#I’m just trying to heal and get better stop making that so difficult for me

[bpdohwhatajoy]

Anyways I’m just fucking tired. I want to be left the fuck alone. My abusive ex showed that he’s still lurking on me and is assuming posts I’ve made that are generalized are actually about him when they aren’t like I’m so fucking tired. WHILE dealing with a toxic friend I currently have like I wish everyone would just leave me the fuck alone!!!!!!! This is why I isolate so much now I cannot fucking deal with people I’m sick of being triggered and anxious over people. It’s gonna end up where I legit have no one because I just can’t anymore. Relationships are not worth the suffering that comes with them.

[mistiell]

If you’re doing requests and it’s not too much trouble what about Astarion and getting patched up and taken care of by mc

Here you go babes <33 (Also, if he's a little out of character, I apoligize, I really did try my best lol) WC: 1k

---

“Ow! Gods, could you at least try to be gentle?” Astarion hisses at the sting of the salve you’ve concocted, startling you into jerking the cloth you’re using away.

You huff and drop your hands into your lap, brows furrowed in very clear annoyance, “I am trying. If you’d stop squirming, it wouldn’t hurt so much.”

“Well, if it didn’t hurt so much, I wouldn’t be squirming, would I?” He quips. You roll your eyes.

Taking his wrist ever so gently, you turn it so you can see the gash on his forearm, fingers deft and kind even despite his whining. He’s being difficult; unreasonable. You’d be justified in being cruel with him.

You’re careful not to press so hard as you swipe the cloth over the jagged edge of his wound, blood seeping into the fabric and staining the off-white linen a dark crimson. Mouth quirked down, your face is drawn tight with a frustration he’s never seen on you before.

He hates it.

The fabric catches with a jolt of pain and he flinches more than he would normally, startling you away again.

You tut at him, stern, “Astarion.”

Sighing, he returns his arm to you wordlessly and glances away with a small, “Sorry.”

“You should have been more careful.” You chastise as you press the cloth against his wound; firm, but not harsh. Never harsh.

He scoffs, rolls his eyes, “So you're saying this is my fault.”

He wasn’t being serious, but it seems you take it as such. Your nose scrunches, and for a split second, you look properly upset with him. He’s expecting you to snap at him, maybe shout and finally leave him to tend to his wounds alone as he usually would.

You don’t. Instead, you take a breath and sigh, looking rather disappointed.

“You know that’s not what I meant. Contrary to what you may believe, I do actually care about you and your wellbeing.” Your voice is void of any sort of humour as you look back at his arm. Swapping the soiled cloth for a smaller, cleaner one, you fold it in half and press it to his arm, not sparing him a glance as you instruct him, “Hold this.”

He does as you’ve asked, and a stifling silence engulfs his tent. As you rifle through some healing supplies, he tries to come up with a way to get you talking again.

“Why-,” His voice doesn’t come out right and he clears his throat to fix it. It comes out wrong anyway, “Why are you helping me? This wouldn’t have been the first time I’ve dressed a wound on my own, you know.”

“That doesn’t mean you should have to.” You reply as you begin securing the cloth to his arm with bandages, “No one deserves to suffer alone.”

The sentiment makes his stomach twist. “No one?” He huffs a wry puff of laughter, “Not even someone like Cazador?”

Your face contorts in abhorrence, “I meant good people don’t deserve to suffer alone. That bastard deserves every bit of suffering he has coming to him.”

He barely even registers the second part of what you’ve said, too busy reeling from the first.

Good people don’t deserve to suffer alone.

Good people.

“You... think I’m good?” He asks far too softly.

Finally looking back up at him, you look utterly confused as you nod, “Of course I do.”

He opens his mouth only to find he’s seemingly lost his voice. His gaze flits over just about every inch of your face, searching for any sign that you’re lying; a glance away, a twitch of your mouth. Anything.

He doesn’t find one. His heart sinks and sings simultaneously and suddenly, he can barely breathe.

“Why?” He murmurs. Part of him thinks he’s not equipped to cope with your answer.

There’s a moment where you just... look at him. He’d say staring, but he doesn’t think that’s quite what this is. What you’re doing would be better described as seeing him; all of him. His heart, his soul. Everything.

“Good people can do bad things and still be good, Astarion. And being good doesn’t always mean being a saint.” Your voice is kind; tender. Maybe a little joking towards the end. He guesses you’ve seen the apprehension on his face when your hands slide down his arm to cradle his own. Dipping to catch his gaze, your own is suddenly serious; unwavering, “What happened to you, the things you did. None of that was your fault. You told me what Cazador did to you when you disobeyed him. I’d be just as terrible to deem you a monster for going along with it knowing what would have happened to you if you didn’t.”

Your words strike him like a hard blow to the chest. Perhaps he’s not all that concerned with being a good person, but he’s never truly wanted to be evil, either.

Eyes stinging, he lets out a shaky breath through his nose as he cups the nape of your neck to guide your forehead to his lips. He lingers there for a moment before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in tight, mumbling against your hairline, “Thank you.”

Snaking your arms around his waist, you squeeze him just as fiercely, “Of course, my love.”

The laugh that escapes him comes out too watery for his liking, but he finds he doesn’t mind quite as much when its only you around to hear, “‘My love’? Isn’t that my line?”

You snort, and he feels you smile against his collar, “Perhaps.” “You do know that reusing material that isn’t yours is in poor taste, don’t you, darling?”

“Hush.” You pull back smiling, shaking your head as you ask in faux exasperation, “Now, will you please let me finish bandaging this?”

He follows your gaze to his arm and huffs dramatically, “I suppose.” “Oh, you suppose, do you?” You sass as you take hold of his wrist again, careful not to wrap the bandages too tight, “Do you also suppose you’ll sit still for me this time?”

“I do.” He grins.

And he does.

[formula-nyoom]

Hi! I’m currently recovering from a pretty bad hip injury and am doing physical therapy right now. PT’s been really hard and hurts my hip like hell, so I was wondering if you could maybe write about either a McLaren or Ferrari driver (your choice) who’s going through it after a hip injury and is just having a really tough time, but all of the drivers (especially Lando, Charles, Carlos, Oscar, and Daniel if that’s okay - I know it’s a lot hahaha) are there to reassure her and cheer her on.

If you don’t feel comfortable writing this, I totally understand! I hope you have a nice rest of your day/night! :)

A/N: Hope I did ok with this one. Midterms prevented me from working on this but I tried to finish this as soon as possible. Hope you enjoy it.

Realistically you should be grateful that you can still walk after the massive crash you went through in Jeddah. Well “walk” is a loose term. Having to go through physical therapy and making sure your hip heals properly, you’re not able to put any weight on your foot and have to use crutches to walk. The combination of that and the lingering pain has not made the recovery process easy. But thankfully, you were only the reserve driver for Ferrari, which means you didn’t have to rush your recovery.

“How are you feeling?” Charles asked as he packed your bag for the day while you laid on the bed in your hotel room. Him and Carlos had been helping you throughout the week with getting around the Australian circuit and you were very grateful for your fellow teammates' willingness to help.

“I don’t want to walk or move. I don’t want to go anywhere.” You said.

 “I could carry you if you’d like.” Carlos said. You shook your head.

“And risk you pulling your stitches? You just got cleared to get back in the car and we both know Ferrari can’t afford to have Bearman drive right now.” You told him. 

“Please at least let me carry your stuff or drive you to the track. I'm the whole reason you got hurt.” Carlos said. 

 “No you're not Carlos. It's my own fault I crashed.” You said. You could tell that Carlos felt guilty about you having to fill in for him and then crashing during the race, but you kept trying to reassure him that injuries like yours came with the job of being a race car driver. The only person to blame for your injury is yourself, not the teammate you were filling in for.

 “But if my appendix didn't burst, you wouldn’t have been in the car.” Carlos said. Charles rolled his eyes.

 “Ok, the two of you can assign blame all you want for the rest of the day, but right now, we have to get to the paddock.” Charles said. “(Y/N), I will help you get down to the car. Carlos, you can carry her stuff.”

Charles helped you get out of bed and get situated with your crutches while Carlos grabbed your bag and the two helped you get down to the hotel lobby. 

~~~

You had barely made it past the paddock entrance and the fan barricades before everything started to hurt. You knew that navigating the paddock was going to be difficult but you didn’t expect to have to stop and rest everytime your hip decided to flare up with pain. You had already told Carlos and Charles to go ahead of you, not wanting to slow them down. They were hesitant to leave you behind, but you assured them that it’s better they make it to the team meeting on time than have them constantly wait for you. 

 “Hey (Y/N)! How are you doing?” You looked up from leaning on your crutches to see Daniel and Oscar approaching you. They seemed to be in high spirits with it being their home race. 

“I’m doing ok. I’m trying to get to the Ferrari garage but I’m having some difficulty.” You said, motioning to your hip.

 “Let me help you then. I’ll give you a piggyback and get you there in no time.” Daniel said.

 “Are you sure? I don’t want you to risk anything before your home race.”

 “Nonsense. Plus it’s better than you having to walk all the way on crutches.” Daniel said with a smile that was hard to say no to you. You reluctantly agreed and handed your crutches to Oscar before climbing on Daniel’s back. 

“C’mon, I’ll get you to the Ferrari garage.” Daniel said. Oscar followed you two and the three of you started conversing on your expectations for the upcoming race. You did admit to Daniel that the piggyback was much better than walking. Without the crutches, your hands were free to wave to fans as you passed and that helped improve your mood. 

“Oh, (Y/N). My gran made these for the McLaren team and I grabbed you one as a get well soon gift.” Oscar said, handing you a nicely wrapped pastry. 

 “Aww, thanks Osc.” You said. You unwrapped the pastry and took a bite. It was delicious and you smiled. 

 “Oh my god. Oscar, can your gran send these to me every time I get injured? I can already feel my hip healing.” You said. Oscar chuckled.

“I’ll let her know you liked them. But promise me you won’t get injured just for the sake of my gran’s baking.” Oscar said.

 “I promise.” You told him. 

~~~

“What if I don't recover from this?” 

It was late at night. You and other drivers were at a club celebrating Carlos’s win, but you had to step out to get some air.

 “You will. And after you've recovered, you'll win the next race you're in. It's a basic guarantee now with Carlos’s win.” Lando said, who had decided to join you outside to make sure you were ok. 

“I won’t be in another race for a long while. Either Charle’s appendix needs to burst or Kevin needs to get more penalty points for me to be in another race this season.” You said. 

 “Well with the way Magnussen drives, I think you’ll actually have a shot again this season.” Lando said. The two of you let out small laughs, knowing that statement was sort of true.

 “I have to be fully healed before they let me get back into the car.” You said, your smile slowly dropping. “With how everything keeps hurting, especially after physical therapy, I can’t help but feel like that’s not a possibility.” 

“Hey, look at me.” Lando moved your head so you could look him in the eyes. 

 “I know my words can’t automatically heal you, but I need you to know that this pain will eventually pass. You’ll heal, and you’ll get back in that car.” He said. He placed his arm around you and pulled you close to his side without trying to aggravate your injury.

 “And when you do get back in that car, you’ll win that race. Proving that nothing can stop you.”

The smile returned to your face and you pulled Lando in for a hug.

 “I can feel myself getting better already.”

