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incorrect-rainbow-rocket-quotes · 4 years

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RR Meta #2: Guzma + The Cycles of Abuse

With the refreshing breath of air that Pokemon Sun and Pokemon Moon were, it’s little surprise that the villains of the series still stay in people’s minds -- Guzma, for his blunt attitude and hilarious grunts, and Lusamine, for her terrifying motivation and frankly creepy boss fight.

However, there might be more of a connection here then we think. Sun and Moon as games really had prevalent ties with family and friends, but also with what makes those ties -- by how family is not chosen by blood -- but also how those ties can easily get broken by abuse.

For a series that has always been focused on battling, there’s always been a remarkable skirt-around in specifically mentioning abuse, particularly to children. Granted, it’s been implied numerous times throughout the series -- looking at Ghetsis and Cyrus, here -- but Pokemon has almost never gone into depth with the idea and shown it like they have with Guzma and, by extension, Lusamine.

Maybe in the future I’ll do a meta on Lusamine and her issues, but for now, lets tackle our boy.

Better buckle up, everyone. It’s gonna get heavy.

(WARNING: The following post contains some triggering content, including discussion of abuse -- mental, physical, and emotional / verbal -- as well as discussions of unhealthy coping mechanisms, self-harming behavior, unbalanced relationships, and depictions of blood. Please, please proceed with caution, and if you or someone you know has been or possibly might be a victim of abuse, learn to recognize the symptoms and seek help.)

What We Know

Given the in-game context clues about Guzma, we all can imply that, at least on some level, Guzma was abused as a child, but I think all of us didn’t really expect how far that abuse still manifests into his behavior as an adult.

When walking into his previous house on Route 2, you can talk to his father, who only gives these very sobering lines.

“It’s good for kids to experience their own journeys, but running away without even a word to your parents is another thing entirely. I tried to set that boy of mine straight, but when I did, I was the one who got beat…”

Even on their own, this sentence gives some implication that Guzma and his father’s relationship was strained, even before you come and meet Guzma in person. However, this statement becomes even more chilling when you examine the house further -- and with how the game makes it a point to say that there are “a great number of broken and bent golf clubs in the bag...” when you examine them.

When you go through Guzma’s room, the game mentions that almost all of them are silver and bronze, but almost none are gold. While the detail is innocuous at first, it remains a very important part in Guzma’s psyche, so keep that in mind for later.

While one can piece together the evidence that Guzma was likely physically abused by his father (or, perhaps, he finally was tired of such a thing and used the golf-clubs on his father), the game takes it a step further. Plumeria, Guzma’s right hand gal, even comes out and says it to you during her confrontation at Poni Path.

“See, Guzma... he really likes the president. She's the only adult who ever seemed to see how strong he was.”

While this is a statement that should, again, definitely be examined later, the main point here is that Lusamine is the only adult who saw Guzma for his strength -- which implies that not even his own father believed in him, and for a child, a disbelieving parent, or one that ignores your successes, can be incredibly harmful for your sense of self-worth in the future.

From these statements alone, it becomes painfully obvious that Guzma’s father was a toxic influence when he was young, but the length of this abuse is left vague (for now).

And it doesn’t end there.

Explaining everything is going to be pretty long, so I’m breaking this down into segments, starting with the biggest factors and going from there.

The Hated Boss That Beats You Down

To start off, let’s address something first: abuse is a cycle, one that often stems from previous trauma manifesting in the present person repeating the actions of their abuser. Abuse is mostly due to a need for power or control, most often because the abuser feels insecure with themselves, even though they might not say it. They lash out at others because someone did that to them, and, even though it’s temporary, it makes them feel better afterwards. The victim itself is never at fault here — it’s the abuser choosing to act out in a way that’s harmful.

That’s not to say such behavior is correct, at all, but in Guzma’s case, it makes an alarming amount of sense. Guzma, who has been hurt and repeatedly abused by his father, is now shown in the present game to be someone who does the exact same thing to others.

In fact, one could contribute Guzma’s entire “delinquent punk” attitude that he carries to adulthood through the games, along with the creation of Team Skull, to said abuse. Quote,

“[...] this research indicates that abused and neglected children are at increased risk for juvenile delinquency. Prospective studies estimate the incidence of delinquency in adolescents who have been abused or neglected as children to be about 20 to 30 percent (Widom, 1989c). Retrospective studies, in which delinquents were asked about their early backgrounds, estimated rates from approximately 8 to 26 percent (Widom, 1989c).”

“Several studies have documented the correlation between child maltreatment and future juvenile delinquency and criminal activities (Herrenkohl, Jung, Lee, & Kim, 2017). According to research [...], children who experience maltreatment in the form of physical and emotional abuse are more likely to develop antisocial behaviors and form relationships with other antisocial people (U.S. Department of Justice, Office of Justice Programs, National Institute of Justice, 2017).”

“Violence and criminal behavior is another frequently identified long-term consequence of child abuse and neglect for adult survivors, particularly for those who have experienced physical abuse or witnessed domestic violence (Gilbert et al., 2009; Kwong et al., 2003; Miller-Perrin & Perrin, 2007).”

Another fact is that, psychologically, as mentioned before, abuse victims will oftentimes repeat the behaviors of their abusers, whether they realize it or not. If Guzma was physically abused by his father, it would be little surprise to see Guzma be physically violent. The data even supports this. To quote,

“In the study [of child abuse], [...] boys tended to express externalizing behaviors (e.g., bullying, aggression, hostility) leading up to adult criminal behavior (Herrenkohl et al., 2017).”

“Adults with a history of child physical abuse or witnessing domestic violence may be more likely to be violent and involved in criminal activity as they have learned that such behavior is an appropriate method for responding to stress or conflict resolution (Chapple, 2003).”

With this in mind, so much of Guzma’s behavior becomes incredibly heartbreaking to listen to and watch. Throughout the games, Guzma has made numerous mentions of “beating down” or physically getting involved with his opponents and the player.

{SM / USUM} [After being defeated when you first meet him] “Now's the time for your vaunted team to let loose and destroy everything! It was <player name>, right? I'll remember you...as someone I'll be happy to beat down anytime!"

{SM / USUM} [After being beaten in the Aether Paradise] "Hey, what's up with you? How come I can't smash you?!"

{SM / USUM} [Challenging him in the Shady House] "You wanna know what I do when some machine messes up? The first thing I do is give it a nice hard smack! I mean, most of the time I smash it to pieces, but hey, what can you do?”

It’s true, Guzma is the ‘hated boss that beats you down and beats you down and never lets up’.

Because he’s repeating his father’s physical violence against him to others.

If At First You Don’t Succeed...

This also makes this sentence in particular almost heartbreaking to listen to. He says it every time you defeat him in a Pokémon battle, with varying degrees of intensity.

“Guzma! What is wrong with you?!”

This… does not sound like a phrase he came up with himself. For someone with as much arrogant, egotistical swagger as Guzma (the man refers to himself as ore-sama in the Japanese version, for god’s sake), this very blunt, very accusatory statement at himself seems highly out of character… until you pair this with his abuse. Then the realization comes in.

This is something his father has most likely been telling Guzma all throughout his young life, to the point where any sort of failure in the current present -- even something like losing a Pokémon battle -- drives him to anger, and even self-harm.

Now, anger, as an emotion, is rarely one you feel all the time. In fact, it’s often called a ‘secondary emotion’, meaning that it’s a reaction or a side-emotion to a much larger feeling at play, such as shame, guilt, stress, helplessness, or danger. This can only intensify in victims of abuse, to the point where anger becomes an immediate reaction to any sort of ‘threat’ against them.

“Chronic frustration, as in situations of prolonged or frequent abuse, will typically develop into chronic anger. Additionally, revenge fantasies often fuel chronic anger management problems for victims of childhood abuse.”

“Strong, frequent, or prolonged activation of a person’s stress response system, often referred to as toxic stress, can have long-lasting damaging effects on an individual’s health, behavior, and ability to learn (National Scientific Council on the Developing Child, 2014). Toxic stress can be caused by experiencing ACEs, including child maltreatment. It can change an individual’s brain architecture, which can cause the person’s stress response system to be triggered more frequently and for longer periods of time and place him or her at an increased risk for a variety of physical and mental health problems, including cardiovascular disease, depression, and anxiety (National Scientific Council on the Developing Child, 2014).”

… Beat, Beat Yourself.

However, the manga in particular takes this to absolutely chilling levels.

[From the Sun and Moon special, Ch. 6]

This segment is short (it takes up just two pages), but is horrifying and implies so much when looking at context. Guzma, having lost in a Pokémon battle, immediately starts slamming his head into the ground, again and again, to the point of bleeding and having bits of glass stuck into his forehead from the cracked sunglasses.

This, needless to say, is NOT at ALL a healthy first reaction to loss or failure, and an especially harmful coping mechanism when dealing with it. The fact it takes Guzma hitting his head at least four times before one of the grunts to come forward and physically stop him from continuing?

It implies two things.

Either the grunt was too shocked or scared to intervene at first, or even worse

This is not the first time he’s done this.

But believe it or not, Guzma’s reaction to failure is another symptom of abuse.

“Several writers have suggested that severe childhood maltreatment also is related to later self-destructive behavior [...], withdrawal [...], and depression [...]. Although this body of work is not extensive, some abused and neglected children appear to engage in self-abusive and self-destructive behavior in adolescence.“

“Up to 79% of individuals who self-injure report physical [...] abuse during his or her childhood.”

Remember all those bronze and silver trophies in Guzma’s room? It wouldn’t be much of a stretch to say that, combined with this clue, Guzma’s phrasing, and his almost instinctive reaction to self-injure after losing a Pokémon battle, that part of his abuse was due to him never getting gold, or not “being good enough”.

Victims of abuse, similarly, will oftentimes freeze or collapse at the thought of failure, or something similar that triggered the abuse. Whether it’s a small mistake on their part, or an accident that they may or may not even be responsible for, these people will often have a strong reaction to it -- because they’ve been conditioned to believe that any “failure” or “mistake” is met with punishment, whether that be emotional, mental, or violent.

“In the typical circumstances of early childhood, fear responses are activated quickly and then dissipate. However, when young children are chronically exposed to perceived or real threat, fear-system activation can be prolonged. [...] As this conditioning evolves, it solidifies the relation between the two stimuli and then generalizes the fear response to other neutral stimuli that may share similar characteristics with the aversive stimulus. [...] Over time, the fear elicited and the consequent anxiety can become generalized, and subsequent fear responses may be elicited by other people and places that bear sometimes only small resemblances to the original conditions of trauma.”

(As a side note, I believe this does bear mentioning: If this sounds like a similar depiction of PTSD, then you’d be right! A similar process in the brain triggers the traumatic reaction those with the disorder have. In fact, childhood abuse can be one of the main experiences that later causes PTSD to emerge in adults.)

Driven by his failures and “what’s wrong with him”, it is very easy for Guzma to fall into this mindset of needing to be the best — which is why he puffs himself up to be, again, “Big Bad Guzma”, one of the strongest trainers on the islands, while only beating weaker trainers, and comparing himself to be better then everyone around him.

This is a defense mechanism he has -- and it’s not exactly a healthy one.

In His Defense (Mechanisms)

Now, in order to understand this well, I feel like a proper definition is in order. The term “defense mechanism” has been used much more often nowadays -- and that’s good! Learning to understand your mind and yourself is always a good thing. However, it’s always proper to remind yourself of exactly what it refers to.

A “defense mechanism”, as explained by the American Psychological Association, is as follows:

“[Proposed in 1894 by Sigmund Freud], in classical psychoanalytic theory, an unconscious reaction pattern employed by the ego (a person’s sense of rationality, the balancer between the base desires of the id and the moral conscious of the superego) to protect itself from the anxiety that arises from psychic conflict. [...] In more recent psychological theories, defense mechanisms are seen as normal means of coping with everyday problems and external threats, but excessive use of any one, or the use of immature defenses (e.g., displacement or repression), is still considered pathological. Also called an escape mechanism.”

Simply put, a defense mechanism is how your brain tries to rationalize or react to the anxiety-inducing conflict between your immediate wants and your sense of right and wrong, among some other things. Often times, these defenses are unconscious -- we don’t even realize we’re doing it. As you can imagine, however, your brain remembering past trauma or abuse you might have suffered would cause a lot of anxiety in someone.

Anna Freud, the daughter of Sigmund Freud, expanded upon her father’s theories and listed some of these defense mechanisms people use. Some of these you’ve probably done or heard of before, such as avoidance (avoiding the source of anxiety altogether), projection (taking your positive or negative traits or impulses and projecting them onto someone else), rationalization (using logic and reasoning to justify your behavior or thoughts), denial (completely blocking the anxiety from our minds and thoughts), and substitution (replacing anxiety and frustration with more achievable and easier goals).

Guzma employs several defense mechanisms in response to his abuse. One of the largest he does is displacement, where you transfer your negative feelings or thoughts onto other people, oftentimes those we see as weaker or powerless. One of the most common negative emotions this happens to is, coincidentally, aggression.

Guzma in the anime is often described as only beating trainers weaker than him. He’s still angry about the abuse he suffered at the hands of his father -- of not being “good enough” -- and transfers that into beating trainers he can defeat and calling himself “undefeatable.” (Spoilers: He is not.)

Avoidance is another defense mechanism he has. Instead of trying again to become a Trial Captain with Kukui, or participating in the Island Challenge, a legitimate sign of strength, Guzma falls back, dismisses it, and breaks tradition by avoiding it because he knows he won’t succeed.

Rationalization is another defense mechanism he does, as much as it might surprise some people. Guzma, being unable to beat an opponent, flees as the most opportune moment to try and prevent losing, rationalizing that he would have won anyway. In a bit more of an extreme version, he can’t understand Z-moves or how to use them, so he rationalizes in a very “if I can’t have it, no one can” kind of way, and takes away all the Bugnium-Z in the game.

However, all of that accumulates into his biggest defense mechanism -- a superiority complex.

Defined again by the American Psychological Association, a superiority complex is “[...] an exaggerated opinion of one’s abilities and accomplishments that derives from an overcompensation for feelings of inferiority.”

Who does Guzma pump himself up to be?

“Big Bad Guzma”. “Destruction in human form”.

That seems pretty arrogant and superior, and combined with the above points -- inability to deal with failure on his part, constantly belittling opponents, needing to be seen as the best -- it seems to give us a very solid idea of Guzma having a superiority complex to deal with his previous abuse, in combination with his trigger-like anger and proneness to violence.

So… that’s it for him, right? We explained it all?

Wrong.

The Cyclical Motion of Harmful Emotion

See, it’s been proven multiple times that our brains are hardwired to recognize patterns and similarities — that’s why cloud watching is fun and why we see people’s faces in wood grain and potato chips. It’s also why it’s heartbreaking when people who’ve been abused fall back into the same patterns as their abuser — whether it’s being with another abusive person, or copying their actions to match what’s been inflicted, they’re repeating what has been done to them.

So Guzma has been abused by his father — verbally degraded, possibly beaten, given this superiority complex to make up for it, as well as a whole cocktail of problems that stem from it.

And the moment he’s free from his father’s grip and is able to be on his own as he runs away, who does he end up going to?

Lusamine.

A woman who uses him like a pawn to further her own goal. Another person in a position of power over him to make him do what she wants.

Granted, while we don’t see much of her interaction with Guzma, given her blunt statements, the almost annoyed way she speaks about him, and her general point of view while under Nihilego’s influence, (“If you're not beautiful enough to be worthy of my love, then I don't NEED you!”), we can likely guess that she only keeps him around because he’s useful to her and not much else.

Now while it’s safe to say Lusamine is grappling with her own issues, dealing with grief and loss and how that affects people around her, as well as Nihilego’s poisoning of her mind and her obsession with it, it is key to understand just what drew Guzma back into another abusive situation.

Remember Plumeria’s statement from earlier?

“See, Guzma... he really likes the president. She's the only adult who ever seemed to see how strong he was.”

For someone like Guzma, who has been told he was never “good enough”, who only challenges weaker trainers and avoids a true test of strength, having an adult -- one could even say someone similar to a maternal or parental figure, something he has been lacking for almost all of his life -- saying that he’s a strong Trainer? That must have seemed like a godsend to Guzma.

Plumeria goes on to say that he “really likes her”. Given Guzma’s behavior and how he interacts with people, I can very easily see this translating into Guzma doing what she asks him to because of this praise, to the point of leaping into an alien wormhole after her. He is desperate for any type of genuine validation of his abilities, even if the person it’s coming from isn’t exactly a good person themselves.

Needless to say, doing an entire list of tasks for someone simply because you’ve been lacking basic validation, and the person you’re doing things for makes you feel special, is NOT how a proper relationship works or functions.

So, Guzma has been abused for most of his life, falling back into similar patterns of abuse, and dealing with a superiority complex, undealt with anger, unhealthy coping and defense mechanisms, and a severe, desperate need to be validated.

... Is there any hope for him?

And You Don’t Have to Be Afraid (Because We’re All the Same)

One of the big things that gives me hope for Guzma is, in fact, Team Skull. Sure, call them what you will, and whether Guzma’s a good leader or not, but the fact that he’s willing to lead this group of kids -- those who couldn’t complete the island challenge or left home -- is a large sign that he’s not as aggressive or harsh as he comes off as.

As mentioned before, people look for patterns and similarities, and are drawn to them -- as stated in the data before, “[...] children who experience maltreatment in the form of physical and emotional abuse are more likely to develop antisocial behaviors and form relationships with other antisocial people (U.S. Department of Justice, Office of Justice Programs, National Institute of Justice, 2017).”. It’s not at all hard to imagine that Guzma saw himself in these Grunts and decided to give them the chance he never could have.

It even reaches a point in the anime where, even though he lost the tournament, the Grunts still want to stick around him and teach them how to battle. They still want to be with him, even after the image of “Big Bad Guzma” is broken. That’s how you know the relationships he’s formed with them, and the respect the grunts have for Guzma, is genuine and formed on fond feelings.

It’s also implied at the end of the game of USUM, where you beat Ultra Necrozuma, he gives you this uplifting line about himself.

"Maybe when you bring out the best in others, it helps you find the best in yourself, too, huh?"

