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kira-fluff · 27 days

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reaction to finding out you have a chronic disease | fem!reader x haikyuu!!

this idea popped into my head in the shower. shower thoughts are the best. as a chronically ill person such as myself (mentally and physically, LOL!) i felt maybe I was a little qualified to write this. these are all diseases i experience! i can def write some that i am not diagnosed with :) i'm a biology nerd, so i love learning new things, especially about diseases! some of these are more serious than others. i tried to keep the disease symptoms/descriptions general so it can appeal to more diagnoses (for example, nosebleeds are indicative of several different diseases) that way more people can feel represented by what i write!

‼️warnings: mentions of blood, nekoma team being dorks, seizures, WAY too many ellipses (sorry I just love them), pointless bantering (oikawa), dramatic af, osamu described as "caked-up" (sorry not sorry), railing on atsumu for shits and giggles, deep hatred of the word moist

want to see a different haikyuu character's reaction? request here! also, if you want to read a specific disease represented, i can see if i can put it in there too :)

✿ kuroo tetsuro "hey when do you want to- OH MY GOD ARE YOU OKAY?!" blood dripped from your nose onto the gymnasium floor. "oh. another nosebleed. my bad, I'll clean that up..." you said apathetically. "hey, this is sort of a big deal, ya know? shit... yaku, I need a towel or something!" he shouted. they really weren't anything serious. ever since you were little, you had frequent nosebleeds. your mom wrote it all off as the cold weather (even in summer), so it wasn't really that big of a deal to you either (until a few doctor visits later). still, the apathy you felt toward your predicament remained. yamamoto had already rushed over at his captain's call. "does she need an ice pack, too? fuck, I don't know what to do...." "aren't you supposed to tilt your head up?" one member asked. "no, no i think you're supposed to tilt your head down...." another muttered. "GUYS, GUYS I GOT IT. GOOGLE SAYS TO 'sit down and tilt your head forward, pinching the top part of your nose above the nostrils for like, 10 to 15 minutes.'" lev sat back proudly, phone in hand. "can't believe you were smart enough to look that up..." kenma whispered under his breath. "hey, hey, look at me. you still with us?" kuroo said, a hand on either side of your face. despite the towel against your nose, you couldn't help but laugh. "oh my god, guys! it's not like I'm dying! this happens all the time." "but that's not...normal. did you ever get it checked out?" kuroo stared at you inquisitively, his brow raised. his fellow teammates nodded. you sighed. "look, unless there's a lot of excessive gushing or anything like that, they said i should be okay. yes there's a whole disease behind it all with a long-ass name that no one can pronounce and yes there are sometimes other symptoms that could result in death, but I'm totally fine, okay? I'm perfectly healthy!" "you poor, fragile angel..." lev said, a hand on his chest, distraught. "that... does NOT make me feel more relieved. at all. in fact, I'm more worried. should we go to the hospital? that one looked a little... gush-y...." kuroo said, pacing back and forth before setting his eyes back on you. removing the towel from your nose, you shook your head. "no. look, bleeding nose already gone, see? I'm not going to the hospital. I'm completely fine. relax, kuroo." kuroo stared at you for another moment, taking in your expression, searching for any signs of discomfort. at last, he sighed. "ok. fine. I concede. but if you ever feel the littlest bit unwell, tell me or one of us, okay?" after your agreement, and several more minutes of doting from both your boyfriend and all the other team members, you at last parted ways. as you got out of the shower that night, your phone lit up with a notification. tetsu 💕 [11:23pm]: I'm serious about what I said back there. please talk to me when you aren't feeling good. you mean so much to me that I can't imagine what life would be like without you. sleep well, babe. love you.

✿ osamu miya "damn are you o-- OKAY, YEAH, NO. SHE'S NOT OKAY." it was your average day as a supportive, amazing, fantastic girlfriend watching your iconic, sexy, hot, caked-up boyfriend play volleyball with his piss-haired twin and the rest of the team of inarizaki. unfortunately for you (and the entire volleyball team), inarizaki had a recent issue with their air conditioning units. even more unfortunate was the fact that the fans in the gymnasium were practically there for decoration, that's how useless they were. despite it being late march (still quite cool outside), the players and spectators were drenched in sweat. still, you weren't about to let a little (lot) bit of sweat deter you from cheering for your mans! so, you remained in the stands, cheering as loudly as you could (except for the times when you couldn't because atsumu was once again on his I'm About To Serve Power Trip). it was finally nearing the end of the game, and thank GOD it was because you were starting to feel reaaalllly light-headed. at the final score of the match, you stood up, but oh, was that a mistake. suddenly, you legs started shaking. the lights suddenly seemed to dim down and black spots were popping up in your vision. maaaaybe you should sit back down. wait. where is "back down"? it suddenly occurred to you that at this point, you couldn't see anything. beginning to panic, you started reaching out to find something to hold onto, thankfully finding the stair railing of the bleachers in your grasp. slowly, you blindly fumbled your way down the steps of what you hoped were the bleachers steps. you heard someone shout something along the lines of, "you good?" you were far too panicked and far too focused to give a reply. don't fall down. don't fall down. don't faint. don't pass out. you chanted in your head like a mantra. you heard the squeak of shoes against the ground and voices talking back and forth around you when suddenly a steady hand grabbed ahold of you just above your elbow. guess that was all you needed before your consciousness flickered, then extinguished.

"....cold like ice...." "...pale as hell...." you could only hear snippets of sentences, and your eyelids felt heavy. "....have something....with sugar, preferably...." when you finally opened your eyes, you were no longer in the gym, but in inarizaki's nurse's office. "hey..." you turned, now noticing the other occupant of the otherwise empty room. "'samu... did I faint again?" his eyebrows rose. "again? like, you've done this before?" "yeah. happens a lot. 's fine though. was a little scary back there for a minute, though." "damn, I'll say. I've never seen someone so pale. and sweaty. and that's saying something, cuz post-practice 'tsumu is disgustingly moist." "'samu, I love you, but never say that fucking word again." "what, moist?" you cringed, grabbing at your ears, "ugh, yes! I'm already dying here and now you're nailing the final mark in the coffin." osamu gave his signature half-smile. "I thought you said you were fine?" you scoffed, "that was just to make you feel better. I'm gonna need lots of cuddles tonight to wave off my near-death experience." he let out a light-hearted laugh. "okay. plenty of that for you regardless of whether you're on death's door or not." he said, giving you a small peck. you pursed your lips. "I need you right now, though." his face split in a full grin as he slid next to you on the small bed. "anything for you darlin'."

✿ oikawa toru "please... please be okay..." you had been enjoying your regular weekday study session. it always went as follows: meet up after class, head off to aoba johsai's library, study (and perhaps get slightly off-topic over some vending machine snacks and drinks), and at last, go to volleyball practice (perks of being a manager!). "ok, ok, we should probably finally look at what we're supposed to know for our next english exam," oikawa said, still in between chuckles. "but toru... i can't go on without a drink..." you clutched your throat dramatically. "must... have.... beverage.... dying of.... thirst!" oikawa laughed again, "geez, fine!" he said, attempting to sound annoyed by your request (and failing miserably). "I'll go grab us something to drink. on me." he winked. "wow. what a gentleman. you really spare no expense, spoiling me with luxurious drinks from the beverage box of wonders! oh how lucky I am to have such a supportive boyfriend..." you leaned back on your chair, drying a fake tear of gratitude, while simultaneously stifling a giggle. "damn, ok. fork out the yen, then, babe." "nooooo~~~ I was kidding! I'm sorry you're the best ever in the whole wide world~~~ my little piglet oinkawa~" "ok now you're paying for my drink too." "I'm sorry!!!! I won't call you oinkawa ever again." "thank you-" "to your face." after at least 15 minutes of more bickering (and no studying) oikawa was off to the so-called beverage box of wonders, also known as a shitty-ass vending machine that was probably last refurbished in the '90s. oikawa was still laughing to himself as he rounded the corner to the library, drinks in his arms. "hey babe, are you finally studying?" he smirked, finally nearing your small alcoved study area.

- thud, thud. the long-forgotten drinks fell to the floor as oikawa rushed over to you. there you convulsed on the ground, your eyes white and pupil-less, and your mouth foaming, turning a slight twinge of pink. you let out small grunts, completely unresponsive. "oh my god, oh my god, hey, hey listen to me." oikawa was already in full-fledged panic mode, tapping your face with his hand. "oh my god, SOME PLEASE HELP HER!" the few left in the library looked over at oikawa, then at you, before beginning to run about. one was on their phone speaking to a 911 operator, another rushed out of the room. one kneeled alongside oikawa, checking helplessly for a pulse. "protect her head." a girl read out from her phone. oikawa immediately shed his jacket, placing it under your head which was hitting the ground rapidly to the incongruent rhythm of your convulsions. "check her bag, does she have any meds?" "SHE'S MY FUCKING GIRLFRIEND I THINK I'D KNOW IF SHE HAD MEDS!" oikawa shouted. he didn't mean to snap, but he felt so useless. were you hiding this from him? how did he not know you had seizures? were they always this bad? despite what he'd told the unnamed student, oikawa, jumped up, grabbing your bag and nearly ripping the zipper with the force he'd opened it with. no medication. "no meds." he said, quieter this time. a hand rested on his shoulder. "it's gonna be okay, man. look, she stopped." oikawa whipped his head over to you, chastising himself for removing his eyes from you for even a second. you were still breathing, but it was like you were in a deep slumber. by the time the EMTs arrived, however, you'd begun blinking your eyes lazily at your surroundings.

- "hey oikawa." you said, smiling. oikawa said nothing in return, his head in his hands. you sat there for a moment, taking in your surroundings. "wait a minute, where am i?" you felt a tickling inside your nose. at the touch of your hand, you realized you had a breathing tube hooked up you. another glance around the sterile hospital room showed your heart rate monitor and other cords wrapped up around the hospital bed. you laughed, "...and what's all this stuff on me?" "you had a seizure." oikawa said sharply, though not unkind. you stared at him once more in disbelief. "...really?" "yeah. I came back from getting our drinks when...when I found you lying on the ground, shaking. the doctor says you bit your tongue, which explains why the foam that was coming out of your mouth was pink. they want to do an MRI on you." "oh." you gazed down, then met his eyes again. "you... had to deal with that all by yourself?" "other people in the library helped me... though I don't think I was the nicest guy to be around. its sort of all of a blur." you smiled, "for me, too. I can barely remember what we were talking about before I woke up." oikawa's eyes widened, "really?" "yeah... but I think I'll be okay, as long as you're here." "this hasn't happened before, has it?" "no, not really. I mean, I've always gotten light-headed easily, which is sort of how I felt before I, ya know... went down... but never like that. I don't think. then again, if I wasn't here in a hospital bed, I think I would've just thought I fell asleep or something. it just feels like I took a long nap. still kind of tired, honestly." oikawa shook his head. "I'm never letting you out of my sight ever again." "oikawa, seriously. it's gonna be okay. I'm fine. nothing bad happened, right? I didn't die." "BUT YOU COULD'VE!" he shouted. "...you could've.." he said again in a whisper. suddenly, he got up. leaning over the hospital bed, he pressed his lips to your temple, leaving a soft kiss in its wake. "I just... I don't want to see you suffering. I don't want you to get hurt." "but you were there." "but what if I wasn't?" "but you were." you slid your hand over his own. "oikawa, it's gonna be okay, I promise. I'm a little scared, too, but... I know we'll figure something out, okay?" he let out a mix between a sigh and a laugh, "why does it feel like I was the one who had the seizure? some boyfriend I am, making you feel worse." "oikawa shush." you placed you index finger over his lips. "you're not allowed to talk about yourself in that way in my presence." he rolled his eyes, but his dimples popped out in a wary smile. "you're amazing, you know that?" you imitated deep-thought, your finger on your chin. "hmm... no, doesn't ring a bell." a full grin bloomed across his face now. "then I'll spend the rest of my life reminding you."

a/n: romanticize the source of your medical bills girlies 💕 it works wonders

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runningfrom2am · 2 months

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cold nights // part twenty-four

summary: you were back in the capitol, and you would be damned if you didn't try your hardest to make it worthwhile.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.5k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: yayyyy omg i didn't mean to wait so long to post this sorry y'all. also i think i have a coryo oneshot on the way soon maybe. unrelated to BOTH of these series, which is unheard of from me lol. oh, and i'm planning a few for this series for once it's done. (which is creeping up on us, somehow)

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

"Coryo." Tigris says as he comes back from walking their grandmother back to her room. With the "horrible" news that a District girl would be living with them, she insisted she had to lie down or she may just die.

"She's fine." He waves his cousin off, brushing past her to grab your bag for you. "Just her typical theatrics, she'll love Y/N when she gets to know her. Don't worry."

"It's not grandma'am I'm worried about." She whispers, grabbing his arm to stop him.

"Y/N?" He frowns, pausing and looking at her. "Is she okay? God- I was scared of grandma'am saying something like that to her..."

"She's fine, but you called her 'love', Coryo. In the elevator. Is she your girlfriend now, or something like that?" Tigris asks, looking back down the hall to make sure neither you nor their grandmother were overhearing.

"I mean, kind of? Not really, I don't know." He stammers, avoiding her eyes. "We never talked about it."

"Coryo!" She hisses. "If grandma'am finds out she'll have a heart attack!"

"Okay, then she doesn't have to know yet. As I said, one, we haven't talked about it and two, grandma'am will get used to her eventually and it will be fine."

"I know that." Tigris sighs, taking a step back and rubbing her head. "I'm making up the guest room for her. Just... don't let grandma'am find out."

"Obviously not." He mutters, picking up your bag to carry into the guest room.

"But Coryo-" She stops him in his tracks and he turns, looking at her expectantly. "Don't think I'm not happy for you, okay? She's incredibly sweet. Just... keep it between you guys for now. Be gentle with her."

