#my anxiety is a million times worse than it was a few years ago and i’m so tired of being this person

[writershapeholeonthedoor]

Tattooed heart

Pairing: Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have tattoos everywhere and your girlfriend suffers from severe anxiety. You learned to walk around with Sharpies to help her out.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. TW for anxiety attacks.

MASTERLIST

The room was crowded to the point where you couldn’t even see the exit doors in the back.

That always made you a bit nervous, of course, but mostly because it usually meant your interview would go on forever until people were satisfied by it. Those types of venues were always endless, but it was even worse when there were so many people attending the panels. Don’t get it wrong, you love attending the coms and meeting the fans to debate the characters and movies, and just the entire MCU universe as a whole, but you were only human and, after spending so long being a part of this, you got a bit tired.

Although the interview was going on forever, you weren’t surprised by the amount of people reunited to see you guys talking. It was hard to have most of the Marvel actors in one single interview, after all, so you were already expecting people to crowd the room and want to ask everyone a million questions. The new Avengers movie was coming up, the trailer had dropped just the day prior, and people were excited to know more. You couldn’t blame them.

You had been listening to Evans give out an overly complex reply to a question someone made him for a while now when you noticed Elizabeth squirming in her chair beside you. She was sitting to your right at the large table where you all were and she had answered a few questions as well, although that was the first time you noticed that she wasn’t moving out of boredom or to adjust in her chair again. She was restless, you noticed by the way she looked down at her legs and by the way her fingers pulled at her dress as if she was trying to get rid of a crinkle that didn’t exist.

Over the years, you learned to read her.

When you first met, three years ago, you were immediately drawn to Elizabeth. At the time, she had red hair thanks to her Marvel character, she was wearing black clothes and she had a fake scar above her eyebrow since you met between takes of the new movie you were both going to be a part of. That wasn’t your first Marvel movie, neither was hers, but that was the first time you were going to share the screen. You had heard about her before, obviously, but nothing had prepared you for how it would feel to meet Elizabeth Olsen in person.

You felt attracted to her since the first day, but you weren’t brave enough to make a move, so you spent the next two months of shooting crushing on her in silence - at least to her because you sang like a canary to all of your castmates to the point where they had to make an intervention because no one could take more of your daydreaming about Elizabeth without doing anything about it. That worked, though, and you found yourself sweating like crazy just a week before the movie wrapped while you waited for Elizabeth to finish her scenes for the day.

You had been nervous for no reason, as your castmates predicted, because Elizabeth said ‘yes’ after you managed to spit out your question and you both went for your first date two days later. That night, Elizabeth admitted she wanted to ask you out since the first day too, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“I’m glad you’re more brave than I am,” she whispered shyly when you were holding hands on top of the table. “I’m too anxious to have managed to actually ask you out.”

But that had been it.

You have been inseparable ever since.

Well, besides when you were both working, of course. You hadn’t made any more movies together since your characters took different turns, but you and Elizabeth were able to move heaven and Earth to make your relationship work no matter what.

As the years went by, you learned to read Elizabeth as easily as an open book. You knew when she was stressed and needed to spend some time in her garden to relax. You knew when Elizabeth was cooking because she wanted to, when she was doing it because she had to eat and when she was stress-cooking. You knew when she liked the movie you were watching by the way she bit her lip and when she couldn’t care less about what was on the TV by the way she kept sighing. There were many little things about Elizabeth that you took notice of over the years, things that you carefully stocked in your memories because they were all details that made you love her more and more every day.

However, there was one thing you made a bigger effort to keep track of.

Her anxiety.

Elizabeth has been suffering from severe anxiety for many years now. She had talked about it in interviews and other things, but no one could understand the magnitude of her anxiety attacks unless they experienced it in person. You had been there to a fair share of them since you met, from the smaller ones where she would complain about feeling like a small weight in her chest to the bigger ones where you had to rush her to the hospital because you honestly thought she was about to have a heart attack. Since that day, you had vowed to always be attuned to the signals of her crisis so you could help Elizabeth get out of them before things got too hard for her to handle.

Elizabeth used to apologize every single time about it, about how she sometimes wouldn’t want to leave the house, how sometimes she would ask you to leave the restaurant that took you both so long to get a table at, how sometimes she needed to sit in complete silence to get herself together, but you always made sure to tell her it wasn’t her fault. Elizabeth had struggled with anxiety, panic attacks and social anxiety for many years now not because she wanted to, but because the media had chased her since she was young and she had grown in fear. That was something she struggled with and something you could help her with.

Or try your best, at the very least.

Since you knew about all of this, you easily realized Elizabeth’s anxiety was making an appearance, slipping through her very strong grip. You could see by the way her green eyes started moving around without focusing on anything, how her jaw clenched, how her breath became heavier and how her fingers kept picking at her dress. Evans was still talking and there was a microphone in front of you, not to mention how there were literally hundreds of eyes and cameras staring at you at that moment, so you couldn’t take her hands and ask her to breathe with you like you usually did.

You had to think fast, however, because Elizabeth’s anxiety escalates quickly and you wouldn’t want that to happen in a room filled with strangers since that was probably the reason why it was happening anyway. Elizabeth had gotten better at dealing with attending those events, giving interviews and talking with fans, but that didn’t mean she didn’t struggle every once in a while. It was still something that wasn’t easy for her, something that made her natural instincts ask her to run away as fast as she could.

Those long interviews made you tired, but they absolutely terrified Elizabeth. She hated the crowded room because she couldn’t spot the exit and her brain would play little tricks at her saying that, if something bad happened, there weren’t enough emergency doors to take everyone out safely. The cameras pointed at her made her overly conscious of every move she made, afraid of what people might capture to spread around. The screams and yells that the fans let go every once in a while made her ears hurt and her insides churn. It was awful.

Averting your eyes so people wouldn’t notice you had been watching her, you placed a gentle hand on her thigh under the table to offer her some comfort. That made Elizabeth jump in surprise, though, since she hadn’t been expecting it, so you quickly removed your hand and offered her a small smile in apology when she glanced at you. You felt bad about it, especially when you noticed the fear in her eyes, but you still tried to calm her down by offering her a smile.

Some of her tension washed away and her shoulders relaxed enough for you to feel safe to touch her again. When your hand touched her thigh this time around, Elizabeth was expecting it and she allowed the touch with a sigh. She threw you a thankful look before turning her head to the side to pay attention to what was being said in case anyone decided to pull her into the conversation, something you also tried to do.

Luckily - so damn luck, indeed - the interview ended just a few minutes after that. You played your part waving at the fans and offering them smiles, but you still held Elizabeth’s hand to pull her away from there as fast as you could without actually running. You were both sitting in the middle of the large table so it wasn’t an easy task. However, your eyes met Zendaya’s eyes for a moment and the girl wasted no time trying to discreetly move everyone out of the way so you could walk past with Elizabeth.

You took your girlfriend backstage and avoided everyone who tried to talk with you on the way until you found a quiet corner to sit down with her. You sat her down on top of a large technical equipment box and you jumped up to sit beside her, already shoving your hand inside your pocket to remove the three Sharpies you had taken with you that day. Green, blue and lilac were the colors you took from the case before leaving the hotel room that afternoon, and you didn’t think twice before handing them to her.

“Come on, I’m your canvas,” you told her lightly while reaching out your arm to her.

Your right arm was filled with tattoos from your shoulders to your wrist. That was something that made many casting directors frown to, but you loved it. That’s the way you find to express yourself and something you cherish. The tattoos were all blackwork, which means they didn’t have any colors added to them, and they were all different drawings that entwined between them thanks to the amazing work of your tattoo artist.

The first time Elizabeth ever drew on your skin was when you took her to the hospital that fateful day. You had seen your girlfriend looking so sad and scared lying down in a hospital bed after the doctor left saying it had been an anxiety attack that you just had to do something. You knew Elizabeth liked to use her hands to help herself calm down because she would run to her garden and spend hours there tending to the plants, putting her hands in the dirt and delicately touching every leaf. That’s why you took the pen that the doctor left behind without noticing and started to look for something she could write on, but there was nothing.

So, you just handed her the pen and told her to write something on your arm.

Elizabeth had looked at you like you were insane for even suggesting it and it took you a while to convince her to give it a try, however, it played out perfectly in the end. Elizabeth spent hours using the blue pen to color your tattoos and it did wonderful things to her anxiety. When the doctor returned, he was happy to say she was good to go and you were just glad that Elizabeth was back to her usual self asking you if you could stop somewhere to eat.

It wasn’t a perfect solution. It was temporary since it usually just calmed her down enough to keep going for a few more hours, but Elizabeth still needed to fully relax in silence, go to her garden or take a warm bath to avoid any real crisis. But that didn’t stop you from buying several Sharpies from different colors to have them around anytime she might need them. You made a habit out of walking around with them inside your pockets and Elizabeth stopped resisting using them to draw on you.

Sure, Elizabeth suggested she buy a notepad to carry with her, but you told her you didn’t mind being her personal canvas. You liked how she touched your skin gently with one hand while she used the other one to color your tattoos. You found it mesmerizing how she managed to make different details every time she drew on you. And you were just glad to be able to help her. Of course, you told Elizabeth it was okay if she preferred to have some paper to draw on, but luckily she didn’t argue against painting your arm instead.

It worked.

And that would have to do because you couldn’t take her to the hotel room you were sharing yet and it was clear that Elizabeth wasn’t feeling great.

“No,” your girlfriend said without taking the Sharpies from you. “We still have more interviews today.”

“Exactly,” you argued. “That’s fine. You know I don’t mind it.”

“People will make questions,” Elizabeth insisted, but it held no real resistance behind her words anymore. She was already taking the pens from you and you smiled happily at that.

“Let them,” was your reply.

A second later, Elizabeth took the green Sharpie to start painting one of the tattoos on the back of your arm.

When your castmates found you both, your skin was a mix of green, blue and lilac already, and Elizabeth's full attention was on the task in her hands. She didn’t look about to lose her mind anymore, her breathing was normal again, her hands weren’t shaking and her frown was purely because she was trying to keep the colors inside the line and not because she was in panic. Your friends gave you space because they didn’t want her to feel crowded again, but Holland lent you his jacket while you were all walking to the next interview to avoid questions and Elizabeth kissed your lips just before going on stage.

“You’re the best girlfriend in the world,” Elizabeth whispered against your skin.

You shrugged it off and leaned to kiss her forehead. “I love you,” you reminded her gently aware that you would climb every mountain and swim every ocean to make her happy.

[void-wolfie]

How'd You Do That?

summary: you have a panic attack right before your first premiere. [request]

pairing: Jenna Ortega x gn!Reader

tw: panic attack, my terrible writing (let me know if I need to add anything)

words: 1.5k

a/n: this is one of the rare times where I can say it took me so long to get to a request because I had too many ideas. I was watching my favorite show the other day and they use this idea and I couldn't stop thinking of a Jenna x R scene with it (bonus points if you know what show it's based off of)

*disclaimer; please don't use this tactic to stop a panic attack, it could actually make things worse. I only wrote it like this because it's fiction and cute.

"You did it, kid,"

Those were the first words out of your dad's mouth when he called you.

You did it.

The words bounced around in your head, filling you with excitement and dread. There was a pit in your stomach, and you had the urge to puke, you weren't sure if that was a good thing or not.

You did it.

That was a year ago, news had just gotten out that you'd be in a new summer film, set to co-star with none other than Miss Jenna Ortega herself. At the time, you were a no-name actor. You'd been in a few small things here and there, a few supporting roles. But you were nothing compared to the young sensation herself.

You'd gotten a rocky start; you were an anxious mess at the start of filming. But who wouldn't be when they were sitting so close to their celebrity crush.

Somewhere along the way, the anxiety faded. She wasn't The Jenna Ortega anymore; she was just Jenna. She wasn't the actress you'd been looking up to since the start of your career, but a pretty girl with a million freckles and a love of dad jokes. She became your best friend. The girl you'd call at one am to confess all your worries to, the girl who'd call you every day and made sure you ate because sometimes you'd forget, the girl who didn't know a lick of Spanish yet could still pull off the most amazing accent, and the girl you would text first thing every morning.

You sat in the car, wringing your hands nervously.

You were supposed to get out of the car five minutes ago, but you couldn't. Your legs felt like Jello and your vision was spinning just a bit.

All that filming and it was finally the moment of truth. The day of the premiere. Would people like you? Would they like the movie? What if your acting was terrible? You'd never been to a premiere like this before, what if you embarrassed yourself? Or-

You were freaking out. You could hear your heartbeat thumping in your ears, erratically beating in your chest. It felt like someone had knocked the air out of you, squeezing your lungs and making it impossible to breathe. And your hands; they were clammy and cold, yet somehow also hot, and they wouldn't stop shaking.

Jenna was sitting next to you in the car, tinted windows hiding the two of you from the sea of flashing cameras outside. She had been through her fair share of premieres. She knew what to expect, she knew how to act and what to do. You on the other hand, you'd never been to one. She'd been watching you with worried eyes all day, watching as your anxiety built as the day went on.

"Hey, it's going to be alright," She grabbed your hands, interlocking your fingers with hers. She'd hoped the physical contact might help calm you, but it didn't seem to ease your nerves.

Your eyes flitted down to your hands interlaced with Jenna's, her black nail polish contrasting against her tan skin.

Being close to Jenna always made you feel better, yet it didn't seem to be helping this time.

Your anxiety was at an all-time high, crippling you from the inside out. Your throat squeezed a little tighter as if you weren't struggling to breathe enough already.

"I'll be right there with you the whole time, ok?" She squeezed your hands reassuringly, but it didn't do anything to quell the raging storm inside.

Your eyes traveled back to the window. The flashing lights, the reporters circling like ravenous vultures, the way the other actors were already out there making everything look so easy while you were in the midst of a breakdown... It was too much...

Your breathing got a little more ragged, shallow uneven breaths wracking your chest. You closed your eyes, focusing on just trying to calm down.

Jenna's eyebrows scrunched in confusion, watching the way your chest heaved and hands squeezed hers tighter. It only took her a few seconds to figure out what was happening, she wasn't any stranger to panic attacks.

"Breathe with me. In and out," She exaggerated her breathing, trying to encourage you to slow your own, "In and out,"

But you couldn't, no matter how hard you tried. The feeling of not being in control of something as simple as breathing made you panic even more.

"I- I can't-"

"Hey, look at me," you felt her finger under your chin, tilting your face to look at her. But you made sure to keep your eyes shut. You didn't want to look into those big brown eyes and show her just how vulnerable you were, you'd rather suffocate.

"y/n, please," her voice cracked ever so slightly, composure dropping for just a split second. She was worried about you. Worried about how you were spiraling out of control, and you wouldn't let her help.

Her mind was blank, not sure what to do. She had one idea left, though she wasn't sure if it'd help or make things entirely worse, "I have an idea, do you trust me?"

If this backfired... Well, she didn't want to think about that.

You nodded, still attempting to calm down. Your nerves felt like they were on fire as you struggled to breathe, your heartbeat still thumping loudly in your ears.

A second passed. Then two. You were about to open your eyes to see what bright idea Jenna had when a pair of lips smashed against yours.

The whole world stopped. All you could focus on was the pair of soft lips pressed against yours and the warm hand cupping your cheek.

Wow.

She pulled away and the world stood still.

Everything felt quiet. That nagging voice in the back of your skull wasn't there. The sound of your heartbeat echoing in your ears had dimmed. Even the sound of the crowds outside seemed much smaller.

Jenna didn't think her idea would work. But you already seemed a bit better. Your hands had stopped shaking so violently and your breathing had mostly returned to normal.

"y/n?" Now Jenna was the one panicking. What if she just ruined your friendship? She couldn't lose you...

Your mind was strangely quiet for once. And you were only aware of two things. Firstly, wow. Secondly, do it again.

"y/n?" Jenna's voice finally pulled you from whatever trance you were in.

"Would it be wrong, to ask you to do that again?" Your eyes were still closed. Part of you was scared to open them again. What if you opened them and she wasn't there? What if it was all just a dream?

Jenna wasn't sure how to answer that. Would it be wrong? The two of you were coworkers after all. But she didn't really care.

It took her a second to think about what you were asking, and even less than that to throw the question out the window and kiss you again.

It was soft, simple, and sweet. It was everything you could ever ask for from a second kiss.

The minute Jenna pulled away all you could think of was the missing warmth. The way it felt like finding your other half just to be ripped apart.

Silence filled the air, neither of you sure who would speak first.

"How'd you do that?" You finally relaxed, opening your eyes to find her big brown ones looking back, full of concern and adoration.

"Do what?"

"You stopped my panic attack,"

"I read somewhere that getting someone to hold their breath can stop a panic attack, when I kissed you, you held your breath," you couldn't help but notice the small blush spread across her cheeks.

"Did you mean it? Like, did you want to kiss me?"

"Would it be wrong of me to say I did?"

Your eyes lit up. She wanted to kiss you? Does that mean she likes you?

Shouting and cheering from outside caught the attention of you and Jenna, heads darting over to the window to watch the cheering crowds outside; all of them oblivious to what just happened between you and your co-star.

"We have to go, don't we?" You were a bit disappointed. You didn't want to leave the safety of the car, you wanted to talk this out with Jenna.

"Unfortunately," Jenna noticed the pout that took over your features, the way you gripped her hand a bit tighter for comfort, "But I'll be right there the whole time, ok? And we can even leave early if you want."

You nodded, still not exactly happy to be going, but going with Jenna was better than going solo.

Jenna pushed open the car door. Instantly flashing lights and people calling yours and Jenna's names filled the air. You could feel the anxiety bubbling up again. But just as quickly as it started, it went away. Jenna's hand gave yours a little squeeze, reminding you she was right there.

[prismaticfaery]

Little Bunny

John Price x Fem!Reader

Summary: Never in a million years would Captain Price think that he'd have a chance at a family, but with how dangerous his profession was and his chances of becoming a father becoming a reality, you and him have to learn the hard way that moving on is the best you both can do.

**TW: Pregnancy, vomiting, swearing, mentions of sex, alcohol, labor, childbirth, anxiety, panic, angst, unrequited love. (Forgive me if I miss any!)

Rating: Mature

This is not short, it's 10K words! Also, don't expect too much of a happy ending!

Part Two

A/N: I was debating posting this for so long out of fear it was trash, please be gentle with me! To add, termination is always going to be your choice and it’s okay to consider that option!

Fluorescent lights hung overhead, your eyes poorly adjusting to the harsh lights as you fumbled with a pen nervously between your fingers. You had filled out a small packet of papers on a clipboard, the receptionist telling you that your doctor would see you soon and to make sure every bit of information was filled in. When you had initially told the receptionist that it would only be you when she asked if you were accompanied by a partner for a confirmation of pregnancy ultrasound, she gave you a look, and you knew she was silently judging you for your situation. 

“Y/N?” You hear a nurse call out while propping a door open, breaking you out of your trance.

It was two weeks ago when you had realized your period was late, your work schedule and general hecticness in your life made you suspect that it was stress at first but when your period never showed even a week later, and with having a pretty normal cycle, you darted to the commissary on base and bought two boxes of pregnancy tests– two different brands to make sure. Yeah, you had been more tired lately, and you had lost your appetite more than a few times, but you knew that those could also be normal premenstrual symptoms. 

With your uniform pants and panties down to your ankles, you held two different pregnancy test in your hands, the trembling in your arms and hands from fear only became worse when the test slowly turned positive. With a harsh breath in, you hold it for a moment, fresh tears stinging your eyes when you finally release your breath. Your body felt frozen in place, unsure of what to do next. Do you tell him now? Do you wait? You were on birth control and never missed a dose, but of course, it’s not always foolproof. You weren’t even with the baby’s father on an exclusivity level, only really depending on each other for comfort and pleasure when you both needed it– not to mention he was your Captain, your superior. 

A hiccup leaves your throat, the metaphorical golf ball stuck in your throat nearly choking you as you place your head in your hands, those fresh tears gathering in the corners falling into your hands. You were active duty in the SAS and newly recruited into Task Force 141, though just a Sergeant, and you were living in the barracks, which was not the place to bring a baby up in, nor was it even allowed. You weren’t prepared for a baby to come along, and you knew that your Captain had no intention of having children while he always had a target on himself. You knew he wouldn’t take this news well. 

“It looks like you’re reaching nine weeks, strong heartbeat at 168 bpm– see it here?” the doctor pointed to the tiny fluttering heart on the ultrasound monitor. 

“I do,” you smile lightly, your eyes never leaving the small floating jelly bean that jerked and wiggled inside of your body. 

“Do you have support at home?” The doctor asked, her eyes meeting yours with a certain softness, knowing that you checked your marital status as “single”.

“Well I have my mother, but as for the other half of the child, he won’t be very happy,” you say, sitting up and adjusting the paper blanket draped across your nude bottom half. 

“Reach out to your mother, okay? Best of luck with everything,” the doctor takes her leave, giving you the privacy to clean up and put your uniform back on. 

