#i do not care in the slightest. everyone else struggles with something so figure it out

[xxlelaxx]

I'm so over people making their problems someone else's problem. Listen buddy, you got issues, you take care of it. Don't make everyone else around you do it. Figure it out cause everyone else has to do that too <3

[ffc1cb]

new art blog

the short version:

1. i made a new art blog: @cbge;

2. @ffc1cb will stay up as an archive.

the long version:

hi everyone. this announcement is somewhat late, since the blog in question has been up for a few months now, and i’ve already started posting art on it. the reason it took me so long to “reveal” it is because i’ve been trying to figure out whether a new blog is something i actually want, or if it's just me throwing darts at a board, trying to make myself feel better somehow.

i don’t know when precisely it all started, but ever since sometime last year i’ve been going through a hard time, both emotionally and creatively. i’m not sure whether being depressed is what made art harder, or art becoming harder is what made me depressed (a bit of both, i think), but lately, drawing has been a struggle. 

i’ve found myself having less and less energy for art, and this lack of energy resulted in poorer quality of drawings, which resulted in me feeling like i’m getting worse at it, despite my efforts. i knew i could make good art, art that i’m proud of - i’ve done so countless times before, - but somehow it felt like i just couldn’t anymore, like my hands forgot how to. nothing looked right. 

i’ve been trying to experiment. i’ve learned some new things, tried this and that - it was enlightening, to say the least, and even though i kind of liked how it looked, it made me feel a sense of displacement. i was at odds with myself, my art, and how i felt about it, when previously i was always in sync. i was making art, yes, and it looked nice, but it felt like it wasn’t mine.

i suppose part of it was also the growing lack of engagement, and i don’t mean likes and reblogs - i never particularly cared about those. they are all just numbers to me; dry and impersonal. what i’m talking about is actual, human interactions: personal thoughts in tags, asks, replies, etc. a conversation. 

i don’t mean to sound “old” or anything, but i remember when talking to artists online was more commonplace. my wife tells me it’s because the internet culture has changed over the years, that people have become more reclusive, less willing to be open with their thoughts, and she's probably right, but in my slump i find it hard to believe. somehow it feels like it’s my fault for being less “engaging”, for seeming unapproachable or perhaps intimidating. maybe it’s “just a skill issue”, maybe it’s because i have stopped churning out fanart for popular fandoms, maybe it’s because i refuse to torture myself emotionally by having an art account on twitter (i can’t fucking stand the place anymore; i still post nsfw art there, but only because it’s literally one of the only places on the internet that allows you to do so. i miss when you could post female presenting tits on tumblr).

i have always, ever since i started posting art on the internet back in 2012, done it for human connection. i wanted to talk to people, and have people talk to me. i wanted to inspire people with my art, and i wanted to bring them comfort. i wanted to elicit an emotional response, and have people tell me about it. it was one of the main reasons i drew in the first place; having lost that, i’ve been struggling to stay passionate about making art.

i miss being a small artist on the internet during the 2010s. i remember when i could make a post going, “hey everyone, how are you all doing today?” and it would not seem weird to people in the slightest. it is just me? does anyone else feel that way? am i too deep in my own head? the internet feels so unwelcoming nowadays, especially to artists. we are all just content machines; people scroll by our stuff, or maybe look at it for half a second and leave a like before scrolling away. i know it’s unfair to demand people’s attention, especially now when our lives are already so overwhelmed by everything - no one has the energy to pay closer attention; i myself am not immune to mindless scrolling. but it feels bad. i wish we were all sincere and enthusiastic again.

anyway (sorry for rambling. i hope i haven’t bored you to death), you might want to say, okay, but how is making a new art blog on a “dying” social platform going to help with any of that? the truth is, i don’t know. i just felt like i needed a change. 

i’ve been running this blog since 2016 (that’s almost 8 full years!). i feel incredibly attached to it, but at the same time, i feel it weighing me down. 

there are people who followed me years ago for one specific thing, still expecting me to post about said thing (i still find it mindboggling that some people follow artists for a specific fandom only, but that is a whole other matter for a whole other post that i will never write). a third, if not half, of my following are probably dead blogs. and with my current struggle with trying to regain the joy i once felt for making art, looking back at all the art i’ve done over the years makes me feel tired. i still love it all; it’s all very dear to me. i’m proud of it; looking at it makes me mourn my younger and more passionate self.

so i’ve decided to make a new blog, where i will let myself post whatever i want, in whatever stage of donness i feel like. maybe it will help me, somehow. maybe it won’t. but if you care about my art, if you want to keep following me on my artistic journey, i welcome you to join me there. similarly, feel free not to - no hard feelings.

thank you everyone for your support over the years; it matters a lot to me. i’m not planning to delete or private this blog; it will stay up, and i will still be reachable on here. i will still answer asks, if there will be any. i’m just not planning to post any art here anymore. this is it for my dear old friend ffc1cb.

i can be found in other places:

@cbge, as mentioned earlier,

@k0nstanta, an art blog dedicated solely to my wife and i’s ocs,

@inquisimail, a dragon age ask blog that has become my dragon age sideblog in general,

and multiple other blogs, none of which are art related, but feel free to ask, if you’re curious.

thank you very much for reading all of this. i hope you have a wonderful day.

[indigochromatic]

I sent this ask to someone else but I'd like to ask more systems - may I ask what your opinion is on subjective reality within systems? Systems that don't have consistency in the headspace, or a consistent timeline, consistent memories...that sort of thing. I'm struggling a bit with that now and it's really freaking me out :( so I'd love to hear your take, if you'd be willing

Hey there! Yeah for sure, we'll take a crack at this. First, though: Content warning for discussions of reality, subjective reality, unreality, etc. If too much that stuff makes your brain unhappy, maybe skim or skip this one.

I'm sorry to hear you're struggling a bit rn, Anon. It's not fun to feel like you don't have "solid ground to stand on", and having to deal with not having a consensus about your autobiographical narrative can be really frustrating and scary.

Lemme try to come at this from a couple angles. First off, I'll say something about how we think of big-picture philosophy, which is that everyone has a subjective reality to some extent. There's a reason it's called "consensus reality" not "objective reality", and that's because no two people on earth are having the exact same experience. Perception is biased, memories slowly alter every time they're recalled, interpretation differs wildly depending on context. The human brain isn't an accurate recording device, it's a pile of synapses telling stories to itself in the dark.

So what do we do with that? Philosophically, that's a big question, and I'm not gonna pretend I have all that figured out. Learn to yourselves stories that give your life meaning and purpose. Practically speaking, though? That'll depend on what you're struggling with specifically, and what you're hoping to change.

For example, let's take memory consistency. The two of us have generally pretty consistent memories (e.g. we agree on what events happened rather than having conflicting memories about it), but we also have a shit memory overall--we've described it like we're living in a sliding window of 2-8 days, and everything else is kind of a mess since around 2019-2020. We also have ADHD, so that doesn't help either. What do we do? Honestly, just super basic stuff like "keep a calendar notebook that we write stuff down in to keep track of it, and don't worry if it's not perfect or fully complete", "set alarm reminders for non-routine things we don't want to miss, like medical appointments or phone calls with friends", and "check in with each other when we can, to ask if we're missing anything (and just to say hey)". We also know our memory is affected by our overall dissociation levels, so just generally trying to take care of ourselves and slowly improve our life situation is pretty likely to help, too.

On headspace consistency, though--I'm actually a little confused by what you're asking. Are you worried because your headspace isn't static and changes a lot? Anon, with love, that shit is so common, I wouldn't be worried about it in the slightest. Our headspace is a whole mess, for instance--not only is it different based on whether you're in "my mind" vs "L's mind", even the small handful of semi-consistent places and/or 'themes' change around all the time, not just day-to-day like the weather but also evolving over time, especially as we learn more and process more stuff and experience more things. Hell, my exomemories don't even all have a consistent continuity. And even the "semi-consistent" aspects of our headspace basically exists in a sort of...Schrodinger's Headspace superposition, most of the time? For example, there's a whole, like, Hades/The Spirit Realm in there--except when it doesn't exist, or when it's wrapped into some other part of headspace, or retroactively never existed, or was all just symbolic anyways, or is personified in one of my facets instead, or...well, you get the idea. If you're looking to create a bit more solidity in your headspace, it's usually possible to develop more 'concrete' headspace locations by practicing visualization over time--this can be guided meditation stuff, writing about it, collecting a moodboard of images, constructing a model of it in minecraft or another "virtual space-builder" game/program/whatever, etc. Don't be discouraged if it doesn't happen overnight, this stuff can take a bit of practice to solidify.

Timeline consistency: yeah. That one can be especially hard to avoid when you have between-system-member amnesia in general, and/or multiple periods over your life where there were different main fronters. We're not experts on this front, but a lot of it, as far as we can tell, tends to come down to just...trusting each other, as a system. You've all got pieces of the puzzle, and some folks' pieces are written in map coordinates while other folks have cryptic, symbolic riddles--they're all important pieces, even when they conflict. And sometimes you have to kinda let go of trying to ever Perfectly Reconstruct Exactly What Happened, and focus more on what you want your life to look like now and moving forward. Not sure if that system member's exomemories are 'purely symbolic/emotional' or have some basis in physical events? Ask them how they want to deal with it, and what support they want. Sometimes the narrative is more important than the events, because the events themselves are gone. They're over. What we carry with us--everyone, systems and singlets--is the narrative we've told ourselves about the events, and that's the part that grows and changes with us throughout our lives.

Anyways, that's my take on it. Hopefully this gets at a bit of what you were asking about, Anon? Feel free to toss us followup questions if you want, thanks for the opportunity to talk about all this a little. -S

[useless-sfw-fanfictions]

MHA Littles and Their Caregivers! - BAKUGO KATSUKI

This is all a matter of opinion, as to who I think is a little and who I think would be their caregiver/babysitter. Some characters are both/flips! These are also little stories of how they learned about regression or found out about their classmates, etc. These are just bare minimum scenes and little headcanons. If someone would like a full fic of it, feel free to prompt me! My ask box is always open. *.·:·.✧ Masterlist of Characters ✧.·:·.*

Katsuki

Katsuki has almost always known he's a regressor.

And with the general exception of Izuku and Denki, he doesn't do very well taking care of another little. It is just something about those two that have his caring instincts spiking, but pretty much with everyone else he is awkward around, so he tends to not participate in their care.

Katsuki has known that he's been a regressor since he was a pre-teen. It started at the beginning of middle school when he started having frequent nightmares and needed the comfort that he knew his parents would never be able to give him. He needed to find ways to comfort himself.

It just so happened that his comfort items were a soft blanket, an old and well-used All Might-themed teddy bear, and a rubber toy that he plays with.

From there he was looking up ways to comfort himself and fell into the age regression community. He joins online servers and starts talking to other littles and caregivers and finds that he has been regressing since he was 13 years old.

He has very specific needs;

He needs a night light (can't be in full darkness), he has an oral aversion to things (reminds him too much of the Sludge Monster incident), and cannot have his hands restricted in the slightest or he will get more upset.

These aren't the only specific things that he needs, but he's never really taken a caregiver prior to class 1-A so he doesn't know a lot of his own things just yet.

The move into the dorms was a struggle for him.

Unlike the other age regressors in the class, Katsuki had known he is one prior to moving in. So he already had little gear with him in his unpacked boxes.

When he does move, it is very anxiety-ridden and Katsuki keeps his little gear stored in a box under his bed for a long time. He doesn't even think about pulling it out and using it because what if someone comes through his door and catches him? No thanks.

It takes him a couple of months and a good mental breakdown for Katsuki to finally bust out his little gear and let himself regress in the dorms. And for the first time since moving in, the boy was able to fall asleep easily and stay asleep for the night.

Then this started the slow but sure adventure into regressing while staying at the dorms. And while he's figuring out which nights are better to do this and which nights his idiot friends bother him too much, he runs into Deku in the store (see Izuku's post for more info on this).