He nods, giving her a small smile before carrying on down the hall.

When Coryo opens the door to his bedroom, you're sitting in the middle of the floor, leaning over your crossed legs as you write against the floor. "Y/N/N." He laughs slightly, closing the door behind himself. "What are you doing?"

You look up, and can't help but smile when you see him. "Hi." You grin, straightening up and standing, unfinished letter and pencil still in hand. "I was writing a letter to Lennox."

"On the floor?"

"Yes."

"There's a perfectly functional desk right behind you, love." He points as he closes the gap between the two of you.

"Yes, well, I did not want to overstep or seem nosey." You explain, looking at the desk and then back up at him.

He smiles, placing his hands on your waist. "This is my room."

"Exactly."

"What I meant," He chuckles, thumbs running over the sides of your stomach on your top. "Is that you can do whatever you want."

"Oh, well, thank you." You nod, looking down at the bed. "I'm glad to hear that because Tybs has already taken over your bed."

When he follows your eyes to the cat sprawled out on top of his sheets, he laughs. "See? He's already made himself at home."

"I am so sorry, I tried to keep him off. His hair gets on everything." You quickly say, already reaching to pick up your stubborn cat again.

"I have a lint roller." He shrugs, grabbing your wrist to stop you and leaning down to kiss your cheek.

"A lint roller?"

"Oh, love..." He chuckles, crouching down slightly to be able to pull you closer as he lifts you and spins you in a circle.

You laugh, trying not to crush your letter as you hold onto him.

"I can't wait to show you everything. You're going to love it here." He grins, letting you back down onto your feet. "I know you will."

You bite your lip over a fading smile, nodding up at him.

"I know it's scary, I know that." He assures you, once again running his hands up and down the side of your waist. "But you'll get used to it, and you'll be happy here. I promise."

"How are you finding things so far?" Tigris asks, curious as you make eye contact with her while making an extremely conscious effort to not spill the tea from the cup in your hand. It felt so delicate in your hands, and you have never felt filthier- as if just sitting on their couch or touching their things would ruin them. "Not that you've seen much, yet."

"It's..." You start, deciding just to put the steaming tea down so you don't spill it on your lap. "It really is like I've never been here before. Which is nice, because I was scared to come back, if I am being totally honest."

"I can imagine." She nods in understanding.

"When, um, when I was last here," You clear your throat. "We didn't see much of anything. We were always moved in vehicles with no windows except for the funeral, so..."

We.

"You could see some of the city from the zoo, though." Coryo adds.

"I could." You nod, swallowing over the dryness suddenly overbearing in your mouth. "Tigris, Coryo says you're a designer?" Changing the subject was the only thing you could do to help it.

"Yes, well, I'm trying." She laughs.

"My Ma is a seamstress." You tell her. "She's made everythin' I've ever worn." The way your District accent seems to reappear makes Coryo smile to himself- that's who you were at home. He can hear the tension and nerves leaving your tone.

"Really?" She smiles. "That's amazing. I've made much of our clothes, too, but it's just so hard to find the time."

"It is extremely time-consuming." You agree, looking over at Coryo next to you as he pats your shoulder. He points to the tray of snacks Tigris had brought out, and you reach out to take a cookie. You hadn't eaten all day, which was likely contributing to your shakiness. Though, you also hadn't felt hungry at all since you left home.

"Your mother is very talented." Tigris says, taking a sip of her tea and gesturing to the skirt and top you were currently wearing. "Does she embroider too?"

You look down, taking note of the detailing on the trim of your sweater. "Yes. All by hand."

"I've never tried it, I wouldn't know where to start." Tigris laughs.

"Oh, me neither." You laugh slightly, shaking your head. You did know, you weren't as good at it as your ma, but she still put in the effort of teaching you the basics.

"Don't talk too much about this- Tigris will turn you into a human pin cushion." Coryo teases, looking back to the hall to make sure grandma'am hadn't somehow made an early recovery and come out of her room before he can place his arm over your shoulders.

"Oh, hush." She laughs, pretending to throw a cookie at him as you chew slowly on yours, smiling. They remind you of you and Lennox, almost. The way they talk to each other, and how much it's obvious they love each other. Anywhere in Panem, kids are just kids.

The wave of a sick, gut-wrenching feeling hits you so fast that you stand up before you can even think about it. "Would you excuse me?" You mumble, turning and retreating down the hall to look for the bathroom Tigris pointed out earlier without even hearing either of their responses.

By the time you gently close the door and slide the lock shut, you're near hyperventilating. You hadn't even said goodbye to your own brother. You wrote him a note promising to write him every week and call once they had the phone that Coryo left them money for, but it wasn't enough. The idea of him waking to find you just gone, again, was all it took to have you sliding down the wall and curling up with your knees to your chest.

You were alone, and you missed your brother. Your family, the Covey. You should have said a longer goodbye to Lucy Gray, you should have woken Lennox and faced his anger about you leaving because that would mean you could have at least given him a hug. You felt like an awful sister, and an awful friend.

Even as you screw your eyes shut to try and pretend you're in your own bathroom, it doesn't do a thing to hold back the tears that have begun to stream freely down your face.

You have to be quiet.

What helped last time? Last time, you ran over lines. Coryo asked you to talk to him. Coryo was there.

Oh, she tore the letter into a thousand half-pence; railed at herself, that she should be so immodest to write to one that she knew would flout her. 'I measure him,' says she, 'by my own spirit; for I should flout him, if he writ to me; yea, though I love him, I should.

Thinking about it does very little as well, so you continue. With your forehead pressed to your knees, random lines and quotes flow through your head and are endlessly whispered from your lips. You don't have time to think of anything else.

You were getting better at managing your own panic attacks before Coryo came to Twelve, but since then you had been set back to square one. The games ended over two months ago now, and it still feels like it was only a week ago; the shock had worn off and you felt like you were losing your mind. Other times, other days, you were completely fine. As if none of it had ever happened, but would this move be the beginning of round three? Was this what your life was now? A never-ending cycle of feeling normal followed suddenly by the need to pull yourself up and out of rock bottom?

You didn't know if you could take it.

The nightmares came back day in and day out in that first week. You hadn't slept well, and you only left the apartment a small handful of times and even that was only for the sake of sending letters, getting things for Tybalt, and taking him to the vet.

Coryo really wanted you to get out with him for something you wanted to do or see, but at the same time, he understood why you wouldn't want to leave. When you finally agreed to leave with him, to go to the university campus with him to pick up an application and so he could give you a tour, he felt like a kid on Christmas morning.

"So, we live in The Corso. That main street we were just on, obviously. That's where all the Capitols Elites live, for the most part." Coryo explains, but you're having trouble paying attention. There were just so many people. You'd seen large groups of people before in Twelve, at the market or The Hob or the reaping, but never when everyone looked so different. At the same time, this also made it easier for you to blend in. Hardly anyone had stopped you, and you hoped it would be less and less from here on out. "Hey- you still with me?"

You look up at him, nodding. "Yes, that's lovely."

"You have no idea what I just said, do you?" He laughs, reaching out to gently fix the orange scarf you had draped around your neck and over your head that had begun to slide back over your hair. It was another effort to hide- it made you feel safe. You intended to return the scarf to him, but he insisted you keep it. Suddenly, you went nowhere without it.

"Sorry, it's just... quite loud. There's a lot of people." You explain, and he has to lean down slightly to hear you.

"Yeah, well, it is a Monday morning." He says, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Lots of people going to work."

You just nod, subconsciously drifting closer to his side as you walk.

"I was just saying that this is the route we'll take to get to school." Coryo grins, gently nudging your side.

"If I get accepted."

"You will." He assures you. "I don't doubt it for a minute."

Walking onto what must be the university campus, you already see fewer people. Classes for the fall semester didn't begin for a couple of weeks, Coryo said, so that allowed you to tour the buildings and property peacefully after you picked up your application.

It was another ornate building- outside and in, you realized as Coryo opened the double doors for you. You look around, eyes wide.

"Nice, hey?" He smiles, taking your hand. "Come on, the registrar's office is this way."

You follow him blindly down a few hallways, looking up at the tall ceilings and the paintings and out the windows and even at the architecture of the building itself. It was a lot to take in, but you were pleased it was so quiet. It wouldn't always be like this, and given that you do get accepted the way he promised, you wouldn't have time to process the beauty of it later.

Entering the office behind Coryo, you decide to keep your position mostly behind him as he walks up to the desk. There's not an ounce of hesitation in his gait- or in the smile on his face. He's all confidence. This is him in his natural state- it was nice to see him truly happy.

"Good morning, Mister Snow, what can we do for you? Did you want a paper copy of your schedule?" The woman behind the counter asks him, neatly stacking some papers and placing them down next to some books on her desk.

"Hello," He grins. "I actually was hoping I could get another copy of the application forms."

"Oh? Registration and acceptance closed weeks ago."

"I know that, but..." He steps to the side, nodding for you to join him. Nervously, you do, grabbing his hand under the counter. "This is Y/N, she'd like to apply. I know it's late but she just moved to the city so I was hoping we could work around it."

The woman's eyes widen. "I- Uh, yes, okay. Yes. We can certainly try." She nods quickly. "What program will you be applying for, Miss Y/L/N?" Of course she knew who you were, and maybe now it would benefit you.

You look up at Coryo, but he just nods at you to answer. "Oh, um, English Literature, please." You answer quietly.

"Arts." Coryo corrects you kindly, squeezing your hand and nodding to her.

"Alright, let me just grab those for you." She smiles, heels clicking on the floor as she walks toward a back room.

"And I would like my schedule, if that's possible!" Coryo calls after her and she turns to give him a quick nod before disappearing behind a polished dark-wood door. "English Lit will be your major, love, but you don't need to decide on that yet." He whispers to you.

"Gosh, I'm already embarrassing myself." You laugh slightly.

"No, no you're not. It's a little confusing. I should have told you."

"I didn't know registration was already closed, Coryo." You frown. "If it's inconvenient for them we should just go. I'll just find a job instead."

"Nonsense." He shakes his head. "Like I said, they want you here. They will make it happen, trust me."

"That's not fair though, is it?"

"It's more fair because you couldn't have handed it in on time if you wanted to." He says, dropping your hand in favour of sliding his onto your lower back.

"I suppose..."

"Okay! I've got it here..." The woman reappears and you paint on your smile, reaching out for the small folder as she walks up. "There's the application and some testing questions. If you could get it to us by tomorrow night that would be amazing."

"Yes, of course, I-"

"Tomorrow night?" Coryo asks, eyebrows raised at her. "Miss, respectfully, I worked on my application for weeks, and my tests were conducted by the school."

"You'll do just fine. Just try your best." She winks at you and he purses his lips, displeased that they hardly were even giving you a chance to submit an adequate application that would accurately reflect the extent of your intelligence.

"Thank you." You tell her honestly, clutching the stack of papers to your chest. "I shall have it done tomorrow."

Coryo assumes it must be different- shorter or lacking one (or several) of the essay portions. He grabs his schedule from her with a small smile, nodding before guiding you out of the room.

"Are you hungry or anything, love?" He asks you, sliding his hand up your back to rest between your shoulder blades as you move down the same empty hall. "I could show you around and then we could stop on our way back."

You chew your lip, papers clutched against your chest. "Perhaps you can give me the tour tomorrow when we come back to drop this off?" You ask, looking up at him. "I think it is more important I go home and get this finished, there is no time to waste."

He smiles, leaning over to kiss the crown of your head while you walk. "Yes, of course. Whatever you want."

'The lessons we take from obstacles we encounter can be fundamental to later success. Recount a time when you faced a challenge, setback, or failure. How did it affect you, and what did you learn from the experience?'

Staring at the essay question on the page didn't make it any easier to answer. You almost wish you had started with this so you had more time, rather than filling out all the personal information on the first and second pages and the financial information Coryo helped you with.

The answer was painfully obvious. You didn't want to write about the games, how they challenged you both mentally and physically, and what you learned from them. A lot about yourself, very little about the city you now found yourself living in.

Tapping your pen against the desk, you roll over in your mind how you want to word this. It was a delicate line to walk- it had to be honest, but also favourable to the people who lived here.

"Coryo?" You call out, turning in your chair and standing up to head across down the hall to his room.

He had left the door open, laying overtop of his ironed bedsheets and reading one of the many books you brought for him. "Can you come help me, please?"

He smiles, dropping the book immediately. "What do you need?"

"The essay... I don't know what to write." Mostly a lie, you just needed clarification on the best possible route to take the paper.

"What was the question again?" He asks as he gets up.

"What is a challenge I faced, how did it affect me, and what did I learn from it."

"What about the games?" He suggests as he brushes past you, heading into your room as you trail behind.

"Well, yes, but I don't know how to best approach it. I feel like that is a very delicate subject from my perspective." You explain. "I want to be honest but I also want them to like it."

Coryo hums, leaning over your desk to look at what has been completed on the application so far. "That's... yeah that's tough." He agrees. "If you were to answer it fully honestly, no watering it down for them, what would you want to say?"

"That..." You pause, thinking about it for a moment. "That it ruined my life. I'll never be the same person again- and neither will my loved ones, and I learned that my morals crumbled quickly under pressure." And that it's better to die in the games than live to tell the tale.

"Okay, so... it gave you a new outlook on life and a more profound appreciation for the life you had before, and you learned that people can change quickly to adapt and overcome their circumstances," Coryo says, and you frown. "Not that it is necessarily true, but that's what they'd like to hear and you wouldn't be completely lying."

He was good at twisting words and telling people what they wanted to hear in order to get what he needed from them; after all, he'd been doing it his whole life just to stay alive. His future depended on it, but you had never noticed that before. Maybe that came with a Capitol education, 'people pleasing' could be a course they taught at his academy, you wouldn't know. Power is everything here, apparently.

"And... I suppose if I had to think of an honestly good thing, I did make some friends out of it." You say, smiling up at him hopefully.

