know why it hurts so much.  I’m mouring the relationship I failed to have with my parents ever since I was a baby boy. As these old wounds resurface, memories are beginning to come back and those blurry instances become a bit clearer. 

It’s realizing how traumatized I was seeing my father getting carried to the couch at a family party by my uncle’s because I wasn’t sure what was going on with him. He had too much to drink, and it wasn’t the only isolated incident that I began to recall again. The shocker for me was that in my bout of self-destruction where I was drinking similarly like he was at that time, that memory was so supressed that it took me going to therapy to realize how badly that affected me. It’s having your girlfriend over at your house and your parents showing her an old home movie from 1994 where you see me trying to get my mother’s attention several times with a toy and having her snap at you to be quiet because she was knitting and watching televsion.  And because watching with your girlfriend for the very first time isn’t traumatic enough, it’s hearing your Mom apologize to you in front of her saying “I’m sorry baby, I was such a bad mother to you.” THE. ONE. THING. YOU’VE. BEEN. WANTING. TO. HEAR. FOR. OVER. 20. YEARS.

And instead of providing closure, it just makes it so much more uncomfortable.

It’s coming to terms that as my parents are getting older, my time with them is coming to an end. That nightmare I had when I was six will one day be a possibility. I’m trying to do everything I can to reconnect with them and make up for those 30 years I didn’t get to fully have with them. But what am I actually doing with that? It’s not going to prepare me for when the inevitable happens. I’ve done everything I could to have a proper and decent relationship with them over the years. They were the ones who decided to put up boundaries against me when I needed them the most, and even to this day, they still continue to have boundaries of their own... So why can’t I have my own? Why must I let the shadow of their actions define my life? I’m not saying I need to cut them out completely out of my life, but I need to have the same equal say in my relationship with them and if they’re continuing to hurt me, I have every right to walk away. Maybe this way, I can finally let go of this grudge I’ve been holding on for so many years. But those wounds take time to heal, and the scars tend to bleed from time to time when they get irritated. So it’s a process. Maybe this grudge will never go away truly. Maybe it’s something that will linger over me for the rest of my life. But I’m trying to manage the pain now, so I don’t repeat the cycle in the future. It’s exhausting.

#childhood trauma #fear of abandonment

[sadgirlselfcare]

As someone who has been in and out of therapy since before they were a teen, I frequently get asked questions about my early experiences with therapy, and how I managed to stick with it for so long, even after several bad experiences. The answer is simple- I’m stubborn as hell. My very first experience with therapy is a bit blurry. I was in 4th grade, and I was sent to the school psychologist to be assessed for ADHD. I believe I was 9. I remember being pulled out of class every day for about a week, could’ve been longer. The pulled me out of our study time, and again during recess to take this assortment of tests, and to watch me color and draw. I remember thinking it was really weird that they wanted me to do some of the tests. I can’t remember now what they were, but they were boring and sometimes very odd. After the week of testing, I remember being told I have severe ADHD, something I had heard of before, but had no clue what it actually was. My parents declined medication, and I went on to fail 6th, 7th, 8th, and 9th grade. I was able to manage summer school pretty well though, so I always managed to move on to the next grade. My second experience with therapy was a little more uncomfortable. I was in 6th grade, and one of my friends turned me in to the school counselor for being suicidal. At this point, I didn’t even realize that people commonly wanted to die, and as a result, I didn’t think anyone could help me. I owe my life to that counselor. After a few weeks of her asking me to see her every day, I began to feel a little lighter, a little less weighed down by the constant nagging feeling of wanting to end my life. Once 6th grade was over, I moved on to 7th grade, we had a different counselor. I went to a couple sessions with him, but I never felt like we connected. It didn’t feel like he really cared. It was just a job to him. Eighth grade is when things really started going down hill. I got messy with my self harm, and a teacher saw cuts on my arm one day. Immediately I was sent to the office, where I waited over an hour for the district’s psychiatrist to arrive. When she did, she condescended me, she humiliated me, and she touched me without my consent. She grabbed my arm, ripped my sleeve up, and scolded me for seeking attention. I was then sent to mandatory therapy through the school, and they also told my parents about what they’d found.