His whole dynamic changes after he starts letting others into his regression life.

[ebitachy]

short indigo disk thoughts under the cut (just kidding this ended up being long) (i am a little frustrated with the story bits)

while i'm having a lot of fun with the post-story stuff and the clubroom and i thought resolving kieran's issues in areo zero rather than at the school through battling was a good way to do it i felt kinda... idk... reminded? of what i felt was the weakest aspect of scvi's main story/the way home, which is that important characters cannot do things that can't be easily walked back or forgiven, even if it's honestly really small or petty in the grand scheme of things. and important characters ESPECIALLY cannot be implicated in someone else's wrongdoings. team star's story is so weak because to give the bullying plotline any sense of weight they'd have to implicate their shiny new characters at the school that they want the audience to care about, and that's no good. so instead all the bullying is a vague formless nothingness and none of the staff we actually know have any stake in it because they weren't there and even the biting back against it didn't even really happen. it's vapid. the consequences of sada and turo's obsession is pretty much the only thing this doesn't apply to-- because they're dead! even the AI has vanished! death resolves!

in the dlc it kind of felt like part two of this with the entire School Drama thing. kieran says some mean things and is pushy and rude blah blah blah ok cool. he's in a bad place mentally and is punishing himself and others because of it. wow that's so sucks. the resolution of this being that we fight our way to beating him down AGAIN, not helping at all, before finally figuring things out in area zero is even a good resolution to that i think!! i'm not against any of this!! it feels very gx the way our only solution to getting him to enjoy battling again is to make him hate it more by being too op as the protagonist (lol) and then go on a dangerous adventure with him.

but all the jokes people are making about how oh everyone actually liked kieran all along and and oh he didn't even have any problems at the academy he was just like that is like... Yeah? it's the same issue with penny and team star's entire plotline? in that a problem that should be there... seemingly isn't?

drayton is presented as manipulative and a schemer but his grander goal isn't to actually make kieran go back to being a bottom of the food chain wannabe or something by having you shove his face into the dirt. because then your cool new elite four member would be mmmmmmmmeean.

if kieran's issue was just that he truly struggled to make friends and felt too reliant on his sister and not that he was actively ostracized by anyone at blueberry academy, making it so everyone could clearly see that his 180 was bad and being upset with it feels a bit like a slap in the face. it's not like they knew what caused it! like, really! you're saying the majority of non-carmine people wouldn't see that in-universe and start flocking to kieran, the guy who shot up to champion seemingly over night? if you're going to write it like that, you couldn't make it so everyone but carmine and drayton (who don't get along!) see it as a good development, that everyone at the academy wouldn't either ignore or excuse or not see his roughness with the other club members who aren't "getting stronger", and not see how clearly unwell it all is? you're saying everyone saw this shy kid rise up from some average rank to the champion and went, "no, that's not your place, that's bad"? come on!

if they didn't want to risk you not liking the members and faculty of blueberry academy by having one of its students be actively ostracized, why was this not a story about going against the majority's belief that this is "good" for kieran or anybody else in the league club? give me something. anything. these kinds of writing decisions are so frustrating-- it is an active denial of the slightest weight.

[emmy-trash0924]

The Damned Monster Anorexia

Yet again, another assignment for English that I wish to share. We were given the freedom to create a monster and write a narrative about it, I chose to make mine the embodiment of Anorexia. With that being said...

WARNINGS!!: mentions of eating disorder and mental illness, mean comments (if more, please let me know, those are the only one’s I could think of off the top of my head)

Have you ever felt as if you're being watched from the shadows, as if you 're being preyed on from a distance?

He lurks in the shadows, something that’s not seen to the visible eye. Some can feel his presence while others cannot. He feeds away at your mental state, feeds on your sanity, slowly stopping you from doing an essential need; eating.

It all starts with a simple comment about weight; spiraling into a whirlwind of constant thoughts. He feeds on this. His pitch black claws seep into your skin, never letting go for the entirety of your existence. His black eyes peer into yours, holding your gaze until you’re brainwashed with the thoughts of excessive calories and weight. Obsession over the entity’s skinny body and limbs cloud one’s vision, blinding them with jealousy from everything else. Fear of gaining a measly ounce of weight overtakes the mind

Anorexia is his name. An entity of anguish. A demon of disorder.

 Lengthy limbs enshroud his figure as he observes his next target, watching them spiral down into insanity. It fills him with glee. The target as of this week happened to be exactly like the others; a person who lets even the slightest of an insult get to them way more than they should. A wicked smile plays onto his face and his eyes light up with an evil glint while he watches from a distance, waiting for the perfect time to sink his claws into the flesh, the desire to do so only growing stronger by the second. He was famished and his hunger only grew as he watched his next meal spiral down to perfection. 

He always had to wait for his next meal of sanity, waiting to the point just before it breaks, where all there is left is the strained last drop of pure sanity and the everlasting thoughts about calorie intake.

Anyone could see him if they really tried, if they paid attention to their friend’s attitude about eating or food in general. He didn’t try to hide himself, he didn’t care to hide, although the shadows are preferred. 

He gets his fun by seeing others suffer, his fun only ending when someone forces his target to “get help.” As if that’ll help any. It does work sometimes though, making his meals more scarce as of late. That’s why he’s keeping this week’s meal within reach, constantly whispering the loathsome words to them, “cooking” them to his liking. 

His whispers include:

“You need to lose weight.”

“How many calories is that bag of chips?”

“Is it really worth eating if all you’re gonna do is gain weight?”

“Everyone thinks you look fat.”

“You’re a goddamn pig. All you ever do is just eat, and eat, and eat.”

One thinks that in order to get rid of his consistent whispering, all they have to do is listen. Oh, how much more could they be wrong. It only fills his hunger more, leaving him a constant source of nutrients where he can satiate himself whenever he would like. However this couldn’t be farther from the truth. The only way to free yourself of his monstrous affinity to your hunger is to deny him as he wants you to deny yourself. You must be an absolute parallel to your thoughts to win this struggle. You may be inclined to isolate yourself as to hide yourself from the world, but it's better to surround yourself as his influence is only skin deep and can only suggest. 

Anorexia doesn’t work alone, he can’t work alone. His right hand man is called Depression, who helps him by making your own thoughts seem untrustworthy; manipulating you into thinking you cannot trust yourself.

[shaunsummers]

Some Sluts Move In

"I just didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to bring everyone else down with me." Even in her trying, Quinn couldn't grasp the understanding. She couldn't, wasn't there, never lived the life during or before. Even so, Siren didn't have all the answers, either. She struggles to bring clarity in the defense of why she endured for so long but it only serves to spring more tears from her eyes; and feeling a warm touch wrap around her, she crumbles. Like hell she would have expected it going into this room. In her realm of logic it shouldn't be happening. This conversation shouldn't exist.

"Fuck, take this. I might drop it." She couldn't even manage a hit in the midst of breakdown and quickly hands over the blunt to Quinn as she places herself close against her form; her own trembling with waves of shocks, threatening to steal breath from her lungs. Scattered in trying to make sense of her own actions, the words come through the processing in rambled anguish. "I just...I didn't know what to do. I'd get invited out...and I'd get into a fight with Ash. Then I couldn't go because I'd have bruises...and I didn't want anyone to see. Or to worry. I didn't want anyone close to it....It was all so fucked up...And I fucked up. I'm such an asshole."

Siren takes in a deep breath. Even as a broken gasp, relief enters her lungs as a portion of the bottled tension leaves her. Remorse remained still. Her body still shook. Though, her form soaks in the warmth next to her through the turmoil and fatigue. "But I fucking love you guys. And I'm glad you're still here." With her hand covering her face, Siren leans into her but now seeing as she had somewhat settled, she reaches into her pocket to grab her pen. The small fire of the coil sounds as she inhales before lifting it in offering.

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

Jesus, it just continued to get worse. The shock of it all started to appear more and more on Quinn's face. Hell, she was there, and while when Ash was around she'd thought she was a cunt, Quinn didn't know she was beating on her. Now that she was thinking about it, there were a few times that an old bruise or a scabbed lip was something Siren had excused away with some blunder or another. Suddenly, all this not-making-sense was beginning to make sense. Shit, Ash was fucking abusing her.

"Dude, you're not an asshole..." Even for Quinn, the blunt was kind of getting in the way, now, and she leans to tap it out in the ashtray on her bed. "Fuck, I didn't know it was like that..." She uses the free range of movement to turn towards her and gather Siren more fully into her arms, drawing her in between her legs. Feeling her tremble only amplified the dread and sympathy growing in her chest.

"You were just....reacting to all that shit, I think? I mean, I've been a dick to people I care about when I've been really stressed. I don't think a bad moment makes who you are as a whole ass person, dude." Even in her musing, her eyes wander downward to the pen in her hand with the slightest sprinkle of amusement. Of course she accepted the offer.

"I love you too, Siren. Just...shit, I wish you would've let me in. I woulda been fine being close to it. Damn, I was worrying anyways." Quinn sighs, planting a light kiss in her hair. Wait, was that okay? She loved that shit before, so Quinn didn't really think about it. But it'd been a while now, so....who knew? Who knew what all of that had done to her, mentally. Just what she was hearing now was like Siren was another person. Not completely, but different.

"But I'm glad you're here, too." Jesus, especially knowing where she was. "And please, dude, if you have some shit going on...you can talk to me, just like this. You're rad, and funny, and I do give a shit. You're not bringing me down. And I hear you, it sounds confusing as hell—honestly, I still kinda am, too—but all of that is...a lot. So it makes sense. And I might not be any better at figuring it out, but I still got you. You're my girl, I got you."

[wasflypaw]

Hi Guys its that time of the month where I try to figure out what's going on in my brain!

So I've noticed I Always see things as like. A Sign. If I am struggling getting up in the morning and suddenly I get bad stomachache that basically forces me to, that's a sign. If im having a bad day n my cat gets up n leaves me that's a sign everyone will leave me and I will die alone in the future

There are no coincidences, its the universes doing if I am thinking about something and I see posts about that thing not long later.

While just chilling I'll have urges to do things n if I Dont do them Who Knows what will happen! Like while playing Minecraft I'll have a thought of like. Kill every mob in the vicinity. And I do, and I panic when there's too many or I lose sight of them. I don't even know what I think will happen if I Dont do it

I got into a routine of saying Good Morning in a server I'm in every day. If I'd forget I'd panic and get anxious, because something bad will happen if I Dont say Good Morning every day

I'm scared to be happy, because something bad always happens when I'm happy. When I get happy it doesnt last very long because I then have to make sure my cats are alive and my friends still like me and nobody I love died

Because they happened so soon after I moved to this house, I got anxious that Antfrost's cat dying and the whole Dream situation were my fault somehow, along with a dog back at my sisters dying

"Read this or you will die in 5 days" type posts would get me So bad I'd panic and I'd Have to share it every time I saw it, and I'd justify to myself if I Didnt share it again ("well I shared it once, that probably means I wont have to share it again?")

Sometimes I get urges to do things w my fingers and its like, a physical feeling. I Have to do the thing or else the feeling wont go away, and its usually like pressing a button (like the urge to press random keys like Q quile playing Minecraft n having to pause so I dont drop the item I'm holding when I do it)

I'm so mentally ill btw

Other things I'd do as a kid that I grew out of and no longer do are

Being obsessed w germs. Crying if a cup I have to drink out of isnt washed 17 times before I drink out of it, panicking at even the slightest Hint of dirt

Having to constantly spit because I feel like something got in my mouth, crying bc of the panic that whatever got in my mouth would kill me, and my sleeves would end up Soaked from constant spitting (in my defense I was like 10)

Having to check constantly if I Actually did something (e.g saving a game, cant think of other examples rn)

Washing my hands 384837 times.

See these intrigue me because I did grow out of them. They were overshadowed by my other mental illnesses (like me completely stopping caring if whatever I'm eating/drinking out of is completely clean, going onto live in a room full of Maggots and Moldy Food and Flies and Depression Mess....)