"And I am so glad," He nods, patting your shoulder. You always tried to look at the bright side- he remembered getting that impression from you even just watching the reaping. "But you can't include that."

"Why not?" You tilt your head at him.

"They won't like it, love. I mean, I would, but unfortunately, it's not for me to read."

"I see. Okay." You nod, biting your tongue. Your priorities had to shift if you wanted to get into the university, and that is a condition you could accept with a bit of practice.

"Want me to stay in here?" Coryo offers. "In case you have more questions?"

"I would like you to stay regardless." You giggle, sliding your arms around his waist to hug him.

"Good." He chuckles. "I didn't want to leave."

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dokoni-mo · 1 year

Text

Crave: Part Four || William Afton x GN! Reader

summary: you're his now, but what next?

Mild NSFW

word count: 4544

warnings: age-gap relationship (reader is 20 william is pushing 40), allusions to mental illness, willy is obsessive, possessive too, and a little creepy, and a hypocrite, and narcissistic lol, and a little bit of a yandere, or at least becoming one, mentions of divorce, dysfunctional parent-child relationships, secret relationships, swearing, gaslighting, manipulation tactics, dom/sub undertones if you squint, willy is VERY egotistical, allusions to corruption kink, praise, kissing, Michael is in this

minors dni // pls read warnings!!

a/n: look ik i said i'd finish KNY first and i AM working on it i promise but i am down atrocious for willy rn and i cant help it,, this story and writing willy is also really interesting to me sooo yeah :)) taglist is still open, enjoy! (also disclaimer: i do not condode this type of relationship irl, this is just my take on being with peepaw)

part one // part two // part three

~~~

Sundays were always William's favorite days of the week. Something about them just always felt slow to him and comforting.

They were always placed perfectly in the midst of his busy schedule. On Sundays, nothing was required of the brit. He was able to take his shoes off and relax, knowing that the work week was still away from him. The calm before the storm, if you will. Back when he was still married to Clara, he would make a treat of them. Make his family a traditional American breakfast of eggs, bacon, pancakes, everything.

Not because he loved them, no. Of course not. It was for himself. He liked making himself a banquet. Living in America for so long, he found that he rather enjoyed it's food. The slight chubbiness in his stomach and thighs showed for it. If it were up to him, William would have the whole feast to himself. His family only tagged along because they lived in his house. And he allowed it to keep his façade. Kept them happy and content for a while, too. Shut them up.

But, this time was different. This time, making breakfast on a Sunday morning was special. Because he was making it for you.

And you were the only thing William ever truly loved.

William woke that morning as the sunlight of that beautiful Utah morning crept in through his window, hitting his pale eyes to wake him up. The brit often woke up early before the sun had even made her first appearance, but allowed himself to sleep in just a hair that day. How could he not? When he had the most adorable little bunny in the world curled up in his arms? And potentially disturb them? He wouldn't ever dream of it.

He kept his promise to you in that he didn't leave you throughout the night whilst you slept. He wouldn't even dream of that either. William had one night stands in the past, yes, but you were far above that.

He loved you. He would never leave you.

Just like how you'd never leave him.

Blinking the grogginess of his sleep away from his eyes, William took a deep, long breath of the cold morning air through his nose. Looking down, he could see that you were still asleep. You must've turned around while you were sleeping, because you were facing towards the older man now. William's arms were still snug around your waist, and your little hands were gently laid on the expanse of his scarred chest. Last night must've really wiped you out, since you were still snoring softly before him, your hair partially covering your precious eyes.

William smiled at the sight of you, reaching up to brush the hair out of your face and gently press a kiss to your forehead.

It's alright, little one. Rest all you like. You're safe with William.

The safest place you could be is in his arms.

Don't you agree?

William pressed a few more soft kisses to your forehead and cheeks as he watched you sleep next to him, careful to be quiet and light so he didn't wake you. You were so adorable. So perfect. Just having you next to him made the man feel warm inside, made him smile genuinely.

You were the only one that had ever had that affect on him. Even his ex-wife couldn't accomplish that. She had only been easy for William. He knew that in order to be normal, he would have to take a spouse eventually. Clara was just the only person available at the time. And, to add on, there was also the accident that was Michael. It was only natural for William to marry her. It's what a normal man would do. And his past flings were only just that. Flings. Something to keep him entertained for a night or two.

Clara was never his bunny. Never. She was never even close. Nor any of the other people he had been with.

You were his bunny. And no one else.

And that's why he loved you. For real. Loved you.

Just like you loved him.

As much as William would've loved to shower you with kisses until you woke up, he knew that you would be hungry when you did. It was rather rude of him to promise you dinner last night, then never give it to you. Poor thing, you must be famished. He was sorry, bunny, he was. William always wanted to take care of you. He was just so, so excited to finally have you. Get you all alone with him. Make you his, once and for all. You enjoyed yourself, though, didn't you? Oh, heaven knows William sure did. You were the best he had ever had. Perhaps it wasn't all that bad now, was it? But, still. William couldn't have his bunny go hungry. That was just mean. William could never be mean to you, bunny. Never.

So, allow him to make it up to you.

Leaning forward one last time, William pressed a long, drawn-out kiss to your soft cheek, his eyes lingering on your sweet face a moment longer as he pulled away.

"I'll be right back, bunny. Don't go anywhere." He whispered to you, careful as to not wake you up.

Pulling away from you and out of the covers, it was much colder for William in the cool air of his room without you next to him. You must've felt colder as well, considering how you groaned in your sleep and rolled onto your other side. You had pulled a bundle of the covers along with you, holding it close to your chest as you settled again.

William couldn't help but feel a little sad. He wanted to be those covers.

But, he had to have patience. Michael wouldn't be back from his mother's until tomorrow morning. William still had at least 24 more hours with you. After he made sure you had some good food and water in you, you and him could cuddle all he wanted.

Perhaps even more. Perhaps he could show you a few more fun games you and him could play.

If you were up for it, of course.

Before leaving his room, William crept over to his old wooden dresser and opened up its drawers without a sound. Carefully, William pulled out his favorite pajama pants and sleep shirt and pulled them on, relieving him of just being in his underwear. While he was nearly certain you didn't have any plans of waking up anytime soon, William still left one of his shirts on the end of his bed for you just in case. Shit. What if you did wake up? While he was cooking? You creeping down the stairs all tired in his shirt. It would look so good on you too. It would surely be too large to fit you properly, but not long enough to cover your lower half in any meaningful way. So cute... Come here, won't you, bunny? That's it, good. Lean up against the counter for William. Don't you and him just fit together so perfectly? William's big hands feel so good on you, don't they? Doesn't his fingers fit so well over your cute little butt? Precious bunny, don't mind him if he just had to-

Goddamn it William. Focus. (Y/N) is hungry. This could wait until later.

Giving your sleeping form one last look, William disappeared out of his room and into his kitchen.

~~~

Mr. Afton came to realize that he wasn't too sure of what you liked and didn't. Even after pestering Michael for so long about your interests, and snooping on your friends and classmates over the security cams in the Diner, William was never able to pick up on your food preferences. This was fine. He would learn what you liked and didn't over time, now that you and him were an item. This was the first time he had cooked for you, sure. But it wouldn't be the last.

You and him had a whole lifetime to explore together now. Surely he would learn your diet over time. He wouldn't be a good partner to you if he didn't.

William ultimately decided on something safe, yet also something that would let him guess what you did and didn't like. Toast (one with butter and another with jam), eggs (scrambled), a few pieces of bacon, and water. Surely you would eat at least one of the toast slices. If you didn't, perhaps you had a gluten intolerance. That would tell William a lot right off the bat. The eggs were a gamble, even more so the bacon. He knew that a lot of people didn't like eggs, and felt weird eating them. Elizabeth was like that. The bacon was a meat product too. You wouldn't touch it if you were a vegetarian, nor if your religion didn't allow it. And, if you were a vegan, you would only have the toast with jam. At the very least, however, you were going to eat one of these items. His sweet bunny was kind. You would be polite, and happily eat whatever William gave you that also aligned with your diet. And, if there was nothing you liked, he'd happily get you something you did.

It was a perfect test. William was rather proud of himself.

The brit wouldn't make you climb all the way downstairs for your meal. He wanted to spoil you. It was your first morning with him, this should be celebrated. This was the start of your relationship, and William would be damned if he didn't make you feel loved and cherished today.

Gathering up the plate of food and water cup on a tray, William carried up your breakfast to his room, pushing the door open with his foot. You were still asleep, and it didn't even look like you had moved an inch since he had left.

Silly bunny. You were so cute when you slept. He could watch you for hours. Maybe he would tonight. Just to drink in how cute you were. Hell, if he still had that old polaroid camera, maybe he could take a picture for when you weren't able to stay the night. William you are a genius. A picture would be perfect.

He'll look for it later. When you're in the shower or something.

Setting the tray down on his nightstand, William paused for a moment to admire your sleeping form for a second longer, hovering his face a few feet away from your own. You were so gorgeous. So peaceful and ethereal. You looked like you were a dream. Feeling his lips part, William lifted up his hand and cradled your cheek in his palm, his calloused thumb gently rubbing into your soft skin.

You were breathtaking.

But, it was time to get up, little bunny. William missed talking to you. And oh did he want to talk to you about some things.

Leaning forward, William pressed more kisses onto your face, this time harder and with more purpose.

"Good morning, my love." He rumbled out to you in between kisses. Gently stroking your hair, William could feel you stir underneath his touch, you being gently roused out of your sleep. You tried to protest at first with a few mumbles, and William couldn't help but chuckle. His breath fanning against your face, the brit continued to press more kisses to your forehead and cheeks until you finally cracked your sweet eyes open. You looked up at the older man, the sleep still laced in your tired eyes and voice as you spoke.

"Mmn... William?" you rasped out, making the man smile as he smoothed your hair.

"Yes, love," he responded, pressing another kiss to your cheek, "It's me. Good morning, my precious bunny."

You gave him a soft smile as you took one of your arms out from under the covers, rubbing circles into your eyes to wash away the sleep.

"God, I really thought I was dreaming." You mumbled to yourself, making William chuckle again.

"No, love, no. Not a dream at all." William leaned in and gave you a quick peck on your lips, "Though for me, it is a dream come true."

You let out a sleepy giggle as you sat up, pulling the covers up to cover your still-bare chest, "That's really cheesy, yknow."

"It's the truth, my love. Here."

William moved from your side of the bed over to his, picking up and holding out the shirt he got out for you earlier. With a small thanks, you took the shirt and pulled it on over your head, the loose clothing draping across your shoulders as you pushed the covers back down. Mr. Afton sat next to you and watched.

Damn. Mr. Afton was right. You were adorable in his clothes. You looked better in his shirt than even he did. And that was saying something. He had picked every single article of clothing long ago, and tailored it so he'd be as attractive as possible in them. Of course, he was a little biased. But still. You were just too cute.

"I made you a little something, too." William said as he reached behind up. He picked up the tray of your breakfast and set it gently in front of you, watching as how your face lit up with a smile.

"Oh, wow, this looks so good, thank you!" You exclaimed, picking up your jelly toast and taking a bite, "No one's ever made me breakfast in bed before."

William felt himself smile as his heart swelled in his chest, "It's not trouble at all, love. It's the least I can do after such a wonderful night, yeah?"

You took another bite of your toast and nodded, chewing and swallowing and wiping your mouth before you talked again, "I'm assuming you wanna talk about some things?"

Wow. You were rather blunt, weren't you, little one? William often forgot how smart you were. It's alright though. He loved that about you. How you challenged him. You were perfect.

"Yes, I do, bunny." He said, reaching up to smooth out your hair away from your face, "If that's alright with you, of course."

"Yeah, it's alright. I just have one question before, though."

"Hm?"

"You lied to get me here, didn't you? About Michael needing help?"

William felt a chill run through his veins at your words, his pale grey eyes widening ever so slightly. How did you know? Did you really put the pieces together that quickly? You seemed to believe him last night, you had asked about his son a plethora of times. Or were you just putting on an act? Just being kind to the older man, because surely he wouldn't call you over that late at night for nothing, right? Damn. He had never had someone see through his lies so quickly before. William was a good liar. If we were being technical here, he had been lying for almost 40 years now. Of course he was good at it. And, he was good at covering his tracks too. Finding some way to make his lie believable when he had to lie again to keep it going.

But there was no point now, wasn't there? At least, not with this one. You were a clever bunny. No point of keeping it up.

"I..." William begun. He sighed to himself and nodded, "Yes, love, I did."

You took another bite of your toast, "Why?"

Based on how you looked at Mr. Afton, you didn't seem mad. Not at all. This was good for him. He couldn't imagine what it'd be like if you were upset with him. It'd break his heart. You seemed to like the truth. So, it's the truth he would give you.

"I just couldn't think of another way to get us alone, my love." William said, "I hated being without you. I wanted you for so long, I just... I'm sorry, bunny. I should've thought of another way."

Swallowing your toast, you looked at the brit with a smile forming on your face. Wiping away any crumbs, you leaned over your tray and pressed a gentle, soft kiss to his pale cheek, making his lips part in slight shock.

"It's okay." You said, "I lied too. So we're even now."

You lied to him? Oh, bunny. Naughty bunny. William didn't like bad bunnies that lied to him. Not at all. It was against the rules. You should never lie to William. His job is to keep you safe, and he can't do that if you're bad.

But, then again...

You weren't very aware of the rules yet. Not yet. That's something he wanted to talk about with you today over your breakfast. And you did forgive him readily. The two of you were even, as you put it.

William will let you off the hook this once. He had been doing that a lot these last 24 hours, but it's alright. You would learn in time. William could be a bit more laid-back for now.

For now.

"And what did you lie about, hm?" He asked, genuinely curious. He couldn't even think of when you possibly could've lied.

"When you called me," you explained, "and I said I had class in the morning. I lied about that. I don't have any classes today. I just didn't want to go out that late. You totally fell for it though. I mean, who has classes on Sundays?"

