#you feel nauseous and dizzy. you get up to try using the bathroom and almost fall over. your body is too weak to hold itself up

[rubiesintherough]

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[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

“flu season” - hotch stops by to check on you while you’re home sick (hotch x bau!gn!reader), 1.7k words

cw; mentions of canonical violence, icky sickies, and yearning teehee

———————

You have the flu. 

You have the flu, and it hits you like a bus. 

You have the flu, and it hits you like a bus, and you hate feeling helpless, but you can’t even walk to the bathroom and back without feeling dizzy. 

There’s a waste basket by the bed, lined with a plastic grocery bag. There are four glasses of water, varying in stages of fullness, littered on the nightstand. Your blinds are open because yesterday you wanted to see the sun, but you were too exhausted later in the day to close them. 

Your phone is ringing. You’re groggy, the whole world feeling hazy and heavy, as you lift it from the space in bed beside you and see a call from your boss. When you called Hotch two days ago and told him you were ill, he was incredibly patient with you. Don’t worry about work. Get some rest, he said. Check in so we know you’re okay. Let us know if you need anything. 

You answer the phone on the last ring, and a hoarse, weak voice that is not yours exits your throat. “Hello?” 

“Y/N,” Hotch sounds relieved. Did he think you were dead or something? It’s only the stomach flu. He also never calls you by your first name, which only makes you concerned that something else is gruesomely wrong. “Did you see my calls?” 

You put him on speaker and check your call history. Aaron Hotchner has called you four times in the past six hours. You missed every single one, having drifted in and out of consciousness all day long. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t. Is everything okay?” You ask, thinking something must have happened to him or to one of your teammates. Why else would he be desperate to reach you when you’re home sick? 

“Well, you tell me,” Hotch exhales, an incredulous chuckle lining his voice. The phone muffles the sound, but you know that if you heard it in person, it would sound symphonic. “I was just checking on you, Y/N. I know you’re new to the city.” You sit up a little in bed, as if he were in front of you. “How are you feeling?” 

You run a clammy hand over your sweaty forehead. “Hot,” you blurt out. 

“Excuse me?” Hotch laughs. 

“Hot, like… like a fever. Like I’m running a…” you shake your head at yourself, resisting the urge to scream into your pillow. “Sick. I feel sick, very sick.” 

“What kind of sick?”

What kind of sick? Why would he ask you that? You lean back against the headboard and wonder if he’s trying to determine if you’re faking to get out of work, or if he’s genuinely concerned. You’ve only been with the BAU for a few months, but you feel like you’ve gotten to know everyone fairly well so far. You decide Hotch must just be genuinely concerned. You roll through your symptoms, and Hotchner clears his throat when you’re done speaking. 

“Do you feel strong enough to get to your door?” He asks.

“Huh?”

“Because I’m here. Outside your door.” 

“What?” 

Hotch lets out a breathy laugh, one that seems almost in disbelief of his own actions. “If you don’t want company, I’ll leave, but I thought you might need a hand. I’ve been sick and alone before. It’s not fun.” 

You feel your heart swell a little as you recall what Emily has told you about Hotch. You get little snippets about him from Emily, and from what you understand, he and his ex-wife were painfully separated for a while before she was murdered. You wonder if he was ever stuck at home, ill, during that period of time. 

Hotch says your surname. “Are you still there?” 

“What? Yes. Yes! I’m sorry,” you huff, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. The thought of planting your feet on the ground, however, has you already feeling nauseous. “I don’t, uh… I don’t think I can make it to the door, though,” you squeak. “There’s a spare key under the doormat. But I really look gross, Hotch. And I might be contagious. So, enter at your own risk.”

“I don’t mind, L/N. You keep a key under the - oh, yes, there it is,” you hear Hotch fumble to juggle the key and his phone, and after a moment of static - his hand over the microphone - he hangs up, and you hear the front door of your apartment creak open. “Y/N?” He calls out. 

“In here,” you croak, scrambling under the covers and desperately brushing your sweaty hair out of your eyes. 

Hotch is standing in the doorway in an instant, still in his suit and tie. You glance at your phone and conclude he must have left work directly to come here. “How do you know where I live?” You mumble as he lifts a full grocery bag. 

“Personnel file,” he shrugs. “How’s your fever?” 

You notice he’s lingering in the doorway. He’s waiting to be invited in. “You don’t have to have a warrant,” you smile weakly and beckon him into your bedroom, a lame attempt at humor. 

He exhales in amusement, and you see the smile on his face - light and mild, and you wonder, if you weren’t sick, would it have been a grin? 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Hotch says as he steps slowly into the room, taking a cold bottle of Gatorade from the grocery bag and setting it on your nightstand. He starts gathering the cups of water into one arm. 

“You don’t have to do that,” you protest, feeling embarrassed of your mess. “Hotch-“

“It’s Aaron, outside of work,” he corrects you, and you see a flash of his teeth. “And you didn’t answer my question. How’s your fever?” 

You swallow. “High? I guess?” You say dumbly. 

A warm hand is pressed against your forehead and you are once again very aware of how clammy it is. “When was the last time you took something?” He asks. 

You check the time again, then do the math in your head. “Five hours ago.” 

“Where’s your medicine?” He asked. You shift in the bed, to stand up, and Hotch - Aaron’s - hand is on your shoulder. “Stay in bed. I’ll get it. Where is it?” 

“Bathroom cabinet,” you point to the bathroom. You want to protest further. You want to apologize for the mess, to ask him why he’s doing this, to ask him if he’d do this for anyone else. But you keep your mouth shut, instead rubbing the space between your brows as the inevitable headache kicks in. 

Aaron’s quickly out of your bedroom. You hear him walk into the kitchen, a few cabinets open and shut, and then he’s in your bathroom, same thing, opening and closing a cabinet. He comes back to you with a few crackers on a plate, a fresh glass of water, and your flu medicine. 

“So, let’s talk about why you think it’s a good idea to keep a spare key under the mat,” Aaron proposes as you take the medicine. You nearly choke on the water in your mouth, but manage to down it. His face gives him away - he’s not mad, not even disappointed, just smirky. Teasing and playful were not words you would use to describe Aaron Hotchner. 

Until right now. 

You open your mouth to speak, but Aaron cuts you off. “You spend your whole week working gory murders, kidnappings, terrorist threats. You know that the key under the mat is the oldest trick in the book. Why do you do it?” He asks, leaning against the wall beside your bed. 

“You can sit, if you want?” You offer, pointing to the desk chair in the corner. “Your legs must be tired from hanging out up there on that high horse.” 

Hotch just lets a low chuckle escape him as he rolls the desk chair over. He keeps a respectful distance from your bed, but still crosses his ankles and leans back, like he’s sat there a thousand times. Like he’s somehow comfortable. He looks at you expectantly, as if to say don’t make me ask again. 

“Well,” you feel a bit sheepish, because he is right. Keeping a key under your doormat is pretty dumb. “I guess I figure, most people are smart enough to not do it, so the kidnappers and rapists would assume I would be smart enough, too, so they wouldn’t even look under the mat.” 

Aaron’s expression is priceless, and he opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. “I’ll just give a spare to someone I trust, how about that?” You suggest, knowing intuitively that the lecture was only going to continue. 

Aaron gives you a nod of approval, and you lean back against the headboard again, stifling a yawn. “I can go, if you want to rest some more?” he proffers, rising from his seat. 

“You don’t have to,” you say quickly, uncontrollably. The words were locked and loaded in your throat before you could think twice. “I mean, I’m probably going to fall asleep soon, but I wouldn’t mind the company. For a little while.” 

You wonder how visibly red your face is.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alive,” Aaron chuckles, his polite, subtle way of declining your invitation, of making sure boundaries are still intact. You know Hotchner is a rule-follower. You admire that about him. “I’ll let you get some rest,” his hand extends, as if to reach out to you. You wonder if he’s going to touch you. His hand retracts after a moment that seems to last for an eternity. 

As Aaron walks towards the bedroom door, he turns around and smiles at you. It’s a real smile. It’s soft. You want to press it like a flower petal, between two book pages, and keep it in a jar on your shelf. 

“I brought you some soup for when you feel up to eating. It’s in your refrigerator,” he says. He taps his hands against the door frame. “Feel better, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow to check on you.” 

Aaron Hotchner leaves your apartment a minute later, and you fall asleep shortly after that. Your head is still pounding, and your stomach is twisted in knots, but it’s not from the nausea. 

[luveline]

Eddie and Roan taking care of R when she gets sick?

thank you for your request! dad!eddie and his daughter roan taking care of almost stepmom!reader <3

"Still nauseous?" 

You look up from your makeshift den on the bathroom floor to Eddie's tall figure standing in front of you. He has the mouth of an open water bottle hanging between his fingertips at his hip, and a hopeful look on his ridiculously pretty face.

“You look nice,” you say. 

Eddie sits down on the floor beside you. It’s not every day he comes home smelling like diesel, but he had today, and the smell had turned your stomach unexpectedly. You worry he’ll still smell like it and try not to breathe in, despite his immediate shower after your first… eruption. 

“You always look nice,” he says, pressing the water bottle into your hand. 

He doesn’t have to ask you to drink. You take a bigger sip than you should, then another, swishing water around your mouth as your eyebrows pull together. 

“Not true,” you say as you swallow. 

“It is true.” He rubs down your cheek with the pad of his thumb. It’s not overly fond or anything, he’s just close enough and loves you enough that touching you is second nature. 

“I’m a fucking idiot.”

“No you’re not. And what does that have to do with looks?”

You’re close enough and love him enough that you know he won’t care if you hug him, despite your sick smell and puffy face. You ease your head over his shoulder and your arms around his waist, eyes wet but not crying. Life is full of a thousand different cause and effects but all you can feel right now is the abject unhappiness of having thrown up. It sucks. 

“Shouldn’t have eaten off of that food truck,” you mumble into his shoulder. 

You can feel the solidness of his arms against your upper back as he squeezes you lightly. 

“You’re not the first person to make that mistake,” he says. 

You feel sick, and you feel like an idiot, and your feelings are taking precedence now that your actions aren’t your own — you have no control over being sick, you can’t will your neck to stop aching from the strain. But you can take selfish comfort in the way Eddie’s shirt smells, relieved that the stick of diesel is gone. 

“You’re not an idiot. You’re just unwell, baby,” he says. You love how he says baby; it rolls off the tongue with his light-hearted tone. “You feel gross ‘cause you projectiled.”

You squirm in his arms. “Yikes.”

“Are you gonna throw up again?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Let’s get up. Go sit downstairs… away from the smell.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You can’t be sorry for throwing up. It’s like saying sorry for going number two.”

You snort. Roan’s not even in the room and he’s talking like a dad. “Wayne said you used to curse like a sailor ‘n’ now you won’t say crap?”

“I was the fucking worst,” he says, laughing before he’s finished at his overused joke. “But I learned my lesson when she started saying fuck at the park when the swings were taken.”

Eddie doesn’t need to help you downstairs, but he grabs a chunk of your shirt like that’ll stop you from splatting if you trip. Roan’s music becomes clearer with every step, until you reach the bottom, and the cassette mix Eddie made for her last week is crystal clear, along with her excited singing. She’s listening to Footloose, and she’s dancing around the living room with Teddy the pink rabbit. He’s missing one ear, has been since you met them, and you don’t have to wonder why. He’s swinging from her pale fist by the remaining ear at force.

“You’re back!” she cheers when she sees you. She stops spinning and, clearly dizzy, stumbles a few steps in your general direction. 

“You’re gonna make your brains mush,” Eddie says. 

“Like potatoes,” she agrees. “Is it time for Swan Princess?”

“Yes! It’s absolutely time for Swan Princess. But dinner, Ro, sorry dinner’s late. Are you super hungry?” Eddie asks. 

You make your way through a maze on the floor of dolls, dress up shoes and Lego bricks. Every toy she could pull out of her toy chest has been pulled. You barely flinch as you step on a pair of doll’s sunglasses, used to bric a brac by now. 

“Not super hungry. Me and Teddy had those ants on logs.”

“Yeah, babe, but that’s not dinner, that was just a snack,” Eddie says, arms held out to offer Roan a lift. She steps into his reach. He pulls her up to his chest. “We are practising listening to our body, right? What’s tummy saying?”

“Tummy is saying we should have macaroni and double cheese.”

“Do we have any cheese?” Eddie asks you. Roan’s princess dress today is much too small for her, a turquoise mass of satin that you’ve watched her grow out of over time. “Sorry, I should know.”

“We should probably break up,” you say agreeably. How dare he not know if there’s any cheese in the fridge. “I think there’s a huge chunk of it by the butter on the top shelf, but check the best before.”

“We’ll check,” Eddie says. 

They leave, supposedly to check the best before and make dinner, and you stretch out on the couch feeling fragile and sorry for yourself, as is your right. Everybody gets sick, there’s no point in punishing yourself for it, but you can’t help that slither of self-hatred every time you think of that gross food truck. Food trucks are amazingly convenient and mostly delicious, and usually don’t turn out so badly for you, but when you saw that guy in the front coughing into his hands you probably should’ve turned around and walked away. 

He wasn’t cooking, you argue with yourself. 

But he was in the truck. 

“Bah,” you say, pulling Roan’s small heart-patterned throw blanket over your lap. You’d been hot as a furnace when you got home, but now you’ve thrown up you’re wracked with chills.

Who goes to culinary related work with a sick bug? you lament. 

Roan races in with a bottle of water in her hands. “I brought this for you,” she says, stopping at your knees. Her skirt tickles your calves. 

“Hey, thanks,” you say, clearing your throat. “Dad find the cheese?”

“Yeah, he’s chopping it.” She relinquishes her hold on the water, takes a step back, and then takes a step forward. “Do you want a kiss?”

“I think a kiss might be a bad idea. I don't know if I’m sick because the food wasn’t cooked right or if it’s a bug.” You frown at her. “Thank you anyways, princess.”

“What kind of bug?” she asks with a wrinkled nose. There’s a dawning horror in her small eyes. 

“Not that kind. A germ. When people don’t wash their hands,” you explain. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Best not get too close to me.”

Roan looks at you steadily. She squares her shoulders, turns her face to the side to suck in a big breath, and then throws her arms across your thighs. She squeezes you rather roughly considering her child-appropriate level of strength, and then dives backward like she’s going to burst. 

“I love you, I’m going back to the kitchen!” she announces, short of breath. 

You end up dozing off uncomfortably on the couch to the sounds of Roan’s cassette, the TV, Eddie’s unintelligible rambling and the sound of a wooden spoon scratching the bottom of a saucepan. It’s a credit to you how you’ve learned to sleep through most anything, even sick as a dog. 

You’re woken up by a hand on your shoulder later. Eddie’s perched on the arm of the couch, looking down at you with plain pity. “Poor baby,” he says, only half making fun as he kisses your forehead. “Made you some toast.”

“I can’t eat.”

“It’ll make you feel better. Probably.” He puts a plate in your lap. He hasn’t gone overboard, it’s one slice of white bread with a scraping of butter. 

“Sorry for making a mess,” you say. You pick up a triangle of toast hesitantly. “Defeated by a three dollar burrito. It’s sad.”

“So sad,” he says. 

Eddie’s hand climbs to the nape of your neck. He traces your hairline messily with the tips of his fingers. 

“Did you eat?” you ask, nibbling your toast. 

“We did. We saved you some. I don’t know if you’ll want it, but Ro insisted.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s trying to decide which one of her plushies to give you tonight. In case you can’t sleep.”

You lean back against the couch cushions with a small smile. “That’s really nice. You made a good one, Munson.”

He puts his hand back on your shoulder, leaning in to give you a quick squeeze. The toast is toast, nothing special. It certainly doesn’t make you magically better but it doesn’t make you feel any worse, either, so you finish most of it and delight in your reward — Eddie noses your temple, his breath hot on your face as he says, “I’ve had help... Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll feel better soon.”

[allergyu]

🧸 𓂃 ✿

okay so after a while i decided to post this, it's not as good as i wanted it to be but i'm still a beginner and i'll try to do better next time. Thank you so much to all the people who voted and for supporting this idea of me writing again because i tried to do it many times in the past and ended up doing nothing. also i'll try to write the Yeonjun one and post it as soon as posible. ;) Hope you guys like it!