He sounds contemplative about himself and his future, really reflecting on himself and what he does. Given how he helps you during the RR Event, as well as this line he says after:

"I wanna do my best to take care of my homies and make sure nobody beats 'em down too hard. So what if I never became a captain or whatever. I'll always be big, bad Guzma!"

He’s turned this persona of “Big Bad Guzma” into a source of character strength, something to grow and change with rather than a complex to cover his flaws. He also mentions that he’s been helping Plumeria with her training, someone who’s supported him all this time. Again, he’s formed genuine relationships. Forming genuine bonds with people can be hard for anyone to do, especially those who have suffered previous abuse or trauma at someone else’s hands.

Plus, in the manga, we get this very cute shot of him helping Hau out with his new Malasada shop:

We stand for healthy character development and breaking out of harmful habits and GROWING in this house!

TL;DR

Guzma puffs himself up to be “Big Bad Guzma”, someone nobody wants to mess with, someone with a superiority complex the size of the moon, who challenges only weak Trainers and refuses to take the Island Challenge, a sign of actual strength, to keep up his self-proclaimed image of being incredibly strong. However, the moment he’s faced with actual loss and failure, the anger he’d shown to other people immediately comes inwards at his own fault, most likely due to his father abusing him whenever he failed. This results in him developing unhealthy coping mechanisms and practicing defense mechanisms to distance himself from this anxiety caused by his previous trauma. Lusamine has also been a factor in this, continuing the abuse Guzma suffered from his father on a different level, and Guzma struggles with wanting true validation of his “inferiority” after being told all his life that he wasn’t “good enough”.

However, there is a good light to all of this, which is that, near the end of the games and in various media, Guzma is shown to be forming connections with people and attempting to reach out and overcome his trauma.

SOURCES USED

https://www.nap.edu/read/2117/chapter/8#217

https://www.childwelfare.gov/pubPDFs/long_term_consequences.pdf

https://aifs.gov.au/cfca/publications/effects-child-abuse-and-neglect-adult-survivors

http://www.selfinjury.bctr.cornell.edu/perch/resources/the-relationship-between-self-injury-and-child-maltreatmentfinal-1.pdf

https://www.promisesbehavioralhealth.com/addiction-recovery-blog/anger-and-trauma/

https://www.intothelight.org.uk/core-issues-of-abuse-shame/

https://developingchild.harvard.edu/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/Persistent-Fear-and-Anxiety-Can-Affect-Young-Childrens-Learning-and-Development.pdf

https://dictionary.apa.org/defense-mechanism

https://dictionary.apa.org/superiority-complex

#Pokemon #Skull Boss Guzma #Guzma #GIF #Meta #(IT'S D O N E)#(MERRY [late] CHRISTMAS Y'ALL)#(I COME WITH ANGST)#(This has been in the works for MONTHS)#(But I finally wanted to submit it while it was still Christmas where I am)#(... It's not Christmas anymore but IT IS IN SOME PLACES)#(So it COUNTS)#(But yeah)#(Whew)#(Guzma has a whole LOAD of issues to solve)#(I never realized how much of his present personality in the games stems from his trauma)#(I knew there was a lot but I didn't realize there was THIS MUCH)#(I'm glad I could cover it though!)#(... And I hope everything is coherent lolol)#tw: abuse #tw: violence #tw: blood #tw: unhealthy coping mechanism #(PLEASE stay safe y'all)#(And remember for those who have been abused)#(It's not your fault and no matter where you are -- or where you're from or what happened to you -- there's good to be found)#(You've come so far -- don't give up now and keep retaining some hope)

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deepdarkdelights · 4 years

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10 Days (Jungkook x Reader)(10 Seconds Pt 2)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: Yandere, Stalking, Obsession, Non-Consensual touching (This becomes intense, if this is triggering for you please do not read), Kidnapping, Hard Manipulation, Mentions of past abuse/torture, Brainwashing, Blood

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals.

Preview: There he was, the monster that you knew had been hiding behind that sweet face. Jungkook had several personas, the domineering kidnapper, the dotting boyfriend, and the whiny child. This was the one you had been waiting to see, the one that had violently slammed your head into the hood of your car that night. The one that had drugged you and zip tied you in the back of his car. He was always there, just sitting beneath the surface waiting to come and get you.

Read Part One Here Read Part Three Here

You had never felt more hopeless in your entire life. It felt like your energy had been completely drained from your body. His parents still stood by the door, talking amicably with their son. His mother practically had stars in her eyes as she was nestled close into her husband’s hold. Nothing scared you more than the thought of being in her place one day. Chills of disgust rolled down your spine as you imagined yourself and Jungkook together like that. His arm curled around your shoulder as you came home to your son, hanging for dear life onto a terrified girl, her eyes wide and brimming with tears begging for help. Is that what your life would be like? Would you too fall victim to your captor like she had? Would the cycle continue and for how long had it been happening in Jungkook’s family?

Your heart thudded in your chest as your eyes zeroed in on the door behind his parents. Could you make a run for it? Could you get away from him if you tried now? Or would that be your death sentence? You were undoubtedly outnumbered, but his parents were on the older side and it would be much harder for them to run after you. It was just Jungkook you had to worry about, his mother seemed harmless and his father was too caught up in his wife. Maybe you could do it, when would you ever find a chance like this again? They hadn’t even locked the door!

Your grip on Jungkook’s shirt began to loosen as your gaze was pinned to the door that was lightly swinging open with the breeze. You could do it.

“(Y/N).” Never mind, you couldn’t do it.

“Baby, I need you to listen to me. I know you’re anxious right now but I need you to be a good girl, okay?” Jungkook asked, turning around to cradle your face.

You nodded your head in compliance as his hand slipped away from your face to cradle your own. He tangled your fingers together and slowly led you over to his parents. His mother had a huge grin on her face and she seemed genuinely excited, vibrating with joy as you approached. Jungkook nudged you in front of him and rested his hands on your shoulders, his grip tense like he was warning you to behave. His father fixed you with a stern look, your body shuddering at the familiarity. He was so much like his son that it was scary. It really did seem like there wasn’t a way out of this and your heart shattered at the thought. You were going to be stuck with a family of people who were deluded, they actually believed that this was okay.

“Hello dear, it’s so nice to meet you.” She said with her best attempt at a comforting smile. It was strange to think she had once been in your place when she seemed so satisfied with her life. Fuck, she had even given birth to her kidnappers son. Would that be expected of you? Were you supposed to help continue this sick cycle? At the rate that things were going, you weren’t sure how long you could hold Jungkook off. He was clingy and becoming more handsy the longer you two spent together. Carrying his child may become a reality faster than you had anticipated.

You felt Jungkook’s fingers tense as he dug into your shoulders a little harder, you still hadn’t answered his mother.

“It’s-It’s nice to meet you.” You choked out with a smile that looked more like a grimace. You were not convincing whatsoever and that was reflected in the harsh stare of her husband.

Your heart continued to pound violently in your chest, what were you supposed to do? It felt like the walls in the room were slowly closing in on you. Once again, you were reminded that there was no escape. You were like a songbird trapped in a gilded cage and you desperately wanted to stretch your wings and break free from your prison. You could feel the panic attack coming, this hadn’t been the first one since Jungkook had taken you and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Your chest was tightening and it was becoming difficult to breathe as your heart hammered harder than before. There were a million thoughts racing in your head all at once as crisp tears began to roll down your cheeks. You clasped your hands together in an attempt to stop their trembling as your gaze zeroed in on the creaking hinges of the screen door. You were losing it. It became harder to keep a grip on reality as you felt the wave of anxiety come crashing down over you.

“Are you alright, sweetie?” Mrs. Jeon asked, her voice brimming with worry as she approached you. She gently grabbed your hands and pulled you away from her son who whined in irritation. Her dainty hands carefully smoothed your hair back as she tried to meet your gaze.

Of course you weren’t fucking alright. Any sane person would be able to see that from a mile away. You had been locked up for only God knows how long with one person who could change moods so fast it would give you whiplash. Her caring question only made everything worse, you were expected to say that everything was okay, that you were happy with her son and delighted to meet his parents. You were supposed to be the dotting girlfriend when you were so obviously the distraught victim.

How could someone with such a gentle, caring, motherly touch horrify you so much?

With a choked sob you pushed her off of you and made a sprint for the door. Within seconds you were flying through the door frame, your bare feet slapping against the wood of the porch and flying through the stretch of grass that spread over the empty field surrounding the house. It was windy and the sky was clear, the pale moonlight shining down on you as you desperately ran. You could hear Jungkook behind you screaming your name. His voice was a blend between being distraught and riddled with anger.

If he caught you, would he kill you?

His footsteps were loud and fast, he was sprinting as hard as he could to catch up with you but you were far too desperate to let him catch you so easily and so quickly. Before you knew it, you were in the forest. The trees were tall and thick, covered in moss. You weren’t thinking at this point, in fact you were just blindly running hoping to God that just maybe you would be able to out maneuver him.

You had never really tried to escape Jungkook, well you had never been able to actually try. Hell, this was the first time you were even near the front door. You couldn’t let him catch you as you would never find another chance to run away from him again. Not to mention, moments before his parents had entered the lake house, he had warned you that he was not above punishing you. You didn’t want to even think about what his punishments would entail for you.

Your legs were burning under the strain of running. After being bed bound for most of your time with your captor, you had barely done anything that was remotely as active as this. You were sure your feet were bleeding, they felt numb and slippery. The adrenaline pumping through your veins masked your pain as you pushed yourself harder. It was dark and hard to see, numerous branches had already snagged your clothing and whacked you. You really were at a disadvantage, weren’t you?

At this point, you had no doubt Jungkook would catch you. He was stronger and faster than you, you were completely outmatched in terms of endurance. You pumped your legs faster and harder, running down a slope of rocks and leaves that almost sent you tumbling. With a wheeze, you whipped around another tree and crouched down behind it and the large rocks that surrounded it. If you couldn’t outrun him, maybe you could hide from him.

You heard him come to a halt moments later as he heard your steps cease. You quickly slapped a hand over your mouth in an attempt to stifle your deep panting breaths. You could make out his head and shoulders from where you hid, he was spinning on his heels as he scanned the area around him. It was dark as the trees covered the light of the moon. Hopefully, this would make it harder for him to find you.

“(Y/N)?!” He called, his chest rising and falling rapidly with quick breaths. “Baby, I’m not playing around. You better come out right now if you know what’s good for you.”

He was fuming, it was so obvious. You could vaguely make out his tense jaw and the bulging veins in his neck. His head continued to swivel from side to side as he tried to find you in the dark.

“If you come out right now, your punishment won’t be that bad.” He spoke again, pacing back and forth as he continued to search for you. “You really disappointed me, I thought you were my good girl again. I’ve been so good to you but you keep testing me.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as panicked tears sprung forth. For someone who claimed to be in love with you, he was so good at making you cry. Your nails dug into the bark of the tree as you pressed your forehead to its trunk. He was going to find you, you never stood a chance.

“First, you take my affection for granted. Then, you question my love for you and accuse me of mistreating you. And then you throw my mother away from you like trash. We were doing so well but you just had to stop behaving.” He said with a distressed sigh as his footsteps grew nearer. Your body stilled like a deer in headlights, this was so familiar. And all at once, you were taken back to that night.

His light footsteps, the darkness, and the fear.

“All I want is to love you and take care of you, but you don’t see it that way do you?” He questioned, his voice became louder and closer. “I told you before, baby. You and I were meant to be together, from the moment I saw you I knew you were mine.”

His words were beginning to sound fuzzy as your ears rang. You had worked yourself up so much it seemed like even your own body couldn’t take it anymore. You felt sick and lethargic, and you knew it would only be a matter of seconds before he found you. Because no matter what, he would always find you.

A pair of hands latched onto your shoulders and yanked you out of your hiding spot. Game over. Jungkook turned you around violently and pinned you to the tree trunk. His eyes were so dark you couldn’t discern his iris from his pupil. He was good at making you cry, and you were good at pissing him off.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” He yelled, shaking you by the shoulders. “I let go of you for ten seconds and you run away?!”

Your eyes snapped shut as he screamed as you, his grip tight and bruising.

“Open your eyes, right now.” He growled, his voice low and stern. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” He continued.

Out of fear, you opened them and met his dark gaze with your own. His jaw was clenched tight as he looked at you, he was doing his very best to show you how displeased he was. It was still jarring how easy it was for him to slip between the roles of a love sick puppy and an enraged kidnapper.

“We are going home,” He said, his voice steady and deep. “You are going to apologize to my mother and father for your behavior and wait in your room for me. You are not eating tonight, not after the way you acted. Am I clear?”

You nodded so fast it looked like your head would snap right off of your neck.

“I said, am I clear?” He repeated, staring down at you.

“Yes.” You replied, your voice soft with fear but loud enough for him not to ask you to repeat yourself.

He released a soft sigh as a barely there smile graced his lips. He loved your compliance.

“You know I don’t like scaring you, baby.” He cooed, the anger slowly dissipating as he pulled you into his embrace. “But I have to when you act like this, and you know I’m going to have to punish you.”

And with that, the dam broke. Ugly sobs broke free from your chest as the tears came flooding back. You were such a mess, such a crybaby that couldn’t do anything right. You could only hope that your tears would save you from whatever pain he had in store for you.

“Jungkook, please!” You sobbed. “I was - I was scared!”

“I know baby, I know.” He hummed, smoothing your hair as he cradled you to his chest. He lowered his palms to your thighs and scooped you up, carrying you much like a parent would an infant.

“You had a stressful day, didn’t you? But still, I’m really mad at you babygirl and crying won’t solve anything.” He said, he sounded like a parent scolding their child. And much like a child, you clung to him as you wailed. In response he softly hushed you, rubbing your back as he began the walk back to the lake house.

“I’m sorry!” You croaked, burying your face in the juncture of his shoulder and neck as your tears stained his hoodie. And you were sorry, because now there was the high probability he would hurt you for your actions. Maybe if you had waited then you could have found a better way to escape him without getting hurt. But you were panicked, your body thinking for you instead of your brain.

“Such a good little girl,” He sighed, rubbing circles into your back. “Apologizing without me having to tell you. If you keep being my good girl, then we won’t have to fight anymore.”

You nodded your head rapidly, spurring light laughs from his throat. If behaving bought you time and saved your life, then you would do it. Just until you could find a way out of this, if there was a way out of this.

“Are you - are you gonna hurt me?” You sniffled, your eyes clenched shut as you hid yourself from his gaze.

“Baby, I promised you I would never hurt you again. That night…that was a one time thing. You know that, right? You know I would never hurt you?” He asked, his voice worried at the prospect that you thought he would hurt you again.

Your silence was enough of an answer.

“Oh no, my poor baby.” He gasped, squeezing you tighter to him. “So that’s why you’ve been acting this way, huh? I was too rough with you, you must still be so confused. I haven’t been very attentive, have I? Don’t worry, sweet girl. We’ll sort this out tonight.”

For the rest of the journey back there was a heavy silence between the two of you. It was accompanied by Jungkook’s soft touches and light kisses in the dark. Your little stunt seemed to only make him more affectionate than he was before, had he deluded himself into thinking this was all his fault? That he hadn’t given you enough attention and that was why you ran from him? Of course, in his mind you would never leave because you didn’t want him. Only because you didn’t have enough of him. The more time you spent with Jungkook, the more you realized how unstable he was. You were never sure what he was thinking, and that was scary. Never knowing what someone was going to do, that uncertainty was fear inducing.

It wasn’t long before the two of you had returned to the porch of the house, the door was still open but the screen door was shut allowing you to see into the hallway that led to the kitchen. You could make out the back of Jungkook’s father and the sweet voice of his mother, singing while the clanking of pots and pans followed. If this were under different circumstances, you would find it sweet.

Jungkook still held you, his chest pressed tightly to your own. His large hands cradled the back of your thighs, you could feel his thumbs lightly swiping the expanse of flesh. He dropped his head into the crook of your neck and took a deep breath before planting a soft kiss to the smooth column of your throat. It took everything in you to hold back the shudder that wanted to shake your body.

“You remember what I asked you to do for me babygirl?” He murmured, pulling back to look you in your eyes. The anger that had previously clouded them was no longer there, his soft gaze had returned once more. You gave him a quick nod and he smiled, carrying you back into your prison. His steps echoed down the hallway causing the singing to cease and his father to turn in his chair. Once more, he fixed you with that stern look that scared you shitless. Although this time it was far more intense and utterly annoyed.

“Go ahead.” Jungkook whispered, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. Already, this was completely humiliating. Not only did you have to apologize for trying to escape your kidnapper, but you had to do it while he cradled you like a child.

With your eyes trained to the floor, you began. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused. It won’t happen again.”

Mrs. Jeon smiled again, her hands clasped together as she cooed at the sight of her son holding his “girlfriend” as she liked to say. “It’s alright sweetie, trust me, I’ve been there.” she giggled.

Her words were meant to comfort you, instead they deeply disturbed you. The way she so casually referred to her kidnapping was disgusting. She talked about it like it was something normal that everyone went through, like it wasn’t a horrific crime. She was brainwashed, so many years of being with her captor had turned her into a compliant doll. She was everything you feared and everything you desperately hoped to avoid. But once she was like you. How many times had she tried to run before she realized it was impossible to get away from him. How many nights had she spent crying over the life she had lost, missing her parents, her friends, and her family? When did she realize that her life was over? There was no saving her, and soon there would be no saving you.

“(Y/N),” Mr. Jeon spoke, his voice threatening. “Don’t do it again.”

You could tell that his words had a double meaning: Don’t run away again and don’t touch my wife like that again. You gave him a swift nod as your grip on Jungkook tightened. At that moment, he was the most familiar thing to you. And you could tell he was enjoying it.

“Son, we need to have a talk.” He continued, fixing his stern gaze onto Jungkook who stiffened in response.

With that, Jungkook swiftly turned and began to carry you away from the kitchen. He moved quickly as he squeezed you to him tighter than before. He seemed nervous, like he knew what his father wanted to talk about. You had never seen Jungkook look nervous. Angry, distressed, remorseful, but never nervous. He threw the door to your bedroom open and gently set you down on your frilly comforter. His hands came up to cradle your face once more before he leaned down and softly pecked your lips, a soft sigh breaking free from his chest.