You sat for a moment, the silence deafening save for the nurses speaking at their station outside the exam room door. You peek over at the ultrasound monitor, which had been paused on a picture of your tiny baby. Your heart ached, and you found yourself struggling to turn your head away, until a knock at the door sounded. 

“Here are your papers, there’s also a script for prenatal vitamins and some brochures,” the nurse smiles, handing you the small stack, “take care of yourself.”

The door closes behind the nurse and you decide that it’s time to finally get dressed. You wipe the ultrasound gel from your abdomen and lower region, and silently slip your clothing back on, your eyes never leaving the monitor until you notice a small black and white photo had been printed and attached to your after appointment papers. Your heart skipped, quickly tearing the photo from off of the stack to hold in your hands, your little baby’s side profile had been captured and you could see the tiny arms and legs scrunched up to its body. 

Checking the time on your watch, you pick up speed, remembering that you had a debriefing on a Task Force affair with your Captain soon and you were definitely going to be late arriving at it. You knew he wouldn’t be happy with your lack of punctuality, but you had proof that you were tied up in a last minute affair. 

Once arriving back at base, you could see the familiar form of Soap who was also a late arrival to the debriefing, but you knew it was because of his poor time management skills, or he was just waking up from one of his naps. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he spins around in a wild fashion. 

“Good grief, ya scared the shite out of me,” Soap held a hand to his chest. 

“Sorry, I was just curious if we could walk together to the debrief,” you question, your eyes pleading for him to agree as to save yourself from being individually called out by your Captain. 

Soap nods, his longer legs falling into step with yours, “you’re not usually late to these things, something must have had you tied up,” Soap scratches his head, yawning into his unoccupied hand.

“Oh you know, women’s issues,” you shrugged, Soap wincing at your words. 

“Ah, I don’t think you need to explain,” he chuckles, knowing damn well that he was treading into territory he was very familiar with, having to be around female soldiers– especially with being around you so much– taught him more than enough. 

Opening the door to the small debriefing room, you could see Ghost leaning back in his chair, one leg over the other while his arms crossed against his chest, his usual black balaclava covering his face. Gaz was in the seat adjacent to Ghost, his face blank– an almost bored expression showing. 

Price’s body language was showing very clear annoyance as he watched you and Soap enter, the awkwardness in the room causing you to fumble into your seat, the loud scraping of the chair leg against the tile floor made Price audibly sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“You two are late, don’t let this happen again or I’ll have you assigned cleaning duty for a week,” Price points his finger first at Soap, then at you, your eyes casting downwards in embarrassment. 

As the debriefing went on, you could feel the familiar crystalline blue eyes of your Captain steal glances of you. You make yourself small and scarce in the meeting, your arms folding across your upper body and your body slinking into your chair. You felt strange about having such a huge secret being hidden away from your Captain who was more than deserving to know about it, but you needed time to formulate a plan on how you were going to carry out telling him. It would be better to tell him sooner than later though because you could be deployed at any time and that would be a dangerous situation for you and the life that was growing inside of you. 

“Ghost, you and Gaz will be going to Russia for some recon, I need intel– any intel on where they’re moving next,” Price nods his head in Ghost’s direction, handing Gaz a debriefing packet on his and Ghost’s deployment that they’ll go over together at a later time. 

You feel your body tense as a very heavy wave of nausea washes over you, Soap noticing your eyes fluttering and your skin becoming ashen and shiny from sweat. Pushing his seat out with the back of his legs, Soap rushes over to the trash bin, knowing all too well you wouldn’t make it yourself. He shoves the bin into your lap where you attempt to shield yourself with your arms as you empty the contents of your stomach. Gaz winces, and Ghost is pretty much unbothered but keeping a watchful eye on you. 

“You alright?” Price askes as he makes his way over to your hunched over form. 

“No, I really need to go,” you heave a sigh, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Leave that, I’ll have someone clean it,” Price nods, motioning for you to leave. 

Long having discarded your uniform, you sat on your bed, staring at the white wall across the room. So many thoughts flooded your brain, and you felt like you were losing control of everything in your life all in the span of a few hours. You were young, and still inexperienced in life, halfway to reaching your thirties. The dried yet still sticky feeling of tears coated your cheeks and you felt like your heart would leap out of your chest every time you even thought of mentioning this pregnancy to Price. How the hell was he going to take it?

You knew that it would go two ways most likely– one: he’d walk away and break all contact, or two: he would tell you that he would support you and the baby, but would not be present.

A knock on your door broke you out of your thoughts, your voice cracking as you told the visitor to come inside. Price’s tall body stands in the doorway for a second before stepping inside and closing the door behind him softly. He knew it was risky coming into your room so early in the evening but he was willing to take that chance. 

“Everything alright? Soap said you were dealing with something– didn’t know the pain got so bad for you during that time of the month,” Price sits beside you on your bed, his taller form making yours tiny in comparison. 

“I’m alright, I just need to rest,” your voice is small with a tinge of exhaustion, playing into Soap’s assumptions of you being on your period. 

“You been crying, love?” Price’s large hand caresses your neck, his thumb dancing across your cheek soothingly.

“A little, yeah,” you smile softly, leaning into his touch. 

“You want to tell me about it?”

“Not really, if that’s okay?” Your breath catches in your throat, you knew damn well you should tell him, but fear froze you in place. 

“I understand, hormones and all that lot can be difficult,” Price sighs, the hand that rested on your neck falling back into his lap. 

You suck in a breath as his words repeat in your head. Did he already know? Or did he have an inkling of an idea? No, that wasn’t possible. 

You feel the familiar burn of bile rising into your throat, your legs making a mad dash for the bathroom across your small barracks room. Heaving what little was left in your stomach, you could feel your Captain’s cool hands gather your loose hair from your sweat covered neck and forehead. As you breath in and out heavily, a soft cry escaping your lips from the horrifying nausea pounding through your body, you feel Price’s free hand rub soothing circles along your back. 

“You’re alright, sweet girl, let it out,” the deep gravel in his voice was soothing. 

You gag and heave one last time before you begin to feel like the nausea is subsiding, Price’s arm reaching over to flush the toilet and then bring your body back to lay against him as he leaned back against the tub. Your shorter legs are pulled up to your chest as his thick arms engulf you. 

“I’m pregnant,” a sob escapes your throat, a trembling hand brought up to your now teary eyes, wiping away any stray tears that escape. 

Everything goes silent around the two of you, and you could tell John was formulating his response and keeping himself from reacting in a way he would regret. His arms go slack around you and you begin sobbing even harder at his action. 

“Did you not take your pills?” Was all he could muster asking. 

“I did, I did-!” you cry, turning your body to face him now. 

“Y/N, you know what this could do to us– to me, right?” Price’s voice was dangerously low now, a look of pure anger painted on his face. 

You knew all too well what this situation could do to you both. Demotion, dishonorable discharge, enemies who had a target on both of you– but more specifically him, would know that there is something precious and innocent that could be easily taken away. 

Price goes quiet, his eyes downcast as he thinks to himself for a moment, “I think you should consider your options.”

“So that’s it? You’re putting all of this on me?” your heart begins to sink into your stomach, knowing damn well that this was his way of telling you that he wanted to cut all contact and act like this situation never happened. 

“What will you have me do, Y/N, hm?” He points a finger at himself, the tip poking into his hardened chest. 

“At least consider options with me– it takes two-!”

“No, Y/N. No,” Price rises to his feet, leaving you in a puddle of anxiousness on the bathroom floor, your eyes frantically watching his hand swing the bathroom door open. 

“Please don’t–,” you reach an arm out to him, but he’s gone so quickly from your sight. 

You find out the next day that you were pardoned from work, formation, and PT for a full month, knowing that Price did this to allow you time to think about what to do with the pregnancy. You hardly left your room, and when you did, it was usually just to eat and do laundry. Soap tried to stop you a few times to catch up and ask how you were doing, but you instead offered a smile and a quick, “I’ve gotta go,”. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried out of his mind for you, sad eyes watching you disappear down the hallways. He was often your partner in missions and would offer a helping hand if and when you needed it. Maybe he just needed to wait for you to come to him? He would always wait for you. 

You stared at your discharge papers for days, the blanks filled out neatly, and the pen you used sat atop the thin packet. You were sure that this is what you wanted, and this would save John from the possibility of having everything he worked so hard for to be snatched away. No one would know he was the father of the baby, and you weren’t going to make him be something he didn’t want to be. You wouldn’t inform him of the gender, due date, name– anything, if he didn’t want to know, in which you knew he wouldn’t. 

You wanted to make this as easy as possible– slowly cutting off your military life, and going back home to make a new life for yourself and for your baby. Your mother was in agreement, telling you to come home and to get yourself back on your feet, that she’d be happy to watch over the baby while you worked. You would have your childhood room back and your mother’s cooking, and that was enough to put a smile on your face even for just a moment through the rough patch. She knew that having support was the most important thing for you. 

You gather the papers in your hands, tapping them on the counter to even them out. Taking a moment to think one last time if this was truly what you wanted, you let out a shaky breath, leaving your room and making your way to John’s office, your fingers grasping the papers tight enough to wrinkle them. 

You knock three times on Price’s door, waiting for him to call out an answer for you to enter, “come in,” you finally hear him say. 

He straightens in his desk chair, the air in the room becoming thick and tense. He looks to be stressed out, his hand soon covering his forehead as he attempts to relax. You sit in one of the two chairs across from his desk, sliding your filled out discharge paperwork over to him. Price’s vascular arm reaches over to grab the papers, keeping his eyes on you the whole time. At first, he thinks that these are adoption papers for the baby, in which he would sign the parts that said “father’s information”, but he soon realizes that’s not what he was given. 

“You’re leaving the military?” his eyes darted up to look at you. 

“I won’t make this difficult. You don’t need to know a thing if you don’t want to, you won’t need to be present, just sign those papers and we’re gone.” 

“The Task Force needs you,” Price’s voice falters, his usual soft tone you were so used to is back. 

“I want to raise this baby, John– our baby,” you feel yourself spiraling, your hormones making it difficult to keep your composure. 

You could see his eyes flutter closed, his body shaking as he releases a large huff from his lungs, “you’ll be discharged immediately. I don’t want to see a trace of you left in that room.”

“Yes, sir.”

You had very little to pack up in your room, your mother having come from London to help you carry anything heavy. Soap had stopped by your room after hearing the news that you were being discharged. His thoughts soared wildly as he watched your mother pack away your things as you carried out items to her car, thinking of how sick you must have been to have to leave the military immediately. You must have been in need of serious medical treatment to just drop everything and leave. His form standing outside your door caught your mother’s attention, making his entire body tense. Turning on his heel, he prayed to whatever or whomever that your mother hadn’t seen the stray tear fall down his cheek. 

Your civilian clothing felt a little tight around your lower abdominal area, your belly poking out slightly, bloating from the pregnancy hormones and constipation since the baby was still very tiny to make an appearance quite yet. You were half tempted to keep your jeans unbuttoned but with it being so hot out, your shirt was cropped right above your belly button. You had to keep cool somehow and you weren’t sacrificing your style for your growing belly. You and your belly bump can be stylish together. 

“Is this the last of it, darling?” Your mother questions, placing the last box in the trunk of her sedan. 

“Yes,” you answer, looking around one last time before opening the passenger door of the car and slipping inside. 

Your eyes caught a glance of Price, who was outside on the training field with a group of soldiers. He was looking right at you, and it sent a flood of different emotions to wash over you. Tears stung your eyes, your throat swelling as you tried your best to keep yourself from falling apart. You were prepared to do this whole parenthood thing alone, but you were hoping that you would at least have him present for the sake of the child– not even for the sake of you because you weren’t what mattered in this situation. 

You had fallen madly for him but your job had made it very apparent that feelings for your superior could be a whirlwind of repercussions to pay. You had to play it safe in the shadows. John would have been a liar if he said he hadn’t also felt the same feelings as you, but kept it no more than a hook-up every once in a while. This was the most difficult decision you could ever make– deciding to walk away. 

It had taken you weeks to acclimate to civilian life after being in the military for so long. You were freshly 18 and had just graduated secondary school when you joined the Royal Army, just entering your mid 20’s when you passed selection for the SAS, Price was the first to congratulate you, shaking your hand and offering you a warm smile, the creases in the corners of his eyes sending you into a tizzy– goodness he was so handsome. His face was shaved then however. You loved his chops when he started growing them out, your eyes catching his own as he carefully combed through the thick auburn beard hairs with a sandalwood comb in the middle of his debriefings. 

You sat at the dining room table of your childhood home, scanning over the words on your laptop screen. You had gotten a new job and you were going to start working remotely from the house, which was perfect because of the baby coming around February. You had since gotten into a new doctor’s office, your mother accompanying you for support. Her face lit up when she saw the baby floating around on the screen, their little arms covering the front of their face. You had cried more than you liked and your nausea had increased dramatically once leaving the base. You thought it may have been from the stress of leaving your old life behind intermingling with the pregnancy hormones. 

Your mother was a huge support, telling you that you could take time to yourself before you found a civilian job. You waved her off however, saying that she had no business having to pick up the slack for her adult child. She had already taken to knitting small items for the baby, and your favorite was the small floppy bunny beanie that was a light cream color, the inside of the ears a dusty pink. 

“Have any of your military friends contacted you since leaving?” Your mother asks, peeking up from the cream colored blanket she had started days previous. 

“Soap has, but he ended up being deployed before I could answer. He probably thinks I’m dying with having left so suddenly when I was experiencing morning sickness during debrief,” the sigh that left your lips was a sad one, as Soap was someone you had grown quite close to over the years of being in the same barracks and then being on the Task Force together for a short period of time. 

“Well hopefully you can remain friends,” the nimble fingers of your mother placed a stitch marker into the blanket. 

“One can hope,” you lie. 

You were entering your 20th week of pregnancy– halfway to the finish line is what your mother said to you that morning. Her excitement was easy to spot as today was the day you would find the gender of the baby out. Your belly had grown some, but not enough for it to be immediately recognized as a baby bump. Maybe you just ate an entire pizza? 

Drinking the last bit of orange juice, to which your mother swore would make the baby more lively in your belly during the ultrasound, you look over the texts in your phone, Soap’s name popping up suddenly. It catches you off guard when you open the text, seeing a picture of Ghost and Price out on the firing range, Price’s hat sitting on top of Ghost’s head as he lay prone on the ground with a sniper rifle. Price had his arms crossed and was seeming to refuse being in the photo, his hand covering his face. Soap hadn’t sent so much as a “hi” in weeks, and you had hoped that he just moved on from the thought of you staying in touch with your old roots. Closing out of the text app, you place your phone face down on the kitchen counter, your heart dropping. You just won’t reply, just like you had been doing before. 

Patiently waiting in the exam room at the midwife’s office, you placed a hand on your belly, hoping that soon you would finally be able to feel movement. Your midwife said it’s normal to not have movements until now or even a little later but you were so impatient. Once entering the room, the midwife went over her routine questions, and took your blood pressure. 

“Your blood pressure is a bit elevated, are you getting enough water and rest?” The midwife asks, placing herself on the stool next to the ultrasound machine. 

“Mum wouldn’t let me live it down if I weren’t,” you answer. 

“I believe it,” the midwife chuckles, looking over at your mother who had taken a seat next to you on the exam table, “I would like for you to continue what you’re doing, and if you’re feeling any strange symptoms like dizziness, faintness, seeing stars in your vision, or pains in your chest or ribs, go to the hospital immediately.”

You nod your head, and the midwife starts setting your ultrasound up, helping you lie back on the bed as soon as she’s done. Unbuttoning your jeans, she places a flannel over the top of your jeans to keep the gel from staining them. The lights are then turned off and you begin to relax and clear your mind, ready to see your baby after weeks of waiting. Squeezing a large amount of gel onto your abdomen, the midwife places the transducer of the ultrasound machine onto the mound of gel, rubbing it around to find where the baby is positioned. 

“Look at those little puckered lips,” the midwife smiles down at you.

“Oh darling, look at that sweet baby,” your mom was in tears, her emotions always outmatched yours. 

As the midwife continues looking at the baby through the monitor, she takes her time going through all of the anatomy of the baby, noting it on the keys of the machine. Your hand was being squeezed so hard by your mother, you thought that your circulation might be cut off after so long. The tiny fingers of the baby were by their mouth, their legs stretching out and scrunching back up. 

“What were your bets on the gender, mum?” the midwife asks your mother, the two smiling at each other. 

“That’s a little girl in there.”

“Mum is correct,” the midwife points her finger to the wiggling baby, a clear picture of the baby’s gender boldly displayed. 

You’re going to have a little girl, Captain. 

Squealing with delight with fresh tears coating her cheeks, your mother squeezed your arm and kissed your cheek, “I’m so proud of you. I’m a grandma to a baby girl.”

While there was downtime, Price often grabbed drinks with the Task Force, his usual military uniform shed and his dog tags resting on his bedside table. The black jumper he wore had gotten a little loose, his appetite scarcely there since you told him about your pregnancy. His anxiety made his mind wander more than he liked. How were you doing? Was your belly finally popping out? Did you start purchasing baby items? He would always ground himself after some time, his internal voice telling him that this was for the safety of himself, and the safety of you and the baby. His baby. But not his baby at the same time, he made that clear with you all those weeks ago. 

Clutching a rocks glass in his hands at the bar, Price took a quick swig of the amber liquid as Soap sat to his right, scrolling through his social media timeline. Ghost was at the pool table across the bar, talking with Gaz, who had just taken a shot at a cue ball. It had been raining for days straight, the cool air flowing into the bar with each time the door opened. Were you also experiencing this weather? Or had you gone countries away to escape staying in the same country as your former friend with benefits with whom you now had forever ties with? 

“You know, Y/N’s social media was deactivated and she never answers my texts. I wonder if she’s okay?” Soap mumbled, unable to put his mind at ease as to where you went or what happened to you. 

“She was honorably discharged from the special forces, she’s probably cutting ties with her old life as much as possible,” Price’s voice was grim, however Soap didn’t quite catch on. 

“That’s not like her though– she used to post everyday–!” Soap gestured his hand to his phone, his social media app still open. 

“I think it’s best to allow her to move on,” Price slammed the rest of his whiskey, placing the glass back down on the bar with a loud clunk, “she’s been shot, wounded, seen death, caused death, stayed in hospital for weeks altogether in her career– she deserves peace.”

“She was ill, Captain,” those baby blue eyes of Soap’s were now filled with worry. 

“You said it yourself: she was experiencing her time of the month.”

“You’ve turned cold recently Captain–.”

“Move on, Soap. That’s the best you can do, for her sake and yours.”

Soap’s emotions were crushed, his heart sinking to the very bottom of his belly. Price knew Soap always cared too much, and that’s what set him apart from many people who had grown a bit cold and cynical while in the SAS– like Ghost for example. It was time for everyone to move on, it had been many weeks since your departure, and the only one who seemed to hold on the most was Soap… at times. Price struggled too but he was a Captain, he needed to be a leader and offer guidance to his soldiers, even if it wasn’t what they wanted to hear, but needed to hear. 

Holding his glass up to signal the barkeep for another pour, Price sighs, watching Soap scroll some more on his social media timeline, hitting the search bar and typing in anything and everything he could think of just to find you. He then sees him type in your mother’s name, his body language picking up in relief when a profile popped up, he just hoped your mother’s timeline wasn’t completely private. 

“Shite,” Soap mutters, disbelief flooding his tone, “she’s fuckin’ pregnant?” 

The Captain’s heart might as well have stopped beating right then and there when he heard Soap. Looking over at Soap’s phone, Soap adjusted the phone to show Price the screen, a post from two weeks ago exclaiming that you had just found out about the gender, a picture of you attached with a pink cupcake in your hand. 

“It’s a girl,” Price stared at the photo of you for way too long, his eyes softening when he saw that pregnancy glow, your cheeks becoming more filled out, and the swell in your lower belly being caressed by your hand. 

“Lucky lad, the father is,” Soap locked his phone, placing it face down on the bar, soon cradling his head in his hands. Soap is now trembling, a relieved yet saddened sigh leaving his mouth. 

Yeah, a lucky lad he would have been in a different world. 

Lying in the bath, the bubbles that had been added to the water thick and covering most of your body, your hands rested on your belly, rubbing the soft and stretched skin gently. Twenty two weeks along and you still hadn’t felt movements, and it was starting to worry you. Most people felt movement already. Sinking lower into the warm bath water, you feel the tension in your shoulders release after having worked all day. Come to think of it, your desk was still in a disarray with papers and pens and you had no energy to clean it up at the moment. 

Stilling yourself in the water and staring ahead at the faucet, you notice your stomach twitch, thinking that at first it was just a reflex, until it happened a few more times. You place the tips of your fingers where the twitches were happening, flinching when you could feel little taps. 

“Is that you in there, trying for your mummy’s attention?” You whisper, and another tap could be felt. 

Tears escape your eyes, quickly rolling down your cheeks when you think about how John is missing out on these moments. He would never be able to feel his little girl’s first movements. You wanted to imagine him being right there after you called out his name, his large hand reaching down into the tub, brushing softly against your swollen belly. He would wait patiently, at first discouraged that he missed those little kicks. Until finally, those little taps started up again, his baby blue eyes lighting up as he felt the tiniest movements against his palm. 