[mytherapyisreading14]

Nightmares

Summary: Spencer comforts you after another nightmare

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Fluff, Angst

Warnings: Nightmares, Mention of Kidnapping

It was late in the night when you woke up with a shrill scream. Your breathing is rapid, your eyes are wide open and your heart is beating rapidly. The nightmare was there again - the moment you were dragged into the abandoned warehouse by the kidnappers, the darkness, the feeling of not being able to escape. You breathe in, trying to wipe the beads of sweat from your forehead and control the trembling of your body.

Your hands clutch at the covers as you try to calm yourself in the darkness. But it didn't work. The nightmare kept creeping into your head. You've never slept so badly as you have in the last few weeks since the case ended. The scars left behind didn't get any smaller. You were still scarred by the experiences. The constant feeling of threat that was always lurking in the background. And it became harder and harder to hide how much it really affected you from the others.

Then suddenly there is a knock on the door. You freeze and sit up. Your heart skips a beat, but you know it's just your best friend and colleague. Spencer. He is always the one who is there for you. At that moment, however, you weren't sure if you should show him your fragility. You stand up and open the door, hands still shaking. Spencer stands in the doorway, in his plain pajama shirt, eyes tired but with that caring look he only had for you.

His voice is quiet, concerned. “Are you okay?” You just nod silently, but you couldn’t hide the pain in your eyes. Without another word, he enters and closes the door behind him. For a moment you just stay there, so close, yet so far away. Then it burst out of you. The tears you've been trying to hold back over the last few days are streaming down your face in unstoppable streams. You can no longer control what you feel. All you a want at that moment was for it to stop.

“I’m sorry,” you say between sobs. “I... I just can’t take it anymore...” Spencer steps closer and sat down next to you on the bed, gently pulling you into his arms. You tremble in his arms, but he holds you tight. He never needed many words to show you that he was there for you. At that moment, his presence felt like a saving anchor. "Shhh..." he whispers softly, "you're not alone, I'm here for you."

You wipe your eyes with your hand and try to compose yourself, but the waves of grief and fear wouldn't stop subside. In his arms, you finally gave in to the feeling of exhaustion, the physical and emotional exhaustion that you could no longer fight. “Can you stay?” you finally ask, the words barely audible. Your voice sounds fragile, as if you didn't know how dare you make this request. But you couldn't stand the fear you felt when he left.

“Of course,” Spencer replies without hesitation. “I'll stay here with you. As long as you need me.” You close your eyes and sink against him as exhaustion overcomes you. The closeness to him was the only thing that healed you in that moment. In his arms you always find a safe place.

You feel the weight of Spencer's arm over your shoulder and the soothing rhythm of his breathing on your neck. You slowly turn to him, your hand searching for his and finally finding it. You hold on to it as if you were clinging to a saving rock.

Spencer turns further towards you when he felt your movement. "How do you feel? Better?” he asks with a worried expression. You hesitate for a moment before you nod. "A little bit. But… it keeps coming back. The nightmare. I don’t know how to deal with it.” Spencer’s gaze softens, he looks at you understandingly.

He knows your pain and knows how difficult the first few weeks after such an experience are. “It’s normal for you to still have nightmares,” he says calmly. “You've been through something that no one can easily leave behind. You need time to process this.” You look at him with a sad expression.

“Why can’t it just stop? Why can’t I just carry on like before the case?” you ask yourself more than him. “Because you’re not the same person you were before the case,” Spencer replies gently. “You're stronger, but you've also lost a part of yourself that you can't easily get back. And that’s okay.” You lower your gaze, your fingers clenching around the blanket again. “I just don’t want it to stay like this forever. That I’m always so… weak,” you say quietly.

“You’re not weak,” Spencer says. “You are vulnerable, yes. But that's not the same. You are human. What you have been through leaves its mark and it will always remain a part of you. But that doesn't mean you can't get back up. That you can’t fight again,” he explains. “I want this to get better,” you whisper, the tears you’ve been holding back for so long threatening to emerge again. “I can’t live in fear all the time.”

Spencer shakes his head. “The fear won’t just go away. It will get smaller, but it will never go away completely. And that's okay. But it won't have control over you all the time. You will learn to live with it. You will become stronger at ignoring it. And one day you'll remember the days you stopped thinking about it without even realizing it." You look at him, seeking comfort in his eyes. “And what do I do if it comes back? When the nightmares come back?" you ask.

“Then you'll know it's okay to have them," Spencer says calmly. “You will know that they are part of the healing process. But they don't define you. You are not your fears, you are not your nightmares. You are the one who keeps fighting. You are the one who has the courage to sit back up even though you have fallen. And I will be there. You're not alone." His words were like a warm blanket that wrapped around your heart.

You nod, even if you don't know what will happen next. But in that moment you don't feel quite so lost anymore. “Thank you,” you whisper. “Thank you for being here.”

“I’ll always be there for you,” Spencer says. The silence that now spread between you was not empty, but full of hope - the hope that one day things would get better again, even if the road there was still long. But you know you'll make it through with Spencer by your side. You cuddle up closer to him and close your eyes to get a few more hours of sleep in his arms.

[gay-dorito-dust]

hey hey, was wondering if you could do a headcannon for jason and dick when their s/o is sick cause im sick as hell rn and need some comfort <3

I hope you get better anon and I also hope that this gives you something to chuckle at in the meantime.

Jason:

He’s like a mother hen when your sick and it wouldn’t been funny…had you not been sick and forcibly bed bound by him.

‘Jason.’ You groaned. ‘I’m dying.’

Jason looks at you blankly. ‘Hi dying I’m Jason, now take your god damn medicine.’

He takes your recovery more seriously and makes sure that you take your medicine on time when they were needed. And if you were to make things difficult for yourself, he will straddle you if needs be just for you to take medicine that you were upset wasn’t grape flavoured…

Will tuck the blankets right under your chin if you’re feeling cold and if you were still feeling cold, he’ll offer you one of his warmer hoodies to wear in hopes that they’d stop.

He honestly can’t either you sometimes but has to remember that he loves you and that he’d stick by you no matter what, even if you do act like an outraged child when sick.

God sake do not ask him to get you ice cream when you’re sick, he will forbade you from eating that crap. You’re meant to be getting better, not worse.

He even makes you a nice warm soup amongst other foods to help you during your recovery process also.

Jason may seem strict in his methods in taking care of you but he means well and will apologise if he thinks he’s been a bit too much of a dick by sitting bedside and holding your hand, kissing it every so often.

‘I’m sorry if it seems like I’m being harsh chipmunk, I’m only trying to help.’ He’d say.

‘If you’re being sorry for being a dick, then it’s only fair that I say sorry for acting so childish when you’re only trying to help. And I really appreciate you for everything you’ve done for me.’ You’d reply as you both let out a chuckle before you allowed Jason to take care of you without any complaints to be made.

You get better by the end of the week and Jason spoils you by letting you have all the ice cream you could dream of, but please for his sake don’t eat it too fast and get brain freeze.

Dick:

Will let you eat ice cream because how can he say no to your sad, sick face.

Even when sick Dick spoils the hell out of you.

Does not make the situation any better in all honesty.

He’ll probably take more offence that you were sick than yourself as he takes your temperature and tutting.

‘38°?’ Dick says as he looks down at the thermometer and muttering under his breath, ‘Not good.’

You only look at him blankly before sniffling as you cling to your plush frog, unamused. ‘I hate you.’

He’d might even get Hayley to help ‘heal’ you by just letter her be her cutest self and not currently crushing your legs, seeing as how she’s not a little blue pup anymore. she’s yours and Dick’s baby however and you didn’t care because seeing her try to nurse you back to health with her licking never failed to put a smile on your face.

‘Thank you sweetheart Im beginning to feel much better.’ You say as Hayley continued aggressively licking your arms, hands and face.

If you were to tell dick you were cold/still cold, his immediate response was the cuddle you but when you stop him to remind him that your sick, he only shrugs and probably boasts that he’s got great immunity before cuddling you. (Lies utter lies)

Let’s be honest he probably ends up getting sick after you start to recover and demands for you to repay him for taking care of you.

dick is okay at making food but might mutter ‘this isn’t the way it looked when Alfred made it’ under his breath while making you some simple soup before consulting Hayley, who only whimpers and shies away from it.

‘Take out it is then.’ He’d say and tries to take credit for it once it comes, but you see through the bullshit but we’re too sick to say anything about it.

[simpsdept]

Yandere Alastor x doe! Fem child reader

“Little Doe”

An: not a request but an idea I had while in school! I’m still rusty since it’s been like- 7 weeks since I last posted but I hope you enjoy!

Sorry if it’s bad! I am still rusty on writing and Alastor is difficult to write for

The great and powerful radio demon was taking his usual stroll around the streets of Pentagram city. As usual, demons were freaking out at his presence, some even taking pictures of him only to have their screens shut off. Alastor kept his usual smile as he walked, nodding at a few ladies he passed by, who giggled when he left. In the way to the hotel, he heard a bleat like noise, causing his ears to perk up.

Usually, he’s not sometime to go after someone who’s hurt, but he couldn’t ignore this one. It felt like an instinct. Even if he didn’t have those mother deer urges, he still had an instinct to protect the creature that made the bleat. He walked over to the area, came/microphone in hand and stopped at the scene, raising his brows, keeping his smile.

He saw four, shark like sinners picking on a young, fawn female. You. You were a young, small, maybe about 8 years old, and helpless in the grasps of the shark sinners. You had tears in your eyes, opened wounds from the attacks, bruises on you limbs. Alastors eyes narrowed slightly as he spoke up. ‘Why what seems to be going on here?” Alastor says in his normal cheery tone.

“None of your fucking business, now beat it” one of the shark sinners snarled, tugging on your deer ears. You let out a whimper, closing you eyes tight, you were scared, in pain, and so confused on why they were doing this.

Alastor let’s put an amused chuckle, and didn’t move from his spot. “Are you sure you want to do this? We can either do this the easy way, or the hard way. And trust me…” some green sparks rose around him, his voice more stadicky “you don’t want to choose the hard way”

The shark sinners seemed to get the message, letting go of the fawn, but still trying to act tough.” Yea-well. How do we know you’re tellin the truth? What if ya bluffing?”

Alastor let’s put a small ‘hmm’ sound and shrugged. “I suppose that is what one mag think, but I am not bluffing. I don’t tolerate fools like you harming a young lady.” Alastor informed and walked closer. “So I suggest you make your way out of here before I make you.”

The shark sinners looked at each other for a minute before scoffing and walking away. Alastors smile grew bigger, then he looked at your trembling form. “Now now my dear, don’t be afraid. I’m not here to cause you any harm.” He said with a happy tone “what might your name be Young lady?”

You muster up the courage to look at him, your innocent eyes averting from his “[n-name]” you say in a slightly shaky soft tone.

Alastor chuckled and spoke “[Name]? What a wonderful name little fawn.” He held his hand out for you to take “if you don’t already know me, I am Alastor. The pleasure is mine of meeting you” he said bright and loud. Which gave you slight reassurance. No one in hell is this happy, and that made you feel better when Alastor was happy. Alastor crouched down and checked your body for any wounds, which he found a few.

