#i just want to stop like mentally beating myself up over it lol

[kuiinncedes]

hehe

[idkwhatever580]

More than you’ll ever know

[{pairings: Natasha romanoff x reader}]

{prompt- Natasha comes home from a long mission to find y/n curled up in her hoodie.}

(she/her pronouns I might use they/them in the mix as well. Just whatever I write lol)

[|warnings~ cursing probably. Tad bit of angst not a lot but lots of fluff|]

An; I actually hope this turns out good bc idk what to do if y’all hate it. It’s probably gonna be cringey but I live for that anyways sooo hope y’all enjoy!

————————————————————————————————————————

Nobody’s pov?

Natasha walks into her room and sets her duffel bag down on the floor with a sigh. She immediately looks around for her girlfriend and frowns.

“What the fuck?” She mumbles tiredly.

She takes a good look at her room and sees everything a mess. Trash and clothes everywhere. The sheets are a stray and the floor is covered in dirty laundry. Natasha huffs.

All she wanted was to come home from her week long mission to her girlfriend and the least she expected was a clean room.

She quickly realizes that y/n isn’t in their room and she decides to leave the cleaning for later and switches over to the task of finding her beloved.

She steps into the hallway and says “Friday? Where is y/n/n”

“Mrs. Y/n is in the third floor lounge room ma’am.” The ai quickly replies.

She mumbles a quick thank you and starts her trek to find her girlfriend.

Natasha steps in the elevator and Friday already knows where she wants to go so it starts moving. Natasha stretches her aching muscles a bit and the bell dings.

She steps out to find the lounge in a similar state as their room except for there is a mound of blankets on the couch. She smiles knowing that the amount of blankets y/n uses is unreasonable but cute.

She silently walks to y/n’s pile and slowly uncovers her one layer at a time.

Y/n’s Pov

I am sleeping in the lounge and I feel my blankets being torn away from me.

Okay maybe torn is a bit dramatic but hey I am the girl I’ve always been.

I quickly grab the hand that is above my face to stop them from touching me. Although my eyes are closed I grip their wrist tightly and say,

“If you so dare say one word I’ll have Natasha beat your ass when she gets home”

I hear a familiar chuckle and my eyes open widely and I see my girlfriend. I immediately jump over the edge of the couch into her arms and she says,

“Are you gonna make me beat myself up?”

I glare at her as I pull away from the embrace and then I look around and finally realize how bad it’s gotten.

Usually whenever Natasha leaves I can handle myself but sometimes my mental health gets worse and I find myself unable to get out of bed. So that’s where this has gotten me.

I look at Natasha and she has a concerned look on her face and she says,

“Детка, what’s all this?”

I suddenly break and tears start welling up. I feel awful for having her come home to a depressed mess like me. I quickly try to give her an explanation.

“I don’t know! I- I just stopped picking things up and then next thing I know it’s a whole depression room”

I hide myself in her neck and a few tears fall, but she comforts me and says,

“Oh, Детка, you always know you can ask anybody in the compound for help. Don’t just lock yourself up. Come on. Let’s go to our room and get you in a bath.”

I look down and nod my head. Instead of making me walk she carries me like a koala and I hang onto her tightly.

She gets a bath running and helps me in and then I say,

“You’re not getting in with me?”

She smiles and looks down at me and says,

“I’m gonna do something really quickly okay? I’ll be right back just relax.”

I pout but nod my head nevertheless knowing she probably has to go give some paperwork to Nick or something like that.

After about 10 minutes she comes back in and I smile at her.

“You’re such a cutie”

I say to her. She sits down on the toilet next to me and smiles and says,

“I’m the cutie?”

I nod my head and explain further,

“You’re so baby girl. Like. Just cutie pie.”

Natasha chuckles a bit. Oh god. How her laugh makes me blush. Even after two years of dating she never fails to give me butterflies.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called cute before… most people would say that I’m quite the opposite.”

I pout at her words and quickly quip,

“Well then, I guess most people don’t know you and that’s literally so tragic because if I never met you I don’t know what I’d do.”

She smiles at me and says,

“Why don’t we get you out and let’s watch some movies?”

I hum and get out. She helps me dry off even though I protest she doesn’t let me do it myself, so I just let her do her own thing.

She gets me my favorite pjs and we go to the room and I freeze.

Everything is gone and cleaned. All the trash. All the clothes. I look to Natasha and say,

“Did you do this?”

She shrugs her shoulders and says,

“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.”

I roll my eyes and give her a kiss on the cheek. We get into the bed with fresh sheets on them and I immediately cuddle into her side. She goes for the remote and I shake my head and say,

“I just wanna lay here with you. No tv. No nothing. Just us”

She smiles and nods her head and says,

“I like that idea. I love you.”

I smile and kiss her softly. Deliberately avoiding saying ‘I love you’ back to her knowing it’s a pet peeve.

She pouts and I find it so cute and she says,

“Say I love you back.”

I look at her and say,

“Why?”

She fake gasps and says,

“You have to if you love me! Do you not love me?”

I shrug my shoulders and say,

“Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.”

She pouts at me using her words against her and she says,

“You’re mean.”

I look at her and decide to be nice again so I say,

“And you’re the smartest, kindest, most loving, cutest, person on this earth. I love you so so much more than you’ll ever know.”

She blushes and smiles at me. I look at her and say,

“I’m sleepy”

Then as if on queue, a big yawn comes out from me, and Natasha giggles a bit. She snuggles closer to me if that’s even possible and says,

“Sleep baby. You’ll need your energy for tomorrow”

I groan when I remember that Natasha and I are training together. I’ve gotten out of training with everyone else this past week knowing they’d never make me do anything since Natasha romanoff is my girlfriend, but she won’t let it slide.

I decide to worry about it tomorrow and just focus on the fact that my baby is home and all is well in the world. Even if it isn’t.

——————————————————————————

An: I hope y’all like it! It’s a bit long but I couldn’t find a good place to finish it. And I wanted to add more lol. Please please please leave some constructive criticism for me lol. I need to work on my writing I’m sure. And feel free to leave requests anywhere :)))

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

Hidden embers

Chapter 2

Chapter summary: Tensions rise during a church fundraiser, unexpected closeness with Joel begins to blur the lines between what’s right and wrong.

A/N: It took me so long to post this, school has been killing me lately, my sincerest apologies. This is a fun little chapter, wrote it a while back. I’m currently writing chapter 4 and I can’t wait for you guys to read that one. I hope you enjoy this 🤍

Warnings: No outbreak AU, Age gap, DBF!Joel, some accidental physical contact lol

Series masterlist

Two days after the barbeque, you’re woken up by the gentle touch of your dad stroking your hair.

“Hey, sweetheart.” he says almost in a whisper

You squint at the clock on your nightstand, its red numbers flashing in the dim morning light. The faint glow through your curtains barely illuminates your dad’s face. “Dad? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong, kiddo. Just wanted to let you know I’m off to that church fundraiser we told you about. They need me and Joel to help with setting up lights and whatnot. Didn’t know if you’d wanna come”

You groan, rolling onto your back and closing your eyes. “Dad, it's 6:30 a.m on a Sunday. The only thing I wanna do right now is burrow myself in this bed for at least three more hours.”

He chuckles softly, standing up from where he was crouching next to your bed. “Alright, you’ll have to help your mom with the baking then. She’s gonna be selling all those pastries today and I bet she could use a sous-chef”

Before he can make it any closer to the door, you sit up in your bed and rub your eyes “I’m up. Be down in 5”

You cradle a hot cup of coffee to your chest, the summer heat creeping in very slowly this early in the morning. Your first stop is Joel’s house and even the struggle to keep your eyes open doesn’t distract you from the nervous flutter in your stomach at the thought of seeing him again.

You've been doing mental gymnastics, trying your damn hardest to keep your mind off of him, convincing yourself this is just a silly fixation and will pass as soon as you get used to seeing him around. Just push through it, and eventually, your heart will get the memo.

Your dad pulls up to his driveway and parks right next to his truck. The front door is in your direct line of sight when Joel opens it, carrying a couple boxes and a toolbelt slung over his shoulder. You have to make a conscious effort to not stare at his arms, at how big they get whenever he carries heavy things around—that proves to be a lot harder when he’s walking in a straight line towards you.

Thankfully, your dad gets out of the car to help, sparing you from further gawking. You hear him ask if there are any boxes left inside and from the way he heads back towards the house, you guess the answer is yes.You roll your window down to ask if he needs any help just as those strong arms you were trying to ignore rest themselves on the window frame.

“You didn’t strike me as an early bird.” Joel says, his eyes now leveled with yours, much closer than you had been two days ago.

Your cheeks betray you, flushing a shade of red that now feels reserved for him. “Do I strike you as my mom’s baking assistant for the entire day?” you retort, a grin sneaking onto your face.

You’d be lying through your teeth if you said you weren’t trying to earn another one of those earth shattering chuckles with your comment. Turns out you’re pretty good at it, because a second later he’s dropping his head, a low rumbly chuckle escaping him. “I reckon you don’t.”

His eyes come back up to meet yours, holding for a beat longer than they probably should, like he’s giving you one more tiny bread crumb to follow the trail, to figure out the riddle. Or maybe you’re just losing your mind, which is entirely possible.

Just when the tension between you two is about to reach a breaking point, your dad reappears with more boxes.

“A little help, pal? It wouldn’t kill ya,” he calls out, breaking the spell.

As your dad parks the car in front of the church, you spot Mrs. Calloway, the lively old lady you spoke to at the barbecue, waving energetically. The early morning sun casts long shadows across the church’s lawn, the air carrying the faint smell of freshly-cut grass.

“Oh good, you’re here!” she greets the three of you as you step out of the car.

“Mornin’, Mrs. Calloway. How’s the day treatin’ you?” your dad asks, hauling open the truck's tailgate.

“Oh, busy, so much to do. I see you brought me an extra pair of hands here,” she says, sidling up to you and giving your arm a friendly squeeze.

“Yeah, he was very convincing, couldn’t refuse the invite,” you reply with a polite smile. You've taken a real liking to Mrs. Calloway. She never talks about your parents when she chats with you. Instead, she asks about your life or shares stories about her cats—which is a refreshing change of pace.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t, pumpkin. I have a bunch of decorations to put up inside.” She leans in closer and half-whispers, “And for all their virtues, I wouldn’t trust these ones with decorating if it was my last day on earth.”

You can’t help but giggle just as a voice comes from the back of the truck. “Heard that.”

You turn to see Joel balancing a couple boxes with practiced ease “Is she wrong?” you ask, a teasing smile on your lips.

He grins, shaking his head. “No, she’s very right.”

“Oh, Joel could help you out” Mrs. Calloway suggests. “There are some pretty big containers stuffed in the back of the storage room with everything you’ll need. Why don’t you go grab them while we start setting up the tables out here?”

“You got it,” you say, trying to wave away the thought of being alone with Joel again.

You walk into the church with Joel trailing just behind, his presence is a comforting warmth against the cool morning air. The quiet of the church envelops you both, the sound of your footsteps echoing softly. You spot a door in the back corner “That’s the one?”

“That’s the one.” Joel confirms, taking the lead as you reach the storage room.

Inside, you find a mountain of containers piled up against the wall, with big brown boxes and plastic bags teetering on top.

“So, how many of these do we need?” you ask, hoping to distract yourself from how close he is.

“Just a couple to start with,” Joel replies, handing you one of the containers. “We’ll come back if we need more.”

You both carry the containers out of the storage room, the clatter of plastic echoing through the empty church hall.

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here,” Joel says, setting his container down and opening it. You follow suit, pulling out strings of lights, banners, and a variety of festive decorations.

“I didn’t think we’d be doing arts and crafts today,” you joke, unfurling a particularly colorful garland.

Joel smiles. “Yeah, not exactly my forte, but we’ll make it work.”

You pick a banner out of the container, large enough to hang from one column to the other, and spot metal hooks screwed all the way up—clearly where it’s meant to go.

You notice a small ladder pushed against a corner and leave Joel’s side to fetch it.

He only seems to notice what you’re up to once he hears the ladder scraping against the column

“Leave it, I'll take care of that.”

“Oh, don’t give me that. I’m not a lady in distress, I can hang up a banner on my own, Joel.” You reply stepping up on the ladder trying to test out its stability with a little bounce

“I know you can darlin’, but I’d rather do it myself. That ladder—”

“The ladder is fine, Joel. Go back to untangling those lights.” You’re not quite sure what you’re trying to prove – maybe this was an attempt at stripping away that childish image he had of you.

He disregards your comment and walks right to your side, his hands slightly stretched out like he's preparing to catch you.

“You’re being so dramatic,” you say climbing to the highest point of the ladder.

Sure, it’s old but if it held up this long it could hold for a little bit longer. “See? I’m just fine, I just gotta hook this up here…”

As if on cue, the ladder starts creaking ominously just as you stretch your arm out to reach the hook. Not half a second later, the rusty metal piece that was holding all your weight up snaps and Joel’s arms wrap around your body, pulling you safely against his chest.

For the second time that day, you could say that was the closest to Joel you’ve ever been. His face just inches away from yours, both arms holding you securely, the woody, musky scent your brain had labeled as uniquely his, overwhelming your senses.

