#chocking this up to more things I need to talk to a therapist about

[arcadequeerz]

m.

[stoutguts]

ADHD/neurodivergent 🧼 (💀🧼 too bc why not/it's my comfort ship and I love them)

(chock full of my own personal HCs and ideas, also mental health stuff/issues/problems heyo)

I am most definitely all for autistic Ghost, but what about ADHD brain/neurodivergent Soap? I've seen few people talk about this or explore it so here we go.

Like, even though Johnny's generally laid back, he still tends to be very hyper or high-strung. Maybe even overwhelming for some people, and is easily excited almost like a puppy (golden retriever Soap my beloved), (Ghost thinking it's literally the cutest thing ever). Bro has either the attention span of a nat or is so hyper-focused on something he forgets to blink.

He has APD (auditory processing disorder),—and will ask you to repeat yourself 15+ times before he finally understands what your saying. This is incredibly frustrating for him, but like Price will lose his shit, because having to repeat himself is like one of his pet peeves lmao. Same thing, with Yuri.

Even Ghost and Gaz get fed up with him on occasion. Though Roach doesn’t give a fuck because they’re just as ADHD as him, and just loves to talk, plus their echolalia helps to sort things out lots of times. Gaz will give him the silent treatment and refuse to talk to him. Usually when Simon finally gets irritated with him it's lead to a fight. But it isn't long before Ghost feels bad and apologizes, and reassures him saying "I know you can't help it". Simon tries to work on learning to be more patient specifically for him. 💕

He does the same things that Simon does to stim, (though particularly pacing and bouncing his leg). But he also likes to chew on everything, whether it’s a pen/pencil, a cap off a water bottle or other plastic drink bottle—(This pisses off Simon in particular, and they’re always scolding him about how he’s gonna end up choking on it. Not to mention, he always leaves the nasty ass, spit-covered things around and forgets to throw them away after he’s done with one. Either leaving Ghost to pick up after him much to his disgust, or forcing Johnny to throw his own shit away, (as he should). If he gets ahold one of those spiky silicone balls from an arcade machine he likes to bite the nibs on it, etc. Simon has even bought him some chewlery because he orally stims so much, to which Soap uses all the time and was overjoyed when Ghost first got it for him. Though his chewlery needs to constantly be replaced because Johnny has unusually strong and sharp teeth. It’s not uncommon for him to completely destroy shit that he gets his paws on. Simon often comparing him to a dog or a teething puppy.

I am also totally for Johnny being just as mentally fucked as Ghost.

He’s the four b's, bisexual, bipolar, bilingual, and a bitch.

Like Simon, Johnny has generalized anxiety disorder (GAD) and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), for similar or for maybe even the same reasons as Ghost. Not nearly to the same level of severity, but panic attacks and flashbacks do happen on occasion. As with certain things he's easily triggered.

He also struggles with bipolar disorder and/or severe manic depression. His bipolar tendencies making it incredibly difficult to maintain relationships in his youth, among many other things, (his past drug abuse/addiction only making him worse and more unstable). Though these days he’s medicated and for the most part stable, only sometimes going off his meds, (particularly when he relapses or is heavily triggered by something).

No therapist has ever been able to help Soap, though he does see a psychiatrist regularly.

Mostly for anti-psychotics and other prescription refills and the like, but can vent as much as he likes to them. Either that, or Simon doesn't mind lending an ear to listen when he needs it.

Similar to Ghost, Johnny can have very low self-esteem, but can also be of very high self-esteem, (it fluctuates due to his manic depression). And Simon is more than willing to give him reassurance and comfort, but equally doesn't mind knocking him off his high-horse, and/or, taking down his ego a few pegs if need be. (Which isn't so bad, as Johnny just so happens to have a degradation kink). >:3

Johnny is a highly reserved person, (though he’s able to put on a mask/a show for other people and strangers), and pretty stoic (all things considered), due to his traumatic upbringing. He has a very unhealthy habit of bottling up his emotions until he quite literally explodes, though he's trying to get better about that. But he can’t help but genuinely let his guard down, and has LEARNED to let his guard down around Ghost, the 1-4-1, and his sisters (the most important people in his life).

This tidbit has less to do with mental health and rather his personality but I still wanted to include it here so…

Soap is highly perceptive and emotionally intelligent. You can't hide anything from him as he can always tell when someone's lying to him, and he always knows when something's wrong. A true empath. He's also a very good liar himself because of this, but he uses this secret power responsibly, and would never lie to those closest to him and/or his loved ones.

All members of the 1-4-1 having highly specific phobias? Yes please.

As for Johnny…

He is deathly afraid of needles and hospitals (Trypanophobia and Nosocomephobia), because when he was growing up and as a young kid he was quite sickly, and often was in and out of the hospital. He's immunocomprised and gets sicks all the time, most of the time nowadays when he gets sick it's just a small cold, with the occasional illness that may put him out of commission for a bit—Simon always doting over him and making sure he’s okay when he even so much as senses he’s got a runny nose—Johnny finding it incredibly endearing, but when he was a child it was horrible. When he was hospitalized he'd suffer at the hands of doctors and nurses much too often, going through one too many traumatic experiences. Mostly, because of incompetence or just straight up apathy. Getting his IV done is the worst, because he's cursed with almost non-existent and small veins. Oh so jealous, of Ghost's huge and bulging veins. Someone will stick him upwards of 10 times or more, or until his arms are swollen, until they finally get it right usually. Not to mention, Johnny also has Hemophilia, and so he bleeds a lot which only makes it even more distressing. Soap specifically underwent medical and first-aid training, just so he could avoid going to medical himself as much as possible. His medical knowledge and training has happened to pay off lots of times in the field, for himself or for his teammates or squad’s sakes. Despite his aversion, he's not squeamish at all when it comes to mending his own wounds, or others weirdly enough. Even if he's severely injured he refuses to go to medical. Simon used to get really mad at him for this, because of not only his stubbornness, but seemingly his cockiness was what really pissed him off. And they know Johnny’s skills only go so far, and he's immunocomprised and a hemophiliac for crying out loud. Eventually Ghost confronted him about this, and after Soap explained everything it was a lot more understanding and sympathetic. Though it didn’t change the fact that it will borderline harass him if he’s seriously hurt and won’t go help himself, or just straight up force him to go to medical. Johnny always protests but ultimately he gives in, and Simon makes sure to give him emotional support and stay with him when he needs patched up.

Thank you for reading my ramblings, next post will be about my take on Ghost, his mental health, his autism, etc, probably!

[journeyforthepublic]

Well, here we go...

This feels so weird for me, I genuinely don't expect anyone to read or relate to this. I tried journaling alone in my room with pen and paper and maybe it's the Gen Z in me but keeping up with it proved to be difficult. A therapist that I admire who said during his own healing journey that he started a blog inspired me to do this and here I am. Maybe it'll be easier to type instead of writing on paper, and maybe it'll feel cooler to make it seem like I'm talking to an audience instead of just to myself. I'm willing to try anything to get out of the dark place I'm currently finding myself in. A little bit about me might be a good way to start this off so, I'm a 20-something gay guy born and raised in Southern Cali and still living here today, mixed race, tall, taurus, and probably the most emotional person you'll ever meet. I've been told all my life by family, friends, and even my ex-boyfriend that my emotions are a burden, and I believed that for so long. But now I want to start seeing them as a superpower, there's nothing wrong with feeling things deeply and often, the care that I have for people comes from my mom and I never want to lose that. Back to the topic at hand, if you can't tell I have no outline, no game plan, nothing for any of these posts so we will go off on tangents at times because that's how my brain works. I have a dad and stepmom who live in another state, my mom passed away when I was in high school, I have two older brothers both married (straight) with kids and more on the way. And I, my friends am the homosexual disappointment of the family. I'm currently reading a book called Single on Purpose, I just got out of my first relationship so trying to figure out how to be me again, and the author is currently writing about pinpointing the time in your life when you lost confidence, lost love for yourself, stared putting others needs before your own, and became the kind of person that lost what they love to do and what makes them feel alive. I've been trying to pinpoint those moments in my life, and I have chocked it up to 3 big turning points in my life that I'll talk about over time on this blog. First off, we have going to high school. Coming in at second would be, my mom dying. And last but not least would be, being forced out of the closet by my dad. Now every one of these situations has stories and explanations to go along with them but for now I'm leaving it at that and will explain more in future posts. I don't know if this blog will actually help, but I do find myself going through one of the darkest times in my life since my mom died (this might end up being turning point number 4) and I'm willing to try anything to help myself through this at this point. Also a warning, a whole lot of this will eventually be about my ex. We broke up not too long ago, he was my first relationship, my longest relationship, and will always go down in history as my first love, and the indifference he has shown since we broke up is telling me every day that he never actually loved me. Processing that alone has proved to be extremely difficult so, we're going to be processing this together. I was right, talking to the void is much easier than my pen and paper, see you next time.

[coldcasescenario]

journal entry 07/12/23

You said to call next time. I kept thinking that I didn’t want to put my burdens on you. I went back and forth about it for a while. I mean, gosh, you’ve already done enough for me and you certainly don’t deserve to deal with the results of my idiocy. But then I thought about what I use for my own personal motivation, that you can’t win the lottery if you don’t even buy a ticket; and that you can’t fix your problems if you don’t even look at them. And as much as my cowardly instinct is to never reach out and just run away from my problems, saving them for another day, the more I keep running, the larger the shadow behind me grows. Sometimes I need to learn to bite the bullet and do the things I’m afraid of, like facing my problems head on, accepting the blame, and figuring out how to fix them. But all I ever fucking do is complain. I whine and complain that the world is cruel and unfair, even though I’ve caused all of my problems myself. I honestly don’t know how I am so incompetent with so many things, but very competent at continuing to keep making things worse and worse, every time I think it’s the worse it can get, and I think “oh this is rock bottom it can only go up from here”, I somehow manage to make it even worse. You think I’d get it through my thick head that my habits are unsustainable and that I’ll keep fucking everything up, but alas I never learn. So now I’ve led myself to a situation where I might actually become homeless, which means I’ll need someone to look after my cats, which means, what the fuck do I do because I literally cannot survive without them. And I’ve let my friends down, and I’m unreliable, and you might be the only person who is proud of me, but if I listed all the shitty things I’ve done, and how I’ve never learned from them, I’m just not sure how proud of me you’d still be. I don’t want to die, and I certainly don’t want my cats to have to live without me, but I don’t know what to do at this point. How did I get to age 23 and screw things up so badly. I can’t even talk to my fucking therapist because she doesn’t take my insurance anymore, and I already paid out of pocket for the past 6 months but can’t do that anymore, but also by the end of the day I might not even have insurance anymore so it wouldn’t really make a difference. And won’t that be fun?? It’s tough cause if I do what I know I need to do to start fresh, things will be really really really awful for a while, but eventually get much better. But if I just keep on going like this they’ll keep sucking at this rate indefinitely, and the main thing bringing me down will always remain. What would you choose? Ripping the bandaid off leaving a gaping open wound that you can treat for infection, or letting the bandaid stay and cover up the ick so you don’t have to deal with it for awhile? Both unappealing, different types of pain—sharp, searing, and momentous, versus deep aching sores picking at you internally causing constant discomfort…wouldn’t it be swell if art could provide income. But has it ever been that way? Money is the only way to get money. And pain is the only way to heal I guess. At a standstill. Waiting for the right sign. I’m not giving up on this life, but I sure am not feeling all too excited about it.

It’s funny how someone can want things to get better but we have to pay to exist. And we wonder why the suicide rates are so high, when you need to pay thousands of dollars insurance or out of pocket to get help. Even medically, if you get hurt, you’ll be in debt for the rest of your life. Chock it all up to capitalism? Or just take the damn blame and realize how fucked up we are. Not just as a society, but as individuals. You walked around Syracuse crying all day and no one said anything or asked if you were okay. Homeless people die on the streets of NY everyday and no one bats an eye. Why do we bother? I like to think it’s because there is good in humanity, but it’s just so rare that although its singularity makes it all the more special that it leaves an impact on whoever is touched by it, the rarity means the chances of getting touched by it are so small, and you may go through your whole life or die before you’re given the chance to experience it. I guess I got a taste of it from having people tolerate me, support me, and care for me. But the rarity from that one stranger who COULD save your life reaching out is unparalleled. They dont know you, and yet they think you’re worth it. I only ever had rico like that. He was always there when people weren’t. And Friday I’ll be picking up my passport and likely saying goodbye to him. Not because I want to, not because he’s going anywhere, but because he’s the sacrifice I need to make to create a better life for myself. How do you know when and what to sacrifice? How do you know it’s the right choice? I suppose we NEVER truly know when we’ve made the right choice. We just hope that eventually we find happiness and see it in others. But if we don’t, do we blame it on having made the wrong choice? Or do we place fault on all the other factors out of our control that the universal decided should play a role. What good is slitting your wrists if nothing changes? And what good is reaching out for help if you can’t afford it. I want there to be a good, I want there to be a reason, I just don’t see it.

Oh go ahead world, call me antisocial. Call me psychotic. Maybe I am. But you can’t put me in a mental hospital if there’s no one to pay the bills. And that’s how our mentally ill end up on the streets isn’t it?

We learn in school that Hinduism casts aside its untouchables to live on the streets, poor for their whole lives, unable to move up the ladder. We say how shocking that part of their culture is, how inhumane, how we couldn’t believe people could turn a blind eye. But how are we literally any different? If you voice your concerns too much, you’re an attention whore, pick me girl, or narcissist. If you don’t voice your concerns enough, you’re too lazy to get better, unmotivated, and unwilling to heal. To seek out a professional you need to be rich enough and motivated enough—and stable enough to attend your sessions. And have a method of transportation to get there, or have a computer AND wifi and a place to sit for online sessions. do you see how we have gentrified ourselves? We have divided ourselves into categories—and those without the financial stability to save themselves from their own humanity end up being cast aside, while those with money can treat their problems and go on to make more money.

But then there’s the issue of making money. You’re only allowed to make money in certain ways. Some ways are illegal, many are frowned upon, and the rest render you subject to the worlds judgment, and being placed in a box of stereotypes for the rest of your life. Which will you choose? Who are you truly versus who others will see you as? Are you ever equally both? Does anyone’s perception of you equate to your own perception of yourself?

Sometimes I want to talk to Van Gogh, or moonbin, or Jonghyun. Someone so pained that in their lives they were never appreciated, their art was never understood. Always an untouchable. Only after they died did their legacy bloom. And maybe that’s what drives the suicidal. The instant bone crush as the catalyst for their legacy to begin. But will they ever see it? And if their legacy never measures up to the drive that lead them into the dark, will they still have done it? Will the lack of pain have been enough? No, cause they can’t feel the lack of pain. So again, it’s useless. I don’t want everything to be useless. I mean how messed up do you have to be to think even suicide won’t end your pain. Life isn’t useless for everyone, but for those who are astray, they may never find its use, and they’ll stay in the dark where others long to be.

I don’t want to be in the dark. I don’t want to be like Van Gogh, or Moonbin, or Jonghyun. I want a legacy, sure, but I want to see my art be appreciated. I want to spread all the love and goodness that I have to others. Sometimes days just take their tolls on us, and we need others. Sometimes those days turn into weeks or months. Things might get better on their own, but what kind of perserverence let’s life take control of them?

I hope my struggles will turn into more motivation. More music. More love. More sharing joy. I hope they’ll make me a better person. I just need some help in not repeating the same mistakes.

[chuckbass-love]

56 and 100 with andy or steve plss

Hellooo lovely. First of all thank you for the request and i’m sorry for the long wait. I was taking a break from requests to work on the multiple series that i’ve got going on but i’m back now and i hope this is worth the wait. Secondly, i chose Andy for this and i really hope you love it.

Prompt #100: “Call me selfish, but i don’t ever want anyone else to touch you”

Prompt #56: “Come sit on my face, let me show you how much i missed you”

Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Jealousy, fluff, smut, oral sex ( f receiving), language and ass grabbing. 18+ guys

Word Count: 2,861

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @lovingpostit go check them out💜

I’ll Show You

It’s been one hell of a day at work today and all you want now is just to cuddle up on the couch next to Andy, a glass of wine in hand and some random movie that he’s been dying to watch all week on the TV. To tell the truth you don’t even care what movie it is, all that matters is that he’s next to you, holding your body close to his with his cologne filling up your senses and intoxicating you. Oh and lots of kisses are also a must.

You could honestly spend forever in his company and it’s been that way since you first met, you’ve always been drawn to each other like magnets, to put it in the most cliche way possible. But it suits the two of you because you’re both introverted and home bodies. So any time you get where you can just sit together and enjoy each others company, you take it no questions asked.

This week has surprisingly dragged, probably due to all of the clients you’ve had. Your calendar has quite literally been chock a block full not to mention the severity of the things your clients unload onto you. It’s been tough. But you got into this business because you can’t help but help people and you knew the second you started on your journey to becoming a therapist that it was never going to be easy. Nothing good ever comes easy. But you don’t mind that, you’ve never shied away from a challenge before and your brains are just another thing added onto a long list that Andy keeps of why he fell in love with you.

That along with your heart of gold.

On the drive home you decide to turn the radio volume up a little more than usual, you need something to keep you going until you can run into the arms of your love and as Led Zeppelin comes onto the radio, you know you picked the right day to crank the volume up. What a band.

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

Andy is just making his way out of his own office and down to the parking lot to drive home himself. He’s usually home before you but tonight he had to clear up a couple things before he got to leave and much like your career, his is also never stress free, but he loves it too much to give it up.

As you park your car you notice Andy’s isn’t here yet which isn’t unusual, you know he’s most likely had to stay behind a little later so you decide that you’ll be the one to start cooking dinner ready for when he arrives. You step out of your car and head to the back seat to retrieve your bag along with your jacket from this morning before strutting up to your front door. But before you can even put the key in the lock, your neighbour Ian jogs over, calling your name to catch your attention.

“Ian, hi” you beam, greeting him with a friendly smile, one which he returns gladly.

“Y/N, me and Julie were just talking and since i’m taking the boys out golfing tomorrow, she’ll have a spare coupon for the spa, if you’re interested in joining her”

You have been rather tense lately and since it’s Saturday tomorrow, you’re not gonna pass up such a wonderful opportunity to relieve the tension building and the knots forming all over your back.

“Sure, that would be great. What time?”

“11” he responds simply and you nod your head rather enthusiastically.

He places his hand on yours as he smiles from ear to ear “brilliant, she’ll be over at half ten then just to be safe. Have a nice evening” and with that he walks away just as Andy is walking towards you with a not so cheery look on his face. Must have been a tough day at work for him too.

“Hi handsome, what’s with the pouty face?” you tease as you let the two of you into your shared house but he doesn’t seem to be laughing at your not so funny joke.

“Andy?” you press him for some kind of response even if it’s a nod or mumbling, you’d rather something than to be blanked by him but to no avail.

He just shrugs his coat off, hooking it onto the coat rack before slipping his shoes off and placing them in the shoe holder. And since he doesn’t seem to be responding any time soon, you do the same before padding into the kitchen to have a look at what you have in the refrigerator and the cupboards to cook for dinner. You eventually settle on a simple dish, mac n cheese. It doesn’t take too long to cook and that’s exactly what you need seeing as you’re starving.

You take one of the many pots and pour some water in it before setting it on the stove on a medium heat to boil whilst you change into something a little comfier.

As soon as you enter your shared bedroom you see Andy making his way into the closet too and when you walk in he turns his head to see you staring right back at him, confusion all over your face.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, hoping that this time he might actually tell you rather than acting like you didn’t open your mouth “what did Ian want?” is all he says and it’s all he needs to say for you to know just why he’s acting off with you.

Ian and Julie have lived opposite you ever since you moved in and you automatically got along, all four of you. They’d get a babysitter for their children and you’d double date every now and then but those fun times were interrupted when Andy insisted that Ian had a thing for you. Although you tried to convince him that it wasn’t true and he was just paranoid, you couldn’t help but notice the evidence too. The way Ian would look at you and hold his stare a little too long, the way he’d flirt without you realising it at the time and obviously today, the way he had his hand on yours. Andy must have taken one look at that and assumed the worst.

“He asked if i’d go to the spa tomorrow with Julie, i said yes, why?” you have to be sure though, although you’re assuming now, you want him to be able to tell you what’s got him so bitter.

“I don’t trust him” he mutters as he finishes changing into some sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

“He’s harmless Andy”

“I saw the way he was with you just now, touching you and giving you that shit eating grin, he knew what he was doing”

“Andy, whatever he thinks of me, i don’t care. I’m with you for a reason, can you just trust me”

“It’s not that i don’t trust you” he snaps

“Except it seems that way”

You hold off on changing for now, deciding that storming off childishly is the better option. Once you’re back downstairs you then place the pasta into the now boiling water, making sure to turn the heat up one more too.

“Why can’t you just see things from my perspective here?” he wonders out loud as he leans on the kitchen counter, catching your attention. The way his hands are in his pockets and his shoulders are hunched over, it makes you feel bad for even getting mad at him. Sure jealousy isn’t great but when he gets so worried about other men stealing you away you can’t help but realise just how much he loves you. He loves you so much that the thought of you leaving breaks him let alone if you were to actually go.

But he doesn’t have to worry about that and you’ve told him plenty of times.

“It’s not that i don’t see things from your perspective, it’s the fact that there’s no telling you. I would rather be alone for the rest of my life than be without you yet you’re too caught up with Ian having a little crush to notice that”

“Yeah well call me selfish Y/N, but i don’t ever want anyone else to touch you let alone flirt”

Instead of fighting back against him you step closer and wrap your arms around him as you stand on your tip toes and just as your lips touch his, his hands grip your face gently.

