#i told my therapist a few weeks ago that i think i truly feel safe for the first time in my life

[an-droid-girl]

i get off zoom w my therapist after telling her i’m “at the low end of neutral”, then i eat the pasta mess dinner i made for me and my roommate and we yell abt the state of hollywood while i crochet and then i listen to my music. and i realize that i am no longer at the low end of neutral. i am not neutral at all. i am happy.

[oracle-of-dream]

hi can you do a xiaojun x male reader smut?

I totally can, I've already been trying to write something for him so I'll put it here! It's gonna be in parts so hang tight <3

Never Really Alone

Minors DNI

Summary: A feeling, at the corner of your mind. Always with you–even when you know you're alone. Someone's watching you, following you, getting closer...

Warnings: Male Reader, Stalking, Thunderstorms, Psychological terror, Fear of darkness

Wordcount: 1.5k

As your eyes opened, dark circles under them, you felt it again. The same feeling you've been experiencing for the last few weeks. It feels like you're never truly alone–someone you can't see is always with you. At first, you believed it was just the feeling of settling into your new apartment. You moved in about a month ago, but the feeling followed you outside your apartment.

At Work. The Cafe. Walking down streets. Everywhere you went.

It was to the point that you couldn't stop looking over your shoulder, even in broad daylight. You'd bought a taser, keeping it with you always even when you went to bed. The extra security still never was enough to make you feel safe enough.

You didn't have anyone to talk to about it. You'd just moved because you started a new job, if you told any of your coworkers they'd think you're crazy. Calling your parents was out of the question, they'd see it as a reason to bring you back home. You even thought about seeing a therapist. You could only text your friends from back home, they made you feel heard but couldn't do anything to help you. You were alone.

Work was the only time that you felt okay. You were surrounded by people who were at least semi-familiar, and it made you feel comfortable. But one night, after a long day of work, there was chatter about a get-together of all your coworkers.

"Y/n, you'll come, right?" Your team lead asked.

"No, I'm sorry, not tonight. I... have to look after my cousin tonight," You lied.

Your coworkers didn't press you for more as they left to enjoy each other's company, leaving you alone again. Almost alone. The feeling returned as you walked out of the work building, rushing to get home. The clouds were dark, thunder sounded in the distance, and rain was coming. You liked the rain, the soft sound of rain distracted you from feeling watched. It sometimes even made you smile, having something else to be focused on for a change.

As you got to your apartment, hustling up the stairs, a man stood outside your door. It was your landlord, Xiaojun. He was a thinner man, with black hair, always having a tired look in his eyes–like he never slept, draped in a black sweater you had always seen him in. He was standing outside your door, holding a bundle of mail.

"Hi, y/n," His voice was deep and soothing. "I noticed you hadn't picked up your mail in a while, so I wanted to drop it off."

"Thank you, that's so nice." You put on a smile as you took the mail from him.

"Have a good night, watch out for the storm. I've heard some people have had outages. Call me if anything happens," Xiaojun said as he walked down the hallway before descending the stairs.

You entered your apartment and closed the door, sighing in relief. Xiaojun was a nice man, and you felt safe around him. He offered your apartment to you at a discounted rate, after mentioning how expensive all the others were. He always went out of his way to make you feel comfortable. He also looked pretty handsome when he wasn't super tired.

You put the mail on the counter and then realized–the feeling was gone. You didn't feel like you were being watched... The urge to break down and cry was too powerful as you sobbed silently. Your chest had a weight lifted off of it. But your celebration was short-lived. As soon as you started changing out of your work clothes, you felt a sharp coldness run up your back. It was back. Now you wanted to cry for different reasons.

You took your taser out of your bag and took it with you as you swept through your apartment, just like every day, checking your home. But, just like always, you never found anyone.

You returned to your mail and started to sort it right as your lights went out. Xiaojun mentioned power outages so this is probably it. The storm must've knocked it right out. You stumbled through the darkness that invited itself into your home until you found your phone–Xiaojun asked you to call him if anything happened so he must have a way to fix it...

The phone rang as you waited for him to pick up, the sound of the rain getting louder and less friendly.

"Hello?" Xiaojun's voice came out of your phone.

"Hi Xiaojun, it's y/n, we just spoke?"

"Of course, I know who you are, silly. Can I help you with something?"

"Yeah, you told me to call if my power went out. Is there anything you can do about this?"

Xiaojun was silent for a moment. "I can get a flashlight, and bring it to you if you don't have one. I'll also check your power box, in your laundry room, to see if the circuit tripped."

"I'd appreciate it." You hung up the phone and waited by the door for Xiaojun to arrive. You opened it cautiously as you heard the knock, your camera for the front door was also not working so you couldn't see who it was unless you opened it. A flashing beam of light hit your eyes as they tried to adjust.

"Sorry about that, y/n. I didn't mean to shine you like that." Xiaojun's voice rumbled dryly. You blinked a few times, waiting for the dazzling sensation to fade.

"It's alright, come in," You mumbled as you rubbed your eyes. You felt Xiaojun's arms hold you as he shifted past you, pushing the door with his broad shoulder. You shut the door and followed him as he navigated your apartment, using the flashlight to light the way.

"You live here alone, right?" Xiaojun asked, trying to make conversation.

"Yes, that's right."

"What about your parents?"

"They're far away... I moved out here for a job opportunity, but I'm still trying to see if it was all worth it." You shivered, "What about you?"

"My father passed away, leaving the building for me to rent out."

Xiaojun got to the breaker box and opened it. "Hold this for me?" He handed you the flashlight so he could use both hands to work. You didn't know much about what was happening as he fiddled with wires. "Got a girlfriend?"

"Not really my type."

"Boyfriend?"

"No, I don't have anyone in my life like that..." You sighed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to–I was just wondering." Xiaojun tried to change the subject, "So how do you like the apartment?"

"It's nice. Cozy."

"Really? No issues, at all? You're the only tenant who doesn't complain about something in their apartment."

"Well..." You hesitated, thinking about the feeling. This was your chance to talk about it. For someone to finally understand. "There's been this... one thing."

"Oh?" Xiaojun said without looking at you.

Your jaw tightened. "I've been having a weird feeling since I moved in. Like I've been followed. It started in the apartment, then went outside. I only don't notice it when I'm at work..."

"That's strange. I haven't heard anything on the news or something. You should be careful, is there any other time you feel okay?"

You blushed at the answer, "Well, I don't feel it now."

"Now?"

"I think it's because you're here?"

"So I'm making you feel safe?" Xiaojun chuckled. "That's so cute. I'll keep you safe, anytime." Xiaojun smiled, trying to focus but couldn't stop thinking about you. He sucked his teeth in frustration. "I think I need to grab a tool, can you hold this in place? It's gotta stay like this for me to fix it." You nodded as Xiaojun guided your hand over his, pressing down on a bundle of wires. "Okay, I'll be right back, so stay put." Xiaojun hopped to his feet, taking the flashlight with him as he left you in the dark. The second you couldn't hear his footsteps anymore, your chest started filling with anxiety. You felt incredibly vulnerable, and you'd left your taser in the kitchen–not wanting to scare your landlord with it. Your breathing got heavier, shadows danced in your vision, and your hands shook as they were glued to the wires.

Then you felt it. The feeling, creeping up your back, was the most intense you'd ever felt. You couldn't hear or see anything, but every hair on your body stood on end.

"W-who's there!?" You shouted into the darkness.

The darkness responded with nothing but dead silence.

You could run to the kitchen, grab your taser, and hide somewhere. But what if you attack Xiaojun by mistake? You needed something, anything. Your mind raced, but even in your panic, you could hear something. Someone breathing. They were excited, ready for you to fight back. You felt more helpless than before. You were doomed from the start. They stepped into the laundry room, finally making a singular footstep.

You stood, trying to see who it was, but only saw a shadow. There was sudden pain, and then darkness.

You were knocked out cold...

To continue, click here!

[my-beloved-ghosts-and-me]

I'm high, I have hyperfocus and this motherfucker named Tangerine is now the biggest hyperfocus of mt life now

I just don't know if I should finish this, it's just a draft but I'm serious considering finish a smut for the first time ever

English it's not my first language and lalalas

Tangerine knew that there's no such thing as an easy job, but Jesus Christ nobody ever told him that things could be this fucking difficult.

Lemon warned him. His brother, god bless his good soul, tried to talk his way out of this ridiculous job, but Tangerine didn't listened to him. Maybe he truly was a Gordon after all. And now here he was. Sitting in a ginormous comfortable chair with a fantastic book that he got from your bookcase trying to read while you and Lemon were on the couch talking excitedly about an anime that you convinced him to watch saying that in exchange you would watch all the twenty-four seasons of Thomas the Tank Engine.

He didn't know how much longer he could handle this situation with sanity in his mind, but with how much your brother were paying just for them to keep you safe inside your house he knew he would rather eat his right hand out of his body than mess this up. Even because Lemon, that traitor, was having the time of his life. Every day since the second half of the first week in your house, Lemon says he's grateful for Tangerine accepting the job. The easiest job of their life. And the higher-paying too.

Maybe, just maybe, if Tangerine was a little bit less of a profissional this actually would be the easiest job in his life. A beautiful house in the middle of a forest that looks like a scenario out of the fucking Twilight movie that you made Lemon watch in exchange of that one cartoon with the human and the dog, his brother is happy that he finally got a friend to share his interests, a good payment at the end of every month, not even one day of violence since the beginning of this job and you.

The level of frustration and violence running wild in his body it's not comprehensible right?

Everything was just so perfect...

.

.

.

Except Tangerine wanted to bend you in every surface in sight and fuck you dumb on his cock at every opportunity. It was the first time he tried to resist the impetus to take something that he wanted and maybe Lemon was right and he should have seen a therapist. But you were just so sweet, always concerned about his well-being, always smiling in the morning and making coffee for you and Lemon and tea for him, always offering yourself to moisturize his hair and asking his opinion in everything like the food you cooked or the books he's reading. It would be hard to resist nevertheless.

But again Tangerine was a professional. The fact that your brother were one of the most dangerous mafia eaders of the Eurasia and you used to date his best mate before he got murdered trying to protect you a few years ago sending your brother into a spiral of madness and cruelty was just a detail.

--x--

He could feel his member in his hand, hot, pulsing and begging for relief. Just God knows how much he tried to avoid this from happening because he knows once he let his mind succumb just a little to thought of you he will need more ande more and soon just thinking about you will not enough. But now it's over. His cock was throbbing so much and was desperately needing release. Every goddamn time you made him hard he tried touching himself picturing another woman, but every time it was you that he was imagining you without him even noticing what he was doing. When Tangerine switched back to a another woman he became almost instantly soft. It was driving him to the brink of madness and he couldn't deny himself any longer.

He was so eager to finally give in that he doesn't even know where to begin with. Should he let you take the lead and be the sweet little thing he knows you are and be all soft and smalls kisses before giving in to desire shyly and slowly or should he take the lead and ravish you without mercy making you succumb to him faster and messier?

He definitely wants to go down on you that's for sure, but he couldn't decide between exploring slowly your body anticipating you to when he finally starts to eat you out or going straight to the place the dreamed for almost three months now and devour you until he was satisfied.

"Fucking hell, I need to slow down or I'll come and I didn't even decided exactly how I'm going to take her." Tangerine was getting close to spill himself all over your panties just with the flashes that he was conjuring of you but he hasn't able to decide how to make you his yet. He decided to test himself to see how much control he had over his body in case he needed to be soft and tender with you in case you're stil a virgin and just cum after he was able to conjure both scenarios in his head without touching himself during this process of torture. He needed to prove himself worthy of you and be prepared for all possibilities concerning your well-being.

Tangerine move his hands to his hair, close his eyes and take a deep breath imagining you asking for him to be careful with you "Please, go easy with me okay? I've never did this, not even with Draken? so please be gentle" you would say and he couldn't explain the feeling that bloomed in his chest and made his dick switch uncontrollable.

"Of course, love. Do you feel prepared enough?" he asked while rubbing his cock along your slick pussy making obvious with the lewds sounds that you were more than ready.

"Yes."

"Can I put in?" he answered pressing the tip of his member in your tight opening.

"Yeah. Don't need to have pity okay? Just worry if I say stop, unless keep going" Oh, but how could he not be pitiful of you if you're such a cry baby and he crumble when he see you with tear in your eyes.

"Okay, darling. I'll try my best." Tangerine whispers against your neck, his hot breath making you shiver, before pressing his tip further into you making you suck a little breath.

You put your arms in his shoulders looking down mesmerized by the scene of finally having Tangerine filling you.

At that thought his cock throbbed so violently he instantly knew that if he needed to be more a little more alert otherwise he would cun before imagining you getting fucked dumb.

Tangerine is trying to calm himself after being carried away for too long taking deep breaths. You will be the death of him, he's sure. Your pussy will be his reason to come back after every job in one piece. He just knew that.

--x--

You wake up the next morning feeling throughly fucked feeling you body running hot. You have a few flashes of you dream with Tangerine and you are actually on the verge of tears realizing that it was just a dream just like Bella in Breaking Dawn. In the only day you don't touch yourself to the thought of him it's the day that your brain reminds you of what you shouldn't try to ignore.

Maybe if you didn't manifested your life in your early teens wishing a life like Twilight and other book series your life wouldn't be such a mess right now and even with all the disasters in the history, the romance plot was the one consuming you the most.

Speaking of manifestation, you did asked for a sign that the spell you used of that old book with hand-written spells worked. And since you don't believe in coincidences there must be a connection between this things no? Maybe you should ask for a clearer sign.

[onyxheartbeat]

Should I send it?

You're a horrible person I'm finally making myself see it. I'm not the forgiving person I used to be for you anymore, and I finally am accepting it instead of being in denial. emotionally withholding when I ask for scraps. I've accepted your breadcrumbs, when you felt like giving them. then you'd switch up. yet I was basically a therapist and mother to you when you needed. treat me like a toy on a shelf to play with only if you're in the mood. you have severe avoidant attachment, and you don't even realize how much misogyny you have. for someone with a psych degree, you're unaware. I didn't say your issues to spare your feelings. a selfish user of women. seems like I've been the biggest punching bag as from what you've told me, you didn't slap or call other women you've been with a cunt over and over and over and over, violating their boundaries. but you 'don't mean it like that,' and it's a 'joke.' taking your life crisis out on me, when I was genuinely trying to bond and help soothe you out of love. holding you when you cried. yet I cried alone. COWARD afraid to hear what have to say, telling me you won't read my letters. porn addicted. just view women as temporary. call your exes 'friends' probably just so you can have access to emotional support if you want it. I should've never talked to you after the first ghosting. promised you wouldn't again, yet you did it again, BLAMING ME and saying it was because I was sending angry texts. that was NOT why. and I still forgave you and put in the emotional labor to reconnect and tried to be on good terms. said I can just come to you and talk stuff out then flipping the script and saying horrible things to me when I do when you're drunk, or just flat out not even talking to me with any affectionate tone at all if you're sober. shaming me for addressing your verbally abusive language, screaming at me to shut the fuck up when I wasn't even interrupting you, telling me you're going to commit suicide and not answering for hours, being drunk and using that as an explanation for the behavior. you're not like that because you were drunk, that's just who you are and it lies dormant in you until you want to take it out on me. you don't act like this to men in your life, so don't even think for a second you're not a misogynist. as you said, you just 'want to destroy.' textbook abuser, intentional or not. you have no idea how much I've protected your ego and life. I was the man in the relationship, the father, and the mother. YOU needed ME. forgave you when you got on your knees and begged once. but when I needed you, you weren't there. you lovebombed me in the beginning, holding me, telling me you're my man. then now if I ask you to say those things, you tell me 'I can't lie tonight.' even though when YOU needed me to tell you that I'd take a flight out to see you a few weeks ago, I SAID I WOULD. I never screamed at you until yeaarrrrs later and so many screams from YOU first. I was so sweet and loving and you still had it in your heart to speak to me so disrespectfully. I would've never done that to you. I still haven't. what I truly will never understand is how you can just keep apologizing and claim you feel bad, yet never do anything with YOUR ACTIONS to make me feel loved or important or safe. you treated me normally for like three months and then it became like dealing with two different people. I deserve an award for dealing with your mood swings so well. gave you flowers, cards, gifts, but I don't even get birthday messages from you. it was clearly a chase for a honeymoon phase high for you. Look into fearful avoidant attachment style and heal yourself for the sake of your child. tell your therapist about your usage of women. teach your son how NOT TO BE. you're getting your way, again. you pushed me out. just know the feelings never ended for me. I was always real. this is your doing. Don't talk to me again.

[soul-renewal]

I went to therapy a few weeks ago and teared up when I tried to recall a time when my father and I were arguing.

He was yelling at me and when I told him to stop yelling because it was scaring me, he yelled EVEN LOUDER that I shook and fell to the floor.

To many people, my father is a good man, he has given food and shelter and worked hard to keep us alive…

For so long, I was worried about garbing hate for my dad because I felt I deserved the emotional and mental abuse. I felt other people would side with him and think he done right by how he handled me.

But from my perspective, I was trying to fight for my freedom. The reason we were fighting was because I told him I wanted to travel far, live far away even. Something was calling for me out there and my father was furious about the idea of me leaving home.

I now live miles away from home and am thankful that I have extended family to live with, but I don’t always cry in therapy, so when I told my therapist about my dad yelling at me, I realized that that was a traumatic experience for me.

It made me realize how much my father didn’t care about my feelings. If I said his yelling was scaring me and he yelled louder, then it dawned on me on how little he respected me.

I said I was SCARED.

He yelled LOUDER!!!!

He didn’t love me. He only wanted to control me.

All my life, I’ve listened to my father as best as I could, without killing my soul, but it felt like killing my own soul and inner child was what would make my father happy…

I put my father on a pedestal and to realize he didn’t truly love me was heartbreaking for me. I sacrificed my desires and happiness for him to feel safe and in control.

For example, when I was a teenager, I always wanted to travel far as well and when my school was allowing select students travel to another state for some competition or something, I was selected!!!!!! I think it was an all expense paid trip, I’m not really sure but I remember thinking it was my chance to travel far away without family. A little bit like flying from the nest!!! It would’ve been a great life experience for me and would look good for college!

My father wanted me to be successful, so I thought he couldn’t say no!!!! But you know what???? HE DIDN’T LET ME GO!!!!!!!!

I remembered when I was even younger, in Middle school, there was a field trip to stay at a mountains for 1 night for a small fee. Just ONE night, teachers and students enjoying sight seeing and other activities. I tried so hard to plead to my dad for me to go but when he wouldn’t let me go, I cried so hard.

It may seem like a little thing, but it was actually a big thing for me.

Looking back, my desire to travel was destroyed by my father because nowadays I don’t feel excited about traveling anymore. I used to be like a cheerful puppy when the plan for traveling would happen for me. But now, I feel nothing…

There have been many other experiences in my life where my dad blocked my happiness, freedom, and light.

But since he was such a “good father” I felt everyone would side with him if I said anything… so I felt it was wrong to hate my dad…

But now that I’m finally away from my dad and living in a need state for a year now, I’ve cried so much realizing that my dad blocked me from my heart’s desires growing up. I felt like a majority of life was wasted being safe and listening to my dad and I’m 30 years old now!!

I feel like my father took my light away from me… I used to get so easily excited and happy about little things, and now I feel numb…

I’ve decided, I don’t care if it’s wrong to hate my father. I want o to validate what I feel.

My father yelling louder at me, made me think how he would never be able to protect or value my feelings, mind, or heart. All that’s apart of me.

When someone says they’re suffocating cause you’re hugging them to hard, you let them go, not squeeze them harder and make them turn blue wtf. That’s how I see it with my dad when he didn’t care that he was scaring me.

My dad may protect me physically and materially, but he cannot protect me emotionally or mentally. In fact, he would damage me in those ways.

I also hate that he gaslit me when I overheard him saying that I’m dumb like my mom. I called him out and he said no, I didn’t say that. I said your mom is dumb and I in my head I was like WTF HOW THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER

His responses were so fucked up to me like wtf WTF because he doesn’t realize how messed up it is to tear someone down from the inside.

I don’t care how good of a person he is. If he can’t control you, his demon comes out.

Even though im not living with my dad, I realize how much my dad has influenced me and it feels he’s still with me sometimes…

I’ve always been afraid to truly speak out against my father because I’m afraid of him disowning me or cutting me off in some way. He was my best friend growing up, the only person I saw the most and who gave me the most… Nobody could do the same…

But now I see, as he claimed to be protecting me. I need to protect myself. From him.

I pretended to play an argument between my dad and me in my mind. This is how I imagined it—

“If you’re going to leave me, then fine, go dad!!!!”

“I don’t care if you hate me now or say that you’re disgraced by me just because I’m talking back to you.”

“I’m an adult and I deserve to have my own voice and opinion in this matter too! I want to be heard too! you can’t just have your say and not have me say anything to it! Me talking back to you is not to fight you! I’m just saying my heart’s desires, my point of view, my opinion!!!!!”