“I need you to stay right here, okay? I’ll be back soon, we have some things to discuss.” He reminded you, pressing another soft kiss to your lips before standing and exiting your room, the door shutting behind him and the lock twisting shut.

Your heart hammered in your chest, what did his father want to talk to him about? What would Jungkook discuss with you? How bad was your “punishment” going to be? There were so many unknowns spinning around in your head. You really were a mess, weren’t you? You had always thought that you could take care of yourself, and your kidnapping had proven that to be false. You had devolved into this different person you didn’t know. Before, you never cried as much as you did now. Before, you didn’t cower in anyone’s presence. In such a small amount of time, you had already become a shadow of your former self. At the rate you were going, it wouldn’t be long until you were empty and broken.

You were jolted from your thoughts when the screaming started. It was Jungkook’s voice, deeper and louder than you had ever heard it before. You couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying, but whatever his father wanted to tell him had set him off. You shuffled back into the bad, wrapping the comforter around you to provide you some feeling of safety. An angry Jungkook is an unpredictable Jungkook. The low, sweet voice of his mother was trying to cool him down but that was far from working. You could hear him snap at her, Mr. Jeon’s voice rising over all of them in a clear and loud yell. Silence followed. Whatever they were talking about, it wasn’t good.

A loud crash shattered the silence that had heavily hung in the still air. Your body jumped in response and tensed in preparation for more noise to follow, but there was none. A beat of silence passed before you heard the tell tale steps of Jungkook’s boots stomping down the hallway. In seconds the door to your bedroom was flung open and slammed shut behind him so hard the frame shook.

Jungkook’s body was shaking in rage as he paced the open space at the foot of the bed. He was so caught up in his anger it seemed like he didn’t even notice you were there anymore. That was of course, until he did. His head snapped up and his stare met yours, without a word he cleared the footboard of the bed and pinned you to the mattress. On impact, your eyes snapped shut. His hands gripped your thighs and yanked you closer to him, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist as he buried his face in your shoulder. He was softly mumbling to himself as he nuzzled the fabric of your sweatshirt, the lightest of tears staining your top. He was crying?

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He choked out, his body shaking as he held you close to him. “Just because Dad did it that way doesn’t mean I have to.”

You were frozen beneath him, unsure of what to do. Jungkook was clinging to you like a toddler to their parent, babbling nonsense as he tried his hardest to stop crying. Each time you thought you knew him, he proved you wrong. Jungkook chose several personas in your presence, the domineering kidnapper, the dotting boyfriend, and the whiny child. You were scared of him because you could never tell which version of him you were going to get.

“He said I might be wrong, that maybe you aren’t mine. But he’s wrong, I know it! We’re meant for each other, I love you and no one can take you away from me. Not even him. He told me I need to be harsher with you, I need to hurt you so you understand.”

So that was how he did it. Jungkook’s father trained his mother with pain. He hurt her and would only stop in exchange for her obedience. No wonder she seemed so compliant, so in love with him. He had trained her like a dog, she associated him with pain and love simultaneously.

Jungkook pulled back from you, resting his weight on his forearms to take in your face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were red from crying. He really did look pitiful, if anything he looked like you since you spent most of your captivity in anxiety and bouts of intense crying. He slowly raised his hand to your face and lightly stroked the flesh of your cheek. If you didn’t know any better, he would look like a man that was in love with you. But you did know better, he was just a boy in a man’s body who had been raised to think this was normal. And for a moment, you genuinely felt bad for him. For a moment, you thought you understood him.

“I won’t have to hurt you if you listen to me. I still have to punish you, but if you’re good then I don’t have to hurt you.” He whispered, sniffing sharply as he leaned back to wipe the tears from his face.

Your legs were still tensed around his waist as he dragged you up to his chest, pressing the two of you so close together that you could feel his heart beating. He scooted backwards off the bed and carried you back to the bathroom. This was beginning to feel like your first day with him all over again. He set you gently onto the counter and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before kneeling down on the cold tile. His fingers delicately lifted your right foot to allow him to inspect the damage you had inflicted. His face contorted with wince as he looked at your foot, silently lifting the other one to inspect it as well.

“I hate seeing you like this, in pain.” He sighed, his fingers gently stroking the delicate bones of your ankle as he looked up at you from in between your legs. Your face flushed at the sight causing you to tilt your head back against the mirror behind you. Anything was better than the position you were in right now. Jungkook cooed at the light blush that dusted your cheeks as he began to work on the wounds that littered the once smooth skin of your feet, always stopping when you would flinch or cry out from the pain. Sometimes, he could be considerate. But you didn’t want to think positively of him and you most definitely didn’t want to feel sorry for him. You didn’t want to feel anything for him. You found yourself having to remember that he was a monster, even if it wasn’t his fault he was still a monster.

A soft kiss pressed to the inside of your ankle forced you to look at him once more, a sweet smile graced his lips. The one that made him look like an innocent bunny.

“All done.” He smiled, rising up in between your legs to trap you to the counter. Jungkook always found a way to remind you of your inability to escape him, the amount of times he had pinned you today was outstanding and concerning. You really were fucked.

The sweet smile slowly slipped from his lips as his eyes flicked down to your lips. His eyes were dark again, half lidded in a daze as he looked at you. You weren’t stupid, you knew what he wanted. He swallowed harshly and leaned closer to you, cupping one side of your face as he softly stroked your bottom lip with his thumb. You could feel his hands trembling as he took in a shaky breath. He acted like you were a drug that he could never get enough of, each hit he got sending him into a deeper addiction that he craved. And God, did he want you. He wanted all of you, everything you had to offer, and more. He took another breath and leaned in, attempting to kiss you. You quickly turned your head away from him, his soft lips connecting with the smooth skin of your cheek. Instead of getting mad, he pressed another kiss to your cheek, the corner of your mouth, and gently peppered butterfly kisses to the curve of your jaw. In a panic, you jerked away from his touch only to press yourself tightly to the mirror behind you.

“I think,” He began, stopping to clear his throat. “I think I know what your punishment is going to be.”

Your heart jerked in response as his hands gripped the tops of your thighs. You had hoped maybe it wouldn’t come to this, that he had been bluffing this whole time. But if his father was so keen on punishment in his household, it only made sense he would want his son to follow in his footsteps. He had done it first, and he knew what “worked.”

“You can’t say no to me, baby. For ten days, you have to do what I want. Just for ten days.” He said, his tone gentle but you knew this wasn’t a request; it was a demand. You quickly shook your head from side to side, grasping his wrists and attempting to pull them off of you so that you could curl into yourself.

“Baby, baby! Listen to me!” He cried, catching your hands with his own while trying to meet your eyes. “You either do this for me, or I’ll have to hurt you. You know I don’t want to do that, but if I have to do it then I will. If my dad sees that you're non compliant, that you’re not being my good girl, he will try and get rid of you.”

You stilled at his words. So that’s why he had been crying so hard earlier. His father had given him an ultimatum. Jungkook had to hurt you if you misbehaved to “train” you, as his father had put it. If he didn’t see your compliance, then he would get rid of you. He would kill you for trying to free yourself.

“Jungkook…I can’t. I can’t do that. I just want to go home.” You replied, your voice weakening into a whimper as the tears rushed forth once more.

“I know this is hard for you baby, I know you need more time but I can’t keep waiting. Not with them here. Soon enough you’ll realize you are home, all you’ll need is me.” He whispered to you. And just like that all of your sympathy for him flew right out the window. At the end of the day, Jeon Jungkook was selfish. He took his father’s warning as a way to get what he wanted: you no longer being able to deny him. Jungkook is a monster, the perfect example of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Those big, brown, doe eyes of his were concealing a dark force that was restless inside of him. That sweet smile of his hid the fangs and wrath harbored in him. He was something from your nightmares, hidden by a boyish face and a deceiving innocence. You never hated anyone as much as you hated Jeon Jungkook.

“Tonight counts as day one, you only have nine more days to go sweetheart.” He smiled, rubbing the tops of your thighs is what would have been a comforting manner if you didn’t detest his touch so much.

“Come on, you’re sleeping in my bed tonight.” He informed you, scooping your body up once more as to not have you walk on your injured feet. Not only did you have no choice but to listen to him, but now you had lost your mobility for the time being. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, stopping yourself from snapping at him. Time had proven before that you could break, and if you broke this time it could have deadly consequences.

Would it be better to let yourself die? Would you rather live a life of captivity over the freedom that the dark embrace of death had to offer? No. You were many things, but unafraid of death was not one of them. If you were, then you would have forced Jungkook’s hand or his father’s a long time ago.

Jungkook set you down on the covers of his bed, rifling through his drawers to find something for you to wear to bed. He came back to you with a large white T-shirt in hand, something you had seen him wear many times. There was no doubt in your body that he was thrilled with this situation. Not only did he have you in his bed, but he would have you in his clothes. Jungkook sat down beside you once more, silently helping you out of your clothes. You still flinched from his touch, but tried your best not to say anything. The less you struggled, the faster you would be clothed and less vulnerable. To Jungkook’s credit, he tried his best not to openly ogle your semi naked form. His gaze still lingered, his eyes still looked you over, but he clothed you and that was that.

Once he had finished, he leaned back into the bed and kicked his boots off. He turned to look at you for another moment, taking in your body covered by his sheets. He swallowed harshly before turning away from you and opening the drawer of his nightstand. Once he faced you again you noticed the glinting metal in his hand. Handcuffs. Part of you shuddered at the thought that he kept those by his bed, the other part of you tried your best not to freak the fuck out.

“I can’t trust that you won’t try and leave while I’m sleeping.” He explained. “I don’t want to have to do this, but I need to.”

“I won’t leave.” Lie. “It’s going to be hard for me to sleep handcuffed to the bed, I learned my lesson. I won’t run.” You had tried your best to seem like you weren’t denying him, the word “no” had never passed your lips.

“It’s okay, I won’t cuff you to the headboard.” He answered, slapping the cuff to your right wrist and the other cuff to his as well. What the fuck. He leaned away from you to turn the lamp off, plunging the room into darkness. For a moment, you couldn’t see. But you could feel him. Jungkook peeled the sheets back and slid underneath them behind you, slinging his cuffed arm over your waist and pulling you back against his chest.

Motherfucker.

“Jungkook-”

“Go to sleep, baby.” He cut you off, tensing his arm in warning as he rested his chin on the top of your head. You barely slept that night.

You woke up by being blasted from the light filtering through the window. He had left the curtains open last night. And not to mention, you were extremely uncomfortable. You were hot as hell having Jungkook wrapped around you like a giant koala, your wrist was chaffed from the metal cuffs, you had a headache from the bright light, and something was pressing hard into your lower back. You huffed in annoyance, trying to shift away from the man behind you only to still when a groan shook his chest.

Oh. Something hard was pressed to your lower back.

You shivered in disgust, rolling awkwardly to unwind his arm from around you so that you could get away from his…situation.

A sharp knock on the door made you jump while simultaneously waking up your captor. “Jungkook? (Y/N)? I made breakfast! Come out before it’s cold!”

Jungkook groaned again, slinging his arm over his eyes at the sound of his mother’s voice. He took a deep breath before sitting up and retrieving the key to the cuffs, swiftly unlocking it and separating the two of you. You hastily stood up, putting as much distance between the two of you as you could. Jungkook still remained in his bed, eyeing you as he titled his head back. You felt shivers run down your spine from the look he was giving you. You had no doubt you knew exactly what he was thinking about.

“Jungkook!” Mrs. Jeon yelled again from the other side of the door, her swift knocks returning once more. Her impatience knew no bounds as she finally gave up and swung the door open. It was quite a sight to see, such a small woman looking so angry. Jungkook actually looked scared for a moment.

“Jungkook, I said breakfast is ready and getting cold! Don’t ignore your mother!” She scolded him, waving a spatula around as she yelled at him. This sight was just too normal, it was so strange to think that you were kidnapped. Never in a million years did you ever think you would see your captor’s mother yelling at him like he was still a child.

Jungkook sighed, trying his best not to lash out at his mother lest his father hear their exchange. “You waited all of ten seconds, mom.”

“That doesn’t matter! I shouldn’t have to wait!” She replied before taking a hold of your elbow and tugging you towards the hallway. “Now, are you coming or will you make your mother wait longer?”

“I’ll uh, I’ll be out in a few minutes.” He answered awkwardly.

“Fine, suit yourself.” She huffed before dragging you out of the bedroom and walking you in the direction of the kitchen. But not before you saw Jungkook mouth, “behave” with that stern look returning to his face. Right, it was day two.

“It’s time for some girl talk!” She beamed, ushering you into a seat where a plate of food awaited. “So, tell me. How did you and my son meet?”

She couldn’t be serious. This had to be some twisted joke, right? The look on her face spoke volumes, she was genuinely curious with a smile so similar to her sons spreading over her face. You wanted so badly to scream in her face that he fucking kidnapped you, that you barely knew him when the two of you were in the same classes. You took a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself. No matter how badly you wanted to scream and cry, you couldn’t. The threat of Jungkook’s father was still near, if you didn’t behave he had no qualms about “getting rid” of you.

“Uh, we met in high school.” You answered, poking at your food and refusing to make eye contact with her.

“High school sweethearts! How cute, that’s just like me and my husband!” She gushed. She was just as deluded as the rest of them.

Your silence caused her lips to turn downward, the smile slipping off of her face. A look of understanding crossed over her eyes as she gently reached across the table to cradle your hand in her own.

“I understand how hard it is at first.” She said, your head snapped up to look at her. This was the first time she didn’t seem bubbly and in love. “I ran too, you know. It’s overwhelming, becoming a part of their world and learning that way they love. My husband was strict with me, but he had to be for the sake of our relationship.”

And just like that, your hope died again. She thought she was in love with him, that he did all he did because they were meant to be together. She was like you once, and she had lost the fight. Your eyes dropped to her hands that held your own. To your horror, you noticed the deep scars littering her wrists and palms. On the inside of her wrist was the most prominent scar, a large J carved into her skin. If her hands were that scarred, what was she hiding underneath her shirt and pants? Was her whole body subjected to the torture that her husband called love? He had conditioned her with pain, he had made her into what he wanted her to be.

“Baby?” Jungkook called, walking into the kitchen with a worried look on his face as he took in your stiff posture and disturbed expression. He came to your side immediately and settled his arm on the back of your chair, his eyes scanning over you to make sure you were okay.

“Are you feeling sick, sweetheart?” He asked, pressing his lips to your forehead making his mother smile at the display of affection.

You shook your head and stopped yourself from flinching away. After all, you couldn’t say no to him.

The days began to pass quicker after the incident with Jungkook’s mother. You had learned his parents would be staying in the guest house to give the two of you space while also keeping an eye on you. You could feel yourself spiraling in the aftermath of everything that had happened. The only thing that was keeping you from lashing out again was the hard glare Jungkook’s father constantly had trained on you. Not to mention, your compliance was the only thing preventing Jungkook from hurting you the same way his father had his mother.

Each day proved to be more straining than the day before. Jungkook would push for more from you, he would start with small things and gradually work his way up to what he really wanted. And it was exhausting. You never stood a chance against him. He was a monster that had disguised himself so skillfully that even you didn’t see what he was doing when this started.

Day 3: You weren’t allowed to sleep in “your” room anymore. His excuse was that his dad wouldn’t approve of leaving you alone. But you knew that was a lie, he just wanted to have you to himself for as long as he could. He took your privacy from you, the one thing you had been allowed to have.

Day 4: You spent the day together watching movies. You weren’t allowed to leave his hold the entire time. You weren’t allowed to deny his touch no matter how much you wanted to jump out of his arms and make a run for it for the second time. He held you the entire day and it felt so suffocating.

Day 5: You weren’t allowed to see his mom anymore. You were only allowed to talk to him, you could only spend time with him. You felt like you were going crazy being with just him again. Sure, his mother was completely brainwashed but still she was someone that wasn’t him.

Day 6: You weren’t allowed to dress yourself anymore. You hadn’t objected, but you did try and tell him that you could do it yourself, that you were an adult. But of course, you weren’t allowed to deny him. If you did, then he could hurt you. If you did, his father could kill you. What other choice did you have? How could you fight back when there was nothing protecting you except your captor’s empty promises? You hated the feeling of his hands on your body, skimming over your exposed flesh as he would change your clothes.

Day 7: You couldn’t deny his affection no matter how much you wanted to. You had found yourself pressed into the couch cushions, one of his hands woven through your hair as the other stroked your waist, his lips locked tightly to your own.

“Kiss me back.” He had whined into your mouth, harsh pants of air bursting over your lips. And reluctantly you did, because what else were you going to do? You had no other choice, there was no escape. Not while both of his parents were here. You had foolishly hoped that you could last ten days with him. That your punishment would end and you could regain what little freedoms he had given you before.

Day 8: You couldn’t sleep, not while he was doing what he was behind you. You had kept your eyes clenched tightly shut but you could still hear what he was doing, you could feel his breaths hitting the back of your neck as soft moans burst from his throat. His one hand gripping your hip tightly as he worked himself up, moaning your name desperately as you pretended to sleep.

You were disgusted, but you knew it would be better to pretend you were unaware than to snap at him.

Day 9: That night, he told you he wanted to bathe you. He wanted to cross the one hard line you gave him, and you were breaking ever so slowly. You didn’t flinch when he stripped you of your clothes or when he cradled your bare body to his chest, settling you into the tub. His eyes were hooded in lust, his gaze and hands straying as he washed you. This was what he wanted, full dependence and utter compliance. All you could do was close your eyes and pretend he was someone else, that you were anywhere but there.

Day 10: He wanted you. That was his “final” punishment. He had you laid out in the center of his bed, his hands running over every part of you he could touch while his lips marred the column of your throat. He was breathing heavily, raising himself up to kiss you as he reached down to pull your shirt up, only disconnecting from you to rip the fabric from your torso. He let out a deep groan, even though it was nothing he hadn’t already seen the night before. He frantically gripped the waistband of your pants and yanked them off to reveal more of your skin.

“My pretty, good, little girl.” He cooed, stroking your hips before his fingers curled into the fabric of your underwear, attempting to pull them away.

A sudden clarity overcame you and you couldn’t hold yourself back any longer. Your hands snapped down to his wrists and held them tight, trying your hardest to fix him with a glare you didn’t know you were capable of.

“No.” You bit out, your nails sinking into the skin of his wrists.