You were right. William maybe should've picked up on that. He was just too excited.

Oh well.

"That's...all?"

You breathed out a giggle, "Yeah, sorry. I just felt kinda guilty. But, I'd say we're even now. And I definitely don't regret coming over."

William let himself smile again at this, leaning in and giving a kiss to your temple, "It's alright, bunny. I forgive you."

When William settled back down in his spot, he made it a point to scoot a little closer to you, placing one of his hands on your bare knee and rubbing soft circles into your skin. He didn't like having to be so serious with you. He wanted you to have fun with him. But, William needed to be serious, so that you could have fun. So that you and him could stay together forever.

You needed to know your rules.

And, more importantly, he needed to gauge when it would be best to see you, and maximize the amount of times he could. You were a college student, so he knew you'd be busy. He was a busy man too. But he wanted as much time with you as possible. Having you near him made him feel loved. And safe. And warm. And comfortable. And...

Normal.

You loved him just as he was. When no one else did.

His sweet bunny.

His.

"Now, love," He begun, sounding sweet yet firm at the same time as he stared deep into your eyes, "I want you to know beforehand that I'm only doing all these things because it's my job to keep you safe. And happy, yeah? That I'm only trying to keep us safe."

You nodded in agreement.

William flashed you a smile, "Good bunny. Now, just for now, I think that it's best that we keep our... relationship just between you and me, yeah?"

You raised your eyebrows a little as you set your toast down, wiping your hands, "Our... relationship?"

William was a little confused.

"Yes, love." He said, "Is that not what people call it these days?"

You shook your head, "No, no! It's just... I was preparing for you to say just, like... That last night was great but we can't see each other anymore."

What? You expected him to just give you a one night stand? William felt his heart break a little at your words, his brow bending downwards as he cupped your face in his palm.

Did he not do a good job of showing you how much he loved you? Did you not feel loved? Bunny, you need to tell him these things. William wants you to feel good with him. Both emotionally and physically. He wants to show you just how much he loves you, and damn him if he can't get the message across. William loves you so, so much.

"No, love, no." He reassured you, "I meant what I said earlier. That I want you to be mine, forever. You remember, yeah?"

You nodded in agreement, a tiny smile reappearing on your sweet face.

"I mean it, bunny. You're the only one for me." His thumb traveled down to your lips, pressing against the soft skin, "My precious darling..."

Your smile grew as you pressed a kiss to William's hand, nuzzling your cheek further into his touch.

"But, we have to be a secret?" you asked, your doe eyes looking into his.

"Unfortunately, love, we do." His thumb went back to rubbing gently against your cheek, "Just for a little while. Believe me, I want to show you off to everyone. It's just, for now, it's... complicated."

"Wait... you're not married, ri-"

William chuckled, "No, no! Definitely not. I've long since been divorced, love."

"Then why do we have to be a secret?"

William smiled at your question. You were just so adorable. You wanted him to show you off, didn't you? Precious bunny. Of course William wanted to let everyone know you were his. Because you were. His. He didn't want anyone in this fucking idiotic town taking you away from him, no.

It's like he said. It's complicated.

"Because, love," he explained, "It just might be a little... jarring to some people. Especially to a certain someone we know."

Fucking Michael. William knew that if Michael found out about you and him, hell would be raised in the house. William didn't want to deal with the headache of it all. The little brat might run off and spread some nasty rumors too. Or, even worse, feed you all sorts of lies. About how William was no good for you. About how he was just a mean man that wanted to have you just for some good arm-candy. That William didn't love you.

That's the one. That's the one that made William's blood boil, at even just the mere thought of it. William did love you. He loved you more than anything or anyone in the entire world. And you loved him back. Who was Michael to take you away from him?

No one. Absolutely no one.

William knew you wouldn't want to be a secret forever, though. As easy as it would be. It was fine though. William didn't really want to keep you a secret either. He was genuine when he said he wanted to show you off. He wanted to kiss you and hold your hand in public and not apologize for it. Hug you. Let you walk around with his marks on your neck. Smell like his fancy cologne. And even, perhaps...

Oh. Oh, that was a good one.

Perhaps even he'd put a ring on your finger.

Oh, god. His little bunny. With the ring he got them on their finger. In a little wedding outfit. Having it written on paper. The honeymoon...

Yes. That was a good one.

He'd have to keep that in mind for later.

"But," you said, "Michael is still my friend. I can't just not see him around classes and stuff. He's still gonna wanna have me over and all that. Wouldn't it be... awkward?"

"It doesn't have to be," William reassured you, taking one of your hands into his and kissing your knuckles, "We'll just have to pretend for those bits, won't we? Perhaps if we get a moment alone, too..."

You giggled at his insinuation, a faint tint on your cheeks.

"Do you think you can keep our little secret safe, bunny?" He asked.

"Yeah," you nodded, "I can. I can keep a secret."

"Good. I promise to keep up my end of the bargain, too."

"So... when will we get to see each other then? I still have classes during the week, so, like, the weekends?"

William kissed the back of your hand again, giving it a squeeze, "That'll be the best time for both of us, yes. I know you're busy with your studies, and I'm busy as well. However..."

William let go of your hand briefly to reach behind him into the drawer of his nightstand. He felt around for a few moments before he found what he was searching for, pulling it out and shutting the drawer.

"I'm usually in my office while I'm working. Here." He explained, pressing the object into your hand, "This is the spare key. If you go in through the front, just take a right and keep going until you reach the end of that hallway. Mine is the last door on your left. You're free to come in whenever you want, bunny. Just make sure no one sees you, yeah? And if I'm not there just wait a little, and I will be."

Mr. Afton watched as you turned the key over in your hands, the silver reflecting onto your adorable face.

"You work at that diner that all the kids like, right?" You asked, "The one on Main with all the robots?"

William chuckled, "Yes, love. That's the one."

"Cool. I've never been there before."

Trust him, bunny. He knew.

"Well now you have a reason, yeah?"

"Definitely."

William smiled at you again, leaning in and giving you a kiss on your cheek as he took your hand into his again.

"There's just a few more things, love." He said.

"What is it?"

William wasn't too sure how you would react to this last part. Your real rules. But, he also knew that you hadn't had a relationship before. Perhaps you would just think that they're a normal part of a relationship. It's not like what he was going to ask of you was hard or anything. It was just a few things to make sure you were safe. Something to keep your mind occupied with him. He didn't want you wandering off already, no. Not that you would. You loved him. When it came to you, however, William was more paranoid than normal. He didn't even want a chance for you to slip away from him.

It'd be okay. Surely. You loved him. You wouldn't mind a few rules, wouldn't you bunny? They're just so William can keep you safe. Isn't that what you want?

Of course you would. He just had to word this properly so it didn't' scare you.

"I would... appreciate it," He begun, rubbing soothing circles onto your knuckles, "If you would phone me at least once during the week. And tell me if anyone has been pestering you. And be honest with me. Always. No matter what, yeah?"

William reached out and smoothed your hair behind your ear, dipping his hand down to cradle your cheek again in his palm.

"Can you do that, love?" He asked, "Be a good bunny for me?"

He could feel your cheeks heat up again as you nodded.

"Yes, I can..."

Mr. Afton smiled, "Thank you, dear."

What a good little thing you are. So eager to please him already.

"But," you peeped out, "What if Michael answers instead?"

You made a fair point. William's son was rude. And often made William's life all the more harder. Hell, it was because of him that the brit couldn't show you off around time. Hide you away. That goddamned brat. Michael was lucky that he was the reason William knew about you. Otherwise, William would've never seen anything good about that boy.

Embicile.

William let out a hum, "Don't worry about that, love. I'll take care of it. Just talk to him like you normally would, I'll be there eventually. I promise."

"If you say so."

William felt his smile grow at your words. You were just too perfect. William wondered why he didn't enact his little plan sooner. The way he felt now versus before was starkly different. This must be what real, genuine love and happiness felt like. The older man would sometimes feel jealous of those who got to experience it, thinking he never would. But, here he was, and here you were.

You made him so happy, bunny. His sweet, precious angel.

"Is there anything else you want to add, bunny?" He asked, wanting to make sure you were comfortable too.

You shook your head, "No. Just, thank you for breakfast. It was yummy."

William took that as a sign that you were done and took away your tray, setting it on the nightstand, "It's no trouble at all, love. Now, come here. Let me hold you a bit."

The brit saw how you smiled as you scooted over in the bed closer to him, so pretty just for him. William leaned back against his headboard as you drew closer, wrapping his hands around your waist to pull you into his lap so that you were facing him. He took your sudden proximity as an opportunity to capture your soft, precious lips into another kiss, feeling how your hands rested on his strong shoulders. William's hands couldn't help but start to wander when he felt your heat close to him. Down your hips and waist. Down to your cute little butt, and those delicious, soft thighs.

You were still a little sloppy and timid with your kisses, but William didn't care. He was honored to be your first kiss. First time. First boyfriend. Everything. It's not like you'd ever want a different man, anyway. You were his. And only he could treat you the way you were meant to be treated. Can't you see it, little one? He already knows nearly everything about you. He did plenty of homework beforehand. Studied you. Researched you. Watched you. Planned everything just so you'd fall into his arms. He loved you. He loved you more than anything. He couldn't even put into words just how much he cherished you. And just how many times he's imagined this very moment before.

So, its okay that you're not the best kisser. Totally fine. You'll learn in time. There's plenty more kisses where this came from.