“I hear you loud and clear!!!”

“You always want to protect me, but now, I’m protecting myself from you!!!! I don’t care if you leave me. If keeping this relationship with you means losing myself, then I’d rather lose you than lose myself.”

It’s time for me to let go of my father and start loving myself now. I need to get back to who I truly am, so that I can do what I feel called to do here on Earth. Whatever that may be….

It’s so sad to me how I used to have so many desires and passions, but I blame my father for taking them from me and making me dull and stuck in life. But, I also forgive myself for allowing my self to listen to my father over my own heart and calling…

I want to give myself peace and healing… I don’t want to see the world through the eyes on my father. I want to see the world with my light and to shine that….But I have to find myself again….

I’ve learned from my father that being loyal is a great quality, but you have to be careful with who you’re loyal too. Anyone who makes you disloyal to yourself is someone you shouldn’t be loyal to…

I used to have desires…but now, I feel like, no one cares, so why even go after what I want…

I want to have ideas, passions, and desires again. I want to feel alive like I did when I was young…

I can’t give the world what I needs from me if I’m not operating from my true self…

I need to believe in myself again… I deserve to be here… I deserve to create… I deserve to talk, have fun, and be free…

It’s all from a good heart….

[blissfullybloomed]

Yeah, it's been a while, but today felt like the right day to write again. I missed it. 

So let's get all the updates out of the way since my last post(Dec 2023). Oh man…it's a lot. 

I spent New Years with my boyfriend(yeah we're still a thing), and his best friend. Had to go home early though…cause like…im old, and we work in the mornings. 

February I picked up a few extra gig jobs to pay off school. I delivered for Instacart, Spark, Shipt, and Amazon Flex. While working two other jobs. I had to pay it off and I was tired of waiting for money to just appear….cause that's totally not a thing. 

March was my man's birthday! The first one I got to spend with him. Gifts that I got him don't matter…like i'm not gonna sit here and list them off…just his face was all i needed. That look of just you didn't have to do that..but he was glad I did. 

I started therapy to heal from a relationship with a family member that I actually never really understood until very recently. I'm learning that , in the words of Taylor Swift, “Hi, it's me , I'm the problem”- I know that now. I know a lot now actually. 

Started reading a book that has helped immensely with my healing as well. I won't mention the title in this blog as it's specific to one person in my life…but I will say this: No one is perfect, no matter the title they hold in your life. Additionally titles don't mean shit. We're all human and that's the only title I care about…unless you're an alien…then like, can we be friends. 

The Medical Board of Ohio gave me my massage license, and I have signed a lease for my own business and actually have two clients ( sister and friend.) Yeah…Blissfully Bloomed is actually a real , tangible thing now. 

I moved in with my boyfriend. Yup, the WHOLE sentence! It's been about 3 weeks , and let's just say we are slowly adjusting to the new. The animals are a little testy, but we love them all.Spray bottles are in every room now. LOL!  He has been incredible throughout the entire process. I even know how to plug my tire now. He is patient, and kind. Even on days…i don't want to be human…he is still right there. I will tell you this- I never knew love could feel this deep…this solid…this safe. He truly is the person I was supposed to find. Someone in my life once told me a long time ago,  “he has brought back what the locust stole”- When it was told to me the first time it didn't make sense, and in hindsight…I know why it didn't make sense. Now…I understand the phrase…I understand what a healthy and honest relationship looks like. I understand that MEN operate completely differently when they too feel safe and understood.  I love you like crazy baby. 

I started a solid vitamin regimen…and boy oh boy has it helped immensely. My anxiety only peaks during stress, and unknown areas of my life now. It's not at the forefront anymore. Vitamins, therapy, massage, counseling, coloring, legoing, and being surrounded by motivated individuals who only want to better themselves have been the key to my success. Sure I have days just like everyone else where I just don't wanna. But as my boyfriend says”it's allowed, just have to find a balance”- So i'm working on it…BUT vitamins are so good! 

So I think that covers it for the updates…Lets chat about whats to come! 

Moving through all of the above has required high energy and focus to obtain a goal. The focus was definitely fueled by my sister jessica. My sister was the entire inspiration to become a Massage Therapist. What's crazy…I had a client last week…she was a nurse at Nationwide in the pediatric unit….I think she would have worked with Jess at some point, and she was on MY table. Small world sometimes ya know. 

Massage gave me my heart back and I've said that since school…you can't be heartless and be a massage therapist. It's impossible. We comfort through the power of touch. We calm anxiety, recirculate blood to all the necessary parts of your body, we hold space for others to relax. Coming from someone that was very very selfish in her past life…to be able to have people on my table is a gift I will always attribute to my sister Jess. Man do I miss her. What I wouldn't give to wheel her into my massage studio and give her some relaxation for a brief moment. She showed me native american flute music too. I love ya sis. We all do. You can come visit me anytime anywhere. I love you. 

Okay well, on that note…I'm crying. So I think it's a good time to get ready for the day. I have three clients. One of which lost their mother last week. Like I said, massage is so powerful. It truly brings joy and I am able to give joy to others now. What an absolute gift. 

Thanks for listening to my ted talk- see ya on the flippity flip! 

[rogerslovesstark]

Hi there! A huge fan 💜💙 I was wondering if your requests are open?

If yes, could you please write an angsty fic where in reader is dating Bucky and for some reason he belittles her and breaks off their relationship. After which eventually everyone on the team stops talking to her. She's forced to leave off on her own and struggles a lot. Later Bucky realises his mistake and tries to contact her but the old her is gone. Like she finds her own happiness. Sorry if it's too detailed☹️

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

WARNING: Angst

Your recruitment to the team was quick and very low-key. Almost no one knew that you had joined the Avengers because you requested Tony not to hold a press conference. You loved being an Avenger, the idea of helping people in need was so fulfilling.

However, the spotlight of being an Avenger was not pleasant. You did not know how Tony and Steve were able to handle it, the constant feeling of eyes on you, paparazzi almost always being on top of everything you do.

The few events you did go to, you stood with Bucky most of the time. He always kept you safe and comfortable while the party was booming. The two of you would walk around the venues Tony would rent out, looking at the architecture of the building, admiring the art that was around.

The conversation was kept minimal because there was already so much noise from the party. Both silently agreed that there was no need for extra noise.

It was the New Years Party two years ago where Bucky asked you if you wanted to slow dance. The Venue had multiple balconies and he chose the smallest one for the two of you to dance.

The two of you swayed to the soft music that could be heard from the party. Once the clock hit 12:00, Bucky leaned over and kissed you. You two began dating shortly after.

Every Sunday was a day for a date unless either of you had a mission. Every other week you planned a date for you and Bucky, walks in the park, restaurants, bars, everything you could think of.

You developed a dependency on Bucky. Always seeking his reassurance, seeking his comfort and touch. You felt as though you were not complete unless you were with Bucky. 

Your childhood was to blame, primarily your father. Physically, your dad was there but not emotionally. You never received emotional love from your father, the ‘I’m so proud of you’ or ‘you’re doing amazing’ Just a stiff nod.  

Being raised by your psychotic father was the reason you developed into the cold-hearted killer you were. From 16-19, you worked as a mercenary and killed for money.

You craved emotional validation from someone because you were so deprived of it when you were a child. You struggled to form relationships with others because of it too. That was one of the main reasons why you were not as close to the team.

Bucky would always smile at you, or kiss you when you were excited about something you would accomplish. On missions, he would always stay near you unless instructed otherwise by Steve. 

Bucky has been extremely off recently, always working with Steve, or working out with Sam, helping Wanda train her new abilities because it’s hard to kill a super-soldier than a normal human. 

He had missed five Sunday dates. Five of them. In those five weeks, you barely saw him and it was driving you crazy. You constantly would search for the time where the two of you could just be alone. You were so deprived of physical touch and emotional love, you began to fall into a depressive state. 

You walked towards the conference room, you asked Friday where Bucky was. She said he was in the conference room alone which is weird that she specified.

You opened the door and found Bucky just sitting on his phone. It was almost 10:30pm and he was just chilling in the conference room on his phone.

“Baby, I’ve been looking for you,” You said, walking over to him and running your hands along his broad and muscular shoulders. He was always so tense when he was sitting hunched over.

He shrugged you off his shoulders and turned to look at you. Not a soft, loving kind of look that a lover would typically give his lover; he gave a harsh glare as if you had done something to him. 

“God, you are so fucking annoying, you know that,” Bucky said. He grabbed that hand that was touching you and stood up from his chair. He let go of your hand rather quickly as soon as he stood from the chair. 

“I can’t fucking stand being around you Y/n, I don’t know why I ever asked you to be my fucking girlfriend,” He said, lowering his face closer to your face so the two of you were at eye level. 

Tears pooled in your eyes, every word he said was like a thin blade stabbing you in the stomach over and over again. You did not know what you did wrong, you had not even seen him in almost a week despite living with him.

“I’m sorry Bucky, I’ll be better, what can I do to be better, please,” You whispered, if your voice were any higher, you would being sobbing. 

Bucky just watched as you pathetically tried to hold your sobs in. You really were a weak woman and Bucky knew that. He knew that he held you in the palm of his hand and if he wanted to, he could break you.

He watched as your world crumbled around you because Bucky had decided to hurt you. Your hands were shaking and curled into fists. Your nose was turning red from holding back your tears.

“You are nothing without me, and I don’t want you anymore, so get the fuck out of my face and leave. No one on the team likes you, they would rather see you dead than ever have to see your horrific face ever again.” Bucky snarled, ready to see you burst into tears.

He knew that was the last straw.

You quickly turned around and left before you burst into tears. Bucky grabbed your arm and tried to turn you around, wanting to see you cry. You were forced to turn around, tears in your eyes pulling your hand back and smacking Bucky on his cheek. 

You left him dazed in the conference room. You ran to your shared room, collecting all your belongings. You had a small apartment in the heart of Montreal that no one knew about. You deliberately left off your information given to FRIDAY.

“FRIDAY, get rid of all information regarding Y/N L/N” You requested.

“Request denied, reasoning: unauthorized access to function,”

“Override denial, code Tony Stark has a fat ass” You rolled your eyes at the code Tony had told you to be used as a last resort code.

“Permission granted, removing all information regrading Y/N L/N,”

You grabbed a piece of paper on your desk, writing a short goodbye to Tony knowing he would wonder where you went. You quietly walk over to Tony’s office and placed it on the monitor he mainly used.

You left the compound shortly after, walking seven miles to the small car you planted in the forest. You prepared this as a last resort option. You never wanted to use this car but times were desperate and you had to get away from Bucky.

++++

You were struggling, barely able to figure out how to live on your own. The money you had saved from working for the Avengers was running low and the waitress job you did have has barely enough to pay the bills you had. 

Montreal was really expensive you ended up realizing, with such a horrible job, you sold your apartment and moved in with some college students in a small house. You shared a bedroom with one of the women in the house. 

Ashley, your roommate, actually found the job for you, she helped you changed your appearance and spotted your money whenever you were desperate for it.

You had no skill set for an actual job, the only skills you had were killing. And your skills had developed rapidly as an Avenger. You knew what you had to do to survive.

The first kill that you had was a child trafficker in Toronto. Ashley covered for you, saying you two would go to a spa for a girl's weekend. She stayed at the spa while you finished the job. You gave her 20% of the income made. 

You two had gotten close over the two years that you spent in the shared house. She was one of the only people that you trusted at this point. She suggested that you started therapy, which you decided to actually go to.

Your therapist wanted you to start realizing that you were more than who you surrounded yourself in. You deserved the love that you craved and you could only get it when you truly loved yourself.

++++

Bucky was laying in the bed the two of you shared. Two years had passed since he had driven you out of his life. He didn’t know why he did it, he was so upset because he saw you flirting with Tony. But Tony got engaged to Pepper only a few days later. 

After nine months of you being away, he started to crave your presence in his life. He asked FRIDAY where you were but she had no information on you. When FRIDAY said she had no information on you, he had one of the biggest meltdowns he ever experienced. 

You were officially gone from his life. Even with all the winter soldier experience of tracking people down, he couldn’t find you. Bucky knew that you were smart, you could hide in plain sight if you wanted to. 

It was in Toronto that he saw you again. Bucky’s whole world stopped after he saw you. You were so different now. Your hair was completely different from what he was used to, and you dressed differently too. 

It took him two months to finally get you to speak to him.

“What do you want Bucky?” The way you used to speak to him was so soft, now you were so cold towards him. Bucky’s stomach churned, almost nervous to respond to you.

“Y/n, please come back, I’m sorry for everything I have done to you, everything I said was a lie. I still love you” Bucky pleaded to you. 

“Bucky I’m not the same woman I used to be, you broke me, I was so broken and I was the only one who fixed me. You don’t get to come back after I learned how to not live with you.” You shouted at him.

Tears pooled in Bucky’s eye, he had lost the one person who had shown him, true love. The one person he wanted to protect for the rest of his life. He lost you, forever.

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

😡🤬ANGER MANAGEMENT (PART 1)🤬😡

Prompt: Y/N has the life she’s always dreamed of: a good house, a nice car, a fat paycheck, her dream job and some loving friends. Her life feels like a fairytale...but just like every fairytale she’s not safe from the villain, the problem with that? He’s not only an incredibly hot Scotsman but also a fucking pain in the ass!

@drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan

Word count: Long-ish

Pairing: Drew McIntyre x Reader

Warnings: +18 smut, clit stimulation, angst, dirty talking, cursing, name calling,(possible part 2?Idk)

Notes: I think it’s time for me to face my biggest fear: Drew McIntyre! 😂 all jokes aside, I’ve lost count of how many one shots I have written and soon after deleted about this handsome hunk. There are so many good stories of him out there that I’ve always felt like mine were actually horse shit compared to those so I’ve never had the courage to make this Scottish wet dream an official brand of my writing, but I’m looking forward to achieve new accomplishments on my writing in 2021, so here goes nothing folks! Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

“Oh Thank God! Just the woman I wanted to see”

I turned around to meet Becky Lynch, one of the few dear close friends I’ve made while working for the WWE as a massage therapist.

“Hey Becks! What’s up?”

“Y/N I need your help, I was doing some training with the guys when suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder and now I feel like I wanna cry”

“Oh Becky, c’mon let’s go to my office”

Once we got there I mentioned for her to sit on the massage table.

“So tell me exactly what you were doing”

“I was doing some regular weightlifting, then all of a sudden I felt this sharp pain stretch from my elbow to my shoulder”

“Ok, did you warmed up before hand?”

“Yes”

“Did you added the weights in progressively or were you in some sort of competition against Sheamus, Cesaro and McIntyre as to whom could perform a proper weightlifting faster?” I crooked my eyebrow

“Y/N! You know I would never do that” She tried to hide her shame for being caught

“Becky, I know you! I know how competitive you are and how competitive you GET when you train with Sheamus, Cesaro and the Scottish prick.”

“They started ok?! They said I was no match for them, so I had to make them swallow word by word” She said slightly angry

“Calm down” I chuckled “And I presume you won?”

“Of course I won! As if they stood a chance” She scoffed

I touched her shoulder and palmed the back of her upper arm til I reached her elbow

“And your prize for that my darling is” I looked into her eyes “Six muscular knots, probably some small damage to your elbow nerves resulting in a little trip to the physical therapists and shit ton of pain, congratulations! Are you happy now?”

“Oh no!” She whined “Y/N, please don’t send me to the physical therapists, they will eat my ass off and they’re gonna tell Hunter about this. Please Y/N, please tell me you can fix it?” She stared at me with begging eyes

“Becks” I sighed “I can undo the muscular knots but I ain’t no fairy godmother! If you have some sort of nerve damage that’s up to the physical therapists...there’s nothing I can do about that honey”

“Please Y/N give me some of the red magical relief juice you gave to Kofi” She pleads

“Red magical relief juice?” I asked confused

“Yes, Kofi said he had this horrible pain from an injury and you gave him this red magical relief juice that helped him better than any medicine! Please give that to me too!”

I laughed before answering

“Oh Kofi, Kofi... it’s not an juice, it’s a liquid... a toner. A home made medicine I learned with my grandma. Technically I’m not even allowed to use that, but I know it works, better than these crap versions of Vick’s Vapor Rub” I tossed a little small green package in the trash can.

“Can you give that to me?” She asked with her eyes full of hope

“Fine” I said and she smiles widely

“But, you have to promise me that you will stop with these stupid and senseless competitions! They could permanently damage your nerves you know?!”

“Ok I promise”

I took a small plastic bottle from the cabinet and filled up with some small amount of the toner and placed the bottle inside a small paper bag. I also gave her a little bit of my grandma’s famous ointment in a tiny tin can.

“Alright, so here’s what you’re gonna do: once you get to your hotel room, you’ll take a hot shower and before you put your clothes on, you’re gonna rub the toner from your neck to your elbow all over your shoulder and back upper arm” She nods and I proceed “Then right after you’re going to take a small amount of this ointment” I show her the little tin can “And rub it all over your shoulder, back upper arm and elbow. Right afterwards you get dress with a long sleeve shirt and go to bed. Remember that you cannot leave your skin exposed to the cold air of air conditioning, because if you do it will make your pain and damage way worse! Do you hear me?”

“Yes Ma’am”

“If in three to four days you still feel any sort of pain you’re gonna have to go to the physical therapists”

“Ok”

“Becky I’m serious”

“Okay Y/N I got it” She smiles softly

“Good, now please, don’t tell anyone about this” I shook the little bag “And tell Kofi to keep his mouth shut. I know he means well but I could get fired for this”

“My lips are sealed” She pressed her lips in a thin line

“Thank you” I chuckled “Now, go on and take 20 drops of this” I give her some Ibuprofen “And come back in 20 minutes”

“Why?” She asks confused

“Because we still have to undo those knots and it’s not gonna be the fun kind of pain my dear”

“Argh” She groans

One week later

I was finishing tidying up the massage table from the session I just had with Bayley when someone knocked on my office door

“Come on in”

“Hey Y/N” Seth Rollins said in a voice full of pain as he tried to walk towards me

“Seth are you ok? Jesus, you look like somebody just kicked your balls so hard that they went up to your throat! What happened?” I tried to hold back my laugh

“A long story involving Cesaro and Drew. Moral of the story is my back is fucked up, do you think you can help me?”

“Can you lay down here?” I patted the table

“I guess so” He made his way to it excruciatingly slow as I helped him to lay down

“Where’s the pain worst?”

“My lower back” I touched and he gasped in pain

“Do you think you could give me some of that red magical relief juice?” He whispered so only I could hear it.

Of course I wasn’t surprised about him knowing of the “magical relief juice” since he and Becky were together I figured she told him.

“Did Becky told you?”

“Only today, once she saw I was in a tremendous pain...When she was using it I pressed her to tell me who gave it to her but she didn’t wanted to say, she said it was her fairy godmother”

I couldn’t help but smile at Becky’s inside joke and loyalty. I truly love that girl.

“Sure thing Rollins, just please don’t-“

“I won’t tell anyone Y/N don’t worry! Your witchy recipe is safe with me” He chuckled “Ouch fuck, that hurts” He groaned

“Did you bring any jacket on with you?” I laugh

“Yeah Becky told me to”

“Ok, let’s get start it”

Forty minutes and a relaxed thankful Seth Rollins later. I was finishing washing my hands while Seth pulled the zipper of his jacked up. I could feel his eyes on me

“What is it Rollins?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“If the question is if I am a 450 year old witch then my answer is, you will never know” I whisper as I turn to face him with a smirk

He laughs before saying “Well I’m sure you are sweetheart” He winks playfully “But that’s not the question though unfortunately”

“What is it then?”

He looked at me with a sense of caution before asking

“Why do you hate Drew so much?”

“McIntyre? The Scottish prick? The shitty bearded version of Gastón from Beauty and The Beast?” I ask in disbelief

My hatred for Drew McIntyre goes way back to 5 years ago. To make a long story short he has being a pain in my ass every since I started working here. It all resumes to the bad flirting and endless fights. We’ve always fought at least 3 times a week for as long as I can remember. It’s like a weekly ritual for us, and our fights are always petty and ridiculous such as who will get in the elevator first or who will rent the last SUV car.

“Yeah...” He answers slightly embarrassed

“Well that’s simple, he’s an asshole! A smug fucker who thinks he’s the most beautiful man to ever walk the earth and that every woman alive must fall for him in all fours”

“Is there anything else beyond that?” He asks

“No! Of course not!” I lied. As if I could tell him about my deep sexual desire for the Scotsman

“Are you sure? I mean, you must agree with me that he is very beautiful” Seth answers

“I’m not saying he’s not. I have eyes, so trust me, I know he’s hot as fuck and a very handsome man but that doesn’t mean that every woman on this company wants him!” I scoffed

“Does the ‘every woman’ equals Y/N?”

“Why are you asking me this?” I asked aggressively

“Look, there’s no need for you to get all defensive ok? I’m your friend and I’m just asking this as a friend. I’m not coming for you by any means” He says with a soothing voice

“Sorry, it was just my automatic response”

“It’s okay sweetie”

“But Seth...why this question now?”