“No?” He laughed, that dark look returning to his handsome face. “Don’t you remember, baby? You can’t say no.”

There he was, the monster that you knew had been hiding behind that sweet face. Jungkook had several personas, the domineering kidnapper, the dotting boyfriend, and the whiny child. This was the one you had been waiting to see, the one that had violently slammed your head into the hood of your car that night. The one that had drugged you and zip tied you in the back of his car. He was always there, just sitting beneath the surface waiting to come and get you.

But you were tired, so fucking tired of being scared all the time. You took a deep breath and squared your shoulders, fixing him with the darkest glare you could manage. This wouldn’t go his way, no matter how much he thought he was winning, no matter how he played you like a Puppeteer controlling his helpless marionette. And with conviction you bit out that one word you had agreed not to say.

“No.”

#bts #bts jungkook #bts x reader #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #yandere #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #bts fanfic #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere kpop #yandere bts x reader

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thisisarcanereverie · 4 years

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Should’ve Known Chapter 7

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Wanda or Steve they are owned by Marvel, I don’t own the gif either I just got it from Pinterest,

WARNINGS:Angst, Swearing, the stages of grief, loss, dark themes, 18 + from here on out. Also mentions of potential abortions.

WORDS : 2,329

SUMMARY: You are detained and questioned by S.W.O.R.D. Wanda reality is breaking and Vision is acting differently than she remembers.

In case you missed last chapter

series masterlist

ULTIMATE MASTERLIST

You stared at the plain and depressing wall in front of you. If anyone saw you they would say you were staring into dead space but that wasn’t true.

Your thoughts were consumed of Wanda and the baby.

You didn’t plan on giving up on Wanda, she had woken up, it wasn’t long until her reality came crashing down on her and you needed to be there for her. You needed to help her with the pieces that were going to be left behind.

Your hand rested on top of your stomach, gently brushing a thumb over the shirt. You didn’t know what the doctors did to you while you were unconscious, but you were certain that eventually they would find out if they hadn’t already. You still had mixed feelings about this pregnancy. You knew deep down it was likely the only time you will be pregnant and you can’t lie, already you felt a connection with the child even though at this point they were only a little clump of cells.

This kid would be special, you felt it oddly enough. You immediately wanted to apologize even though it couldn’t hear you. You wanted to apologize for the life that they might have to live if that were the case.

You remembered all the somber nights at the Avengers Tower and Compound. All the nights Steve told you he sort of missed being that boy from Brooklyn who always picked a fight he couldn’t win. He told you if he had known what would happen when he accepted the role of Captain America. He probably still would have done it, but still live on to regret it.

Wanda had told you that she could never truly let go, she can never fully release all the emotions she kept bottled up. That people got hurt. That if she could go back and never sign up for HYDRA’s experiments, she would.

None of them wanted the life that they were forced into. Yeah some of them had volunteered like Wanda and Steve, but they didn’t fully realize the consequences of such actions then.

Nat and Bucky never wanted this life, never signed on for it.

Your child would be forced to the same fate if you allowed the pregnancy.

You considered aborting the fetus, maybe it was better for it to never live than be born into this world.

Were you even ready to be a mom? You had money saved up but that was for rent and the last of Steve’s avenging money that he had left behind.

Steve.

The kid would never know their father. Steve would always be that blank figure to them. That blank figure would be filled with so many questions and doubts. Everything but him.

You didn’t want your kid to look at that blank spot and only think of what might have been or hate. You didn’t want them to think their dad left them because they didn’t love them.

You thought back to the chair splintering under your hand when you remembered the pregnancy.

You could easily hurt them and the thought alone terrified you.

There were so many reasons on why you shouldn’t keep it, how maybe it was better this way.

On the other hand you wanted to keep it.

You wanted to be a mom. Or at least give it a shot, at least for this kid. Maybe you would break the cycle of abuse that either your parents or grandparents started.

There was no maybe about it.

You would.

You had to.

Rationally you knew you wouldn’t be a perfect mom and the kid wouldn’t have that perfect life you always wanted, but that didn’t matter. This kid would have their own life to live, their own adventures, their own highs and falls. This kid would have something that you didn’t receive and that alone would make all the difference.

They’ll have their mother.

Wanda didn’t know when all of this started. The endless pit of nothingness consumed her and that was it. She remembers everything thus far, the black and white changing into colors. You support her through it all just as you did before.

She wished she didn’t have to send you away but she had no other choice. You brought her back, made her remember that none of this was real.

Wanda made a different version of you, it was simple enough, it was a simple illusion. You were there, but not there.

This version of you was happy all the time, was her closest confidant, all the things she wanted you to be. Like how you used to be before Steve had left.

Steve did a number on you just like Vision did with her. Steve left you in a different manner than Vision left her but the emotional toll it took was very much the same.

Steve left you on his own terms, he was selfish and left everyone who was counting on him to return. For that Wanda would never trust Steve, real or not real, again.

Vision didn’t have a choice, Thanos had taken that choice away from him.

Wanda could feel her blood begin to boil at the thought of Thanos, wishing that she could have finished what she had started on that battlefield then.

Avenging Vision.

Wanda recalls the nightmares she had when she came back, the image of Vision's eyes turning milky white and the stone being ripped from his head and the way his head caved in. You would always hold her, you would always assure her that you were fine and that she hadn’t hurt you during the nightmares. She knew you lied but the thought that you cared enough that you didn’t mind her or getting hurt in the process helped a lot more than you would ever know.

After the funeral Wanda didn’t know she was going to bring you back to her apartment. She didn’t know how more precious you would become to her after living with her. Wanda came to depend on you a lot more than she intended. At first she wanted to be kind, she knew the pain you were going through and didn’t want you to be alone. You didn’t deserve to be alone.

Then you began to heal together, you sat with her while she was on the other end of the phone lines waiting for answers and filling out paperwork she needed to sign to legally locate Vision. You hugged her during her nightmares, even though her powers had more than once flown something dangerously close to your head.

Wanda had held your hand when she helped you move out of the apartment you and Steve shared. She was simply there when you needed her to be.

Wanda grew curious easily, after the first few nights she was tempted to look into your mind. She had mastered the art of doing it without anyone knowing. However, she wanted you to tell her, she promised herself to never use her powers on your mind.

Now she had broken that promise and made you play your part in this reality, the best friend. Wanda didn’t read your mind but she had played with it. She had played with something so fragile and even when you woke up from her illusions you didn’t care about that. You had only cared about comforting her, about bringing her back from the waves.

Wanda had no idea what she could possibly have done to deserve someone as loyal as you were in her life.

But now she’s sent you away, like she did with Garladine.

She walked into her home that she shared with Vision, her heart filled with something so bitter and so sweet when she looked at him. Like she was seeing the sun after a whole week of only rain and snow but knowing tomorrow there would only be more rain and snow.

Vision turned around upon hearing the door close, Wanda was expecting to see him with that light and lovely look in his eyes just as he’s always done. She nearly stopped in her tracks when she saw instead nervousness and caution. He didn’t look at her the way Vision had always looked at her, or hell even how you looked at her.

He looked at her the way that everyone else has looked at her before.

Like she was going to hurt him.

“Vision,” she called her voice as sweet as honey, “is everything alright.” Her husband flinched back when she tried to reach for him as though her touch had become poisonous.

“I spoke to Norm,” He said his arms were crossed over his chest. His face contorted into a neutral state. Wanda felt unsettled, she felt him become reserved.

“Oh?” she said not knowing what about talking to Norm would make him act this way.

“I unearthed the man’s suppressed personality and I spoke to him free of your oversight.”

“Hello Miss. (L/n),” You didn’t bother looking away from the wall, already whoever came in here was on your nerves.

‘Miss. (L/n) we need you to answer some questions about the Hex.” You looked over and saw a man with the most punchable face you’ve ever laid eyes on. His tone may be nice but you met enough men like him to know how to spot them a mile away.

“Only if you answer a few of my own.” You retort, you saw how the man stiffened.

“I don’t think you're in a position to be demanding anything Miss. (L/n)”

“You wouldn’t have come to ask me anything personally if you didn’t need to. Unless there was something that I may or may not know that could benefit you and even then you wouldn’t have come yourself, men like you have people get the answers for you, no you would only come yourself if it was something vital. Something that no one else on this base knows about.” You cock your head to the side and smile, feeling empowered as you see his hands tighten into a fit at his side. You apparently hit the nail right on the head.

“So I feel like an exchange is in order,” You say standing up from your sitting position. The guards on either side of the man raised their guns at you. The man told them to stand down.

“I answer 5 of your questions and you answer 6 of mine.” You held out your hand.

“Miss. (L/n) why do you get to have more answers than I do?”

“Simple, you want something from me and me alone. I can ask any other agents around here my questions and not make a deal with you at all.”

His hands flex and ball themselves back into fists and his jaw clenched in anger. You really were getting on his nerves.

“I agree,” he reaches for your hand and shakes briefly.

“I’ll go first,” he says.

“How long were you in the Hex?”

“I’m not too sure of that but it’s safe to assume that I was there since it happened.” you responded, memories of the Hex were confusing and the memories of that day were blacked out almost completely.

“My turn,” you say.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Director Tyler Hayward of S.W.O.R.D.”

“My turn,” he says in a slight mocking tone.

“How did Wanda create the Hex?”

“Wanda’s powers are tied to her emotions; it's probably connected to that” You state. “What is S.W.O.R.D.”

“Sentient Worlds Observation and Response Department.” He responds.

“Someone really wanted your divisions to be named Sword and Shield really badly didn’t they.”

“Yes,” he said, “How long were you aware of the Hex while in it?”

“I was subconsciously aware the entire time, although I wasn’t completely aware until the Hex was in color and a hag gave me a notebook.”

His expression was puzzled but he dismissed it.

“What did my lab results come back with?”

“Why do you think we took blood from you while you were unconscious?”

“You're a powerful man who set up a meeting with me in secret to ask me a question you don’t want anyone else hearing. It’s not beyond you to secretly steal some blood to run secret tests on it.”

“Touche,” he admitted, “however badly I would want that Agent Rambeau interrupted me before I could give the order.”

Finally he reached the last question, the question he wanted to ask all along.

“How did Wanda reboot the Vision?”

Vision, he was after Vision. Somehow this made you uneasy, why would he care how Vision for rebooted unless...

“You have Visions body don’t you.” It wasn’t a question, his body gave him away. For a man who was running a semi secret organization he wasn’t that good at hiding his body language.

“I believe you didn’t answer my question Miss. (L/n), “ he pointed out, “I guess that means one less answer for you.”

You rolled your eyes, you would let him have that.

“I don’t know how she rebooted Vision, much less without a body, I don’t remember much of the day it happened.” His eyes hardened, upset that he had hit another dead end he went to leave.

“I still have one more question Haybitch!” You called out, his feet stilled and he turned to you, eyes wide and offended at the nickname.

“What are you planning on doing to Wanda?” That was the question you wanted to ask. His eyes crinkled as he gave you a sarcastic smile.

“I don’t know,” he said, “I don’t remember much of that meeting when it happened.”

He then left you to wallow in your own thoughts.

You knew he had a secret he didn’t want anyone else finding out.

You knew Wanda knew it.

You knew he wasn’t going to let her talk.

You knew whatever his plan was involved her not being able to speak again.

#should've known #marvel #wanda marvel #marvel x reader #marvel x you #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wandavision #wanda and pietro #steve rodger #steve rodgers imagine #steve rodgers x you #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america imagine

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creacherkeeper · 3 years

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im getting a little too in my family feels today and so INSTEAD of feeling those im just going to ramble for a second about why i fucking love paladin!aelwyn because. im. just like this i guess im coping leave me alone

cw for discussions of child abuse, maladaptive coping, drugs and alcohol, self harm, destructive tendencies, basically everything we see in canon and the implications

aelwyn is ... SO interesting to me because for as much of her interiority as we see, as much of her as we think we understand, as much as i could ramble about her character for hours, we know ALMOST NOTHING about her in actuality?? (besides ... one key thing)

(this is like 2k and probably incoherent someone please stop me)

okay. listen. almost everything we see aelwyn do in s1 is maladaptive rebellion against her parents and home life. the drinking, the drugs, the partying, perhaps some of kalvaxus (though i dont think we fully understand how much of that was forced on her as well, kalina WAS watching her when she was talking to adaine about it). you can say like, oh aelwyn is a party animal, she's impulsive, she makes risky decisions, she's bitchy and rude, and its like. okay but IS SHE ACTUALLY. because under her parents thumb she had an EXTREMELY limited amount of freedom, and usually when people are suffering from very little control over their life, they WILL act destructively over the tiny bit they can, either harming themselves or their environment or people lower than them in the pecking order, because in a way, that feels like a reclamation of autonomy. saying "you have so much power over me but can you stop me from hurting myself and destroying what you havent managed to claim yet?". its just like, kind of what human brains do and frequently has little to do with a persons actual personality or impulses, its just. desperate brains trying to control SOMETHING because autonomy is a fundamental human need and when thats taken away we get. very bad off. (this is one big reason eating disorders are SO common with abused kids.) so i think a lot of the s1 aelwyn we see is like. this is a very desperate, abused teenager "acting out" in the only way it is possibly somewhat safe for her to do so because, on a psychological level, the self destruction is weirdly the only emotional tether and its either this or just dissociate all the time (something we do see she has problems with in canon)

and yes, she did treat adaine horribly in s1. she fully did. obviously what we get in canon is what happens but a moment thats interesting to me is in episode 1 where adaine has attacked aelwyn several times, who either does nothing or just bounces it back, when she says "i never cast spells at you" and siobhan immediately retcons it and says "yes you do, all the time" (i havent gone back and watched this bit so i might be wording this wrong). obviously its an improv show and the canon is built between performers as they go, but that was interesting to me. that brennan hadnt intended for her to have fought back in that way. she definitely feeds into the emotional abuse from their parents and participates in all the toxicity there, but we know in canon that she did that because of overwhelming fear and self preservation. and that her self hatred because of it just fed back into the cycle and made her feel like she wasnt good enough to even try to break free from it. this is very common in golden child/scapegoat sibling relationships where the golden child SEES what the parents are capable of and becomes a participant in the abuse out of fear for their own standing. in any way siding with the scapegoat child not only directs abuse at themselves as well, but frequently makes things WORSE for the scapegoat because the parents will take out the challenge to their power on them even more. so, if aelwyn DID ever try to defend or help adaine when they were small, she would have VERY QUICKLY learned that made things worse for everyone. and just. sectioned that part of her brain off, as she's done with so many other things. (and i dont think im reading too much into the forest scene with the abernants to say their parents were VERY QUICK to turn abuse towards aelwyn if she stepped out of line even a little. like, you dont flinch when a hand moves unless. you know. dont need to say it just something to think about. as far as we saw in canon, she had done everything they asked of her leading up to the forest, and we DONT KNOW what happened in it but we do know brennan specifically called out how in broken spirits she was when adaine was summoned, even though they did the ritual to avoid all of the nightmare bullshit)

(the house party is literally a whole separate post but i think its fair to point out that 1) she was super under the influence when that was happening which DEFINITELY is in no way an excuse for her behavior but worth remembering when trying to analyze that 2) her losing that fight did canonically have DRASTIC consequences for her and even if she didnt know exactly how that was going to turn out, i think she knew how bad it might be. and she did not know adaine or any of the bad kids were going to be there in the first place)

all that said, it feels in some ways counterproductive to say that aelwyn is an extremely devoted and protective person (yes we're getting to the paladin shit i know i've been rambling a while) but i think that thats strangely ALL WE ACTUALLY KNOW ABOUT HER. because we've established that her self-destructive and abusive behavior in s1 is almost entirely psychologically scripted for her by her parents, we dont know how much of her villain shit in s1 was LITERALLY UNDER THREAT OF DEATH because we know at least killing the oracle was and we dont know how much of the rest of it was mandated by either her parents or kalina other than that she probably was under orders not to tell adaine the truth, and we know participating in all of this caused extreme self loathing in her that she refused to show to anybody and was too terrified to act on in any way

so, like. what does that actually leave us?

here's what we do know about aelwyn:

- of all the schools of magic, she went into abjuration

- the entire bbeg plan from season 1 hinged on aelwyn's complete faith that her level 1 sister was the most prodigious diviner in the world

- right after (?) the house party, she locked her memories where only adaine could find it with a note basically saying "theres so much bad blood between us but i know only you could find this"

- she desperately wanted to protect adaine and the fact that she was too afraid to do so made her hate herself (and her knowing that adaine now knows this is the turning point in their relationship)

- despite everything, even in the nmk forest, she still loved her parents

- the SECOND she is shown genuine love and affection and care from adaine, and adaine says whatever you do, i am here with you, all her actions from there forward are just about protecting adaine from their father, very nearly at the cost of her own life

- with what she probably thought were her last words (and would have been if adaine hadnt given her the tincture), all she wanted to communicate was how to help adaine and the bad kids, and how despite everything she had always believed in her

- at five levels of exhaustion, unconscious, she used her first spell slot after nine months of torture to build a shield around adaine

NOW we get to paladin!aelwyn. because, once everything is stripped away, the abuse and the control and the maladaption and the threats and the torture, EVERYTHING we ACTUALLY can glean about aelwyn's personality and inner core is that she's protective and devoted. and of course classes arent locked by personality, but that just screams paladin to me. its her WHOLE THING. adaine even says "wizards dont have heals, we dont care about other people" and of COURSE that isnt true for either of them, but? mechanically? aelwyn chose the wizard school that DID let her protect, and DID let her help, but i dont think, at this point, going forward, thats really going to be enough for her (and we could also talk about the parallels between them, how often adaine uses her portents to help other people)

i think a lot of the different reads on aelwyn come from this fundamental disconnect between her actions and displayed personality vs who she actually is and what she actually wants. and i think there are very different interpretations of what thats going to look like for her going forward. but i think, for a girl who's most hated characteristic about herself was her self preservation at the detriment of others, her perceived selfishness, and her fear ... isn't choosing to be braver and more selfless and more protective and shedding that self-preserving instinct for the betterment of others ... and MECHANICALLY being able to act on all those things ... the logical next step? i think its going to be a LONG TIME before aelwyn can love herself, but what other way is there to try? if adaine loves her, and adaine believes she can be better, isnt being better because she trusts adaine kind of a form of self love? saying, i dont believe in myself, but i believe in the person who believes in me, and maybe, in a roundabout way, thats the same thing. she was never able to TRY to be better before, because trying to improve even a little, even when people arent watching, when a harmful force has so much power over you and your actions ... like, the mental dissonance is honestly TOO much to even try, thats WAY more terrifying than letting yourself be bad, to the point where thats psychologically impossible for a lot of people. but now she actually has space and freedom and CHOICE and she CAN embrace the instincts she always had to shove down, she CAN be the person she knows her sister needed her to be

i dont know, i think theres an inherent love letter to yourself in wanting to be better and wanting to improve, even if you justify it by saying its for someone else. and now aelwyn actually CAN improve, and thats probably going to be extremely awkward and scary and there will be set backs and backslides for sure. but. i dont know. i think she wants to make up for lost time. because she never wanted the time to be lost in the first place. and if a protector is who she always wanted to be, whats stopping her from being that now?