He made sure of that.

~~~

To Michael, the weekends always flew by with such speed that he barely even realized that they were there.

The brief reprieve he got from them was never nearly enough. Not even on the odd occasion that he had three-day weekends. Nothing would ever be good enough, so long as he knew as he had to go back to his damn dad's house.

Fucking hell. Michael hated his dad. He hated his dad more than anything he ever hated or will ever hate. He knew his father hated him too. He knew that when his sperm-donator looked at him, there was no love there. Michael wasn't sure if the old bastard was capable of love. There had been nothing there for all the years Michael had been alive. Nothing for him, nothing for Elizabeth, nothing for Evan, and certainly nothing for his mom. His mom was lucky, though. She was able to get out. Get a divorce and move two towns over.

But, Michael wasn't so lucky. The court had decided that his father should've gotten custody of him for whatever reason. Bull-fucking-shit. The only reason William wanted him was to keep his torture going. Michaels father knew the young man was miserable there, but didn't care.

Sick fucking bastard. No wonder mom left.

Michael had considered moving out when he was 18, but the idea was shot down nearly as quickly as he had thought it. He needed to go to college. And, his dad's place was the only thing close enough to a college. Michael couldn't afford an apartment either, not with the pitiful salary his dad gave him at the diner. So, Michael's hands were tied. He had to live with his old man.

Sick fucking bastard.

It was harder and harder each time to say goodbye to his mom and brother and sister. But Michael knew he had to, but always promised to come back next weekend. A promise he kept ever since he got his license. This time, however, seemed even harder.

The fights Michael and his father had that last week were horrible. Nearly full-on yelling matches with one another. His dad had refused to admit that he stole Michael's car keys. Mike fucking knew he did too, as much as the old geezer tried to deny it. Bastard went as far as to unplug the fucking phone from the wall too. Michael was basically on house-arrest for no goddamned reason. Michael was forced to clean the entire house too, until everything was nearly spotless.

"You're not going anywhere until this house is fit for the bloody queen, young man." His father had said.

Was this just some sick game his dad was trying to play? A new method of how he can make his son's life all the more shitty? Maybe. Knowing how he was.

But, still. Mike tried to remain optimistic. Both he and his old man had a few days to try and cool down. Have some stress-relief. Maybe Michael could just come home and they could pretend like the last week never happened. Which, he had learned, was the closest thing to an apology he would ever get from William.

Hopefully he could come home and it'd be alright.

Hopefully.

Michael had gotten out of his mom's house a little later than he wanted. By the time he had gotten home, the sun had already begun to creep down the horizon, and the cool night air had begun its trek across the whole neighborhood. Pulling up to the familiar driveway of the house, Michael was quick to notice two things at once. The first being the most obvious was the pit of dread growing in the bottom of his stomach. It was okay though, he always felt that way when he returned home from a weekend at his mom's. The other thing, however, was the fact that the lights were on outside.

How long had it been now? That Michael asked his father to leave the light on for him? It must've been years. It was a simple thing to ask for, probably the only think Michael ever asked for from his father. But, of course, William had never delivered. Ever. It was one more way William made sure Michael's life was a living hell. Show him that he will never get what he asks for, or any sort of nice things.

But yet, they were on.

Strange.

Taking a brief moment to collect his thoughts in the sanctuary of his car, Michael took a deep breath in and out of his nose, running his fingers through his combed, feathered hair. Once he was ready, he pushed open his car door and stepped out, locking it behind him. The young man then shifted his keys around in his hand as he approached the front door, eventually finding the lock and opening it.

"I'm home!" Michael called out into the empty foyer as he shut the door behind him. He looked around for a moment for any sign of his father, but saw none. Pausing for a moment, he listened for any sign of him tinkering in the basement workshop.

Nothing.

What the fuck? Where the hell was he?

Whatever. Old man was probably just at Mr. Henry's house or something. Maybe the diner. What did Michael even care, anyway? He could use this opportunity to slip into his room without a fight.

In the quietness of the house, Michael could hear how his footsteps echoed off of the wooden floors and onto the walls. It was eerie, in a way. But why? Whenever he came home from a weekend away, the house was always like this. Hell, it was like this nearly constantly, unless he or his father was using the phone, Mr. Henry was over, or there was a fight. But, that night it was just... different.

Mike didn't know what it was. Did he even want to know? He wasn't sure.

But it had to do with William. He knew that much.

Michael was smart.

Rounding the corner into the kitchen, Michael groaned at the sight before him on instinct. Of course he couldn't just go to his room without there being some sort of trouble. He had thought he smelled smoke in the doorway. There, at the head of the table, was the man of the hour. His dad. That stuck-up narcissistic piece of shit. The old man was surrounded by all sorts of papers, an ashtray pluming smoke with...

Was that a cigar? A fucking cigar? Michael's father only smoked those around the holidays.

What was the occasion?

Michael watched as his dad realized that his son was home, and how the slight smirk on his dumb face grew as he looked at the young man.

Hell no. Hell fucking no. Something was up.

"You shouldn't sneak up on me like that, Michael." His father said, setting his pen down and tamping out some ash from the cigar, "You'll give your old man a heart attack."

Michael rolled his eyes, "I said I was home. Or are you going deaf now, too?"

William chuckled as he took a puff of his cigar, which made Michael's skin crawl. The fuck was his deal?

"I'm not that old, son."

"You look like it." Michael mumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes.

William placed the cigar down as he took a bundle of papers into his hand, leaning back in his chair as he read them, "How was your trip?"

Okay. No. Something was definitely up now. William never ever cared about that kind of shit before. And where was all the sarcasm? And the griping? And the whining and throwing a fit? The old man was in too good of a mood tonight. He was never in a good mood when Michael came home. He hated Mike, and Mike knew that. Mike hated him too, and wasn't shy about showing it. And neither was his old man, in the past at least.

Something had to have happened. This didn't just come out of nowhere.

That bastard did something. Michael knew it.

But what?

"Since when do you care?" Mike asked, crossing his arms.

"Is it a crime to worry for your children now, hm?" William asked, a hint of sarcasm in his accented voice.

Michael rolled his eyes again, "Cut the shit, old man, I-"

"How are Elizabeth and Evan?"

"I... They're fine. Evan still carries that bear you gave him. And Liz asks about you all the time. She misses you. They both do. They wanna visit."

William's face looked indifferent about the matter, "They're always welcome. Just bring them next time you come back for the weekend."

"Yeah, bullshit they're always welcome."

William looked up from his papers and raised an eyebrow, "Someone's hostile tonight, hm? Traffic bad on the way home?"

That condescending prick. Michael was already getting heated, the redness of his freckled cheeks hard to ignore. He re-crossed his arms as he leaned against the wall.

"I know you did something." Michael admitted matter-of-factly. From across the room, he could see his father's smirk growing ever-so slightly as he set his papers down, dipping forward to rest his arms against the dining table. The old man laced his fingers together as he looked at his eldest son.

"Do you now?" William asked, making Michael clench his jaw.

"Yes."

"And what exactly might that be? That I'm supposedly guilty of?"

Michael swallowed the lump in his throat as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. Shit. He didn't think that it'd get this far without it just turning into a screaming match. Michael didn't have any proof William did anything. Not anything that solid, at least. But it'd have to do. It was enough to convince him that his father did something, and having known that damn bastard all his life, that was enough. William probably knew that too. Knew that it was just enough to rub in Michael's face, but not enough to accuse him of anything without sounding like an asshole.

Sick fucking bastard.

"I... I don't know." Mike admitted, "But I know you did something. You never act like this when I get home."

William tsked, "Getting mad at me over nothing? Come now, Mike. You're better than that, surely. You know, you sound more and more like your mother every time you go over there. Old bat's still rubbing off on you, I see. Pity."

Michael felt his jaw clench again as he pushed himself off the wall, taking a few steps closer to the table and pointing his finger at the old man.

"Do not bring mum into this!" Michael exclaimed through clenched teeth. "You did something and I just know it! Cut the shit already!"

"I'm still waiting to hear what something is, Michael." William said, not moving an inch, "Whatever it is you can tell me. You know I'll apologize for it."

That fucking liar. Michael's dad never apologized for shit in his entire life. And he fucking knew that too. Michael's vision was starting to go red.

"You never ask how Liz or Evan are! And you left the fucking light on after I asked you for years to leave it on and you never did!" Michael was raising his voice a bit more than he wanted, "You're just... different! And I know that damn look! You did some shit, I know it!"

William sighed and leaned back again in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "Michael, I'm not in the mood to do this with you right now."

"Bullshit! You want this to happen!"

"And what makes you think that?"

"Because that's what you fucking do!"

"Do what?"

"You fucking start shit because-"

"I didn't start anything, Michael. You're the one that's angry here."

Michael had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from yelling, running his hands through his hair as he let out a laugh of disbelief.

"I can't fucking believe this..." He said.

"I can't either, Michael." William responded as he stood up from his chair, gathering his papers and tamping out his cigar, "And to think I deserve all this, after just trying to be nice to you..."

"But you're not! You're just-"

William held up a hand as he looked down at his son with a disappointed expression, cutting him off, "Save it, Mike. It's late, you should just go to bed, yeah? You're just tired from the drive. I'll be in the basement."

Michael watched in disbelief as his father made his way across the kitchen without another word, opening the door to the cellar and closing it behind him. How fucking dare that old piece of shit walk out on him like that. Goddamn it, he knew what he was fucking doing. He knew. He always fucking knew. He was just trying to fuck with Michael again. Play another one of his stupid fucking games and make Mike's life a living nightmare.

But Michael wouldn't give up so easily. No, he wouldn't he couldn't.

He had to know what his father did. He had to.

He needed proof.

And the proof was here. Somewhere.

After listening for a moment longer, when Mike was sure that his father was down situated in his workshop, the young man got to work.

If he was going to find some sort of proof, it had to be somewhere where William didn't think that Michael would look. Or, it was somewhere where William knew Michael would think would be too obvious of a place to look. But it could be both at once. Michael knew that was probably the case. William was smart, he had to admit, and knew how to hide things well. But Michael was smarter. And had the advantage of putting up with the old brit's bullshit for his entire life. He knew how William operated. Or, at least, could make a good guess of it. In the past, he had to find other things using the same logic.

The best place to start would be narrowing down possibilities.

His father's room would be too obvious. It definitely wouldn't be there. Bedrooms are the first place people stashed important items to them. So that they were near, and felt safe knowing that whatever they were trying to hide was in a safe space. William's bedroom was always neat and tidy too. Everything had a very specific place, and William almost never added or removed from his inventory of things. It would be too easy of a place.

Definitely not there.

The workshop was too obvious as well. It was like William's second room in a way. The old bastard often slept in there when he was working on a new project. It was just as tidy, too, save for the workbench. Proof wouldn't be down there either. Besides, Mike didn't like going there too much. It was creepy.

Not there either.

Could it be Michael's room? No, certainly not. That was too much of a risk that Mike would just find it on accident. Maybe in Liz's room or Evan's? No, for the same reasons. In the kitchen? Maybe. There were a lot of drawers and cupboards to stash things in, especially in the ones that were only used once or twice a year during the holidays. The living room was a possibility too. There were lots of nooks and crannies to store things in. Hell, knowing his father, if he really wanted to hide something, he could even go so crazy as to rip apart floorboards or tiles and hide things underneath them. William always took pride in his house and the fact that he owned it, and could do whatever he wanted to the things that he owned. Controlling piece of shit.

But, even still, all these possibilities didn't seem right. They didn't feel right to Michael. He had to think. What was the most on-brand thing that William could do to hide something. Think, Mike, think.

The bathroom? No. The diner? No, too far out of the way. Mr. Henry's place? No, too far still. Outside? No...

Suddenly, it hit him. Michael felt his lips part at the revelation.

What is the most visited room in the house that you don't think twice about going in to? Or what's in there? A place where you can easiest hide things in plain sight, because no one ever pays attention.

Bingo.

The laundry room.

Michael quickly made his way over to the room, flicking on the light switch as he entered. At first glance, nothing seemed to be out of place from when he last went in there. As expected, however. This was only a ruse to throw him off, Michael knew.

The first thing he did was tear open the cabinets above the washer and dryer, digging through all the contents to find something, anything. Nothing. He even went as far as to push on the backside of the wood, feeling for any pieces that broke off into secret tunnels. Nothing.

Bullshit. It had to be here.

Michael next checked the two hampers that stood next to the machines, digging all the way down and shifting through all the clothes inside of them.

Nothing.

Bullshit.

Michael knew that he was close. He could feel it, taste it on the tip of his tongue. It was here. He knew it was. Whatever his father was trying to hide from him, it was here.

Think, Michael, think.

Hidden in plain sight... in plain sight...

In sight.

Inside.

Bingo.

Michael spun around and knelt down in front of the washer and dryer, opening the washer first. Inside, a wet, dark pile of his father's clothes greeted him, and Michael sneered. Although the clothes inside were damp, it didn't stop him from pulling each and every last article of clothing, inspecting each and every one of them, and even pulling out all the pockets of the trousers and coat. Eventually, the young man reached the last article of clothing and threw it to the floor.

Nothing. It had to be the dryer.

Shifting his weight to his other knee, Michael opened up the dryer door. Inside, another dark pile of his father's clothes greeted him, although this batch wasn't wet like the other one. Still, Michael took his time pulling out every single article of clothing and checked it thoroughly, discarding it to the ground if it was of no use.

Quickly, Mike was able to reach halfway into the pile of clothes. Reaching in to grab another pair of dress-pants, Michael noticed a contrast of fabric within the pile. His grey eyes gravitated towards it immediately.

His father didn't wear things like that. He was an old-fashioned, dress-to-impress person.

That wasn't his father's.

Reaching in, Michael grabbed the article of clothing. It was soft and plush, but still felt like it had a lot of history to it. It felt used, and loved and cared for. It felt like it missed whoever owned it.

Michael pulled out the garment and turned it over in his hands. It took him a moment to process what it was exactly he was looking at, but when he realized, he felt his blood run cold.

It was a jacket.

He knew this jacket.

He went to classes with this jacket. He skipped classes with this jacket. He went to lunch with this jacket. He drove in the neighborhood with this jacket. He joked around with this jacket. He did homework with it. He called it on the phone. He gossiped with it. Hugged it. Squeezed it. Cared for it.

This was a jacket he knew.

Your jacket.

~~~

tags: @guinea-pig16 , @the-official-memester , @randomwriteralan , @mrsrogerwaters , @laylaaftonshit , @cherry-slushee , @insert-memical-username , @mrssafton , @horrorking2000 , @artist-anon08 , @tuttifuckinfruttifriday

apologies to any blogs tumblr wont let me tag!!

if i missed you pls lmk!!

#william afton x you #william afton x reader #william afton smut #william afton #dave miller x reader #fnaf x y/n #fnaf x you #fnaf x reader #fnaf smut

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katebeckets · 10 days

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the tortured poets department

i have thoughts!! surprising, right?? this is for anyone who cares to read them ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Before you read, note that this is going to be critical of things, so let me just start by saying I have loved and listened to Taylor since I was 8, so none of it is said lightly or without careful thought (in fact, this took me absurdly long to write). Most of the issues I have are very near to my heart, actually, so I've spent a lot of time thinking about it. If you don't want to read criticism, then just don't read more. DISCLAIMER that I did my best, but not even this fully captures the nuance I feel able my own opinions lol I recognize the other sides and points, I really do. I hold many conflicting opinions.

The short version is I will always love her music and her voice and she is capable of writing absolutely gorgeous lyrics (dare I say poetry?). I don't tend to think too much about the sound of it because if I like the sound, it's all I really care about—maybe it sounds the same as other stuff, but if I like that other stuff, I don't really care about whether she branches out or not. I think it's great and interesting when she (or anyone) does, but I also don't like change so it doesn't matter to me the way I know it matters to some people. That's just me!

What gets more complicated for me is the narrative, themes, and general trends that have been more prominent the last year or so, and that's what the rest of my thoughts are. It's me enjoying the music while also being acutely aware of all the grief tangled up in it because of how much less connected I feel in many ways.

Side note: this got soooo much longer than even I expected and it still just scratches the surface! so if you decide to read, 1. thank you, and 2. I'd love to keep talking to you. 🤍

———————————————————— 💭

I am an overthinker (shocking!) and will for sure be annoyed that I can't think of each and every thing I think about this album, but this is what comes to mind right now. Some things that have stood out to me more and more with each release:

a tendency to write self-aware lyrics that, in trying to be self-aware, betray somewhat of a lack of self-awareness

a frustration with never growing up that she expresses while also not realizing the way she is complicit in that and her own refusal to grow up

considering herself the victim, particularly after "overcoming" the accusations that she always plays the victim

venturing more boldly into the territory of serious mental illness/suicidal ideation/mental health treatment despite demonstrating a fair amount of ignorance regarding those things in the past

fame going to her head (in the sense of her becoming further and further out of touch) and the entitlement in a lot of the more immature attitudes that come across in these songs

self-awareness: for me, the first example that comes to mind is Anti-Hero: "it's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me." It's a claim at self-awareness because she's poking fun at the fact that she knows people always say "maybe she's the problem." The reason why it feels to me like it exposes a lack of self-awareness is because she explores it mostly as a criticism to overcome and not a valid point of self-reflection. @jakeperalta's tags on her post explain it better than I do. Yes, there's an issue when you reduce every feeling to "well maybe she's the problem," but part of growth is admitting that maybe you are part of the problem and coming to terms with the fact that there is often some inevitable truth to that statement—and being willing to work on it. This example is from Midnights, but I think it ties into the next point.

immaturity/never growing up: I actually think these first two sections are just two parts of one section, but it's easier to read this way anyway. There are lots of references to not growing up on this album, the first that come to mind being "So High School" and "teenage petulance." Maybe it's just me, but as a 34-year-old woman, I wouldn't want to be feeling "so high school." I mean, as a 25-year-old, when I talk about feeling like my high school self, it's usually because I'm recognizing how limited my judgment and self-awareness was in high school (despite all the therapy and my efforts to be self-aware in high school). And I am aware of my own bias here—I absolutely hate the football game days because I didn't even like watching people act like that in high school, but at least they were high schoolers—but I do think part of what we've seen is Travis allowing her to be more immature and take less responsibility because that's also where he is at. Obviously I don’t speak to it with any authority since I don't know what happened in the relationship, but based on her behaviors and what I know about Joe (which is VERY little), I kind of get the feeling that part of what she didn't like about being with Joe is that he pushed her to grow. "Your integrity makes me seem small," etc. etc., but not in an “I want to grow” way, but not liking that feeling because she shouldn't have to feel small just because she wants to be able to only do what makes her happy. Just looking at the difference in her behavior and the fact that it seems like she's stopped trying to learn (Miss Americana-ish), it seems like she very much resents the responsibility that comes with being such a famous person and mainly considers herself a victim of her fame.