Honestly, my parents kind of swept it under the rug. I was always a dramatic child, so why would this be any different. I think a part of them was also afraid to acknowledge that there was an issue. I remember being told to knock it off, I remember being told I was embarrassing because of my constant sulking, visible cuts, and dramatic mood swings. Looking back, I do wish they had addressed the issue further, but this was also the early 2000’s and the stigma around mental health was still holding strong.

I didn’t attend therapy again until 11th grade, due to the negative experiences I had during my 7th and 8th grade years. In 11th grade, I remember it being towards the end of the year, I was stuck in an extremely abusive relationship. And my self harm was at an all time high. I remember walking through the hallway during class change, and everything was a blur. I was dissociating hard, and the only thing on my mind was getting help. I walked out of school, got in my car, and drove to the nearest inpatient center. When I arrived, I was obviously distraught, and I didn’t have an appointment. They asked me to wait in the waiting room, a large room with a conversation pit in the middle. It felt like hours went by, but it was probably only about 20 minutes. A younger woman with a bright smile called my name from the doorway.

I went back with her, as she tried to make small talk. She got my weight, and led me into a small windowless room. I don’t remember much about the session, but I remember the room was a salmon pink color, and I remember crying….a lot. I asked her if I could stay the night in the center, but she told me there was no room. She asked me if I thought I would be okay for the night, and she gave me her number if I ever needed to see her again. I never saw her again, but I did resume therapy after that point. I was seeing this older man, who was extremely religious (if you know about my past, you know why this is a problem). After he diagnosed me with BPD, I stopped seeing him. Even though I resonated with the symptoms of BPD, I couldn’t take anything he said seriously, because there was always some element of God behind it. Three weeks after I stopped seeing him, he showed up at my job to “ask me how I had been”. So glad I dodged that bullet. Since then, I’ve seen a handful of therapists, some great, and some awful. But I never want to go through another period of my life where I do not have that unbiased support, that ability to learn new skills to help cope with my mental illness, or without having the ability to just go in a cry over nothing, without being judged. So no matter the bad experiences, the good will always outweigh them.

#therapy #blog #journal #sadgirlselfcare

[screamingay]

id like to go back to the gory dreams now 😳

#ive had 3 hannibal inspired dreams so far the first ones were gore and then romance #but this one. was manipulation #i just wish it wasnt so.. PERSONAL #basically my family had been sending me to doctors/therapy since i was little and i had absolutely zero memory of it #i thought they were joking at first bc i had no lost time. i could account for every hour of every day #they started listing off the names of my doctors and i didnt recognize a single one #i never even considered amnesia or anything. i knew everything else. i knew who i was. i knew this was something theyd done to me #the end gets blurry but i went to one of the 'therapy' things and it was kinda terrifying #and at the end my parents reveal that they did plan all of it. they bring out a promotional booklet about this experimental program #they were worried i wouldnt grow up right since they worked so often and werent home enough so theyve been sending me to this program #as ive been watching hannibal i guess i have been the most affected by hugh dancy's acting and i couldnt stop thinking abt #the pure betrayal in every fiber of his being when he fully realized hannibal had been manipulating him the entire time #i think it got to me #the worst part was how good they were at acting like they didn't know #like how hannibal is such a good actor #and the fact that they were my FAMILY. the people who raised me. and it was all in my own house. the one im in right now #it could be happening in real life and id have no idea bc in the dream i had no clue anything was wrong #like obviously it isnt but it's like watching horror movies set in houses. like hey! i live in one of those!! #if u just read all of that u may be entitled to financial compensation

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Bad Dreams - Bucky Barnes x Avenger (f)reader

Summary: You and Bucky are adjusting to civilian life after the Blip, some nights he needs you more then he realizes.