“Let’s just say that I may or may not have heard some backstage talk and I would like to know this from your own mouth instead of other people’s”

“Backstage talk? About what?” I ask angrily

His eyes widened “You know what? Let’s forget I ever men-“

“No no no Rollins you’ve started this now you will finish it!” Now I was really angry

“Fuck, I should’ve kept my mouth shut” He murmured

“But you didn’t! So spit it out”

“Ok...I’ve heard one of the girls say that the reason why you hate Drew so much is because you kinda have a hidden want for him to fuck you but since he’s ‘not interested’ you get pissed off” He whispered

“I WHAT??? WHO THE FUCK SAID THAT?”

“Y/N please keep your voice down! Somebody is gonna hear you”

“I COULD GIVE TWO FUCKS IF SOMEBODY CAN HEAR ME! Who’ve said that Seth?” I was boiling with rage

“Sweetie, I’m not gonna tell you who’ve said it because I know you will-“

I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and whispered

“If you don’t tell me who’ve said that right now Rollins I swear to God on God in heaven that I will cut your balls off and shove them down your throat!”

He gulped

“Now who’ve said that?”

“Carmella” He whispered and I smiled letting go of his collar “Y/N please don’t do anything stupid!” He said as I removed my coat

“Don’t forget to rub the toner on your back once you’re out of the shower” I patted his shoulder and made my way to the door

“Y/N where are you going? Y/N please whatever you’re thinking about doing it, just don’t ok? She’s not worth it! Y/N PLEASE!”

But his screams were now faint as I make my way down the hallway to find the blond gossiper girl.

I finally find Carmella “talking”, to Sheamus in one of the hallways.

“Oi Y/N, how’s life treating ya lass?” Sheamus smiles widely at me, making his usual greeting. At any other day it would’ve made my afternoon happier to find that amazing Irish man, but not today! I was so furious that I ignored him and went directly to Carmella

“Would you mind telling me why the fuck are you not only minding my business but also spreading rumors about me and McIntyre?”

From where I stood I saw Sheamus visibly gulp

“Hey Y/N, what do ya say about we go to tha catering grab some coffee huh?” He said urgently pleading

“So? I’m waiting for an answer” I said to her fully ignoring what he just said

“Well Y/N, from woman to woman, I think we both can agree that it’s no rumor. It’s quite visible, to not say pathetic, the way you can’t deal with rejection my dear” She batted her lashes

“And what exactly are you implying?”

“The obvious Y/N! That you want Drew in between your legs but he doesn’t! I mean, let’s face it, he’s too much of a man for you anyways! It’s not like you can handle him, because we know you can’t” She measured me from head to toe making me feel very conscious about the difference between her slim toned body and my thick one full of curves.

I know that most of the men’s in this company usually date or even have one night stands with women who were body equivalent to their own - slender and beautifully toned - , but that doesn’t mean that they didn’t saw my own curvy beauty. Hell, I even got some dinner invitations from some of the guys! Cesaro, Baron Corbin, Finn Bálor and even Seth Rollins (before he got with Becky) were some of them.

“I bet that I received more dinner invitations in a week than you in a year” I scoffed

“But not from the man you want the most right darling?” She evilly grins and I see red! Pure rage in it’s rawest form took ahold of me and I jumped towards her neck but a pair of strong arms stopped me from attacking her.

“Wow, easy now lass” He said

HIM! The cause of all this gossiping with my name, I couldn’t get even more angry even if I tried.

“Let me go McIntyre!” I roar

“Uh, enjoy it while it lasts Y/N, it’s as far as you’ll ever get anyways” Carmella chuckles

I tried to wiggle out of his arms “What the fuck did you just said bitch? I’ll feed you your own teeth you fuck-“

I couldn’t finish my sentence thanks to Drew, who lifted me off from the floor and tossed me on his shoulder, taking me to back my office.

“What are you doing? Let me go! I’m gonna punch her stupid rat’s face!”

“No you won’t”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m preventing your ass from getting fired!” He answers

I tried to release myself from him, but who was I fooling? The man is a brick wall, I couldn’t let myself go not even if I tried hard!

Once we got into my office he locked the door, placing himself in front of it and released me.

“Don’t you never, EVER, dare to manhandle me like that again! Do you hear me?” I stare at him with my eyes full of rage

“You know Y/N, all that anger is not good for you...you could have a heart attack” He chuckled

I was so mad, that tears of anger rolled down my cheeks as I cut the small distance between us and begin to punch his torso, arms or whatever I could reach

“I HATE YOU! YOU’RE THE REASON WHY I AM NOW A FUCKING BACKSTAGE GOSSIP SUBJECT! IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT, YOU’RE SO FULL OF YOURSELF AREN’T YOU HUH? SHITTY ASS GASTÓN!”

I was starting to loose my strength due to my ferocious attack, and I would be damned if I let him see that...

When suddenly everything changed, the air in the room thickened and I saw myself now pressed against the door with my hands forcefully pinned on top of my head.

“Aww, that was sweet princess” He smirks confidently

“What are you doing Drew? Let me go” I murmured

“Oh it’s Drew now huh? Why the sudden change love? What happened with ‘Scottish prick, asshole and Gastón’?” He cackled “What’s wrong princess? Not feeling so confident and in charge anymore are we?” He pouts

“You’re hurting me” I lied

“Nu uh, we both know that, that’s a lie. I know you Y/N, every inch of you so don’t you lie to me now! That’s not what pretty little girls like you do” He reprimanded me

I felt confused and slightly turned on by his whole dominant character. But still I felt the urge to fight back.

“And what do you know about me McIntyre? NOTHING! So don’t YOU dare to pretend that you do! You know nothing about who I am or my needs, so quit the act”

He laughed before saying “And that’s where you’re wrong princess” He towered over me, securing my wrists with one of his hands while the other grabbed my cheeks making my lips pout(like one would with a child) and tilted my head up to meet his blue gaze.

“You see Y/N, we’ve known each other for what? 5 years? I’ve done a lot of observing in those years... I became quite good at reading you” He leaned forward..his beard,lips and mustache brushing against my own lips

“So I know for a fact that what triggered you into fighting Carmella wasn’t what she said...But the fact that what she said is true” He searched my eyes for confirmation and when he found it he smirks in appreciation

A murmured ‘Fuck you’ came out of my lips the best way I could since he had this vicious grip on my cheeks.

“Oh Y/N, Y/N... what am I going to do with you princess?” He asks amused as he release my cheeks “I must say though... I agree with almost everything Carmella said” He vaguely added

Pure humiliation filled me, the thought of him knowing that deep down I had a thing for him which wasn’t reciprocal at all made my stomach turn. I felt the tears of humiliation start to rise to my eyes, but I wouldn’t give him the pleasure to see that he had broken me. Instead I reached for the safety of the one thing I knew I could do: fight!

“You let me go right now you fucker or I swear you will regret it!” I said as threatening as I could

“Oh my, won’t you look at that? Kitty has claws huh?” He chuckled lightly

I took advantage of his distraction and yanked my arms as fast as I could out of his grip. The action caught him by surprise, giving me the upper hand to turn around to unlock the door so I could leave. But his surprise didn’t last long as for he saw what I was about to do and pressed me against the door once more, instead now my back was the one facing him so he pressed his semi hard bulge up against my ass with my hands and face now pressed on the wooden door.

“Where do you think you are going princess? We’re not done talking just yet” He whispers in my ear, making my whole body shiver.

“As I was saying before you rudely interrupted me” His lips were glued to my ear “I almost, I said almost, agree with everything that she said..except for one thing”

“If you’re gonna say that-“

“Maybe I’ll have to buy you a ball gag, since you don’t seem to ever know when to shut up...or maybe I should choke you instead,what do you say?”

I gulped loudly

“Or even better, I should fuck your mouth..bury my cock so deep on your throat that you will have no other option but drool all over yourself” He pressed his bulge harder against my ass “, that will make you shut up! I can already imagine how gorgeous you will look with my cock shoved down your throat” He moaned “Would you like that princess? Would you like for me to show you where’s your place? Where you really belong?” He grinds his erection on my ass and the feeling makes me moan softly

“Drew...” I pleaded

“The only thing I don’t agree with Carmella” He continues his previous statement ignoring my plea “Is that I’m too much of a man for you. To be honest I think you’re the only woman in this company who can actually handle me! The only one who will love and beg to be fucked faster and rougher..” His hands let go of my wrists and roam down to cup my breasts roughly, pulling me even closer to his body

“The only one who is the perfect fit for me...who will let me use every single hole as I please” He bites my ear making me gasp for more air.

“Won’t you Y/N? Do you want me to use you like the good little whore that you are?”

My head was buzzing with excitement, I could feel the now very wet pool of desire in between my legs. To think that all of my darkest fantasies with this man were about to come true made me moan a faint ‘Yes’ to him

He grunts at my positive response while one of his big hands unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans so his hand could sink down the fabric to find my very wet core.

“Hmmm I’ve been waiting 5 years for this lass...Fuck, you already feel amazing on my hand I can’t wait to feel this pretty little pussy around my cock” He growls

“Fuck Drew, please” I whisper

“It’s Sir to you, my good little pet” He smirked “Now tell me, do you think I should fuck you right here, right now so that everyone in this company can hear me make you my fuck toy or should we head back to the hotel? What do you say pet?” He asks as his fingers firmly circles my clit making my legs shake

“W- Whatever pleases you Sir” I stuttered

“I see you’re a quick learner huh?” He chuckles amused “I say, let’s show this roster who is the only woman who can properly handle me” He says as he removed his fingers from my core and licked them clean while staring at me. I softly moan to that scene and he smiles deviously before whispering

“Strip now pet and show what a beautiful fuck toy you are for Sir”

To be continued...

Please let me know if you would like to see a part 2 🥺?

[halinski]

I have a lot of feelings about Buck, like don't even ask, I will never be able to put it into words or anything other than abstract feelings in this world

I just know this, Eddie loves Buck and Buck is ace and Taylor is a relapse ✌️

"You've been shutting me out."

It's ironic, Eddie thinks, that these exact words come now 20 minutes after the black out, which felt like maybe the world had shut down. They were stuck mid rescue in an elevator and well, the world had been such a whirlwind since he'd been shot, and this emergency and that- but now it had stopped. And they'd succumbed to their fate, sat down on the dingy elevator floor, bathed in a red back up light, the building silent around them. Out there, somewhere, a siren rang, and Buck sighed.

It was deep and heavy, like he was Atlas lifting the world off his shoulders for a break, something like relief, like that first deep shuddering breath when your lungs finally recovered from a run. It was way too heavy for a young man, barely thirty, who was finding himself. Eddie knew that Buck had been fighting lately. Mostly himself, but also his parents and past, and pushing past the boundaries of life that had been set around him. Then there was the shooting and Buck had truly been nerve-wrecked, Eddie was far from blind, and hell, he'd been a little preoccupied with figuring himself out, and recovering, letting go and paving the way for a future with no regrets- but he'd seen Buck. It was harder to look away at this point.

But he had, because the world had been spinning and Buck had been putting enough pressure on himself, becoming an uncle, and taking care of Chris with full abandon, and therapy and... Taylor. Eddie hadn't wanted to push too hard.

Now that they were here though, just the two of them...

Buck's looking at him, that irritated lost puppy stare, vulnerable and defiant all at once, like Eddie was the first to venture into certain spaces that made up Evan Buckley. It was a deliberant choice, at this point. Back in the beginning, he'd just reached out a hand and had been surprised to find an anchor to the world he'd never knew existed, and now he ventured further deliberately.

It hadn't been a question, and even so Buck looked ready to fight him, a last defensive wall, before he caved and those murky blue eyes dropped away. Full submission.

Eddie waited, opening up the room and hoping for his partner in crime and rescue to fill it and yet... Buck only shrugged weakly.

"Things have been..." He started half-heartedly, losing motivation half-way through and concluding with a disheartened, "busy." Eddie watched him busy himself with the callouses on his palm, picking and rubbing, as if he could erase the last few weeks of running himself ragged.

There had definitely been a lot less mentions of calls to Dr. Copeland lately, a lot of unfocused Buck, who was making himself smaller, less noticeable and quieter. Not that he was actually quiet, Eddie knew Buck could fill the building with vibrance for the benefit of everyone around within the blink of an eye. But his true emotions dwindled, where they'd slipped out before in shadows of an action, or an obvious plea hidden in drowning eyes - now he was more... Calculated.

And even now, Buck lifted his head again under Eddie's scrutiny in square-jawed surrender as if that was that to this conversation, there was nothing more to be done.

Eddie was not convinced. They'd gotten way too far, the two of them, to slip back down to the trenches in this mud slide. Eddie had found solid footing in his own world, and he was unafraid right here, under private eyes with the one person in the world he trusted most. Solid enough that he could stare right back at the nervous energy Buck was holding back and dare it.

What are you so afraid?

A question he had asked himself many sleepless nights, especially after Carla's little "follow your heart" speech, after he'd laid in bed, heart racing, hearing shots and all he wanted had been to-

All he'd wanted was safety, and he could've kept lying to himself, could've deliriously shouted at the universe that he didn't know where he could ever feel safe again, and yet his own body and heart had long gone betrayed him that day in the hospital just before he'd walked out, explicitly stating that he had signed his heart off to Buck a year ago. He couldn't even call it betrayal, because there wasn't a single cell in his body that doubted his decision, that doubted Buck. He just doubted... Himself.

And maybe that he'd be enough for Buck right now, still. He was so far from his best self, and yet better and more stable than he'd ever been. So he sat and he stared back, arms resting easily in his lap, and challenged.

"Why do you keep going back to her?"

Goddammit, Eddie, way to sound like the most jealous jerk in the world.

Buck winced, eyebrows seeming to ask 'really?' and 'what do you mean?' all at the same time and then shrugging again.

"Taylor?" He asked simply, biding time probably.

"Yeah," Eddie assured, the hum of the emergency light their only company as he waited for Buck to reply.

"She's the only one who really wants me," he said, but the tone of his voice wasn't right. Unconvinced. The admission to easily offered to ring true.

Eddie can't stop the snort of disbelief from escaping him. From all that he's heard about the rust-haired reporter... He couldn't imagine what Buck saw in her. He'd seen the effect of her words on him, saw Buck fall in line behind her with a bowed head, saw how the hurt now flared in Buck's face at his open faced challenge to that statement.

A part of Eddie wanted to grab Buck by the face and scream at him, can't you see?!

You're wanted whole-heartedly by me.

But Buck wasn't his to love yet, not really.

"Look, I don't know what you see on the outside but... She wants me. She chose me and I- what more could I ask for, you know? I'm... I'm working on it. On myself. And for now- this is it," Buck said, rattling it down like he was trying to work it into a checklist.

Eddie just wanted to know what 'it' was supposed to mean. But he nodded, because in a way it did make sense. The same way Ana had made sense, even though she absolutely didn't and he was glad that was over and he could laugh over that foolish affair now.

People had questioned his change of heart when he broke up with her during recovery, but when they'd realized he truly wasn't heartbroken and backsliding, they had taken it in full stride. A little misstep, no great scars taken (well except for the new bullet hole in his shoulder but that didn't really have anything to do with Ana, it just happened to be a part of the same journey heading toward a joined destination) and here they were at a pit stop.

The silence simmered between them, just somewhere right before the cliff, staggering before the precipice toward their comfort zone. It had always taken a little leap from both sides to get them to where they were today. Buck usually happens to fall into his without thinking much, just because he was ready to throw himself in dangers way or alternatively, rushing in out of sense of duty, and making it seem so, so very easy. The way he had walked into Eddie's house and kitchen, stepped right into his space and said: 'i'm here and I'm owning my mistakes because you're worth it' or something of the sort. All Eddie remembered was the care and the genuine emotion he'd felt and... The realization that he'd finally found home.

"It just feels like... You smile less when it comes to her." Eddie still did't really want to say her name. He wasn't about to go out blaming Taylor for all the times Buck was sad- it was just an observation. It took a lot to get Buck to giving up his smile. He hated that Taylor accepted a watered down version of him; bright, bold, and boasting Buck.

"Do I?" Buck asked, a furrowed crease appearing between his eyebrows, truly confused.

Eddie nodded.

"Relationships are always a compromise," Buck offered with a half-hearted twitch of his shoulder. "You know me. We're both pretty stubborn. We butt heads."

Buck flicked his wrist for a useless gaze at his watch. It made them none the wiser about the state of their rescue.

"Yeah, I know you," Eddie retorted gently. "Though, you do tend to have a point."

He could come up with a million examples. Eager, always ready to show up and make it work, Buck. How many times had he burrowed himself into Eddie's skin already with truths that stuck like thorns until Eddie accepted them into his bones.

All he wanted was to return the favor

The man granted him a small, crooked smile. It was crazy how much so little could mean to one person. Desperate, wounded, isolated Buck.

How Eddie wanted to tell him explicitly 'dont do what I did, kid, don't fall back into and habits at first chance just because you don't think you're worth anything else'- there were reasons why it didn't work in the first place. He'd learned the exact same lesson with Shannon. And God, the way Eddie had dragged Buck with him back then, for safety, as he had ranted to him and searched for the answers, only to make the same damn mistake.

That wasn't his life.

And Taylor wasn't Buck's. And Eddie knew this.

Knew from what Buck had told about her the first time she had been around, and from all that Eddie had heard about Buck's relationship to sex. It had turned into a joke at the station, oh, Buck and his self-diagnosed sex addiction, but Eddie recognized that worried little steeple on Bobby's forehead when he reminded everyone that that one therapist wasn't licensed to work for them anymore. But it went way deeper, didn't it?

Eddie knew about self-destructive behaviors. Not intimately. But he'd learned a lot about PTSD lately and adjacent behaviors. Buck and sex was a self-destructive bomb if he'd ever seen one.

And it was no coincidence that Taylor and Buck's relationship centered around physical intimacy.

Buck showed up where he was wanted or needed. They all knew that.

"Just... Make sure you get what you want too," Eddie said. "Put yourself first."

Cue the bewildered, insecure facial expression. Now and then Eddie wished he could hide Buck from the world. Shield him. For now all he could do was stand by.

"Because you'll always be wanted. Make sure the reasons are right for you. It has to be good for you."

And Eddie wouldn't be leaning so far out the window if Buck were to look him in the eyes and say 'nah it's not like that' but all he did was get quiet. Eddie couldn't leave him sitting like that, rearranging himself to stretch his legs out before they fell asleep and casually leaning his shoulder against Buck's.

"You're a good guy, Buck. You deserve only the best.

If you wanted Buck to hear you sometimes you had to get straight to the point.

Maybe one day Eddie could conquer his fear and say what he really wanted to say.

When they were both ready.

[oftenderweapons]

The Studio - Namjoon

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 9.7k words

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Rating: 18+

I told you I’d be back really soon ;) Tonight there’s a lot on schedule! I’ve been working on this piece for two weeks, since it carries a lot for both Namjoon and Vixen, emotionally speaking. It means a lot for me too, since to me it was truly a challenge in terms of the different levels of knowledge that Joon, y/n and the narrator hold. I think I’ve grown a lot in terms of writing even from Tiktok Towel Trick, which I wrote last May, but I’m really proud of myself comparing to what I used to produce a couple years ago.

Now, let me introduce this fic. The piece takes place two or three months after the two have started sleeping together (ideally late January or February). In this piece Vixen visits Joon at the studio after a bad fight and Joon’s self-imposed isolation. The two feel like they’ve come to a dead-end as they wait for the other person to cut ties. Namjoon is suffocated by his job, his tendency to lash out at his closest ones when he’s stressed and his previous traumas; Vixen is locked in her head, shut out by Namjoon and repeatedly accused of infidelity, as a sign of Namjoon’s lack of trust. Will the two manage to work things out?

Description and trigger warnings: The piece was written referring to Namjoon’s Rkive as in his vlive log. There is ANGST. Loads. There is some crying and it is not Vixen’s. Longing and miscommunication. In terms of filth: so much dirty talking the walls exude holy water by now. Unprotected sex (STAY SAFE GUYS!!!!!!!!), DDLG/daddy kink, Masturbation paired up with Voyeurism and Exhibitionism, Fetishism (Shoes, tights and lingerie), Oral (female receiving), Cumplay (eating), Marking, Spanking, Angsty doggy fucking followed by a very soft ride on the sofa. That should be all. Fluff alarm: Namjoon doesn’t want to lose his little fox and Vixen just wants to cuddle her big teddy bear Joon. 

Wordcount: 9.7k

Here is my masterlist

Enjoy!!! 

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Standing in the main corridor of the studios felt very strange. You looked around, uncomfortable, while the receptionist at your side stared at you, waiting. "Don't worry, he's busy all the time. We can wait, no big deal." The fact that you'd been greeted by Namjoon's driver at the entry desk had helped you get to the studios unannounced. "That boy always gets caught up on something. He shouldn't make you wait." He tutted, looking at you with a kind smile. 