Wiping your tears away with the butts of your palms, you let out a shaky breath, attempting to ground yourself as much as you can in this moment, knowing that tears and sadness were not going to help get yourself through this. But it did feel good to cleanse your soul with a few tears after they built up for so long. 

When John had gotten to his room back at the barracks after downing three glasses of whiskey, he could feel his body give out from under him as soon as he shut the door behind him. His back slides down the door, his bottom meeting the cold tile, hands cradling his face as he chewed his bottom lip raw, the dull sting of the open wound radiating on his mouth. Hot torrents of anxiety begin to course through his body, tears stinging his eyes as he feels like he might crawl out of his skin. Clawing at his jumper collar, he feels like he’s suffocating, his breaths uneven and raspy. 

He missed you– missed those nights where he crawled into bed with you, your limbs entwining in a warm and comforting embrace after a hard day of work. His hands would search for the feeling of your soft skin in the darkness, only to feel an empty coldness on the sheets where your body should have been. You weren’t even his and vice versa but his attachment to you was obviously present from the beginning. His eyes always sought you out in the room, always scanning the battlefields to make sure you were safe. He should have pulled out all those times, knowing damn well that no birth control was 100% effective, other than abstinence or sterilization. He had gotten too comfortable with you, too lost in the warmth, the comfort you brought him. The smiles and the joking, the playful smacks you would give him, the wrestling and tickling matches that very often turned into that hot and heavy sex that left you both breathless and in a heavy daze. 

John knew he needed to move on, and to allow you the opportunity to live a happy and safe life with the baby, away from the military, the SAS, and the Task Force, but he was stuck on the idea that things could have been so different. If his duties weren’t so important– ridding the world of everything ugly and scary, meaning that his daughter wouldn’t have to one day live in fear, he would do it a million times over. No matter how much it hurt– no, how much it killed him, or how difficult it was to go day after day not knowing who or what she might be when she finally came into the world. How he’d never be able to see you become the mother you talked about being one day, holding a brand new baby while coming down off of the adrenaline, sweat still clinging to your forehead and cheeks. How he wanted so badly to witness that ecstatic yet exhausted “I did it,” come from your mouth, your tired eyes peering up at him. Being your support system while you struggled to nurse, changing the baby’s first nappy, letting you rest while he gently rocked and soothed the fragile bundle, whispering how much he loved her already. 

“Fuck–!” Price shouted, throwing his car keys across the room. 

At 32 weeks, your baby shower took place, friends that had kept in contact with you over the years came, as well as family members that you hadn’t seen in some time. You were in a comfortable maxi dress as your belly had gotten too big and it felt like the skin on your belly was always itchy so the soft fabric of the dress played a part in keeping that feeling away. There was a mountain of gifts that sat around the recliner in the den and you were overwhelmed with how much people cared to spoil the baby this much. 

As you sit in the recliner unwrapping the gifts, you smile for the pictures your mom begged to take so she could show you off, holding up each and every item you received. Blankets, nappies, outfits, baby gear, necessities, and even postpartum kits sat in a corner neatly. You were crying, feeling so undeserving of the kindness, but as your family and friends saw you, they all offered their comfort in the form of words of affirmation and bone crushing hugs. That you were loved and supported in this particularly difficult and confusing time. Your friends and family would have loved John. 

Your mother brings in another gift out of nowhere, her arms barely able to wrap around it, let alone carrying it over to you. Confused, you make her drop it, your body lifting from the recliner to help her set it down, her hand waving you off to not help her with something so heavy in your condition. She gives you a look and shrugs, saying there was no name on the gift. Tearing the wrapping paper off, you see a beautiful bassinet pictured on the large box. No one had fessed up to getting the gift for you, so you sat confused for longer than you would have liked as everyone else mingled. 

It had taken days for Price to figure out what he wanted to do for your upcoming baby shower. Your mother had posted an event, not realizing it was a public post, and fortunately for John, he knew your address from your paperwork and files. He found the sweetest bassinet, a cream color with a lacey pink border. It had a little storage area at the bottom so that you could keep any baby items at arm’s reach. Once he had put his payment and your address in, he hit the confirm button. He just hoped it would arrive on time. 

Sitting back in his desk chair, he listened to the busy hallways in which soldiers congregated and conversed while on their down time. His mind wandered to the most recent pictures your mother had posted, and your belly had grown bigger and you smiled so large. He imagined lying in bed, shirt removed, sweatpants on, your warm body next to his in a night dress that had become too short on you with your bump, his hand caressing the bottom of your abdomen, whispering sweet words. You were pressing your lips to his own, lingering for a moment and breathing in each other’s breath. 

“God, I hope you’re doing alright,” Price’s voice came out in a near whisper. 

Work has become a distraction of sorts, the meeting on your screen with several of your coworkers becoming something like a white noise as your mind wanders, your pen hanging loosely between your fingers as you stare into the void. A plate of biscuits and a cup of tea had been placed on your desk almost an hour ago by your mother, but they hadn’t been so much as even touched. You had a pretty significant headache that had gnawed away at the back of your head for the past few days that not even a paracetamol here and there helped. Thinking that the hormones had everything to do with it, you brushed it off without a second thought. 

“Y/N, what do you think about this?” Your coworker asks, pulling you from your thoughts. 

“I think it’s a great idea,” you answer, nodding and smiling into your webcam. 

Catching the fully set up bassinet that had been put in the other corner of the room in your video feed, you smile, placing your hands on your now nearly full term belly– 36 weeks to be exact. Your coworkers dismissed the meeting after agreeing to start the new project that had been outlined for a few weeks now, the small details and start date finally figured out. 

You stand from your desk chair, a hand placed on the underside of your belly to keep your center of gravity balanced and to keep your pelvis from hurting from the weight of your belly. The dress you wore swayed as you waddled over to the corner of the room where all of the baby’s things had been set up. Grunting as your knees bend to the floor, you drag the hospital bag you had been slowly putting together over the past few days. There were folded onesies, and knitted cardigans that you still had yet to pack away, as well as a small bag of toiletries. John would have chewed you out for being so carefree on such important things such as the hospital bags. He would have had his bag packed for weeks and sitting at the front door. 

Wincing from a twinge of pain in your chest, you stop what you’re doing for a moment to wait for it to subside. It could have been a trapped gas bubble– pregnancy and all of its little quirks. When the pain doesn't subside, you attempt to get onto your feet, but cry out when the pain worsens. 

“Mum–!” You cry out, bracing your hand on the bassinet and clutching your chest. 

Hearing your mother stomp up the stairs quickly, she barges into the room, rushing to your side and helping you up, “what happened, sweetheart?” she questions, eyes wide. 

“I’m having really bad pains in my chest,” you begin to cry, hot tears pooling in your eyes, scared out of your mind for the baby. 

After little to no convincing, your mother packed you and the bags into the car. It felt like the longest drive to the hospital ever, the diaper bag sitting in your lap and your own hospital bag at your feet, the baby kicking the wind out of your lungs, so you thought that she was hopefully doing just fine with all of her movements. There was a fresh sheet of snow on the ground and icicles formed on the trees, the freezing January air nipping at your skin. 

A nurse brought your mother and yourself over to triage, hooking you up to a non-stress test, the nodes placed cozily around your stomach, and wrapping a blood pressure cuff around your upper arm that was inflating and squeezing the life out of you. You knew that 140/90 was not where a pregnant person’s blood pressure should be, and you were certain the nurse was going to have you pee in a cup to check for proteins. 

Sure enough, you had to pee in a cup, handing it over to the nurse when you were finished and it was a hard enough feat to reach under your belly. Thankfully though, the non-stress test wasn’t alarming, the baby’s heart rate staying in a normal range even with the issues you were facing. 

“I think it’s safe to induce you right now, I’m not liking the looks of your blood pressure and labs,” the midwife sits in a stool across from your bed. 

Everything started off manageable– the pains, you were able to breathe through. Your mother stood by your side the whole time, clutching your hand when you needed it. You sat cross-legged in a hospital gown, the bed placed at the highest position, and an IV placed in the crease of your elbow. It was five hours later when the pitocin had started causing the most excruciating pains you had ever felt, and you had been shot many times in the SAS. 

Crying out and grasping the handles of the bed, your breathing became ragged and your mouth dried out and you were so happy when your mother applied lip balm to your mouth to keep them from cracking. Each time your progress was checked, the pain worsened, the labor pains feeling like a searing hot knife was dragging across your lower abdomen. You wanted so badly for John to be here, sitting across from you on the bed, letting your arms wrap around his shoulders while you groaned through your pains, but it was your mother who stood in his place, her tender touches breaking you out of your swimming mind. 

Hours later, your water had broken on its own, and now you were in the home stretch and the anxiousness began to flow throughout your body, knowing that your little girl was to make an appearance by the beginning of the next day. 

John’s body was wired, sleep not taking him this evening, his hand resting on his bare stomach as he splayed out on his bed, the blanket barely covering his waist. He scrolled mindlessly for hours on his phone when he finally decided to browse your mother’s social media, hoping that she had updated with anything that had to do with you. He shot up from his pillow when he saw a photo of you sitting up in a hospital bed, and IV and wires hooked up all over your body. 

“Posted three hours ago,” he mutters to himself, tapping your photo and zooming in on your face– you looked so angelic. 

His baby would be here so soon and it made his heart skip beats, anxiety flowing through his veins. He could be there right now in place of your mother, whispering sweet words of encouragement in your ear, rocking with you and helping you breathe through the pain. Even when on the battlefield while injured, he knew you were terrible at controlling your breathing, often passing out and waking back up with him chewing your head off. 

“Make sure to breathe, sweet girl, you’ve got this,” he spoke almost silently– a whisper off his lips. 

Lying back down, he knew immediately that he was not going to sleep until he knew you had delivered safely and that the baby was okay. Knowing how much your mother posted updates about you, it was surefire that she’d post a picture of that sweet baby as soon as she arrived. What were you going to name her? Would you give her your surname? Of course you would, he doesn’t have that badge of honor– of his kid taking his name, when he wasn’t present. What would his daughter look like? Hopefully like you because you were the most beautiful creature on God’s green Earth. 

The smallest hand was wrapped around your finger, swaddled in the cream colored blanket your mother knitted just for her. The baby came out kicking and screaming after almost two hours of pushing. You cried out for John, wanting him by your side more than anything. To hold your hand, to kiss you so deeply when the baby came and was placed on your chest. Your mother knew how much you missed John, your forlorn looks never fooling her, and so she felt great sympathy hearing you scream out for your past lover. 

“Look at you, Bunny,” you whisper, stroking the soft cheek of your little girl ever-so-softly. 

“Oh, you did such a good job, my love,” a kiss was placed on your cheek by your mother, her hand resting on the back of the baby’s bunny hat covered head. 

You would go through the pain of carrying her and bringing her forth a million times over, your heart swelling so much it might have exploded when your eyes caught the looks of her face. She was so perfect, so tiny. The moment she was placed on your chest, her eyes peered right into yours– those same crystal blue eyes she shared with her father. 

It was late morning the next day. John hadn’t slept a wink, his eyes heavy and Soap was late to debriefing– like that was a new thing though. He decided to sit at the table instead of the podium at the front of the room where the projector screen hung behind it, too exhausted to stand for more than needed. Gaz was away on deployment, leaving Ghost and Soap to sit in the seats to the right and left of him. Ghost’s eyes peered at his newest deployment papers, flipping through the pages pretty quickly as he was a fast reader. Soap had his head down, phone hidden under the table while there was a moment of silence– a break of sorts, in John’s meeting. 

“She had the baby, bonnie lass she is,” Soap says out loud, Ghost looking up from his papers with a quiet hum.

John frantically dug his phone out of his pocket, searching your mother’s name on social media. There you were, holding the tiniest bundle in your arms, swaddled inside a knitted blanket with her hands tucked under her chin. He had to leave, he needed a moment. The chair screeches when he stands, Soap’s attention snapping to his Captain, who started rushing out the door. 

Sharing a confused look with Ghost, Soap stood from his seat and left the room. Why did he leave in such a hurry? Why did he react like that in general? Soap was searching his brain for the possible answer. Come to think of it, Soap never noticed a gentleman by your side during your pregnancy and your mother had mentioned in posts how you were so strong and she was lucky to be by your side during this new adventure. Was John that baby’s father? Why was he not there with you? But then it all began to make sense the longer Soap thought– the SAS and Task Force were always keeping themselves hot on the tails of dangerous people, and those dangerous people would stop at nothing to take everything away from them. Maybe this was a mutual decision– and exactly why you left the military. 

John’s breathing was heavy as he shut the door to his room behind him. He felt unstable on his feet, nearly tripping on his way to sit on his bed. Your photo was zoomed in on his phone, your hair was disheveled, your hospital gown hanging from your shoulders– he was guessing you’d already attempted to feed the baby with how lazily it had been tied back up. John’s eyes focus on the baby, his heart skipping a beat when he looks at her sweet button nose and wispy little hairs poking out from her knitted bunny hat. Oh how beautiful his girls looked after all of their hard work. Pride swells in his chest, he knew this must have been so difficult, but you did it and looked even more beautiful than before as a new mother. 

The nights were long, the days melted together, and you found yourself lost. Though your mother lent a hand when she was available, you had taken on so much so quickly and had no adjustment time, as having a baby would do. Between nursing the baby and running on less sleep than you had gotten on some of your deployments, you were ingesting more caffeine than you liked, and you often found yourself nodding off at random times. But that little girl had been the easiest to please so far. As long as she got milk, had a clean nappy, warm clothes, and cuddles, she was content. 

John would have been the one to wake up at the first signs of movement in the bassinet– he was an incredibly light sleeper and would often rise earlier than most of his team. He’d say how much of a waste it was to sleep the morning away when you could be productive and get more important things done before the day actually needed to start. You weren’t much of a morning person and would often tell John to let you sleep in until the last possible minute if you stayed in his room for the night, but you always managed to slip out of his room before anyone came into the halls. 

Your mind wandered more during your maternity leave, often you questioned what John was doing, if he knew his daughter had arrived safely and if he knew how beautiful she was. Did he have any deployments in the time you were discharged to now? You were sure he was busy, as he always had been. 

A few weeks passed and John was on leave for three weeks, visiting home and executing plans he made with Soap for the day, who was taking a leave around the same time as John for a wedding. While walking the streets of London, hands stuffed in his pockets, and Soap to his side, the two talked about quick bite options nearby. John had a cafe in mind, mentioning that they had great coffee and sandwiches.

The late winter air nipped John’s nose, the tip dusted a light pink. He had a black beanie placed atop his head and a black peacoat over his jumper. Soap’s outfit resembled the outfit John wore, save the beanie, but add a scarf. Soap had attempted to reach out to you on multiple occasions since having the baby, but of course, you didn’t answer. Soap knew that he shouldn’t keep trying to pry and answer out of you, but he also knew that you needed the support of a friend, even though he wanted to be more than a friend. 

Price felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket, telling Soap to go on ahead and order for them both– Price wasn’t picky. Opening the door to the cafe, Soap felt an immediate warmth wash over him and the heavy smell of coffee filling his nose. Taking a spot in the short line, he stared at the menu above, until he became distracted by the woman in front of him, kissing a very small baby on the head, cooing and rocking her body as her hands caressed the sling that held the baby to her chest. He knew your voice anywhere. 

“Y/N?” He places his large hand on your shoulder, spinning you to face him. 

Your eyes were wide, a scared look on your face until you noticed Soap’s familiar face. Barely able to string words together, Soap took you by the arm and dragged you to the side, his arms engulfing you in an embrace, careful as to not smoosh the baby’s head between your two chests. 

“Why didn’t you answer my messages?” Soap’s low voice vibrates the side of your face as your arms wrap around him. 

“I didn’t want my old life to follow me because of her,” your voice trembles.

“But you didn’t have to face this alone.”

“I do though,” you pull away, looking at Soap with watery eyes. 

Feeling his heart sink, knowing that what you said was true, he didn’t want it to be. He wanted to be the one to hold you– support you, and keep you safe. Even though what Price was doing was carrying out the same purpose. 

“She’s a beauty,” Soap nods to the sleeping baby covered almost entirely inside your sling, her little face settled against your chest, lips puckering as she stirs to get more comfortable. 

“Thank you Johnny,” you smile, stroking her cheek softly, then adjusting the knitted bunny hat to sit closer to her eyebrows. 

Johnny– he hadn’t heard you say his real name in so long, it was like a treat hearing it leave your soft lips. 

“Reach out to me from time to time, just so I know you’re doing okay?” Soap pleads, his hands resting on your shoulders, squeezing them lightly to get his words through to you. 

Nodding with a soft smile, you could hear your name being called by the barista. Grabbing your coffee, you turn to exit the cafe, offering Soap a soft “bye,” as you pass him. You wrap your thick shawl around the baby tight, holding onto her with one hand while you balance your coffee in the other. You were only minutes from your mother’s house, and the fresh air was something you needed after being cooped up in the house for so long. 

Then you see him– John. He was ending a call on his phone, placing it back in his coat pocket before setting off on his walk to the cafe to meet back up with Soap. Your heart was pounding, and almost as if the baby senses your unease, she begins to stir and whimper. You walk closer and closer to where John’s position is by a lamp post. His eyes spot you and his body freezes in place. You keep walking, shushing the baby softly, your hand placed on her back to let her know her mother was right here. 

“You’re alright, Little Bunny,” you say into her hat, softly kissing the crown of her head as you pass John. 

His daughter was right there, cozily pressed against your body in the chilly climate. The baby wore a cream knitted bunny ear hat, one ear flopping over the side of the sling. She looked so much like the both of you, it almost scared him. He wanted to hold her— hold you. It ate away at his insides, turning his guts to liquid as he watched your eyelashes flutter down to the ground, watching your feet. 

Tears were falling like mad down your face as you passed him without a word, John watching you in disbelief– he didn’t think he would be able to rest his eyes upon you again, not after going this long without contact. But it was for the best, you both knew this. 

His eyes followed you until you were no longer in sight, making sure you were absolutely safe with the baby. Life could be different, he could run after you and grovel on his knees for forgiveness. To beg you to forget he was ever cold to you and to start fresh. But he couldn’t, especially not after how things ended and with knowing he’d jeopardize yours and the baby’s safety.

It was days later that you had run into Soap and John while out in London. You hadn’t slept right in days and it was a mixture of having a newborn who needed your attention and the anxiousness of seeing your old lover and not being able to think about a thing other than him. 

Your mother’s footsteps can be heard ascending the stairs and she soon appears in the doorway with a small parcel. Handing it to you and planting herself on your bed next to you, she waits for you to open it. As you tear into the parcel, peeling the tape and opening the box, you look inside and see a knitted bunny, the yarn pink and soft. Pulling the bunny out, you notice a note attached to it, neatly folded and taped shut. As you carefully open the note, your eyes scan over the words written on it. You knew that handwriting— John’s handwriting. 

“For Little Bunny.”

[moonlit-imagines]

Mastermind

Raven Darkhölme x reader

warnings: alcohol ment

a/n: SORRY TOOK A MILLION YEARS

prompt: @simp-legend: “Hii, congrats on over 6k followers! Can I request for the event Mastermind by Taylor Swift for Raven Darkholme/ Mystique from X-men with a romantic relationship. Thank you, and again Congratulations on 7.5k!”

Raven was cool, calm, calculated at all times it seemed. Nothing got under her many skins she wore throughout the time you knew her, so it should have made perfect sense that you were just another mission in the grand scheme she was once apart of.

Then again, you stuck. She left that life behind, but she took you with her.

Erik had made you a target, another lost mutant he had hoped to recruit. It was Raven’s plan, all of it. The bar, the drinks, going home together. Like I said, calculated. You talked all night, couldn’t get enough of her—but truth be told, she couldn’t get enough of you, either.

It was frustrating to hear at first after spending years together, replaying the events of that night and wondering what was true and what wasn’t. Every touch was precise, every movement a show.

“Y/N, it was a long time ago. Erik—he was…he was persuasive. You knew him, too, you know that’s just how he works.” Raven reasoned with you once she admitted the truth. “What matters is that I realized how great you were after I met you. I’m glad that he sent me on that mission or else I would have never ended up with you!”

“But you didn’t mean it.” You coldly replied, feeling like her former self for a few moments. “That first night, I meant everything. But to you? It was all a game.”

“No. No, it wasn’t. I felt what you felt, I just tried to put it aside, I couldn’t. That’s why I’m still here.” You didn’t answer her, just stared down tat her hands as she waited for you. “Erik told me not to get attached. I didn’t listen. He got worse. I left. We left. I did it for you, you mean more to me than any of that did.” She waited for you to say anything or even look at her. She didn’t understand how something so far in the past could be so world-breaking for you, but when you looked up she saw tears in your eyes, she grabbed your cheeks and cupped them gently. “I love you. I have for a long time, and I don’t wanna see you cry over something like this and ruin what we’ve had.”