#fantasy high #dimension 20 #aelwyn abernant #WHO LET ME WRITE ALL THIS #does this even. fucking. make sense. who knows.#THE BRAINROT THE BRAINROT THE BRAINROT

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mrslittletall · 3 years

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Title: Memory Lane Fandom: Bloodborne Characters: Micolash Host of the Nightmare, Laurence the first Vicar Word Count: 4.384 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31841335

Summary: Micolash travels home from Byrgenwerth for summer vacation, but during the trip, he thinks about why he doesn't want to go back...

(Author's note: That actually is part of a trade for @popskipandajump @sketchygabz on tumblr. She wanted a story of Micolash's past of my version, which isn't a happy one...

Warnings for child abuse and child neglect. Also, Laurence is tagged there, but he isn't in this fic much, sorry Laurence!)

“Aren't you travelling home for the vacation, Laurence?”, Micolash asked his friend, a bit confused about why he wasn't entering one of the carriages that carted off students to the various places around Byrgenwerth since summer vacation had started this morning.

“My parents are dead, remember.”, Laurence replied, crossing his arms. “And I don't have any other relatives. Master Willem took me in, so I have to stay at the school. Don't you worry though, Gehrman promised to me that we would explore the woods together and play in the lake on hot days. Don't forget to write though, I will make sure to reply once I have your home address.”

Micolash smiled at Laurence as he entered the carriage. “I won't.”, he promised. Micolash waved to Laurence and sat down in the carriage, waiting for the other passengers to enter so that it could take off. Looking out of the window, he could still see Laurence standing there, waving to him. Micolash waved back, sighing as he thought that he would prefer to stay with Laurence and Gehrman for the summer. In truth, Micolash didn't want to go home.

It was something that Micolash hadn't told his now two close friends. Both Laurence and Gehrman always spoke so fondly about their parents, so he never had brought the subject of his own parents up... and he planned to keep it that way, this was something they didn't need to know.

Micolash stopped looking out of the window when Laurence decided to leave to make room for a few more passengers wanting to enter and looked at them instead. A small family entered last, a typical family, a mother, a father and a small child, maybe five or six years old.

The child happily sat themselves on their mother's lap once the family had settled in and Micolash could see how she carefully stroked over the hair of her child. As the carriage started to move, for they were the last passengers, Micolash asked himself if that was how Laurence' mother had treated him. Laurence always spoke with such great fondness of her...

Micolash's own mother on the other hand...

Micolash barely remembered his mother. He was aware that at some point during his life, a mother had been present. He remembered faint things, feelings, impressions. Like soft hands picking him up and gently rocking him, a voice singing to him, being hugged and comforted when he was upset.

What he couldn't remember was a face to the woman who must have been his mother. There was only one thing he remembered very clearly. The last words she ever spoke to him before vanishing forever.

“I can't take this anymore... Mico... I am so sorry... Please forgive me...”

The next thing that Micolash remembered was the shutting of a door and him having waddled over, confused about what just happened. He must have been only three or four back then, far too young to connect the dots, even younger than the child opposite of him, currently sitting on their mother's lap, not having a worry in the world. He did need a long time to understand what had happened. His mother had abandoned him, had left him alone, to never come back, and, Micolash had to admit this to himself, he didn't feel like forgiving her for it.

His gaze went from the child to the man who must be the father of the small family. He looked gentle and his gaze was full of fondness for his wife and child. It reminded Micolash of Gehrman's father, who, while a strict man who made sure that Gehrman didn't slack on his duties, always was there when his son needed him.

Micolash's own father on the other hand? Micolash couldn't remember a single day in his life where his father hadn't been drunk. Being drunk was pretty much his normal state. He always had some kind of bottle with him and would drink out of it, swaying from side to side, reeking of wine. He often ignored Micolash in his drunken state, though the days in which Micolash remained ignored could be considered the good days.

The days in which his father was hyper aware of Micolash's presence... were the worst ones...

On those days, Micolash couldn't even make a single peep without upsetting his father. Even when he just shifted around or went to fetch something and the gods forbid that Micolash dropped something or forgot to avoid the creaky floorboards on his way outside.

His father would be in front of him with such a speed that it frightened Micolash. When Micolash was lucky, he would simply get screamed at. That he shouldn't make such noise, that he should be lucky that he had a roof over his head and that he was allowed to go to school instead of dying outside in some ditch. Micolash was used to this kind of words. Sure, they stung, but it was nothing that he couldn't endure.

It hurt a lot more when his father decided to put his mother into the mix and told him that she didn't ever bother to take him with her and that meant how much she hated him and that he never had been loved by her, only having been bothered by his very existence and that it was him and his constant screaming and being fuzzy when he still had been a baby that drove her out. Micolash always had to suppress his tears when his father started with it... he even almost started to believe that he was at fault for his mother leaving.

However, simply being screamed at, even though it hurt a lot inside of him, was still better as when his father decided that he had enough of him making so much noise and silenced him with his fist.

The first time it had happened, Micolash had barely registered it. He just stared with wide eyes at his father, raising a hand to notice that his nose bled and then starting to sob uncontrollably, not understanding why it had happened or what he did wrong to get such a reaction, which had made... everything worse...

For when Micolash didn't want to calm down, his father dealt with him by shutting him into the closet. It was dark in there, narrow, far too warm and it smelled horrible, mostly of alcohol and vomit, and Micolash was sure he would have been able to see stains of dried up puke on the clothes if it wouldn't have been so dark.. and if he wouldn't have been so terrified of being locked in there.

Locking Micolash into the closet was his father's usual method when Micolash annoyed him, which was far more often than Micolash liked, and Micolash started to dread the closet so much. He was left in there for hours, sometimes his father even left their home without releasing him and Micolash had to sit in there, waiting, panicking, hoping that he would come back, hoping that he would get out before he would starve, trying his best to avoid making a mess when he was left in their for hours, only to be punished when it happened regardless, making the situation into nothing more but a vicious cycle for Micolash.

“Oh dear, are you feeling alright? You are awfully pale.”

Micolash got snapped out of his thoughts when he felt a hand on his arm and when he looked to his right, aware of how laboured his breathing had become, he spotted the face of an elderly woman, a kind smile, with her greyish hair being put into a bun on heir head, wearing a checkered dress. He didn't reply right away, because the sight in front of him stirred another memory and for a second he felt like had seen a ghost.

“Are you about to get sick maybe? Do you need for the carriage to stop?”

Micolash slowly shook his head, trying to force his face into a smile, which felt extremely difficult. He hoped he looked at least half convincing, though he knew his face wasn't exactly pretty (Laurence even called him a gremlin sometimes and Micolash couldn't deny it), though he hoped that he didn't look anymore like he was about to throw up.

“No, I am fine.”, he finally answered. “Just thought about... something unpleasant.”

“Well then, but don't hesitate to say something should you feel unwell.”, the old woman said and Micolash was aware that the rest of the passengers stared at him as well, he must have looked a lot more uncomfortable than he thought.

“I will. Sorry for worrying you.”, he said and felt how the old woman let go of his arm, but he still felt his gaze on her. Micolash decided to stop looking at the passengers from which a few still were staring at him and out of the window again.

The elderly woman sitting next to him... at first glance, she looked like the striking image of Micolash's neighbour. Micolash and his father lived in a small shack at the border of Hemwick Chapel Lane and this elderly woman had lived there too. Apparently, she was alone, either she never had married or her husband had died and her children and grandchildren were out of the house. It wasn't something Micolash bothered a lot with.

This woman had been a big reason why Micolash had survived after his mother had left.

“Mooom, I am hungry!”, the small child of the family suddenly complained, breaking Micolash briefly out of his thoughts when he saw their mother soothe them and find something for them to eat, which they eagerly took.

Food was something that wasn't a constant in Micolash's life and the reason why his elderly neighbour had been so important for him plus the fact that he could escape his father when he stayed at her place.

Micolash's father didn't have a steady job. No wonder, the drunkard he was. He worked wherever he would be needed and whoever found enough pity in themselves to employ him. Micolash's father probably thought that his son didn't know about this, but Micolash always listened when he walked through the village, he heard the rumours, the facts, he knew how disliked his father was in the village. He also heard the rumours about himself. That a child with such a father couldn't get right, that it was no wonder that his mother had left and that they feared the day when Micolash would grow up into a copy of his father. It didn't surprise him that the other children avoided him, sometimes even thought about bullying him. Micolash didn't bother, they got bored when he ignored them and his father did far more worse things than their words could do to him and their mean spirited pranks didn't hurt as much as being shut in the closet or being beaten until he bled.

But Micolash loathed it when he was compared to his father. He even loathed himself then. He never would become like his father, he swore to himself, though deep down inside of him, he very much feared that it would still happen...

Because of his many odd jobs, Micolash's father generally didn't bring a lot of coins home, and the coins he brought home, he normally used to buy more alcohol. It was rare that his father brought food home and if, then it often was just some old bread or leftovers, probably from a meal he had bought for himself and then brought back home some scraps when he remembered that Micolash existed and people probably would start to ask questions if they boy wouldn't be seen in the village or at school anymore.

During this time, the elderly neighbour took care of Micolash once she realized that he got thinner and thinner from malnourishment. Even though she didn't have much, she gladly shared the bit she had with him, pretty much saving Micolash from starvation. It had been shortly after his mother had left, when Micolash was still far too small to take care of himself. He couldn't remember too much, but he remembered how much more drunk his father had gotten after his mother left, and Micolash went largely ignored during that time... but in the bad way, in the way that he was basically non-existent for his father...

If not for his elderly neighbour having invited him into her shack and giving him food, Micolash probably would have died there sooner or later, for the bit of food that his father sometimes remembered to bring along, barely did anything to quell his hunger...

Micolash liked being at her house. She gave him food, she didn't get mad at him when he was a bit noisier while playing and he didn't have to fear getting punished when he messed up. He only could stay there though when his father was absent, because his father was very much against him staying at some random stranger's house and always would get him and get into a fight with his neighbour when Micolash wouldn't be back on time.

When Micolash was around six years old, his neighbour decided to teach him to prepare his own food. She started with raw food first, showing Micolash how to prepare a sandwich or a fruit bowl or a salad. However, Micolash was clever enough to figure out how the stove worked, so she switched over to teach him how to cook. They were all rather simple recipes, but it meant that Micolash didn't have to rely so much on his neighbour anymore and could prepare food in his own home... and sometimes it even put him into the favour of his father, when he came home and Micolash had prepared some food he enjoyed. Those were good days, where nothing bad happened to him... should Micolash fail the food however... He shuddered at the memory.

However, for a child of six years it was awfully difficult to chop firewood, so Micolash couldn't prepare cooked food too often. He was forbidden from taking any of the firewood his father might have chopped, probably because it was needed for the winter and his father would just chop enough that they would not freeze. Micolash was pretty sure that his father never had used the stove himself, in fact, he needed to clean the whole thing out when he started to use it. Without proper firewood, he couldn't use it very well though, so Micolash was often collecting branches and dry leaves to at least have something to burn and cook a warm meal once in a while.

While he heard of a fancy thing called a gas stove which they had in cities like Yharnam, Micolash was sure that they never would get it, especially because they never would have enough coins to pay for that gas that they needed for such a stove to function. He still was interested in how such a stove would function and secretly wished that one day he could try out a stove that didn't need to be fuelled with wood.

The coins they had, or more, the coins his father gave him once he realized that Micolash would cook for him, were barely enough to even organize the food. His father still put most of his coins into buying more wine and while the coins would be enough for food for one person, Micolash had to cook for himself too. He would have preferred not having to share the little bit of food he had at all, but he knew he had to give his father the bigger serving or he would get punished, and Micolash didn't want to get locked into the closet again...

That is why the elderly neighbour started to show Micolash how to scavenge for food as well as grow his own food. She had a little garden and showed him how to plow the ground, sow the seeds and raise vegetables on his own. There wasn't that much growing in Hemwick, but Micolash managed to grow a few vegetables, like carrots, cabbage and turnips.

Micolash also got shown how to gather wild herbs and mushrooms. He had to learn a lot, because a lot of these wild plants weren't edible, downright poisonous. Micolash documented them all on the blank pages of his school books, not having enough coins to buy a notebook for his own. His teacher once wanted to scold him for scribbling in his books, but didn't say anything when she saw what Micolash had written down.

He also got taught how to fish and how to set traps to catch small animals. Fishing often wasn't successful, for Micolash didn't have a good fishing rod and always had to craft one himself. At least looking for earthworms to use as bait was kind of entertaining, he kind of liked digging in the mud, even though it left him dirty and when he would make the shack dirty... Micolash often had to clean himself in the river before getting home.

Traps were a bit more effective, but it was hard for Micolash when he had his first catch and then had to realize that meat meant having to kill a small little animal. He pretty much refused to do it the first time and only slowly took to it... up until to a point where it became so natural for him that he didn't even think about it anymore. Everything he caught meant that he didn't have to go to bed without a full belly and also that he could get his father into a somewhat good mood.

During this time, his life managed to get almost pleasant... until his elderly neighbour died when he was eight years old.

From one day to the other, Micolash had lost his safe place. Now he had to spend all his time at home or wandering the village, which wasn't possible when it rained or snowed, and because the elderly neighbour had taught Micolash how to do household chores, and Micolash had started to clean around the shack, his father now had extraordinary high expectations of him.

If the shack wasn't clean enough, he would get mad. If a dish wasn't to his liking, he would get mad. If he didn't have any clean laundry, he would get mad. Micolash actually asked himself why he was allowed to go to school when all his free time was spent with household chores anyway. Because of that, Micolash would often stay up beyond bedtime and learn for school, for he vowed to himself that he would never end up like his father and learn something good. Luckily, learning came easily to him, very easily. He didn't need long to understand how something worked and managed to pass all his tests with flying colours.

One day Micolash figured that his father would always have something to criticize, so he stopped giving a damn. He would end up in the closet or with a black eye one way or another, so he decided to use his extra time for learning for school and food scavenging, for he hoped he could save a bit of coins to one day leave this place, when he grew up.

Unfortunately, his father found out that Micolash mostly scavenged for food and stopped giving him coins, leaving Micolash with his very small savings that were nowhere enough to get him anywhere. Micolash used his little stash to buy something that he never had dared to try before, for how expensive it was. It was a sweet, something called a chocolate bar and he had never tried something so exquisite and tasty. When he sat at the river, enjoying it, tears ran down his face when he thought that other children could enjoy this treat every single day.

Micolash's life pretty much continued like this and he almost came to terms with that he would either be forever stuck in Hemwick until his father died or had to run away with no coins whatsoever, when his teacher one day talked to him. His grades were so good, she wanted to recommend him to a school named Byrgenwerth, a school in which children and young adults with his skills could study. The best thing about it... the school was a bit off the road, in the middle of a forest, so that the students would stay there for the duration of the school year.

Micolash's face only fell when he heard about the sum he would have to pay to enter. That was impossible for him, especially because he barely got any coins anymore. He knew Father would never pay the tuition, for all their coins were used up for the wine he drank everyday.

That was when Micolash's teacher told him about a stipend. He would have to pass a certain test and then someone else would cover the tuition for him. Micolash, more than eager to get away from this place, as well as wanting to learn even more, accepted and managed to pass the test.

On the day he left, he didn't even tell his father about it. He wrote a letter and slipped it under the door when he went to sleep, then he quietly packed the few things he possessed and left for the carriage. Back then, he hadn't thought about ever going back. He hadn't taken into account that he would get sent home for vacation.

And now he was sitting in the carriage. The carriage that was getting him home. Where he had to face his father and explain to him where he went. Where he probably would get locked into the closet for three days if he was lucky. Micolash hadn't even noticed how he had started shuddering. He didn't, no, he couldn't get back to this place. He had worked so hard to get out of it, it wasn't fair that he had to go back, to this man that never loved him, to that shack that never had been a home, to a place where the only person helping him was long dead.

“Hemwick Chapel Lane. Everyone who wants to get off, please exit.” Micolash jerked up when he heard the name of his stop and got up in an instant, walking to the exit as if he was in a trance. He could feel the gazes of all the passengers on him, only now realizing how much he was shaking. If he would get out there... then his father would have control over him again, and Micolash didn't know if he had the strength to leave another time.

“What's the matter? Is this your station or not?”, the carriage driver asked as Micolash still didn't move.

“No, it isn't.”, Micolash finally said and sat back down. “I am sorry, I want to leave at Byrgenwerth Forest station.”

The carriage driver just gave him a deep look, for that was the station where Micolash had entered, but then shrugged. Micolash took a deep breath when he noticed all the other passengers staring at him, even the small child that had been the start of his trip down memory lane.

“Are you feeling alright?”, the mother of the family asked. “Aren't you a student of Byrgenwerth? Is there a place where you can... stay?”

Micolash didn't reply right away. He would even sleep in the woods if he had to, but... he would go back to Byrgenwerth and ask if he could stay there for the vacation. Laurence and Gehrman were also there, he wouldn't count much, and he could offer to cook. He just hoped that Master Willem didn't have a reason to send him away...

“I'll figure something out.”, he instead replied and the parents shared a look before getting their attention demanded by their offspring. Next to him, the old woman that reminded him so much of his elderly neighbour gave him a pat and said.

“There's no reason to stay at a place you feel unhappy in. Walking away was the best thing that ever happened to me... and I hope you find your place to stay as well.”