“It seems that you are injured! Why don’t you allow me to help heal you? The hotel is just a little ways” he offered. You know you shouldn’t say yes to strangers, especially not dangerous ones, but for some reason he seemed genuine, and comforting. The only smiling face in hell you’ve seen so far. So you nod. “Wonderful! Now let us go my dear” he carefully scooped you into his arms. Carrying you small body. You relax a little in his arms, as he takes you to some hotel he was talking about. You’re not sure if you should trust him, but you feel like you should. Even if you didn’t know what could happen when you do arrive.

[shatterinseconds]

Keith dabs disinfectant across the deep gash through Lance’s eyebrow, the wound having narrowly missed blinding his left eye. “It’s going to scar,” Keith mutters, mouth stretched to the side as he concentrates.

“A sexy scar though, right?” Lance asks, fighting off a grin. It’s very difficult to stop himself from moving the muscles in his face too much, less he pulls on the cut that Keith so lovingly attends to, the healing pods still out of service after the last attack.

“Seriously?” Keith snaps his head up, lips pulled back, nose scrunched as if he can’t believe what he just heard. His gaze flickers across Lance’s face, probably wondering if Lance did end up suffering a concussion—which he did not; this is an honest question. “You get beat up, kicked, thrown, left for dead, unconscious by the time we found you, and all you care about is if it’ll be ‘sexy’?”

Lance almost laughs at how incredulous Keith is right now. His eyebrows rise high enough to completely disappear under his bangs and his eyes pop wide. But Lance controls himself in time, biting the inside of his cheek as he shrugs. “Yeah?”

“Unbelievable.”

“You not answering is not making me feel any better, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude.”

“Sorry.” Lance sighs. “You’re not making me feel better, Mullet. That’s like your one job here.” He glares as he taps his fingers on his thighs, hissing as Keith passes over one more time with the disinfectant.

“Fine, fine.” Keith lightly growls and snaps out through the heat rising on his pale cheeks. “It looks good on you. Brings out a rugged handsomeness.”

Despite everything, Lance’s smile grows, spanning past the wince of his bruised skin and exhausted body until it takes up his entire face. “You think I’m handsome.”

“Shut up.”

“No, you do! I just asked if it looked sexy. You’re the one who said I look handsome.” He stops Keith before he can bandage the gash. Catching Keith’s arm mid-air, he gently circles his fingers around Keith’s wrist and makes sure Keith only focuses on him. “You’re obsessed with me, aren’t you? You can admit it. This is a safe space.”

Keith doesn’t try to move, doesn’t try to slip out of Lance’s grasp; he remains completely still, staring and saying, “You’re the worst.”

“And you can’t get enough of me.” Lance cups Keith’s jaw as he leans forward to place a kiss on his forehead. He smiles against Keith’s hair. “Thanks for patching me up, Mullet.”

Lance leaves Keith sitting on his heels, mouth agape and confused, unable to respond. Lance will deal with the beautiful aftermath tomorrow. Today, he wants to revel in his win.

[roseykat]

TITLE: Venom Eater

SUMMARY: Moving on proves its challenges. Not everyone has the ability to accept that what happened, happened - and what was, was. So as you try to lead a new life, single and trying to heal, the journey proves to be far from easy. It’s worse than difficult and more painful than what you could’ve imagined. The only comforting source is that what will be, will be. And there’s no changing that.

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with me, my work, or page whatsoever.

TAGS: mentions of breakups, exes, angst, arguments, swearing, smut, slices of life here and there, alcohol (Jisung is drunk but there isn’t much detail on it), confrontation.

WC: 6K+

TAGLIST: @emikisses @linos-kitten @chansbabygirlsstuff @lixiespick @frogieeheart @/fuckthinking @nimx9 @/shishou1687 @inniescandy-01 @konstanceee @/rose13255 @queenmea604

Venom Biter (Part 1) | MASTERLIST

A/N: the long-awaited part 2 to Venom Biter! This was originally meant to be longer but I decided that I wanted to flesh out the plot a little bit more so things will get worse and or better who knows…

There’s never a grey area about what people do after a terrible breakup. It’s always black and white. Whether someone cuts their hair, dyes it, alters their aesthetic, or goes on holiday to escape the reality. 

The gym can make for the perfect best friend to subtly take revenge on someone a person once had.

But your new best friend was Tinder. A platform of opportunities to explore and select at your perusal. Providing you with gorgeous men who were looking to fuck and nothing more than that. If Tinder wasn’t the buzz for you that night, it would be going out with friends - friends that didn’t include ones that you made through Minho. 

These ones’ you would only see about once every three months then band together again as if nothing has changed in the space between. It’s not awkward when you’re around them and so far, it has taken your mind off the past two months. Since then, your connection with Minho has been one of which where-

“God fuck I’m cumming!”

Minho knows he is too when his eyes screwed shut, laying back as he lets you use his cock, “shit, so am I,” he breathes out, watching you roll your hips in a frantic craze to get yourself over the edge. You miss this. 

The way that you squeeze around him is the final straw that breaks the camel's back. Minho swears towards the ceiling, back arching as his dick glides in deeper. Within a couple of seconds, his vision flashes just as white as your insides that he fills. 

The top half of your body flops forward onto his chest, spent from the past fifteen minutes that you’ve been riding him non-stop. Now it’s almost possible to hear the rapid thumping of his heartbeat that violently bashes from within. Not wanting to stay in that position for any longer, you peel yourself back, hopping off his body. 

“I need you out by seven,” you declare, picking up his sweatpants and t-shirt from the floor and then throwing them right at him. 

Minho grumbles but doesn’t flinch, “seven? Fucking hell.”

“Well, I have to go to work so you’re not staying.” 

“I figured that,” he fusses before sitting up. “At least let me use your gym here.” 

You pause for a second to look at him, wondering where he gets his audacity from sometimes, “fine.” 

“Thank you,” he replies then starts donning his clothes as you make your way to the bathroom for a hot shower. 

This is what it’s been like for a while now - a pernicious seesaw effect of meeting up with Minho, sleeping with him (usually in the mornings), and going about your day as if he wasn’t in your guts twenty minutes ago. 

It’s always a good feeling in the moment but after, there’s a lingering icky weight that you’re tirelessly towing along with you wherever you go. You’re not sure if Minho feels the same because even though you’ve talked to him a few times, there’s no talk of each other's feelings anymore. It’s not that neither of you are ready for that looming and tender conversation. It’s just as if there’s no point. 

By the time you were out of the shower, Minho was still on the edge of your bed, fully clothed and ready to leave. 

“I’m not making you breakfast,” you say to him, wrapping the towel around your body a little tighter. 

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t expecting you to,” he responds. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Can it wait until the end of the day, because I need to get ready for work.”

He groans, getting fed up, “surely you can get ready and listen at the same time.” 

You rustle through your drawers for a pair of underwear and bra, “to other people maybe.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you want to use the gym, go now,” you instruct sternly, hoping that he’ll just disappear. 

When he detects that he can’t get through to you right now, he gives up. It’s too early to argue, so places his hand on the door handle, opening it for himself to leave and head down to the first floor, leaving you to prepare for another day’s work in peace.

After a quick breakfast, getting dressed and decent, you grab your bags and depart. On your way out, you spot Minho using the weights while you dart past the foyer, briefly thinking about how the time to cut him off is fast approaching. 

You can’t keep doing this. There’s no way to move on if you’re both still latched onto each other's ankles like how kids are with their parents. That need for one another is still present. 

“Who even am I when I’m not with you?” Minho asked you two weeks into sleeping with him again after breaking up. His comment sums up the reason of ‘why you decide to keep running back to each other’.

It’s not a hard statement to understand. You’ve been with Minho for a long time, you’re both still young and haven’t dated anyone else except between yourselves. It’s like being a dog that was never socialised as a puppy, unable to interact with others because it’s not sure how. 

Suppose it’s the fear and anxiety that comes with separating from your favourite person. 

The world and society have become scarier than it previously was and life is not as secure when you’re not with the person who can shield you from those things. There’s no comfort, only pure vulnerability, and what better way to feel protected than to return to a lover even when there’s nothing but a feeble spark that’s left over from what was once a blazing forest fire. 

Seungmin challenges that particular view of yours at dinner with Felix as well after a long day at work. He wanted to see where you were coming from but also because he’s there to force feed you the icy, sobering truth when you don’t want to hear it. 

“If there’s no romance, what’s the point of going back to each other?” he asks. 

“They were dating for years Seungmin, you don’t just get over someone that quickly,” Felix responds instead like he was the one being offended.

Dissimilar to Seungmin, Lix will let you down gently and is afraid to hurt you with the sharp use of words that can be sometimes. 

“Supposedly,” you mutter to yourself knowing full well how fast it was for Minho to just go ahead and fuck someone else after you had broken up. 

“Do you still love him?” Seungmin questions swiftly. 

“No,” you respond promptly. 

“If there was an opportunity to get back together with him, would you go for it?” 

“No,” you answer again. “I couldn’t.” 

Felix blinks, not expecting that answer, “well…then…”

“Then stop seeing him if you know what’s good for you,” Seungmin continues. “Those icky feelings that you get after sleeping with him - not good. That’s the regret you’re experiencing and it’ll never feel any better.”

There’s no crack or fault in his advice. Had you not dished out the truth about the details of your messy breakup before and after, you would’ve still been glued to the same spot. It’s important to have someone humble you, and there’s no better person to do that than Seungmin. 

“Just keep thinking about it, okay? On another note, Hyunjin’s coming back from France next week so we’re having a dinner and drinks,” Seungmin mentions. 

Your mind briefly departs from the subject of your ex, “is he? Has it really been that long?”

“Yeah,” Felix replies, also surprised. “You’re coming right? We’re going to have a few drinks too, and catch up.”

“What time?” You ask.

“Around six,” Seungmin answers. “Does Minho know?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” you shrug, the thought of him returning to your mind once again. “I don’t know if he’d have any interest in going since they’re not friends anymore.” 

Felix recalls that factor, “that’s right. But, if the rest of us are going to be there, we should invite him too, no? Unless it’s too difficult for y-”

“It won’t be difficult,” you reply, punctuating the rest of Felix’s sentence a little too quickly. “He and I can get along for about…ten minutes before things go sour. Plus, I don’t mind not going if he wants to. I can always catch up with Hyunjin another day.” 

“You’re our friend too, remember? Don’t let your asshole of an ex-boyfriend stop you from seeing us. You broke up with him, not us,” Seungmin sends you a powerful reminder. “I’ll have a chat with him so that you don’t have to.”

He has a full understanding that if you and Minho were to attempt another civil conversation, it’ll go haywire and lead to more regret that you don’t need to be feeling right now. It just goes to prove that he’s beyond correct to even assume that fact.

The minute you both try to convey how or what it is that you’re both feeling, tensions boil over. For some reason that tension is only resolved by being bent over the nearest surface and fucking it out together. 

It’s not healthy. 

You go to remind Minho of what he did to you which he hates hearing, not because he denies it but because he does truly feel guilty. His only saving grace to that argument was that you had both technically broken up, meaning there were no ties to one another afterwards. Still, he missed the point of the fact that he hurt you as a result of those actions. It was too fresh to have done that to you.

Even when he recognised that factor, it was hard for him to accept that he actually caused you some form of irreversible emotional harm

However, Seungmin was right in the fact that you broke up with Minho and not your friend which enabled you to leave that dinner feeling a bit better and with a clearer judgement about going forward with a decision to cut all ties with Minho. It wasn’t something to look forward to. 