Soobin entered to Beomgyu's bedroom, opening the door slowly he walked closer to Beomgyu's bed and he felt relieved after seeing beomgyu finally sleeping.

Beomgyu couldn't sleep last night, he tried to sleep earlier than the other members but ended up waking soobin up at 2 A.M asking him for help because he couldn't get to the bathroom on time and ended up throwing up on the floor. Beomgyu spent the whole night Coughing and wiping his nose with his sleeve because he felt too dizzy to get some tissues.

Almost 1 hour later, Soobin was in his room playing with his friends, he got too excited and forgot about the fact that Beomgyu was sleeping and didn't realize he was laughing a bit too loud... Soobin's eyes widen as he gets a call from beomgyu.

"I'm sor-"

"Hyung.. can you bring me some water, please?" Beomgyu said, his voice deep and quiet

"what?"

"water hyung, water."

"uh... okay.."

Then the call ended, soobin told his friends he would be back in a minute and went to the kitchen to get some water for Beomgyu.

Soobin entered Beomgyu's room and placed the glass of water on the nightstand, carresing Beomgyu's back gently

"I'm sorry if i woke you up." Soobin said "Please sleep again."

"mmm" Beomgyu hummed, Soobin went back to his dorm again and told his friends he was back. Soobin thought Beomgyu was sleeping peacefully now, but the reality was that Beomgyu couldn't sleep again, he was sleepy but he just couldn't.. he tried listening to ASMR but it was annoying, he was in bed with his eyes closed for almost 45 minutes, he just couldn't sleep again.

Hours later, when Taehyun, Yeonjun and Hueningkai were back home Beomgyu decided to go to the living room and watch TV there, probably the members would notice how bad he felt and would help him, he thought. But when he opened the door, the smell coming out of the kitchen, propably the members making the dinner made him feel nauseous almost instantly. He tried to ignore it, laying down on the couch and thinking about something else.. he would get used to the smell and feel better after 5 minutes, right..?

He covered himself with the blanket and closed his eyes.. that didn't work either, the smell making him feel nauseous and the members playing around and yelling in the kitchen making him feel dizzy. He didn't even try to walk to the bathroom this time, he just sat up slowly threw up on the floor again, still wrapped around the blanket.

Suddenly the members stopped laughing and yelling, Yeonjun quickly ran out of the kitchen and gasped when he saw Beomgyu throwing up, he didn't even know Beomgyu was sick!

"shh.. it's okay.." Yeonjun said, looking at the members with a nervous expression while he caressed Beomgyu's back.

"Are you done?" Yeonjun asked softly when Beomgyu stopped, Beomgyu nodded slowly, his eyes watering as he thought about what he just did.. he could've ran to the bathroom, but now the members had to clean all the mess.

"I'm sorry.." he looked at Yeonjun

"No no, it's okay"

Yeonjun replied But beomgyu felt really guilty anyways, and when he saw Soobin walking out of his bedroom he couldn't hold it anymore and started crying like a baby. He felt really bad and embarassed, this was this kind of times when you just want you mom to pick you up and bring you home.

"Hyung.." Hueningkai said when he saw beomgyu crying, actually no one knew what to do or say...

"It's okay.. don't cry.." Soobin said softly, brushing Beomgyu's hair gently with his fingers..

When Beomgyu finally calmed down, he looked at soobin and opened his arms to hug him, that was the only thing he wanted right now.

"I'm sorry.. I'm sorry for not giving you any medicine earlier" Soobin said, Beomgyu nodded

"It's fine.. i just felt annoyed because of all this.. i couldn't sleep and.."

"You couldn't sleep again? because of me...?" soobin interrupted beomgyu

"Well kinda but-"

"I'm so sorry.." soobin said, hugging Beomgyu once again, Beomgyu sighed, even though beomgyu said it was fine Soobin just kept apologizing..

So eventually after cleaning everything, Soobin called Beomgyu's mom and explained what happened, Beomgyu felt a lot better after talking to his mom so he tried to eat something light after his mom told him to and also took some medicine Soobin gave him.

Soobin took care of him all night, massaging his head, cuddling with him and basically doing everything he asked for. Luckily this time, Beomgyu he slept for almost 10 hours, and his headache was completely gone when he woke up the next morning. But almost a week later, Beomgyu had to be the one taking care of Soobin.

[pbandjesse]

I slept really well last night. It was the best I've slept in days. The combination of meds the camp nurse suggested worked really well and I only remember waking up once to use the bathroom. I didn't even have any bad dreams. Me and James had swapped sides of the bed and I dont know if that helped but maybe it did.

When I woke up I didn't feel sick anymore. Like I was sore everywhere but I wasn't nauseous in the way I had been. And I was thrilled. I was like I'm good! Things are good. I was tired. And I didn't want to go to camp, but I thought I was okay!

James accidently spilled their coffee in their backpack so they had to stay behind a few minutes to clean that up. So I left before them.

I had a donut while I was driving and I'm very glad I did because I would not eat until the late afternoon. I was sipping water and enjoying my donut and trying to have a nice morning.

James had reached out to our doctor about my nausea and I would follow up with a referral. But that office wouldn't open until 9. So I just tried to hang out.

I went and gave Heather a hug. I said hello to the nurse. I hung up the replacement hammock. And while I was doing so I found a Luna moth! Which apparently symbolizes new beginnings.

I would call the referral number at 9 and when I explained what has been going on, they said I needed to go to urgent care. They set up an appointment for me at their office but it wouldn't be for a few weeks. So they said in an abundance of caution, I needed to go get fluids and get checked out. That being so nauseous and dizzy and blurry visioned for a week is not normal at all. So I had to go let the office know.

They told me they would make sure everyone was in the know that art was self service today. But I also would reach out to the village directors so that everyone knew what was up. And left a note on the door about materials. I was shaking a little. And would run into CJ and let her know I was leaving to go to urgent care. And that u would let her know what was up later on.

This was only partially true though. I would go to urgent care. But almost immediately they told me I needed to go to the emergency room. That I needed more care. I was glad I stopped there, they were nice, but it also made me more sure I needed to go to union memorial.

I was already stressed because when I had looked for my wallet it was not in my bag and so I did not have my insurance card. I was super confused about that. So before I went to the ER I would stop at home and get my headphones and my battery packs (my phone was at 18%) and tried to find my wallet but was getting more and more worked up. So I gave up and would just figure that out later.

I drove to the ER and would park on the parking garage. Which if you were only there for u see 6 hours cost $5 but jumps to $20 after that! Wild. I hoped to not be there longer then 6 hours.

And I wasn't. I would arrive around 1030. And was one of two people in the waiting room. And both of us were brought back right away. Amazing.

I was nervous. But they were very kind. I got moved to a room pretty fast. And they were very nice and made me laugh. I kept saying it was weird being here when you didn't actually feel to bad. And it was. I was able to look around more and not feel so focused on how horrible I felt. Like I still felt bad and I was scared but it was a different thing.

I would get poked and prodded. They gave me a bag of saline for the dehydration. And would rest my blood and other vitals. I would have a lot of people come through and ask me questions.

I was feeling better already with the saline. But it would take a while to get through the whole bag.

I was getting very very hungry. And I really was hoping I would be freed soon. And just around 3 I was finally allowed to go. The doctor talked to me about what I need to do to not feel so bad and gave me the blood work and stuff to give to my doctor. I have an appointment set up and I just need to try and eat bland foods and drink more water. Even if it makes my stomach turn a little.

I was really happy to go home. I had a little trouble finding the car in the parking garage but I found it and went home. It was shockingly hot outside. The security guard at the hospital wished me a blessed day and to stay cool and I promised I would. And when I got home I focused right on that.

I would eat the lunch James packed for me and laid on the couch. And fell right asleep petting Sweetp.

I woke up when James got home. And I was still super tired but I was really happy to see them. They would clean up and we chatted about my day and how they can support me in feeling better. And gave me kisses and also had brought me hichew candy which was very nice of them.

We went to tambers diner to have dinner with Anne and Tucker. And it was a really nice meal. Anne got a haircut that looked really nice. Tucker was quiet. I hope he is okay and just tired. They told us about this vacation they are leaving for tomorrow. And we got sandwiches and fries and it was nice.

I would start feeling a little nauseous again and just tried to breathe through it and it would work pretty well.

We would drive Anne and Tucker back to their house. They gave us some produce that they didn't want to go bad while they were gone. Hugs all around and we went home.

When we got back here I would take a shower and then a bath and then a rinse off shower. I washed my hair really good and scrubbed scrubbed scrubbed everything. It made me feel more like a person.

I have been hanging in bed since then. James ran to the store and got me orange juice and frozen strawberries. Just trying to stay hydrated even though everything tastes weird. I am very sleepy. But I am happy that we have a plan of attack for not feeling well. And James and Sweetp are laying in bed with me. And I am happy.

I hope you are all doing well. I am worried about being out at the market tomorrow but if I need to bail I know Ann won't be upset with me. I hope it is a good day. For you all too! Sleep well everyone. Until tomorrow.

[romanarose]

I read your moon boys dating a reader with bulimia fic and even tho I don’t have an eating disorder I found it weirdly comforting?? It got me wondering if you’d write a similar post but with a reader who has extreme anxiety/agoraphobia. Mine personally makes me really nauseous and sweaty and dizzy and I wish I had the moon boys to help :( if you don’t feel comfortable writing this prompt that’s totally fine too! No pressure

hi! I was laying down for bed when I saw this and felt really drawn to get back up and write this! I had a good friend when I lived in Nebraska with agoraphobia, we met when she was able to get back to work and we worked at olive garden together. My house was the first house she had been in in years. Some of these are specific to what I know from her as she's my only frame of reference.

Moon Boys with a reader with Anxiety/Agoraphobia

Marc Spector

Marc is no stranger to anxiety, he gets it

Obviously not agoraphobia, as he goes about doing all this wild shit, but anxiety he gets.

He's a little nervous around the idea of medication, but if it helps you, he gets used to it.

He'll take things little by little, whatever you're able to do, he will be there

But he's not letting you stay stagnant, and not letting you get worse.

He's familiar with the work it takes to get better, and knows you can do it

Of course, if you're having a bad day, or a bad week, that's perfectly okay, as long as you get back up and keep trying.

He's constantly muttering "great job, baby" for every bit of progress, or even just good days, like you went grocery shopping with him and didn't need to leave!

Steven Grant

I might be alone in this, but I do not see Steven as anxious by any means. Nervous, I think, but that nervousness never gets debilitating the way an anxiety disorder does (and absolutely did to me)

But Steven is observant

When he asked you to come to his work after he got off so he could show you around when you first began dating, he thought it would be a cute date, you did your best to hide your fears.

But it didn't take long for Steven to notice how harshly you gripped his hand with your sweaty one

When he looked at you, you were pale and shaking.

"Love? You alright"

"Mmhm" You confirmed, but the distant look in your eyes.

Steven didn't believe you. "Let's step outside, yeah?"

Before you got outside, you felt faint. You didn't pass out exactly, but Steven had to steady you. "It's alright darling, almost there"

As soon as he got you into fresh air, he sat you on the bench. A kind lady grabbed you water from the cafe and you recovered once you felt less trapped and crowded in.

You explain to Steven your condition, and next thing you know, you are at his flat and theres all kind of books on the shelves. He has already read them, book marking parts he things is important.

It was Steven that first suggested medication. If you didn't feel it was right now you, he didn't push the subject, but he did explain to you some options he had learned about.

Steven had a methodical approach, and although you had to explain to him the cure wasn't as easy as A+B=C, you were very happy to have someone who was so ready to help.

Jake Lockley

Jake Lockley was afraid of the dark

You figured it out when you wake up in the middle of the night and he's still awake, looking anxious.

Of course, he denies it at first, but you talk to him about what you told Steven, which he knew of course, but hearing you relate it to how he was feeling was calming for him.

"Well. Maybe I prefer when the night is a bit brighter" he finally concedes, referring to the rather dark night out.

Jake Lockley does not want a night light. So one night you pretend to walk into the corner of the wall and the bathroom "That's it! We need a light for the bathroom." And bought one the next day. Jake grumbled about it, but turned it on every night. He knew he was in love with you then.

Since that, Jake tries his best to show you the same support you gave him. He doesn't push you as hard as Marc does, or come up with solutions like Steven, no, he's just there to love and hold you.

Jake is fiercely defensive of you, not allowing any negative talk from others or from yourself.

All the boys

Lots of praise!

Always clears plans with you beforehand

Keeps basic wet wipes in the car in case you have a bought of sweating, they can wipe it off once you cool down.

You have a signal you give them if things are starting to become too much

They will make excuses for you as to why you have to leave/can't come, that put the focus on them "Oh sorry, they can't, I have an appointment that day"

If you are on medication, they remind you to take it/bring it places.

If you are going to therapy, they are more than happy to attend a few sessions to learn how to support you best.

Always there to take care of you at home if you had a bad day that wore you out.

***********

I hope you enjoyed! I don't have agoraohobia so if i said anything offensive or inaccurate let me know.

I do, however, have anxiety, and it used to be pretty fucking bad. Like, anxiety attacks so often in high school I had a pass with a teacher I could just leave the classroom if I needed to without asking (small school perks) bc they trusted that I was handling what I needed to, not fucking around. Had a panic attack at prom so bad I passed out from no breathing. All that to say I'm doing great now. i was on meds for a while, one a day to get through plus one if things got bad. Now I only take them as needed, once or twice a month. It does fucking get better. It really really does. My friend is doing so much better. She used to only leave the house house a day to get coffee, and now she has a full time job she enjoys and full social life. I hope things get better for you!!!

[bellysoupset]

It was another day of feeling fucking weird.

Jonah groaned as he rolled off of bed, only to immediately fall face first on the rug. He waited for Leo's voice to follow, his comforting hands, only to remember his boyfriend hadn't spent the night over.

He groaned, still on the floor, his alarm beeping away incessantly. Very slowly Jonah forced himself to sit up, back against the bed. It was still dark out.

Why was he up at 5 AM on friday? Practice, of course.

"This fucking team is killing me," he mumbled darkly, rubbing a hand over his face. His cheeks were prickly, he had to shave. He tried to find the will to get up, but trying to do so only made the world spin a little harder, so instead he crawled on all fours towards the bathroom, using the sink to push himself up.

Who needed dignity at 5 AM anyway.

Jonah glared at his reflection. He looked awful. He was so pale that his dark skin had assumed a grey tinge, lips all discolored. His eyes were sagging, despite having slept through the night.

"Jesus..." he cursed at the sight, then tried to move to grab his tooth brush, only to lose his balance and knock over the cup. The toothbrush and toothpaste fell inside the sink and he braced against the mirror, head hanging between his arms stretched out, trying to regain his footing.

There was no way he'd be out on the field in less than an hour, running from side to side. Jonah gave up on the toothbrush and walked back to bed, leaning heavily on the wall for support.

He struggled holding his phone to his face and gave up quickly, clicking on the little microphone instead of typing, "Leo, I didn't sleep well, I'm going to skip practice," he lied, instead of admitting feeling like hell, "see you later for lunch."

Then Jonah hit send and rolled on his side.

When he woke up again, he had already missed all of his first class and it was 9 AM. At least now the dizziness had receded to acceptable levels and while he was still feeling quite woozy, he managed to shower and brush his teeth, only cut himself once when shaving. Small wins.

He arrived 10 minutes late for his second period, but it was a boring lecture and Jonah spent most of it trying not to doze off, squinting at his phone. Leo had texted him back.

"What happened? Why didn't you sleep well?" followed by "do you want me to come over?" and ending in "Jon, I tried calling, I think you're asleep. Call.Me."

He grimaced at the worried tone, texting Leo back.

"I'm fine, I'm in class rn. Just woke up a little dizzy, that's all."

Leo's contact turned green immediately and then Jonah's phone started ringing. He rushed to mute it, the sudden movement causing the dizziness to return and he almost fell of his chair.

Once he regained focus, a bunch of students were staring at him. At least the teacher wasn't. He quickly grabbed his stuff, shoving it inside his bag, as he gave up on the class.

Out in the hallway, Jonah pressed his forehead to the cold wall, picking up the phone, "I literally said I'm in class, Leo."

"I don't care," he could hear his boyfriend eyerolling through the phone, "what happened this morning?"