“It’s just a lot to take in, Raven. Feeling like what we built on was a lie.” You shakily admitted, lightly sniffling.

“But it’s not.” She held a bit firmer and kissed your forehead. “It may not have been exactly what you had in mind, but my feelings for you were never fabricated and will never be. You are the most important thing in my life and I will go anywhere with you, that’s why I’m here now.” You sighed and half-smirked to her, which eased her anxieties. “You understand?”

“I guess. Yeah, I guess.” You mumbled. “I just feel stupid.”

taglist: @locke-writes // @randomawesomeperson102 // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @swanimagines // @dindjarinsspouse // @kinoko-kai // @summersimmerus // @bad4amficideas // @xoxobabydolls // @simp-legend // @nekoannie-chan // @groovy-lady // @evilcr0ne // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 //

[firebird-nonnette]

Personal thoughts (ignore meee)

(Incredibly long post to put my thoughts because i dont wanna write in my physical journal right now but ill lose this if i dont put it on my tumblr, which i treat as a sort of visual journal)

Been thinking about death and how to soothe my death anxiety.

I got very sick with covid and I'm still fighting it a month later. Now I have a few early signs of pneumonia, which is one of the real dangers of covid.

After 4 weeks of being very ill with something like covid and with pneumonia looming, the worst case scenario keeps revolving in my mind. It's been tickling my death anxiety and i want to try and sort it out a bit.

Im doing what I can to rest, but who knows how this'll pan out. My boyfriend caught it at the same time and got over it in 10 days or so and he's head empty no thoughts about the fact that we finally (after 4 years of never catching it) caught the thing that stopped the world and killed millions.

So, I've been thinking about death. A little anxiously. A little calmly. Mostly with a nervous puzzle-solving confusion. I want to stop being afraid of illness and death. I have hypochondria and death anxiety. Had them since about a year after my mom died of a sudden illness. They got worse in 2020, like they did with most others afflicted. I've been able to have some months here and there where my anxieties were less. They're usually characterized by less screen time, more journaling, more time spent looking out windows, more time spent reading Stoic philosophy and Compassionate Mind Therapy works, and a little investigation into Near Death Experience studies that overwhelmingly report pleasant and positive experiences of the afterlife. I also spend some time with my spirituality, but I'm a very specific type of spiritual agnostic and since my mother died there's no one in my life who believes exactly what I believe (though my bf believes about 90% of the same stuff). The good times are when I'm in more or less good health and set aside time for gratitude and slowness and lots of gentle thinking and puzzling about life and death. The best times are when I'm very grateful, very mindful, and invest in enjoying the beauty of incredibly mundane things I'm usually too anxious or desenstized to notice: the feeling of my decade-old comforter when I lay on it, how sunlight hits the curtains in the computer room, how the green tea I've been drinking for 13 years tastes, how the trees and bushes cast little shadows, how the wind smells, etc etc. These are things that are almost always accessible in everyday life, but I rarely take time with them. But, when I do, -when i honestly and completely let myself enjoy them with love and gratitude for life and the world around me- I feel the most connected to "life". It's pure joy.

I have a very hard time accessing these feelings when I'm sick or in pain. Instead, I ruminate on my anxieties or distract myself with screentime.

But, back to death:

I hate the idea of dying confused and scared. The same way I hate feeling anxious and scared when I'm sick. I want to be calm and accepting. I want to feel joy and gratitude. I'm not sure how to articulate why this is important to me, but I absolutely hate the idea of getting sick, feeling awful, feeling scared and anxious, and then dying in fear and anxiety. It is very, very, very important to me to meet (or survived brushes with) death with a calm, clear, and grateful mind.

So I've been using this sickness as an opportunity to try and work on that because, honestly, my first reaction is more anxiety than calmness.

I was considering how I might try to accept my death if it were anytime soon - either from this covid pneumonia or from something else. (Because any of us could die from almost anything any day.) This is also because my aunt, who I only got to meet once, is also in hospice right now and I can't travel to see her one last time. She's all that's left of my mom. When I met her a few years ago, I saw so much of my mom in her. Mannerisms and tones and jokes I hadn't seen or heard in 8 years were still alive in her. The sound of her voice over the phone sounds so incredibly like my mother's (of whom I only have 1 or 2 home video recordings from the 90s because she was notoriously scornful of being recorded or photographed) that I cried after our conversation ended. My aunt is 81, if she passes, she will have lived 20 more years than my mom. She came down with this illness right around my mom's 10th death anniversary. She has had a long life behind her. My mom died at 61. A bit young, but she still had a very eventful life full of stories, trials, and blessings.

When it comes to death, I'm not frightened of what's on the other side. I believe death is just as natural and neutral as birth. I believe in all the reports and studies and stories about a benevolent and beautiful "other side", just as my mom had described it when she had her own near death experience 5 years before she passed. She gave me an amazing childhood and adolescence full of wonder and wisdom and death positivity. She loved discussing mortality and spirituality and the science around death. She had equipped me, very well, to know how to mourn her. Of course, without her, I lost touch with that straightforward death positivity and became more and more anxious. But I'm trying to get back to that calm, steady acceptance I once had.

While I'm scared of dying painfully, I'm not too worried. Morphine and other interventions can help and pain is temporary and, I'm sure, forgotten when you cross.

I mostly have a certain stage fright of death. Despite my beliefs about the other side, I'd still be scared, like a novice actor backstage, of being pushed beyond the curtain to see what's on the other side and succumb to whatever it is that happens on the other side. I do take comfort knowing that every human who has ever lived, including my mother, has died and if they can do it, so can I.

One other common fear of death is the worry of leaving others behind. I'm not worried. Ethan would figure life out, eventually. He'd carry on. I've told him, in our occasional talks about death, that he should move on as soon as is right for him. I'm not worried about my friends, they'll be fine, too. I don't have kids, which is the major fear people have about dying "early", so that's fine. My sister would probably grieve a little while (she estranged herself from us, but has been trying to get back in touch a little), but she'd move on, too. Dad would be the person I'd worry about the most, but he has Debbie to take care of him and he'd also move on, eventually, though he would have the worst time of it. He's very death anxious. But, all in all, everyone would be fine. So, I'm not scared of leaving anyone behind.

If I were to die soon, I realized that I'd regret not having the chance to do more.

I'm notorious for being hyperproductive and burning myself out. But I actually feel I'd regret working so hard lol. My company doesn't need ALL of me. I wanna take more time for myself.

I don't mean I'd regret not being more productive. I'd regret not creating more. Not making more of an impact. Helping people, connecting with people.

I've already done some of that, but I want to do more before I go. I'd like to have some kind of accomplishment that's just for me for the impact I've had on others and the world. Volunteering or helping organizations or content creators I admire like Stoicism or Compassionate Mind Theory science communicators or maybe writing the books i wanna write so I can at least give people a fun little time with some stories.

Maybe it would be raising a child someday (probably adopting), though I'm on the fence about this.

But, what really gets me, is I don't know WHAT is missing. I just have a general sense of wanting to do more and consume less. I want to spend a little less time on my phone or rewatching movies and spend that time on something meaningful.

Usually, when people are close to death they regret not making more friends but I feel pretty okay. I'd meet people doing whatever the meaningful thing is I wanna do.

What bothers me is there's no way I'd be able to do a super meaningful or impactful thing between now and when this pneumonia would escalate. Soooooo I also wanna find peace that if I were to die before I could do something more, I want to accept that I did what I was able to up to this point and just be okay with that.

Because, honestly, we are all deeply impactful presences in the world even if we don't do a lot.

My writing for media psychology has had an impact on many people. I've gotten lots of comments from people saying my writing has helped them or inspired them, changed their lives. I think that's probably good enough. Maybe instead of saying I'd "regret" not doing more, the better way to think of it is "if I could live a little longer, I'd love to do more".

Anyways, I'm tired now and rest is important. I had to get these thoughts out linearly. Time for bed. Will try to spend time grateful and joyful tomorrow. This pneumonia will statistically probably get better on its own, but its been a good obstacle and lesson to learn about myself. But, just on the off-chance Im headed for serious illness or even death, I'm gonna try and enjoy everything I can for now.

[revvywevvy]

Well... I went and wrote Claire and Dwight's 'not-date'! <:) Tagging @mogships bc ik they wanted to see this <3

Non-Entity AU (The Not-Date)

Claire sat on her bed, staring idly at her phone screen. She had said a few weeks ago that she wanted to make up for the injury that Dwight had sustained the night they’d bumped into each other. Every day since then, she’d been texting him without fail, checking in to ensure he was fine while also tossing in some friendly chit-chat at Eddy’s suggestion. Through that chit-chat, Claire and Dwight had found some common interests, and they were quickly going from strangers, to acquaintances, to friends. On top of that, Dwight had mentioned days ago that he’d checked in on the injury with a doctor, and that, luckily, his nose wasn’t broken, even if it had been close. He was fine, and they were on friendly terms, so… the pit Claire felt in her stomach at this moment felt ridiculous. That day had come for her to make it up to him, and they were to meet up at a cozy café Dwight had picked out which was just a few blocks away. Hell, Claire had even gone to the place ahead of time to check it out, and it was great! So, the usual suspect, anxiety, was the only cause she could pin down for such dread.

“Hurgh… stupid brain… you’re really gonna pull this shit now??”

She flopped back onto her bed, sighing heavily when she could feel her heart palpitate and her hands start shaking.

“...Ooooof course you are. Oh, goodie.”

She jumped a bit when her phone pinged, Claire quickly pulling the device up to look at it. The shaking in her hands only seemed to get worse as she read the text Dwight had just sent.

「 Heyy, im about to leave my place, should be @ the cafe in like.. 30 mins. U still gonna be there or do u wanna reschedule? <:-] 」

Claire’s frown deepened. She forced herself to sit back up, knowing if she stayed laid down she’d stay there for the remainder of the day. She set her phone in her lap, bringing her hands up to her face and lightly slapping her cheeks in an attempt to snap out of the spiral.

“Okay Claire, c’mon. No ditching your pal, that ain’t cool. Just… suck it up, girlie. You can do this, you’ve done this before. It’s just… lunch at a potentially busy café. Where you can risk publicly humiliating yourself like you’ve done five bajillion times before, ooor even worse lose your first in-person friend in years. Nothing new!”

She put on a fake smile, hoping she could fool herself, but it immediately drooped back into a disappointed frown.

“...Man, not gonna lie, your pep-talks kinda suck.”

Claire yipped in surprise, eyes shooting over to her door where her brother stood, leaning in the doorway. He had a small frown on his face.

“C’mon, dude, you gotta have more faith in yourself than that.”

Claire fiddled with her hands at that.

“Yeah, I know… it’s really hard though, man. Especially when it feels like my heart and lungs’re about to explode into a million pieces, haha…”

Eddy narrowed his eyes at that comment.

“Alright, scaredy cat, I get it. Take ‘yer rescue ‘n take a sec to chill, ‘kay?”

Perking up at the suggestion, Claire immediately went to doing that, her phone practically falling right onto the floor as she quickly reached over to her nightstand and grabbed her inhaler.

“So, did Dwight give a time?”

Claire was silent for a second, holding in her inhaler before shakily breathing out.

“Yeah, uh, 30 minutes and he’ll be there if I give the okay. I… don’t wanna flake out last second.”

Claire went and took a second puff of her inhaler as Eddy responded.

“Then don’t. I know it’s easier said than done, but y’can’t just let this stuff dictate your daily life forever. Who knows, if you do back out then you may miss out on a fun time!”

She exhaled once more, tapping her foot. She set her inhaler back on her nightstand before turning to her phone, grabbing it up once more and looking at the screen.

“Y-Yeah, you’re right. Just… gotta give it a chance. Dwight’s a nice guy so far, this’ll be fine..!”

Eddy smiled and nodded.

“There we go, that’s the spirit! You got this, man.”

Claire gave Eddy a passing glance, quickly moving to respond to Dwight’s text. She can do this, she can do this..! Albeit shakily and with some typos, she wrote out a quick response and sent it.

「lol ofc im gonna stillb e there!!! gonna be a lil late tho, todays goin a bit sour but i’m still chillin sdghsdghs」

Dwight was quick to respond back.

「Oh fr?? Man that sucks, tyt gettin here, no rush!!!」

Claire felt a little bit calmer reading that, thankful that he was being patient with her. Taking a second to take in some deep breaths, she tried her best to relax before getting up from her bed.

“Okay, I gave him the green light. Looks like I gotta get goin’, now.”

“Alright, you have fun and stay safe now, yeah?”

“Yeah, Eddy, I gotcha.”

Claire offered a small smile to Eddy, and he nodded in response. Eddy stepped out of the doorway, heading back into another area of the apartment. Claire sighed, walking over to her closet and grabbing her bag, checking to ensure everything she needed was there. Once she knew she was good to go, she made her way to the apartment door, before leaving the building.

[...]

Dwight was already at the café, sitting at a random booth and fiddling with a menu. His face was already burning with embarrassment, and Claire wasn’t even there yet. He’d thought he was doing a good job at holding it back, but, honestly, he was absolutely terrified about this. Dwight had never, ever been out like this before. Sure, he’d been invited to random company parties a long time ago, and had a few family outings here and there, but a one-on-one like this was a first for him. At least before he could blend back into the crowd and do his own thing, but this time, all the attention was on him, and he had no idea what to do. He’d stood in front of his bathroom mirror all morning practicing the most mundane of sentences and trying to keep his composure, and now that prep was all falling apart. In the midst of that terror, there was another thing that had him feeling like an absolute mess.

The fact that Claire was so consistent with texting him was baffling enough to him, and at first, he’d assumed it was just out of pity and that she’d flake on him. However, upon receiving a quick text that she was down the street and would be there in a minute or so, he finally accepted that she was being serious, and that this was really happening. It was much easier to cope under the impression that this’d be for nothing, but no, it was something.

‘Ohhh boy, oh geez… I can’t believe I actually agreed to this, I can’t believe she’s actually sticking to this!! Crap, I’m going to make myself look like an idiot, aren’t I???’

Dwight reached up to his face, grabbing his glasses and fixing them up once he’d noticed just how much they’d fogged up, before realizing just how badly his hands were shaking. He sighed, trying to give himself some sort of internal pep-talk, eyes trailing to the entrance of the café. His breath hitched when the door opened, and in walked Claire.

‘Woah, okay, she’s actually here! Okay, okay, relax Dwight, just stay calm… shit, say something, she’s coming over here!’

Claire had spotted Dwight on her way in, and waved at him with a nervous smile before approaching the booth and sitting opposite of him.

“H-Hhheyy, Claire..!”

Nice one, Dwight. He mentally facepalmed at the horribly awkward delivery. Claire’s face shifted for a quick moment as she took in the awkward greeting, but offered a sympathetic smile to cover up her own fiddly expression.

“Hi, Dwight! Um– h-how’ve you been? Was the drive here fine?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, it was okay. Uh… t-traffic was a little ‘eh’, but otherwise… um. Good. Yeah.”

After that response, both of them went quiet, an embarrassing and highly awkward silence befalling the two. Claire’s lips pressed together into a thin line, eyes widening a bit as she stared down at her own menu, fumbling with it in some attempt to seem… alive? Interesting? Something, she didn’t know what the hell she was doing. Though, peeking up at Dwight for a split second, she felt horrible. It wasn’t long before she realized she couldn’t get away with being quiet forever, sighing and letting her menu drop onto the table with a small ‘plop’. Dwight immediately looked at Claire, sweating nervously at the sudden move.

“Claire..? Y-You okay?”

Claire, with her elbows on the table, leaned into one of her hands, a defeated expression on her face.

“No, not one bit. Hhf… I’m sorry Dwight, this is probably a total disaster for you, huh…? Talk about a dodgy way to pay someone back for fucking up their face.”

“...Huh?”

“L-Listen, I, ah… I know I probably seemed way more chatty and… extroverted… over text, but, uh… I suck. At talking to people. In person. N-Not to mention it seems like this is really awkward for you, too. Ughh, I don’t know what I was thinking with this, now I’m just going and wasting way more of your time.”

“Wh– w-wait, no, I wanted to come out here, this wasn’t a waste of time! I just, uhm. I’m not very good at this kinda stuff either. Err… honestly, this is the first time I’ve ever done something like this. I wish I was kidding, but, uh, nope. To be honest I was only fine until now because I kinda just… assumed you wouldn’t actually show up? Wait, shit, that’s not something I should’ve said, uh–! Yyyyyikes…”

Dwight’s face exploded into a huge flush, and he looked away, rubbing his arm anxiously. Claire paused, looking at Dwight with a semi-surprised expression, seeming to brush off the last bit for the time being.

“Wait, you, too..?? I thought the lack of talking was just me turning out to be this, uff, massive disappointment in person???? L-Like the sudden ‘personality’ switch made you not wanna be here anymore? Wait, that means…–”

Once it fully clicked that Dwight was just as much of an anxious mess over this as she was, she huffed out the biggest sigh of relief, letting her face plop against the table. Dwight flinched at that response, but settled the smallest bit upon hearing what she’d said next.

“Oh, thank fuck, I wasn’t the only one nervous as all hell about this!!!”

Dwight blinked dumbly at the statement, both of them failing to notice the weird stares from other diners who were currently being disturbed by their game of ‘loner’s first social interactions’. Claire couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head and finally looking up at Dwight.

“Geez, and to think we got all worked up over this, ahaha..! This whole time, ha, thinking I was this total idiot, ahaha..!”

Dwight awkwardly laughed as well.

“Hehe, right, I uh. I’m actually kinda glad I’m not the only one, either..? Ahaha, man, and to think I thought I was some joke of a guy and that you’d flake, aha!”

“Haha, yeah, may be an odd thing to be happy over, but knowing it’s not just me makes me feel so much better about this, oh man..!”

Though, Claire’s smile immediately disappeared once she fully registered what he said.

“Ayo, what??”

“Uh– w-what???”

“That last part, t-the joke of a guy and flaking part??? You thought I was gonna flake..?”

Claire’s expression went a little sad.

‘Damn, didn’t think I gave people such low expectations..’

“W-Well, I mean… that’s normal anyway, isn’t it??”

Claire was not expecting this rollercoaster of emotions, going from nervous, to happy, to sad, to completely baffled in such a short frame of time. Even with the lack of positive relations she’d had since childhood, she’d never seen someone think that was normal. She sputtered and practically choked on her own spit in shock.

“Wh– Uguh??!? No??? That’s not normal at all?? Wait, oh my god that’s– how often does that happen to you?!”

“Wuh– Uhm, this is the first time I’ve been out with someone one-on-one before..! So I guess, uh… a-always???”

Now Claire was just downright offended on his behalf.

“I– what?! No fuckin’ way, that’s– bloody hell, people really never fail to be complete pieces of shit, huh..? That’s so messed up!! Like, not even when you were a kid?? Like in elementary, middle, highschool, all that jazz??”

Dwight frowned, looking away with an embarrassed look.

“N-No.”

“I… wow.”

Claire’s expression softened sympathetically.

“Oh, geez, Dwight… that’s awful…”

Her brows furrowed and her face shifted to a look much more determined. She thought back to that small talk with Eddy. Of course she had to have more faith in herself, she’s got this! No pussyfooting about, no backing down. Her hands slammed on the table.

“Man, y’know what? Fuck those guys! I may be a total mess and suck at talking to people, but ain’t no way I’m letting someone be alone like that. It’s official, we’re friends now, got that, Dwight? No more bein’ ditched, flaked on, alone, nunna that!!”

Dwight’s head flicked right back up, eyes wide at her declaration. Though, before he could respond, one of the waitresses cleared their throats loudly, letting them know they were getting too wild. Claire curled in a bit, expression sheepish.

“O-Oops… sorry..! B-But, uh, like I said..!”

She quickly shook it off and looked back at Dwight.

“Wh- what?! R… Really..?”

“Yes, really. I’m bein’ a hundred percent serious here! We’re bros now, bro!”

Dwight snorted a bit at the cheesy delivery, but was still shocked at the declaration.

“F…Friends…”

“Yup, absolutely my dude! My pal, chum, home-slice bread-slice, frienderooski–”

“Pfft..! O-Okay, okay, I get it, ahaha..!”

Claire smiled triumphantly at his laughter, mentally fist pumping. Though, she paused when her stomach very obviously growled. Dwight went a little quiet as well, before letting out a small giggle. Claire smiled a bit, scratching her cheek with one finger.

“Oh, right, gotta eat, ahaha. All this freaking out has me hungry, ehe..”

“Right, we should probably order something before we get kicked out for loitering, haha…”

“Mhm!”

Claire finally took a proper look at the café’s menu, eyeing all of the options. She was surprised at how many options the menu had besides the usual café options, but she chalked it up to this being a bigger place. Luckily, being hungry made it much easier for the usually indecisive woman to pick stuff out of the large menu. Though, Dwight could only sit there staring uncertainly.

“Um.. Claire?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Uh… I dunno what to order, I don’t wanna make you spend too much money.”

