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samkerrworshipper · 1 year ago

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beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful girl

leah williamson x reader, jordan nobbs x reader (wobbs as coparents)

reconciliation … the final part in this series x

2 months later:

“My name is y/n Williamson-Nobbs, and I am an addict.”

There are things you appreciate nowadays, more then you did before. Fresh air, the flowers blooming in spring, a strong coffee, smiles from strangers, a warm bed, hugs, being told you are enough, a classic movie, the sun, fruit, water, being clean.

“I didn’t ever take drugs to hurt anybody, or hurt anybody knowingly. I didn’t take drugs to have fun, or party, I didn’t get addicted because I liked it.”

You like taking your dog on walks, going and getting your hair done, floating in the ocean, lying in grass, being sober.

“I took drugs because it made me feel whole. I’ve never felt whole in my entire life, everyday in my life I’ve used something to patch that hole up, during my childhood I tried to fix every single problem, I fixed myself by fixing everybody else in my life, my mom, my non existent dad. As I got older it changed, I seeked validation to patch the hole, it was healthy, but I think I’ve always been an addict and I always will be. I’ve been addicted to filling that hole, it was disguised as being healthy for most of my life until I switched the validation for drugs.”

You don’t avoid peoples eye contact as you walk along the street anymore, you don’t avoid your moms, you don’t lie to people anymore, you don’t put yourself in danger.

“It started with nicotine, because my mom enabled it. I think she was more scared for me then anything. I was spiralling, who wouldn’t be in this day and age? I mean any parent of a teen must be terrified in this day and age, I know I would be. The nicotine was good, but then I got introduced to weed, and it felt like every problem I’ve ever had was fixed.”

You talk about your feelings now, you identify every single thing that you feel and you talk about it with as much detail as your moms and therapist want to hear. You don’t study the different chemicals entering your body every time you shoot up anymore, you study the intricacy and meaning of what you are going through. You take medicine for your depression and anxiety, not drugs for your hopelessness.

“They say weed is the pipeline drug, it’s true. After weed, I felt on top of the world and there was no stopping me. Molly, LSD, coke, heroin, benzos, fentanyl, ketamine, oxy, speed, and eventually meth, which I now know to be the worst of all of them. I didn’t know it at the time, there wasn’t anybody in my life, or in the life I’d created forn myself that was willing to tell me how dangerous what I was doing was.”

Jordan moved back in, whilst you were in rehab. It had been two weeks, that’s what you agreed to. It was the worst two weeks of your life without any doubt. But when you were picked up, both your moms were there, both of them were there for you. They both took time off, time off to take you away, across to France for a week.

“Meth will always be the thing that destroyed my life. My parents don’t trust me anymore, I get why. I lashed out, I became devoid of everything, I was convinced that everybody hated me, and that I was the cause of everybody’s pain, including my own. I convinced myself that the people who loved me the very most didn’t, and that I was the bomb that had torn all of my relationships in my life apart. I was a kid though, I still am, and I’m trying to be better.”

The trust was a hard thing. Your therapist saw Leah and Jordan twice a week, and that was when they would discuss the things that they could start reintroducing you to. School was a no, for now. You were yet to be permitted to stay at the house, alone, for longer then an hour, so every training session, gym session, appointment, media duty, catch up with friends, you were dragged to. It had been tough in the beginning, but you understood, trust had to be earnt. Every week there was something to look forward to, Jordan had been teaching you to drive after you’d gotten out of rehab, and as of a week ago you were permitted to drive yourself to and from your NA meetings.

“Meth made me feel like I was on top of the world, even though i was at my rock bottom. I had bad friends, I fell into a bad group of people, people who took advantage of the fact that I was so vulnerable and hurt. I’ll never forgive them for that, I’ll never be able to forgive them for taking advantage of a girl nearly ten years younger then them. They were hurting too, but that doesn’t excuse manipulating another person. They hurt me, they enabled me, they assaulted me, they took things from me that I’ll never get back.”

The first thing your mothers had wanted when after you’d come clean to them about everything was for you to get a rape kit. You’d outright refused, you were protecting the people, you didn’t want to relive what had happened to you but also a part of you didn’t want Matt and Maya to go down, even if you could now recognise that they’d done unforgivable things to you. Eventually, you agreed to it. You were glad you did, Matt had passed on chlamydia to you, which you thought was some kind of sick joke, that even after he’d deserted you there was still parts of him that were hurting you from the insides. Karma came in the form of a sexual assault report, one which had the policemen heading to his home to arresst him, only to finds thousands of dollars worth of illicit substances.

“I’m not proud of what I did to get a fix, I don’t think any recovering addict is. A couple of months ago I would have ruined every single relationship I had with all of the people I loved just to get a hit of what I was craving, and nowadays I would probably do the same, but I don’t need to. Meth was the love of my life, I think it always will be, or maybe the craving for something to fill me up is what I crave, I don’t really know, I’m still working everyday to try and figure that out.”

Sometimes, as you drove home at night, around every corner towards the house, you considered taking a stop at a side street, one that you knew a dealer would be sitting on. Somedays, you considered driving the car off of the highway and into a tree. Somedays, you considered taking a blade to your throat so you didn’t have to do rehab. Somedays though, you felt so incredibly blessed to be alive. Sometimes, you would sit outside, in the sun and just feel, allow yourself to feel everything that you’d always pushed down out of fear that you’d be deserted if you let any true emotion show.

“We’re all human, we all have the same dignity, no matter who we are. I made some stupid choices, choices that I won’t ever be able to reckon with, choices that for the rest of my life will haunt me. Don’t we all though? Don’t we all lie awake at night worrying about the things that we’ve done, that are out of our control now?”

You’d come to not fear desertion, the people who you’d hated most in the world but also loved most in the world had deserted you. Your parents had deserted you, you closest friends, people you would have considered your found family, deserted you. It was something you had no control over, something that you would never have control over and focusing all of your energy on trying to fix that had become something that you’d give up on.

“I’m not perfect, I never have been, I never will be. I can guarantee though that nobody in this room feels like they are perfect. We’re all hurt people, everybody has something that they keep hidden from people because they are scared that somehow it is going to make people see them differently. I’m guilty of it, my whole life i’ve been hiding, I still am. I’m not ashamed to admit that coming here every night terrifies me, that somebody I’ve known at some stage of my life will walk through the same doors I do and I’ll be put face to face with that, but it’s life. We all make our own mistakes, we all pave our own ways.”

Leah and Jordan still fought, you were secretly glad. It was clear that everything between them was done, which you hated to be happy about, You weren’t ready for that to be back to normal, you weren’t ready to feel like you were able to go back to the way life was when they were together. Lia mediated them, she balanced everything out and the two of you had managed to build a relationship. She was like the older sister you’d never had and you were happier to have her around knowing that she was happy to support you in the same way your moms would, even if she wasn’t living in the same house as you all anymore.

“I will never be able to properly apologise for how I acted, I’ll never be able to repay the people that found me at my lowest and still showed uo for me. I owe my life to those people, and I will spend every single day of my life being so thankful for the opportunity they have given me to have a second chance.”

Life was better, everything was better, you were recovering, you were learning. You felt more connected and loved by the people around you in your whole life. You didn’t feel like you had to seek out love anymore, you didn’t feel like you had to do something to earn it. Leah spent every minute of everyday doing small things to make you feel loved, dragging you out of the house to get coffee with her, reading with you every night before bed, sitting through you when the cravings were making your day harder, driving you to the beach when you felt like you needed fresh air, dragging you to physio appointments so you could hang out with your aunties, buying you fresh flowers to put in your room to make the dark memories of it a little bit nicer, helping you redecorate the space, letting you sleep in her bed when the tendencies started to burn all over your skin.

“I have a disease, I have a terminal illness that will forever impair my ability to live life normally. I will forever be attached to my past, and that’s really tough, I won’t ever be cured of my past, I won’t ever be able to say that I am free of my addiction, I will forever be tied to my decisions.”

Your therapist was helping you weed out all the bad, helping you to identify the different patterns of self destructive behaviour that you chose, helping you to make better decisions for yourself, decisions that didn’t end in you destroying everything you’d worked for.

“I’m an addict, we all are, we all know what it feels like to be plagued with our past. We all get up here every week and speak about our demons, because we all get it. We get what it feels like to lose everything, we all understand the terror that crosses over a persons face when you overdose, or tell them that you’re using, or when they wake up across from your hospital bed. We’re all going through our own shit, we’re all struggling everyday. I struggle everyday, because I’m an addict, for the rest of my life I will struggle because I’m an addict, but there isn’t anybody who understands me better than all of you. I’ve been sober for two months, there have been relapses, there have been struggles, there has been pain and so much for me to be ashamed of. There has been so many positives though, there has been so much good, so much happiness, so many good moments. I don’t believe that everything happens for a reason, there is too much bad in this world for me to believe in that, but I do believe that this experience has made me a better person, it’s made me stronger, its made me more resilient. The past two months have been some of the best parts of my life, and i intend for the rest of my life to be the same. This chip means a lot to me, but it’s the progress that makes all of this better, knowing that I’ve left parts of me behind that will now stay behind me forever.”

You looked down at the chip in your hands, the little bronzey coin that was so small but felt like it was bigger then the world to you. You smiled at the group of people around you, nodding your head once again before walking towards you sponsor and giving them a hug. It felt good, like a big weight had been lifted from your shoulders. You’d never spoken much in meetings, you were more than happy to hear other peoples stories, but tonight had been special to you. You’d thought about what you were going to say, much of it being what you’d talked about with your moms earlier in the week during family therapy. It had been hard, talking to your moms so openly about how you felt, but it was something you were becoming better at as the days passed.

You stayed around for the coffee and biscuits, talking with the people that you’d grown close to over the past month and a half in the mildewy church which smelt a little bit too similar to your great grandmothers living room.

You stuck around until the first few people started to trail out, before you made the decision it was time to get home. You said your goodbyes, farewelling your friends before dismissing yourself and making the walk out to the carpark, towards Leah’s car.

Driving had become your one piece of real freedom, it was the only time where you got to think to yourself. A couple of months ago, you would have found solace in continuous loneliness, you would have sat in the car for hours and been happy. Now though, you found yourself navigating your way back home as fast as possible, whilst still abiding by road rules.

The gravel driveway underneath the wheels of a car used to make you nervous, if anything it now made you feel anticipation.

You jumped from the car with a hop in your step, the bronze chip still clutched in your palm, the metal now warm against your skin after the acclimation of the metal to your body temperature.

You used your key to enter the door, smiling at the warmth and scent that you were met with as you untied your shoes and left them by the front door.

Leah was waiting for you in the kitchen, she always was, every night you decided to go to a meeting. You knew that she still worried, that she spent nights awake worrying about you. You’d lost count of how many times on the nights you spent in your own bed how often she’d come to check to make sure you were still lying there. She probably always would worry, you wouldn’t blame her if she did, you’d put her through a lot.

She brought you into a hug, the same hug as every night, it always lasted for a little bit too long, but you never brought it up.

She would hug you tighter every single time, it was clockwork.

“Lia’s come over for dinner, she’s cooked spaghetti for everybody, but she made bangers and mash for you special, no pasta.”

You smiled at your mom, letting her press a chaste kiss to your forehead before you followed her into the dining room, where dinner was already plated up and Jordan and Lia were already seated at the table.

Jordan sent a smile your way as you sat down, things were still rocky between the two of you, it was never going to be perfect, it was never going to be as good as before, but you were both doing the work to heal bits of it and that was what mattered.

“Hey bubba, how was your meeting?”

Most nights you answered the same, with something simple.

“Good, I got this today.”

You pushed the chip onto the table, pulling your phone out of your pocket so you didn’t have to witness their raw reactions.

“Bubba, we’ve talked about this, no phones at the table.”

You frowned, pushing your phone back into your trackpant pocket, and looking up at your moms.

“This is awesome bubba, we’re both so proud of you.”

Jordan had picked up the coin, looking at it with glazed eyes.

There had been a lot of that since you’d come out of rehab, a lot of crying, a lot more than you were comfortable with.

“I want you to keep it.”

Jordan looked up at you, mildly confused.

“Bubba, it’s your token, your progress, your hardwork, you should keep it.”

You shook your head.

“Mom has my one month one, I want you to keep this one. I’m doing it for you two, I’m trying to be better for you two, and I want you to know that I’m committed to it and that without you guys I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

You could see tears pooling in Leah’s eyes from the other side of the table, jordan’s own ones beginning to drip down her face.

“Anyways, it’s not big deal, let’s have dinner, I’m sure whatever Lia cooked up is better than anything you and mom could have managed.”

You tried to pass it off with some lighthearted humour, but based off of the tears on your parents face, it wasn’t doing much.

Jordan and Leah both reached over, taking a hand in each of yours.

“You know that no matter what happens, no matter where you go, who you become, what you do, how you live your life, you will always be our beautiful girl.”

#woso #woso community #sammykworshipper thoughts #leah williamson #arsenal wfc #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson is mom #leah makes me cry #leah williamson fic #jordan and leah #leah williamson imagine #jordan nobbs x reader #jordan nobbs #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso appreciation #sammykworshipperfics

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cherienymphe · 2 months ago

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When I first followed you a year and a bit ago I was still in a place where I was so ashamed of these fantasies I’d had as earliest as my first sexual fantasies. Not a soul in my personal life knew but this space and just tumblr in general was the first discourse I engaged in with normal gals like me that happened to like the same thing that made me feel so guilty and ashamed and for the first time I started to question that guilt and shame.

The first person I told irl was my therapist and mostly because I felt like it was something about myself that I needed to fix. Because what kind of person gets aroused at the idea of being forced or violated or abused? But my angel of a doctor instead informed me that this sort of fantasy is normal and can even be explored safely and then we started to do the work to understand why I had these fantasies.

I realize now that I was having these fantasies because I grew up in an environment where I felt a lot of shame and guilt around sexuality in general. So it felt like the only way I could experience guilt-free arousal was in these pretend scenarios where it “wasnt my fault” cause “I had not choice”. Obviously as I got older and understood what that meant I felt so ashamed. And then when my first sexual experience wasn’t consensual (which was obviously not pleasurable at all) I felt like I had manifested it and hated myself even more.