Words failed you as you stared into those deep brown eyes, and every part of you wanted to believe it was just the shock of the fall, but it was getting harder and harder to keep shamelessly lying to yourself.

When he finally breaks the silence, it’s pretty much a lost battle. “Will you stop being so stubborn and let me help you now?”

“Favorite color”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Joel chuckles once again, and at this point, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve pulled that off. With Joel Miller, even a small chuckle feels like a major accomplishment.

After spending the entire morning decorating the inside of the church (most of which you spent explaining to him he couldn’t mix the red decorations with the green ones because it wasn’t christmas), you were both assigned raffle duty. You sold the tickets and Joel put them in the big raffle draw, using the lever to mix them up as he went.

The two of you sat behind a little stand, and in your best attempt to hear as much as you could of that sweet, caramel-y drawl, you convinced him to play twenty-questions. Each of you took turns asking the other whatever popped into your heads, and the other had to answer honestly.

Your questions ranged from what animal he would choose to turn into if he could shapeshift at will, to his favorite subjects back in high school, and even who in your family he would take to a deserted island if he knew he’d have to partner up to make it out alive. (He picked you, obviously. Your dad was terrible at functioning in high pressure situations). His questions on the other hand had been generic at best, deadly boring at worst.

You leaned back in your chair, the wooden slats creaking under your weight, and gave him a playful glare.

“You said any question that popped into my head,” he defends himself, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Oh and you’re dying to know my favorite color, are you?” you ask back, dripping with sarcasm.

“I’ll lose sleep over it if you don’t tell me” his voice gets low and serious in complete contrast to how ridiculous his statement is.

“Blue,” you admit, “but not the default shade of blue everyone thinks of, more like a ‘clear water lake’ kind of blue” you look back at him and he just kind of stares, like he's too distracted by you to even register the answer to his question. ���What’s your’s?” you ask, pulling him out of his trance.

“Brown.”

You laugh at his answer.

“Something funny?” he asks

“Only you, Joel Miller, would have brown as your favorite color.”

“It’s a perfectly normal favorite color.” He says defensively, a little frown creasing his features.

“Joel, it’s the most boring of colors, it’s not even a color in itself, it's all the colors mushed together.” you giggle at the absurdity of the conversation, leaning in closer, enjoying the banter more than you care to admit.

“It’s practical, goes well with everything, looks good in any house—an easy, simple color.”

“But your favorite color isn’t supposed to be about practicality, it’s supposed to be about which one you like the most.” You argue back.

“You tryna tell me how to pick my own favorite color, kid?” he teases you, receiving only a death stare in return.The warmth in his eyes makes your heart skip. “Fine, it’s green.”

“See? That's a normal favorite color”

“Yeah, and you’re a piece a’ work.” he mutters, shaking his head, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips that tells you he’s enjoying this as much as you are.

Just like that, Joel Miller makes the rest of the day easy to get through. Even with the awkward feeling of being an outsider, looking through a window into a room full of people who’ve known each other their whole lives, he manages to ground you. He’s either pulling you into senseless conversation or letting you bask in a comfortable silence, and both feel like a lifeline.

By the end of the day, you walk around helping Ms. Calloway clear out the tables, throw all the empty cups and disposable plates into a trash back and group up the chairs so your dad can take them back inside.

During one of your ‘picking up leftover trash’ rounds, you see your mom standing next to Joel’s truck. He’s right beside her loadingback up the tools he’d brought with him this morning. You knew Joel was a lot colder and closed off with other people—that's what earned him his grump reputation in the first place—but in the short time you’ve been around him since you came back, you’ve never seen him be so stiff around anyone like he is with your mom.

That is certainly a rare sight, given your mom was one to charm any and everyone who crossed her path. Pageant queen, cheerleader, hair larger than life type—your mom is a sight for sore eyes, even you have to admit that. It was hard to engage in conversation with her and not be dazzled by her looks and also by her bubbly personality, or the persona she put on for others at least. It almost seemed like she hadn’t been told no once in her entire life.

But Joel seemed immune to it, no warm smile on his face, no polite small talk, not even gentleman-like behavior beyond the strictly necessary. In fact, something in his face told you he couldn’t wait to get on his truck and leave. He stands with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, every line of his body screaming discomfort.

You watch the two of them from a distance, your mom batting her eyelashes up at him, her body leaning towards him slightly, trying to close the gap he’s so obviously desperate to maintain. Meanwhile, Joel looks like he’s doing everything in his power to keep his distance, stepping closer and closer to his truck’s tailgate. His jaw is set like stone, eyes flicking to the side as if searching for an escape route, and you can almost see the tension radiating off him in waves.

Your mom leans in closer, her voice dropping to what she probably thinks is a conspiratorial whisper. Even from a distance, you can see Joel’s eyes narrow, a flicker of something like annoyance passing over his face before he schools his expression back to neutral.

An unshakable uneasiness tugs at your chest that won't allow you to walk away, against your best instincts you decide to barge in.

“Hey, Mom!” you chirp, sliding right up next to Joel. “I think Mrs. Calloway is looking for you. Something about the pies?”

Your mom turns to you with a bright smile, though there’s a flicker of irritation in her eyes that’s hard to miss. “Oh, I’m sure she can manage without me for a moment,” she says, but you can tell she’s not thrilled about being interrupted.

Joel gives you a grateful look, his eyes meeting yours with a silent thanks. You catch a slight relaxation in his shoulders, like he’s the one being thrown a lifeline this time.

“Actually, Mom, she seemed really insistent,” you retort, trying to sell the urgency of the situation. “You know… with the wrapping things up and all.”

Your mom hesitates, her gaze flicking between you and Joel. Finally, she relents with a sigh, though the look she gives you says this conversation is far from over. “Alright, I’ll go see what she needs. But we’re not done talking about this, Joel,” she says, her voice carrying an edge that makes your skin crawl, before turning on her heel and striding away.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, Joel exhales a long breath. He extends you one more polite nod and jumps into the truck without another word. You don’t like the feeling it gives you, not one bit.

Before you can dwell too much in your thoughts, you hear your mom’s voice calling your name, and you turn to see her motioning for you to join her. Here comes the earful.

With a resigned sigh, you make your way over to her, bracing for the inevitable.

“Sweetheart,” she begins in a voice that’s both sugar and vinegar, “you really shouldn’t interrupt when adults are talking. It’s important to know your place.”

You nod, biting back the retort on the tip of your tongue. “I know, Mom. I just thought you might want to check on Mrs. Calloway.”

She narrows her eyes, as if trying to read your mind. “If you go around behaving like a heathen, it reflects poorly on me. You’d do well to remember that.”

You stare back at her, head high and an unfaltering cool facade. She used to intimidate you, this tone used to make you feel so small and insignificant, but it doesn’t anymore. Hasn’t for a good while now. “Got it,” you reply, forcing a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

[moonrisecoeur]

IM BACK CUZ IM MENTALLY UNWELL OK. and yes you’re the best sub Leon writer 😏🥱 and yes I liked it, SITTING ON HIS FACE? 😍🥱

I’m so sorry for blasting ur req box but YOURE AN ACTUALLY GOOD SUB LEON WRITER SO can you blame me? concept: idk why but re4 Leon is so free use coded and so imagine he is on a mission with a new assigned partner but she’s an asshole to him (“fuck off man, I can do it myself, “I don’t need your help”, “you’re too nice and gonna be taken advantage of 😐”, etc. You get the gist) and his goofy ass just tryna be nice and helpful, cuz this is leon we are talking about. But the fun part ⁉️ they have cameras installed in the hideout they are saying at for security purposes. But ofc, Leon always tries to check on reader to make sure she’s ok - even if she’s an asshole to him. AND YK WHAT READER DOES 😭 she’s way too horny and just goes at it, girl got a masturbation problem on god. Every night. One night - wrong time and place - Leon opens his laptop to see the cameras making sure she’s ok AND HELP HE SEES HER … yk. And he feels guilty like he shouldn’t watch but he does anyways. And this goes on for weeks. Until one night he’s sick and tired of her always being so mean and he accidentally lets it slip that he’s been watching her LOL AND SHES LIKE UHM BOY WHAT 🙄⁉️ and he tries to play it off like “I didnt mean to” but like, my brother in Christ… you’ve been watching every night for weeks 🤨 wdym you didn’t mean to? ANYWAYS LONG STORY SHORT SHE PUNISHES HIM AND HEAVYYYY ON THE FREE USE THING. Love you bae 😘

i made a couple minor changes just for convenience :) fem reader she/her pronouns!

also i didn’t write the smex scene IM SORRY but i have been working on this all day and i need to get to other asks but i promise i’ll write some more free use in the future because it’s so smexy

-

"look, i know you don't like me-"

"oh? really? tell me what you think you know, kennedy," you scowl at him, and though it spooks him just a little, he tries to seem unphased.

he frowns, not hurt by your words but definitely concerned that you'll make a bad partner, "you don't need to be this hostile. we're allies. we're supposed to have each other's backs."

"right..." your voice echos, and leon knows that if it came down to it, you wouldn't protect him, wouldn't save him, would barely help him. he's practically on his own for this mission, just has an extra body with him to shoot at the bad guys.

it hurts, to some degree, because even without knowing you well, and even with you being cold and rude to him, he knows he'd come to your rescue in a heartbeat. something about him feels fond of you, even though in your entire time knowing leon kennedy, you haven't said one nice thing to him.

he thinks that maybe he likes that you've never been nice to him. he doesn't really know what to do with that thought.

-

leon is proved wrong.

despite the harshness of your words, you come to his rescue, fighting off the villager who almost decapitated him with an axe like both of your lives depend on it (because they do).

he watches you fight nervously, but when you come out on top, aside from the gash wound you take to the hip, he feels his heart skip a beat.

"this is what happens when you hurt my partner," you groan, holding your side, trying to speak through the pain even though leon can see the blood seeping between your fingers.

you whisper something in your victim's ear, something leon can't quite make out, before you kill him. leon wonders what it was briefly. he decides it doesn’t matter.

you both breathe a sigh of relief, but it's short lived as you collapse to the ground. you saved him. you got hurt saving him.

"here, let me help you," he mutters, coming over to you, not even stopping to ask if you want his help because he knows you'll say no, "stop fighting me. you're hurt and i need to patch you up."

the pain is agonizing, but even through gritted teeth and tense breaths, you push through it. he has to commend you a little bit, you're tougher than you look.

but when you try to push his hand away, claiming "i'm fine, kennedy," he sees the struggle in your face, hears the hurt in your voice. his heart seems to stop. he's worried, "i can do it myself, you don't have to- fuck, dude, i don't need your help-."

"-just relax, okay? i got you..”

you don't have the strength to push him away, but you know you shouldn't anyway, so you just slouch back against the wall and try to breathe, "fine, just fuckin... hurry up."

"i'm just trying to take care of you. we're partners, right? i gotta look out for you," he smiles, trying to lighten the mood even slightly. he wishes that this would be the time the barriers come down, that those skyscraper walls that prevented him from coming any closer to you emotionally could come crashing down, if only for a moment.

"you don't have to do anything. you're choosing to put yourself in danger to help me," you groan as you lean back, looking up at the ceiling, "suprised that no one's tried to take advantage of your willingness to help before."

"someone did," he mutters annoyedly, focusing more on the wound then it being your wound, on your body. his eyebrows, almost naturally furrowed from years of stress, somehow make his face even more sad to gaze upon. it's not that he's unattractive, far from it, but he's... worn. tired. a piece of your heart, no matter how far you keep away from him, aches in sympathy.

-

leon carries you back to the safe room, a hideout you both are using to rest and recover in while you plot your next move. he lays his jacket on the ground to at least give you something comfortable to lie on. you don't look comfortable, but he can't do anything else to help you.

he looks through his things, trying to concoct something that will at least make you feel a little bit better. he finds a first aid spray, and his heart jumps out of his chest in excitement. he uses it to take care of your wound, and waits for you to wake up from your unconscious state.

he decides to go back out, hoping to maybe find some other things to help you both on your mission. he knows you'll berate him for leaving on his own, risking his own life needlessly. but god if he didn't imagine what it would be like if he found something you could really use, and watch your eyes light up. even if you didn't like him, you'd be happy. he wants to see you smile, to praise him for a job well done.

he cringes at how pathetic it sounds, but he sets off either way, leaving you wrapped in his jacket with a note from him saying what he's doing.

-

he doesn't do it intentionally. at least... not the first time. genuinely, he just wanted to check up on you, make sure you were alive and breathing and safe. and you definitely were.

he doesn't know why its so hypnotizing, why he can't put his goddamn phone away with the stupid security app on it. of course it's you, though. you're hypnotizing.

he watches every pixel, every distorted view of you touching yourself in the safe room, obviously unaware that he could... see this. he's glad there's no audio, or else he'd be unable to control himself, even in an abandoned building surrounded by zombies. maybe its the years that haven hardened him, burned the fear out of his soul and numbed him to the presence of those things, but he doesn't feel anything but uncontrollable desire right now.

have you been doing it the whole time? you both had spilt off from each other multiple times, and he would almost be upset at the idea that every time he was fighting for his life and barely, barely winning that fight each time, you were getting off a couple hundred feet from him in another room... if it wasn't so fucking hot to watch you masturbate.

he keeps watching until he notices that you're having an orgasm, body twitching and your chest heaving up and down as you take deep breathes. it's so fucking sexy, leon probably could have cum on the spot if he watched anymore.