Warning: bit o angst, soft Bucky, fluff

Masterlist

It had been a long fucking five years alone, sure you had Nat and Steve around at the Avengers Facility. But no matter how much time you spent with them doing whatever to keep your mind busy, at the end of the day, you were undoubtedly alone. You liked it that way at one point in your complicated life as an Avenger, but after the blip, you absolutely despised it. 

No one had expected what would have happened to be so terrible and tragic, or it to even go the way that it did. You had never even heard of Thanos or what the fuck kind of weirdass monsters could exist from other parts of the galaxy until they showed up knocking. How rude huh.

Life was peaceful before hand, well for the most part; you were an Avenger, someone who was part of the team. A conjurer of flame and ash, a Phoenix held within that was not afraid to use your power, and you used it well.

Then as per usual, shit went down and low and behold you met the one and only James Buchanan Barnes, Steve’s old friend with the metal arm and troubling history. Not to mention a face to die for, or at least one that would cause a bit of a chaotic scuffle between your two friends. They clearly had other priorities apart from yours at the time which was keep Steve out of jail, don’t burn anyone, and refrain from flirting with his 90 something year old friend. You tried your best in most of those areas. Most of them. 

Nonetheless, you fell hard and fast for the blue eyed man, and him the same for you, his feisty little firecracker with a heart as big and bright as a dragons. So when he went to Wakanda to lie low and get some much needed help. You followed.

With a heartfelt goodbye and a lasting kiss, he went under for a couple long weeks until Shuri and her expert team of scientists were able to fix what those bastards at Hydra had done to him.

For a short yet blessedly peaceful amount of time did you and your dark haired lover live safely within the Wakandan borders. In a small and beautiful little village by a lake, a hut all your own to shelter you from the heat and rain that poured hard onto the earth, and most wonderfully of all you had Bucky.

Life was simple for the first time in a long time, you spent the days helping out the locals and teaching the children how to properly swing a stick in defense, you know completely normal leisure activities. Spending the evenings making a big fire to tell stories under and cook the best food in Wakanda.

And the nights? You spent those wrapped up in Bucky’s arm, although most times you would be the big spoon which he loved more then anything in the whole world. Telling you it’s not just because you’re naturally warm, but that he’s been admittedly a bit touch starved from the years alone and lost. And for that you would always hold him closer.

Then that fateful day came crashing into your lives like a waterfall against rock, your friends had shown up claiming some being called Thanos was coming to take a stone out of Vision’s head. Yeah that was a new one.

The battle wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great either, you were able to save many lives by scorching the beasts that pursed onward. Letting whips of flame slash hard against the enemy with great skill and force from your bending. Then the world seemed to still, and the wind swayed the trees oddly.

Then HE came, the Titan from another world, he threw down all in his path without an ounce of mercy or remorse. You and Wanda were so close, so damn close to stopping him, but then he threw you back with the whole force of the gauntlet and a moment later Vision was dead.

Your head was bleeding and a fresh scar had marked your jaw in a bloody red slash from the impact. Though your mind didn’t have time to register nor care as Thanos abruptly disappeared into oblivion, leaving a confused Thor in his wake. Much like the rest of the Avengers.

Then to your horror, one by one, your friends began to turn to ash and dust. Gone. You raced for Bucky nearby, praying to who’d ever listen to spare him or you for that matter. You just needed ten more seconds and then you could have held him one last time, touched his precious skin, ran your fingers through his long dark locks.

Looked into his ocean blue eyes, but no, the universe laughed as you gasped in panic, then it snickered as you screamed. Cheering you on as you sobbed in a cyclone of your own fire until the ground was scorched to shriveled dry earth. And no more tears could fall, your throat raw and heart broken in two.

Your world was gone, a memory forever kept locked inside your heart and soul. He was gone, he was your world, Bucky made your life better and you his.