His grip tightens the more you kiss him and when you slip your tongue in, he loses all control. His hands dance all over your body, leaving no spot untouched. Goosebumps form all over as the kiss heats up, the pasta long forgotten on the stove as you’re too busy being ravished by your man.

“Someone’s very possessive” you mock, smirking a little into the kiss before he kisses you so hard it knocks the air from your lungs and when you pull away you’re gasping.

Your breathing hitches as he rests his forehead to yours, his handsome face inches away from yours and all you want to do is just claim his lips, just like you did seconds before. You can’t get enough of him.

However, he beats you to it, gripping your chin aggressively as he bites down on your bottom lip with need. You pull him closer by wrapping your arms around his neck loosely to which he happily obliges.

“Is that a problem?” he asks, raising his brows at you as you struggle to regain control of your breathing, you simply shake your head no in response, half expecting it to end here. But he has other plans.

“Good” he starts, slowly walking into the lounge leaving you stood there confused. So you decide to follow, only to find him laying down on the couch with his eyes trained on you.

“Now, why don’t you come sit on my face, let me show you how much i missed you today”

Your heart skips a beat as you watch him smile afterwards, you can’t quite believe that he’s all yours.

Without another second left to pass, you head over to him and begin to straddle his waist. He quickly takes control, moving you further up until you’re hovering above his chest.

Large calloused hands grip the hem of your skirt, slowly pushing it up to expose your laced black panties. Andy can’t help but choke on air as he sets his eyes on your panty clad mound. But rather than waste time, he starts to devour you over the lace before eventually slipping them to the side and feasting on you like a man starved.

The sensation causes you to throw your head back and practically scream due to how good it feels. His tongue on you like this will never get old, it’ll always be one of the best things in life, one that you’ll continue to enjoy for many years to come. The way his skilful tongue glides over your puffy folds with such precision before he eventually latches on to your bundle of nerves, it’s almost too much to bare and you can feel the coil tightening already with every suck and lick.

And when he slurps on you as he drinks the juices that pour from your fountain you’re unable to stop your hips from moving on their own accord and before you know it, you’re grinding yourself on him desperately as he lays there taking it like the greedy man he’s always going to be for you.

For him, you’re it. You’re the one and you always have been since he first met you.

After Laurie he didn’t expect to ever want another woman again until you came along. You rocked his world, turned it upside down and since then, he’s been hooked. He’s obsessed with the taste of you, the smell of you, the sight of you and the sound of you. You ignite a fire within him, alert all of his senses and turn his whole body into gooseflesh. Just the way he loves.

He flickers his eyelashes before looking up at you as his hands make their way to your perfectly shaped ass so that he can dig his claws into the soft skin of your round globes, causing you to keen for more.

The sounds your making should have alerted the neighbours by now but even if they do, Andy doesn’t care. He just loves the music you make as you arch your back, still riding his tongue as he pushes it further into your tight and wet hole.

“Please, Andy” you cry out, reaching down to run your fingers through his fluffy hair, you’re desperate now, even more so.

“Hm?” he mumbles, the noise vibrating onto your pussy “i’m gonna cum” you breathe out heavily, trying to gain control over the situation but failing miserably. 

Andy rests his hands on your hips, stilling the movements before diving back in for more. He swirls his tongue around your folds once again before ultimately settling his plump lips around your pulsating clit and sucking like his life depends on it.

You can’t hold back anymore, the sinful moans are enough to make him cum too without you even so much as touching him.

And with one final suck and two of his fingers massaging your folds, you cum with a frantic sob. Your body launches forward and he pulls you down so that you’re laying on top of him.

He strokes your back delicately, soothing your shaking body. He can feel your legs jolting every couple of seconds.

Eventually you get off of him and attempt to stand up but of course, you fail miserably.

“So, how was that?” he rasps, chuckling simultaneously

“Perfect, oh and i missed you too today” you smile and he eventually stands up as you slouch down.

“Good, now just let me finish the job then we can order takeout” he says, causing you to furrow your brows but the unasked questions have their answer once he gets on his knees on the floor between your legs and dives right back in.

You shiver a little, your pussy is still trying to recover but he just can’t get enough. His tongue laps at the cum still spilling out of you, making sure that every last drop is inside of his mouth before swallowing it all.

“Now i’m done” he quips and you sit up a little, pulling him closer to you so you can get a taste of yourself on his tongue. Once he slips it into your mouth you can’t help but get carried away, until the door knocks, disturbing you from your peaceful and romantic moment.

You stand up to go and answer it, quickly sorting out your appearance in the hallway mirror before you open it. It’s Ian.

“Ian, hi... again” you giggle nervously as you turn to see Andy’s face change from content to angry in seconds. He practically jumps up off the couch to join you at the door, his beard still damp with your arousal.

You watch as Andy stares the poor man down before wiping at his face.

“I was just stopping by to let you know that Julie wants to leave at 10 instead, you know because of traffic and all” you can practically smell anxiety on him and Andy notices it too.

“Sure, that works for me” you say before the situation turns awkward.

You glance over at Andy who is just stood there watching him intently but he’s coming off rather intimidating.

“Anyway, we’re about to order takeout Ian so we have to go” Andy adds in before snaking his arm around you waist and pulling you closer to him, you follow Ians eyes as he looks down at your skirt and you can only hope Andy didn’t spot that but judging by the change in his breathing, he did.

Shortly after Andy bids Ian goodbye and as he’s walking off, you’re still in the doorway.

You turn to your jealous boyfriend and tut, resting your hands on your hips but he soon disbands your serious facial expression as he smacks your bum which causes you to squeal.

“Andy”

“Let’s get you to bed so i can really show you how much i missed you” he kicks the door shut as he picks you up to carry you to your shared bedroom and you just know you have a long night ahead of you.

-----------

General Tags: @deadlymistress24 @coffeebooksandfandom @chris-butt @holtzkinnon @mychemicalimagines @llamadelreyx @haus-of-bitch-talk @buckstaybucky @thewinchestergirl1208 @chrissquares @patzammit @dummiesshort @cevans-fics @americasass91 @toni9 @aaliferous @bradfordmyworld @thereisa8ella @candlefics @yassspose @randomsevans  @fanficforfun 

Just Chris & His Characters Tags: @onetwo3000 @sheofthegarden @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @mrsbbarnesrogers @princess-evans-addict @stxvercgersslut @chris-evanslover @bval-1 @thejemersoninferno @denisemarieangelina @janeyboo @evansphnx12 @dwights-new-plague @whxre4cevans @cherry-gemz 

LMK if you wanna be added to any of my tag lists...

[sweet-sammy-kisses]

Make my Heart a Better Place

Written for @badthingshappenbingo​ prompt victim blaming Fandom: 9-1-1 Pairing: Eddie x Buck Rating: M Warnings: past rape, deal with the therapist, anti Ana, tackling the belief that men can’t be victims and protective Eddie and Fire Fam Word Count: 2,964 Summary: Eddie learns about the therapist and what she did to Buck as Buck finally opens up about what has happened to him. Eddie realizes who his heart longs for as he helps Buck confront and deal with his past. You can read it on AO3

It was the kind of story that would never be first picked. It would be shuffled around until it was placed at the bottom left to be forgotten. After all, men can't be raped. Men can't be victims of abuse. Men are supposed to be stronger than a woman. So there was no way a woman could rape or abuse a man.

Taylor Kelly knew different.

Taylor had seen firsthand how horrible women can treat men. How they can use "they'll never believe you" and "what kind of man can't protect himself or his kids from his wife?" Toxic way of thinking. Women were barely believed when they came forward men were even less so.

But Taylor refused to let this story fall through the cracks. A woman, a woman therapist had used her position of power to sexually assault her male clients, men in valuable places, who were seeking help instead had new trauma to deal with. No Taylor would do everything in her power to expose this woman and see that those she hurt stories got told and hopefully gave them some closure.

+******+

"Men can't be raped."

Buck froze at Ana's comment and he wasn't the only one so did Taylor who had been talking about the story she was working on, a story she was very passionate about. The only reason Taylor was there was because Buck couldn't stand being the third wheel on the outing with Eddie and Ana. It originally was just supposed to be him and Eddie but then Ana invited herself along and Taylor being the good friend she is agreed to come as well.

Buck couldn't look at Eddie he was afraid of what he might see. He knew that Eddie didn't agree with Ana, they had seen too much in their line of work to know that stigma wasn't true but Eddie was a different man when around Ana, he went out his way to agree with her, to make her happy. Buck didn't know if it would be Eddie answering or Ana Edmundo.

"Edmundo?" Ana's voice broke through the haze that Eddie had found himself in since Ana uttered those words. "Don't you agree with me?" She continued looking at him expectedly to agree with her.

Eddie knew he didn't, he didn't agree with her and he was coming to see that there were a lot of things that he didn't agree with her. He certainly didn't agree with her comments about Christopher needing limits and her slight hints that he needed to start setting limits for his son. He was tired of being her Edmundo. "Ana I do believe that men can be victims of rape and abuse from women. But because of the stigma around such crimes, how people look at men and see that they can't be abused or rape it is harder for them to come forward for they know that there is a smaller chance of them being not only believed but mocked and made fun of for allowing themselves to be victims in the first place."

Buck felt the heaviness in his chest unravel as his Eddie spoke up, disagreeing with Ana's belief.

"Very well said, Eddie. I'm impressed." Taylor teased trying to ease the tension in the room even though she wanted nothing more than to rip into Ana for her misogyny beliefs.

A scoff escaped Ana, she couldn't believe that Edmundo would think that way. Men couldn't be victims it just didn't happen.

"You have a very narrow-minded way of thinking." Buck's voice was soft as he began to speak.

"Excuse me?" Ana's eyes narrowed as she took in Buck's form, she hadn't gotten off to a very good start with the other man. She disliked how deeply woven he was in Edmundo and Christopher's lives, he was in her place and she needed to claim her spot. To make Buck see that she was the one meant to be in the co-parent spot with Edmundo after all she would someday be Christopher's stepmother and it was time Buck stepped back and allowed her to take her rightful spot in the Diaz's lives. It was when Edmundo told her that it was going to be just him and Buck tonight she had invited herself along, she wasn't blind she saw the way that her boyfriend looked at his best friend and he never looked at her that way. She wasn't about to let a prize like Edmundo Diaz slip through her fingers.

Buck looked a little uncomfortable at Ana's glare and he was starting to regret ever speaking up when he felt Eddie's hand settle on his thigh, squeezing it in support and lingering there. Looking up he saw Taylor flashing him a supportive smile.

Taking a deep breath Buck began again, "Eddie is right. Men can be victims. A woman in power can and have taken advantage of men in vulnerable positions. They can feel helpless after it has happened and it can haunt them long after the event. And your way of thinking is why men won't come forward because they are a man and they can't be raped. Women aren't innocent they can use their positions to get what they want. A woman boss could take advantage of her male employee make it clear to him that he has much more to lose than she does if he doesn't agree to her demands. A therapist could seduce one or more of her male patients into having sex with her, she could have sought them out and studied their online profiles and knew things about them before their first appointment and when they were at a vulnerable point in their life when they had come to them for help instead of offering them anything that they might need they decide to have sex with them instead. To force them to have sex with them, they might have not said no but they certainly didn't say yes. Then they feel guilty and so dirty afterwards that they don't tell anyone because they don't think anyone even those closest to them will believe them. They hide what they went through and the shame haunts them, lingering in their nightmares."

Something about the way Buck spoke and since he knew Buck so well and could read him Eddie knew at that moment his Buck had gone through something like this. He wasn't just speaking what he believed he was speaking from experience and it felt like a dagger had pierced through his heart that someone, anyone, could dare to hurt Buck like that. Buck who is pure sunshine was the last person who should have been put through that.

Taylor felt a wave of rage and sadness washing over her as she realized that Buck, Buck who had been the first person to give her a second chance was a victim. 'No, he is a survivor.' Had been hurt like that. She could see that Eddie had come to the same realization as she had and she almost snorted Eddie was already protective over Buck he was about to reach a whole new level. And whatever relationship Ana had hoped to have with Eddie was now nothing more than a pipe dream.

'This also just might be the push these two stubborn idiots need to finally see what is before them. I wonder if there is still time for me to get in on the bet?' Taylor wondered she also couldn't help but wonder how long it would take for the rest of the 118 to catch onto what had happened to Buck and part of Taylor hoped she was there for when Athena Grant - adopted mom to Buck - got her hands on the woman who had raped Buck.

Ana didn't look impressed or moved by Buck's passionate speech, "If a man can't fight off a woman or protect himself then he has no one to blame but himself." There was a challenge in her eyes as she looked at Buck, "Those kinds of men are weak and no doubt exhausting to be around."

"Your exhausting."

Eddie's words shouted at him in rage and hurt still carried the sting they did that faithful day and the room seemed to cave in around Buck. "I'm sorry, I need to go." Shoving back his chair Buck was on his feet and moving towards the door before Eddie and Taylor could even realize what was happening.

Smiling smugly to herself Ana took another sip of her drink as Eddie and Taylor returned to the table. She would make sure that Eddie saw that Buck was a bad influence in Christopher's life and it was best they cut him out of both their lives. 'After all, they have me now, why would they need Buck?'

+******+

"No. I don't want this." Phantom touches that Buck didn't want to follow him. He tried to run away from them but they wouldn't let him go. Lips on his skin burned like acid. Hands and fingers run across his skin left a trail of disgust. Buck wanted nothing more than to shove her off but he couldn't. He had never felt so helpless, so powerless. Not even when he had been pinned under the fire truck.

"No!" A scream tore itself free from Buck as he shot up in bed, his heart pounding loudly in his chest. He struggled to catch his breath as clawed at his skin, trying desperately to remove the feel of her off of him.

A chocked sob escaped Buck. He hated this, he hated this so much between the nightmares of being pinned under the truck, the tsunami and now he was tormented with images of that woman touching him. He couldn't understand it, he had wanted it. Hadn't he?

+*****+

Something was off with Buck. The man looked haunted and Eddie knew that he had been tormented by nightmares and it tore at his heart he wanted nothing more than to gather the man up into his arms and let him know that it would be alright. He wanted to kiss him and hold him in his arms and promise him that he is safe and sound and no one will ever hurt him again.

But he couldn't because Buck wasn't his and he had a girlfriend whose opinions had been the cause of him reliving a horrible event in his life. 'I need to talk with Ana. She isn't the woman I thought she is and I don't want her around Chris or Buck.' Eddie knew that he was going to have to break up with her. He had done some serious thinking and he realized that the only reason he was even dating Ana was that she was the perfect woman to bring home to meet his parents but she was the wrong kind of woman to be in his life or even think about raising Christopher with. 'Not that would happen, we have Buck.'

"Why does Buck look like someone kicked a puppy in front of him? And whose ass do I have to kick for making him look that way?" Hen asked as she arrived, her arms crossed over her chest and a deadly look in her eyes.

A frustrated sigh escaped Eddie's lips as he ran his hands through his hair, "Ana joined Buck and mine boy's night and said some things that opened my eyes to see what kind of woman she is behind those pretty smiles. It affected Buck."

Hen's eyes narrowed, "Just what did she say?" Hen hadn't been impressed with Ana and not just because she was coming between her two stubborn boys. There were her comments about what Christopher should and shouldn't be allowed to do, how she refuses to respect Eddie and call him by the name he prefers and not Edmundo. There was also jealousy that appeared in her eyes when she saw the family that Eddie, Buck and Christopher made.

"She said that men can't be raped or abuse victims," Eddie admitted.

Hen knew that her jaw had dropped in shock, "That is complete bullshit." They had seen it in their jobs. "Please tell me she didn't victim blame?"

Eddie's sad eyes were all the answers she needed. "We should let Athena talk to her," Hen muttered if anyone had a chance to make Ana see sense that men can be victims it is Athena Grant.

"Ahh, that might not be the best idea." Eddie glanced around happy to see that Buck was still beside Bobby, their captain had taken one look at Buck and called him into the kitchen to help him make breakfast for the crew. Part of Eddie wanted to get Hen's advice, to tell her his fears about Buck but he didn't want to betray Buck's confidence like that and it wasn't like he had proof but he knew deep in his heart that Buck had been a victim of rape and it still haunted him to this day.

"Eddie, are you alright? I know you like Ana and this can't be easy for you." Hen placed a comforting hand on Eddie's arms.

A sad laugh escaped Eddie, "I'm not sure. Ana is complicated, she is what my parents would see as the perfect wife for me and mother for Christopher that is part of the reason that I am trying so hard to make it work with her. But she isn't perfect, it is her little comments about what Chris should and shouldn't be allowed to do and I see how her trying to set limits for him is hurting my son. Then there is her attitude towards Buck, she just doesn't seem to like him."

Hen could only stare at Eddie, "She doesn't like him? Buck? Our sweet puppy Buck?" That was something she couldn't grasp. That didn't sound well for Eddie and Ana's relationship working out not with how important Buck is to both the Diaz boys.

"And there is something else. The way Buck reacted to Ana's statement. She hurt him with her words, it was like she knew how to hurt him and made sure every word hit their mark." Eddie admitted.

Biting her lower lip Hen studied Buck who had Bobby smiling at him like he normally does when the younger man has done something he finds cute. "Yeah, okay introducing Ana to mam bear Athena is out." Hen knew that Eddie had figured something out about Buck but she wasn't going to push him for answers it was up to Buck and Buck alone to decide if he wants to open up to them about what is haunting him. "I can't tell you what to do Eddie about Ana all I can say is follow your heart."

"Carla said almost the same thing," Eddie mumbled out.

Hen grinned, "Well she and I are both wise women, you should listen to us more."

Eddie found himself returning the smile as his gaze was once again drawn to Buck when he let out a loud laugh and his heart felt lighter at the sound and the room seemed brighter at the sight of Buck's smile. "I really should."

+*****+

Buck could feel Eddie's eyes on him all day, which wasn't something new but he could tell that he had figured out why he had reacted that way the other night. Feeling himself nervous Buck approached his best friend, the man he is in love with, playing with the string on his bag. "Can I talk to you?"

Picking up his bag Eddie studied Buck, "Of course you can always talk to me. Chris is with Abuela tonight so despite not seeing your favourite Diaz we can talk at my place."

"I'd rather Christopher not be around for this conversation, it is not for the ears of children," Buck explained.

"You can talk to me about anything Buck, you know that," Eddie promised.

A soft smile appeared on Buck's face, "I know that. You always have my back Eds."

+******+

Arriving at Eddie's place it didn't take long for Eddie and Buck to make themselves comfortable on the couch, their legs pressed against one another and a bottle of beer in their hands. Once again Buck was amazed at how at home he felt in the Diaz's home, it was his safe place.

"Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere." Eddie promised Buck as he rested his free hand on Buck's knee and left it there.

Licking his dry lips it took several moments before Buck could find the strength to speak. "The first therapist I saw, the one that worked for the department I had sex with her. I didn't say no but I didn't say yes. And even though it was years ago I still have nightmares about her, about how dirty she made me feel. How no matter how many hot showers I took I could never get clean." Turning to Eddie Buck could feel his eyes filling with tears, "I didn't want to sleep with her Eddie. I didn't."

Strong arms wrapped around Buck pulling him back against Eddie's chest where he drank in the scent of sand wood and musk, the scent that is purely Eddie.

"That woman took advantage of you, Buck. You did nothing wrong, that woman was in a position of power and she should have never used it to do that to you." Eddie never hated anyone as much as he did the woman who did this to Buck. Tightening his grip on Buck he pressed a kiss on Buck's curls and kept whispering words of comfort as Buck clung to him and cried for what had been done to him, knowing that he was safe in Eddie's arms.

[goldafterglow]

my love is a dagger

Summary: Jack Daniels is hopelessly gone for you, and you’re starting to think it’s a two way street. Maybe.

Request: “May I please ask for Basorexia and Whiskey please? 🥺” - @scribbledghost (ma’am I’m SO sorry this took me so long and then after the long wait you got whatever this is); taken from this post

basorexia: the overwhelming desire to kiss

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x reader

Word Count: 4.8k+

Warnings: suicidal themes (just a little and not really but there’s definitely a line), sexual harassment, anGST!!, PINING omg SO much pining like folks get ready to y*arn, a little bit of fluff bc Jack is a sweet talking southerner and I couldn’t help it, more angst I rly hope you cry, there’s a cute little lesbian couple in one line so don’t read if ur homophobic! but that goes for all of my work :)))

Author’s Note: Thank the GODS for @catfishingmorales for being my first ever beta reader!!! maybe this one will make any fucking sense at all!!! also a special shoutout to my wife @pascalplease bc she stayed up all night vomiting headcanons with me about this and I didn’t even get to all of them.

Gif Cred: the lovely @coredrive​

Masterlist | Taglist Modifications

“Two single-bed rooms,” he says. No; he manages.

Jack has to pry the words out of his esophagus, the passageway so clogged with sleep that he thinks that if he clears his throat he might be able to clear it.

It doesn’t work.

He tends to add a little brightness and smile to his voice when he talks, always eager to please even strangers. He embellishes his sentences with pleasantries and a chipper shimmer that makes even the most overworked bartender smile and the most destitute rancher crack a grin because he has this uncanny ability to make everyone feel special. But right now, at eleven pm on a Saturday evening after what might’ve been the worst, most emotionally grueling mission Jack has ever completed, he is not pleasant. His words are simply a tool for him to get a message out, his voice choked and flat.

“I’m so sorry for the inconvenience, sir, but it looks like we only have one king-size room available,” the lady informs. She is looking intently at the screen, still typing and clicking like the words might miraculously change right before her eyes.

