#bad memories with psychologists

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

"For a self-proclaimed researcher... I thought you'd know by now that Psychic-types are weak against Ghost." "Morty-ehehe! B-But I'm nohohot a type specialist!" "Maybe should've thought of that first before deciding to wake me up so early."

A spiritual successor to this lil doodle of mine 🫣💖💕

[nope-body]

.

[centaurianthropology]

One thing that I think a lot of Disco Elysium meta misses (likely because a lot of it is very clearly written by young Americans writing from an intensely American-centric cultural perspective without even really realizing it) is that one of the singular and central themes of the game is massive-scale generational trauma in a home that is economically collapsing as its resources and people are being drained by an occupation.  People have noted that no one tries to help Harry, despite the fact his mental illness is incredibly obvious to everyone around him.  He tells Kim that he completely lost his memory, and Kim politely asks him to focus on the work.  He tells Gottlieb that he had a heart attack, and Gottlieb tells him that if he’s still alive it couldn’t have been that bad.  That he’ll drop dead sooner or later, but then so does everyone.

And that’s the most important thing: so does everyone.  Look at Martinaise.  Look at the world in which Harry lives.  It is not our own, but it is adjacent to ours.  More specifically, it is clearly adjacent to the states of the Eastern Bloc: overtaken and occupied by a faraway government that clearly doesn’t care about Revachol or its people.  And that is obvious in every tired face, every defeated citizen, everyone trying to eke out a little happiness or meaning in spite of the overwhelming trauma and damage around them.  The buildings are still half-destroyed.  The bullet holes are still in the walls.  The revolution was decades before, but it still feels to the people there like a fresh wound.  The number of men of Harry’s generation who are not alcoholic or otherwise deeply fucked up are very few.  Some, like Kim, hide it better, but the deeper you dig into his history, the more you realize how damaged Kim is.  He’s more than a little trigger happy, and hates that about himself, but he is a product of his environment: Kim’s entire life is seeing people he cared about shot and killed, so his instinct now is to shoot first himself, to protect those few people left who still matter to him.

Harry is not unique in his trauma.  He is a distillation of an entire culture of people who tried to rise up and make something beautiful, and were instead routed and occupied.  He is trapped between the occupation and the people on the ground, along with all the rest of the RCM.  Their authority comes from the occupying government, but it is implied that they were formed out of the remnants of the citizens militia which sprung up from Revachol itself as a way to try to mitigate some of the horrors being committed on its streets.  The Moralintern sure as hell wasn’t going to get their hands dirty, so they happily conscripted (and therefore could better control) this group, who are only recognized in certain places, and whose authority mostly amounts to giving out fines.  The RCM is corrupt, but it is corrupt in the same way its culture is.  Bribes are considered standard with them, not a moral failing, but a necessity, so long as those bribes are correctly logged as ‘donations’.  It’s how the RCM stays afloat, and the rest of Revachol completely understands that.  Everyone would take a bribe if it meant they kept eating.  Everyone would take a little under-the-table money if it meant keeping a roof over their heads.  The officersof the RCM certainly don’t make enough to see a doctor.  They have an in-house lazarus, and if he can’t fix them they just die.  Mental health care?  What mental health care?  Harry doesn’t get it for the same reason no one else does: it doesn’t really seem to exist.  There are no counselors, no psychologists, no psychiatrists.  How would they even start?  If the world is what is broken, if everyone is suffering a similar catastrophic amount, it makes sense that Harry’s trauma would simply get rolled up with all the rest.  Kim asks him to get on with the job because Harry’s suffering is not remarkable in Revachol.  He is one of an entire generation who have an astronomical number of orphans from the revolution, and so many younger people are left more or less orphans as their parents drink themselves into oblivion like Cuno’s father.  So Harry’s truly unique attribute is embodying all that trauma, having it all inside of him, filling him to bursting.

To really engage with the themes of the game, engaging first and foremost with the reality of Revachol is imperative.  Imposing our own reality onto Revachol, particularly if coming from an American perspective (which tend to have the habit of both viewing the world through an American lens and not realizing they’re doing it because they’ve never experienced a different lens), will always feel shallow to me because of this.

All that is to say, I would love to hear some more explicitly European meta about this game, and especially Eastern European meta.  If anyone can point me to some good, juicy essays from that perspective, I would be grateful!

[eustasskidagenda]

Hi! This is my first time requesting, could I ask for some headcanons of Zoro, Law and Kidd with reader who was selective mutism?