-

you keep doing it. he keeps watching it. over the course of the mission (of course he had to be stuck on a long, secluded recon mission with you of all people) he's watched you too many times. he doesn't think he has enough fingers to count how many times, which either means he's been on this mission longer than he thought or you have a fucking addiction. he's almost kind of impressed at how efficient you are. takes you 10 minutes tops, and then you just get back up and keep on trucking? his sentimental, post-nut ass could never.

and, though you recovered from your wound, you haven't displayed any sense of gratitude for leon taking care of you when you passed out after getting hurt. not that he expects it, truthfully. you saved his life, he saved yours. you were even.

he just doesn't feel like he's broken any new ground. he feels like, if anything, you feel even further away, emotionally. he's about had it.

"hey, we need to talk," he says, ominously; he doesn't intend it to be so, "i understand you don't like me. it's fine. i don't even care anymore. but i am tired of you talking to me like i'm a pushover."

you look over at him, reloading your gun with a displeased look on your face. leon hates the inner urge he has to cave and apologize to you, as if his body would rather give up any sense of dignity he still has in favor of being slightly more tolerable to you.

"well? are you going to say something?"

you scoff, looking away, "didn't know you were so fucking sensitive, kennedy," and you turn around, ready to walk out, before he snaps, "this isn't a pleasure trip. sorry you're not having a good time."

"clearly you're having a good time with all the pleasure you're giving yourself while i'm trying not to die."

he stops. panicking. trying to think of how to spin the words he just said and make it not sound like he knew every tell you had when you were about to cum or exactly how you touch yourself in order to get yourself off quickly.

you stop as well. and you look back at him with this expression on your face that is completely unreadable.

maybe it wasn't the best move to reveal the only card he had left to play if it mean he would get this reaction out of you considering that, again, you so clearly do not like him.

... right?

"what... did you say, kennedy?" you ask, pure venom in your voice. it's not a question, you so clearly heard him correctly.

"i- i'm sorry, i didn't mean to say that-"

"have you been watching me?" you take a step closer, eyes boring into his soul so intensely he can't make eye contact. he has no way out of this situation. he feels out of breath, nervous, god why are you getting so close to him? "answer me, leon," not kennedy, leon, "have you been watching me masturbate?"

he looks up, trying to keep himself from making eye contact. he knows the second he looks into your eyes, he will be putty in your hands, free for you to mold into whatever you'd like. he knows you're not looking at him with distain like usual, it's something else.

something hungry.

"yeah," he breathes, barely getting the world out at all. you take a deep breath, as if you're debating what you're going to do.

"what you did was wrong, you see that, right?"

"yes, i know, but-"

you scoff, annoyed. god why in this moment, just inches away from you, you notice the moles on his neck, the angle of his jaw, the entrancing aura of his eyes. it's so damn distracting, and you have to pull yourself together, "but nothing. you watched me without my consent, you got off on it, didn't you?"

"god, you're making it sound so bad, i... i'm sorry, okay? how can i make it up to you?" he asks, trying so damn hard as always to please.

this is where you come to realize that maybe you didn't hate leon kennedy all this time. maybe you found yourself too comfortable, too at ease in his presence. maybe he was safe and sweet and gentle and it didn't sit right because nothing in a world with zombies and bioweapons and cults and parasites was gentle. but leon is.

you look down, considering your options, "i have an idea. you're free to refuse and we go back to before, and you get nothing from me. do you want to hear it?"

"sure?"

you take a breath, going for it, "i’ll be… blunt. if you couldn’t tell, i’m a bit.. insatiable. i need something to get myself off now that i’m getting bored of my own hands out here. you help me, and i’ll forgive you for watching me.”

his thoughts stop. he genuinely can’t put together a coherent thought, what did you mean? "are you.. are you fucking serious? you barely speak to me, every time you do speak to me you act like i'm the scum of the earth, you act like i'm not here when i saved your ass and carried you and patched you up, i-”

you cut him off with a kiss. it’s not gentle, it’s rough and messy and your fingers dig into the skin of his cheeks, leaving him red and breathless. he finally gets it. you don’t want him to help you, you want to use him.

he lets you push him down, pin his body to the wall as you kiss him breathless. he lets you dig your nails into his neck even if it hurts. he lets you touch and kiss him as rough or as gentle as you like. and you don’t like being gentle, clearly.

“use me,” he whispers between kisses, and when you pull away, eyeing him intently, as if urging him to explain himself, he does, “do whatever you want. just keep going until you’re satisfied. don’t… don’t hold back. whatever pleases you… i want that. i want to please you.”

“awh, you just want me to be happy with you, don’t you?” you coo at him, endeared by his selflessness. truly a good man in a bad world, “that’s all you’ve ever wanted, hm? for me to like you?”

his resolve cracks just a little bit more, “uhm, yeah…” he his voice is shaky, unsteady, and he just needs to give in.

“then you’re going to let me do this every single time in horny and need something to get myself off. i’m going to do whatever i want to you, and i’m not going to ask. you’re just going to let me. if you don’t, then we go right back to being enemies, and you really don’t want that, right?”

he stutters aimlessly, his knees going weak. he’d truly be done for if you weren’t hold him up with a strength he did not know you had.

and you just keep going, “i’m not going to ask or care if it’s a bad time. i want it to be inconvenient, uncomfortable, ill-timed. i want it to be permanently in your head that i can have you whenever i want you. that i can do whatever i want to you.”

“only i get to have you, got it?”

“g-got it,” he mutters weakly, feeling your hands on him, touching him in places he hasn’t been touched in a while. he didn’t realize how desperate he was.

“only i get to touch you, only i… get to fuck you.”

he nods helplessly.

“it’s too bad i didn’t bring a dildo in my bag when we set off for this mission, because i would so fuck you with it until you’re seeing stars and apologizing for going behind my back… but i suppose i’ll just have to satisfy myself with your cock…”

[coffeeandbatboys]

I am sliding in for your 300 celebration 👀

First, CONGRATS🎉🎉🎉

Second...👀

I would like to request Jesse! (Since I asked for Kix last time lol)

Now, these two aren't on your list...buuuuut 👀 I think you may like em!

or (if this sparks the creativity better)

I went through my arsenal and these just struck me as Jesse songs 🤣

If they don't tickle the fancy, pick one that does!

😘💜💜💜

THANKUUUU MOONLIGHT!!!

I ended up with Lovefool because Shadows of the Night was gonna be nightmare angst sooooo.....

Warnings: Classic misunderstanding, flirting, some hot sauce, fluff. Mention of how thicc he is because no I can't help myself. Of course, there's a Kix cameo because It's Jesse.

Lovefool (Jesse x Fem!Reader)

There's no doubt about it: Jesse is a huge flirt. In the two years that you've known him, your friendship has been based on playful teasing and outright flirting. Some might call you best friends.

Lately, however, you've been feeling more than all that. You're starting to realize the potential in a relationship with him.

Who am I kidding? You ask yourself. Every time you go out with the Torrents, he has half the women in the establishment hanging off of him. Granted, you had noticed him getting a little irritated about this the last time.

You catch yourself constantly daydreaming about him. Especially since he had returned from ARC training noticeably...thicker. What you wouldn't give to just cross out of the friend zone and—

A hand waving back and forth in front of you breaks the daze you've been in.

Jesse stands in front of your desk, wearing an amused smirk and raised brows. You don't miss the brief flash of genuine concern in his eyes.

"You with me, mesh'la?"

The way he says the name, and how often he uses it ignites a little fire of hope that maybe you do have a chance. He doesn't know, but you researched the meaning of it.

"Yeah, Jess. Just thinking."

He laughs, and kriff is it one of the most beautiful things you've ever heard. He pulls the chair on the other side of the desk closer and collapses into it. "Abouuuut what?" He presses.

You roll your eyes a little and huff. "Stuff."

He leans back in the chair. "You're chatty today."

You groan and drop your head into your hands. "I've got a problem."

He dips his head forward. "So let me help?"

"You're the problem." You blurt out before you can stop yourself. You clap a hand over your mouth and watch him with nervous eyes. The confident smirk drops into a confused expression and you can see the hurt in his eyes. You curse yourself and move your hand to your eyes. "No, wait. I'm sorry—"

His voice is uncharacteristically blank. "If I did something wrong you know you can tell me."

You are mentally kicking yourself for not having a good choice of words in your outburst.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Jesse. It's...you're doing everything right."

His brows scrunch in confusion and all he can ask is "what?"

There's no going back now. You have to tell him.

"You're constantly flirting and trying pickup lines on me! And don't get me wrong, I love all of it...but I can't help that maybe I'm hoping you're serious."

You keep your face buried in your hands until you feel a gloved hand beneath your chin. You peek through your fingers to find him leaning over the desk, and over you.

"Mesh'la," He chuckles, "whoever said I wasn't serious?"

You swear your heart stops beating for a second and you completely remove your hand from your face, looking up at his slight smile. You stand slowly until you're face to face with him. Feeling a blush creeping up your neck, you notice his eyes flicker to your lips. Without a thought, you surge forward to meet his own.

The kiss is slow and heated. He tastes sweet, and adrenaline courses through your veins when you realize that this is all you've wanted. Your lips dance in sync as he takes your shoulders in an attempt to pull you closer, though the desk between the two of you is proving that a difficult task. Your fingers hook into the rim of his cuirass as he pulls away to whisper, "Is this okay?"

"More than okay," you respond, chasing his lips.

Before either of you can go for round two, the door to your office opens and KIx strides halfway into the room before he looks up at the two of you, awkwardly holding onto each other and leaning over a kriffing desk.

The medic closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Maker help me. It was bound to happen sooner than later."

When he opens his eyes again you and Jesse are both giving him sheepish smiles.

Kix shakes his head and huffs. "I won't tell, if you're worried about that. But Jess, we've got a briefing."

Your ARC grimaces. "Kix, you know you could have commed me. I'll be there in a minute."

The medic smirks. "Had to make sure things didn't get out of hand, 's all."

[btsgotjams27]

this is us ~ jjk | 16

six months later and you're still not over jungkook, and when you finally hit rock bottom, you realize you have to pick yourself up because no one else can do it for you.

✨ title: this is us | (sequel to all grown up) ✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader | ✨ rating: m/18+ | minors dni ✨ genre/au: drama, romance, angst, fluff, smut | est!relationship, age gap, bff's younger brother ✨ playlist | AO3 & Wattpad ✨ a/n: if you haven’t read the prequel to this, please do so here! :) ✨ a/n 2: hello, hello! can you believe we're almost done with this series? it's been a crazy journey for these two, hasn't it? lol. well, i'll just say the angst is strong in this chapter but! this is the last angsty chapter, which i'm kind of happy for myself, my readers, and the characters lmaooooo. i hope y'all enjoy it and now it's only going up from this point out!

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] | next ✨ 17 ~ one year later

chapter 16 ~ so maybe you're not okay | wc: 5.4k warnings: time skip (6 months later), angst, reader is reflecting on her past actions, language, alcohol consumption, *some* tough love, self-deprecation, depressing thoughts, mentions of throwing up smut warnings: kissing, touching, groping, breast play

~ six months since the breakup ~

Six months have passed since you and Jungkook split up. Sometimes, your heart ached continually, and you wondered when it would stop or ever cease. You almost gave in and called to check how he was doing or what he was up to, but you didn't. It was foolish to believe he'd want to talk to you since he, too, was hurt. You had shattered his heart for the second time, and you shouldn't be surprised if he never wanted to hear from you again.

Your heart skipped a beat anytime his name was uttered, whether it was Jin or Yuna. A part of you wanted to know if he was doing well or if he was as unhappy as you, but you were hoping for the latter. He deserved happiness, and you wanted him to find it even if you weren’t a part of it.

As much as you wanted to run away from responsibilities, you couldn’t. Your show was the only thing that kept you going—for now, at least. Critics and audiences alike praised the first half of the season, but as the season proceeded, numbers began to fall, making you doubt your talent and career. Could your writing be suffering as a result of your breakup? It did take up a lot of your mental space these days.

You wanted to hide under a rock and never come out again, it was virtually impossible because your phone rang nonstop day and night, attempting to put out fires—executives, producers, and writers breathing down your neck, never letting you take a breath. You just wanted everything to halt, and you just wanted no one to need you. But you were reminded of that whenever you stepped into your apartment. You didn’t know which was worse anymore.

The show's last day couldn’t have come any faster, and Kenji wanted to go big and celebrate the filming wrapping. You arrived at the beautiful modern building, which hardly looked like a restaurant.

“Hello, darling.”

You turned to your ex-boyfriend, his arm snaking around your waist. He could never help himself, but you smacked his arm away. “Kenji,” you said with a scowl.

“I’m sorry, love—habit.” You rolled your eyes. “Come on, let’s celebrate,” he said, holding his arm for you to take, though you didn’t amuse him by doing so. You were tired of his antics.