The main point of me sharing all this was because while I’ve also found lot of comfort in this community, I’ve witnessed you and other writers being harassed for writing non con stories. Something that I would say is arguably the safest and most ethical way to explore this common but taboo kink. And I think a lot of people who comment stuff about how “sick it is” or how you’re “glorifying rape” are probably people who have found your page because they themselves are curious but they attack you to deal with their own shit and blame you as the writer instead of taking responsibility for the content they engage in. But I wanted to share a connection I made in therapy:

I’m an actor and if I’m playing a woman who whose dog has died. I, as the actor, know I don’t even have a dog but I’ll say the lines and feel the feelings and my nervous system doesn’t know the difference. And after the scene is done I, the actor, can wipe my tears and go “that was so much fun. Let’s do it again!” And that doesn’t mean that I want my dog, that I don’t have, to die, or that I find pleasure in other people’s dogs dying. But it was thrilling and cathartic to pretend those were my circumstances in a safe environment

I know this was a hella long question that wasn’t even a question but that connection really helped me understand this all better and helped with my guilt so maybe it might help others. Or offer another explanation why people have fantasies like this

I remember first learning about the connection between certain fantasies and guilt free arousal where you're not in control and it made a lot make sense 😭 of course I feel I'm past that for the most part irl and I actually enjoy having autonomy and the choice in my own sexuality and what not but obviously it's still something I fantasize about. Writing about taboo topics is also cathartic for me sometimes. I remember specifically being in a weird/bad headspace when I wrote SLTS and immediately after writing it, I felt so much lighter and better

Also yeah for argument's sake if someone is just wholly against someone having rape fantasies, writing about it is arguably the least harmful way to explore them 😭 it's very much a non problem problem like of all the things in this world some woman writing about her being chased through the woods by Steve Rogers is just nowhere near the list of things to worry about

#asks

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faux-ecrivain · 1 year ago

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Yan Therapist x gn darling ———————————— (Name’s Conroy Simons) (Name means; Conroy; ’Wise advisor’ Simons; ’listener’) (Thirty Fourth Official Post) ———————————————— Yan therapist who hates his job, he finds it all tedious, and he hates listening to people talk about their problems. Why did he ever accept this job? Yan therapist that used to love his job, every day he’d wake up excited to make a change in someone’s life. But after doing it for so long, 7 years to be exact, he’s no longer excited, and would much rather be retired. Yan therapist that does his best to mask his exhaustion, but ultimately fails when you ask him what’s wrong. Yan therapist that insists nothing is wrong, he doesn’t really like opening up. Yan therapist that reluctantly spills his guts after some intense persuasion on your part. Yan therapist that starts to look forward to your visits, you’re a surprisingly good conversationalists, when you aren’t feeling spiteful that is. Yan therapist that starts to take notes, not about your mental health (although he does take note of that), but about what you like, and who you like. You know, personal throngs like that. Yan therapist that gets jealous anytime you mention someone besides him, he gets especially jealous when you ramble about the love of your life (can’t you see that he’s the only one for you?). Yan therapist that “accidentally” started stalking you. (He’s only trying to keep you safe!) Yan therapist that starts to manipulate you, he tries to rationalize his actions by pretending that he’s doing what’s best for you.

(“Are you sure about this, doc? I mean, I don’t really think my friend’s all that bad.” Conroy sighs and smiles politely, masking the anger he feels when you question him.

“Yes, dear, I’m positive. It’s best if you stop spending time with them, they’ve done nothing but upset you, and confuse you. Don’t you remember when they left you behind at the mall? Or when they stole your sister’s boyfriend?”

He reminds you of all the terrible things that your friend did and makes you question your friendship with them. Still, you’re uncertain. “I don’t know, doc, I mean, that was all in the past. Surely, it’s okay to hang out with them now?” Conroy sighs and shakes his head, which causes you to groan because now he’s going to give you a lecture about listening to him.)Yan therapist that uses the close friendship the two of you curated to isolate you from your other friends, and people who may want to steal you from him. Yes, that includes your sister and your extended family. Yan therapist that gets irritated every-time you question him, why must you be so bullheaded? Don’t you know he’s only trying to keep you safe? Yan therapist that decides the only way to keep you safe is to keep you with him. Yan therapist that invites to his house at some point and eagerly hopes that you’ll agree. (Mostly because it’ll be easier to kidnap you that way) Sadly, you refuse his invitation, something about being uncomfortable in a stranger’s house. Instead, you decided to invite him to your house, which he happily agreed to. Yan therapist that looks forward to going to your house, his joyous mood is noticed by everyone at work (patients and colleagues included). Yan therapist that dresses in his best outfit (which is a rather sharp suit and a comfy turtleneck sweater, a strange combination, I know) when he comes to your house.

(You greet him with a friendly smile and compliment his outfit, which, of course, causes him to internally gush. But, he plays it cool and pretends your compliment didn’t mean the world to him. “Oh, thanks, it’s just something I threw on.” He shrugs, and you chuckle, then invite him inside.

Conroy shuffles into your house, the moment his feet his the threshold a strange feeling washes over him. It’s a mix of apprehension and elation. He can’t explain it, but it’s as though he stepped into a sacred place. A place that you only allow your closest friends to enter (this wasn’t true, of course, but he’s an idiot, and has no idea what you’re planning) Yan therapist that thinks this will simply be a friendly visit that may, or may not, lead to something more. (He eagerly accepts any, and all, hospitality you show him. Happily sipping the tea you made, even if it was scalding hot, and happily eating the scones you made, no matter how strange they tasted.) Yan therapist that listen to everything you say, even though it doesn’t make any sense (all your words are slurring together and for a moment, he thinks you’re drunk). Yan therapist that desperately tries to be active in the conversation, despite how strangely tired he’s feeling. He yawns and blinks rapidly as he desperately fights sleep. Yan therapist that’s ignorant to the malicious smile you flashed him. Yan therapist that succumbs to his exhaustion with reluctance, his cup falls out of his hand, and would have landed on the floor had you not caught it. You chuckle menacingly and, with some effort, tote his unconscious body into your basement. Yan therapist that wakes up many hours later to you taunting him for falling for your tricks, and yet he can’t help the strange joy he felt upon knowing that you spent many months planning his abduction. Yan therapist that’s slightly angry you abducted him because that was his plan! But, also, now he doesn’t have to try that hard to keep an eye on you! Yan therapist that decides this isn’t so bad, I mean, you aren’t the worst captor in the world (there’s room for improvement though, and luckily, he’s a master manipulator. So getting you to treat him better shouldn’t be too hard.) and you haven’t harmed him. Yes, you were a bit overzealous, but who isn’t from time to time? ———————————————————

#yandere oc #my writing #yandere x reader #enjoy this short fanfic!#gn reader #fanfic #not the best #Yandere oc x reader #yandere therapist x gn darling #yandere male #yandere x you #male yandere #gender neutral reader x yandere

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mlmarint · 11 months ago

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so here’s my thoughts about the “daddy issues” thing with the whole anti tommy shit

you guys are such fucking hypocrites

i would be totally on board with someone bringing that it’s not okay to sexualize someone’s trauma if that was the case. but guess whaaaaaaat???? THATS NOT THE CASE. and it’s not “terrible dialogue” either, there’s so many scenes with terrible dialogue in this show, but some of you should really stop and ask yourselfs WHY you didn’t like this one.

if eddie was the one to make a comment like that some of you’d be OVER THE MOON. i’ve NEVER seen ANYONE in this fandom talk about how a LOT of the buddie explicit fanfics have a daddy kink on it. and before any more comments, i REALLY HATE buddie fics with daddy kink because it always reminds me of christopher and do NOT want to think about christopher in that moment.

“that’s not the problem. the problem is that once again buck it’s with someone who doesn’t care about his trauma” oh grow the fuck up.

tommy LITERALLY decided to not date buck because he thought buck wasn’t ready for it, he gave buck his space, he at first didn’t want to go to maddie and chimney wedding with buck because he thought buck was acting on impulse and wanted him to take his time to be okay with who he is, and after he was sure he tried his best to be on time to his date.

and also!!!! buck is a little “freak” in bed guys, he was a literal sex addict in season 1. every now and then the show reminds us this (like the ring cutter scene), also this is the second buck’s relationship with someone who’s like older than him. i wouldn’t be surprised if buck has a canon daddy kink because GUESS WHAAAAAT some people who have daddy issues??? THEY HAVE DADDY KINKS!!!!!

but you guys wanna know what i truly think?

i think that some of you (these tommy antis) are only here for buddie. you’re not here for the show, you’re here for buck and eddie. you’re not here for all these amazing characters!!! you’re not here for the fact that buck being a bisexual man discovering that side of him in his 30s its one of the most important things that happened in this show when we’re talking about lgbt+ characters and the importance of having something like that to be on media.

you’re not here for bi buck, you’re only here if this means that eddie will be with him. you’ll won’t be here if they decide to give a eddie queer discover story non related to buck on season 8 (and i truly think we’re going that way).

you only liked buck and tommy when you could sexualize two man kissing.

if you want to talk about something that is not okay that tommy did why don’t you rewatch the older episodes he’s in? he wasn’t a nice person back then and honestly i would like for them to bring that up!!! for them to show how a person can change and grow out of their prejudice and realize that they don’t need to be an ass and be okay with who they truly are. in fact why don’t we talk about how they hinted the fact that tommy didn’t like who he was when he was working with gerard? that he doesn’t like gerard and that he was a toxic person and that tommy grow up with a racist, homophobic and sexist dad???? that’s why he wasn’t a nice person back than but he’s different now and he’s a proud gay man and that once again that’s a nice thing to have on media because it shows how it’s NEVER too late to come in terms with who you are and change the way your are for better????

tommy isn’t perfect (and no one that he hurt before seems to actually care about it cause he did truly changed), but that doesn’t mean you need to cancel the guy FOR ONE SINGLE comment!!!! part of the 911 team made fun of buck for being sexually assaulted by his therapist but no one canceled them for it, did they?

honestly i am so fucking tired with fandoms in general.

at this point i hope we don’t get buddie being canon FOR A LONG TIME cause i want you guys to suffer with tommy and buck being in a happy relationship.

just remember: eddies it’s not canonical queer yet, there’s hints of it and they probably are going on that road with the whole thing they’re saying on interviews, BUT buck IS BISEXUAL and HE IS dating TOMMY you like it or not and it’s by far the most healthy relationship he EVER had in this show, can’t you be happy for him????

you can be a buddie shipper and still enjoy bucktommy because what we should truly want more than anything it’s buck and eddie to be happy with who they are.

and I SAY ALL THIS BEING A BUDDIE SHIPPER FOR YEARS

#tommy kinard they could never make me hate you #911 abc #911 spoilers #911 show #eddie diaz #ryan guzman #evan buck buckley #evan buckley #tommy kinard #buddie #bucktommy

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figwritesfics · 2 months ago

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My Evidence, My Witness (T4T RiddleBat)

(Edward POV):

Eddie gazed around at the damp, biting concrete walls of the decaying building he lay waste in. He tried to hone his mind on the drip of the leak near the window of his cell or the earwigs slinking across the mossy floor. Playing around with the idea that the insects might perhaps enter his ear canal, although in his right mind he knew better; the bugs were unfortunately harmless. There would be no pain to stave his thoughts away from – the problem.

The problem. Eddie could take his imprisonment, after all it had been a part of his plan all along, turning himself in after its completion, his work done.

The conditions within the asylum were not dissimilar from what he had experienced in his time at the orphanage all those years ago, the moldering, the seemingly permanent lump in his throat – sometimes from the tears, sometimes from the less than ideal conditions – making it hard for him to swallow or breathe deeply

At first Eddie had thought the silence of his quarters was nice – just him and the earwigs, but then the shrieks started. Each night the screams of his floormates instantly reminded him of the cries of infants slowly succumbing to a cruel end each winter. But Eddie could take it, the suffering almost felt like a comforting blanket hazing his mind, pain gave him purpose.

No. What truly was eating away at Eddie, the Riddler, the analytical paladin of justice – was his dysphoria.

Sure he was allowed to visit the med station once a month to get his T-shot, but the guards had confiscated his only binder during his prison intake.

“Contraband,” they had said quickly, allowing no time to respond before shoving him in a holding cell.

Logically, Riddler understood why they might not allow him a binder, the process of wearing it for just a few hours each day had already done a number on his ribs outside of prison, let alone what damage it might do when he would be wearing it constantly.

The prison-issued straight jacket initially held hope. At the very least his chest wouldn’t be as exposed. However, once it was on, whatever fleeting glee of passing during his detainment there might have been, had left altogether.

Somehow the offending jacket had pushed his chest even farther into view than it had been with just his construction-orange regulation jumpsuit.

From the sun’s brisk incline to the slow rise of the moon, each day Eddie’s thoughts ran wild.

Having nothing else to do with each waking moment but to do everything in his power to distract himself from his chest, and every great once in a while giving in and looking down upon the erring flesh festering below his neck, causing himself to spiral.

And if all of that wasn’t already enough, everytime he was able to leave the cell, their eyes lingered, glued to his chest. Some seemed confused, whilst others gave him a knowing look.

“I know what you are.” their expressions conveyed.

Eddie hadn’t felt this unsafe since he was a teenager – looking back on it, the ghost of hands scrambling across his lower half in passing.

He could vividly remember the aching feeling from when he was pushed into hand-me-down dresses for each Sunday’s orphanage service. Although the straight jacket was made from a very different material than those garments had been, it still left the same itching, crawling feeling upon his skin. Eddie tried to pretend that the burning feeling was just the earwigs digging into him.

At his weekly meeting with his care team, Eddie worked up the guts to articulate this tormenting feeling to his therapist. And although she seemed pleased with his work towards expressing his wants and needs in a safe manner, she instantaneously declined his request

. It was her concern that Eddie might use the gender-affirming device to take his own life – something Eddie was now considering with the lack of options left to hide the symmetrical tumor-like protrusions weighing down upon his chest. Perhaps the straight jacket – no he couldn’t let himself think like that.