victimhood: to an extent, yes, she is a victim of her fame. No one should have that much fame and power, and of course she didn't sign up for it in this way. But wanting to have the kind of influence and reach that most artists desire is intertwined with fame. There isn't a way to separate it (in an ideal world, maybe, but that isn't what we're dealing with) and it's something that, to some degree, artists do sign up for. And I think she resents that she's expected to take any sort of responsibility for anything that she doesn't want to do, in a very, "but that's not fair!," teenage petulance kind of way. She even says in Sweet Nothing that "I'm just too soft for all of it." We're all too soft for all of it, but that doesn't mean we get to ignore it. It bothers me that she doesn't seem to feel any sort of responsibility to use this giant platform to do better. Everyone is aware of her influence, including her. I think that's part of the grief. No, it is not her job to use her platform for good, but I thought that it was something she valued and something she wanted. The other line that really stuck out to me was from Cassandra: "They say what doesn't kill you makes you aware, what happens if it becomes who you are?" You may be a victim of what doesn't kill you, but if it becomes who you are, that's not their fault. It reminds me a bit of the exhaustion of living with mental illness. For me in particular, it affects my relationships in a very fundamental way, and there are days that I sob because I am exhausted of things that are so normal being so, so difficult for me... but even though I didn't ask for it and it's not fair that this happened to me, it's still my responsibility to understand how my issues affect how I show up in relationships. It's still my problem, even though it isn't my fault that it's my problem. And if you're lucky, you find really beautiful people who are willing to help you and see that it's not their responsibility, but they want to make it easier for you—I recognize how lucky I am to have some people like that, but it never makes it anyone else's problem. If they decide one day it's not their problem, the truth is that it isn't (and then there's a more complex conversation about what you want to do to preserve a relationship). This is also very connected to something about Kate Beckett/why I identify with that character, and I can touch on that if anyone wants to know, but I don't really have cohesive thoughts about that prepared (it makes more sense if you already know the character). This also goes to other things, like her being upset that people always focus on who songs are about while ignoring the part she played in feeding that culture (like with secret messages).

mental health: this goes to a bigger discussion of how we turn to celebrities who are HIGHLY unqualified to have opinions on things for guidance (the nuance of the above discussion about using your platform), but the more she ventures into the discussion of mental illness, the more upset I get by some remarks she has made in the past. And yes, people grow, she may not feel this way anymore, but nothing in her behavior gives me any reason to believe that she doesn't still have this attitude. This is one that I know I have to be careful of because of how personal it is for me (I've been placed on a 5150 "danger to self" hold and I am a therapist), but one interview that has always made me so upset is that one where she talks about how she's never been to therapy, then ends it by saying "I feel like we just had a therapy session." She has said multiple times how she has never wanted to go to therapy when she has her mom, who already knows everything about her. And that is highly irritating to me because 1. that's why she's your MOM, not your THERAPIST, and 2. there's already so much stigma and apprehension around therapy and many people feel this way, so to have someone like Taylor Swift validate all the people who say "I'd rather talk to someone who already knows me" or "so and so is my therapist" is unbelievably frustrating. There's a reason it's unethical to treat people you know—that isn't therapy. And I think I wouldn't be so bothered by it if she didn't speak about it with such authority, like she knows what she's talking about when what she's saying shows that she doesn't (edit: this is specifically in regard to therapy, not mental illness. I am highly aware that anyone can be mentally ill). The other thing about this album is that it does seem to be an album about loving people with mental illness, and I've already seen a lot of interpretations that simply feed the narrative that people with mental illness are unlovable and mental illness is the reason people mistreat you (particularly the discussion about her lovers being blue all the time). And the issue with that is it's already a common misconception among people with mental illness, that their mental illness is an excuse or reason why they don't treat people right. It's disrespectful to the people who recognize that they have a mental illness that affects how they interact with others and choose to try to overcome it. I'm all for honest discussions about mental illness, but it's so disheartening when it happens on such a large scale and some of the loudest voices are people who don't know enough to know how to (at least try to) do no harm.

fame: I'm not really going to go into it because this has already turned out way longer than I meant for it to, but also because I feel like it's already been touched on. For me, it's the conversation about her feeling she should be able to just do what she wants. I think we all feel that way, but because of her fame and the fact that she's just about untouchable (as shown in how she came back from being cancelled), she can just tune everyone out. But one example was how uneasy I felt about this album being announced at the grammys. For one thing, it's not a fan-voted award, so even if it should, it doesn't feel the same. And regardless of your take on award shows, I do think it showed a level of insensitivity to the other artists who haven't won a bunch of grammys to decide that she would announce a new album at the grammys. Because even if she had a backup plan and said she didn't plan on it, the truth is that, to decide to have a backup plan, you did have to count on it happening, at least to an extent. You had to feel it was likely enough that you wanted to have a back up plan just in case, but it probably would go the way you wanted. To me, it just felt so... disrespectful. Because for many other artists, it doesn't happen more than once. (not to mention the many other things happening that got completely overshadowed, like Annie Lennox calling for a ceasefire)

So if you read all that... I don't even know what the point is at this point. These are just thoughts that, to me, don't feel right to simply ignore. I know there's an argument that you can enjoy music without enjoying where it came from, and it's true to an extent, but I also think part of the music is where it comes from. So... I don't know. Do with that what you will. And if you are reading this, I love you (I can't believe you're reading this).

#ttpd #tswift #low key mutuals you might not want to read this

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r0w0fie · 11 months

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Update on the CK situation:

I'm shocked I'm saying this but, instead of Carnivorekitty giving it some time to settle down & to use that time to grow . . He just deleted/deactivated his art accounts???

His Tumblr has been deactivated & his Ck twitter account has been seemingly deleted. The Lurking for Love twitter account is still up.

Edit 2: his art twitter is still up but the tag have been changed & the account privated. Any use of the direct link to the old tag doesn't work, hence why I thought it was possibly deleted.

He has changed his now deactivated Tumblr name to "don't make your fanbase on here" which says alot . . .

His Carrd has also been cleared out, including the Toyhouse account. Although his Ko-fi & Itchio are still up. You can see a preview to the old links in the second screenshot below.

Edit 1: his carrd has also been deleted now

He has renamed his previous Carnivorekitty twitter account to yeehawcrow and has privated it.

The background image was changed after the situation. This is just another jab at his fanbase, same as all his other account name changes.

His Niwi account, the one with the transphøbia & -ism interactions, is still up but has been privated.

The name change is still up which shows that he still stands by his views. Do with that info as you will, just no harassment towards said account please & thanks.

I hope this is the last time I have to say anything or update people on the issue.

Some personal thoughts & feelings under the cut ⬇️

I am now further disappointed with Tom. I do not know if he said anything before deactivating, like a farewell or a "will be back eventually".

If he had of simply given it some time, let the dust settle, realign his mental state and then try to figure out why this was so hurtful to his fanbase. He could of had a chance to return & continue on; if he wanted too.

Of course, not everyone would be happy to see him return. Not everyone would even interact with his accounts or be willing to be in the fandom again. But it was still an option, especially if he uses this as a learning opportunity, not just for past fans or present fans, but for himself.

I personally won't be supporting Tom unless some serious growth & acknowledgment is shown. Unfortunately, I don't think thats going to happen any time soon due to the examples & links above. It might never happen or it might take months/years.

I hope Tom is safe & I hope everyone else is safe aswell. Make sure to look after yourselves & reach out to those you trust if you're not doing too hot xx

For now I will change my hyperfocus from Jacob & co onto other games & characters. It hurts to do so but there are so many good peeps out there & we shouldn't be afraid to trust them. I hug anyone who now is because of this situation 🫂

I will forever be into Milo (@/solarchaotica's oc) & will be getting back into LoveLock so I can bully my fave character Walter even tho Seb is the fan fave lol

My personal feelings on all of this? It's shitty.

People defending all of the horrible evidence, without saying they don't agree with aspects of these "questionable" simply because they want to defend CK; is shitty.

People putting things in other people's mouths, is shitty.

People burying their heads in the sand because they want to ignore it all; is shitty.

People giving excuses, even excuses as to why they are ignoring this issue or ignoring certain parts of this issue, is shitty.

People who genuinely support these types of beliefs, only joined in because they're genuinely phobic & aren't even in the L4L/murdersim community; is shitty. (& Yes I've seen it happen)

People who harrass anyone involved, Tom himself, is shitty.

People who use this as evidence to defend other past users actions, is shitty.

People who lash out their hurt through nasty words & ill wishes upon others, is shitty.

People who say anything about Tom or others ky$-ing themselves, are super mega shitty like wtf??? Don't do that???? I only saw one person but still????

It's all just super mega shitty and I hate it so much and it hurts so much to see other people be so so hurt and just aaahshsgskxbdjfb. I cried the first day, not because of my personal feelings, but because of others talking openly about how hurt this made them. Seeing my friends be hurt. Strangers be hurt. Mutuals be hurt. I could still cry if I let myself dwell on it for too long.

I wish things could of ended up better. When I posted on the situation I tried to tell peeps to keep an open mind & to look after themselves. I just hope this is a learning experience for alot of people.

#murdersim #jacob alden #carnivorekitty #lurking for love #jacob lfl #l4l #niwinoodle #tw: discrimination #tw// lgbt+phobia #tw// transphobia

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sulfies · 19 days

Note

can you spill more abt that self insert of yours? 👁️👁️

Oh boy oh boy can I? (big yapping incoming) (typo and grammar massaccare of 2024)

He is a self insert OC Assassin from the Ottoman brotherhood (bc Im Turkish) and he is 23 (bc I am)

not a secret mentor or anything lol I was just joking in the first post making a mary sue.

I imagine he is similar or one above than whatever Yusuf’s rank is (I have yet to play Revelations :,p ) tho I do not know what time he should be in, Realistically if no time travel happened he would be in same time as Yusuf but I dont want Gilf Ezio (sorry) but if its Ezio, Alt and Desmon togather timeline probobly he is in around AC2 Brotherhood time. (maybe he came by Italy to do a mission and dropped by the hideout)

He is ethnically Balkan or/and Greek (bc I am) which probobly means he was taken to Constantinople as a teen or kid to eighter be sent to Jenniserrie training or the male-harem.

Small history lesson:

- Devşirme was the name of the practice where Ottoman empire basically enslaved young Greek,Balkan,Ukranian,etc etc boys and inserted them into an Elite military (Janniserries) even the Sultans themselves were scared of bc they were known to start coups and kill Sultans(they got a salary and are socially above the commonfolk but… military slaves non the less)

-Male-harems existed, again Balkan, Romanian, Slavic and greek etc people were often the main people in the harems (fun fact nearly no Sultan is Turkish due to this lmao they are all mixed), once again their status were above the common folk and they were well taken care of (the older males could even become gov officals after) but slavery non the less.

Idk if I want him to escape the harem or Jenniserrie for his edgy backgrund but maybe he did few years of training, cought the eye of the Sultan and escaped the moment someone was like “you have been promoted to an elite employeeee, u won harem lotterry” . Probobly wandered the streets a bit, got into hella fights till an Assassin picked him up escaping a group of soliders. Maybe it was an older dude who saw him when they were both in training

He is basically based off my own ethnicity and its context to the time and sociatal goings of that era lol (which was hella gay… very gay… too gay almost)

He probobly has some traditional slavic leg,hand and arm tattoos (bc I have em but also) mostly bc around those times (nearly always women) used to tattoo themselves in those motifs to remember their christian roots and their culture (that Ottoman tried to erease) and also to make themselves less appealing to Ottoman Harem/ Devşirme recuiters :,D

For his name, Maybe to be on the nose… Adem? (Turkish ver of Adam) so he is tied to the apples in a fun way? Or Poyraz (means a northern wind) since the meaning is similar to my own name?

He doesnt grow much facial hair (bc I am also stuck w a weak beard) but he refuses to get rid of it no matter how much others tease him bc he is like “I aint getting courted by random crazy men ew” (I dont irl also bc I desperetly believe it looks good…I refuse to open my eyes)

History lesson 2:

-facial hair was important in Ottoman times, It LİTTERALLY determined your gender and how you were approached.

-Socially and in Litriture Ottoman almost had 3 gender roles; Men, Boys (Oğlan) and Women. Once a man grew a beard he would “transition” from being a boy.

-Romantically having a beard versus not determined if you were to be courted or court. Bearded man were called “Lovers” while NON-bearded were called “Beloveds” (yes more often the boys were underage :/ for the sake of history lesson lets…. try to ignore that like ancient greeks)

there is many gay ass poems ^

He got all the mentall illness coctails that I got bc why not make it worse fr him. I imagine him sarcastic and catty, Claudia prob loves taking him to shop around bc he always got something to fckn say about everyone. Big gossipper. Hides the fact that he hates being as short as he is very well (im like… 165? 5’5-4?). If in Yusuf time, nearly BFFS (if im not inserting myself into the throuple (bc Its my self insert and I CAN BE AS CRINGY AS I WANT) he would end up w Yusuf)

Him about others:

Ezio: will never stop calling him de la la la,likes him a lot, loves pranking and teasing him. Enjoys fake flirting with him till he takes it so far Ezio has to throw in the towel. Probobly teached him how to Oil wrestle and Ezio was like “Are you sure this is a real sport…” and all he did was sigh and say “I am so glad it actually is” as he admired Oiled up Ezio

Altaïr: loves mocking whatever big words he uses all the time. calls him “Big boss” just to see his eye twitch with cringe. Knows he can get away with shit if he acts stupid enough. Altair knows he is not that stupid but is impressed(deragotory, fondly) how low he is willing to go.