Because it was a party and you were practically the face of the project, you had to put on your best smile and pretend everything was fine—better than okay, perfect because you had gotten what you wanted out of your career, you had worked your ass off to get where you are. Still, none of this mattered if you didn't have the most important person by your side, but you didn’t dare utter his name.

If there was one thing you hated about being in this industry, it was the mingling aspect. Of course, you cared for your crew but showed it differently than how Kenji wanted to. You preferred intimate gatherings, taking a few groups to talk and catch up.

Though, at this point, you didn’t want to be around anyone anymore and just wanted to eliminate the noise clouding up your mind and space.

“Hey, babe. Are you doing okay?” Hyunie asked, pulling you in for a hug.

You loved your friend, but you swear to God if she asked you one more time if you were okay, you’d explode. “I’m fine,” you snapped, closing your eyes.

Having Hyunie by your side throughout this project was a godsend, and you couldn’t have done it without her. As Yuna was busy with baby Indie, Hyunie became your right-hand gal, almost waiting on you hand and foot.

She cleared her throat. “I just wanted to make sure,” she muttered, ready to walk away.

“Wait, Hyunie—” You turned, grasping her hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s okay. I know you’re stressed. I’ll leave you alone.”

God—were you always this bitchy and cranky? Or had you unlocked a new part of yourself that you’d only discovered after breaking up with Jungkook? Either way, you’d lose your friend if you didn’t stop.

You had stopped counting how many glasses of wine you had accepted from the server as he passed by with his tray, but it had to have been more than enough for you to want to kiss the next person you saw.

Aimlessly, you stared at your wine glass. Are you the only one like this? What the fuck are you doing with your life? Pretending to be okay when you weren’t. Shit—you were so fucking pathetic.

Every day, the same thing, over and over again. Mindlessly, alone. You were gradually losing yourself in your innermost thoughts.

Tomorrow may be better. Maybe it’ll be alright. But who were you kidding? They were nothing but lies. You were too far gone, too broken. And it didn’t look like it could ever be reversed.

“So, you’re the big boss, hmm?”

You looked up to see a handsome man donned in an all-black outfit, his honey-skin chest practically on display, the deep V of his silk shirt leading your eyes down to his lower half. “That’s me,” you muttered, swirling the last of what was left in your wine glass.

“Can I get you a refill?”

“Yes, please.”

The man flashed a beautiful smile before going behind the counter, reaching underneath to pull up a bottle of wine.

“Are you supposed to be back there?” you asked, raising a brow because he wasn’t a crew member from your show. Actually, you had never seen him before.

He chuckled. “I’m Jung Hoseok, co-owner of Onjium.” You held your glass out for him to refill.

“It’s a beautiful restaurant, and the food is immaculate.”

“Ah, why, thank you,” he remarked. “Should I return the favor and praise your show?”

You tried to suppress your smirk by sipping the red wine. “I’d rather you praise me instead."

Hoseok's tongue darts to wet his lips, biting the bottom. "I can do that."

It had been too long since you had kissed anyone, alone let anyone even touch you. But Hoseok’s kisses from the column of your neck trailing towards your collarbone made you realize how horny you were—and your vibrator wasn’t cutting it anymore. You weren’t sure why you hadn’t sought out a fuck buddy in the first place. It would’ve easily taken your mind off everything and relieved some stress.

His hardened length brushed against your clothed heat, his soft lips continuing to mark your body, his hand on the small of your back, eliminating the distance between you. “Fuck—you’re so sexy,” he kissed your lips. “Why isn’t every man dropping to their knees for you?”

You throw your head back, a chuckle leaving your lips. “Do you always flatter every woman who walks through your restaurant’s doors?” you ask, tugging at his belt, unfastening it with his pants.

He grins and shakes his head. “I never do things like this,” he lies through his teeth.

“Uh-huh, sure,” you quip back. “So you’ve never fucked anyone on this couch before?” You found it hard to believe—a good-looking man like him, not fucking every beautiful that walked into his restaurant?

“Nope, never,” he laughs, coming in for another kiss, his hard length pressing into your lower abdomen, making you ache and crave what’s hidden beneath those briefs. “Can I?” he asks, toying with the thin straps of your dress.

“Please do. I’m at your service to be praised and adored.” You were hardly ever this bold or confident. Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through your veins, coinciding with how shitty you’ve been feeling these past several months.

Hoseok’s slender fingers drew imaginary circles into your skin. He studied your face—eyes closed, mouth agape, and head lolled back. Savoring every moment as you bite your bottom lip, just waiting for him to continue as he pleased. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

Honestly, at this moment? Anything—anything to relieve the ache that was building inside your body.

He hums, waiting for your answer.

You opened your eyes and straightened your posture. He still hadn’t removed your straps, so you did it for him, agonizingly slow, of course—just as he teased you, you did the same to him. But your stupid bra stood in the way until you unfastened the hooks, freeing your breasts one at a time. His attention is now diverted from your eyes to your chest, taking in the perfect view.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you leaned in, whispering, “I want you to fuck me so hard that you have to take me home and then fuck me all over again.”

He shifted in his seat, adjusting himself, then gripped the soft flesh of your ass through your black slip dress. His hands roamed the sides of your body. His eyes fixated on your breasts before palming them in his hands. “Fuck–yes. You don’t have to tell me twice.”

His hand reached the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. You spread your legs wider, rolling your hips against his erection. Faint whimpers leave your lips when his fingers pinch your stiff peaks.

“Fuck–Kook. I need you inside me.”

“Name’s Hoseok,” he says between kisses.

“Don’t–don’t talk.”

“Anything you want, princess.”

You pulled away with a deadpan expression, breathing a loud sigh.

“You just ruined it.” Of course, he couldn’t have known that you hated that pet name, but that pet name also brought you back to reality.

You drew the strings of your dress back over your shoulders, proceeding to grab the rest of your things. “I’m sorry, Hoseok. I shouldn’t have done this,” you say, looking around for your bra.

“Was it something I said?”

Technically, yes, but also, you were stupid for trying to sleep with a man you had just met. This wasn’t you. You didn’t go around fucking random strangers–you much preferred being in a loving relationship, not one-night stands with men you’d never see again.

“No–it’s me. I’m sorry.”

Quickly, you left the crime scene, slipping into a taxi, still holding your bra because you couldn't put it back on without someone stopping to talk to you. With eyes closed and a loud sigh, your head lolled back on the car’s headrest. The angel on your shoulder was berating you for making bad decisions. The devil told you to return to the man who wanted to sleep with you and show you a good time. Right now, you didn’t want to listen to either of them.

You open your eyes and straighten your posture, catching a glimpse of yourself in the rearview. The person staring back was unrecognizable—having sunk to the lowest of the lows, unsure if you could pick yourself back up. At this point, you wondered how your friends could even put up with you. You didn’t even want to be around yourself—a pitiful mess you were.

Sundays were brunch days at Yuna and Namjoon’s. It was a tradition the group had organized since the new parents had their hands full.

But you lay in bed, thinking of the many excuses you could give to your best friend to get out of this brunch you had started to loathe. It reminded you of your mother’s family reunion dinners.

You 9:27 AM *cough*cough* I’m not feeling well. I think I drank too much.

Yuna 9:29 AM 😒 Get your ass over here. I don’t care if you’re on your deathbed.

Tae 9:30 AM Dang—mama don’t play. You tell her, Noona!

Hyunie 9:30 AM Seriously, taetae? Why??? Why are you like this? 😑

Joon 9:31 AM I’m making my infamous avocado toast.

Jin 9:32 AM Namjoon cooking? *cough*cough* I’m sick too.

Yuna 9:33 AM Oh! Don’t make me slap all of you through this phone. Everyone be here at 10:30! OR ELSE.

You 9:33 AM Fine…

Jin 9:34 AM Okay—MOM.

Tae 9:34 AM Or else, what? You’ll spank me?

Hyunie 9:35 AM Someone come strangle my husband before I do!!

Even if you were on your deathbed, huh? Apparently, you still had to attend this infamous Sunday brunch.

A notification bell came through your phone, illuminating your screen.

Jin 9:37 AM I can come pick you up.

You 9:38 AM Why? You don’t trust that I’ll go there?

Jin 9:38 AM Nope 🙃 See you soon friend.

The car ride to Yuna’s consisted of nothing but radio silence. Jin looked over, watching you mindlessly observe pedestrians, deep in thought about who knows what. He wanted to interrupt many times but didn’t want to appear insensitive.

“You look like shit,” Taehyung remarked, sitting at the table.

“Thanks, Taehyung. I really appreciate your honesty,” you faked a smile before letting it falter. “FYI—this is what I look like, hungover.”

“You seem to be drinking a lot these days,” Yuna couldn’t help but comment.

“There’s nothing wrong with drinking,” Namjoon responded as he was focused on smashing the avocados in the bowl. He looked up to see his wife glaring at him. “What?” He cleared his throat. “I mean, as long as it’s done in moderation. We don’t want anything bad to happen to our bodies.” He looked over at Yuna again, who was pleased with his answer.

“Maybe just slow down on the mimosas today, babe,” Hyunie interjected when you picked up the tall, slim glass and sipped. Whoever made it went a bit overboard on the champagne. It wouldn’t be your fault, it was whoever made this.

“I’m fine,” you noted. “I’m a big girl, and I can care for myself.”

With her tongue in cheek, Yuna tuts as she spreads the butter on the piece of bread, preparing the pan for the avocado toast.

You wanted to let that slide because she had been like this for the past few months, making snide, snarky comments or saying things under her breath. Maybe motherhood was taking a toll. Maybe she hadn’t had enough sleep. Maybe she, too, was pissed off at the world.

“Do you have something you want to say to me?” You set your glass down, folding your arms across your chest. Maybe you were feeling confident after the sip of orange juice and champagne.

Everyone quieted down, pretending not to let this conversation become awkward, trying to do other things to distract themselves.

Yuna placed the bread into the warm pan, letting it sizzle, but she didn’t answer you. She had wanted to talk to you privately for a while now, but everything was bubbling up to the surface, and she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

Namjoon clenched his jaw and lightly elbowed her, giving her the staredown of the century, mouthing, “Not now.”

“Why not? Hmm?” she answers aloud to her husband. “She needs to hear what I have to say.”

He looks at everyone whose eyes are now on the couple in the kitchen. “There’s a time and place if you want to talk, but not in front of everyone,” he said in a hushed tone, quickly glancing at you, then back to his smashed avocados.

“Yuna, if you have something to say, just fucking say it.” You were tired of all these side eyes and unspoken words.

She sighs and then turns off the stovetop, removing the pan from the heat. “It’s been six months, Y/n. Six months since Jungkook left.”

“Yeah, you don’t think I fucking know that? I have to live with that knowledge every day. Why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone and let me drink in peace?” Picking up the glass, you took another sip; the bubbly drink fizzled down your throat. “I’m fine,” you lied. “Sometimes I just want to wallow in all the shit I’m feeling, okay? And be fucking depressed, sad, and hurt. Am I not allowed to do that?”

Hyunie steps closer, grasping your arm. “Of course, you can, but we’re just worried about you and want you to talk to us.”

“What do you want me to say?” You look around the room, trying your best to hold it together. Your tongue darted to lick your lips, teeth nibbling your bottom lip, but the yearning in your heart welled to the surface, just waiting to erupt. “You want me to say that I fucked up? Instead of pushing Jungkook away, I should’ve tried to work through it. That I should've gone to LA to get him back? Well, it's too fucking late. I can't do shit now. He's probably moved on with his life and is doing ten times better than I am."

You let go of Hyunie and sat in the dining chair. "God–I'm so pathetic." You wiped the tears streaming down your face. "I feel so numb, so broken," you said with a shaky voice. "I just want to wake up from this stupid nightmare, but I can't because this is my fucking reality. I know I have no one to blame but myself for this mess."

Everyone looked at you with pity and remorse. Practically watching you fall apart. You didn't want this to happen but knew it eventually would.

Yuna sympathized with her best friend, and she did. But she also had her baby brother to worry about as well. She knew how he was doing–which was much better than you right now, and you were right. He had moved on and was in a better spot, mentally and emotionally.

She walked over to you, placing her hand on yours, gently rubbing the top of your hand. Yuna softly sighed, “I love you, I do. But sometimes I just wanna give you a good smack.”

“Jagi!” Namjoon quips, setting down his fork.

“In a loving way, of course,” she pauses, “I'm sorry things turned out the way they did with you and Jungkook. It hurts me to see you like this–living life so aimlessly. If you want him, go get him. If you don't, then move on.”

“It's not that simple,” you said, turning to her.

“I know—but you have to try. Take it one day at a time. Do something fun. Try something you’ve never done before. Get your mind off everything,” Yuna suggests.

She was right. Since your show had wrapped up and nothing else lined up, you could do as you, please. Maybe you could find a new hobby or travel—it’s been a minute since you had a proper vacation. Honestly, traveling to a secluded place seemed like a dream. But would it be a ruse to run away from your problems, or would it help you move on? Could it be a bit of both?

“I’m sorry, guys. I am.” You look up to your friends who have been supportive these past few months while you were at rock bottom.

