#I GAVE HER IRREVERSIBLE TRAUMA!!!!!

[soupthecoolest]

CALLIE!!!1!1!

wow i put my girl through a lot tonight. so the past couple sessions she was actually mind controlled, and forced to hurt the first friends she had made in centuries! what FUN!!!!

she was put in as a boss battle against the party and forced to kill her idiot brother guy, dee. annnddd thennn got freed from my mind control by said brother and got COOL SCARS!! CUE EPIC REDESIGN!!!

cozy girl nation. she’s got a shawl now… drags hand down the wall…. i love you callie….

[lisired]

keep on

pairing: johnny x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, angst, non-idol au, fwb!johnny, alcohol consumption, mentions of addiction/alcoholicism, daddy issues, mommy issues, unprotexted sex (dont b silly wrap ur willy!)

summary: All things love and commitment are feared upon by you. You keep a tight crew and let few people in, cynical of other’s intentions and leaving a trail of broken hearts in your wake. If you break other people’s hearts first, they can’t break yours. And yet, it was all too easy falling for Johnny, digging yourself into a depthless hole of love. But he is no exception to your heartache games.

word count: 13.6k

a/n: this was a pretty quick write. inspired by keep on by kehlani, garden (say it like dat) by sza and off the table by ariana grande featuring the weeknd. have fun reading <3 feedback is appreciated!

Through the blurry lenses of your eyes, love was a synonym for heartbreak.

It happened everyday. People gave people their all and in return, they received nothing but brutal agony. You had seen it happen and experienced the heartache firsthand.

Like when your father left your mother. And thus, the baby they had brought into this world together. It stung like nothing else to watch what became of your mother, drowning her sorrows in liquor. She was never the same.

Perhaps she had passed her bad habits down to you. The apple never falls far from the tree, they say.

Irene’s house was your deemed safe haven for the night. It was Friday and you were having a girl’s night out, but given the gruesome work week everyone had, no one wanted to truly go out.

You strutted inside and collapsed against her island, dropping your purse on the surface. “Get me drunk,” you sighed, tired beyond imagination. Not to mention the text message creeping in your mind.

Yeri giggled and slid you a glass. She had already been drinking, you could tell. She got all bubbly when tipsy. She reached for a bottle, and said, “Irene’s getting the good shit. She’ll be right back.”

They got the bottles and poured the glasses. When they were empty, you didn’t hesitate to fill them up again. There was no doubt that the next morning would bring you a terrible hangover, though you wanted to drink like there was no tomorrow.

You wanted to forget everything. Forget men. Forget the way that they all hurt you. Fuck that, you didn’t even want to remember what hurt was or meant.

They were nothing but trouble.

As the hours ticked by, less and less of your sullenness was masked by your inebriety. It became evident that there was something plaguing your mind. You sat slumped on the couch, bitter.

Irene sat beside you when the coast was clear. The girls had either passed out or gone back home if they were sober enough. But you were seated on her sofa, reeking of depression.

“We can always talk about it, you know,” Irene said softly. She grabbed your hand and let you rest your head on her lap. “It might make you feel better to open up.”

You shook your head and quipped dryly, “And ruin your perfect girl’s night? I thought the point was to de-stress.”

Irene gave you a faint smile and patted your head gently. She was one of the few people who knew the extent of trauma you dealt with. Your every secret was kept under lock and key but she protected them with her whole heart. Irene cared for you, that was undeniable. All things considered, she was like a mother to you. But you depended on no one but yourself and you hated seeming weak. Even if you were.

Besides, there was a time and a place, and this was neither. Ranting about your daddy issues wasn’t the point of tonight. It was to clear your head. Nothing good came out of recalling the irreversible damage your father had inflicted upon your broken family.

I’m sorry. Let me make things right, the text you received read. It made you feel a fusion of emotion - anger, sadness, confusion, disgust. What he did, upping and leaving, was unforgivable. It was a sin.

He broke your family. There was nothing he could do or say to make things right, to mend the shattered pieces. If he wanted to leave then he should have stayed gone. He had no right to try to come and intrude years later. He didn’t get to pick and choose when he could be in your life.

Irene was firm when she told you, “I’m here for you whenever you need me. I know you like to think that you don’t need anyone, that opening up makes you vulnerable, but being vulnerable is okay. I’m not going to attack you for being human and having the feelings you push away.”

Right in the heart - that was where her words always hit you. Irene had a habit of always being right, even if the truth hurt. Even if you desperately wanted her to be wrong. And yet, she never was.

But your lips were sealed. It was too much. Irene could try and soothe you, but even she couldn’t always break you. She sighed, but had another solution.

Irene lifted your head off of her lap and stood, rummaging for her keys. You stared at her with confusion. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you to Johnny’s. No buts. If there’s anyone that can get you to open up, it’s him, and the very last thing that you need to be in this state is alone.”

Your eyes flickered with shock. It wouldn’t be the first time that a drunk you had been dropped off at his doorstep - and it more than likely wouldn’t be the last - but you always woke up penitent the next day.

Johnny didn’t deserve that. He deserved better than you.

“But…”

“Ah, ah, ah - I said no ‘but’s,” Irene wielded her dismissive weapon of a finger. Her motherly instincts were kicking in and it meant that her decision was final. “Let’s go.”

With no other option, you followed Irene to her car with a slight stumble in your walk. Given they lived in the same neighborhood, you were at Johnny’s place in a blink. For some reason, you felt nervous. That was how you always felt around Johnny, even if you knew deep down that you had nothing to worry about.

He keeps on taking me in, you thought somberly. He’s nice to me. Even when I don’t deserve it. And I don’t know why.

If you were sober, you might have felt more guilty. Scratch that, you would have felt like nothing short of a villain. And maybe you were. Maybe you were the bad guy, the wolf dressed in sheep’s clothing.

But that was because you couldn’t help but think everyone else was out to get you. Whatever much excuse you could bring yourself to give.

Irene walked you up to Johnny’s doorstep and rang the doorbell. It was late at night and Johnny liked his rest, but he was wide awake when he came to answer the door. And his entire expression changed when his eyes fell on you.

Johnny had seen you too many times too many in this state and just enough to know when you had spent the past few hours maintaining your friendship with alcohol. It was much more effort than you were putting into yours.

Irene squeaked in her soft voice, “Hi.”

He looked stone cold. It made your stomach twist, just a little. Although you knew Johnny was the warmest person there was. He stifled a sigh and said, “Come on, y/n.”

You shuffled right past him and through the doorway. By now it was routine, yet Johnny thought he would never get used to seeing you this way. He tried to help you, tried to get you to break out of your bad habits. And you were genuinely improving. For you to relapse out of the blue meant that you had been triggered.

When the coast was clear, Johnny shot Irene a glare, and snapped, “Why would you let this happen?”

Irene kept a straight face and took his harsh words in stride. If Johnny lashed out at her, she understood. It wasn’t easy dealing with you, loving you, and she could only imagine what it was like to be in love with you. “I know you’re stressed, but don’t antagonize me for her actions, Johnny. I can’t control what she does.”

“No, but you can enable her. And that’s exactly what you do,” Johnny barked.

“She’s one of my closest friends!” Irene shouted, tears brimming in her eyes. “I would never do anything to hurt her. All I want to do is help her. I’ve been trying. Trust me. I’ve been trying so hard, Johnny. But you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to help themselves.”

Irene never cried. Much less in front of men. She was too busy being strong for everyone else to let herself be weak. She deserved to lash out, too. Being the calm friend, the responsible one, was hard. And she felt like she only got closer and closer to losing you everyday.

Johnny simmered down once he realized that she was right. All of this was unwarranted. He knew that doing this for you over and over again was only hurting the both of you, and everyone you loved, but he loved you too goddamn much to let you go.

It was frustrating. It made him angry - loving you. Being in love with you. Hearing his heart call out your name. And watching you use him just to dispose of him when you were done like he was some replaceable toy. What made him even more upset was that you were showing progress, and he thought that maybe something good could finally come out of it. Now he had to watch it all go down the drain.

Johnny rubbed his temple and sighed out, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Irene took a deep breath and exhaled. Johnny knew it wasn’t like her to lose her sense like that, but as long as you were hurting, so was she. “Just take care of her. Please. That’s all I ask.”

Johnny gave a nod of head and turned around. He was about to go inside and check up on you when he heard Irene call his name again.

“Please be patient with her. She’s trying.”

She loves you. Irene didn’t say it, but it was clear as day. Written all over her face, swimming in her dark eyes.

He nodded again, more reluctant this time, then pushed his door open and came inside the house. Glancing around, he didn’t spot you nearby. He called out your name, and when you responded, the sound of your voice led him upstairs to his bedroom.

You were now wearing one of his t-shirts, but it looked more like it was wearing you. Things had been like that since you were in high school. He towered over you with the skies above and yet he was filled of nothing but adoration. The memories of you wearing his clothes almost made him break into a smile. Almost.

Instead, Johnny sat down beside you and said, “Are you gonna tell me what happened now or in the morning?”

You frowned. People always wanted to talk, as if talking would make all your problems magically disappear. All you wanted to do was forget that they existed for as long as you could.

Without saying a word, you unlocked your phone, went to your messages, and handed it to him. Johnny gave you a confused glance, but read the text nonetheless. It was from an unsaved number, but the contents of the message gave away everything he needed to know. Clearly, it was from no one other than your father.

“Shit,” Johnny said, more to himself than anything else.

You pushed your knees to your chest and wrapped your arms around your legs. “Yeah. Apparently he wants to make up for leaving his daughter and her mother when she was a toddler and driving the woman he used to love into substance abuse. Funny, right?”

Johnny sighed. No wonder you were beginning to sink back into your old ways. This was a trigger and you knew nothing else.

“How’d he even get your number?”

“My mother’s rash decisions or my cousin’s spite for me, who knows,” you shrugged, chuckling. Family reunions weren’t your favorite. At some point of becoming fed up with your family fiascos, you stopped attending. There was no way that you would see your evil cousin, your old-fashioned grandparents, aunts, and uncles, or even your mother. The only thing she and you shared was resent for your father, but you weren’t sure what she was capable of when drunk.

Johnny frowned. As much as it hurt to see you like this, he understood why you reacted the way you did. He was your best friend and your lover and knew you better than you knew yourself. He knew every bit of your trauma, down to the rawest detail - your childhood, all of the boys you once loved that weren’t him.

Part of him wished that you had given your heart to him first. He would have guarded it with a sword and fought off dragons for you. Instead, the boys you trusted handled it carelessly and shattered it into pieces. Now it was much harder to salvage what was left of it.

Johnny pulled you into his arms. He was angry. Angry at your father, angry at the world, even angry at you. But he wanted to be there for you, even if you took advantage of his kindness. When you felt his hands around you, you wept into his shoulder. He smoothed the palm of his hand against your back, and whispered soothingly into your ear, “It’s okay. Let it all out.”

You wept and wept, until you had no tears left to cry. God, you hated crying in front of other people. You hated being vulnerable, but it came naturally when you were with Johnny. Ever since you became friends in high school. And though Johnny never made a move to hurt you, he could have. That was the part you hated. Being vulnerable to someone meant trusting them not to hurt you the way everyone else had.

When you were done, you pulled away and noticed the damp patch on Johnny’s shirt. “Sorry,” you croaked.

“Shirts can dry,” he reminded, and lifted it above his head. “Let’s go to bed. You can talk to me in the morning when you’re sober.”

You nodded, then climbed into bed with him. To say that you hadn’t been in this position before would have been a lie, but you liked being so close to Johnny. He was your refuge from the world that liked to throw knives at you. And when you bled, he was always there to tend to your bloody scars. He made you feel safe, and that scared you more than anything.

Johnny kissed your forehead. “Goodnight.”

Heat flared in your cheeks. Safe didn’t even scratch the surface of how Johnny made you feel, but it would have to for now. You weren’t ready to unpack your feelings for Johnny. You weren’t ready to confront them.

“Goodnight, Johnny.”

Even in the dark, you saw Johnny smile. And beneath it he hid the storms of emotion induced by you that were killing him softly.

Between the pain of knowing Johnny was hurting because of you and the pain of your hangover, you couldn’t tell what hurt more.

It was a well-practiced routine. You woke up with a splitting headache, a bottle of water and Aspirin waiting for you on his bedside, and sometimes Johnny would be tucked into the sheets next to you. When he wasn’t, he was downstairs making breakfast.

And when you woke up, taking in your surroundings and realizing they were nothing like your bedroom, the regret settled in. You’re so fucking selfish, you chastised to yourself. Johnny was in love with you. That was positively the only reason he put up with your bullshit, but he deserved better.

And you were trying to give him better, to be the one that he needed. Given your habits of sleeping around to ignore the weight tugging at your chest when you thought of Johnny and drinking away your problems, you were trying to stop. Instead of drinking, you ranted to Irene or Johnny. Instead of finding someone to toy with for a night, you tried to be a good friend to Johnny.

It worked. Even the rest of your friends caught on to how much better and healthier you seemed. Then, your dad sent that stupid text and your whole world went crashing down. You didn’t know what to do. You were torn. Ripped and shredded to fucking pieces.

Maybe it was time Johnny accepted that he deserved someone better than you. For his own sake. You were a tainter that ruined everything you touched and rotted it to the core.

You popped the Aspirin and came downstairs. Johnny wasn’t there when you woke up, but judging from the delicious scent wafting through the air, he was downstairs cooking.

“Morning,” you whispered, sitting at the island.

Johnny shot you a glance over his shoulder and tended back to the stove. He was making pancakes. “If it isn’t Sleeping Beauty.”

You blushed and tried to hide it, asking coyly, “Momma’s recipe?”

“You know it.”

That made you crack a soft smile. He was right - you did know. Part of you envied the relationship Johnny had with his parents: strong and healthy. That would never be you. You didn’t remember the last time you spoke to your mother and your father was self-explanatory.

You shook your head, and hopefully the thought away. It was too early. Instead, you focused on Johnny. He was still half-naked, and you caught yourself gazing at the details of his bare back. Damn, did he look good.

Then, you watched him cook, subconsciously trailing off into your own head again. I don’t deserve him. He went above and beyond for you, from making you breakfast to even letting you inside in the first place. He held you and listened to your rants and tried his best to aid you, but you threw that all away. And yet, here he was.

When Johnny was finished cooking, he fixed you both plates and sat across from you. Apart from giving him your gratitude, the two of you ate in silence. After a while, he commented, “I thought you weren’t drinking anymore.”

You stared at your plate, refusing to look Johnny in his eyes. That would kill you - seeing the pain submerged in his eyes staring back in you. It was obvious that you didn’t want to have this conversation, preferring to leave words left unsaid. What you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you.

Maybe you already knew and you were trying your hardest to ignore it.

“Old habits die hard,” you murmured, fiddling with your knife and fork.

Your relationship with alcohol was typical. Although you weren’t addicted, it was still unhealthy. For the most part, when you drank, it was to forget about the feelings and thoughts plaguing your heart and mind. Escapism was your go-to coping mechanism. You weren’t strong enough to confront your problems head-on.

“You can’t keep doing this.” We can’t keep doing this.

“I know.”

Johnny sighed. “What’s on your mind?”

You bit your lip. Of course, Johnny could tell when there was something troubling you. There was no hiding from him. He was the only one capable of coaxing you of an answer.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shown up here unannounced expecting you to take care of me.” Just like you always do.

Johnny was quick. “It wasn’t unannounced. Irene texted me.”

“That’s not the point and you know it,” you said, finally looking up at him. The expression he sported was grim. It hurt to see the way he looked at you, but you knew that you didn’t deserve his beautiful smile. 

He sighed and glanced off, almost looking offended. “Then, what is your point?”

You shook your head. You weren’t ready to have this conversation and you doubted that you ever would be. “Forget it.”

“No. Talk to me. I just hate when you freeze me out,” Johnny urged swiftly. He hated it more than anything else. All he wanted was your love, but he was quick to realize that it was hard to thaw your frozen heart out.