Desmond: clearly his favorite (im biased sue me) obvious by how much softer he acts around Des. Ezİo falls he laughs, Des falls “My leige, hop on my back”. Is facinated by his piercings and begs him to help him get some. Desmond desperetly wishes he could invent some ADHD Meds for him. Des also finds him strangely comforting, can imagine himself back in 2010s almost…

————-

Idk im not rlly a self insert person so thinking about him was hard and I also dont wanna make my oc “the main character” in this au so I dont really wanna give him any secret powers or anything.

Maybe some edgy gnarly scars on his back from a past mission where he came in contact with an apple? Maybe when he touched the apple he was supplied that canonly he doesnt exist and he is just a fan created being and has a whole issue about it? I can imagine a sad scene of him crying like “You dont understand, You exist! even as some damn video game you do and people know you they cannot deny you exist. ME? all I am is some weirdos self writing, not even enough to be in canon. Does anything I do matter?” lololol

Thats all I got for him for now lol but feel free to ask more:p Im also open to ideas for him.

sorry for the yapping and history lesson… here is some more fun facts:

-Oğlancılık (male prostitution) was pretty respected they were seen like any other tradesperson in some parts

-a Paşa tried to ban under 30 males from being washers in Turkish Hamams due to them also being sex workers and litterally everyone was so mad he got replaced

-dancers in coffeehouses wore the same fit no matter the gender so boys and girls looked the same (once again they were also sex workers)

-one time a jewish boy caused such a big fight between janniserries the sultan had to threathen to kill 40 man from each side if they didnt stop

-Draculas are real people and RADU the beutyfull (his OFFİCİAL NAME) had a full on recorded relationship with Sultan Mehmet2 :p

- Gay shit was legalized in 1853 mostly bc they never rlly punished it….

for the girlies

-in harems the girls couldnt order things like cucumbers or carrots to their rooms w out it being cut up :p

#art #oc #sorry for the lenghty yapping #I wasnt lying when I said I have written pages upon pages on this lmoa #more than about my oc this became about the ottoman empire #once I Get to revelations I will be insufferable I fear #yusuf tazim #asks #ignore typos and bad grammar as always I beg

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gemstone-roses · 1 year

Note

Hi!!! How you doing?

It's me again. Ik it's been like years.

Thank you so much for the last fic it really brightened my month tbh. I saw someone mentioned taking legal action but sadly in the country where I live mental illness isn't taken seriously. So yeah but I got a new job so it's cool.

Anyway lol.

Could I get Hannibal/Will x gn/male fic?

Reader has an expensive car that they always brag about(not in a mean way) and say they love the car more than the world. Then Will/Hannibal borrowed the car and got into an accident nothing too major. So they call reader expecting them to freak out but the reader shows up and hugs them. Reader tells them that they don't give a fuck about the car they're just glad their darling is safe. Maybe the first-time reader admits they love them? Or some mutual tears?

I suspect Will would freak out because he couldn't pay for the car and Hannibal would just be chill lol.

Love ya and hope you have an amazing week!

Ps. Sorry for the long message I've overthought this into oblivion.

~🦊

Hi! Glad to hear you got a new job! Sorry that happened to you. Also sorry it took me so long I kinda lost my muse a bit and yeah.... anyway, here you go, and thankyou for requesting, it keeps me going! I know very little about cars and driving so keep that in mind🥺

warnings: minor car accident, swearing, 18+ thanku!

Hannibal wasn't one to be jealous, not at all, but he did pause every morning and admire your car in the parking area. A small smile dancing across his face. He'd heard you talking about your car, your pride and joy, you said, not showing off, just genuinely happy and well, proud of the brilliant car you owned.

You and hannibal were close, you harbored feelings for the man. So when he asked if he could borrow your car for an afternoon of course you said yes.

What you weren't expecting was a phone call a few hours later from hannibal, slightly out of breath but still his calm self.

"Y/N, don't worry I'm fine but I'm afraid there's been a slight accident, and your car its-

You hang up the phone before he can finish, hannibal frowns on the other end.

Will gives you a ride, getting out the car you run straight to hannibal.

Wrapping your arms around him he's taken aback slightly, but he returns your hug.

"Oh thank god your okay!" You breathe.

"But, your car?" Hannibal questions lightly. He knew you loved that car more than anything... or so he thought..

"I don't care about the car! Fuck, the thought of you being hurt and-

"Y/N, I'm fine it's just a scratch honestly!" Hanbibal soothes, his hands on your shoulders.

"I, I couldn't bare the thought of something happening to you I-

You look at him hoping he's somehow developed mind reading capabilities and you don't have to say it.

"I loveyou" you say fast, hannibal pulls you back into his arms.

"I am so glad to hear you say that y/n because I've been wanting to say this for a while... I love you"

And despite your car being a total write off, and hannibal mildly injured, you were the happiest you've ever been.

#hannibal lecter fanfiction #hannibal x reader #hannibal x gn reader #hannibal fanfiction #🦊 anon #hannibal nbc fanfiction #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter x you #hannibal x you #hannibal imagine #hannibal lecter imagine

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sports-on-sundays · 26 days

Note

something angsty with marc where reader “runs away” after they argue too much about everything

run away / Marc Guiu / PART 1

Summary: Marc x girlfriend!reader - Marc and his girlfriend have another argument, and she can't keep it together any longer. Angst.

Warnings: no happy ending, lots of censored cursing lol, mention of mental illness, mention of underage drinking, drinking, a creep checking out/trying to get with reader and touching her (nothing super serious at all, but if someone is sensitive to that- just be aware)

Requested?: Yes, and thank you.

Author's Note: I didn't actually include much of the arguing in it, and mostly just focused on the reader breaking, getting upset, etc. about it, so here it's not exactly specified what the argument was about, but there are hints that they've been having arguments frequently before this. Link to part 2

"Okay," you suddenly stand up, your voice wavering. You shove past Marc, bumping your shoulder into his roughly. "I'm... I need to go..."

"So you're just going to f*cking walk out now?" Marc yells. "We're not done!"

"You just want to be right!" you snap, fighting off tears. "I'm sick of arguing with you, I'm sick of seeing you, and I need to go..."

"So you're just going to f*cking run away from your problems? Our problems? Is that the f*cking way you think is best to deal with it?" Marc yells, which rattles your bones.

A tear falls down your face as you reach the door. "Marc... I... I need... to... get away... for now..." Your voice is faltering so much, and you can barely breathe.

You feel his hand clasp your shoulder tightly from behind, which makes you flinch a little. "You need to-" he starts.

"No!" you suddenly scream, turning around to do it right in his face. "I know what I need to do, and that is to get away from you right now, because I'm scared! And there's nothing else we can work out right now when you're so mad at me and I'm so nervous! So f*cking let me run away from you and your f*cking screaming and yelling!" You stifle a sob, stepping away from him.

He's about to speak, and for a moment, there's some sympathy on his face, but you don't give him time to see if that glimmer of a look was going to turn into anything, because in that instance, you turn on your heel, open the door, slam it behind you, and run.

You get in a cab and cry, "Take me f*cking wherever you can that's away from here."

"Uh..." the driver says, unsure.

You sigh, letting out a shaky breath, before murmuring the name of a club on the other end of the city. In a section of the city that's not so pretty.

The kind of place no one, especially Marc, would even think to check for you, if they were looking for you.

The cabbie nods and gets driving.

The whole ride, you're holding back your sobs, not wanting to make this poor driver feel even more uncomfortable than he probably already is. You stare out the window as lights in the night zoom past you, starting to feel a little dizzy, but you try to ignore it.

Things were going so good.

He was so sweet. It's like we always agreed.

And then it's like something just changed. Was it in me? Or is it his fault?

Or are both of us in the wrong?

Why do we have to argue all the time now? Is it just that the honeymoon stage is over, and we see how we really feel about each other, or is there something more?

Maybe he's just getting tired of me.

You gulp back more tears as the cab driver pulls up to the curb. You pay for the ride and slip out, entering the club, your whole body shaking slightly.

You sit down heavily on a bar stool at the counter and lean your head in your hands.

I shouldn't be here. Is Marc right? Am I just running away from my problems?

But I was starting to feel nervous. Actually, genuinely scared. Panicked.

Of him.

Am I just that mentally unstable, or was he being too harsh with me?

You don't know.

You cry a little and say aloud, "Why does everything have to be so blurry and confusing and unclear? I haven't even had a f*cking drink yet."

"Would you like a drink?"

You look up the see a face you recognize at the counter. A couple years ago, you used to come in here and break the law, but the bartender, a man in his twenties, showed you sympathy and still sold drinks to you, even though he knew you were underage.

This is a shady place, and you go here when it feels like no one in the world f*cking cares or accepts you.

You go here when you feel terrible, because you know here, no one cares. They accept everyone, including the terrible people.

You went here years ago because you were seeped in mental illness with no way of getting help.

Then you met Marc.

And things got better.

At first.

You let out another cry.

He was supposed to fix me. Now I'm right back where I started. Literally, in the exact same chair.

The tattooed bartender leans over the counter toward you, sliding over a drink. "You can have it for free."

You glance at him and take the glass, but don't respond.

Not even going to say thank you, are you, Y/n? the voice of the good girl you should be whispers in your head.

You ignore it, and take a sip, ignoring the man across the counter from you's eyes.

He says, "Looks like you're still walking in crying, Y/n. Like you always did."

You sniff and pretend to ignore him.

He purrs on, "Didn't see you for a while. Did some man come along and make you believe for a little while maybe life wasn't so bad?"

Your jaw clenches as you choke, "Shut up."

He nods knowingly. "That's usually the story when I see girls like you coming back."

"I told you to shut up," you snap through gritted teeth, downing another sip of your strong drink.

He smiles. "You know, you've gotten kind of hot since I saw you last?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean that you're sexy, and I'm not surprised some young hot shot picked you up and played you."

"He's not a player!" you snap.

"That's what they all s-"

"Stop acting like you're so wise!" you snap suddenly. "You're some pathetic guy in his twenties working at a bar and letting underage girls in just- just- just because!"

But he smiles wider, which upsets you further. You finish your glass painfully. And you watch as he studies you. He reaches up and strokes your jaw, murmuring, "I've always had a thing for sassy girls."

"Sh- Shut up..." you murmur, looking down.

"You're blushing. You don't mean it."

"I don't know what I mean! I don't know what I mean or know or act about anything... I just don't know..." you cry a little.

"You seem upset."

"No f*cking kidding!" you blubber, feeling a slight glimmer of rage in your chest as you wipe at your watering eyes, though you know you're too tired and weak right now to do anything with it.

He smirks. "If you've got pent up emotions, I could help you deal with them. Possibly even make you feel better, in the end," he croons, his hand slowly, gently, dragging from your neck, down your chest, until it reaches your waist and grips it tightly.

Too tightly.

You let out a shaky breath, still lined with tears, and stand up, murmuring weakly, "Let go of me..."

His hand slips off, but he says, "Pretty Y/n isn't even going to repay me for giving her a free drink?"

"No," you snap, feeling even more shaken up than before. "I'm not."

And you turn and walk out. You walk aimlessly to the backside of the club, and sit down against the dirty crumbling wall, in the dark.

Your eyes stare ahead vacantly as chills course throughout your body.

Y/n, a voice seems to whisper in your mind, you really are alone. Completely alone.

You start sobbing again within the shadow of the curtain of night. Not even the moon and stars shine for you tonight.

Marc, why?

I'm delicate. Why can't you see that?

I'm so sorry.

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honey-boyyoongi · 10 months

Text

Reader x Yoongi | Part 56//??

Word count ➪ 3.2k

Summary ➪ Min Yoongi, is a simple man. He likes his coffee black and iced, he enjoys his job, and he loves his baby girl. But what happens when the new neighbor, quite literally, drops into his life?

Warnings ➪ any typos are mine; angst lol; some cursing; mentions of abortion; mentions of self neglect during pregnancy; description of an anxiety attack; its established that Minji is like mentally ill; slight sexual description; if you’re name is crossed out it’s because I couldn’t tag you;

A/n: Hey guys! Uh just a quick warning if y'all hated Minji before.... well yall are gonna hate her now. Feedback is appreciated, and if you would like to be added to the taglist please let me know. 💕

Previous Next

Yoongi sat across Minji in silence. They had exchanged mild pleasantries when she had arrived at the cafe. It was a small, cozy establishment; in normal circumstances he would’ve been excited at the prospect of bringing Hani here. He didn’t know what to say, or how to feel, except for anger and resentment. He remembered telling Jin so, while he got ready.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’m sure,” Yoongi nodded.

Jin nodded back in acknowledgement, “Okay then, remember Jimin will be in the back the entire time. Do you remember your safeword?”

Yoongi sighed heavily, “Pineapple..”

Seokjin grinned at his friend, “Good. Remember, be nice.”

Yoongi scowled, “I am being nice, she’s the one making demands after being gone for half a decade.”

Jin walked up to his old friend, fixing the non-existent flaws in Yoongi’s clothes, “You don’t have to do this, you know. She signed away her rights, you can keep her away from Hani.”

“I know..just..,” he sighed, “I need to know why she’s coming back now.”

“Will that help you move on,” Jin asked.

“I don’t know,” Yoongi answered.

They watched as Jungkook came into Yoongi’s bedroom, looking as disheveled as Yoongi felt “Okay, the kids are still at the park with ___, she said they’ll be getting food on the way home. Also, Jimin texted me, "the cafe is closed, be there in 15 minutes”, and to text him when you get there.”