But what was, is the dinner in the upcoming week. It’s the prime opportunity to see everyone again for the first time in over a month. 

Despite your collection of text messages and calls from the likes of Chan, Jisung, Changbin and others, it was hard to associate yourselves with them in fear that all they’ll do is unintentionally remind you of Minho. It was the same way he felt when he was clearing out his house - not wanting to be around anyone or anything that would refresh his memory of you. 

Now, all you want to do is move on. 

Work had a helping hand in that process. Having been so busy with things piling up, your mind was free from Minho during the day. You were able to focus on tasks instead of wallowing and thinking about whether or not to give him a second chance

If it weren’t for Seungmin texting you the details of the upcoming dinner, work-life would’ve swallowed you up whole and made you forget. 

From Minnie: 6 pm we’re meeting up, Also, just a heads up, Minho said he’s coming. Take it with a grain of salt though bc he might change his mind. 

To Minnie: Thank you :)

You inhale a breath of fresh air. Going to this dinner was necessary whether it was going to be difficult or not. The presence of Minho wasn’t going to stop you from seeing your friends, and with that, you decide to get ready and head straight to the venue. 

The restaurant has a separate open area for functions and tables people can book out. The dim golden lighting brings a warm and cosy vibe to the venue, coupled with a beautiful earthy aroma from reed diffusers distributed around the place and the smell of promised good food. It’s a relatively fancy setting, but not to a degree where you would be denied entry if you didn’t meet a dress code. 

As you walk further down, you can already see Chan and Jisung chatting up a storm in the corner while they wait for the others. It’s a relief that not many people have made it so far in order to keep as low of a profile as possible and to not draw attention to yourself. However, little by little, they will definitely notice you’re there. 

Jisung is the first to spot you, his jaw becomes unhinged as he drags himself out of the booth, speeds over with his face lit up, and throws his arms around you in a bone crushing hug. He nearly squeezes and shifts all of your organs out of place. 

“Do you know how much I’ve missed you?” he exclaims loudly in your ear. 

Chan laughs in the distance at his best friend's behaviour, “let her breathe Jisung.” 

He releases your body for a rush of oxygen to surge back to your brain, “sorry, I just can’t help the fact that I haven’t seen you in a month!” 

“You Facetimed me Jisung,” reminding him of that one and only time you accepted him reaching out to you to see if you were okay. 

“That’s completely different, anyway sit down,” he offers. “I’ll get you a drink.” 

Without wanting to hear any protest from you, Jisung darts off to the bar nearby, ordering a beverage or two. Chan then waves out, ushering you to come and sit before you walk towards the booth. 

“If I had gone another week without seeing you, I’d probably start to forget what you look like,” Chan jokes, patting his hand down on the space of cushion beside him for you to sit. 

“That wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” you respond. 

The second you’re seated, you can already feel Chan’s mind trying to intrude yours. There’s no point in lying to him when he’s akin to one of those Occlumens from Harry Potter, an all knowing person who can hear every one of your thoughts at will. Regardless of the fact that he’s not, it’s his parental nature which exudes that. 

“Going okay?” He asks you. 

You take a deep breath in and sigh out, “I could be worse.”

“You’re still here though,” he responds wisely. “And so are we.” 

Chan never wanted to ask why you never told them or came to them when you first broke up with Minho. They all had to find out through one another then needed to text or ring you to confirm that it was actually real. However, they all knew that you must’ve had your reasons. Naturally, it would’ve been tough to accept let alone leaning on your close friends for support. 

“Thank you,” you respond. 

“Here we go,” Jisung calls out, carefully returning with two different types of cocktails. “They’re both strong as hell so don’t try to choose.” 

“Not that you’d have it any other way right?” you reply, helping him with the glasses as he sits down beside you. 

He pats your head as he goes to sit down and slings his arm around your shoulder, “you know me too well. Anyway, Changbin and Hyunjin are here. He just texted me before.” 

Chan sulks, “what? No! he was supposed to wait until everyone else was here.” 

“To be fair, they were meant to be here twenty minutes ago so Changbin is actually on time,” Jisung responds. “Anyway, how are you missy?” 

“Better now that I’m with you guys,” you answer, giving him a bit of a friendly nudge before leaning into him.

Jisung grins, genuinely relieved on the inside to hear that you are. Not that you have been able to notice, but they were all worried for you at one point. The lack of information regarding your whereabouts or even the state of your well-being was concerning. It was almost like you had dropped off the face of the earth at one point, right up until you finally made the decision to start accepting people trying to contact you. 

Unfortunately for your friends, they had to learn about what you were up to through Minho, and even today, you’re not sure if what he said to them was the truth. Nonetheless, they all knew at the end of the day, if they were ever unsure or suspicious of what he was feeding to them, they were mature enough to come to you to double check. If they were able to get through to you. 

“Good. Now come back and hang out with me because these guys are boring.” 

Chan goes to lift a finger and point across at Jisung to object his statement before Changbin rounds the corner with Hyunjin trailing at his side. 

The last you saw him was some five years ago, just before he went away to an arts’ school in France to study. Now he returns taller with much more cut and distinct features and a head of light brown hair that’s visibly eclipsed his natural jet-black colour. Despite that, he also seems softer or shy when he gives everyone at the table a half smile. 

“Who’d you say was boring?” Changbin prods into the conversation. 

Jisung points up with his beverage in hand, “you and Hyunjin!”

Hyunjin’s eyebrows knit together with worry, “is he drunk already?” 

A bright smile fashions on Changbin’s face when he notices you, “Y//N! Now it’s two welcome home parties!” 

Hyunjin turns to look down at you in surprise, “have you been away as well?”

His question serves as a reminder that he has been relatively out of the loop since he’s been gone – not that you expected him to be fully aware of everything since he probably had better things to do. Hyunjin was still active in the group chat, but none of you prefer to communicate that way when hanging out is the better option. Whilst he’s missed out on a lot of stuff that’s happened, he hasn’t been so oblivious to other things. 

“Not exactly,” you respond awkwardly. “But welcome back by the way.”

He smiles softly, “thank you.”

The get-together officially kicked off when Jeongin, Seungmin, and Felix arrived just before the second round of drinks was ordered. Everyone was happy to have Hyunjin back. Even for you, it was nice to see him again after so long – it was nice to see everyone in general. The setting was reminiscent of old times when everyone banded together. Whether it was at karaoke, dinner, a bar, someone’s house, or at some event, it’s always a good feeling when you’re around them. 

It leads you to feel slightly upset that you haven’t seen them in so long. You’ve missed hearing their laughs, their jokes, and the safety that you feel too. But for a very painfully obvious reason, none of it seems to be the same without Minho. 

“Didn’t show up did he?” Seungmin, who had been chatting up a storm with someone at the bar, walks over and takes a seat opposite you at the cornered booth. Just about all of them were alternating from the table to the bar, and a space they’d found to stand up to talk, or in Jisung’s case, dance by himself. 

“Mm,” you mumble. “Which I’m sure is a good thing.” 

He shrugs carelessly but with a small grin, “for your benefit. Not that I’m an expert in relationship problems but I can speak from personal experience.” 

“That’s true,” you respond, remembering that he has in fact had his heart broken a few times by the same person. 

Luckily for him, he’s ceased the chase and gave an account the other day at dinner of how freeing it was to be his own individual. It’s something you can only hope to achieve at this point – to be liberated from that sticky dependency you have on Minho. 

It’s not love that you feel for him anymore, you’re sure of it. But it’s similar to a violent craving. His skin, voice – oh his voice. Everything about his body has you itching under the surface to have him by your side even though things end in a fiery argument, which is usually how it goes. 

It wasn’t love anymore. It was dependency. A type of separation anxiety that fills you up with this icy cold feeling that won’t go away until you specifically have Minho near you. Still, deep down, you knew you didn’t love him anymore. 

“Is Jisung okay?” Hyunjin ticks his head towards his friends’ direction. 

Judging by the fact that Chan was holding a barely conscious Jisung up was a clear indicator that he definitely wasn’t okay. Never has he been able to handle his alcohol well and it was evident by the lack of control over his own body. 

Seungmin looks over concernedly then looks down at his phone to check the time, “shit, I have to take him home too.” 

He abandons you briefly to help out Chan. Both of them collectively agree that Jisung needs to go home or at the very least be removed from the bar to sober up. They take him to an empty table nearby and ask the bartender for some water. Meanwhile, Hyunjin turns a blind eye to the chaos and talks to you instead.

“How have you been Y/N?” He asks. 

“Yeah, good. You? How was France?”

By the look on his face, it was as if your question brought back a whole heap of good memories to the forefront of his mind, “I couldn’t have asked for a better experience.” 

“That’s good to hear,” you reply. “So have you graduated already?” 

“Three months from now I will be,” he answers. “Why? You wanna come watch me walk across the stage over there?” 

You consider his offer, “what if I said ‘yes’ to that?” 

“Then I’d be over the moon,” Hyunjin emphasises then offers a brilliant suggestion that springs into his mind. “In turn, maybe I can show you around France and all the places I went to.”

“Is that a deal then?” 

“Sounds like a solid deal to me,” he responds and whether he was joking or not, either way, it seemed a pleasant idea. 

During the last hour of the dinner, you spent having an in-depth conversation with Hyunjin. From what he got up to in France, what he wants to do in the future, then covered what you’ve been doing as well

The topic of your ex-boyfriend was difficult to navigate, but you managed it well by diverting to another subject. The last thing you wanted to talk about was Minho for fear that the more you think about him, the more you’d want him. 

Then again, you’re reminded once more of the fact that Hyunjin and Minho aren’t friends. He may not have any interest in him whatsoever. But it’s not like they left each other on horrendous terms. Not like how you and Minho did. Plus, it’s hard to see this fresh shade of Hyunjin in front of you, hating anyone he doesn’t like or doesn’t know. 

The Hyunjin from five years ago would’ve held a grudge, but now you can see by his shift in personality, that he’s let it go. 

When it came down to having to leave, everyone seemed to have their own plans. Seungmin would have the misfortune of taking care of Jisung. Felix, Jeongin, Hyunjin, and Changbin decided to go bar hopping while they were still stable on their feet and even encouraged you to come with them. It took a lot of convincing to tell them ‘no’ after you were set on heading home to the comfort of your own space.  

Seungmin assured Chan that he was fine to handle Jisung, then thought it would be a polite gesture to accompany your side when you decided to walk home, regardless if it was only a minute's commute from the restaurant. 

“How are you holding up?” Chan addresses the elephant in the room. 

His question could be seen a mile away. It made you wonder if that was the reason he chose to walk you home since his place is in the opposite direction. Although he wasn’t confronting you, that’s exactly what it felt like. 

“Somewhat okay, I suppose,” you answer. 

“No, how are you really? We see Minho all the time. In fact, he won’t leave us alone. But we haven’t seen you,” he responds. “You can still hang out with us you know?” 

“I know that,” you almost whine, especially after offering your ear to Jisung just for him to repeat the same words for over two hours. “I’ve been busy.” 

“I guess being busy is a positive.”

“It’s when there’s nothing to do or I don’t feel good and I don’t have anyone around,” you respond and both come to a halt when you reach the entrance to your apartment building. “That’s the hardest.”