For the coming months you were a mess, an angry and frustrated wreck of a person. Functioning by sheer will power and Natasha to keep you afloat in your new dreary little world of nothingness. You envied Steve for his ability to keep most of his shit together, and where almost enraged by Tony who had everything still intact. Pepper and a child on the way, how cruel the universe appeared.

You would wake up in the middle of the night sweating, your heart racing a mile a minute and usually part of the wall behind you would be burnt and blackened. You never set fire to anything thank god, but fuck, your heart hurt so much.

You wanted to scream most days, but as one year rolled into two and then three, the dull dreary ache in your body subdued to a tiny flicker of sadness. It became almost nonexistent during the day as you went about Avenger business, only to burn hot and angry at night.

You wanted to move on and forget, but you couldn’t, he was too important. They all didn’t deserve to go like that, none of them. And so another year passed, then it was year five since the blip, more months passed on. Until out of nowhere something or perhaps someone miraculous lit the way into a new sense of hope.

Resulting in the return of everyone who had been lost before, including your Bucky. And from that moment after the battle, when at long last you had finally found him, you knew life would never be the same.

——

Rain pours relentlessly from outside your apartment window, a rhythmic pitter patter near your bedside that aids in keeping you asleep and unbothered for the time being. No sooner do you reach the climax of your dream that consists of you being chased by a giant monarch butterfly with no weapon but a sandbox plastic shovel, do you wake. Strange dream.

All your senses flooding back into you as you feel for your lover in the darkness, your eyes still closed as you do so. Your hand slides across the crinkled bedsheets to no avail, the spot next to you is undeniably empty and rather cold.

oh, Bucky.

Cracking one eye open you glance at the alarm clock where it reads 1:10am in big red letters, illuminating the nightstand that it sits on. You take in a deep breath and roll onto your back to stare up at the ceiling, this has become a reoccurring event with Bucky in the following months since his return.

In Wakanda things were different, it was like a nice prolonged vacation away from all your problems and responsibilities of the world. Now, you two have an apartment somewhere in New York City all your own. Bucky goes to therapy and does his best to integrate back into his new role as a civilian while you work as an Avenger part time. The other half used for being a supporting loving girlfriend to Bucky and a hacker on the side for extra cash in the bank.

You get it though, he’s adjusting the best he’s able to manage right now, and even when he swears the nightmares are gone for good. You know him too well to believe that shit, you can see it in his eyes, he may have been a master assassin at one point. Now he’s with a skilled and almost equally as weathered Avenger who’s seen her share of people really going through it.

It’s not like you were doing any better, you’d wake up screaming in the dead of night from another nightmare involving losing Bucky again. That only lasted for a month or so, but still, it sucked and hurt every damn time. So you get it, nightmares can be a bitch.

Blinking the bleariness out of your eyes, you yawn into the darkness and take a moment to listen to the sound of the rain. It’s peaceful and calm, and though you’d like nothing more then to roll over and fall back into the dark comfortable void of sleep. You long to see Bucky again, even if you saw him not even two hours ago.

Pulling the blanket off of your body, you slowly sit up and face the blurry window that overlooks the glowing city, well more so the park close by. Pushing some hair out of your face, you stand and take a brief moment to stretch before letting your right hand emit a beautiful blue flame.

It proptly lights up the dark room into a shadowed yet still visible one, with a lazy proud smile, you move for the opened bedroom door. Your flame lights the way down the hall until you wander past the tiny kitchen and stop in your living room to the sound of heavy breathing coming from the far end.

You give a lopsided smirk to no one in particular as you pad over to the man who’s sweaty and shirtless on the wooden apartment floor in nothing but his boxers and a single blanket that’s not covering much. Well he sure looks like a hot mess, your hot mess that is.

He gives you an apologetic glance before staring tiredly back at the nearby wall. You extinguish your flame and gently nudge his leg with your sock, “How’s the floor?” You ask with a tinge of humor to lighten the mood.

He lets out a breathy laugh before looking back up at you, “Solid.” Quips Bucky in reference to the hard floor and perhaps his take on the makeshift bed, always one for a bit of humor huh.