With a deep breath, the meeting ended and Eddie was marched back to his cell, chest jumping with each step. One man lurking near the door of his cell, nearly bore holes in Eddie’s chest staring.

“What was he in for again?” he thought, searching his memory, gulping when he recalled it. The man had been imprisoned after dismembering the bodies of seven women piece by piece, methodically.

Though Eddie had committed several similar crimes and felt the thrill of such acts, it was in the name of his cause, his purpose. This man, who clearly saw him as a woman, had dissected each one of those people to get his dick wet with their bodily fluids and their insides. It was clear in the man’s gaze that despite his appearance, he had chosen Eddie as his next victim.

Alarm bells ringing in his mind, Eddie plotted. Sure Arkham was fairly strict about sticking to regulations, but that didn’t mean that the occasional assault didn’t happen, especially with those the guards weren’t particularly fond of. If he couldn’t find a way out then – Batman. He’d have to go through Batman.

Eddie wasn’t really quite sure how to broach the subject of “Hey Bats! If you don’t bring me a chest binder (I’m trans btw) some creep is going to rawdog and possibly kill me” but he’d find a way– he’d have to.

During his research on the elusive dark knight, Eddie found a singular picture, the man’s vigilante costume had been torn during a fight directly around the chest and a telltale scar peaked through. In his mind, he had tried to rationalize that the man did seem to be injured quite often and that a scar in that particular area meant nothing, but Eddie still held out the hope that the both of them held this shared experience – remembering this, the Riddler got to work.

Despite the fact that Eddie had been in prison for over seven months now, he was keenly aware that Batman still screened all of his communication with the outside world. And so it began.

During the time that he was allowed out of his cell, Eddie wrote a heartwarming letter to his favorite co-worker Linda Paulson. In reality, Linda was a stone-cold bitch who constantly used the wrong pronouns when referring to Eddie on purpose. But no one needed to know about that-

Eddie knew the letter would never reach Linda or even beyond the prison walls, it would be sent to Batman, where he would hopefully decode the carefully placed ciphers describing Eddie’s predicament.

Sure after their last meeting the dark knight had not seemed as fond of him as Eddie would have liked, but he was sure that the brooding man did at the very least have human decency.

With the letter approved, Eddie sat on pins and needles carefully awaiting the vigilante’s arrival, and also swallowing down the feeling that the Batman simply may not care or might enjoy Eddie’s suffering too much to render him any aid.

. . .

(Bruce POV:)

My dearest Linda Paulson-

Bruce stared down at the bizarre piece of paper. The garbled mess appeared to be a letter from Nashton to an elderly coworker of his from his days as a forensic accountant, but with the Riddler the correspondence could mean a number of things. Perhaps his plans for another attack or useful information he may have found?

Although the faculty at Arkham had not been intelligent enough to see through it, the letter was clearly filled with ciphers and mentions towards something, only what could it be?

Having waited for this exact moment, Bruce pulled up his archive of ciphers previously used by the Riddler, and ones he potentially might use in the future.

Though none of the ciphers that Nashton had used in the past matched up with the scribbled notes, a very basic cipher from his folder of “Codes the Riddler might use next” apparently matched up. But when Bruce read through it the content was – underwhelming.

In a panicked frenzy the man described his predicament, and although Bruce had previously had suspicions he was never aware that– the Riddler was also trans, just like him.

Apparently Nashton’s binder had been seized by the prison guards as soon as he had entered the asylum and with little to focus on the dysphoria had been blindling present. Not only that, but the other prisoners had come to learn of Edward’s biology and had begun to harass him, particularly the suspect of the brutal 8th Street killings.

All Nashton asked for on the crinkled page before him was a binder and although Bruce was not personally fond of the psychotic man in any way, shape, or form – he could understand such a request, especially as a trans man himself.

Early in his teenage years after the murder of his parents, a young Bruce ran to his only remaining family – Alfred– and confessed to him that no matter what he tried, his body just felt wrong.

Ever the supportive figure, Alfred calmly listened whilst Bruce described the wretched feelings that had been eating away at him each day.

Thankfully with Alfred’s consent as his guardian, Bruce was able to start HRT when he was 14 years old and was able to obtain top surgery a few years later.

Of course being the heir of a billion-dollar company did have its downfalls as news of Bruce’s transition made its way around Gothams’ tabloids. But with how little Bruce’s parents had allowed him to be shown in the media and his reclusion after their murder, the rumors that Bruce had been assigned female at birth were expunged from the news soon after a few helpful cease and desist letters had arrived.

Bruce had always felt guilty, knowing that he should come out to the public to bring hope to other trans people and to advocate for the issue, like his parents would have wanted. But with his current duties as the Batman consuming his every waking thought, Bruce voiced his support from the sidelines, with sizable yearly donations to local LGBTQ+ causes.

“What’ve you got there Bruce?” Alfred questioned, entering the room and offering him a cup of coffee.

Bruce then began to explain the contents of Nashton’s strange letter, with Alfred nodding or looking puzzled at certain portions of the retelling of the written request.

“Well, I think you know what you’ve ought to do, Bruce,” Alfred began, “ I know that the Riddler may be a very complicated person to deal with, but no one deserves that Bruce – not even after what he’s done.”

Bruce set aside the agitated feelings that arose within him anytime he discussed the petulant man and made up his mind. Tomorrow, he would go binder shopping for the Riddler.

. . .

Finding the measurements from the Riddler’s binder had only taken a matter of minutes, once he firmly asked the ward technician to have access to Arkaham’s storage locker for “a case”.

Bruce felt a sort of pity for the man after seeing the condition of it, Nashton must have worn the garment to death.

After his impromptu asylum visit, Bruce swiftly returned home sliding off his thick armor and donning his nirvana tee and pajama pants, and browsed amazon. Initially Bruce thought the search would only take a few minutes but after a few days of searching through various products and reviews, Bruce ordered three binders and two less intense compression items for days when Nashton couldn’t bind, and had them expressed shipped.

. . .

The next day Bruce stalked into Arkham, carefully enrobing himself with a dangerous aura, and requested a meeting with the Riddler to question him about information regarding his latest case. The meeting was granted instantaneously as he entered the same conference room that he had been in when he first met Nashton all those months ago.

As the Riddler stumbled into the conference room, Bruce expected to be hit with the brash behavior he associated with the man but was left befuddled, as Nashton looked up at him with only humility and embarrassment coloring his features.

Without a word Bruce slid the package containing some of the supplies the Riddler had requested in through a small window. Pulling it out, Nashton sighed visibly with relief, turning around and hastily removing the dingy, orange prison shirt and scrunching the binder onto his chest. Once fully clothed again the Riddler turned to him.

“I d-dunno how to thank you” the man stuttered out nervously.

“I’ve had extras placed in with your hygiene supplies,” Bruce rasped out, disguising his voice,

“The guards won’t give you trouble anymore, Nashton.”

As Bruce began to strut out of the dimly lit room, he heard a squeak from behind him,

turning back he gazed upon the Riddler, red faced and twitching.

“Are you um” he paused tapping out trans in morse code on the table top, “too?” Nashton asked unsure.

Bruce briefly looked Nashton in the eyes and gave him a singular, strong nod, and then turning on his heel, Bruce left the befuddled Nashton behind. Seeking to rid his mind of the conflicting thoughts he held about the man and focus on the places that he would visit tonight on his daily patrol of the city.

If you enjoy my work please consider supporting me on kofi. Currently both writing and art commissions are open.

#riddlebat #dano riddler #dc riddler #batman #batfam #batfamily #t4t ns/fw #transgender #ao3 fanfic #ao3 author #witers on tumblr #yaoi #mlm #disabled artist #mlm yearning #angst #paul dano #danonation #batman 2022

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klbwriting · 1 year ago

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Not Romeo and Not Juliet

Chapter 1: Mingle Yarn

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Warnings: fighting, mentions of broken bones and blood

Summary: Jason Todd was alive again. Not only that, but he was back in high school, living with Dick Grayson, and just trying to get by without anyone noticing him. That doesn't go as planned.

Notes: Here it is! Dueling prep schools! Enemies to Lovers! Theater Nerds! Shakespeare! A true rom-com! Jason as a senior and a theater kid! I'm messing with the canon immensely so let's just call this an AU or Elseworlds story where Jason was killed in a similar way to Under the Red Hood movie, but instead of the LoA going and getting him Dick has the falling out with Bruce over Jason's death and he goes to resurrect him without Bruce knowing. He takes Jason to live with him in Bludhaven and enrolls him in Bludhaven Prep so that he can readjust to living and to leaving Robin behind. I hope you enjoy!

The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together

— ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL, ACT 4 SCENE 3

“Jason, you have to get going or you’re going to be late,” Dick Grayson called through the apartment. He knew Jason wasn’t exactly excited to start his senior year of high school and he couldn’t blame him if he was being honest. Just a month ago Jason had been murdered by a clown and just a week ago he had been revived in a pit of green goo protected by assassins. They had only agreed to let Dick revive him because they were the reason Jason was even killed in the first place, so it was honestly the least they could do. Dick was still coming to terms with who came out of the pit, not Jason but not not Jason either. While pre-Lazarus Pit Jason had been happy, funny, and kind of scrawny, this Jason was moody, stoic, and big. He wasn’t sure how the 17-year-old had gone from around skinny 5’8 to a jacked 6’1 during a bath but it was what it was. Now he was staying in Dick’s Penthouse in Bludhaven, Bruce had no idea he was alive, and he was starting his senior year at Bludhaven Prep and Dick was hoping getting him back out there with kids his own age would help him readjust to living again. The therapist that Dick hired, the one Clark Kent recommended, had given approval for him to return, saying he was mentally able to be around others, but considering no one knew how the pit might affect him they would still be watching him closely. Dick stood very still in the dining room, waiting until he heard feet stomping down the stairs from the loft area that Jason had taken as his room.

“I’m here, I’m here,” he grumbled, sitting down in front of the plate of eggs and bacon that Dick had made for him. Jason took two bites and made a face. “I am making breakfast from now on, this tastes like shit.” Dick rolled his eyes as he watched Jason clean his plate of the ‘shit’. “Why am I going to school again anyway? Bruce pulled me out to be homeschooled when I was freshman.”

“Ya Bruce also had you running around in tights and you’re not doing that anymore either. At least not until we know that no side effects from the pit are going to cause problems,” Dick said, putting a bookbag on the chair next to Jason. Jason glanced at the bag and then at Dick. Dick was once again struck by how different Jason was, yet he could still see the kid Jason was in those eyes. They weren’t same, they could never settle on what color they wanted to be, blue like before, green like the pit, even brown sometimes, a muddied version of the two. But the vulnerability was there, even though Jason was desperately trying to hide it.

“Fine, I see your point,” Jason muttered, grabbing the backpack before heading to the bookshelf. He grunted. “You need better books, honestly, some actual literature would be nice.” He gave up on finding something, grabbed his phone and took off towards Bludhaven Prep.

The car ride over was nice, then the rest of the day started. Jason knew he was weird, new kid as a senior, eyes that didn’t know what they were, and that black hair with the one tuft of white streaking across the front. He would be as rich as his big brother if he had a dollar for every time someone asked him about that during the first class alone. By the time the day was over he was so tightly wound he wanted to bust. It didn’t help that some football player had decided that Jason was going to be his target for the year. It started with an ‘accidental’ tray drop at lunch that left yogurt and milk across his new sneakers. Then in study hall a football to the back of the head. Finally, what really broke Jason, was the walk from the front of the school to the back where the cars were lined up. Jason was straggling, hoping that the jock would have gone first, and he might have peace, but no. He started walking around the side of the school, no one around at first, when from the back came the jock and two friends. The guy was cracking his knuckles like he was some gangster in a movie. Jason rolled his eyes and dropped his bag, knowing where this was going.

“You seem to think you can just come in and take over my school,” the jock said. Jason let out an annoyed breath. He hadn’t spoken to a single person that, hadn’t raised his hand once, he had barely listened, why did the fact that he was an inch taller than this guy make the jock so insecure? He didn’t want to deal with it.

“Can you just try and hit me, and we can get this over with?” Jason asked. The jock’s friends let out snorts of laughter and that seemed to enrage their leader, who threw a wild punch that Jason dodged easily and then Jason threw a jab right at the guy’s face. He did forget that he was bigger now, stronger than before. He was surprised by the blood, but the ear shattering crack of bone and the shriek that the guy let out did surprise him. Jason took off, running around the back of the school and jumping into the car to get home. Great, first day and he had probably just broken that guy’s eye socket. He was getting expelled. At least he wouldn’t have to wear the student uniform anymore.

By the time he got back Dick was already on the phone with the headmaster. Dick pointed at the couch and Jason sat, not wanting to but he knew it was pointless to argue. Dick had literally brought him back to life, he could sit there and take his punishment without argument. He had just shattered a guy’s face; he probably deserved the tongue lashing.

“-I understand but you have to remember that there were no cameras, no actual witnesses other than this Mr. Harrison’s friends, it seems like a he said, he said situation which will not make anyone on the school board happy. Especially when I pull my funding for the new football stadium,” he said. Jason rolled his eyes. Dick had definitely graduated from the Bruce Wayne school for getting out of shit. “Of course, I am glad that we could work this out. And of course, any injuries will be taken care of, but no mention of who the fight was with? Thank you so much for your discretion.” Dick hung up and rounded on Jason. “Care to explain?”

“Some football asshole decided I was too tall for him,” Jason said. Dick pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to remember why he had decided to take in a teenager. “Did you have to break his orbital bone?”

“I forgot about my biceps being the size of my head,” he mumbled. Dick actually chuckled at that. “He threw the first punch…”

“You look uninjured…”

“You think I would let an idiot like that hit me?” Jason looked shocked. Dick sighed and looked at his watch. Then at his phone clock, like it would be much different.

“I am going to be late for my date with Barbara, stay here tonight, get your homework done, there’s food in the fridge and tomorrow we can talk about this more,” Dick said, buttoning his suit jacket and grabbing his wallet. Jason just nodded, pulling out a book that he had gotten at the school library. That at least had more options than Dick’s place. Dick took one more glance at Jason before leaving.