“Bah, I could care less about that right now. I came over-prepared, so go nuts!”

“...You sure..?”

“Sure as I can be!”

Dwight relaxed a bit more, hearing the affirmation making him not feel as bad over this. Eventually, a waiter walked over. Dwight ended up ordering a chicken pesto sandwich and hot chocolate, and Claire a fettuccine alfredo with chicken and apple tea. Though, being a little overzealous she’d added in a basket’s worth of hash browns, too, to Dwight’s amusement. When the food eventually arrived Dwight found himself giggling some more.

“Wow, are you gonna be able to finish all that?”

“What, the hash browns? Nah, bruh, we’re sharing those! Man, these browns look crisp as hell… I bet they’re gonna be great!”

“Aha, well, I dunno if we’ll be able to finish all that… though, I will say I agree with that last part.” “Weh, if it comes down to it we can always get a takeout pack.”

Without much more delay, Claire dug into her food, letting loose and really just enjoying herself. Dwight went about eating as well, feeling a lot better now that the atmosphere settled into one of calm and contentedness. At one point, though, Claire’s phone pinged and she perked up.

“Oh, oops, forgot to turn that off, lemme just…”

She paused, looking at the notification and eyes widening as she read it.

“Ayoo..????”

“Huh? What happened?”

Claire had the biggest smile on her face.

“Oh man, I know we had this convo like… a week or so ago, but Studio King just announced the release date to the next installment of Spirit Blade???”

Dwight practically choked on his food. She remembered their conversation??

“W-Wait, really??” “Yeah!! Oh man, and look, they announced that Zeleste is gonna be the protag!!! Isn’t that great?! Lucky day for you, huh? Ahaha..!”

Claire smiled, showing her phone to Dwight and he looked at the announcement discussing it, eyes quickly scanning the screen.

“Holy crap! Oh, that’s amazing!! Oh man..! W-Wait, you remembered my favourite character, too??”

“Well, yeah, Zeleste is sick as hell, man! You’ve got great taste in characters, haha. Oh hell yeah, and Cyra’s a base character in this one, too!! Man, I was so mad when they made her DLC in the last one! I can’t wait to see what they end up doing with her in this one..!”

Dwight smiled wide, Claire’s excitement rubbing off quickly. He hadn’t really put his thoughts through the filter before speaking.

“Ooh, you know what we should do Claire?? When the game comes out we should play it together, wouldn’t that be awesome? I dunno whether it’d be at your place or mine, but…”

Dwight trailed off, realizing what he’d just suggested. He overthunk it a bit, worrying that the offer came off as an actual date proposition. Though, before he could even think of getting red in the face, Claire’s face lit up. She shook her fists in giddy excitement.

“Oooh!!!! Yeah, we should, we should, we totally should!!! Ooohoho, that’d be so fun, man!!”

Dwight’s smile immediately returned, and he couldn’t help but feel fuzzy at the joy in that response. He wasn’t sure he was going to get used to having an actual, legitimate friend now, but he already felt amazing so soon!

“How about at my place?? Eddy ‘nd I just set up a new couch the other day and it’s so comfy!! It’d be great for gaming, for sure! Ooooh, and, and, since I’ve got summa those movies I suggested to you the other day, we could watch those, too!!!”

Dwight felt his face heating up for sure this time.

“Oh, r-really??”

“Yeah, man, I bet you’d love ‘em, they’re so funny!!”

That fuzzy feeling felt ten times more intense now.

“Yeah…”

His smile softened.

“...That sounds great! Oh, but we’d have to schedule around my job, though.”

“Alrighty, sounds easy enough… hopefully! Hope your schedule isn’t too wild, haha.”

As the two continued eating, they went about planning their next hangout. After that, they found themselves going on and on about their hobbies and interests, the rest of their lunch turning out to be a blast.

[...]

A couple of hours later, Claire and Dwight were both back at their individual apartments. Clare practically skipped into her bedroom to put her things away, Eddy noticing right off the bat how joyous she was.

“So, guessin’ it went good?”

“Hell yeah it did!!!!!!! We’re gonna hang out again in a few weeks and play the next Spirit Blade game together!!! Oh, and we’re gonna watch some movies, and maybe some other stuff too, I dunno??? But oh man, I’m so excited!! O-Oh, wait. You’re okay with Dwight coming here, right..?”

Eddy smiled brightly at his sister.

“Yeah man, I’m chill! Judging by your vibes right now I’d say he’s hella cool, so he can come over whenever, just so long as he ain’t marchin’ in without knocking first, haha!”

“Eeeeeeeee!! Thanks Eddy, you’re the best!!!!!!”

Eddy laughed at that.

“Geez, you say that like I’m a parent givin’ ya permission for a sleepover or sumthin’! ‘Sides, can’t be hoggin’ the guy all to yourself, I wanna get to know him more, too!”

Claire laughed at that, turning on her heel and heading into the kitchen to get some water, her tone lightheartedly sarcastic.

“Nah, he’s my bestie, I saw him first!!”

“Pfft- haha, no fair, dude!”

“Yes, fair!! I get first bestie privilege!~”

The siblings laughed amongst one another, the two continuing their day like normal from there. Claire felt more than giddy for the remainder of the day, her energy being soft and warm for the continuation. Her Syncord friends didn’t fail to notice the change, and were happy to tease away about Claire’s new friend. Claire couldn’t care less, feeling fuzzy over the day going so well for once. She’d missed having in-person friends, and was more than happy to have that luxury back in her life.

[angeldiaries777]

extreme trigger warning for everything. please don't read if you know it could potentially upset you. !! also very personal. so if you don't want to know then also u might want to skip this post. i understand if i lose followers because of this rant but ive always shared my struggles on here so i thought i might share what ive been through to vent and release my own anxiety and maybe help someone else.again read at your own discretion and ofc this isn't even a fraction of everything just a very very very very tiny snippet. this is also a draft from two days ago.

recovering from my ed slowly but those thoughts never go away. i practically quit school for ed blogs and twitter. chasing results is a never ending journey. if you get bad enough they will never end until you die. i'm not talking like skipped lunch once. no i legit had to recover myself just to stay alive while dealing with a million other mental illnesses and life issues. everything alone. it used to make me so beyond sad for myself i was stuck in a loop of self pity and now i don't feel anything anymoreso i am trying to use my numbness for good. know that if you feel not alone per say. but like if you don't fix your issues yourself or help yourself out of actual living hell that it will only continue to get worse. but also know that whatever it is you have to feel it till you get so bored of your own shit. im always annoyed and upset with people cuz i am sensetivie and very mentally ill but we know u cannot control a single thing outside of yourself. let yourself feel the affects. i myself had to literally lose parts of my vision to want to recover from everything and had to see what 3 years of pure isolation and self destruction/abuse did to my face and body and it was terrifying. 15 years of just pure self hatred and dealing with crippling anxiety/depression and inferiorty complex took such a toll on me. i feel physically sick everyday. i would not only not take care of myself i would harm myself mentally, emotionally, physically even repress and shame myself sexually. i was a mess. im at a point where i don't remember much of it in detail despite it being a few months again. with my last attempt being barely a month ago. you have to see it through. human survival instinct will try to keep you alive more than anything. ive always known ive had imense potential cuz its been drilled into my brain since i was a child so my ego was keeping me alive. also for the fact that at my lowest low i had also stopped believeing in god and i didnt know what would happen after death. death scared me. of course it didnt scare me enough to not try. one night i was laying on my living room i think this was a little bit before december of 2022 it was night time and i had turned the lights off i was home by myself and i just lined up every tool i had used for cvtting/sh in general and then some kitchen knifes and i fucked up my arm, thighs everywhere. i was crying so hard during it i could feel it in my head and heart and at that point i had already been through a lot. i just everything in me was telling me that life will never be worth it and neither will people. before i could shove a knife in my throat my mom entered the house and took all the knifes and razor blades etc away from me.

she just kind of looked at me like she knew i would do this but i didnt care. all the intensitity i felt. i knew it was too much. i knew i was my own worst enemy. i knew i was taking things too personal and i knew that the worlds problems were not mine yet still i had nothing to live for. once you get past a certain point. the pain just becomes permentant everything in the world becomes dim and all you have is yourself...

i will type more later but i just needed to vent.

[free--therapy]

It's anon!

Umm I've been thinking about whether certain thoughts are normal or common when someone's dealing with anxiety or even just overthinking in general?

First of all, you know how I've mentioned that some of the topics I worry about are...well....weird or not as normal. Recently, I've again started worrying about the content I watched so many years ago. I thought I was totally over this by the end of 2021 because after that, I never let this topic bother me at all. But suddenly almost two years later in again worrying about it.

The thoughts could be anything like "Why did you watch it? What does it mean?" "What does it say about you?" "Are you looking at that sort of stuff in a weird way in real life too?" Etc. There are SO many other thoughts I have related to this topic too....it's like a million different "what ifs" have suddenly popped up out of nowhere.

Anyway, what I wanted to say is, as this topic is a bit weird so I haven't been able to really share anything about my worries related to it to anyone else, not even my sister. Which makes me feel lonely sometimes. And you know how the more we don't share it, the more it feels like it's real or as if it's really the truth? That's what's been bothering me a lot recently.

You see, about my elder sister, she knows that I've been struggling a bit with anxiety the last few months but I've only told her that "I've been overthinking and feeling anxious and not feeling good the last few weeks especially sinc October started" but I don't share with her any details at all about what it is that I'm exactly worrying about. This is because, first of all, I've been overthinking about a lot of different topics and some of those topics are weird to share with others too.

So while she knows that I've been overthinking, she doesn't know how bad it actually is because I never show it openly at all. So she probably thinks it's a minor thing and since she's not the anxious type at all, she doesn't really know how much it takes over my every day or how it really affects my mood.

My elder sister is a practical sort of person so she seldom lets overthinking affect her anymore than normal. She can let it go easily. So while I know she loves me but today when I just joked about how I was feeling really worse (I wasn't joking but couldn't say it in any other way tbh) she just said, "You know you're overthinking so why are you letting it bother you? It's your fault that you let it get this further. You could've stopped right when it first started. You should train your mind to think differently." And I know she meant it nicely but hearing her say "It's your fault" made me feel so bad, I had a whole breakdown after that in my room. I know it's my fault for letting my mind affect me this way but I can't help being sad if it affects me so much mentally right? She says I could try to be happier instead of focusing on the negative so much and I know she means well but it's like.....if it was so easy then I could've never been in this cycle at all right? I felt so lonely when she said that.

Honestly, it's my fault because right from childhood I've been the sort of child in our family who rarely shares her needs and wants. I always just suck it up and comply with my parents and siblings. I try to be the "understanding one" always and never ever share how I really feel about any situation. It's like a facade I've built over a long time that I'm always "chill" with things. But I didn't do that on purpose. Maybe I just never wanted to disappoint them and I didn't want them to feel like I'm a burden by troubling them. I wanted to be loved by them and wanted them to pay attention to me. So I always kept the important things and feelings inside me and only shared other stuff with them. Even now, I don't share what I genuinely think about certain things with them even though I trust them. And it's my fault I did that but I didn't know any better, I was just a child. Even now, I feel like I'm still a child. It's like having to act as the more "understanding one" growing up ended up making me feel more like a child as I grew up.

But now, because of that, now I can't share my feelings even though they feel so heavy right now. Maybe I need someone to hear me out now more than ever but I can't bring myself to lay bare like that you know? I did share my worries about "me overthinking if I'm a bad person" with my sister though but so far that's the only topic of worry I've shared with her. Everything else is just more weird and....just not something I can expect them to understand. And yet when she said today that "it's my fault" I just barely controlled crying right in front of her lol

Sometimes I hate myself for being this way and for worrying about so many things that don't matter. But then, it's at times like these when I need to be all the more kind, loving and compassionate towards myself right? Since it feels so worse right now, I need to say nice things and remind myself that it'll be okay, right?

Which brings me to the other questions I have: So since many of my worries are also kind of weird (or a bit bizarre), if I ever get a therapist/psychiatrist in the future, is it even okay to share every worry with them? I mean, I usually don't talk about my thoughts in detail, especially when it comes to the more weird ones. But that also makes me feel like because of that, I can't really get proper help since I don't go too much into the details.

But is it okay to share all the thoughts (even the weird details) with a therapist? And when I don't want to share some certain details, is it okay to believe that even without sharing those, I can still heal and move on? I don't know, recently, I've started worrying that "Even if I do get professional help, can they even understand what I'm saying?" "What if they judge me for my weird worries?" "Or even worse, what if they misunderstand?" Like for example, if suppose I share that I read those manga with adults doing stuff with children (ugh I hate talking about this in detail) in the past and if I actually wanted to share what kind of thoughts related to it I've been overthinking about then for that, I might have to go into some details about my thoughts right? Would that be okay? Wouldn't that be weird for them?

What if they end up thinking I'm actually a ped*phile or something? That will just trigger me more won't it? What if they completely misunderstand that these thoughts are "my worries" and instead end up thinking that I'm interested in that and end up diagnosing me with something completely different or something? I mean, my worries could be "what if I'm interested in that?" but that's my worry and I'm going to a therapist to help me let go of that worry and see the situation more realistically. But what if instead of doing that, they end up misunderstanding me completely?

I can't help but overthink about this stuff which just triggers me more. I mean, if I think rationally, I can see how they're trained professionals who know how the mind works and how it brings up these awful "what ifs" and they must know, much better than me, to not believe these thoughts or how to deal with those.

I understand that and yet, my anxious self just can't help but overthink about stuff like "What details can you share with them? Which details can you not?" "Can you even share the details about your worries at all?" "Will they even understand?" "What if they just judge me and think somethings wrong with me for having all the weird bizzare worries?"

What do you think? Am I just overthinking about this again? Sometimes I can't distinguish between what's a genuine concern and what's an irrational anxiety triggered thought. So I can't distinguish between which thoughts I should really be rationalising and which thoughts I shouldn't get entangled with at all. I mentioned this in the last ask too.

It's like I had completely forgotten how bad these thoughts and overthinking can actually feel. Since the beginning of 2022, I haven't had any spiral which was "too bad" most were manageable and I was doing great as I've said many times. So I rarely had times where I felt like "this thought/worry won't ever go away" and I rarely had times where I would "genuinely" believe or be "genuinely concerned" about certain thoughts. The last time I felt this way was back in 2021 when I first had these thoughts. So feeling this way again after so long is pretty scary tbh.

One of the biggest concerns I have is worrying what I'll do if I really internalize these thoughts or what I'll do if I really end up believing them. This concern is what leads me to ruminate over the worries related to the past and future instead of rationalising in a healthy way.

I mean, suppose the worry thought about me worrying about me being a ped*phile. What if I end up believing it deep down? What if that ends up bothering my actual life and relationships? Etc. These thoughts lead to more detailed thoughts about the topic and it keeps getting worse, one detail after another. That's what I mean. It's kinda similar to people who worry about "losing control" over themselves due to anxiety.

The idea that "if I don't do something about this thought, I might end up believing it" or "if I don't completely get rid of it or if I don't rationalise it completely, then it might start affecting me and my life really and something worse might happen" or "if I don't do something about this, I might believe this" .....these are the types of thoughts which end up making me feel really concerned and so I end up getting stuck in a cycle of rumination over it, trying to find a "solution" to the thought, which doesn't even exist.

I just keep trying to control the situation or control my thoughts/feelings just in case the worst case scenario comes to pass. So overthinking and considering every single possibility and every "what if", no matter how bizzare it is, and trying to find a solution for every single one "just in case" but then that leads to really triggering worry thought which might seem to affect my sense of self. So this in turn affects me more and leads to more rumination.

And then the idea that despite having so many thoughts that affect me so much and feel so heavy, I may not be able to share all of these (or at least, most of these) with anyone, not even a therapist, because "what if these worry thoughts of mine are too weird and bizzare?" But thinking like that just makes me feel kinda hopeless, like there's no way out or something.

I mean, after all, it's not like I can erase these thoughts from my mind and I want help exactly because I need to find ways to combat them or how to approach these thoughts and not believe them.

Is all these kinds of worries common with people who overthink or have anxiety?

Sorry for asking so many questions again 😭 And thank you for reading!

Hey Anon,

I'm not sure what kind of tone your sister had when she said those things to you, but she's not entirely wrong with what she said. We all are responsible for what goes on in our minds and how we react to things, however, if we weren't given the right tools to figure out how to manage them, then obviously that's what makes it difficult. I used to hate when people used to say those things to me because it felt like it was so easy to them, and now that I made it out to the other side, I can definitely see how natural it has become now that I've learned all the techniques to be able to let thoughts go and not let things that used to bother me so much affect me anymore.

What isn't helpful about people saying those things is that they don't even offer any help or advice to reach that way of thinking! That always bothered me. I know for some people their intent isn't malicious, but when you're the one who is struggling and feeling so incredibly helpless, it may seem so counterintuitive and you end up getting mad at yourself because you haven't reached this point that feels so unattainable.

When it comes to therapy, you only get out of it what you're willing to put in. I wouldn't expect you to unload everything all at once since it takes time to even build up trust with a stranger to tell them things. It's definitely easier though to talk to strangers about your worries than people you know and love. I know it took me a long while to open up to my therapist, but you only have to share what you're comfortable with and then work towards being able to trust them enough to finally talk about those really deep things that are bothering you. You only have to share what you want to, so don't feel like you absolutely need to share everything. I do believe that once you're able to handle some of the smaller issues and worries, you can learn to apply them to everything in your life since a lot of your fears and worries all have a similar formula.

A therapist's job is to help you and not judge or criticize you. If you feel like they are doing so by the types of things they say, then maybe they're not the one for you. I know it's discouraging when you have to start over with someone new and invest more time and energy to build up trust, but if you're really determined to figure out how to handle your worries, it'll all be worth it to you. I was super hungry to get to the bottom of all of my worries and fears and I didn't stop until I was able to tackle them all (and I still apply them to any new ones that may pop up these days). There are also therapists for just about anything, so I don't think what you've been burdened with will be anything new to them. There are people with weird sexual addictions and fetishes that seek therapists too, and those kinds of therapists have likely heard it all. Of course it always seems like we're alone with our worries when pretty much everyone else keeps so much of their shame to themselves. You have to be okay with getting uncomfortable for the sake of recovery. It's worth it, Anon!

Also, you're already jumping to conclusions with all these assumptions you're making to not see the therapist, even though I can tell you actually want to get help. Don't let yourself keep yourself from getting the help you know you want and need. You are worthy and well deserving of it and not even your thoughts should keep you from believing that ❤

[tamerajedwards]

DEALING WITH SEVERE ANXIETY and PTSD-My own story! And yes! Creative people are more likely to suffer from this-

T.Edwards

An interesting fact! Out of control anxiety can cause acid reflux. I should have put this together long ago. My acid reflux’s started in 2008 when I was in a stressful marriage that led to divorce. I never dealt fully with a lot of my issues from my past including that marriage. As I carried it forward it affected my health. The anxiety, which I refused to treat with medication and counseling at the time then turned into weight gain, stress and acid reflux. Fast forward 14 years, I have taken off 40 pounds, started counseling and I’m on day 3 with anxiety medication. I pray I can really turn my life around.

I keep a journal everyday which includes thoughts, foods and meds. Maybe it’s a bit OCD but I’m a girl who wants answers. Here’s something interesting. I was afraid to take anxiety medication because of possible side affects. I don’t like to feel uncomfortable not even for a second. Depression medication can do that too. It’s like taking off in an airplane ✈️. It can take a few weeks before reaching cruising altitude. On the way UP you can feel restless, twitchy, and creepy crawly sensations in your body that you may just want to take the meds and throw them in the garbage which is exactly what I did a few years back. I’m still not willing to try an antidepressant again. Millions of people are on them and I believe God gave us medications for a reason. So by all means I am supportive of this.

So here’s an interesting observation I made. Three nights ago I took my first anxiety pill and didn’t feel much, just a little sleepy and dizzy (which are side effects) then on night two I felt concerned- two hours after taking the pill I started feeling very noticeable creepy crawling sensations in my face and scalp. I reached up to rub my head and face to make it go away. I can be a side effect of several medications. It made me uncomfortable! It made me miserable and upset that the thing I’m trying to get away from —->ANXIETY was the one thing taking this medication was giving me back! I did happen to take note that I was watching a movie called “13 Lives”. This is the movie about 13 soccer players and their coach trapped in a cave in Thailand for over 2 weeks during monsoon season. Rescuers had to dive into the cave and it took over 3 hours to reach them, then they had to sedate them to bring them out which took another 3 hours under the water in tight spaces just to bring them out. I guess I was more tense than I realized. Although I love movies like this, they aren’t good for me.

So on night three I took the anxiety pill expecting the weird sensations to return, but this time they didn’t. So at this point in time what I can conclude is that the movie gave me anxiety and the ants crawling on my face and scalp sensation. This means that circumstances such as this can overstimulate your parasympathetic nervous system. I had actually put myself in the cave with those boys and tried to figure out how I might get out if that was me. My imagination is so strong. It always has been. I’m a hugely creative person. My greatest strength in life is also my Achilles heel. Isn’t that how life goes?