The powerful Agent Whiskey’s heart falls into his stomach.

He can’t tell if this is the best or worst thing that has ever happened to him. Is this finally the excuse he needs to sweep you off your feet, like the catalyst giving him the strength to overcome his intense paranoia? Or is this the last straw, the final stone before you step off the staircase of his heart and back out onto the run-down open streets without him? Panic floods his chest and he is so paralyzed that he doesn’t even know what to tell her; for once, Jack Daniels is speechless.

Thank god he doesn’t turn around; he’d’ve seen your wide frantic eyes and would’ve known immediately what you’re thinking.

“Oh, it looks like a vacancy just opened,” the hostess chirps, a hint of relief floating on her words. You and Jack turn your heads to your left, where a young couple is saying their “thank you”s as they rack up the handles of their suitcases, hand-in-hand. One girl leans over to kiss the other on the temple with a smile; they both seem so secure. You turn your head back to the hostess; the sight of two people being content was disturbing to you and frankly a little offensive. “Unfortunately they’re on separate floors. Is that-”

“We’ll take them,” Jack gruffs. He wants to sleep, wants to die, wants to be in any existence where your soft eyes aren’t glued to the back of his head because he can feel it and he thinks you might burn holes into his skull just to find that he’s hollow inside.

Empty.

The transaction is quick and a little forced. She hands you both your respective key cards wordlessly, and if your eyes had lingered on her just a little longer you would’ve caught her face falling into it’s default relaxed state of misery. Jack walks with you to the elevator in silence, but he’s still close. He’s always close to you. Often you’ll turn your head in an empty room and anticipate him being there just to be sorely disappointed, though you aren’t sure what you’re always so disappointed for. His spirit haunts your thoughts, floats around your body and does laps around your brain because he is always there when you need him, so much so that you expect him to be there when you don’t need him. You want him to always be there. To always be with you.

Strange thoughts to have so late at night.

Jack sets his bag down beside you, stepping forward to press the button for you; it’s such a small gesture, something that he probably didn’t even think to do since hospitality runs in his bones, and yet you noticed it.

Strange.

The door opens, and he wordlessly puts a hand on your back, guiding you towards the elevator in front of him. Letting you on first. You can’t help but smile a little at him; you can tell he’s so tired and yet he still finds it somewhere in his heart to make you feel so important.

“You know I don’t need that from you,” you tease lightly, turning to look at him as the doors drag shut. The elevator shudders around you, indicating that it’s ready to start it’s journey to the fifth floor.

Jack grins at you; it’s not something he’s doing with his voluntary muscles, something that he thinks is coming off muted because he just doesn’t have the energy. It’s something he doesn’t even think about doing, a visceral reaction to hearing your sweet voice like aloe vera on his scorched throat.

“Well then, darlin’, take it anyways just to indulge your favorite cowboy,” he almost begs, lip pouted and eyebrows raised like he’s a child asking for candy except he’s an addict crying for just one more dose before the night ends because the nights he goes home without the memory of your eyes, your smile, your scent in his system are the nights he can’t sleep through.

You giggle softly, nudging his side gently because you want to crush him in your embrace and lift him onto the barbs of feathers into the moonlight all at the same time. To Jack, it feels like you’ve just kneed him in the chest, hogging all his air and wrapping his head in plastic so he can’t breathe, not that he minds. He’d let you tear at the delicate skin of the inside of his wrists, bite into the gentle flesh of his cheeks until he’s on his knees, bleeding at the seams. He’d let you destroy him if you wanted to.

He sighs a little, so dead, as a flush of air enters the vacuum of the elevator; you’ve arrived. But he doesn’t want to leave yet, wants to wring every last drop of your attention out of your pliable bones, so he follows you out and walks you to your room.

“I don’t need this either,” you say, a yawn stretching and blurring the edges of your words.

“I know,” Jack concedes, rolling his eyes in a way that is so adoring that he might as well have kissed you full on the mouth.

Not that you wanted him to.

“I know you don’t need a lick of help from me, sugar. Maybe I just like giving.” He grins down at you again, his side brushing against yours as you place slow, careful steps down the carpeted floor.

Yeah, he likes giving.

He gives you his leftover coffee when he “doesn’t want it” - it’s a tall cup of his favorite brew. He definitely still wants it. He gives you his blazer when you call his desk landline just to tell him your office is cold because you know he’ll give it to you. What you don’t know is that it’s because he’s completely and utterly whipped for you - he’d strip naked in a snowstorm to keep you warm, hold you in an icehouse as the bite of the frost burrows into the cracks of his dried skin, because he doesn’t need clothes when you’re in his arms. That’s about as warm as he’s ever been.

He gives you his time of day - almost all of it. He’s the first person you see when you step into work, the last face you see when you’re ready to retire. He walks you to your office every morning - he had to beg Champ to switch offices with him so that he could be adjacent to you, but every ounce of dignity lost was paid back to him with royalties in the precious extra seconds he gets to spend rubbing his shoulder against yours. He saunters into your office unannounced daily at 12:35 pm sharp to eat lunch with you, flopping onto your couch with the audacity of a man wet with wealth and simultaneously listening to you rave about your day with the patience of a therapist. Your time is a sacred commodity to him, and he makes sure that he’s earned it.

He gives you his whole soul. Sometimes he wonders if you’ll one day open your purse and find his glass heart sitting there, beating hard and loud and only for you. He wonders if you’d pick it up and smash it against a wall. He wouldn’t mind it at all.

The silence hangs in the air, dancing on your breaths as you seem to be inhaling each other, soaking in each other. It’s strange, the moments you share alone with Jack. There are the ones you share late at night, croaking at each other over the phone about how shitty that one show ended or how beautiful blue things are. Blue like his suffocated lungs, like the ocean of tears that drown him when he looks at you, like the finger you’ve got him wrapped around real tight.

But then there’s the moments when you’re in a room full of people. The briefing room sitting at a table spanning the length of the room that’s completely full of people, a club chock full of sweat and neon energy, the lobby of the lavish estate of a target where the bourgeoisie can swarm and stalk each other. All he has to do is toss you a roll of the eyes, a grin, a subtle brush of his hand against yours, and you are instantly thrown into the web of his affection as you get lost and locked in the atmosphere of his presence. Like, even in a room full of people, he’s the only one around. You’re not breathing in oxygen but the hickory fumes of his skin, the only sound getting registered being his dark honey voice. You’re not quite sure how he does that, distorting reality so heavily that you feel like you’ve traversed to an alternate dimension every time he touches you, pays any mind to you. Every single time.

“This you?” Jack asks, his words like a rubber band to your pulse as you’re snapped out of your train of thought. You look up at the room number - room 513 - and then down at your keycard. It reads the same. There’s a dull ache of disappointment that erupts through your chest, beige and static like the chipped paint on the walls.

“Yeah,” you mutter, turning to face him with your back to the door. He smiles at you softly, gentle like his fragile soul that you always manage to make hurt so bad without doing a single thing, and he opens his arms to you. Nothing out of the ordinary; you’ve grown accustomed to his goodbye hugs. “You’re so needy,” you giggle, stepping forward to bury your face in his pillowy chest and letting yourself sink into the quicksand of his warmth. It’s so easy to get caught up in him like a butterfly to a flower, and yet it’s so hard to pull away. He’s always been difficult to separate from; every time it’s like you’re sewing a microfractal of your esse into the velvet of him. Not big enough for you to notice, but still missing, and it adds up every time until there’s a big gaping hole in your chest that Jack holds claim to and the only way you feel right is when he’s with you.

I know, he wants to say to you. I know I’m needy. I know that you’re the only one, the only person, the only fucking thing that I’ve ever wanted this bad. I know I steal your time and your space and your thoughts but I’m a greedy man. Please forgive me. But he doesn’t say that; he could never say that to you. So instead he buries his face into the top of your head, trying to get a big sleepy lungful of you before he parts with you for the night, and says “Can you blame me, baby?”

You look up at him, eyes bleary and red but still eager to be so close to him. “Always such a tease.” He smiles wide at you, like he’s looking at a whimsical sprite so colorful and magnificent, but it’s just you. What does he see when he looks at you?

“G’night, pretty girl,” he coos, arms still wrapped around you and eyes big and doe-y. Please don’t leave yet, my perfect thing. Except that’s the part that stings him the most; you’re not his. He doesn’t get to say that sacred “my.”

“Good night, Jack Daniels,” you whisper, words fanning on his cheeks like waves of heat from a bonfire. But you don’t move, and neither does he. Not yet. Please.

He’s looking down at you with a certain reverence, like you were sculpted by the angels and placed right here in front of him with intimate precision. And then, without a breath to spare, he leans down and presses a kiss on your forehead so light that you wonder if it even happened or if someone has just thrown a marshmallow at your face. A friendly kiss from a friend that you’re friends with.

It feels like the seams of your limbs are being ripped out as you slowly separate from him, flashing him a soft smile as you take your duffel bag and unlock the door in front of you. You step into your hotel room, the air conditioning immediately sticking to your damp skin. As you close the door you catch him still standing there, looking at you like you’re something so precious.

Platonically, of course.

You sigh as you look around the room, suddenly freezing. The tiny dress you’re wearing doesn’t add much insulation and the big diamond necklaces and chandelier earrings and silver cuffs adorning your body like ornaments become ice on your skin. Kicking your shoes off and into a forgotten pit of the room, you step into the bathroom. Flicking the light on, you stare straight at the bulbs, letting the light sear your pupils just so that you can focus on something other than Jack fucking Daniels. Your jewelry is the first to go, becoming a delicate display on the bathroom counter. Something so pretty, but they’ve left angry dents in your skin that are starting to inflame and you figured it was too good to be benign. Nothing so beautiful, nothing that makes you feel so beautiful, could do so without hurting the paper-thin barriers of your heart. You’d have to be a fool to not know that.

You open up your duffel bag, fishing around impatiently until you find your makeup remover and cotton pads. As you erase the paint on your skin, removing the rough mission from the memory of your face, you start beginning to look less disheveled and more exhausted. Now you can really see the dark circles under your eyes, the discomfort of Rolex’s touching the small of your back and Armani cologne grabbing at your hips while you let it happen. Your body had become free real estate and in just hours you had broken down to feeling like you were stained, a dirtier version of yourself that couldn’t ever be cleaned.

You hadn’t felt so filthy when you were in Jack’s arms.

Eager to try and scrape the mission from your lungs, you peel the tight fabric off your body, letting out a breath of something far redder than relief as it falls to a pool around your ankles. You turn around to reach for the shower handle and grip it hard, letting the cold steel fill your palm as you twist it mid-way. While you wait for the steam to seep into your pores you reach for a bar of packaged soap on the bathroom counter, sizing up the créme box. It’s about a centimeter thick, easily filling your palm, and you frown a little at realizing that most of it will be thrown away, unused. Such a waste.

Turning your attention to the water, you run your hand under the water pouring out of the shower nozzle. It’s warm enough. But you don’t want it to be enough. You want it to melt your skin, to burn through your used body and shed your cells to unleash the layers beneath, the layers that Jack had touched, because thinking that your body has been safe inside his embrace feels better than thinking that you put your head in the jaws of the alligators and hoped they wouldn’t snap.

Once the water is burning, sure to inflame your skin, you step in and close the shower curtain before beginning to let the soap glide along your arms. Except it’s not enough. You’re not clean enough. So you run the bar over yourself again and again, wearing it down as your skin turns hot to the touch until you’re using the tips of your fingers to salvage the last bits of product onto your chest. Shit. You don’t even realize that the bar is all used up until you feel the sensation of your fingers rubbing against your now irritated skin and yet you still feel soiled. So you elect to give up on your sorry attempt at washing away the strange eerie touches and predatory looks and turn off the water, drying yourself off.

The solitude in the air stings.

By the time you’re laying in your bed and looking up at the plain off-white ceiling so that you don’t have to look at the old collections of dirt in the crevices of the wall and carpeted floor, you haven’t thought about Jack for the past 30 minutes. Not since you were washing yourself and the ghost of his fingers scraped your scalp, making you long for the feeling of his chest pressed to your back and the sound of his voice floating into the vinyl of the curtain liner while his hands danced in your hair - 

Not since then.

But Jack Daniels is most certainly thinking about you, and he’s far too deep to bother pretending that he isn’t anymore.

He stands outside your door for just a little while longer after you close it, staring at the fool’s gold embellishment on the front as he basks in the faint warmth of your spirit that lingers in the space of the hall and inside of his bones. He’s not sure how he got so lucky so as to be able to touch you without abandon, kiss your forehead out of greed and hold you in his arms because he really is so needy. He replays the scent of your dainty floral perfume and rewinds the heat of your forehead under his used, chapped lips, trying to commit you to memory as if he hadn’t done this a million time already, as if he hasn’t tried to burn a million of your hugs into the plush cotton of his skin like a brand. Your fading ghost consumes his mind, and by the time it’s whispering farewell to him, he’s already at the bank of elevators waiting patiently for the doors to open for him. Jack does a lot of that; waiting.

The weight of his duffel bag starts to grow and he can’t tell if his tired left arm is getting weaker or if the bag is getting heavier, but he can tell that his nerves are aching because he already misses you.

He’s always missing you.

The trip to his room is quiet, lonely, and as the elevator doors close for him to make his way to the 6th floor he wonders if this is how it’ll always be. Having you so close, seeing you right in front of him, and yet never truly being with you the way he wants to be. Never belonging to anybody, just a wisp of air passing through your life without holding any true substance or having any real meaning to you; but what a privilege to be one of your wisps. To have been in your lungs and have seen what he imagines are wide open plains, vibrant with wildflowers and gentle beasts. He wishes he could stay.

The elevator door dings.

This time he is caught off guard and he inhales like a shudder, eyes darting around the cold yet damp walkway to see if anyone has caught him thinking, caught him yearning.

Hallucinating.

Deluded.

He steps inside of the compartment with his stupid heavy duffel bag, immediately letting it fall to the elevator floor. His eyes find the plastic, cloudy buttons making up the keypad of the elevator. His left arm lifts to press the “6” button but he immediately regrets it, feeling a searing agony shoot through his shoulder. He mutters a little “fuck” to himself like it’ll help balm the pain, and of course it doesn’t, but Jack is a stubborn man and the buttons are to his left, so he shakes his arm out the way you shake out your boots before stepping inside mama’s house and tries again. But his dry, chapped fingers struggle to reach for the buttons, shaking in his own seismic wake. It takes him a few seconds to steady himself, taking temporary control over his body so he can actually touch the button; the plastic is cracked, a small piece having fallen off to be lost, likely thrown away. A discarded fracture in the shell leaving the inner label forever open and exposed, never to be whole again.

The elevator door shuts.

Jack lets out a low sigh, leaving his arms to fall to his sides as he leans against one of the walls. The back wall of the elevator is reflective, muddled and stained but clear enough that Jack can see what has become of him. His stetson is barely on his head anymore, his tie crooked and his collar untucked. He almost feels like a suit monkey, walking around playing dress up with the caveat of poisoning a man’s fresh champagne. But you told him he looked so handsome all gussied up like a proper gentleman worthy of taking a dime like yourself out. So he leaves it at almost.

He does a lot of that too.

The elevator hiccups, and as expected the doors open, inviting him to leave. He looks down at his duffel bag and he can already feel the weight of it on his weeping muscles, but he’s so close to his room and he can’t give up now that’s he’s made it so far, so he uses the momentum of his swinging right arm to sweep the bag up off the floor and drags himself out of the elevator. Not the best thing he’s ever done, but certainly one of his proudest moments.

The sixth floor is less damp, less like a moldy underwater cave and more like he’s at the top of a breezy mountain where the strands of air are like spurs to his cold, tight skin. Crisp. It is different, and yet he feels the same. Like his joyful warmth has drained out of his system, flushed out of his body, and on the inside he is the 5th floor of a shitty decrepit hotel in the middle of fuck all Kentucky. 

He makes quick work of finding his room, the inertia from getting off the elevator being the driving force that gets him down the two hallways and standing before room 645. He pulls out the plastic keycard, adorned with scratches on its surface and stains on its edges, and shoves it into the card reader. With a subtle flash of green and a gentle click, the door gives way for Jack to practically fall inside. He flings the bag as far across the room as his arm will let him, letting gravity control his movements as he is drawn to the white mattress in the center of the room. He releases a groan a little louder than should be appropriate this late at night - he checks the alarm clock on the bedside table to confirm that it’s 11:08. He hasn’t been apart from you for longer than what, 4 minutes? No, he did stand outside your door for a little bit. He decides it’s been 5 minutes.

Oddly enough, the extra sixty seconds don’t make him feel any less fucked.

Now that he’s finally still, his body begins to focus on how sore his legs are as any pain grows from the ends of his limbs and seeps into his chest. He can feel the weight of the night press down heavy on his diaphragm, suffocating him in a way that travels to his eyes and sprays sand like mist onto the walls of his throat. He selfishly lets himself lay there for a second, thinking about that weight being you pressed up against him, face buried in his chest or his neck or in his own face. It’s sacrilegious the way Jack thinks about your touch, the flutter of your lashes like majestic butterfly wings against his cheek, so enticing. So pretty.

His shower is fast despite the way his muscles screech at him to let them rest, begging him to just fucking sit down. When he leans down, back made of creaky burnt red iron, to reach for his sleep clothes, he does a double take; there’s not much in the bag at all. A bunch of small, disguised weapons, communications devices, a pair of grey sweats, a white t-shirt. Nothing oppressively hefty to pull on his tendons; at least, not in a way that could practically drag his shoulder out of its socket. Then suddenly he remembers; he had been holding your bag until you’d both reached the lobby desk. It was a long walk from where you’d been instructed to dump the care and the hotel, so after watching you squirm a little in the freezing air, he offered to take your bag off your back. He’d walked with a bag in each arm for maybe a minute before he realized that his greedy fingers missed being wrapped around your side, missed your melted essence seeping into his stomach, so he’d held both bags in the one left hand for the rest of the thirty minute walk. He hadn’t even noticed how bad he was hurting; perhaps you were too distracting, smile too alluring as your words painted his eyes in lilac and blinded him from his own discomfort.

For being the one person Jack wanted, you sure did hurt him a lot.

Once he is dressed, he lets his sore body absorb into the linen sheets as his muscles finally find some form of permanent relief in the salve of stillness. But this is a dangerous state to be in; when Jack isn’t talking someone else’s ear off, he thinks. He fantasizes, ponders, mulls and muses himself into a state that is suspended between consciousness and sleep.

He thinks about your lips.

You’ve never been too shy to mouth him off, poking and prodding at him and his eccentric cowboy aesthetic. Seeing you walk in every morning and beeline it straight to greet him with a casual fifteen-second hug sends daggers flying into his heart every time, a pain that he’s learned to brace himself for and yet can never seem to be able to handle. And when he looks down at you, adoring eyes and all, he can never help but glance at your lips. It’s always short, a self-indulgent guilty pleasure that he could never admit to, and he thinks about the way they feel against his collarbone when you hold him tight. He thinks about the way they might feel on his own lips.

Sinful.

And then he is thinking about that wretched mission, flashes of luxury clothes and manicured hands trying to feel you up right in front of his eyes. The way you fake smiled at men with money and wrinkles as they leaned into your ear, trying to whisper enticing tales of exorbitant trips to islands that are garishly tropical and dresses so exclusive and designer that no one in the world would own a duplicate. Watching in utter silence because no matter agonizing his need for you is, you’ll never be his.

Suddenly that ache in his body has traveled to his face. It’s so painful to think about you, and yet he takes the jagged edges of his love for you and drags them through his wrists because he’d rather fucking bleed than ever forget you.

Outside his window he hears the clouds crash into each other as an icy downpour beats the pavement. And like a curse, at the expense of his own self-destruction, the image of you in his arms in front of room 513 slices through his brain. Your face right under his mouth, forehead right up against him, your lips right fucking there. And then the feeling of you pulling away. Of you leaving him to rot with the flies, because he’s never going to be strong enough to tell you how bad he needs you,  let you tear his heart into a million pieces for good.

From somewhere in his room the rain begins to fall on his face.

people who asked to be tagged: @gustavos @catfishingmorales @keeper0fthestars @1zashreena1 @blancatobarxoxo @honeyedspace @chaotic-noceur @opheliaelysia @adikaofmandalore @din-damn-djarin @ergotautology

people who most certainly did not ask to be tagged sir: @agentpike @damndamer0n @dindjarindiaries @moonglowcarrillo @girlwithanewplan @mrpascals @bunnykjm @maxlordd @buckstaposition​ @cryptkeepersoul​

This is new so I’m putting it down here too, but I made a little form for those of you that want to be added/removed from my taglist (pls take it my tags are very disorganized rn).

[miridiums-writing]

Loki x reader

This is the longest thing I've ever written, also having to post on my phone because I dont have a computer so I apologise I can to the read more thingy

Summary; Loki decides to prank his brother one night and end up becoming a therapist for Y/N, currently the most withdrawn are tough to crack of the bunch, as a snake

Warning; swearing, panic attacks, depression, self-harm, past abuse, past sexual assault, mentions of medical torture, death of a friend, the team seeming like dickheads, I do apologise. Also, may have plugged in my favourite power again…… please don’t hate me, reader is so oblivious it should be illegal. Please don’t read if this triggers you!!

Word count; 2k

Loki slowly slithered down the hallway, scales making a noise very comforting to him against the floor. Being a snake gave him a sense of peace and freedom. Tonight, he was heading for only one room, Thor’s. he hadn’t pranked his brother in a month and felt it was necessary to do so now. As he passed one more door until he reached his destination, he heard sniffling and hiccupping coming from the room. Loki’s curiosity got the better of him and he decided to investigate. The room was dark, though he could make out to outline of a person under the blankets, full on sobbing now. Loki carefully manoeuvred his small form up the bedframe to the person. They were shaking and sobbing rather badly now, he moved under the blankets and towards the person.