Jin, Namjoon, and Taehyung grunted or hummed, acknowledging your apology before distracting themselves with something else.

Hyunie comes in for an embrace. “You’re gonna be okay. I know it.” She pulls away, the corners of her lips curving into a reassuring smile.

“I don’t deserve you guys.”

“You don’t,” Jin jokes, in which Namjoon glares at him. “What?” He stuffs a blueberry in his mouth. “Just saying.”

You were conscious of your choices and actions and aware of the consequences; nevertheless, accepting and coming to terms with them was another matter.

Regardless, if you wanted to get out of this deep, dark hole you’ve dug, no one could help you unless you helped yourself.

With nowhere to go, nothing to do, and no one to see—your life felt like it had no meaning, no purpose.

Do something fun.

Yuna’s voice echoed from the day before. Fun? You didn’t even know what you considered fun anymore. What did you even like besides writing and working? No new films were interesting, at least not enough to make you want to pay to sit in front of the big screen. And you just knew you’d be scrolling through Netflix for hours trying to find something to watch before ultimately giving up. There was no point, you thought.

And since none of those things were riveting, you again found yourself at the bar. At least, it was the first time you’d gone this week. Well—to be honest, the week had just begun.

“Another Moscow mule, please,” you inquired, waving down the bartender. It was only your third one of the night, but given that your speech was becoming unintelligible—you’d be cut off soon.

The bartender nodded, acknowledged your request, and began working on your drink.

You held onto the black straw, mindlessly stirring the ice in the copper mug. Your eyes laser-focused on the bottle sitting behind the bar back—Highland Park, single malt whiskey. You preferred cocktails over straight liquor. You didn’t think you could handle all the alcohol content; hell, you could hardly hold the ones in cocktails.

Next to the shelf of liquor stood a mirror, but you couldn’t recognize the person in the reflection. Who was she? Six months had passed since the breakup, and the person in the mirror looked grim and unhappy. You couldn’t remember the last time you genuinely smiled or even laughed, and you had forgotten what true joy felt like.

This past year drained you emotionally and physically. You weren’t sure you had even gotten through all of it, and storing these traumatic, unpleasant memories in your amygdala only to resurface when you drank, forced you to deal with your emotions and feelings—things you didn’t want to touch. They were too painful and tortuous. It was easier to leave them be, brush them off, pretend that life could go on—but you had to face these memories and feelings sooner rather than later, or you’d never be able to pull yourself out of the hole you had dug.

The soft murmur of your name broke your focus on yourself in the mirror. You turned to see Min Yoongi beside you in a black button-down with a turtleneck underneath.

“Why do you look like you just sat down to be interviewed for a documentary?” You ask without regard to how he is doing or what he was doing at the bar.

Yoongi laughed at your abruptness. “I just came from a meeting with a colleague and came here for drinks, but he had to head out; then I saw you sitting here, so here I am.”

“Mmhm, here you are.” Your eyes lit up when the bartender handed you your drink.

“Can I get a single malt whiskey? Neat.”

You chuckled because you were looking at the bottle the bartender picked up.

“You okay?” Yoongi asked, sitting beside you, his knee slightly brushing against yours before swiveling away in his stool.

It would be easy to say, ‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ and go on the rest of the night indulging in small talk, but did you want to open a can of worms?

You gave your attention to the new Moscow mule sitting before you, stabbing the lime with the black straw and pushing it down to the bottom. You turn to him, “I feel like I’m gonna break down and cry at a moment’s notice.”

For some reason, it felt easier to bare your soul to someone who knew nothing about your life because all your friends quickly judged you and your decisions. But not with Yoongi. He knew the bare minimum about you.

“It’s okay to cry. Just don’t cry alone,” he simply said before thanking the bartender and sipping his whiskey.

Honestly, you hadn’t cried in the past few months. You felt more numb than anything, but the accumulation of your relationship with your mom, infertility, and Jungkook was enough to make you want to break down and give up on everything in life. The weight of it all was coming to a peak, ready to erupt.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” he teased, to which you rolled your eyes. He took another sip, waving for you to continue.

“Do you ever ask yourself what the fuck you’re doing with your life?”

“All the time,” he chuckled. “It’s normal to ask that question. Think about it—we’re living, breathing humans that live on a rock floating through time and space.”

“Yes! Oh my god! I think about that all the time. Why do all of my problems seem so big in my little world? But compared to how big the world is, it seems silly, minuscule, and unimportant. I mean, the person walking down the street probably has bigger problems than me.”

“Mm, that could be true, but don’t minimize your hurt and feelings. It’s important to recognize and learn from those things and let them shape a better you.”

“Why get a shrink when all you need is ‘Min Yoongi’ in your life?” You finally take a sip of your drink, the ice already melting in place, the condensation pooling a rim on the napkin.

He chuckled at your joke. “I’m hardly a therapist. I’ve just—I’ve been where you are, and I’m sorry it sucks, but give it time. You’ll be okay.”

“But, like, how do you know that?”

“Well, I don’t,” he took a swig of his whiskey. “I mean, there aren’t many things in our control, but for the things that are, it’s important to do what we can. We can only manage what’s right in front of us. We don’t know what will happen tomorrow, next week, or three months from now. Just worry about what’s happening right here, right now. That’s all you can do, you know?”

You recognized the truth behind Yoongi’s words and wanted to believe it. You did. But it was always easier said than done. Maybe you just needed more time, time to find yourself again. Maybe find joy in the little things, in yourself, and become comfortable in your skin without the dissonance of your friends. This time in your life would be as good as any since you had nothing lined up for you, work-wise. There was no one to keep you here in Seoul. You could go anywhere if you wanted to. Would now be the right time to uproot your life and go wherever your heart desired?

Yoongi could see you pondering his words, maybe letting the reality of it all soak in. He chugged the last of his whiskey, setting the glass down. “Come on, let me take you home.”

You lifted your finger, ready to key in your apartment's code, before returning to Yoongi. “Do you wanna come in?”

He hesitated before answering, “I shouldn’t.”

“You’re not going to tuck me in; make sure I don’t drown in my vomit?” Yoongi snickers. “Sorry, I’m not in my right mind right now. You don’t have to come in.”

“You’re not gonna make this easy, are you?”

“I just gave you an out. You can leave if you want, but if you don’t hear from me tomorrow, will you be ready to live with that guilt if something happened to me?” You could’ve easily eliminated the last line but couldn’t help yourself. Let’s blame it on the alcohol for the sudden confidence.

Yoongi’s tongue darted out, licking his lips, the corners of his mouth curving into a smile. He nodded toward your door. “Come on. Let’s get you tucked in.”

“I just want to lay on a nice, warm beach. Or I guess I’ll try to dream of it tonight.”

Yoongi followed you into the bedroom and lunged forward to keep you standing straight before you plopped onto the bed. “I have a vacation home in Phuket if you ever need to get away from here.”

“You do?” Your eyes widen in delight, almost wanting to take up his offer.

“Yeah, Tae and Hyunie went there recently, and I’m only ever there occasionally. Feel free to use it if you’d like.”

“Is this the part where you plan to murder me, and no one will ever find my body?” you joke, referring to when he said he’d take you home the first night you met, even though you hardly knew him then.

“I think you’ve been watching one too many Law and Order episodes, huh?”

You shrug. “You can never be too careful, you know!”

Yoongi laughs. “If I wanted to murder you, I’d have done it already.”

“I don’t know. Maybe you’re waiting for the perfect moment. Like when I’m all vulnerable in my bed.” He shows off his gummy smile, a feature you’ve come to appreciate. “You should smile more often. You have a really pretty smile.”

He shook his head, letting out a soft chuckle as he turned away from you. Through the short time, he’s known you, you were never this honest with him.

You sigh. "Can I skip to the part where everything will be okay again?"

Yoongi kneeled by your bedside and flashed a closed-lipped smile before scanning over your features. Apparently, you were just full of questions tonight, but he didn’t mind. "Where you are now is not where you'll always be."

He seemed so positive and empathetic toward your situation, which you were grateful for. It's possible he was just being kind, but he had plenty more to say. He was almost like your personal fortune cookie, always ready with an answer.

"That's easy for you to say." You snuggled deeper into your fluffy pillow, pulling the duvet under your chin.

"Mm–yeah, it is," he chuckled. "Well, there's a high chance that the future you want never happens, and if you put too much meaning into it, it'll torment you."

“Gee, thanks,” you said dryly. 

“You know what I mean.”

You stick out your tongue in protest, pulling the duvet over your head. “Just say I’m being pathetic. I can handle it,” you lie, muffled through the sheets. You were one step away from losing your shit.

Yoongi cleared his throat, lifting the duvet so he could say goodbye. He could see the sadness in your eyes when you looked back at him, and he only knew what you were going through because Kim Taehyung had a big mouth and shared whatever details he knew about you and your ex-boyfriend. But he never wanted to press you further unless you wanted to share.

“Well, I’m gonna head out. It looks like you’re tucked in safely and not dying, so...”

He proceeded to stand, but you sat up, grabbing his hand, your hand lingering longer than usual. Your eyes focused on his plush lips, then you moved in, closing your eyes for a kiss, but he pulled away.

“I’m sorry.” He stood, taking another step toward the door. “You’re cool, but I don’t kiss people when they’re not sober.”

Your cheeks become warm, your gaze avoiding his. “I’m sorry. As you can probably tell, I’m not in the right mind frame, and I’m very susceptible to handsome men when they’re sweet.”

Yoongi flashed a thin smile. “It’s okay. I’ll pretend nothing happened,” he remarked, waving his hand again before leaving you alone in your bedroom.

When you heard the front door closed, you grabbed your pillow and screamed into it. Why was kissing someone always your answer when feeling shitty about yourself? At this point, Yoongi probably found you as foolish as one could be. He probably wondered how and why Hyunie and Taehyung continued to be friends with someone like you.

You set the pillow aside, sliding under your covers, thinking about the question you asked Yoongi earlier at the bar.

What the fuck are you doing with your life?

So much of your adulthood was spent trying to survive your childhood and the trauma that came with it, and as you became an adult, you hoped the person you had become would be the person you needed when you were a child. But in reality, you felt like an imposter. The adult version of you was trying her best to be what that little girl needed, though ultimately, you failed her.

You knew deep down inside that you needed to stop whatever this path of destruction was, stop blaming others, not wait to be rescued, and most of all, stop refusing to participate fully in life. You had friends who became like family to you, who loved you no matter what you did. Was that not enough?

Inevitably, you were aware that no one could save you but yourself. You’d spent your life stuck in this endless cycle that no one had created but yourself.

You stopped before you started. You gave up before you even attempted. You talked yourself out of it before you got into it.

In retrospect, you knew you were also at fault regarding Jungkook. You sabotaged your relationship because you couldn’t bear the pain. But what if you had tried and given everything, and it worked out?

But as Yoongi said, it’s better not to dwell on a future that may not happen. Otherwise, you’d continue this endless cycle of torment.

✨ a/n 3: so, how are we doing? how are we feeling? do we have any theories on what'll happen next? what do we think about yoongi? let me know (:

also! i still plan on doing the podcast episode, so start thinking of questions, comments, rambles/rants (:

✨ next ~ 17 ~ one year later

[redditreceipts]

i regret testosterone so much. i regret a lot in my life (engaging in noncon kink shit with my consenting partner always eats me up inside. i feel like a terrible person for it and always will despite my partner telling me they were into it and wanted it) but i regret testosterone most. my voice is deeper, my genitalia is forever changed, and i grow hair on my neck. im a feminine woman now that im medicated and happier with my body, but I'll always be changed by the chemicals i put in my body when i was mentally at my lowest. i didnt even have to do therapy to get testosterone (though i likely wouldve lied and said i was fine to get it anyway.)

oh man, that really makes me sad for you :(

First of all, I don't really know why you would feel like a terrible person for engaging in noncon shit at a point where you were not educated on the risks and harm, and there is not really a way to blame you since this bs is so normalised. Especially on the side of the "dominant" person - you are perceived as a good lover if you engage with them on that

And you don't deserve to beat yourself up over taking testosterone. It's not fair, as it appears, you have already gone through enough and blaming yourself will just make everything harder. You blaming yourself and finding the fault withing yourself is probably the very thing that led you to those decisions. It's time to stop acting as though you were acting stupidly in a vacuum and start to see those things as influenced by our destructive misogynistic society - recognising that can be the first step for you to take back real agency.

So see this crap for what it is - the product of a deeply flawed upbringing, society and mental patterns, and instead of blaming yourself, break out of it :)

(at least that's how I try to see stuff for myself and it has made my life better and led me to actually change something lol)

[crazysodomite]

least self loathing person has logged on

You have a choice and control over your actions. You can choose to do good things and avoid doing bad things.

You can choose to be kind, supportive, polite, etc. But you can't choose to be Sociable.

If you're not funny, not charismatic, not 'fun to be around', you can't just choose to be that. You can practice these things and try to mimic them but if you simply don't have social prowess there's nothing you can really do.

You're not a Bad person for not being sociable, but no one wants anything to do with you at the end of the day. No matter how much effort you try to put into relationships or trying to be a better person, you will never be preferred over someone who is 'fun to be around'.