Psychotherapist Diana Pitaru explained that anxiety is often felt by creative people even if the symptoms vary from one person to another. It's not uncommon to learn that creative people like artists, singers, actors, and writers struggle with mental health issues such as anxiety.Feb 28, 2022

Many people turn to recreational drugs, alcohol, sex, gambling, and many other elements that are only bandaids that only mask dealing with problems head on. I am not immune to this either. Maybe that’s why you hear of so many Hollywood people crashing and burning, or going to rehab or worse yet, dying. We each must deal with this on our own. We certainly don’t need to hear people saying, “Just get over it! Why are you feeling that way? Just stop feeling anxious.” We did not order this. It’s not like we want depression and anxiety to take over our bodies. Sometimes it happens with no reason at all. What we do need is supportive people in our lives. Not ones who abandon us in the middle of a panic attack or health issue. Surround yourselves with supportive people and get rid of unsupportive people. They aren’t ready to understand until it happens to them.

The one thing I want you all to take from my blog is that NO ONE, and I mean NO ONE should ever be ashamed or shamed for having Depression, anxiety, Bi Polar, Autism, PTSD, OCD, or any other condition. You should feel love and support from everyone around you. It’s just like having any other physical illness in your body. There is no shame.

Thank you for taking the time to read my blog. May you all find peace, health, and happiness in your life!

[gayas-musings]

Fear of abandonment

If you are anything like me, "my partner is going to leave me", is a constant background noise in your mind. You have to work hard to keep that voice in check and remind yourself that the voice is being unreasonable.

You over analyze even the minute differences in your partner's behaviour - missing emojis and exclamation marks in texts, a slight change in their tone, a slight difference in their facial expressions. All this can amplify the echo in your mind which screams, "he is going to leave me".

Not hearing from them for a couple of hours extra can drive you nuts.

Navigating through disagreements is a huge nightmare. You start imagining all the possible reasons and ways they might leave you. "He might ghost me. He might say I am not good enough for him. He might fall out of love for me" - these are a few of a million thoughts that invade my mind from time to time.

You wouldn't hesitate to lose yourself to please them, so that they won't leave you.

Your mind goes haywire and you lose all your ability to think rationally even though a small voice inside you, weakly says "this is not true".

The paradox of this is, your fear itself becomes a self fulfilling prophecy.

Fear of abandonment can subconsciously make you chase, get attracted to people who are emotionally unavailable, who would definitely leave you at some point no matter what, who would never love you the way you deserve or want to be loved.

What's worse than this is, your fear of abandonment can make you push your partner away subconsciously.

Your mind creates multitudes of scenarious as to how you can leave your partner - before they leave you!

You oscilate between never wanting to be left by your partner and wanting to leave them first so that the pain you endure will be less.

You need constant reassurance from your partner that you are loved and cared for.

It requires an immense amount of self awareness to navigate through this chaos. Sometimes it requires a huge amount of mental energy just to stay sane. It can be very exhausting...

But it is not impossible to deal with.

The things that help me ease my anxiety are, relaxing a bit and reminding myself that my mind is playing tricks with me, expressing my needs to my partner directly, taking deep breaths whenever my mind goes haywire, understanding my "reactive patterns" and trying to respond to a situation rather than reacting.

I have come a long way and I am very much better at controlling the way I respond to such situations now than I was a couple of years ago.

If you are anything like me, remember

YOU ARE NOT ALONE and this can be dealt with via practise.

[lollypopsx]

Flatmate!Harry: I'll Make It Up To You - Part 2

Please like if it’s not too shabby, reblog for anyone who may enjoy this and follow if you want to see more! Any suggestions are happily taken for future writing! I love you all! be safe and be kind x

Warnings: Hints of depression and anxiety

Part 1 - Part 3

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Days had passed since the audition, and while you were sat on your laptop every hour searching for new jobs, new projects, more auditions and pure hope of some miracle, you couldn't help but starting to feel like you were failing slightly.

You liked to write happy songs and create stories using your music, but you were finding it harder to find the inspiration. Usually you and Harry would sit and talk ideas for hours, but since he made you miss your audition, you were distant from him, it was only the last day or two that you had been getting slowly back to normal.

Every day since the incident when Harry came home after working at the studio, he would open the curtains to make sure you had fresh air and daylight after cooping yourself up on the sofa all day, in the dimly lit living room. Not only that, he would check the cupboards, fridge and the sink to check that you were eating enough. He had seen you stressed and upset before. He had been there through some difficult moments in your life, and had always been your rock throughout the years, especially when your mental health was struggling during these times. But this time was worse. He couldn't help being concerned for someone he loved and cared for.

"Hey pumpkin..." He whispers softly, settling himself down beside you after completing his daily routine "Have you done much today?" he gently combs his fingers through your hair before dropping his arm round your shoulders.

You just sigh softly, looking ahead blankly at the quiet TV, simply shaking your head. If only he could see what was going on in that pretty mind of yours then maybe he could make everything better.

"I see you used the piano and the guitar today though..." he states, although it came out more like a question.

Minutes of silence filled the room until out of the blue, some words left your lips. "...Adam came to get the ring today" you whisper, feeling the tears brim your eyes once again, for what felt like the millionth time today.

"Oh darling" He frowns, pulling you into his chest tightly, just like he did the night you found out your (now ex-) boyfriend, Adam, was cheating on you. Unfortunately, you happened to find out minutes before he proposed to you, in front of all of your friends, including Harry. You didn't know what to do, so you took the ring, said you'd think about it and you left him standing alone. This all happened months ago, and you really thought that you was totally over it.

"Everything that's happened this week...I-I just...I feel like such a failure Haz. It just feels like I...I-I'm falling...falling apart and nothings going right! Why isn’t anything going right! I can’t even write one stupid song that makes sense" you let out hard sobs as your hands fisted his clean white t-shirt.

"No...no, no, no don't say that...please don't ever say that." He frowns, pulling away from you, but still staying close. His warm hands press against your cheeks as he lifts your face gently "hey, hey look at me" he whispers, begging you to look at him.

Your sad wide eyes flickered up into his, gentle tears falling down your face. "I know...I know it's hard at the moment. But everything happens for a reason. And everything will get better...I know it will. Do you trust me?" He whispers, his eyes gazing deep into yours, almost like if he looked hard enough, he could read your mind.

You give a hesitant nod as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before wiping the tears dampening your cheeks. Being affectionate together wasn't anything unusual for the two of you, you really were the best of friends.

"I'll go make some dinner okay? Pasta sound good?" You just nod your head gently at him as he leaves your side. You let out a deep sigh and head over to the living room window, watching the sunrise beginning to set over the busy London town. "So...how's the studio going?" You ask him curiously, your gaze still at the window.

"I erm..." He clutters around in the kitchen. His job was a topic he had been avoiding for the last few days. He didn't want to rub it in that he was busy writing an album for millions of fans, who would be screaming his lyrics back to him all over the world in years to come. "It's...good. I mean, its tiring but I...yeah. It's good" He nods.

"H, you don't have to avoid it. I forgive you for what happened. I know you would never have done it out of spite...and you deserve your life style, you work hard!" You say as you head into the kitchen, re-filling the water in the vase on the table, your vibrant roses and lilies still looking as beautiful as the first day Harry bought them for you.

"You work hard too!" He frowns softly "Harry I don't think moping around on the sofa, drowning in my sorrows, is the definition of working hard" You let out a gentle chuckle.

"So...how's it really going?" You hop up onto the stool beside the kitchen counter.

"Well, we have 4 songs so far...and they are...different to the last album. I mean they reckon three of them will be on the pop charts...maybe even a number one slot there" He sighs softly.

"Oh wow, that does sound different to before...and you...don't want that?" You ask curiously, judging by the lack of excitement. "Well...it's not that. I just...it's hard to write another album when the last one did well, and you have to make sure it's better than the last one." He sighs softly as he cooks. "They want me to write some slower, more emotional songs. I just can't...well the words don't fit right. I'm just not feeling emotional about anything, so I don't know where to get the emotion from"

"Well you can't put a price on emotion Haz, you can't just go and buy it in Gucci. You have to really feel it. Even if you aren't thinking about something specific or direct to you. I used to find that sometimes when I was trying to write, I'd create these characters in my head, and I'd give them all these different stories and personalities. And I...I used that to really help me write music. It's not easy." You explain while getting two of the plates from the cupboard and pouring two drinks for the table.

"You used to? You mean you don't use that method anymore?" He asks curiously, while giving the pasta one final stir.

"I...I think I've decided that I'm not going to write music anymore" You shrug softly, your eyes unable to life to his. "I need a proper job. And things aren't going well with auditions lately and I make a total fool out of myself every time I go into a meeting. It's time I looked for a proper job. Besides, the price of bills in this house keeps going up and up."

"What?! Y/N you're so good at writing songs and music! You can't throw it all away now! That is your proper job. And I love hearing what you write, it inspires my own stuff!" He frowns, his brow furrowing, trying to understand you. "Think of all the songs no one will get to hear"

"No one hears them anyway...It's different now. The entertainment industry is changing more and more by the day. Maybe the stuff I write just isn't as trendy anymore." It was difficult for you to admit, but you knew you had to accept it.

"There's a fine line between us Styles, because the difference is, you're already there. You have the whole world in your hands Haz, you can go anywhere and do anything. You could sing a song to a fish and the whole world would be adored by you still! If I did something like that...I'd be laughed out of every interview, audition and meeting for the rest of my life. But we’ll be alright" You smile and shrug, your mood had certainly been hit and miss the last few days, but you knew you had to carry on with your life.

—————————

“Hey Y/N come here!” Harry calls from the living room. You were currently in your room, scrolling through your Instagram, while in a pasta coma after dinner. You rush over to the living room “What’s up?” You ask, seeing him sat at the gleaming white piano, which as always was sat under the window.

“What do you think?” He starts to play a few notes on the piano, looking between the scruffy paper notes cluttering the top of the piano and his hands. 

“Can’t put a price on emotion...it’s something that you just can’t buy...you...you’ve got my devotion...but....but” He sighs softly, playing around with the notes and the wording on his notes. 

You smile softly as you recognise his acknowledgment of your earlier conversation “...but man, I can hate you sometimes” you sing gently, testing to see how it could fit.

“Hey that’s mean! Why would you say that!” He fakes a pout up at you “I thought we- hey actually...you’re right! That really fits!” He chuckles, pulling you onto the stool beside him. “Can you try a G chord, B chord and....lets try a C...” You nod and smile as your fingers gloss over the keys effortlessly, while Harry fits the verse together and tries to find the right tempo.

“Wait...it doesn’t sound right. Maybe lets try a D instead of C?” You suggest as you re-try, playing those three chords over and over again.

“You...are...a genius!” He grins and wraps his arms around your waist. ”Keep going!” He smirks, pushing more lyrics in front of you. Sometimes having a fresh pair of eyes really helped...or perhaps he just wanted to prove that you had talent.

You peer down at the pages upon pages of words flooding your view. “...I don’t want to fight with you....and I...and I don’t like to sleep in the dark...we’ll get the drinks in...I...I can’t stop thinking of her...” 

Harrys fingers join yours at the piano “We’ll be a fine line....We’ll be a fine line...”He smiles softly as he taps on a few random keys. 

You pull your fingers away gently “It...your song sounds...really good H. It’s beautiful actually.”

 “You mean our song...” He whispers.

“Harry no, it’s your song, all the pieces, I just put your jigsaw together” You smile. “I know how it is writing songs and the first draft is never the same as the final version. You might decide to change it all completely” You whisper.

“Not with your lyrical genius ability and words of wisdom...your name will be all over this track” You felt a shock of electricity ripple through your veins as you felt his eyes burning into yours. His lips pressed gently against your forehead, lingering against your skin longer than usual. That sort of affection was normal from your best friend...so why did it just feel like something completely different? And what did he mean about my name being all over the track?

—————————

Tag List: @harryhoney-bee - @sunandherflores - @sad-capuccino

[rendevousz]

reunited

req: i was wondering if i could request a natasha x teen daughter reader where the reader has really bad social anxiety please? maybe where the reader was in the red room with natasha but given to hydra once the red room was taken down and natasha has been looking for her ever since she left the red room. on a mission to take down a hydra base natasha finally finds reader, and it's super emotional for the both of them and they're just happy to have each other back. natasha knows about readers social anxiety from when she was younger and sees that it's only gotten worse now, so she's super sweet and understanding. she saves the reader from the base and comforts her the whole way home because she's scared of all of the new people also on the jet (the other avengers). the reader lives with natasha at the compound with everyone else and natasha is just great about her social anxiety and never pushes her out of her comfort zone and comforts her when she has panic attacks. sorry if that's a lot, but thank you so much! i love your fics sooo much, you're such an amazing writer!!! 💖💖💖

mother figure!nat x fem!teen!reader

summary: nat finally finds you after years of looking.

word count: 4083

notes: i didn't make them peers in the red room because then they'd have to be around the same ages but i made them meet at the red room. also i didn't know how to write about her having social anxiety so i hope you don't mind that i didn't 😓 hope you like this <33

"stop," madame b's authoritative voice commanded and all of you stopped dancing. all of your peers seemed to be struggling to stand still on their battered feet, some breathing heavily but who could blame them? you had all been instructed to dance for hours now. you had to dance until you couldn't anymore.

your head faced madame b but your eyes landed on your best friend, veronika, for a split second. she seemed in pain and you vowed to check on her after whatever announcement your supervisor had for you. you stood tall, clenching your jaw in order to not show that you were in pain or out of breath.

madame b's gaze flickered to you for a second, her lip lifting up on one side for a brief moment before her face hardened once again.

"i have someone special here today. she's here to observe your training and if necessary, teach what you girls lack. she has long graduated this academy, please welcome miss natasha romanova."

you jolted awake, panting hard at the memory that just played in your dreams. you looked around you, seeing the same cell wall you had been put in for the past three years. after the fall of the red room academy where you were from, another organisation came and swooped you in, not wanting to waste your skills. you were the only one they took, having heard much about your abilities and reputation in the red room.

the girls stood all around you and veronika, watching the two of you spar tirelessly after hours of endless ballet. natasha and madame b watched the match closely, eyes trained on your techniques and movements.

after natasha had introduced herself to all of you, madame b had instructed her supposedly two best students—you and veronika— to demonstrate a true spar between skilled assassins.

while you were reluctant to attack your best friend, she had other plans, one that included impressing her idol who stood mere metres away from her. you were shocked when she started attacking you. never had she obeyed a command against you so quick.

you had to put away your initial shock to start attacking back in order to not get hurt by the hands of your own best friend. the look in her eyes was different, almost animalistic. it wasn't like the one she had when you two were laid in your beds side to side at night, handcuffed to it while you talked about your deepest struggles being in the academy. it wasn't the same one she had when you reassured her that she was doing okay whenever she said she would never be as good as you were at this whole assassin thing. it wasn't the same innocently surprised one she had just moments ago when she was addressed as one of madame b's best students.

this wasn't your best friend. this was a girl blinded by her desire to impress. she wanted to show natasha that she was the better one out of you two. your heart broke when you saw her desperation. it was obvious in the way she fought you.

it wasn't long before you had her in a chokehold, the girl struggling to get your grip off of her. your face visibly faltered, eyes tearing up slightly when you heard her whimpers. natasha took notice of this.

your lips were quivering when you turned to madame b. a simple nod from your trainer had you whispering a strained 'i'm sorry, i love you' in her ear before you broke her neck. the girl fell limp in your arms, dropping down to the mat, dead. you panted heavily as you stepped away from her body.

"good. this is what i expect of all of you," madame b turns to your peers, the stone cold look back on her face. "one thing you need to perfect though, y/n, is your emotions. don't get emotional over things that don't matter. i saw your inner conflict. veronika would have no reluctancy to end you if you were the one in the chokehold. she was more mentally prepared to be a ruthless assassin. you're lucky you're more skilful than she is. she would have no hesitation to kill you, close companion or not."

you swallowed that lump in your throat, biting the insides of your cheeks to prevent crying right then and there. "you have a lot of potential, y/n. don't let your emotions ruin it. i have high hopes for you." she spoke once again, before dismissing everyone.

you left the room with a heavy heart, turning to look at veronika's body one last time before leaving quickly so you could break down where no one else could witness.

you rushed to the staircase where you and veronika would sneak away all the time when you were supposed to be having lunch. you two would always sit under those stairs, talk about anything and everything you could. your tears were now freely rolling down your face.

"hey," you heard a voice say and you quickly wiped your tears away. you looked up and saw that it was none other than natasha. "miss romanova," you breathed out, scrambling to get up before she placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, the woman seating herself next to you on the floor, under the staircase.

"that must've been hard for you," she spoke after a few seconds of silence. "i remember my first time killing an actual person in training. they had me shoot targets and i consistently got the bullseye every time. then they switched out the targets to an actual person and i had a hard time doing that. i can't imagine how it must've been for you. i heard you and veronika were quite the inseparable duo."

you didn't move to show that you were shattered over the current events but the millions of tears silently streaming down your face said otherwise. natasha turned to you, reaching to wipe your tears away before gently caressing your cheek.

"you're a strong one, y/n. you remind me of myself when i was still in training. i can see myself in you." she told you truthfully. she had no idea why but she felt a strong connection towards you. she felt that you and her had so much in common. she had a strange inclination to protect you even though she knew damn well you were capable of doing so yourself.

since then, she always dropped by to help train all of you but you and her developed a relationship so strong that she even told you of her plans to get you out of that hellhole. at that point, it had been a few months since she'd turned good but she kept coming to the academy for your sake. she felt a sense of responsibility over you, like a mother would over her daughter.

she would with the other girls too if they had shown at least a bit of humanity but it seemed that the red room had ruined them beyond fixing. despite being the best student of the academy, you still weren't inhumane like the rest. you would hesitate to hurt others, only doing so when threatened and even that, you still weren't as heartless or cruel.

madame b would always berate you over this but natasha would pick up the pieces every single time. you loved her. she was the best thing in your life after veronika and your heart broke when the red room fell and you were taken away. away from the mother you never had.

you awoke with a jolt again. it was the second night in a row you were reliving your past memories. you touched your face and you felt the tears on it, wiping them with your sleeve as you sat up in your cold, uncomfortable bed in your cell. you sighed, bringing your knees up to your chest and hugging them.

you couldn't help but think of nat again. what could've happened if she managed to get you out before you were taken away? could you have a nice life with her? would you never have to hide under the stairs to have emotional exchanges with the woman? would you finally have been able to be who you were, not influenced by the evil around you?

you never knew what it was like having a mother but you imagined it was what nat had been towards you during the times you spent together at the academy. you two were more mother and daughter rather than trainer and student.

all of a sudden, alarms blared through the building and red warning lights flickered in your cell. you stood up, peeking through the small glass of your cell door to see guards rushing through the hallways in a frenzy.

you assumed that the facility was under attack and no one was coming to save you. you didn't even try, walking back to your bed to return to your position of hugging your knees tightly to your chest.

you could hear the chaos outside but opted not to pay attention to it. it didn't involve you and if no one was coming to save you from whatever was attacking the place—not that anyone in that place would, you were merely an asset to them—you wouldn't bother worrying about whether you were going to live by the end of the night.

a loud bang interrupted your thoughts and you looked up to see your cell door had been forcefully thrown open by a large man in stripes, holding a circular shield. you immediately stood up, getting ready to attack him when he spoke.

"i'm not here to hurt you." he said, holding out a hand as if to tell you to stop whatever you were about to do. "we're here to save you. you can finally leave this place now." he says gently. you frown at him, still in a stance ready to attack him.

"cap, is there someone in this room?" a familiar voice spoke and your head immediately turned to the door, where the owner of the voice stood, mouth dropping open at the sight of you. your face softened and a tiny gasp left your lips at the sight of her.

"y/n...is that you?" she breathed out, walking towards you and not stopping when she saw that you weren't alarmed or anything. "nat.." you choked out, tears starting to form. how crazy was it that you had been having flashbacks of her for the past two nights and suddenly she was here to come save you?

"y/n!" she exclaimed, pulling you into a tight hug. you knees buckled but she held onto you tightly, sniffling as she caressed your head gently. you buried your face in her shoulder as you took in the familiar feeling of being in her arms once again.

more tears started to form in your eyes now. never had you thought you were actually going to see her again. you lost the hope of seeing her again two years ago. but here she was, standing in your cell and hugging you like there would be no tomorrow.

your hugging session was cut short when steve sheepishly spoke up. "sorry to uh, interrupt this reunion but more guards are coming, i think it's best if we leave now." he picked up his shield, leading the three of you out of the facility safely and back to their quinjet. the whole time, nat held onto your hand tightly, as if letting go would lead to another few years of being apart once again.

once you reached the quinjet, nat led you to the seats in the back where you two would have more privacy. the team watched the two of you in confusion before turning back to steve for an explanation as he was the one who was partnered with nat for this mission. all the captain could tell them was that you two knew each other way before this and that all of them would have to wait for an explanation from nat herself if they wanted to know what was going on.

when you reached the compound, nat led you to her room where she lent you her clothes and let you shower before tucking you into her bed. when she was sure you were comfortably asleep, she left the room quietly to go grab a glass of water only to find the whole team sat in the common room instead of back in their own rooms.

she looked at them, confused. "guys, it's like almost the crack ass of dawn and we just got back from a mission, why aren't you asleep? or were you debriefing? in the common room? did i miss it?"