Eyes drifting back to your plate, you shook your head and whispered, “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Johnny softened up. For fucks sake, you were impossible, but he had too much sympathy for you. He understood why you acted the way you did, even if that didn’t ease the pain or validate your behavior. Most of all, he didn’t want you to follow your mother’s footsteps and become the person you swore you’d never be.

Last night hurt him, too. Patient was all he had ever been with you. He had been patient with you for at least ten years. He was so sick of waiting, but it was safe to say that no matter what, you would be his first and last love.

When the room got quiet, you spoke up again in a little voice, “He texted me Thursday night. I still haven’t responded. I don’t know what to do anymore, Johnny.”

“Do what you wanna do,” he told you, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s up to you. You don’t have to forgive him. You don’t even gotta respond. What he did was fucked up and he shouldn’t expect you to give in easily. But whatever you choose to do, your first priority should be letting go.”

Letting go. Easier said than done. All your life, letting go had never been your forte. Part of you was still scarred by your past lovers. Grudges ruined your life.

There were reasons why you came out this way. Of course, part of it stemmed from your childhood, though not everything and your identity was intricately layered.

In high school, you fell for Lee Jeno. He was the sweetest boy that you’d ever met - or at least you thought he was - and he almost instantly swept you off your feet. Jeno had all the girls swooning and the fact that he chose you made you feel a special type of bliss. Until you found him making out with a cheerleader in the locker room.

Then, in college, you decided to give romance a second try. It was Osaki Shotaro’s turn to break your heart. You remembered like it was yesterday and it was all so sudden. Out of the blue, Shotaro broke up with you and told you that he wasn’t in love with you anymore. He left you for another woman. You couldn’t imagine how many times he had been with her all while being with you. It made you sick to your stomach.

After that, you were scarred for life, scared shitless of love. Boys proved time and time again without fail that their only intention was to treat your fragile heart like dirt on the bottom of their shoes. They walked all over it, taking advantage of your blind love. Fed you lies and empty promises of forever.

That was why you kept your heart guarded and under lock and key. You intentionally kept your relationships short and discardable - no strings attached. You didn’t want to trust anyone else with your heart. They threw it in the middle of a busy highway and now it was in traffic.

Trust issues, they called it. Issues - that was your forte. And you had a variety. Trust issues, abandonment issues, daddy issues, commitment issues. Whatever the label slapped on them, they all controlled every moment of your life.

Johnny added, “I know that’s easier said than done, but promise me you’ll try. Will you?”

You nodded your head and fought back tears. Weak was the word you used to describe yourself in your head. It was far too easy to break you. “I’ll try, I promise. But I don’t know if I can do it.”

“I believe in you,” Johnny whispered, voice soft yet powerful. You were convinced that he had too much faith in you. Never had anyone believed in you this much. Never had anyone loved you the way that Johnny did and you didn’t know how to accept it.

Your heart was at constant war, unable to choose between two stances. Johnny wasn’t like the other men once in your life. Or maybe he was, yet hid it well. Maybe he was waiting for you to trust him to break your heart.

Both of you finished eating and changed the subject. It was a relief. Johnny hated making things awkward and you were grateful for that.

After a while, Johnny drove you back home. You hated leaving and Johnny hated watching you go, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t used to this cycle. You stood at your doorstep and said, “Thanks for breakfast.”

Johnny nodded. “Any time. When will I see you again?”

He liked seeing you. Just not after a long night of you disregarding your troubles with sex and alcohol.

“My schedule’s packed Monday through Friday, but maybe one of those nights,” you said. Often you found yourself making time for Johnny when there was none. And in return, he did the same. He showed you a good time and to your definition, that meant a night of relieving pent up stress. “If not, I’ll see you this weekend.”

“Okay,” Johnny nodded again. “Later, alligator.”

Before he could leave, you leaned on the tip of your toes and smashed your lips against his. Johnny seemed genuinely caught off-guard, but he wasted no time in kissing you back, stealing your every last breath like there was no tomorrow. You liked kissing Johnny. Apart from the warm feeling boiling in your chest whenever he pressed his lips to yours, he was just so damn good at making you feel like you were on a cloud.

You pulled back and caught your breath, smiling. “After a while, crocodile.”

Johnny grinned and walked back to his car.

You didn’t see Johnny again until the following weekend.

Not that you didn’t speak. You and Johnny were inseparable and spoke everyday if you could, via texting or phone calls when there was no chance of seeing each other in person. You told him that you needed time to yourself and he both respected and encouraged your decision.

You were busy thinking - an upside of Johnny’s influence. Most of the time you hated being in your head and avoided it at all costs. It was a dangerous place to be, but you were trying harder to not disappoint him once more.

In that time, your father sent you another message. He wanted to meet up with you and was unyielding. The ball was in your court. You could agree to hear him out or you could block his number and pretend it never happened, but it was no easy decision.

Saturday approached far too leisurely. Uneventful days of work and pondering led to the date of your friends’ betrothal party.

With a very Yuta-esque spin to it. The event was casual through and through. The dress code was loose and neither party held good relationships with their family, meaning most of the guests were close friends. It was a pool party and everyone would be in the backyard.

When you caught up to Yuta and Winwin, you didn’t hesitate to ask, “Okay, I’ll bite. Who did it? Who popped the question?”

Yuta fought a smirk and shrugged blithely. “Guess.”

“Winwin?”

Winwin shook his head. “Nope. Contrary to popular belief, Yuta’s quite the romantic. In his own way, of course. He even crouched down on one knee.”

It was somewhat believable. The Yuta from before he met Winwin wasn’t the Yuta that stood before you now. He had seen the light and became a man of all things love and cheesy.

Still, you teased, “No way. Can’t believe the main hoe of the town is settling down. What happened to being non-monogamous buddies?”

“Shit changes,” Yuta said, sighing blissfully as he wrapped an arm around Winwin. Then, he teased back, “Besides, we both know it was either me and Winwin or you and Johnny next in fate’s line.”

You blushed and spluttered, “Where’d you get that idea from?”

Both boys laughed like you had told the funniest joke. You narrowed your eyes, and Winwin answered for his future husband, “I know I’m the latest addition to the gang and all, but even I can see the sparks between you and Johnny. There’s obviously something there. I don’t know why you haven’t acted on it.”

Yuta exchanged knowing glances with you. He probably understood you the best out of everyone present. Your life’s weren’t carbon copy’s of each other, but he had lived the closest thing to your trauma. You weren’t ready. For a while, neither was he, but if he could let go and move on, maybe so you could you.

“There’s been sparks since motherfucking junior high. It’s always been a given that you two like each other and you’ll get together one day in the future. I couldn’t see it any other way,” Yuta said.

That should have made you feel happy, but all you could feel was dread and regret fused with yearning. All of your friends could see you together, but you weren’t sure if you could give him that. How selfish of you to be the one holding the two of you back.

You should have told him to move on and let you go. Instead, you avoided confrontation for as long as possible, craving every moment of his love and attention until the flame went out. You didn’t want to give him all of you yet, but you didn’t want to give him away either. Losing Johnny meant that he would never be yours. Maybe that was what it would take for you to open your eyes.

New guests caught Winwin’s eye and he tugged on his fiancé’s arm. “We’ll catch up with you later, we have to greet the other guests. Come on, Yuta.”

“You go ahead, babe. I’ll be right behind you in a minute,” Yuta dismissed. Winwin only nodded and went to greet their guests. Then, Yuta turned to you and quietly asked, “Everything okay between you and Johnny?”

“It’s your engagement party. Don’t worry about us,” you sighed, searching for the bar through the corners of your eyes.

Yuta was quick to retort, “And you’re my friends. I can worry about you whenever I want. Now, what’s up?”

You bit your lip. This wasn’t the kind of conversation you had in the middle of a betrothal party, but Yuta was adamant. You thought about the last time you had seen Johnny, how you felt when you kissed him. God, you missed the feeling of his lips on yours. Whenever Johnny was near your side you wished that you could hit pause on time. It was funny how the most beautiful moments in life were the most short-lived ones.

Your voice was small when you said, “I’m not a good person, Yuta.”

Yuta glanced at you curiously, eyes urging you on. “What you do?”

“I let Johnny down. A couple of weeks ago I told him that I’d try to break out of my habits. And I was actually doing better. I stopped resorting to drinking whenever something inconvenienced me and finding one-night stands to forget about Johnny.”

Yuta nodded along. “And then?”

“And then, my dad texted me and said he wanted to make things right between us, and I didn’t know what else to do. I got drunk last Friday night and Irene took me to Johnny’s house. I don’t remember much, but I know I winded up telling him what happened and crying on his shoulder,” you chuckled sourly. “He made me breakfast the next morning and we talked about it. And I feel bad because he doesn’t deserve none of this shit. He deserves someone better.”

He deserves someone that isn’t afraid to love him.

“Are you gonna be that person?” Yuta questioned, tone genuine.

I want to be. You exhaled. You didn’t know the answer to that.

You blinked, feeling tears threatening to fall. “I don’t know. The worst part is he has so much faith in me when I’m not even sure about myself. He should have walked away a long time ago, but he’s still here, waiting for me.”

“He’s ready when you are. But you aren’t ready yet, are you?”

Shaking your head, you frowned. You were far from.

“Be better. Do better,” Yuta said assertively. “I know that’s harder than it sounds, but you gotta try. Figure that shit out with your dad. What you choose to do is none of my business, but you have to heal and let it go so that you can be a better person for yourself and for Johnny.”

“That’s practically what Johnny said.”

“Great minds think alike,” Yuta grinned.

You snickered. “You got engaged and got all wise and shit, huh?”

“You know the tale. My dad was a drunk and treated me and my Mom like shit. It was up to me to decide if I wanted to grow into him, or if I wanted to be better,” he spoke monotonously.

But you were scared. You wanted to do things the right way, but you weren’t certain if you knew how. “What if I mess up?”

Yuta didn’t hesitate. “The point of mistakes is to learn. We all fuck up once or twice. That way, you know what not to do so you don’t fuck up the third time. It sucks, but that’s the way life works. Don’t make the same mistake thrice.”

He spoke the gospel. Where your family lacked, you were at least glad to have supportive friends. They were kind and you knew at the end of the day, they were people you could confide in. Maybe you would do it more often.

“I won’t,” you told Yuta. You sounded firm.

“Good,” he replied, and scanned the crowd for Winwin. “Now I gotta go with Winwin before he beats my ass in front of everybody. You go find Johnny, alright?”

You nodded. That you would. It had been too long since you had heard his voice and felt his touch and you were craving a taste. With that, Yuta left to join his husband-to-be and you scanned the crowd for your own lover.

In an instant your eyes landed on Johnny and you could spot him in any crowd. He was at the edge of the pool talking to Ten, who you caught casting Johnny a wink before walking away once he noticed you coming over.

When you got there, you crouched down and sat next to him. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Johnny greeted, instinctively wrapping an arm around your waist. “You look great.”

You blushed. This morning you had deliberately chosen the sexiest bikini set in your wardrobe. It raised the stakes and given how addicted Johnny was to your body, your chances at getting laid tonight. “You look the best.”

Johnny was also half-naked, obviously. And damn did he look gorgeous. You bit your lip. You were thoroughly convinced that the gods themselves had sculpted him. His body was to die for and you were offering yourself up.

Johnny joked, “I won’t argue with that.”

You snickered and nudged his side.

“How was your work week?”

Johnny groaned and you immediately knew the answer to that question. “I’m stressed and exhausted. I need an outlet for my pent up frustration.”

“Oh?” you stammered, mouth suddenly dry.

“Yeah,” Johnny said. His hand ran up and down your back and he leaned to your side, whispering, “Good thing I have you, right?”

There was a crushing weight on your chest that made it difficult to breathe. Whenever Johnny was near you, the pressure came back, and it only got more intense when he did things like that. The effect he had on you was strong and he had you tingling with lust.

“Yeah,” you murmured back, trying hard to keep your cool and avoid appearing anything other than indifferent. But he could see right through you. “Good.”

“What about you?” Johnny pressed. “How was your week?”

“I don’t wanna think about it,” you grumbled.

Johnny was so close to you that you could feel the warmth of his body radiating your skin. Given the sunny weather, you were already hot, but something about this felt internal. It was like trying to breathe on the moon. Johnny parted his lips and suggested, “Kiss me until you forget about it.”

There was no need to tell you twice. You initiated the kiss, steering his lips to yours until they met with a clash. Johnny took control, arms still wrapped around you as he took passion to another level. It wasn’t long before you were sucking on each other’s tongues. You crawled into his lap for easier access, wanting to be as close to him as humanly possible.

Heat flared from your chest to Johnny’s and vice versa, spreading from bone to bone at the skin on skin contact. Whenever you made out, it was like you were floating in air or navigating through space with no gravity. His hands clung to your body and you were on a cloud, elevating and trying your hardest to refrain from grinding down on his crotch.

Johnny deepened the kiss, holding you tightly as possible and moving his mouth against yours fiercely. His heart was thundering against and threatening to leap out of the cage of his bare, burly chest. God, there was no greater pleasure than kissing you and feeling your warm body on his. But you both were putting all of your strength into resisting each other and it was too much. The feelings were overbearing.

When you both pulled away, you exhaled little breaths, hearts racing. You looked Johnny in his lustful eyes and heaved, “I like kissing you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You taste good as hell,” you flirted.

“Mm,” Johnny hummed, nodding his head. He pulled you square to his chest, face hovering hardly inches over yours. You gulped, which undoubtedly didn’t go unnoticed. “What do I taste like?”

You pressed your palms to his naked chest, purring, “Strawberry champagne.” 

“Yeah, you missed the bottle popping,” he chuckled. God knows you would have loved that.

Faking a pout, you replied, “Bummer. I was too busy trying on different bikinis.”

“You wear this all for me?” Johnny flirted, ever the intuitive man. Unbeknownst to you, he had been eyeing you from the moment you stepped onto the scene. And the second he laid eyes on you in your bright red bikini, he knew that he had to have his way with you.

“Especially for you. I know blue’s your favorite color, but red suits me better.”

“You make short work of supermodels in anything you wear,” Johnny growled. He was looking at you from head to toe, as if he were going to swallow you whole.

“You’re just saying that because you wanna have sex with me.”

Johnny wasted no time in shutting you down. “I’m saying it because it’s true. Sex would be a nice bonus, though.”

You laughed.

“Come swim with me,” Johnny said, gently sitting you back on the edge of the pool before coming to his feet.

You hesitated. “Won’t Yuta be upset we ditched him at his engagement party?”

“That wasn’t a question,” Johnny added, lowering his voice. Which definitely did unspeakable things to you. “And trust me - Yuta doesn’t give a flying fuck as long as we join in when it’s time to gather around and shit.”

That was true. It didn’t mean Yuta had unsophisticated tastes, he simply just didn’t care for rules and formalities - untraditional by any means. Winwin was the opposite. Conventional to a fault, he was a man of decorum and the party was a clear mix of both of their personalities. Somehow, they both made it work.

Ignore the pace of your heartbeat, you muttered, “Okay,” and sunk into the pool.

Johnny followed suit with a tiny splash, swimming to your side. Being in the water felt good, all things considered. It was cold and gave your brain - and body - a quick refresh.

“You know, this reminds me of high school,” he started, pensive. “When Joy threw that pool party on the first night of summer break, and Jaehyun pushed you into the pool as a joke.”

The memory made you roll your eyes. In high school you were nothing if not a bunch of stupid teenagers. “He’s lucky I didn’t let myself drown and have my Mom sue him for everything he’s worth. Now that I think about it, I should have. Every penny to his name. Mommy and Daddy Jung would have killed him.”

Johnny chuckled. “Oh for sure. He would have been taking the city bus instead of high-end luxury cars and gotten a job at the nearest McDonald’s like the rest of us.”

“Damn nepo baby,” you shook your head and sighed. “Gotta love him, though.”

“To be born into wealth,” Johnny sighed dramatically.

You giggled.

Moments later, a thought passed your mind. A memory - the beautiful kind. You fought a smile and asked, “You know what else happened at that party?”

Johnny gave you a long, hard cook. It was practically inscrutable and noncommittal. If he had any idea what you were referring to, the only thing that gave it away was the slight smile on his face for a mere fraction of a second.