Loki was now curled around the persons hand that was currently gripping onto their hair harshly, almost of the verge of ripping it out. He started to lick at anything he could noticing quickly they were caught in a panic. Their panic was crashing down on them, making them unable to see him or even recognize he was there. Their breathing was laboured and harsh as if they had just run a marathon. Loki tightened himself around their hand in the hopes the pain would ground them. He relaxed when he heard them yelp, pulling the blankets off themselves to look down at Loki. Loki’s blood ran cold when he saw their face. There you were, tears staining your face and eyes red raw, confusion setting into your features as you looked down at him.

“thanks,” you said, your voice rough from crying. “I probably would still be panicking without you.” To you Loki was simply a snake looking up at you curiously. Currently Loki’s mind was screaming. What if they knew it was him and got mad for eaves dropping, what that why you were talking to him as you would a person? You were racking a shaky hand through your hair now, looking as though you were battling with yourself. Like you wanted to say something, but you were unsure. Loki was starting to look to find a way out when you started to speak again. “Fuck it, it’s not like I can talk to actual people,” you look Loki in the eye. “Plus, its not like a snake can look at me with pity.” Loki was slightly confused now, wondering where you were going with this. “ok, how should I? you know what ill just start from the beginning and see where I go shall we?” you gave Loki an unsure smile, though it further confused Loki to see how genuine it was.

“I have anxiety and depression. Um, I self-harmed, still do sometimes when it gets too much, I-uh- fuck I don’t know” you were looking across the room now, fiddling with your hands trying to explain. Loki curled up on your lap again and decided to wait for you to continue. It might help and he didn’t want to leave you alone like this, no matter how scary you were. “My parents were, well, they were shit. I was the oldest, so I took most of the attacks they handed out, punishments I took most of even if I wasn’t the one at fault. When I turned ten-” you cut yourself off to wipe away the tears pooling around your eyes “Sorry,” you chocked out as more tears made their way down your face. “Just, give me a second”

Loki continued to patiently wait for you to continue. He was honestly intrigued now. Maybe learning about your past could help him form a bridge between you, especially since you always seemed to distance yourself from everyone. He knew everyone needed someone to lean on. The tears had slowed again, you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

“ok, when I turned 14 I was sold off, my parents were fed up of dealing with me and they ripped me away from those I cared about. I was sold at auction from money and given from person to person” your features were changing now, anger contorting your face “I was used as property, a toy, not a person, something people can just own. Used again and again, my innocence ripped from me!” you were yelling now though when you noticed you took a calm breath “sorry. So yes, I was basically a sex toy for gross old men. Though a good thing came from it. When I turned 17, I met a guy called Phoenix. He was, awesome. So genuine, so kind. We were both in this awful situation, but we had each other, we told everything about ourselves to each other and it was a freedom I hadn’t had before them. An actual friend.” The tears had started again but you just wiped them away and continued your story, Loki hadn’t moved yet, frozen in place through the power of your words. “when we were 18, phoenix was taken out the cell one night. Dragged by his hair outside. I remember vividly, we were both crying reaching for each other.” Your hands were clenched in anger now. “THEY SHOT HIM IN THE HEAD RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME!” you looked down at the snake in anger, though when your eyes met you tried to breath again, trying to keep calm. After a few minutes of deep breathes you continued once more. “I guess I could say a piece of me was lost that day, I lost the only thing I had left and I just broke. I was numb, I didn’t move, I didn’t eat, I didn’t do anything. When they found I couldn’t be useful as a sex toy anymore they sold me off again. To Hydra. I was subject 1843.” Loki internally gasped instantly, that was them? When the team had last broken into a Hydra base, he remembered reading something about them.

Subject 1843

Reported missing for 9 months.

Uses; medical chemicals for the next generation of super soldiers

Experimental aid

Stress relief

Loki was brimming with anger now. Everyone on the team backhanded them as a spoilt kid who didn’t like people, they all brushed them off ignoring them most of the time as most hand given up even trying to reach out to them. The only ones who still bothered were Cap and Spider ling, and even then, the interactions were slim to none, asking how their day was, that was about it. They kept to themselves otherwise. Loki remembered Bucky being mad because they spoke up about their past being bad and Bucky instantly being mad that they didn’t know what true pain was like. Yet there they were taking every punch and all that pain, emotional and physical from the team, people who are supposed to care about them and they said nothing.

“I was used as a test subject of sorts, chemicals were tested on me first, if I had a reaction, they didn’t use them. Simple as. I was used in experiments, my body was simply theirs to play around with, that explains the butterfly thing. One chemical reacted with him body and now I can create butterflies, somehow. I don’t mind the butterflies are rather calming. Anyway, when I turned 19, I found a way to escape and never looked back. Now I’m here, in bed having panic attacks and refusing help from actual people” you chuckled to yourself without humour “I’m so messed up inside, it doesn’t feel appropriate to reach out to them now, I’ve been so cruel.” Without thinking Loki shakes his head, then both of you freeze. You look down at him curiously. “You understand me?” Loki decided it better if you know and nods his head. “huh, cool,” you said smiling down at him. “ok then, who do you suggest I spoke to, who do you think I should trust?” Loki looks at them ridiculously for a second. They didn’t get he wasn’t a snake? Either way Loki decided to make his way to his own room as you followed behind him, your feet making a gentle pitter patter on the floor.

When they both arrive at his room Loki quickly dodges in before them and changes back sitting on the bed and reading. When you walk in, he looks up at you, trying not to show he already knew why you were there. You stand there for a second looking around the room, clearly searching for the snake, your hands massaging each other nervously. “I have some stuff I want to tell someone, will you let me talk?”

-------------------------------------------------------time skip------------------------------------------------------------------

Loki sat with your head in his lap, after so much crying that night you had exhausted yourself, you had fallen asleep on his shoulder, but he carefully moved so you were more comfortable. Though it wasn’t much he felt, almost at peace. He noticed you had told snake Loki a lot more than him, but the fact you had even spoken up, to him of all people, filled himself with pride, you trusted your instincts and the snake to speak up finally, and relieve yourself of the burden you had carried for so long. Though now he felt it was only his place to explain to the team. Before you had fallen asleep, he had asked you about it. You explained how you wanted to tell them but couldn’t work up the courage. He asked if you wanted him to do it and he agreed, before you passed out on him. He picked you up, placing you under the covers and called out to Friday. “assemble the team in the kitchen, this is important”

When Loki arrived at the kitchen everyone was there, expect for you. “right let’s get this started,” he said, clapping his hands together. “we have a lot to get through” Thor looked at him with confusion “what is this about?”

“all in due time brother”

“what about Y/N we can’t start without them” Cap said looking as confused as the rest of them.

“Let me explain first talk later, I need you full attention” and with that Loki told them everything you told human him. The team were just as shocked as him by the end of the story. Tony, and Bucky looked the most shocked, knowing full well how often they spoke down to them about them not understanding true pain. Cap and Natasha looked appalled both questioning their morals. The whole group sat in silence for a full five minutes, taking in the information. Being disgusted in themselves for their behaviour, not noticing sooner, not recognizing. If only they did more.

“standing here feeling bad isn’t going to do anything about it,” Clint said. “we’re heroes. We save people, and now its our turn to save a friend. So, stop feeling bad for yourselves, you can’t change the past. Come one, let’s go help them” Clint’s speech seemed to take them out their slump, their eyes regaining their life again and a of justice settling into all of them. Its time to do what they did best. Save other.

Over the course of the next 6 months the whole team was kinder, sure you still pushed them away to begin with, but it was better. Some night Loki still came back to your room as a snake, to calm you from panic attacks, and help you sleep. You and human Loki got closer too, you both ended up liking each other a lot, both finding refuge in each other. When Loki confessed to you, you felt free, like the shackles holding you back were breaking apart, your wings were expanding and you were taking flight, away from the suffering, away from the pain, towards freedom, towards love, towards peace. And when you both kissed for the first time you knew you were truly free.

[missskzbiased]

I Hate That I’m Afraid to Love You (4)

Genre: Romance, Friendship, Angst, Hurt /Confort , Suggestive, Fluff, College Au, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Au, REALLY Slow burn, Love Square (?)

Pairing: Hyunjin X Fem!Reader  X Han X OC

WC: ~ 10,0K

[Previous] [Chap] [Next]

Masterlist

Warnings (general*): Language, Mentions of (Physical abuse, Death/ Loss of Loved One, Child Abandonment/Neglect, Divorce, Toxic Parents, Cancer, Mental disorder, Anxiety Attack, Alcohol, Food), Suggestiveness (?) 

Notes: This Chapter is from Hyunjin’s POV. I like to write in a “self-inserted way”, but in this case. You=Hyunjin lol. I was going to change it but realized that change all this after writing 10K words wasn’t on my plans. So… Yep. In later chapters it will happen again.

Reference to “Losing You” (Wonho)

Also, sorry for the big chap but I had a lot to expose in Hyunjin’s POV since it’s not the usual POV.

Also I didn’t finish reviewing it and I’m sorry. 

REMINDER: I’m neither a psychologist nor a psychology student.

Updates: I’ll update it once a week [Tuesdays] because I still have to write the chapters to come and review the ones I already wrote

                                                      ///

HYUNJIN’S POV

   If there was a single thing you didn’t expect this afternoon it would be a punch, thanks for asking!

   You walked side by side with Chan, wondering what that was all about. You didn’t recall him talking about an older woman who he’s been seeing… Well, if you were fair enough, you didn’t recall him talking about any woman besides Y/N and his therapist. Although judging someone by their appearance wasn’t really right, you couldn’t say the flashy woman looked like a therapist at all. She was beautiful but seemed a little bit off, and Chan was certainly anxious about seeing her.

   Who was she?

   You couldn’t see her eyes, since she was with that huge sunglasses, but you could tell she wasn’t some relative of him. If she wasn’t his relative, his therapist, and obviously she wasn’t Y/N, that could mean just one thing: She was his lover. You didn’t know Chan was into older women, but it could explain a lot since he didn’t double-check anyone in college as far as you noticed…

  Your train of thoughts was promptly interrupted by someone calling you out of nowhere.

  “Hey, Hyunjin!” You heard the male voice that sounded like Han’s, which was pretty surprising. As far as you remember, he and you didn’t talk since… Well, ever. You turned around, confusion written all around your face as you spotted him closer than you expected but still rushing to you, his hand raising promptly.

   His fist met your face midway.

   “-Holy shit!” You heard Chan gasp ─his amused chocked expression registering in your head as your face was pushed to the side with the impact─ before you staggered, balancing yourself with a step back so you wouldn’t fall. You could say a lot of things to Han right now, but you couldn’t say he was weak… What a damn heavy hand! He stood there panting, his enraged eyes shooting your skull as he seemed to wonder if he should give you another blow.

   As much as you wanted to beat his shit up, your startled self reacted poorly.

   “What the fuck, dude?!” You blurted out, your hand shooting to your cheek as your eyes scanned him while he straightened himself after the punch; his scoff sounding annoying to your ears. What the hell was that for? You didn’t think you were an angel nor anything like this, but the bloody guy was single, and as far as you knew you didn’t hook up with anyone he was interested in. Besides, you never even talked to him directly, so why the hell would he punch you?

   “What did you do to her?” He shouted, mad, and you could only look at him as if he had grown a third head, completely oblivious to the reason why he was being a jerk “I asked” He hissed, coming closer to you and grabbing your collar, pulling your face closer to him “What did you do to her?” He spat angrily, his eyes on the level of your own, madly searching for any signs of something you couldn’t put your finger on.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” You asked, grabbing his hand and yanking it away. Han grunted before giving you another unexpected punch, this time leaving a faint ironish taste in your mouth. You staggered again, balancing yourself and running your thumb over the corner of your lips, checking it for blood, looking around to see the crowd slowly forming.

  What a bunch of unoccupied people…

  “You hurt her!” He accused, making you scoff.

   “I don’t even know who you’re talking about, man” You rolled your eyes “Look, if you’re that mad about your girlfriend wanting to fuck me, you should just fuck better” You mocked, fed up with his attitudes. Han came to give you another punch; one that you would gladly respond with a kick if Chan hadn’t held him back, pulling Han away as he struggled to get off of his grip.

   Oh, now he helps!

   “Hey, hey! Hands off from pretty boy” He instructed, making you snort “What the hell, Han?” He asked in disbelief, voice in a hiss as he tried to control the writhing boy.

   “Let me go, Chan!” He hissed “You call yourself her friend?! You let this asshole hook up with your friend when you know he’s a fuckboy that can’t keep his dick in his pants when he sees any fucking woman around?!” Oh! Of course, it was about her! You couldn’t help but laugh at his face, amused by the ridiculous situation.

   “Let him go, Chan! Let him come… I’ve already fought other jealous boyfriends before… Although when I asked her, she was so eager to deny any relationship with you…” You looked in his eyes, smirking, and you could see he was more than ready to come for you.

   You enjoyed the feeling of power running through your veins.

  “You couldn’t get her with that face of yours so you tried to damage mine? What a shame, baby boy… It’s not my fault if she ogled me when you were right beside her” You shrugged, looking at him pitifully “If it makes you feel any better when she asked me to go to my place I said no… She isn’t really my type” You smiled sarcastically, seeing Han struggling to get out again, urging to hit you.

    “You’re a piece of shit, Hyunjin!” He yelled “You don’t deserve her” He hissed, and although seeing him struggling was amusing, you were getting quite confused. When the hell did it look like you had something with her? There must be something missing, some piece to complete that puzzle… “You shouldn’t have made her cry!”

    You shouldn’t have her doing what now?

    “Let me go, Chan! Let me beat the crap out of him!” He added, Chan frowned worried by his words, looking at you with lost eyes. You straightened up, dusting off your clothes, and smiled obnoxiously at Han before you eyed Chan smugly.

   “That’s enough” Chan said harshly, his voice cold and sharp, “Hyunjin, stop provoking him… Han, stop acting like you’re her boyfriend or something” He pushed him away, making the boy stumbles before fixing his posture and looking angrily at the both of you “Where is she right now? Did you see her with anyone before? Are you sure she was crying?” He asked worried, and your brain clicked in realization.

   Of course! You were so dumb… The flashy woman had something to do with Y/N.

   It couldn’t be a coincidence.

   You recalled how Chan took the woman away to talk, behaving secretively as he pointed some directions to her, which made you believe he was going to meet her there, away from the eyes. It was kinda suspicious and it could have been some kind of secret affair, but it wouldn’t explain why he seemed so anxious and on edge, calling some people on his phone. Especially since you overheard him calling his family’s Hospital, which was pretty weird. He seemed worried as hell as he asked you to stay still, running for dear life to the opposite side of his directions to the lady, calling someone else on his phone while he did it…

   Indeed, you were so dumb.

   So that lady was related to Y/N somehow, and in a way that made her cry about something… Interesting. You avoided her during your classes ─planning to do it until she forgot about her lucky strike that allowed her to get close to your deepest insecurities─, and expecting her not to follow you bombing you with her intrusive questions, which she didn’t. Now, everything was different. You had an ace up your sleeve, you had a weakness of her, and you intended using it for the best.

   You were the one making the calls now.

                                                                    ////

   You called Chan about ten times already.

   You laid down on the couch, head resting on the pillow and arms raised so you could check your phone. Your eyes wandered around the messages, looking at the time and at the door, expecting Chan to come in at any moment.

   You were doing this for about three hours now.

   You sighed, bored, resting your phone on your chest and fixing your gaze on the ceiling, trying to weigh your options. Of course, you didn’t need to know Y/N’s story. You weren’t interested in her at all, but she was interested in you and you should be prepared for anything… She hated you. You never quite understood why she didn’t like you, but you knew since day one that she wasn’t fond of you at all ─ that only being confirmed by her complaining to Chan, right behind your back. You had to admit that teasing her was funny, though. Every time you could mock her about something you knew she would get upset you did, because it was amusing to see her cold stare at you, ripping your limbs one by one.

   She was weird.

   You have heard about her from Chan before, of course, she being his best friend and the reason why he searched for help… Chan considered her as a goddess or something like this but to you; she was nothing but a whining little girl that couldn’t handle a fuckboy around… Just a goody-two-shoe.

  That was also was the best type to tease.

  Maybe someday she would just beg for you to corrupt her.

  You laughed at the thought. There was no way in hell she would beg for you to do anything; it would be easier for her to chop her arm off than asking you for a hand. You didn’t understand why she hated you so much, though. She certainly met other fuckboys in her life; she couldn’t hate all of them with all her might, right? She couldn’t hate you because you were rich either; she was best friends with Chan, for lord’s sake! You knew she hated when you got better grades than her, but it couldn’t be about being the best, because she didn’t seem to mind it when other people overcome her…

  She was a puzzle.

  Maybe she was always interested in you and was trying to get your attention.

  The door opened slowly; your eyes shooting to watch as Chan came inside, looking contemplative as he locked the door and glanced at you on the couch, his eyebrow arching inquisitively. You picked up your phone and checked the time before sitting down on the couch and looking at him confused.

   “You don’t have classes today, why did you show up so late?” Chan averted his eyes, thinking about what he should answer, and you took it as a clue “Were you with Y/N?” You asked slyly, his eyes laying on you again.

   “I was studying at the library” He said shortly “Why do you care?”

   “I want to ask you a few things” You shrug him off, crossing your arms and tilting your head as you looked in his eyes “Who was that woman today?”

   “That’s none of your business” He stated bluntly, just like Chan always did when he didn’t want to give you much information. It was crystal clear he was hiding something from you and it did have something to do with the strange woman “What is it? Watching too much gossip girls lately?” He mocked, trying to change the subject.

   “How does she relate to Y/N?” You decided to play your cards; Chan twitched uncomfortably “Why did she cry about her?” You added, watching as his eyes turned ice cold and a stern look took over his face.

  “When she asked me about your problems I didn’t say anything. I hope you understand that I will do the same now” You nodded, getting his point but not planning to back off just yet. You got up from the couch, wandering around. Chan eyed you closely, knowing you wouldn’t trail off like this.

  “It’s just that it must be pretty serious if she even cried about this… I was wondering if she was fine” You smiled sickeningly sweet, making Chan scoff “Maybe I could help her out…”

  “Yeah, right” He nodded sarcastically “I didn’t see you were so interested in her before, maybe I should give you her number? Do you want me to set up a blind date or something?” He mocked, grimacing at you.

   “I’m not interested” You rolled your eyes “She’s not really my type”

    “So why are you so interested in her wellbeing? Look, I know you like to have the upper hand, Hyunjin, and I know you’re anxious with her knowing you have some kind of dark past or whatever she is thinking right now… But I won’t give you anything to use against her” He patted your shoulder, trying to be comprehensive before you swapped his hand away “Y/N is far more important to me than you and I will not hesitate a bit before standing by her side if you try to be a jerk to her” He said sternly, his eyes burying into yours.

    “You wouldn’t” You muttered, Chan gave you a half-hearted laugh in response.

    “You have to understand that I don’t own you anything, Hyunjin…“ He stated seriously “We’re friends and we went through a lot together… I was there for you when you needed, Hyunjin… I don’t intend to leave you behind, but you can’t just do whatever you want and think I will stand by your side” You averted your eyes, ashamed.

   You knew Chan was right. He didn’t own you anything nor needed to be by your side at all costs, but it still hurt that he would say that to you like that. You had the chance to be by his side when he needed, just like he did to you, and you were utterly useless, just as expected… It was obvious he would be far more grateful to Y/N than you, after all, she was the one who connected to him, pointed out he needed help, made him search for a therapist, and got him out of a dark place he was drowning since forever.

  It still made you mad though.

  If you were fair, maybe you didn’t tease her just because it was fun… Maybe you hated her back, maybe you wanted to see her struggle once in a while, maybe you wanted to see her not being the perfect doll she tried to be… Maybe you were just jealous, maybe you weren’t really trying to defend yourself from her, and maybe you were trying to hurt her because she was a threat to you… She was exactly what Chan needed by his side, and it was the only thing you couldn’t outdo her even if you had all the money in the world, even if you worked your ass off, even if you wanted it from the bottom of your heart. You just couldn’t exceed her in the only thing that really mattered to you.

    Your only friend would drop you without a second thought if it meant to protect her.

    You knew you were being childish trying to hurt her just because, trying to gather her weakness so that you could use it against her… You were handling your problems in the only way you were taught to do. The truth was that Mr.Lee was right, you were afraid of a lot of things and you couldn’t move on. You were stuck in the past. And your past could hurt, just like you.      

 “I’m afraid she will use my past against me…” You whispered under your breath, but Chan heard it anyway “I don’t want anyone spreading my past around” You admitted.

   “I don’t understand what’s the big deal” He stated “People die, Hyunjin… People die all the time, and a lot of people lost loved ones before, you know? You won’t be the first… It’s not your fault he died, and it’s not your fault your mother is a sly bitch” You laughed at that, agreeing.

   “She is indeed a sly bitch… I know it wasn’t my fault, but I don’t think you understand it… He was young… He was so young” You gulped, your throat burning as you tried to control your voice and the tears that wanted to make their way to your eyes “I can’t handle the pity looks and all the questions all over again, ok? I can’t handle the fact that it should have been me” As soon as those words left your lips you felt your eyes burning, voice cracking. You rubbed your eyes so the tears wouldn’t fall and turned your face to the side, avoiding Chan’s gaze.