Micolash gave her a smile and then looked out of the window.

“Never again.”, he decided as the carriage started moving and left Hemwick Chapel Lane behind him. Never again would Micolash return to this place, from now on, he would build his own life. One day, he might have friends and even subordinates that would research with him and should he make enemies.. well, he would make sure to show them that they couldn't mess with him.

On the way back, Micolash relaxed gradually. The sun was already starting to set when the carriage was back at Byrgenwerth Forest, but Micolash didn't mind, crossing the forest to the school before it set completely and setting foot in the common room, where a pretty confused Laurence got up from the couch, abandoning the book he had read and came over to him.

“Micolash? Didn't you want to go home for the vacations?”, he asked.

“Laurence...”, Micolash said. “There's something I have to tell you...”

Micolash then confessed the whole deal about his upbringing to Laurence and once he was done, breathing heavily and tears staining his eyes, Laurence never once having left his side, laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder, his friend said: “Let's go speak to Master Willem.”

Micolash was allowed to stay in the school during the vacations from now on, only sometimes having to leave to take a new test for his stipend, which Master Willem organized in Yharnam though, Laurence' hometown, so that Micolash didn't had to get back to Hemwick Chapel Lane anymore.

Micolash never went back to this place, instead, he started his own life, and his own school. And even though he broke ties with his old friends eventually, he never regretted his decision.

For in the Nightmare of Mensis was all the knowledge of the Great Ones and why should he ever want to leave the home he made for himself?

(Author's note: Not gonna lie, this feels a bit clunky to me. I practically rewrote the entire thing also from the first draft and only left like the last few paragraphs. I didn't give any names to the characters outside of Micolash and Laurence, because I didn't want to flesh them out too much.

I hope you enjoyed it and tell me what you thought in the comments.)

#bloodborne #fanfiction #micolash host of the nightmare #laurence the first vicar #child abuse cw #child neglect cw #littlewritesstuff

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hotchley · 4 years

Text

the slave of duty: aaron and dave

Surprise guys, I started the conversations series! I have no idea how many there are going to be, but there are several living rent-free in my head, so... we shall see!

Anyways. This is what happened between Aaron and Dave after the end scene of 5x10. It’s mainly dialogue (cos you know, conversations) and there is very little point to it, however, I had fun writing it!

I think that’s everything....

read on ao3!

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, minor character death

“You were right,” Aaron said. They were alone again. Aaron’s hands had been shaking when they were leaving the graveyard. Dave had spotted the tremble before Aaron could hide it.

He tried not to think about the blood that had stained his hands when they had entered the building. He’d never been afraid of Aaron, not even in that moment, but now more than ever he was afraid for him.

Who was supposed to take his hands and convince him that he was alive and human and good and kind now? Haley was dead. Aaron wouldn’t let anyone else touch him. Not now.

Dave had offered to drive him back to the apartment. Hotch hadn’t even put up a fight. He had just shrugged and gotten into the passenger seat, jaw slightly clenched as he stared out the window.

Jessica and Jack were out. Hotch mumbled something about going to the shops and offered to make coffee. Dave had wanted to say no. He didn’t want to be there, noticing how the carpet didn’t quite fit in one space, or how, if you knew where to look, you could just about make out the bullet hole.

But he knew Aaron. Knew how he would bury his pain the moment his son came through the door. Knew that he would act like he was fine when he returned. If he returned. Rossi knew what Aaron had said just moments ago, but there was still time for him to change his mind.

Aaron did not trust easily. An invitation into his apartment- his apartment and not his home because this was not his home, had never been his home- was an invitation into his heart. His mind.

Dave was not going to let that get away from him. He had lost the love and trust of so many people in his life, Aaron’s name was not going on that list. So he said sure.

Which was how he find himself clasping a mug of too-hot coffee he didn’t really want as Aaron took a sip of water. One of the few things that would not destroy his stomach.

“Was I? What about?”

“You said that I had a family. And that when we got Foyet, I would have to make a decision, to make sure I didn’t let the purest thing that had ever happened to me get away. But I got so caught up in everything that I never stopped to think, and now...”

Rossi set his mug down. He knew he had always been a little bit dramatic, and the way he went about things was not always the way Aaron wanted them to happen, but this felt different to those occasions.

“Now what?” he prompted.

Aaron looked up, tears forming in his eyes, thumb drawing circles over his knuckles. He look both so much younger and older than he really was. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that Dave hadn’t seen since he first joined, but a heavy sadness that hadn’t been there before.

“I lost my family months ago. But that was a temporary thing. Now she’s not coming back- which is all my fault- and I’m so afraid of hurting my son that I’m going back to the same job that killed her.”

Dave sighed. He should have known that his dramatics would go completely over Aaron’s head. In his opinion, he lost Haley the moment the divorce papers came to the office instead of his house. Because the Haley he knew would never be that cruel. But anger changed people, and she was gone now. He’d like to remember her goodness.

“Aaron,” he said.

The other man looked down. “Dave. Not now.”

“Yes now. Because you didn’t kill Haley. That was Foyet’s decision. You did what you could. And you’re not going to hurt your son. Not in the way you fear you will. But when I said that, all those months ago, I wasn’t talking about Haley. Or Jack.”

“Dave, you said my family,” Aaron said. Even despite the water he was sipping, he had a headache. Dave and his stupid flare for dramatics wasn’t helping either.

"And I meant us. The team. I meant Spencer Reid, who you have always treated as a son. I meant Penelope Garcia, who remembers what your favourite cookies are. I was talking about Jennifer Jareau who reminds you that monsters can be defeated and Derek Morgan who has and always will trust you with his life. I meant Emily Prentiss, who would die before betraying you. I meant me, who has seen you angry and hurting and not flinched. We are the people that loved you unconditionally through everything."

"I-"

"We're your family Aaron. Even if you want to keep your distance because you're scared of hurting us, we love you. We're not walking away or going anywhere. And I know that terrifies you, but it's the truth. When I told you to not tell the purest thing in your life get away, I meant don't lose us."

"But I've already done that," Hotch said. He did not shout. And that, perhaps more than anything that had happened over the past few weeks, hurt David Rossi. Because Aaron wasn't even trying to fight. He had already given up. Already decided that the team could not and would not love him anymore.

"Have you?"

"Dave, I humiliated Reid for lying about his injuries when I had done the exact same thing. I put myself above the case, days after I made Morgan unit chief, which completely undermined him. I insulted Emily and our friendship, lashed out at Penelope and JJ. I've been a terrible person. Derek had to pull me off a dead man's body. Classic overkill." He laughed as he said the final two words, but there was no humour.

"You did do all of those things. That much is true, yes."

Aaron glared. "That's not exactly convincing me of anything good."

"Because you're not letting me finish. Yes, you fucked up and you did the wrong thing but that doesn't change anything. We still love you. I know what your childhood was like. I know that your parents loving you carried the price of perfection and silence. I know that towards the end, Haley's life carried the price of changing your nature. But we aren't them. One bad thing isn't going to make us run away."

"But it should. I killed a man with my bare hands. Nothing more. We've worked enough cases to know what happens after that. I'm a terrible person."

Dave did not know how to convince Aaron that he was not going to become a case file on their desk. Because the truth was, he was not sure himself. There was every chance that now Aaron had done it once, the urge to do it again would overpower him. He knew what Aaron needed to hear, but he would not lie to him. Not in this moment.

"You are not a terrible person Aaron," he settled on. Because every time he looked at him, he saw the wide-eyed rookie he met in Seattle who just wanted to save the world. But sometimes saving the world was impossible, and right now, the world was Aaron.

"Dave. I'm too much of a coward to be around my son so I'm going back to the same job that killed his mother. The only real parent he ever had."

It was too much. It was just far, far too much. Dave slammed his mug of coffee down on the table, feeling slightly guilty when Aaron flinched at the sound, but not guilty enough to apologise for it. He needed to speak before Hotch fell down the hole of despair.

"Have you been listening to me? Your job did not kill Haley. That was Foyet. And you are not going to hurt your son. Not in the way you think you will."

"How can you be sure?" Aaron asked.

"Because you are a good man. Because you have fought, every day of your life, to break that cycle of abuse. And you have never stopped fighting for what is good and what is right. Because even when you had just lost the love of your life, you sent your son away out of fear that he would realise what the blood was."

Aaron turned away and Dave knew what had to be said. What had to be done. Because Derek Morgan was an excellent leader, and one day, he would take over that role. But he would do it because it was Aaron Hotchner's time to step away and be with his son. He would not do it because Aaron was scared.

"Haley asked you to teach your son what love was," he said, each word carefully calculated. He needed to say your. Because Aaron still did not view himself as Jack's father, even though everybody else did. Because what Aaron did not understand was that it was not about being perfect. It was about being enough.

Aaron looked at him, mouth parted. He hadn't realised. In all the hurt, panic, emptiness, anger and grief it had never once occurred to him that the team would have heard that last conversation and final confession. It was stupid, but he just hadn't. "She did."

"The best way for you to teach your son about love is to show him what it does to people. It makes them happy. It makes them smile. And sometimes it makes them cry. I know you, Aaron. I know you think that coming back means that you're failing Jack but you won't be. You will be teaching him that family is much more than blood. That when you find your passion you hold onto it. And that love, for better or for worse, can and will be unconditional."

And Aaron shattered.

He slid from the couch to the floor, covering his mouth as sobs wracked his body. It was like all the pain he had been keep inside him since the day George Foyet broke into the same apartment they were sat in and stabbed him finally overwhelmed him. His body shook and his breathing started to sound more choked, but Dave was frozen.

It was only when the coughing started that he managed to force himself to act. He dropped to his knees and sat beside Aaron. He just hoped that he would recognise who was touching him and remember that he was safe.

"Hotch. It's Dave. Breathe with me. Yes, that's it. Okay. You're okay. It's all going to be okay."

Before he was aware of what was happening, Aaron's arms were wrapped around him in a tight and desperate hug. It was almost painful. Dave let it happen. Aaron needed something that was real, and genuine and grounding. The last person he'd held had been Haley, her perfume stained with the scent of blood and her body cold. Dave smelt like expensive aftershave and he was warm and his heartbeat was a comforting drum.

"I just don't get how people as good and kind as the team could love me unconditionally. Haley did her best, but that wasn't enough. I wasn't enough. I'm never enough. And I am so fucking terrified that one day, the team are going to realise that, and I will just be alone and broken, like my father always said I would."

There was not time for Dave to explain that it wasn't that his love for Haley wasn't enough, it just wasn't what she needed and that was okay. Because to Aaron, unless he was perfect, he was failing. And he knew that Aaron would not believe him. The only people he would believe about that would have been Haley, but was now Jessica.

"You are enough. You were enough then and you are enough now. The team are never going to think you're not enough because you are. You have given them a family and hope and a purpose. You have done more for them than you will ever understand and they love you. I love you. And on the days where you can't lead, one of them will step in. You've already seen it happen."

"What if I come back and I can't do it? Then what?" Aaron was searching for a reason now. Any reason that would mean the team would not love him the way Dave believed they would.

"Then we will support you. And we will miss you, but we will let you go because sometimes that is what love is. But we won't hate you. Or resent you. We'll stll just be a phone call away because we are your family. And it's not always pretty. Sometimes it's ugly."

"Do you promise you won't hate me?"

Dave had always been slightly different to the team. He had always been the one Aaron went to. The one that could talk him down and convince him that he had done the right thing. He had watched Aaron grow and harden and break. He had taught him that the palm pressed to his cheek was an action of love and given him the title of lead profiler. He'd been a coward after the Boston Reaper as he left Aaron to pick up the pieces. But he'd returned when Jason Gideon left without saying goodbye to the men that had held the team together. One through their ability as a leader, the other through their ability as a friend.

When Dave thought of the months between Jason's departure and his return, he thought of the toll it must have taken on Derek. He was the one that had provided the emotional comfort Aaron had been too closed off to give, even though he was battling his own anger at being left.

"I promise Aaron, on everything that I hold sacred."

Aaron relaxed against him, leaning back against the couch. Dave took the glass from the table and tilted his chin, forcing Aaron to take small sips. When half the glass was emptied, he took the glass and placed it on the table once more.

"Thank you," he whispered, voice still a little hoarse.

"You're welcome," was Dave's response. It was easier than having to explain that Aaron did not need to be grateful.

"By the way, I expect your paperwork from the most recent case on my desk by Monday," Aaron added, a slight grin on his face.

"I'd expect nothing less," Dave said, ruffling Aaron's hair slightly.

They were going to be okay.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #hotch #hurt aaron hotchner #sad aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner needs a hug #hotch whump #hotch angst #tw child abuse #david rossi #rossi #david rossi is a dad

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k-s-morgan · 4 years

Note

You know, I always look forward to and dread your updates. Don’t get me wrong, I love your writing, your metas and all the fics you have written but ‘What he grows to be’ gives me such an upset feeling. Maybe dark stories are not my cup of tea but I’ve read dark stories before and they haven’t affected me the way yours does. Throughout the whole story my heart feels heavy but I can’t bring myself to stop reading. Also I have a question: could you please explain Harry’s devotion to Tom? Like I don’t study psychology or anything so I’m not an expert (so correct me if I’m wrong) but I don’t see a reason for Harry to sacrifice so much for someone like Tom who is nothing but cruel towards him. He’s been condescending always treating Harry like a helpless thing who needs looking after. He is cruel and manipulative and has a complete disregard towards anything about personal boundaries. I mean he’s basically ,in a loose term, a psychopath. I can understand the way you write Tom, I don’t get the way you’ve written Harry. He’s so weak. He has none of that courage he used to have in the books. He doesn’t have that spirit that made me fall in love with him. He gives in so easily. He forgives easily. He has no morals left. He’s not the Harry I know. Like he literally excused multiple murders Tom committed because he loves him? It’s just so hard to comprehend. I tried to put myself in Harry’s place and instead of feeling sympathetic towards him, I felt angry at how much he has lost himself. I don’t see any thing good in Tom. I would understand for Harry to love him with such abandon if he has anything good in him. But Tom has done nothing but made him suffer. Why did Harry change so much? Just because he only has Tom in this world? Because he raised him? Tom was never a helpless, innocent child for Harry to feel compassion towards him. He was cruel and manipulative from the beginning. It just frustrates me how Harry keeps forgiving Tom and then apologizing to him after his ‘punishments’. It might be cruel for Harry to ‘die’ as a punishment but still does it warrant him forgiving Tom so easily after the atrocities he has committed? It’s a complex situation, I understand and truly I don’t mean to offend you or anything. I’m just trying to understand. I’d love to hear your thoughts on this because you know them better than I do as it is your own story. I don’t know if it makes me a bad person but it always gives me so much satisfaction to see Tom suffer even though it’s for such a short time. Please tell me he won’t get away with everything like always does and that Harry won’t just forgive him easily like he usually does. Because what Tom just did was so cruel and horrifying that I was in shock when I read it. The way he used Harry’s weakeness against him... sorry for the rant!

Hello! First of all, thank you so much for such a long and detailed ask - it's always great to know that my work affects people, even if it evokes so much frustration :D I firmly believe in the death of the author concept, so I don't feel like I can impose my understanding of characters on my readers. Everyone sees them in different ways: some readers think Harry overreacted, others think he should kill Tom and be done with it, etc. What He Grows to Be is certainly a disturbing story, and I think it differs from my other works because Tom and Harry are very different. With Will and Hannibal, violence and manipulations are mutual while here, Harry is genuinely kind and empathetic, and Tom takes advantages of that.

As for my personal view: I don't think Harry is weak. I think he is very fucked up, even more so than in canon because he had to live through even more trauma after the war in WHGTB. In canon, being understanding, forgiving, and empathetic are some of Harry's major traits. It always shakes me to think about how he named his child Albus Severus after two people who caused him so much pain. Yes, Dumbledore loved him in his own way, but ultimately, Harry was his weapon. Years of abuse, every interaction, every test - everything was done with a purpose of manipulating him into being a perfect self-sacrificial hero. And yet Harry still loves Dumbledore with devotion, he still holds awe for him. Same with Snape: yes, he wasn't as terrible of a person as Harry imagined. He suffered a lot, he tried to redeem himself, but Harry never saw anything but hostility and derision from him. And yet he forgives everything to the point of naming a child after him because Snape loved his mother and took care of him.

Harry didn't hate his relatives after years of abuse. He managed to feel empathy even for Voldemort, and not just once. He tried to give him a chance during the final battle, tried to make him see where he went wrong - that speaks of a unique kind of compassion and a big lack of self-worth. In WHGTB, due to the circumstances, all these traits are amplified.

As it could be expected, the story of Harry's all-encompassing love for Tom started with pity. When he first adopted him, he felt reserved and wary. He didn't like him, he didn't trust him, but he still started to grow attached to him because that's who Harry is: he can't share meals, teach, talk, and decorate house with a person without feeling something for them in the process. When Tom broke the vase and tried to repair it, terrified and guilty, Harry's pity and attachment won out. In that moment, he saw a little fragile boy who was never loved and who craved approval and acceptance. And Harry was determined to give it to him.

For a while, like you said, Tom was rude and condescending. But he showed he's capable of regret and remorse. He tried to heal Harry after hurting him; he listened to him with fascination during lessons and was willing to change his ideas; he laughed and cooked with him. Affection got stronger, and with it, what seemed annoying started to come across like lovable quirks. Harry despised Tom's showing-off at first, but then, after he got used to him and his company, he started finding it funny and endearing. He invested all of himself into this child, making him into his life goal - he couldn't not love him. He started to live for the small moments of Tom's affection and acceptance. His love for Ron, Hermione, his parents, Sirius - it combined and focused on Tom alone because in many ways, Tom was the key to making sure that when these people are born, they live a fulfilling and happy life. In Harry's mind, the more he loved Tom, the more chances of succeeding he had, and then the boundaries of this love started to blur, and Tom began to genuinely outshine every other person he has ever known because he was there and others were not.