"I missed practice, it's not that big of a de-"

"You weren't feeling well? Where are you? I'm in campus-"

"You're such a worrywart," Jonah huffed, smiling. He couldn't fight the warm and fuzzy feeling inside his chest, "really, I'm alright. I was just a little dizzy this morning."

"...Fine," Leo sighed, "we're still meeting up for lunch, right?"

"Right," Jonah agreed, although lunch was the last thing in his mind at the moment. He wasn't nauseous, but the fact that the world kept moving uneasily under his feet sure took away any appetite, "I have to go back to class, baby."

"Yeah, alright," Leo sounded a little distracted, "I'll meet you at the canteen, love you," and then he hung up, without waiting for an answer. Jonah huffed, people always thought Leo was a huge sweetheart, but he knew better.

"Love you too," Jonah grumbled to the dead line, lowering his hand, but didn't move away from the wall, trying to ground himself. He really wished he had stayed home.

He glanced at the long hallway ahead and braced himself for the walk to the library. It was close to the canteen and their library had a bunch of bean bags scattered around, so he could rest until lunch.

He just had to cross the med building and then half of the humanities one, where Leo was at the moment. Easy-

Jonah braced against the water fountain at the end of the hallway, breathing through his mouth. Ten steps and he was already feeling ten times worse. Shit shit shit.

He took a few gulps of water to try and get his brain to start working, then squinted at the bright light. The space between the two buildings was filled with trees and flowers, their campus was actually quite beautiful. Right now he just wanted to avoid walking straight into a tree.

As Jonah slowly made his way towards the next building, figuring people probably thought he was drunk, suddenly a pair of hands yanked at his shoulders, completely throwing him off balance.

"What the-"

"Sup, man," Vince's voice stopped him from punching who had grabbed him, "exactly who I was looking for."

Jonah pressed his eyes closed. Fuck, now he was nauseous. He felt like he was going to fall, "you were looking for me?"

"Yeah, uhm-" Vince rubbed his neck, looking all sheepish, "we have to talk."

"Now?" Jonah frowned at him, trying blindly to find something to support himself on, that wasn't Vince "can't it-"

"Wendy and I are dating," Vince blurted out, "and I know I don't have to ask for your permission or your blessing, but you're her best friend and one of my best friends too, besides we've known each other for years, and this feels like I'm dating your sister, so I figured-"

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Jonah groaned, ignoring Vince's ramble. The man before him pouted.

"Oh c'mon, I'm not that bad!" He whined, "I know I was a bit of a womanizer, but that was then-"

"No, Vin, I'm serious," Jonah gave up on trying to play it off, wrapping an arm around his stomach and reaching out with the other blindly. His hand met Vince's forearm and he squeezed firmly, trying to stop the world's sloshing around, "fuck..."

"...Jon?" Vince's voice sounded distant, fuzzy. He removed his hand from his arm and Jonah whined pitifully, trying to communicate he was going to topple over... Then Vince was holding him steadily by the shoulders, dragging him backwards.

"Vin, what- Vin, stop-"

He was pushed sitting down, head between his knees and Jonah struggled to breathe, gagging up the water he had just swallowed. He coughed, sucking in air greedily and squeezed Vince's shirt in his hand firmly.

"You're alright dude, get it up-"

"Not sick," Jonah groaned, trying to focus on his face and then failing when all he saw was trees. He closed his eyes again, "dizzy."

Vince had a large hand planted in the middle of his back, rubbing up and down, but at Jonah's words he stopped moving it. Jonah fixed on the sensation, trying to use it as an anchor point.

Slowly, very slowly, the world started to come back into focus, albeit the vertigo was still present. He breathed out, opening his eyes. Vince was looking at him, crouched down next to his knee, on his left side.

"Jon?"

"I'm okay," Jonah sighed, "it's calming down."

"Okay..." Vince squeezed his knee, "do you want to tell me what the fuck just happened?"

Jonah glared at him, "not really, no."

"Sucks, you don't have a choice," Vince poked his thigh again, "spill."

"I've just... I've been feeling dizzy lately, that's all. I woke up dizzy this morning, couldn't make it to practice-"

"Did you hit your head yesterday?" Vince frowned, standing up and immediately starting to comb through Jonah's hair. Jonah slapped his wrist away.

"I'm not concussed," he scoffed, "it's - Remember last month when I puked after the match in Minnesota? Side of the road?"

"Yeah...?" Vince squinted at him, "you were dizzy then too? I thought Leo had rubbed off on you and made you carsick."

"Carsickness is not contagious, idiot," Jonah huffed out a laughter, "yeah... I didn't think anything of it, but-"

"But it's happening again," Vince concluded, sounding worried, "well, good news is that we're literally right next to the hospital. Let's get you checked up."

"No," Jonah groaned, refusing to move when Vince thumped his shoulder, "I don't want to go to-"

"I wasn't asking," Vince's voice was all bright and friendly, "get up or I'll carry you."

Vince could and would carry him, Jonah knew first hand. He groaned, "fine, just... Give me a second."

"Sure," his friend sat back down next to him and it was only then that Jonah realized they were sitting on the fountain that separated the two buildings. He leaned forward, letting his head hang and continued to take slow, steadying breaths.

"Just so you know, you have my blessing with Wendy."

"I wasn't asking for your blessing," Vince whined and Jonah didn't have to look up to know his whole face was red. He chuckled.

"Sure you weren't," he smiled, leaning his weight slightly to the left. His shoulder met Vince's and the other man didn't pull back, only kept his hand centered in the middle of his back in a reassuring way.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Travel (3) Masterlist

part one, part two

7,500 Kilometers - demonphannie

Summary: 7,500 kilometers is a pretty large distance to bridge but Dan and Phil are trying. Or rather their cell phone connection is. It’s 2013 and Dan’s in India.

A Little Vitamin D (ao3) - Spring_Haze

Summary: Phil is surprised to find Dan in a rather inviting position on the outdoor patio of their beach villa on the coast of Australia. The couple enjoys semi-public sex in the sun.

A Piece Of You (ao3) - Spring_Haze

Summary: When Dan travels to the English countryside to participate in the BBC’s Writer’s Retreat, he and Phil do everything that they can to stay connected, despite the miles between them.

This fic is based on the BBC’s Writer’s Retreat that Dan attended in May 2019.

A Promise for Forever (ao3) - phandomghostwriter

Summary: Dan had been eying a Cartier love ring, almost purchasing it for himself multiple times. Phil finally decides to purchase the ring for him, but not without pulling in a few favors, and almost spoiling the surprise. He decides to finally give Dan the ring on Stadbrook Island in Australia.

baby, it's cold outside (ao3) - pasteldanhowells

Summary: Dan is traveling to his parent’s house for Christmas. There’s a blizzard expected to hit just as Dan’s leaving, but Dan doesn’t think anything of it, not until his car breaks down and he’s stranded. Kind stranger Phil steps in and offers to help Dan.

Bathroom Key (ao3) - LetterJumble

Summary: Dan and Phil are well into their great American leg of The Amazing Tour is Not on Fire! Except that they forgot traveling on a tour bus with other people means traveling on a tour bus with other people. All the time.

They also forgot that even the smallest of towns can hold fans.

coast to coast (ao3) - lilactreesinwinter

Summary: Dan is on tour and doesn't check his phone.

crashing on the highways of my dreams (ao3) - dizzy

Summary: Dan has a dream about Phil while on his tour bus.

Exhale (ao3) - TortiTabby

Summary: Sam the Surfer shows up for a fourth time in Brazil and Dan isn’t in the right head space to deal with it.

Flying - dxnhowell

Summary: Dan suffers from travel sickness when flying but he normally takes tablets for it so he doesn’t get it, on a flight to Playlist Dan forgets to take his tablets but lies to Phil about forgetting to take them, he starts to feel nauseous on the plane but denies it when Phil asks him if he is okay, Dan then does get really sick and Phil helps him through it and comforts him, can it end with fluffy cuddles and Dan falling asleep.

Gate 32 - xinyanhowell

Summary: Eleven hours. London to LAX. Dan is traveling to the city of angels for a business trip and as it happens, so is Phil.

Giving Everything We Have (ao3) - parentaladvisorybullshitcontent

Summary: "We have a bus," Phil says.

Dan grins at him.

"Nerd," He says, fondly.

In which they have a tour bus for the US leg of TATINOF and Dan has a space in his bunk with Phil's name on it

Glimpses of Portugal - adorkablephil

Summary: Imagined moments from Dan and Phil’s trip to Portugal together in 2010

Got It (ao3) - Spring_Haze

Summary: Dan surprises his partner with a little stress relief while traveling on tour.

long-distance lads (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: Dan worries that he’s going to miss Phil while on tour.

lovers, keep on the road you’re on (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: Japan is one of their favourite places in the world. And this holiday might just be the best two weeks Phil's ever had.

(A fic about their 2019 Japan trip.)

Soft Speak with a Mean Streak (ao3) - Nefertiti1052 (Succubusphan)

Summary: Phil was a lonely film student; Dan was a mysterious new classmate he got stuck in with for a big project. It was only a matter of time and the right circumstances.

Up In The Clouds (ao3) - Emptylester (timelordangel)

Summary: On the flight from Australia to Hong Kong, Dan gets a bit anxious. Luckily, Phil is there to help calm him down.

Venice: City Of Dreams (ao3) - expiredlove

Summary: Dan and Phil are on holiday in Venice, Italy, with two of their best friends. They discover the city with their unprofessional tour guide Phil and end their day with a romantic stop at the Accademia Bridge, which is known for its so called love locks.

When in Doubt Try New Things (ao3) - Nefertiti1052 (Succubusphan)

Summary: Phil has a simple request for Dan: “I want to try something new. I need to figure some stuff out, but it has to be on my own, so I’m asking you to go with the flow and react in whichever way feels natural but don’t ask me about it. I have no answers yet.”

[chrisevansdaughter]

This is just a random thing… I’ve seen you mention migraines often and I wanted to know more about that in a way

I know everybody is different but I’m willing to try anything! For future references. What usually helps with your migraines? Are they caused by anything particular that you know of? (If you are willing to share)

I get migraines every once in awhile not always bad enough to be considered what I describe below but sometimes a little more than your average headache (don’t know what they are from)

But regardless last night I had my worst one yet and it’s still somewhat there just not as bad as it was but still hard to ignore. I felt weak in a way, warm and clammy, a little nauseated, dizzy when I stood up, vision a little fuzzy, exhausted, confused, and every little thing was almost overstimulating me. I was only able to fall asleep after some excedrin and finally having to resort to laying on my cold tile bathroom floor in complete darkness and silence..

To make matters worse I’m pretty positive I have emetophobia so I was also trying so hard not to throw up bc that would have made everything so much worse for me and I was already crying bc I was in so much pain and scared bc I was nauseous

:/

Hey love, I hope you’re feeling better than you were. Don’t see this as random it’s absolutely fine to ask about this, even though it is different for everyone. Personally I have two main types of headaches which are tension headaches behind my eyes and at the base of my neck and migraines which usually go either both sides of my head the back of my eyes anyway really.

As for the cause of my migraines I have had multiple operations and other medical procedures in my life most of them were just after I was born due to having hydrocephalus when I was a baby after birth because there are 3 different types which are explained in the link, it’s basically in short excess spinal fluid on the brain. I had a procedure when I was about 3 weeks old to evacuate all of the excess fluid and got away with minimal complications, up until I was about 4 years old, I had experienced seizures some of which did land me in hospital but when I was 5 I was released from being under review from a neurologist and since then I’ve had no problems except from all these headaches that we’ve just put down to this, and I just call it a lasting effect from it but it’s better than what I could’ve been left with which I’m greatly appreciative of. I also had an eye surgery too on both of my eyes and that causes bad headaches behind the eyes and my really bad dry eyes too.

I personally leave the causes of my migraines and headaches down to those medical problems and procedures. Stress does affect them too for me if I get too stressed over a good amount of time I can be left with an excruciating migraine for a couple of days which is one of those you have to just wait out cocooned in bed, and that’s if my body wants to regulate it’s body temperature.

As for what works for me to relive them, it was hit and miss for a while. These products are all available in the uk so I don’t know if there is different varieties of these products in your country or not but this is what works for me for a tension headache.

I’ve found the versions of these products for the us if this helps :)

-> Pressure point message

-> Kool & soothe soft gel sheets for your forehead or neck

-> tension headache pain relief

-> migraine headache pain relief

-> any type of electrolyte replacement

Ice pops premixed electrolytes

Anti nausea medication is a lifesaver sometimes if you can get ahold of it though your pharmacist, i know i can get it over the counter without prescription but I don’t know how it works for anyone else outside the uk

Ice packs or hot packs you’ll find what works for you personally they both work for me depending on what type of headache it is.

Other than that if you can sleeping it off if your body will be kind enough to let you, but other than that’s about all that I can think of that helps me out when my body is against me :)

Lovey I hope you’re feeling better, I definitely know where your coming from with that description of your migraine so I’m sending all of my hugs and big loves your way and if you need or want to ask anything else please message 🫶🏻

[mrsmarlasinger]

(CW: anorexia/disordered eating, medication abuse, depression, death ideation)

I spent last week in Texas on vacation with my parents and sister (yeah, during the record-breaking heat wave). It was nice: eating twice a day, having dessert, eating out, trying pastries. Walking tons and wearing huge T-shirts and men's gym shorts every day, so I didn't have to feel too guilty.

Then I came home and was instantly convinced I'd gained an impossible amount of weight.

On top of that, I've recently realized that the coughing fits that have been getting progressively worse and steadily ruining my stupid life for the past 6+ weeks, finally culminating in me waking myself and my family up 4–5x per night to cough during our vacation...are an asthma flare-up, and one best treated by the five days of Prednisone my doctor prescribed me when I got really sick a few months ago.

(Which I never touched, because apparently, corticosteroids can cause weight gain through appetite increase and insulin suppression. Terrifying.)

Yesterday, after days of acute consternation, I finally succumbed and started the damn Prednisone. Like magic, almost immediately after my very first dose, my cough improved tenfold. Crazy how the medicine your doctor prescribes you actually works sometimes!

So.

The vacation. The steroid. The body dysmorphia.

Well, I've never once had trouble with my asthma until I got sick earlier this year, so I only use my rescue inhaler once in a blue moon. I've got years' worth of old albuterol lying around my room. Not like that shit expires and loses effectiveness after a year or anything.

Decided to kill three birds (the asthma, the albuterol surplus, and the so-called weight gain) with one stone. Decided to eat nothing for two days and abuse stimulants all the while.

Decided that if I did this, I could enjoy my family's annual Fourth of July BBQ (the first one my partner, posing as my "bestie" for my homophobic father, could attend!). I'd have fun and dress cute and talk to people and eat barbeque and desserts, and I wouldn't feel guilty at all, because I'd have budgeted for it.

Having been too scared to consume more than an anxious grazing session in the pantry on Sunday, I skipped food on Monday. Oh, god, I think I slammed at least half an old inhaler that day. Got so comically sick, so ridiculously dizzy and jittery, I started laughing at my trembling reflection in the bathroom mirror. Jesus, I don't puff this much albuterol in an entire year.

Despite the melatonin I took, my usual killer insomnia struck again last night (I'm sure the steroid and albuterol didn't help). I was up all night and only fell asleep long after the sun had risen, nauseous with exhaustion and aching with hunger.

Slept four hours. Woke up midday. Took my damn Prednisone.

Started tossing back albuterol and Benzedrex like there was no tomorrow. Slonked nearly half a gram of caffeine via zero-calorie drink drops.

All on an empty stomach, alone in my room.

Already I'd fasted more than the 48 hours planned. My heart rate skyrocketed from its usual 60–80 bpm to 125 bpm. I was fucking wired, jittery, anxious and nauseous and sweaty, shaking like an old lady's purse dog. My joints hurt. My dizzy head was pounding. A sort of awful feverish heat radiated from my poor quivery flesh.

It occurred to me that I felt exactly like I had that time I snorted [redacted]. Never thought my shitty, slapdash little stim stack could hit me this hard. I felt so sick I thought I'd puke or pass out or both.

All I could do was chant, "I'm going to die. I'm going to die" under my breath, then suck down another musty, powdery hit of expired albuterol.