“That’s when you call us,” Chan says strictly. “I know you know this too, but all of us would drop whatever it is that we’re doing to come and help you. Not just Minho, even though I had some reservations about seeing him after what he did.” 

The last parts of his words surprised you. Chan actually thought about cutting Minho off too when he found out what happened…

“So he did tell you everything.”

“Everything,” he confirms. “Including everything that you’ve both been up to now. Like how you still see each other now and then – and not for the reasons I had hoped. So why do you keep seeing him when you want to move on?”

Your eyes narrow at him, “how do you even know that I want to move on?” 

“The fact that you still sleep with him but won’t pursue any sort of communication to get back with him romantically, says a lot Y/N. And I know that because he’s told me,” Chan answers bitterly, but not in a nasty way. “Your body might miss him, but I know your mind doesn’t.”

He’s bitten through the truth which you can’t seem to, his elderly brother-type personality forces you to see reason. You’d be offended if Minho tried to initiate a conversation about wanting to get back together, knowing that he’s not in any position to be making requests after what he did. 

“Why are you telling me all of this?” You ask tiredly. 

“I want what’s best for you,” he says. “Yes, Minho too in some way, but I told him he needed to figure out what he did on his own because I can’t help him with that. That’s his punishment.” 

You supress a laugh, “thank you.” 

Your short talk with Chan made you realise how empty your cup had been since you last saw him – since you last saw all of your friends under one roof. It was rewarding and it felt like home to be near them. However, his words weren’t there for you to just defer from. You had to listen to him. He was right in saying that your body misses Minho but your mind doesn’t because the next time he came around, you swore to yourself that it was going to be the last time you saw him.  

But it needed a conversation, one that you weren’t even sure if you were ready to have, too scared to rip that band aid off. 

As you don your bra back on and shimmy on your underwear that Minho almost tore off, you think of all the possible ways to approach this situation, bearing in mind that it does have the potential to blow up. 

“W-We need to talk,” you stammer, wondering if that’s a good way to start. It’s a start, that’s all that matters. 

Minho stares at you from the other side of your bed, halfway through putting on his t-shirt, “okay, what about?” 

Without any warning, you blurted out what needed to - what must be said, “we should stop seeing each other.”  

Heavy silence drapes over the room, except for the cogs working overtime in Minho’s brain, trying to decode your words could almost be heard. You can most definitely see it on his deadpan face. It illuminates the seriousness of the situation compared to what it was five minutes ago.

“Can you give me some more detail about that?” He requests. 

“I just don’t think it’s healthy that we continue to sleep with each other when we’re not going to get back together,” you inform him. 

“You don’t want to get back together?” Minho poses the long awaited question that hurts to even conjure an answer. 

“Be honest, we’d be together right now if you knew that I was serious about it,” you say truthfully. “I’ll never not love you, but I can’t love you in the way that I used to.” 

The sheer surprise of the conversation made Minho realise that he’s been consuming too much of a good thing. That he actually wasn’t prepared to talk to you about this. It’s been creeping around the back of his mind since you both started seeing each other casually but ignored it so as to spend as much time with you as he could even though you weren’t with him anymore. 

“Right.”

“Look, just…don’t go cold on me, because I do want to talk to you about these things,” you plead with him. 

“Such as?”

“Such as our friends,” you start off. “All of us hang out a lot, but I didn’t want our…breakup to stop either one of us from seeing them. They’re your friends and mine too. I’d hate for us to be driven away from them because we can’t coexist anymore.” 

“Fair enough.” 

You can sense that he’s already starting to shut down. An obvious coping mechanism that’s triggered by something he wasn’t prepared to hear. But while the final shreds of his rationality are still with you in the room, you make haste, and dish out the important points he needs to know.

“We might not ever be friends again even though that’s not what I’m hoping for-“

Minho stands up from the edge of your bed, cutting the rest of your sentence off in the process, “if you’re serious about everything that you just said, then I don’t want to see you text or call me first asking me to come over. This isn’t a one-sided deal that only applies to me, you have to stick to it as well.” 

“This isn’t even a deal Minho. I am telling you not to.” 

“What? Telling me ‘not to’ because you can’t control yourself around me? Fine. I don’t know if you realise this, but the majority of the texts between the both of us, are mainly sent from you - you asking for me, telling me how lonely you are, or how much you miss my body. So don’t start handing out instructions when you’re not going to adhere to them as well.”

There’s a viper-like sting to his words that keeps piercing your resolve. A truthful sting that seeps poison into your blood, making you feel sick and cold. He’s torn you off your high horse for a moment, bringing you back down to earth to realise that it’s not just him who needs to see reason as well.

He had a very strong argument.

Minho sighs and tails more information to his tangent, “look I will do whatever it is that you want me to do. But, if this is what you want, then you can’t deny that it will only work one way.” 

There’s an efflorescence of achiness in your chest. A familiar one that you felt in the early days after breaking up with Minho. It was the same one you would feel whenever you’d have to lock the door to the spare bedroom in his house whenever he bought someone else over. 

Heartbreak. 

It lingers when he finally leaves with the promise of never reaching out to you again, at least for sex because there was no way of avoiding him in the future. That fact was impossible to refute. But this is what breakups consist of. Not one hairline shy off of being messy. It could, though, be much worse. That’s as much you had to be grateful for when you have to start from square one all over again.

Changing things up was necessary. You had already moved out from Minho’s, which there was no choice behind, but that meant new scenery. Different places to peruse in your own time that you hadn’t yet ever since you had moved out

It opened up new opportunities to visit some local things, especially on your way back home from work as you decide to call into a small cafe.  

Soft bossa nova plays calmly in the background as you stand and deliberate on something sweet to take home with you for after dinner. If it weren’t for the many niche options to select from, you would’ve almost missed the voice talking from beside you. 

“I heard the matcha bread is nice here.”

Your surprise gets the better of you, almost forgetting how to speak for a split second when you see a familiar tall figure you met once more from the other week. 

“Hyunjin?”

“Hey,” he smiles. “Wanna sit down together?”

You end up ordering yourself a warm drink and a sweet pastry to go while Hyunjin found a small table right in the crook of the cafe. His sudden appearance was rather pleasant, allowing you to divert from your own thoughts for a bit. Plus, it’s always nice to sit and chat with a friend. 

“I thought you might’ve been here to meet up with one of the others,” you say to him. 

Hyunjin nods, putting his coffee down, “I just spent the last couple of hours helping Changbin buy clothes just down the road at one of the shopping centres, so that’s where I came from.”

You smile, “well he trusts you more than the others in that department.”

“As he should,” Hyunjin grins softly. “How are you?” 

“I’m well, I just finished work and was heading home,” you respond.

“I’m not keeping you from going am I?” He asks politely.

“No, not at all,” You quickly exclaim. “The longer I stay, the more of an excuse I have not to do the mountain of things I need to for work.” 

Hyunjin chuckles, “well, as long as it doesn’t get you into trouble with your colleagues.”

“I should be fine,” you hope. 

“You know, when I think about it, you and I never really spoke that much back then,” he points out. “I only just realised that from last week when I saw you again.” 

His comment makes you think back too

Hyunjin was definitely part of your friend group, but not one who you would hang out with individually or with another person. He was just there, almost like he was known to you by association. Aside from the fact that he’s well-mannered and kind, the only aspect of his personality that seemed to have changed is how boisterous he used to be.

Although, that’s to be expected when people mature and cross the bridge from adolescence to adulthood. 

“True enough,” you reply and start snickering when you remember something funny. “But I have good memories of you though. Like when you threw that bottle at Jisung.”

Hyunjin’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, “I remember that. I could’ve killed him with that too.”

“Or when Chan had to pull you up from the train tracks because you fell off the platform and got stuck,” you add on.

“Most of those memories seem to have some type of mortal peril attached to it,” Hyunjin discovers. 

“You were young,” you remind him tenderly. “They make for the best memories anyway.” 

He agrees, staring into a space on the table as he reminisces, “true. So much has changed since I got back. I feel like I’ve missed out on growing up with you all even though we were just teenagers back then and adults now.” 

“Maybe, but we’re still young though and some have more growing up to do than others,” you hint very cryptically at one person who automatically springs to mind. “So don’t feel sad that you’ve missed out when there’s still a lot for us out there.” 

Hyunjin sits a bit more comfortably knowing that. As you both continue to talk, he realises how much you’ve changed yet somehow remained the same. You grew into your features, enhancing what was already there to a finer degree. Your looks were Hyunjin’s first impression of you when you first met as devious young teenagers. 

That was before he discovered that you are as kind and cool as you come across. But you were just distant friends back then. Now, Hyunjin detected a space for that to potentially change. He wanted to get to know the friend he hung out with here and there.

Even though time threatened to cut the starting opportunity short, it was still a start nonetheless, and Hyunjin was confident that there would be other times to arrive as well. So as the baristas begin cleaning up behind the counter and around the cafe, both you and Hyunjin took it as a sign that it was probably time to head off. You both take your belongings, thank the staff on your way out and head into the night. 

“Y/N,” Hyunjin says to you. “We should get coffee again sometime.” 

You nod, “I’d love that. I still have your number.” 

“So do I,” he replies. “What way are you heading?” 

“I’m just literally around the corner, not even a minute away,” you answer. 

“Okay, I’ll look forward to your text then,” he says. 

I strictly forbid and do not permit ANYONE or any user on any platform to copy, re-upload, translate, remake, or pass off any of my work here on Tumblr or to any other online platform whatsoever. Doing so will result in having your account suspended, deleted, taken down, and or permanently banned.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

IM BACK FOR ANOTHER ASK!!

Okay so Hero who got hurt in a fight with Villain and Villain who is deeply in love with the hero. Villain helps patching up the hero, but hero absolutely hates depending on anyone and doesn’t quite trust the villain at first 😔

“I…” The villain stared at the worryingly red skin on the hero’s arm. They knew a hematoma would stay, a nasty bruise that would make the hero wince every time they moved their arm in the next week. “I didn’t mean to…”

They didn’t dare to touch the spot, didn’t even want to look at it. The villain swallowed.

Controlling themselves on the battlefield was difficult enough and when the hero kept jumping up and down in front of them, injuries were unavoidable. They loathed that part of themselves, that part that couldn’t be denied anything, that part that took without thinking.

On some days, they blamed their past, on others they blamed their present. Either way, the villain wished to leave all of this behind.

“Oh, spare me.” The hero pulled their arm away, squeezing their eyes shut in pain.

“…it was an accident—”

“Accident?!” The hero wiggled out of the many blankets the villain had thrown onto them in a panic. It had rained the entire day and the hero was as cold as ice by the time the villain had brought them to the car. “You looked quite determined to eliminate me.”

Their eyes drifted to the car’s door but the villain had already locked everything. Their gaze wandered back to the villain, as if they were going to open the gates of hell in order to get out of here. However, in the end, it was just the two of them. In the backseat. In an alley.

“I’m sorry.” The villain wasn’t really keen on talking. “It’s hard to control sometimes.”

“Hard to control, huh?”

The villain didn’t answer. They looked at their own hands, rough and scarred. Quickly, the hero stared at the door behind the villain.

“So, this is a kidnapping?” the hero asked.

“No…” The villain tried to look at anything but the hero. However, it was a little difficult, considering that the car wasn’t that big and that the villain was basically in the hero’s personal space.