"____? What are you doing here?" Taehyung smiled at you brightly, close behind him Hoseok and Yoongi approached with heavy-looking bags on them. 

"Oh, hi. I sort of stopped by for Namjoon." You bit your lip, smiling embarrassedly. 

"He's still in his room. I can show you the way." Taehyung said, grinning. 

Yoongi seemed to be observing him closely while Hoseok looked absolutely oblivious. 

"No, I only have to give him this." You showed them two small bags, one containing food and the other a few things he had left at your place. 

You tried not to let your heartbreak show. 

"Maybe you could bring them to him, I don't want to distract him." 

You smiled but you felt the tears welling up. 

Yoongi's glance moved to you. It felt scorching. "I think you should bring those to him. I think he'd like to see you." His serious tone made you realise that maybe he did know what was happening. Maybe he did know better. 

"I think he'd rather not see me right now." Your lips tightened in a thin line. 

Both the guys turned to Yoongi. "Go, I'll see you tomorrow."

They both patted him on the shoulder and waved at you, Taehyung hugging you close. "It'll be alright. I'll see you."

Taehyung smiled at you, his cute cheeks popping upwards. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you had just granted him an exclusive piece by one of his favourite photographers. Maybe he was just friendly, maybe he simply liked you because he deemed you a decent human being. 

Right at his heels, Hoseok gave you a cute wave, saying bye-bye in a cartoonish voice. 

Beside you, Yoongi shook his head, still sporting a fond smile. "Uhm, I never know whether I should introduce myself. Anyway, we've never met before, so– I'm Yoongi. " He said with a tiny smile, his cheeks jumping upwards. 

You introduced yourself with a small bow. 

"You are just like he described you. He talks about you a lot." He commented. You blushed, almost feeling like dissolving into thin air. You never thought you would meet his friends like this. 

Yoongi looked at your face. "You're exactly his type — in the best way possible." He blushed. "Let's go." He said, leading you. "I actually want to say a few things." He threw his bag on the floor, getting comfortable on the sofa in the common room. "How are you doing?" 

You stared at your feet. "Decent enough."

"I'll be honest, ____. He hasn't been doing good. Not even decent, in my opinion." Yoongi announced, as if trying to prepare you for what you were going to see. "I feel like telling you a couple things about him. He can be hot-headed, and an absolute pain in the ass. He is a perfectionist, and a terrifically clumsy one at that." Yoongi huffed out. "He holds himself to extremely high standards and punishes himself whenever he feels like he's not delivering. And he has the horrible tendency to lash out when he's stressed. He just takes it all out on those who are closest to him." Yoongi patted the spot at his side, inviting you to sit. "I'll be inappropriate, maybe, but I have to say it. You don't have to stay at his side."

The sentence was like a slap to your face. It had never come to your mind to part ways with him. 

"You don't have to put yourself through his tempers and tantrums. You need to be ready to handle those emotionally. If you aren't, I don't think you'll be able to go for the long run." Yoongi looked at you in the eye. "Sorry if I overstepped, usually people come to me to talk, I'm not used to giving unsolicited advice." He blushed and laced his fingers together, laying them on his thighs. 

"I don't want to let go of him, Yoongi." You confessed. 

"Then you should go bring this stuff to him in person. And remember, you don't have to be his therapist. If you want, you can be his partner, walk by his side, but it's not your duty to carry him." The man was incredibly smart and thoughtful. And sensitive. The more you got to know him, the more you understood Namjoon's adoration for him. 

"Thank you so much." You bowed your head briefly, placing your palm on top of his hands. 

He moved one on top of yours, patting gently. "Let's go find your grumpy bear, uh?" 

With a groaned "aigoo" He pushed himself up, standing on his feet like an old man before bending to catch the strap of his bag. "This way." 

He led you through the winding corridors until you recognised the door to Namjoon's studio. "Go on. Knock politely and be smart. Discuss. Negotiate. Compromise. And be kind to each other." He gave you the official salute and left. 

You found yourself staring at the door, wondering if he'd roar at you for interrupting him. 

The room sounded quiet. 

You counted to three. Knocked. 

"Come in." Said his voice with a weak rumble. He was probably distracted. 

His studio was warm and welcoming, if a bit clustered. The lights were low and yellowy, coming from his desk and contrasting with the white gleam of his computer screen, still you could see everything perfectly in the slight penumbra, your eyes perusing your surroundings. It was easy to see why his apartment felt like a hotel room: he barely spent time there while this place really felt like home. It felt like stepping into his soul. Small sculptures and toys and collectibles were neatly lined in his bookcase together with some books. Then the baby shoes. Art catalogues. Candles. Art. A drape too big for the wall, but still there, a painting, probably from Yoongi, since you vaguely recognised his style. On the back wall, you noticed two drapes embroidered in traditional patterns. The floor was covered in thick cream carpets with geometric prints that reminded you of tribal symbols. And sweet lord, that was his wooden, swoon-worthy, customised low table, matching with the piece by the door holding one of his bonsai. A comfy couch with a fluffy, warm blanket, and embroidered pillows. You were mesmerised. You didn't have time to take it all in, your glance running from the upright piano to the microphone standing beside his chair. He didn't turn around, he kept staring at the screen, typing every now and then. His beautiful desk was crowded with stationery, electronic devices, a keyboard and all kinds of knicknacks. 

"What is– oh. Hi." His expression was ice-cold. 

"Hi. I was passing by, I wanted to bring you some stuff you'd left at mine."

His heart froze. This is the end then.

He'd been avoiding it for almost two weeks, hiding from you in his studio, even though the only things he could write were heartbreaking blue rhymes that had Jimin and Jeongguk exchanging pitying glances. 

The beginning of this tragedy was almost comedic in its stupid futility. It was just him incapable of perfecting a pre-chorus. A dumb verse or something. He had called you, talked it out but apparently all he did was just turn down your ideas and suggestions, snapping at you until you exhaustedly told him that you were tired and needed some sleep. He took that as you umpteenth sign that you didn't care about him — which you both knew was entirely wrong — and caused a huge fight which ended on you telling him to go fuck himself, at which he unceremoniously replied that he was okay with that since you were clearly already fucking someone else. 

You didn't bother correcting him, since no matter how many times you told him, he always seemed to get back at you being unfaithful and uncaring. You were done justifying yourself, apologising for things you had never done. 

"Uhm. I also brought you some food. I didn't know if you had already eaten."

He looked at you like you had finally lit a candle in a dark and cold room. 

Your heart broke some more. You asked yourself if there was any more breaking to do, at this point. 

You figured there was the moment you heard his hoarse voice speak. "Let's eat together."

You didn't have the guts to deny him. 

You laid the bags on the small table and took off your coat. He stood on his feet immediately, crossing the room in a few broad steps and hugging you to his chest. 

Let it hurt. You told yourself. It heals faster like that. 

His palms settled at your waist and his eyes closed. He breathed you in. He had never felt something really end. His exes were like a song slowly slipping into a diminuendo until they became silence. His interest burned out, his curiosity simply died down and the feelings never seemed to grow fully. They felt like a balloon which was never supposed to be blown that big. This thing with you was like a song being stopped mid-chorus, silence biting in where it wasn't supposed to be. Is this what the end feels like? He asked himself as he held you tighter, one of his hands climbing up and burrowing into your hair. He pressed your face into his chest, where his heartbeat was so strong and so loud that you asked yourself if you could somehow amplify it, if your body could register it and replay it once you were alone in your bed, mourning over this. "You feel taller." He said, noticing how your forehead reached his lips instead of slotting under his jaw. 

"I still have my heels on." You replied. 

"Wanna take 'em off?" He asked. 

You shook your head. "No, if that's not a problem. 

He breathed out heavily. He interpreted your refusal as a sign that first, you were keeping your tough-woman shield up — which he couldn't blame you — and second, you weren't intending to stay long. 

You tried to part yourself from him. "One more second, little Vixen. Just a second." He whispered. 

You allowed him. 

"Come on, dinner is getting cold." You said softly. 

He didn't let you go, he simply loosened his grip and dragged you to the sofa. He was willing to keep you as close as he could until you ripped the bandaid off, unraveling this small spell that had turned his life into a perfect, dreamlike snowball. 

Sitting on the sofa, he made you sit beside him, your side sticking to his from shoulder to hip to knee to ankle. 

It was all too much but you didn't have the strength to part from him. He bent down and opened the small boxes. 

It was fried chicken. 

Like the first time at his place, at two am, naked in his bed after he had owned you in every way that mattered. 

He loved fried chicken. And now it would always mean you to him. 

No chimaek after fucking with anyone else. He wanted to keep it for you, in case one day you decided to come back, and he would say he had never done that with anyone else, that he had been waiting for you. Because some part of him told him that you would come back. 

Both your brains were going on the same path, already mourning someone who was right there in that moment, but already felt so far away. The room was quiet but both your minds were screaming, thinking so loud that the silence was welcome. 

"I got you fried chicken. I know you love it." 

I love you, his brain replied. But his mouth stayed silent. It was too late anyway. 

"Thank you." He said brusquely. He reprimanded himself for sounding so harsh. 

"It's okay." You said quietly, using the lid to grab a couple pieces out of the ten or so. You didn't feel like eating and he always ate two thirds of the box anyway. 

He exchanged one of your wings for a leg. "You prefer the leg." He said with a shy smile, trying to make up for the coldness he had shown previously. 

You had been sleeping with Namjoon for three months now, spending all your spare time together at his place, sometimes moving in for the weekend, the both of you leaving your job early so you could spend Friday afternoon together and go on small dates. He usually had his schedule on Saturdays and Sundays too, so it wasn't uncommon for you to spend several hours alone at his place. You had made small improvements, making his house feel more like a home with small handmade crafts. And when he came back, you would usually try to keep it chill but eventually you ended up in bed, or on the sofa, or the kitchen counter. Or the carpet on the corridor leading to his bedroom. Or the shower. Let's just say that you would be all over each other. 

You thought how different it would be now, and how difficult it would be to get him out of your system. 

"How is it going." You asked quietly after you swallowed your first bite. 

"Tough. I'm polishing some stuff, but this is the part where I doubt everything and want to rewrite all of it." He explained, his fingers gripping the chicken with a precision and finesse that reminded you of his delicate, careful side. 

"You'll get through it. You're a pro by now. And I'm sure you have excellent taste. You know what you want and you'll find your way to it." You praised him, rubbing your shoulder against him since your fingers were dirty. 

He leaned his head on your shoulder, shrinking down to reach you. "Thank you."

The more time passed, the more you realised he still hadn't said sorry for what he had implied during that phone call. 

"That's okay."

"How have you been doing?" He asked, trying not to let his worry show. It still showed, though. 

You decided on being honest. "I've been missing you."

He paused eating. "I've been missing you too." He put down the chicken, using the ball of his wrists to press against his temples. "I'm sorry about what I said that day. I know my past relationships and nerves are not valid excuses for how I treated you, but I got swallowed in those and I dragged you in."

You looked at the leg and finished munching on it, stripping the bone of the last few strings of meat. You put down the naked bone, licking your fingers. "You never talked about your most recent ex." You commented. 

He picked up his head. "To put it simply, I was her side piece." He said, plainly. "She was getting married to someone else. And she messed around with me." He looked at his feet. "At the beginning I didn't know. It lasted around eight months, as she was waiting for her fiancé to finish his military service. After I discovered it, we kept going for a couple weeks, but I found the whole thing so upsetting and disgusting that we parted ways. Her fiance forgave her and they got married a while ago, a few weeks before I met you." He snickered sarcastically. "I even sent them flowers." 

You blinked distractedly. "Joon, I'm so sorry, baby." You brushed your forehead against his arm. 

"It's cool. I mean, it's not since I'm still traumatised by it. I've been talking about it with my analyst, but it's been a while since I last went, almost three weeks, because this project had been swallowing me whole — after chewing me a little, clearly." He had his exhausted laugh on. 

You felt like you needed to talk about the whole story about that girl, but right now he didn't seem in the right mindset to do that. For now, knowing that he knew he had a bias and he was tackling the issue with a therapist was enough.

"Have you been sleeping, babe?" All the breaking up was momentarily suspended. There was something to save here. You had a lot you still wanted to save from this. 

He seemed relieved when you called him that. Don't get your hopes up. He shook his head. "A couple hours at a time. Small naps when I'm tired."

"Okay, so once you're done eating, we're gonna take a good, long nap."

He didn't want to sleep though. He wanted to hold you close, kiss you, make sure that he did everything he could to make you stay. The meal continued quietly, and as soon as you were fed he asked you about your job, how it was going, if you had any new clients or if you had met any new artists. You replied to each question fully, telling him about curious accidents and little inconveniences. 

And he listened. He had missed your voice and it felt good to listen to someone who wasn't himself or the boys' voices over speakers and headphones. 

As you were both done with dinner, he guided you to the bathroom, standing behind you as you washed your hands. He took some soap, foaming it up between his hands before he caught your left palm within his, pressing and rubbing them together to clean you up. And then he laced his fingers with yours, lathering your digits in bubbles and making sure that the sticky sauce from the chicken disappeared completely. He moved to the other hand as you laid your head against his chest at his collarbone, tipping it back so you could stare at him. You were sure you had never adored someone this much. He turned slightly to look at you, smiling softly. He bent down and pressed his lips to yours gently. No man, no person in the world had ever touched you or kissed you like he has. No one has ever talked to you like him, showed you their world like he has. He reluctantly parted from your lips. 

He led your joined hands to close the tap, moving to the hand dryer. It felt all too intimate. 

"Joon." 

"Let's get back to my studio, yeah?" He whispered in your ear. You nodded. 

He laced his hand with yours. 

Once you reached the studio, he quietly dragged you to the sofa, pulling at your arm so that you fell with your ass on his lap. He hugged you again. "I am so sorry about what I said. You have told me countless times that I'm the only one."

"You hurt me, Namjoon." You said quietly. 

It felt like a slap, his full name. 

"Let me make it right." He kissed your cheek and your eyes fell shut. "I want you."

And you wanted him too. You thought yourself crazy for wanting a man so complicated, someone who had disrespected you, who had repeatedly and blatantly demonstrated his lack of trust towards you. Still, when you needed reassurance, affection and devotion, your bodies always came into play, talking with a language so simple and obvious to each other that you simply nodded, whispering "I want you too."

With his index finger he turned your head, kissing you square on the lips and forcing you to part them, his tongue sweeping in your mouth, making your head spin with the intimacy and intensity of it all. 

Let him take you, if that would reassure him that you only thought about him, you wanted only him and no one else. 

His free hand curled around your thigh, climbing up under the tight knee-length dress you were wearing. The woolen grey number was the first thing to come off as he tugged it over your head and off his way. "You're so gorgeous," He murmured painfully, looking at you and taking in every small detail. "A work of art, little Vixen." He kissed your shoulder. 

You smiled shyly, trying to straddle his waist. He toyed with the lace covering your breasts and nipples, teasing them with his fingers until they pressed hard against the fabric. Next he fooled around with the waistband of your tights, making you stand between his legs as he dragged the nylon down your thighs and calves. He stared at your feet, where the garment bunched up, noticing your black stilettos. "Off." He whispered, tapping his foot against yours. Once you took off the shoes, he bent down to help your feet out of your tights. He bit your leg harshly, leaving a mark behind. "Heels on again, Vixen."

Smiling darkly, you slipped them back on, shivering a little, but so happy to wear your favourite black lace set and stilettos for him. 

"Walk for me?" He asked, making you put on a little show. 

And God, did you enjoy it. His jaw went slack at the Brazilian cut of your panties, exposing to his hungry eyes the perfect curve of your ass, the way it swelled fully before meeting with the back of your thigh. 

That was his favourite place to bite. And spank. 

You did a small catwalk with your back to him, reaching his chair, which you turned around from his desk to the sofa. Facing the chair, you bent forward, your thumbs catching the fabric of your panties at your sides and pushing them down as you bent forward, offering him the whole panorama. 

He groaned. "I'm gonna get an heart attack, baby." 

You smiled at him viciously over your shoulder, letting your lower piece of underwear fall to the floor. Next you dragged your full palm up the curve of your ass, smacking it playfully as your fingers made their way to the clasp of your bra. 

"You're gonna kill me, Vixen." He cried out. 

Bra undone, you let both strings fall down your shoulders, removing one side first and letting the garment dangle from the other side, making your arm fall and drop the delicate lace ordeal. 

Your smile disappeared in an innocent pout when you turned around, completely naked except for your shoes. 

"I'm gonna sit here." You announced, waiting for his approval. 

He nodded eagerly. "Make yourself comfy, Vixen."

You sat down, crossing your legs and propping your elbows on your knees. Shyness was not a word in your vocabulary in that moment. Your only intention was that of distracting him from whatever it was that was mauling his brain. 

"Are you going to make me wait, Joon." You teased demandingly. 

He stared at you, meeting your glance. "Stay there and sit still." He ordered before grabbing the hem of his sweater and pushing it upwards, taking off both sweater and undershirt in the process. His upper body appeared, a bit skinnier than two weeks ago but maybe it was just the distance and the slouching position. His sweatpants were taut around his lap and you bit your lip as your eyes traced the outline of his length. He laid his palm there, stroking himself over the cotton. "Missed you so much, baby." He groaned and huffed. His eyes closed, his hand grew tense, stronger and heavier. Licking your lips, you kept staring at him, squeezing your thighs as he touched himself for you. 

He was hot, all the time, but this… This felt like a fever dream. You were soaked. Thank god his chair was leather and it could be cleaned easily.

He moaned your name, his eyes struggling to open enough to look at you. His voice was so deep and needy, mixed with heavy huffs. "Namjoon." You whined. 

He opened his eyes fully, his hand coming to a halt. It was like a cold shower. He was reminded why you were doing this, why you had come to this, the sudden distance that had come within the two of you. "What is it, baby?" 

You pushed your ass against the chair, looking for friction. "Come here. Touch me." You begged. 

It pained him seeing you so needy and whiny and stressed. "Listen to me, baby thing. Listen very carefully." He wanted to reassure you but he couldn't come to you. "I need you to touch yourself, little one. Can you do that for me? I promise I'll touch you after you cum, baby, but I want to see you first." He asked, palming himself again. 

You licked your lips. "Can I?" You questioned innocently, placing your palm on your thigh, your fingertips grazing your crotch. 

"You can, doll. Do it for me." He growled, pushing his fingers under his waistband, grabbing his hard on at the base and stroking it as you parted your legs, exposing your wetness. You were beautiful, naked on his chair, dragging your middle finger along your dripping slit. Your other hand grabbed your breast. 

"You're a vision, Vixen. You're magnificent, pretty thing."

"I want your tongue, daddy." You mewled, your finger dipping inside, emerging covered in glossy wetness. 

He groaned, taking his cock out of his pants, moving the waistband to his thighs. “I’m gonna eat you later, pretty doll. I’ve been starving for weeks for that sweet cunt of yours.” His erection immediately sprung up, arching to his belly button, the lower tendon looking so inviting along that thick vein that always had him throwing his head back whenever you traced it with the tip of your front teeth. As your fingers met your clit, eliciting a whine from your throat, he used four fingers to press on the vein, his thumb already playing with the tip. His hands always looked incredible whenever he used them on himself, strong fingers and spidery tendons making the vision sinfully erotic. However, he was lost in you as much as you were lost in him, his lips parted, his breath panting while you opened your legs wider, using two fingers in small upward circles that teased the underside of your clit. You felt a chill run down your spine, your legs trembling and closing a little with an involuntary reflex. You giggled at that, closing your eyes and moving your grip to the armrest of the chair. Your upper body inched forward a little and your hand stopped. 

“Too much, babygirl?” He asked and you smiled brightly, nodding. 

You’re gonna miss it, the way she smiles when you’re doing it right, his brain reminded him and as a way to shut it up, he stroked himself faster, with more pressure, his spare hand brushing his abdomen and moving upwards, spreading over his pectoral, scratching the skin there before his thumb and forefinger curved around the base of his neck, pressing there. 

You observed the motion, unpausing the movement between your thighs and humming as he gave you his desperate stare, the one that meant that he couldn’t take it anymore, that he was on the verge of it and even the smallest addition to the current situation would have him screaming and cumming.

“Joonie, lemme get close. Cum in my mouth, Joon, please.” You whined. 

“No, naughty girl. Stay there and cum for daddy.” He groaned. “Come on, baby, I’m waiting for you.” He said, with a harsh and strained command. 

Arching your neck, you started moving faster, opening your legs as far as the armrests allowed, but they only allowed an inch more than what you already had. Huffing with disappointment, you closed them and propped the back of your right knee on top of the armrest and repeated the gesture with your left leg, spreading yourself wide, almost hitting a split with your legs bent at the knees. 

“God, you’re the dirtiest. You stretching it out for me? You’re so good, showing daddy how wet you are for him.” He teased, using that raspy voice that he knew always drives you insane. 