[chaos-in-one]

“Why are you mad that he’s getting better?”

I’m not! I’m not mad that he’s getting better, I’m so happy that he is! I was one of the first people who tried to help him realize that he’s even capable of getting better, why in the hell would something I’ve been fighting for for months be what is upsetting me?

When everything was still going downhill I fought so hard to help him. Even after the amount of pain he caused me, and caused my loved ones, I still tried my damn hardest. I believed that everyone deserves a chance to heal, a chance that he hadn’t gotten. I tried so hard to get him to understand he deserved that much, that he deserved a chance to do better, tried so hard to get him to believe that it didn’t have to be like this forever. I tried to get him to believe that even after everything he did, he was not incapable of working to be a better person, that he was not incapable of being loved or trusted. I was the one who fought for that. 

Him getting better wasn’t what hurt, it was everything else.

It was that I wasn’t worth getting better for. Because what I did didn’t change anything, he still won’t even acknowledge the effort I made, he still treats it like it was all fake. It wasn’t until someone else tried to help him that he got better. And that hurts. It hurts to know that I wasn’t worth the effort.

It’s that I didn’t get to move on, too. He’s getting to move on, he gets to be better and have a better life now. I don’t. I’m still stuck hurting. I always thought that once he got better, everything would fall into place. Life would get better for everyone. But the pain, the fear, the fighting, the memories, I didn’t get to move on from any of it like he did, like they did. I’m stuck with a literal living reminder of what happened, who is there to constantly remind me of everything so that I can never, ever forget. So I never let my guard down again. And I am stuck not knowing how long I have to live like that, how long it will take for that part of my brain to realize it’s not helping, that it’s hurting me. And how much longer after that before it cares enough to change, too. And even after that, how much longer it will take for me to feel safe again, to heal.

It’s that I get to see him get all the support I practically begged and prayed for for months. When something goes wrong, when a fight breaks out, someone steps in to help him. Someone stops the situation for him. Someone is there to comfort him when he’s upset, when he’s hurting. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad he has that! I’m glad he gets that support! But that doesn’t make it hurt less that I never got that, during everything. When he started things before, I had to try to talk out the situation. I had to try to figure out exactly what to do to stop as much damage as possible. I had to stand up for myself almost every single fucking time. And when it hurt, when I sat there and I cried, when I panicked, I had to deal with it alone. Not only that, but I had to fucking hide it. Or I got told to suck it up, or that I had nothing to be upset about and that I wasn’t even really hurt. Or worse, if I hit my breaking point, I got encouraged to fucking go dormant. I was treated like my emotions were enough of a burden that it would be better if I didn’t exist than for anyone but me to have to deal with them in the slightest.

It’s that I have to act like nothing ever happened. I can’t act scared around him, I can’t be anything but nice, I can’t be angry or upset at everything he did. If I do I’m treated like it makes me a terrible person. I’m being an asshole to him without reason, I’m in the wrong, I’m the reason he’s struggling to get better, I’m the one who needs to be stopped and shut up. I can’t even begin to describe how much it fucking hurts to be told “I’m trying to get better but you’re making it hard for me”. And not just once either. I lost count of how many times I’ve been told that.

And the thing is, I can’t even say how much it hurts. If I do, I'm playing the victim, I’m making thing harder on purpose, I’m being manipulative again. I can’t say a fucking word about any of it because it's better to say nothing than to risk being a bad person again, risking hurting them again, risking more of them hating me.

And yet when the roles are reversed, when one of them, when he, specifically, talks about something I did wrong, I have to take it. I’m not allowed to be upset when it's being brought up, I’m not allowed to try to get anyone to stop talking about it. I get to have it rubbed in my face what I did, used against me in every single fucking argument, and I have to take it. Because what I did was wrong, I would be a bad person for doing anything else when it’s brought up. But the same isn’t true for his past actions. I’m the only one who gets to have it rubbed in my face that I fucked up, that I did something wrong, that I did something that got someone hurt

Over

And over

And over again

Until it feels to me like the weight of my own actions are suffocating me.

It doesn’t matter that I apologized over and over again for every single thing I could think of that I ever did wrong. It doesn’t matter how hard I try to be better than I was before. My actions are going to weigh on me, possibly forever, by the hands of everyone who knows of them.

And at the same time, I’m not sure I’ll ever really get an apology from him, or from any of them. There’s only two I can remember who hurt me out of all of them that apologized, and they’re both gone. They left, and they might never be coming back. And they are two of the ones who hurt me the least, and two of the ones where it was most a mutual problem, where neither was really free of fault. But the rest, especially him, I can’t remember ever getting even that from. Nor can I ever feel safe to ask for it.

It’s all expected to simply be left to scatter into the winds, like the fallout of a blast. All that’s left is to pick up the pieces of what’s left behind.

And I’ve tried, so hard. But it feels like all my pieces, all of what I have left, are drifting away. What I thought I could count on to have once it was all over, I can see myself losing. My loved ones, my ability to tell what’s right from wrong (although bits of that were lost in the blast already), my sense of self, my ability to feel like I’m even a decent person. It feels like I’m slowly getting stripped down until there’s nothing left.

And the worse part is that I can’t bring myself to believe it’s anything but self inflicted. No matter how much it hurts, or how unfair it feels, I can’t really believe any of this is any fault but my own. I can’t help but question, every day, if they aren’t right. If he really didn’t hurt me, if I really am a bad person, if I really am the problem. I’m starting to think I am. It’s hard to believe it could really be anyone but me that’s the problem. It’s left me wondering time and time again

What if he was right, and it really would be better if I just stopped existing?

But I can’t tell them any of this, can’t tell him any of this. I can’t risk it being a guilt trip again, I can’t run the risk that I’d be being manipulative again just by telling them even a small bit of this.

I’ve feared for my entire existence here, that I would end up an abuser without even realizing I have. I’m terrified of becoming like that, but every day it feels more and more like nothing I do is ever going to be good enough to make me a good enough person to not be that. Hell, every day I feel less and less like I’m a person at all. I feel like I’m a monster.

But what am I, really?

And more importantly

Do I even have any right to feel this way? To think any of this?

Or is it going to ruin everything all over again?

[thedamselinthismess]

April 5, 2024

It's 9:15 am here in Tennessee. I don't know if it's a beautiful morning, because I just now managed to drag myself from the bed to get the day started. My mother is on my mind today. I'm still waiting for who claims to be my 'husband' to come help me with the things I need help with. It looks like I'm taking the job today. It seems to be the only way I'm going to survive this thing called life. It's okay though. I can handle it.

I remember when I was younger, I would make lists of things that my mom did that annoyed me just to remind myself never to do those things or to my own children. I don't have children so it's not an issue and quite frankly I would give anything for her to annoy me like that again. I miss her every single day. It's been 4 years and honestly it's just gotten harder. Don't let anyone tell you that it gets easier, because it doesn't; and if I've said that in a previous post just know that I lied. Everything is hard for me right now. Mentally, emotionally, and some physically. However, I know that it's time to take back my life and as hard as I've prayed and as hard as I've listened, I have still not gotten an answer on what is right for me.

This is where trust happens. This is the hardest thing for me to do. Even with God. I have to put everything down and learn to move forward for myself. I didn't start this journey alone, but I fear that I may cross the finish line holding my own hand. I've been in everyone else's corner when not a single soul wanted to stand in mine. It's lonely here, and it just gets darker and more scary as the days go on.

Maybe soon, I can figure things out for myself, but for now, I'm struggling. I'm depressed and I'm hopeless for a future that I dream of. I would lie if I told any of you that I didn't want to give up, but the tiniest thing inside me keeps me hanging on. I'm not sure what it is or how long it will last, but for now just know that I'm okay.

That's another lie. I'm not okay. I'm drowning and there's no one there to save me. Some days I surprise myself. I don't know who carries me most days, but I know it's not me. But it's someone.

I'm scared to leave this pain with other people that may or may not care about me. I don't want to become a Facebook post for someone that couldn't take the time to listen to me or hear my story. I don't want someone having to come clean out my apartment and seeing all the secret things I have hidden away. I mean, I suppose that it's okay for someone to know me after I'm dead.

Maybe I just found my answer as to why I keep hanging on. Who knows? Maybe it's someone or something. What I do know is that it's not the fear of dying. Living this life alone scares me more than leaving it.

My rope is burned up with the situation that i'm in with Jordan. I can't love him anymore. I can't find it in me to forgive him for the things that he's said and done and didn't do for me. The empty promises and the hopes of a life that he knew damn well would never come. I have to make a decision for myself and I have to make it fast. I'm tired of being strung on this line by him. I'm miserable and I hope that when I get rid of the dead weight that life will get a little easier. Until then I still have to hope. I have to dig somewhere deep in my soul to find the slightest glimmer to keep going.

Maybe soon it will all be alright. But for now I have to keep pushing.

[pinkcoffeecup]

caught in the act, spencer reid

Summary: Y/n and Spencer has been together for seven months, yet none of the team members suspect a thing. Well, at least not until Spencer, whilst being a little too distracted, forgets to lock the door to his apartment.

Warnings: Slight Dom!Spencer, fem!reader, Sexual themes (kissing, pet names, slight degradation), no smut (but like almost)

Word count: 1105

"Yeah, I, uh, we’re landing now, I’ll see you soon,” Spencer mumbled into his phone, trying not to catch the attention of any of the team, “Love you,”

Y/n and Spencer had been together for seven months, yet none of his team, his family, knew. In fact, none of them even had the slightest suspicion he was seeing someone.

He hadn’t intended on them not knowing. At first, he had decided to keep it a secret, simply because he didn’t want to jinx it. But then time went on, and a good time to tell them never came around, and once the couple hit six months, Spencer decided that every possible chance he had to tell them, had passed and that it was now officially too late to tell them. “Are you coming Spence?” JJ asked, the whole team looking at him.

“Sorry, what?”

“Drinks? Rossi’s paying,” She added.

It wasn’t unusual for the team to go out for drinks after a case like this. It had been a long, tough nine days in LA, and everyone needed to wind down. But Spencer hated to be away from Y/n for this long, especially as she was struggling to fit all her university coursework into her busy schedule.

And whilst Spencer’s mind was brilliant, but when it came to lying, he was no mastermind. His hands would get all clammy, and his breath would fall short as his words tripped out of his mouth “I can’t tonight, I, uh, I have this book I want to read”

“Are you sure?” Morgan said, “Come on kid, maybe you’ll meet someone you like, y’know?” a suggestive smirk made its way to his lips, oblivious to Y/n who was the only someone on Spencer's mind.

“I’m sure,” Spencer’s voice had somehow stabilised, and with a sense of authority, he added, “But have fun,” before heading out of the jet.

-

He twisted the keys in the lock, slowly opening the door to his apartment. Spencer was always careful to lock the door behind him, he almost did it per automatic, but today, his mind was crowded with something, someone else.

“Spencer!” She rushed up to him, clinging to his tall figure, “God I missed you,”

He rested a hand on the back of her head, and another around her waist, pulling her closer, “I missed you too princess,”

She smiled at the pet name, adjusting her chin on his chest so that she could look at him. She really had missed him, more than she thought she would. She liked to think of herself as independent, but when it came to Spencer, she was anything but that.

“Hey! I almost forgot!” She remembered, a smile spreading across her lips, “I have officially submitted my last essay this term,”

Spencer couldn’t feel anything but pride and happiness for her. “No way! I’m so proud of you!”

Y/n couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction, “I suppose we have to celebrate then, don’t we?” He mumbled, both his hands resting at her hips as he placed a small kiss on her lips. “Do you deserve it?” he asked, his lips making their way to her neck.

“Mhm,” She responded, allowing him to pick her up from the floor, her legs wrapped around his waist. He walked towards his couch, never letting his lips leave her body.