Yoongi nodded, he lightly sniffled, feeling overwhelmed. He almost wished he was cowardly enough to stay. “I wish the first time going to Min’s place wasn’t.. this... I had hoped to bring Hani, to show her the pretty snacks and the pretty drinks..” Seokjin pulled Yoongi into a not so tight hug, he didn’t want to wrinkle his clothes, shushing him. “It’s okay, on another day we’ll take the kids, Gigi’s kids included, all of us will go out. It’ll be fun and you can make memories with Hani, okay?”

“Okay.”

Yoongi watched as Jimin placed their food in front of them; he’d gotten his trusty iced americano, while Minji opted for an iced chai. Jimin flashed Yoongi a quick smile, calming his wired nerves.

Minji cleared her throat to bring his attention back to her, “Is he a friend of yours?”

Yoongi nodded slightly, “He is.” Minji gave him a look, as if egging him on. “He’s Jin’s little cousin’s business partner. We helped them out when they first started the process of building their cafe. I asked Tae for a favor, and they said yes. I’ve known Min for as long as I’ve known Tae.”

Minji had no response, she continued to drink her iced chai in silence. She avoided making eye contact with him, and it bothered the ever living fuck out of Yoongi. He felt angry that Minji had the gall to demand his daughter over the phone, but refused to talk to him face to face. He had decided on the drive over that he would not be the one to bring up her absence. Yoongi wanted her to explain; why was she back? Her ongoing silence was making his patience wear thin, and it caused him to remember the last fight they’d had.

Minji had been avoiding Yoongi; it had been 2 weeks since he’d told Minji he loved her. She had freaked out, stuttering out to Yoongi that she had to go. Yoongi had given her the weekend to breathe, he understood if she couldn’t say it back, not everyone felt romantic feelings the same. On Monday he texted Minji a message asking how she was feeling, and that it was okay if she didn’t reciprocate. By Thursday he was worried as she didn’t answer Yoongi’s calsl. On Sunday he messaged Mina asking if Minji was still even breathing.

Mina apologized on her behalf. Minji had gone home to her parents, she said, as she had ‘obligations’. Minji wasn’t answering her calls, or texts as well. By day 12, Yoongi was worried, he’d sent a final text to Minji asking her to please take care of herself, and at the very least let Mina know she was okay. Hours later he got a very excited voice message from Mina updating him that Minji sent her an emoji.

Two weeks to the day, Minji showed up on his doorstep. She looked relatively unharmed, except for the dark undereye circles from the possible lack of sleep. She walked in, silent. Yoongi asked her where she was, why didn’t she answer his texts or calls, was she okay? Minji didn’t answer any of his questions. They stood in silence. After a few moments Yoongi was begging Minji to please speak with him. She remained quiet. Yoongi went to his room, throwing whatever item was closest to him. He cried out in frustration wondering why they had gone back to square one. Had he not tried enough? Was he not trustworthy? Was it always going to be this way?

Minji entered his room, still wearing a blank look on her face. She kneeled in between his legs, looking down at his hands. Minji took them into hers, pulling him into an embrace. She kissed Yoongi’s knuckles and worked her way up his forearm and chest. She kept kissing up to his collarbone and neck, up until she met his lips. He sobbed into the kiss, relieved that Minji was finally responding to him. The kisses become more hurried, bordering on aggressive. Yoongi felt desperate and it showed. Clothes were tugged, and readjusted, until they were gone entirely.

The next morning Yoongi asked Minji the same questions, but she continued to have no answers. He then asked why she ran away two weeks ago, she still refused to answer. Yoongi begged her to please say something, anything. Minji stared at him, “What do you want me to say?”

He scoffed with indignation, he couldn’t believe it. “You ghosted Mina, and I. We would’ve filed a missing person’s report if it wasn’t for you telling her you had a family emergency. We were scared, Minji, I was scared, and all you can say is, ‘what do you want me to say’?”

“I don’t know, what do you want me to say,” she repeated.

“Of course you don’t know,” he murmured exasperated.

They spent hours talking in circles. By the end they had both raised their voices at each other, fighting and failing at getting their points across. In those moments, Yoongi realized he would never get anywhere with Minji. He was tired of arguing, tired of having to hunt Minji down when she isolated herself, tired of the shallowness of it all. “You know what, I don’t want to do this anymore,” he blurted out.

Minji gaped at him wide eyed. “I’m done,” Yoongi said. “I’m tired of fighting for the bare minimum Minj.” Even their breakup was unchallenged.

Minji agreed to the breakup. She dressed herself in the clothes she arrived in, packing up any small toiletries she’d left behind at Yoongi’s during her sleepovers.

In the end, she was gone in less than 10 minutes.

Minji cleared her throat once again, taking another big sip of her iced chai. “What exactly do we need to talk about,” she asked. “I want to see her, is that not enough?” Yoongi heard a small, ‘oh hell’, from the kitchen. Jin must’ve given Jimin the rundown.

“Well for one, hey how are you? I’m fine, thank you for asking,” Yoongi responded sarcastically. “I haven’t heard from you in 4 years, you could start by telling me, why? Why now?”

Minji sighed, “I know that it’s sudden, but.. It’s just that lately I’ve been thinking about things. My dad passed away two months ago, and my mom is god knows where. ‘Just turned 30, I kept thinking about my life in the past decade. I have a lot of regrets, and I was doubting myself. Was it the right decision, you know, having her. Was I right to keep away from her? A few months ago, Jungkook came up on my instagram explore page. It was a picture of him at the amusement park with Seokjin. I got curious so I clicked on his page.” She readjusted herself, leaning into the right handle of the sofa chair. “He’d grown up so much, and after scrolling through pictures of Seokjin and his son, and his friends, I saw you. I saw you with our daughter. You both looked so happy, playing with your friends, living your life freely. I wanted that. I wondered if we could be happy like that.”

Yoongi laughed in astonishment, he ran his tongue along the side of cheek, trying to stop himself from saying anything he’d regret. “That doesn’t answer my question; why now Minji? Why are you demanding to be a parent, when you never wanted to be one? The whole reason we’re like this is because you chose not to be in her life.”

Minji rebutted, “I did want to be a parent.”

“When,” Yoongi cried out incredulously. “You were going to abort, but couldn’t because you were too far along. I had to force you to leave your bed, wash your hair. My mom fed you, clothed you, made sure you drank water because you were essentially comatose. I’m still surprised you only had mild anemia from the lack of care you had for yourself.” He took a quick sip of his coffee to pace himself. Minji was starting to get agitated, but he could care less at this point. “It took me weeks to convince you to allow me sole custody of my daughter. For fucks sake, you drafted up the paperwork to terminate your rights, you had already signed them when it was sent to my lawyer for me to sign. I did everything possible to make sure you didn’t struggle, Minj.”

The distinct sound of plastic syrup bottles clinking and a responding ‘Ah fuck,’ cut Yoongi’s rant short. He called out to Jimin asking if he was okay, Jimin quickly responded with a firm ‘I’m good’. Minji slightly scoffed towards him, “Are you blaming me for all of this? I tried to be responsible, okay. You wouldn’t have understood how I felt if I told you.”

Yoongi could feel his eyes twitch in frustration. “Then tell me, I might’ve not fully understood, but at least I would’ve been there to support you.” He cradled his face in his hands, breathing slowly to put himself back together. “What do you want Minji? You didn’t want to be a mom, I understood, I supported you, and now you’re coming back demanding my daughter, my baby. Have you thought about how this is going to affect her? She doesn’t know you. Do you expect her to just accept you?”

Minji’s face was indiscernible, she looked to the side, as if organizing her thoughts. She turned back towards Yoongi, “Seeing as I am her mother, as long as she knows that she’ll be fine. Plus if I need help, mom can help me.”

He couldn’t believe it, “She’s not a puppy Minj, she needs to get to know you. Even I, being her father, have my moments with her. And what do you mean mom will help you? Are you talking about my mom? Have you been in contact with her?”

Minji readjusted herself, she was starting to become visibly uncomfortable. “I have. It’ll be a learning curve, but she’s willing to aid me in what I need.”

Yoongi had to calm himself down, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. “Are you trying to take my daughter away from me Minji? Is that it?” It was suddenly difficult to breathe, Yoongi was trying to catch his already quickening breath. He couldn’t focus on himself, all he could think about was Hani. “Min, Jimin,” he blurted out. Jimin ran from behind the counter, sliding, quite literally, in front of Yoongi.

Jimin pulled him to the side, away from Minji’s view. He guided Yoongi through his breathing exercises. “Yoon, you don’t have to do this. We can leave,” he whispered. Yoongi knew he was cracking at the seams. He couldn’t believe it. He shook his head, “No, Min I have to talk to her. I can’t.. I can’t let her take my baby Min, she’s all I have.” Jimin reluctantly allowed Yoongi to continue.

Yoongi took in a big breath, barely collecting himself to avoid crying in anger. As he sat back in his spot he could see a flicker of the Minji he knew. She was tucked into herself and unsure. She looked at him with those big eyes that once used to hold stars, and now he couldn’t make out what they held. “Are you okay,” she whispered. Those three words were what broke the dam. Yoongi let out the tears that he’d been holding back ever since he woke up to Minji’s texts. He cried and cried, and wondered when he’d ever stop. He kept thinking why wasn’t he enough.

Jimin walked over, handing him a tissue box and a reassuring pat on the shoulder. He whispered a small, ‘You can do this Yoon.’ It might’ve not been much, but it was the boost Yoongi needed. He collected himself once again, making sure to wipe any remnant of his small breakdown.

“Minj, please for once, be straightforward with me. What do you want? What are you looking for? Whatever it is, my daughter isn’t your bandaid to fix it. She’s a living, breathing human being, with feelings. Just because she’s a toddler, doesn’t mean she’s not complex. She’s observant and blunt, and will out right refuse to acknowledge you if she feels off about someone, “ he says desperately. “If you’ve been in contact with my mom, why didn’t you contact me? If you wanted to be a part of her life, I wouldn’t have stopped you if you tried Minji. But nothing you’re doing now is showing me that you’ve changed. You’re still that scared young girl that I could never reach. For fuck sakes you still refuse to answer me and communicate, and you can’t be that way when kids are involved. So please, show me you’re responsible. Be direct with me.”

She looked at him with a pained look, sniffling repeatedly to keep herself calm. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” Minji responded quietly.

Yoongi groaned loudly, “God, Minji, please don’t do this. Talk to me. I’m trying to meet you halfway, make the same effort to meet me, please.”

Minji wouldn’t speak, she started hiccupping under her breath. The last thing Yoongi wanted was for her to start crying. “I’m sorry Yoongi, I don’t know what to say.”

Yoongi rose from his seat, extremely frustrated. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. It was too much for him. Nothing made sense. Could Minji and his mother be working together to take Haneul from him? Have they been in contact for a long time? Who reached out first? Worst of all, how could his mother do this? He wondered if his dad knew, and why he hadn’t reached out to inform him if he did? Why was this happening? He just wanted to live his life with his daughter, and his friends peacefully. How was Hani going to feel having a stranger pushed onto her? Would they try to take his daughter away from him? He didn’t want to be here anymore. He wanted to be home with his daughter.

He picked up his coffee, lifting his hand signaling Jimin that they were leaving. “We’re not getting anywhere, so I’m leaving. I’m not going to talk in circles.” He took in a deep breath in an attempt to ease the weight on his chest.

Minji slightly scrambles out of her seat. She looked at him like she wanted to speak out, her face crumbling, she looked guilty almost. She grabbed her purse and drink, following Jimin and Yoongi towards the exit. She doesn’t leave immediately, watching as Jimin double checks that all the entrances were locked. She approaches Yoongi slightly, they look at each neither sure if they should say their goodbyes. For a moment Minji seemed to have worked up the courage to speak, but she quickly squashed it and sped off to what he assumed was her rental. Yoongi watches as she speeds away, a little reckless at that. He keeps watching until the car is no longer visible, and the weight on his shoulders is partially lifted.

Yoongi cried the entire way home. He asked Jimin to check if Hani was asleep or at least with ___, he didn’t want to scare her with how disheveled he was. ___ offered to keep the kids in her apartment for him to cool down. While he appreciated it, all he wanted was to hold his daughter.

He thanked his friends for looking after Haneul while he dealt with his current trainwreck. Hani snuggled into his hair, trying to find comfort in his smell. ___ had given Hani her nighttime bath, so it was one less thing Yoongi had to do tonight. He got out of the clothes he saw Minji, cleaned himself up, and got ready for bed. He made Hani a warm cup of milk, and prepped the right side of his bed for her to sleep in. He sprayed down her favorite lavender sleep spray, and turned on the soft star night light she loved. He read her a story, and played with her hair until she fell asleep. Yoongi cradled his daughter in his arms, and he thought back to the early days of her being a newborn.

In the midst of his insomnia, Yoongi remembered how terrified he was to be parenting alone, and would overthink every decision. He remembered how little he slept, and how often the doula would urge him to sleep, even if it was a small power nap. But between all that, the time he remembers most fondly is one of Hani’s worst colicky nights. The formula had been causing his newborn baby to build up gas, while his pediatrician changed the formula to something for sensitive stomachs, she was still colicky. He’d tried everything possible, but it just wouldn’t work. Until, one afternoon while giving Hani a little stretch recommended by the doula, she’d let out the gas that had been making her upset. Her little sigh of relief was music to Yoongi’s ears, and he almost cried texting Eunha the news. It was one of the first nights Yoongi was able to sleep more than 3 hours with Hani. He remembered thinking that all those sleepless nights had been worth it to comfort his daughter, and how he would’ve done it again.

Currently he looked down at Haneul, and saw how much she was growing up. She was no longer his baby, but a toddler. She no longer needed to cling to him, but chose to do so. She had opinions and had no qualms of letting them be known. She was bright, bubbly, and so creative. His daughter was his heart, and he had no idea why they wanted to take her away.

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