"no, you know debriefings for late night missions are the next morning. we were waiting for you actually," steve spoke on behalf of the whole team. "me? for what?"

"nat, c'mon, don't act stupid. you know what we're talking about," clint makes an unimpressed face at his best friend. nat sighs, taking a seat next to him and the team look at her expectantly. she cleared her throat, preparing for a whole story time.

"you know how i was from the red room?" she asked them and they all nodded, urging her to continue her story. "well, after i graduated, i was asked to come help train the younger ones in the programme. during that time, i met this girl. she reminded me a lot of my younger self and she didn't seem completely brainwashed to the point where she lacked emotions. i grew close to her and after i met clint and joined SHIELD, i vowed to get her out of there because she went through a lot in that hellhole and i could tell she didn't want to do any of the things that the other girls were fine doing.

"she had a good heart and i didn't want it to be wasted. she was the best in the academy and i knew they had big plans for her. but i didn't want her to be programmed to kill. she was much more than that. so i made this whole plan for her escape. i kept going back to the academy to come see her and share my plan with her. clint, you always asked me where i kept disappearing to when we first started becoming friends. it was her. the people there didn't know i was already under SHIELD at that time—nobody did—so it was safe for me to keep visiting and keep planning an escape for her.

"but three years ago, the red room fell. i rushed over because i thought i could finally leave with her without anyone knowing. but apparently she'd been taken away. she was the only one of the girls who was taken. by who, i didn't know at that time. but i knew it was because of her skills and abilities. if the red room had big plans for her, i knew other organisations must've already heard of her too.

"i never stopped looking for her. i don't know why i never thought of HYDRA. but it doesn't matter anymore. i finally found her and i'm never letting her go. i hope you guys don't mind that she lives here now. if not, i'll move out and find somewhere for us."

the team seemed surprised that nat told them her story. they were very much expecting her to, well, not tell them because this seemed like a very personal story.

"no, no, of course she can stay. i'll even set up another room for her." tony says and nat nods gratefully. "what's her name?" wanda asks.

"y/n," nat tells her, smiling at the thought of you as she stands up. "alright, i have to go back to her. see you guys in the morning. maybe you'll get to see her then."

she bids them goodnight, leaving after grabbing a glass of water for you in case you woke up in the middle of the night, in need of it. she wasn't wrong because when she got back to her room, you were up, hugging your knees as you cried.

"hey, hey, hey, what's wrong, sugar?" she quickly puts the glass of water on the bedside table, sitting on the bed and pulling you close to her. you look up at her all teary-eyed and she feels her heart break.

"i–i thought i lost you again," you croaked out, burying your face in her shoulder. "oh, sugar, you'll never lose me ever again. i'll never let that happen. you're safe here with me. now sleep, i'll be here when you wake up." she stroked your hair gently, laying down next to you on the bed before you two fell into a blissful slumber in each other's arms.

true to her words, she was right next to you when you woke up the next time. she seemed wide awake and you felt bad because she probably had been up hours before but didn't leave you because you were scared.

"how'd you sleep, sugar?" she asked as you sat up, stretching. "the best i have in years. thanks to you, nat." you smiled at her, still not believing all of this is real. that you're finally reunited with the woman you thought of as your mother.

"do you want to meet my friends? they're dying to meet you," she tells you and you bite your lips nervously. "do you think they'll like me?"

"are you crazy? of course they will. and if they don't, i'll make them." she threatens playfully and you laugh, missing how protective of you she is. you smile, agreeing to her suggestions to meet her friends after you got ready for the day.

-

"hi, sweetie, you're y/n?" a man with fancy silk pyjamas greeted as you entered the common room with natasha. you nodded timidly, scooting closer to natasha. it was weird for natasha to see you this nervous. after all, you were the best student of your batch in the red room. but she understood that years with no actual social interaction does that to people.

"i hope you'll like staying here, i already have your room setting up as of right now. when you move in, you can tell me if you don't like anything and i'll change it for you. oh, i forgot, i'm tony," he extends a hand towards you and with an encouraging nod from nat, you hesitantly shake his hand. he smiles at you before telling you both he has projects to finish down in his lab and to tell him if you needed anything.

"hey, nat, not gonna introduce your friend to us?" you heard a voice from behind you and you two turned around to see two men and a woman. you recognised both men—one of them was the one who broke into your cell last night and the other one you had seen him a lot from pictures nat would show you during your secret meetings in your red room days. he was her best friend. you didn't know the woman but the kind smile on her face was enough to reassure you that these people weren't bad.

"y/n, meet clint, the idiot who i call best friend," she points to the shorter man. the name nat called him must've offended him because the face he made was hilarious that you let out a little giggle. nat smiles at this before proceeding to introduce the other two.

"this one's steve, he's an old man stuck in a young body—literally— so if he says things you don't understand, just smile and nod." you nod at nat and steve gives her an incredulous look, as if not believing the audacity she had to introduce him like that.

"this one's wanda, she's the least annoying person in this whole place and she can cook whatever you want so i think you two will get along really well." wanda smiles at you and you return it shyly. you smile at the other two before nat drags you away, telling them she still had others to introduce you to.

when you entered the kitchen, you saw a man reading a newspaper on the kitchen island while another man, whose skin was red, stood beside him. they seemed to be discussing something very intelligent because you didn't understand a single word they spoke.

"bruce, vision, i want you to meet someone." they turned their attentions towards you and nat and you immediately felt like hiding once again. "oh hello, steve told us you brought back someone from the mission. is this her? hello, i'm bruce," the man sitting down introduced himself.

"wait, is this the bruce?" you asked nat, smirking teasingly at her and she smacks you gently on the shoulder. the man seemed flustered at what you're insinuating, scratching his neck awkwardly.

"bruce, vision, this is y/n, i've known her for a long time and i finally found her after years so i hope you two won't mind that she'll be staying here from now on," nat tells them. the two of them didn't come on the mission last night so they were the only two who didn't actually see you until today.

"it's nice to meet you, y/n. i'm vision, i hope you'll enjoy your stay here." the man with the red skin greets formally and you turn to nat with a confused expression. "he's an android, he does things a bit weird here so don't mind him." she whispers to you and you nod understandingly.

"it's nice to meet you two, i hope we'll be good friends." you say awkwardly, hoping to get this whole introduction thing over with. how many people do you have left to meet?

speaking of the devil—or should you say, devils—, two annoying voices rang through the kitchen, interrupting the peacefulness that it was before they came in.

"i'm just saying that if you hadn't eaten my last bag of chips last week, i wouldn't have taken your cookies last night. it's all about fair play, man."

"and i keep telling you that it wasn't me! i don't even like those stupid salty ass chips from that brand,"

"stop lying, i saw you eating that brand the other day! just admit you stole my chips and go,"

"guys, are you really having another one of your stupid arguments now?" nat cuts them off and they immediately turned to you, finally noticing all of you.

"oh hey! y/n, right? it's nice to meet you, i'm sam. if you wanna survive in this place, you better hide your snacks because if you don't, this winter warrior here will snatch 'em all before you can even stash them in the cupboards. don't ever trust this guy here when it comes to your snacks. you heard what happened to mine," the man fakes a cry and you held back a laugh at his long introduction. you only wanted a name to match the face but he gave you much more. you didn't mind though, he seemed like a fun person.

"hi, doll, i'm bucky. don't listen to eagle right here, i do not steal snacks. i simply let people have a taste of their own medicine. you steal my snacks, wilson, i steal 'em back. you think i don't know you stole my oreos too last month? that's why i stole your damn chips last week,"

"so you did steal them!"

"so what if i did?! you stole my oreos first!"

"oh my god, guys, you're really embarrassing me in front of y/n. these are really the people i was excited to introduce her to," nat face-palmed and you couldn't help but laugh. "don't worry nat, these people seem amazing. i can't wait to get to know them better." you assured her and she smiles, pulling you close to her. "buckle up, sugar, because living with the avengers is gonna be a wild ride."

you were excited for what was about to come. it seemed like everything was finally falling into place. you finally got nat back and you didn't have to worry about losing her again because you had a feeling these people weren't going to let that happen.

taglist <3

@amourtentiaa @rqmanoff @abitofeverythinggg @andreasworlsboring101 @cay-writes-fan-fiction514 @teenwonder @sevenmorningstars @fleurlovesbucky @marauvdersfate @bestillmystuckyheart

[xmalfoyweasleyx]

Two empty years - F.W (smut)

Summary: Y/N is like a sister to Fred, but when he sees her again after two years, things change, a lot.

Warnings: 18+ smut, but also fluff and a plot, also briefly choking and praising. (to be clear, they talk about her being little but she's absolutely 18+ in this story!)

A/N: This is my first story but I worked VERY hard so I hope you like it. Let me know if you see mistakes or have tips x

2,3k words

27 July 1997

I felt sick when my feet landed on the soft grass next to the Burrow. I wasn't a big fan of appareting. I ran as fast as I could to the door. Molly and Ginny already waiting for me. "Are they here yet?" I asked, not able to hide the fear in my voice. Ginny fell into my arms and hugged me. "I missed you Y/N" she murmured. Molly gave me a smile full of sympathy and sighed: "Hello dear, no they're still not here."

Alll of this, just for getting Harry here safely. When did the upcoming war get this far? A month ago I was at Hogwarts worrying about an essay for potions. And now. Now I'm here. Worrying about my friend’s life. I wanted to help too but they didn't let me.

"Who's there? Who's helping?" I asked, nervously playing with the hem of my shirt. "All of them, Hermione, Ron, Tonks, George, Fred,..." Ginny answered but I stopped listening at Fred's name.

Fred. I haven't seen Fred in 2 years. Two.

It was my own fault. I used to visit the burrow every summer. The Weasleys were like a family. But that was the problem. I've been Ron his best friend since my first day at Hogwarts. I got sorted into Y/H. It was a dream coming true. And since then I visited the burrow every summer. Oh and don't forget the Holidays. Even getting the sweater with my initials on it.

But I never came back, since the day it happened. The day I fell in love with Fred Weasley. It's been two years. I saw him with a little boy. The boy was crying. It was something about the way Fred comforted that boy that made me melt inside, it made my knees weak. I promised myself I couldn't let this happen. I. was like a little sister to him after all. There was no way Fred could ever see me like this, like... a woman. I was a sister, I was his little brother's best friend. He probably loved me. But he would never be in love with me. And it got worse because I started fantasizing. I couldn't get my eyes off him playing quidditch. Watching him move with the sweat on his face. He made my stomach tingle in a way I've never felt. But I was young, and I knew that. I couldn't be that sexy girl, the woman I had to be to make him notice me as something else than an innocent, cute friend. Because we were friends too, good friends, always joking together.

So I never visited again. I just couldn't see him. And I didn't, because he left Hogwarts, I didn't even visit their shoppe once.

"Come inside dear" Molly offered "I haven't seen you in so long! But Ginny told me you still talk a lot with her in school, I'm happy to hear that. And I'm also happy you joined The Order!” she smiled wide like always. And then we heard something. It was Harry and Hagrid. Suddenly a wave of anxiety hit me. I was going to see Fred. If he was okay... Fuck, what if he wasn't okay?

I was ripped out of my daydreams when I heard a scream, it was Molly. I turned around quickly. Seeing a redheaded tall boy. That's when my heart skipped a beat. Blood all over the boy's face.

Oh no.

After one minute I noticed it wasn't Fred. It was George.

"George!" I gasped while kneeling in front of him laying on the sofa. "Y/n? Is that you?" he mumbled. "Yes it's me, what happened?" I gulped.

Before he could answer someone stumbled next to me. Grabbing George immediately. "George!" he panted. It was Fred. I knew it without even looking. He was sitting right next to me without even releasing I was there.

"Y/n is here" was the only thing George answered.

That's when our eyes met. For the first time in two years. After two years of purposely ignoring him.

It was silent. Something flickered in his eyes but I didn't know what it was. He grew up. Even more. He was an adult now. But so am I.

Change of POV

Fred didn't know what happened. Y/n, he missed her. He always knew she was pretty but he never really thought about it. And now, she was... she was older? She was a woman now. He couldn't really describe it, how she was just exactly the same sweet little girl who was like family to him, but how she still changed so much. How she was actually... hot now? She was so damn hot now. Of course she was. There’s always been something about her that he couldn't really describe, this feeling. But he didn’t want to feel that way, he couldn’t, she was younger, she was his brother's friend. She was y/n.

"Fred? Hellooo??" he heard his mother scream, waking him up from his thoughts. He didn't realize he was staring at y/n the whole time. "We have to heal his ear" he shot, trying to make up for his recent stare incident.

"I can do it" y/n said calmly. "What do you mean?" George whimpered. They all looked confused now. "I've studied about it, I want to become a healer and I'm studying already. I know how to but never actually performed a healing spell" she admitted. "I think you should try" Fred said. Making y/n smile at him while biting her lip unconsciously. It made Fred gasp a little for air while his stomach tingled again. She turned her head back to George causing a wave of her scent filling up Fred's nose. He didn't even know the smell would be so familiar to him. He had missed her, that's when he realized. God he had missed her and she was finally back.

A few hours later it was calm again. Most of them already asleep after the exhausting day. Y/n couldn't sleep. She sat in the sofa near the fireplace listening to the rain on the window while sipping from her coffee. "Seriously. Are you still drinking coffee at this time of the day?" she heard Fred saying. "I always do" she pointed out.

"I know" Fred sighed. "So, why is it so long ago since I've seen you? You didn't even visit our shoppe. I've told you so much about it back at Hogwarts."

Y/n sighed not knowing what to answer now. Because I love you and keep having dirty fantasies about how you would rail me.

She couldn't answer that, that's for sure. "Just... stuff... Lot of work with the healer thing" she lied. Fred sat next to her. "You've changed" he said. "Of course I did Freddie, it's been a while" she laughed. Giving Fred butterflies because of the nickname.

"Yes, but I mean, your lips and hair and .." he almost said what he wanted to. But lucky for him, he could control his straightforwardness for once. It even made him blush. What the fuck did he just blush?

Not going unnoticed by y/n, she laughed mockingly. "Is Fred Weasley actually blushing? Are you Fred?" she mocked while standing up and hovering over him. He was speechless. Something he never was. "Did you wanted to say boobs? That I have more boobs now? Or were you talking about my ass?" she smiled. Obviously trying to mock Fred. He sighed deeply, trying to be himself again.

It worked. He stood up, now standing very close to y/n. Hovering over her because he was still so much taller. "I know what you're trying y/n y/l/n" he smirked. "I know you just got shy because of me" she answered feeling bolder than ever. Their faces were close, a sexual tension that would be clear to every person, even Ron Weasley. "So tell me" y/n added, coming closer and closer. "Were you looking at my ass Fred Weasley" she whispered in his ear.

Suddenly the floor beneath her disappeared she couldn't process what happened. And then she saw it, they appareted. Standing in a room that was probably Fred's apartment.

"Fred?" she gasped. And before she knew it his lips were on hers. Moving perfectly together. The kiss was full of passion. She grabbed his head and pushed him even closer, slightly tugging his hair. He grabbed her hips and she moaned lightly. And suddenly the kiss was over. She saw a confused boy standing before her. Trying to process what just happened.

"I-I'm so sorry" he sighed. Her heart felt like it was about to break into a million pieces. How could she forget the fact that she was still... well... herself. "I know, I'm like your sister, you don't see me that way" she whispered, hating herself for letting her voice crack. "I shouldn't have done it" he said. Suddenly a boiling anger grew inside y/n.

"Am I that unattractive! Am i?! You know, I didn't see you in that long because I'm in love with you. That’s why! But you don't think about me like that. I'm 0 % sexy to you. I...I..." it all rambled out of y/n's mouth. "Hey hey" Fred sighed grabbing your hands to comfort you. "That's not true, when I saw you today, I was speechless, you're not 0 % sexy, god no, you're so sexy y/n" he admitted. "Why did you say it was a mistake." she questioned. Fred was still astonished by the fact she confessed her feelings to him. "I've just never been so confused. The girl I've known for years suddenly makes my stomach tingle. I don't I don't..." Fred tried to explain but y/n cut him off: "then fuck me"

"What?" Fred asked more confused than ever.

"Fuck me Fred Weasley". she breathed.

They stood like this for a few seconds. "Fuck it" he hissed, grabbing her hips again and pushing her against his wall, kissing her like his life depended on it. Y/n jumped folding her legs around his hips pushing his core closer to hers. Slightly grinding up and down. He grunted into her mouth.

"Can I take your clothes off?" he asked. Y/n nodded and with one little spell her clothes were all gone. Fred's eyes widened. Attacking her with open mouth kisses on her neck. "God you're so sexy, so fucking sexy" he sighed in between the kisses. Making shivers go through y/n's body. His lips attacked her nipples passionately, making her moan his name. Fred swore it was the most beautiful sound ever. A sound he would never forget.

"Please Fred" she sighed. "Patience baby, patience" he hummed in her ear. Slowly rubbing his finger through her folds teasingly. Kissing her lips softly. He went down on his knees and suddenly y/n felt his soft lips attaching to her wet core. "God" she moaned. Fred sucked gently and moaned while y/n ran her hands through his red locks.

This must have been heaven. It was the best feeling they've ever had. Fred thought it couldn't possibly get better, pleasuring y/n being the best thing he ever did. The way she tugged his hair and moaned his name... But then she pulled him away. In a second she was on her knees before him. "What are you d-" he tried. "Shut up. I'm showing I'm not that innocent any more. I'm yours now Fred" she breathed. Before Fred could answer she pulled his pants down. Revealing his throbbing cock. Making him whine.

Y/n kitten licked his tip and heard him sigh loudly above her. She looked up through her lashes, looking at the tall guy with innocent eyes, taking his cock in her mouth. "God y/n, you're going to be the death of me princess" he grunted. She bobbed her head and swirled her tongue, trying to put as much as possible in her mouth. Little moans left Fred's lips. "Y/n I'm going to cum if you keep doing that” he said between grunts. Y/n grabbed his thighs and gagged while tears formed in her eyes. "Good girl" he moaned. Leaving y/n proud but still waiting for her own release.

Fred didn't want to cum yet. In one move he grabbed y/n delicately by her ass, pushing her against the wall. His tip touched her core softly. "Fred" she moaned. "Are you sure about this baby?" he asked. Y/n nodded eagerly. "Make me yours Freddie" she answered.

That was it, Fred pushed slowly into her. Leaving them both moaning in synchrony. After a while Fred started moving slowly. His sweaty forehead resting on y/n's. Looking straight into each others eyes. "Faster Freddie" she groaned. He started pounding into her mercilessly. Making them both moan even louder. The sound of grunts, their skin slapping and her body banging against the wall filled the room. His fingers dug into her skin while she grabbed his back firmly.

"Good girl, you feel so good around me" he whispered into her ear making her moan louder. Suddenly he grabbed her neck gently, but still firm. His long fingers fitting perfectly around her skin, making her gasp at the sudden pleasure. Feeling his cock rubbing her g-spot faster and faster. "I'm gonna cum" she almost screamed. "Me too baby". Fred went even faster while they looked in each others eyes, seeing the passion exploding. "God I love you, I've always loved you" he sighed. "Me too Freddie, I love you" she moaned.

And with one last sloppy trust they both came. Moaning each others name while riding the orgasm out. Looking at each other with eyes full of disbelief but mostly happiness. "Well that wasn't what I expected to happen today when I woke up this morning" he joked. Making y/n laugh while planting a soft kiss on his lips.

That night they fell asleep in each others arms. Still sweaty and exhausted from before. Just like two empty years without each other, never really happened.

***

[thr-333]

Drastic Measures- Part 1

@daminette-december2019-2020 ​

~Inspiration~

*Emerges from my hole*: oh ho ho~ we have another month of inspiration on our hands!

Next

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

Marinette steps through the portal immediately collapsing; she doesn't drop the transformation until she hears Chat drop down next to her. She calls the transformation of both the Horse and Ladybug miraculous, knowing Chat will close his eyes without her asking, Marinette does the same for him as he calls off his own.

They stay like that, panting on the rooftop. It’ll be sunrise soon, Marinette knows what she has to do.

“He’s moved,” She breaks the silence. Stating the obvious, they’ve known this for months.

“At least he wont be bothering Paris anymore,” Chat laughs, without any humor.

“But Gotham is so much worse,” Marinette groans, “We can’t keep doing this, not like we are, Spots on,”

Marinette stands letting the transformation wash over her while keeping her eyes shut, this will be easier to say without looking at him anyway.