Around 9PM Jason was starting to climb the walls. He had this nervous energy and he didn’t know how to relieve it. He tried to think of something. Parkour? No, he was angry. Video arcade? No, not enough movement. Then he remembered the underground fights that he and Batman had once raised over in his old neighborhood, Crime Alley. He figured the fights were probably back by now, they wouldn’t be down for long. He knew he couldn’t show his face, Dick didn’t need the stress of him being caught in Gotham, or God forbid Bruce finding him, so headed down to the garage that Dick kept on site. He started searching the sports equipment that he had, grabbing an old school goalie’s mask. Very Friday the 13th, and hey, his name was Jason. But the white, no, that wasn’t his color. He looked around, finding some spray paint in another section and he painted the mask red. Nice. He grabbed an old black hoodie, shoved the mask inside the pocket and taking one of Dick’s bikes.

It took him about ten minutes to remember how to drive a motorcycle, apparently death didn’t keep memories of driving in his brain. He almost wiped out five or six times before finally crossing over into Robbinsville and then up into Crime Alley. He stowed the bike behind a dumpster near a Big Belly Burger before heading into a laundromat. He walked to the counter that was helmed by a short woman with dyed blonde hair.

“I’ve come for some good smelling socks,” he said. He hoped these types didn’t get change their code phrases, it was the only one he remembered. The woman nodded and pressed a button, motioning to the side door that said ‘Employees Only’. Jason went through the door and down the stairs, donning his mask. The guy waiting at the bottom looked him over.

“50$ to watch, 100$ to fight,” he said. Jason nodded and turned over his 100$ and the guy pointed him to another woman with a clipboard. Jason headed over to her.

“Name?” she asked. Jason scrambled. “Name?” she repeated, louder and more annoyed. The other fights nearby were starting to watch him. They weren’t too much bigger than him, he might have a good chance. Either way he could blow off some steam.

“Mask of the Red Death,” he said. She cocked an eyebrow and shook her head.

“Too long, you’re Red Mask,” she said. He nodded, very creative. Poe would be proud. “You’re finding Butch first.” She pointed to a large man with muscles in places Jason didn’t know you could have them. They were for show, not strength, not fighting. This guy wanted to look good, not actually be good. Jason watched him as they entered the makeshift cage. He circled the guy, letting him come to him. Butch threw a punch, Jason dodged behind him, and Spartan kicked him in the ass, sending him tripping into the glorified fence surrounding them. The fight went on for only a few more seconds before the guy came back, trying to kick Jason, who slide to the side, grabbed the guy’s leg and slammed his elbow into his knee. There was a crunch and Butch fell, howling in pain, unable to get up. Jason was announced the winner and stepped out, heading towards a back door to get some air. As he opened the door to the basement walkout, he heard a commotion and turned, seeing cops starting to come down the stairs. He knew they would be going to the back door next, so he took off, mask going back in his pocket and climbing a nearby fire escape until he was high enough to hide in the shadows above the streetlight. Once the cops that found the back were inside, he climbed down, running to the alley where he’d left the bike. He was just moving the dumpster again when the back door to the Big Belly Burger opened, making him jump in surprise and slice his hand on an exposed piece of metal inside the trash. He let out a grunt and the teenage girl in uniform turned to face him.

“Are you ok?” she asked, walking over. Jason was gripping his hand, trying to stop the bleeding so he could get the bike and leave. “Hold on, I have a bandage.” She pulled out a roll box of bandaids from the apron pocket.

“Clumsy are you?” Jason asked, trying to distract from the annoying ache in his palm. She chuckled and walked over, pulling a cotton ball out of the packet.

“No, we have a griller who thinks he’s a ninja, any time he gets his hand on a knife I have to be ready to stitch him up,” she said. She started dabbing his hand and Jason once again hissed. “What music do you like?”

“I uh…I don’t know, I used to like metal, some alternative stuff, but went through a change this summer…not sure anymore,” he said, confused. “Why?”

“Well, one this is distracting you from me disinfecting this thing, so you don’t get tetanus, and two, you live in Crime Alley, don’t be a stereotype. If you think you might like something different than ‘I grew up in the slums, so I just listen to angry shit’ try Noah Kahan, you look like a guy who’d like him, or Hozier.” He could tell she was just throwing out names to keep him listening and he appreciated it. “What’s your name?”

“Jason,” he said. She nodded and smiled, finishing with the bandage.

“Nice to meet you, I’m YN,” she said. “Want some help with the dumpster or are all those muscles working?” She winked at him, and he actually blushed, glad it was dark and she might not notice.

“Sure,” he said. Together they moved the dumpster, and he got the bike. He waved quick before driving back to the penthouse. He got as far as the elevator door, when it opened there was Dick.

“So, I see you had an interesting evening,” he said, holding up his phone where video of Jason breaking Butch’s leg was being shown. Of course, Dick would realize it was him, he would know that move anywhere, Dick had taught it to him.

“I needed to get out, blow off some steam, forget who I was for a bit,” he said. Dick nodded.

“Good, then what I just signed you up for will be perfect,” he said. Jason looked at him, eyebrows raised. “You’re not a member of the theater program, auditions for Hamlet are Friday.”

“You can’t be serious,” Jason said, heading out of the elevator.

“I am very serious, you go to school, go to practice, be someone else for awhile when you’re there, and then you come home and you stay here or I am calling Bruce and sending you back to him, see how Batman deals with your shit,” he said. Jason sighed, heading up to his room. Fine, theater, he’d wanted to do that before Bruce pulled him from high school. How bad could it be?

#jasontodd #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #redhood #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #notromeo

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raisedbythetv89 · 2 years ago

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To me, I don’t think Buffy or the audience can ever truly know if she’s in love with angel or just in attachment with him. I believe she is just in attachment and especially before innocence and after his encounter with the first, just full on enmeshment with him. No boundaries whatsoever, his pain is her pain (which is extremely common in parentified children who feel they have to protect their parents from their pain like what buffy does with joyce), just like how she describes her feelings towards riley later which is NOT a good thing, empathy is good, taking on others pain as if it’s your own is extremely unhealthy. (Yes I’m pulling on my psych degree for a tumblr post, human behavior and buffy are two of my special interests)

What I mean by “in attachment” is that she has all of the same anxieties and insecurities about angel that she does with her father. Angel’s erratic and unpredictable behavior plays on her anxious avoidant attachment style SO AGGRESSIVELY. He keeps showing up, giving her little information at all and even less about himself and then vanishing leaving her hanging, and anxiously wondering about him which can mimic thinking you’re romantically interested when really it’s just an unresolved problem you desperately want to solve. She has a lot of valid criticisms about him before they’re officially together about his inconsistencies, him treating her like a child, him being too old for her and then all of a sudden she’s saying she wants to die when they kiss and that she loves him (after he forces her to say she loves him before he’ll tell the truth about drusilla). That is exactly how falling into attachment goes. Once you’re hooked all your feelings that are caused by a bad relationship with a parent are projected onto the partner who you are unknowingly recreating that dynamic with which is why such intense and strong feelings can happen so quickly and suddenly you’re ignoring all concerns you had before forming this attachment with someone.

He’s not her soulmate, he’s just the first guy to treat her like her father did and if you don’t address that cycle the relationship is recreating it can be impossible to move on because they will ALWAYS feel like something is unresolved and if you don’t know why you feel that way you can misinterpret it as true love or destiny because why all would you suffer so much and still love them if it wasn’t? It’s a mistake SO MANY of us make in our romantic relationships and these portrayals of unhealthy attachments being sold to us a soul mates doesn’t help us at all.

She does it with Riley also but she walls herself off so she doesn’t get AS attached to him as she did angel but their relationship is still her trying to fix the relationship with her father by changing herself so maybe this time he’ll stay. It’s why his opinion still matters so much to her when he comes back in season 6 despite him being a truly awful person to her who has done nothing but make mistakes and whose opinion should not matter to her at all after everything he put her through. He is another pseudo father figure she craves approval from.

It’s why I love her relationship with Spike so much despite all the bad they go through before season 7. We know her feelings are real because Spike doesn’t play on her anxious-avoidant attachment at all because he is ALWAYS there even when she’s mean and claims she doesn’t want him there. And to me everything they do to each other makes perfect sense, their relationship is exactly what two people with severe trauma and one with anxious-avoidant and one with just anxious-attachment going into a relationship together looks like. You hurt each other A LOT because you’re working out all your issues with each other and they don’t have ANY help from a therapist or someone who can help minimize the hurt so they both just use their worst coping mechanisms and the fact that they go through all that and still get to be together and happy and healthy on the other side is just everything to me because that so rarely happens in the real world, where you get to be with the person who was also a catalyst for healing and having to go through all that suffering together only to have to start over -hopefully from a much better place - but still with someone else BLOWS. So Spike and Buffy to me are about hope and healing (including the unpleasant and very ugly, dark parts of healing people rarely talk about) and getting to do each phase of that with someone AND enjoy being happy and whole together is just UGHHHH I love it so much.

#spuffy

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catiuskaa · 1 year ago

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new task: valentine's day |ACTS|

A/N: reposting by acts! [see full version here]. wanted to see if this format works better (and yes i will squeeze everything in this one right here cause its amazing and i 100% worked my ass off on it)

PAIRING! seungmin x reader ; enemies/rivals2lovers!

SUMMARY: boring classes, boring classmates, boring assignments…to seungmin, everyone is boring even if he’s used to pretend otherwise, but you seem to get on his nerves. you, your stupid poem, and his stupid letter.

WC: 2.350k

CW: fluffy comfort, use of spanglish (not relevant to the plot, dw), use of text format, the reader is stupidly short (which i know all about), academic rivals, bad student reader x good student seungmin, mentions of the unability to deal with complicated feelings, mentions of masking feelings, slight hint of bullying, mentions of being followed, (pet)names: little one, shortie, shortcake, smallable, pretty, hyunjin as a walking therapist, and the ending is kind of a reference to a show i'm obsessed with (not gonna say it so i don't spoil it for you guys hehehe)

|PROLOGUE| |ACT 1| |ACT 2| |ACT 3|

[☆★🌷★☆]

{ACT 3: WINDOWS, LETTERS AND POEMS}

Wednesday. 9:56 am. 14th February.

Most of your classmates were still arriving from their next class as you stared at two papers in your hands slightly from afar, pencil in your lips.

You had discarded most of your creations all Monday and Tuesday when you finally ended with a draft you liked for the stupid english homework. It was nothing out of the ordinary.

But the letter in your other hand, however, was something you had never done before.

“What’s that you got there?”

Any kind of bubbly and nervous emption you had vanished at the sound of that low voice.

“Fuck off, Li.” You grunted in a husky tone, frowning at him and grabbing back the letter from his hands.

“Is it a love letter for me?” He chuckled, ignoring your behaviour.

“Why the fuck would I write that, huh?” You laughed, a chuckle full of acid, one that had much more hatred that you had ever said before.

Henry brushed a hand through his hair, and you couldn’t help but think he looked stupid. You had liked this guy? Ugh.

“Because today is valentine’s day, shortcake.”

You squinted and frowned at him.

“Swishing those dyed and damaged locks like a Loreal advert won’t make anyone fall in love with you.” You snorted, and realized the people in the hallway had fallen into silence, listening to your conversation. “Or maybe it worked with that blond girl in the club?” You pretended to ponder out loud, leaning against the locker behind you, facing him with confidence.

“Wait, what?” He mumbled.

You snickered, taking him by surprise. “Oh, silly. I was never going to date you. I kept hearing that you were an ass and figured that was right, because aside from me, little to no people talked to you. I guess I just felt pityful.” You faked a pout.

He clenched his fists, his shoulders tense.

“You’re lying.” He grunted.

You chuckled. “You wish I was. That blond girl didn’t steal my man. She stole my problem.” You heard some gasps from the people in the corridor, as they had formed some kind of circle around you two.

But then, Henry snorted, and cleared his throat, talking with a much louder voice. “So you’re not going to let everyone know about you and Seungmin?” He smirked. “I feel like that’s a bit unfair. Making it seem like I’m the bad guy and all.”

You tried hard to make it seem like that hadn’t surprised you. You were so surprised by it that you didn’t have time to react when he yanked your letter from your hand.

“Such sweet words, all dedicated to him,” he mocked. “I think these people want to know.”

“Give it back!” You clenched your jaw, your eyes dull with embarassment.

Even if he wasn’t as tall as Seungmin, there was still a decent difference between you and him. And with a sly grin, he raised the paper above your head.

You licked your lips, anger filling your body.

“Give. It. Back.”

But then he started reading.

“I looked at him as if he were the Sun, in that I never looked at him except in frustration.” He read out loud, moving the paper from your reach everytime you tried to reach. “I seeked his warmth, I complained when he was gone, but I never looked, not until I noticed he was leaving, and in the beauty of the sunset, I wondered how I had never seen him before.”

You stared at the floor, a blush spreading through your cheeks, coming from your neck.

“And that’s basically what happened.” You mumbled to Abril and Lucas over at a bench in the school grounds, hours after that whole thing had happened.

“What?!” You flinched at Abril’s loud voice. “I’m going to kill him. I am so going to murder that nasty ass bitch.” She threatened to stand up, but Lucas grabbed her forearm.

“And what about Seungmin?” He questioned softly, a lot more gentle that what you usually would expect.

You felt heat rush to your cheeks.

“I haven’t spoken to him since Friday” You stared at him with a weakness you had never felt before. “It’s like he doesn’t want to talk to me, I…” you sighed. “I don’t know what to think anymore.” You sniffed.

You had to stay in the study room for the afternoon, waiting for Atenea to get out of the club she was in so you could head to the library together like you had promised, but as you studied in silence, someone sat in the chair in front of you, frowning at you.

You took your headphones off and scratched your eyes. “Eh… Hyunjin?”

“Abril told Lara and she told me,” he mentioned in a huff. “And I’ve known Seungmin for many years. He’s not an impulsive guy. He hasn’t treated anyone like how he treats you.”

You blinked, puzzled, but frowned at him. “Are you going to scold me?”

“You better believe I am!” He scoffed. “Would you like me to politely tell you that you’ve behaved like a total idiot around him?”

“What are you—?!”