Of course, he knew. How could he forget? It was easily one of the best moments of his life, made even better because it was spent underneath the moonlight with you.

He shrugged, feigning oblivion. “What happened?”

“We made out for the first time,” you reminded, voice little. “We were each other’s first kiss.”

The memory was anything but vague. The both of you were a little drunk, and somehow found yourselves in each other’s embrace. And then, in each other’s mouths. For someone who had never made out with anyone before, then-Johnny kissed you like royalty. With every intention to conquer your mind, heart, and body.

In that sense, you guessed he had been successful. Johnny lived rent-free in your mind and had built a little home both there and in your heart, with enough room for the both of you. Not to mention your body. You were counting down the seconds until you could get him in the sheets right now. In your attempts to keep him out, you had simultaneously been giving him access to the most vulnerable parts of you.

To say nothing of himself. Johnny wished he could turn back time. Part of him wished that he could undo meeting you and falling in love with you, because he was beginning to lose faith in the two of you. The other part of him loved you too goddamn much to even begin to imagine a world without you in it. It wouldn’t be worth living.

“I remember,” Johnny assured, finally letting himself smile. He couldn’t control it. “Wanna know what you tasted like?”

You squinted. “What?”

“Guess.”

You rolled your eyes and deadpanned, “Your mother’s chocolate chip cookies.”

Johnny’s laugh was mocking. “You wish.”

Whining, you said, “Tell me! I don’t remember.”

He gave in - though because he wanted to and not because you told him to - and replied, “Tequila.”

“The cheap kind?”

“Nope. I’m sure Jaehyun stole that from Mommy and Daddy Jung’s liquor stash,” he quipped.

You snickered. It was a relief that he was good at directing conversation. For a moment, you thought that it was going south. God knows the past was a sensitive subject.

Although he said nothing, Johnny couldn’t help but think about it. For years, he had been in love with you. He remembered meeting you like it was yesterday - you were the new kid in school and Johnny was the one kind enough to be your friend. He showed you around, ate lunch with you, studied with you, and introduced you to his friend group. In no time, you were best friends.

You were his first kiss. Johnny knew he wanted you that night. When he pressed his lips to yours and felt his body elevating into the clouds above, he knew.

Eventually you became a series of each other’s firsts. First kisses, first times, first loves. You had been vulnerable to each other in ways that you hadn’t with anyone else.

And you, you were multifaceted. Johnny had seen the rawest sides of you and fell hard and deep in love with each one - the beautiful and the ugly. All of those things made you fall for Johnny, too, but you noticed it a little later than he did, once it was too late. Which hindered his progress.

By the time you realized you were in love with Johnny, you had already given your heart to the wrong people. That was why you couldn’t comprehend how someone would ever be able to offer you their love, and mean it. That was why you trusted no one.

Forget being your first. Johnny wanted to be your last and as the clock ticked, his chances felt slimmer and slimmer.

You stared at his lips, not even attempting to hide the direction your eyes were searching. “I want strawberry champagne.”

Johnny tilted his head. He had x-ray vision when it came down to your intentions, though this game he wouldn’t mind playing along with. “Do you?”

When you nodded, Johnny took the bait and leaned in to kiss you. It was like magic. Every time felt as surreal as the first one. You just couldn’t believe that you were blessed enough to have him at your fingertips.

Johnny was the same. I love her. It was old news to almost everyone, though the realization hit Johnny the same way it had that night when he first tasted you. When he realized that you were the one and only love of his life.

Sucking on Johnny’s tongue and moaning into his mouth, soaking in all his little sounds was all you wanted to do. Maybe this was why Yuta said you and Johnny would be next in fate’s line. It would be a lie to say that you hadn’t dreamt of having your daddy walk you down the aisle to the man of your dreams.

Though if there was anything that you had learned, it was that fate was an evil lady and she had it out for you.

Johnny soon backed off. He hadn’t had his fill, but you were driving him crazy. And as much as he wanted to be a good friend to Yuta, the urge to drag you away for a fuck was growing stronger. He warned in a low tone, “We’ll miss the rest of the party if you keep kissing me.”

“What’s so bad about that?” you purred, leaning closer to his face. You could feel each other’s breath on your skin. “We can have a party of our own.”

To your credit, you were dangerously skilled at tempting Johnny. It made him feel bad to think that you practically already were having a party of your own. Both of you were surrounded by people, but to him, it felt like there was no one else around you. The sound of your voice and laughter had been drowning out the sound of the presence of people.

With the last of his restraint and self-control, he said, “Mm, that’s tempting. But no. Be a good girl and be patient.”

Immediately, you frowned, but didn’t dare disobey. Johnny would give you what you wanted sooner or later because you knew that he wanted you, too. And though you had your flaws, you weren’t terrible enough to dip in the middle of your friend’s betrothal party.

“Fine,” you said exasperatedly, peeling yourself off of him. “But you better make it up to me later.”

Johnny gave you one last kiss to placate you a little, then whispered softly in your ear, “Don’t I always?”

That he did.

For the better half of the evening, both of you decided to interact with other people, including the ones being celebrated. Most of the time you and Johnny were incapable of resisting each other, and with the thoughts plaguing your minds, there was no way on earth that you would survive side to side without breaking your agreement.

You had a fun time, but you were more than relieved when Winwin announced that he and Yuta wanted some alone time. Everyone said their goodbyes and you raced to Johnny’s side.

“My place or yours?”

“Mine’s closer. Meet you there?” Johnny asked, though he already knew you would. You were practically careening to your car the moment he got the words out.

“Meet you there!”

Both of you arrived in turn, with you slightly ahead of him. You didn’t even wait for him to pull into the driveway before you were rummaging through your purse for the extra key Johnny had bestowed upon you long ago.

It was game over once he stepped out of his car and you were only alone for a split second before he entered, wasting no time in backing you against a wall and stealing a kiss. Johnny always kissed you like it was the last time he would ever get the chance. There was something eager in the way that his mouth moved against yours. It was heated, unchaste. He kissed you so hard that it was impossible to keep up with his pace.

“Someone’s desperate,” you teased through shallow breaths. Johnny nibbled at your ear and you sighed, pitching your head back against the plaster.

He ribbed, breath tickling your neck, “You’d oughta know a thing or two about being desperate. Seeing as you got to my house before me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up and kiss me.”

Under any other circumstances, Johnny would have teased you and made you wait before he kissed you again. Though seeing as he had been waiting too goddamn long for this moment, all he could do was cave.

Goddamn, his lips were soft. In contrast to the rough manner he handled your body. Everything was escalating too quickly and you were being dug into the wall by the weight of his body. There was so much tension in the room that you could hardly even breathe through it.

Johnny nudged his knee between your thighs and stuck his hand down your bottoms, the other roaming your body. “You’re so wet for me.”

“Do something about it,” you whined.

Johnny sneered. Part of him was half-tempted to tease the living hell out of you and see how much you could take. The other was losing hold of his heavy load of patience much more quickly than he would have liked.

“Wanna fuck in the shower to wash off the chlorine? Kill two birds with one stone.”

“Just don’t let me fall.”

He smiled. “I would never.”

Before you knew it, he was lifting you up in his arms like you weighed nothing. You squealed when you felt yourself being hauled into the air, locking your legs around his waist and resting your head on his shoulder. It felt too right being in his hold. As if it was supposed to be this way.

Maybe it was.

Johnny carried you to his bedroom and you clung to his chest for dear life. While he went in the bathroom to run the shower, you began to quickly peel off your clothes. You were on the threshold of insanity, bursting at the seams with lust. 

When the water was hot, Johnny stepped into the shower and you followed suit. As soon as your feet hit the non-skid shower mat Johnny shoved you against the wall, and the noise you made was eaten by the force of his lips. Your palms rose to his wet chest and his mouth fell from yours to your collarbone, soft and plush against your skin.

He simply couldn’t stay away. He spread your thighs apart and slipped one of hands back between them, this time moving them inside of you. Much to your pleasure. “Johnny,” you whimpered, breathless.

The sound of your lips parting to emit his name was like music to his ears and a melody stuck in his head. Thoughts of you underneath him, crying out his name whilst taking his size kept him up late at night, wishing he could rewind time to feel you back in his arms again. Where you belonged. It took every bit of willpower he had not to beg you to stay.

“Think you’re ready for me?” Johnny asked, leering at you with the darkest gaze that made your stomach churn.

You nodded. Johnny was big, that was undeniable, but you had taken every inch of his ungodly combination of length and girth countless times before like a champ. It was almost nothing to you.

He removed his fingers from your cunt and before you got the chance to whine from the emptiness, your lips were widening to sigh at the feeling of his bare cock brushing against your folds. Every second felt like minutes and your patience was wearing more and more thin. You needed him and you needed him right now.

Then, Johnny finally pushed inside, taking his sweet time to fill you. You swallowed him in with ease, simultaneously sucking in the deepest breath you could take. His eyes fell on your chest, water trickling down the swell of your breasts as you inhaled and exhaled.

Maybe taking him wasn’t like nothing. You felt not an ounce of pain, but the pleasure of having him fill you to the uttermost was overwhelming. The stretch meant something.

The moment the head of his girth prodded your entrance Johnny had already felt you pulsing tightly around him and you only kept clenching the deeper he pushed inside. You raced to anchor yourself, clawing at his shoulders while he pushed you firmer against the wall and he caged you between his big arms.

Johnny kissed your neck, then growled, “So tight for me.”

“All for you,” you stammered through thick breaths. It was too hot to breathe. The water burned your skins and Johnny made you erupt in flames all over.

Johnny grinned smugly.

Through hooded eyes, you soaked in the sight of water cascading down his neck - where his muscles flexed - and chest. For the better half of your life, Johnny had been a presence, but you would never get used to how gorgeous he was. His beauty was so ethereal to the point that it felt forbidden to be able to touch him like this. He was sent from the heavens above, both a blessing and a curse to you and your body.

The chains of restraint that bounded him snapped and Johnny latched his mouth to your nipple, meriting an automatic sigh of pleasure from your lips. With how close he was, you wondered if he could feel the thud of your heartbeat. It was racing inside your chest, the feelings you had for him raining hail and begging for freedom. Your heart was bursting at the seams with your love for Johnny and it pleaded desperately for you to unlock its door.

“You’re so hot,” Johnny whispered, keeping himself occupied with your body. Your brain was going into autopilot.

From Johnny’s perspective, your body was a treasure, and he knew its map by heart. All of your weaknesses were on display in his mind and he could choose whichever one he wanted to use to his advantage. He knew what felt good and what felt earth-shattering, and judging from the way you throttled his cock, this was the latter.

Neither you or Johnny talked too much during sex. It was difficult to speak when you were being fucked divested of every little thought you possessed and your mouth was too busy producing other noises.

And all Johnny hoped was that his body could say everything that words could not.

He couldn’t think of anyone else when he was with you, and when you were with someone else, you were still thinking of Johnny. Given the amount of nights you had spent searching for one-night stands you were no stranger to sex, but Johnny made it feel different. The emotions were stronger and so was the yearning. The two of you fucked each other like you had never wanted anything so badly before in your lives.

Johnny struck you somewhere deep and you rasped, “Fuck, baby.”

Fuck, he felt good. Even though you were prone to running away, there was no doubt that you would find yourself coming back for more. Johnny was your home and your heart would always drag you back to him. He owned your body. Whatever he desired to do with you - to you - you would let him. At the end of the day, you were his. Whether he knew it and you accepted it or not.

It wasn’t a choice. It was a feeling.

Looking at the dazed expression on your face gave him deja vu. The first time Johnny had sex with you, he genuinely thought that his heart was going to burst out of his chest. He was nervous, but if anything, dedicated. He vowed to himself that he would learn the ways of your body and put your pleasure before his. Which he did.

It was college, months before you met your soon-to-be ex, and you were freshmen. Giving your virginity to one another was one of the most unsurprising things that you two had ever done. At least back then, you were thick as thieves and did everything together. Who better to give it to than the one you could always bet on?

He still remembered that night like it was yesterday. All of your friends were going to a party, but you snuck inside his dorm while his roommates were away. One thing led to another and soon you were writhing beneath him, calling out his name like it was the only word you knew.

His feelings for you only heightened.

Johnny could still remember how heartbroken he was when you got with another man again - and how angry he was when he broke your heart just like the last guy. The emotions were so prominent that he could still feel them now. How long would it take you to realize that the man meant for you was already right by your side?

Even if he wasn’t the perfect match for you, Johnny knew deep down that he could love you better, because he already had without even needing to be in a relationship with you. Maybe if those boys had treated you right, then he could have came to peace with the fact that fate wasn’t on his side and you weren’t meant to be. But watching you cry after other men treated you like nothing only fed his flame.

“You close, baby?” Johnny asked, aiming to take you over the edge. His number one goal was to drive you out of your mind.

You could only nod, willing yourself not to speak. The words that would have left your mouth if you did were unimaginable.

Johnny fucked you even harder, chasing relentlessly for your orgasms. And you were just as - if not more - eager. He fought a complacent simper as he admired the way you were maneuvering your hips against his, whimpering with every touch.

The look on his face made you run your tongue over your dry lips. Barely were you resisting the urge to smash your lips against his. That look alone made you want to milk him dry of everything he was worth.

As badly as you wanted to savor every last moment, you could feel it in your bones that your orgasm was approaching. Listening to the noises resounding throughout the bathroom was what finished you - the sounds of your moans and Johnny’s hips slapping into yours with every thrust drowning out that of the shower pouring down on you both. You convulsed with release, gripping Johnny’s biceps for dear life as you met your orgasm with a high-pitched cry of his name.

Johnny wasn’t too far behind you. He couldn’t even grunt at the feeling of your nails digging into his flesh - it was outweighed by that of the pleasure of you clenching tightly around him with orgasm. It triggered his own, and he held you bruisingly tight as he spilled inside you with the lowest groan he could muster.

“You okay?” Johnny asked the moment you both were in the clear to speak.

You nodded weakly. “Perfect.”

Johnny smiled.

The two of you actually showered once you had caught your breaths, occasionally interrupting the other with a kiss. When you got out of the shower and re-dressed, Johnny pinned you to his bedroom wall and enveloped your lips in the biggest kiss yet. It was noticeably different from the other kisses that you had shared as of late. They were lustful and impatient. This was slow and steady - like he wanted nothing more than to savor the very taste of you.

He pulled away and whispered adoringly, “I love you.”

Your brain immediately went into overdrive. Given that you were childhood best friends, of course you and Johnny had said that you’d loved each other before. That was indubitable and not to be questioned. But this was different. This was in the context of a post-sex I love you.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

Johnny bristled. “I do mean it. I love you.”

Sighing, you walked off to his bed. You weren’t ready to have this conversation.

He stared at you incredulously, and reminded, “I’m not them.”

It was obvious who them was. Your past lovers. The ones that had left you so heartbroken that you could no longer let anyone inside your glass heart.

You shook your head, voice small when you replied, “I don’t know that.”

Johnny was visibly offended and upset. “How can you say that?”

“I don’t want to fight, John,” you said, exhaling loudly. This had escalated far too quickly and everything was heading in the wrong direction. For as long as you could, you wanted to steer clear of this course. But deep down, you knew that it had been inevitable.

He ignored you, walking closer to you and pestering, “I need answers. Do you really think I don’t love you?”

“Johnny…”

He didn’t relent. “Answer me.”

Frustrated, you shouted, “I don’t know what to think, Johnny! I’m scared to trust people - you know this!”

“And do you think I deserve to be punished for that?” Johnny snapped, white-hot rage seeping through and his restraints falling loose. “You and I both know I’m not just ‘people.’ We’ve known each other longer than you knew them. I’ve been here with you, for you, for a goddamn eternity. When have I ever let you down, huh? Tell me!”

His tone made you flinch and you were given whiplash. Johnny rarely got upset and never did he ever yell at your face, even if you sometimes deserved it. He was patient with you. For him to finally snap meant that you had wounded him deeply.

“I’m scared,” you croaked, teary-eyed.