He sat down, placing her straddling his lap. “Never leaving for this long again,” he said, moving back to kiss her lips again, “missed you too much, missed this”

Her hands made their way to his tie, fumbling with the fabric, “I see you missed me too,” He chuckled against her lips. Loosening ties had never been her strong suit, but eventually, she was able to undo the knot and move it off his neck.

Her large yellow knitted sweater was lifter over her head, leaving her in a small tank top and shorts. Her fingers made their way to the buttons on his shirt, once again struggling. Spencer seemed to enjoy the show in front of him, his desperate girl.

She only managed to unbutton four buttons before he grew impatient, grabbing her face and kissing her roughly.

“Hey, Reid?” A voice echoed through the apartment, the door being swung open, revealing Morgan, Emily, and Garcia. “Oh my god!” Penelope squealed, quickly turning back around.

“Knocking guys! Knocking!” Y/n had been quick to move off her boyfriend, sitting next to him on the couch as he tossed her the sweater. “We’re so sorry! But you forgot your bag, and we just thought we’d return it on our way to the bar,” Prentiss tried, but Morgan broke out in a fit of laughter.

“Spence?” Y/n whispered from behind him. He was quick to turn around, shocked to see her holding in a smile as she tapped imaginative buttons on her chest, “the buttons”

He looked down, seeing the randomly undone buttons, “right, the buttons,” now fumbling with the same buttons y/n had been, only minutes earlier.

“When were you planning on telling us you had a- uh- friend here tonight?” Morgan smirked, somehow emitting a small giggle out of y/n.

“I was going to at first,” Spencer defended, “Y/n told me waiting would make it weird, but then too much time passed, and I realised she was right,”

“Hold on,” Morgan said, “At first? How long has this been going on?” He looked almost offended at Spencer's decision not to tell anyone about his secret girlfriend. “seven months” Spencer mumbled.

“Seven months?!” Penelope added, “wow Spencer! I’m so happy for you!”

Derek looked at Penelope for a second, before placing his attention back on the blushing couple in front of them. “Look at you, pretty boy’s got game!” he chuckled, placing a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Well, we’ll leave you to it then. Don’t want to be a party pooper,” He added nodding towards Y/n before releasing Spencer from his tight grip.

“Go get ‘em, kid!” He laughed, turning around and heading out the door, Penelope following him out. “Again, we’re so sorry” Emily added before following the two outside.

The second the door was shut Spencer let out an annoyed grown. But even an annoyed Spencer couldn’t help but smile at Y/n as she broke out in a fit of giggles.

Even though the previous actions had been interrupted, he didn’t mind all too much. Seeing Y/n so happy was one hundred per cent worth it, “God I love you so much,” He smiled, and even though she couldn’t quite speak as her laughter only grew, Spencer was certain she felt the same way.

[alycosworld]

Tainted

Scaramouche X Reader

WARNING: mentions of (nearly) sexual assault

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A/N: I seem to have more angst/comfort ideas for genshin but I'm not sure why...also, I'm on holiday in a foreign country! I have no work and I'll probably spend all my nights on Tumblr after exploring the city in the day, so please please please send in some requests! I'm bored and although they might take some time, they might help me get back into writing more regularly. I'm pretty sure this is gender neutral but if I made a mistake, feel free to tell me. This has NOT been checked for any errors (I'll get around to it at some point).

I'm not sure if Scaramouche is ooc, since he doesn't say anything that nice in the game or in any official works, but I definitely think he has the capacity for it. And I like soft Scar <3.

If at any point you feel uncomfortable, PLEASE DO NOT READ ON. I felt a little icky after writing the assault bit so do not force yourself to read any further or read at all. I do not want to make anyone reading this unhappy. Any victims of sexual assault or harassment, I hope you heal

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Keep walking. Just keep walking. Get home as fast as possible.

Avoid dark spots, avoid all people, avoid secluded areas. Just get home now.

That's what you told yourself after it happened. Archons, you didn't even know how you should feel. Ashamed? Angry? Disgusted? Upset? Confused? Afraid? The amalgamation of these emotions just made everything worse. You felt sick to your stomach. You wanted to cry and scream and vomit and disappear all at the same time.

You felt like you were covered in grime and you don't even know how you managed to get away. You should've done something, anything! But in the moment, you couldn't.

Your day had started normally. You went to the Adventurer's Guild in Inazuma, doing your commissions and taking up a few extra quests to help people out. Even though you were walking home later than normal, you didn't think much of it. Until somehow, you lost your way. In the dark, things became a little more vague and confusing, so you ended up taking a left and ending up in a dark alleyway between two dimly lit buildings.

You walked through, lost in your own thoughts, until you heard some chuckling and some incoherent remarks made by someone exiting one of the buildings out a back door and into the alleyway.

Glancing up, you saw that the person was a man - quite tall and well built with flushed cheeks: he was clearly not sober. You paid him no mind, staring at the ground as you continue to walk, determined to get home to see your boyfriend, Scaramouche. Though he wasn't one to worry, knowing that you could handle yourself, you did want to see him as soon as possible.

"Well, what do we have here?" The man asked, and you looked up at him again, tilting your head in confusion but staying silent.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?" He asked, a suspicious smirk on his face.

"I'm going home." You said firmly, not wanting to give him any ideas.

"Oh? A handsome young thing like you, going home all by themselves? Let me walk you, I promise I don't bite." He continued, clearly not getting the hint.

"I'm alright, but thank you for the off--"

"Stop being such a fucking tease! Wearing an outfit like that, you're begging for it." He pinned you against the wall despite your attempt to politely refuse any moves he tried to make. He caught your arms above your head and harshly shoved one of his legs between yours.

"Don't like to me, hon, you know you want this." He whispered huskily. You had fought countless hilichurls, abyss mages and monsters far more intimidating and dangerous than that man that day, but you couldn't seem to move. All you could manage was a fearful 'please, don't do this'. Struggling was futile, for some reason you couldn't escape his grasp. You had fought beasts ten times this man's size but violating you like this? It made you break.

He gripped you harshly and even managed to kiss your neck a couple times, making the tears stream down your face uncontrollably, until he heard some voices. You recognised them immediately: members of the Adventurer's Guild. He must be known it too because he stopped as soon as he heard, offering you a sickening grin and scuttling away before you could react.

"We'll finish this some other time, sweetheart. I promise."

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You didn't get any help from the Adventurer's Guild members who you heard, instead opting to rush home as soon as possible, trying to figure out what to do next.

The only solution in your mind was to crawl into your lover's arms and tell him what had happened. You didn't want anyone else to know - you know you could trust Scaramouche and you knew he would help you.

But he didn't.

You got home and wiped your tears before entering the house, hoping to look somewhat presentable despite having experienced such an impactful event. You dropped your belongings carelessly, not flinging at the loud sound they made as they hit the floor. You immediately made your way to the guest room Scaramouche had turned into an office of sorts, for him to work on Fatui business. The bedroom door was open and empty and he was nowhere to be found on the first floor, so that was the only other place he could've been. You were relieved to see him sitting at the desk, deep in thought with some maps and other sheets of paper laid out in front of him.

"Scar, I--"

"Not now, (Y/N), I'm busy." He said hot even bothering to look up at your frazzled and shattered state.

"I know but, please, Scar. While I was--"

"If you know that I'm busy, why enter in the first place? I'm working. Leave me alone." He said harshly. You didn't say anything, instead opting to nod silently and close the door. Since this was the first time you had experienced this pain and discomfort from being touched and defiled in such a way, you decided that maybe you should put it aside. After all, maybe it was something so jarring. Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe Scaramouche's nonchalance was justified. In a twisted way, you blamed yourself for overreacting and decided to just forget about the incident. If it didn't mean enough for Scaramouche to even look at you, it clearly wasn't something worth fretting over. You were just exaggerating, right?

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You tried you absolute hardest not to let the incident bother you, but you unknowingly started changing your habits to prevent what had occurred from happening to you again.

"Wearing an outfit like that, you're begging for it..."

You started wearing less revealing clothing, going as far as wearing gloves at some point and covering your neck with collars and scarves through the hot weather.

"We'll finish this some other time, sweetheart. I promise."

Initially, you just avoided dark or secluded places, even when you were with other people, but eventually, you were too scared to leave home at all. You didn't leave the confines of your small garden and if someone passed by, you would quickly hide yourself away. When Scaramouche had unknown guests and colleagues over, you would hide in your bedroom and make him promise not to mention you or acknowledge your existence in the slightest.

You even started taking longer showers and refused to bathe with Scaramouche, confusing him since you used to enjoy it so much. But you wouldn't let him see you in such a vulnerable state now that you were contaminated. You didn't want him to know that you had been tarnished in such a vulgar way, and you spent long moments scrubbing at the parts the stranger had touched. You were worried that Scaramouche would blame you for being assaulted - because in a sick way you thought it was your fault, despite having been nothing wrong. You had twisted the story in your mind to make it seem like you were responsible for the crime committed against you.

Eventually, Childe had to visit for business purposes, but you had become good friends with the eleventh Fatui Harbinger since he was friends with-- well, he and Scaramouche had a relationship, to say the least.

"So where's (Y/N)? Normally they're all over you and making you as embarrassed at possible." Childs grinned, and Scaramouche just frowned and narrowed his eyes.

"They're in our room. They don't really want to see anyone right now." Scaramouche said. Even though you told him not to mention you anymore, since you were so hellbent on avoiding all human interaction, he thought it would be okay to tell Childe. He was your friend too, after all.

"Is something wrong? What happened?" Childe asked, concern in his eyes.

"I don't know. They've been avoiding everyone, including me. They barely talk to me and insist on sleeping downstairs." Scaramouche confessed.

"Let me talk to them."

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Childe exited your room after hearing what to had to say, and he was disturbed and sympathetic, at the very least. Scaramouche saw his wide-eyed, grim expression when he exited the room and immediately had questions.

"What?" Scaramouche asked.

"I'll come back tomorrow to continue our work." Childs said, referring to the business he originally came for.

"But we have to--"

"Scar?" Scaramouche stopped all his trains of thought and turned to the sound of your voice. It was hoarse but still as beautiful as ever. He knew you had been crying from your puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"I think you have other matters to take care of." Childe winked, before giving Scaramouche an informal two-fingered salute and showing himself out.

As soon as the door closed, Scaramouche turned his attention to you, not coming too close in case you didn't want to be near him.

"Yes, Love?" He asked, more concerned than you had ever seen him.

"Can I talk to you? If you're busy, that's okay, it's not that impor--"

"I'm not busy." He shook his head, and you offered him a sad and grateful smile before sitting on the edge of the bed while he took a seat on a nearby chair.

"So, uhm, a couple of days ago I was walking home and I kind of got lost...so I tried taking this alleyway and--" You stopped yourself, meeting Scaramouche's attentive gaze before continuing.

"There was a guy. And he-- he t-touched me. I-- I didn't know what to do. I could've easily fought back but I just got scared and froze up because that's never happened to me before and he kept saying that I wanted him-- but I didn't! I swear, I didn't. I know it sounds bad since I didn't stop him but I really tried, I just couldn't. And he started k-kissing me...here," You gestured to the spots on your neck that you could still feel being violated.

"And I felt so horrible and he didn't go any further because some people were coming, so I ran home. I-I...I didn't know what to do but I felt like I should tell you because I thought you would help me, but you said you were busy so I just-- It-tried to brush it off but I just couldn't get it out of my head! And before I got away, he told me that he'd come back and finish me off and so I didn't want to go outside anymore in case I ran into him. And I started to cover up since he said I was asking for it because of what I was wearing and then I just got scared and I felt dirty. I tried so hard to forget and clean myself but it kept coming back-- I can still feel him on me! I hated it, I still hated it! You have to believe me, I wasn't trying to get him to notice me, I just..." You broke down after finishing what you had to say. You had already been crying since you told Childe, but now you were choking out sobs and your face was drenched. Scaramouche stood up from his chair and sat next to you on the bed, a safe distance away just in case you still weren't comfortable with being touched.