“Chat Noir, hand over your miraculous,” Marinette recoils at the wounded sound he makes, “I have to leave Paris,”

“What? No! Claws out!” Marinette opens her eyes to see Chat, furious and with tears in his eyes, “I’m coming with you!”

She thought he would say that. Probably would have hurt if he didn’t.

“I can’t just ask you to leave your life, your friends,” Marinette chokes up, “Your family,”

“And what about you?!” Chat says with such heartbreaking sincerity, “Who will you be leaving behind!?”

“... Everyone,”

But she had put it off for too long. Hawkmoth slowed his attacks in Paris months ago, they thought he was giving up… then he attacked Gotham. The attacks in Paris stopped. The ones in Gotham were so much worse. She thought… she thought she could keep it up, jumping through a portal every time Gotham needed her. It was the best of both worlds. Her family and friends were safe and she could still defeat Hawkmoth. But nothing was ever that easy. Gotham needed her, completely, with undivided attention. Paris didn’t. Gotham needed Ladybug more than Paris needed Marinette.

“Not me,” Chat breaks Marinette from her thoughts, gently holding her shoulders, “I’m coming with you,”

She should argue. She planned to argue, every detail ever rebuttal. But she was weak. Marinette so desperately wanted him to come. To have someone, anyone there for her. No not anyone she wanted Chat by her side. Her partner through thick and thin. The one who would help her take down Hawkmoth. It was so unbelievably selfish. 

She wanted him with her more than she wanted him to live his life here.

“Chat you realize we can’t tell anyone,” They could make the connection, they would try to stop them, or worse, follow them. If they went to Gotham alone at least they wouldn't have a life outside of this, they could focus wholly on taking down Hawkmoth, and maybe finally succeed, “... we have to run away,”

“Bug a boo that's the fun part,” Chat teases, Marinette couldn't see how leaving her friends and family would be at all fun, “... sorry… I know you’re leaving a lot behind,”

“If you do this-”

“When I do this,” Marinette raises a brow at him, he does it right back.

“We should reveal our identities,”

“Oh no, what a shame,” Chat dramatically ‘faints’, “Damn that makes this so much harder,”

“You know what?” Marinette ‘thoughtfully’ taps her chin, “I can probably find a new Chat Noir,”

“No, no! Sorry,” Chat immediately stands back up, “That’s obviously not why I’m doing this,”

“I know kitty,” Marinette smiles, getting him to relax, “But you need to think this over, I’m… I’m going to go pack,”

“Don’t need to think it over,” Chat smirks, “Claws off!”

“Chat! NO!” Marinette yelps, chiding, before actually processing who it was standing before her, “Adrien?!”

“Uhh, you know me?” Adrien stands there so awkwardly Marinette just burst into laughter, “Ummm,”

“S-sorry it’s it’s just,” Marinette held her sides as she kept cracking up, “Spots off!”

Her transformation fell and at that moment Marinette couldn’t even manage to feel any anxiety at him finding out, the ‘o’ face he made was too priceless. Before she could even think of being nervous Adrien also bursts out laughing, the two ending up as wheezing messes on the rooftop. It took a long while and lots of giggling to calm down.

“Well at least I’m not leaving all my friends behind,” Marinette says to the sky, “That is if you still want to come?”

“Meet you here tomorrow Marinette,” Adrien stands up, offering a hand to Marinette, “Same time,”

“See you kitty,” Marinette waves as they part ways, for now. She had a lot she needed to do today.

Marinette doesn't sleep when she gets home. She searches deep in her draws for that special fabric she put aside. Flips through her sketchbook to find that perfect design she did once. Then gets to work making a pattern. It is well past sunrise by the time she is done. She’s late for school. It doesn't matter anymore.

Not running to class for once she makes sure her parents are free later that night. She’d like to spend all day with them, but Marinette wants to see her friends one last time. She stuffs her bag with all the presents she had made her friends for future birthdays. Might as well give them now. Lila smirks at her as she walks into class, Marinette would usually worry. It doesn't matter anymore.

“Hey girl, I was wondering, Lila said some-” Marinette cuts her off, handing Alya a pile of wrapped gifts.

“Hi, sorry I’ve been busy, kind of went into a design frenzy,” Marinette laughs sheepishly, “I was going to give them at your birthday, but I just couldn't wait,”

“Awe, girl this is amazing!” Alya holds up the jacket Marinette made a few months ago, she hugs Marinette tight, “See I told you, Lila, Marinette's just been busy!”

“Too busy to make me anything, I’m sure,” Lila says, teary eyed.

“Actually no,” Marinette smiles, enjoying the utterly shocked look.

“I made this to welcome you to the class, but then you went to Achu,” Marinette places it down with open hostility, “And, well, there wasn't really an opportunity after that,”

After that Lila has a hard time trying to twist it against her. Even the complaints that the bandanna is so much smaller than everyone else's gifts is weak as it has beautiful embroidery of a fox and ladybug, everyone cooing over how sweet and personal the design is. Back when Marinette actually believed her lie that they could start over and be friends. It also was hard to turn anyone against Marinette as she handed out presents to anyone that walked through the door. Laughing and apologizing for her absence lately, claiming the whole time she was making things for them.

When Adrien came to class they both tried to stifle their laughter. Marinette only gave him one thing, so as not to be suspicious. It would help to have all new clothes when they ran away, she would give the rest to him then. It was a scarf, one she made a while ago with the new addition of a green cat paw in the corner.

Marinette, for all intents and purposes, felt wonderful for the rest of the day. She caught up with her friends, felt closer to them than she had in a while actually. They talked and laughed, Marinette for once not encouraging them to keep quiet, joking along with them, and taking a million pictures. Madame bustier didn't complain much, after all, she had an all-new makeup bag plus more.

It was fun. And the ‘see you tomorrow’ was hollow.

Marinette was dreading going back home. She asked for a special dinner that night, saying she had a special surprise to show them. And special it was, Marinette had made a new dress for her Maman, a more casual version of her wedding dress, with a special Marinette flare, plus a matching outfit for her Papa. They smiled saying it was beautiful, just as they had with her very first design and everything she made since then. They ate together and played video games together.

Marinette asked to look at old photo albums and they spent the rest of the night pouring over them. If she slipped a few out to take with her, neither noticed.

“I love you both,” Marinette hugs them tight, imagining she’ll never see them again.

Even if they do defeat Hawkmoth, Marinette's not sure she’ll make it through the fight. She could be gone for years, or maybe never return to Paris. Marinette didn’t know if she’d ever see them again, this could be it.

“We love you too,” Her Maman smiles, cupping her cheek, “Now go to bed we don't want you to be late for school tomorrow,”

Sorry I will be

Marinette just nods, hugging them one last time before heading upstairs. She packs her bag, full of newly brought or made clothes, clothes for Adrien, food, and whatever cash she had on hand. She leaves a note, saying there's something she has to do, that she loves them both and this is in no way their fault, not to look for her but Marinette doubts they’ll listen. She grabs her bag and the miracle box, saying goodbye to her home and disappearing into the night with Tikki.

By the time she meets up with Adrien Marinette is a sobbing mess. They hug each other. Adrien's not crying but she can sense the deep sadness in him. Tikki hugs her too, getting Marinette to calm down.

“So what’s the plan?”

“Go to Gotham,” Marinette shrugs, that was really the extent of it.

“We have nowhere to go,” Chat hums, trying to act nonchalant about everything, 

“I guess this means we’re homeless,” Marinette shrugs again, she had really only planned this for herself, and none of that seemed like a concern.

“We can find an abandoned warehouse, set up shop,”

“Either way we’re going to be pretty busy,” Constantly on the run, either running from someone or running after someone.

“Well, you know what they say,” Chat smirks, “We’ll sleep when this bastard is taken down,”

“You know it,” Marinette smiles, genuinely this time, “Pound it?”

“Pound it,”

 ---

 “After last week we can indeed confirm these attacks are occurring,”

“Oh sure it wasn't like I told you a month ago,” Jason scoffs, getting glared at by Bruce for interrupting.

“Well you have to admit ‘this guy came and destroyed ten blocks’ is pretty unbelievable when everything’s unscratched,” Tim continues to tap away at his computer, “And now we know the cause,”

The footage was shakily taken from the next building over, partly destroyed. With a bright light everything was fixed.

“Magic,” Dick says needlessly.

“Meta humans,” Batman growls, “Not approved and playing at being heroes,”

“Can we really complain if they fix everything after a fight?” Duke speaks up, “The police didn't even report any casualties, they don’t seem to be rookies,”

“Magic makes them reckless,” Batman shuts the argument down, “More so if they can fix everything, what happens when they can’t?”

“So basically you want them out,” Damian cuts in, there was no point arguing over it for however long, Bruce wouldn't allow them to keep roaming the city.

“Yes,” Bruce fixes them all with a hard stare, making it clear this is an order, “When you come in contact tell them they are to leave or be removed,”

They all agreed. Damian wishes he didn’t have to waste his time worrying about some second rate wannabes thinking they could challenge Batman for the protection of Gotham. They couldn't. What did they have that Batman didn’t?

 ---

 A lot was the answer. 

Or this particular new villain. It didn’t make any sense, usually, first time villains were easier to deal with, but no, here Robin was watching as Batman fought a losing battle against them. It didn’t help that they were brainwashing civilians, turning them against the rest. Robin was given very specific instructions not to harm them. Hard when they had no such orders.

Robin barely processes that Batman is thrown through a building before the main villain is turning to him. At least he could use more drastic measures with the actual villain, unsheathing his sword Robin lunges. He trades a few blows, unfortunately doing less damage than the villain can do with a singular super powered punch. With super strength, magic and Gotham citizens being steadily taken over this was looking more like a Justice league threat by the second. Everytime the villains should be down for the count they got back up, Damian couldn't find their weakness.

Robin knows he took a wrong step as the villain doesn't rush forward to take advantage but shoots out a beam, the same one Damian had just watch turn a civilian against the rest of his family. And he has no leverage to dodge. This would be so much worse than the civilians, setting his strength against the others? Without concern for killing them? Would Damian remember?

“Watch out!” A wire wraps around Robin, yanking him out of the way. He falls at someone's feet the wire slipping away, he can hear it whirling above him. 

Damian sits up, looking to who grabbed him, ready to fight if necessary, and- Loses his breath.

She's standing over him protectively, a makeshift wire shield repelling the beams that had been causing them so much trouble with ease. Like it was second nature. She looks down at him and smiles so gently, without a hint of fear or worry. Promising she has everything under control.

There's something to be said of Batman's intimidating, steady nature. It can put people at ease in its own way and be even more effective at cutting down enemies with a glare. But this? This is warmth, assurance, a steady appearance more in line with Wonder Woman yet still completely it’s own.

“You alright?” She holds out a hand for him.

Damian snaps out of it taking her hand startling at how she actually lifts him up without any effort on his part.

“Chat you ready?”

“Ready my Lady!”

My lady? Who’s Chat?

His answer comes a second later as a spotted container comes crashing down, fracturing the street. In an instant, the wire wraps around the container a hundred times over.

“Now!” My Lady commands.

“Cataclysm!” Chat yells out, the container crumbles under his touch, wire moving in to constrict around the villain.

The villain thrashes, still being able to send out beams wildly and with their minions closing in. Chat breaks off to fend them all off while Robin tries to catch his breath, Batman still in the rubble of a building. My Lady can’t hold the villain back and fight at the same time. Damian struggles to stand up and help her.

“Lucky charm replay!” 

Robin cringes at the bright light then watches as another spotted object falls into her hands. It’s a bent tube she looks around for a few seconds before holding it up. Damian rushes forward as a beam races towards her and she makes no effort to dodge. She catches it with the tube sending it back to the villain, it hits them square in the chest with no effect. Lady nods to herself before doing the same with the next beam. This time robin watches as it misses the villain, grazing their ear and sending their ear peice flying off.

“Chat!”

“On it!” Chat Noir catches the earring from midair, calling cataclysm again turning it to dust.

Damian watches not willing to let his jaw drop as the hideous villain transforms into a normal civilian. It’s such an intriguing sight that Robin startles when something flies towards Chat Noir snatching a purple butterfly from the air and pulling it back to My Lady. A few seconds later a white butterfly is flying out a… yo yo?

“Bye bye little butterfly,” She waves the glowing white butterfly away.

That was so cute

“Who are you?” Batman demands having just recovered, motioning for them to circle around them.

“Uh, your welcome,” Chat Noir scoffs, helping the previous villain up.

“I am Ladybug, this is my partner Chat Noir,” Partner? “We’re the previous heroes of Paris,”

“Paris has no heroes,” Batman glares at them, civilians around them still closing in Robin turns his defenses towards them.

“Then that makes the past what six? Seven? Years really awkward,” Chat Noir looks at Ladybug who shrugs, a civilian takes a swing at her she dodges smoothly before throwing the pipe in the air.

“Miraculous Ladybug!” Now Robin's jaw does drop as a thousand glowing ladybugs swarm around the nearby buildings, maybe all of Gotham not even leaving a scratch behind.

“Why are you in Gotham now then?” Batman recovers first, civilians nearby blinking back into reality.

“Hawkmoth has moved his operations to Gotham to feed off the negative emotions here,” well there’s plenty of that here “It makes his Akuma more powerful and we can no longer continue to operate from Paris,”

“Then he’s in Gotham now and is my problem,” our problem “I can handle this,”

“Well you did a great job of that,” Chat Noir rolls his eyes, leaning on his staff, “How's your back by the way?”

“Chat Noir,”  Ladybug scowls, then turns to Batman, “You can’t and it’s my responsibility as Ladybug and as guardian of the miraculous,”

“What's that-”

Nightwing is interrupted by a beeping from Chat Noir's ring.

“It would be that, we have to go now,” Chat Noir salutes moving to leave, they tighten their circle surrounding them.

“You will leave Gotham,” Batman demands, this time its Ladybugs turn to glare she tsks and rounds on him, not managing to seem that threatening in her brightly colored costume.

“You don’t know who Hawkmoth is, you don’t know what Akuma are, you don't know about the miraculous, you have no clue about the guardians, you hadn't heard of whats been happening in Paris for years and you don’t know who we are or what we’ve done,” Batman is shocked under the forces of the heroine's righteous fury, “There are things going on here that you don't understand, we are here to stay until hawkmoth is defeated,”

Robin watches as she leaves a shell shocked Batman behind dissapering into Gotham’s night with her partner.

Inspiring

 —-

 “And why can’t they be in Gotham?” Damian demands from him yet again.

“No metahumans,” Bruce sighs, Damian had been unreasonably stubborn on this front, “They only cause more damage,”

“Actually they repaired a lot,” Damian leans over the desk to glare over that him, “And saved you,”

“Go to bed,” Bruce demands, Alfred busy patching up his wounds. Damian scoffs before storming out of the cave, still half in his robin uniform, “Whats wrong with him?”

“I couldn’t say, master Bruce,” Usually for Alfred that meant he knew exactly what was going on. He tied the final bandage before holding the phone out, “There's a call for you,”

Bruce shrugs on his shirt before answering. It wasn't the phone reserved for business so at least it wouldn't be that big a pain in the neck.

“Bruce,”

Never mind

“Talia,” Bruce growls, going to glare at Alfred who had already made himself scarce, “What do you want?”

“Oh please I’m not up to anything sinister,” Bruce can just imagine her waving him off with a smirk, “This time,”

“But you still want something,” Bruce acknowledged, sinister or not she can cause a lot more trouble without being out too.

“A missing person case, a friend of mine got in touch, her daughter ran away yesterday, l thought it would be right up your alley,”

“Why would you tell me this,” There was obviously more to this, there always was with Talia, “And more importantly why do you care,”

“Oh because she’s Sabine's daughter,” Bruce freezes, a million case files and reports flashing through his mind, none of which outlined a daughter let alone a family, “Surely you’ve heard of Sabine?”

“... We’re on the case,”

“Great, good luck~”

Now he has to worry about potentially one of the most dangerous assassins in the world on the loose. A shift in the shadows catches his eye before disappearing. Great. And now the whole family knew, or would soon.

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

Taglist? nope don’t have one, horrible at keeping track of them sorry~

[tobesoalive]

flume (Josh Kiszka x reader)

sorry about the wait! like I said I'm in the process of moving so I've been quite busy but I'm hoping to get around to my other requests in the next few days. For now though please enjoy this tooth rotting fluff about our favorite little lad!

Warnings: None

Finally, you let out a sigh of relief as you shut your laptop, having just finished writing a paper for a class you were taking over the summer. You had wanted to get a head start on your academics so you could hopefully graduate in the winter, leaving you more time to start your career and life with your amazing, sexy and talented boyfriend.

Joshua Kiszka was the love of your life, the apple of your eye, and you were absolutely obsessed with him. The feeling was mutual, never did a day pass by where Josh didn’t remind you how much you mean to him and how lucky he was to exist in the same universe as you. Yes, he could get a little sappy, but that just made you love him even more.

It was already 10pm, and Josh had been gone for a few hours now, meeting up with the rest of the band and their management team to discuss the upcoming tour over dinner. You were completely fine having a night alone, it actually gave you time to focus on your work rather than your extremely distracting other half. You had just been worried about Josh lately. On the outside he was his usual hyper and positive self, but you know that he has been worrying non-stop about the upcoming tour. It had been a little while since the guys performed live and Josh was riddled with anxiety about it. You knew it would go off without a hitch and that the fans would absolutely love it, but you understood Josh’s feelings and made sure to let him know they were valid and offer your support. To make matters worse the band, specifically Josh, had been gaining attention on social media, with a video of their performance from SNL a couple years ago going viral. There were a lot of people criticizing Josh’s performance and mannerisms, many of them saying he was probably addicted to cocaine or something. That was far from the truth though.

You remember that night, being backstage with Josh and trying to calm his nerves. Not only was he dealing with anxiety but he was also a bit under the weather. Personally you loved the performance, and thought Josh did amazing justice to the song he wrote about you. Everytime you hear “You’re the One” your heart basically beats out of your chest.

Now you just couldn’t wait for the Kiszka boy to be home so you could hear all about his day.

Around 10:30 you heard the door open and you made your way down the stairs from your room. Josh was setting his keys on the counter and before you could even say anything he was covering his face with his hands, obviously trying to hide his expression from you.

“Joshy, baby come here” you said gently as you made your way over to him. You wrapped your arms tight around him, breathing in his wonderful scent, as he finally loosened up and returned the hug. You could feel him softly cry into your shoulder, your hand immediately going to the back of his head, petting his hair and cooing “You’re okay baby, it's going to be okay”.

After a minute he pulled away from the embrace, arms still wrapped around you, with a few tears still running down his face. “Thank you” he said quietly in a hoarse voice, offering a small smile.

“Do you wanna talk about what’s going on?” you ask him, completely fine if he refused.

“I’ve just never been so nervous in my life, and all the backlash and rumors about me online aren’t helping.”

“Babe I’m sorry, I can’t imagine how stressed and overwhelmed you must be. Just know that I personally think you are absolutely astounding, and I’m sure there are millions of people who would agree. You will always have me, no matter what anyone says or even if you completely suck on tour, which I know for a fact you won’t.”

Josh chuckles a little and says “Thanks love, you have such a way with words”

You roll your eyes, “C’mon Josh you know what I’m trying to say, I’ve never been one to sugar coat things now have I?”

He pulls you in again before whispering “I seriously have no idea what I’d do without you, you are my rock and my safe space.”

You pull back only to grab his face in between your palms and give him a passionate kiss.

“Come on lover boy, why don't you go take a warm shower and then we can curl up in bed.”

“That sounds amazing”

You both make your way upstairs and as Josh goes in the bathroom you change into a pair of soft shorts and one of his shirts.

You’re about to go get two glasses of water when your boyfriend pops his head out of the bathroom door.

“Hey, I know it’s kind of a weird question but...I just don’t wanna be alone right now, so would you mind just sitting in here while I shower?”

“Not at all” you say, giving him a reassuring smile.

You go in the bathroom and leave the door open, Josh is in just his boxers as you hop up onto the counter and sit with your back against the wall. He peels his last garment of clothing off as you steal a quick peek at his ass, what can you say, it’s pretty damn cute.

As he shampoos his hair and soaps up his body you two talk about nothing in particular, just doing your usual silly bickering about different film meanings or which John Denver song is the best.

Once he gets out, he quickly pats himself off with a towel, throwing on a pair of soft tan shorts.

As he assumes his position in your bed you go grab the glasses of water you had intended to earlier. After coming up and handing him his cup you get under the covers and pull them up only about halfway. You wrap yourself around Josh, knowing that in his vulnerable state you need to be the big spoon and cradle him like he usually does for you.

You press a few kisses to his temple and the back of his neck before saying goodnight.

“Thank you again, for everything. It is impossible to put into words how much it means to me, how much YOU mean to me.”

“You don’t even need to use words baby, I feel it all the time, I’m convinced our souls are intertwined.”

“And that makes me the luckiest guy on earth”

“And I am the luckiest girl. I love you, try and get some sleep baby”

You’re able to catch his last few words before you drift off into a peaceful sleep.

“You’re my one.”