     “Just because you were the older brother, Hyunjin? It wasn’t an accident! It wasn’t irresponsibility! It was cancer, for lord’s sake!” Chan uttered, frustrated “It shouldn’t be you! You couldn’t control it! You have to understand you fear something that was out of your grip! You can’t keep holding onto it until you die!” His words were harsh, but you knew he was right.

    Of course, you knew but you couldn’t just act on it.

     “Sorry” You blurted out, not really knowing what were you apologizing for. You just did it out of reflex, just like when you were a kid, afraid anything you did would push him away. Chan sighed, defeated, holding both of your shoulders as he waited for you to look into his eyes. You looked at him ─ hurt written all over your face─ before he pulled you into a hug.

    “No, I’m the one who’s sorry… You should take your time to handle it, I’m just tired and I didn’t think before speaking” He admitted, breaking away from you “Today was a long day, I have a lot going on my mind and it’s no excuse to vent my frustrations on you. You’re not replaceable, Hyunjin, you’re my friend too. I like your presence, I even moved in with you!” He smiled, patting your shoulder “It’s just that a very dear friend is facing something hurtful right now, and I can’t do anything about it… I’m overwhelmed” He sighed and you patted his shoulder back.

   “That’s okay, you suck… Not everyone can be like me” You joked, making him snort and shake his head astonished “I’m sorry too, I should have known you were overwhelmed, of course, you would be when your best friend is going through… Well, whatever she is going through” You shrugged “I shouldn’t have pushed you” You added, smiling apologetically to him.

   “That’s enough, you’ll make me throw up” Chan feigned a disgusted expression, pushing you away lightly and heading to his room, stopping at the doorframe before turning his head to you again “Try to not upset her too much this week” He asked, making you nod.

  “I’ll only see her Friday now” You stated “I’m not going to upset her until then, can’t promise I won’t upset her in classes, though”

                                                              //////

   You couldn’t help but bit your lip and narrow your eyes as you watched Mr.Lee smiling.

   Not only he thought it would be a good idea to make you guys write an essay about the feelings you choose and how could you relate to them (which was a terrible idea, if anyone would ask you, but whatever) but he also thought it would be a good idea to make you guys discuss it in trios. Okay, you weren’t an expert professor but you would say it was bullshit, which was why you were looking at him, incredulous. It wasn’t really pleasant to write about your issues, especially after you argued with Chan on Tuesday, but it would be even worse to talk about it with a trio you didn’t even know! What the hell was going through his head?!

   “I know you guys must be feeling betrayed, and I hope we can get over it later” He said, smiling to you all “But after reading your essays, I figured we could have a good development by discussing it… Of course, I know you wouldn’t be comfortable to discuss it out loud in a class, so the best way to do it was to form groups so you could discuss it as privately as possible” He stated, his eyes connected with yours for a fraction of second, and you were sure he could feel you roasting him inside your mind.

   “We shouldn’t feel obliged to do it! It’s personal information” You heard Y/N utter, which was pretty impressive since she usually behaved really quietly and respectfully with all the professors. Mr.Lee seemed to notice it too, but he just smiled apologetically to her, as if pity would solve anything.

   “I understand how you feel, but I hope you understand that’s exactly how a patient feels when they trust you with their deepest insecurities about themselves… It’s not an easy task, I know, but you signed up for this course knowing that I don’t rate any of you by useless tests, so you can’t say it’s really unexpected, right?” He shrugged. What a jerk! You eyed Y/N, watching as she shrank in her seat, not really having anything to say back to him “I organized your groups, and before anyone asks it, I know it sounds unfair, but I had my reasons to organize it as I did” What a great and understanding person! You rolled your eyes, pissed off “I’m going to call each of your groups and you’ll be dismissed for today so you can organize yourselves, okay?” He picked up a paper, starting to call some students.

   So he thought it would be a good idea to put three useless young adults to discuss some serious issues… Really great. As far as you understand your new task, one of you would be the psychologist of the group, having the access to both of the other members' essays and would have to try to help them out as much as possible, but the others could only read the psychologist essay… Okay, why did he come up with that? It was utterly ridiculous. Your mindless rambles were interrupted by his voice calling your name.

   “Hyunjin, Y/N, and Paris” He announced, looking at you, and then at them.

   Great.

   Your eyes met Y/N’s, both of your extremely aware you would have to… Share your insecurities, Paris darting her eyes between you two with a worried look. You stood up first, going to their desk and waiting for them as they wiped their things into their bags and stood up, following you out of class.

   “You won’t be the psychologist” Y/N stated as soon as you got to the stairs, stopping in her tracks, you and Paris turned around to look at her “I don’t want you to read my essay”

   “Fair enough, you can’t be the psychologist either, since you don’t want me to read your essay” You reminded her “I don’t have any objections, I don’t want to be the psychologist and I don’t want you to read my essay either” You agreed before looking at Paris.

   “So that means I’m the psychologist?” She asked surprised “Oh… That will be fun” She stated sarcastically, sighing right after “I don’t mind you reading about my life, so I think that’s fair enough” She agreed, eyeing both of you in wonder “I will need to read your essays, you can send me an email, I will send mine to you two… Should we set a date so we can discuss it?”

   “I think the best-case scenario would be if you discussed our essay in private… And we both can discuss yours together, since we have to analyze you and you have to analyze us” Y/N suggested, seeming to think through a lot of options in her head “The first step would be to speak about your situation, so we can understand you better when you analyze us… It will give you time to read our essays too since you have a lot more to work on, and then you can talk to us and analyze us! In the end, we can write what we thought we learned from each other… I think that will be good enough” She proposed, looking at you.

   “I agree with whatever you say” You shrugged “I think we should do it at my place, so Chan can keep an eye on us” You suggested, making them snort, and you let a smile crackle “It’s more private too, and I don’t think the point is to discuss Paris’ essay in front of her, so…” You added, getting a nod back.

   “I agree, I think it’s a good idea” She stated, and you couldn’t help but stare at her in awe “What? What is it?” She asked uncomfortably.

   “I would never dare to dream you would agree with me one day” You joked, making Paris laugh and Y/N give you a small smile “Should we do it today? Paris can email us right now” You suggested, but Y/N shook her head.

  “No, I have work today… Are you free tomorrow?” She asked, and you nodded, thinking about mock her by saying it was a date, but you refrained yourself. Now that you would have to work together, it would be better if you tuned out a bit of your teasing for a while.

  “Sounds good to me” You agreed “Guess I will see you tomorrow then… Hm… Have a nice day?” You cringed, looking at them unsurely as the three of you seemed awkward with each other. You went down the stairs, waving goodbye on the last step and heading to your car. If it was this awkward to set a date for your project, imagine discussing it alone… It would be embarrassing.

                                                                /////

    The bell rang loudly, a persistent noise hanging in the air annoyingly.

     “Coming!” You yelled, already pissed off with that project. Y/N suggested you both to meet at 10 AM, which wasn’t exactly the time you hoped to study on a Saturday. Actually, you would prefer to not study at all on a Saturday but it was already too late to back away. As soon as you got in the living room, you saw Chan opening the door, an annoyed frown on his face.

    “You don’t need to hold the damn thing” He complained, getting out of her way so she could come into your place, the peaceful silence finally reaching your ears. She looked sleepy and pissed off just as much as you, her clothes were baggy and kinda old, probably her pajamas for the night judging the wrinkles and her messy hair, dark circles adorning her eyes “Also, what the hell are you doing here this early? Did you come to beat Hyunjin up too?” He rolled his eyes, clearly too upset and too tired to think about what he said.

   “No, Hyunjin should have told you that I would come to do our proj—“ Her sentence was cut abruptly by herself, her brows shooting up with surprise and amusement “What did you just say? Someone beat him up?” She laughed, more satisfied than she should be in your opinion but anyway, her eyes came to you, analyzing your face for a bit before wandering around your body, looking for dark spots anywhere.

   “First of all: I wasn’t beaten up! He punched me twice, don’t twist the facts!” You whined, Chan chuckling at your poor defense “ And you don’t need to pretend to look my bruises all over my body, sweetheart, you can just check me out if you want” You smirked to her, getting off on her inaudible grumbling, her mouth moved to mock the way you talk, a grimace over her face.

   “Well, for what I counted, he hit you twice and you didn’t hit him at all, so I rate this as you being beaten up by Han” Chan joked, laughing at your peeved expression before paling up, his eyes widening and trailing back to Y/N, sensing he had messed up.

   “What? Han beat you up? Why?” She asked genuinely surprised. Well, Han wasn’t known for picking up fights, he was actually a good boy from the volleyball team, never heard him doing anything wrong in these years of college, so how could you simply say he hit you because he thought you were the one who made her cry and not the flashy woman? Well, you couldn’t.

   “I guess he couldn’t get the girl with his face so he came to damage mine” She looked disgusted at you as you tried to maintain your smug facade until she walked to the hall, shaking her head in disbelief. The best thing about Y/N was that she was predictable, so every time you needed to dismiss her or change the subject you just blurted anything obnoxious and she would give up on you.

   You smiled relieved behind her back, winking at Chan that was thanking you in silence.

   She waited in front of your door, giving enough space for you to reach for it but not daring to open it without your permission. You rolled your eyes at her antics, opening the door and coming in, asking her to close it when she followed you, her eyes analyzing everything at display. You sat at your chair, spinning it in front of your desk once, waiting for her to take her place on your bed but she didn’t.

  She stood there looking conflicted.

  “I hope you’re aware that it doesn’t mean we will fuck” She said out of nowhere and it took everything inside you not to burst out laughing, so you just looked at her, your lips quivering slightly as you tried to stay serious “I know what sitting on a man’s bed can mean, and If you come any closer to me than necessary I’m going to rip your dick off” her eyes buried into yours and she sounded too serious to be joking, although you didn’t really believe she could just rip off something from your body. At least you hoped she couldn’t.

   “If you consider that I’m only one man and tons of girls slept there, maybe you can see it as a woman’s bed?” You suggested, and she rolled her eyes before giving up on you just as you predicted, finally sitting on your bed, struggling to get to your wall so she could rest her back there. You suppressed a chuckle, watching as she squirmed for cluttering your bed, her eyes darting to you to check if you would get upset “That’s fine, although I didn’t picture you as the clumsy and messy type” You joked, trying to light up the mood.

   “I’m not clumsy, your bed is too big for me” She whined, embarrassed, masking her blush by searching something around her bag for a while before getting her laptop, opening it so she could write what she wanted “Well, Mr.Lee sent us a guide. Did you see it?” She seemed uncomfortable, her shoulders shrunken and body too stiff. You deduced that was her way to break the ice, so you just played along.

   “No, did you?” She nodded, her eyes focused on her screen, looking for the archive. She tapped the touchpad, satisfied with herself, her eyes wandering around quickly on her screen before she shot her head up and looked at you.

   “Well, let’s begin with our full names” She said, typing fastly. You opened your mouth to give her your full name but she shot her brow up as she scoffed “Please, I know your full name! We’ve been sharing classes through all these years” She rolled her eyes but you were taken by surprise. You didn’t expect her to know your name at all “Okay, next… Who is the psychologist? Paris” She mumbled, typing it “Hm… Why did we choose her?” She looked at you in wonder.

   “Well, because we clearly don’t trust each other” You both snorted at the same time, your eyes meeting for a split of a second before you cleared your throat, agitated “But I guess we can’t write it down…” She looked at her screen for a while, thinking, before she shrugged it off and looked at you.

   “We can answer it later… Maybe we can say she volunteered? But why did we accept it? I’m the one who wants to be a psychologist… He’ll know we’re lying” She sighed “Or I can say I didn’t think I could help you? But I didn’t even know your story yet…” She was rambling already, worried about what to write down. You watched as she talked nonsense, quirking your brow as she finally seemed to find a worthwhile answer “I can say we didn’t feel like we could be helpful! You’re clearly… Hm… Troublesome” She tipped around, making you scoff “And I can say I didn’t feel reliable enough” She looked pleased with her answer, so she wrote it down before eyeing you unsurely “That’s okay with you?”

     “Yeah, it sounds okay” You agreed, relaxing into your chair. So she was willing to do all the work… You rested your feet on your bed, the sudden move startling her as she wrote, which she showed by glaring at you before resuming to her writing “Did you read Paris’ essay?” You decided to ask, she raised her eyes to meet yours and both of you felt uneasy for a moment “Hm… Did you know all that?” You decided to ask, she shook her head.

   You never really talked to Paris about important or serious stuff, so it should be no surprise that you didn’t know anything about her life. Even so, you didn’t expect her to have a sad past at all since she always looked so giggly and bubbly… You just assumed she had a good life, good parents. You could never imagine your mother being strong as hers, supportive and protective like that, giving you so much love that you would grow to be… Well, like Paris.

   “Her mother is pretty impressive” You decided to say, because you thought so, expecting it to be a neutral subject for the both of you “I mean, you have to be really strong to walk away from an abusive relationship like this” You added when Y/N didn’t spare you a glance, too lost in her own mind “Especially to protect your child… I… I could never imagine someone being able to give so much love” You tried again, frustrated with the silence in the air.

   “Yeah… She’s pretty impressive” She agreed absent-mindedly “Walk away from something requires a lot of courage… I can only imagine how she felt lost when she did it” You eyed her weirdly. You wouldn’t say that walk away from someone who beats you up, controls you, and abuses you psychologically was hard at all. She seemed to notice your frown, speaking up quickly “I mean, leave something behind will always be hard, right? Even the harmful ones” You nodded, agreeing with her.

   “Can you imagine how her life would be if she was raised by her dad?” You didn’t know why you felt that urge to try to keep a conversation with her. Maybe it was because you needed to work together to get that ridiculous project done in two weeks, or maybe it was because you needed to vent about your thoughts. Would you be like Paris if you stayed with your dad? Would she be like you if she didn’t have someone to look after her?

   “I’m sure she wouldn’t be Paris” Y/N looked at you, stopping her typing “I mean, you can’t possibly grow up and turn into Paris if you have someone constantly bringing you down… Right?” It was a strange feeling, like the both of you wanted to say something but were afraid to let out your thoughts. You sensed she was uncomfortable, probably worried to be caught red-handed by you, since she didn’t think you were trustworthy enough to vent. You nodded, deciding to drop the subject for now, not wanting to share your insecurities either. Clearly, neither of you had ‘be vulnerable to the one person you didn’t really wanna open your heart for’ in your to-do list.

   “So, I guess we’ll say she did well, right? I mean, she had a traumatized mother that took control over her life for a long time… She could have done so much worse! I mean, Paris is a sweet girl” Y/N quirked a brow at you, clearly interested in the way you just described her friend “Oh, please!” You rolled your eyes “You know what I mean! She had everything to be like… I don’t know, me” She snorted at you, her face showed a controlled amusement.

   “I don’t know if she could get that bad” She joked, averting her eyes to her screen as you looked at her in disbelief, the twist of her lips noticeable, although she tried to hide it. Okay, it was the strangest thing that ever happened to you. Did Y/N just make a joke? Okay, a joke about you… But still! She didn’t even look at you smugly. Before you could retort, she spoke up again “Anyway, I think we could work on it. You do have a point, her mother used to be really controlling but I don’t think Paris is like this, and I live with her for a long time. I think it’s clear that her stepfather’s love was essential for her mother but why didn’t she hold a grudge against her?”

   “Maybe she’s right… Maybe love heals all things” You shrugged “It’s not like her mother didn’t love her before, she just expressed it awfully, and when she finally succeeds in expressing it healthily to her, Paris got better?” You suggested unsurely, both of you seeming to think about it. Actually, if you thought about it, if your mother had shown you something along the way maybe you could feel better. Maybe you wouldn’t hold a silly grudge towards your best friend’s best friend… Maybe you wouldn’t fear being rejected and actually start some kind of healthy relationship.

    Yeah, right.

    “Well, I guess? I mean, I can’t really relate… If I was her, I wouldn’t just forgive my mother like this after all the problems she had caused” She didn’t look you in the eyes, her eyes focused on the screen, refusing to move “I mean, her mother took her life away from her, right? She couldn’t go out, she couldn’t meet anyone, and she couldn’t hang with any friends… I understand it’s her father’s fault and her mother was just… Well, lost in her mind… But I would have liked to have those things” She seemed frustrated, the tap of her fingers were hovering over the board, unmoving “I mean, if I was her” She added suddenly, her eyes darting to you.

   “Well, I can’t relate either” You agreed “I lived my life just fine, my mother didn’t stop me from doing anything at all” Actually, she should have tried to stop you a bunch of times but she never did “So I can’t understand how she felt but I guess knowing her mother loved her and did it because she loved her and was afraid someone could hurt her… Well, it seems like it was enough to Paris” You shrugged “I think if someone showed me love like this I would forgive them too, wouldn’t you? I mean, her mother ran away from home, she had to take care of her pregnant self and then of her baby all alone… I don’t think I could hold any grudges for someone so invested in my well-being” Y/N looked at you impressed.

   It was more than obvious she didn’t think you had any depth to your brain and soul.

   “Yeah, maybe you’re right” She agreed “How could she be angry with someone that helped her that much, right? Even if they made some mistakes… What’s important is that she was doing this for them, she took care of her how she could, right?” She smiled at you, apparently glad by her trail of thoughts, and you nodded, watching as she typed fastly, regaining her focus.

   “Yeah, it’s not like her mother abandoned her or something” You scoffed, missing the way her fingers faltered for a moment “Maybe if she just let her by herself all her life or neglected her, right? I think she raised her as well as she could, it was a good thing she didn’t stay with her father, I think her mother is a real warrior” You smiled to her but Y/N stood serious, her frown growing as she typed everything.

   The moment was awkward, to say the least.

   You watched her as she typed the things, wondering if you should offer some help with something. You retreated your legs from the bed but she didn’t spare you a glance, and you both stood like this, in silence, just the hitting of her fingers on the keys, and from time to time your uneasy coughing that didn’t appear to disturb her. After what seemed to be hours, she finally raised her eyes to you, her fingers stopping their motions, a tired sigh leaving her lips.

   “I can’t stay much longer, I have other essays to do” She confessed “It’s almost noon anyway, so I think it’s good, right? We’ll have to meet at least one more time to adjust somethings and discuss it better” She closed her laptop, putting it back in her bag “Also, I think discussing some things with Paris may help us to see things clearer… I guess we done enough for the day?” You nodded at her, getting up from your chair and waiting for her to get up from your bed.

  As soon as she got up, she tried to tidy your bed, an uneasy expression on her face as she struggled to fix the fitted sheets. You suppressed a smile, amused by how it made her upset, turning around when you heard the crackling sound of the door opening to see a curious Chan leaning his upper body inside your room, tilting his head to the scene, a mischievous smile spreading in his face.

   “Hm… Care to explain why are you fixing his bed, Sweety?” His voice sounded so suggestive that Y/N stopped in her tracks, turning her head around, a grimace on her face “Don’t look at me like that! You had it coming!” He laughed as she straightened herself, looking for something probably to toss at him “I’m here to invite you to eat with us” He said quickly as soon as she got her pencil case from her bag.

   “You don’t cook” She narrowed her eyes, suspicious of him, her pencil case going back to her bag “Also, I’m fixing it because I’m a polite guest, unlike some of my friends that mess my room and let it be” She scoffed, looking at him. He smiled sheepishly, shrugging as he turned his back to us, making his way to the living room.

   “I ordered some food, you ungrateful brat” He whined, raising his voice so you would still listen to him “Take it or leave it” She smiled to herself, finally getting the sheets right and picking up her bag. You followed her, meeting Chan at the table, a smug grin on his face.

   “You know I can’t say no to free food” She joked, sitting across him. Chan gestured to a chair so you would sit down, your eyes trailed to Y/N before a sigh left your lips. You sat next to Chan, helping him to uncover the food, so all of you could eat together. You felt strange having your not-so-friendly-partner sat down across you, having lunch like it was normal for you to hang out. Of course, you had meals with her often when you had lunch with Chan but it was never under your roof.

   It just felt strange to have her over like this.

                                                            ////

   Paris gestured to the couch, crossing her legs before adjusting her fake glasses.

  “You gotta be kidding me” You sat down anyway, watching her getting more comfortable on her chair, supporting her notebook in front of her like a clipboard, a pencil behind her ear. She took the pencil and spun it a few times, looking at you as you laid down on the couch, looking at the ceiling, feeling silly.

  “Do I look like an amateur?” You couldn’t help but laugh before turning your eyes to her, she grinned satisfied, taking off her glasses and resting them on the table “I’m just kidding, I thought it could help to break the ice” She opened her notebook, reading something while she bit her pencil, pensive “Well, I read your essay and I must say we have a lot to talk about” She admitted.

  “You’re really into the character” You joked, her eyes darted to you, a small smile on her lips before she nodded “What do you want to talk about, Doc?” She laughed at this, her pencil tapping her lips twice before she spun it again.

   “I think we should begin with your brother” Her tone was cautious, and your mood dropped immediately, a sigh leaving your lips “As far as I understand, everything began there, right? Do you care to talk about it? I know you wrote it down but I want to hear it from you… It’s different when we hear something and when we read it. Sometimes lyrics seem to change when you just sing it in a different way” You looked at her, impressed with her words. You did feel different when you were writing all you had to say. You felt barely anything. As if it didn’t matter. As if you didn’t miss him at all.

   But you did.

   “He… Well, he died at a young age” You started unsurely, your eyes focused on the ceiling “He had cancer” You added, eyes meeting hers for a split of a second, eager to see her reaction, to see if she pitied you like everyone that had found out but she stood there, reassuring eyes looking at you, motivating you to continue “He didn’t make it” You cursed at yourself. Of course, he didn’t make it, he was dead.