With short, quick breaths you brought yourself closer and closer to the edge. “Daddy, please, keep talking to me.”

His hand slowed down. “Need to hear my voice, babygirl?”

You nodded and he snickered. “Then I’ll talk to you, little one. You know what I’m gonna do after you cum? I’m gonna crawl to you and kneel between those wondrous legs of yours. I’m gonna push your ass to the edge of the seat and feast on you like I’m trying to die eating that pussy. And do you know what you’re gonna do, Vixen?” He provoked. 

You shook your head. “What am I going to do, daddy?” You questioned innocently, your words stumbling a few times as your breath got stuck somewhere in your throat.

“Oh, little fox, you’re gonna grab my hair and push that lovely cunt on my lips and tongue, fucking my face so hard and fast, pressing your sexy heels on my naked shoulders. I want to hear you gasp for air because I make you cum so good you forget to breathe, you forget how to speak.”

“Joon, I’m cumming.” You cried out, your legs starting to quiver and your clit getting too sensitive to stand the movement of your fingers, slipping them inside and pushing them in slow circles around your cervix. 

His fingers moved back to the tip, the other hand massaging his balls. “Take it, Vixen, that’s it baby. I’m cumming, ____.” He moaned your name, spilling his release on his lower stomach. 

You were still staring at each other with your chests heaving, eyes wild, hands stained by your pleasure. It was always the two of you. Always getting caught up in each other, always getting tangled in each other's fantasies with this constant lust pulling you in and never having enough. You wondered when the hunger would stop, when you would grow tired of his insecurity and possessiveness, when he would find out you're too kinky, too needy, too fucked up for a busy man like him to handle. 

He cleaned his hand with one of the unused paper towels from dinner, crumbling it and throwing it in the box with the garbage from dinner. 

"Joonie." You whispered, waiting. 

"Coming, baby fox." He replied, standing up and taking off his sweatpants and boxers, walking straight to you. You closed your legs, a bit cold and embarrassed now that your high was over. Standing right in front of you, he cupped your cheek, making you look up at his face, however, even though your head was tipped back, aimed at his eyes, your glance hung low, staring at the droplets smearing his abdomen. "What are you looking at, spoiled little fox?" He said, with a sardonic smile. 

"I wanna lick."

He grinned and scooped some liquid with his digit, bringing it to your lips. 

Parting your lips, you licked your lower one first, then you let your tongue dart out and swipe at his finger, carefully sucking it into your mouth before he lowered his eyes, staring into yours and smirking seducingly as he pulled his digit out. You smacked your lips and savoured his taste, your eyelids falling shut as you hummed at his flavour. 

His cock, once half soft, was now hardening again, swelling intermittently and slowly rising to his navel. But Namjoon's eyes were focused on your face. "Want more?" He asked once your eyes opened and your gaze focused on his face. With a sex-addled, lazy grin you nodded, opening your mouth. 

He grinned right back. "Such a hungry little girl."

Impatient, you grabbed his hips, pulling him towards you and licking his belly clean. He groaned, observing you closely. 

I'm going to teach her some patience and some manners, he thought darkly. However, he immediately reminded himself that he would never have the time, your liaison coming to an end.

With this unfortunate thought, he cupped your face. "I'm the one supposed to be eating now, ____. Let me take care of you, darling." He said, before falling to his knees. Immediately he pushed the back of the chair to the table, so that it wouldn't cartwheel out of his grasp. 

Once more you asked yourself how many times he had done that before, thinking about how the relationship with the bride-to-be must have been mostly sexual, since you don't usually have much romance and dates with someone who is taken. Even though he didn't know she was taken. Whatever. 

In that moment he was there, kneeling before you, placing your heels on his shoulders, cupping your ass and tipping it forward so he could easily and comfortably give you that first, glorious lick from your hole to your clit. "Taste so good." He said, nuzzling his lips side to side as he spoke, mixing the movement to the vibration of his voice. He bit the small tattoo at the top of your thigh, where it met your pelvis, just shy of your hip bone. "Sexy little thing." He kissed it. "Drove me insane since day one." As usual, he sucked at it, causing a dark purple mark to bloom over it. "Fucking perfect."

He laid his tongue flat against your slit drawing the tiniest circles with the whole length of it. 

You hand-combed his hair back, holding it so you could look into his dragon eyes. He looked vicious and dangerous and so cunning, so smart in the most atrocious way. 

"Namjoon." You moaned, your hips arching closer to his mouth. 

He snickered cockily, moving his tongue slowly back into his mouth, allowing only the tip to wander up your crevice and reach the apex of your labia. He delivered a set of ten licks, slow and curling perfectly against your nub. "Are you good, little fox?" He asked. 

You nodded and pushed his head back between your legs. 

He laughed loudly, fighting against you. "I'm not done talking, brat." He bit your lower belly gently. "I'm gonna pump your clit with my mouth, Vixen. I'll suck it twenty times, then I'll let you rest until I'm ready again. I'll keep going until you cum. Remember that after twenty I'll pause. This could easily turn into edgeplay, baby, so you'd better get very horny very fast. You okay, Vixen?"

He checked on you and you nodded, impatient to simply have him on your clit.

"Be verbal, little girl." He reprimanded.

"Yes, daddy."

"Good girl. Let's get started."

He wasted no time. He wrapped his lips around your clit and started sucking, sucking so hard that you knew the following day his jaw and ears would hurt. At pump fifteen you already knew you needed more than twenty to cum. And as twenty arrived you whined but you felt confident that the next set would suffice. 

This time you felt your edge at twelve, still you needed more. You were getting wetter and wetter, so soaked that his saliva and your slick mixed up and made you feel uncomfortable between your asscheeks. 

"Joon–" You said, at which he mumbled "language" in between two pumps. 

"Daddy, I want your fingers inside." You said, indulging his every whim. 

He fumbled around with his arms, securing you with his left, making sure that your backside wouldn't get too close to the edge of the seat, and cause you to fall. His right arm moved back to your front, his index and middle finger coming to your entrance and waiting, his drool sliding from his tongue down your slit and directly on his fingers which, now lubricated, slipped in with no friction or resistance. The pressure was mind-blowing, your head spinning. "Daddy, please."

"Please what?" He said, hitting his pause. 

"Make me cum. Let me." You asked, as meekly as you could. 

"Why should I, uh?" He teased. 

"Because I am a good girl." Because I love you, said an obnoxious part of your brain. 

"Then I need you to say it one last time, Vixen. I know I've tormented you, but I need to ask it once and for all. Is there anyone else?" He said, his voice almost breaking. 

"No, Namjoon. I swear to God, there's no one else. I promise it. I swear on everything that I love the most. Please." You begged, hoping that he would feel the desperate honesty in your voice. "Please. You're my only daddy. I have you, only you. I am yours." You said, and God if it felt right, if it felt true, being his, belonging to him. 

Tell him you love him, your brain said again, but you refused. 

He smiled brightly at your declaration. "We're done playing, if you want to, Vixen."

You simply nodded, batting your lashes at him. "I want to."

"Then hold tight because I'm not going to stop until you're fucking my face and screaming my name and shaking on this seat. Understood?" He warned you. 

"Yes, daddy." You replied. 

"Then hold tight, baby fox. I'm gonna eat you alive."

"Try." You challenged him. 

And that's when he pounced. His pumps became longer, impossibly tighter, and the small pause between one and the next became shorter. Your eyes locked with his, brows knitting together, lips parting in a mewl as you threw your head back. "Namjoon. Please, daddy." 

Smirking, he mixed the pumping motion with a barely-there curl of his tongue, teasing your clit with such delicate pressure that you couldn't even wrap your head around the incredible amount of tension that it was causing in your body. Your hands tightened in his hair, your moans dissolving into small giggles. 

He wanted to tell you how good you sounded, how pretty you looked, how he wanted to see this every day for the rest of his life. He loved seeing you this happy, this carried away. He loved your morning voice and your late night cuddles. He loved breakfast in bed and midnight snacks and three a.m. quickies. He loved watching you take off your bra from under your t-shirt before going to bed, he loved seeing you shiver as you went to the bathroom early in the morning, clad in his t-shirt, plain cotton briefs and a pair of socks even in the dead of winter, since he always kept you warm under the covers by holding you close. He wanted to confess it all: the heartwarming wonder he felt staring at you had when you focused while reading and studying, when you brushed your hair, when you got dressed before leaving for the day, when you stood at the kitchen counter, cooking, with your back to him, and again when you applied lotion all over your body after showering, when he kissed your nape, standing behind you and donning the zipper of your dress. 

However, he stayed silent, showing it all with the reckless ministrations of his mouth as your chest blushed, your hands grabbed his hair almost painfully and your hips snapped, your mouth opening in a silent scream. 

You hadn't even bothered telling him you were cumming. He knew anyway. His mouth became more gentle, resolving to small licks while his fingers massaged your walls deep and slow, perfectly responding to the contractions of your muscles. "Here, pretty thing." He murmured, his hair tickling the skin of your stomach. "I've got you, baby. Shhh." He calmed you down, your breath coming in heavy pants, your heartbeat going like crazy. He rubbed his soaked fingers against his thigh, briefly cleaning himself before coming up to your face, cupping your cheeks. "Are you okay, little one?"

You nodded with your eyes closed, getting sleepy. 

He caressed your face. "Open your eyes for me, baby girl, let me see your pretty eyes." 

With a beatific smile you tried to look at him, eyelids lifting, taking a few seconds to focus on him. 

"There she is, my moonshine." He cooed, pressing a kiss to your lips. "You look really happy, baby thing."

You simply moved your head in a nod. 

"Do you want more, little fox?" He asked, still fussing over you. "Can you take it just one more time, babe?" 

Licking your lips you nodded again with a giggle. 

He smiled. "You keep nodding, baby. Are you saying yes to daddy?" 

"Yes, Joonie." You whispered slowly. 

"Good girl. Can you walk, Vixen?" 

"Yes."

"Great. I want you to kneel in front of the coffee table, darling." He commanded, rising to his feet and helping you stand up. 

This would be the last time, he decided. 

He would allow himself your heaven just one more time, then he would hold you close for a few minutes, clean you up, accompany you home and let you go. He wasn't man enough to look into your eyes. He was weak and unfair. He turned you around with your back to him, his erection brushing against the small of your back. Once you were in front of the table, he moved your hair to the side, skimming the curve of your ear with his lower lip. "Kneel, Vixen."

You did. 

He kneeled behind you, moving the books and magazines on the floor, away from the two of you, while the traces of your dinner were thrown into the bag, which he would discard later. With an empty table, he pushed his palm from the small of your back to your nape, making your front adhere to the table and making sure that your hair was out of the way. "I know you love this table." He murmured. 

"I do."

"I do, too." His heart felt like a burden. Without further hesitation, he grabbed his length and rubbed his tip against you. "You ready, ____?" 

"Please."

With a groan he slipped in, the filling sensation causing a loud whine on your behalf. "Quiet." He reprimanded. 

You got a little scared at his dark voice, knowing that at this point you'd better obey. However, it lasted little. Once he bottomed out, he growled, bending down to your neck. "You good, little one?" He said, his sweet persona back in place. 

"Yes, daddy."

He was breathing heavily through his nose as he sucked at the skin of your neck, marking you. As soon as he was sure the mark would bruise and stay for at least a couple days, he released your skin. "Do you want your spanks, baby girl?" 

Your eyes rolling with pleasure, you hummed. "I want them so much, daddy. Spank me, please."

He simply breathed. "With pleasure, little one." He knew no one would ever be this good to him. 

His chest parted from your back, a small shiver settling in instead. 

The first smack was harsh, angry. You clenched around him and he thrusted in violently, growling. 

The second one hit the tender skin of your outer thigh, where it met your ass. "Daddy." You whined. 

"Quiet." He chastised again, his voice strained. He hammered into you four or five times. 

"Daddy, it hurts." You cried out, at which he stayed silent, simply spanking you again, twice, without rubbing soothingly at your skin. You emitted a shrill huffing sound of complaint, at which he answered with violent ramming into you, using both hands to push you onto his lap. 

This was not how Joon usually did it. This was not normal. With worry distracting your mind, you turned your head, looking at him. His eyes were closed, droplets falling down his cheeks. Was it sweat or tears? 

"Namjoon?" You asked, alarmed. 

He shook his head, biting his lip. "You good?" He asked, eyes still closed. 

"Stop." You murmured. 

He obeyed, exiting your warmth and opening his eyes, still avoiding your gaze contact. "Did I—?"

"Look at me." 

He shook his head. "I can't." 

"Namjoon." You reprimanded. 

As your eyes met his, you noticed they were rimmed with tears, and he was biting his lip to hold back a sob, shaking his head in shame. 

Your initial shock was followed by an overwhelming sense of tenderness for the beautiful, delicate man in front of you. 

You quickly decided what to do. 

You turned around fully, facing him as you stood on your knees, your hands caressing his cheeks. "What is it, Joonie bear?" 

He simply frowned and hid in the crook of your neck, desperate. 

"What is it?" You asked again. 

He nuzzled even more into your chest, inhaling the damp feel of your skin. "I just want it to be a good memory." He huffed with a broken whisper. 

A memory? "Why would it be a memory, Namjoon?" You asked, confused. 

"If it's our last time, I wanna be good to you." He said, and you could feel every ounce of sadness in his voice. 

Last time? "Joonie bear, why would it be our last time?" 

His shoulders shook with sobs as he stopped holding back his tears. "I've been a bastard, it's okay if you want to go." He tried saying in his most composed voice.

You frowned in confusion. "No, Namjoon."

"You want to leave me. It's okay. I need it only one last time."

You shook your head, trying to grab his chin and make him look at you. However, he strongly opposed. 

"Joonie." You murmured, hugging his head and caressing his hair. "I'm not here to leave you." You whispered. "I want to be with you." You continued. 

He shook his head even more. "I was dumb. You have every right—" 

"No." You kissed his head, caressing his shoulders, hugging him tight. "I'm not going anywhere." 

He looked up at you, his face covered in tears. 

"Oh, baby bear." You cooed, touching his cheeks, kissing his forehead. "Don't cry, Joonie." He disappeared even more into you, hugging your entire figure, dwarfing you. "Don't cry, my love." You whispered, the word tiptoeing out of your lips. He sobbed harder. "I'm so in love with you, Joonie bear." You crooned, offering him all your soul in those simple, childish words. 

"You love me?" He asked, confused, alarmed, petrified. 

"I love you, Namjoon." You repeated. 

He completely forgot his messy face and brought his lips to yours, his mouth melting into you eagerly as your tongues spoke a language that came so natural to both of you. 

Breathless, he parted from you. "I love you. I love you so much." He pressed tens of kisses on your face with such speed and pressure that you felt like disappearing into him. 

"I love you too." You giggled, trying to clean his face. 

You both laughed, elated, his hands coming to your waist, holding you closer and closer. "I wanna make love to you." He whispered. "Let me love you."

"Missionary on the carpet or cowgirl on the sofa?" You asked. 

"Why choose when you can have both?" He wiggled an eyebrow. You smiled. He smiled back. "Let's get on the sofa." He replied gently. "You'll catch a cold with your sweaty back on the freezing floor."

"But no missionary on the sofa…" You cried out like a child. 

He smiled. "Do you want missionary so bad?" He kissed your temple, smiling. 

"I guess I'll be happy with anything you want." You pouted, still doubtful. 

"C'mere." He said, getting even closer. You slipped your stilettos off and he picked you up by the back of your thighs and with some strength you didn't know he had, he carried you to the sofa, careful not to step on your shoes. "I'm going to sit. Careful with your legs." He warned, plopping down as carefully and as gently as he could, mercifully avoiding to sit with your calves underneath him. 

"Don't worry, I won't make you ride me, baby." He kissed your brow. "You're too tired for that." He cradled you to his chest, offering you a bit of his body heat. "Can you push it inside you for me, love?" He asked seducingly, kissing your neck. 

You smiled and reached between your bodies. He was already pulsating, you knew he would come undone in a few strokes. Slowly, you lifted your hips and pushed his tip inside, making him groan. 

"You're always so tight, babylove. Fuck, you feel amazing." He sucked at your neck some more, drawing a twin bruise to the one you had on the other side of your throat. "I feel like a fucking teenager with you. I can never get enough." His hips jutted a little, pushing into you while his forearm around your waist pulled you down, his hand gripping your ass. 

"Daddy." You breathed out, your forehead pressed against his neck as he bottomed out. 

"Yes?" He replied, soothing you with long caresses down your spine. "Does it hurt, doll?" 

He had so many nicknames for you but you couldn't wait for your next. "No, daddy." He held your face away from his shoulder. "Are you sure babylove?" 

Your face stretched in a slight grimace. "Maybe."

He giggled and kissed your cheek, sliding down to your mouth. "I'm sorry, Vixen." He pressed his lips to yours once and then again. "I'm so sorry, baby. For everything." He combed your hair back. "I can't promise you I'll never hurt you, but I can promise I'll try to make it better every single time." He held you close as your brow furrowed. "I love you." He whispered, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other pressing on your lower back. 

"I love you too." You said right back. "But please, Joonie…" 

"Need me to move?" He asked.

"I want you to cum." You murmured. 

He smirked and nodded. "Want me to finger you?" He asked, already drawing short thrusts into you and helping you ride him with his forearm around you. 

"Yes, please, daddy." You whined.

His right hand left the crown of your head, coming to the top of your thighs and beginning to draw small circles at the apex of your labia, the flat of his thumb wide enough to cover your bundle of nerves entirely.

"Would you like to take your time, Vixen?" He asked kindly, knowing that sometimes it took you a bit longer than him to actually get worked up. 

"I just need you to keep going exactly like this. You're perfect, Joonie."

He grunted and started pushing into you from below. "Like this?" He said, his voice a tad strained. 

His thrusts were low and deep, curling just enough to hit your sweet spot. He realised you started holding your breath. Usually that meant you were close. 

He bent his head, looking down where your bodies joined. It was hypnotizing, his thumb drawing perfectly identical circles. He started kissing and licking any and every inch of skin that came close to his mouth, your shoulder, your chest, your neck, sucking whenever he managed to grip the skin for long enough to bruise and mark. 

When you started shoving yourself on him, bouncing in earnest, he kept his cool and stopped fooling around, staying focused on lasting long enough, doing the exact same thing, knowing that with a few thrusts delivered just right, you would become like putty in his arms and he could just get crazy and chase his high. 

With your lips parting in a high pitched moan, you pressed your hips to his two more times before your chest collapsed into his with a tired whimper. "Take what you need." You murmured before propping yourself with your forearms against the back of the sofa, lifting your hips. Your face was pressed at the crook beneath his jaw, your tongue blindly chasing the droplets of sweat sliding down the column of his throat. He emitted an animalistic groan before his palms thudded heavily against your glutes, gripping your hips so hard that both his knuckles and your flesh turned white. And then he started ramming into you from below. The sounds in the room were a mix of his grunts, the smacking of flesh and the wetness between your legs, but more quietly, under all those layers, in between a groan and the next, there were his whispered love declarations, which poured out of his mouth like prayers, until he was so close, so fucked out that he could only repeat 'I love you', over and over, interrupted only by a final howl as he spilled inside you. 

In all of this you had tried to stay quiet, shushing him and kissing his neck, not sure that you were allowed to mark him. 

You laid both exhausted, his body sliding sideways down the sofa, trying to rest on the seats, his head laying on an armrest as his ankles dangling from the other. You covered him like a blanket, your hair draping over his chest and tumbling down the edge of the sofa. 

You were both sweaty and messy with cum and drool, still you simply laid there, until you felt too cold and shivered. 

"Blanket?" You asked. 

He shook his head. "I'd better dress you and take you back at mine. I can go home tonight. There's no use working late. I need to rest anyway."

"Are you sure." You asked, touching his face. 

He kissed your wrist. "Sure."

"I have to clean your chair first. I should have some wet wipes in my handbag." You mumbled. "And I should clean myself too before I drip on your lovely sofa."

He hummed, tired, fake-crying as he said "I don't wanna get up."

"My bag is right beside the sofa, just stretch your arm backward." You directed him. 

He fumbled around a bit, moving the bag from behind his head to your side, where you could easily reach inside. After a bit of rummaging, you fished out your wipes, making a quick work of pulling him out and cleaning yourself. 

"Cold." He muttered with a pout, which you kissed away from his face. 

"Come on, baby bear, get up and get dressed. I wanna shower with you and shower you in kisses." You pampered him, trying to convince him to get ready to leave. 

He whined as you sat up, quickly dashing to recoup your underwear. Once you were wearing it, you cleaned his chair, quite happy when you noticed that it wasn't half as bad as you though. When you turned, you noticed he was staring at you, already completely dressed, your dress in his hands. You moved closer.

"Up with your arms, love." He said gently, and for a second you realised that your simple and emotional confessions weren't a mirage caused by arousal or desperation. 