"I believe you. I know you're not like that." Scarsmocuhe started calmly. In all honesty, he wanted to interrupt you as soon as you said that this man approached you. His blood was boiling and he was ready to murder this man for you but kept himself in check because you didn't need senseless violence or revenge right now, you needed comfort. What hurt him the most was that you were blaming yourself because he didn't bother listening to what you had to say on what was probably the worst day of your life.

"It's not your fault you were touched like that. You are not to blame, at all. I-- I should've listened to you when you came to me - as soon as I turned you say I thought something was wrong but I didn't bother asking about it. That's entirely my fault." He admitted, which surprised you. It took Scaramouche a lot to admit his mistakes, but for you? He didn't care. You constantly put up with his sour attitude, he can definitely listen to you and admit he was wrong.

"You sure? Because I still--"

"I'm sure." He said simply.

"But why did you start avoiding me?" He asked, wanting to understand the situation entirely.

"Well, because..." You started, unsure if he would get angry if you told him. While you were contemplating, he offered you an encouraging expression. It wasn't a smile, but it was more than enough to put you at ease.

"I didn't want you to think I was tainted. Of course, you wouldn't want to be near me after that had happened." You sighed, wiping up the last of your tears.

"You really are an idiot, you know?" He said, but after seeing the clueless and almost hurt look on your face, he immediately wanted to take it back. He didn't mean to be insensitive, he just...well, he often explained positive emotions with his very wide negative vocabulary.

"No, I didn't-- uhm..." He mentally cursed himself for not knowing what to say, but you didn't interrupt him and made a small gesture for him to keep going.

"What I mean to say was, I don't think that you're tainted or anything like that. And I still...want to be...near you-- eugh!" He pretended to be grossed out at his own words in true Scaramouche fashion, but he knew you knew he didn't really mean it and was beyond delighted when he saw you giggle at his facial expression.

He sighed and acted angry as he opened his arms ever so slightly. You noticed the movement and quirked an eyebrow when he hesitated.

"Is it okay if I come closer?" Scaramouche asked, unsure if you wanted to be touched after the incident.

Your heart swelled at his care and then you slowly watched as he stiffly wrapped his arms around you comfortingly. Although you had hugged and cuddled on countless occasions, he still wouldn't stop being so robotic unless you did something. It made you laugh and he pulled away slightly to glare at you, so you decided to just pull him back in and hug back.

And when you relished in the touch of another human being, the touch of the person you love, you began to cry. The last time anyone willingly touched you was in that alleyway, and so to have someone be so gentle with you and have no bad intentions, you were overwhelmed with emotion.

Scaramouche must've felt your tears staining his clothing and skin, and quickly pulled away with poorly hidden concern in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asked, but you just continued to sob and nod.

"I love you!" You choked out. He sighed and gently patted your back.

"I...love you too." He said, before making another expression of mock disgust. He slowly moved to hold both your wrists in his hand and kiss down to your neck, pulling you into his lap with your legs straddling one of his.

You soon realised that he was covering up the placed the stranger had touched you with his own ministrations, effectively replacing the grime you felt you gained after the incident. After you came to that conclusion and Scaramouche was done, he didn't meet your eye, blushing profusely. It was justified since he didn't usually initiate any kind of affection acts, but you just cupped his jaw and kissed his cheek, smiiling at him with purity and a newfound confidence in the both of you.

"Thank you, Scar."

[luveline]

in the morning, afternoon and night [Fred Weasley x Reader]

tags: reader-insert, hurt/comfort, self esteem issues, low self esteem, reader has acne, sad reader, insecure reader

pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

word count: 1.8k

You glared at your reflection.

You'd think with such amazing magical medicine available, some witch or wizard would've invented a cure for acne, or at least a spell that covered it up.

You'd struggled with it since your third year. The muggle doctor you'd seen with your mother had suggested it was hormonal, and would calm down as you got older.

That was years ago.

It shouldn't have been a big deal. It wasn't, really. It wasn't usually very painful, though it was itchy as a stinging nettle and twice as unsightly. A large part of you knew it wasn't your fault, that acne was something that simply affected people at different times in their lives. You'd tried topicals and changing your diet, you'd tried losing weight and exercising and dermaplaning and everything they suggested in your mams fashion magazines.

Nothing worked.

Tears welled in your eyes and you sniffed them back, blinking rapidly.

It might've been silly, but it honestly made you want to hide away. You'd skipped dinner without really thinking, finding your way into the girls bathroom you inhabited now. You straightened your tie and robes, dusting down the sides. You leaned forward again, dabbing under your eyes with your sleeve.

The last thing you wanted was for anyone to know you'd been crying, because then someone might ask why. You didn't want to talk about it, ever.

If Fred saw you like this...

You and Fred Weasley had been almost dating for a few weeks now. Almost, because you hadn't talked about the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing yet.

It had been years of thinking he was the fittest boy in Gryffindor (besides George) and months of meeting his gaze in the corridors and catching his eye over dinner. Gradually it had become something more; he started carrying your books between classes and opening doors, touching your arms and your hair and your face.

You cringed at the memory. He had been so caring, moving to wipe an eyelash from the skin under your eye. You'd violently flinched from his hand, afraid he might feel the bumpy texture of your skin, feel the acne beneath your makeup. He'd been apologetic and a little confused, filling you with guilt. You hadn't been able to find a way to tell him it wasn't him, it was you. Of course you wanted him to touch you, the thought of him cradling your face had been the subject of many dizzy daydreams, but you just couldn't tell him this one thing.

It was your deepest insecurity.

The stress had only made it worse. Redness was easy to cover with muggle make up and even some wizarding tricks you'd learned over the years, but there wasn't a way to smooth your skin, and the acne was textured.

It was depressing. You didn't want to use that word, it felt ungrateful to compare your skin issues to something so severe, but it made you miserable.

You but down on your quivering lip, pushing away from the mirror unhappily and opening the bathroom door, a frown on your face.

"Y/N!" a familiar voice said.

You jumped, startled but unsurprised. Fred had a talent of always knowing where you were. You'd find it creepy if he wasn't so endearing.

"Fred," you said, plastering a smile over your frown. "I was just coming to find you."

"What a coincidence, ma chérie, I was doing the same."

"Well," you began, easily sidling into his space, "you found me."

"Yes, I did," Fred hummed, wrapping his arms behind your neck, grinning.

He took a long look at your face, his forehead creased. "What's wrong?"

"Nothings wrong, Fred."

He moved his hands to your shoulders, looking down into your face searchingly. "Have you been crying?" he asked.

You shook your head, lying without thinking. "Something in my eye,"

"Both of them?"

You stepped backwards. He let go of your shoulders accordingly.

"Y/N?"

"It's really nothing," you said through a forced laugh.

He frowned at you for a few seconds more and his face cleared. "Alright," he said slowly, rolling the words in his mouth, "if you say so, doll."

You opened like a blooming flower at the pet name, your whole face softening. You smiled, hoping he understood that the smile meant, oh I just so adore you, Fred Weasley.

He threaded his fingers through yours, dragging you down the corridor beside him and waxing poetic about their newest lot of Peruvian darkness powder as you went.

-

It got so bad you couldn't go to class.

Okay, so you definitely could've gone to class, but the thought of leaving your curtained bed was enough to make you sick with anxiety, so worried that everyone would see you - see your face.

NEWTs were coming fast and hard. Everyone who wanted to be anyone was working hard studying their asses of, on top of Professor Umbridge's million new rules you had to abide by, including her newest life-ruining rule: Boys and girl are not to be within 5 inches of each other.

What a joke. You struggled through classes, wrote essays so long your hand burned at night and now you weren't allowed to sit next to your almost boyfriend at lunch? It was miserable. It was making you miserable, and now you may as well have sharpied on your forehead how equipped your body was to deal with it.

Fucking badly.

You groaned to yourself, rolling on your side to face the wall. You were at your wits end. It felt endlessly unfair that the thing that was stressing you out most was getting worse from stress.

Your stomach growled hungrily.

You threw your arm over your eyes in defeat, eyes finally filling with tears. You felt so hopeless. There was nothing to be done except keep up your routine until the flare up was over, or until your mothers next 'miracle cure' popped into existence.

The tears felt too hot against your sore skin. You couldn't help but sob quietly to yourself in self-pity.

A knock sounded at the door. You gasped, wiping the tears away in panic.

"Y/N?" It was Alicia. "Are you alright? Can I come in?"

"Yes," you managed. "Yes, of course. It's your room too, after all."

The door clicked open. Alicia appeared, tanned skin completely clear and glowing, though each perfect feature was marred with empathy. "Fred's been begging every girl in the common room to come fetch you, but I told him to leave you be."

"Thank you," you said.

You cleared your throat. Alicia moved her weight from foot to foot, twisting her hands.

"I- Y/N. I won't pretend to know how it feels, but I promise you, Fred won't care. He's beside himself worrying that you're bedridden and dying or-" she laughed to herself, "or that you're still mad at him for the itching powder. What I mean is... he's a good guy, and you're upset. Maybe you should tell him what's wrong. He won't care."

You sniffed. "I know," you admitted, feeling the weight of her shifting the bed. "I know he's a great guy. I just wouldn't blame him if he, if he didn't like me anymore. If he found it ugly. I would understand it, and I think that makes it worse," you choked on your words, heat building behind your eyes.

"Oh, Y/N," Alicia said, placing a tentative but comforting hand on your shoulder.

You lay in quiet, listening to your own ragged breathing.

"I'll go talk to him," Alicia said.

"No! I mean, no. Thank you, but no. I... I'll speak to him myself."

Alicia nodded, rubbing your arm kindly.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind her finally spurred you into sitting up. You dressed in a hurry, chucking a wool jumper over last nights pyjamas.

He wouldn't care, would he? You cringed. Yes, he definitely would. Whatever was between you would stop. He'd have the grace to let you down slowly, drawing away his affections. He was a polite guy, he'd probably even say the whole spiel of "it's not you, it's me". But he would, eventually.

Well, you figured. Let it be quick. Like ripping off a bandaid.

You tread lightly down the steps, hoping to see him before he saw you.

Of course, when the slightest groan on the bottom step sounded, his lovely face whipped to meet yours. He smiled in relief, but it was mixed with something else. Disgust, your brain supplied nastily. He was disgusted. He rose to his feet, smiling smiling smiling. But something in his eyes was different, now.

"Y/N," he said.

"Hi," you said.

"Hi yourself, beautiful. Where've you been all day?"

"I'm... sick. Bad cold," you settled on.

He raised an eyebrow. "You sound okay," he said, not unkindly.

"I..." you looked down at your hands.

A siren was sounding in your head. You didn't think Fred had seen you without make up for the last 3 years. Fight or flight was leaning heavily towards flight.

"Well, are you hungry?"

You shook your head.

"Are you sure? You haven't eaten all day. You need something in your system if you're gonna fight this cold."

"I'm not actually sick, Fred," you admitted under your breath.

"I know."

You looked up. He was still smiling kindly. It was infuriating.

"Look," you said finally, rushed and all at once, "if you don't want to- if you're grossed out. Then it's fine, I'll understand if you don't want to see me anymore."

Fred was stricken.

"I know it's - ugly."

"Ugly? Nothing about you is ugly."

"Fred, my face-"

"No, listen to me, Y/N. It's not ugly. It's not gross. You're not any of those things, are you kidding?" he said, grabbing your hands. "You're beautiful. All the time, in the morning, afternoon and night. You're beautiful in charms and transfiguration and care of magical creatures. You were beautiful yesterday and you're beautiful today and you'll be even more so tomorrow." He stopped suddenly, looking down at your joined hands. His cheeks had turned bright red.

"Smooth, Freddie," came George's voice, from the sofa behind them.

"Shove OFF," exclaimed Fred, growing more red by the second. Heat filled your own cheeks.

"It's skin, Y/N. That's all it is."

"Okay," you said tightly, trying not to cry.