You will always be the person who 'didn't do anything wrong, but i just can't stand them and find them annoying and uncomfortable'. You have to basically force and mold yourself into a different person and not be your actual self just to be more sociable. Or you become a person who is exhausting to be around and people actively avoid interacting with you or only do so out of politeness (true self)

I think this is why I don't like when people shit on harmless 'annoying' behaviours or 'unfunny' people. It's because you don't choose to be annoying and off-putting to other people. Some people just exist like that. What actions you choose to take matter less than being sociable when it comes to relationships. and it hurds my feelings

I think this is why i prefer to be very distant and will no longer initiate conversations or take initiative or try to befriend people. I realized that I'm not sociable and people generally don't like to be around me and I hate to make someone feel like they need to interact with me. I'm safer and don't get my feelings hurt when I don't exist and keep my interactions with others to a minimum. My apologies to anyone I tried to talk to.

And when people say they want to talk to me it's like. No you really don't. You don't know me (thankfully). I have regretted every interaction I initiated and probably still beat myself up over it a long time after.

And it's like. Okay. I am not funny or interesting, and I lack social prowess. But I try to do good and be good to others. But that will never be enough. Because trying to do good won't make you 'good to be around'. And then people try to make you feel better by going 'noo You're actually fun to be around' and it's like no 😭 i try to (not always successfully) mimic human behaviors so people dislike me less. My true self isn't like that at all!!! I try to suppress my true self as much as possible because it hurts my feelings to constantly be rejected and hated by others.

I will always be tolerated, but not liked. Put up with, but not loved. 🙂

this also relates to another thing i've been ruminating over:

why would i ever Subject someone to being my friend. and i say subject because there are millions of people who aren't as mentally ill and hard to be around as me. so it would be selfish to try to befriend someone just because I want it when that person would be happier with literally anyone else on this earth. if i actually care about a person i would actively avoid trying to build a relationship with them because it would just be a burden.

and its like. okay. improve yourself and stop being hard to be around as a person. but the thing about social isolation (and its consequences) is that it makes hard to do anything. (making up excuses lol) so yeah. this is my life 😌

[quin-draws-smooching]

Heya! 😋

Came across this sideblog through your main. Point is, I noticed you haven't posted here despite saying you wanted to everyday and so I'm a bit worried about how it's affecting you.

I'm not tryna remind you and worry you lol. But I know how committing to something and stopping after a bit can affect one's morale and mental health so I wanted to try and help cheer you up, even if you're already cheer, just in case.

Just a reminder that this was something you wanted to do as a hobby, and so there aren't actual consequences to sometimes not doing it! You're allowed to have breaks and get back when you have the energy yk. I'm just worried you'll beat yourself up thinking about this and I thought I'd try and help as you have for us.

Take things at your own pace. You're doing awesome. Hobbies are meant for fun, so don't stress yourself out by worrying about not doing them all the time and just do em when you feel like it. You got this, and I believe in you, and I'm sure others do too! Your wellbeing comes first, before all this.

I think that's all from me this time lol. Just wanted you to take care is all. Thanks for reading if you managed to get this far, I know I sometimes type alot. Anyways, take care, quinybear. (Sorry couldn't help myself haha)

Nnooooooo but this is so kind!!

\lol/

Oh my goodness, thank you! Seriously - no cap, or whatever the kids say, I mean this genuinely, this is just the most sincerely sweetest thing I think I could've gotten and I'm so touched.

I love the looking out in this, thank you.

^_^

I'm doing alright with my art - it's always been a complicated thing for me, drawing vs writing (writing is just so easy comparatively for me) but art's ever been the struggle.

I have stopped drawing, kind of - life's gotten hectic and I dropped the little daily habit I had going, but I guess more correctly I put it down. I didn't want to stress trying to keep up with it, but I wasn't going to stop drawing entirely either.

I am 100% doing things at my own pace, and I'm sure I'll get back to a point where I can do my daily sketches, and I'm just not going to stress about it until then =3

T-T seriously though, my heart.

but I'm doing good - I'm making sure I don't stress myself out over my beloved hobbies, and as frustrating as it can be to set them aside for a bit, I know that it's better to do that than let it break me.

Thank you so much for your kind words and your concern ❤️

[neuroticboyfriend]

hi, I've never sent an ask on Tumblr so I'm super nervous sending this lol. but I've followed you for a while and it's always comforting reading your stuff about addicts and recovery and such. I've been on a long back and forth with myself of accepting that I'm an addict (alcohol and weed/THC,, using one or the other every day) but now that I've sort of accepted it, I don't have any want to get better and I know I've been dipping into self destructive tendencies with it when things get bad mental health wise. I feel like that could change in the (distant) future but where I'm at right now I really don't want to stop in any way and it's been really difficult to not beat myself up over it. I was just wondering if you had any words of advice or comfort. thank you so much for your time, & I hope you're doing well 🫶🏻🫶🏻

💗 I was in a similar spot right before getting sober. I knew I was in deep, and was going to A.A sometimes, but I didn't truly want to stop; I just didn't want to be alone, and I needed support to have the strength just to try to stay alive. It's not easy being at that point where you're realizing it's problem but you still don't want to make changes, or even know how. I'm in that place with nicotine, now that I'm sober from everything else.

One thing I've learned is that guilting myself does absolutely nothing for me. If I want to be able to stay sober and kick nicotine, tearing myself down is going to do the exact opposite. We may think that if we tell ourselves how bad x, y, z is in that punitive way, it'll motivate us. But it won't. It'll only embolden that self hatred that fuels us to keep using.

You are worthy just as you are. Worthy of support, love, goodness, and kindness. You don't have to be sober or clean to receive those things. Addiction is an illness - you're not a failure or anything for not wanting to stop. That's just where you are, and the good thing is you're recognizing you're an addict. Hold on to that. Try to listen a little more to that voice in your head that says I am not okay. This is hurting me.

You can't force yourself to want to stop, but you can cling to what awareness you have. You can try harm reduction - it can help you remember your life matters. You are entirely allowed to accept yourself, without judgement. This awareness that you have an illness is opening the door for a better life. You just have to stick around and let it grow, seeking support along the way. Just like you are now :)

So, I'm proud of you. I'm proud of you for reaching out, and all the work you do to make it through the day. Keep going friend; it gets better. I hope more kindness, from yourself or others, reaches you soon. You never have to do this alone.

[highnsleepdeprived]

Tw and this will be the longest post I will ever make and have ever made. But I need to get this off my shoulders I need to say anything to anyone who may or may not listen. If you read this, do me or comment I need input. I guess this is a sort of aita or just how do I make ppl happy without destroying my mental health in the process? I need balance, I need something, anything. Really, I’m not sure what I need. But any words are encouraged. I know I’m not gonna get answers. But just, is this normal ? Am I being too much? Should I keep to myself? Is any of this worth it anymore?? Anyways, bless your heart if anyone reads this novel lol.

Anyways.

I’m a week sober now.

I thought life would be so much better. But my old repressed problems arose so fast and out of nowhere. It’s been extremely difficult.

Every night I have dreams of trying to use and I never get to in my dream. I wake up before I can get high at least in a dream. Then I’m awake and have nothing to satisfy the urge. So I go back to sleep. Then, The dreams get violent, terrifying, and too real. I wake up screaming, sometimes yelling my boyfriend’s name. He’s always in the other room. Used to run in and hug me tell me it’s just a dream etc. Now he seems to get annoyed, doesn’t come in now, and seems to like it better when he doesn’t know what’s going on in my head. Everyone seems to like it better actually.

My ptsd has come back with a vengeance during sobriety. It feels like the (tw) rape, near death experiences, guns to the head, knives to the throat, no one coming when I’d scream even in a house full of people…being drugged, the attempts on my life, overdoses, the hundreds of hospital and psych visits, the physical and mental abuse, the homeless months doing things I wouldn’t ever have thought I’d ever do, getting beat the shit out of for no reason other than being an easy target, even just little things I regret.. the general trauma I guess..it’s all replayed all over again in my brain, many times a day. It’s like I’m really there again. I’m always brought back to those moments, those feelings. My god it feels so real. It’s so vivid, I can smell the air of the memory, I can feel it all happen again, I can see the surroundings like I never left In the first place. Worst of all is seeing the look on their pleased faces after all is said and done. The pain in my stomach. The bruises and suffocation. The guns and knives to my head, my neck. Every detail of it all. I feel it. I see it. I smell it. I’m back there, like I’ve time travelled somehow to the worst times of my life.

So I got the courage up to tell my boyfriend, and my mother. I explained only the fact that the ptsd is back and the nightmares. I said I feared if I didn’t let someone know I would do something reckless and irrational trying to make it all stop in my head. I asked if they could check up on me sometimes, or even just support me in this hard time.

My god was that ever a mistake.

I was told me telling my struggles and my cries for help are abusive..I’m told I’m burdening the people I love. That I have control over myself and my mental health. That no one should have to hear about it because it’s not their issue. My mother said “why are you telling me this? Why are you doing this to me? What did I ever do to you?” Like I had said it was her fault or something. It was like I explained it all word for word, said it was her fault, or called her the worst names under the sun. But I didn’t.. I couldn’t figure out what I did wrong, I thought maybe she thought I felt this way because of something she thought she may have done so I said it isn’t her fault and that I never thought that, and never wanted it to come across that way. She said it didn’t, but I am torturing her by telling her my struggles cause she doesn’t deserve to hear it. She said That it’s abusive to put my problems on others, which was not my intention so I felt terrible.. I promised I wouldn’t talk about any negativity to her no matter how I feel.

My boyfriend told me to stop being so negative and said only I can help myself. He thinks I’m focusing on these awful memories like I want to, not that they invade my mind whenever they feel like it. He said I’m “playing victim” and continued by saying “ it’s over with” and to stop acting like I’m some weak victim still, but In my eyes, I was a survivor not a victim.. I was only trying to speak of how I felt for my safety and maybe get feedback on what may be helpful for these moments, or just get some physical love, a hug, at very most maybe just feedback from the two people who I thought know me best..

But talking about how I’m feeling and hoping for some empathy or what would be above and beyond to me, would be an idea or plan to make things easier when episodes happen and I’m alone, because I don’t have a counsellor yet that’s coming this week. So, thinking he’d say let’s watch a movie to distract or something, was so wrong. Wanting support knowing I’m unable to handle it myself, or talking about the issue at all apparently makes me some kind of monster..

But How do you explain to some who doesn’t get flashbacks that there’s no way to control it? They don’t seem to get it.

I’m told I seem to want to be a victim. That I’m weak. Should’ve been over it by now. The people who are supposed to love me and care, think I’m abusive for wanting help, advice, comfort, anything..even just company which was all i ended up asking for at all. there were no harsh words said, no abusive behaviour done, I was just wanting comfort. And somehow that is abusive of me, to want sympathy. Not pity. I don’t fucking want pity. That is the last thing I want, it feels demeaning and desperate on my end if that’s what I wanted. I hate pity. I won’t give it and don’t want it. But I will give understanding and empathy. And obviously I want that too.. Or even just a hug.. all I asked was for my boyfriend to sit with me so I don’t feel so alone. I need something just until counselling is ready for me after creating a new file and giving me a worker. But It’s abusive to put that on someone else they said. To ask for the man I love to sit in the same room as me, just for comfort, is being an abusive burden. Being upset that I still have to deal with the past like it’s the present makes me a victim who wants to play that role still apparently. Thinking it’s not fair to still have to relive it after it’s all done years later, they say, makes me unreasonable. talking about it is unreasonable, so is hoping for at least an indication that I’m allowed to open up like I always have been before, an indication that the people I care about the most have my back. It’s my mom and boyfriend, I thought they did... they always have. I’m hurting and it’s my fault that I can’t stop, they say it like I don’t try, that I haven’t tried dbt, cbt, inpatient trauma rehab, every medication I could have tried, individual therapy with over a dozen different therapists, even 45 visits to the psych ward. But I’m still not trying enough..? Or haven’t at all!? I’m victimizing myself and it’s my fault I’m struggling because I feel all the past trauma happen all over again because of a disorder that I haven’t gotten under control of yet?? I should be stronger I’m told, not let it get to me. I agree I should be stronger. After all this time I should know better, feel better. But the drugs numbed me for so long I haven’t felt this in so much time that it feels worse than before. Opening up about it to them both, to me, took strength.. but I wasn’t just shut down I was told everything I feel is invalid, everything I’ve done to make progress wasn’t really progress cause I wasn’t really trying, and in some weird way I agree. cause it didn’t work. And to talk about it to the loml, to my family, is evil of me. They act Like I’m putting it in my mind myself , starting the flashbacks on my own, and talking to them for some type of relief, to them is me trying to make their day worse and make them feel guilty. They’ve always done more than enough and I make sure they know I feel blessed, this all felt so out of nowhere..