You followed his instructions as he helped you wear your dress, slipping it over your head and helping you find both sleeves. Next he gripped the hem at both sides, delicately rolling the fabric down your body. Once it reached your knees, he let his hands skim back up your hips and waist, crossing his wrists behind your back before squeezing your ass. He stared at your throat. 

"Will I have to wear a turtleneck for the next ten days?" You asked, slipping the neck of your dress aside and checking the damage. 

"Sorry." He murmured. 

"It's okay. I like it. I'm just teasing you." You said with a playful smirk. 

"Brat." He mouthed with a snicker, bending down to pick up your tights. 

You tutted, stealing them from his hands. "Let me do these, they're tricky."

He simply stared, his body trembling with a new tide of arousal at the mannerism you used to put on the garment, rolling up one leg between your thumbs and forefingers, pressing your toes against the stitching and dragging the nylon up your leg. He had seen this scene in an old Italian movie, but seeing the gesture in real life helped him understand the frenzy that the main character experienced after such an act. After you repeated the movement on the other leg, his mouth practically salivating, he watched some more as you fixed the gusset and the waistband, stretching the garment around the curve of your ass. 

"Call me whenever you need to wear those." He whispered in marvel and agony. "I might take them off you just to see it all over again."

You smiled coquettishly, grabbing your coat and wearing it. 

He kneeled in front of you, holding one of your shoes. "When's your birthday?" He asked, making you lift one foot as he slipped your heel on. 

You frowned, the connection unknown to you. "Mid-november. Why?" 

He held your other shoe and you held onto his shoulder as you lifted your other foot, wearing the black stiletto. "I loved seeing those on you tonight. I might buy you another pair or eight as a birthday gift."

You shook your head and laughed. "I don't need a sugar daddy, I'm happy with my plain, regular one." He rose to his feet and you grabbed his cheeks, planting a big, fat smooch on his mouth. "I'm actually very, very in love."

"Hello, Actually Very, Very in Love. My name is Head Over Heels — he pointed at your shoes — in Love. Pleased to meet you."

You laughed and he felt his heart explode with joy, his nose brushing against yours with Eskimo kisses. "Your bag." He said, bending to pick it up. "My bags." He said, collecting his tote and the small paper bag with his belongings that you had brought him. He neared his desk, checking the various devices. "Equipment off, computer off–" He mumbled as he moved the mouse to shut down the system. Meanwhile you fixed the low table, putting the magazines back on top of it. He switched off his table lamp and moved towards the door. "Dinner." He reminded himself, picking up the trash bag by the entrance. "You ready, Vixen?" 

You hummed in confirmation. 

"Let's go." 

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Capt. Syverson- Chapter Three: Therapeutic Activity

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: Tensions reach a boiling point during treatment one evening, Shane goes to her own veteran for advice, and takes the first step toward happiness…hoping beyond hope that everything doesn’t blow up in her face.

Masterlist with links to all parts HERE!

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: None, yet… ;) But maybe I should be putting language warnings in here…there are some bad words. And not to spoil but…there might be a bit of kissing in this one…

Author’s Note: Guys, I cannot stress to you enough how much I am enjoying telling this story. My goodness. To sort of combine my passions of writing and Henry with something I know so well like therapy (I’m a secretary like Heather, not a therapist), it really just makes me happy. The next chapter is already done, also, it was initially part of this chapter, but it felt too long, so I’ll be posting it separately later. I know, I’m a tease. Have Henry spank me. Lol.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags:

@onlyhenrys

@cavillryarchive

@summersong69

@titty-teetee

@bloodyinspiredfuck

"This sounds…kinda dumb…" Sy expressed his thoughts on today's warm up with Shane.

"Oh, trust me, it looks even dumber than it sounds. But it works. And it's easier on your knees than doing it the right way. You ready?" he looked at the treadmill, inclined at 3% grade as if it was Everest itself, and looked back at her. "I'll start slow." she raised her eyebrows at him.

"You know just what to say to a girl." he teased as he stepped up, still gingerly, even after eight weeks of therapy. Crutches mercifully jettisoned two weeks ago. He was on his way to being his fighting fit self. With a foot on either track beside the belt, but facing away from the control panel, he waited for her to press start. He took a breath and nodded.

"Test the belt with your bad foot first, and then when you're ready, step down with it. Remember what I've told you about which foot should lead when ascending and descending stairs or hills?"

"Good go to Heaven, Bad go to Hell. So I go up with the good leg and go down with the bad leg."

"A+ student. Okay, when you're ready…any time…Sy, this is an hour session…I have to kick you out in 55 minutes…chop chop." she cajoled him, but he wasn't budging.

"It feels…weird going this way, Shane." If she had been a less kind person, she would have called it whining…she called it nothing, instead.

"I know. Do you need to walk backwards around the clinic a little more to get you used to that sensation?"

"Hell yeah. If that means you're gonna spot me like you did before…felt kinda like dancin'." it was a perfectly legitimate and above-board treatment strategy. They stood back to back, Shane guiding Sy as he practiced walking backward and pushing off with the extensor muscle group, which had been weak. Sy had suggested holding hands, but Shane had compromised with the idea to link arms. Not that she wasn't dying to hold his hand…she was. But that had not been the time. The time was still weeks away. At least.

"I was thinking I'd have you try it with Jordan. He's got a free hour right now. And I can assess your technique. How does that sound, Twinkle Toed Romeo?" Immediately he placed a tentative foot down onto the slow moving belt trying to adjust to the odd sensation of walking up a hill backward.

"Ah, so I now know that all I have to do to get you to do something silly is threaten you with Jordan. Filing that away for a rainy day."

"Come on, you're breakin' my heart, sunshine."

"Aww, don't be ridiculous. I've seen therapists do way more embarrassing things to their patients in the name of treatment."

"Tell me!"

"Sorry, but it's classified information. Protected under the Health Insurance Privacy and Portability Act. I could literally get fired for telling you, and there are way cooler things to get fired for!" She'd always said it. And she meant it. She didn't fool around when it came to HIPPA, and there was no way she was gonna lose her job over a stupid slip like that.

"Any examples of things you'd rather get fired for?"

She thought for a few minutes. She used to have a list.

"Hmm, telling off my bitch of a boss," he looked shocked at her use of a bad language word, which he'd never heard from her. She nodded. "Telling off an asshole patient," sleeping with a patient…

"What about sleeping with a patient?" It was late in the day, the only person still there was Heather in the office, and a few therapists still documenting. Nobody in the gym to hear him echo the thoughts in her head. As if he could read them as clearly as a page in a book. Large print. She looked at him in shock.

"Sorry. That was over the line."

"It was…but…"

"But?"

"But…it would not be the least cool reason to get fired."

"It wouldn't?" she shook her head, reluctantly.

"Especially if the patient was…amazing, and kind, and…fucking gorgeous…"

"Young lady, that language today, I have never!" he exclaimed clutching at his broad and beautiful chest.

"I know, but, Sy…this is all hypothetical, and theoretical, and IF I was GOING to get fired how would I CHOOSE for it to happen and WHAT policy I would go against. People don't just CHOOSE to be fired, you know?" she was nervous and rambling.

"You know what people also don't choose? Who they care about, and have feelin's for. Who they--"

"Don't finish that sentence, Sy." She couldn't hear him say the word he was going to say. She couldn't let him start that. Not when there was too much complicating their situation.

She walked off to her treatment room, needing some space.  Some time.

She didn't get that space or time. Sy hobbled in behind her, looking like a man on a mission. And she knew from his war stories that his missions tended to be successful…even the one that got him his walking papers wasn't a total loss.

"Sy, you still had like, five minutes on the tr--"

His big hands found the sweet spot where her neck met her skull. He took a big breath and closed the distance between them, his lips landing light as feathers on hers, her soft skin welcoming the roughness of his beard, though everything else about the kiss was terribly gentle. Almost chaste. Even his beard wasn't so rough that she worried about beard burn…she'd be filing that away for later, as well. Against her willpower and better judgement but in full cooperation with her desires and instincts she began kissing him back, daring to deepen it by opening their mouths a bit, and sliding her hands up the back of his red tee that sported a black skull. All of his shirts were entirely too tight, but you'd never catch her complaining. Even after several months away from active duty and really, most activity at all, his body was still so solid and powerful.

"Ain't that a daisy…Fuck, I've wanted to do that since my first appointment." he chuckled, lightly.

"Sy…"

"Don't. Don't try to argue or tell me you don't feel it. This energy between us. I've seen it in your eyes, Shane. I've felt it when you touch me. It ain't nothin, sunshine. It's a whole lotta somethin'."

"I know, but I need this job. And I WANT this job. Being a therapist is the only thing I've ever wanted to do. Helping people. People like you. Getting them better. It's what I was meant to do. And there's no place like this in the area for me to treat such a diverse clientele and build my skill set. It's not without it's problems, but it's where I'm meant to be."

"I get that. And you should do what you were called to do. You're too good at this not to do it. But Shane, isn't it worth pushing back on some policy if it could mean you get to have some personal happiness, too?"

"I'm worried they'll make me choose." Actually, it was more than that. She was worried about which choice she'd make. Giving up a ten-year career with excellent benefits despite its pitfalls, or giving up someone she could hardly stop thinking about, who made her heart pound when he smiled, and who was rapidly shaping up to be someone she could see herself sharing a life with…making either choice terrified her for very different reasons.

"You shouldn't have to choose. Any boss who'd make you deny yourself what we could have just because of some ridiculous policy…well, they ain't worth the gas that brought 'em to work today. Y'understand me?"

She nodded, smirking at his idiom, "You don't know my boss."

"Well, maybe I oughta GET to know her, if it's like that. I have a way of throwin' my weight around, case ya hadn't noticed." he shot her a smug grin.

"Ya don't say?" she retorted, brimming with sarcasm, literally still wrapped in the evidence of said weight in the form of his muscular arms, warm and thick, encircling her. Even though she felt like her life was up in the air, she had never felt more safe. "I'll try to have a chat with her about it this week. Our schedules rarely align, and usually that's how I like it, but I'll try to move some things around if nothing naturally falls into place."

"I'll be happy to lend my voice or even come talk to her, if need be." he offered, ever the gentleman.

"I appreciate that, Sy, truly. But I think it would be best not to involve you unless it becomes absolutely necessary. We have several more treatments to get through today, though. You didn't finish on the tread mill, do you think you're warmed up enough?"

"Oh, darlin', I'm plenty warm." he grinned down at her sliding a hand down her side.

"Shit, am I gonna have to start being extra careful with what I say to you until this gets sorted?"

"I really doubt it'll matter, Shane. Ain't much you can say I can't make dirty." she could tell by the satisfaction on his face that this was a point of pride for him.

"Lay down and shut up."

"Yes, MA'AM!" he complied with a little too much enthusiasm. She didn't know whether to roll her eyes with amusement or grow increasingly feral…apparently there was room for both as long as she didn't act on the latter. Yet.

~~~~~~~~

She dismissed Sy for the day, instructing him to behave himself until she gave him the all clear, and even then, if she got the green light to see him outside of therapy, sessions would still be about getting him stronger, and not flirting. Or at least mostly. They settled on a 90/10 ratio by the end. She was a weak woman.

She went into the office where one of the senior therapists, Anita, was still charting and snacking on some pretzels.

"How was your day, Nita?" she asked affectionately. Anita had been her mentor since she started with the clinic over ten years ago, and was now part time, flexing toward retirement. She'd miss her.

"Oh, long, Miss Shane. As they tend to be more and more these days. What about yours?"

"Ah…just…nothin'." she shouldn't go into it all until she talked to Susan, their boss.

"Mmm, that's no nothing nothin', that's a something nothin'. Come on, kiddo. Spill." she offered Shane one of her pretzels and kicked out the chair next to her. Again, she was a weak woman. She took a pretzel, sat, and chewed it for a moment, collecting her words.

"What do you think about…starting relationships with patients?" she searched her reaction for any snap judgement or emotion, but only a narrowing of her eyes occurred.

"Is this about that Captain Sexypants who just left?"

"I'm going to kill Heather. I'm not the one who came up with that nickname and I'm not the one who started the whole having feelings conversation. I was going to be miserable until he was discharged, at least."

"Why would you need to make yourself miserable, Shane?"

"Because the policy. About dating patients."

"Technically the policy only says you shouldn't treat family/close friends if you feel you wouldn't be able to maintain objectivity or would be uncomfortable yourself. But that you should disclose any relationship to your supervisor for review."

"See, what's Susan gonna say?"

"Who cares? The policy is the law. And the board of directors governs the policy. Not her. Tell her in an email if you can't work out a time to talk to her before you see him next. Hell, I sent my boss a memo back when I started dating Ron. And look at us now! 20 years strong."

"No way!?" Shane was flabbergasted. She had never known that Anita's husband Ron had once been her patient.

"Oh yes. I wasn't long out of PT school, my first husband had passed away and I needed an income, so I got my PT license and about a year into working here, Ron got put on my schedule. I knew from the eval, he was meant for me. So I typed up a memo, sent it to Morton, our boss at the time, and told Ron I was free on Friday after work."

"Sy just…I don't know, we have this…connection…a spark. I've never felt it with anyone else."

"Are you concerned that seeing him socially would affect how you treat him here?"

"I'm more worried keeping my feelings for him bottled up while I treat him will get so distracting I'll become less effective."

"Well, then, if you get any push back, tell Susan that." Anita said. "Just be forthright. Honest. And speak with integrity. She'll have no cause to refute it, then. And send it tonight."

"Okay. Thanks Anita. You're the best."

~~~~~~~~~

Shane spent too long, probably an hour, at least, drafting her email to Susan. It read:

To: Susan DeForrest

From: Shane Benton

Subject: Re: Treatment Policy

Susan,

I wanted to bring to your attention a situation that has presented itself with one of my patients. I have been treating him almost exclusively for several weeks now, apart from my week on PTO, and he has progressed to both of our satisfaction as well as the ordering physician. However, we have come to be quite friendly and he has expressed great interest in seeing me outside of therapy. This is something that I too would like to engage in, and I plan to accept the next time I speak with him.

From my understanding of the policy, the only thing that would prevent me from treating him as a social acquaintance would be my own comfort level and ability to remain objective. I have every confidence that my objectivity regarding his case will remain intact. I am also completely comfortable with it, and if that changes, I will transfer him to another therapist. Furthermore, I have no doubts that I will be able to maintain the highest level of professionalism throughout our treatments.

Thank you, and if you feel we need to discuss any of this further, please let me know.

~Shane Benton, DPT

And send…whew. She needed a big glass of wine tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Up Next: Chapter Four- E-Stim

[strugglingsophieee]

What I’ve learned in 2020:

2020 was a year full of lessons, here are few mine:

1.   Mental health is as important as physical health.

This year has been a total mess when it comes to my mental health. I’ve hit a rock bottom I never thought I would. The amount of stress that I had to go through this year because of my exams resulting in completely changing my life and because of covid of course, is truly indescribable for me. My panic attacks became the most daunting thing in my life. It got so bad, that I completely stopped myself from going out, even to get groceries. I thought “well this is what my life has come to- I’ll never be able to get out of my house ever again”. Fortunately, I was wrong. In mid - August I decided to seek professional help from a psychologist. I still go to her and I can proudly and honestly say that she has helped me so much in my anxiety- journey. I still learn how to cope with stress and panic attacks, but I see a huge progress between August and December. There’s still a long way for me to go, but I’m ready to tackle all the obstacles life has for me. 💪🏻

Why did I write this? I did this, because 2020 has shown me that mental health should never EVER be forgotten about. I used to never pay attention to it, I would always brush it off.. and well, me neglecting that part of my life has finally made an appearance this year with a double- strong impact. I feel like this year has been a total roller coaster for all of us. So many people experienced emotions they never thought they would experience. So many people noticed how caught up they are in their everyday life and don’t pay enough attention to their mental wellbeing. Taking care of my physical health was always somewhat important, but this year I realized that taking care of my mental health is just as important as physical activity. Please, if you need any sort of support don’t be afraid or hesitate to seek help from a professionals. 🌿

Here are some ig accounts I follow, which can bring you comfort as well:

https://www.instagram.com/wetheurban/

https://www.instagram.com/sunnybloominspiration/

https://www.instagram.com/myselflovesupply/

 2.  It’s okay to end friendships you don’t feel good in or get rid of people in your life who don’t feel supportive of you.

Let me tell you a little story. In high school (fyi I graduated this year) I used to be friends with these 3 girls, but in fact only one of them I could call my good friend. The rest 2 of them, just got on with us pretty well (well, more with the other girl). We used to be “best friends” since our first year till the very end. However, halfway through our friendship I noticed that I feel very lonely. These 3 girls used to stick with each other in school all the time, while I felt just like an addition to them. They literally have hundreds of photos together from different occasions (including prom!), and each and every one of them is without me. They used to meet during vacations, and write about it on our groupchat. I specifically remember when one of them couldn’t meet one day, and they instantly changed the date of the meeting. Then, when I wrote “hey I can’t meet you guys on this day :((” and I kid you not were like “aww that’s sad”… like.. what? Since you’re not changing the date does that mean I’m not as important to you as the other girl?..

 To this day I don’t know whether they have any contact with each other, but I do feel like they do. Honestly, the number of times when I felt lonely in this “friendship” is insane, and I finally see that. I look at this period of time from a different perspective and honestly this entire “friendship” was just a sh*tshow in my opinion. I felt constantly judged by them, especially by this one girl who I just knew didn’t really like me but still referred to me as “friend” not to make any kind of fight. They would hardly ever support me or listen to me. They would make fun of my anxiety and my panic attacks. I feel like they were also limiting me at some point. What’s kind of funny is that they didn’t remember about my birthday but I did remember theirs. I would always care about them but they would never care about me.

As I said, I feel like they still keep in touch with each other. I limited any kind of contact with them and never spoke to them since like July. Even though we didn’t officially end our “friendship”… I feel like by parting our ways we somewhat did… and it feels so good to finally say that I’m free. Before you ask me “why didn’t I tell them how I feel earlier?”… well, I always felt like I am a burden and make a big deal out of nothing, but now as I look at this relation from a perspective…I should have done this a long time ago.

2020 was a huge year for me when it comes to friendships. I realized that my companion as a friend should be valued more than I thought. I will not waste any more time on people who treat me like that.. who don’t deserve to call me their “friend”. I’ll stand up for myself from now on. I am me, and if that’s not “enough” for you, then that’s your problem. 💋

 3.   It’s all about finding balance.

What I mean by that is that the same amount of effort you put in your work/ uni/ school should be the same amount of effort you put in your free time. After telling my therapist how much I worked throughout the week she told me that by the age of 25 I would be totally burned out from overworking myself. In fact I did experience this in June, when I used to study so hard for my exams, that not only I didn’t give myself any space to relax which resulted in my anxiety rising up but also I lost almost 8 kg due to stress. I don’t want to experience this ever again. It was a very dark time for me, which I’m still recovering from to this very day (see point 1.). Finding a balance between studying / working and giving yourself that “me time” is the key to staying sane for me. For example, I set some rules that I apply in my everyday life, one of them says: After 8 pm. I close my books and I finish studying for the day. I turn on my favorite show, grab snacks and just chill…Small steps like this can lead to a huge progress in the future and may help you stop that process of being overworked.

4.  Self-care is not egoistic.. it’s absolutely normal.

No matter what that is, whether it’s working out, cooking, baking, going on a walk, doing your makeup / skincare routine or anything else.. Do whatever makes you happy and don’t feel guilty for it. We all deserve to have some time just for ourselves, especially in this crazy world we live in. 🧖‍♀️🌍

5.  Don’t take anything for granted.

I feel like it’s self-explanatory at this point. Especially when it comes to health and your family. Life is completely unpredictable. A year ago I would never believe if someone would say “well.. this is what 2020 looks like”… Make sure to hug your family members a bit tighter, reach out to a friend you haven’t talked to in a while to see how they’re doing and most importantly- wear a mask! 😷

6.  It’s okay to fail.

As Abraham Lincoln said "It's not about how many times you fall, but how many times you get back up." It’s okay to don’t feel amazing every day or to fail an exam. It’s all about what kind of lessons you get out of it and what you can learn from this experience. 💫

7.   Don’t beg someone to give you attention.

As the saying goes “If they wanted to, they would”. As I said earlier, if  me being me is not interesting for you.. it’s your loss. I’m not going to beg somebody to text me or send me an Instagram DM.. hell nah. 👸

8.    It’s time to focus on yourself.

I think it’s time for me to finally put all the effort I’d put into making others happy into me. It’s time I keep on grinding with my uni stuff and my workout routine. It’s time to take care of my mental health. It’s time to find new hobbies and stick with them. It’s. Time. For. Me. 👏💖👑

 Well, that’s it. I hope you guys found some of those advices / lessons helpful. Let me know what you’ve learned during this crazy year!

 Stay safe,

Soph xx

[jihyuncompass]

Domesticity

I couldn’t come up for a creative name, but here is my Day Two Entry for @mysmeweek2020! This one is about Saeran (because all I want is for him to be happy)

Mysme Week 2020 Day Two

Domesticity

Saeran Choi x MC 

Word Count: 2.1K

Summary: Days with Saeran came in three types. Today was one of the good ones.