Fred breathed out, his hair shifting in response. His corded arms pulled you tight to his chest. You breathed him in. He smelled sweet and rough, like burning caramel.

He thought you were beautiful.

You smiled into his shirt.

<3<3<3

tag list: @msmimimerton

if you’d like to be added to a tag list, please ask ! for in general or for specific characters, i don’t mind

[messers-moony]

Wish | F.H

Paring: Five Hargreeves X Wife!Reader

Summary: Five storms out to time travel after an argument with his wife and comes back to an unexpected surprise.

A/N: Five time travels at the age of 26 instead of 13

He was angry, that wasn’t mistaken, “ You aren’t listening to me! “

“ Are you hearing yourself?! What you’re about to do is dangerous! “ She yelled in response, and he scoffed.

They stood in the main room of their apartment. Y/n was placed in the kitchen leaning on the island while Five was dangerously close to the door. Both of them at the age of twenty-five. They had gotten married only a year before finding each other during one of his trips to Griddy’s with his siblings. He thought she was the prettiest thing he had ever seen.

Five stalked closer to her, “ You are so stubborn. “

“ I am the strongest one. “ His voice was dangerously low as they stood only a foot apart, “ I will do this. I don’t care what you say. Nothing will change that. “

“ Five, please. “ Y/n begged, “ I’m- I’m just worried about you. “

“ You don’t need to be. “ Five snapped, and he fast-walked to the door.

The male swung open the door, “ Five wait, please- “ But before she could finish, the door slammed, “ I’m pregnant. “

It was new news. She didn’t find out until a week earlier. She didn’t know when to tell him; there never was a suitable time. Now he had just threatened to fulfill a lifetime goal of his– time travel. Since he was a boy, he’s wanted to prove his worth. The only way Five could think to do that is by time-traveling into the future. He didn’t know what the future would entail. He definitely didn’t plan to get stuck in an apocalypse.

So for nine torturous months, Y/n endured a pregnancy. She was carrying a child of her presumed to be dead husband, which she didn’t believe in the slightest. Five Hargreeves was alive, and she knew that regardless of what anyone told her. She had a baby boy who she named Malachi. The same bright, alluring green as his fathers.

Despite his birth father not being around, Diego was a significant help. Diego stepped in where Five couldn’t. He was there for all of Malachi’s firsts and everything in between. But he was always Uncle Diego. A constant reminder that this man wasn’t his father. As far as the little boy knew, he didn’t have a father.

Things got more tricky as he got older. Malachi realized that a father figure was more common than not, which brought raising questions. She answered to the best of her abilities, but nothing was ever valid. None of her answers could be a hundred percent true because she didn’t know either. It was killing her to see her son this way.

He longed for a father. Wanted nothing more for a father-son relationship. Every birthday, every Christmas, he wished for his father to come home. It was killing Y/n because she understood his pain. The amount of dread, guilt, and sadness.

Maybe if she had told Five sooner, he would’ve never left. The guilt ate away at her. It was like an insect slowly crawling its way under her skin into her bones and nibbling them until they were gone. It didn’t help Malachi was an exact replica of his father. The dark, almost raven hair parted to the side, the glittering green eyes and a defined face.

No matter how long Five was gone, Y/n never took off her rings. She was a married woman until proven otherwise. Malachi had never even seen photos of his father. That was normal to him. All he knew was that his Uncles and Aunts told him he looked the exact same. Despite the same appearances, they had clashing personalities.

Malachi was the sweetest guy you could ever meet. Kind no matter who the person was. Wise beyond his years and intelligent like no other. His strong suit was English while he struggled in math. The irony was amusing. His father excelled in math, but he couldn’t do a two-step equation if he tried.

In the grand scheme of things, this didn’t matter. He got all the way up to high school. He was seventeen, to be exact, in his junior year of school. It was the summer before his senior year, and he couldn’t be more excited. As the years went on, the hope of meeting his father diminished to the point where he didn’t even think about it anymore.

He had his mom, and that’s all that mattered. His mom was his rock, his number one supporter, and his best friend. Malachi loved his mom more than anything and would give anything to keep her safe. Diego had grown to be like a father to him, but it was never the same. Malachi was sitting at the island doing homework while Y/n was cooking.

“ Hey, mom? “ He called, “ Yeah? “ Y/n turned to look at her son.

Malachi fidgeted with the pencil in his hand, “ Can I- Can I see your rings? “

“ My rings? Why? “ She asked, “ Well, dad gave them to you, didn’t he? “ Malachi replied.

Y/n nodded, “ Of course he did. We were married, technically we still are married. “

“ I just wanted to see what dad gave you. “ He murmured.

Hesitantly Y/n twisted both her engagement ring and her wedding ring off her left ring finger. She set them down on the granite island before her son so he could look at them. Gently he picked the engagement ring up and looked at it. It was the only time he’s ever seen the ring this close. She never took them off.

“ We got engaged in the snow. “ Y/n informed quietly, “ I really wasn’t expecting it. He never seemed like one to settle down. “

Malachi listened intently, “ Regardless. It was almost Christmas, and he took me to go Christmas shopping at one of the malls which was outside. “ She chuckled, “ Why he did that, I don’t know, but it was amusing. We got hot chocolate despite his love for coffee, and I made him wear a Santa hat. “

“ He was never into festivities before meeting me. Neither were your Aunts and Uncles. I started making holidays become more festive when you were born. Eventually, they got the hang of it. “ Y/n continued, “ Why was dad's name a number? “ He interjected.

“ He never got a name like the rest of his siblings. “ She answered plainly, “ Why? “

Y/n sighed, “ His father, more specifically your grandfather was a cruel man. Still is a very cruel man, which is why you’ve never met him. Reginald made the Umbrella Academy, where he adopted your dad along with his other siblings. “ She explained, “ They endured long days of training without breaks and horrid living environments. They were treated as experiments rather than children. “

“ They all got names, but Five didn’t want one. He rejected it because it didn’t matter. Name or anything. Their numbers would always define them, and Five was the only one who understood that. “ She finished.

“ What really happened to him? I know you’ve given me vague explanations, but I think I’m ready for the real thing. “ Malachi stated, “ I’m seventeen now. “

“ I know. Your father had powers. His others siblings do as well. They all do certain things. Five could travel through space and time. “ Y/n began, “ Growing up, he always felt the need to prove himself, to be better than everyone else. “

“ So, one day, he told me he was going to time travel. It was a big argument that definitely didn’t need to happen. At the time, I was a week pregnant with you, and I didn’t know how to tell him. “ She swallowed the emotions arising after remembering Five’s glare,

“ When I told him, it was too late. He was already out the door and gone. “

Y/n walked forward and took the rings back. She placed them back on her ring finger carefully as her son watched every movement. He knew she was upset. Malachi couldn’t help but be a bit resentful towards his father. All this to make a point? It seemed far-fetched.

“ That solution seems a bit absurd. “ Malachi commented, “ That's what I was trying to tell him, but he was very prideful and stubborn. “ Y/n replied.

A knock echoed through the apartment. The room felt tense. It wasn’t right; something felt off. Malachi felt it immediately cause he stood up and began walking to the door, wanting to protect his mother if a threat was there. Secretly Diego may have given him some defense classes, but that didn’t matter.

The boy opened the door to see almost the exact same face staring back at him, “ Who are you? “ Malachi snapped.

“ More importantly, who are you? “ The man retorted.

Every hair on Y/n’s body stood up. She knew that voice, and she knew that tone. It was him. He was back. It took everything inside her not to scream or cry but seeing Malachi hold his defensive stance against his own father was worrying her.

“ Malachi. “ She called, and he turned to her as she began to walk to the door, “ I need you to go to your room and promise not to eavesdrop. “

He wanted to protest, “ Please, sweet. I’ll be okay. I promise. “

Reluctantly Malachi backed away from the door giving the man a harsh glare that made the man evidently tense. Y/n waited for Malachi to be fully retreated in his bedroom before looking at the man in front of her.

“ Well. It looks like you’ve moved on. “ Five murmured, “ No- please. It isn’t what it looked like. “ She pleaded.

Her hand took his, and he recognized the rings on her finger. The same rings Malachi had just been examining. The same rings he took months to search for to find the perfect fit for his perfect girl. Everything seemed so colorful in his greyscale world now. His wife was still his.

“ Who- Who is he? “ His voice trembled as his lingering suspicion felt more accurate than ever, “ Come in and sit. We need to talk. “ Her voice was gentle and held no malice.

Five entered the now unrecognizable apartment. It wasn’t the same as when he left. In fact, everything seemed moved out of place. Y/n walked to the stove and turned off the burner that she was using. Five had peered at the papers on the island that were math worksheets and took a seat beside them.

“ Where did you go? “ She asked, “ The future. “

“ No shit. What did it look like? “ Y/n retorted playfully, “ It’s not as I hoped. It’s an apocalypse, love. “ His voice held so much pent emotion it was almost radiating off him.

She sighed, “ Okay. We need to talk about that- “

“ I- I want to know who that kid is. “ Five interrupted, and she gave him a knowing look, “ Malachi, can you come out here. “ Y/n called, and instantly he was out of his room.

The boy stood beside his mom, still not comfortable with the unfamiliar man. This time Five got a chance to really look at the teenage boy in front of him. The defined face, the almost raven hair, the same sage green eyes. His posture was protective and territorial, obviously for his mom.

“ Y/n… “ Five began as he swallowed the tears in his throat, “ Is- Is he mine? “

She nodded, “ Five Hargreeves, I’d like you to meet your son, Malachi Hargreeves. Malachi, I’d like you to meet your father, Five. “

[velvett-tearss]

Checkmate — Eren Jaeger

summary: A vicious cycle where you and Eren fight over who gets to light the match while dousing each other in gasoline.

warnings: toxic relationship, manipulation, domestic altercation, slut-shaming, gaslighting, cheating, heavy cursing, suggestive themes, mentions of alcohol and marijuana use, fem!reader (she/her)

genre: modern au, angst (?)

word count: 3.4k

a/n: my venus scorpio hates to love Eren lmao pls don’t think this is a healthy relationship, (lmk if i forgot any other warnings pls), this was on repeat while i wrote, hope you enjoy it <3 (again, pls lmk if I missed anything!) and stay safe!

You knew it was wrong. Everything about you and him was wrong. Nothing could justify it anymore, you knew that much. You didn't think you could lose yourself in the game, but you had.

And, all of it was Eren's fault.

He didn't worry about feelings, responsibilities, or duty. He didn't care if he came back later than he said he would you, if he left you waiting in that pretty dress you had picked out just for him.

And, you loathed that about him. You loathed that Eren Jaeger was free. Totally and utterly free of everything and anything. Nothing would hold him back. He wouldn't allow it to come to pass.

He had his freedom, but you had something else.

You questioned things when you weren't satisfied with the answer you had been given. You did things just to see what would happen after. You pushed people just to see how long it would take from them to fall over the edge.

You had often been told you were simply too much to deal with. That you pushed people's buttons until they no longer wanted to be around you. That you stole parts of their sanity until they had no choice other than to run away.

But, you never saw it like that. You didn't mean to be a parasite who ate away at people's peace and patience. You simply liked testing your boundaries.

So, you preferred the word curious.

Maybe Eren had been walking around the earth without shackles his entire life, but you knew everyone was a prisoner to something, even someone like him.

Naturally, you wanted to see what it would take for Eren to break. He was so shameless, so completely free of any care in the world. Eren obeyed his own rules and his alone. He was such an inconsistent asshole half the time, but you couldn't help yourself.

You wouldn't forgive yourself if you had looked away from that charming smile and those pretty teal eyes.

Despite the facade of him being a simple-minded person, you found out what was truly hiding underneath the mask.

Eren was intemperate with a sharp tongue and a loud mouth. He did things his way, and there would be no other option. There was such a mix of emotions boiling inside him, it was like it was asking to be disrupted.

How could you not indulge yourself?

You knew it would be gratifying to see how he would react when backed into a corner. Would he cry like the others? Would he fall to his knees and beg for your forgiveness? Or, would he shut down?