Chuckling you crouch down to better meet his shadowed gaze, “I guess so,” You mutter with a shrug, “....afraid I might burn you in my sleep?”

Shaking his head, he gifts you the flash of a smile, “No. Not this time Y/N.”

You smile back before sitting down next to him, you look down at his hand before reaching out to take it without any resistance, “I know it’s the nightmares Bucky.” You whisper softly, your eyes sincere and true, “You don’t have to hold it all in okay, I don’t.....I don’t want you to do that.”

Letting out a reluctant sigh, Bucky frowns, “I know Y/N....I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, I just love you too much to see you hurting. I’ve missed you for what feels like a hundred goddamn years and I don’t want you to slip away from me..” You add with a sad smile, “Never again.”

Squeezing your hand gently, Bucky nods, “You’re not going to lose me okay. I promise you that much alright. I love you Y/N.” And he means every word.

“That’s good then. Can you at least tell me something to ease your mind from what’s bothering you?” You ask with a hopeful smile, “Please. Remember what the therapist talked about with speaking your thoughts and feelings....it’s like emptying a treasure chest or some shit.”

“Right.” Laughs Bucky, “Can’t say you’re going to find any gold in here.”

“Shut up I don’t care.” You muse with a shrug, “I’m here to listen.”

“As the lady wishes.” Retorts Bucky with a half-assed bow that caused you to break out into a small smile at his cheekiness.

“Wait.” You pause.

“What?”

“Can we sit on the couch for this I wanna lay next to you.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky fakes his annoyance as you patiently await his answer, “Fine.” He confirms, quickly standing up and taking you with him, “But you gotta lay on me I’m kinda cold now.”

Bucky falls onto the large comfortable couch with a dramatic huff as he pulls you onto his shirtless body, “Weren’t you just all sweaty?” You wonder with a raised brow as he quickly wraps his arms around your waist.

“Yep.”

“Gross.”

Bucky chuckles, “Well you’re making me talk about my feelings.”

“That’s because you won’t talk about them with your actual therapist.” You sass back.

“I hate it when you’re right.” Mutters Bucky into your cheek as you snicker at his adorably dramatic self.

“I think your brain short circuited and misplaced the word hate for absolutely love and adore.”

“Maybe.” Adds Bucky as he steals a sweet kiss, “I’m still working through things you know.”

“Okay smartass. Now tell me what’s on your mind.”

His chest rises as he takes a deep heavy sigh, he stares out the nearby window that keeps the rainy city from being bothersome. You can’t completely see his face due to the darkened room, but you’re close enough to see the way his face turns into a frown.

Suddenly you think maybe you shouldn’t have bugged him to speak about his nightmares. Until he purses his lips together and glances those big beautiful blue eyes down at you, the flash of a smile revealing itself in a split second.

To give him a bit more confidence and perhaps to calm his nerves, do you reach a hand up to gently caress his stubbled cheek, “Was it the Starks again?” You whisper softly in question, knowing how much it still haunts him. Among all the others.

Closing his eyes, he leans into your touch, “Not this time.” Mutters Bucky before taking that hand in his as he rests his head against the couches puffy arm. “Someone else.....Someone who got in the way. Wrong place wrong time.”

“oh.” Slips from your mouth quietly, you’re not sure what else to say, but you’re still hoping he’ll speak a little more about it. “Do they have anything to do with your list?”

It’s a shot in the dark, but you’re well aware of Bucky’s goal to make amends with his past and the people tied with it, maybe someone might be linked to it by chance.

Bucky takes another weighted breath, you can just sense how terrible he feels about this person. “Bucky take your time, it’s okay I’m right here.”

Looking for a positive sign you watch as he closes his eyes once again before moving his head a little bit so that it rests against yours, “I know....it’s just, difficult.”

“Always is.”

“Yeah.”