   “That’s okay, take your time” She said after you sighed, feeling exhausted already “Do you want me to play a song for you?” She asked suddenly, taking you by surprise. You frowned at her, astonished at her random question, nodding mindlessly, too lost to think about what to answer. She got up, going away for a minute and coming back with a ukulele, playing some song you didn’t really recognize but sounded sad enough “…Cuz losing me is better than losing you, ah… Don’t you know that I would die for you? If I knew that you would make it through… Cuz losing me is better than losing you, ah…”

   “Are you trying to make me cry?” You asked, tearing up, and she stopped her strumming, looking at you “I mean, I get it! I lost my brother! He was way too young for this!” You didn’t realize you were yelling until you felt your lungs burning, your eyes widening as you ranted. Your throat hurt as you tried to hold back your tears. Your heart seemed to sink in your chest as if your pain and grief could drag you down.

   As if the only thing that held your body until now was your pain.

  “I think that’s how your heart sounds right now, so I sang it” She said it like it was nothing; like she didn’t just open a scar on your heart. You wanted to get up and storm out of there but you didn’t. You just stood there, holding your tears back, fixing your gaze on the ceiling with all you had in you “Do you think you’re like this because your brother died?” You shut your eyes, breathing heavily.

   “What do you mean? I’m like what? A fuckboy? Yeah! I just fuck people around because my brother is dead!” You scoffed “That must be it! You would be a great psychologist!” You sat up, ready to go away. You couldn’t take that shit. You would be going to Professor Lee and tell him to get his shit together because he couldn’t be doing this kind of essay with a bunch of undergraduates as if they knew what they were doing.

   “Do you blame him?” She asked out of nowhere and you shoot her a glare, anger filling you up “Do you blame him for dying? Do you blame him for the divorce?” You could just slap her right now but you didn’t, you looked at her bewildered, unsure if you should laugh at her stupidity or if you should just go “Do you blame him for the divorce?” She repeated, her eyes cold as ice, burying into yours.

   “How can I blame him? Are you stupid?” You got up, ready to go away but as soon as you reached the door, and you stopped in your tracks, turning around “You know what? You’re dumb! Do you think you’re a real psychologist or something? What the hell are you thinking right now?” She didn’t seem affected by your outburst at all, looking at you calmly before speaking.

   “I think you miss him” She said, her fingers strumming the ukulele again “I think he was too young to die, and I think it scares you… I think your mother is a bitch…” She looked at you in the eyes, serious as you never saw her “And I think you’re too afraid of death to allow yourself to connect with someone, so when you face a conversation like this you prefer to run away instead of talking about your fear”

   It would hurt less if she just slapped you in the face.

  “I think you should mind your own business…” You muttered, embarrassed, and she snorted, getting up from her chair, leaving her ukulele there, resting her hand on the hand you had on the doorknob, eyes concerned.

  “You’re my business until we finish that essay” She reminded you, patting your back “And I think you need to vent about your mother… I think you have to mourn your brother’s death… I’m not a psychologist but I can be your friend, Hyunjin, I can hear you out” This time when your eyes met, you felt soft inside, strangely touched by her words, wishing to stay and talk.

   “I don’t blame him… He fought against it the best he could, he did all he could” You muttered, breaking the silence, and her hand squeezed your shoulder to encourage you to keep talking, you let go from the doorknob “And I know I couldn’t change it even if I tried, I’m not dumb… It’s just that I wished it was me” You sighed, feeling the tears prickling your eyes.

   “Why? Do you want to die?” You rolled your eyes at her, face morphing into a fed-up grimace “Well, that’s basically what you’re saying to me” She pointed out, insulted by your expression, “Would it be better if it was you? I think your brother wouldn’t be happy to be raised by your mother!”

   “Are you saying it’s good my brother died?” You asked amused, her mouth agape, shocked that you would even say something like this.

  “No! I’m saying you’re suffering and if you switched places with him, he would be the one suffering right now. Is that what you want? Maybe you should say that you wished he was here… Not that it was you” Her voice was kind when she said it, and she finally let go of your shoulder, walking back to her chair, you followed her, sitting on the couch again “When you say that you wished it was you, it sounds like you don’t think you matter at all… I mean, do you think Chan would be happy without you? Because I think you matter to him, you know?”

   “Well, I know I matter to him…” You agreed, pondering if you should add your thoughts. You looked at Paris, who seemed unjudging, waiting for you to say whatever you had in mind, and sighed “… But I think Y/N is more important to him” You added, averting your eyes. You rooted your eyes on the ground, fingers intertwined, supporting your chin as you waited for a reaction, the silence growing heavy, making you feel more and more ashamed.

   Your eyes shot up when you heard her snort.

   “I can’t believe it! Is that why you pick on her so much?! You’re jealous?” She burst out laughing, holding her stomach as she tried to recompose herself, her fake psychologist facade going down the drain as she grunted like a pig, unable to control her laughing. She just lost it. You twitched uncomfortably, shy about her reaction.

   “I wouldn’t call it jealou—“ You tried to say but she interrupted you promptly.

   “Oh, but I would!” She wiped a tear from the corner of her eyes, sighing pleased with the news “So you don’t hate her… That’s nice, actually. I think you two are a good match, you know? I’m not shipping you guys, don’t get me wrong” She rolled her eyes as you grimaced, disgusted by her suggestion “I mean that you guys have a lot more in common than you think… I really think that if you guys bonded, you would benefit from this relationship” She confessed, looking at you in deep thought “Maybe I should try to establish a truce between you two? I promise both of you will evolve a lot if you guys just talk about your feelings, I think you will feel found”

   You laughed at the thought.

   It was absurd.

   “There’s no way in hell we could be friends” You waved your hand, shrugging off the idea “Even if I wasn’t jealous, which I’m not! Really! I don’t think she would like to share anything with me” You snorted, Paris had to be delusional “She hates me” You added, more serious now. She made an unreadable expression, tightening her lips as she weighted what she was going to say.

   “Does she really? I think both of you are childish and blind… I’ll make you get along, you can write it down! Both of you need each other, you have a lot to learn together” She seemed obstinate; eyes sparking with determination “Now, let’s get back to you!” She crossed her legs again, taking her notebook and preparing herself to write things down “What do you want to say to me right now?”

  “That you look ridiculous” You joked, laughing as she stuck her tongue out for you “Well… I think you should write about my mother in your part of the project” You suggested “The thing is that she doesn’t care about me, she didn’t care about my brother and she was a bitch to my father… I just feel I can’t rely on her, and it makes me feel vulnerable” You never thought you would say this out loud, especially to Paris. She took her notes, thinking deeply about what you were saying before looking at you again.

   “Why do you think she was a bitch? You didn’t write it in your essay… I was wondering what she did before. Why did she get divorced?” She asked, unsure if you would be comfortable talking about this, and you shrugged, sighing.

   “She cheated on my dad while my brother was in the hospital” You summed it up, chuckling at her flabbergasted expression “Yeah… She cheated on him and didn’t support us at all, she just let my father alone with me and my ill brother, so… Well, yeah… She is rich and the mother, so the judge obviously thought I would be better off with her, and here I am now” You extended your arms in a dramatic gesture, gesturing at yourself with your palms up “She just thinks she can buy anything and it will be alright” You shrugged.

   “Wow, your mother sounds awful” She blurted, widening her eyes as she realized she was badmouthing your mother again, this time not using your words.

   “That’s okay” You reassured her “She’s awful… Not as awful as your father though” She nodded, chuckling “Do you… Do you think I would be like you if my dad raised me?” You muttered under your breath, eyes darting to your hands as you waited for her answer.

   “What do you mean? You’re not that bad, Hyunjin” She frowned, kicking you lightly so you would look at her “Okay, you’re a fuckboy… What else makes you so unbearable? You have good grades, I never saw you hurting anyone, and you’re neither a killer nor an abuser… Why do you think so low of yourself?” You shot your brows up, surprised.

   “You don’t think I’m awful? I mean… I can only imagine Y/N cussing me around and stuff” You laughed “I thought you didn’t like me as well” You admitted, making her giggle.

   “Y/N doesn’t even talk about you, don’t get ahead of yourself, darling” She mocked you, smiling when you blushed, embarrassed for assuming you were a topic of her conversations “Also, I didn’t really like you but I didn’t hate you either… It’s just that we don’t have much in common, right? You don’t like music or volleyball… Or Y/N” You laughed at that, crossing your arms.

   “You don’t like volleyball either! You didn’t even know Han couldn’t make a point!” You accused, making her laugh. She shrugged, looking at you mischievously.

  “I have my reasons…” Her tone was mysterious but she giggled right after, killing her own vibe “Anyway, we just didn’t click! Tell me, what do you like to do? When you’re not hooking up with girls, I mean” She hid her smile when you rolled your eyes.

  “I don’t know… Watching Dramas? I like to watch things by myself, I guess… Sometimes Chan joins me” You shrugged “Does it count as a bonding thing?”

   “Are you kidding me?!” She squealed “Of course it does! Screw this project, let’s watch something!” She chirped, throwing herself on the couch and turning the TV on. You looked at her amazed. What the hell?! She didn’t pay you any attention, surfing through the channels, looking for something that interested her “Do you have a preference? Let’s watch something romantic! Maybe an animation?! We could watch a horror movie too! Are you a scared cat? Hm… Maybe we should watch something calmer?” She started to ramble, ignoring completely your attempts to voice your thought.

    “You can choose anything, I don’t mind at all” You reassured her, amused by her rambling. She finally decided to give you the controller, squeezing your shoulder as if you had a really important mission to the world.

   “You choose it, I will pick up the ice cream” She tightened her lips and nodded, proud of her idea, “I think after a heart to heart we can enjoy ourselves, right? It’s to cheer you up” You scoffed as she got up, going to the minibar and picking up two ice cream pots, searching around for the spoons in the kitchen as you choose a random movie that had just started. She sat across you, handing you the ice cream and focusing herself on eating hers, don’t really paying attention to the movie at all.

[hotchgan]

You should hate yourself

Summery: Aaron gets kidnapped by his therapist.

Taglist: @ellyhotchner @unionjackpillow @eleanorbloom

Warnings: kidnapping, torture, mentions of anxiety attack and addiction, implied/reference child abuse, hospitals, mentions of scuicide

Aaron had been feeling so much better. He has been talking about his trauma to his therapist. At first he was hesitant to tell all of his deepest secrets but he tried. It was hard for him to be so vulnerable around someone but it was slowly lifting so much weight off his shoulder. She has been helping him so much ...

And now she is pointing a gun towards him.

"Come on... spill all of your dirty secrets"

Aaron stares at her in disbelief. How could he have not seen this coming? She knows more things about him than anyone alive. This was all his fault.

"Oh Aaron ... I didn't think I would need to punish you this early. But I guess I should since you're not listening to me"

Aaron can see two men with ski masks. One of grabs his neck from behind the chair he is sitting on. The other guy picks up a bat. Aaron winces as he feels the bat hit him in the stomach. Tears threatening to spill and his stomach getting repeatedly hit. Each hit hurled more and he used more force.

"Alright that's enough. I think he got the message"

The two men let go off him. Aaron slumps down on his chair. He finally breathes normally but he can feel his tears rolling down his cheek. Aaron could see the camera recording him. He just wonders who is watching him.

Morgan can't bare to see his boss like this. They both hadn't always seen eye to eye but they both were there for each other. Hotch had helped him with Buford and any other case that got to him. And now the man he respected the most is getting beat up.

Emily looks down at the ground but she can still hear his chocked sobs from the screen. Her eyes shimmer with tears threatening to spill. She looks at JJ. She wants JJ to hug her and say everything is going to be ok.

JJ looks at Emily. They both share a stolen glance. They both are thinking the same thing. Hotch was the first to now about their relationship. He supported them immediately. He also made sure to give JJ all the time she needs with her divorce with Will. Hotch doesn't deserves this.

Reid looks at the ground. He was like a father to him. The only father who hasn't left him. He knew him personally. Hotch knew how to help him through his anxiety attacks. Hotch had even helped him through his addiction. He even considered him as a son. Spencer can feel tears spilling from his eyes.

Rossi can feel his eye's fill with fury. Hotch is like a son to him and seeing someone hurt him like that angers him. They need to catch whoever is doing this to him and fast.

"Garcia", Rossi says still processing what he had just saw.

"Y-yes sir?" Penelope says holding back her tears. 

"Have you tried tracking the video's location?" Rossi asks. He needs some good new right now. 

"I- no", Garcia says sadly. 

"Damn it Garcia! Can't you even do your job? Hotch could die any minute now!" Rossi yells at Garcia. At this point she can't control her tears.

"Rossi! She's doing everything she can", Morgan says to Rossi. 

He sighs and rubs his eyes. 

"You're right, I'm sorry Penelope. Is there anything we now about this lady?" Rossi asks. 

"W-well she obviously knows Hotch so she could work with the FBI", Garcia says as she wipes the tears from her face. 

"Ok, starts there. Look for anyone in the FBI who has a connection to Hotch", Rossi says. He looks back at the screen. His eyes widens in fear when he realizes what they’re about to do.

Aaron watches as the two men tries to unravel a bunch of wires. He doesn’t know what they’re doing. Are they going to strangle him? No, that would be a quick death and he knows that isn’t what she’s trying to do. The two men start sticking wires on Aaron’s chest. Suddenly it clicks to him. They’re going to shock him.

“It looks like you realize what I’m going to do”

“I- god why are you doing this?” Aaron asks.

“Well where’s the fun in this if I tell you. You see I’m not just going to physically torture you, I’m going to mentally torture. By exposing you and making you vulnerable to your team. I’m going to destroy you”

“I-“, before Aaron can say anything he feels a shock going through his heart. His heart starts racing and he can feel himself shaking. When it finally stops, he looks to see her holding a remote.

"Oh that's just level one, wait till you see level 5", she sneers.

Aaron looks at her with fear. He just hopes his team can make it in time.

The team look at the screen in horror. If she shocks him too long then he could die. They all stand there in silence before Rossi clears his throat.

"Have you found anything yet?" Rossi asks impatiently.

"No sir, a lot of these things are so secure I can't even hack into it", Garcia says as she looks at her computer.

"There's got to be something we have to do", Morgan says.

"Well who do you think would do something like this to Hotch?" Emily asks.

"That would be almost every unsub Hotch has caught", Reid says.

"Ok well we know she has some sort of connection to Hotch but maybe ...", JJ says before her eyes lighten up.

"Hey Rossi, remember that guy who's brother you put in jail?" JJ asks.

“The one where Reid said those stuff about evil twin and eviler twin?” Rossi asks recalling that memory.

“You think that she is related to an unsub Hotch caught?” Morgan asks.

“But Hotch has arrested so many people so it’s going to be hard narrowing it down,” Reid says.

“Ok Garcia, start by looking at any unsubs who have sisters with blonde hair and see where they’re at now”, Rossi says to Garcia.

“There is a lot of unsubs with sisters but I’ll try narrowing it down”, Garcia says as she begins typing on her laptop.

“What is she doing?” Reid asks making everyone look at the screen. They see her showing pictures but they can’t see what’s on there.

“Look at that, isn’t that your sweet, perfect family”

Aaron looks at the picture in shame. He can see his mother holding Sean when he was a baby and his father placing a hand on Aaron’s shoulder. It was all fake. They weren’t the perfect family and she knows that.

“Come on .. tell your team what was actually going on in your family”

The team looks at each other confused. Aaron never really talked about his family but soon they’re going to know why.

“He- my father abused me”, Aaron says quietly. She smiles wickedly.

“And what did he call you”

“He said I was weak and pathetic”, Aaron says recalling the time where his father would say that.

“Well he was right, wasn’t he?”

After Aaron didn’t say anything, she pushed a button sending shock waves throughout his body. Aaron yells in pain.

“Ok- yes yes he was right”, Aaron says with tears streaming down his face.

“That’s right and what did your team call you?”

Rossi looks at his team confused. What did they call him? He can see the guilty looks at all of there faces. Even Garcia looks at the ground in shame.

“What is she talking about?” Rossi asks. The rest of the team look at each other wondering who should say first.

“Well when Reid was kidnapped he had to call Hotch a narcissist to get his attention”, Morgan starts saying.

“And?” Rossi asks. He could tell there’s more.

“Well then he asked what was his worst quality and we all said something”, Morgan says in shame.

“Oh god, what did you say?” Rossi asks.

“I- well JJ called him a bully, I said he was a drill sergeant and Emily said he doesn’t trust women as much as men”, Morgan says finally.

“No no no no”, Rossi chants.

“I- well it was a long time ago, it’s not like he remembers or anything”, Emily says in their defense.

“These kind of things gets to Hotch and now she is going to use them against him”, Rossi says as he looks back at the screen.

“Th-they didn’t mean it”, Aaron says trying to defend his team. He suddenly feels his chest getting shocked again.

“Yes they did! And they are right. You are a narcissist, a bully, a drill sergeant and that’s why everyone hates you. You should hate yourself”

Maybe he should. Maybe Aaron Hotchner should hate himself. He couldn’t save his mom from abuse. He got Haley killed and put Jack’s life in danger. One of his team members got addicted and kidnapped. Another one of his team members got framed and had to face his abuser. Then another one had to fake their death. And another one had to watch their husband get shot and then had to go through a divorce. They all went through so much and it’s all because of him. Aaron Hotchner should hate himself and he does.

“I- I think I found something!” Garcia says making all eyes turn on her.

“What did you find?” Rossi asks.

“Remember Megan Kane?” Garcia asks making everyone nod.

“She has a sister, Molly Kane and she works for the FBI as a therapist”, Garcia says.

“Oh my god, Hotch was going through therapy”, Emily says in realization.

“That’s why she knew so many things about him”, JJ adds.

“Garcia, Can you search for any private properties owned by her?” Morgan asks.

“Yeah I’m doing that right now ... She has one private property! It’s an old barn and I’m sending you the address right now!” Garcia says as she typed furiously on her laptop.

The team quickly check their phones and begin putting on their vests. They had no time to waste. Hotch would die any second now. They all quickly broke into two team and went in their SUV’s. They all drive quickly to the address Garcia send them. If Hotch dies, they won’t know what to do.

“P-please I’m sorry, whatever I did .. I’m sorry”, Aaron says in tears.

“You think saying sorry would bring back my sister!”

“I- wh-who is your sister?” Aaron asks.

“You probably don’t even remember”

“I-“, suddenly it clicks to him. Aaron had always through she looks familiar but he couldn’t find where he had seen her. But he never saw her because she was Megan Kane’s sister.

“Y-you’re Megan’s sister?” Aaron asks.

“You finally figured it out”

“B-but I didnt kill her-“, Aaron says before he feels another shock in his body. This time it went longer than before and it hurled more. Aaron kept himself from yelling in pain. When it finally stops, he can feel his heart racing through his body.

“Yes you did! You killed her and now I’m going to kill you”

“She-she killed herself”, Aaron tries to explain.

“No she didn’t! Megan would never do that. That’s just a cover up to hide what really happened”

“Y-you’re in denial. I was there, I held her hand while she took those pills”, Aaron says with sympathy.

“Lair!”

Before Aaron can feel another shock, the door gets kicked down. His team is here. He’s safe now.

“FBI! Molly, step away from him and show me your hands”, Morgan says with a gun pointing at her. Aaron can see the other two men getting arrested by Reid and Emily.

“He killed my sister”, Molly says pulling out a knife to his throat.

“Molly, I know what’s it like to have your sister kill herself. It’s hard but this is not how you grief. I can help you, let me help you”, JJ says.

“No- I’m going to meet my sister and he’s coming with me”, Molly says but before she slits Aaron’s throat, she drops to the ground. Morgan shot her. Before Aaron could say anything, Rossi helps unties him and gets the wires off his chest.

“Son, son look at me”, Rossi says to Aaron. But he can’t. Aaron tries to stand up but he also drops to the ground. The last thing he heard is Morgan calling for the medics.

After a couple of hours, Aaron wakes up groaning in pain. He can see bright lights above him. He tries to sit up when he sees someone holding him up.

“Easy”, Rossi says helping him up.

“Dave?” Aaron asks.

“Hey son”, Rossi says.

“W-what happened?” Aaron asks wondering why he is in the hospital.

“After Morgan shot Molly, you fainted. The doctors said it was because of your heart being exhausted of being electrocuted”, Rossi says. Aaron hums in remembering what happened.

“J-Jack?” Aaron asks.

“Jack is with JJ. He should be coming to here soon”, Rossi says. Aaron hums again in response.

“Aaron look ... what she said, you’re not any of those things”, Rossi says. Aaron looks up at him.

“I-I’m afraid I’m going to turn up just like my father”, Aaron says.

“How about this, if I see you becoming anything like your father then I’ll personally drag you by the ear myself”, Rossi says promising him.

“P-promise?” Aaron asks.

“Promise”, Rossi says. He knows it’s not enough for the future but it’s enough for now.

[thebarnes-soldier]

The Romantic Thing

Summary: Bucky is in love with you but he doesn’t know how to talk with you about his feelings. He calls his best friends asking for help and they plan a romantic thing for you both.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: NO SPOILERS! Romantic and cliche stuff.

Words: 1,182

Author’s Notes: English is clearly not my first language, but I really want to create some stuff for y’all, so I ask for a little patience and I’m always open for your feedbacks 🥰

“What is the emergency?” Sam is the first to say someting when the door is opened.

“Hello, guys. I’m fine too, thanks for asking.” Bucky roll his eyes while talking. He invited Sam and Steve for his house for an emergency reunion.

“Hi, Bucky.” Steve smiles kindly and receive the same smile from the host. “How are you feeling today?”

“I’m glad you asked, Steve.” He takes a step back. “Come in, let’s talk about my problem.”