But hey. I could see the weight I'd lost in those 48+ hours of hell.

What does it matter if I never came down for the party, never had a burger hot off the grill, never talked to anyone, just got progressively wired in my bedroom until my hand shook so bad I fucked up my lipstick?

Eventually my partner arrived and held my sweating, trembling wreck of a body, making nervous note of my tachycardia and hyperventilation as I repeated, over and over, "I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die."

When I felt a little better, we went to root through the leftovers, and I proceeded to low-/medium-restrict on a mini kids' Clif bar, three slices of watermelon, two spoonfuls of pasta salad, and, for some fucking reason, a glazed doughnut. Panicking all the while.

And yeah, sure, I ruined my day, but what's new? I'm ruining my pathetic excuse for an existence too. All in pursuit of, what, becoming more underweight than I already am? Destroying my body more than I already have?

For a spoiled, privileged, rich little white girl without a responsibility under the sun, my life sure feels like a goddamn living nightmare.

I'm so upset.

I'm so sad.

I'm so angry.

I'm angry at the world, because what the fuck did I do to deserve chronic anorexia? I of course believe that I'm a nasty little bitch who deserves the worst of all things, but god, even I don't deserve this. No one deserves this. Anorexia is cruel and unusual punishment for the crime of possessing a tangible form. I'm only 22, and I've dealt with this bullshit for, what, seven years now?

I'm so sad. I'm so sad. I'm so cripplingly, earth-shatteringly sad.

I fasted and slammed stimulants for more than two days so I could enjoy a once-a-year party with my family and our friends (the cringe of American nationalism notwithstanding), only to starve and panic and isolate myself anyway. Now I'm hungry and sick to my stomach, parachuting kratom like it'll fix things. Like eating toilet paper and fake opiates will nourish me. What was it all for? What the fuck is any of this for?

It's not worth it. None of this is worth it. I'm miserable, spiraling. I can't work. I can't function. I'm out of control. It's not my rock bottom by a long shot—hell, I haven't even gotten my lowest weight back—but it sure feels like it. This is hell.

I just want to eat. I want to eat. I want to eat. I want desperately to eat. Please, god, let me eat. If I can't eat, let this vile disease kill me already. I want to eat. I'm so unwell. I want to eat. I'm so, so sick. I want to eat. I want to eat.

Please.

Please.

God. God. God. God. God. God. God.

[gotham--fc]

Sneak Peak!

As promised, the sneak peak to the Hilary sequel is here! You can read the first part here if you haven’t already!

This is the first scene, it takes place almost immediately after the first part finished, let me know what you think, I hope to have the rest of the fic finished in a few weeks

Y/N’s not allowed to play at all. She’s not even allowed to be on the ice. Not that she wants to, she can barely sit up without getting dizzy. Hilary stayed with her the first night, dutifully waking her up every two hours, sitting on the bathroom floor with her while she threw up for 30 minutes straight, got Y/N water, or food, or pain meds, or anything she needed or wanted. Y/N’s not even sure Hilary slept at all.

 Y/N’s managed to convince the staff to let her stay with the team until the end of the tournament, although that might have to do with the entire training staff still being in Beijing and wanting to monitor her concussion first hand than with Y/N’s pleading. She stays in the same hotel, and when she feels up to it she joins the team for meals. She went to one practice, but the bus ride made her nauseous and the light hurt her eyes and she spent the entire practice in the bathroom with the lights off.

 Hilary had to go back with her team, and Y/N’s sad about it. She’s really sad about it. She missed Hilary so much and they finally got to a good place and then Hilary had to leave and Y/N can’t even call her because looking at her phone makes her head hurt. She can’t even do anything to distract herself. She’s hurt, she’s miserable, and she just wants to go home.

 There’s a knock at her door. She ignores it, she doesn’t feel like getting up, and whatever they want her for is something she doesn’t feel like doing anyway. Still the knocking continues. Y/N just barely restrains herself from hitting her pillow in frustration as she gets up. She opens the door, not even bothering to open her eyes.

 “What?”

 “I have to say, this isn’t the welcome I expected.”

 Y/N’s eyes shoot open.

 “Hilary!”

 Hilary laughs and wraps Y/N up in her arms when Y/N throws herself at her. “Hi baby,” Hilary says.

 They stumble into the room together, neither letting go, and they fall onto the bed and Hilary laughs until Y/N groans and presses her fingers to her temples.

 “I’m so sorry, are you okay?” Hilary says, “Can I get you anything?”

 “No,” Y/N takes a deep breath, “I’m good.”

 “I don’t mind getting you anything, water or painkillers, a damp cloth, anything, okay?”

 “What are you doing here?” Y/N asks, changing the subject.

 “We’re playing each other tomorrow, the gold medal game,” Hilary says, “We’re staying in the same hotel again finally.”

 “Gold medal game?” Y/N asks, “But you just played Russia? No,” Y/N shakes her head, “Switzerland, right?”

 Hilary’s smile is tight.

 “I’m wrong,” Y/N huffs in frustration, “I can’t even remember what fucking game happened last.”

 “It’s okay,” Hilary’s quick to reassure, “I know you haven’t been watching, it’s okay. You don’t need to remember the games, just the game tomorrow, that’s all.”

 Y/N doesn’t respond, she just rolls over so she can rest her head on Hilary’s shoulder. Hilary’s hand comes up and gently rubs the back of Y/N’s neck.

 “I used to do this to Kess when her concussion was bad, she said it helped a lot,” Hilary whispers, “But she might have been humouring me because I was floundering trying to find something I could do to help.”

 Y/N doesn’t know what comes over her, or why, but suddenly she’s crying hard into Hilary’s shoulder. Hilary freezes.

 “I’m so sorry, I’m stupid, I shouldn’t have brought Kess up at all,” Hilary starts shifting and Y/N whines when she’s forced to lift her head, “I wasn’t thinking. You’re probably still upset with her and I don’t blame you. Damn, use your brain Hilary.”

 “It’s not that,” Y/N says, “I don’t know, I’m just so tired and I missed you so much.”

 “I missed you too,” Hilary says, “I love you more than anything. I’m sorry you’re feeling gross, I wish I could help you more.”

 “Hold me?”

 “I’ll never let you go.”

[raphinaloveschaos]

Twins! (Jerome Valeska x Reader)

Request: "Hey! if the requests are open could you write a Jerome X reader where he finds out he has twins when he comes back to life? (and maybe short episodes of moments he spends time with them?) Thanks!!!!" - by Anonymous.

Pairing: Jerome x pregnant!Reader

Warnings: talks about major character's death (Jerome's), blood, psycho ginger using staples on his own skin, people going boom, threats, psycho ginger being a total sweetheart, fluff, pregnancy.

Jerome was alive again.

He woke up in the GCPD laboratory, had a little conversation with Dr. Lee Thompkins and got back his face from that Dwight guy (and of course made him go “boom!” on live TV for all of Gotham to see). Now Jerome’s face is being held by just some staples, which really hurts, but that would do until he arrives home.Y/N would definitely help him sew his face back together.

Oh yeah, Y/N! His girlfriend.

Jerome is not exactly the kinda guy who falls in love, but there’s just something about her that has got his attention. Honestly, he was excited to see her, he didn’t even know how much time he spent… well, dead.

On the way home, Jerome was actually very careful not to be chased by anyone. He spotted a car next to an alley and decided that it was his now. The air around him was filled with expectation, thinking that Y/N has probably already seen him on TV and knows that he’s alive. The house was not that far away, but enough to be a good hiding place. When he got close he could see some of it.

As soon as he stepped inside the house, he felt his head turn to the left and a burning pain on his right cheek that soon spread to all of his face, which was now almost falling again. “OUCH!” was the first thing that came out of his mouth as he looked back at her, frowning.

“Oh my god, I'm sorry!” Y/N’s voice came out thin through the hand on her mouth, as she seemed surprised at herself. Jerome found that really cute.

“It’s okay, darling! It felt good, actually.” He blinked while smirking. “But what was that for?”

“You left me!”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t my fault y’know.”

“I know… I just missed you, I thought I'd never see you again, Jerome.” Y/N confesses as she involves him in a much needed hug and rests her head on his chest.

“But I'm here now aren’t I? You’ll never get rid of me, sweetness.” He laughs as he returns the hug and leaves a kiss at the top of her head.

“Galavan is dead.” Y/N says and hears her boyfriend groan in annoyance.

“That piece of shit! Now I'll never get my revenge. How did it happen?”

“Oh it’s a long story, I'll tell you later.” She says as she breaks the hug and walks to the kitchen while holding Jerome’s hand. “Are you hungry?” He lets go of her hand and sits on the table, and watches her search through the fridge for something to eat.

“Yes, actually, but I need you to do something for me, sweetness.” He says and Y/N nods as she puts a frozen lasagna in the oven and goes in his direction. “I need you to stitch my face.” Jerome asks with a smile that quickly turns into a frown. "What 's wrong?”

Suddenly the blood on his face and the thought of having to clean it and stitch it made Y/n nauseous, making her feel the need to close her eyes and support herself on the table. That’s when she realized she hadn’t told him about the babies yet. Of course she had a growing belly, she was 24 weeks pregnant after all, but the oversized hoodie she was wearing didn’t allow Jerome to see it.

“It’s nothing, I just felt a little dizzy, that’s all.” Y/N recomposes and makes her way to the bathroom, leaving a confused Jerome behind. “Come on, let’s stitch you up.”

As Jerome sits on the toilet, Y/N gets the first aid kit on the bathroom counter, before going to him. When she looks at his face she starts feeling nauseous again. “Jerome, I don't think I can do this.”

“What do you mean? You always stitch me up when I get hurt. What’s going on?” He worryingly asks while looking at every detail of her face, trying to get a single expression that gives away what was happening.

“I’ll show you what’s going on, Jerome. But I need you to stay calm, please.” She hesitated when she saw his serious face, but after a few seconds she finally decided to take off the hoodie, showing her belly.

Jerome’s gasp was barely audible when it came out of his mouth, but it was enough to make Y/N feel a wave of nervousness. It only dissipated when Jerome started laughing and even if she didn’t know if it was a good or bad laugh, at least it was a reaction.

“I can’t believe it!” He says and looks at her. “We’re having a child?”

“Children, actually. It 's twins.” She says and looks at her belly, smiling. Jerome seems shocked that he’s having twins. His family’s genes aren’t a joke. “And they’re both boys.” Bingo!

"That 's…" He starts and Y/N looks back at him expectantly. “I don’t know! I’ve never thought about having children, but it certainly is an experience.” He laughs. “At least now I have someone to leave my legacy to.” Jerome jokes, hugging Y/N tightly while the both of them laugh. “I’ll never let anything bad ever happen to them, I promise.” He looks down at her face and laughs when she closes her eyes after looking at him for two seconds. Then he starts caressing her belly. “Our boys are safe.”

“Jerome, what’s this smell!?” Y/N asks and then jumps when she realizes. “THE LASAGNA IS BURNING!” She runs out of the bathroom, going to the kitchen (now full of smoke), getting the burnt lasagna out of the oven and putting it on the countertop. Jerome comes right behind laughing hysterically and Y/N sticks out her tongue at him and laughs too. “Well, I guess it’ll have to be pizza.”

***

The rest of the pregnancy was considerably chill. Jerome’s face had been stitched by a doctor he threatened and now it was already healed, the only different thing about it was the scars, but Y/N loved them.

Even if Jerome did involve himself in a lot of trouble, he would always come back home and be a total sweetheart towards Y/N and would spend a lot of time talking to the belly and trying to make the babies kick and when they did kick, he would always laugh. He would also arrive home with baby clothes and toys and Y/N didn’t even know where he got them.

***

The day the water broke was… emotional?

It was late night, they were watching TV, when Jerome was surprised by a sudden gasp from Y/N. “What is it?”

“Jerome, I think my water broke!” She announced and Jerome got on his feet rapidly getting Y/N’s purse and the babies’s bags. Then he quickly kneeled in front of her helping her with some breathing exercises she teached him. He then got up and decided to put all the stuff in the car before getting her in the car too. When he sat in the driver’s seat, he checked the glove compartment to see if his gun was there. That’s when Y/N realized he was going to enter the hospital with her. “What if they call the police?”

“They won’t, don’t worry. I’m gonna talk to them.” He laughs and holds her hand to kiss it. “Also, I just wanna make sure they will take good care of you and the boys.”

When they arrived at the hospital the receptionist screamed at the sight of Jerome and instantly grabbed the telephone, but froze when she heard the click of his gun.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! Now, you will help my wife, if you don’t, my followers will have a great party here today, so don't make me call them.” He said out loud so that everybody near them could hear, but the only thing Y/N paid attention to was when he called her his ‘wife’, and she couldn’t hold back the smile that spread on her face and got even bigger when he smiled back at her.

At the labor room Jerome only let go of Y/N’s hand to get the babies and give them to her before giving kisses to each one of them and whispering an ‘I love you!’ in her ear.

***

A few months later, Jerome had created an unbreakable bond with the boys. He would always help Y/N when they needed to change the diapers or she needed help to breastfeed them or make them sleep. He spent hours playing with them and it always warmed Y/N’s heart how he got distracted playing with the toys.

Jerome also liked to remind her of how ginger the babies were, and how much they looked like him because of it.

The house was always full with laughs, from Jerome and the babies.

THE END

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hey, anonymous! Hope you liked it. Thank you for the request!!

[clefairymuke]

oiiii i have a request for a oneshot or maybe something fun to add to your regrets fic (whatever you find better) I think it would be funny a reader x the scouts drunk and levi finding them and being all cute taking care of reader :3

thank you for this request!! sorry for how long it took, but it managed to pull me out of some writers block that’s been kicking my ass lately. thank you for suggesting it and reading!

as always, much love! <3

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

Red Wine | Levi x Reader

pairing: levi x reader

themes: fluff

tw: swearing, alcohol use

word count: 2511

True fun and relaxation is not something you typically experience.

Of course, when you signed up for this whole Scout Regiment thing, you weren’t expecting nights out in bars and plush queen-sized beds with wool blankets. You expected exactly what you got: exhausting days and mostly sleepless nights, demanding grief and waking nightmares. One thing you hadn’t expected, however, was how stale it would get. These thoughts are why you ended up where you are now: propped lazily against a wall surrounded by your friends, loud laughs bubbling freely from your ever-smiling mouth, and a bottle of wine in hand.

While the “why” is clear to you, the “how” is a bit more cloudy. Around the complete euphoria in your head stands a thick fog blocking your memory — that, or the fact that your drunkenly dwindling attention span can no longer support a thought lasting more than a second or two. All you know is that you’re here now, and you’re having the time of your life. Your eyes and ears skirt past Eren and Jean arguing without stopping to listen in as you pass the bottle to Mikasa.

For once, you aren’t thinking about how Levi could make this experience better. Although you love being in the company of your boyfriend, you can’t help but imagine his disdain if he were to witness your situation. You can almost feel the ferocity of his razor sharp-glare creeping up your spine as you picture it within your mind.

You lay your head back on the concrete wall that keeps you upright and close your eyes. Although you had shown to be quite social when the bottle first began to be passed, you now wanted nothing more than to take a nice nap — or to go vomit just to ease yourself of the queasy feeling that was overtaking your stomach. Either would suffice. You listen to your friends chatting mindlessly around you, their care to be inconspicuous slipping away with the wine. You watch Connie drain what was left in the bottle, leaving you to curse at the fact that you would be stuck in the uncomfortable kind of drunk that left you a bit nauseous while still conscious enough to be prone to anxiety.

You sit there in a dizzy oblivion for what could have been five minutes or fifty, tuning out the antics of the rest of the people in the room as they laugh and roughhouse. Your stomach stirs and turns, but your mind begins to clear: you notice Connie and Sasha choreographing a dance routine to music only they could hear; Mikasa and Armin sit quietly chatting behind Eren as he and Jean argue over who is more adept at fighting; Ymir and Christa are making googly eyes at each other over their giggles.

“Hey, guys?” you say, your brain lagging behind your mouth by at least a few seconds. “I’m probably about to throw up.” You quickly discover that you’re right, as your gut begins to bubble and your mouth begins to water.