“Right, you’re scared,” Johnny groused, turning around and heaving a thick breath. “Forget it.”

Pain burned through your chest in flares much like the anger spreading like wildfire throughout Johnny’s. Goddamn, this hurt. Was love supposed to be so complicated? Was love supposed to ache like this?

It hurt so good to love Johnny.

You stood up and shook your head. “No,” you told him, demanding, “Get it off your chest. Everything you want to say to me - say it right damn now!”

It wasn’t for you. No, you knew that the following words to come out of his mouth were going to scar you indefinitely. It was for Johnny. You knew that he had been holding all of this back for a long time and now this was his chance to erupt his heart volcano.

Johnny stormed right back over and said, “You want me to be honest?”

You nodded, tears rolling down your cheeks. He deserved it. You deserve it. You treat him like shit.

“Fine. I’ll be honest,” he seethed. You gulped, bracing yourself for his words to come. “You wanna know something? You’re so fucking selfish. You’ve been breaking my heart just because you’re trying not to get yours broken.”

That was true. You had been sacrificing his feelings in an effort to preserve yours and it was a futile plan - Johnny had already crawled his way inside your heart, yet you were still trying to keep him out.

“You have too much pride to show people your scars and that’s why every time I get closer, you push me away. Because all you know how to do is run like a coward. That’s what you’ve resorted to your whole life because you don’t know any better. But you can’t hide.”

You bobbed your head, willing yourself not to speak. Both of you needed this.

Johnny’s voice got lower as he said, “You think you can hide, but you can’t. You can’t fucking drink all your problems away. You can’t fuck them away, either. You can’t keep running to me and using me to dry your goddamn tears every time you realize all your problems are still there!”

“Johnny…” you called out through tears. As true as his words were, they stung. And guilt was eating at you from the inside.

“No. You fucking asked for this shit,” Johnny snapped, scowling. “I’ve been nice to you and patient with you, but all you do is take me for granted. And it hurt when you said you didn’t think I loved you, because I could have stopped putting up with your bullshit and cut you off a long time ago - but I didn’t. You know why? Because I fucking love you. And walking away would hurt as much as it does to stay.”

You told him softly, “I love you, Johnny.”

“Do you love me enough to stay?”

The room got silent. Did you? You knew that you wanted to, but damn was it hard. You were just so goddamn scared of hurt and betrayal. You had been left before and it broke you. It shredded you to the tiniest of pieces. But Johnny made you feel complete and whole again.

“Answer me. So I know if it’s time we move on,” Johnny commanded, impatient. “Am I just some booty call to you?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what the hell are you saying?”

“That I need you!” you screamed, the tension getting to your head - and your heart. It was too goddamn much. “I can’t live without you, Johnny. I can’t. I won’t. I’m scared because I don’t want to lose what we have. Losing you would be like losing the other half of me.”

Johnny got in your face again, but instead of yelling at you, he smashed his lips against yours. Just like that, you were relieved of the burden of all your fears and worries. He absorbed them and kept them somewhere safe, just like he did with all of your other secrets.

He kissed you with an emotion that was unmistakable - love. So much love. Maybe you had been blind to it before, but you could see it all clearly now.

Johnny was in love with you. And you were in love with Johnny.

“You’ll never, ever lose me,” Johnny swore in your ear once he detached himself from your mouth. He wiped at your tears with his thumb. “I promise. You’ve got me for life, alright?”

With a couple nods of your head, you crashed into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you snugly, welcoming your touch. This was where you were meant to be.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized after a couple of moments. It didn’t undo the pain you had been inflicting upon him for years, but it was a starting point for something better.

Johnny held you closer and kissed your forehead, then whispered softly, “I forgive you.”

He shouldn’t have, though you were grateful that he did. If it weren’t for his tenderheartedness, you weren’t sure what you would do.

“Let me be yours,” you sang.

It was tempting. You were offering him everything he had ever wanted on a silver platter. Granted, it didn’t take much to satisfy him - all he wanted was you. But as much as he wanted you, he wanted the most authentic version of you.

“Not yet,” Johnny said. You gawked, but he finished before you could interject, “I want to be in a relationship with you, but you need to take care of yourself first. Start tackling your problems. For starters, figure out what you’re going to do about your dad. Okay?”

You exhaled a long breath, but eventually nodded. “Okay.”

Johnny fought a content smile. “I’ll support whatever decision you choose to make,” he assured, pulling you closer to his chest. Then, he glanced down and asked, “Now - are you gonna run away or are you gonna stay the night?”

“I’m going to confront my fears and stay with you,” you whispered, refusing to separate yourself from the warmth of his body. You weren’t sure how you had done it before in the past. Tonight had given you an epiphany.

“Atta girl,” Johnny praised and led you to his bed. You flopped to his side, snuggling to his chest. “I have to go to work in the morning. Promise me I’ll wake up to your pretty face for motivation.”

You giggled, your laughter ringing through his mind beautifully. “I’ll be there. I promise, baby.”

Johnny was beaming from ear to ear. God, you loved seeing him like this. Happy. And he was happy because of you.

He couldn’t wait to wake up beside you in the morning.

Given their engagement, Yuta and Winwin were to have plenty of parties and the betrothal party was only one of many. Today marked the day of the housewarming party.

Their engagement meant that their relationship had developed into something serious. With marriage rapidly approaching, they were certain that they wanted to spend every moment of their lives together. And thus, they decided to move in with each other.

Which was how their new home came to be.

Guests spread out and filled the house to its brim, most of the ones you didn’t recognize being associates of Sicheng. After a couple of hours, you got off of your feet and went to rest in the living room.

And when you saw two very familiar men approaching you, you knew that you would be doing anything but resting.

“Oh no.”

Jaehyun and Ten sang in harmony, “Oh, yes.”

Watching the two of them take seats beside you, you could only wonder what in tarnation they were up to. Jaehyun and Ten were individual wildfires all by themselves, so you weren’t sure if you were ready to face the aftermath of combining the pair. Part of you was certain something would blow up in flames.

Narrowing your eyes, you asked cautiously, “What do you two bloodthirsty leeches want?”

“Chill, babe. We just wanted to hang with our favorite friend,” Jaehyun said. Given the untamed smile on his face, you highly doubted that. Jeong Jaehyun was nothing if not sheer trouble. And his partner in crime, too.

Ten nodded his head in confirmation. “Right,” he smirked, then pointed to the cup beside you. “What’s that - Bacardi?”

“Ha, ha,” you responded, deadpan. “No, bitch. It’s water. Contrary to an oddly popular belief, I’m not an alcoholic.”

Jaehyun interjected, “Babe, I can’t tell the difference between you and an alcoholic. That’s a problem.”

“What he said. I can hear your liver screaming ‘Ten, help me. Help me. Please…’”

You snapped, “Did you guys just come over here to terrorize me or is there something meaningful you have to say?”

Jaehyun leaned and asked quietly, like he was telling you a top-notch secret, “It’s because of Johnny, right?”

You spluttered, “What?”

He smiled, adding, “Don’t worry - you can tell me. Your secret is safe with me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, enough of the bullshit. Fess up,” Ten groaned in your other ear. Meanwhile you were thinking of ways to remove yourself from the Jaehyun-Ten you were between. “Something happened between you and Johnny. Something good.”

It wasn’t a question. He was saying that something happened and he knew it - he just didn’t know what. Yet.

You bit your lip. “Why do you say that?”

“Johnny’s been doing better lately, too. He’s been smiling more and in a better mood recently,” Ten replied, a spark of something raw and tender in his voice. “I like seeing him this way. It feels like I got the old Johnny back.”

Jaehyun nodded, all of the signs of jokes and games gone from his eyes. His expression was nothing short of soulful. “Me, too. There’s clearly been a shift. And whatever happened between you two, I hope it doesn’t shift back. He’s in a good place right now and so are you.”

Johnny had been happier lately. Everywhere he went he stood like a tall beam of light, radiating energy and warmth. And you two technically weren’t even together yet.

There was no way in hell that you would mess that up again. True to your promise to Yuta, you wouldn’t make the same mistake thrice. You had learned from your wrongdoings and decided that you were going to treat Johnny’s heart the same way you wanted others to treat yours. With caution and hypervigilance.

He deserved to be loved. Every bit of him. And you loved him to pieces.

“I won’t mess it up,” you assured them, confident. You knew what you wanted. And though you were still scared to go after it, you were willing to face your fears for Johnny. “I swear.”

Ten and Jaehyun smiled contentedly and replied in sync, “Good.”

Across the house, Johnny was having a similar conversation with your friends. And you were none the wiser.

“Hey, tough guy!” Yeri called out, grabbing Johnny’s attention. If it weren’t for the fact that she had bestowed the nickname upon him ages ago and was hellbent on sticking to her guns, he would have kept walking. She folded her arms across her chest and said, “Let’s talk.”

Johnny flickered his eyes between Yeri and the woman beside her - Irene - and a terrible feeling settled in his chest. Reluctantly, he admitted lightheartedly, “I feel unsafe.”

Both women responded in unison, “Good.”

He brought his plastic cup from his lips, then asked, “What’s this about?”

“You and y/n,” Irene said, eyeing him suspiciously.

Yeri wasted no time. “Are you two dating?”

On cue, Johnny’s heart seemed to boom at the mere thought of being in a relationship with you. As much as he wanted to make you his that night and as terribly as he fought against his every irrational decision, it wasn’t convenient timing. He wanted you to heal before anything.

Johnny feigned indifference, replying honestly, “No, we’re not. Why?”

Irene sat on the couch nearby, glancing off pensively. “She’s been… better again. She told us that she wouldn’t be drinking again for a while and she’s been opening up to me more and I’m proud of her. I just thought that it might’ve had something to do with you. You’re one of the biggest influences in her life, you know?”

“Yeah.” Johnny nodded. “I know.”

“And considering you haven’t given me the side eye yet, I think you’ve been happier, too.”

Johnny chuckled.

Then, Yeri cut to the chase and warned aggressively, “Take care of her, Johnny. I trust you, but you know how she can get. And if you break her heart, so help me I will…”

Irene reached for her friend’s hand and quickly interjected, “Yeri, I think they’re gonna be okay.”

Gladly, Johnny thought so, too. Things were far from perfect, though they were still going well and he was simply content to see that you were giving the two of you a try. He was tired of giving more than he was receiving and he had faith that those days were coming to an end.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Johnny repeated, assuringly. He believed it. He believed in you and him together. “But I appreciate all of your concern.”

Arms still folded and eyes still narrowed, Yeri eased up and nodded. Content, she walked off.

Irene rose from the chair and gazed up at Johnny, whispering softly, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being patient with her,” she replied, full of gratitude. Then - in an even tinier voice - she added, “And for doing what I couldn’t have done.”

Johnny said with no hesitation, “I would do anything for her.”

“I know. You’re strong.”

“So are you.”

Irene smiled. With that, she went to go meet back up with the rest of the girls.

Over the course of the following couple of weeks, you had been putting your all into becoming a better person. You kept to your word, steering clear of alcoholic beverages - more especially in mentally trying times - and you vented to your friends whenever necessary. They didn’t mind one bit. Anything was better than your typical methods of extreme self-destruction.

The passionless hook-ups came to an end, too. Johnny and you had never been exclusive, and though you weren’t yet together, it was impossible to do as much as imagine yourself with another person. Johnny’s touch was the only one that you wanted to feel on your body. You wanted to feel the way he poured his heart out to you whenever you had sex.

You wanted love. You wanted passion and fondness and intimacy.

And Johnny delivered.

After a while, you came to a decision about your father. One day, you chose to answer. In those that followed, you stalled to the best of your ability, still indecisively wavering over the option to meet him in person.

But the conversations, both through text and over the phone, swayed you. It broke you to hear his voice and vice versa. Talking to him for the first time in decades was life-changing.

That was how you ended up outside of a restaurant, fast forward some weeks later.

Johnny helped you out of his car, walking you to the front of the building. Your fingers were interwoven, and he let you clutch his hand when you felt nervous. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

You nodded. Though you were sure, you were anxious. And you were grateful that he had so much power over you, to the point that his mere touch made you feel at ease again.

“I’m sure,” you said, clinging close to him.

“Breathe, baby,” Johnny whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your neck. “I’ll be right outside waiting for you. Okay?”

Waiting for you. What would you do without him?

Instead of replying, you whirled around and stood on your tiptoes, kissing his lips. Johnny kissed you back with fervor, holding you like you would fall if he were to let you go.

Through your heavy breaths, both nerve-induced and from the breathlessness of making out with him, you confessed gently, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Johnny replied without hesitation. It was a no-brainer. He loved you. So goddamn much. And that was exactly what you needed to hear. “Now go meet your old man.”

That was the last push you needed. You were standing on the threshold of a self-healing journey and that was what made you swing the gates open.

You approached the table your dad reserved. It must have been miles away, because when you got there, you couldn’t breathe.

Your father looked at you, face full of sincere emotion. He stared at you with so much awe, incredulous through and through. Tears threatened to fall from both of your eyes.

You croaked thickly, “Dad.”

“Princess,” he heaved back.

His arms were wide open and you raced in, desperate. The tears began to rain. You couldn’t even remember the last time that your father had held you. This is what you had been missing. During all those heartbreaking times, this is what you needed most.

Soon, he began to apologize profusely, voice bursting with shame and regret. There was absolutely no satisfactory explanation that he could offer you - you just needed to know that although he couldn’t take it back, he would do whatever it took to earn your forgiveness.

And once you reached closure, you were talking as if the past had never happened and he had always been there.

Your father looked at you and sighed - contentedly. He shook his head, all sullen when he stated, “You’re a woman now.”

You quipped, “And you’re an old man.”

Your father chuckled. He was adapting to your humor very quickly. Perhaps there was a reason why.

After a moment, he asked curiously, “That boy outside your boyfriend?”

“His name’s Johnny,” you smiled, teary-eyed, then confessed, “You should meet him some day.”

“Do you love him?”

There was not a bout of reluctance. “So much.”

“Then, I will.”

You beamed.

There was no holding you back, no reason not to say it proudly anymore. Johnny was yours and you were his. His heart would always belong to you and yours to him. That was the way it was supposed to be. Meant to be.

And some day, your Dad would be walking you down the aisle to the man of your dreams.

[nikethestatue]

The weird fetishizing of Gwyn Berdara as some kind of stabby warrior bloodthirsty fiend who endlessly wants to spar, fight, clash and (did I mention) stab everyone around her is...weird.

Gwyn and Elain are needlessly compared to each other all the time, though they are completely different characters with incredibly different, yet similar histories.

Elain is presented as meek, weak and scared, abhorring violence and someone who 'can't handle Azriel's darkness'. Gwyn is presented as a valiant, brave, violent, sword and dagger expert, who is a bonafide warrior. She is a Carynthian. She is a Valkyrie.

The canon reality for both of these character is actually absolutely different from the headcanons that have been assigned to them.

Yes, Elain does not seek out violence. She is not a fighter, she doesn't necessarily like weapons or blood. Who does, though? Feyre couldn't bring herself to fight in the final battle, because it was so horrific, and she was a much more experienced fighter. Nesta wouldn't pick up a sword or anything, until she started training with Cassian. Yet it was Elain--the meek and weak Elain--who took Truth Teller from Azriel and rammed it into the king's throat. One ultimate act of extreme violence, which she partook in willingly. One brave moment to save her sister and her future brother-in-law and give a massive advantage to Prythian's armies.

It was the meek and weak Elain Archeron, who having been turned Fae, still volunteered to go and meet with Lord Nolan, while knowing that he had a grove of ash trees growing on his land, that he had violent dogs and guards. But it needed to be done. The meeting needed to happen, and she did it.

It was Elain who ultimately volunteered to go and look for Trove objects. She wasn't being forced to do it. Again, she knew that it needed to be done and she did it.

Her strength is in that she consistently overcomes her fears and her indecisiveness to make an impact. Yes, she gave back Truth Teller (which was lent to her) and no, she does not like violence. But Elain consistently steps out of the shadows--literally and figuratively--to make a difference. And that is a different kind of strength.