Kissing your forehead, his flesh arm wraps around your waist as he makes himself more comfortable before continuing, “I was in some government building at night.....tasked with eliminating some special high end target. I finished the mission in under a minute, but uh....there was a civilian who saw everything.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah.” Mumbles Bucky against your skin as he takes a moment to gather himself, soon he shifts underneath you once more before letting out a soft breath, “I shot him.”

A bang of sadness washes over you in that brief second and then a sparking anger for what Hydra had forced him to do. You keep silent and wait for Bucky to continue on with his story.

“That guy I killed. He um....he uh, he didn’t deserve that....but I had to.” Bucky’s voice is shaky as he puts his words together, “And you know what’s the worst about this?”

“I’d like not to imagine it but I know you should tell me.”

“You remember Yori?”

“Of course, he takes us to that great sushi place sometimes.”

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut as he hugs you tighter against his bare chest for some kind of comfort, his voice nothing but a regretful whisper, “I killed his son.”

Your eyes soften as he reveals who this mystery civilian was, “Damn.”

“Out of all the people in this world and I meet the man who’s son I murdered for Hydra.”

“That’s almost a sick joke.”

“I know. God I’m so fucked up.”

“No.” You protest softly while he hides his face in your neck, “I know you’ve heard this a thousand times but that wasn’t you. It wasn’t the real James Buchanan Barnes alright, you didn’t have a choice. Those fuckers took that away from you.”

“I know Y/N, but I still did it.”

“Bucky look at me.” You ask kindly, to your genuine surprise he lifts his head from your neck to look into your determined gaze, “You’re not the only one here who was manipulated and had their freedom taken from them by Hydra. I’ve done terrible things too, but you know what? We were never truly ourselves then, they molded us into their weapons and now.....they can never touch us again. You understand me?”

Tears whell up in Bucky’s shimmering eyes at your truthfully honest words, he had temporarily forgotten that you were once an unwilling participant in Hydra’s mind stone experimentations many years ago.

“I understand....” Mutters Bucky as he swallows hard, “what would I be without you?”

Giving him a small tearful smile, you gently wipe away a stray tear from his cheek, “A little bit more alone I’d say.”

“You’re a hundred times braver then me you know that? I couldn’t image five years without you and these fucking nightmares.” Admits Bucky as he moves to rest his head in the crook of your neck, “I’d go insane.”

Appreciating this close proximity and his heartfelt confession, you smile into the darkness, “I think I did. Thing is about shitty situations like that....life moves on and finds a way. I have you now, I thought I would lose you forever.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me too.”

#bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #Bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel x y/n #marvel x you #marvel #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier

[trueshellz]

Hey could I get something where kyoutani, diachi, and iwazumi react to finding out you when you just didn’t eat for months, when you were younger and you fainted

Hey hun. Thanks for the request. I tried making each one a little different but with the same theme.

Warnings: eating disorders, anxiety, tube feeding mentioned, PTSD, family death mentioned, bullying, body dysmorphia, spanking (out of place but Kyoutani warranted it), injury.

Kyoutani:

"Why did you mother ask me to make sure you eat regularly? She makes it sound like we have no food in the apartment or something. Does she think I'm not earning enough to provide for us?"

You stopped what you were doing, hands pausing on the knife as you cut the vegetables for dinner. You really hoped your mum wouldn't drop anything about your battle with food when she came around earlier, she had been so worried when you decided to move in with your boyfriend.

Apparently that wish was in vain.

"Err....so, you see-"

"Drop the shit. Tell me or I'll call her back and ask her instead. And your butt will pay for it later too."

You sighed long and hard, glaring at Kyoutani as he stood there with his hand on his hips. There was no way you were winning this argument.

"I... Ken-"

His hand suddenly resting on the back of you knuckles was the only change in his mood, eyes still staring holes into you with a frown on his face.

"I... had some trouble with food when I was younger... didn't eat for a while and ended up passing out."

"How long is 'a while'?"

"A few weeks?"

The tightening of his jaw was the only indication of his mood, you could see the small tick in his jaw and the grip on your hand increased, only a little, but it was enough for you to realise. He nodded for you to proceed, thumb back to rubbing small circles on your skin.