“Oh, fuck,” Connie mumbles as he looks around the room desperately. Sasha looks disappointed as he stops dancing and approaches where you sit against the wall, gripping your wrists in his hands and helping you to your feet; with both of you being drunk enough to show it, stumbles are surely present. Time skips, and you’re kneeled in front of the toilet, Connie leaving to give you privacy — you’re decidedly much drunker than you thought you were.

Just as you start to vomit, you hear Eren defeatedly say, “Oh, fuck me.” That can’t be good.

The space goes silent save your groans. The most imaginative depths of your brain think that perhaps a titan is looking in the window, waiting to bring you all to your doom. How convenient for half of the newest scout recruits to be intoxicated and defenseless. When you hear Levi’s voice say, “Stupid fucking brats. Where is she?” you wish it were a titan instead.

A chorus of voices answer, “Bathroom.” What a bunch of fucking sellouts, you think to yourself. Your heartbeat begins to pound in your throat again as you hear his footsteps grow near; when he taps at the door a few times, you let it all out — out of fear or simple drunkenness you are unsure. “God damn it,” you hear him mumble before the door handle turns and his hands find your hair, pulling it back into a makeshift ponytail.

He rubs your back in a manner you can only describe as passive-aggressive. You can tell he wants to scold you — and you’re definitely in for it once you get to feeling better — but you can also tell that he wants to care for you. That’s why you try to pretend not to hear his curses as he lectures you on responsibility.

“Why the hell are you drinking with these idiots? I wouldn’t be mad if it was a glass or two, but there are three empty bottles on the floor in there. Three. No wonder you’re puking your fucking guts up,” he mutters, voice low enough for only you to hear despite his angry tone.

You feel your eyes watering as your stomach settles for another brief moment. “Levi,” you say, your breathing labored, “now is not the time.” You hear him scoff before you begin to dry heave, his hand moving a bit more caring across your back as he holds onto your hair. Your gut starts to feel a bit better as your brain realizes there’s nothing left. He places his hands under your arms and lifts you gently to your feet before flushing the toilet. You stumble awkwardly to his lead as he escorts you to the sink.

He reaches around you to turn on the water, which is cold to the touch as he holds your hand beneath it. “Clean your mouth out,” he says, nudging his hand around yours until you form a cup. “It’s disgusting.” You oblige him, lifting it to your lips. You feel it drip down your chin as you swish it around between your teeth, looking up in the mirror to see your blushing cheeks and droopy eyes. Levi stands behind you, dressed in no more than a grey t-shirt and some comfortable-looking pants. His hair is neat and combed, which doesn’t quite match the rest of his attire, but you aren’t complaining. He looks as ethereal as always. After you spit, he grabs your shoulder and spins you around to face him.

“You okay?” he asks, brushing the tears that had formed on your face away with his thumbs. You shake your head at him, your eyes trailing down to the ground. Here comes the scolding.

He sweeps you off your feet, to your surprise, holding you bridal-style as he carries you out of the bathroom. You lay your head against his shoulder, seeing the walls of the room and the faces of your friends go blurrily by as he strides to the door; they all look terrified.

“Laps,” you hear Levi announce to your friends, his voice icy. “At dawn. I don’t give a shit if you’re hungover.”

A chorus of groans is the soundtrack for your exit as the door slams shut. The walk back to Levi’s suite is spotty at best; you’re unsure of exactly how long it’s taking. The scenery around you feels more dreamlike than anything — you find yourself hoping that you’re still propped against the wall with your friends, sleeping soundly and dreaming of Levi catching you red-handed. When time jumps and he’s laying you down on his couch, you’re pretty sure you’re awake.

You hear rustling around as you lay there, still half waiting for a scolding. He rejoins you rather quickly, setting some things down on the side table and gently lifting your head. He sits, letting you back down slowly to lay in his lap. “I brought you bread,” he says, taking it from the table and placing it in your hands. “It’ll soak up the alcohol. There’s water over here when you need it.” You inspect the bread lazily before nibbling on it. The very idea of chewing something and swallowing it is enough to make you nauseous, but you trust his judgement.

You feel his hand fall atop your forehead and his fingers draw circles in your hair. You don’t fight the grin threatening your lips. “Are you okay, my love?” he asks, his voice soft. This is the tenderness you had fallen in love with many months ago; the one thing your friends are blind to. He carries himself with such coldness for the public — he is rude, and blunt, and insufferable, and unobtainable. With you, however, he could be kind. He could be loving. The speed with which his gentle voice melts your heart never lessens. This is Levi at his most vulnerable.

“I’m just drunk,” you tell him, your words slurring into each other. “I’m not dying.”

You hear a chuckle barely pass over his lips like a spring breeze, the sparkle in his eyes reminiscent of the way the sun reflects off the surface of a pond. The peaceful nature of your position is a worthy opponent to how your insides wage war on one another: nausea, dizziness, and the beginnings of what will become an absolutely splitting headache all contained within one disoriented body. “I would’ve gone with you, you know,” he says suddenly after a serene moment of silence. “I would’ve known when you needed to stop drinking.” He combs his fingers against your cheek, silvery eyes softening into pools of undeniable adoration.

“You would’ve been a complete buzzkill,” you reply, half joking as you close your eyes and enjoy the rare affection.

You hear a cross between a scoff and a laugh come from above you. “Keeping those brats from getting you so wasted that you start puking isn’t being a buzzkill. It’s called taking care of you.”

“I think I’m not drunk enough,” you say honestly. “We ran out of wine right at that stage where you could go to sleep or start throwing up, but there’s absolutely no chance of having a good time.”

He taps the top of your head with two fingers, prompting you to let him up. You oblige him, using the opportunity to lay down your bread and take a sip from the glass of water that rests on the side table. You watch as he saunters back toward the kitchen, wondering what he was doing somewhat, but mostly just trying to get a grip on your senses. You sit up as you wait on his return, laying your head back against the plush upholstery and taking deep breaths.

He’s back as quickly as he left, both hands behind his back in a feeble attempt to hide the wine glasses as their stems poked around to your view. You feel a smile creep onto your face as he unveils his master plan: a bottle of red wine and a glass for each of you. “Don’t expect this often,” he announces as he sets it all on the table, pulling a wine key from his pocket. He joins you on the couch, scooting in close so that your knees brush before you hear the satisfying pop of the cork and the relaxing swish of liquid on glass.

“You’re expecting me to believe that Captain Levi is offering to get drunk with me?” you giggle, almost nervous to reach for the wine in front of you. He laughs off your comment, reaching in front of him and lifting the glass to his lips; he takes only a sip before looking at you in expectation. You take yours as well, holding it up to his jokingly before you both bring them to your mouths.

After your first gulp, time begins to melt away. A movie-esque montage begins in front of your eyes: the sight of the man you love, once so stoic and so stiff, loosening and laughing the night away at your side; the feeling of typically isolated and scarce hands trailing carelessly along the length of your arms, warm against the sensitive skin of your wrists and your thighs; the smell of red wine spilled innocently on hardwood and upholstery without complaints or uprooting to clean it; the sound of his velvet and brass voice with his uncensored expressions of love, whispered and melodic; the taste of mint and jasmine tea on his unusually wandering lips.

What might be thirty minutes or three hours passes in a flash, leaving you sprawled across the couch with the drunken mess that is your typically reserved lover, legs utterly entangled so that you were unsure where you ended and he began. He’s whispering to you — that much you know — but his words are slurred, and you’re unbelievably distracted by the feeling of wet kisses being peppered along your jaw and ear. He grasps at your back, massaging and caressing and leaving no inch uncovered by his calloused hands as his touch reminds you why you breathe and laugh and plainly exist.

“Levi,” you whisper, your mind a tangled ball of twine save for the feeling of his breath on your cheek.

He hums in response, not bothering to look up at you. You can feel his grin against your jaw.

“We should get to bed, love.”

You’d be left to wonder how the two of you made it into the next room when morning came; rest assured there would be a trail from the couch to the bedroom door made from clumsily knocked-over knick knacks and your discarded clothes from the day to clue you in. If you were sober, you’d care enough about Levi’s wrath tomorrow to clean up behind the two of you; however, you aren’t sober, and you don’t care enough.

The two of you fall into the bed you share, intertwining your limbs like the threads of a tapestry, laying out plainly and beautifully the comfort you find in him. Your head finds his chest and his hands find your lower back, pulling you flush against him as his eyelids begin their threats to close before he is quite ready. He murmurs out your name, his hold on you growing more snug when it passes his lips. “I love you, s—” he falters, nuzzling his face in the top of your head. “So much.”

It’s short — and a pretty common thing for someone to say to the person they love — but it means everything coming from him. “I love you, Levi,” you tell him, praying to whatever is up there that you’ll remember this in the morning.

Soon, the two of you stop stirring and whispering. As you breathe him in, you try to hear his words in your mind as many times as you can before you slip out of consciousness. You begin to drift off to sleep, peaceful and content in his arms as you’ve ever been.

[clemjolichose]

Blowing Brains

Summary: What happens when Thomas hits his lowest point and only has “enemies” to pick him up?

Characters: C!Thomas, Janus, Remus, Patton, Logan

TW: gore, eating disorder (binge eating), body horror, death, decapitation (not real), violence, terrorism (mentioned)

This story is for the Thomas Sanders Big Bang 2022 ( @sandersidesbigbang )!

Thank you to my amazing boyfriend @kaythegay2022 who I met through this event and who became my beta reader, I love you so so much and I am so happy to have shared this experience with you!!

Thanks to my two artists for their art: @talking4the1 (here) and @lemme-overthink-this

The living room was quite identical to how Thomas left it last night, when he ate his last snack and drank his last glass of water before heading to bed. Actually, he didn’t remember anything of how his living room was supposed to look like, at least not in detail. The furniture was there, it was good enough for him. He crossed the living room to get to the kitchen with a yawn, stretching his back as he went. He then opened the fridge to get some milk and only spotted the letter stuck under a magnet when he closed the door. Startled, he needed a moment before being able to make out what it was saying… Oh, it was a shopping list. He didn’t remember putting that there, especially considering he never put anything there, but he brushed it off and carried on with his breakfast. He sat down at his dining table to eat his oatmeal with the milk he took from the fridge, but grimaced half way through. It tasted weird, like the milk had gone bad, so he decided to throw it out before finishing – he didn’t want to end up sick because of that. Disgusted, he didn’t dare to try eating something else and decided to go brush his teeth instead, to get rid of the taste. He took the stairs but almost fell midway as his hand slipped on the ramp because of a shirt that laid there. He sighed heavily.

“I really should clean, uh, he told himself.”

Yes, you really should, we even made a schedule, answered Logan’s voice in his mind, dryly.

“Sorry Teach, I’ll get some done today, I promise, he said out loud once again. Starting with… this.”

He took the shirt and got some other clothes laying on the stairs before reaching the top floor. He put the filthy clothes in the laundry basket, which was weirdly empty, and then went into the bathroom. He took his toothbrush but was taken aback when he saw how it looked used. Some of the bristles were gone and the ones remaining weren’t as straight as their first days anymore.

“Fuck, he swore. Looks like I should change it.”

He threw it away and took a new one before brushing his teeth… but the taste was still there. Just to be sure, he brushed his teeth a second time. It was still there, growing in the back of his throat, making him nauseous. He swore again and stepped outside the bathroom to get dressed, hoping the feeling would go away.

It didn’t. The taste in Thomas’s throat stayed there and even grew stronger, to the point he was on the verge of vomiting. When it was time for lunch, he didn’t want to eat. He tried eating something sweet, something sour, something salty, drinking some soda, washing his mouth with mouthwash… Nothing worked. He tried to carry on with his day, but it didn’t work as planned. In the middle of the afternoon, he had to run back to the bathroom, not even noticing the person in the mirror, and threw up in his toilets, kneeling in front of it. It took some time, but he was eventually able to look up and around him, only to get startled by Remus looking at him from the mirror.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! he screamed as his fight-or-flight reflexes kicked in.”

He felt particularly vulnerable there, having just puked up and feeling like trash.

“What if you drink what’s in the toilets right now? Just to know the taste!

-Shut up, I don’t wanna deal with you, Thomas uttered, standing up fast enough to make himself dizzy.”

He put a hand on his forehead, eyes closed, disoriented, as Remus was cackling behind him – wasn’t he in front of him, in the mirror?

When Thomas opened his eyes again, feeling better, Remus wasn’t there anymore. He sighed and went into his bedroom, wondering if those pills on his nightstand were there before. Something buzzed in his ear while he examined them, like a voice trying to talk through a detuned radio. He couldn’t make out what the pills were since the name had been removed, so he just left them there, making a mental note to ask his friends about it. He went to his closet and picked up some new clothes, because he felt dirty and needed a shower – after cleaning his toilets of course. He came back to the bathroom, cleaned the toilets, then let the water flow in the shower, slowly heating up. When a whirling smoke came out of it, he tested the temperature and adjusted it until it was perfect. Then he undressed and jumped in, sighing in relief. It felt like dirt was coming off his skin, leaving it smooth and pure like he wanted. He started humming a soft tune to fill the silence of his own home, as the water wasn’t enough. He should have put on some music but it was too late, so he gave in to the songs stuck in his head, spending more time than needed under the hot water.

An hour later, Thomas was doing his laundry, congratulating himself for the efforts he was making while a catchy tune played from his phone. He was dancing to it and sang the few lyrics he knew, trying to forget about his food poisoning and Remus’ unsettling appearance. Since he was distracted, he missed the basket changing place, he missed the crash in the living room and he thought the ghostly voice he heard was from the song. He willingly ignored his surroundings trying to get his chores done while enjoying his time. But it didn’t last long – it never did.

It started with Janus’s laugh in the back of his mind, that he ignored since he wasn’t doing anything that would have triggered him: he wasn’t lying, he wasn’t deceiving anybody, not even himself! So he played it off as an ominous attempt to trigger his anxiety and, as Logan had instructed him before, he distracted himself from it, putting the song louder until it became more than a background noise. He wanted it to fill his head and to muzzle his thoughts, so he could let his brain in autopilot mode doing the chores around the house. He got his laundry and the dishes done, before he decided to take out the trash.

When he opened the door, he stopped in place, the trash bag in his hand. In front of him wasn’t his street, but a dimmed hallway with red walls and dark ceiling and floor. He rubbed his eyes in hope that Remus’s intrusive thoughts would go away, but it didn’t. He tried stepping out, but it stayed.

“What the fuck? he muttered as he leaned, trying to see farther than the illusion.”

Janus laughed again behind Thomas. When he turned around to face him, his house was gone. Everything was gone. All was pitch-black and Janus’s cackles echoed in the emptiness. Thomas’s heart started pumping faster and he could feel it in his temples. He froze entirely as Logan’s voice reprimanded him:

“Why are you procrastinating the chores again Thomas?

-I’m not, it’s Janus who-

-Oh, you’re so naïve, the aforementioned Side said, revealing himself under Logan’s traits.”

He emerged at the poor man’s side and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you ready for a ride? Janus asked with a smirk.”

He was looking down at Thomas like a hunter looking down at his prey just as he was about to break his neck. If he just reached out to the pale skin under the chin, he could make his head pop off his body like it was nothing. Thomas only realised how big his own Side was when he tried to back off. Actually, Janus’s size was changing right in front of him, growing to the size of a giant. Janus sat down in front of a panicked Thomas who was trying to find a way out, frantically looking around. When he looked back at Janus, he was horrified. The Side managed to grow so much that Thomas was now the size of his pinkie finger. He fell down looking at the giant reptilian head, crawling away as fast as he could. But the faster he went, the stronger he was held down in place.

“Thomas, Thomas, Thomas… It’s a shame you can’t learn your lesson, Janus smiled.”

His voice was so low, deep and loud, it hurt Thomas deep in his mind and body. He screamed in pain as the buzzing came back to his ears, putting him in a trance. He was shaking so much his bones were cracking, but he couldn’t do anything else than listen to the buzz and Janus’s wandering voice. He didn’t even see him partly disappear or be replaced by other images: dead bodies, tentacles, long skinny arms with blood on it, tentacles again grasping at his body, his other Sides looking down at him in anger… His neck cracked again, twisting in unnatural ways he wasn’t even aware were possible – maybe it was because any human would die if their neck reached this angle. His spine slowly slid off his body as his head started rolling. The buzzing sounds faded slowly to become a mild nuisance, a faint sound in the distance, but the voice in the detuned radio came back and it sounded just like Remus.