Gwyn was completely powerless at one point in her life--she was caught and she lived through the most horrific trauma imaginable. And Gwyn ultimately stood up for herself with her training, with the ability to learn how to defend herself, so she would not be powerless ever again.

But is Gwyn really the fearless stabby queen that her fans pretend she is? Who did she ever stab, exactly? Who did she ever kill?

She was unwillingly thrown into the Blood Rite and she survived. She lured the beasts to the warriors and they died. Do we assume that she ENJOYED that? That it gave her a bloody good rush to watch men (even violent men) be ripped apart? I doubt it.

Gwyn is a survivor. But as much as people don't like to see it this way, things HAPPEN to Gwyn and she reacts. Nesta invited her to train. Gwyn agreed. The catalyst for all of Gwyn's growth has been Nesta. On her own, Gwyn's done very little actively, other than find out about the Valkyries.

Not only is Gwyn still unable to leave the Library, but she is not even able to deal with Merrill in a mature way. She fears her, and Nesta needed to help her out with the misplaced book.

Elain not only survived the Cauldron (first), and per the King's comment, only the strong can survive it, but she survived the capture, she fought the naga with her bare feet and she insisted that Briar be saved, to her and Azriel's great detriment.

Do you always have to be a warrior to do great and valiant deeds? No.

Gwyn is remembered for her tenacity, her positive attitude, her acceptance of Nesta, her friendship and her intelligence. The whole 'stabby queen' is actually bullshit. She isn't.

The two of them are much more alike actually than different. They both were ripped from their former lives, both had their bodies and psyche irreversibly changed, both suffered at the hands of men and both found strength to go on. Neither is better or worse than the other. Neither one is a stabby queen. Neither one is meek or weak. They are both strong, in different ways. It's time to accept that.

[paleio]

dude.... DUDE...... DUDE

OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY

FIRST WATCH HIGHLIGHTS/GENERAL EMOTIONS

> the attic looks IDENTICAL to how i imagined it in my head. i literally screamed and punched the arm of my chair

> every single thing percy says to the oracle. the halloween decoration line made me go hee hee.... that is my boy :)

> OH AND THE VOICE CRACK...... IM GONNA THROW UP HES SO PRECIOUS TO ME

> love love love the way they split the prophecy into 2 scenes. fucking cinema

> annabeth trying to hide her excitement when percy immediately picks her. the quiet pride in her eyes. this twelve year old girl really does think shes THE shit

> GROVER TALKING TO..... BLACKJACK???? I KNOW NOT EVERY SINGLE BLACK PEGASUS HAS TO BE BLACKJACK BUT LIKE. WHYD THEY MAKE THE HORSE SPECIFICALLY BLACK WHEN THERE ARE SO MANY COLORS A HORSE CAN BE. YA KNOW

> grover not believing percy actually chose him and then how much it affects him when he realizes its not a joke... oh boy... i will be making multiple posts exclusively about my beloved g man. aryan you CANT be doing this to me you are irreversibly altering my brain chemistry

> "that's bees" GROVER!!!!!! 💖💘💖💖💕💕💖💘💘💖💕

> different monsters being able to smell different aspects of a person FUCK THATS GENIUS. THATS GONNA BE RELEVANT FOR THE REST OF THE GODDAMN SERIES. i wonder if it will connect to the fatal flaws thing..... i wouldn't be surprised but i would be delighted

> consensus song 🥺🥺🥺🥺 and... like.... the way all of them interact with each other. the way you can see their entire personalities, the way they were raised, their weaknesses, just in the way they talk as a trio. im really emotional thinking about

> every second of annabeth in the gas station. you know what im talking about. yeah. fuck you and your evil mean fucked up foreshadowing mr richard riordan and jonathan e steinberg

> the babygirls!!!!!! (furies) (im so faceblind i cant figure out which is which

> the second she started talking to annabeth i fucking CLOCKED IT. i was like OHHHH.... this is a SHOW. these are EPISODES. they have contained ideas and conflicts. there are episodic arcs WITHIN the seasonal arcs WITHIN the series-long arcs. goddamn it now i have to personally kiss every writer and producer and director on the mouth

> im in love with the trio dynamic because it fucking sucks. there weren't many communication issues or interpersonal conflicts between any of them in the book. even percy and annabeth got along for the most part, despite the awkwardness and bickering. here, though, annabeth is bossy as FUCK. she's acting like this is her quest. percy is whiny and impatient and he deflects every time he's questioned. grover is an ineffective mediator and is clearly uncomfortable being around both of them at once. the vibe feels so beautifully off the whole time and it makes the eventual reconciliation SO much more impactful and compelling

> medusa hot. awooga and all that.

> i like that they all realized immediately who aunty em was. im sad they abandoned the pseudonym so quickly but it makes sense that they'd understand seeing as they all know a good amount of mythology. i think it would've been a scream-at-your-tv moment otherwise

> this is exhausting why am i doing this on my phone

> the plan they came up with is fantastic. i audibly gasped. once when the hat came out and once when i realized they were gonna kill alecto with the head. SMART AS FUCK even though it's not quite a perseus reference anymore

> grover crying over uncle ferdinand.... i can't decide if im sad they didn't make it a funny moment because it's so iconic in the book, or if im glad they played it straight because it gave us a SAD GROVER MOMENT AND ALSO FORESHADOWING. not that i like seeing grover sad... i just like seeing him. i like to look at his haunted eyes and go damn boy... you are one sad boy. good luck with your feelings of inadequacy and trauma repression <3

> writing this is draining my sanity. cmon almost done

> HE SAID THE LINE HE SAID THE LINE HE SAID THE LINE!!!!!!! i am impertinent. top 5 percy jackson quotes of all time. i feel sick just thinking about the other 4 in that list.... im not gonna survive

> cue drive from tlt musical as they leave aunty em's

> oh hey thats lin manuel miranda. im sure he wont be crucial to the overarching plot of the series

> i will be honest the vibe IS kinda perfect. he does look like an emotionally immature divorced dad who complains about his job all the time but constantly works overtime for no reason. its just that he also looks like lin manuel miranda

> love the song choice for the credits

> i will talk about the ep4 preview in a different post im too tired

FINAL (very sleepy) THOUGHTS:

best one yet by far. the more screen time our trio gets the better. grover is a dork and id die for him. its so cool that we get to see the story and characters from a slightly more omniscient perspective, even though i do miss percy's narration. i cant fucking believe this show is real and that they made it just for me

I AM IMPERTINENT!!!! AND IM ALSO GOING TO BED!!!!!!

[lovefrombegonia]

A Jinx of my mind and an Ekko of my soul

This is going to be a long post about how one Jinx and one Ekko from the Netflix's Arcane made me feel, and basically gave me an existential crisis for a couple of days. This isn't an in-depth analysis, let me warn you. This is much more personal, this is deep in emotions...this is projection of another level. This is my excercise of self-discovery through fiction. It's an introspective excercise I love doing...and sometimes, when the writing is omega-level great...it shows me my darkest fears, and my greatest dreams.

THESE ARE ALL PERSONAL OPINIONS. Fair warning. Also, Spoiler Alerts.

Those who are familiar with my blog, knows that, typically, I would have deeply, deeply fallen in love with a character like Jinx. That's what happens with me and my problematic blorbos. Mad and psychotic killers with great character design is almost always a win-win for me. This is what I thought too, initially, as I started Arcane's first episode. She was a little girl who was physically not strong but was a mad genius who could make deadly bombs out of scraps. An engineer of chaos! And someone with family issues...boi oh boi, I was ready, willing and able to fall for her... But then gradually something unexpected started to happen. I started...disliking her. And you know, that should have started after she killed a bunch of people indiscriminately, right? But no...I think it started much earlier. I think it started with a break down that hit too close to home. It started when Powder was crying and screaming out of desperation and pain when she thought of herself as useless. Someone who couldn't even help save her sister and her friends. Her adoptive father. During that scene, I didn't hate Power. No...let me not be a coward with my feelings here. This is me, raw, vile, and naked. I did hate Powder during that scene. I hated her because that scene hit too close to home. I hated her because how many times, it was me who would cry hysterical, alone in my room, cursing myself, my incompetence, my weakness, I can't even count. It really speaks to the brilliance of Arcane's cast and crew that it just sparked those memories of my despair so cleanly. Then she tries to help her sister and gang with monkey bomb, and it turns out to just make things from bad to worse. The rational side of me sees this and understands that she could not have any idea that things would turn out like this. She was just a child and even an adult could have made those same mistakes. But the emotional side of me watched in horror and hopelessness as her decisions made with intentions to help her family, in the end hurt them so badly and irreversibly. This, too, hit too close to home. Reminding me of when my own decisions had hurt my family in the long run. The guilt and trauma of my failure never went away. Even if my family doesn't blame me, I blame myself. And then...things just went downhill with the rest of the episodes. Visually, Jinx is one of the coolest characters on the show. Her fighting style, her gadgetry, even her mania is shown with so much style and brilliance, it just scratches the aesthetic itch of mine perfectly. Technically, the character writing is fucking superb imo. None of her moments are wasted. Every drop of her tears and every smile, every gesture counts. None of it is wasted. Emotionally, I felt like I was watching a nightmare version of me on-screen. Everything that happened to her is what I fear happening to me. The psychosis. The break-downs. Choosing to follow the wrong person. Choosing validation over people who love me. It's why all her triumphs and victories felt so hollow. Even her most brilliant moment, when she unleashed the missile over the council...felt incredibly painful to me. In my eyes, this was the moment of Jinx's destruction. When Silco called her "perfect", it should have felt like finally getting the validation she needed but instead it felt like getting a stamp of approval to be self-destructive.

Let me be clear: I AM NOT SAYING THIS IS WHAT THE SHOW IS TRYING TO SAY. THIS POST IS ALL ABOUT HOW I FELT THROUGH JINX AS A CHARACTER. I don't want her stans to think that I am slandering her moments of victory and character arc. When I was watching Arcane, Jinx's journey didn't feel like her growing from Powder to Jinx FOR ME, even though I know that's what the writing is about. It felt like Jinx was showing how I could devolve because of my own manic thoughts, insecurities, painful memories and just my fucking depressing af mind that feels like it's trying to eat me away. I cannot express how similar it looked when I saw Jinx losing her mind in isolation. Cooking up scenarios that didn't happen. Or degrading all the memories of the past while catastrophizing. Her shooting the girl who looked like Vi. Her, being petrified by Vi abandoning her. Her, being as a birder by Silco or being abandoned/betrayed by him. Even though, I am an adult now, and I get why people that I love might walk away from me, the fear of it all still eats me from inside. I am afraid. I am despairing. It feels like I can't move on. What scares me even more is one day, meeting a Silco who might or might not genuinely love me but also validates my wish to just destroy everything and everyone around me. To watch the world burn. Because, yes, the thought of letting it all go, and fuck things up feel "cool" and "liberating" and "awesome" but the truth is...the ugly, painful truth is...even then. EVEN FUCKING THEN. INSIDE. I would still me the same miserable lonely fuck... Except this time, I would because the scared miserable lonely fuck who hurts others. It's a nightmare cycle. Jinx is that nightmare cycle. Jinx...Powder...this charming, exhilarating, dynamic character. She is truly an enigma of her own, isn't she. I love her because I can empathize with her suffering and choices. I hate her because I fear that I might end up like her. Jinx is my mirror that I want to look away from but I can't.

This experience of mine with a character is not unique to Jinx. What differs, is the INTENSITY of it all. She stays in my mind. I watch video analysis of her character but I couldn't bring myself to write much about her. It feels too close. Too... familiar. I have talked about the mirror but what about the echo of my conscience? Somehow still keeping me from turning downright mean and unkind?

A very special episode happened in the second half of Arcane. An episode called "Boy Savior". It started with one of the coolest music video intros I have ever seen. I think most of us, who aren't familiar with LoL lore, could still guess this was the return of the little boy, Ekko. He was bound to return, and he was going to be involved with the Fireflies. It wasn't the focus of the episodes but it was clear from a few scenes that, like Jinx, Ekko was also great with gadgetry. His little periscope and audio system he made? So smart and cute, might I add. What I wasn't expecting, is to strangely...be envious of this character. It's natural to admire someone like him. Who, even being in the worst situations, rose as a hero and inspiration for his people. To help the ones left behind in the grand scheme of main characters. But I was already become very attached to him. Not in a blorbos kind of way. Another third secret thing LOL OK, but seriously, I was starting to feel even protective of this character. And no, it isn't just because Ekko has the cool character design, and cool hover board thingie, or even the coolest animation style in the series...those helped! But weren't the key reason. It started with the final fight between Ekko and Jinx. It was highly stylized and paired with great bgm. The animation was popping off!! Damn! Did they deliver with this part of episode. Amidst of all that, my mind all of a sudden went: 'I will never forgive Jinx if she kills Ekko.' After I finished the episode, and was done with the rest of my daily routine, I wondered why I felt so strongly for him. Mind you, I didn't feel the same way when she came close to killing any of the other main characters. Not even Vi, even though, being an eldest sibling myself, I should have felt more kinship with her. But no...it was Ekko. But why? Why him? Why even feel envious of this character who got so much burden on his young shoulders, and he is not even a main character?! It all CLICKED right into place after I watched this video analysis of his character. I understood my envy and my protectiveness for him. It's because Ekko is the kind of character I want to be. This person who can help my family and loved ones in the present. Someone who uses whatever resources they have and the courage, skills and endurance they have to push forward, to bring to the ones they care about. This person who acknowledges their painful past but won't let that stop from becoming someone kind and brave. Someone who works through their loss and shortcomings to bring a brighter light home. He is not a perfect person. He isn't physically strong like Vi or has agency like Jayce or has the strongest morality like Caitlyn but he is still ENOUGH. He still helps in a way that truly matters, his existence matters. He is the strong, sturdy, life-giving tree in the midst of undercity's thick, suffocating atmosphere. He is...Ekko is just...simply beautiful. Just BEAUTIFUL and immaculate in a way no other character in Arcane season 1 is. He is a side character with much lesser screen time but he leaves me with such a deep impression. To me, Ekko is the character that reminds me of the echo of my own conscience soul, pushing me to be a better person than I was yesterday. He is the dream version of myself. And this is why it was hurting me to think of Jinx killing Ekko. Because my emotional side was interpreting it as my nightmare version killing the dream version of myself. My sub-conscious made the connection between Powder/Jinx and Ekko before I even realised.

I cannot praise the writers of Arcane enough to bring out such strong emotions in me. To invoke something so raw and visceral in me. To make me look into myself, to realise my fears and hopes. Almost all the characters in Arcane season 1 are amazing, nuanced, thought-provoking, and simply brilliant. And even among all these diamonds, Jinx and Ekko are so bright to stand out so uniquely... Ah...such beauty in fiction is rare. Be it hate or love. Fear or envy. I cherish them both very dearly.

[notsogreatpotoo]

my guy my girlboss my mushroom bud what ocs do you have please share them <3

hihihi i love u

this might be long as shit sorry

I will start with my son

Alder Scott is my OC for my hunger games fic (called Written In The Sand by nightjar_writing on ao3) and he is my child. I love him so much. He's a black kid from District 7 and his story starts when he is sixteen. He has a shit relationship with his parents but he absolutely adores his baby sister Ash, and he is really protective over anyone he gets attached to. He has a problem with interpreting or letting himself feel all of his emotions because he's often forced to repress emotions like anger and fear. I made a playlist for him. His only healthy coping mechanism is forcing himself to stop and take a few deep breaths every once in a while. He does embroidery. Reminders of his life and his trauma lurk around every corner. I have drawn him multiple times. Anything he does to escape leads him back down a parallel road. He's good at manipulating the Capitol but also gets manipulated pretty easily. He sucks at remembering names. He has so much trauma.

Emmet and Elliot are my time and dimension hopping self insert OCs. They're the characters I use to figure shit out; if I haven't written about a certain character, time period, fandom, AU, etc before (or in a while), I plop one of them into the world and see how their interactions go. Emmet is current me, hence the name, and tey came first as a way to cope with dysphoria. (Writing in third person about myself being gendered correctly helps bc I can't come out rn.) Elliot is child or teen me.