“You simply never bothered to talk to Seungmin about any of what Lara told me!” He stated with force, and you didn’t think to tell him to shut up, considering that the study room was empty that time.

“Do you really expect me to understand whatever was happening and tell him right away?” You blurted out with anger, a bit shocked at his rough approach. “Had I had the opportunity I would have!

He rolled his eyes, passing a hand over his face in a sign of desperation.

“You had every opportunity! For months!” He left his hand on the table, and started tapping at it with force, trying to make a point. “Admit it. Seungmin has been in your head ever since we both changed from the other class and you two started bickering.” Hyunjin’s eyes stared at you with a fierce glare that almost threatened to pierce holes through your skull.

“That’s bullshit!” You spitted out defensively.

“Oh, spare me!” He brushed it off. “There have been countless clues! Your stupid need to make everything a competition when it comes to him is infuriating. He talks to me about these things, you know?” He swallowed, and you leaned back in surprise, but he kept on going. “How you look at him when you’re angry, or how you mock and tease him back. It’s stupid!” He cursed out loud. “And these last two weeks have only made it so much worse.”

“What do you mean, worse?” You pondered softly, slowly taking in Hyunjin’s dramatic act.

“I mean, you were totally smitten by how he ridiculously kissed you at the back of the bus last week, considering that you kissed him back.” He stated clearly. “And he wouldn’t shut up about it and how you were ignoring him after, which, great fucking work, by the way, the dude wouldn’t shut up about you.” Hyunjin blinked slowly, trying to recall and voice what he was thinking. “And then he lends you his jacket when a mystery debutant shows up.”

“A—a what?”

“Motherfucker, eh, that Henry asshole.” Hyunjin rubbed his eyes. “I had to endure him talking shit about him for an hour because he saw him texting you some weird shit with cringe emojis.” The exasperation on his tone rendered you almost speechless. “And even then he struggled to admit how fucking jealous he was about that guy. He had your attention. He had your smile. You looked at Henry, not at Seungmin, and ah, for fuck’s sake.” Hyunjin covered his face with his hands. “He felt so ridiculously powerless that he talked to me about it. He’s never done that before!”

You were only able to blink, struggling to grasp everything he was saying.

“And then, with no word of warning, you called him, at, what, like, one in the morning?” Hyunjin said in a huff, the thought of that bringing back his anger, making him stare at you with a frown again. “He, jesus, he talked for AGES about how you hugged him, and the fact that you were wearing his jacket, like— like you’re doing now, what the fuck.” He stopped mid-scolding, staring at you with confusion.

“It’s… it’s his?”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened slightly as he nodded. “What, you didn’t know? You helped him with tecnical drawing, he gave you his jacket, bla bla bla. That whole thing?”

You blushed, shaking your head sideways. You had done what?

“Nevermind. You can talk to him about that later.”

It was your turn to scoff now. “Judging by the fact that he sent you, I don’t think he would like to see me anytime soon.”

Hyunjin chuckled dryly.

“Don’t you even dare keep ignoring him. This stupid game has lasted for too long. Besides, he doesn’t know I’m here. He thinks I’m in dance practice, but whatever. You needed to know, because he’s a mess.” Hyunjin stated, passing a hand through his hair. “He can’t sleep well, he can’t concentrate, he can’t do anything.”

It looked like the scolding was over, but there was a remaining anger that came back to him as a memory struck.

“And, moreover, you callously ignored the letter Seungmin wrote you, even though he told you he loved you!”

You were looking at your notebook on the table, halfly staring at your nails and fidgeting with them, but your head almost snapped when you stared at him.

“What letter?” You muttered, your eyes locked on his. He frowned, his eyes slightly widening.

Your heart started beating faster, almost so loud you could hear it in your head.

“Hyunjin, what letter?!”

[☆★🌷★☆]

Seungmin felt his lungs on fire.

Run, run, run.

His feet were hurting, because his old ass shoes were busted enough that their insides were almost destroyed from everyday use.

But he needed to find you.

Maybe it was because it was Valentine’s day, despite the obvious influence that a certain friend of yours had done.

“Wait, you— you missed school this morning?” Lucas had muttered with a puzzled look, eyes wide.

“I had to go to the dentist to take my braces off. Yeah.” Seungmin stated again. “So whatever you meant by ‘being an ignoring bitch this morning’, I know nothing about it.”

And then someone next to them had chimed in. “You’re talking about Henry and what happened this morning with—“

“Yeah. Why?” Seungmin had interrupted, frowning slightly.

“There’s a video of it.”

Run, run, run.

The look in your eyes when you spoke with Henry. Your smug smile when you caught him by surprise.

Your poem.

His eyes had widened when Henry started reading it in the video.

Was it…?

Could it…?

Could it really be for him?

He wanted needed to find out.

He needed to find you.

“Watch where you’re going!” A man grunted at him, and Seungmin quickly apologized, running off.

Run, run, run.

He knew where you lived just because of Friday, when you had asked him if he could head towards your house with you, still a bit scared from what had happened. He accepted in a heartbeat, reassuring you that it was fine with a million smiles.

His hand had never left yours. Your touch, colder than his, had something so adicting to it that he didn’t want to let go.

Time seemed to pass slowlier when he recognized your neighbourhood. He was about to ring on your floor, but then, your silhouette got out of the elevators, and you both blinked at each other, staring through the glass door.

You opened it slowly, approaching him.

The look in your eyes was different than what Seungmin was used to.

It wasn’t similar to how you had looked at him ever since the school year started, with a shimmer of anger that turned your cheeks pink. Or how you had looked at him that afternoon in the back of the school bus, pupils dark and lips red and slightly swollen from kissing. Or how your eyes glowed in hope and comfort that Friday night.

It was different. He wanted to savour it. He wanted to see every detail of it.

He walked towards you and cradled your face in his hands.

“Wait.” He muttered in a whisper, taking off his glasses in a movement that to you felt almost enticing.

“What is it?” You whispered back.

He blinked at you as he cleaned his glasses with the hem of his shirt.

“You’re fucking blurry.” He snickered softly, with a sheepish smile that tinted his cheeks pink.

You giggled.

He settled his glasses back in place, and smiled when your image made sense before him.

“Better.” He muttered.

“Seungmin, I—“

But you stopped speaking when his lips crashed against yours.

There it was. He tasted sweet like how hot chocolate tastes in a rainy day. You smiled at your discovery, wanting to taste it for hours.

He wanted to kiss you for days to come, even if there was a million things left for both of you to say.

“I’m sorry.” Kiss. “I wasn’t in school this morning.” Kiss. “But I saw a video of it.” Kiss. “And I needed to—“

You giggled, taking his glasses and settling them on the top of his head.

“We can do the talking later.” You smiled, your cheeks red as your hands grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

“Are you sure?” He gulped, blushing too as he mumbled.

“Yeah.” You smiled even more. “I’d rather do the kissing now.”

You'd never know what happened with his letter. But considering where that had lead you, maybe it wasn't totally bad that the wind had carried it out the window.

[☆★🌷★☆]

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ask-postcrash-curly · 12 days ago

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Man, you have gotta stop being so relatable.

Yelling has always been overwhelming to me, always makes me shutdown. Wasn’t even necessary cuz of trauma—I remember my mom once saying I’ve always reacted badly whenever people raised their voice or yelled at me, even when I was like, a toddler or something. That’s why she always tried to never yell at me… not that it worked. Cuz she had a lotta unresolved issues, and when things built up and her emotions boiled over, well… yeah. She didn’t yell at me often, barely ever, but each time it happened, well. Very unpleasant experience, as you can imagine. Of course, this made my issues with it even worse, and well. Yeah.

But anyway. Recent events have made me realize just how bad the issue is. I thought it was just yelling and raised voices that got to me, and it wasn’t that big a deal because people almost never get mad at me since I’m a very agreeable person, but. Lately it’s been causing problems. Turns out even if someone is being calm and reasonable when they’re confronting me and just wanna work things out… if there’s any way the tone can be perceived as aggressive even if the tone isn’t actually aggressive…for some reason my brain interprets it like an attack and just… idk it’s frustrating. Because I want to be able to just work things out with people like good functional adults and whatever but instead every time I gotta talk things out it’s this whole… agh. And like, I don’t want people to feel like they can’t confront me about stuff, y’know? I don’t wanna be the person who turns into a mess even when reasonably confronted about reasonable stuff. Confrontation can be good and healthy when everyone is being respectful and it’s just part of life but…idk.

Anyway. Sorry to dump all that on you. Hopefully I’ll be able to find a therapist that can help me with that. Haven’t found a good fit yet but… just gotta keep trying, I guess.

And…

Something about the way you say “be better than me” kinda bothers me. You’re not just some cautionary tale or tragedy, y’know? It was one thing when we all thought you’d be stuck on that ship forever. But… things are different now. You’re going home. And it’s not easy, things are still really tough, and the road to recovery is gonna be really hard and difficult, but… you’ve got your whole life ahead of you now. (I don’t care that you’re in your late 30s, you’ve still got so much many years left to live.)

You’re not just… some example of what not to be like, y’know? Over the months I’ve watched you get better and standing up for yourself and reflecting a lot and… even if it hasn’t exactly been linear, sometimes there’s setbacks but… you’ve still gotten better and you’ve grown as a person and stuff. Despite everything, you’re still trying.

So… don’t put yourself down. You can get better, I can get better, and we can inspire each other, yeah?

-🌃🌠🌌

Sorry...?

Ah. Yep. That's how it is.

Hmm... Maybe you've got a dissociation problem too? Can't say for sure, but hey, it might be worth checking out. It's frustrating, I get it. Would be wonderful if I could have a disagreement with one of you without feeling like I've catastrophically ruined things. (Exaggerating for effect, I'm fine.) Yeah, I... I admit I'm worried about becoming that person too. Gets to a point where the smallest sign of anger feels like a threat. Thanks for that, Jim. And I think you'll agree: That attitude causes problems more than it solves them.

C'mon. Don't apologize. I really don't mind. Best of luck with therapy.

...Oh. Didn't... didn't think of it that way, if I'm being real. Thank you. (What do you mean late thirties? I've been thirty-five for half a year, for fuck's sake.)

Mm... Thank you, again. Means a lot that you'd say that. I'm not... I'd rather others learn from my mistakes than not, though, you know? If I can... Not a cautionary tale, as you said, but if I can use what I have learned to help other people avoid the same path, I want to. Least I can do.

Hah. Yeah. Cheers to getting better together.

#curlyposting

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yoccu · 3 months ago

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Time for my regularly scheduled post about breathing and stretching apparently. Because I think a really important thing about stretching that I rarely seen talked about is the role of breathing.

TLDR: When stretching try to focus on fully and slowly exhaling DURING the stretch, this is what allows them to actually stretch best. If they’re particularly sore apply ice DURING the stretch as it will allow the stretch to not cause inflammation. I’ve had like five physical therapists tell me this is all accurate but if it sucks for you don’t do it. Many ways to exist in this world are real and I’m not your doctor.

When I started working on my breathing while doing stretches bc I have chronic and pretty severe muscle stiffness in my neck and shoulders that has caused TMJ and migraines for decades, I didn’t realize for a long time I wasn’t breathing like. Normally? I also have pretty constant CPTSD symptoms and I think this was one of them, a subconscious CONSTANT rigidity and inability to relax that crossed into being Medically Significant. I’ve had MULTIPLE physical therapists insist for MINUTES that I was “not relaxing” when I thought it wasn’t possible to relax any further. I figured this out eventually.

Anyway when I’d start working on my breathing like six years ago I’d notice it would like. Catch and feel weird. A lot. Idk what made me realize but eventually I realized I was inhaling deeply but NOT exhaling deeply. So I just always had like too much breath???

So I started doing that “blow out of a straw” kind of breathing because I realized I couldn’t rely on the SENSATION of exhaling to be accurate. That method meant when I stopped feeling air leaving my mouth I was actually done exhaling and it took like. Five times longer or something it’s nuts.

BUT THIS IS IMPORTANT because inhaling and exhaling relate to the sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems! And if I recall correctly, your muscles relax on the EXHALE.

This is why sometimes if I can’t stretch I literally just sit with my back straight but not rigid and just focus on my posture being self sustaining WHILE relaxing every muscle as best I can. Breathing very deeply and slowly the whole time. It makes a HUGE difference. I did this for like MONTHS before incorporating stretches and exercises when I first started out.

But I can’t stress enough, focusing on breath is the best way to get the most out of stretching, and also stretching for a LONGER time and MORE GENTLY. When you want to stretch some elastic you don’t just tug it a few times and go that’s good enough! Even the mildest stretch held for two or three REALLY deep slow breaths is better than a bigger stretch for less time. Some days I can barely tip my head to the side but I hold it there for a minute or so and over that time I can FEEL the muscle letting up just a little. And that’s exactly the progress you want! Too much progress at once and you’ll cause all sorts of pain and pain is basically backwards progress to your physical body. It wants to avoid that even if your brain is thinking no pain no gain. You can’t help your body by working against it.

So that’s my PSA! Remember to breathe while stretching. If that is difficult, literally just practice breathing fully and deeply in and out (to your ability! I get that ppl have breathing problems and you’ll know yourself better than I can) and then add stretches to that. I’ve lived through a looooot of different physical issues where almost invariably being able to breathe deeply in order to trigger relaxation has helped tremendously. It’s a great skill especially if you have really bad anxiety that affects how you breathe (which was my case and I didn’t even know it until like. My late 20s.)

Also if the therapy breathing techniques don’t work for you don’t worry they don’t fucking work for me either LOL. I figured out what does work for me (the straw breathing so I can feel and hear when I’ve inhaled and exhaled completely) and it’s way better for me that counting in my head which has often made my anxiety much worse.