“When I say all those dirty things, Thomas, you know I mean them. I am not a snake lying to you, I am just the voice of all those desires you keep deep down, and lately I’ve found one… endearing. Say, Thomas, why don’t you want to face it?

-You’re just a coward, answered Janus, still smiling and still so big it made Thomas’s head hurt.

-Ding, ding, ding! We have a good answer from Janus. Wow, I’m impressed that you don’t even know yourself, after all these years of figuring it out. Shouldn’t you have it settled by now?

-Stop it! Stop… talking… please.”

The voice he used wasn’t his. It was some beastly cry, some savage hound with teeth and drool and it was nasty. His distress couldn’t be described as he was hyperventilating, still shaking. He could see his body from where his head was and that only scared him more. There was no blood, weirdly enough, but he screamed upon seeing his organs leaking from the hole his neck left when it broke off. A boot stomped on his head, holding it firmly in place but not quite crushing it – yet. The figure leaned in and Thomas was forced to look up at him – not willingly though. Gloved hands coming from the ground were holding his eyelids and poking at his eyeballs to make him stare at his Forbidden Creativity while he spoke:

“Your cries won’t make it stop, baby. We’re gonna blow your brain good, just you wait.”

Cackling loudly as the hands disappeared, Remus shot in the head with his foot, making it fall an endless number of times. Thomas screamed again, filled with sheer terror, as he saw again and again Janus in his giant self and Remus with tentacles growing on his body in the grossest way. It looked like swelling wounds bursting into blood and pus leaking around. In fact, he seemed covered in acid, his flesh quickly rotting away, replaced by tentacles covered in corals and clam shells. And since Remus had his face, it was even more unsettling to see the Side’s eyes falling out of his eye sockets as they dissolved. Thomas’s head was still falling, but the surroundings got progressively brighter. He saw the long snake of his own spine spontaneously growing flesh back. It looked like skinned meat and would have made Thomas puke if he were able to. The light coming from all around him became so bright he had to squint and close his eyes, wanting to protect them with his hands but he didn’t have them anymore. He screamed, a screech so loud he doubted it came from his throat, until the brightness adjusted so that he could see. The landscape had changed. The ground was white and there was a sky far in the distance. He looked like he was in some sort of fortress made of marble, with lots of stairs and rooms and hallways and archways that he tried to make sense of without succeeding. A ticking noise echoed in the place and his mind and he heard his Sides laugh - all of them, at the same time, and it was terrifying how unnatural their voices sounded.

“Roman? Thomas called. Virgil! Help me, please, I can’t control them…”

Thomas held his arms around his stomach, choking on his tears, feeling his entrails cramp up like they were about to both boil and bleed open. He fell to his knees in front of a wall, a white wall so white it hurt his eyes, on which an orange tree was slowly growing, creeping up along the smooth surface, so smooth it felt like touching air under Thomas’s fingers. The leaves were large and green and one of them circled his wrist to hold him in place. When he looked up, Janus was there, sitting on the edge of the wall in clothes he had never seen him wear: he still had his signature hats and gloves, but his pants were covered in black and white squares that seemed to be moving, he had a yellow turtleneck and a large metal belt from the hips to the waist covered in locks. The tree was still growing beneath him and, when it reached the top of the wall, he took an orange and bit through the skin. His fangs sunk into the fruit and an unusual bright orange liquid fell from his mouth, dripping onto the white wall like blood.

“You can’t control what you have to see, what you have to do.

-Like how the original sin was intended by God in order to pursue his big-ass scheme, said Remus from who-knows-where, your mind wanted you to realise a few things about yourself.”

Looking around, Thomas couldn’t see his Forbidden Creativity until he spotted him in the orange tree, covered by the leaves like a chameleon.

“It’s been time, Thomas, we were waiting for this, we were thrilled to know you’ll come here soon! the Duke excitedly screamed. Tic, tac, tic, tac, you’re running out of time…”

He waved a finger to the rhythm of a ticking clock.

“What?? What do you mean here?! Thomas asked angrily, panicking.”

Janus jumped off the wall to land right in front of Thomas, meanwhile Remus was climbing like a gecko to stand at the top, putting his hands on his hips with a proud smile when he succeeded.

“I built this place, Thomas, Janus explained. I built it to keep all the secrets you keep from yourself, all the thoughts you never want to face, I store them in this labyrinth carefully planned to make you mad…

-Isn’t it so fun?? Remus cut him off.”

Janus glanced at him with annoyance but only sighed before resuming:

“Here, you can have access to all of your secrets. You only need to find the key.”

He waved at the belt.

“Welcome to the Garden of Eden, Thomas, pure and full of sins.”

He walked backwards and sunk into the wall. Remus laughed and hung at the orange tree’s branches while it was disappearing, shrinking faster than it grew.

Thomas was now alone. In the giant world of his own mind, he was feeling so lonely and disoriented he wanted to cry or shout or both. There was something, deep inside of him, that was scratching the walls to get free. All around him, the structure waas blending with itself, making it impossible to make out a single path from the exterior. When he turned around, Thomas saw stairs going down. He took them and was now in front of a crossroad. In front of him, there seemed to be a closed doorway, blocked by a wall while the archway could still be seen in relief. He stepped closer and put his hand on the wall. It was incredibly smooth, so smooth it felt like he could sink in just like Janus did a minute ago, but when he pushed, it was still hard. To his left, a hallway. To his right, stairs climbing up to another hallway. It was a true labyrinth and he felt the thing moving when he wasn’t looking. He was certain of it despite having no evidence of it. It was an idea stuck in his brain, making him conscious of how his moves might affect his path. He had to be careful, and each choice might cost him his sanity. Oh, what sanity, really? When trapped in your own mind, when subject to such torture, what is left of your integrity? How can you live after seeing what Thomas saw? It was like a dream, but felt so real it hurt his mind thinking about it. He screamed and shrieked without even feeling the air escape his lungs and vibrate in his throat, like his body wasn’t his body, like he was a discarnate being punching the walls to get free. When he saw blood on the pure white wall, he stopped and thought: “Why am I doing this?”But really there wasn’t anything else to do. He didn’t want to follow the rules of a rigged game, a party meant to humiliate him… But the blood was there, his own blood, dripping, staining the pure white wall… He looked down at his hands and saw the bruised knuckles bleeding.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he swore. Listen up you snake! Listen real closely ‘cause I won’t say it twice, I’m tired of your bullshit, of everything! You and the Duke can go fuck yourselves elsewhere and leave my mind forever ‘cause I have no use for you now!”

He was shouting so loudly his voice broke and he coughed after. He coughed so much blood spattered the walls once more. When he wiped his mouth, he had even more blood on his hands. His own blood, staining the walls, staining his pale clean skin, staining the perfection within him, and he was the one spitting it. He fell on his knees and wept.

A long time he spent there sobbing, each cry echoing in this vast empty place, and no one answered him. The silence around him started to become a high piercing continuous noise, ringing in his left ear. Strangely enough, that made him stop. He stood up and glanced over at the hallway on his left. The walls were no longer white, each one of them were stained in blood. He winced and walked slowly, cautiously, among the silence. He couldn’t even hear his steps since the noise was so loud, or maybe the place was swallowing the sound of his feet on the bleeding ground.

He arrived at the threshold of a room where a mahogany table had been placed, paired with two antique chairs. He stepped closer and looked through the windows: they were opening in the wall in an oblong shape, stretching from his knees to half a metre above his head. There was nothing behind but a white void.

“Take a seat, Thomas, said a voice behind him.”

He was startled but didn’t say anything. Turning around, he saw Remus sitting on one of the chairs, so he naturally sat on the other one. The Duke smiled and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and cupping his own cheeks.

“What brings you in here today? ha asked in a nice tone, as if he was cradling him - and everyone knew Remus wasn’t one to trust with that.”

Thomas could only utter a confused noise. His throat felt so dry after shouting and crying and coughing blood. He grimaced and rubbed the soft skin under his chin. A glass of water immediately appeared in front of him, forcing him to look down at the table. The cup was the only thing in his field of vision, he couldn’t even see Remus. Slowly, he took the glass and emptied it in one big gulp. When he felt satisfied, he put down the glass, but then he realised the room had changed. The chairs and the table were still the same but the walls were now darker, grey and granular. What was the most disconcerting was the outside: the white void had been replaced by a small courtyard full of dead trees and pines and ground-ivy. The sky was now a dark grey, full of clouds covering the weak moonlight. Remus was still in front of him.

“I am really glad that you are here, Thomas, really. You can trust me, I’m your most honest side…”

He moved around dramatically while speaking, which made Thomas suspicious. He was always suspicious around the Duke after all.

“It has been very lonely here, I was the only one willing to spend time with your dear memories of some endeared being… he complained, looking rather sad.

-What? No, it’s Patton who is responsible for my memories… Thomas answered, confused.”

Remus bursted out in laughter like his weird usual self. When he calmed down and he saw Thomas on the verge of quitting the room, he explained:

“Where do you think those traumatic memories end up when Patton, your dear Patty-cake or whatever, toss them? Do you think he is strong enough to bear them and cherish them like your fond memories? HA! Let me laugh. No, he abandons them and I am the one to collect them. I stored them here, there’s a graveyard of all your loved ones next to these halls.”

Thomas froze, suddenly very uncomfortable, sadness creeping up. His eyes became wet, shining in reflection of the light of the sole candle that had appeared on the table, though he didn’t know when. He had trouble breathing, it felt like a hand was grasping at his lungs and pressing them in his chest, emptying them of all his air that he tried so hard to keep in. A lump in his throat was the final touch to Remus’s effect on Virgil and Patton, in a reassuring way. Since the beginning of all of this fucked up show, Thomas felt alone. Remembering Logan’s words, recognising his other Sides reaction, it was his saving grace. Acknowledging that made Remus smile.

“I see you’re finally in the state of mind I want you to be. What is the point in clean, sanitised violence? What good is in death when no feelings are involved?”

He leant over the table, closer to Thomas, his head on his hand, his elbow on the table.

“None, I know, he sighed. Are you still human if death doesn’t make you shiver? But then, why shove those feelings away?  T-t-t-t-t, that is very unhealthy Thomas. I know poor Patton wanted to protect you, but really, you should dump this weak-ass coward and face all this up for once. Let him be sad! Don’t think Adam and Eve had to mourn their eternal life? And their son sacrificed to the sins of humanity? Don’t you think Mary deserves to mourn on the body of her son after he was crucified? You now have the opportunity to free her from her Seven Sorrows. Come on Thomas, wouldn’t it be fun, mourning with me?”

Thomas shook his head. He couldn’t talk, but his body language answered for him, he didn’t want to be subjected to that.

“Too late, I hear someone’s knocking on the door!”

Remus cackled and got up, walking in the long halls until a door out of Thomas’s sight creaked open. His tears were falling on his face, covering his cheeks and running along his throat. He shivered, tried to stand up, but the ghosts were already there, filling the room so quickly it made the poor man’s head spin. He was already standing and reached for the chair to not fall over. He sat back and cried out loud while the ghosts were holding him so tenderly. He recognised the touch more than the faces, since he couldn’t look at them. It was above his will… But their embrace was so heartbreaking, he longed for a hug from the ones he lost, and all barriers were broken in an instant. He cried even more, his head spinning, aching, all of his body covered in the hands of the people that once held the boy he had been, but isn't anymore. He was now a man those people never got to know. He wanted to tell them so many things about his life, about how he lived now, how happy he was to live his true self and experiencing it with them by his side. He covered his face in shame, because he once tried to forget them believing it was mourning. He never mourned them in the end, he never got to accept the idea of death, because Patton would shut down those feelings every time he tried to study them, to break them down, and he ended up breaking down now… He couldn’t breath, stuck in a constant state of life and death himself, because his sadness truly felt like dying. How much pressure could his chest support? He was crying and crying and never once breathed, because there were too many things and he was so, so overwhelmed… Death had its grip on him through the hands of those ghosts… Suddenly, an alarm rang inside his head, telling him to get out as soon as he could. He jerked his body to stand up, without seeing anything, his eyes were so full of tears everything was blurry. He tried to walk, he tried so hard to reach the door, but his brain shutted down before he could even make a step forward and he fell into an endless void.

Truth is, Thomas was sitting back on his chair. All the noises that filled his ears to the point of shutting down were gone, but he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes just yet. He was afraid he would see them again, which was weird after so many years of yearning… A gentle voice spoke from the other side of the room:

“I am sorry for Remus’s lack of manners. As he said, he is the most honest, but he also is the least considerate.”

It was Janus. Thomas recognised the soft tone he used in emergencies and that calmed him, weirdly enough. He slowly opened his eyes only to panic again at the sight: Janus was sitting in front of him, at the other end of a long table covered in food. They were floating inside a refined dining room, a mix of 19th century and modern styles. Marble covered in grey lines like lightning replaced the sorrow of Remus’s Halls of Deceased. Thomas looked at the food on the table and felt his mouth salivating. He was so hungry it ached, and he looked frantically around, waiting for a cue from his Side. Janus smiled gently.

“You may eat, help yourself.”

He held out a hand, showing the food to the poor hungry man who didn’t even let him finish before shoving it into his mouth. It felt so good on his tongue, the taste was perfect and it reminded him of his mother’s recipes. Each dish was actually the ones his mother loved to make for him when he was younger. It felt just like the old time, in his familial home, with all his brothers and his two parents, a stable household where he still didn’t fit, that made him so repressed, so…

Thomas choked on the food. He spit it out and put it aside, before taking another dish. He recognised it but wasn’t quite sure from where. He only knew it wasn’t his mother’s… He tasted it, closed his eyes, and he knew. One of his first dates, with his ex. A fancy restaurant, with candles and gastronomic plates, the two of them holding hands… Yeah, it was the first time he felt like a couple with a man he loved while in public. He was already an adult well into college, because it took him so much time to find out who he was and most importantly to accept it. And he ate it in an instant, already reaching for another plate. He was insatiable, hungry as ever, shoving food into his mouth before he even swallowed, not caring. Janus watched him desperately from the other end of the table.

“Thomas, stop it.”

The aforementioned looked up to him, slowly swallowing what he was eating. His hands stayed where they were, in a plate of pastas, because of course he didn’t use a fork. He ate with his bare hands and had emptied half of the table in five minutes.

“How do you feel?”

He recognised the setting. Not that it looked anything like what he knew, but he went through this before, reaching for food to stimulate him when nothing else could. He wouldn’t say he was depressed, but he barely felt human at a certain time of his life and only a few things kept his body working. One of them was, inevitably, food. In times of distress, eating healthy dishes, bringing himself to cook, doing something, anything else that junk food was so, so hard. And he used to fall back into bad habits so easily.

“Bad, he sighed.”

He coughed, clearing his throat of any unwanted bite of food. Janus summoned a towel to let him clean himself. He could have cleaned him with a snap of the fingers, but he didn’t want to. He wanted Thomas to clean himself and, in the process of cleaning his body, cleaning his mind from the part of his life he had been revisiting for a brief moment, a moment that was in the past though he couldn’t grow out of it before now. He felt ashamed, of course, but Janus was there, his self-preservation, his selfishness he so desperately needed when looking back on the things he wasn’t proud of. His hunger died down, finally, and he didn’t feel any shame for giving in. One look at Janus and he was healed.

“I am not a saviour, you know. Of course, in case of emergencies, when you experience a mental crisis, I am the one who handles it, but I can’t save you from everything and there are a few things I couldn’t help with. But you had your low points in life and you shouldn’t feel shame for how you coped with them. You saw the Four Horsemen and tried your best, and it really was your best, though you felt you didn’t do enough. Watch out for the rain, for it always comes at dawn. Don’t run from it but embrace it until it’s gone.”

The words were fading out but they resonated in Thomas’s mind. The last two sentences were so weird they left Thomas confused, but the song of the wind that brought them to him was stuck in his head.