Dolohar currently lives in my head, but he's a trans man who became a god of irreversible change after being kidnapped and nearly sacrificed by a cult. The goddess the cult tried to summon was mistakenly called the goddess of blood, but she was actually the goddess of war, and she rescued him and gave him his godhood because she rarely has the chance to save innocents and she wasn't going to pass up the opportunity. Dolohar is brown with choppy black hair and eyes that appear orange in his more divine form. He's most commonly interpreted as a god of grief, and so he's associated with funeral flowers and mourning clothes, but he's scarred all over and some of his scars are visible no matter what he wears. A friend he had in his mortal life grows a bit too obsessive and starts a cult in his name, but Dolohar trusts his friend and doesn't realize this isn't normal god worship until after many people have been hurt.

I could make a whole post about a dormant WIP called Runaways and Soldiers, remind me to do that later bc that project has six main characters

Daisy also mostly lives in my head, but she's a trans girl in a coming of age romance story where she comes out to a guy she's been friends with basically forever and the more she starts to act more like herself around him the more he starts to fall for her. She loves blogging and playing video games.

Erch, Krit, and Seki all belong to the same story. Erch is a young human man who grew up in a militaristic organization as a recruiter in a world ravaged by radioactive aftereffects of a nuclear war. Mutations were common, but as someone born underground, Erch only has some adverse affects on his health. The underground was a mess of ongoing war and fortresses containing the super rich, but Erch was raised to believe that the organization was a safe haven that provides resources and work for all. It was only when he was a young teenager that his thoughts changed, because a girl with pointed ears and white freckles is rumored to have survived a white zone- zones that were the epicenter of nuclear impact, named for the blinding white flashes that occurred during detonation. He's sent on a suicide mission to investigate, and the girl presses a hand covered in light (aka, healing magic) to his uniform just before he leaves, which ultimately saves him from breaking down too soon. He discovers a portal in the white zone that leads him to a world in which elves, dwarves, and other mythical peoples are common, and while they are more resistant to radiation poisoning than humans, it is still affecting them to the point where all creatures living near the open portal take health potions or practice healing magic. Erch is then faced with a choice; does he risk condemning the world that he knows but one that is full of warlike, desperate, and corrupt people by closing the portal? or does he risk killing an entirely new world full of magic and people who have only shown kindness to him? It is at this time that he is taken in by Krit, a nonbinary goblin who was raised by a human witch a long time ago. Humans have become rarer and rarer ever since most of the portals between worlds closed, so Krit shields him from those who are too curious or obsessive about humans. Krit lives on the floor above their business (Taproot's Bar and Restaurant), but they're regularly harassed by dwarven customers (due to a series of wars that previously happened in the region called the Goblo-Dwarven Wars) and Erch doesn't want to add more stress to Krit's plate so he stays quiet about the portal situation and basically feels like he has to figure it all out himself until he has a breakdown one night and tells Krit, who reassures him that that's not the type of decision a child should have to make and a council made up of representatives from the surrounding regions eventually decide to close the portal after attempts to communicate with the humans on the other side end in attacks. As Erch grows up, he eventually becomes a vigilante type helper in his town after a corrupt leader is replaced by a pack of lycanthrope women. He's around thirty when he and Krit meet Seki, a young elf girl who was banished for becoming friends with a centaur (elves have hated the centaurs for centuries). Seki is chased into Taproot's after trying to pickpocket a group of dwarves (who also hate her on principle because the elves used to tax the dwarves) and she hides under a table. Krit is accused of hiding her on purpose when she comes out of the kitchen, the dwarves go to find the Guardian (aka, Erch), Erch finds Seki and returns the money to the dwarves, and Krit asks if Seki is hungry. Erch is wary of elves due to having a centaur friend who was killed by one, but once he hears Seki's story he no longer wants to turn her in and he bids them goodbye. Krit basically adopts Seki, and Erch eventually becomes a big brother figure to her and helps them sort out all the paperwork. Krit has never actually paid taxes. Erch is tired. Seki is glad to have a family.

Jasper Broadbank is a serial killer and amateur writer who swore off killing after becoming attached to his last target; he killed his fiance and now is reminded of that fact all the time because William Rexburgs's (his dead fiance's) family practically took him in after William's death (which they did not know he caused). He dies in a car accident after driving on icy roads, and the only ones who come to his funeral are the Rexburgs. He is guilt and manipulation and lying personified, and while his story needs a lot of editing since I wrote it my sophomore year of high school, it's a great example when showing how much better my writing is now.

Maxwell Anderson is a high school theater teacher by day, supervillain with a dramatic flair by night, and after finding out that his vigilante archnemesis is a child, he ends up parenting the boy from the sidelines while trying to execute his own plans and flirting with the boy's superhero mentor.

Nolan Cormier is part of an AU where the Avengers get a YouTube channel in order to control their image a little better and it butterfly effects the way for the Sokovia Accords to be thwarted before they're a big problem. Nolan is a marketing dude who works for Stark and gets caught up in their bullshit because he gets to know them through filming the videos and conducting interviews.

Ophelia Rousseau is a French woman who gets isekaied into the time right before the events of Phantom of the Opera and helps out Erik by writing an opera called cirque de l'éphémère, in which Honoré is a merchant who travels and sells his wares alongside a circus because it brings in the crowds, but falls in love with a beautiful acrobat in the show named Charlotte. Charlotte is the daughter of the strict old ringmaster, and she secretly longs to be away from the circus. When he confesses to her, she pretends to be in love with him to secure her freedom, and so they run away together and get married. Honoré notices that Charlotte has become distant and always wants to go out on trips and explore the world, and his insecurity turns him into a controlling, domineering type of husband. Charlotte, realizing that she has simply fled from one trap to another, tries to smuggle herself away in a chest he’s promised to another merchant, but she’s caught and poisoned to make a statement to her husband by the merchant, who thinks she’s been sent to trick him out of a good deal. Her body is sent back to Honoré, who is horrified to realize how he has driven her away and into more danger and slits his own throat. Basically, the opera forces Erik to confront his controlling attitude when it comes to Christine. Ophelia also is the reason why I know too much about enucleation, because her eye had to be taken out after an accident, and she wears an eye patch. She writes under the name Odin. She's a little pretentious, and a little standoffish, but mostly because she's never known how to act around other people.

thank u so much for this ask, if you ever want to hear more I will tell you, these are literally the OCs I could think of just off the top of my head bc I write a lot more fanfic than I do original fic but I have more lol

if you actually read this far you are the best :]

[drbased]

What's the root of this whole promiscuous women are "used up" thing? I understand that men are somehow convinced that sex irreversibly changes a woman, but I just can't make sense of the logic of it - like I just saw a popular social media post authored by a man who broke up with his girlfriend after finding out she had hookups on a weekly basis throughout college. The entire scenario is bizarre to me because nothing was materially wrong with her or the relationship, nothing was wrong with the quality of the sex, and nothing was even said about her body being physically different to other, more virginal women, yet he still viewed her as irredeemably desecrated. This man threw away an entire deeply intimate relationship over small insecurities and other men look at him in awe as a beacon of masculinity??? Really?? I just do not get it.

I'm going to disappoint you here but I don't really understand it either. I can write paragraph after paragraph of theory but on a personal level it still completely floors me - men have a system of 'logic' that is fundamentally alien to anything human and healthy and natural and I think we need to start thanking the gods that it's something we can't empathise with. But here's what I do understand - on a 'logical' level, if not emotional/human:

Firstly, throughout history there has been no separation between rape and sex. We don't think about this today, but the concept of 'consent' is fairly new in culture: historically, a man claims a woman through sex/rape. When men say they want to 'break' a woman through sex, they're talking about rape. The idea that a woman is irreversibly changed through sex is a quiet acknowledgement of the fact that rape changes a woman. That's exactly why rape is a such a good 'claiming' tactic: it's a form of torture, and the resulting trauma will disrupt the woman's ability to make decisions, including the decision to leave.

Men who believe it's possible to claim a woman, that she can be 'damaged' by sex, are rape-supporters if not rapists themselves. They believe in the power of rape, not in terms of its practical damage of women but rather in the sacred power of rape in the Collective Male Heterosexual Domination Over Woman At All Costs. They may have been having what can be functionally called 'consensual sex' with the woman they're dating, but ultimately they don't believe in consent: whether or not they made her by force, took advantage of her whilst drunk, coerced her through financial means, pestered her until she gave in, 'wooed' her through gifts, or simply that she had been conditioned into finding a man and sleeping with him based on societal pressure, men make no distinction between these things: they are all 'claiming'. The idea that she consented is fundamentally useless here, because there's an existing framework that works perfectly well without it. So every time a man sleeps with a woman, the more 'human' ones would rather not traumatise her too bad because, well, that would look pretty bad on them - but they still want to claim her regardless. They still hang onto this belief that they've managed to rape her on a technicality and this whole 'consent' thing is something that feminists made up to pretend we're not being raped all the time. This man wanted to believe that he had claimed this woman, but if she's already been 'claimed' by multiple men first, he simply cannot get the idea out of his mind that she was already raped and broken by them a long time ago.

Men claim that they hate the idea of women 'having sex', with other men, but they don't believe that women experience sexual pleasure until they're 'broken'. They don't believe that women experience sexual pleasure until they have been sufficiently claimed, traumatised, and subsequently have 'given up'. Like everything women do, we're supposed to only want it when he wants it. In practice that means never really consenting, simply 'enjoying what's given to you'. Men's belief is that once they claim a woman, she will only ever enjoy sex with him - because 1. he is a super unique and mommy's specialist little guy and 2. because that's his reward for claiming her. Only he gets to see and cause sexual pleasure - that's his reward. Of course, he doesn't even care most of the time if he gives her pleasure, but he's supposed to be the only one who can. For this reason, men make no functional difference between a slut and a whore: women who seemingly enjoy sex are no different than those who are factually being used for sex: because consent never mattered, and men believe that rape is what causes women to enjoy sex. If women are going out and enjoying sex, that's because they're succumbing to the conditioning by men that's primed them to be raped easily, and their 'enjoyment' is a measure of their quick acceptance to be claimed. That's what makes women 'easy'. Women are supposed to play 'hard to get' because no one wants a trophy that's easily won: men want to claim women through sex, and they want to make sure they have been the first to give her that trauma so big enough that he will be in her mind forever. The stuff about 'loose vaginas' etc. are just a gish-gallop: all the nonsense and double standards about women being sluts is designed to distract from the fact that men have no distinction between sex and rape, and they use the trauma of rape to claim a woman.

Men already have a functioning framework that simplifies and categorises the world as to their liking: it's easier to believe that you can simply claim a human being as your slave with one easy act that trauma-bonds them to you forever. Men are bonded to each other in an existentially terrified Collective Male Heterosexual Domination Over Woman At All Costs. In this system, neither men nor women are whole human beings - but rather each is symbolic of something more important. And to men, women have to represent everything that men are not: men have to view themselves as better than women because otherwise they'd have to face the harsh reality of their biological redundancy. Men have put their entire stake into this idea that they're the creators, the providers, the protectors, the claimers. They are the true humans, and their violence is proof that they're exercising their full power of humanity - that is, their full power to want. The mere fact that women can be raped is proof that on a biological level we don't want sex enough, and thus we can't ever be fully human. To men, women represent the crudity of nature (including how it is fully capable of replicating itself without them needing to be involved), and it's a crudity that needs to be conquered and claimed. It's the only way they can prove they're 'better' than us.

Men envy female friendships because they see the positive impact that it has on our psyche - something more powerful than all the raping they've been doing. But if they admit that kindness and empathy are traits that make us human, and that destruction is a crudity of nature, then the sunk-cost fallacy of rape is laid clear. Since they form part of the Collective rather than merely being an individual who learns their lesson all too late, actual progress on this stance is incredibly slow if not impossible: they've built the entirety of society on this existential terror. Just like a tyrant who runs his country into the ground for his own ego, men are inherently irrational - because they're terrified of the basics of life and existence in a way women simply aren't. You know how if you know a meal is coming then you're OK with being hungry, as opposed to it not being near mealtime and you're suddenly hyper-focusing on how hungry you are? Men are like that with their entire lives. They will put up with all this immense psychological discomfort, they will throw away materially beneficial things all the time because if they hang on a little longer, mommy will come along and fix all their problems - she will 'feed his ego' by 'willfully' debasing herself to prove he's better than her. The only thing men care about preserving is that they're Super Special and Above Women: that's it. No real rational decisions can ever be made when your motive is to achieve something that is essentially a symbolic concept tha only exists in your mind. That is why men have 'fragile egos'.

[ravenquingvax]

14 year old me deserved better

we shouldn't have been bullied, our parents shouldn't have emotionally neglected us, we shouldn't have been allowed free reign on the internet

i have irreversible trauma all because my parents didn't understand the difference between giving shelter & food to someone and real parenting

i felt abandoned and unloved and pushed away and hated

i felt utterly worthless to, and unwanted by, the very people who had fought to have me

my parents went through IVF to have me, you know, and yet my whole life I've never really felt loved or wanted by them

i ended up so alone and scared i fell into an older person's trap and was hurt in ways that i didn't understand back then

i felt so broken and discarded, like i truly had nothing left to give to anyone else

it really fucked me up

i understand how this all happened and it sickens me

i hate that some parents hate their children and hurt them internationally, i hate that some parents don't know love and therefore can't give it to their own children in the future

i hate that people refuse to accept that girls can be evil and predatory, i hate that we treat victims as criminals even if they "followed every rule"

its no wonder i gave up on my education in the end

its no wonder i stopped living

im stuck and I feel helpless

i was talking to people, I was getting help, I was making progress (and technically i still am but not in ways that truly help in the long run) but it got too overwhelming and i just fucking shut down again

i feel trapped in a body that doesn't belong to me

it never did and never will

i feel trapped in a cycle of anger and sadness and sickness and exhaustion

5 10 15 20 25 30

i feel so fucking stuck

so fucking done

i woke up at 6am today and i couldn't fall back asleep

i trued writing it off, literally by writing fanfiction, and I've refreshed tumblr and twitter so many times since I woke up that in kind of sick of them

its now 8am and I feel dead

but not energy wise

just emotionally unwound

I'll probably feel better after i have some water and talk to my boyfriend, knowing me

but i wanted to talk about how just fucked everything feels

i feel like a vase someone smashed into smithereens and that was put back together with paper mache and string

her name kills me almost every time I see or hear it now

i think i might hate myself less than her these days, honestly

she stole my innocence and my trust and my childish love

she robbed me of a colour, of a book series, of a movie, of a flower and of so much more

she probably doesn't even remember me anymore, if she's still alive after everything

i don't know what I'd prefer

5 10 15 20 25 30

would i rather she got help and found love and happiness?

would i rather the opposite?

i feel too tired to care

she's not the last, nor am i certain she was truly the first

but she ruined me in ways nobody else could dream to

she left a sickness in my veins that i cant get rid of

its almost become lovely

i would miss it if it were gone

the hate is ugly and hisses, but i take comfort in its heat

maybe i am broken, maybe she broke me, maybe

i woke up today with terrible thoughts of things i dont want to do to myself or to others

thats fucked up

i can't remember if i was always like this or if she did this

maybe its both

5 10 15 20 25 30

all i know is that im tired

i want to stop hurting

i want to stop being scared

i want to stop being angry

i want to stop being sad

i want to stop being so tired

i just want to live and love

i love people, i do

i hate feeling such strong hatred that im not so sure is even really my own

i just want to be happy

i feel sick

[intrepid-lens]

It's been a while

Hey y'all, it's literally been years

I got diagnosed with chronic migraines, *autism, fibromyalgia, anxiety disorder, and got some surgeries done for other medical issues, broke up with friends, moved a few times, changed many jobs, and now I'm slowly getting my life back

I'd been in a fucked up environment for too long and although I'm not out of the woods just yet I'm finally moving past the shame, judgement, gaslighting, codependancy, trauma and threats. I'm learning to gain myself back!! I lost myself to someone who, despite good intentions, caused so much irreversible damage to me. This person has moved on and improved her life while I am picking up the pieces. I don't know how to trust others anymore. I don't know what honesty looks like, or truth. I gave everything of myself to this person and my love, my kindness, my honesty, it was soiled. My once open-self has been ruined by her displaced trauma.