The hero studied them.

“What is it then?”

The villain didn’t answer. Instead, they opened the first aid kit that had become their best friend throughout the last weeks. Most of the bandages were used already but that didn’t hinder the villain from refilling it. Carefully, they took the hero’s hand and bandaged it, making sure that their red knuckles had some stability.

“What are you doing?” The hero didn’t pull their hand away but they seemed to accept the villain’s help rather reluctantly.

“You need to stabilise your knuckles. Better for healing,” the villain said. The hero’s hand was still cold. Yet, it was softer than the villain had expected. Their memories haunted them. The hero on the floor, breathing heavily.

The villain had to stop this. Somehow.

“If you’re trying to kidnap me, then just tell me. I’ll escape either way.” The villain cocked their head, as if it was a challenge.

“Don’t worry, sunshine. I’m almost done.”

Apparently, the hero couldn’t say anything to that. Whether they liked it or not was a mystery to the villain. They were quiet and watched them, almost as if to figure out where to put their next chess piece.

After carefully wrapping the bandage around the hero’s hand, the villain unlocked the car’s doors but the hero didn’t leave. Surprisingly enough, they didn’t even move when the villain opened the door for them, revealing the pouring rain outside.

“That means you can go,” the villain said.

“You’re the one they experimented on,” the hero said quietly, as if that changed anything. Again, the villain didn’t answer. This time, it was out of embarrassment. “They told me you’re a monster. I didn’t even realise they talked about you…”

“You can go,” the villain said softly. “I’m not kidnapping you.”

The hero’s eyes were fixed on them.

“Hey, look-”

“Please just go.”

[headkiss]

hiiii can i request and Eddie or Steve x reader where r scrapes their knee really bad and either one won’t stop babying them til it heals? may or may not have scraped my knee really bad 🫣

hiii i went with steve for this one, hope that’s okay!! and hope your knee heals soon lovely <33 | 0.7k fluff, tw for blood !

Steve stays by the windows this time of day. He glances up at everyone that walks by, waiting to catch a glimpse of you.

You walk your dog every day, the same route and everything. When you were a kid, you’d promised that if you got the dog, you’d take care of it, and somehow, you kept that promise.

It’s a nice routine, getting to spend a little time outside, nothing but your footsteps on the sidewalk and the jingle of your dog’s collar.

It’s even better when Steve happens to be outside, when you get to pause and talk to him for a bit.

You’re in front of your house once more when your dog gets distracted by something, circling you and before you know it, the leash is tangled around your leg. When your dog tries to take off, you end up on your hands and knees on the ground with a curse, feeling the sting right away.

Pushing yourself back to sit down, you swear again at the scrape on your knee, the blood coming to the surface, quickly running in a red tear down your leg.

Remorseful, your dog sits next to you and whines. You scratch the fur behind its ears.

Steve, of course, sees the whole thing. First, the little flutter in his chest when he saw you walking by, then, the small panic at seeing you fall. Seeing you even remotely hurt.

He grabs his car keys from the table by the door (to look like he was going somewhere, not like he’d just been watching you) and heads outside.

“Hey, are you okay?” He calls, lightly jogging down his driveway to get to you.

His voice warms you at first. And then the embarrassment creeps in. You cover your face with your hands, and pull them away before replying, “I’m fine, I swear. It looks worse than it is.”

“Why don’t I grab my first aid kit anyway? You can come sit on the porch.”

He holds out a hand, and you grab it with the one that isn’t grasping the leash. Sparks shoot from your fingertips all the way up your arm, landing in a pulse in your chest.

“Thanks, Steve.”

It hurts to bend your knee too much, and you hiss as you stand. So what if you use that as an excuse to lean on him just a little more, to hold onto his hand a little tighter?

Steve helps you sit back down on the porch step, crouching down with you.

“I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod.

Steve walks inside, and once the door’s shut behind him, he all but runs to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit. He’s not sure what it is about you that has him scrambling to spend more time with you, all he knows is that there is something. That it’s sort of undeniable.

While he’s gone, you take a moment to breathe, to try and get over how embarrassed you are that he’s seeing you like this, how much you like being around him even in these circumstances. You press your palm to your forehead and shake your head. You’re a mess.

Steve comes back quickly, a small white box in hand and the sweetest smile you’ve ever known on his face. He’s so kind, he makes it difficult to keep feeling embarrassed.

“Here we go.” He sits down beside you and opens up the first aid kit, grabbing some wipes first.

“I can do it,” you offer. Because as much as you’d love his hands on you, him taking care of you, he really doesn’t have to.

“It’s alright. Let me,” he says, placing a gentle hand around your ankle.

Steve starts by wiping up the blood from your leg, then from around your wound. He’s as gentle as can be, his touch delicate, his voice soft when he apologizes anytime he catches you wincing.

Then, something to clean it, “this might sting a little.”

“Okay,” you practically whisper, afraid to break the softness of the moment. Afraid to mess it up.

He’s right, it does sting, and when you suck in a sharp breath, he’s quick to ease you, “I know, I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

And, well, how could anything hurt when Steve calls you sweetheart?

[coffeegnomee]

ugh sometimes watching Kab pov I get real sympathetic for how difficult it must be to be in her brain and just be so confused all the time and exhausted about masking her feelings to make other people trust her and her pain in wanting to be vulnerable and receive vulnerability and feel deep reciprocal love.

But then she says shit, really fucking mean and toxic shit towards mental health and healing and it triggers my own fight or flight and i become a ball of rage.

And like, I do get it. When you start your journey of mental health healing you often become the toxic one as you throw the shit people have said to you at everyone who also has similar mental health issues as you. (been there done that) Doing it to process your own rage at being told these things, or thinking, out of desperation, that if you can just get them to fix themselves quickly, you can fix yourself quickly. The bullied becomes the bully.

But then time passes and you realize this shit is hard to overcome. (or maybe it won't ever be overcome! and that's okay!) And you stop being toxic and you start being compassionate, to yourself and others. And eventually you start to heal and become confident in your own self worth and the validity of your emotions.

But before then it's the fucking worst place to watch someone be in. And that place is unfortunately where we are right now.

below is a short transcript of the convo this reflection is based off of. it can be triggering so like, don't feel obliged to read it.

11/10/24 kab vod: "I have no idea what's happening"

1:42:00 KAB: “what about how he makes me feel? Why is it so important what he feels and to accommodate everything he’s feeling? Why do i have to conceded to that???”

1:44:00 “I’m sick of having to accommodate to everyone else’s actions” 

realizing your masking is hurting you is one of the worst realizations (imo). bc the mask keeps you safe, but if you can't process or give worth to your real emotions, it's not serving you.

so she swaps from processing her own feeling to being angry at zam.

1:47:00 She gets he needs time and space, but “We don't have time for to try and sit and process your emotions properly. Do it after we deal with this fucking issue [...] sometimes you just need to toughen up” 

Fucking hell the trigger i just felt for just toughen up. 

1:48:00 “i need to know what he’s thinking so that we can work together. In a team!” 

what team!?!

“‘Does zam really hate communication more than he likes spawn and the server’ literally. Like pick your priorities dude.”

I’m going to fucking throw up. Because yes. Actually yes. Unfortunately and actually yes. He's gotten a lot better but like.

1:53:00 “I dunno. I wish he would care about himself as much as i care about him. Hard to see him like this [pause] maybe he does need more nurturing than i can give him bro ugh. I am just not- i am not good at that shit. I think it’s stupid [..] when you have a job to do [..] just shove your emotions away for a bit. And then you can process them later” 

I was going to say this is just eclipse, but I just realized that maybe it's just this is exactly the perception Zam had of Vi: that Vi just wanted him to move on when he couldn't. All his deepest fears of what Vi wanted from him are being personified into a new person. 

(also he is shoving his emotions away and that's why he's not processing it and giving you an answer for why he "doesn't know"????? but since he's not a perfect ball of joy and masking to you and because he is doing what you can't (shove emotions away) you are in rage)

1:54:00  “But it’s like, while there’s a life or death situation that literally determines the entire server we don't have time to be like, holding your hand, you know? Like, you're an adult” ughh fuck. being broken is inconvenient for others and age is seen as an invalidation to any of your real brokenness. If you're old you no longer have the right to be broken. Can we please change this narrative? thx

“If he cared enough he would actively try and do something to help himself in this situation” 

Interesting choice of words to say "he would try to help himself if he cared" complaining about others not "working" on themselves (and you can never know if someone is working on themselves bc you're not in their brain) helps nobody bc you can only control yourself.

“You just want to sit and feel bad about yourself” no that's what you're doing kab

“He got me to fucking open up to him and pour my heart out and is now turning his back on that entirely. That’s what i’m actually more upset about” 

oh the naive belief that because you pour your heart out to someone they must reciprocate. That is the risk you take when you are honest with someone about your feelings. They are at no obligation to reciprocate ever. Never ever. But that doesn't mean your feelings aren't true and it doesn't mean you shouldn't have done it. Love is a risk.

But also she feels she was forced into it. Forced to be vulnerable and she hates the vulnerability. She doesn't remember (or believe) that Zam promised to not use it against her. She isn't willing to give him the chance to not use it against her. He simply knows and that is a threat.

So love turns into spite. Instantly. And she doesn't want to talk to him anymore. And decides that she will just be fake to him.

oh girl. keeping the mask on doesn't help anything. 

“I’ve lost a lot of respect for him today. I’m done trying to impress him”

and so the mask returns. and healing stops.

[midnightsun-if]

”Its V day and y'all know what that means! Angst! If its okay could you please do the MC is cursed into deep slumber so mated or deep romance ROs tries waking MC up with a true love's kiss but it failed but someone else tried on MC and it worked and how would they feel about not being the true love”?” this but when the mc wakes up they are incredibly angry at the not RO because their body wants them and tries to make us want them but we want the RO. Like “I DONT WANT YOU I WANT THEM I LOVE THEM!!!” And mc hating themselves because of it. How would the ROs react to that?

Koda: He’d be by your side, doing everything in his power to try and get you to understand what’s happening, that nothing could be changed— something that’s made all the more difficult because he barely understands it himself. He just hates seeing you like this, in so much pain because you’re denying yourself of what you truly want. What would clearly be the best for you. “T-This isn’t easy, sunshine, but this is how it’s gotta be, I think.” Koda rubs the back of his neck, looking down at his lap. “It’s not fair, and it’ll hurt for a long time, but it’s how it’s supposed to be. Mama always told me that you don’t go messin’ with the natural order of things.” Whiskey brown eyes look up to meet your own gaze, imploring you to understand. To listen. “I want nothing more than to be yours, and for you to be mine, but that’s not how it’s supposed to be.“

Scarlett: That’d probably make it worse, honestly. It’d absolutely destroy her to see physical proof that your beast wants someone that isn’t her— when all her beast wants, all her beast will ever need, is you. It’d twist the knife so deeply into her heart that it’d become a mere husk of what it once was; the final scar that would never heal. Her anger would only exemplify because it’d also make her realize how hopelessly in love with you she still is. She wouldn’t wish to see you suffer, the love she still has for you making the sight absolutely painful, so she’d make it clear that what was could never be again. “I know you’re fighting, I know that you don’t want this, but you’re only doing yourself more harm. You’re only causing me more harm by spouting such beautiful words that are nothing more than the most ugly of lies.” Pursing her lips, Scarlett takes your hand in hers for, what she knows is, the last time. “We were not meant to be. I was a mere chapter in the book of your life, and I will come to accept that, but you need to accept that this is how it’s meant to be. I’m letting you go, letting you be free.”