Thomas felt something fall on his head. He looked up and the ceiling was replaced by the same stormy night he saw outside Remus’s Halls. The clouds were menacing, but no thunder was heard. Instead, the rain fell on him and drenched his soul. He let it fall. What was he even supposed to do? He closed his eyes and let the water flow, refocusing on what was really important. It was like going through all of the stages of grief from the moment he sat with Remus to now: acceptance. The shame, the sadness, the attempts to deny it, the confusion, the anger against the ghosts, against Remus, against himself, he let all of it go with the rain, each drop taking away a little bit of him, stripping him from his unnatural clothes until he stood there bare. And it felt great because his heart was so, so light. It was still there, he heard it beating, slow and regular, healthy. He smiled under the rain, jerking his head backward to feel it on his skin. And then he shouted and danced and laughed because when stripped of everything, what is left but innocence? He felt like a child again, or not quite: he was, in fact, young. He had so much to see, so much to experience, sorrows and joys altogether, so much to learn and so many to meet… And each drop now became a vision of the future instead of a memory of the past. They were all blending at his feet, they were his life, and before he opened his eyes he was dressed again in new clothes. A crop top, fishnets, shorts, things that were so difficult for him to wear though he wanted to. He was panting because of all the dancing and shouting and laughing and for once the darkness didn’t bother him. He looked around: there was nothing but the void, and he was fine.

Innocence was always there, within Thomas, but it had to grow up. It had to grow up even though Patton didn't want to and tried to cling to it. It didn't last. And now Patton was there, in front of Thomas, looking exhausted and sad, as if he didn't want to do it. He took Thomas by the shoulders and walked with him, saying:

"What about we settle down and watch TV, kiddo?"

Thomas nodded with a smile, still panting, and passed a hand through his hair.

They both approached a single TV, an old one with a round screen, a huge square shape… They sat down on the floor in front of it and Thomas looked at the teddy bear that was lying there. Patton took it and gave it to him with a half-smile. His lips were twitching and his eyes wouldn't meet his. Thomas took it, confused, and held it close to his chest as Patton turned the TV on. The statics startled Thomas, but they didn't last for long. Soon his own juvenile face appeared on screen: it was some old footage his parents took when he and his brothers were children. Thomas bathed in nostalgia, sitting crossed legs on the ground, hiding his face behind his teddy bear to hide his wide smile. He didn't see nor hear Patton walking away, when really he should have. He didn't notice at first the program was changing, in place of his face there was a TV host of some news channel, and when he realised it was too late.

The News. Something that had been so traumatising for him throughout his life, something that was so socially accepted to be violent… It was fucked up, and Thomas couldn't help but watch. Assassinations shown live, terrorist attacks, school shootings, death, wounds and tears. A lifetime of violence normalised through TV News.

Thomas didn't realise he was crying. His mind was blank, empty, he was emotionless in front of the blood on the walls. Liquid started to come out of the screen and it started to malfunction.

But Thomas didn’t move, crying there, holding the teddy closer to his chest in the hope it would heal his broken heart, hurt by all the violence, all the worst things one could imagine and that humans had already done. It felt like a swelling in his chest. His anxiety was telling him to go away, to move, do something, stand up, run, smash the TV, just stop it… Stop it stop it stop it.

But no matter how loud Virgil’s voice was, Thomas couldn’t do anything. He was stuck in the horrendous awe of the blood and guts, his attention turning back to the leaking TV where image and sound distorted to the point of being unrecognisable. Limbs, splatters of blood, rolling eyes and fire, all morphed into a single image of horror.

Thomas’s mind went blank. The teddy bear rolled to his side, soaked in the green liquid that was leaking from the TV - then a shot, clear as crystal out of all those screams. Thomas snapped back to reality and averted his eyes from the TV. He had enough, he didn’t want to watch it longer, and though it filled him with anxiety, he was glad for the shot he heard. He was conscious again, felt one. Sadness and fear were better than emptiness.

It took Thomas a few minutes to realise he was crying, and some other to realise the TV wasn’t making any sound except for a buzzing that made him wince. He looked back at it to see it was broken, smoking, and all that was left of the cruel images were the statics. He sighed and glanced at the teddy bear.

“I’m sorry I let you down, he whispered.”

He took the teddy in his hands, ignoring the green slimy texture on its face, and held it to his chest.

When Thomas looked up at the TV again, it was turned off. The slimy liquid had disappeared and there was no trace of damage left. But, crouched on top of the piece of furniture, Remus was looking down at him with some sort of fond expression that sent chills down Thomas’s spine. He didn’t know what to think of this sudden tenderness paired with the remains of disturbing imagery.

“Isn’t it exciting? The Duke asked with a higher voice than usual, as if it were forced.”

He tilted his head to the side and sighed. Thomas was unable to speak, like a child in shutdown. He just wanted to curl up into a ball and forget the world exists with all its horror.

Suddenly, his eyes widened as realisation struck him: what he just watched, what he experienced earlier, all of this mockery of a circus are the exposed reasons to Remus and Janus’s existence. Why they are there, why they do what they do, why they are so upsetting and unsettling… Remus started kicking his feet slowly, as if he didn’t want to break the glass screen of the TV he was now sitting on, even though there was no object permanence in this world - not even for their bodies.

“Isn’t it so exciting? Remus asked again, but with no frustration, which was quite unusual.”

Thomas nodded as he began to understand. They were friends, protectors. If Patton and Roman were still here, even Logan, without hating everyone, without hating the whole world, if he still could love and laugh and be creative and pursue his passions, it was all thanks to Virgil, whose presence had been the easiest to accept, but also to Janus and his self-preservation hacks and Remus and his constant reminders of what should remain disturbing.

“It is, Thomas answered in a quiet voice with a faint smile.”

Behind him, the sound of steps got closer. He felt more than he saw someone sitting beside him and he closed his eyes. He felt at peace, entirely and fully at peace.

He gently tilted his body until his head hit Janus’s shoulders. Exhaustion filled his limbs and his brain was foggy: it was hard to think. And so he let go, he threw all his worries away and fell asleep there, in the giant void of his own mind.

And then,after the silence, the birds were chirping a joyful tune.

It was sunny, the light was mostly coming from the big window in front of Thomas. His eyes had been open for some time but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He knew he could, but he was just so tired and in shock from his previous experience. So, he rested there, on his couch covered in filthy clothes. I will get to it later, Logan, he thought to himself, but no sarcastic remark about the passage of time and the inevitability of his own procrastination answered him… That was odd and for once it shot enough adrenaline in his blood to finally move. He jolted up and looked around.

“Logan?”

He knew it was stupid to call him out loud, since he was a figment of his imagination, a product of his mind represanting a part of his personality and capacities. And he was surprised to hear an answer:

“Don’t worry, Thomas, I have not disappeared. I just decided that, after what you… experienced in the mind palace was… enough, eh, torments, for today. You need rest.”

Thomas turned around and saw Logan standing beside his dining table. He smiled, relieved.

“Thank you Logan, really. I’m sorry if I seem like I’m avoiding you and my responsibilities, I promise you I’m-

-No need to be sorry, Thom–

-Yes need, Logan, shut up and listen.”

He tried to interject but suddenly, his hand was on his mouth, preventing him from talking. Thomas turned to Janus, who was leaning on the handrail, and who gave a small nod with a sly smile.

“Logan, Thomas started again, looking back at him, I’m sorry I don’t listen to you as much as I should. I know it makes you stressed out, I am stressed out too, I promised, even when I act as if I don’t care. I do, I’m just trying to…”

He sighed and looked down, whispering the next word:

“... survive.”

Another voice coming from the stairs said it with him, with more confidence and a bit of cynicism. Logan looked vulnerable for a moment. He looked around for a minute after Janus let go of his hand and finally answered:

“I am sorry Thomas. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

Thomas’s smile grew larger and he nodded again. He settled back on the couch after Logan sank down, ready for his hard day of rest, before all the other days of survival to come.

[lachimolala-is-love-and-life]

Finding out and tell to him

Lim Jaebeom 

After the decision to have a baby together, Jaebeom and I tried no stop for more than six months. Let’s say that this story of the son has made him more excited than usual. And when I say more I mean even three times a day, if not more.

But despite the various attempts ( how does his dick never get tired is a mystery) still nothing. Many pregnancy tests have been done and all negative.

 My mood is really sluggish and I feel depressed that my body can’t give him a baby.

I had heard from the doctor a few days ago, we had done some tests and both my and his results were all good, nothing could prevent us from procreating. You just had to be patient. That’s all.

Now he and I were on the bed, both naked and sweaty for yet another attempt to get pregnant.

"I hope this time it’s the right one. Although I’m never gonna get tired of fucking and I’m sure I’ll miss it when you get pregnant, but I already know it’s worth it. I hope little Lim or little Lim doesn’t keep us waiting much longer." said he as he spooned me with his chest touching my back.

But I couldn’t answer.

I already knew that even this attempt would probably be useless. I almost lost all hope. But if we’re both fine, why can’t I get pregnant? Why do I always have to suffer to see the pregnancy test always negative? I hate when I see Jaebeom’s happiness dying from yet another failure, I had already lost in being a mother. Subconsciously, some tears started to come out of my eyes.

Jaebeom probably felt my sobs as he took my face with his hand to turn to him. His eyes filled with worry. He already knew why I felt this way and it broke his heart to see his partner in pieces.

"Hey, kitten. Look at me," he said as he dried my tears " I hate to see you like this. Please, we just have to be patient. Whether we want three months, or six, a year or more I’ll always be at your side. At most there are many other ways to have children," he said gently.

"But I want our child"

"Then we will not stop trying and said to each other, if I want many times to get you pregnant, well...I do not complain. It’s always a pleasure to make love to you."

A small smile appeared on my lips for his words.

"Here’s your little smile. Don’t lose it again, okay?" he said as he kissed my forehead.

"Now if you don’t mind, I have to go to the agency. I’ll see you tonight. Yes?" he nodded as he got out of bed to get ready to leave.

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

A few hours later I was busy cooking lunch for myself. Every time Jaebeom left for work, a part of me always missed him, even for a few hours. I think I’m totally dependent on him.

While I was busy cooking eggs, I felt a pungent smell, too strong. It made me nauseous. A retching of vomit came up suddenly and ended up moving quickly towards the sink to empty the stomach.

I never threw up. Even when I was really sick. A light bulb lit up in my head.

Could it be...?

I ran quickly to the bathroom and opened the shelves and grabbed one of the pregnancy tests I had bought myself long ago.

I peed on it and waited for the minutes.

When the test sounded, I started to get dizzy with anxiety. What if it was still negative? It would break my heart again... But I got used to the familiar feeling now, didn’t I? Right?

I took the test in my hand and closed my eyes. I took courage and when I turned it over to see the result I opened them again.

Two lines... Wait... TWO LINES!!

I’m PREGNANT. I couldn’t believe it, after so much time and suffering Jaebeom and I were going to be parents!!

How could I tell Jaebeom? I had to surprise him. An idea appeared in my head.

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

I was on my way to Jaebeom’s studio at Higher Music with a little box in my hand. I left right after I discovered the result to get everything I needed for the surprise of the news.

I knocked on his door and when his voice told me to come inside, so I did.

"Hey, baby. What are you doing here? And what’s in your hand."

"Hey love. That? No nothing. It’s just a little surprise for you to thank you for being so patient with me this time of year. I must have been unbearable, huh?"

He shook his head laughing "Don’t worry. For you it must have been stressful and I can understand you. Now.. my little surprise?"

Laughing I handed him the box and the moment he opened it his body froze while his eyes were looking for my gaze.

"Are you serious? Are you really..."

And as he nodded, he put the box on the desk and wrapped me in a huge hug and tears-filled eyes and said, "You made it small. We’re gonna be parents..."

"No love. We did it. Together. As a team."

Mark Tuan

I’d been in America for a couple of months now. Mark and I started to live together right after I got here, and life was more than perfect.

But today would have been the day of the best change in our lives.

During the transfer process we tried several times to start our family and after not even a few weeks already a positive test was in my hands.

I did it a few days ago and I can not describe the immense joy of seeing the two small lines, especially because I did not expect that in such a short time a mini Mark was already in my belly.

I must remind myself in the future that Mr. Tuan has too energetic "swimmers". I waited a while to tell him, especially because I didn’t want to be trivial. It wasn’t my style to just show the positive test.

No no. Mark is a boy with an easy tear, you can actually count in one hand how many times he hasn’t cried. But for this news I really wanted to give him a cascade of tears for happiness. I want it to be a real surprise.

Now I was at work. The agency where I was hired was perfect. The colleagues were adorable and the CEO was a very understanding man and always came to meet us for any need.

I was on my lunch break with a colleague I had bonded with very quickly. "Are you pregnant? Really? Congratulations," she said excited. She was the only one who knew the news and smiled that she was happy for me.

"Does your boyfriend know about it?"

"Not yet, but I would like to give him the news soon. I wanted to surprise him, but honestly I have no ideas. Just zero"

"Really? If I can give you an idea, I know the owner of a shop who creates handicrafts for any occasion. If you want I’ll call him and he can give you a little discount on my behalf."

"Really? You’re a love. Why didn’t I meet you before?" she said embracing her.

She said, "Of nothing, but you know what you want them to create for you?"

Of course I knew.

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

It was evening. Mark had just come home after a long day at the studio. He was devastated, and he was relaxing on the couch, watching some TV shows.

I was in the kitchen with Milo in my arms while I tried to fix in the collar the small box with surprise for my partner.

We all know what his reaction would have been, and that’s all I was waiting for. Once he finally stares at him without causing discomfort to the little puppy, it was time he knew the news.

"Mark? Baby?"

"Yes, honey?" she said in a tired voice.

"Can you please call yourself Milo in the living room. He wants cuddles but I’m too busy to finish dinner."

"Milo! Milo! Come here"

Hearing his dad calling, Milo began to wriggle out of my arms to run towards him.

The moment I walked into the living room to Mark, I waited a little while..

"What’s with the puppy collar? What’s mom put on it?"

Ok now it’s time to count. Three, two, one...

"LOVE!!"

Smiles as he heard him get up quickly from the couch to run towards me. As soon as he entered the kitchen I found a mark with tears in his eyes who did not want to stop coming down.

"Is that right? Baby, am I gonna be a dad? Isn’t that a joke?"

He embraced him and immediately put his face in the recess of my neck while the tears wet my skin.

"Yes. Little Markie Pooh will be the father of a beautiful child," I told him as I caressed his back gently.

He kept sobbing and sighing. The shoes and that note I gave him had more effect than I expected.

Park Jinyoung

Soo Young and I were waiting for the results of the tests that they had done to me practically as soon as he had given me the news of a possible pregnancy.

Now that you think about it, it can make sense. The symptoms seem to match all of them and besides, I had never felt that way. 

I had been vomiting for a week and I found myself sleeping in various places. Then I have to say that that night when I think I got pregnant, Jinyoung came back strangely horny and fucked me like there was no tomorrow.

 But the protection was used? Boh. Possibility that it was not actually used? Now 99,99%.

To note: Jinyoung horny? Put the prescription sign "put the condom, before entering my vagina".

Soo Young held my hand and looked at me with a look of hope? Did she want to be an aunt? Really?

When the doctor came back with some papers in his hand and a little smile. "Well, Miss Park. I inform you that our hypotheses have been confirmed. She’s four weeks pregnant. Congratulations to you and your partner."

I bleached. Next time I put on my chastity belt to protect myself from a horny Jinyoung.

The doctor noticed my pallor, "What’s going on, miss? Are you feeling ill? Look, it’s normal to feel fatigued at the beginning of the first trimester. I’m going to prescribe some prenatal pills for you to take this time of year. Avoid eating raw food like sushi and try not to drink alcohol and smoke. His body is strong. She’ll have a healthy baby or girl in nine months."

I couldn’t believe it. A little Park Jinyoung is in my belly. The news shocked me a lot because Jinyoung and I never really talked about having children. Of course he told me that one day he wanted a family, but so soon? Now that he is busy and focused on his career as an actor?

The doctor’s voice awakened me from my state of shock.

"If you like, can we already see the little one?"

"Actually, I just..."

"Of course you want to see him. Can his future favorite aunt attend?" interrupted me Soo Young turning to the doctor.

"Sure. Please lie down on the bed while I apply the gel on your belly. It’s a bit cold"

When he put that strange substance on my stomach a thousand thoughts assailed me including one more of all. How to tell him?

The doctor placed the contraption and on the belly and immediately after an image appeared in the small screen of the ultrasound machine.