I've become the person I hated most of all and I am learning how to love myself again.

I think what they don't tell you is even if you've already worked through the cringe, ableism, self-hate, ect, if you enter into an abusive environment, especially for years, there is hell of a lot of damage to the internal workings of oneself esteem. Humans are sponges and when it rains it pours. 

I am in pain, I am scared, and I don’t recognize myself. I'm stuck with responsibility to not displace my trauma onto others. I have to accept it in order to move on which is the hardest part. I turned into a person I don't recognize, done things that make me a villian.

No one in my friend group cares to know me. I’m damaged goods and I don’t want to do what she did to me and displace years and years of trauma onto another in order to grow. It fucking sucks. I carry her damage with me even if she’s changed. I am a reminder of her fucked up past and she is unwilling to look at my pain because it reminds her of the monster she once was.

I look at her as a monster because she was one to me and healing from that is gonna take twice the time it did for the shit I've gone through.

I have just a smidge of space to begin unboxing all this so here I am.

When I say this to her, her damage is downplayed. No matter how much I try our conversations lead to my mistakes, not hers. I have learned will always have something to apologize for and frankly, I have also learned I am safest when I give her the least to work with. 

When I told my roommate about this they didn’t give a damn. Said they ‘deeply care’. Well if they did they would have given me the time of day. Time to hear me out. I deserve to be heard!

I never once told anyone anything about her or our past and the first time I did, the one time I did, when I trusted another human with my pain my scars my heart, she turned around and told my abuser everything I said. I got called out for talking shit by the person who talked shit for years. It’s unfair and it fucking sucks. I was the one in her life who held her accountable and the one time I screwed up she tells everyone in my circle, now I’m the shit talker.

After years of my abuser telling everyone’s secrets to me I am the monster in everyone's story and it's a heavy feeling. I used to not care wether I was the monster in people's story. When did it change? Like I said above, people are sponges and I drew in a lot of toxins.

I deserve critique for the fucked up shit I did too. I'm also at fault. My fears and anxieties created a chain reaction. She would spount f'up shit and I would spiral and the fire would further. She got a husband and a house to build her a safe space. I get an appartment with a roommate who disrespects me and invites my abuser in at least once a week.

I am working with what I got. Which isn't much tbh. I go to work and her brother is there, her husband, and the ass-whole who tole my abuser everything. I cannot seem to find a safe place to fall. So it's been a while.

For the first time since knowing her I am choosing me. I’d rather be alone than to continue to let abuse hold me down. So I am alone these days.

I think...I think I got sexually assaulted the other night and I have no one to talk to about it.

So yeah, it’s been a while. I hope that maybe looking back on this post I can see the things that have improved in my life. I am not completely without and I will always remember the good things that did happen even in the abuse -a struggle all in itself. All I wanted was friendship, a partner in crime, someone who would go on adventures with me in this fucked up world.

I am learning to love myself again. I am learning to forgive myself for the person I turned into. 

So I'll continue to count the little things I have. My sisters, a library book, a rainy day, some stupid kpop mv's, and I'll keep on going.

*in the process of getting an Autism diagnosis

[reap-the-game]

I said this and I stand behind it, but to elaborate and ramble a bit–

I've put all versions of Gia through various degrees of hell so none of them are really fine, but Giovanna is the one that repeatedly overcomes her circumstances and bounces back from the shit she goes through. She gets forced into prostitution and abused into compliance -> instead of wasting her energy fighting uselessly, she schemes her way into becoming the mistress of the whorehouse, and from there to freedom. The captain of her ship makes some decisions she deems tantamount to suicide -> Giovanna orchestrates a mutiny and takes over as the captain. When she's torn down from that post some years later and nearly dies in the process, not to mention goes through some horrific physical and mental trauma -> she survives, recovers (thanks for the help there, Ren) and doesn't hesitate to exact her vengeance.

But it's not as if she comes out of all that unscathed. She's a deeply scarred person that's never dealt with her trauma, just overcome it with sheer force of will and pushed on no matter what's thrown at her—but she's not okay.

And her getting pregnant and giving birth to a child that wasn't Ren's really... Brings into focus how horribly she's actually doing, after everything. She was never the most emotionally stable person, but following the stress of the pregnancy, then the birth itself, she starts swerving between screaming fits of anger, breaking down into inconsolable sobbing, and catatonia. Tries to murder the baby she gave birth to, while at it.

Repeatedly.

The levels of postpartum depression she goes through really are just out there, and she doesn't even begin to recover before Ren comes back and removes the baby from her life entirely.

With his help she pieces herself back together after that ordeal, again, but now she's basically obsessed with him and he'd probably try to leave her again at complete risk to his own life with how... Yeah. To his credit, he doesn't! So we don't need to find out how hysterical and murderous that would've made Giovanna, but expect her mentality to be "if I can't have you, no one will", prompting her to (try to) kill him, then kill herself 'cause she's decided she can't live without him. That kind of healthy, balanced stuff.

But okay, at least that much doesn't happen, they go on to live... Normal-ish lives.

Until the baby, now grown, comes knocking, and Giovanna launches straight back into homicidal paranoia and god forbid you leave her alone with her grown child, 'cause one of them will not walk out from that privacy alive.

I cannot emphasize enough how much that one pregnancy and the birth (that on top of everything else also nearly physically killed her due to her previously sustained, permanent injuries, 'cause it wasn't all around traumatizing enough already) irreversibly broke something in her that was already threatening to break for several years before that, and how much this... Mental deterioration to this degree does not take place with any other version of Gia. Mainverse Gia will go through something that would have the potential to devastate him similarly, and while he has a period of extreme instability as a result, he doesn't bounce back, he just gets rearranged into a new version of himself, somewhat sidestepping what happens with Giovanna as a result.

Because Giovanna, fundamentally, always remains as the same person, just an increasingly fucked up version of herself.

Mainverse Gia, really the only one with comparable levels of trauma happening to him, just gets wiped into a clean slate by the targeted abuse he's put through, and rebuilt into a new person from the ground up. Whee.

TL;DR: tormented characters are fucking fantastic, I love putting them under a microscope and poking them with something sharp.

[tibby]

bc it is mandy monday can i ask for more mandy thoughts/hcs/analysis/anything u want to share (feel free to ignore if ur over me asking for jigsquadposts)

this is a week old and another mandy monday is upon us so i will talk about something i have touched on briefly in the past but haven't gone super in depth on, which is the significance that the matthews men play in amanda's life - daniel for the better, eric for the worst.

something i think is really tragic about amanda, specifically due to her implied (canonical in the original iii script) abusive childhood at the hands of her father, is that so many of the people who alter her life are men. with the exception of jill (and perhaps lynn), it's the men we see who change things for amanda, and usually in a way that damages her even more: john, eric, cecil, hoffman, xavier. only two men in all her movies show her kindness without any strings attached: adam and daniel matthews (arguably jonas too, but i can't imagine him being rough with her when she first ""woke up"" in nerve gas house helped things). adam's kindness causes her to have guilty dreams about the role she played in his suffering, and it leads to her mercy killing him.

daniel's kindness, however, leads to her protecting him more than she needs to...while also knowing she'd be leading his father to his suffering and death. it's interesting, and i wish they explored daniel matthews more in the later movies, because while i don't think amanda regrets hurting eric (when i think she does regret other things she's done), she does regret daniel having to take part in everything. maybe she considered killing his father to be a blessing (her own father, and the conditioning she suffered under john and her desire to save others from that fate), but forcing daniel to participate still hospitalised him and gave him lifelong trauma. given amanda's guilt and own lifelong trauma, i can imagine that hangs heavy over her head. both because despite her understandable thrill of having power she doesn't actually enjoy enacting violence against others (eric aside), and because daniel was genuinely kind to her.

while it's likely that xavier's actions in the nerve gas house did irreversible damage to amanda's view of humanity and john's philosophy (xavier hurting everyone + having to return to the atmosphere created by john and hoffman absolutely did a number on her), i think daniel matthews was fighting against that, if involuntarily. daniel matthews, only in the game to punish his father, who could have been like him in all the worst ways, but instead was the opposite. a terrified fifteen year old child who thought he was going to die but still went out of his way to try and help everyone else, even when amanda was the only one who helped him (and at first, that was all based on ulterior motives). daniel is the only one who asks amanda about her earlier game or tries to comfort her and is the only one who speaks up when she's thrown in the needle pit and almost jumps in there himself to help her, while all the adults just stand around. but it's not just amanda he's kind to. daniel worries about addison and jonas and is distraught by what happens to obi, and he even tries to reason with xavier. from the very beginning, he's the only one besides amanda who shows genuine concern for laura who is clearly weakening faster than the others. i honestly think it's the moment he helps her leave the first room that makes amanda start to change her perspective on helping daniel, because god this brief moment haunts me:

amanda had to keep daniel alive for the sake of eric's game but i think it's undeniable that she grew to care about him in her own way, even before daniel saved her life (and lord, the daniel killing xavier to save amanda vs adam killing zep to save lawrence parallels). daniel reminded amanda that people can be good and humanity isn't beyond hope, and that meant something to her. i think in some ways, daniel's actions gave amanda a glimmer of hope and crushed it in the same breath: because he saved her life, but had he not been there, had he not been kind...she would have died. because john didn't account for her guaranteed survival by testing her again.

and so, daniel's actions alone aren't enough to save her on the path that other men had already put her on.

(and while eric matthews deserved everything he got and more, there's a certain tragedy in daniel being the one to save amanda's life, only for her to live on and set his father up for death. what is saw about if not being the ones to seal the tragic fates of the people we love?)

and while eric matthews wasn't the only man to push amanda towards her eventual death and destruction (again: her father, john, hoffman, cecil, xavier all played significant roles there), eric planting evidence on her and sending her to jail is ultimately the reason she fell into the paths of most of these men. amanda's addiction starts with her time in prison. it's that that leads to her knowing cecil, to the night of jill's miscarriage, to being tested, to being taken under john's wing, to witnessing xavier's cruelty, to being set up to fail by hoffman. eric matthew's cruelty and selfishness and abuse of power alter amanda's life forever, not once, but twice: he sends her to prison and sets off the aforementioned chain of events. and he makes her so hungry for revenge that he becomes the first person she tries to kill with genuine malice and hatred, and from that point on...she's changed. the kindness of one man did nothing to outweigh the cruelty of numerous others - particularly that of the kind man's father.

[jaeger-pups]

Did Eren ever see Carla again??? Was there any sort of closure on that, even in the manga? I’m lost as to why there was nothing of that in the finale. I feel like as the fandom even we could’ve used some heartfelt heartbreaking glimpse of her one last time. We hadn’t seen her since the very beginning; all that trauma dumped all over us well before we had any idea how much worst things would get before & by the end. At the v least I would have bawled so unattractively at Eren’s reaction to ‘seeing’ her after so long. Imagine what she would have said to him. They say a mother’s love cannot be depleted. Do you think she would’ve forgiven him for all he’d done? Consoled him like a mom who only knew the most innocent, petulant, blameless version of him would? Why did we not get that?? Imagine how much potential it might’ve given him to reflect further on his mistakes & selfishness? His willingness to sacrifice & smudge others from existence to surmount his ideals of freedom? 🥺 Even if his motives and agenda were completely irreversible & essentially dark by the end, what ultimately gave rise to Eren’s wrath in his youth was witnessing & being powerless to undo the death of his mother — in a world he was hellbent on altering. I wanted to see them embrace the same way he did w Mikasa & Armin. Or see him cry (really, really cry) apologizing to her. Anyone know what I mean?

[silvermahogany]

Having so many thoughts rn about a potential Iolys bad route. Like rn im planning for him to have a whole healing arc across a long running campaign where he becomes close with all the other party members and slowly realises through their better treatment of him how god awful the cult is. Especially how abusive and manipulative Ornyryn is towards him and he has this whole struggle against her puppeteering to eventually break out and become his own person confront his traumas ect ect good ending found family he gets railed by a hot vampire yippee wahoo.

But like. What if. Whhat if. The rest of the party somehow manages to kill Ornyryn earlier in his development when hes not yet realised or ready to face how bad she is. Like there would be a certain point in the story where he'd be ready to confront everything and accept that hes a victim but if he hasnt yet reached that point?? He watches the people he had started to grow to trust and see as his friends kill the woman who he believes saved his life and gave him a home and a purpose and loved him so so dearly for 15 years. He sees the woman he calls his mother die for a second time while he watched unable to save her. And he just has a COMPLETE mental break. Like that shit would do irreversible damage to his brain there would be no recovering or healing from that he'd try and probably fail to kill the party himself to avenge her then run away and dig himself even deeper into the cult than before it would control every aspect of his life for the rest of his time walking that earth. He becomes her successor and is elevated to her place of the blue wyrmspeaker as one of Tiamat's chosen and becomes stuck in this position of evil and misery but he plays his role in Ornyryn's memory with no complaint in a desperate attempt to honour her. Maybe he becomes the BBEG in her place and has to face the party again at a later level now as one of the most powerful clerics in Faerun and with the whole forces of Tiamat on his side. Maybe once he becomes strong enough Tiamat herself jumps on the 'lets all manipulate Iolys' train and uses him directly to carry out her will as her most loyal servant. I need to design him a slutty robe to daydream this all properly

[briamichellewrites]

49

Apples and avocados. Jason would have to remember that. He enjoyed being able to talk with his sister-in-law. Muto and Donna gave him more of an update after she and Mara left. They also explained to Jack who she was. They first met in 1998. Mike brought her to Thanksgiving dinner because she didn’t have anywhere else to go. They then dated on and off for several years, but they remained close friends. It was about a year ago that she was in a serious car accident.

She and a friend were driving home from getting something to eat. They were waiting to cross through the intersection when they were hit on the driver’s side at around a hundred miles an hour. The accident caused her to have bleeding in her brain, fluid in her heart, and a broken leg. Along with minor cuts and bruises. She had emergency surgery to stop the bleeding in her brain.

She also had open heart surgery. Because of the trauma, she had permanent, irreversible brain damage and epileptic seizures. She was nonverbal and paralyzed. How did she move around in her wheelchair? She could move her hands but she lost the ability to move her arms. That was why she got a new monitor. Mike moved in with her after the accident, so he could take care of her. Were they married? Yes, they had a small courthouse wedding.

“She doesn’t want pity or sympathy. Mike’s band loves her. They don’t treat her any differently. They’re always joking around with her while making sure she’s okay. She has another group of friends who also come over to see her or help out.”

“What happened to the person who hit her?”

“She was found guilty of driving under the influence of drugs. All of us wanted her to go to jail, but she ended up being sentenced to community service.”

They found out after the arrest that the woman who hit her was her half-sister. That family never visited her in the hospital or asked how she was doing or how they could help. Where were her parents? Her mother died when she was a baby and her father died when she was seventeen years old. Biologically, she was an only child.

Even though it was late, Mike called home to see if Bria was still awake. She was. Mara set her phone up on speaker, so she could hear what he said and respond to him with her monitor. It was like a real conversation. She told him about having dinner with his parents, Jason, and his boyfriend, Jack. They just got home from that. How was that? It was very fun. She hadn’t seen Jason in a while, so she liked talking with him.

“Mara and I showed them my monitor and how it works.”

“I’m going to have to ask him about his boyfriend. This is the first time I’ve heard about it.”

“You didn’t hear it from me.”

He laughed. “I’m sure he won’t mind you telling me.”

“We should take a vacation somewhere when you get home. We could go hiking or something.”

“That is a great idea. It can’t be too remote because I want us to be near a hospital, so we can’t go camping or anything. Just in case. I’ll look into wheelchair-accessible hiking trails.”

“Awesome. Maybe Abbie can help me look into it tomorrow when she comes over. What time is it there where you are?”