Hi, sure thing! I'm sorry for the delay, but here we go. I hope the outcome will meet your expectations, thank you for requesting. ☆

☆Zoro, Law & Kid with a s/o who has selective mutism

CW : g/n reader, Kid has a filthy mouth 

WC : 1,2k

Zoro 

It would be quite a challenge for Zoro, to be honest. 

Zoro is not really talkative. So at first, he wouldn't notice that you're facing selective mutism. He would assume that you are a stoic and reserved person, just like him. However, he would come to the realization that it's deeper. When he realizes it's selective mutism...

… He would feel a bit confused and helpless, especially if you're not comfortable with him. Is he to blame for it? He wants to make you feel safe. So first thing first, he would ask for Chopper's help, or maybe Robin. 

Zoro is maybe uncomfortable with emotions, but he's loyal and always there to support his loved ones. This man is so protective and serious. With someone like him, the silence is always enjoyable, not weird or unusual. It would give you a feeling of safety. 

As a pragmatic person, Zoro would also try to find solutions, such as communicating through gestures, maybe. Whenever you talk to him, his heart would melt. He feels privileged to hear the sound of your voice. It's both beautiful and soothing.

Zoro will quietly be supportive when you're with others. As long as you don't seem in need of his help, he would just shut up and let you do your thing. If you want to communicate with others, give it a shot. If you want to stay silent, that's fine. However, if you appear stressed or uncomfortable, Zoro would be there in a second to reassure you. 

"You don't have to force yourself. It's fine. You gave your all. 

I think Zoro would consider your struggles with communication like he considers his fighting style: you need to train. If you want to open up, he would love to help you. He would assist you in slowly but surely pushing past your limits. "Maybe it'll take time, but I know you can do it, I trust you."

Zoro values so much effort and practice that he would be really moved by your progress. Even though he's not really expressive, you can tell how proud he is. The soft expression in his eyes is all you need to see.

Law

Law has a quiet demeanor. He doesn't speak much about himself, his plans, or basically, anything that is stuck in his mind. However, he understands that there is a distinction between being reserved and selective mutism. He would quickly realize that you're not just shy.

Although he's not a psychologist, he would still try to understand why you have selective mutism. First, because he's a doctor and also because he's curious about that kind of thing. If you're not willing to speak up about this, he won't force you to do so. He's well aware that selective mutism can sometimes hide something traumatic, and well, Law knows a lot about trauma. He doesn't want to remind you of dark memories.

"Don't worry, y/n-ya. I won't put pressure on you."

If you cannot communicate with him, Law would try to find a way to communicate with you. Maybe through writing, sign language, or even drawing, if you want. He's good at finding solutions and he knows a few things about selective mutism. 

If you can't communicate with others, Law will try to keep you in a safe environment. He knows it's pointless to confront you with people and he doesn't want to make you feel more anxious. But he would try to introduce you to trustworthy people, such as Bepo, Sashi, or Penguin. He would ask his friends to be nice and patient with you. If someone tries to be mean to you, Law would be really mad and probably room, shambles their body for a few hours as a punishment.

He respects your silence. Law would never force you to communicate or push you out of your comfort zone. He would be there to support you during both good and bad times. Every time you talk to someone you're not really comfortable with, Law would have a proud grin on his face. 

"See, you did it! You're incredible, y/n-ya."

Kid

Well, don't worry, he can talk for the both of you.

He's a man of action, and honestly, he struggles to understand what's going on and why you're so quiet. Sure, he's used to calm people, and Killer is one of them. But talking to everyone is not a problem for Killer, he's just introverted. Your selective mutism would be a challenge for our dear angry tulip.

Kid is loud and both possessive and protective. However, he hates assisting others. He thinks you're strong enough to take care of yourself. He would never be the one to babysit you. Just watch from a distance to see if you're doing okay, especially in stressful situations. If someone dares to mock you, we all know what's going to happen. Kid is easily pissed off: he hates being mocked, or when someone makes fun of his loved one.

"Come here y/n, I'll deal with those fucking assholes." Before grabbing you by the wrist and bringing you closer to him. So now you're stuck against his chest, but is it really a problem? 

Honestly, if you're struggling to talk to Kid, he would consider the whole thing as a challenge. He's a marginalized person, his crew is full of marginalized people, so your selective mutism is not really a problem for him. His pride is the main issue: if you doesn't feel safe in his presence, it's a problem for his ego. 