"Do you see this? This little bean? This is your baby," he told me as he pointed to a small black spot on the screen.

I can’t believe it.

 Is this my son and Jinyoung’s son? But he’s very young. One wren. I don’t know why, but my eyes couldn’t get away from that speck.

"Perfect. Everything looks good. I’ll see her again in a couple of months. Follow everything I said earlier. Take care of yourself and do not exert yourself. In this period too much fatigue could lead to a miscarriage. Let your partner help you".

When the visit was over, Soo Young was so excited to be an aunt. When I think of a little Jinyoung playing by chance and being taken in arms by his dad makes me smile. Maybe it wouldn’t have hurt to be a parent.

"Oh God I’ll be an aunt. I’ll spoil my grandchild or my granddaughter to death. I’ll be her godmother, won’t I? Ahh I can’t wait nine months to see him."

Laughs at her euphoria "Calm down. I just found out I’m pregnant. Also you have to warn your brother"

"Oh it’s true. I honestly didn’t think my brother would have sexual desires. I can’t think of the two of you...oh God my poor, chaste mind," she said as she pretended that a shiver hit her body.

"Trust your brother has them. But he can also be very sweet"

"You’re right, but sometimes he seems like a robot. But I love him very much. How will you tell him?"

"I have no idea."

"I have one. Give me the ultrasound and let me do it".

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

Jinyoung and I were dining quietly, but my thoughts passed to the child at Soo Young. That had in mind.

"So how was your visit today? Did the doctor tell you anything?"

"Just a small bacterium. Quiet darling. I will heal in no time". Well nine months is not so little time...

"Oh well. I was so worried, but I’m glad you’ll be okay," he said as he stroked my hand.

Suddenly the doorbell rang.

"Who could possibly be at this hour: I’m going to see," he said as he got up from the table.

After a few minutes he came back with an envelope that said "Good News for Daddy Park".

"There was no one at the door, just this little envelope on the floor... It says "Daddy Park". It’s probably for my dad and he got the wrong house. I’m not a dad yet".

I lowered my head so I wouldn’t see my redness. "Right? Is it for my dad right? Am I not a dad yet? Right?"

To my lack of response. Jinyoung began to hastily open the envelope to be inside my ultrasound this afternoon.

Jinyoung’s eyes got stuck on a small writing that was under the image "I can’t wait to meet you dad".

"Y/n is not a bacterium that made you feel bad, but my son?"

"Jinyoung just found out today. I didn’t know I was pregnant until a few hours ago. I’m excited to be a mom, but I’m scared because it was so sudden and..."

I didn’t have time to finish the sentence that closed my mouth with a kiss.

 When our lips broke, a huge smile framed his face.

"We’re going to be parents. We just have to be happy about it. I love you so much" and then he knelt on his knees and kissed my belly. "I love you too, little boy or little girl. Even Dad can’t wait to meet you"

Jackson Wang

It was Jackson’s birthday and today he was exactly 27 years old. We were at his parents' house to celebrate.

The house was full of joy to celebrate little Wang Puppy. We had just arrived in Hong Kong, especially because Jackson lacked his family and wanted to focus mainly on his agency "Team Wang" in a place close to his loved ones.

He convinced me to come with him, begging me with his big puppy eyes. How to say no to him? I could not deny him this possibility, I would have felt selfish, even if a part of Heaven had left her in Korea with her second family, the Got7s.

In this period of three months Jackson and I have tried many times to start our family, but with many difficulties. With the first negative tests his smile did not disappear, indeed he told me "Well we go back to the room to try again, no?" But after three months and as many negative pregnancy tests, I was starting to notice a kind of discomfort in his expressions. He wanted to be a father so badly, but the goal seemed to go further and further.

I decided to organize this party to cheer him up a bit and to distract him a few hours from the thoughts of the child.

But what Jackson didn’t know yet was that just yesterday, while he was out of the house, out of curiosity I did a test and two nice lines appeared. I was over the moon to be a parent to the man I loved most in the world. It was also a perfect opportunity to give him a special gift by giving him the news he wanted so much in this last period.

We were sitting at the table eating cake, me, Jackson and his mom. Must have been the cravings or something, but I was literally binging on the plate.

"Love. Calm down. I’ve never seen you so greedy for sweets. Usually you leave them to others. Then eat slowly. Your swollen cheeks make you look like a squirrel," Jackson said, pinching my cheeks.

"I don’t know what I’ve got tonight, but I feel like i wanna et something sweet. Then the cake your mom made is really good"

Her mother, Sophia, smiled at my compliment and began to stare at me lovingly. "Thank you. You’re too kind. Jacky, you found a really good girl".

Jackson looked at me satisfied. He seemed very proud of me as a companion, but his mother continued her speech.

"You look better than usual tonight. It’s almost like you’re glowing. Are you pregnant?" he laughed as he looked at me.

At his comment I began to blush. Maybe really that mothers have an infallible intuition. He had already guessed and I had not yet said anything.

"No mom. We’re trying, but still nothing." Jackson sadly said.

I couldn’t keep him waiting much longer.

"Um...yeah, we’re actually trying. But for now, let me go get your present, honey," I said as I got up from the table to get the package.

When I went back to the kitchen and handed it to him, his usual smile returned that I loved so much.

"Thanks, baby, but you didn’t have to."

"Come on, open up. I think you’re gonna love it" smiles.

He tore the wrapping paper to find a small box. When he opened it his eyes opened wide and already some tears began to form.

They were two small cups engraved with "Papa Bear" and "Mama Bear".

"Baby, you are..."

"I’m pregnant, Jackson. We’re gonna be parents. Happy birthday."

He took my face in his hands and started kissing me repeatedly as he kept saying, "I love you. Thank you. I love you so much."

Mrs Wang looked at us amazed " But mine was just a joke about you being pregnant. So I’m really going to be a grandmother?"

Jackson nodded and as he caressed my belly, he replied " Exactly. Now the Wang family will get even bigger and noisier with this new baby. Especially if he will take from his daddy”

[itsbeaconhillsbaby]

shatter us || tom holland x reader

a/n: hello gorgeous people. this is not the cutesy road trip fic that I have planned - the follow up for a luminous love. but instead just a little sprinkle, little dash of some angst for your casual sunday. yikes, I hope you all still enjoy (still ends fluffy bc I'm not a heathen...yet) 

since I love hearing your thoughts so much, is there anything you’d personally like to see from me, alongside what i’m working on? hit me up and I might just work on some fic for you, got a full week off work so let me know! as always, stay wonderful and come chat! x 

word count: 2166 warnings: we do have a swear and some smashed glass, some sad thoughts but nothing too dark or dangerous - very tame summary: emotional outbursts lead to some much needed conversations

6:10.

There was a lack of chirping birds that morning. The sun stayed behind the clouds, keeping itself out of view. The air cold and stale. Sheets were pulled taught at either end of the bed. Two bodies, usually yearning to be held in each other’s embrace clutching instead to their designated edges.

You were fearful to exhale your breath, one small movement and this frozen moment could all come crashing down around you. As though you were stood at the very edge of a precipice, toes hanging over the side. One tiny blow away from tumbling into a dark abyss.

Before you thought your chest was going to explode from the inside, you felt the springs next to you dip only slightly. The signs of someone moving.

He hadn’t moved all night. You wondered if he’d managed to catch any sleep at all before you felt the bed dip further as he untangled his legs from the sheets, heading into the en suite bathroom.

You reached a hand out from your cocoon, your phone lighting up as you tilted it towards you.

10 missed calls.

15 texts

You’d told your best friend that you’d screwed everything up, unwilling to reveal what happened before you let your tears lull to into a restless sleep.

You weren’t sure at what time Tom joined you. Sighing, you heard the click of your phone locking as you lay it back down.

Tom comes back out of the bathroom, slowing slightly as he sees you curled up in the corner of the bed instead of star-fished or snuggling into his pillow as you usually did when he left the room – resulting in playfighting or cuddles.

“I think we need to talk.”

His voice was rough and scratchy. You slid yourself up against the headboard, pulling your jumper sleeves over your hands and nodding in agreement. You couldn’t speak yet, you weren’t sure you knew how. Words refusing to form as your stomach churned.

“Okay, I’ll see you downstairs then.” He grabs a hoodie of his own before leaving the room, you could hear him moving through the flat.

You take a few deep breaths, taking note of the room around you. glancing over the space you had shared for the past year and a half. Something told you this could be the last morning you’d wake up here.

Exhaling, you slide your feet onto the golden wood crossing the room to reach the bathroom. You splash water over your face, fluffy towel ready to catch the droplets before finishing up.

“Here we go,” you mumble to yourself as you push against the sink counter and head for the kitchen.

////

Tom fills up the kettle, unfocussed eyes staring into the distance. He put it back on its stand before flicking down the switch.

A hand ran through his messy bed head of curls. This was all so wrong, all of it. He told you that he wanted to talk but as he routinely made two teas, he didn’t have a clue what he was going to say. But he began filming in four days and you both had to fix this tension between you. For the first time, you were both unsure of what the outcome would be. 

Taking a small brush and pan over to the wall he brushes up the broken glass, hearing it tinkle as he gathers it into the pan, releasing it into the bin, frustrated at his own outburst the previous night.

He’s against the counter stirring the two mugs when you walk in. He motions to the sofa.

He takes you in as you stand in front of him, shyer and more nervous that he’d ever seen you. He hated that you felt like that. Drowning in one of his sweatshirts and a pair of his cotton shorts, your face was tinged pink and he hoped that you hadn’t been crying in the short time it took to make your teas.

You gave a small smile of thanks at the steaming mug he slid across to you before heading to the sofa. You rolled your shoulders, caressing the mug between your hands - letting the heat warm them.

“I’m so sorry-“

“I’m so sorry-“

You both blurt out simultaneously. His eyes twinkle slightly, as he huffed out a slight chuckle.

“Well that’s a good start at least.”

You nod, stifling a nervous laugh, mouth upturned. He offers you to go first. You take a sip of your tea, letting it soothe your nauseous stomach.

Swallowing, you trace your finger around the rim of your mug. Closing your eyes for a single moment before staring into his, so wide and filled with hurt.

Last night played on repeat in your head.

“Stop saying you love me as a response for when things get too hard - it’s just words Tom! Just because you love me doesn’t mean that I feel loved by you!”

Tom’s mouth fell open, eyes wide as he stood transfixed on you. You stared at him in shock, completely taken aback by your own outburst. The room was blanketed in an unforgiving silence, your voice wobbling at the building honesty that had come tumbling out.

“Wow. I offered to fly you out to be with me before filming officially started for fucks sake! You declined! Was that not enough for you?! Does that not show you I love you? My career is important and I’m sorry that annoys you!”

“That is not what I meant Tom, and you know it.”

His brows furrow, eyes darkening with anger. You wanted to straighten them out with your fingers, lightly gliding over the uncontrollable hairs and press a feathery light kiss in the space between them. Something you usually did when he was tense or frustrated.

“Please, enlighten me then.”

“Fly across the other side of the world to do what?! Sit in silence in a room with you as you read over scripts with Harry. Sit alone in a room whilst you meet the cast and team, stay away so you can go for your lush dinners and lunches. And then fly out when things get underway, that’s unless I want to sit in your trailer day in and day out. I love you Tom and I support you and I think you’re brilliant - I always will think that. But being your hidden girlfriend is exhausting and lonely, and I don’t know if I can do it!”

You’ve never been this vulnerable with Tom before. You’d never let on before how hard it could be sometimes being his girlfriend, how utterly alone you felt. How much of a stranger you felt in regards to Tom and parts of his life.

“Then don’t! If you hate it so much, then don’t be my girlfriend then. Problem solved!”

You gasp slightly, standing completely rigid. Heart pounding in your ears, heat rising through your entire body. You can feel the moisture building behind your eyes, trying so hard to keep it at bay.

“Fine. Wow. Easy fix for the golden boy, got it.”

And with that you turn on your heel and head straight into the bedroom. Door slamming behind you.

Tom throws his beer bottle at the opposite wall. Hands going straight up to his face as he let out a cry of frustration. Glass shards littering the floor.

“Fuck!”

////

“I’m so sorry for saying what I said. It didn’t come out right and I don’t know, I think I was just being dramatic and anno-“

Tom cuts you off with a shake of his head, resting one hand on your leg.

“Don’t do that. Please don’t do that. My response was completely irrational, but you...you were honest and hurt and valid. Do not deny your emotions to make me feel better, that’s not going to fix this. You know I love you, you said it yourself, but you don’t feel loved - and that’s on me.”

You bite the inside of your lip, looking down into your swirling cup. Your heart was beating so fast, it was making you feel almost dizzy. 

“I feel pathetic, please let’s just forget it happened Tom.”

Tom takes the cup out of your hand, planting it on the coffee table in front of the couch. He pulls your legs that little bit closer, your body moving forward, closing the gap between you both.

“I can’t forget it. I’ve been playing it on repeat all night. Please just be honest with me. I want to listen. I want to understand.”

You exhale a shaky sigh,

“Sometimes it’s just so much harder than I ever thought it would be, Tom. I love how much you adore your job, you inspire me every single day as I watch you inspire millions of people. but sometimes I feel like an outsider looking in on your life. Instead of feeling like someone you want to share your life with, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hate that.”

He nods, his forehead creasing slightly as he takes in your words, and presses for you to continue,

“And take away all that comes with your job. On the rare days when it’s just me and you, you make me feel so alive. I feel needed and wanted and loved. So loved. But it’s not enough for me to have a few gulps of that feeling. God, it sounds so selfish. I hear it from my own mouth and I sound ridiculous.”

You take a pause. wishing for your voice to straighten out. For that wobble to stop as you can see the concern on Tom’s face rising,

“Maybe there’s been a reason we’ve kept it a secret for so long, because you and I both know that the minute this gets out...everything is going to crumble beneath us, and I’m the one not going to be able to handle it.”

You let out a shaky breath, sniffling as you wipe your eyes with your sleeve.

When you didn’t start up again, Tom gave a deep sigh, before pressing ahead,

“I’ve been doing this all wrong. I thought keeping you out of things would protect you, we agreed on that being the best option. And in the beginning it was. The sneaking around, the constant phone calls, video calls, surprise visits - we did it all.”

You nod in agreement. Your heart sinking. Even though you’d brought it on yourself, letting your insecurities and loneliness take over - you still weren’t ready for the inevitable goodbye that was coming your way.

“But we’ve grown individually, and our relationship has grown. And yeah, there’s a part of me who still wants to keep you all to myself, I know what press and fans can be like. But you’re right.”

You look up at him through wet eyelashes. He catches a tear with his thumb, wiping it away from your cheek,

“I’m not losing you to my own fear. And you’re not losing me to yours.”

“Wait, what?” you whisper, confused.

“You need to talk to me. You need to tell me when I’m not pulling my weight in this relationship, when you’re feeling low like this. Sometimes I do get stuck in my own world a little...and you’re the one suffering for it.”

“So. You do still want me as your girlfriend?” More traitorous tears fall from your eyes, your body relaxing and therefore no longer willing to keep them at bay.

“Oh my god I can’t believe I said that. Of course, I do! There’s no still wanting about it, I’ve always wanted you. Never questioned it for a second. The real question is, do you want to make this public? I want this to be your choice. It’s going to be crazy, but I promise you, I’ll be beside you every single step of the way. I won’t make you feel like you’re on your own again, I promise. Or, if you feel like it’s too much…then we figure something else out.”

He cups the side of your face, thumb still trailing after the tear tracks.

“I’m just scared that it’ll break us, Tom. But we can’t keep going as we are.”  

He nods in understanding,

“I won’t let it break us. You have me, all of me, for however long you want.”

You pushed your forehead against his shoulder, his hands coming up to cradle the back of your head as you curl into him.

He can feel your body quivering against him as you finally let yourself feel all the emotions you’d gone through in the past 12 hours, feelings you’d been hiding for far longer than that.

“I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise. I think we needed this. Now we can be better, work harder on loving each other properly. Communicate.”

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” You whisper into his chest, “I thought I’d ruined everything.”

He squeezes his eyes clothes. pressing his lips to the top of your head, releasing soft kisses in between every couple of words,

“No, you’ve not ruined anything. All you’ve done is remind me how much I truly love you. And every day I promise I’m going to show you just how much.”