Cyrus/Cyra: They’d treat the situation methodically, coldly to some, because they couldn’t bear to let themself open up once more. They don’t even know why they’re torturing themself by continuing to be in your presence, not when your very essence is calling out for someone else. They hope, that with the distance, with the added ice between you both, when there used to be nothing but gentle flames, that you’d begin to understand that nothing could be the same. “You need to stop fighting this. It’s wholly irrational to try and fight the mating bond when it’s been established the way it has.” Their words are hollow, empty of any discerning emotion as they look over what the healers have written down. “You’re only causing yourself more issues in the long run.” They look up then, some gold returning to their crimson gaze. “Only causing me more pain by not letting me go in the same way I’ve had to do so to you.”

Quinn: Their wolf would howl in triumph that their mate is clearly trying to pick the better option, but Quinn would quickly give them a reality check as it’d be clear how much discourse your body would be going through due to the choice. Something that should never be the case when it comes to true mates— it’d be all the proof they needed to truly bring the process of stepping back. Even if their wolf, much tamer now, more subdued, still snarled in the recesses of their mind at the prospect. “Sweetheart,” they murmur, gently taking your hand in theirs. Trying to ignore how right it made them feel— your touch, your scent, the sound of your voice, was home to them. They just had to deal with the fact that they’ve been evicted. “It’s honorable what you’re trying to do. That you’re trying to fight for what we had so hard, but I can’t let you continue on like this. I promised that I’d always protect you, and that means I have to protect you from yourself too. It’s time to stop. For both our sakes.”

Caden: For a brief moment they’d let themself believe that everything was going to be okay— that you’d be able to go back to them, but it’d be only that. A dream. A fantasy borne from a desperate mind. They wouldn’t be able to handle it, wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes as they break the news that this couldn’t go on. They’d be completely retreated into themself because they know if they looked at you, truly looked at you, they’d let themself believe that this could have a happier ending. “I-I sent in my resignation.” They pluck at the end of a knitted scarf, one that you said looked nice on them so long ago. “I think it would be best if I get some space for a while. For the both of us. You need to settle into the new normalcy of your life and I—“ They bite their lip, argent eyes going misty. “I have to deal with the fact that mines been destroyed.”

Sloane: A spark of their former anger would arise due to the situation— about how unfair the situation clearly was to them and to you. But they wouldn’t wish for you to suffer. Wouldn’t wish for you to be anything but happy— even if that happiness could never be with them. It’d take them a bit to truly come to terms with it, meaning to actually come and see you to talk to you, but they’d be firm in their resolve once they do. Even if their heart was cracking open which each moment spent in your presence. “Don’t need to make it a big deal,” they say, flicking their lighter open and close. Wanting nothing more than to smoke, but refraining due to their current location. “You may love me, but that doesn’t mean shit in the long run, does it? Not when you have the person you’re supposed to be bonded to always trying to see you. I’ve spent my whole life feeling like a runner up, like an imposter, and I think I deserve to not feel that when being in a relationship.” Hazel eyes raise to meet yours. “I deserve that, right?”

Blake: They’d be stiff the entire time, wouldn’t be able to hold eye contact with you for long, the sense of familiarity between you both would be so strained… Everything and more had shifted and Blake wouldn’t know what to do with that. It’s one thing to lose the love of your life, but to lose your best friend on top of that? It makes everything too real, too painful, and Blake just wants to get away from it all. Meaning, for the first time, they wanted to get away from you. Of what you represented in their loss. “T-“ They clear their throat, ducking their head as they anxiously tug at their pendant. “Let’s not make this any more difficult than it already is. It’s a shitty situation no matter how prettily we try to wrap it. We’re both going to need some time.” A frazzled hand runs through ash blonde locks. “Don’t know how long that’ll take, but it needs to happen. For both our sakes.”

Reginald/Regina: For a moment, wherein they let every selfish thought run free, they let themself believe that this means everything will be okay, that you’ll fight the clear pull you feel towards someone else, and that you’ll be theirs again like they’re yours, but then they’d see the turmoil you’re in and that would all vanish. How could they say they love you when they let you be in this pain? How could you ever be happy together when you could be happier with someone else? It’s clear what needed to happen… They just wish they could have worn their rose-colored lenses a bit longer. “I don’t want you to think I hate you because I don’t.” A watery smile is sent your way, blue-green eyes shimmering with suppressed tears. “You’ve meant more to me than I ever thought possible. You opened up a whole new world of possibilities to me and I can never thank you enough for that. Even if our story ends here today, I know that’ll I’ll always look back on this chapter fondly. Even if it may take me a while to do so. I hope you’ll be able to do the same.”

[faustianfascination]

Pain Points

Decided to write a little something for @venulus Learning How to Love Myself Creation Challenge. It's a little out of my comfort zone as I tend to prefer writing about characters not myself but felt like giving it a try. One of the things that comes with chronic illness is sometimes the lack of logic that comes to body modification when you spend most of your time in pain, and this is a conversation I've had to have multiple times and I wanted to explore it here. This is a rough work but I hope you enjoy!

1577 words SFW Ikemen Vampire Pairing: Faust x Reader (self insert) Comfort, fluff, post argument, chronic illness, fibromyalgia, tattoos, self love, self acceptance

Never go to bed on an argument, that’s what my parents always said. Yet, I’d decided to sleep in another room in the castle and slipped away early in the morning before Faust was awake just to avoid talking to him, and he really didn’t deserve it but my pride was too strong to admit that right now. The needle danced across my hip, moving with practiced ease as the stencil became etched into my skin, floral motifs and gothic architecture becoming one with my flesh as I made my body anew. It hurt, stabbing, throbbing, making my twitch, shiver and hold my breath instinctively-despite my tattoo artist reminding me she needs me to breathe as she worked up my side. Honestly, I wasn’t far off having a little cry.

There hits a point with pain where it feels almost good, not quite the sexual pleasure that comes from rough play but something else, something a little different. Coenobites and their quest for sensation irregardless of pleasure or pain came to mind, because pain was inevitable in life, especially in mine which made seeking out a tattooists needle seem contradictory. But, there was a difference, this pain was a pain of my own choosing, pain I had agency over. It hurt, the grazed flesh of my body would hurt and heal for days, but unlike the pain from my fibromyalgia this made me feel better about myself. It wasn’t the pain of my own body rebelling, curtailing my plans and placing limitations on my day, stopping me from thinking, from feeling like me. This wasn’t the pain that made me want to die, it was the pain that made me want to live. Which is a difficult thing to explain. Something I didn’t even try to explain last night when Faust questioned why, after a particularly debilitating flare up I was opting to go through with a day long tattoo session. It wasn’t a comment laced with mockery or malice, just a question of why after being in pain for days, when I’m finally getting over it I’m opting for more. For something, he considered ‘frivolous’. Truthfully, that word was the trigger that my already volatile head space needed to go straight into attack mode; and attack I did. Like a chunk of potassium hitting water it ignited a nasty fight that ended with me cursing him out, slamming the door and locking myself into a spare room. Perhaps the tears threatening to leak from my eyes were more to do with hurting him than the hurt I was feeling on my skin.

A cursory knock on the door before I let myself in as quietly as possible, his back to me as he worked at his desk, books scattered everywhere, surprisingly more disorganised than yesterday confirming my fear that he probably didn’t sleep. It was my fault and the paltry dinner balanced on the tray in my hands was no where near enough to apologise. I set the tray down on a table and moved closer to him, he may not have acknowledged my entrance but I knew he knew I was here so quietly as a cat I moved closer to him until I could wrap my arms around him from behind, his scent and warmth filling my senses, always making my heart flutter even when I felt guilty as sin. I could feel his body stiffen under my touch which hurt, his breath hitched as he waited for me to make the first move.

“Johan, can we talk?” my quiet voice said into his back. The tenseness indicating that he was still upset, which he had every right to be. He’d been a wonderful partner during the worst of my flare up, no matter how much I cried in pain, frustration he held me close. Comforted me in his own way, was there to rub sore stiff muscles and help manage my pain only to me met with the sharpest side of my tongue. He didn’t respond, only he steady breathe filling the gap where I wanted his voice to be “Johan, please. I’m sorry” I pleaded while gripping him tighter, finally feeling him starting to relax under my touch, a deep sigh preceding his answer “Yes” he said, his voice softer than usual as he turned in my arms and pulled me into his chest. I relished being in his arms, now more than ever as I gently cupped his cheek and raised my eyes to his “Johan, I’m sorry. It was wrong to talk to you like that, to yell at you like that, it was cruel and there aren’t words to convey how sorry I am. I love you so much, but it wasn’t right to lash out at you” my voice was trembling as I tried to get across how sorry I was, how much I regretted hurting him. It was his forehead pressing to mine, the quiet intimacy of being like this that made the tears I’d been holding back finally fall as he held me close to his chest; his hands rubbing gentle circles over my back. ”Perhaps my bluntness was unwarranted, however I did not appreciate being on the end of your ire….but I forgive you. I just wanted to understand why you chose to go get tattooed when you’ve been so ill. It’s not a logical decision no matter how much I try to figure it out. Why seek out more pain?” his voice was soft, still seeking out an answer but trying not to fall into last nights trap. It’s an answer I’d been formulating all day, but now with his scent in my nose and my guard was down all my well practiced words fell out of my head.

He didn’t push, sat down on the armchair and pulled me into his lap, giving me the space to formulate my answer, careful not to put pressure on my newly inked hip and flank.

“Pain is a constant for me, it’s a daily frustration, it’s debilitating. So, you are correct it’s not a logical course of action. However, getting tattooed is pain. But it’s a pain that I get to choose, that I get something from” his eyes never left mine as I explained “It hurts, but unlike fibro pain it gives me something that makes me feel like I have some semblance of control over my body. Being able to make it something I find more pleasing, more…myself. It makes me feel, even on my worse days a more confident and beautiful version of myself. It’s a comfort when the pain I have no control over flares, it reminds me of who I am when I feel like nothing” the words were clumsy, but they finally came and it felt cathartic saying it out loud, but there was still a fear that he wouldn’t understand.

“Your body is beautiful to me no matter the decoration, I have no problem with your unadorned flesh” he said cupping my cheek and holding me in his hazel gaze.

“I understand that, but it’s not about how you see me. It’s about how I see myself, how I want to be seen, how I want to feel about myself. I don’t mean to make that sound like you don’t matter, but it’s still the skin I have to inhabit” I kept my tone even trying not to sound harsh.

He sat quietly for the moment processing what I said, thankfully he didn’t look hurt or offended finally saying “It’s not a position I’d considered, but there is a logic there and I understand what you’re trying to say. I’m not offended” he concluded by kissing me on the tip of my nose and wrapping his arms around me tighter. His response made a knot in my stomach loosen, and my body finally fully relaxed into his arms. Johan took that as the cue to finally kiss me deeply, more comforting that intending to seduce and it felt like the storm had finally passed.