"What's the matter anyway, y/n, why can't you speak?" 

In your presence, Kid would try (keyword: try) to talk more quietly. He doesn't want to freak you out with his rude behavior. Just imagine the loud and rude Eustass Kid softening in your presence. How sweet. I'm also pretty sure he would love to praise you with your favorite flower/animal made of metal. Imagine a beautiful flower blooming or a fluffy puppy dancing with joy while you speak. 

Don't say that the big, scary Eustass Kid can craft such lovely things to anyone. 

Once you're comfortable with him… Kid would just grin cockily. Damn. He would be extremely proud. Like, genuinely proud. Proud of you, because you did it. And also pleased with himself, because he won this challenge. He would feel his heart melting and pounding. "Y/N can talk to me, see, I'm the best!" (Yelling to absolutely everyone, obviously)

Kid Pirates are a big family. Kid may not be fully aware of what to do with someone who is facing selective mutism, but his crew will take care of you. They won't put pressure on you, not because they're scared of Kid, but because everyone in the crew has their own problems and it's alright. 

They would all make an effort to ensure your safety and be patient with you. Just like their captain, if you end up in a stressful situation, they would help you as best they can. 

I love them so much, help.

[back2bluesidex]

Where Do Broken Hearts Go - Chapter 1 (18+)

Pairing: Model, ex-boyfriend!Jungkook X Child psychologist, Fem!Reader X Lawyer, Single Dad!Hoseok. 

Summary: Jungkook stripped your emotions naked, left you bare in the chilly wind of despair and self-doubt with an unending heartache. You tried your hardest to move on from him, to live for yourself but failed miserably. Each night you had to come back to your empty home where memories and broken dreams were scattered all around the floor, until one day a little angel and her unbelievably beautiful father came into your life. Finally, when you find yourself healing, maybe falling too, Jungkook had to show up! Again!

Theme: Angst, pining, heartbreak, break-up, SMUT (MDNI)

Warnings: lots of crying, reader is broken, she is suffering so bad, a flashback explicit sex scene, big-dick Jungkook, kind of size kink, he hits it from behind, shower sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), creampie, Jung Hoseok enters the scene, he is so attractive that you might faint, subtle and flirty Hoseok, an adorable little girl, Namjoon makes an appearance.

It's not really mentioned but just so you know, Hoseok and reader has a slight age gap like 5 years. (which is not at all an age gap to me because my first boyfriend was 8 years older than me. haha. you didn't just read that.)

Word count: 4.2k

Taglist requests are closed.

Minors and karens are not allowed in this blog

A/N: First chapter is here. I wrote 4k+ words for a single fic and that's unbelievable. Anyway, I hope you guys like it, and I hope it's worth the wait.

Main Masterlist

Chapters:- 

Prologue/Masterpost || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 - Finale

“Reaching in 10 minutes” 

That’s what Jungkook texted you half an hour ago. 

It’s nothing new. He has always been late to your every date, every plan, every meetup. What is new is the lack of explanations and excuses following his delayed arrivals. He only apologizes and you hardly hear any sincerity in his atonements. 

You sigh, staring out of the huge window of the private cabin. 

Jungkook can’t meet you at your (supposed to be shared) home due to his “privacy” issues. So, you had to reserve this private cabin of an over-expensive continental restaurant. It’s funny how all of these feel so formal. It feels as if you are meeting one of your wealthy clients and not your boyfriend. This is how far Jungkook has drifted from you. 

Your feet bounce on the floor, reminding you that you are indeed very nervous. 

It’s a “leap of faith” situation for you today. If it works out then everything will start afresh, if it doesn’t… you will have to fall and break without having any idea on how to mend yourself. 

“Sorry. I’m late.” Jungkook’s muffled voice rings behind your ear. 

You were so lost in your thoughts, or fear, that you didn’t even hear him entering the cabin. 

He heads towards the seat opposite of yours, without any further greetings, any kiss or even a hug… not even a single glance.

“As if it’s the first time.” you scoff. Jungkook chuckles nervously, removing his mask and snapback. 

“Let’s order something. Heard their soy sauce chicken is a hit-” 

“Y/N, I can’t stay for long. Can you make it quick?” Jungkook cuts off your words. His tone is so curt, so foreign that you doubt if it’s actually him underneath his skin or not. 