Sam and Steve step into the house and sit on the coach, looking carefully to their friend, who sat at the armchair in front of them.

“Did Something bad happen? Hydra is back again?” Steve was kinda nervous. He didn’t want to get into a big fight again on his day break. “Should we call Stark?”

“Calm down, Rogers!” Bucky says, shaking his hands. “Is not that kind of problem.”

Steve sighs relieved while Sam just roll his eyes.

“If you want to talk about your problems we’ll probably stay here for a while.” He stands up. “Call you therapist, not me.”

“CHILL. OUT.” Barnes uses his cybernetic arm to force him sit down again. They look at each oter with intimidating eyes and Steve just giggles at it. “As I was saying before I was interrupted...” He looks again at Sam who just rolls his eyes for the second time in that afternoon. “I have a problem.” He sits down again and look his curious friends in te eyes. “Maybe you don’t know, but I’m in love with Y/N, the new Stark’s assistant.”

Sam and Steve look at each other and smile ironically.

“If you don’t tell...” Steve says and then laugh.

“Oh, shut up!” Buckys eyes were half-closed, but he ended up laughing too. “Well, I am in love with her, we hang out sometimes but as good friends and nothing more than this. We chat everyday, but I’m not brave enough to tell her about my feelings. You’re both my best friends, what should I do?”

“Why don’t you asks fot Tony to help you?” Sam says, leaning forward. “I mean, he’s with her 24/7, he may know her so much more than us.”

“No, he can’t be subtle...” Steve answers thoughtful. “But at the same time, we’re just her friends, what can we do?”

“That’s what a just asked you, smart guy.” Bucky says ironically.

“Well, I have an idea.” Sam’s smile was a little bit creepy.

“Tell us!” Bucky’s voice was excited.

“Do you trust me?” Wilson asks, unlocking his phone as he receive the agreement from his friends.

⤬ ⤬ ⤬ ⤬ ⤬ ⤬ ⤬ ⤬ ⤬ ⤬ ⤬ ⤬ ⤬ ⤬ ⤬ ⤬

You were at the Tony’s personal office, organizing some papers when the phone rings.

“Mr. Stark’s office, Y/N talking. How can I help you?” You say helpful, as you used to do everyday.

“Y/N, we have an emergency.” You recognize Steve’s voice and start to freak out thinking about the possibilities of the world being under attack again. “But nothing you need to worry about yet.” That sentence made you breath normally again. “But we need you to meet us right now. Don’t tell Stark, just come here. We’re at Bucky’s.”

“Wait.” You sake your head, trying to process the information. “We who? And how an I not tell Stark? He’s my boss! He’s my friend, but also the fucking Iron Man, he can fire me and I need the money! Steve, you need to tell me what’s going on.”

“Jus trust me. Be at Bucky’s in 15.”

He just hangs up the phone and don’t give you a chance to reply again.

“Fuck!” You say looking at the ceiling. “Don’t let me down, Steve... It has to be a big problem or I’m fired.”

You take your phone, lock the office and take an Uber to Bucky’s house. When you arrive, you knock at the door a million times until Barnes open it for you with a big shy smile in his face.

“Hi, Y/N.” He was blushing.

“What’s the problem?” You ask, nervous.

“What the hell is wrong with y’all? No more hello, no more how are you, Bucky? Just what’s the problem? Damn, ya’ll need to be more kind!” His voice was a little bit serious, but a little bit funny. You were confused.

“Bucky, seriously. What is going on here?”

“Oh, hi, sweetie!” Sam appears behind Barnes’ back with Steve besides him, smiling. “We planned a date for you both.” We walks for your side. “We have popcorn, soda and romantic movies, I know you like it.” You were speechless and actionless. You feel your cheek blushing.

“And don’t worry about Stark, we already talked with him.” Steve winks and pushes you towards Bucky. “Come on, the cybernetic arm here will not wait forever.”

As you enter he house, Sam and Steve leave, leaving you alone with Bucky. You still speechless, so you sit down on the coach, looking for all the food and soda at the little coffee table.

“Can you explain me that?” You finally say, looking at him. “Why did you take me off work for an arranged date?”

“Technically, Steve did take you off work, not me.” His eyebrows were so convincent at the moment. “And it was because I’m kinda in love with you but I’m such a coward to tell you.”

“Well, you just did it.” You say a little chocked, watching his blushing face.

A unconfortable silence hovered between you both, you were still processing the information that Bucky Barnes were in love with you, and he was processing the fact that he said that so easilly.

“Do you wanna run away now?” He asks with a nervous smile on his face.

“My boss already know about it, what can I lose?” You answer with the same smile.

“It was meant to be a romantic thing, but is so akward now.” He says, starting the movie.

“You were serious when you said you’re in love with me?” You aks curiously.

“More than serious.” He wasn’t paying attencion at the movie at all.

“Would you believe if I say that I have a crush on you since we meet for the first time?” Now your cheeks were blushing.

Bucky gives you the cutest smile on Earth and brings his face even closer. You close your eyes when you feel his nose touching yours and feel the buttlerflies in our stomach when his soft lips finally touch yours. It was the best sensation you felt in months, and you tought that any kiss would feel so great than this one.

When you end that fantastic body contact, you both smile, wheezing, looking at the red and swollen lips of each other. You mentally thank Steve for the call and lay our head on Bucky’s shoulder.

“It was the best unexpected break from work ever.”

[honey-makki]

Irreconcilable

Characters: Asahi Azumane X GN!Reader

Summary: Asahi’s mental health can be debilitating sometimes. Taking a toll on himself and relationships with others, but how far will they go to help him?

Warnings: depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts

Song: this is me trying- taylor swift

 Genre: angst/comfort

Count: 2k

A/N: please head the warnings. this discusses and is an explicit portrayl of anxiety and depression with references to suicidal thoughts. it isn’t “fun” but nevertheless i think its good. at least it felt good to write,

Asahi hasn’t left his bed yet today, rather listening to the rain and staring up at the ceiling, wondering how long it’ll be before he can fall asleep again. This isn’t an uncommon situation for him, his figure shrouded in darkness and enveloped by the blankets on his bed.  The occasional buzz of his phone goes unnoticed. 

The darkness of the room shifts throughout the day, casting heavier shadows on his bed in the afternoon, shadows that he can feel the weight of on his chest. They mirror the heavy feeling in his heart and the discontent in his head. Would sorry have made any difference? It’s just a word, a word I would have struggled to even say.

The passage of time seems like its just a theoretical concept until the gnawing pain of hunger starts to peek through. He’s not hungry per se, but his body is telling him that three days without eating is way too long. The tinge of pain is a welcome feeling, no matter how fleeting.

It would still be a few hours before Asahi made his way to the kitchen, long after his flatmates are asleep, hoping to avoid an uncomfortable conversation. There isn’t a reason he can articulate for the way he looks, hair messy and unwashed, deep circles under his eyes despite sleeping most of the time, and his thinning frame drawing in his seemingly oversized old volleyball jacket.

He doesn’t even think he would try to come up with an excuse should they see him, the effort seeming monumental for little to no reward. He’s gotten to the point where he isn’t hiding it, any actions to make it easier to deal with, like using the kitchen sparingly and only at odd hours, are just due to convenience not fear of response. 

Holding a bowl of cheese puffs and a long-forgotten packet of Takenoko No Sato Asahi makes his way back to his room, each footstep silent. Sitting in his desk chair he pops something in his mouth, not really sure if it was sweet or savory because to him they all taste the same, something akin to cardboard, or wood chips uncomfortably dry in his mouth. 

The milk carton he grabbed out of the fridge doesn’t taste much better. It feels thick, so much so that he isn’t sure he will be able to swallow (or stomach) it. He might as well be drinking a bottle of unscented lotion, and even then that might be better. 

He isn’t sure how long has passed since he keeps zoning out, but the bowl of leftover puffs look about as appetizing as styrofoam peanuts, and he knows that if he doesn’t get them out fo his room, he might be sick. Being sick is a lot more effort than sneaking to the kitchen, that is as long as it’s late. 

He finally checks his phone after what has been, hours? A day? Maybe three days? It’s not the brightness of the screen that hurts, or the way all the notifications make his heart race, its the background picture that makes it nye impossible to use. Its you.

Seeing your smiling face next to his, he recognizes every single square millimeter of your face, long ago committed to memory. He could paint it blindfolded if he needed to, but the person next to you? He doesn’t see himself looking back. The clear skin, the glow, the beaming smile, the light in his eyes. Maybe its liveliness, maybe its adoration, maybe its gratitude, but regardless, he doesn’t retain nor deserves any of those emotions. 

It’s his fault he’s here alone in his room staring at a bug climbing the wall. step. step. step. Each leg of the ant moving in unison, carrying it to some future that it can imagine. How depressing is it that an ant has a brighter future than I do? Every second he spends looking at the ant is one less second he is being drawn deeper into the tumultuous whirlpool of dread in his head. 

The buzz of his phone clacks against the ceramic bowl, discordant in the otherwise silent room. The noise acts as a life preserver he feels oddly obligated to take out of the water, looking down to see your name across the screen.  For the second time today, he feels something, earlier it was clearly defined and compartmentalized hunger, now? It’s a ceaseless swirl of resigned hopelessness, despair, anxiety, irritation, and a deep sense of being unworthy of all of these feelings. 

Its easier when he isn’t reminded of you.

He doesn’t plan on responding to your simple ‘hey.’but the follow up of ‘dai said you aren’t well, let’s talk’ still everything but his mind. He can’t breathe in, he can’t move his thumbs to lock his phone or reply to you, all he can do is think about is how this could only go horribly wrong, but that you cared, at least cared enough about him to check-in. Even after everything he did.

Asahi: We can talk on the phone later I guess, y/n

Y/N: i’ll be over tonight at 7, i still have a key.

7pm. That’s 6 hours away according to his phone. The concept of time mattering feels foreign, should he nap? Take a shower? How long are normal showers? Should he clean his room? Does his room even need to be cleaned? Wash his sheets? Before long he finds himself on the floor, head in his hands with tears streaming down his face. He doesn’t recall getting there or starting to cry, it feels like the tears have always been there, each tear track carving out a trail in his skin, creating invisible canyons. They’re always there, maybe invisible or dry, but the tear tracks are still there. 

The faint thud of his pulse ringing in his head is one of the only things his dulled sense can take in. he can’t place if he’s developed a migraine and the thud is twangs of pain or if he’s just, not here. Living what can only be described as the inverse of an out of body experience, everything else around him fading out into black, leaving him alone in an infinite black universe.

The weight of something on his head brings him back to earth. His head leans up and out of his peripheral sees your knees as you sit on his bed. A small whine leaves his throat as you begin to scratch and massage his scalp. Asahi can’t remember the last time he was touched by another person, and he doesn’t know how he lived so long without it. Your fingers are massaging fatigue out of his bones, undoing tension he’s caring in his shoulders. 

It’s illogical that the light touches from each of your fingertips on his scalp can undo so much damage to his body, but that’s a skill you honed over time, and you can visibly see him become grounded. 

“Asahi you know I can’t keep doing this. I would do this every day for the rest of my life if asked because I know it helps, but I hate seeing you like this. I’m scared that one day I’m going--” your chocked sobs are finally audible enough for him to perceive, “that you are gonna be too far gone. I wouldn’t be able to take that Asahi. Life without you is hard enough, I don’t want to imagine a world without you.”

He knew his mental health issues affected you, its the whole reason he left you in the first place, feeling guilty for you having to take care of him and him not making any progress. But he didn’t realize how scared you were. That he might just wither away, or suddenly not be here anymore. It would be a lie to say he hadn’t thought about it more than once, but never taking any tangible steps forward. 

He still hasn’t said anything, but after a few minutes of you both crying, he just nods his head. You aren’t exactly sure what that means, but his voice croaks out, “help. I’ll get help.” The admission wasn’t something you expected but the hoarseness of his voice from crying or nonuse makes it all the more real. That maybe you were right to worry, and you were right to set this ultimatum. 

A few hours later, you leave Asahi’s apartment, he fell asleep after you helped him bathe and changed his sheets. You left phone numbers of multiple psychologists and therapists, and an offer that you would make an appointment if he couldn’t find the willpower to do so. You have a cup of tea with Daichi before you leave, telling him about Asahi wanting to get help. You ask him to try to make sure that Asahi is doing at least the bare minimum or eating real food once a day and showering. Small steps eventually add up to a healthier person.

Months pass, where you and Asahi exchange a few text messages, detailing about he found a therapist, and his journey to find a medication that made him feel better and not worse. The conversations are long, but they always leave you hopeful about his progress.

You expected the knock on the door to be your take out but instead are looking at the chest of a much taller man. You look up to see Asahi’s face, a nervous smile looking down at you. His skin looks healthier, not as pallid or marred with deep sleeplessness, his hair is up in a bun, but you can see how much healthier it looks. The most notable change is that you can see light in his eyes. There’s something in there, hope maybe or just contentment with his growth. But there’s something, something that he made on his own and can hold onto.

Sure there are still signs that he isn’t fully back to the Asahi you met a long time ago, his hair is still thin, his frame is still not as filled out as it once was, but is definitely in a healthier range, his smile isn’t 100% confident and doesn’t seem to fully reach his eyes, but he looks good. And if he’s here, he must be feeling good.

“Hey y/n, I’ve been doing a lot better recently and my therapist said I should come and speak my mind. First, let me give you the most genuine and heartfelt thank you I can muster. If you hadn’t said what you did that one evening, I would never have gotten help and I honestly might not be here.”

His words are confident and sincere. They sound a little rehearsed, which is endearing. Asahi was never the most eloquent or poised person when it comes to feelings, but his declarations of love were always true in the deepest sense of the word. You couldn’t contain the smile on your face even if you wanted to, not when he’s done so much, not when he’s trying so hard. 

“I might perceive the world as darker and more hellish than it actually is sometimes, but I’m gonna try again and again to soothe my heart and pick the flowers growing in the midst of hell. You are one of those flowers, a light in the darkness that motivates and assures me that all is well. If you would like, I want to grab coffee with you, like old times.”

Your bodies are bathed in golden sunlight from the window behind you, giving your nod a lucent halo. The halo fades as you step out and close the door behind you, but the glow doesn’t, it’s part of him, part of you.

Tags

@ceo-of-daichi​ @haikyuuhotline​ @sugawara-sweetheart​ @nonexistent-social-life​ @laughingismorefun​ @iguessimastannow​

[livebloggingmydescentintomadness]

Hi, I have a small issue I don't know who to talk about. I was diagnosed with BPD, depression and anxiety with strong disociative behaviours and possible ADHD (yeah.. ) I'm currently in theraphy (CBT) but here's a thing.. a lot of the time I get asked how I feel and. I can't identify it. On a good day theres either an emptiness or some chocking feeling that i can never name very well. Idk how to tell what I'm feeling or access it, basically. And trying to do it during theraphy is even worse caus

cause i instinctually block. so i'm sitting there and i feel like i'm wasting my time and money because i can't put the problem into words even for myself, let alone analyse and express it. Is this a common issue? I told the therapist that's how it is and she just told me to close my eyes and breath and that doesn't really help. I'm honestly at the end of my rope

i’m FAR from a qualified therapist, but i do know that there’s something called alexithymia, which causes an inability to identify and describe emotions. this post and this post talk about what it’s like. i certainly can’t say that this is what you’re dealing with, but it’s definitely something to look into.

however, i think that this could also be a result of your dissociation. dissociating is, by definition, detaching yourself from yourself - your thoughts, feelings, surroundings, etc. not being able to get in contact with your emotions could easily be a natural result of the dissociation you already know for a fact you deal with.

i don’t think that therapy in of itself is a waste, but it sounds to me like you need another therapist because this one just isn’t cutting it. it sounds like she means well but just doesn’t know how to treat someone with dissociation on top of other issues. she shouldn’t just sit there and push you to answer questions you can’t answer, she should be giving you tools and helping to guide you to the roots of the problem. if you don’t feel better equipped to cope with your problems after a session, then yes, this therapist is a waste of time and money. but that doesn’t mean therapy itself is a waste or that you can’t find a therapist who can genuinely help you.

all in all, i’m not remotely surprised by what you’re dealing with, considering how fucked up your brain is. (which i say in the kindest way possible, as someone who also has a seriously fucked up brain.) i don’t know exactly how common this is, but i would say that it’s completely normal considering where you’re coming from - especially if you have a history of trauma. detaching from your emotions can be a survival mechanism, which works great until the need to survive has passed and you don’t know how to re-attach.

my going to therapy tag has several posts about how to find a therapist that meets your needs, and how to better communicate with a therapist. i’d suggest you start ‘shopping’ for a better therapist right away. not clicking with a therapist and needing to keep searching til you find one who really helps you is a totally normal experience.

in the meantime, i would suggest you work on some grounding exercises to help combat the dissociation and maybe (only maybe; don’t pressure yourself) get more connected to your body and emotions. keep what helps and toss out what doesn’t. and remember that therapy and recovery isn’t like flipping a switch, it’s like building a muscle or learning a skill: it takes time, effort, practice, and failure. failure is part of the process, so please don’t give up on yourself, darling.

to be thorough, here are some more useful tags: ADHD, anxiety, borderline personality disorder, depression, dissociation, mental illness resources, therapy resources.

i hope that helps a little bit, dear. i know this is hard, but take care of yourself. <3

[connieswriting]

I’m here now// Fred Weasley

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Request: @bengaliandslytherclaw​ “can you do a Fred Weasley x Reader post Hogwarts and war and also a Ravenclaw reader with a bit of angst and fluff mixed and maybe not in the Burrow thanks”

A/N: I hope I did your request justice. I just didn’t include the part about being a Ravenclaw since I couldn’t get it to appear naturally in the story. I hate the ending but I had fun writing it, I hope you enjoy it and please send in requests! I had a couple busy weeks but I have time now!

----

You took another sip of your tea looking out of the window in your shared apartment with Fred. Even though the war had long since finished, the pain that you felt was still very much prominent. All the loss, the grieving of so many people at the same time, all of the funerals that didn’t seem to end; the constant questions to which you could never actually answer truthfully, all of the “How are you holding up?” and “How are you feeling?” with those pitiful smiles that you dreaded; the tears that seemed to not be able to stop falling down anymore. Maybe it was better to become apathetic, maybe it was better to just not have a soul anymore, at least you wouldn’t be feeling like this, so depressed, so out of you, so dependent of other people to do your menial tasks that you couldn’t seem bothered to do anymore. It was too much, too much had happened in such a short amount of time, so many people had been killed right in front of your eyes, so many children, just finishing up their first year at Hogwarts, so many young people that could barely even count as teenagers yet, so many of them that had become orphans, you included, overnight. You had lost, along with your family, so many of your friends that it was almost impossible to know how you were even able to be coping with everything.

           All the memories of you smiling, laughing, having fun seemed so distant at the moment, so far away, almost as if someone had them and told you about it afterwards, almost as if you had them but in another life, a life where you hadn’t known this kind of pain, this kind of dull feeling always present in your chest. It was hard to believe that Bill and Fleur’s wedding had been a mere year ago, not with all those laughs and kisses you had shared with Fred, in between all those glasses of champagne that were basically bottomless, something that you didn’t seem to be able to do now. Had your parents still been alive this day, they would have most certainly told you to stop shredding tears for the people you lost and instead focus on the people you have in front of you right now. Your mother would have most likely added that you shouldn’t be feeling like this since you knew what was to come before the war had even began, so you just should have been prepared.

           The mug on your hands had long since gone cold, but you couldn’t be bother anymore, part of you felt maybe the cold your pair up well with the hot tears that started falling down your face once more. It had started to rain a while ago, adding so much unnecessary cliché to the moment. The front door opened and closed quietly, a tall red-haired emerging from it. You had noticed that the pain you were feeling in that moment seemed so less prominent that you it was supposed to, adding a tad bit of guilt to the list of emotions you had been feeling in the past days. Perhaps you had gone through so much and got hurt so much, so quickly that any of the really bad emotions you had been feeling was wearing off, you tried to reason with yourself, using the sleeve of your sweater to clean your tears away.

           “Hey, love” Fred started kneeling in front of you, though you didn’t turn to meet his eyes. “Feeling any better?” You chose to ignore the generic question, you knew he already knew the answer by heart, he was just trying to strike up conversation, wanting you to talk the way you used to, so carefree

(so naïve)

So full of life, so excited

(so unexperienced)

You shook your head in your mind, trying to get all those thought out of it. The truth was that you couldn’t feel that way anymore, you couldn’t be happy, joyous- every time you tried to talk you seemed to get chocked up. You tried going to a therapist for a while, well, you tried many therapists, right after the war, but it made pretty obvious rather soon that none of them were going to work out since none of them could actually understand what you were going through, none of them could, none of them could understand what you felt, what you were still feeling.

“Mom is organising a family lunch tomorrow, if you feel like finally getting out of the house” the boy continued, unbothered by the lack of response or even movement from his girlfriend. “She specially requested your presence (Y/N), she even told me to go to the Burrow today, just the two of us, so we could spend the night there and maybe help out tomorrow, maybe it would take your mind off of things, keeping you busy. We could take the train there, or call for a car, if you don’t feel like using magic to travel.” You didn’t move, predictably- it had been like this for weeks. Him trying to sough out any sort of response out of you, inviting you to get out of the house, even if just to get breakfast at the café right next to your apartment building, cracking his usual jokes, retelling the pranks him and his twin had pulled back in their days at Hogwarts, giving you your favourite flowers and cooking meals for you since if he did not basically force-feed you, you would just neglect all kinds of food, your stomach too filled with anger and repulsion of surviving whilst your friends had all died in your place to accept anything willingly.