Daily life with Saeran could be divided up into three different types. The good days, which happened once in a while, the bad days, which occurred less frequently then they used too, and then most commonly the just okay days, neither really good or bad. Just okay. 

A gentle alarm woke the two of you up. Warm daylight already coming in from behind the drawn curtains. You woke up first, reaching over to hit the off button, you both hated having an alarm in the mornings but Saeran’s therapist insisted that a regular and healthy sleep schedule was necessary for his recovery. So as much as you both hated it, you also both agreed that it was for the best. 

Turning over you saw your boyfriend lying next to you. His sleeping face relaxed and peaceful. He must not be having a nightmare if he looks that calm. 

“Saeran, angel it’s time to get up.” Running a gentle hand across his face and neck you tried to wake him up. After a few moments you saw his eyes open a little. He blinked and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “Good morning.” You said, he rolled onto his side to lie face to face with you. 

“Morning.” He said, his voice gruff from sleep. 

“How’d you sleep?” You took his hand in yours.

“M’kay, no nightmares.”

“That’s good, do you want me to cook breakfast?” He shook his head. 

“No, I’ll do it.” He brought your hand clasped in his closer so he could kiss the back of it. 

“I can cook for you once in a while y’know.” You told him, a sweet smile crossed his lips. 

“But I like to cook for you. It makes me feel happy to cook things you like.” He leaned forward to give you a peck on the lips. A content look on your face you watched him drag himself out of bed. Bleached hair sticking up in every direction, some red roots were starting to show. 

You got up a few minutes later, taking a moment to use the bathroom and brush your teeth. After which you went back into the bedroom to get dressed, at this point you could smell breakfast cooking in the kitchen. Dressing yourself quickly you joined him in the kitchen. 

Together the two of you sat on the couch while you ate your breakfast.. As usual Saeran’s cooking was incredible. Cooking and baking were hobbies he had picked up after leaving Mint Eye, quickly they became some of his favorite things to do. And like his hacking skills his cooking was precise and masterful. Keeping an eye on the clock you gathered the dishes to wash so Saeran could get dressed. By the time you finished with all of the dishes, placing them in the disrack to dry, Saeran emerged from the bedroom dressed to go out. 

The walk to Saeran’s therapist’s office wasn’t too bad. It was nice and not too long, You held hands as you passed people on the street going about their days. Saeran kept his eyes focused on the ground. Being out around people still made him nervous but on his better days he could be around people for a little while without many issues. 

“Do you want me to hang out in the waiting room?” You asked him. The first few months of therapy Saeran asked you to wait in the office for him so he could feel safe. He didn’t always need you to stay now but once in a while it made him feel more comfortable. 

“No. I’ll be fine. Thank you angel.” You smiled at his pet name for you, one of many. Squeezing his hand you nodded. 

“Okay, I’ll probably wander around some of the nearby stores. So I won’t be too far.” Saeran smiled just the littlest bit. Even if he didn’t need you to be with him, knowing that you were nearby still helped. 

Approaching the therapist’s office you bid him goodbye with a kiss on the cheek. After he was inside you waited a moment in case he changed his mind and wanted you to come, but when he didn’t come back you slowly moved away from the building. 

Choosing a bookstore a block away you went there to spend your hour. You’d been here a few times on similar excursions but you never spent a significant amount of time actually looking around at the shelves. You wandered around pulling books out to look at. 

You stopped when you came across a book with a bouquet of flowers on the cover. Pulling a book from the shelf you realized that it was a guide to flowers and their meanings. Flipping through the pages the book included watercolor illustrations of hundreds of flowers along with their meanings and messages. Some even included famous poems that mention those flowers. Reading through the pages you think of Saeran’s garden behind your house. You hold the book close to your chest and decide that it would be the perfect gift for your boyfriend. 

An hour passed in no time and soon you were back waiting in front of the therapist’s office. The book tucked into your bag as you watched people as they walked past you. 

Hearing Saeran’s voice you turned as he walked out, you smiled at him and reached out to take his hand. A ghost of a smile crossed his face. After his therapy appointments he tended to be a bit overwhelmed and withdrawn, so you gently led him home. Not speaking too much to let him think, if he wanted to talk he would. Today he just held onto your hand and stayed quiet, a thoughtful expression on his face. 

Back home he quickly changed into his gardening clothes. You went into the room you used as your home office, sitting in front of a window that overlooked the garden. You could see Saeran working, tending to each plant carefully. Pulling weeds from the dirt and watering each flower with careful precision. 

Months ago you convinced Saeran that he should try growing fruits and vegetables along with his flowers. Since he loved cooking and gardening so much the idea of having his own produce to cook with was a good idea for him. He took to it well and each one of his plants grew the most delicious produce you ever had in your life. 

You worked at your desk, sparing a few glances up to Saeran as he focused on his work. He looked so calm out there, his garden was truly his happy place. 

In the afternoon you took a break from your work to make some lunch. Putting together a quick sandwich and glass of lemonade you stepped outside to where Saeran was working. 

“Sae!” You called out. “I made you some lunch, I’m going to leave it right here for you!” Motioning to the plate Saeran smiled at you and nodded. You watched him for a moment as he continued to work before slipping back inside and into your office, with your own lunch in your hand. 

Working for a few more hours you watched Saeran move onto harvesting the ripe fruits and veggies. Piling them into bowls he grabbed from the kitchen, watching him work, in a place that made him so happy made your heart soar. He just seemed so comfortable out there. 

Evening came quickly and when you finally glanced up from your work and didn’t see Saeran outside anymore. He must have come back inside at some point when you were invested in your work. Standing from your chair you felt your knees pop, you must have been sitting for quite a while by this point. 

You found your boyfriend in the kitchen. His hair is still a tad wet from a shower he must have taken a while ago. Warm smells surrounded you as Saeran leaned over the stove, stirring the contents of a pot. He noticed your presence quickly by shooting you a quick glance, you smiled walking up next to him. 

“This smells amazing, Saeran, have you made this before?” You glanced into the pot. 

“No it’s a new recipe for Budae Jjigae. I haven’t had a chance to try this recipe before.” He leaned over to smell the contents of the pot. “I think it’s almost done, if you want to sit down I’ll bring it to you.” Stepping away you sat down at your small dining table noticing the new flowers he had put in the vase to replace the ones from a few days ago. They had the lightest of fragrances, sweet but not overpowering. Good for a dinner table. 

Dinner for the two of you was perfect, the stew was a mixture of spicy and savory. It warmed your stomach with its flavors and warmed your heart with the care that it was prepared with. You and Saeran talked as you ate, you asked about his garden while he asked about your work. The conversations were nice, simple but comforting. 

Saeran brought you the dessert he prepared, a strawberry shortcake with fresh grown strawberries and cream. You dug into your individual slices, The cake was light and sweet and the strawberries sweet with the slightest bit of sourness to them that was balanced out by the cream. Each bite tasted like heaven, and you had to force yourself to eat it slowly and fully enjoy it. Saeran watched you eat, gauging your reaction. You made an effort to show just how much you were enjoying it, this seemed to satisfy him a small smile tugging at his mouth. 

Tonight you washed the dinner dishes together. You scrubbed each dish clean while Saeran rinsed and dried each one. This task was spent in relative silence, Saeran wasn’t one for a lot of words but he didn’t need to speak for you to tell how he was feeling or what he was thinking. 

Once the last dish was clean you remembered the book you had gotten for him earlier in the day. You excused yourself for one moment to go grab it, returning with the book hidden behind your back. Saeran gave you a funny look as you walked back up to him. 

“While you were at your appointment I went into this bookstore and found something I thought you would like.” You held the book out in front of you so he could see it. His eyes widened taking the book and running his fingers over the cover. 

“Thank you,” He stepped forward to kiss you, his lips still holding onto the sweetness from the strawberries. His kiss was soft, and thoughtful. He pulled away after a few too short moments and opened the book to the first page to start at the beginning. 

Your later evenings together were always rather peaceful, sometimes if you both had the energy you would go out for a walk together. Spending the last few hours of daylight in nature. Tonight however neither of you had the energy or desire to go out, so the two of you settled for sitting in bed while Saeran read from his new book. You watched him lazily, your eyes were starting to grow heavy and staying awake was becoming more and more of a challenge. 

Saeran stayed focused on his book, he wasn’t one to mark up the pages so instead he put sticky notes on pages that he thought were significant. You rolled over to look at the clock, it was about time for the two of you to actually try and go to sleep. You rolled over and put a hand on Saeran’s forearm. 

“My love.” Saeran pulled his eyes away from his book to meet your eyes. 

“Time to sleep?” You nodded. He put the book on the night table next to him, sinking down to lie flat. You reached over on your side to turn off the lamp you were using for light. The room going dark, with only the moonlight able to enter the bedroom. 

Grasping around you felt Saeran’s arm find your hip bringing himself closer to you. Matching his movements you put an arm around his torso. Holding on another you could feel yourself drifting off the sleep. Halfway asleep you felt Saeran leave a soft and sleepy kiss on your lips. 

“Goodnight princess.” He whispered, in your half conscious state you smiled, whispering back to him. 

“Goodnight, my sweet prince.” You heard a content hum come from Saeran and holding him close you both fell asleep, after a good day for the both of you. 

[theotherackerman]

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: Any recognizable elements belong to Attack on Titan.

NOTES:

Sunday, January 24th

chapter twenty-seven: save me from this january gloom

Mikasa truly hated driving.

She kept her eyes on the road and blared her music.

Zeke’s house was truly in the middle of nowhere.

The mailbox read JAEGER as the GPS told Mikasa she was in the right place.

Zeke’s van and car were both sitting in the driveway. Zeke himself was standing out there smoking.

Mikasa pulled up to the three story home and parked in the driveway. She got out, grabbing her backpack.

“Eren’s inside. The girl in there is Pieck. Don’t mind her, she just broke up with her boyfriend,” Zeke said as he pointed to the door.

Mikasa made her way to the front door along with Zeke and stepped inside. There was a brunette girl that Mikasa guessed was Pieck.

“You’re Mikasa from all the pictures. I’ve heard a lot about you. You were pretty in the photos but you’re even prettier in person. I’m Pieck,” she said as she extended her hand.

Mikasa shook it.

“Hi,” Mikasa replied awkwardly.

After a moment, Pieck let go of Mikasa’s hand.

“Pieck, don’t be weird to Eren's girlfriend,” Zeke sighed as closed the door behind him.

“Do you see her bone structure? Not to mention the photos I’ve seen! She’d be perfect!”

Zeke sighed again, “you’re making it worse. She doesn’t want to be one of your models. She’s also friends with your ex boyfriend.”

“He’s not my ex boyfriend.”

“Okay, I believe that,” Zeke scoffed.

Mikasa felt like she was missing something.

“Upstairs, second floor, third door on the left,” Zeke informed her.

Mikasa walked upstairs and found the room Zeke was talking about. Should she knock?

“How did you win again?!” She heard Eren say through the wall. She took that as a sign that it was safe for her to open the door.

Eren was sitting on his bed, playing video games. A headset was on his head, plugged into the controller he was using.

“Oh hey, Mikasa,” He said, giving her a little wave.

Mikasa dropped her backpack, took off her coat, and kicked off her shoes before sitting on the bed next to Eren.

“Jean and Connie say hi.”

“Hi, Connie and Jean,” Mikasa said as she leaned over close to the mic.

“Yeah, I’m getting off, bye.” Eren said before exiting out the game and powering the console off.

He got up and put his headset on his desk. Then he sat back back down next to Mikasa.

“How are you?” She asked.

“I’m okay. Had therapy this morning so that was fun.”

“Oh.”

“We talked about my dad. I kind of had to...with everything.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“I know but you’re you. I mean we’re not keeping secrets anymore, right? Besides, you saw first hand the down spiral I went through when he died.”

“I’m sor-”

“Please, don’t. I know everyone says they’re sorry he’s gone but as fucked up as it sounds, I’m not,” he leaned back in his bed, his head hit the pillow. “I wonder if mom hadn’t died if he would have smashed my guitar eventually too.”

“Eren-”

This time he cut her off by grabbing her waist and pulling her close to him. He made sure her head hit the pillow next to him.

“Eren!” she squeaked in surprise.

He laughed, “I’m okay, really. You can ask Zeke. I just don’t…..want to end up like him. I know, I know. That was my whole problem before but now I’m just telling you. I’m not…..”

“Running away like a coward?”

“Yeah, that. He’s ruined enough for me, about me. Zeke grew up in spite of him. I failed at that part.”

“Did he ever apologize to you about hiding the fact you had a brother?”

“I never heard him apologize to anyone, not even my mom. Whatever was wrong with him….he didn’t want help for it. I think he was drowning in it, like I was. I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want to smash a guitar or leave my family.”

“Kind of already did the last part.”

“Yeah, I know. My therapist is pretty proud of me for telling you everything.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, said I was pretty lucky to get this chance. Most people don’t and to not fuck it up again.”

“I doubt that they said that.”

“Oh, you have not met Dr. Magath.”

Mikasa and Eren laughed.

“You are laughing and the door is open. I am taking that as my cue that you are not having sex and I can come in,” Zeke said as he entered the room from the hallway.

Mikasa and Eren both immediately went red. They both remembered when Zeke had walked into Grisha’s house on New Year's Day.

“Anyway, Pieck wants lunch so get your coat. We are meeting up with the Galliards and Reiner,” Zeke informed them.

"What are you? My mother?" Eren asked.

"Someone has to be."

"Where are we going?"

"Fuck if I know."

"Eren, if you don't hurry up, I'm going to become a cannibal," Pieck said as she entered the room. "Are you joining us, Mikasa?

"She goes where I go," Eren replied as he swung his legs to the floor.

"Another girl! Finally! And one who isn't trying to date Zeke for his money!"

"Why do you constantly have to bring her up?" Zeke groaned.

"Because your reaction amuses me,” Pieck said as she booped him on the nose.

Zeke flicked her in the ear causing her to jump.

Pieck immediately grabbed his glasses and ran away.

"Pieck! I cannot see without those. I will fall down the stairs and die."

"Then die," her voice called from the hallway.

Zeke sighed as he left Eren's room.

A thud was heard right outside of Eren's room.

"Ow! You knocked me down!"

"Maybe because I cannot fucking see without my glasses."

"You're buying me lunch."

"When do I not buy you lunch?"

"Are they….." Mikasa asked after they heard the footsteps retreat.

"No, not to my knowledge. Pieck was hooking up with Jean until recently. They broke up the other day. She’s not taking it too well.”

“Jean? Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve been talking to him about the whole thing. He gave her a chance to be more and she didn’t take it. He seems pretty heartbroken by it. I kind of feel bad for the guy.”

“Why?”

“Because he finally moved on from you for real this time and she broke his heart while breaking her own.”

“Well, that’s depressing,” Mikasa muttered.

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

The restaurant was mostly empty.

"Why do you assholes have to come here? Not you, Pieck and Mikasa," Niccolo asked as he leaned on the podium.

"Because they just love you so much," Pieck replied.

"Zeke better tip well. How many?" Niccolo began to gather menus.

"Let's see, Marcel, Porco, us, Reiner, and Gabi."

"So seven, you want a table or a booth? And how is Gabi holding up?"

"Either. I'm not sure about Gabi. I imagine as well as someone who’s mom is dying can. I can’t believe it after losing her dad…”

"I'll give you a table."

Niccolo led them to a table in the back.

Mikasa sat down on one side of Eren while Zeke sat on the other.

Pieck sat down on the other side of Zeke.

"Niccolo! Come wait on us!" A voice called from the front of the restaurant.

"Porco…….I'll wait on you alright. We're over here!" Niccolo yelled back.

A tall blonde man and a brunette man made their way over to the table.

"Porco, Marcel, this is the infamous Mikasa. Isn't she super pretty?" Pieck asked.

"There you go making it weird again, Pieck." Zeke sighed.

"Hey Mikasa, I'm Marcel,” the brunette man said as he sat down.

"And I'm Porco. Good to meet the girl behind the songs. Don't let Pieck scare you off. She's just...someone who appreciates beauty,” the blonde said as he sat down next to Pieck.

"And she's a photographer. She tries to recruit people to model for her,” Marcel replied.

“Zeke! Pieck! You here yet?!”

That was a voice Mikasa recognized.

“Back here, Reiner!” Zeke yelled.

Reiner made his way to the table. He looked a mess. There was a young girl getting a piggyback ride from him.

"You look like shit," Porco replied.

"He does look like shit," the young girl replied.

"Don't say shit, Gabi," Reiner scolded.

Gabi and Mikasa's eyes met. Then Mikasa realized she was the girl from the video of the kids dancing.

"You're the pretty keyboard lady!" She exclaimed. "Reiner, put me down! I want to talk to her! Can I sit next to you?"

Mikasa remembered what Niccolo had said. This girl had one parent while another was dying. She’d be an orphan soon, just like Mikasa was.

"Sure," she replied.

Gabi squealed before she took the seat next to Mikasa.

"Hey, how come you don't freak out when you see us?" Niccolo asked.

Gabi ignored Niccolo and launched right into talking to Mikasa. "Hi. I'm Gabi Braun. I'm starting a band with my friends. My friend Falco can play the piano like you and I'm going to be the lead singer. Mr. Zeke is even giving me guitar lessons! Then my friend Udo is learning the drums and Zofia is going to play bass and we're going to be just like you!"

"Take a breath in there sometime, Gabi," Reiner scoffed as he sat down on the other side of Gabi

"And you're really pretty! All of you are! Just like me!" Gabi smiled at Mikasa.

Mikasa's face turned red. She wasn't used to this type of attention. "Thank you," she said.

"You all want drinks or am I just supposed to stand here all afternoon?" Niccolo said.

As the table ordered their drinks, Mikasa realized she hadn't even looked at the menu.

When it got to her, Mikasa felt very self conscious.

"I like the strawberry slushie lemonade,” Gabi informed her.

"Yeah, okay. I'll take that,” Mikasa told her.

Gabi beamed at the fact that Mikasa listened.

Eren smiled at Mikasa, “your first big fan!”

"Oh! I forgot they have those! Niccolo, can I change mine, please?” Pieck asked.

“Sure,” Niccolo said, “Eren? What do you want?”

“Blue raspberry slushie lemonade,” Eren replied.

“I’ll be back,” Niccolo said before he walked away.

Mikasa looked at the menu. She was trying to figure out what she was in the mood for. Gabi seemed to have calmed down with all her questions. Eren leaned over to Mikasa.

“Her dad died a few years ago. Her mom went into the hospital last week,” he whispered.

“How?”

“Dad was a soldier, died in an explosion. Her mom has cancer. Reiner’s mom will probably get custody of her.”

Mikasa looked over at the small girl to her side.

The story was all too familiar.

An explosion.

What had killed Levi’s squad and given him scars, mental and physical.

The rest of the table was happily chatting among themselves. Gabi, who may have seemed okay to some, seemed to be exhausted. The excitement of seeing Mikasa was wearing off.

“So who is going to write your songs then?” Mikasa asked.

Gabi lit up as she looked at the older girl. “Me, of course! Falco wrote a love song and I’m not singing that shit.”

“Gabi, don’t say shit,” Reiner scolded her again.

Niccolo returned with a tray of drinks. He passed them out to everyone.

“You seem to be in a shitty ass mood, Niccolo. What’s up with that?” Marcel asked.

“Don’t worry about it. You ready to order?” He asked.

“I am,” Pieck said.

The orders began and Niccolo stormed away from the table after he was done.

“What the fuck is up with that?” Porco asked as he sipped on his drink.

“Sasha and him had a fight. I think they broke up,” Pieck replied.

Mikasa remembered what Sasha had told her. She felt a little guilty being her in that moment. Then again, it was not like she had planned to see Niccolo.

After ordering, Mikasa pulled out her phone and began to text Sasha.

Mikasa Ackerman:

Hey sorry I’m at lunch and Niccolo is here. He’s waiting on us. Zeke and Pieck picked the place...I think.

Sasha Blouse:

Not a big deal.

Mikasa Ackerman:

I still feel bad.

Sasha Blouse:

Don’t.

Mikasa Ackerman:

:(

Sasha Blouse:

You worry too much. Just don’t say anything about me. K?

Mikasa Ackerman:

Done.

Sasha Blouse:

Ily. Now go enjoy your lunch. Don’t text me back. :)

Mikasa put her phone back into her pocket.

“I’m just saying a love song is a bad idea. What does Falco even know about love? He’s only twelve! Besides, who could he be in love with?” Gabi argued.

Reiner looked over at Mikasa.

“Remind you of anyone?” he asked.

Eren had said the exact same thing about Mikasa.

“Be nice to Falco, Gabi. He cares about you a lot,” Reiner said.

“Yeah, he’s a good kid,” Eren said before he took a drink.

“I am nice to him! He comes over everyday! We walk home together. We take turns carrying one another’s books! I’m super nice to Falco!” Gabi protested.