"My... my mum... she found me on the floor in the bathroom... I think I was having a bath or something.... I don't think the image ever left her to be honest." You paused. "I'm sor-"

"Don't apologise for that shit. Ever. I'll make sure you eat... even if I have to tie you up and feed you myself."

"Kinky." You snorted a laugh, turning into a yelp as he landed a slap on your ass as he walked to the fridge.

Daichi:

Unpacking your apartment was the worst thing ever, you decided. Between finding what you needed and putting it in the right place, it was driving you up the wall. Daichi was in the living room unpacking the shared collection books that you had, while you were in the kitchen fighting with the unmatched chopsticks.

"Hey babe?"

"Yeah?"

"Come here a sec."

You found him surrounded by yearbooks, all open on the same page- your class.

"So, you're here, here and here." Daichi pointed at each picture of you through the years you were there. "But not here."

His finger landed on the page exactly where you would have been alphabetically, between your best friends. A small trickle of anxiety worked its way down your spine, you remembered that year vividly. It had been after a close family death and it had hit you very hard, you had trouble sleeping and eating. The latter causing more problems, your brother had watched you wither away even when you said you were okay.

The final straw came when you passed out at school one day, walking through the corridors between lessons and the next thing you knew, you woke up in hospital. They had been close to tube feeding you with how much weight you had lost. Lots of therapy and counselling later, you had a better relationship with food but the scars were still there.

You hadn't realised that you had tears running down your face as you retold him the story until Daichi wiped them away. His warm hands cupping your face, thumb wiping away the tears as he kissed your forehead. Arms wrapping around you and bundling you into his lap, his scent washing over you as he held you close.

"It's ok. I got you. You're not alone in this, I'll help ok? Lean on me, it's what I'm here for."

Iwaizumi:

"You okay there, doll? You've gone a little pale."

Hand resting on your forehead, Iwaizumi stepped close as you sat in the restaurant. The menu in your hands suddenly going blurry, writing smearing as you tried to focus on choosing something to eat. Your palms suddenly sweaty, heart beating in your ears as you quickly got up and left the restaurant. The cold air hit your skin, chills running through your body as you realised you had left-

"Here."

Your jacket was draped over your shoulders as Iwaizumi stood next to you. Not touching, just stood silently as you stared into space, his arms barely touching yours as you took some deep breaths in.

"I..." You took a deep breath, "I had some trouble with food when I was in high school. I was your typical chubby kid who got bullied. Where everyone was slim and had these great figures, I had bumps and lumps in places they didn't. No matter what I did or said... what I ate... it didn't stop. So I didn't eat." You sniffed, eyes watering as you continued. "It was good for a while... the bullying stopped and I was slimmer on the outside, I guess? But when I looked in the mirror all I could see whay the body I hated and was trying to get rid of."

His arm came around you, pulling your to his chest as you felt his lips in your hair. Hand rubbing up and down your shoulder as you wiped your eyes, sure that the mascara you had was now rings on your face.

"We had P.E one day, netball or something, and I remember jumping.... and then nothing. I woke up to my mum crying, a cast on my leg because I landed badly. It took months of rehab to get myself back to my old habits but now... eating out kinda scares me. I know it's stupid and-"

"It's not stupid."

You peered up at him, his eyes soft even though his expression hasn't changed. His hand brushed your hair back and turned you to face him.

"It's not stupid at all. You went through something traumatic and you reacted how you thought best. But the relationship you have with food is still fragile and that's understandable. We don't have eat out."

"But-"

"Don't do that. Don't deflect and worry about me, that's my job. I'm supposed to look after you, doll. How about we go to the supermarket and you choose something we can make together? And we buy something small that's premade... like some dumplings or some mochi?"

You could manage that... you thought.

"But Hajime..."

A soft kiss on your lips silenced you, hands cupping you face as he leaned into you.

"Let's take one day at a time, ok?

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