“Jungkook… What's wrong? Why are you making things so formal? For fuck’s sake it’s me. Your so-called girlfriend.” Your voice quivers but you scream nonetheless. 

“Y/N! Quit being dramatic and lower your voice. We are not at home.” Jungkook hisses, teeth gritting, eyes narrowing. 

“Home? You mean the apartment you left because your agency said it’s risky to share a space with your girlfriend of three years? The same place you refused to meet at because paparazzi are keeping tabs on you as you are rumored to be dating someone else?” you reply with the same ferocity. 

Jungkook closes his eyes and rubs his face with both of his palms. Taking a sharp inhale, he says, “Can you please tell me why we are here? I don’t think you called me all the way here just so we can fight?”  

You roll your eyes, less in sarcasm, more in an attempt to make your tears disappear.

You sit straight as if being prepared for the sword that is going to pierce through your heart, “Jungkook, do you.. do you love me?” 

Jungkook visibly stiffens. His eyes go wide as if someone has asked him to jump off of the building. You see him collecting himself and clearing his throat only to lie, “O-Of course I do. But suddenly why?” 

Even though you want to believe his words, you know those are as hollow as his eyes and maybe his heart as well. 

“Then..” you pause, reaching for your purse. Pulling out the pitch black velvet box, you look at him. Jungkook’s eyes are wide again, filled with horror and confusion. He probably knows what you are doing and he does not seem to be the least bit happy.  

You stand up from your seat and round the table to reach Jungkook, “don’t you think it’s the high time we get engaged? It’s been three years since we started dating, our families approve of each other and” you pause, being unsure of whether you should say it, “and we have always wanted a future together.” You open the box for him to see, a tight-lipped smile lingers on your face only to punctuate your proposal.

Jungkook looks up at you with his big, doe, mystical eyes and then looks down on the ring you have spent a fortune on. Your heart hammers in your chest, but it is not the flattering kind. Your heart races in a fear that you are not ready to face yet.

Jungkook’s face falls and he looks away from you. He plays with his fingers and avoids any kind of eye contact with you. You stand there like a doll made of steel, staring at him holding the ring. 

“Y/N. This is not- I can’t. I mean, this is so sudden. I am at the peak of my career and I can’t think of getting engaged or married at this point of life.” he runs a hand though his dark hair out of frustration, “Why are you rushing everything like this?” Jungkook’s eyes are still trained on the table, not on you. 

“Because I am afraid, Jungkook. I am afraid you might leave me behind if I don’t try to hold onto you now.” you finally let your tears fall. Uncontrollable sobs leave your mouth. 

Jungkook whips his head towards you and then stands up slowly. He holds you by your arms and opens his mouth to say something, “Y/N. I-”

“But I guess it’s too late now. You were long gone. You were gone far before the day you were seen with her. I should have understood Jungkook. I should have…” you run out of breath but still continue, “now please answer me honestly, you love her. Don’t you?” 

Jungkook starts avoiding your eyes again. His grip on your arms loosens and you somehow know the answer already. 

“I never cheated on you, Y/N. I never lied to you.” He offers with eyes shut tightly. 

“But you never told me the full truth either.” your voice comes out weak. 

Jungkook remains silent for a while and then he continues with a frail voice, “That night. I mean, the photo that went viral, I was sending her back to her hotel. She flew all the way to the States to confess to me.” This is a new revelation to you, since you never really demanded any explanation from him. Honestly, you didn’t have the guts to face the truth. Rather you decided to try one last time. And that is what brings you here, defeated and rejected with a truck load of pain burdening you down. 

“And? What did you say?” you press on, being determined to end your suffering today even if it means you will have to return home with a broken relationship and a broken heart.  

“Nothing.” Jungkook gulps.

“You could not say no because you feel the same and you could not say yes because you still had me, is that right?” You know you awfully sound like you are in a session with one of your patients but you don’t care. You need to get to the root of this unbearable pain and cut it off for once and for all. 

Jungkook nods. Even though his eyes are hidden from yours, you know, those are full of guilt and shame but not a single speck of love and affection for you. 

You close your eyes, let the tears fall unbound, shut the box tight and take two steps back from your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. 

“I know this is a stupid question but I- I’m just confirming” another sob leaves your mouth unintentionally, “do you want to break up? With me?” 

Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose. He is probably finding a way to say yes without having to hurt you more than you can bear. 

“Y/N..” he murmurs. This is most likely the last time you are hearing him call you by your name. 