“Maybe he is in love with someone but he isn’t ready to tell them yet. That’s what I did,” Mikasa reassured Gabi.

“I just hope it’s not Zofia because that would be….I dunno what it would be but I wouldn’t like. I don’t want him to be in love with somebody.”

“She’s just as clueless as my brother,” Zeke muttered.

“Still not as clueless as Pieck with…..” Porco said.

Pieck stomped on Porco’s foot as hard as she possibly could.

“What the fuck, Pieck?” Porco said to her.

“We’re not talking about him!” Pieck yelled.

“Why are you so loud?” Niccolo asked as he returned with the food.

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

Once Zeke paid for lunch and they were on their way out, Reiner stopped Mikasa.

“Thanks for listening to Gabi. I know she’ll talk your ear off but this is the first time I’ve seen her smile since her mom went into the hospital She really loves your band,” Reiner confessed. “She’s a good kid. Reminds me a lot of….”

“Me?” Eren said as he walked up to them and wrapped his arm around Mikasa's shoulders.

“She’s exactly like you. Clueless as ever,” Reiner scoffed.

“Don’t let her fuck it up with Falco then.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Jaeger. She’s not making your mistakes.”

Gabi ran up to them.

“Do you think you can give me a shoutout on your next livestream?” She asked.

“Yeah, we can,” Mikasa smiled.

“Take that, Falco!” she yelled as she pumped her hand into the air.

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

The rest of the day was mostly keeping Eren busy.

Mikasa tried to beat him at video games again.

Once again, she lost to him.

The Restorationists had practice once Niccolo was off work. Mikasa respected their privacy, working on her own lyrics. She had a good idea for a song, though she wasn’t sure how exactly she wanted to compose the music. She hoped Historia would like it.

The music from the Restorationists filled the house.

Niccolo was still clearly upset. He would get angry when he’d mess up, yelling every time the band had to restart.

Then again, Mikasa hadn’t been around him all that much. So maybe this was natural.

“Mikasa! You want pizza? I am not cooking!” Zeke yelled when they were taking a break.

“I’m okay with that!” She yelled back.

“Okay! I will order it!”

Practice resumed.

Listening to the music echo through the house, Mikasa remember that she was suppose to ask them if they wanted to collaborate. She and Eren had done that many times in high school. This would be different. Her and Historia had already written the music and lyrics with the collaboration in mind.

“Bye, Mikasa! I’m going to work at the club!” Niccolo called after practice ended.

“Bye!” she yelled.

Eren walked into the room after a moment. He collapsed on his bed.

“Bad?” she asked him.

“Eh, not really. I mean, everyone has an off day,” he replied.

“What do you think about a collaboration? I mean I saw someone posted it on Instagram with the video of the kids but I didn’t know if your band actually wanted to.”

“Niccolo is my only worry but he was the one to suggest it on Instagram. I think it’s a good idea. We’ll just have to ask Zeke and Pieck. Let’s go bother them,” Eren said before getting out of bed.

Mikasa followed his lead and then followed him downstairs.

“Collaboration with No Name?” Eren asked as he walked into the living room.

“Yes! More girls!” Pieck exclaimed.

“It would be beneficial for both bands,” Zeke said.

“Well, I guess that means it's happening. We already wrote a song with your band in mind,” Mikasa remarked.

There was a knock on the door.

“That would be the pizza,” Zeke said as he made his way to the door.

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

Pieck left at dinner, leaving just Zeke, Eren, and Mikasa.

“You should show her the third floor,” Zeke said as he pulled his coat on.

“Oh yeah! I forgot about that!” Eren exclaimed as he stood up from the kitchen table.

“What’s on the third floor?” Mikasa asked as she stood up.

“Come on, I’ll show you,” Eren said before taking her hand and dragging her up the stairs.

They passed Eren’s bedroom as they went towards the next set of stairs.

The third floor had several rooms that they passed as they walked up to two large doors. Eren pulled them open, revealing a large ornate room. There was a grand piano in the middle of the room. One side was nothing but bookshelves. The pictures that once lined the halls of Grisha’s house lined one wall along with pictures of Zeke and his friends.

“That’s Dina, Zeke’s mom,” Eren said, pointing to a photo of Grisha, Zeke, and Dina. “How my dad ended up with all these pretty women is a mystery to me.”

“Zeke looks like a blonde you,” Mikasa teased.

“Don’t remind me. There’s my grandparents, my aunt.”

“What happened to her?”

“She died when my dad was a kid. He never really spoke about her. Neither did our grandparents according to Zeke. There was some sort of accident and I guess my dad blames himself for it. That’s all we know,” Eren replied before he pulled her towards the piano.

Mikasa sat down on the bench and Eren sat down next to her.

“You can play it. Zeke gets it tuned regularly. He and Pieck can play. Go on,” Eren encouraged her.

Mikasa reached and pressed one of the keys.

It was such a familiar, comforting sound.

Music was an escape for both Eren and Mikasa. A way to speak that others could understand. A way to get all the horrible feelings out of their heads.

Eren watched her play. How her fingers skillfully navigated for each note. He didn’t recognize the song, that wasn’t surprising to him. Mikasa wrote new songs almost every other day. He wasn’t much better.

It was very comforting that while everything else had changed, Mikasa still wrote music.

Eren smiled, allowing the music to take over.

Zeke had snuck up to see how Eren and Mikasa were, just checking up on them. He smiled at the sight he saw in front of him.

For some reason, Zeke felt his mom in that moment. He could see her playing that piano. Though her own family had kicked her out, Zeke’s grandparents had not, even after Grisha left her. She was still their daughter in law.

The piano had been in Zeke’s childhood home before it had been moved here during the renovations.

Zeke snapped a picture of the young couple and sent it to Levi.  

Levi sent back a simple message.

CAPTAIN LEVI ACKERMAN:

Told you so.

Yeah. Levi had.

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

Niccolo got the word that night that The Restorationists were actually collaborating with No Name.

He had been the one to suggest that.

He couldn’t back out of it now.

Not to mention how happy everyone else in the band seemed to be about it .

Maybe that’s why he got drunk that night.

Maybe it was because he had been here before.

A girl he liked being so close to her ex, it was all too familiar.

There was a rational part of him that said Sasha wasn’t his ex girlfriend.

Then there was the part of him that had already seen this play out before.

Girls seemed to always end up back with their exes.

He knew Connie was a good guy or at least he had seemed that way.

He knew Connie had a girlfriend.

Niccolo took a drink of whiskey directly from the bottle.

He felt like an idiot.

He knew he shouldn’t have gotten mad about Connie.

It was stupid.

But there was no taking it back now.

He had gone to the bar earlier in the night with plans to take someone home but he couldn’t bring himself to.

How had they gone from not being able to talk to one another to becoming more comfortable to this?

But it hurt him.

Maybe it was because he had hoped to be her first.

He was stupid and having double standards.

He got that.

But the fact that it was with someone she was still friends with?

Yeah, he wasn’t okay with that at all.

He took another drink before he put the cap back on before he sat it back down on the kitchen counter.

He climbed the stairs and went to bed at 6:00 am.

[beauty-grace-outer-space]

you mentioned something a little while back about trauma anniversaries? would you be comfortable explaining what it means and what its about?

Sure thing. 

So.. trauma anniversaries are complicated, and vary from person to person, but the general idea is that when one experiences a traumatic event (or events, plural, centered around a specific time period), the brain/body stores that information and (as with other PTSD reactions) sometimes has an uncontrollable and unpredictable response to it. 

“Many trauma survivors experience challenging “anniversary reactions,”  which are defined as ‘unique set[s] of unsettling feelings, thoughts or memories that occur on the anniversary of a significant experience.’ When a survivor finds themselves in the midst of a trauma anniversary, they often are forced to re-live feelings from the traumatic event, causing symptoms like increased anxiety, depression, trouble sleeping, loss of appetite, nightmares, and irritable outbursts.”

Our bodies hold on to trauma in an effort to protect us, but sometimes those signals get mixed and bad feelings get tied to a time period, which is not particularly useful in most cases. 

This time of year makes me a bit wonky in general, with the changing of the seasons and the temperature drop, but October is also an anniversary for an event that changed my life and dramatically impacted my mental health... and I didn’t realize that it was affecting me until I was already deep in it this go round. 

I hate talking about it like this, because of the age old dichotomy of “it wasn’t that bad” and “it was bad enough and it’s affecting me”. I’m still working on accepting this stuff without falling into the mental trap that I’m “whining about nothing” and that “other people have it worse”. They do. Someone always does. But that doesn’t mean that the stuff that’s happened to me isn’t bad. 

I don’t know how much information you’re looking for, or if you’re asking about my experience specifically, but I’m still a bit off so what the hell. 

I already have issues with fall and the beginning of the school year for various reasons that I won’t go into. So this time of year is always tricky. But...

For those who don’t already know, five years and fifteen days ago, I called my grandmother and she told me she was going to kill herself. I was the only one home, I had just turned 23 years old two weeks beforehand, she had told me she was having a hard time affording some things, and I had offered to make her an appointment with a therapist and with a new primary care physician and to pay for it all so she could keep taking her medication. 

I called to ask her what day might work for an appointment so I could take the time off work, pick her up, take her to lunch, and then drive her to the appointment, and she told me she was going to kill herself. She told me she had been saving up her pills, and that’s why she hadn’t been taking them. She told me she had discussed it with my grandfather, and that he knew and was ok with it, and they were going through their belongings so there would be “less for him to deal with” once she was gone and that she was “surprised I hadn’t caught on sooner”. 

I kept her on the phone, kept her talking on my cell, and grabbed the home phone to start calling anyone I could think of. My mom, my dad, my aunt (with whom I had only reconciled five days before-- big misunderstanding, but still a lot), my mom’s cousin... no one would answer. 

By the time my mom got home, I had been on the phone with my grandmother for over an hour, mid panic attack, and I was hyperventilating so hard I couldn’t see and I couldn’t stand. Your limbs go all tingly when you don’t retain enough carbon dioxide, and I remember trying to walk to her and collapsing. I gasped out an explanation, my mom took the reins, and we were able to get in touch with my aunt and get the necessary medical professionals on hand to give my grandmother a psychiatric evaluation and put her on a 72 hour hold. 

We were at the hospital until nearly 4 in the morning before a nurse told us that they legally couldn’t release my grandmother because the doctor had mandated a three day safety hold, and that we should go home and get some rest. By the time we made it home, there was a message on our answering machine that a county examiner had released her and there was nothing more they could do. 

I found out later, much later, that she had never stopped taking her meds. She’d never said a word to my grandfather. She had no intention of killing herself. She wanted a reaction from me, and she got one. She called my cousins and told them I was a liar. She called family members who have never even met me and told them how awful I am, and that I make things up for attention.

I waited a little over a week to call her. I recorded the call, so that I’d have proof if I needed it. It’s still on my harddrive somewhere. Two plus hours of her calling me a liar, telling me that conversation never happened, telling me that she’s ashamed of me, that she hopes no one in their right mind ever loves me because I’m a monster, that she pities my friends and anyone who has the misfortune of knowing me because I’ll stab them in the back too as soon as I want some attention. The list goes on and on. 

That continued for a while. Whether or not it’s true, when someone you love tells you things over and over again, you can’t help but wonder. 

I started having dreams that she was hitting me, and that people were letting her do it. I started having dreams that I was in a loving, committed relationship but came home one day to a seething partner who had just gotten off the phone with her and realized I was a worthless liar, and of them, too, turning abusive. I started having dreams that I was alone at the bottom of a deep, dark hole, and no one could hear me or try to get me out. 

She decided one day that we were going to pretend nothing had ever happened, and I was forced to play along. All the while she’d still call and say awful things to me, then show up at family gathering like nothing was wrong. She’d say one thing to me, another to my family, and call me a liar to my face and behind my back. She kept telling friends and family that I was being abusive and manipulative to her. 

It hit the point that I truly, genuinely couldn’t remember what she had said in that initial call, and I worried I had made it all up. Gaslighting at it’s finest. 

It’s taken years to realize it, but every interaction I had with her following that date has been either abuse or manipulation. She spent months and months refusing to speak to me unless it was to tell me how horrible I am, then like flipping a switch one day I came home and there was a gift on my front porch from her. She’d ease up for a while, then suddenly be awful again. My entire life, she had always been the epitome of a perfect grandma... she’d take me on outings, buy me little gifts, bake with me at the holidays, sing songs with the grandkids, loved playing with us, we’d talk for hours on the phone, they came to dinner frequently. And now... it’s like a veil has been lifted and she’s unrecognizable.

I tried to maintain a relationship with her. She screamed at everyone at Easter a few years back that her silverware was more important to her than a relationship with me. I kept trying. She told a lawyer that my mom and I had “stolen her medical records” and were “forcing her to have medical procedures against her will”. I kept trying. She threatened to send a police officer to our house, accusing me of stealing. I kept trying. 

And finally, last fall, I called to wish her a happy birthday, she began a tangent, and I realized I was so tired. I asked her outright if she wanted a relationship with me. She told me she couldn’t be bothered to think about it. I haven’t spoken to her since. 

That one phone call cost me so, so much. I lost my relationship with my grandmother and my grandfather, by extension. Other family members have questioned if I’m lying to them, or if I made things up. I’ve questioned if I made things up. 

In the midst of all of this, my father also completely shifted and I don’t know why. He started picking fights with me, almost constantly. If I tried to change the subject, I was too stupid to have a discussion. If I stayed silent, I clearly knew I was wrong. If I said anything in reply, I was lying. He throws things, when he’s mad. He kicks things. He used to punch walls. My mom has since said to me that if she had any idea that he would turn into this person, she wouldn’t have married him. Sometimes he’s great, sometimes he’s awful. I never know which version I’ll be dealing with. 

I’ve spent nearly five straight years in therapy trying to deal with this. My original goal was not to hate my grandmother, or my father. It had to adapt to not hating myself because of what they said to me. 

So October is hard. Because October is when my mind and body unconsciously remember things changing. Relationships I’d always counted on turned abusive. Nothing I said or did was safe. It’s dangerous. 

I blew past the actual anniversary just feeling sort of... jittery. I’ve spent a few weeks feeling withdrawn and anxious and not knowing why. I had a noticeable uptick in old thought patterns and intrusive thoughts about self worth, self harm, etc. 

Whether or not it’s logical, whether or not it makes sense... my self preservation has locked onto this time of year as unsafe, and it falls into old patterns in an attempt at protection. Old patterns include anxiety, difficulty eating regularly, issues with self worth, withdrawing from others, emotions very close to the surface, and a few other things. 

And that’s where I’m at. 

I’m ok, and I’ll be ok. I’ve got some experience dealing with this under my belt now, and I still see my therapist regularly. I’m talking to her next week. At the moment, I’m just trying to take care of me however it makes sense, and not doing anything dangerous or dumb. 

So... that’s what I mean by trauma anniversary. 

[lightinalexandria]

Love, Men, Women, and LGBTQ+ Life in Egypt

August 13, 2021 اغسطس ١٣

A good friend posed the question to me this week of asking “Where are you local?” Instead of “Where are you from?” I might even tweak that slightly to “Where do you feel at home?” For most of us, and in fact for most other places I’ve lived, the equation is a simple line graph. More time, more familiarity, more comfort, more feeling like home. I’m challenged here, at the end of my second summer in Egypt, with a different calculus.

The more I speak with my friends and teachers in their “heart language” of Arabic, the more I see how deep the generosity, sociability, and collective spirit run. Not all my friends are Muslim, but I see these traits represented in the 5 Pillars of Islam beautifully, and I’ve been told so in many different ways.

That’s the part that feels more like home. But of course, if it was all sunshine this would be a different story. This is not a happy post. I don’t have any female friends here who are truly, uncomplicatedly happy. I don’t have any queer friends here who are truly, uncomplicatedly happy.

Of course that doesn’t mean there are no happy females in Egypt; my internationally minded, English speaking group isn’t representative, I know, and I’ve had many conversations with more conservative teachers and friends about the contentment that can come from living inside a more rigid structure.

But…I don’t know everyone in Egypt. I just know my friends. And many of them are desperately, painfully unhappy, stressed, in ways that I understand more fully the longer I’m here. I think “right and wrong” or “good and bad” are wildly unhelpful terms, so when I’m trying to understand how I feel about these societal norms and systems, the right to happiness of my friends is my bellwether. Systems that make more people happier without hurting others are ones I want to support, period, which also means my anecdotal circle can’t be my only data points. I’m a little nervous where those conclusions might lead me, dancing around big questions of class and culture and religion, but more nervous not to draw a line in the sand with the best metric I know and explore from there.

Apparently sexual harassment has decreased a bit since the government put some teeth into a new anti-harassment law a couple years ago and they made an example of a few offenders. That’s nice. The street -especially at night- still does NOT feel like a safe or friendly place, and I just get tiny glimpses of that walking near female friends. Life is lived in the streets here, the pedestrian density like Times Square, always, so the sheer volume of people quickly makes crowd thoughts and judgement evident. Sitting with a female friend at anything but a super upscale cafe, I see the glances and catch bits of the conversation as they pass judgement on her for hanging out with me. What a wild thought, that any conversation I have with an Egyptian women starts with the brave act of her choosing to engage at all, know the subtle pressures that will start in from all sides. One of my friends who wears a hijab told me that when she went to Cairo, she brought extra wide clothes to walk the streets with, and it didn’t matter. She got just as many comments as when she was back in tights clothes.

Who gets the blame? Young men have so few opportunities to interact with young women outside immediate circles, period, but are still somehow supposed to meet a potential bride and move her into the new house that he’ll buy with cash savings from the extended family? Old black and white Egyptian movies show women in skirts and t-shirts, and Egyptian music videos show Western dressed Egyptian women gyrating, but aside from a few pockets of wealth and international society in Alexandria, those images of women don’t exist in the real world here. Men are allowed and encouraged to date casually, but women are called sluts for kissing someone who may not be an eventual husband. Women are supposed to protect their virginity, while men want to fool around with lots of women but settle down with a virgin bride. The math doesn’t work. My heart goes out to the working class men in an impossible, frustrating position, society and politics conspiring against biology, but while they have to worry about their reputation, women here worry about reputation AND safety, always.

And LGBTQ+? First of all, it’s just so difficult to have intimate relations here -every lives with family, you can’t be intimate until you’re married, you can’t be married until you own a house, you can be arrested in public spaces for PDA, and no one will rent rooms to an unmarried couple-. That means there is a SIGNIFICANT percentage of the men here who sleep with other men, feel shame, would never consider themselves gay, and would only consent to being a “top.” Honestly, it reminds me of what I know of the sexual politics in prison culture, except no one’s in a physical prison here.

Sexual health is also a huge challenge; access to STI testing apart from HIV is impossible for unmarried women and hugely expensive for men. Someone in my circle here had complications from a “Plan B” pill and wasn’t able to go to a gynecologist as an unmarried woman. Someone else was hospitalized for an unrelated illness, and jubilant that as part of the hospital stay, insurance would cover the full battery of STI screening before surgery, the first time in a very active sexual life they’d ever had that. Someone else just lost a friend to HIV; they told the family it was cancer, but were too ashamed to seek the HIV treatment pills, and died in a few months.

Mental health has its own obstacles. Someone I know was told by a licensed therapist they were going to hell if they kept sleeping with men, unmarried. I heard that from women and queer friends as well. How do you establish a relationship of trust in the first place if licensed practitioners in the country are able to say things like that in the privacy of their sessions without consequences?

So, full circle to the beginning of the post. “Where do you feel local?” or “Where do you feel at home?”

I feel infinitely more familiar and comfortable here than my first few weeks, no denying that. 95% of the time I can make myself understood in daily life (very different than understanding 95% of what’s being said to ME in daily life, but progress). I can call businesses here to ask questions. I can tell meandering stories. I can cross the comically busy and chaotic streets without an adrenaline spike. I run into friends on the street most days, and my last 100 meters from my neighborhood entrance to apartment involves a dozen different greetings and little conversations. I have my favorite….everything; food carts, Syrian sweets, juice shops, rotisseries, beaches, bars, cafes, and a good rapport with the folks working there. I have a lot of lovely but more surface level relationships, and a few real and intimate friendships. All that DOES feel local, does feel like home.

If feeling local or at home here means giving any kind of tacit acceptance to the norms that make my friends so unhappy, though, I don’t want to claim the label. I also don’t feel like I have any right or power as an outsider to do much more than listen, affirm, connect to resources when I can. I left China after staying in Xinjiang province and seeing the government’s cultural genocide of Uighur society, and I haven’t been back since. (You can read my writings at the time with the link here) What’s my path here in Egypt? Love the player, hate the game? Can I come back next summer and complete my 6 months of study plan, knowing I float through a golden bubble of American male protection I can’t extend to my friends here? I really don’t know yet. No wise or pithy ending sentence here. Just a lot of hurt, a mixed bag of emotions, and a whole lot of people who deserve uncomplicated love and happiness.