“May I see?” his voice came after a little while being cuddled up in the wingback and shaking the stiffness from my body I obliged his curiosity by getting up and standing in front of him to show the tapestry of motifs stretching down my side. His eye scanned the newly decorated skin, despite it’s grazed and weeping condition, the designs were strong black like medieval woodcuts. His breath caught at one particular point, the point in the design where he found a little tribute to him

“That’s the re-” ”Yes, for you” I cut in “you’re influence is literally etched into my flesh now” I said recalling the reference to the rebis that I’d worked into the design, the divine hermaphrodite and the great work of alchemy. It was a quick, but I swore he looked a little misty eyed before his usual arrogance crept into his expression. Suddenly he stood and I was lifted into his arms princess style and he was striding towards the door ”Fresh wounds need washing and care do they not?” he said with a seductive smirk appearing on his face “I would be remiss not to take you to the baths now wouldn’t I?” ”No baths, only showers while it heals” I cut in remembering the the aftercare instructions ”Then a shower it shall be” he chuckled as we began our journey through the dark castle.

[uhohbestie]

There Are Monsters Nearby [Chapter 19]

🏜 Pairing: Grian/Scar

🧟‍♂️ Tags: zombie AU, zombie apocalypse, lovers to exes, slow burn, eventual reconciliation

📖 Summary: The day after Scar breaks up with Grian, the dead come back to life. Knowing that venturing out alone is a death sentence, the sudden onset of the apocalypse forces them to stick together despite the tensions between them. In the wreckage of the world, they're forced to survive side-by-side, coming to terms with the fact that—try as they might—there's still no one they trust more than each other.

Chapter 19 - Actions speak louder than words, though, and Grian is determined to show Scar he can make some positive growth... It's just difficult in the apocalypse, when even mild risks come with potentially dire consequences, and every small victory feels one second away from disaster.

📝 Words: 7,416

🔗 Link: Read Chapter 19 on AO3

—

“I don’t want to be here,” Scar says at last, his words flat, tone exhausted. 

The confession catches Grian off guard, pulling him out of the spiral of his own thoughts.

“I want…” Scar stops and sighs, taking a deep breath before he shakes his head. “I want to spend a week on a beach in Mexico, talking about how horrible you are. I want to recover. I want to burn every picture we ever took together. I want you out of my life, and I want everyone around me to tell me I’m better off without you.” 

He tilts his head back, hair damp in the drizzle, strands sticking down to his forehead, nearly obscuring his eyes.

“But I can’t do that. And you’re always here, Grian,” he continues, flat and factual. “And the part of me that wants nothing to do with you can’t stand the part of me that still wants you and is glad you’re around. And I thought—I kept thinking, y’know, that you were trying. And maybe I couldn’t get a break from you, but at least I could heal from this with you. And now I don’t even think you were doing that, and I feel so stupid, Grian. I feel so stupid for trusting you again. And I— I don’t know what to do with you. I feel like I don’t even know you.”

It’s the most words Scar has said in what feels like forever, and they make Grian feel so small.

“I don’t want you right now. And I don’t know if you ever wanted me, but that doesn’t really seem to matter,” Scar admits with another heavy sigh. “Because we’re all each other has in this wasteland. So… I don’t know. I don’t know what we’re doing, I don’t know where we go from here.”

He laughs with no humour. A dry, exhausted sound.

“Maybe it’s ridiculous… but I feel like our relationship is this road we’re on, and we just have to keep walking, whether we want to or not, because there’s no other option for us.”

He lets the silence linger, his hand curling into a loose fist at his sides. 

Grian doesn’t dare disturb it. 

“And call me cynical,” Scar adds at last, quiet. “But I just can’t help but feel that one of us is going to be able to walk a lot further than the other.”

—

Another Friday and a new chapter! Catharsis for Scarian! Sorta!! We broke the 150k word mark with this chapter, which is a bit exciting milestone for us! Nearing the halfway mark for the fic, now. A few more chapters and we'll get there!

You can read the whole fic thus-far in the link below!

You may not rest now, There Are Monsters Nearby (on ao3!)

[litsen-lithenna]

Some thoughts about UA healing journey post-game

TW: Speaking of abuse, trauma, ptsd, and the struggles of healing (take care 🧡) [Long rambling… I’m sorry, and it’s all about my headcanons and how I imagine Astarion and Tav/Durge’s relationship post-game. Of course, I’m perfectly fine with people disagreeing and discussing it, as long you’re not rude✨] I’ve had many thoughts about post-game spawn Astarion, precisely because I find his ending really inspirational, and as a survivor myself, I believe there’s a bittersweet edge to it. {a brief foreword} Healing takes a lot of time, it’s painful and difficult, and you can’t completely get rid of the past. You learn to accept your trauma as part of your life, but the idea is to not let it define you. You're a victim, but you’re not just a victim, it doesn’t define you although it’s a part of you. And you may eventually find a way to live with it, but it never truly goes away. In the epilogue, we (I, at least) understand Astarion will try and walk that healing path, with your Tav/(resist)Durge. And even if he stumbles and falls on the way, he's not alone anymore, there will be people around to help him get back on his feet. It's beautiful, even if it's sometimes difficult.

And there's one line from the epilogue that makes me quite sad, and increases that bittersweet feeling I have: when the narrator says that Astarion told you that those last those “6 months of happy memories are the counterweight to two hundred years of misery”; it does sound sweet, but I think it's a lie (sorry😫 ).

The narrator doesn’t use direct speech with a sentence like "It feels like those 6 months of happy memories are the counterweight to two hundred years of misery“ or "it is obvious that those last 6 months of happy memories…" - Instead, she uses indirect speech, she reports Astarion’s words: "Astarion told you that…", and well… Astarion is an unreliable narrator, he does have a tendency to lie and hide behind a smile, right? (Even if he opens up a little more after Cazador's death).

That’s why I tend to believe that he would prefer to avoid talking about his hardest struggles to the person he loves, and here are some hypothesis of why he'd do that:

He wants to reassure Tav/(resist)Durge so they don’t worry too much.

He doesn’t want to admit he still struggles with his past, not just out of pride, but also because he might lowkey think he “failed” at being completely happy, he might that he "failed" at being done with his past… (Which is, of course, untrue – healing is not a competition, it’s hard, it takes years, and it’s never a straight path,;sometimes you feel better, sometimes you have relapses, sometimes you don’t know what to do or how you feel.) I wouldn’t be surprised if, after years of abuse, he’d believe himself incapable of being good enough to heal… (that hurts a lot)

He doesn’t want to disappoint Tav/Durge – like, "Tav/Durge did so much for me andI can’t even stop struggling with my past, how ungrateful I am!" (ouch) 4- That’s his way to thank Tav/Durge, like “I am so grateful, so I’ll pretend to be completely healed because I know that’s what they want for me: to be happy." (Can you see where this is going?)

Wait a minute!

I’m not saying that post-game spawn Astation would be unhappy! On the contrary, I do believe that he’d be really happy, rediscovering what happiness means, what affection means, the pure joy of knowing how it feels to be himself, to be free (and in love, and loved!).

But I also think there would be relapses, moments of doubts, ptsd, dissociation, nightmares, intrusive thoughts and awful memories, and nights during which he would withdraw into himself completely, if only because he doesn’t know how to deal with all this.

All of this to say that I HC that the relationship wouldn’t be all sweet and soft for them- not all the time at least - even if Tav is the most healthy, considerate, sweetest person to be with - I usually play resist Durge so the traumas are piling up and they have to deal with their respective pasts, which makes it even more complicated.

I’m not saying the relationship would be toxic, but that they would both have a lot to do to make it work. And considering how Astarion tends to hide how he truly feels, Tav/Durge would definitely have to help him open up, to create safe spaces for him so he could feel like he can talk safely when things are getting difficult, instead of just brushing them off with a fake smile. Another point that I’ve been thinking of (A LOT), and which you can connect to point 3 and 4 above: he doesn’t want to disappoint. He spent two hundred years obeying, and each time he would disappoint Cazador, he was punished. So, I think he wouldn’t so easily get rid of what he was trained to do. Therefore, even if Astarion doesn’t see Tav/Durge as a potential 'master', I think he’d still have some tendencies to rely on them, to follow their lead. Because, even if he says multiple times that he wouldn’t let anyone control him ever again, and even if Tav/Durge refuses to tell him what to do, even if they refuse to control him, Astarion would unconsciously tend to let them take the lead. (which would obviolusly be even more difficult for Durge)

And I think Astarion would do his best to never disappoint, terrified to be abandoned, or worse, that the one he loves might see him just as he sometimes still thinks he is: not enough, just a pretty face.

It would require a lot of work and talking and patience from Tav/Durge to help him go through that, giving him agency about small things, mundane decisions, and little by little, make him understand that he doesn’t have to rely on anyone and that he can make the right choice for himself, and by himself. And they’d have to reassure him too, but I don’t think he would enjoy if this support was too obvious; I think he’d hate being paternalized by a partner who’d keep on openly encouraging him as if he was a child. But subtle tokens of support, quiet encouragements (a hand on his arm, a smile, their hand squeezing his hand, etc.) could probably help him feel better about himself without making him feel inadequate. In any case, I don’t think 6 months, even 6 months of the sweetest honeymoon, would make up for what Astarion went through. I can’t believe it, and I think the writers knew that too. And that use of the indirect speech by the narrator is enough for me to confirm it (alright, maybe my academic studies in literature are biasing me a little but aaah…! I can't help thinking about the "Astarion told you that…").

Sorry this was wayyyyy too long and heartbreaking and quite incoherent and there’s no real conclusion, but I needed all this out of my chest! Thank you for your attention 🩵 (and I apologise for the typos, it's late and I'm tired af)

[ventstufff]

Tw: suicide

Unfortunately after 2 years of never being suicidal it’s finally crept its way back into my life again. It’s extreme but I don’t think I can live without her, I’ll never ever tell her this. She’ll never know because it’s not fair for her to know. No one will ever have me the way she did, no one will know me so well as she did. I love her even if she did bad things to me., loving an older woman is something but having some sort of fucked up “relationship” with her is the worst thing I’ve ever experienced besides loosing someone to death. I’m scared soon I’ll be back at that time again. Back again at the worst time of my life when I tried to kill myself over and over. I don’t wanna go back but I feel it. I’m trying to stop it, I’ve tried and tried to heal, to get over her but each time I feel like it’s over it comes creeping back in the worst ways possible. It’s not worth the hurt, don’t ever try to fulfill your lesbian fantasies of being in some sort of “relationship” with someone that’s 40 while you are just freshly 18 she will got bored and discard you. I’ve tried to replicate this but I can’t, I can’t. I hate this curse that I have : not being able to form attraction to anyone that’s not like 15+ years older than me. It’s curse I’ve tried fixing many many times. Let this a warning to every young lesbian like me who yearns for this more than anything else, (or any young person who wants a relationship with someone older) don’t get into this sick game until you are like maybe 25. Or maybe don’t at all. I know I will keep coming back to it, because I’m cursed. Maybe one day when I’m older I’ll find someone who will genuinely love me that’s older than me, but for now don’t even try. It’s terrible. I’m trying not to loose hope and get better but it becomes difficult I can “heal” for so long until it pounces on my back again. I’m hoping that this will make me stronger and more experienced but it feels like hell. For the first time in a long time i genuinely am viewing suicide as an option again. I want it badly but i made a promise to someone who died to suicide so i cant. I just want this feeling to go. God I love her