“Jungkook, please, just yes or no.” You take another step away from him.  

“Yes.” Jungkook breathes out. His eyes are still shut tight. 

Even though you knew what his answer would be, it still hurts much more than it did in your imagination. 

You feel as if your head is underwater, you can’t breathe, can’t fight, can’t scream. You need to be saved but the person you want to reach out to is the same person who pushed you into this unfathomable water. 

Your vision gets blurry with tears again, you can’t see Jungkook anymore. And you guess it’s better that way. 

“Okay. That's all I think. That’s all for our three years of history. I hope you lead a happier life from now on. Goodbye….. Jungkook.” and with that you left without waiting for him to say anything. You left him and a part of yourself with him. 

You are again sitting at your dining table, holding your phone tightly in your hand. You are again re-reading a headline just like you did a month and two days ago. You are again trying not to cry but you are failing miserably. 

“Calvin Kline fame Jeon Jungkook confirms the rumors by kissing rumored girlfriend actress Han Jiwon at a club downtown - The agency is yet to provide a statement.” 

It's cruel, how you have to wake up exactly at 7 in the morning despite crying for the better part of the night. 

It's even more cruel, how your vacation application (which you have been pursuing for more than a week now) was declined harshly because there's a "priority client" and you, arguably the most competent child psychologist of the clinic, have to take over the case. 

You reach for your phone and turn off the alarm. 

Opening your eyes, you stare at the ceiling blankly. It's been two weeks since you last saw Jungkook at the restaurant. It's been two weeks since your relationship came to an end. And it's been four months since you are sleeping on your own but you still crave for his warmth beside you. 

Love can be a funny thing. At one moment it's fulfilling you, injecting your heart with a sickening sweetness and at another one it's ripping off your urge to continue living, it's stuffing you with insecurity and self doubts that you hardly knew the existence of. 

You wonder what Jungkook is doing now. Is he sleeping by himself or is he waking up beside Jiwon? Is he kissing her shoulders softly like he used to do to you or is he hovering above her, spreading her legs and inserting his large shaft inside. 

Your thoughts are shaken off with the vibrating sound of your phone. 

It's Miseon. The receptionist of The Mindscope ( the clinic you work for) and probably the only person you can call a friend in this entire world. 

"Morning." You greet.

"Hey. Heard that your application was declined?" Miseon chrips from the other side of the line. 

"Yeah. For some priority clients. Kim asshole Namjoon will be deep-fried in burning oil in a giant ass frying pan in hell." You grumble.

"So you are coming back to work today I guess." 

"Yes I have to."

"Will you be okay tho?" You can hear concern in your friend's voice. She's the only person apart from your family to know about your and Jungkook's relationship. So, she called you immediately after seeing the tabloids twelve days ago. You cried on her shoulder when she visited you. 

"Yeah. I guess. I have to start doing the actual work anyway. My eyes are in pain for the prolonged hours I spent staring at Microsoft Word for these two weeks. Ugh. Now I hate documentation even more." 

Miseon chuckles, “Okay, see you at the clinic then.” 

“Yeah. see you.” 

You drag yourself out of the bed and head towards the washroom. If this is a new start, then you better accept it. 

As soon as the warm soothing water touches your body, memories come rushing back, flooding your mind with despair in the process. 

“Jungkook… I’m gonna get late” you whine, head tilting back with pleasure. 

Jungkook’s hand snakes around your waist, fingers reach for your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Five minutes won’t hurt, baby.” he whispers in your ear as his index and middle finger draw slow circles on your wet clit. 

His other hand teases one of your wet nipples, twisting and tugging it as harshly as he wants. 

A pool of slick gushes out of your hole making jungkook groan at the feeling. He dips his middle finger in your hole and collects some of your wetness, he then uses that to rub more smooth circles on your clit. 

You choke on thin air, moaning his name again and again you start to roll your hip on his naked cock. 

His giant cock fits perfectly along your ass crack, as if it was made to fit inside you. 

You roll your hips harder to elicit a reaction from your boyfriend. 

“Such a dirty girl, huh? All for me.” Jungkook’s husky voice pierce through your sober mind and you find yourself dazed with love and pleasure. 

Jungkook increases the pace of his fingers and you get more and more wet each passing second. 

“Kook.. I- I need you.” you manage to breathe out. 

“Don’t be vague, Y/N. Tell me what you exactly need.” Jungkook replies smugly. 