When Gringotts happened and Tom's perception shifted, Harry was showered with his absolute devotion and focus. You said that you don't see anything good in Tom, but Harry does - and it's also important to remember that before Beth, Tom was very careful about not letting him see his real face. In Harry's eyes, Tom learned to help others, like when he offered his hand to a Muggle boy. He discarded the ideas of blood superiority and developed a far more moral outlook. He learned to be caring, worrying about Harry when he's sick, making potions for him, covering him with a blanket at night, helping other students, achieving equality, etc. Tom's devotion is a completely irresistible thing to Harry because he's always been responsive to kindness, no matter how limited it was.

After Beth, it was already too late for him. Love and empathy are a terrible weapon in Harry's case: he can't just unlove someone who has become his main life purpose. The only way is to try to understand Tom, and as long as this understanding exists, Harry finds an ability to forgive him.

You said Tom has done nothing but make him suffer, but for Harry, that's not true. 80% of time he spends with Tom is the happiest time of his life. Tom became the only person in his world, the person Harry poured of all his love, loneliness, and longing into. Tom is a family Harry never had. He was a child Harry could relate to, so he spoiled him, argued with him, shopped with him, and basked in the happiness of making him smile; Tom was a friend ready to listen and reassure, to discuss how their days passed, to do something fun together; now, Tom has started to slowly growing into something more. The celebrations, the shopping, the holidays, the flying - all these are happy memories for Harry. The only major instances of pain were Beth and now Charlus. Harry feels shattered every time Tom comes close to acting on his darkness, but as compared to the time they spend together, happiness still exceeds the heartbreak.

When it comes to breaking his limits, Harry doesn't forgive easily. He didn't speak to Tom 6 months after Beth and he subjected him to a terrible trauma as punishment; the thought of Tom killing Charlus almost drove him crazy, but he couldn't ignore the fact that it happened before the system and that Tom has been trying since then. After the ritual, Harry leaves - and yes, I can assure you that forgiveness is definitely not coming any time soon! Although as the toxic cycle of their relationship shows, Harry can't really stay away from Tom indefinitely either.

Harry is happy with Tom, and he knows Tom loves him. He understands that Tom is a psychopath and that ordinary criteria cannot apply to him, and so he struggles with making sure that Tom follows a lighter path while praising him every time there is some progress. In many ways, Harry succeeded: Tom is not planning on massive destruction. He doesn't discriminate; he made sure that other purebloods became more tolerant; he still wants power, but he's getting to it in ways that don't presuppose violence and murder. Every time Tom shows darkness, it's in an instance concerning Harry.

Harry loves being loved, even though Tom's love is not healthy. He loves being protected because this is something he missed severely in his first life. A big part of him wants to be taken care of, to let go and just enjoy life without constantly having to make difficult decisions. Tom gives him that, and under some conditions, they could be happy together, finding a perfect balance.

Alas, it's not going to happen any time soon (or maybe at all ;)!

#my fics #tomarry

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letstalkaboutitvr · 3 years

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I grew up in a Mexican household.

And that’s really all the background I want to give.

My mom,dad and 2 elder sisters.

My grandpa,grandma and uncles lived on the first floor and us on the second.

I remember feeling some peace at the time knowing my family was all in one home.

It wasn’t until I was older I realized how rare that housing situation was.

I have a handful of happy memories as a kid.

Fireworks on the 4th,Playing in the snow while my dad or one of my uncles shoveled the yard.

Doing Christmas pageants for the church.

Summer nights where my uncles would have a beer,sit down and just chat.

That is such a distant memory now.

Sometimes I try to find the exact moment where my paternal family side became so overcome by religion. It wasn’t always that way and I remember that clearly.

Maybe it came with their adulthood,maybe that’s where they found peace and the ability to forgive and cope. My mother had always been religious. I remember going to late night church retreats,falling asleep on the pews.

Church every Sunday,and the rosary at a strangers house every Thursday.

I remember hating it.

I didn’t want to be home. But I didn’t want to be there. It’s not like I had a fantasy to being playing with my friends or playing video games. Neither of those things were allowed to my sisters and I growing up.

Attending church was what they expected of us.

All fueled by the ignorance that religion would save us from repeating her past.

Catholicism was sewn into to me since I was born. God was in every inch of my life. That’s terrifying as a child. Being on your toes and worrying about existing. Because anything and everything was sinful. As a child I would sob quietly in the middle of the night worried about my fathers soul. Worried about my sisters souls. I begged God that if the time came to take me instead. I would suffer through Hell for eternity. I would pay for my sins and theirs.

I had to be only 6 years old.

What life is that? What kind of 6 year old needs to worry about that?

Even now it brings tears to my eyes, because I think of my son who is about the same age I was. And I can’t even imagine him suffering through something so great. I cry for my inner child.

I was taught that God is merciful,he will forgive you. (Under the right conditions)

And you should also forgive others.

But pain isn’t so easy. And traumas are hard to pass. There were many times after my father had finished beating my mother I felt so angry.

I felt so guilty for being angry. I felt hopeless. And I was angry about that too. When I think about it,I was never taught to blame my father.

Not from my sisters and definitely not from my grandparents. It was always “blame the alcohol”, its the “alcohol. It’s poising his soul”.

Now as an adult,I realized that to my father,

Alcohol was the cure to the poison and pain he endured as a child.

From what I hear my grandfather was pretty wealthy growing up. His family owned a lot of land. They were farmers. He set his eyes on my grandmother while she was only 13. I’m not sure I remember his exact age. But he was maybe about 16. I don’t believe he chose her out of love. I guess I never bothered to ask. Everything that followed however,proves that love was never in the picture. My father would tell me how my grandfather would beat my grandmother day in and day out. And he would hit them too. A story I knew too well. They were children and they would drink their fathers booze. Those poor children. Never stepping in. Never fighting back. Their souls were in pain. No one did anything about it. No one said anything. Because it seemed normal.

When I first heard this story from my father I was so surprised. I knew he was drunk but the pain behind the words were all too real. Because that pain was the same thing I was feeling. So it had to be true. My grandfather has always been a symbol of true love to me.

He was where I felt love and loved. He would sit us on his lap. He walked us to the bus stop Give us sweets and tell us jokes. He was kind growing up and that’s all I ever saw him as. Kind.

This is another reason I believe my fathers family turned to religion. To cling on to an idea that God put this suffering in their way. That God had a greater purpose for all the pain. To have a vessel for forgiveness because they had nothing else. No one broke the chain of generational trauma. And more and more children had to suffer because of it.

It all made sense after my father told me. As a kid it was very simple because abuse “just happened. “ and you had to just sit with it.

Forgive your dad. He’s sorry. He loves you guys. Tell your mom to forgive him. Tell him to stop drinking.

Those words hurt to remember.

I was a child. My sisters and I children and I can’t imagine what they remember and understood since they were older. Why put all that weight on children?

When your job as adults was to protect us. To keep us safe and away from the pain you all suffered as children. Why did we have to suffer too? Why was my mother left as a sacrifice for my father to take out all the pain his father left him? Why was I supposed to forgive that?

My fathers families persistence on my mother staying,and excusing my father is something that is still fresh to me. I’m not sure if that’s anything I’ve ever forgave or will forgive.

I think that’s something that my inner child would need to move past. And I don’t think she’s able.

Years later when she had finally taking enough beatings and more fear than she could handle my mother left. That must’ve been so hard. So scary. I was so relieved. I felt peace. No longer did I have to wake up every night to sleep in my parents bed in hopes that my father might spare my mother because I was in-between them.

My mother had stopped going to church at that point. But my fathers family entry was deep. We lived with the most religious of my uncles and his family. I will always be grateful he gave us a home. A place to try and start again. But that’s all. The memories were dry. And suffocating.

I was a teenager at this point so giving a shit about what I looked like and what people and boys thought about me was so important.

Social media was new and cellphones started to become a thing. Yet here we were

,No using the computer,no hanging out with friends. Go to school. Come home. Do homework. Go to church.

Every Tuesday. Every Thursday. Every Saturday night or Sunday. No freedom to refuse.

My father kept trying to mend things with my mother and she wasn’t having it. I was angry at first because my father seemed different. I wanted to believe he changed so badly. Due to this “change” my fathers family wanted my mom to get back with my father. I’m not sure if it was for appearance purposes or because my dad was whining about it and wouldn’t let it go. I hated that part. Having me tru to choose. Try to coerce my mother. Why should I? She was happy. We were safe. She was safe.

They hated my mother for this. For standing her ground. For wanting to get out. For not sticking it out.

Now I wish I could tell my grandmother. “You could’ve left too. You could’ve saved yourself and your children.

You were allowed to hate him and be angry. “

A cycle of pain weaved into our family name.

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anti-porn-unicorn · 4 years

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I’ve always had an unhealthy relationship with sex and even as young as 5, I had rape fantasies. I thought that I had developed these tendencies naturally and I was just weird, but recently I found out that my dad sexually molested me when I was younger than 4. I just forgot, I still don’t remember. Growing up, I was very protective over my younger brothers and didn’t want them getting into porn because of how violent and horrible it can be. I remember my dad defending porn and saying that men need it, that they have to masturbate to porn for health. //Health//. I found incestual step-sibling porn on my brother’s phone, and wanted my parents to protect him. I knew that can’t be normal. I tried to explain I wasn’t against masturbating just what they might be finding and becoming addicted to or normalized to with porn. I was labeled a self-righteous prude in my home. I was told that step-sibling fantasies are common, no one actually acts on those things. Even my mom told me I was being unreasonable. My dad went on to explain that when he was little even he would sneak into the family room at home to watch the porn channels that would come on, he said this to make it seem like it was normal. There is no doubt in my mind that porn made whatever he is messed up with so much worse. He molested me, my sister, and any other little girl he was in contact with and had access to. My sister remembered for years and just told the family now. He’s confessed, and this is the only reason I know for sure now he molested me, too. Still he hasn’t been arrested, though he brought his confessions to the police. I’m so disgusted by our society and how we mistreat victims and downplay the dangers of porn. I’m worried about my brothers, who still have years of untreated addiction. They are both diagnosed with ADD, there are studies and studies on how much more addictive that kind of stimulation is for those with ADD/ADHD. My oldest younger brother is obsessed with anime, which creeps me out because of how often it is used to deliver sexual depictions of childlike “women”. I’m horrified by how jaded we are and the lack of control, the numbers of views for porn sites and increasingly horrible and pediphilic videos I read terrifies me. How can there be so many? How can we let this just fester? I feel so small, and even though I don’t remember my abuse it has affected me for so long and completely destroyed my relationship with sex. We aren’t objects, we are people. It hurts when other women defend porn, when they try to normalize it, when I know what it can do. It isn’t worth the cost of normalizing the worst of it, which is what is happening. It’s getting worse, the demand and the content. You can never know for sure the actual status of consenst for the people in those videos. I wish people would stop turning a blind eye. I wish there were more of you in the world, I feel like there isn’t enough. I feel trapped. I’m pregnant and I’m having a girl, and all I’ve ever wanted to be is a mom, a good mom. I will protect her with everything in me, I will educate and arm myself. But I’m sick to my stomach thinking of how disgusting and dangerous the world is, and what could happen. I’m in so much pain, I will never trust her uncles with her because I know they are untreated, I will never trust my mom because we were in her care when her own husband hurt us and defended our messed up family dynamic when we tried to explain something is wrong with us, I want to trust my own husband but am now riddled with anxiety and suspicion because the one man who should have protected and loved me above all reduced me to a sexual object. I’m hurt and broken. But sure “it’s healthy”, it’s “normal”, don’t be a “prude”. Yeah, okay, tell that to the man who donated his DNA to make me, who started out a little kid sneaking into the family room, who ended with hidden files on his computer and hundreds of untraceable dollars spent, and a string of broken little girls. It isn’t normal, it needs to be addressed. I’m tired and disgusted and broken.

Oh honey I’m so sorry you had to experience that growing up. No one deserves this. I think the important thing to remember is you are breaking the cycle and that’s amazing. Your father could have groomed you to becoming a porn addict yourself but instead you saw through his bullshit and you’re going to raise your child beautifully. And that takes some serious strength.

Keep fighting. I know it feels like we are in a losing battle, but the truth comes out eventually.

#ask

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thecleverdame · 5 years

Text

This Is Not A Fairy Tale - Five

Alpha!Prince!Sam x Omega!Reader

Story Masterlist

Summary: You’re a suppressed Omega who is forced into servitude after the death of your father. Your stepmother Naomi is a heartless woman who forces you to do the cooking and cleaning, while she tries to marry off her own two daughters, Alex and Claire. But your life takes a wonderful and dangerous turn when you meet the charming Prince Sam who also happens to be an Alpha.

Warnings: ABO smut, abuse, death of parents, magic

Beta: ilikaicalie

*This story is complete and posted on Patreon. Become a patron for a monthly pledge of $2.50 and get access to all my Patreon content.

Your home, or what was your home, is a three-hour journey from the castle. You ride through fields and cross rivers, following your own innate sense of direction. Sam couldn’t find his way to you, but in contrast you always know your way. It’s a trait left from your father.

Rehearsing the plan in your head, you try to account for every possibility. Perhaps they will be sleeping. After a night of dancing and drinking, Naomi and your step-sisters must be exhausted. Maybe they haven’t even noticed you’re gone. And even if they have, you’re banking on the fact that they’ll be too worn out to put up a fuss, at least not this morning.

You won’t get into specifics. There’s no reason for them to know anything about what happened between you and Sam. The goal is to collect your father’s ashes and leave without a nasty confrontation.

There’s no sign of life as you approach the house. Tying the horse to the post you venture inside as quietly as possible. The house appears empty. Slipping your shoes off, you shuffle through the dining room and into the parlor. Your father's ashes sit atop the fireplace in an ornate gold jar that once belonged to your mother. You’ll have both of them with you now.

You carefully collect the urn and turn to find Naomi waiting silently in the doorway. You nearly drop the jar, pulling it back to your chest.

“You really are a slippery little thing, aren’t you.” Her eyes narrow. “How did you get out of the chains?”

“You didn’t fasten them tight enough.” You counter, standing tall. There’s no reason to be afraid of her now. You have the power whether she knows it or not.

“There she is!” Claire rattles, standing beside her mother with Alex right behind. “What are you wearing?”

“What’s different about you?” Alex tips her head. “She looks...less like walking death.”

“Yes, she does.” Naomi steps closer as you fight the urge to retreat. “What are you playing at with Robert’s ashes?”

“I’m taking them with me.” You feel emboldened, empowered for the first time in your adult life. “I won’t be living here anymore.”

“What?” Claire laughs, looking at you as if you’ve just said you saw a dragon. “Have you finally gone insane?”

“What is this?” Naomi throws up a hand to silence her daughter.

“I have decided it’s time for me to move on. I’m no longer a child and you are not my master. I’m not a servant. I’m your stepdaughter and I am free to go as I please.” You want to jump for joy as the words leave your mouth. You’ve wanted to say them for so long.

“This is rather sudden.” Naomi smiles a terrifying grin that sends fear into your very bones. “You are correct. You are not my property, but you forget you are an Omega. If you leave and try to make it on your own you’ll be snapped up by the first wealthy Alpha to cross your path. Omegas aren’t meant to be free, my dear.”

“I’ve already been claimed,” you snap back before you can stop yourself. The hatred you’ve been suppressing for years bubbling to the surface.

All three pairs of eyes snap to your neck. Your hair is covering half of Sam’s bite but it’s visible if one knows what to look for.

“Who would claim you?” Alex wonders aloud, turning to Claire. “Is she serious?”

Naomi is silent, you but you can see the wheels turning. She’s putting things together, staring at you in contempt as the pieces click into place.

“What have you done? You little whore!” She’s seething, jaw clenched as she thrusts an accusatory finger in your direction.

“He claimed me.” You poke your chest, tears springing to your eyes. “He wants to be with me, Naomi. We’re soulmates and there is nothing you can do to take that away from us.”

“What is she talking about?” Clair looks from you to her mother. “Who claimed her?”

“The Prince.” Naomi presses her lips together. “It was her at the ball. The mystery woman in blue. She’s an Omega, no one else ever stood a chance. He wouldn’t have been able to control himself even if you were a troll under a bridge! The king and queen will never allow such deception.”

“It wasn’t the first time we’ve met,” you volley back, watching the fact register as her face falls. “He threw the ball to find me. We’re going to be happy together and I hope my joy tortures you every day!”

“Is she serious?” Claire looks as if she might vomit. “She can’t be. You’re both having a laugh, aren’t you? Mother?”

“Shut up!” Naomi snaps. She can’t take her eyes off you. Alex and Claire are frozen in shock and all you want to do is leave this place and never come back. “You’re going to pay for this.”

“He wanted to know who hurt me.” Your eyes narrow as you inch toward her, wishing you could reach out and smack her right across the face. “He ordered me to tell him who left these scars on my body and I protected you. You should remember that I showed you mercy when you’ve shown me none.”

“You ungrateful slut!” She screams, hands fisted at her sides.

“Goodbye,” you offer your regards and skirt around the women.

You’re surprised that no one follows you but grateful that it’s over as you secure the ashes in your saddlebag. But when you turn to take one final look at the home your father built, Naomi is stalking toward you with two servants behind her. It’s two of the men who work in the fields and care for the cattle.

“Stop her!” Naomi instructs and you realize what’s happening.

“Don’t touch me!” you shout as both men grab your arms, pulling you away from the horse. “Let me go!”

“You are a foolish child.” Naomi watches stone faced as you struggle, fighting like a caged animal. “Carry her down to the basement and make sure she’s tied up properly, arms and legs. We can’t have her slipping out again.”

“What are you doing?!” you scream, staring at her in horror as you’re dragged toward the house. Your feet kick along the ground as freedom slips away. “You can’t keep me here. He’ll find me!”

Three Days Later

Dean winces as a chair hits the wall with tremendous force and splinters in a thousand pieces, sending wood shards in all directions.

“Who is in charge of the search?” Sam yells, grabbing the edge of a small side table and sending it flying. He’s taking his aggression out on whatever’s within arm’s reach.

“I am, my lord.” Byron, a middle-aged high ranking soldier, looks from Dean to Sam, shrinking back a step. “We’re doing all we can, but the search will take time. Perhaps if we had a starting point-”

“Don’t make excuses.” Sam points, stalking toward him. “Just find her. Do you need more men?” Sam looks from Byron to his father who’s watching from the corner of the room. “Tell him he can have as many men as he needs.”

“Of course,” John nods. “Whatever it takes.”