I’m inspired to stretch before I draw now so that’s a net positive anyway

#making this unrebloggable feels like passive aggressively elevating my status #this nonsense self important advice post is only for MY followers #I just don’t wanna get flak for being Wrong about any of this bc Im just saying shit off the top of my head #the goal of deep breathing is to feel even the slightest relaxation #and I REALLY struggled w this it’s a whole trigger and everything #so I get it doesn’t come easily for a lot of ppl #but it’s been one of the most valuable tools I have for getting myself to relax #ESPCIALLY when the pain levels are high and relaxation is one of the few ways I can help it #and yeah I do hate the therapy breathing techniques where you count #I get why they help but the counting does some bad things to my brain #and makes me more prone to panic which is the opposite #so I just figured it out on my own time through a lot of practice

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cal-daisies-and-briars · 7 months ago

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HELLO?????👀👀👀👀👀

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞

And also of course 🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

Thanks so much cal ur a star✨💋

HELLO! thank you so much!!!!!

15 for ❄️:

---

Isn’t. Whatever. It’s not like he was going around being intentionally dishonest. He’s not… Well, he’s not inauthentic. Right? That sounds really bad.

Instead of letting himself sit and reflect on why that makes him feel so icky, Eddie resolves to have a problem with it. Strike one against this group therapy business.

There are six people in the group, including the therapist. Frank’s colleague, Jodie. She’s around Frank’s age, with short, graying hair and purple frames around her glasses. She has a very soft voice, and Eddie has to turn up his laptop to hear her clearly. So strike two, honestly. Which is mean, but whatever. Eddie feels mean lately.

---

24 for 🪞:

---

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says. “I know you’re scared, but I promise I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay.”

Her eyebrows furrow. She takes a moment to consider.

“I promise,” Buck says again.

“Okay,” she says, voice burdened by what he’s certain is an impending asthma attack.

Relieved, Buck reaches into the cart to lift her. She reaches her little arms up for him, clinging tight to his shoulders when he secures her. Eddie rushes over to them and helps fit an oxygen mask on her face.

“You’re okay,” Buck keeps telling her as the three of them evacuate the building. “You’re going to be fine. You’re going to be just fine.”

He doesn’t know why he’s doing it. More than he would normally reassure a victim. It feels like she needs it somehow. Just a little bit more than everyone else.

▪️▪️▪️

The paramedics from the other house that responded to the call - the 114 - say Dove needs to go to the hospital. They want to clear her for smoke inhalation, and with her asthma, take extra precautions. The only issue? She throws a fit when they try to take her from Buck.

“NO!” She shouts. The effort of it causing her to take labored breaths.

---

45 for 🔼:

---

Like Shannon’s getting a sneak peek at her personality. On the other hand, she’s sore in her abdomen and lower back all the time, and she overheats easily, and she’s not sleeping super well.

“Did you always know you wanted kids?” Maddie asks as Shannon finally admits defeat and takes a seat. She can’t stand for another minute, let alone the rest of this backyard party.

“God, no,” Shannon admits. “Both were unplanned, as you know. I really didn’t know before Chris, what I wanted in a family.”

Maddie sits next to her. “I thought I did, once. Then it wasn’t an option… And now, everyone is talking babies lately…”

Right. Not only is Shannon pregnant, but Eddie’s coworker, Hen - the paramedic who’d helped her when she was hit by a car - is trying for a baby with her wife. IVF. Like Shannon, Maddie’s social circle in Los Angeles is small. That must kind of seem like everyone.

“And you’re in a new relationship,” Shannon nods, understanding.

“Exactly,” Maddie replies.

“Well, it’s a big thing,” Shannon admits honestly. “If you aren’t on the same page. I can attest to that.”

“Yeah,” Maddie frowns. “I don’t know what he wants or, well, when.”

“Probably a good conversation to have,” Shannon advises.

Maddie opens her mouth to say something else, but across the yard, Buck starts coughing loudly, snapping Maddie’s attention away from Shannon. At first, it catches Shannon by surprise how alter Maddie is to the sound of her brother’s coughing. Hypervigilant, like she’s expecting him to drop dead right there. Shannon can see real concern in her friend’s expression. But then Buck starts stumbling backwards, hand clutching his chest. He moves his hand to his mouth to cough again, and when he pulls it away, it’s red. Bloody.

“Oh my god!” Shannon exclaims, struggling a bit to stand as Maddie flies out of her chair.

As Maddie runs towards Buck, he begins vomiting blood onto the lawn.

Shannon feels cold. What makes a person do that? Why would that happen?

People surround Buck, coming to his aid as he pukes once more, then seemingly passes out. His captain. His sister. Hen and Chimney. Eddie.

“Dad, what’s happening to him?” Christopher asks, red-faced.

#daisies and briars writes #a cold world fic #we won't look back fic #buddie shannon throuple fic

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moriitis · 1 year ago

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BloodLust. Ticci Toby x Fem. Reader. Chapter Five. TRIGGER WARNING AHEAD! MINORS DNI 18+ [Y/N] -> Your Name. [Y/B] -> Your Birthdate. Word count : 5543. MASTERLIST !! - “And do you ever feel like these feelings control you? Like you have no sense of yourself?” You sighed, you had been fiddling with your fingers for as long as you had been in this room now. A stray strand of your hair fell, causing you to focus on it momentarily before focusing on the blur behind the strand. It was Lisa, one of her legs were crossed over one another, her short blonde hair hung loosely just below her ears and her face was wrinkled with age. There was silence, you were unsure on how to answer her questions.

“[Y/N]?” Lisa spoke, shuffling closer onto her seat and leaning in close to encourage you. You cleared your throat and sat up a little, crossing your arms over your chest now in a way to almost protect yourself from her piercing gaze. “Sometimes.” “Like they define you?” Lisa asked, she looked at you like she could read you, like you were some kind of open book and that made you feel uncomfortable.

“I guess.” You mumbled the reply, you felt so exposed. “And when you feel suicidal, how do you distract yourself?” You scoffed softly and Lisa was intrigued by your response. “I don’t, that’s why I’m here, right? To not end it all?” Your response was snarky but Lisa just smiled, like she had dealt with all kinds of people like you before. It was true, she was a therapist, there were tons of fucking mentally ill people she had spoken to. “You tell me, you got up this morning and now you’re sitting in my chair, in my office. Don’t you think that’s a step in the right direction?” You narrowed your eyes, hating to admit that maybe she was right so you shuffled in your chair and averted your gaze away from her own. You glanced at the clock on the wall. 10 AM. Your appointment would be over soon, you sighed and adjusted yourself once again on the chair. Her office wasn’t exactly welcoming but at least the chairs were comfortable, that’s all that mattered. The walls were gray, she had a bookshelf in the far right corner by the door and her diplomas hung on the wall. They were for sure collecting dust at this point, maybe if you looked hard enough you could see the small collections. You sighed, another fifteen minutes of this fucking interrogation. “When you sit here in my office, do you ever think about suicide? Like here, right now?” Lika was assessing you, there was a notepad on her knee and a pen between her fingers like a cigarette. She wore smart clothing, almost like a suit but with a bit more style. She had money, that was for fucking sure, especially with the amount your parents were throwing at her. “Not particularly,” you mumbled. “Only when I’m alone.” “You’re in medical school, aren’t you?” You rolled your eyes, your parents' most proudest achievement was sitting here. “Yeah.” “That’s a big responsibility.” “Yeah, no fucking shit, Lisa,” you snapped back, you didn’t mean to but you didn’t come here to talk about school. You came here for a fic, a cure maybe, you didn’t fucking know but you wanted to feel better and that was a good thing, right? Why couldn’t Lisa actually say something that made you not want to slit your wrists? Your gaze flickered to the clock and without much warning, you stood and picked up your backpack. It was a little heavy, full of books that made your back ache for fucking weeks on end. Lisa sighed and removed the glasses that perched on the end of her nose, like a proper fucking shrink and set them down on the coffee table, along with her pen and notebook. She stood, pressing the crease out of her so expensive pants before giving you a concerned look, her brows knitting together and expressing her wrinkles even more.

“You can’t let time heal you,” she called out. “It’s on you. Being angry at the world and the people trying to help you will not solve your problems. I know you’re angry, I know, but find some peace within yourself.” You waved a hand dismissively over your shoulder as you tugged your backpack on. “See you next time, Lisa.” You could hear her sigh but before she could open her mouth, you were out her door and out into the sunshine. — It had been awhile since you last saw Lisa and the guilt was eating away at you knowing that the only reason you were truly going to see her was to send her to her demise. You were selfish, you had admitted that now and whatever happens to Lisa wasn’t going to sit on your shoulders your whole life. Shit happens. It was late, the sound of traffic heard outside your window as the soft light of the tv hit your face. You were watching tv but now you were snoring softly on the couch, a blanket draped over your frame. It wasn’t every night you found yourself dozing on the couch, but the past couple of days and the lack of sleep, you needed to rest your eyes. Your head fell, jerking you awake a little but soon you felt the lull of sleep wash over you like a soothing wave. Two weeks, two weeks. Maybe you should just sleep with that guy for some extra time? No, what were you, a slut? Your eyebrows crinkled, couldn’t your thoughts just shut up while you tried to rest?

There was a loud bang at your door, it was short and abrupt but woke you up within seconds. You blinked, unsure whether it was a knock at your door or just the neighbor next door accidentally bumping the wall but then it happened again. You raised a hand to rub your eyes before pushing the blanket off your frame and approached the door. Maybe it was Mom? It would make sense, you’d practically gone missing on her again and Lisa probably told her you’d reached out for a session. Turning the handle, you swung the door open, sleep stricken across your face. The light was bright outside the hall of your apartment but whoever was previously knocking at your door came in like a blur, pushing past you which caused you to bump into the wall. A little starstruck, you blinked and focused on the figure that was now making himself comfortable on your couch. In a flurry of anger and confusion, you quickly stepped back into the living room, leaving the door open just a fraction. “What the fuck?” you mumbled to yourself. It was Toby and he was sitting on your couch with his feet up on your coffee table?! This wasn’t like him at all. “L-L-Love this f-film!” he exclaimed with a smile. The gauze that used to be on his cheek was gone, exposing a scar that started at the corner of his lips. It looked gnarly but it was healed. It exposed all his back teeth, making you furrow your brows. Who and what the fuck could’ve caused that?

“Hey, do you mind?!” you approached with a hand on your hip and he glanced at you before glancing at the bandages around your arm. “Y-Y-You tried to k-kill yourself?” Now you were very taken aback and a little embarrassed admittedly, causing you to push the bandaged arm behind your back. “W–What?” Now you were stuttering, maybe you were even becoming a little flustered. He smirked. “No? What? This?” you motioned to your arm. “I got attacked.” He didn’t even seem surprised, he just shrugged his shoulders and shot his gaze back to the tv on the opposite side of the room. “I-I know,” he spoke as casual as casual could get. “What?” Your heart fluttered. “Y-Y-eah, I-I-I- I attacked y-you,” he spoke nonchalantly and you were frozen in shock. Toby? Toby killed Anne? Toby attacked you?! Kidnapped you?! You wanted to punch him, your fists curled. He wasn’t wearing the mask but the brown tufts of hair were the same messy kind, he wore more casual clothing and you felt your face contort in disgust. It made sense, sure, and that’s what pissed you off the most. You scoffed, tempting fate itself as you eyed him up. How would someone even react to this? He was your neighbor and now he was sitting on your couch, just openly admitting that he kidnapped you and did all kinds of other things which could land his ass in prison. You were rubbing your forehead, it had grown stuffy in the room and you exhaled a breath of air to try and ease the tension which was growing. You were afraid, fearful even.

Toby stood at six feet almost, far taller than you and despite his skinny frame, you could see just about the outline of some muscles from underneath his shirt. It was a gray shirt, with Spider-Man on it. Something you would’ve never expected this guy to wear and you purse your lips as the only sound from the tv could be heard from within the room. “T-T-Times t-t-t-ticking..” he said in a tone that made you shiver, a tone that mocked your very existence. You shuffled from one hip to another, placing your hand upon it. Toby’s eyes were hooked on the tv but as you adjusted for a mere moment, his brown eyes flickered over to your frame. It was evident enough that he was looking you up and down, his eyes lingered for a little more on your refined hips more than anything, slowly trailing up to glance at the outline of your breasts before moving his gaze up, finally giving you eye contact. You shivered, feeling uncomfortable as all hell and you shuffled again, pulling at your shirt in an attempt to make yourself feel decent. He was checking you out, that was for sure and you could tell by the look on his face that he was practically undressing you. His eyes were hungry, longing and you felt your heartbeat quicken in.. excitement? No, you didn’t want to feel this way toward him, him of all people and yet now you were. Like you were tempting danger itself and it was the sexiest thing ever.

Were you finding him.. Attractive? Was he here to see if you would take up on that offer to sleep with him? The gaze between you two had finally dismissed when Toby looked away and you could feel your face burning up, clearing your throat momentarily to consider your options. Fuck it. You hadn’t been fucked in awhile, maybe this little fling would be good for you? Fuck, maybe he might even spare your life. “A-A-Am I turning you o-on?” Toby asked, there was a huskiness to his voice as he kept his eyes glued to the screen in front of him. There was some cheesy horror film playing now, an old one that just screamed retro. This all felt a little too familiar. His words burnt at your face as you tried to find some sort of explanation or even something to change the subject at hand, but you were too flustered to even consider your options. A part of you felt disgusted that you were even feeling these kinds of ways for a fucking killer but on another part, you seriously hadn’t been fucked in sooo long.. Shaking your head, you scoffed softly.

“You need to leave, you can’t just walk in here-” You were unable to finish your sentence until Toby jumped up from the couch and approached you at a speed that made you unable to focus on him momentarily and before you knew it, his hand was wrapped around your throat. He wasn’t choking you out, not yet at least as he pushed you back so now you were pinned against the cold wall behind you. You gasped, whimpered, choked for some kind of air however his grip wasn’t tight enough to outright kill you, not just yet anyway. A squeeze, something to remind you of who he was and what you were messing with. A threat. “W-Who are you t-talking to?” Toby asked and there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, which actually made you feel a little repulsed. He was right, who were you talking to? This guy could squeeze the life out of you and you thought you were in control of this situation just because it was your apartment? He lurched forward, causing you to grimace and look away however you could feel his nose just brushing up against your cheek. His breath hit your skin, causing it to ripple in response.

“I’m sorry–!” you choked out but the apology did not seem to satisfy him enough to let go of your neck. He chuckled, causing you to shiver once again. With a shake of his head, he finally released your neck and stepped back. You were hesitant to move, in case that would be the wrong move around someone so unstable.