How do I make them see that I can’t control it? That I could be thrown back into a terrible memory, so vivid I can see it and feel it all over again, one that completely ruins the progress I’ve made. How do I get them to see that I try to build myself back up all over again, but that it’s almost impossible to do alone, and that I can’t help it I can’t control ptsd episodes and if I could I would. Why would I want to remember this shit? Let alone relive it?? Is it so evil to know that I need support from people who matter most to me to build myself back up and ask for that support in the form of just being nearby ? I live with my bf, neither of us work currently, so asking to sit in the same room shouldn’t be so terrible it shouldn’t be something evil to ask.. we always spend every hour of the day together and it has always been great, we don’t get sick of each other etc.. but today he’s been ignoring me and playing video games. I’ll repeat myself and he will reply “I heard you. Not sure what to say”. But he always knows what to say. I think he’s just sick of my baggage, sick of me not being better yet. I thought he knew I do what I can though, and that it’s not a mind over matter type thing. When I told him he didn’t believe me.

They don’t say all these things about my seizures and it’s the same type of thing. Even if I feel it coming on, I can’t stop it. If I say I feel like I may have a seizure they listen and jump into action but when it’s my mental health it’s horrible of me to make it clear that I’m struggling. They say they think I want to stew in my emotions and drag them into it. I’m working on getting help through new resources, but until that day comes, I thought the people who always have helped would be supportive. Or even just be nearby, at least respond. I do what I can, it’s not enough. If all this happened without the calling me abusive and a victim etc, I’d understand. I know they aren’t professionals and have no obligation to help I don’t expect anything but a hug or even to just sit in silence with someone. But why is my pain what makes me so horrible? If I did shit like blame them, or told them they aren’t helping or doing enough, swore, called names, directed anger to them, I’d understand then.. ya that’s abusive behaviour. but to want to feel loved, not alone, and just a bit of empathy, To want any sort of support I think is okay… but in their eyes it means I’m weak for wanting that or even feeling how I do. I have to do it alone or I’m “trying to be a victim”, “trying to get attention” “want to keep the victim mentality going so others pity me”. Pity to me, is the last thing I want. But if to want support or ask to talk, to sit in a room together, is evil and abusive and makes me a weak victim that doesn’t want change then what am I supposed to do? These words make me feel unworthy of life and unworthy of treatment, like I don’t deserve to get better. If that’s how I am why should I deserve any good at all ? Would I still be so terrible if I began keeping my pain, my thoughts, my body, my everything, to myself? Would they love me more if I were silent? Put on a smile, wear a mask of a person who is doing well, play the part, bottle up whatever’s not pleasant for others sake (and mine so I’m not alone) so I can open it when I’m alone, vulnerable, irrational, at risk? or maybe never open it again..? Have my mind suffer but keep it separate from the persona everyone wants to see. The caricature of someone with no baggage, happy all the time and doesn’t have any diagnosis that makes me more than imperfect but makes me totally unbearable and makes everyone near me miserable. I feel like with a bit of time and help professionally, mixed with support from loved ones, I’d be that person eventually, maybe not exactly but I wouldn’t be faking at least..

They deserve the best, I love them both to death and they’re great people so I must be doing something wrong, they’re probably right and if I’m not at my best and it makes me a monster for them to know that, then I’ll act okay again. The fake it till u make it doesn’t work in this specific scenario ptsd doesn’t work that way for me, but It seems like the only solution right now, to keep my family and boyfriend happy hopefully, or at least keep me in their lives.

I thought I was a survivor..but apparently I’m still a victim. Or at least that’s what others see. Someone who will always be or “want” to be the victim.

I just wanted to be a survivor. I thought that’s how I came across..like a kind, loving, strong, survivor. Not a weak, abusive, victim who is a bother to be around or know..

The lines have began to blur. Is it really so wrong to explain your feelings to the people closest to you ..? Am I really so terrible?? Should I even keep getting real help and more of it if I seem like a victim, like I’m trying to be one? Do I really not seem like a survivor? Does pain mentally really make me weak..?

I don’t know what’s real anymore.

I don’t know what to think or feel anymore.

I’d rather feel nothing at all.

Hear nothing.

Be nothing.

Because Then who will I burden?

I can’t be a burden if I’m alone. If I’m gone.

Maybe it’s what’s wanted, what’s needed. I’m not even sure what to do or what’s worth it anymore. Doesn’t seem like anything is tbh. I try so hard to be a good person, at least be better than before.. to hear I’m doing the opposite today, when before i was told i was doing well because I didn’t complain about my mental health, hearing this is how loved ones think of me, no matter how much I have tried, is so discouraging. I’m looked down on. All I wanted was to hear it’ll be okay. Hear “I’m sorry that must be hard” or an “I’ll be here if you need”, even offering a damn tea.. I would be so happy, I’d know they’re trying too. In times like these, I think anyone and everyone deserves kindness. In dark times sometimes we can’t be our own light. These two people have always been that light for me, but they must have had enough. I don’t blame them.

I need to be strong for the ones I love, not trauma dump and in return be looked down on and seem like I’m trying to keep myself in pain or bring others down with me.

That’s not who I am. I can’t believe this is who I’m seen as now.. I’m gonna lose the people I love and need most over my mental heath being too much baggage, and my past following me into the future. If only I hadn’t been so trusting, letting these traumatic bs things happen to me. I should have had my guard up. I only wanted a shoulder to cry on, to vent a bit or hear a couple kind words, I just wanted to feel loved. I never wanted to seem so horrible, seem like I’m trying to make this who I am or ruin someone’s day or relationship with me by speaking about my issues. I figured they know me best, they’d know what to say or at least how to reassure me. I can’t always do this on my own but I’m gonna have to until a counsellor picks up my case. But then will I burden them..? I don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t know who I am anymore. I know when I do wrong and I know when to apologize I do everything I can to be the best I can. Pain changes people, I wanted to get input from people closest to me before the pain changed me for the worst. But I’m already not the person I thought I was apparently I’m everything I always wanted not to be… if anyone has any sort of words good or bad I just need to know what to think at this point. Should I keep to myself from this point on?? Just deal with the flashbacks hold back tears and pretend it didn’t happen ? Am I really being that way to them ? I see how it’s unfair because both don’t like to open up about feelings but I make sure constantly that they know when they’re ready to they can. It just hurts knowing that isn’t reciprocated. If anyone can give me an idea on how not to be so awful to them but still hopefully get the support I need I would be very grateful. I know there’s probably no one reading this. But if you did thank you. I just need to turn this around so I’m not the person they see me as cause now it’s all I can think about.

[moving-to-dreamwinged]

cw / ed

it’s just hard for me to genuinely believe u care as much as u say when u keep making “jokes” even after ive explained to u so many times how much it hurts me OVER and OVER when i HATE opening up to ppl so even setting tht boundary was hard asf!!!😭😭😭 u know how hard i worked to get in recovery and how it’s been even harder to actually STAY there. u know all the stories abt how my disorder tore my relationship w my family and my old friends about. yet u constantly say triggering shit ON A LOOP EVERY DAY with no fucking warning. bc i had the audacity to be vulnerable for once in my fucking life and open up to u abt my insecurities? then u say my trust issues in general are unfounded and “crazy” when U PERPETUATE THEM. just say u liked me better when i was sicker at this point instead of beating around the bush. for fucks sake

and these r supposed to be my ppl, the closest friends i’ve ever had in my life yet they constantly make me so uncomfortable with the things they say abt my habits and the tidbits they know abt my struggles w mental health. they’re so so great otherwise but then there’s this and no matter how much i explain it they never stop? it hurts so much. and it comes in sprees too; where they just basically bully me constantly for a week and i hav no idea where it came from or how to stop it. i don’t want to let a few idiotic comments interfere wifh all the progress i’ve made but fuck. i decide to treat myself w a lil dessert and there’s a comment. i walk outside in literally any outfit and it’s “oh u better lay off the [whatever food they saw me eating recently] or that’s not gonna fit anymore lol!” i genuinely. don’t understand. iv explained to them hey im in recovery from anorexia after multiple years of struggling w it, ik it’s just jokes to u guys but it really hurts me. nope nothing. the running gag in the friend group is basically that im fat and ugly. that’s their favorite bit nd when they remember how funny it is Oh am i in for a long couple of weeks.

and idk maybe they dont mean it. maybe they rly just think it’s funny; maybe they think there’s nothing wrong w my body so commenting on it is a funny joke bc of the contrast but idrc honestly. one of them even HAS body dysmorphia (and knows i do too!) and STILL does it. like shouldn’t you understand how fucking DAMAGING tht is? its all so hurtful to me in so many ways nd i can’t stop thinking about it. they know i struggle w sh and suicidal thoughts too yet keep this up. like shouldn’t u know that’s gonna make it worse??? i don’t rly have any interest in seeing them if this keeps up. i don’t wanna eat around them or even exist around them if they keep doing this. i feel rly sick. i don’t want to think this is genuinely how my best friends feel abt me and they think it’s ok but. :( i can’t help it. i rly don’t know what to think

[queenimmadolla]

This isnt a question about the book but i was wondering, how do you get yourself into a writing flow?

I started my blog in a bad headspace and continuously visit it in that headspace that i dont know how to get out of

My writing is coming out seriously unreadable and i know im a good writer but i can barely verbalize myself and its just coming out as spewage on paper

I understand my problem but i was just curious if you have general tips on what helps you to get into that natural flow xx

I know what you mean. I started this blog when I was in a really bad space mentally, physically, and emotionally, and all I wanted to do was escape into Hawkins (ironic since most people write about their characters wanting to leave it) so I’d write A LOT. Like I was popping these fics out. It was the only time I didn’t have to be hella high—most of the time—to calm my raging anxiety and thoughts (though I was plenty high during this period of my life, but I didn’t have to be high to write about Eddie, like I did to function as a human being).

Now, with the environment here and things as they are, I kinda resorted to getting high again to find enjoyment in posting and being here, and I also get high to write. BUT. I’m trying to break that. And it’s kind of working so I’ll share:

I love ST4 but I do not have the time to constantly rewatch it. So I look up a compilation of Eddie’s scenes on YouTube, and it works every time. Seeing him, hearing him drags me right back in when I’m sure I’ve lost motivation/muse/what you will. And playlists, create a little soundtrack for your story, imagine it like a movie! What’s playing in the background of this scene? Does the entire fic carry the vibe of a song I’ll gladly listen to on loop until the end for? And I’m a maladaptive dreamer, babe. I fantasize and daydream the whole time I’m writing, really helps me get everything down when I feel like i’m watching it play out in front of me.

And don’t beat yourself up about how it’s reading, if it doesn’t read like what you usually write. Sometimes you just have to get what you have out of your head out on a doc. And you might not like how it reads, but plenty of others will. (I say this like I don’t have over 50+ things I’ve written and haven’t posted bc I didn’t like them lol) That’s not to say that you can’t revisit the work later when you feel like you can make some improvements to it! (Hence why I answer requests like 7 months later, sorry guys!!!)

And maybe the spewing is your style! There’s nothing wrong with that, there’s so many different styles of writing and a lot of my friends and people I admire come up with the most AMAZING SHAKESPEAREAN works, while I kind of just write how I talk and think and you can kind of make out the movie period that had the most effect on me from it, lol. And there’s nothing wrong with that or either because both are good! There’s SO MANY MORE than just those two types, btw. So many. And that’s the best thing about writing and sharing what you write, embracing this differences and perspectives is so refreshing and joyous. My style changes quite a bit, though. It used to upset me but I stopped fighting it and just started rolling with it. And people seem to like it. Me included. Hope this helps a little, and drop me a link when you post!!!!

If anyone else has some advice, please add to our discussion!

[twancingyunhao]

I posted 5,349 times in 2022

720 posts created (13%)

4,629 posts reblogged (87%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@atzupdates

@hanatiny

@twancingyunhao

@takashi0

@beardedmrbean

I tagged 690 of my posts in 2022

#ateez - 127 posts

#yunho - 100 posts

#jeong yunho - 95 posts

#ateez yunho - 78 posts

#seventeen - 67 posts

#yunniebear - 30 posts

#yuyubear - 26 posts

#ask game - 25 posts

#svt - 24 posts

#lets svtreamday - 22 posts

Longest Tag: 110 characters

#no one is required to write at a certain speed or a certain part of a series because you are stressed about it

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

if you’re still taking request, may i please request body worship with yunho, but it’s reader worshipping yunho’s body? his tall figure, soft tummy, his adorable tofu arms (that are also very toned lol), his broad chest and gorgeous neck (not to mention that delicious booty and big d*ck lol)… every inch of him is just… ahhh i’m losing it!! please? i’m just so in love with all of him!!

HELLO AND I AM SO VERY SORRY FOR THE WAIT ON THIS. Here we have the SFW version of this. A NSFW version will be released on my other blog at an undetermined date. But I hope you like it!

TRUE PERFECTION

Yunho x gn! Reader

Genre: fluff, so much fluff

Word count: 312

You had been watching him closely all day. Your eyes roaming seemingly every inch of his body, a flush adorning your cheeks as you take in his toned arms (but not too toned, still soft and comforting.) You mentally raved about his lovely bread-like cheeks.  Heart skipping a beat as your eyes lingered on his beautiful hands, the fingers that encompassed your own, making you feel safe and warm.  You reached for his hand, putting it flush against your palm and loving how big it was compared to yours, the true visual of just how much comfort and love Yunho was full of.  Trailing your hands down his arm and back up to set lightly on his chest, which was beautifully firm, yet still felt perfectly like home, you felt the rumble of him chuckling.