“It’s not a matter of manpower.” Bryon gulps, gathering his courage. “It’s simple logistics. We’ve searched every home in the city from top to bottom. We’ve started with the country homes but it will take days to ensure we’ve left no stone unturned. Perhaps a week.”

“A week?” Sam’s blood is boiling, his face bright red, unable to control the anger churning inside him. Just as quickly, his mood shifts, face falling, swallowing hard as he glances at the king. The fight has drained out of him. Sam’s been cycling between rage and desperation for seventy-two hours. “A week? I can’t-”

“We’ll find her.” John bows his head in confirmation. “Perhaps we need a better strategy.”

“May I make a suggestion?” Bryon raises a shaking finger.

“Please,” Dean nods.

“Perhaps we should make an announcement. If people knew what had happened we would have thousands more eyes looking for her. Men would volunteer to join the search.”

“That’s out of the question.” Mary speaks up for the first time.

“Why? It’s not a bad idea.” Dean offers. “Are you concerned about appearance? Claimed but unmarried…”

“Of course not. There is far more at stake than Sam’s reputation.” Mary scoffs, moving across the room to her youngest son and running a hand up his back. “What do you think the risks are for a prince’s mate out in the world without protection? There are plenty who would jump at the chance to use her against us. Not to mention she’s an Omega, claimed or not she’s a rare commodity.”

Sam makes a desperate breathy noise as his eyes flutter shut. He’s a newly mated Alpha without his mate. The balance of his body has been turned upside down. He can hardly think straight and when he manages to have a coherent thought it’s nothing more than a list of all the terrible fates that could befall you.

“I have to ask again, I’m sorry son.” John persists despite his wife shaking her head in silent warning. “You’re sure she didn’t leave of her own volition? It’s possible she was overwhelmed by how fast things moved-”

“She didn’t run away.” Sam snaps to attention, anger flooding back. He’s been over this a hundred times. “She had every intention of returning. She left a note. If she would have just waited, none of this would have happened.”

“So, either she was detained between the castle and her home or something happened on the journey back,” Dean surmises. “She didn’t tell you anything? Her father’s name? Any detail?”

“No, she didn't want me to know.” Sam explains. “They beat her. There were marks all over her, some from a lash, others I’ve never seen before. She didn’t want me to retaliate.”

“Well, it sounds as if time is of the essence.” Mary thinks on this news, going over all the details Sam has shared over the last three days. “She told you her father was dead and it was her stepmother that beat her?”

“Yes,” Sam confirms, jaw ticking as his nose scrunches in displeasure.

“Well, then we must narrow the search. Byron, compile a list of men who have passed away and left widows and children. I’m sure it’s a long list, but it’s better than scouring the countryside with no direction.”

“Right away.”

The moment Byron leaves the room Sam turns to his father with tears in his eyes. “They’re hurting her. Whoever stopped her from returning, they’re hurting her.”

“You don’t know that.” Mary whispers, slipping her arm around his waist.

“I do. I can’t explain it, but I can feel it. I know how that sounds but I swear to you there are moments when I feel her so clearly. She’s in pain.”

“The bond between Alpha and Omega is something no one understands. You’re connected to her in more ways than we realize.” John places a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “We’re going to find her. It’s only a matter of time.”

Naomi is proving a point. She thought you were already broken, but now she’s on a mission to seal the deal.

You scream as the whip cuts across your back, feeling flesh open as the sting of the leather crosses over dozens of already open wounds. You’re strung up, arms above your head and stripped naked. There’s a warm trickle of blood down your back and over your buttocks. She’s taken the lash to every part of you she can reach, legs, backside and stomach. She’s refrained from marking your breasts and belly, because, as she’s been eager to explain a buyer wants something pretty to look at.

She announced this morning that she has in fact sold you to a wealthy statesman, an Alpha from a far away kingdom. He’ll come to collect you this evening so Naomi is making the most of her last hours with you.

At some point your mind leaves your body. You float upward toward the ceiling, a hazy, clouded feeling as you remember Sam’s scent and how warm it felt to be with him. You didn’t realize how cold you always were in your little basement bedroom until you felt his animal heat all around you. The sound of your voice crying out in agony echos far away.

If you died down here, at least you would have died knowing how wonderful it feels to be cared for by someone. To be held and kissed by a man who only wanted to show you pleasure and safety. But instead, you will suffer a fate much worse than death. You’re to be a mate for another Alpha, a man will no doubt try to claim you and make you his own...but no other mark will ever supersede Sam’s. Your soul and your body will always pine after your original mate. This will only be the beginning of the suffering.

You jerk back to reality when your knees hit the floor. Naomi has cut the ropes that held you. Now you’re a bloody puddle of a woman, nude and cowering on the soot covered stone.

“Why are you doing this?” You look up, knowing the question itself might incur her wrath but it doesn’t matter anymore. Your entire body is on fire, nauseating pain that makes your stomach heave. What’s more at this point?

“Because I hate you,” she replies simply. “You were a wretched child and grew into a wretched woman. If you think I’ll let you take away my daughters’ chance at an advantageous marriage, you’re mistaken. I should have sold you off long ago.”

“Please don’t do this.” You look up at her, arms wobbling as you summon your last ounce of strength. “If you let me go I won’t tell.”

“You won’t tell anyone as it is. I’ve told the Duke what a liar you are. I don’t want you to think you can talk your way out of this. I explained to him that you were claimed by a stable hand and will say or do whatever you can think of to be with him. I wouldn’t go telling tales of your prince. The duke said if you can’t stop your dishonesty he’ll cut out your tongue. You won’t need it to be of use to him.”

You close your eyes, gripping your knees to your chest and try to imagine a way out. There has to be something you can do. If only you’d told Sam where you came from, your father’s name. Anything. You never imagined your life would come to this, an Omega bought and sold and soon to be shipped off to a land far, far away.

#alpha!sam x omega!reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #Sam Winchester Fanfic

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healingobsessed · 4 years

Text

How I’m reparenting

So I know everyone’s reparenting journey is a little different so I thought I’d explain what reparenting is, why I’ve decided to do this and how I’m doing it. Because I can already tell this is gonna be more or less a pretty wild ride.

Reparenting is basically this:

I didn’t get.... well, basically any of this from my parents as a child. I was always told that children should be seen and not heard, my desires were never met. The only thing that was really met for me as a kid is was food and water/other means of hydration, even that was on shaky ground when I lived with my mother. I may or may not go into details about my childhood later on on this blog, I haven’t really decided as it’s incredibly personal and painful to have out there for everyone to see.

I’ve decided to go on this journey because I’ve noticed that most of my romantic relationships mirror the relationship that my parents had and as a result I either 1) pick people that are either like my mother or my father or 2) feel like it’s going too well, nitpick every single thing and end up leaving before it can become disastrous. My friendships are thankfully pretty solid, but my romantic relationships have always been a mess and I either end up getting hurt or hurting someone. And I’m tired of repeating this cycle. The neglect and abuse I experienced as a child affects other areas of my life obviously but I recently broke up with someone who was a little too much like my dad and dipped cause he was becoming very toxic to me, so that reason is what drove me to this journey.

What I have decided to do, because I like guidance in general, is follow The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. It is first and foremost about recovering your artist, healing from the people who hurt your inner artist and unleashing your inner artist to create the art you want to create. However I’m using it a little bit differently — I’m using the basic principles that it highlights.

The artists way is made up of three individuals concepts:

Morning pages — three pages of stream of consciousness writing

The artist date — taking your inner artist child on a date once a week for 2 hours. No other people, no distractions. Nothing. Just you, your inner artist and whatever you decide to do.

The weekly reading and tasks.

How I’ve modified it to fit what I’m doing:

Morning pages: I’m not doing these in the morning like Julia suggests. I am doing these at night after my shower. Right after I do my bullet journal stuff. I’m also not doing three pages. I’m being kind and considerate to myself by not pushing myself to do something that will inevitably exhaust me. I am committing myself to write at least one line. It’s small, but doable for me. If after I write that line and I feel like writing more than that, I do. And I write until I’m satisfied.

Artist date: Pretty much done in the same way that the artist date in the book is done. (This next line is hypothetical, as COVID-19 has made going outside for fun difficult) I go places that my inner child would think is fun, places I didn’t get to go as a kid or do things I wasn’t allowed to do, ie. Swing on the swings at a park, buy cute little things in the store just for the fun of it, buy myself a candy or two, a stuffed animal, whatever makes my inner child happy within reason, of course. Since COVID-19 is currently a thing, I plan to watch kid movies inside, maybe build a fort and read in it, color, and sing horribly to Disney songs, just cause I can 😁

The weekly reading and tasks: Since I’m doing this as someone who’s trying to heal my inner child, I’m completely skipping the readings and going straight to the tasks. I’m also adjusting the way I do said tasks. For example: every time the “inner artist” or “creative child” is mentioned I just substitute it for child or childhood or whatever so inner artist would become “inner child” and creative child would just be “child”

I am starting small with this because I never got any real structure as a child and I’m kind of at a loss on how to provide structure for myself and by extension for my own child. I am working on it and that needs to happen in baby steps because otherwise it’ll become too hard and I will give up and fall right back into old patterns because, as painful as they are, they are also easier than changing.

I am excited about this journey that I’ve decided to take but I am also terrified. I really don’t adjust to change well and this is going to be a really big change for me. I’d like to update how it’s going on this blog AT LEAST weekly. If I’ve dealt with something rather monumental or whatever, I will likely also write about that, but I think with every week I get through in the artists way(the child’s way???) I will do an update on here as well. If you have made it this far into this post thank you for sticking around and I hope this has been useful.

#recovery #reparenting #reparenting yourself #inner child #healing #breaking cycles #inner work

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winniethepooh11062003 · 4 years

Text

03:30 am

Woke up, and the first thing that I think about is you. There’s a lot of things I’m going to write here, and I think I want you to read them all. One by one.

It’s 3:30 in the morning, Wednesday. I don’t want to come to school today. You made coming to school such a joy. For real. I used to look forward to our conversations and laughs. Wow slut, I really really miss those days.

And I’ve been listening to music you like, and right now, I’m listening to those songs I showed you during Impact. That was the first time we’ve ever had actual contact, and I remember every detail in clear detail.

I cried myself to sleep last night. As a matter of fact, I cried a lot yesterday. Tried studying, working out, eating, everything possible, couldn’t take my mind off you. I know an apology was long overdue. But I’m sorry. I really am.

Slut, there’s a lot I’ve been thinking these few days. And they’ve all got you in it.

Suffocated, lost; these are words that only partially describe how I feel when my best friend doesn’t talk to me and doesn’t even look me in the eye anymore. You know that feeling when you realise something major is missing from your life? I’ve that feeling right now, and a lot of it.

Slut, seriously, think about this, when I tell you that you’re my best friend and the best one I’ve ever had, and I’d hold on to you for dear life, I’m not lying. I don’t think I’d lie about those things. I just feel the same.

Slut, I don’t remember if I called you a bad influence, but it’s stupid. If anyone is a bad influence, it’s me. I taught you cuss words, deep throat nonsense and whatnot, and I’ve been so abusive and difficult. I wish someone would just punch me in the face something, break all my 28 teeth.

Slut, what are you doing now? Sleeping? Okay slut, I can see you in my head now. Eyes welling up. Been up like a maniac since 3. First thing on my mind is you.

Also, slut, when I said I might switch on you in college, that’s bullshit. I said that cause of a fucked up ego, that I’ve consciously worked to change out. I think I’ve got a little more mature now, I’m not lying; I really see change.

Slut, come here with your cycle. I wanna talk to you in the dark. And watch the sun come up. I’m sad we don’t do that anymore. Also, I saw your mouth today. So cute. You look younger. Like the pictures you sent me.

You’ve lost a lot of weight, and your jawline is so good. I’ve done the opposite.

Also, slut, if you recall, I said I wanted to make a million memories with you. I still want to. So badly. Slut I’m convinced that you’re the best. There’s enough evidence and more than that. It hurtssssss. Slut I can’t stand that you won’t see my face.

I don’t know slut, how hard was it? Because I would fail if I took on this mission to ignore you. Slut, I know I’ve hurt you really bad this time, because you’re still mad at me.

I’ve bought you a book, and I want to give it to you sometime. It’s a Jhumpa Lahiri book. I just wanted to introduce you to a new type of person.

I’m shivering now. I’m terrified. What if you never talk to me ever again? What if we can never have the chance to make memories again? When you told me you’d pick me over K, I was devastated. I really didn’t think you liked me that much. But I can say without a doubt, that I’d choose you over anyone else for sure. No hesitation. That’s what you mean to me.

Slutttt, I miss you so much. Remember that drive? Slut, thinking about it makes me so nostalgic. Slut, can we go back in time? Like is it actually possible? Because I’d go back to that first day. Sliding that desk across the room. You looking at me and thinking I’m a clown. I’d give anything for you to just look at me again. And I’d relive those moments, make sure we’re fine.

Slutt, it’s really my fault. I’m not being sarcastic. And you’re not a bad influence, what can I say sluttttttt? What can I do to make things right? I suck. I don’t deserve you. God, I thank all these circumstances that got me closer to you. Every single factor. Slut, even before I’ve seen you, I’ve felt something for you. It’s that feeling when you know you’ve got to know someone so badly. Slut, I’m not letting my ego get between us ever again. So I just want you to talk to me. Please.

Boards are in a few months. After that, we won’t be in school again. Slut, what if you forget me after school? Slut, I don’t want you to go. I’m scared. I don’t want that to happen. Slut, we’re running out of time. I thought of talking to my mother and asking her to call your mother. But I didn’t want to force you to talk to me.

Slut I was the only person between us who was so possessive and jealous. I’ve noticed that quite often. But my ego never let me see it. Such a child slut.

I call you Ruj in my head, and slut everywhere else. Slut, you’re a permanent memory. You’ll always be someone I’ve got great admiration for. I hope you make it big, and well. Like I hope you get your pilot license, become the best designer to ever exist, and what not. I really hope you get ahead in life and become the best in your fields of interest.

Slut, I don’t want to feel hopeless. I just feel like I want some guarantee that we’d forget this and get together.

Ruj, we’ve been friends for so long, and I thought we had an understanding, and many fights along the way, but you drew the line here. No warnings, straight up just cut me out. I know there’s a limit to being a dick, and just because I’ve told you I’m a bad person, doesn’t give me the liberty to be such a cunt.

Ruj, I want to show you that I can change. That I can treat you the right way. I’d be glad if you gave me just one more chance.

17 years of existence. The best wishes I’ve ever got was on my 17th birthday. And I was actually sad the previous night, I thought everyone forgot me. And I wanted Arya to wish me🤮. Your wishes were way more than sufficient. My day was great when I read your email. Slut, I want to make you a promise, that I’ll think and act rationally, rather than being an impulsive and irritable dumbass.

So precious. I’m so ever eternally grateful you’ve been a part of my life, and I really wish you’re a part of my life until the end. Even after that. Slut, I know you might think I’m lying right now, but that isn’t true. These are my thoughts that I’m writing down. They come and go, so I thought of writing them down.

First day the school reopened, I came with hopes that you’d forgive me. But you were already so pissed off. Slut, I’m so sorry. Like I know it’s been my fault this entire time. I’m embarrassed, ashamed.

Slut, I’d choose you over my ego. And I’m serious. Slut, just one chance to make things right. One. And I’ll change my ways.

Slut I keep reading your email and crying. I remember when you said I made you cry when I ghosted you. I’m so sorry. I’m so damn sorry. Slut, do you even miss me one bit?

I don’t want to rip bandages off you. I don’t want to fucking switch on you. I want you. Just you is fine. My life is so fucking empty. I’m sorry. Slut, it makes sense now, what you were talking about in the email happened. You knew this whole time? That I was a dick? And that you’d get away for the better?

Slut, that email wa so passive aggressive it hurt. I felt bad when I read it, but I think that you wishing me in the first place was insanely nice. It’s not fine. What’s fine? No, me turning on you would be a violation of everything I hold dear to me.

I will never change my decision. Slut, I’ve understood your true value now. I mean, I’ve always known, but I just got ignorant in the middle.

Slut, I’m worried about the future. What if we live far away? What if you go to college somewhere else? I won’t get a new best friend and all. That’s for sure. It’s you or no one else. I decided to never get a best friend ever again if it wasn’t you. Slut, I’m asking for nothing else but your forgiveness. I’d be more than happy if you gave it some thought and told me if you want to talk to me. I’m so sorry. I could apologize a million times. But I just want you to know how sorry I am. And what you mean to me. Slut, if you don’t take the book tomorrow or the day after, I’m going to be so hurt. But I deserve to be.

You gave me all your passwords. Wow. Still can’t get over that. I wish I’d shared all of mine too. Life is so empty. My words can’t even describe what’s in my head. Slut, sorry. Mannichiko, ennaku theriyum nee kovamma irruka. If you came back though, I promise, I’ll be an actual best friend to you. Not that I wasn’t this whole time, I’ll treat you like the gem that you are.

I’m glad that our parents know each other. Like there’s a lot in common between us. Slut. Epdi irruka? No really, how are you? I haven’t been able to get through for the longest time. I want to know how you’re doing. Please let me know.

Wow, it’s been an hour.

Slut. I’m sorry for being an abusive and a stupid friend. I swear I’ve changed now, and I want you to look at the new me. Sorry for stealing your peace and fun, and I hope I’m not some kind of parasite. I loved each and every thing we’ve ever done.

Slut, it’s quite true, I started fighting with you most of the time. And I think I’ll cut down, not stop. If you gave me a chance. I love calling you names. Vivek, Khat, Ruj, Slut, Rujithaw, and whatnot. I loved it all. I still love it.

Also, I thought of bringing this up a long long time ago. You see, I tell you to listen to music and watch things etc. but you rarely ever suggest things. Midnight Sky, What Are The Odds are just a few things, and why do you assume I won’t like them? Midnight Sky is really good, and I think I don’t even have to talk about WATO. I loved it. Slut, I know this feeling. This feeling of emptiness, and I think the dead morning vibe adds to it. Slut I miss you. And I pray and hope that you come back.

Stud really loves and misses you. And so does Dobby. Dobby doesn’t lie about that.

Good morning slut, I hope you have an awesome day today. And I miss you, love you, and wish I could make things right. Bye for now.

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