How long would it take for him to leave you?

Eren was already known to be hot-headed, and you wondered what it was like to burn. You figured it wouldn't take long to find out how far you could push him. He was the crybaby type, so you didn't think he would be hard to crack.

But, he wasn't like the others.

See, Eren Jaeger wasn't a person who would easily crack. He wasn't the guy who gave up under pressure. In fact, he was the complete opposite. He was a fighter, and he would stop at nothing till victory was his.

It was only too bad for him that you were the same. Your thirst would only be quenched when you saw him break. You needed it more than you had ever needed anything.

You pushed, and he pushed harder. You shouted, and he shouted louder. You bitched and moaned and complained and did awful things to him, and Eren did them right back.

It was an endless cycle between the two of you.

You would do something to tick him off. Maybe it was telling him how Jean looked so sexy in black or how Armin's intelligence was out of this world you didn't know how he wasn't dating anyone.

Perhaps you were a parasite who ate away at your own liberty to do what you wished. You stretched yourself to push him into a corner, and it always worked.

Whatever it was, Eren would explode on you. You knew it pushed his buttons, it fucked with his mind, and that's why you did it. Because maybe it would be the day he finally gave in to the pain you inflicted on him and leave you for good.

Sometimes it would be him doing something that rubbed you the wrong way. Perhaps you wore something too short, so he called you a whore before fucking you like one. Or, he didn't answer your texts all night because he was with God-knows-who.

You shouted at him, called him all sorts of different names, and even trashed his apartment if you felt like it. Eren would fight with you, blame you for pushing him far enough as to dip a toe in the unforgiving pool of infidelity, and the two of you wouldn't speak for a week or so.

"I can't even walk around my own damn apartment without you being so annoying!" Eren shouted with so much force you held back a flinch. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down, green eyes wondering about the room.

You didn't know if he was shit-faced, high, or a mix of both. You didn't care anymore. It seemed like you had been arguing for hours, but who really knew? All perception of time was lost on you when you were around Eren.

All this started because he asked you to stay the night at his apartment. He usually preferred to go out and have some fun around town, but this was his way of making it up to you for leaving you stranded at the restaurant on your last date.

Well, it was a way for the both of you to make up with each other. Before Eren decided to steal your phone and drive away without you, the waiter serving you had left his number for you. It was only the consequence of your actions earlier that night.

You spent most of the evening flirting with him every chance you got. Batting your eyelashes at him, leaning against the table the slightest so he could get a peak of the dainty little necklace that sat pretty on your cleavage.

He wasn't even that attractive, really — you and Eren both knew that — but he still let his emotions get the best of him. If there was one thing you could trust to be consistent it was his red-hot anger.

"Don't leave when I'm talking to you!" Eren ordered, green eyes blazing hard at the back of your head. He watched you walked around the house, following you to continue your argument. "What? You're gonna go and cry like a little bitch now?"

"Why can't you leave me alone, Eren?!" you screamed, grabbing your sweater and shoving it into your bag. You turned around only to find him inches from your face. "I'm not staying here if you're gonna be a dick!"

He let out a dry chuckle as you continued gathering your things. "What a perfect fucking excuse to go fuck that jerk in your class, right?" Eren hissed, reaching to grab your arm. "Gosh, can't you ever just keep your legs closed for a night?!"

"Keep my legs closed?!" you shot back, shoving him away from you. "You're the one who's been out doing who-knows-what, Eren! You're the one who comes home with lipstick stains from whichever whore you fucked!"

"You shouldn't talk about your friends like that."

You snapped your neck to him.

His face was stony with his jaw clenched, and his hands balled up in fists. None of those things frightened you, though; it was those eyes of him. Those pretty green eyes that had once stared at you so sweetly, so lovingly long ago.

Now, all you could see were glaciers in his irises.

You swallowed down the thick lump in your throat. "You are such a fucking dick." you declared, averting your gaze from his cold one. You advanced to the door, but he caught your arm in his grip again.

"Let go of me." you ordered, attempting to pry his hand off your arm, but he wouldn't budge. "Fuck, Eren. Are you fucking stupid and deaf? I said—"

Your voice got caught in your throat when he shoved you against the wall of his bedroom. He had you caged in, one hand pinning you to the wall and the other right beside you.

It seemed like Eren learned from the last time he tried to keep you from escaping. His last efforts of getting you to stay put were always futile, and you somehow still managed to break away every time.

He always tried to grab you a second time, but you left his cheek with a bright red outline of your palm, smacking him good and hard before leaving his apartment in a fray.

None of your past escapes mattered right now, so you continued squirming around in effort to release yourself from his iron clutch. "Wow, I guess you're not as stupid as you look." you scoffed, your other hand clawing at his.

"Don't be such a bitch." Eren ordered, but you continued your attempts to leave that were only feeble against his strength.

"Why don't you go with your other girlfriends, hmm?" You scoffed, reaching for his wrist and struggling to release your arm. "Tch, Eren, you're fucking hurting me. Stop—"

He brought you towards him, pulling you into his arms. You let out a grunt of disapproval as you tried to shimmy out of his crushing hug. "Oh, my gosh, let me go! I don't want you!" you protested, pushing your hand against his hard chest to create space between you, but he thrusted you back into his chest.

"Don't be such a bitch." Eren murmured into your ear. He had one hand wrapped around your upper back, keeping you close to him, while the other held your wrist tightly to stop you from pushing him away.

His shirt still smelled like the cologne you gifted him for his last birthday. Eren was extra kind to you that day, holding your hand and giving you kisses on the cheek.

The fresh scent was familiar on your nose. You breathed it in, allowing yourself to give in to his touch. "I'm not a bitch." you told him, closing your eyes. You hoped it would help you travel back in time to that beautiful spring day.

He only grunted in response, leaning his head against the top of yours. You felt the slight brush of air down your neck when he let out a sigh. The hand that held your wrist released it, finding purchase on your waist.

A few moments of silence passed between the two of you. Eren's fingers found solace in the ends of your hair. You hadn't realized how much his words affected you until you felt your hair twirl around his fingers.

Did he really think you were a bitch? Is that why as much as you loved his cologne, you could still smell the unfamiliar scent of someone else on him?

If he cared about you, why would he leave you alone in his messy apartment all night? Why would he even bother inviting you? Why did he make an effort to speak to you so lovely that your heart fluttered?

"I just wanted to have a nice time with my girl, and you're making that so difficult. Why?" Eren questioned softly, a strand of your hair between his fingers. "Why do you go out of your way to do shit that irritates me?"

Tears prickled your eyes. "I could ask you the same thing." you replied, holding back the urge to sniffle. How could you not cry when he hurt you? You loved him with so much of yourself, and everything he did seemed like it was just to cause you harm.

"You're so mean to me, Eren. You never treat me like you should."

"I know." he said, the movement of his mouth against your head. "I don't mean to treat you like that, baby. I'm sorry. I really am." You didn't believe him, though. You didn't even want to look into his eyes because you feared you would be right.

You let out a sigh, wiping the tear that escaped the corner of your eye on his shirt. "You're bad for me, Eren." you stated, turning your head to rest against his shoulder. "You're a bad guy and a bad boyfriend. You cheat on me and call my names, and you make me cry."

Eren hummed, rubbing your back in circles. "I'll be better. I'll try harder this time." he offered, his tone almost sounding pleading on your ears. "I promise I'll do better for you."

You didn't believe it. Eren couldn't do better. He was sick with an incurable disease. He no longer felt safe in his own body. He couldn't trust his thoughts to lead him to the correct answer. It all started when he met you, and your infection spread throughout his entire system.

You had infiltrated his way of thinking and acting, his way of feeling and speaking. Eren Jaeger would never be the same person he was before he met you.

He couldn't hide his disdain when he was around his friends, not with all the remarks you made of them. Did you really think Jean was better looking than him? Was it his hair?

Maybe he should start spending more time in the library. Would that make him him look smarter in your eyes? Would you come to him for help with your homework or would you still go to Armin?

And, it was in your silence that his questions of doubt were answered. "You don't believe me." Eren stated as if he were reading the very thoughts from your mind.

A bolt of lightning shot through your spine at his tone. This was the side of your boyfriend you hadn't quite figured out yet. He could loving and playful and crack jokes all day, and mean and standoffish where he wouldn’t even look at you, but he could also be fucking sadist.

His fist curled into the roots of your hair, yanking your head back to meet his gaze. There was a sharp ache pounding on the back of your head, but you forgot all about it when you saw the slight curl of his lip.

"No one else would put up with you. You know that, don't you?" Eren asked you, green eyes appearing darker than they ever had. "You know no one would ever give you the time of day like I do."

"I know." you managed to tell him, leaning into where he gripped your hair to ease the pain you felt.

"Do you?" he questioned, raising a brow.

You tried your best to keep the hammering of your heart against your chest from showing on your face. Eren may have been a sadist, but he wasn't the only one.

"Yes, Eren." you stated, deciding to take a risk and place a gentle hand on his shoulder. You felt him tense under your touch. "You misunderstand me. I only what what's best for you and me. That's all I ever wanted."

He furrowed a brow at your words.

Sure, you would admit that Eren had power over you. He was stronger than you, taller than you, quicker than you. He was the one who had your back against a wall, and it was your hair in his fist.

But, you had something he didn't. You honed the skill he wouldn't be able to polish for years to come. He may have been overly aggressive and carried the ability to make an environment where he would always be the person with the most power, but you had experience.

And, that was something he couldn’t create.

"I've done so much for you, Eren. Why would I go through all this struggle if I didn't want to be with you?" you explained, forcing a pout on your lips. "Is that how you feel about me?"

His grip on your head began to loosen. "No," Eren forced out, eyebrows so scrunched forward they lost their sharpness. "That's not what I want. I was—"

"If you know that, then why would you stand me up?" you demanded, gazing you at him. "If you know all I want is for you to be happy, why would you start a fight with me? You know I would never hurt you like that, baby."

"I didn't mean to start a fight." Eren admitted, swallowing. "I just don't want you to leave me. I don't want to be alone. I don't know what—"

"I know. You don't have to explain it to me, baby. I know exactly what you're thinking." you told him, reaching for his hand to hold in yours. "It's okay, Eren. I know you wouldn't ever want to hurt me, right?"

He nodded, teal eyes watching as you brought his hand to your pillowy lips. You placed a feathery kiss against his knuckles. It had been so soft, so sweet that he wanted to cry.

He had just had car sex with one of the girls who lived in your dormitory's building, and you were kind enough to give him another chance. He did something that hurt you, and you still only wanted what was best for him.

"I love you." Eren sputtered out. His eyes were wide at you, and his voice sounded like he was begging you for something you refused to give him.

You let out a sweet sigh, eyes snapping to his. "You love me?" you repeated, taking a moment to savor the way the words felt on your tongue. Your brows furrowed at the words. "Do you really?"

He nodded quickly, maneuvering his hand to hold yours. He peppered kisses along your fingers, your knuckles. "I do. I really fucking do. I love you." Eren assured, kissing the inside of your hand before grabbing the side of your face.

You raised a brow as he planted soft, needy kisses along your cheeks. "How much do you love me, Eren?" you inquired, bringing your hand to massage his scalp.

Eren swallowed, looking up at you. He was quiet. You blinked back at him, waiting for his answer. You had been so surprised to find he had nothing to offer you in that moment.

You quirked a brow at his silence. "How much, Eren? How much do you love me?" you repeated, voice advancing from a curious tone to a demanding one.

He shook his head, bringing your lips to meet his gently. He tasted like . . . was it honey? Or was it just how sweet the lies he told sounded on your ears?

You weren't able to tell what his mouth tasted like, but you knew you had earned another spit sister? Had he kissed her the way he kissed you? Did he feed her the same lies he did you? Could she taste him? Was she able to put a finger on what the candied flavor on his lips was?