"Y/N, what are you up to?" He muttered, moving his hand, that was so shockingly gentle for something so large, from it's place in your hair–where it was previously giving a tender scalp massage to try and ease your tension– to your chin, tilting your head up so you could meet his eyes.  

His gorgeous eyes, like pools of warm chocolate filled with adoration that he saved for you.  You reached a hand up and laid a finger lightly on his cherry lips, soft and full, pressing lightly.

"Yuyu, I'm sorry.  You're just…. You're so perfect? How did I ever manage to get your love?" 

Laughter.  Roaring laughter as Yunho hid his face in your neck, dropping a soft kiss with those plush lips. "Darling, I ask myself the same thing everyday when I look at you." 

And as he pulled back up to smile at you with the most tender and sickeningly sweet smile, he found you trapped in your adoration yet again, only this time, he was trapped in his own adoration of you.

Taglist : @hanatiny @big-tiddie-squad @serialee @yunhofingers-writes @atinywrites @kpophoneybunny

If you want added to a taglist, let me know! Or if you want to be removed please!

63 notes - Posted April 25, 2022

#4

Ateez as Dads

Seonghwa

The over-protective and strict dad

Probably would want to be a stay at home dad once he retires from Ateez. Definitely if he wasn't in Ateez.

Literally Mr. Mom

Does all the laundry and chores, leaves you with bedtime and diapers though

Overall a very sweet and tender dad

Hongjoong

Very chill dad

Spends a lot of time at the studio so wants to spend free time with the baby having a relaxed and fun time

Does not want to scold

But will if needed. He'll definitely give "that" look to try and tone it down first though

Loves when you and the bebes visit him at the studio, before both of you beg him to come home.

Just honestly a tired simp

Yunho

His energy transfers to his child

You are now left taking care of two crazies

He doesn't stop moving, he and the baby always dancing

That child would be his pride and joy

You see nothing but love and adoration in his eyes

Gladly tires the baby out before bed, hoping to make your job easier

Honestly, seeing you take care of both of them makes him love you more

Yeosang

I thing Yeo would be the cool dad

Teaching his kids to skateboard, play basketball

Definitely the sport dad

Super supportive about everything they do

Not the most affectionate physically, but would show them endless love through his support

I love dad yeosang

San

See the full post

67 notes - Posted April 26, 2022

#3

Ateez missing you on tour

Hyung line part 1

Hongjoong

Your phone rang as you were doing your nightly clean up routine, light excitement bubbling up in your gut as you run for your phone which was left behind on your bed. With a muted oomph, opened the face time call, seeing Hongjoong pouting on the screen. Naturally, this elicited a pout of your own, never wanting to see the one you love looking down.

"Joong baby, it's 8:00 am for you, why do you already look so down?" He whines at your soft tone, pushing his bottom lip out further before throwing himself back on his bed.

"Y/N, it's only two weeks in and I'm having withdrawals from your hugsssss." He rolls around slightly, childishly, causing you to giggle.

"Hongjoong, you can do this. And just know when you get back, you'll have as many hugs as I can give waiting!" His lips turned upward, still trying to pout even though your words lifted his heart.

"You know just what to say, y/n. I love you, I miss you so much, and I can't wait to be back home. Just a few weeks." He smiled, before your conversation turned to talking about your day and his concert, as well as sight seeing experiences from the previous.

See the full post

106 notes - Posted March 5, 2022

#2

Hii, can i request ateez as boyfriends headcanon, pls? 🤧

Ateez as boyfriends

Seonghwa

Probably the most protective boyfriend ever.

Like not even in the way of being overprotective around other people

Protective over EVERYTHING

"y/n, that's a brand new knife, don't you use it without me there!"

Loves to give you forehead kisses

Not too big into PDA but will gladly hold your hand ALWAYS

Museum dates, expect to be told YOU are the art.

Hongjoong

Very relaxed relationship.

Enjoys being taken care of just as much as he enjoys taking care of you

Not big on going out on too many big dates since he is so tired after studio time.

Just wants to be sit at home, legs tangled together, watching a movie

Nose kisses. Lovessss nose kisses.

Just a soft boi all-around

Yunho

The SOFTEST boy ever.

Loves PDA. Kisses in front of everyone, hand on your waist always.

Literally can't help but putting kisses all over your face any time he gets a chance.

Arcade dates. Will try to hold back when playing games so you can win.

But when it comes to DDR, it is on. No reservations.

You may be his baby, but please baby him 🥺

Yeosang

Another soft boy.

Spends alot of time playing with your hair.

Also enjoys you playing with his hair.

See the full post

126 notes - Posted January 2, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Ateez as husbands

Seonghwa

Doting. You(and any mini-hoomans) will always be top priority

He is the type to have to have a SPOTLESS house. (def can't relate)

Stresses fairly easy, but loves when you massage his scalp and just melts

Will make you fancy milk baths with lavender oil and shit.

Honestly just a 10/10 hubby

Hongjoong

He loves you so much

He works. ALOT. And with that being the case, he isn't home much

But when he is, he makes sure to make the days all about together time

He loves when you make a surprise visit to the studio. Likes to go home together after that, knowing he can sleep comfortably next to you

I just know he has an audio file folder lightened "for my person"

Yunho

He is so goofy.

The type to surprise you by shooting a nerf dart at you when you'd least expect it.

Purposefully makes it awkward when he sees you changing.

Begs you weekly for a spiderman marathon

LOVES when you go to practice with him and join in the dancing.

Loves even more when the serious dancing turns into playful slow dancing

Yeosang

He seems very aloof, but it's truly the softest baby

Wants to do little things together at home. Cooking together, self care days, bathing together

Would absolutely take you for a skateboard ride.

And take joy in playing some basketball one on one

Would also like to have a low-key gaming day

He's just a very laid back husband, lines taking things at his own stride

San

He's the baby in the marriage

He wants to be taken care of just as much as he wants to take care of you

See the full post

234 notes - Posted June 6, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[unabashedly-faulty]

My friend brought it to my attention that I say “still a good mom if …” and he said stop saying that I always was a good mom. and well I needed that check

Why do we have so much mom guilt ? Well it’s not very hard to guess.

Giving our son up over and over.

Why did you do it though?

It wasn’t safe where I was. I wasn’t well being in the environment that was triggering my brain and ptsd. The place I was being harmed and had been abused. It caused me to have worse symptoms and be unable to care for myself or him. Boom. Shame. Misplaced.

It wasn’t your fault that your brain was doing what it was in response to the unsafe environment you were in. It’s not your fault that you sent him a way. You made a decision with your child’s best interest so you could fight for his protection and care after the service. You knew it would turn you into a beast of anger and panic and you did not want that to be in his environment. It was the hardest thing to do. His father abandoned him and so you did not want to too. It hurt you to do so because you know what it felt like to not have a father and to barely have a mother. But like you still showed up on video weekly. You parented from afar. You disciplined from afar. You showed up in creative ways and it is what you would’ve wanted. Shoutout to Isabella for the assist on flashbacks from childhood that inspired us to behave differently than our parents.

Having mental and physical disability doesn’t make you a bad mom. It makes you a disabled mom. You find so many different ways to show up and be present and tbh if you just showed up once a week it would still have a huge affect on your son. Look at the crumbs we got and how it has carried us. The memories of watching our mother fix things around the house. Jack of all trades. Of her taking the glass out of our foot. Of her chasing us around with a belt. lol. We made her run around a table. Paid gravely for that. But I got to do that with our son. And it was just for fun. I was a kid. I wanted to play. That’s the only crime I committed but it had grave consequences. Beatings with objects. I like the parenting class. It teaches about the effects of that on the brain and nervous system.

I wanna study cultures in relation to abuse and unhealthy behaviors being passed down.

You were never a bad mom. You were afraid to become like your son’s father. To even abandon him. His father didn’t care. You did though. You did. You showed up. It hurt and cost a lot of energy and yea you shouldn’t have had to do it alone but you did. It cost you greatly but what is your life if not to fan the flames of his? What beauty it is to love a child. To inspire their greatness and catch them when they fall. May this generation do better than the last.

[night-faye]

Physically I'm here, mentally I'm sleep deprived but we march onwards. I want to restrain myself so rapid-fire feedback. - Re: stage fright. We are also deranged. ShadowPeach is one theatre kid and the guy isolating himself for 1,000 years. - Dunno if Fluffy has shown you the list or if we're so on the same wavelength that you know exactly what kind of names we've been calling Macky lol. That one is so specific, like how haha. - Wheee, it's so cool that you also enjoy hyperfixating on minute expressions. "We'll see about that." Feels ambiguous on purpose, but man <3 <3 <3 she weighs heavily on his mind. Mac's words to Tang are one of those things you gotta wait for S4's special. But MM. He's being antagonistic or whatever, but Macky is basically admitting to having faith in Tang, that even the weaker, useless ones seem to have worth :) Even the ones who might seem cowardly and stand in the background. Even the ones who are smart and might have suggestions worth listening to even tho his friends are all loud and rowdy- *gets dragged off stage* shout out to that person who said Wukong omits the truth lot, and Macky doesn't really lie, he's utterly open if you ask or even if you don't I mean mans rlly went and trauma dumped on MK but he did it with class. SPEAKING OF. So after Shadow Play, there's like. a week of time or so between that and LBD taking over the city, which is when the Mayor actually dumped Macky like a dead cat at her door step (and Macky likewise, dumps the Mayor at the Gang's door step.) So. Between that time period WHAT WAS THE MAYOR DOING TO MY POOR BOI???? Did Macky get reverse trapped in his Lantern, I don't think anyone but him should be able to use it. It's like freezing fresh meat before you cook it 😭 - Also funny is Macky just grinning and letting Tang run away after pushing his arm. This is a monkey who likes to play with his prey. Almost wish Tang had convinced Macky to join them, but alas. He's too emotionally constipated and INSTANTLY BACK TRACKS on the compliments he gave to Tang. Sir, your ability to deflect is atrocious. But MAN this is the most open empathizing Macky's tried to do. You can't even call it a "villain speech to shatter someone's delusions" HE'S LIKE ACTUALLY SAD AND TRYING TO WARN TANG LMAO PLS. Whump Monkey Train pulling into the station because then he gets straight up ELECTROCUTED. Talk about bad luck, and a 6 Ears hint!! with those sound waves and sensitivity by his ears, ouch. But pause where he flies into the air at 8:53. You think that sudden shock made him slip on those illusions ;) his tail turns white, and then back to grey then black. It's SO mean of them to give a friendship power speech to a guy with no friends LOL even the drawing, it's so freaking funny. Get overwhelmed by the music and cinema. You think he still has that drawing? Tang is never shown with it again so one could definitely write about Macky returning it.

Love the contrast between Wukong treating Macky as such a threat "he'll stop at nothing to get his hands on them." And then we cut to Macky STILL lying on the ground twitching and sparking all this time. And then he gets chained and possessed. Yeah, I think we need to reassess the context here Wukong. But he's also not wrong because ahem RUTHLESSNESS IS MERCY UPON OURSELVES *places hand on ear and listens to Fluffy singing back* Yep. "We all do what it takes to survive~" Note, the tiny blue speck floating in Macky's hand as his eyes rapidly dart around realizing what he's in for. He sure did waste a lot of time with meaningless side quests and beating around the bush eh? Why'd you fight the dragon again? "So they sent you to slow me down." Okay, willingly walk yourself into getting slowed down when you can turn right back around to the surface and also proved you can kidnap MK with a shadow portal in a blink of an eye to very far distances to wherever Mei and Red Son were. Speaking of, special shout out to Macky never really running :) he stuck around after all, and probably went to find MK's friends :) :) :) *chefs kiss* gorgeous scene. even the GASP feels so RAW. I hope you have good audio. I want to cry from how everybody's on a train after reaffirming friendship and Macky suffers here. It goes fast, but there's yet another LBD reflection in his eye. ALSO THE WAY HIS EYES FLICKER LIKE FAULTY LED LIGHTS. it even buzzes like that, what a cool effect. you can make lightbulb Macky jokes with that XD

>*laying in a goddamn puddle of tears*< I'm being destroyed here and I WILL have my vengence oh my gggoooddddd

I'll respond to any bullet points I miss at a later time but it's late and my head is sooooo whirring on this that it's hard to focus lmmaaooo. but know I am absolutely deranged about everything in your ask

- Dunno if Fluffy has shown you the list or if we're so on the same wavelength that you know exactly what kind of names we've been calling Macky lol. That one is so specific, like how haha.

I have NOT seen a list no. but Mackarena has a name just begging for ridiculous nicknames lmao

So after Shadow Play, there's like. a week of time or so between that and LBD taking over the city, which is when the Mayor actually dumped Macky like a dead cat at her door step (and Macky likewise, dumps the Mayor at the Gang's door step.) So. Between that time period WHAT WAS THE MAYOR DOING TO MY POOR BOI????

Anon I hope you know I'm going to be THINKING about this

special shout out to Macky never really running :) he stuck around after all, and probably went to find MK's friends :) :)

YEAH!!!!!!!