It was about four in the morning, but they had a day off to sleep and rest. That sounded wonderful. He agreed it was. Would she bring the cats hiking? They would not enjoy being on leashes, though they would probably enjoy smelling everything. He laughed and agreed that was probably true. After talking for a while about the tour, they said I love you, and good night.

Mara left the room to give them privacy. Whatever they were talking about as husband and wife was none of her business. She noticed her coming over to her, so she got up and walked over to meet her. After taking the phone, she turned it off. How was the phone call? It was wonderful. They were going to plan a hiking trip somewhere close to LA. She was going to look into it with Abbie when she came over. A vacation sounded like a great idea.

“He called me at four in the morning.”

“Oh my gosh. Does he have to get up early?”

“No, they have the day off. He can sleep in.”

“Good. I’m glad you got to talk to him. Are you tired now?”

Yes, she was. It had been a fun day and evening but she was ready to go to sleep. They went into her room. She helped her to bed before hooking up her medical equipment. Abbie would be over the next morning to bring her to a group for adults with Lou Gehrig’s disease. It would be her first time going. Abbie called the contact person listed on the website to ask if she could attend since she didn’t have an official diagnosis. She was told that yes, she could attend.

Who would be joining her? Abbie gave her name. She was her nurse and caregiver. After getting more information, they ended the call. Bria was anxiously waiting to hear if she could go. She zoomed around the house to give her a distraction. When she heard she could go, she was very excited.

What was she excited about? She was excited about meeting other people like her. Maybe they could learn more about the disease and how to get a diagnosis. She thought that was possible. They might be serving snacks. Was she okay with bringing her feeding tube and supplies? Maybe she could have something to drink. Yes, she would like that.

She would pack it into her bag for her, then after breakfast. After saying good night, she walked out and closed the door behind her quietly. She then went into the kitchen and found the notebook. Mara wrote about their morning and afternoon. She wrote about having dinner with her in-laws and her phone call with Mike. It was a later night than usual, but there weren’t any problems. She was in a great mood the entire day.

Bria was one of the easiest patients she ever worked with. She loved coming to work and hanging out with her because she never knew what to expect. Abbie felt the same way. Ten out of ten would recommend having her as a patient. They had patients who were sometimes aggressive or borderline abusive, especially when it came to patients with brain injuries. But, not her.

She was more than a patient, she was like a friend. The house was quiet, as the cats were also asleep. She went to the dining room and worked on her laptop. It was near her room, so she would hear if any of her monitors went off. Meow. Rascal jumped up onto the table. He was awake and ready to cause trouble. She sighed as he sat on her keyboard. Do you just want attention? He slowly blinked at her. After getting what he wanted, he ran off and she continued working.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon @fiickle-nia

[agentcable]

Taxi Driver Season 1 Ep. 11 to 16

Jang Sung-Chul leads a team of employees at a Deluxe Taxi company who seek revenge on those who exploit victims. Kim Do-Ki executes their payback-driven plans, with the support of hacker Ahn Go-Eun, and engineers Choi Kyung-Koo and Park Jin-Eon.

After seeking retribution for the victims of the criminals, they take them to Baek Sung-Mi for imprisonment. Unbeknownst to Team Rainbow, she conceals her illicit organ trade catering to VIP clients.

Episode 11 "Wake Up! Investigator!" Episode 12 "This Board, I Made It" Episode 13 "Where Did Kim Do-gi Go?" Episode 14 "Kill Me, You Bastard!" Episode 15 "She Deserves It. She's My Mother" Episode 16 "So Shall We Begin?"

If you want to watch the series for yourself, stop reading! This post contains spoilers to the storyline.

Jang Sung-Chul leads a team of employees at a Deluxe Taxi company who seek revenge on thosw who exploit victims. Kim Do-Ki executes their payback-driven plans, with the support of hacker Ahn Go-Eun and engineers Choi Kyung-Koo and Park Jin-Eon.

After seeking retribution for the victims of the lawbreakers, they take them to Baek Sung-Mi for imprisonment. Unbeknownst to Team Rainbow, she conceals her organ trafficking operation catering to VIP clients.

When Jang Sung-Chul discovered that Sung-Mi did not fulfill her end of the deal, he cut ties with her. However, the situation escalated to involve the police and prosecutors, causing irreversible trauma to the criminals who were treated like animals by Sung-Mi and Sung-Chul.

The involvement of the Rainbow Taxi Revenge Service team was uncovered, and Prosecutor Kang Hana, whose cases were entangled with the group's activities, is torn on the best course of action. As a champion of justice, she empathizes with Kim Do-Ki and his team's vision.

After 20 years of silence, Oh Chul-Young, the serial killer who murdered Jang Sung-Chul's parents, confessed to killing two more people. Shockingly, one of the victims was Kim Do-Ki's mother. This unexpected twist forced Do-Ki to relive painful memories while facing Oh Chul-Young. However, it also gave him the chance to find closure that he couldn't get when he believed the culprit dies by suicide.

Do-Ki sets out for personal revenge, which the Rainbow Taxi team declares as their final mission.

Episode 15 and 16 has a real life case behind it. It is the Raincoat Killer case.

Yoo Young-Chul is a South Korean serial killer, sex offender, and self-confessed cannibal. He admitted to the murders of multiple people, mostly prostitutes and wealthy old women. The Seoul Central District Court convicted him of 20 murders. One case was dismissed when it was identified as being committed by another serial killer, Jeong Nam-Gyu. Between September 2003 and July 2004, Yoo mutilated at least 11 victims and admitted to eating the livers of some. He also burned three victims. On July 15, 2004 he was apprehended. Yoo explained his motives in front of a TV camera, stating that "Women shouldn't be sluts, and the rich should know what they've done".

There was speculation that he modeled his killings after several movies, including "Public Enemy", "Very Bad Things", and "Normal Life", based on the content of his apartment searched after his arrest. Yoo later confessed to being inspired by serial killer Jeong Du-Yeong, who had murdered nine wealthy people in Busan from 1999 to 2000.

Prosecutors stated that Yoo killed wealthy older people due to his childhood poverty. They also stated that he targeted women with similar jobs as his previous lover in a bid to retaliate against a lover who betrayed him. Yoo also told police he killed women because he hated them.

The psychologist who assessed Yoo determined that he was not mentally ill. However, Yoo exhibited typical signs of anit-social disorder, which involves creating a belief system based on distrust of moral and social norms.

Yoo's case has fueled the debate on capital punishment in South Korea, and it has appalled many South Koreans. Although the death penalty is still legal, it has not been enforced since 1997. It seemed that capital punishment might be abolished before Yoo's arrest, but support for the death penalty has increased since learning of his crimes.

According to the Seoul Central District Court, "Murders of as many as 20 people are unprecedented in the nation and a very serious crirme. Due to the significant harm caused to the families and society, the death penalty is inevitable for Yoo who is currently detained at the Seoul Detention Center.

Netflix released a documentary series in 2021 titled "The Raincoat Killer: Chasing a Predator in Korea". The series explores the story of the notorious killer and the investigation that led to his capture.

Down below the trailer. Viewer discretion is advised.

[hotchley]

where he's been

I did it!

I wrote the happy ending/second part, in which he makes the deliberate choice to show her and there is healing and there is joy and there is love <3

Everyone say thank you to the anon on tumblr that asked me about this when I did the WIP game, because without them we wouldn't have gotten here...

But we did! I finished a multi-chapter thing!

Trigger Warnings: scars, intrusive thoughts, trauma, references to the events of the Foyet and Doyle arcs, mild sexual content, surgery, medical things (Route 66 references mostly)

read on ao3!

previously: part one

Part Two: He Shows

The first time Aaron shows Emily his scars, she smiles.

He shows her deliberately. Because he wants to. Because he loves her, and he loves himself. Because he trusts her. He wants to be vulnerable with her in a way he could only ever be with Haley. He wants to do this, for her, and for himself. He knows they are not beautiful, that she may flinch at the sight of his humanity as everyone seems to do, but he needs her to see them. Properly. In a way that is right.

His body feels more like his with every day that passes now. He will never forget the pain his fathers emotions brought, or how he felt completely paralysed and pinned in place by George Foyet and his knife. His mind may never recover. But he's been making progress, and despite the emergency surgery, his body is recovering and he's proud of it. He's proud of himself.

And he's proud of Emily too. When she was in Paris, and he was too consumed by grief to do much more than look through the files they had on Doyle, he would feel a sense of pride in her, and all she had overcome. In all she had accomplished. In all she had survived, and continued to survive. But most of all, he was proud that she never let Doyle win.

Even when he tried to scar her body forever as a punishment for everything she had done, even though she had been right, she had always been right, she didn't let him win. She wore that scar with the same pride everyone on the team did. Because those scars made them human. They reminded him they weren't untouchable, but they were stronger than anyone gave them credit for.

It took a while for her to get there. There were still days where she would scrub the area till the skin went red, as though enough force would remove it. There were days where she would think of how far plastic surgery had come, and wonder- if she was given the chance- whether she would keep the marks. But there are other days, where she doesn't even hesitate before wearing shorts. Before wearing something with a lower neckline.

It's different for Aaron. Not for any real reason, he's just a different person. The scars that cover his torso, the scars that match the killer of his first love, of the first woman to teach him that when the poets said love hurt, they did not mean like the pain that came with smashed glass or belt marks, they meant a pleasant hurt, were almost impossible for him to accept.

The ones on his back became easier with time. Because they healed, and they faded to silver lines. He can still feel it, and can still tell when someone has touched him there. He no longer flinches, as the touches placed there are warm and gentle. Neutral. And he was a child, who deserved to be safe. A child, who shouldn't have known how to fight.

The ones left by Foyet were harder to come to terms with. He cannot feel there properly. The few times Emily has touched him- over his shirt, only ever over his shirt- he has either winced at a phantom twinge of pain or stared at her blankly because the area was numb.

He used to feel like he should've fought back. Properly. His gun was on the table, he could've grabbed it. He knows he could've because he dreams of that night more times than he doesn't. Being exhausted wasn't an excuse. Elle told him it was, but he remembers how she was- so unforgiving of herself. He wouldn't extend himself the courtesy she hadn't.

Foyet’s scars were just different. He hated having the same marks as a killer. He hated how, every time he walked into his apartment, he would remember. Vividly. The moments from his childhood still haunted him, but some of them were starting to blur together. But the feeling of the knife plunging in- he would always remember each and every single one.

The stitches tore during his thirty-four days off. He had sent everyone away, not wanting them to see just how much he needed them, because he needed to convince himself they still believed in his invincibility. The irony of his situation, especially as Derek held his hand from the bed to the wheelchair, was not lost on him. But then he regained his independence.

Then the damage done almost became irreversible. Collapsing in the conference room had been terrifying for everyone, but waking up had been the hardest thing he'd ever made himself do. During one of his brief moments of consciousness, he realised it was the damage Foyet had done when he scarred him that had led him to the abyss he'd visited once, and only once before.

When he finally gained the courage to look in the mirror, he broke. The scars were never going to heal properly, he'd realised that right before the pain became overwhelming. Foyet's hadn't. No matter how careful he may have been the second time round, the scars were never going to fade. They were still red, just less angry.

Seeing them after the surgery, in the same apartment, with the same mirror, sent him back in time. They were too red. They were too deep, too much and he couldn't look at himself, couldn't go through the pain of realising just how strong one man's hold on him was. Not for a second time.

Emily found him like that. She didn't walk in, knowing he would never recover if she did. But when he emerged thirty minutes later, wearing Haley's college hoodie that had always fit him perfectly, she took his hand. She kissed his forehead, and played with his hair as they watched one of Jack's cartoons. A part of her felt guilty for not saying something, but he felt more grateful for that than she would ever know.

They had sat on the couch until they fell asleep then. They were sitting on the couch when she touched the biggest scar, causing him to wince and run out, leading to her seeing them for the first time.

Because sometimes, the world is cyclical, they're sitting on the couch when he shows her.

This time, Jack is at a sleepover. There had been a gala, and he had looked so happy as he accepted his reward. Shocked beyond belief when Strauss announced her retirement. But so incredibly happy when she named him her successor, especially when he realised there was no reason he had to become a paper-pusher. There was no reason for him to change.

He looks so perfect, cheeks glowing and genuine smile overpowering everything else about him that she can't help but kiss him the moment they get in the car. If they seemed like love-struck teenagers to everyone that drove past then so be it. He looked handsome in his suit, but happiness suited him even more and she wouldn't let anyone dampen it.

So they're sitting on the couch, and his hands are running up and down her arms like he still can't quite believe she wants him. Her dress matches his tie- of course it does, because Aaron pouted and stared at her till she told him the colour- and she looks so beautiful that all he wants to do is watch her. She doesn't even have to do anything, so long as he can admire her.

Just like before, she touches his torso. Before he looks down, she pulls her hand away like he burnt it. A silent apology starts to pass her lips, but he kisses it away before it gets the chance to escape. Tonight, there will be no apologies. There will be no sadness.

Only them and the love they fought so hard for.

"Aaron," she says. "What's going on?"

He cannot tell her, his heart suddenly racing. He knows that he's ready to do this. He knows he wants to. He knows that there will be no shame or judgement if he suddenly stops halfway through. He knows all of that, but the traitorous, self-sabotaging part of his brain wants nothing more than to throw her out.

Before she sees his humanity. Before she gets too close and gets hurt. Before she decides that he is too damaged, and too messy, and too ruined for her to love.

But there is a piece of his brain that is stronger than that. A piece that knows she has seen his humanity every moment since she met him, all those years ago. That knows she has already gotten too close, but with her eyes wide open to all the danger that could come. She loves him. She loves him knowingly and deliberately.

He isn't ruined. He never has been. And yes, he is messy, but everyone is. She knows him. Perhaps better than he does. So she won't leave. Not this time.

He's not said anything for a while, and she's starting to worry. Then he takes her hand, as he has done a thousand times before, and the weight of it grounds her. She trusts him. Whatever he is going to do, he will do because they both want it.

"Close your eyes. Please? I'm not going to touch you, but I can't- if I say it, I'll back out," he whispers.

She realises suddenly, randomly, that the lights are still on. "Okay," she whispers, and complies. Talking feels too loud.

"You can open them now," he says, a few minutes later.

She does. And for a moment, she has no idea what's happening.

And then she sees. Properly. He's taken his shirt off, and his scars are completely visible to her. All of them. She's never loved him more. For trusting her enough to show her who he is. For loving her enough to be so vulnerable without fear. For being so brave that she no longer feels afraid of anything.

"My darling," she says, because Aaron feels too casual. But she has no words.

He takes her hand again, and presses it against his chest. She can feel his heart racing underneath it.

"This belongs to you. Whatever is left of it, however long it may beat for, it all belongs to you. Because I love you. And I trust you. So break it if you must, but carry the pieces with you because they are yours, now and forever."

Emily can't help the tears that start pooling in her eyes. She understands where this is coming from. He thought that this would be the thing that made her hesitate. One day, he will realise that this is the thing that convinced her that it was right. She had known for a while that she was going to spend whatever portion of her life that he wanted her for with him, but now she was so sure that the thought didn't fill her with dread.

There are no words in a language she speaks to tell him how much this means to her. So she settles for the ones that will do. "It won't be the pieces that I carry. It will be the whole thing. For as long as you will allow me to. I love you, Aaron Hotchner. I love you, I love you, I love you." She smiles as she says the words, not once moving away from him.

He smiles, as he always does, before he kisses her. He smiles through the kiss.

It is perfect. It is beautiful. Standing there, with him so vulnerable and her so irreversibly in love, it is hard to believe that the place they are creating their happy ending, is the same space where he was once stabbed in. The place where she set off that chain of events not so long ago.

They go to sleep, in the same bed, wrapped in each others' warmth. It feels perfect. The photo of Haley they keep on the dresser seems to glow even brighter, like she too is so proud of who they have become.

The first time Aaron shows Emily his scars, she smiles.

And Aaron does too. Because now he's shown her. Properly. And he saw her face, full of love and admiration and pride in how far he has come. She's seen them. But it was his decision. And that, more than anything, heals the final piece of his soul that Foyet destroyed.