Eren pulled back from you slightly. You couldn’t tell if it was his turquoise eyes that were glassy or if it was yours. "Too much." he told you, lips brushing against yours. "I love you too much." He collided his face with yours, tongue slipping into your open mouth.

His kisses travelled lower — along your jaw, down your nec. He sucked hard when he found your pulse-point, only stopping once a soft moan escaped your swollen lips.

There really wasn't a way you would ever leave him, even if you tried to. Despite all the fights, all the times you professed your hate for him, all the times you tried tried to break it off, Eren stayed with you.

But, it was the same for him. Even if you hurt him, flirt with his friends right in front of him, cuss him out and manipulate him the way you had already done a profuse amount of times in the past, Eren would always love you. How could he not?

Maybe it was because both of you were equally fucked in the head, or because you both loved the concept of pain whether you be playing the role of the inflicted or inflicter, but in some twisted way, you never wanted to leave him.

Somewhere in the messed up relationship that you two had, you realized you loved him. God, you fucking loved him, even if he treated you like a pet.

And, he was your favorite toy. Yours to use and to lie and to fuck. Whether Eren Jaeger was so free he couldn't help but trample over you, or you were too much, too curious that you pushed him to the very brink and a little more, one thing wouldn't change.

You knew it was wrong. Everything about you and him was wrong. Nothing could justify it, you figured that much. You didn't think you could lose yourself in the game, but you did.

And, all of it was Eren's fault.

note: welp they were toxic huh

[hopelesshawks]

Dead Already Part 2

Hawks x gn!reader

So @lilchickie dared me to write a part two to my fic Dead Already where y/n comes back as a nomu. I've been struggling a bit with motivation so I figured what better way to try and get the juices flowing again then by accepting the challenge. This ended up getting quite a bit away from me SO depending on how people feel about this part I'm not 100% sure I'm happy with it but I don't think it's going to get any better at this point

Warnings: discussion of prior main character death, PTSD-style flashbacks, disassociation/depersonalization

General Masterlist Kofi (Help Lulu <;3)

Chrome Extension to replace y/n with your actual name

“Hawks are… are you really ok?”

“Course I am Kid! Why do you ask?”

Tokoyami looks skeptical and concerned, glancing nervously between his mentor, dare he say it his older brother, and the paperwork they’re working on together in his office.

“Where have you been sleeping?” Tokoyami asks by way of answering.

“I’ve got that new apartment downtown, you’ve been there bird brain,” Hawks laughs but it doesn’t assuage his sidekick’s concerns in the slightest.

“Yes but you haven’t been sleeping there have you?”

“You worry too much.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I’m fine, kid.”

“Respectfully Hawks, I don’t believe you. No one would blame you for taking today off.”

There’s a tense moment where both men simply stare at each other and Tokoyami is sure he sees something flash through Hawks’ eyes. Before he can call his mentor out on it the moment is shattered by the phone ringing. The flash of something is gone as quickly as it had come as Hawks ignores Tokoyami again and picks up the phone. “You’re go for the Hawk man, what’s up?” he answers, leaning back in his chair and kicking his feet up on the desk. His face darkens for just a moment before the look vanishes again. “Got it, no problem big man. Tsukuyomi and I will be right there,” he answers with faux nonchalance, already bringing his feet off the desk and having a couple of his feathers bring his jacket to him. He hangs up the phone, rising swiftly. “Endeavor got a lead on the Shadow Brigade, needs back up to bring them in from their compound,” he explains as he pulls on his jacket. “Why would he call you in for this?” Tokoyami asks. “I am the number two Kid, comes with the territory, remember?” Hawks chuckles.

“Who cares what your ranking is? Going after the group responsible on the anniversary of-”

“We’ve got a job to do, Tsukuyomi.”

It’s not the first time Tokoyami has been blown off by Hawks recently.

At first he had been just as relieved as everyone else to see Hawks returning back to normal. But then Tokoyami had returned to the office one night long after his shift had ended, only to find his mentor passed out on top of the Shadow Brigade file, still turned to the pages detailing the fire that had taken your life. He’d assumed at first that the approaching anniversary of your death had been reopening old wounds, but as Hawks otherwise continued as normal, Tokoyami began to suspect that maybe, just maybe, Hawks had never actually returned to normal in the first place. His suspicions are only confirmed as he watches his mentor flying towards the location Endeavor had given them, straight towards the villain group that had burned Hawks’ whole world down around him, on the very anniversary of the horror. As much as Hawks is still presenting as his old, chirpy self, Tokoyami knows he can’t possibly be alright.

The closer they get to the compound the more he can still hear Hawks’ words in his ears.

You should’ve let me burn

“Hawks, did you hear what I said?”

Endeavor’s voice is booming even though he’s speaking in the quieter part of his vocal range just outside the compound he had summoned Hawks and Tokoyami to.

“Totally, but why don’t you hit me with it one more time,” Hawks tells him cheekily, causing Endeavor to roll his eyes heavily. Sometimes he wonders how the flippant young man in front of him is the same one who’d infiltrated the meta liberation front. “The members of the brigade are inside, including a new member with a heteromorphic fire quirk we haven’t previously identified. We think they’re protecting someone or something but haven’t been able to identify what yet. Someone needs to take on them while the others take in the rest of the brigade.”

“I’ll take on the new member.”

Both Endeavor and Hawks’s gazes snap to Tokoyami in surprise.

“Kid, I-”

“I mean your quirk doesn’t make sense against a fire quirk and fighting fire with fire also feels like a mistake so I’ll go,” Tokoyami insists.

Endeavor notes the way the young sidekick and his mentor seem to share a look, although he can’t parse what that look is. Regardless, they’re wasting time standing outside so he swiftly moves the conversation along. “Fine. Let us know if you need backup,” Endeavor nods before swiftly moving towards the building, ending whatever silent conversation the other two may have been having. Although Endeavor was initially nervous about letting a sidekick handle the new brigade member, the mission seems to operate smoothly enough. It doesn’t take him and Hawks long to subdue the original members, the other man operating with a devastating efficiency that Endeavor can’t help but admire. Every move is executed with ruthless precision and once again the older hero finds himself in awe that the carefree man he knows has such a serious side as well when it comes to the work itself. Just as Hawks is about to rush off towards his sidekick, the young man appears. “I’ve got them,” Tokoyami huffs, hoisting someone young with flames where their head and hands should be over his shoulder while Dark Shadow heaves along a familiar looking old man. “Is that-” Hawks starts but Endeavor swiftly cuts him off. “Let’s get these villains detained and then we can interrogate them properly at Tartarus.”

Hawks stares at Dr. Garaki and tries very hard not to think.

Or is it Keigo again now?

He’s not sure in all honesty. He hasn’t felt like Keigo in a long time. In exactly a year actually. But Hawks wouldn’t feel nauseous just looking at the villains he’d brought in for questioning. Hawks wouldn’t be trying desperately hard not to think of what the Shadow Brigade may have been doing with a mysterious new member and the infamous inventor of the Nomu. Hawks wouldn’t be thinking about the suspicious similarities between the new villain’s quirk’s heteromorphic manifestation and Kurogiri.

But he is. He is and no matter how much he hides it from the others, he knows he’s seconds away from doing or saying something he’s going to regret.

So Hawks makes a cheeky joke about being too popular and needing to make a phone call as he steps into the hallway. His hands tremble as he withdraws his phone and dials the number for the HPSC president. He supposes Keigo isn’t quite as dead as he thought because although he fully intended on keeping up appearances over the phone, the minute the president’s voice reaches him down the line, all pretense drops. “Did anything happen when you were transporting their body?” he demands, voice lethal. “I have no idea what you’re referring to Hawks,” the president sighs. “You know exactly what I’m referring to. Did. Anything. Happen?”

There’s another heavy sigh down the line and he can practically see the president pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“There may have been a minor incident but everything turned out fine, you had enough going on,” she finally admits.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” he demands, venom in his voice like never before.

“You were in the hospital, remember? Ashes were delivered to the cemetery, that’s all that matters. It’s not like you ever visit the damn place anyway.”

Keigo’s just about to lash out when the precise wording the president used sinks in and suddenly he feels ice cold.

“What did you just say?”

“I said you never vis-”

“No before that. You said ‘ashes were delivered’.”

“Yes, so?”

“You didn’t say the ashes or their ashes. You just said ashes. Did you cremate my partner or not?”

There’s a long silence on the other end and it’s answer enough.

Without consciously making the decision to do so, Keigo’s feet carry him towards where Dr. Garaki is being held. The president is making excuses in his ear but he doesn’t hear any of them. They fade into the background like white noise until he finally hangs up his phone. Endeavor tries to stop him but the words fall on deaf ears as Keigo approaches Dr. Garaki with single minded determination. He doesn’t put his hands on the man, he doesn’t need to, the infamous doctor is already a sniveling mess just at the harsh look in Keigo’s eyes. “What have you done?” Keigo all but growls. “W-well I had just met the brigade and thought it would be such a waste! Your partner was quite smart, y'know. They’re by far one of my best creations!” Garaki whimpers, trying desperately to reassure the angry man in front of him in hopes of leniency. His words only further enrage the hero though, grief and pain and fury creating a storm that even years of HPSC training cannot hold back. “Don’t you dare talk about them like that,” Keigo growls, feathers ruffling in agitation. He’s about to abandon all semblance of protocol and put his hands on the cowardly, whimpering man before him when he’s suddenly being hauled bodily back.

“Don’t Hawks, you need to collect yourself,” Endeavor commands, his flames starting to roar to life in warning. It’s an attempt at authority, trying to command Keigo into submission with a reminder of who in the room is number one, but it’s a mistake. The realization of what you’d been turned into was already jarring enough, peeling back the feeble bandaid Hawks had put on the bulletwound of his grief, but the sight of the flames only makes it worse. Suddenly it’s like he’s right back in that room a year ago and he knows it’s different now, that he isn’t actually there, but his body can’t seem to get the message. Adrenaline burns hot through his veins, his every instinct screaming to go to you, to find you, to save you. Endeavor extinguishes his flames, hands coming up in a placating gesture as his eyes go wide and he realizes what’s happening, but it’s too late. Dark Shadow comes up to wrap around Keigo’s waist but that only agitates him further as the instinctive need to go to you continues to overwhelm all rational thought. He thrashes and writhes in the grasp, wings beating almost violently as Dark Shadow struggles to haul him out of the room.

“Let me go! They need me!” he demands but the grip around him doesn’t ease, even as Tokoyami’s concerned gaze comes into view.

“It’s not real Hawks, you’re not in the house anymore,” Tokoyami explains, sadly but patiently. How naive of him to assume Hawks had truly gotten better. “It’s just a memory, it’s not real.”

It takes several tries of Tokoyami explaining in the calmest voice possible that Keigo is having a flashback for him to finally snap out of it. As he returns to the present, the adrenaline wanes and suddenly he feels tired. So incredibly tired. His eyes meet those of perhaps the one person he is almost as close with as he was you and he collapses. The breakdown he had held off so long punches through him as his emotions overwhelm all the defenses he’d learned growing up. Tears blur his vision and sobs start to wrack his body soon after, as exhaustion and grief and the crushing guilt of knowing he failed you weigh heavy on his shoulders. All of the emotions he had denied himself from the past year rush through him at once while his sidekick kneels in front of him and pulls him into his arms. “It’s ok to not be ok,” Tokoyami whispers to his mentor and it only makes Keigo sob harder.

Because it’s not ok. It may never be. Even after your death he had managed to fail you again, his own selfish grief stopping him from protecting your body and allowing you the peaceful transition to the afterlife you deserved. You’d been twisted and turned into a monster and it was all his fault. It’s too much to feel and process on top of all the emotions he’d been holding back since his release from the hospital.

As Keigo tries and fails over and over again to grasp hold of Hawks and force him back into his body’s driver’s seat, he can’t help but think he much preferred being dead.

General Taglist: @ahtsuwu @oikawaandkuroostan @larkspyrr @oliviasslut @black-rose-29