“So,” he hesitated as he returned back to the couch, sitting back to stretch an arm across the cushions behind him. You were still against the wall, your bottom lip wobbled but you wouldn’t dare cry. Even that felt like a death sentence. Your head hurt, it was pounding and you finally moved after a beat of silence to rub your face. Why was this all happening to you? You? Of all people, you were nothing! Couldn’t he just let you suffer in peace rather than adding to it? “W-Whose on t-the hit list..?” he asked, half eyeing up the tv and then burning back to you occasionally, he seemed bored but you weren’t willing to try and entertain him. Fucking pervert would ask for something else and you knew that. He was right though, you had to get someone killed or pass this curse onto someone else. Toby would argue, for him this was all some kind of fucked up game that he enjoyed greatly. “I have some people in mind..” you mumbled, almost ashamed. “Oh?!” Toby leant forward in interest, resting his elbows on his knees as he let his chin rest on the palm of his hand. You flinched at his sudden interest and you glanced down at the floor, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “W-Well..?! No! D-Don’t t-tell me. I-I’m cheating h-h-here,” he gave a hoarse chuckle. Was he a friend or foe? You were uncertain at this point.

As you glanced up to narrow your eyes at him, there was a shit eating grin across his features. Admittedly, it looked manic, like he was about to pull out a knife and stab you right there and then. You remained with your back against the wall, uncertain what to even say. Was he just conversing with himself or those damned voices in his head? He had to have some for sure. You purse your lips and Toby sat back again, a soft smile across his features that for once made him look approachable.

“W-What am I d-d-doing?” he mumbled softly to himself. “I shouldn’t b-be h-h-here..” he sighed softly and for once, you actually agreed with what came out his fucking mouth. In a swift motion, he jumped up from the couch and approached you to press his fingertips against your chin. “I-I-I’m waiting,” he sent you a wink before withdrawing his hand and stepping over to the door. You had left it open ajar, so his fingers slipped around the frame of the door to peel it open before slipping out the apartment himself. You were in shock and so you remained close to the wall, almost hoping it would outstretch some kind of arms and pull you deep within the foundations of this building. You wanted to hide, to run, to go missing and never come back again but even that seemed pointless. Toby would find you, he was a hunter, a tracker, he wasn’t fucking stupid and you knew that, he knew you knew that and that was what made it worse. Running a trembled hand through your hair, you sighed.

This was a fucking nightmare, a nightmare you so desperately wanted to wake up from. If it brought any confidence, you knew that your appointment with Lisa was tomorrow and despite feeling sick to your bone at the fact that you knew you’d be plaguing her with the worst thing that could possibly happen, it was a relief off your shoulders.

—

Soon enough morning rolled around but you were still not at any kind of ease. The night was the worst in regards to sleep, you barely caught a wink and you spent most the night feeling for the handle of the knife that you kept tucked away between the bedframe and mattress in case someone made the choice to come breaking into your apartment again during the night. Butterflies attacked the lining of your stomach and you’d spent a good fifteen minutes with your head stuck down the toilet, throwing up all your nerves for the upcoming appointment. No amount of words could reassure you, how the fuck was today going to line itself up for you? This wasn’t going to be an easy task and you knew that, you fucking knew that. Not only that, but what fucking envelope were you supposed to give her? Toby was pretty damn vague and you were not about to go knocking on his door to ask.

The very thought did leave you in a trance of pondering the situation as a whole. Firstly, how the hell did he even end up in the same apartment complex as you? Surely his fingertips were all over that damned crime scene that involved beloved Anne. He was right under the cops’ noses! Was he paying rent? And if so, fucking how? Had he done this before, murder someone and how was he not behind bars? It made you feel uneasy, as if the whole thing didn’t already but what made it worse was that it really showed how fucking poor cops are at doing their damned job! Or that Toby was too damned smart, something you very bitterly admitted. Secondly, why did he pick you? You were sure that question would haunt you for the rest of your life, if you actually survived this whole ordeal. What made you special? You narrowed your eyes. The wall was staring back at you as you blinked a couple times to rearrange your thoughts. Were you daydreaming? Shit, what was the time? Leaning over to reach for your phone which was just laying atop the small bedside tabletop, you tapped the screen which caused it to illuminate. 8:30 AM. Getting to Lisa’s office was really not that long of a drive but wasting more time made it feel as if you were asking to be killed at this point. Of course, maybe you should really let it happen, it was only a couple of months ago you were speaking to Lisa about wanting to end your life and now you were fighting so hard for it? Toby would be on the floor, rolling around and laughing if he knew that. Your brows furrowed in disgust. He probably already fucking knew that. Within seconds you were slipping on some clothes, a long sleeved, fluffy hoodie would suffice. It would look so fucking shit with your bandaged arm out on display, not only would Lisa suspect you actually tried to kill yourself, she’d get your parents involved and right now, you were on the breaking point and having to face them would fucking send you.

Gathering your keys, your bag with what little money you had left scattered in the lining, you pulled on some socks and then your shoes. Maybe actually leaving your apartment would do good for you, to get some fresh air. As you exhaled a shaky breath, you furrowed your brows and approached the front door. Just as you reached out for the handle, you stepped on something below which gave a small crunching sound and immediately you backed away from the door to glance down below. And of course, there it was. That brown envelope, staring into your soul and making you freeze. You didn’t have to tell Toby anything, he knew, it was like he had ears in the wall, like he tapped himself into your phone or put some kind of tracking device on you. As anger lashed out within you, you couldn’t help but feel some kind of.. relief. You were going to Lisa empty handed and that was not part of the game so despite your anger, frustration and nausea that was suddenly slapping itself at your face, you were somewhat thankful. Thankful that Toby had considered making that part of your life easier. Bending down just for a moment to pick it up, the paper was smooth against your fingertips and just before you went to tug it under your arm, it rattled, like something was inside it. A small object that clearly didn’t fit the size of the envelope itself and now curiosity was eating away at you. Were there rules to this game? You had no idea, Toby had been so damned vague about it all and even when you did ask, he wouldn't answer, he would avoid the questions because it was funny to leave you trembling at the thought of whether you were doing something right or wrong. Slowly, your fingertips grazed against the opening of the envelope, the urge to push your index finger under the small gap and rip it open was consuming you, but you would resist. If opening a letter that was meant for his next victim got you killed, then he’d be pissing all over your grave for as long as he lived, if you could even consider his life and lifestyle as living. As you stepped outside the complex, you felt the occasional raindrop fall down and beat you softly on the forehead and face, making haste in dampening your hair. It was typical weather for this dysfunctional city, the rain cloud loomed and never felt the urge to leave, leaving everyone who lived here a depressed feeling that ate away at their very being. And despite it all, you didn’t mind. When your life was on the line, each day being a constant reminder of what lingered in your future, you began to appreciate the small little things. Like fucking rain. The car journey to Lisa’s didn’t take long but then again, you didn’t expect it to either. As you pulled into the car park, it was relatively full. It was like the more you looked, the more you could pickout the difference between the shrinks and patients. Well, flashy cars and run down, rusted metal on wheels. It was obvious who was earning a good amount of money and who was wasting it on.. Well, whatever you considered this shit as. You lingered behind the wheel, the hum of the engine no longer providing you much company as you watched each raindrop fall onto your windshield and trickle down, a race with many other raindrops that did that same thing.

Your mind lingered as the silence consumed you, what were you going to do? What did Toby put in this envelope? How were you going to give this to Lisa and what if she opened it and there was some kind of threat inside? What the hell would you do? She’d send you off to the nearest mental ward and right now, you were so desperately trying to convince yourself that you were okay. Of course, you needed to convince Lisa too but it wasn’t your top priority as she’d end up.. No. You furrowed your brows, just stop thinking and ride out whatever shit storm was coming to you. Stepping out and locking the car securely behind you, you headed toward the building. It, surprisingly, was a pretty small building. With doors that opened automatically once triggered by motion, some windows just besides the doors and another three windows above the door. The building wasn’t painted any particular color, due to the fact that it had its original brick out on display. It was a building you were all too familiar with considering the amount of times you walked up to its doors and glanced untoward each time.

You wondered, did Lisa do the same? Upon entering, you glanced around at the familiarity of it all. Has it really been that long since you last came here? The place actually looked happy, like they made a shitty attempt at putting up motivational posters about how amazing life is and was that a fucking rainbow painted on the wall? You blinked, this was the same building or had this suddenly turned into a children's hospice? To your left was the reception, it was covered by glass, almost like they were trying to protect the person who sat behind it. It wasn’t the same person you recognised so now you were really starting to doubt yourself, had you driven to the wrong place? In front of you was a long corridor with a collection of doors on each side, to your right was the usual waiting area. The uncomfortable ass chairs, the old magazines that had probably been there since 2010. With a soft sigh, you had spun on your heel to turn toward the small receptionist who was tucked away behind the glass panel. Behind her was a white wall along with a white door, it oddly enough gave you some insane asylum vibes. “Uhm, hey,” you started, clearing your throat and forcing a somewhat pained smile. “I’m-” “I know who you are, you fucking murderer. How could you, your own therapist? You know Lisa has cancer right, she has cancer and she’s going to fucking die.” You blinked, mouth hanging open agape in complete and utter shock. It felt as if you were going to drop dead on the spot, feeling all the blood in your body rush down and away from your face. Blinking again, the woman behind the counter gave you a friendly smile.

“Your name and age? I’ll need your birthdate too, sweetie.” You were dumbfounded, motionless in shock. Did she actually say that or were you making it up? Did she really know you were plotting and planning to kill Lisa? You anxiously wiped away some sweat from your upper brow. “Um..” The woman in front of you was middle aged and plump, wrinkles adorning her face but she cherished a welcoming smile. Her cheeks were red and rosy. It reminded you a little bit like a gnome. Her hair was still stuck in that 80s styled bob, swept in different ways but it suited her. “You okay, darling? You look so pale,” she noted. You let out a soft, whimpered laugh before shaking your head.

“Oh, yeah, I’m okay. Uh, my name is [Y/N] and my birthday is [Y/B].” The woman let out a content hum in approval to this information, clicking away at the mouse and staring intently at the computer screen in front of her. You shuffled, avoiding staring at her too much in case she somehow caught onto your plan. Every now and again your gaze would flicker to her and you caught sight of her name badge that hung proudly just above her right breast. It was white with a little blue outline. It read ‘Mary.’ Cute. Maybe you should just pass the envelope to her and be on your merry way. “Lisa is just down the hall, the door with number seven on it.” You already knew that but smiled at the information and gave her a soft nod of appreciation before turning and making your way to the door. It seemed that each step you took, the corridor would become longer and longer. Were you sweating? Because you felt sticky and hot, even your vision became a blur around you. As your gaze brushed up on each number on each door you walked past, you finally found yourself stopping at number seven. You felt dizzy, you wanted so desperately to turn around and run out those doors. Those fancy, fucking white doors. Before you could compose yourself and reach for the handle, Lisa opened the door with a warm smile. It had been a couple of months since you last saw her. She looked frail, weak, older and yet she still dressed in her fancy attire for work. Her smile was warm, inviting and yet it flooded your very being with guilt. Your mouth began to water. Don’t throw up, don’t fucking throw up.. Were the only words repeating in your head. “[Y/N]!” She exclaimed, outstretching her arms to wrap them around you into a soft embrace. There, as you invited the hug, you could feel each bone protruding out from under her clothing. Was she actually sick? Or had it been that long? “Lisa,” you croaked out as you began to wiggle out of her grip, forcing an uncertain smile across your face. However, Lisa did not return the smile, she had a glazed look of worry plastered across her face. You were confused.

“Now, I know you didn’t agree to doing this today and I would’ve told you over the phone but I feel this would be really good for you to reach out to people.” Her words were not comforting ones as you turned your head slightly and gave her a worried look. She rested a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I’ll introduce you to them.” With that, she stepped aside and pulled the door open wider for you to peer in. It was her usual room, that was for sure, however now there was an array of chairs spaced out to form a circle. Roughly seven chairs in total, all having someone sat in each one apart from two of which you only assumed was for yourself and Lisa. Was this a fucking group session? No, no, this couldn’t be happening.

You wanted to turn and dart but you felt stuck, unable to move as you assessed in person in each chair. You started with the chair closest to you, a young woman who was so painfully skinny that each bone protruded out from under her skin, she barely looked alive. Then next to her, a rather large man who was bald and had his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his face cold as you glanced over at him, he looked middle aged. To your right, another guy who looked mid-thirties, his eyes heavy as he avoided your gaze and then next to him, another guy, he looked terminally ill. What the fuck have you walked into? Of course, the chair next to the guy who looked terminally ill was free for you, another chair in the middle for Lisa and then you turned to the other chair and your heart fell. You nearly began stumbling back and away from the room altogether. There he sat, reserved, with his arms close to his body and his chin tucked close to his chest. That familiar brown hair, the messy kind that struck out to you the most. He was pale, his cheeks a little sunken and next to his mouth was a gauze. You began to shake your head, wanting to fight, scream and yell but instead left standing there, unable to even utter a whisper. Toby looked up toward the door and his eyes met yours and there it was, that smirk that made you feel sick. Your chest ached, the urge to throw up and heave becoming more and more apparent. He was mocking you and you just knew, you knew by the look in his eyes that he was laughing deep down. “Everyone,” Lisa began, catching their attention and causing now all eyes to be on you. “This is [Y/N]. Could you all please introduce yourselves?” “I fucking have to?! What’s the point,” the bald man spat, causing you to recoil further away from the entrance of the room. Lisa shot him a disapproving but gentle look, the smile still etched in her features. “The point is so we can all help each other.” The man's face was red with rage and he huffed, not wanting to start an argument in front of everyone. After a beat of silence, he spoke up again, his voice gruff. “Andrew.” You crept forward, forcing such a crooked smile you were thankful Andrew wasn’t looking otherwise he probably would’ve punched you. The woman next to him gave you a soft look, a sympathetic one and smiled. “Lily.” She spoke in almost a whisper. You turned your head to the other guys. “Dave.” The guy in his mid thirties spoke. “I’m Erin.” Spoke the guy that looked so fucking sick. You nodded and then everyone shifted their gaze over to the figure sitting in the back. “I’m Toby, n-n-nice to me-.. Meet you, [Y/N].”

#creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #ticci toby #toby rogers #fanfic #xreader #ticci toby x reader

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missywritesfor7 · 8 months ago

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❤️‍🩹Lifeline | MYG❤️‍🩹

Synopsis: It’s long been controversial for idols to date, but idols dating each other can be really beautiful or a complete nightmare. When Yoongi's relationship with another idol is discovered, he decides maybe it’s time to break the taboo and show people it’s ok for idols to date. Instead, they find themselves caught in the midst of one media frenzy after another and struggle to keep their relationship as strong as it had been the past 2 years. Yoongi finds a self destructive way to cope, and it causes even more problems than it solves. As they fight for their relationship and their careers, they discover that sometimes, the only way to truly be free is to let go.

Pairing: idol!Yoongi x idol!OC

Warnings: nsfw, alcoholism, cheating, depression, anxiety, Yoongi goes through a bisexy ho phase, Yoongi is also in his alcoholic phase, post-military BTS

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Ch. 37: Electric

Hyeri woke up the next morning to see Yoongi’s texts. She was happy to see that they made it safely, but then a little taken aback by his admission of drinking coffee. She appreciates his honesty, and that alone makes her feel a smidge more secure. However theres a small voice in the back of her mind that keeps wondering when the coffee will turn to beer. When the one drink turns to two then six. Perhaps it may not lead to a full relapse, but it’s hard to silence the noise of the past.

Hyeri sends Yoongi a text telling him she’s glad he made it safe. She tells him she appreciates his honesty and that he’s doing well so he doesn’t have to worry. She only wants him to stay healthy and not overindulge. Then she rolls out of bed and gets herself ready for her counseling session.

It’s no coincidence that she scheduled her appointment this day. She wasn’t sure what feelings would be rushing through her body when Yoongi left for tour, but she knew it would probably be best to talk through it, whatever the feelings may be, with a professional.

Lee Areum, licensed therapist and counselor to many of Brickyard Entertainment’s artists sits across from Hyeri in her cozy office a short distance from Brickyard’s headquarters. Hyeri has become accustomed to Areum’s soft couch and plush pillows. As soon as Areum asks Hyeri how she’s doing, Hyeri tightly hugs one of the pillows and sighs.

“I miss him,” Hyeri says quietly.

“Yes?” Areum responds. “That’s completely normal.”

“Yeah but…no,” Hyeri hesitates. “I miss him. The him before he broke my heart. He’s come a long way but…there’s something I still miss about him. Something I’m scared will never come back and it breaks my heart.”

“What do you think will never come back?”

Hyeri stares at the floor fighting her tears. She clutches the pillow tighter and inhales deeply. She knows the answer but it’s so hard to say. Saying it would be her admitting it to herself, and it wasn’t until this moment that she realized that she is absolutely terrified. Yes she knew she was scared, but she didn’t know she was so scared that she would have trouble simply saying it out loud. It grips at her chest and she doesn’t even understand why, but this is the same feeling that’s continued to plague her and she’s sick of it. She wants to be free from it finally, and that’s why she’s here.

“I’m afraid the Yoongi I trust with my life will never come back.” She exhales and with it comes a barrage of tears. Her chest is still tight and her face is now deep in the pillow so she can muffle her cries.

“It sounds like you’re grieving the loss of the person you saw him as before.”

The word “grieving” makes it feel different to Hyeri, but it’s 100% accurate. This is a mourning that she hasn’t allowed herself to process, therefore moving forward has been difficult. It’s just a part of healing, but she hates how much it hurts. The fairytale she once envisioned came crashing down and regardless of how much she’s tried to hold on to the image in her mind, the reality of grief finally brought her back to earth.

Yoongi wishes their first day in the US wasn’t so busy, but it’s to be expected. He saw Hyeri’s message and while there’s still a sprinkle of guilt in him, he still felt relieved. He was worried she would have a more negative response, though he truly knows she wouldn’t, yet the fear still remained. He wanted to respond but he was pulled away for another interview. They were busy well into the night before they finally got back to their hotel. He finally was able to text her back telling her about his day and that he’s in the hotel now if she’s free to video chat. Unfortunately, she was with Areum when he sent the message and by the time she got home and straightened up Yoongi had already fallen asleep and missed her call.

The next morning Yoongi curses at the sight of the missed call from Hyeri. He truly tried to stay awake but he was just too tired. He doesn’t have a lot of time before heading off for rehearsal, but he takes his chances and tries video calling Hyeri hoping she’s somewhere where she can answer.

Hyeri is fresh out of the shower where she shaved, washed and deep conditioned her hair, washed her face with an exfoliating scrub, brushed her teeth, and cried the entire time. She’s in her robe with her hair wrapped in a towel when Yoongi’s call comes. She quickly springs to the bed and answers her phone forgetting everything she was just doing, and forgetting how she currently looks.

“Babe?” Yoongi says excited to see her but also concerned by her sad puffy eyes.

“Hey!” She says trying to pretend she doesn’t see how awful she looks at the moment.

“What are you up to?” He asks trying not to dive right into questioning why she looks like she’s been crying for hours.

“Nothing,” she smiles to the best of her ability. “I just got out the shower.”

“Oh,” he says apprehensively. “Are you…ok?”

“Yeah,” she smiles.

Silence.

“No,” she admits with a sigh. “My…I’ve been…ugh,” she grunts. “Truth is, I’ve been seeing a counselor through the company and I was afraid to tell you because I thought you would be too worried about me and not focused on yourself, but I saw her today and we talked about a lot and I’m just trying to figure this all out in my head. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you at first, it’s so stupid of me to not tell you something like this but sometimes it’s hard for me to open up about things because I don’t always feel like I know you anymore.” She takes a deep breath and anxiously waits for Yoongi to say something.

“Hyeri,” he says slowly. He can see the nervousness in her face so he wants to answer quickly as to not cause her more anxiety. However she just said a lot and his mind is trying to figure out what to respond to first. “First of all, I’m really proud of you for seeing someone. I don’t know why you would be afraid to tell me that, but I’m glad you did.”

“You’re…not mad I didn’t say anything before?” She asks unconvinced. “I’ve seen her like 5 times now.”

“No I’m not mad,” he smiles. “I’m just happy you’re seeing someone. I know how much Minho has helped me so far so I hope you can have that same healing experience.”

“Oh,” she says surprised. She should have known that he wouldn’t have a bad response, but part of her was convinced he would.

“I know it’s my fault,” he continues. “I betrayed your trust so I understand you feeling like you can’t open up to me. So I’m not mad.”

“Oh….can I tell you something else then?”

“Anything.”

“I never stopped blaming myself.”

During her sessions with Areum, Hyeri revealed a lot about her lack of trust in Yoongi. After years of being around snakes and liars who nearly ended her career shortly after it began, Yoongi showed her that maybe not everyone was bad. She envisioned perfection so that’s how she portrayed it. She had a big smile and some piece of clothing or jewelry that he gifted her. He took care of her and gave her more than she could ever ask for. She blamed herself for the things he did because she never imagined someone so perfect would be so flawed.

“Hyeri,” Yoongi says trying to not get too emotional before heading to rehearsal.

“I know,” she interrupts. “I’m sorry for the things I had said and done that made you think I didn’t love you. I’m sorry for the things I didn’t say or do. I’m sorry for being so afraid of everything. I don’t want to be afraid anymore, so I’m starting now with this.”

“Hyeri…” he repeats trying to fight the tsunami in his chest threatening his ability to breathe. “You don’t have to apologize for being afraid. You don’t have to apologize for anything. You are so brave in so many ways and I’m always so proud of you, my love.”

“I’m proud of you too,” she smiles. Those words, coming from him especially, cover her with a veil of sunshine and a boost of confidence and motivation. Her eyes may still be red from crying in the shower just a bit ago, but inside she feels relieved. Finally opening up to him for once is giving her a weightless feeling that almost has her on a natural high. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he smiles back at her. “I really wish I had more time…”

“I know, don’t be late for rehearsal. I just wanted to get that off my chest.” Her smile grows pressing her puffy eyes into amused crescents. “I feel a lot better now.”

“I’m glad.” He hates having to leave when they’re having this conversation that has given him emotional whiplash. “Will you be awake later?”

“Yes,” she nods. “I’ll stay up for you. Now go, you need to get focused on the show tonight.”

“Yes ma’am,” he chuckles. “You made my day. I love you and I miss you and I’ll text you as soon as I can.”

“I love and miss you too,” she beams.

Ending the call is difficult, but it gave Yoongi a great boost that everyone could see the moment he stepped out of his room. By now everyone knows Yoongi heard from Hyeri based on the way his cheeks are flushed red and he has a goofy gummy smile displayed across face. It’s not just Yoongi’s happiness that rubs off on everyone, but simply the way their second oldest is so clearly enamored yet so shy about showing his excitement.

Rehearsal goes smoothly and the stage with a few new features for this US leg of their tour has everyone bouncing in anticipation for the night. They have a brief press conference afterwards then a few hours to themselves before returning to the stadium for soundcheck.

Yoongi uses his free time to go shopping, the same routine he started with the last tour. Shop for gifts for Hyeri then mail her a package from each city stuffed to the brim with goodies. He starts with sending her a text telling her he’s out of rehearsal and heading to the mall. Hyeri had been home fighting her sleep waiting to hear from Yoongi, but she sprang up with a spark of electricity at his message mentioning the mall. She immediately began telling him the shops she would like things from and the designers based there that she loves. He tells her he’ll see what he can do while also joking about how she didn’t care anything about him and only wanted him to get her stuff. Still, he sends her pictures of things he sees in the stores asking what she likes best. By the third store Hyeri stops responding. He’s sure she’s fallen asleep so he sends one last text telling her he loves her and will talk to her later.

Hyeri’s fatigue won over, but as soon as the alarm she set started blaring she sprang awake. She set her alarm to go off at the time she knew the guys would be having soundcheck. She wanted to wake up at that time to respond to Yoongi and also search online for someone streaming the show. Only their last night in Las Vegas will be streamed during this leg of the tour. For every other show, Hyeri will search the far reaches of social media with the rest of the fans not in attendance looking for one kind soul willing to share their experience in first person.

After soundcheck the guys are backstage until showtime so Yoongi immediately goes for his phone and smiles brightly when he sees a message from Hyeri. He can’t explain this feeling, but since their talk he feels so much more elated and optimistic. Everything is exciting now and it almost feels like when their relationship was new.

“Hyung looks so cute!” Jungkook laughs from across the room. Jimin is sitting next to him with his phone pointed suspiciously towards Yoongi.

“What are you two doing?” Yoongi asks noticing the two mischief makers giggling together.

“Nothing,” Jimin laughs. “You just look so cute.”

“Are you recording?”

“No,” Jimin lies.

“Then there will be no evidence of what I’m about to do,” Yoongi says getting up and playfully charging over to them as if he’s about to fight.

“Noo,” Jimin laughs putting his phone away.

“Whatever you’re doing you better show me before you post.”

“I’m not going to post it.”

“I don’t believe you,” he says sitting next to them.

“I mean it,” Jimin defends.

“He’s going to send it to Hyeri noona though,” Jungkook snickers.

“Why?” Yoongi asks flushing red in embarrassment.

“I think she would like to see how cute you look when you’re texting her,” Jimin giggles pulling his phone back out. “See.” He plays the video for Yoongi where it ends just as he was charging towards them.

“It looks like I really attacked you,” Yoongi laughs.

“Like a cute little kitten,” Jungkook jokes.

“Stoppp.” Yoongi is ready to bury his head in embarrassment. The guys always call him cute but it doesn’t make him any less shy each time. The guys do it more because his reaction only makes him cuter.

“I bet Hyeri would agree,” Jimin says sending the video to Hyeri without Yoongi realizing.

Just as he said a few moments later Hyeri sends Yoongi a text swooning over how cute he is. Seeing his face light up the way it did made her feel the warm and fuzzy comfort she was afraid she’d never feel again.

“What did she say?” Jimin giggles watching Yoongi smile at his phone once again. “Did she say you were cute?”

“Mind your business,” Yoongi laughs getting up to go back to where he was originally sitting so he can escape their teasing. Once comfortable again, he texts Hyeri back with the same smile on his face, much to his maknaes amusement.

Hyeri found a stream as well as a backup stream for the show. The guys are all dressed and ready to go. The crowd roar gradually grows by the second as the seats fill up in the stadium. When the VCR begins playing Yoongi takes a big breath. Then another. And a third. He’s feeling more nervous than he did at the first show at home. There’s a lot riding on this and it starts tonight.

The show starts with an explosion of energy that even Hyeri can feel from the low quality video she’s watching. She sings and dances along with the crowd, smiles at how good Yoongi looks, and laughs at the commentary from the fan streaming the video. It’s electrifying and before they know it, it’s coming to an end.

The guys go one by one speaking to the crowd before they perform their final encore song. The closer it gets to Yoongi’s turn, the more nervous he gets. He knows Hyeri is watching someway somehow, he wants to let her know he’s thinking of her as well. When his turn comes he keeps his message sweet and simple, but still soft enough to make the crowd swoon. At the end he kisses his microphone, right at the bottom where Hyeri’s hand drawn heart is, then he raises his arms to create a big heart above his head. The crowd loves it and Hyeri is swelling with joy.

Yoongi can’t help it, the moment he makes it backstage after the show he gets his phone and sees messages from Hyeri giving him praise. He quickly texts her back letting her know he would call once he’s at the hotel. He’s all smiles as they take pictures, greet industry friends, and shoot a quick short video for socials. Afterwards the guys are taken back to their hotel where Yoongi quickly goes to his room to wash up and call Hyeri.

They talk well into the night, at times simply enjoying each other’s comfortable silence. Hyeri has a promo shoot to attend so when the time comes for her to go, Yoongi has already fallen asleep on the phone. She whispers a good night to him then hangs up and sends him a text saying the same. She gets herself ready then heads out the door with a great big smile on her face.

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