Fred sighed heavily, resting his hands on your thighs “Please, just say something, anything!” he looked at you, your face still facing the window, not a single muscle moving. “How long are you going to keep this up? Were all doing awfully you know, for Merlin’s sake, Georgie is half deaf, I almost died! But still, here I am, here we all are, trying to cheer you up, trying to get you to feel better, like we didn’t go through the same things!” It was the first time he had raised his voice at you, keeping any negative thoughts out of your way, preferring to take care of you instead.

“Oh, that is so nice of you!” you scoffed, finally turning to look at his face. It held a mixture of anger, relief and guilt. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t exactly need help, I don’t need you, Fred, your mother or anyone, as a matter of fact, to cheer me up.”

“Obviously you don’t. I am so sorry I spent all this time trying to get you back on your feet when you didn’t even need any help at all with it. So dumb of me to have missed how you’re already doing so well on your own. What an absolute wanker I am.” He threw his hands in the air, dramatically.

“Okay, I’m sorry, when exactly did you hear me say that I was ‘back on my feet’? I just said I didn’t need your constant smothering. I need to grief on my own.” You put down your mug on the tiny coffee table next to you. “You’re right, you went through some things I went through, but certainly not exactly everything. You didn’t see your best friend being killed right on front of your own eyes, you didn’t lose both your parents only a few hours apart and you certainly didn’t almost lose the person who had promised to marry you as soon as the war was over…” You added the last part in a whisper, almost uncertain if you really meant for him to hear it or not. Fred was shocked to say the least. Ever since the battle at Hogwarts, you two had barely spoken two words, not from lack of effort on his part, this had not only been his first time opening up but also yours.

“Do you have any idea what it was like hearing about the explosion and how it had caught you? Do you have any idea the fear I felt during those hours when you were unconscious? I had already lost so much; I couldn’t bear to even think I had lost you as well. Yet, I had to put up with seeing you laying in that bed, so much blood on you, your family around you crying so much that I could barely even comprehend it for a second. All those thoughts that had gone through my head during that time, all those “I have officially lost everything, my soulmate is gone as well” that kept popping every single time I thought they were gone for good, every…” she trailed off, resting her face in her hands “You’re right, I have been inconsiderate towards everyone lately, specially you, but I just got so close to never seeing you again that that has basically been all I could think about every time I look at you. A life without you in it, without you at my side, it’s just…” the warm tear started rolling down your face again, prohibiting you from continuing.

“I… I had no idea you felt like this. I can’t believe I actually put you through that” Fred took the opportunity to speak up once more, pulling you into his arms “I’m here now, I survived, right? Shouldn’t that be all that matters” he spoke quietly, softly, letting you cry on his shoulder “Why didn’t you just tell me how you felt? Why didn’t you tell me what you had been imagining?” He pulled you away from him, analysing your face, using his thumb to brush away your tears.

“It’s not like I could just go up to you right after the war had ended and tell you what everything that had gone through my mind during those hours. Not with everyone so relieved that you had survived, it wasn’t the right moment, and the, as time passed, I couldn’t bring myself to do so and I kind of just kept everything to myself, piling up all of my feelings. My parents were gone, Hannah was gone, and it just felt I had no one to talk to anymore…”

“You had me; you have always had me! It has been so awful to you lately I just wanted to get you to open up a bit, so… well, so this wouldn’t happen!” he smiled apologetically, pulling you into his embrace once again. “Oh, blimey, I can’t believe this, love. Look…, hey, look at me” Fred held your chin, hosting your head up “I’m here now, I pulled through, I’m with you now and, trust me, I’m not going anywhere. I regret to inform you that you’re basically stuck with me for life now, (Y/N).” You laughed a bit, he immediately smiled, it was the first time he had heard that wonderful smile in weeks and Merlin, had he missed it. “Promise me that any time you’re feeling something like this again, every time that you’re feeling, even if just a little bit, blue you’ll come to me, so we can do it, go through whatever it is, together.”

“Yeah, yes, I promise. It has been awful not talking to you, I missed you so much” He leaned forwards, capturing your lips in his. If there was a list of things he missed about you, kissing was certainly right at the top “Now, how about we start getting ready to go to your parents house? I reckon it’s time I left the house, I reckon I’m in need of a distraction and your mother is providing the perfect one” He didn’t answer, he just pulled you into his embrace again. After all this pain, it felt like heaven to be able to hold Fred once more.

[depressoramblings]

TW: depression, eating disorder, self-harm

Today is a bad day. Everything feels off. Having to get up early in the morning whilst having fucked up sleep schedule sucks. What set off more, is being woken up mere minutes before the alarm. Technically it’s a small thing, but it feels like another small part of my life is taken over, another aspect of losing control.

Meals are torture. Let’s get a little bit of context - one month ago I managed to fall and broke sacral vertebra, now I take all meals standing up and whilst I’ve struggled with eating before the fracture, now it’s getting worse. As I have limited movements per doctors’ orders, my mom cooks. And whilst I’m endlessly grateful for her care, eating is challenge. I prolong time between meals for as long as possible without getting dizzy. Sometimes it feels like I’m chocking, even thought of having to get up and eat makes me nauseous.

I’ve always been picky eater (idk if it’s part of my potentially undiagnosed autism), but after dad’s death it has became somehow stronger and I’m too weak emotionally to try to fight through it. Eating some kinds of food became a struggle once more - sometimes it’s meat or chicken I struggle to swallow, chocking on it, sometimes just general thought of eating makes me feel quirky. And I can’t even talk with mom about so she can alter something at least for the time I’m temporarily disabled (or more disabled than usual). She will just say that I “put some childhood nonsense in my head and can’t grow out of it” and that I “nurture my issues instead of destroying them”.

Add to that constant pressure of necessity for making long term plans for life, while all I want is to graduate from med school (not sure if I really want to pursue career in medical field, though), move somewhere from hometown where everything reminds of losing dad and finally allow myself to look for girlfriend.

Moreover I feel like I probably need new therapist. Because I don’t feel like I can talk with current one about the fact I may be on the edge of developing eating disorder. Or maybe it’s just my distrust for “grownups” flaring up because they will tell me that “it’s all in my head”.

And mom put seeds of distrust to the therapy in my head, again. “Therapist makes people addicted to therapy, unable to live by themselves, depending on paid aid to make a decision”. And I’m kinda losing it. I’ve been working with current therapist for almost a year, and I don’t feel like I’m getting better. (Or maybe loss of the parent and one-month-long hospitalisation and long post-op recovery prior to that have to do sth with lack of the progress)

I’m just tired of it. Tired of trudging through existence, tired of pushing through day after day without seeing any shred of light ahead. It all seems hopeless and useless.

Today is a bad day. Maybe tomorrow will be better, maybe not. Maybe I’ll wake up in the morning and think that these doubts and fears and tiredness are stupid. But it will be tomorrow, or next week or next month. But today is a bad day and pretending it is not is fucking damaging

[stachmousworld]

True Love (Lesbian Story) Ending 1

Maria Borges and Neelam Gill by Jonas Bresnan for L’oreal Paris (picture and caption found on @/sand-snake-kate)

Pairing: Mara x Carole

The main character’s POV is unreliable

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 6 - Part 7

 A few months later

Carole was getting out of a restaurant with her date. It was one of their first dates. They’ve known each other for a while. Lily was working as a lawyer linked to Carole’s dad enterprise. They met in an all-day bakery at 2am. They hit it off quite easily. No one but them were involved. There were no exes. No invasive friends nor parents. Just them.

Carole took Lily’s hand in hers and kissed her knuckles. After the trip to Hawaii, everything went calmly. She thought she’d be depressed or out of her mind, but no. it hasn’t been a walk in the park. Her coping mechanism were still toxic, but she did the best she could. And now she had a therapist. It seemed that the only thing she needed was closure. She couldn’t say that she didn’t have feelings for Mara. She was her real love. Her first real and Carole will forever love her, but now she could move on.

           Their last arguments cemented their past. And now she was thinking about it, she wished things had been better. Lily stopped walking and kissed her softly on the lips.

“Dreaming?”

“Hm.”

“About me, I hope?” She asked with mirth.

Carole laughed and kissed her back.

“Nope. Reflecting on my life and those 6 months.”

Lily barely frowned but Carole saw it.

“Don’t worry nothing bad. Nothing I hadn’t already told you.”

“I know. It’s just that I don’t like seeing you unhappy.”

“I know,” she replied a sweet smile tugging her lips.

They stood near the entrance for the exposition they had been invited to. It was a private one. The program was fairly short. There was, at first, a presentation, and then, they could wander and look at the pictures.

Lily kissed her, this time deeper. Carole felt her body tingle with desire. They pulled away when they heard the door open.

“Let’s go,” Lily said, intertwining their fingers.

   The presentation went quickly, and the host did an explanatory on who and where the artist came from. They still hadn’t seen them, but it wasn’t uncommon for galleries to do these kinds of things. The artist could roam free in the gallery and listen to their comments.

 Carole froze in front of a peculiar picture. The cabin in Hawaii. Lily took her in her arms and whispered in her ears:

“What is it, Love?”

“The cabin in Hawaii, where Mara was,” Carole answered in the same tone.

“Are you sure?”

Carole nodded fervently. It was the exact same.

“Ah, this one…” A stranger said next to them.

Carole recognized Mara’s girlfriend and opened her mouth to…to what? Nothing. If she was there, Mara should be here also. Instead of dread or sadness, Carole was buzzing with curiosity and a hint of thrill. She smiled joyously at this thought and promptly kissed Lily, who responded with fervor.

“That was…” Lily said, breathless.

“I know,” Carole replied, eyes shining with happiness.

They heard the stranger clear her throat. Carole was slightly annoyed, which seemed to amuse Lily.

“What?”

The other girl took in their position and frowned. Lily gripped her hand harder.

“Do you have a problem?”

She shook her head in disbelief.

“What?” Lily asked again, this time with much more force.

Carole caressed her hand with her thumb. She was also past irritation.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend to go to?” Said Carole, definitely annoyed.

The look of confusion on the girl's face was enough to upset Carole.

“Oh, don’t look innocent. Is Mara not with you?”

The girl swallowed soundly and closed her eyes. Her shoulder sagged, she looked beyond exhausted. Lily mouthed ‘What the hell is that’ at Carole, who shrugged. Was there trouble in paradise? Already? She couldn’t say she was surprise, as Mara had tried to kiss her.

“She has never been my girlfriend. It was misunderstanding.”

Carole puffed. Yeah, she was naked in her house…

“Yeah, I know not my best moment. But everyone called her baby, babe is a term of endearment in my family, because she looked like a lost puppy when we found her.”

“You were naked,” Carole retorted.

“Yeah and? We lived mostly near the forest and I just had taken a shower. Mara also lived naked with me. She was the one reassuring me that it was my fear of judgement, which made me more insecure. So, she had made me promise to try and embrace the naked life,” she said, with a chuckle.

That did sound like Mara. A man came behind her. He hugged her and kissed her lightly on the neck. She smiled fondly and pressed back into the embrace. He introduced himself as the husband of Aleya. Husband of a few years.

“You are friend of Aleya?” Oleb asked, with curiosity in his eyes.

“No, dear. This…this is Carole, Mara’s ex.”

At the mention of Mara’s name, Oleb looked away. Carole’s mind was stuck on one and only one thing: Aleya wasn’t and had never been Mara’s girlfriend. Carole opened her mouth and closed it.

It didn’t change anything, right?

Her own words came back at her with such a strength. She had insulted Mara, telling her she was disgusting. God. She sighed and closed her eyes. Lily kissed her forehead.

“It’s going to be ok. Don’t worry. You can still apologize to her when you meet her. I’m sure she’ll forgive you,” Lily murmured in her ears.

Yeah, she’ll do that. The realization that she could have been with Mara 6 months ago pained her. She felt guilt because…because the feelings she had thought were subdued, came back full force. When Aloya had told them, they had never been together, Carole had been overwhelmed by all the memories she had forced herself to hide. Everything would have been easier if Mara had been the bad guy.

All that for naught.

“Is…is she here?” Carole asked. Her voice sounded so weak even to her own ears.

Aleya and Oleb glanced at each other, with tight lips. They were silently debating. Carole didn’t like the way this night was turning and the fact that they looked so grim as if something had happened to…oh no. Carole covered her mouth.

“Nononononono,” she repeated barely audible.

“What is it?” Lily asked, confused.

“After that afternoon, she took her clothes and left. She said her goodbyes and told us she’d come back. But…

Aleya stopped because of the tears and Oleb held her closely. Eyes closed; he took over the story. Carole’s world spiraled out of control. She is dead. She is dead. Mara is dead. I was wrong. I killed her. I killed Mara.

Carole chocked up.

“The plane she took had a technical problem. The pilot was found but not her. We looked for her for months…a few days ago the researched had stopped, we found her. She has partial amnesia.”

“Oleb, Aleya, what are you doing here?” A recognizable voice asked.

Carole’s relief for short-lived. A whiplash would have been easier to live than that clusterfuck of a night.

“Is it not convenient that after their sob story, your ex comes.” Lily mutter with a snicker

“Why would they do that?” Carole asked, taken aback. Even for her it sounded mad.

Lily looked at her as if she was an idiot.

“To be back with you. Who wouldn’t go back to their exes after being told their had a so-called accident?”

Carole raised her eyebrows.

“You don’t believe in their stories?”

“Do you?”

Carole opened her mouth. Suspicion rose. Lily was right at least on one thing. How convenient that Mara was next to them and found them so quickly. Mara, who was now facing Oleb and Aleya, her back turned on Lily and Carole.

Lily pointed at something next to Mara. Carole saw a cane.

“That obvious…”

“Maybe the accident did that?” Carole retorted faintly.

“You don’t believe that, do you?”

Carole couldn’t believe Mara could go to this extent to make her feel bad or manipulating. “Mara,” she said coldly, attracting all of their attention. The shock on Mara’s face didn’t seem fake. She was wearing a mask, which clothed half her face. Could it be really an act? Carole squashed the doubt rising in her mind. “I don’t know what kind of reaction you thought I’d have seeing you “impaired” but it’s not it. And what is it with the mask and cane. God, I would have never guessed you’d be that manipulative.”

Mara was gobsmacked. Carole knocked over the cane to prove that she was right. She stumbled and fell on the floor, a screech of pain escaped her mouth as tears started rolling down her face.

Carole flinched at the heartbreaking sound. She stepped forward but Lilly restrained her arm. Oleb kneeled next to Mara and held her. Aleya threw them a vicious glare.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!”

Aleya took something from her pocket and threw it at Carole. Lily caught it before it landed on her.

“I have called the ambulance they are coming. As for you –.” Oleb turned toward them. “…you should leave.

  They were in the hospital. Despite what Oleb and Aleya said, Carole couldn’t leave just like that. Lily had tried to convince her to leave, and that she wasn’t welcome with Oleb and Aleya. Carole didn’t care. Anyway, she was single now. She felt bad for Lily. A little bit. But she didn’t have time to reflect on her feeling for now. And by the look Lily gave her before leaving, she’d better delete her number.

She toyed with her ring and put her in her pocket. What a night.

“Would it have been so difficult for you to admit being wrong?” Oleb asked, voice calm despite who he was talking to.

“What?”

“You acted harshly because you’d rather be right than to admit you were wrong. So, you hurt the only person who’s innocent.”

Carole didn’t have anything to reply. He was right. She should have…they should’ve had better communicated. From the start. The misunderstandings and secrets piled up to the point where trust was hard to give. If she had talked to Carole when she doubted, if Carole had stayed at the cabin to listen to Mara’s explanation, if Mara hadn’t runaway…

She sighed. Now Mara had amnesia. Good Lord. They were truly cursed. Maybe it was a sign from God that they shouldn’t be together.

“She is good. The doctors said that nothing was broken. She is ok,” Aleya said with a bright smile.

“Is she awake?” Oleb asked.

“Yep,” she replied, looking straight at Carole.

“You should go see her,” Oleb advised her.

Carole thought she didn’t hear correctly.

“Yes, you should Carole. This time, you need to listen to the entire story. All of this drama is making dizzy.”

Carole opened her mouth to speak and closed it. She stood up mechanically, straightened her spine and strolled to Mara’s room. The last thing she heard was Aleya saying ‘two imbeciles in love’ to her husband.

  Mara was avoiding looking at her. She was tensed, her hands on her knees were trembling.

“I’m not going to bite you,” Carole joked, as she sat on the chair nearby.

The sudden movement made Mara jumped and raise her hands in defense. Carole’s face fell. If the guilt didn’t eat her from what she said in Hawaii, it would do it now.

“I’m sorry for earlier. I wanted so much to be right about you that I went stupid. Reckless. Evil. I…in my mind, I wished you were what I painted you, the morally grey character. It was better than imagining you, suffering, dying…at least you were alive. I was angry at you for making me feel like a kid who’s been bad, a kid who wants to be greedy. Because after those months I still love you like you hadn’t been gone.” She toyed with the hem of her sleeves, poking holes gently. “I know you don’t remember but in the hotel room, I said I was disgusted by you and treated you like dirt, I’m sorry. I apologize from the bottom of my heart. I was so jealous of Aleya, who I thought was your girlfriend. I was angry at you for making me feel so good and loved and weak. I reacted badly. Again.” She chuckled sadly. “It seems that when it comes to you, I can’t think straight.”

Carole took a deep breath and raised her head. Mara was now looking at her. Carole couldn’t decipher all the fleeting emotions. She despaired as she noticed the aggravation of the trembling.

“You said that you were the safest one in our relationship, that I had settled for you. But you were never, God -.” She laughed humorlessly. “Oh, you never were the safest choice. You pushed me past my boundaries, made me grow. It was like jumping out of an airplane with no parachute. I was high on the feelings. On you. On the life. I could have never gone back to Elisabeth. You opened a door for me and never wanted to be credited for it. I had to everything by myself and be proud of me. You didn’t want to be my everything, you wanted me to shine on my own…But you were my Astroios. My adventurer.” Carole let a few tears slip. “You use to look at me with such admiration when I told you that we’d travel and that I’d protect you, and yet, you protected me in the waterfall. You did more than I did. I was always afraid to travel, but for you, with you by my side, I’d have gone anywhere. You called me your adventurer, and yet, you were mine.”

Mara had her eyes closed; hands grasped to each other.

“I know you don’t remember, but I love you. More than you think.”

The silence stretched. Only the sound of their breathing and the machines disrupted it. That was it. The end. Carole took the ring out of her pocket and looked at it. She felt Mara’s gaze on her and caught her looking at the ring. Carole stood up and approached the bed. She handed it to Mara, who grasped both Carole’s hands and the ring in a tight grip. Carole relaxed in the grasp. Mara leaned forward and pressed her lips on Carole’s hand. A feather kiss. So light but full of emotion.

     Carole could feel Mara’s tears on the back of her hands, as she sang softly:

“Like lullabies you are, forever in my mind, I see you in all the pieces in my mind, though you weren’t mine…you’re my first love-.”

“I was always yours, my adventurer, always yours,” Carole denied in tears. “Look at me, Doll.”

Mara shook her head and pressed her forehead on the back of Carole’s hand.

“Mara, please, look at me.”

Mara obeyed quite slowly but still. She looked at Carole, who leaned and kissed her softly. They both sighed contently. It was gentle, timid. And it was still home after all these months.

“You are mine,” Carole declared firmly.

“Yours,” Mara replied on the same tone.

She hummed happily the rest of the song and put the ring on Carole’s finger, who replied positively to the nonverbal question. She looked at the ring and smiled wholeheartedly. Yes, she thought. Wait…

“You, asshole,” she shouted, in mock anger. Mara looked at her eyes wide.

“What?” she asked with a small voice.

“You remember me!”

Mara frowned, confused.

“Of course, I remember you. My body was banged during the earthquake but…” She replied slowly, uncertainty showing in her voice.

“The earthquake! But I thought you were in a plane and stranded on an island with a dead pilot.”

“What? Who told you that?”

“Oleb and Aleya.”

Mara stifled a laugh. Carole pouted. They got her.

“So, it was only an earthquake? Why make up a horrible story and tell that they couldn’t find you?”

Mara’s face sobered.

“Well, it is kinda true.”

“I beg you what?” Carole exclaimed.

“I was on a plane, but we landed. The problem was that we couldn’t go back to the island. The pilot was heavily dehydrated, and I was out most of the time. But then there was really an earthquake, the plane literally scattered when a tree fell on it. Something came in contact with the fuel and “boom”. I have a scar on the face and a seriously injured leg.”

Carole looked at her in awe. She ignored the pain and guilt rising into his stomach. She shouldn’t dwell on what ifs. Specially the most heart wrenching one, what if Mara had died and Carole had gone with her life believing a lie. She swallowed with difficulty.

“My adventurer,” she whispered.

Mara looked at her shyly and blushed.

“You are so courageous. I’m glad you are ok.”

“I love you,” Mara blurted, eyes wide, full of hope.

“I love you too, my adventurer.”

Carole leaned to kiss Mara, this time deeper.

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

Mara breathed in the scent of Carole and nipped her neck. Her hands roamed casually the bare space of Carole’s stomach. Mara tightened her arms around her waist.

“Best way to wake up,” Carole sighed, basking in the warm feeling.

“I know,” Mara laughed. She kissed her neck a last time and went out of the bed. Mara walked backward, eyes on Carole. She let her satin dress fall on the floor and flaunted her body before going to the bathroom.

The scars on her body had faded and were now a pinkish color. If Carole thought Mara was sexy before, she didn’t have other words in her vocabulary to describe her.

 My little adventurer.

 Fin

Alternative ending