“I need your giant cock to ruin my pussy, daddy.” you reply, squeezing the tit that has been deprived of your boyfriend’s attention.

“Whatever my baby says.” and with that jungkook slips inside you in one go. You barely get any chance to adjust because he starts moving right away. 

He fucks you slow. His fingers never stop teasing your clit and soon you two reach your climax. He fills you with his cum and you coat his cock with yours. 

“Let’s get cleaned now, hm?” Jungkook places a kiss on your shoulder as he turns on the shower. 

Your back slides down the shower wall. You shake violently as loud sobs leave your throat one after another. 

“You are so cruel, Jungkook. You are so fucking cruel.” you scream. Your throat hurts but your heart hurts even more. 

You should have read the signs. When he kept on talking about Jiwon, aka his new friend from the agency, you should have perceived that shine in his eyes. 

You should have confronted him more when he said he would have a drink with her after his shoot. 

You should have asked his whereabouts when he ignored your calls and texts because he visited her in one of her drama sets. 

You should have done a lot of things but most importantly, you should have loved him a little less and loved yourself a little more. 

Counselee Information: - Name: Jung Sua Age: 7 (seven) Gender: Female (F) Guardian: Jung Hoseok  Relationship with the guardian: Father of the counselee  Reasons behind seeking help:  1. Changes in behavior  2. Quieter and more reserved than before 3. Frequent nightmares  4. Mild panic attacks 

“So, what do you think?” Namjoon questions, leaning on the plush chair, placed at the end of your table. 

“Nothing complicated. You could have handled it yourself. There was absolutely no need of rejecting my vacation applications again and again.” you spat, being very unimpressed with the dimpled smirk on your boss’ face. 

“Oh my god. What’s wrong?” he dramatically leans forward. Placing a hand on his chest, Namjoon continues, “I thought you will be in a better mood after two weeks of work from home. But you seem even more annoyed than before.” 

“For your information, I asked for a damn holiday not work from home aka  prolonged hours of documentation. I really need some time off, Namjoon. I am not kidding.” Your voice sounds so defeated that Namjoon has to sit straight. 

A serious expression takes over his features as he replies, “I know, Y/N. You are definitely not the type to take leaves for fun. But I am helpless here. The client has asked for you personally. He has done his own research and concluded that you can help his daughter better than everyone else in this clinic. I could not do anything.” 

You nod understanding his point of view. 

You are always more than ready to help these little, innocent souls out. It pains you to see these babies experiencing something as horrific as panic attacks. 

But this time you need therapy more than anyone else under your radar. Even though your exterior doesn’t show the unbearable pain your interior is going through, you still need some solace. You are really unwilling to work at this moment and you doubt if you can help anyone else when you are not mentally fit yourself.  

But you hardly have a choice. And maybe, just maybe, you will get a chance of distracting yourself from Jungkook's thoughts. Maybe you will be able to take a breather. Maybe you will heal in the process. Maybe? 

“The appointment is at 11 am, right?” You ask the man sitting right in front of you.

“Yes,” he answers. 

“It’s 10:49 already. Get out and let me prepare myself.” you mutter, closing your eyes and leaning back on your chair. 

“Okay okay. Don’t be so aggressive.” Namjoon chuckles before leaving you alone in the cabin. 

You go through Jung Sua's records once more to verify if there's a health condition you should be aware of. But there isn't anything. 

Just when you close the file, a knock rings on the cabin door. 

You sit straight. Ready to welcome a new friend. 

Yuna, your assistant, knocks once more before pushing the door slowly. She walks in first and then holds the door open for the guests. 

And the cutest seven years old, you have ever seen, walks inside. She's so small that she can be easily mistaken for a five year old. Her chubby cheeks and immaculately done pigtails makes her look like a doll. 

You almost coo at the sight. 

Even though you mostly work with kids, for the past year you were working with only teenagers. It's been long since you had the pleasure to serve yourself for a kid less than ten years old, let alone a seven year one. 

"Hello there, Miss Sua. How are you doing?" You say in a jovial voice, trudging towards the baby. 

Sua tenses a bit and looks behind her, looking for shelter from her father. He stands right behind Sua, offering her to hold one of his hands. Sua takes that readily.

You come forward and sit on your knees to maintain an eye level with your new friend. 

"Don't worry. I'm your new friend. My name is Y/N." You offer her your hand. She hesitates a bit and then looks at her father for confirmation.

You follow her cue and tilt your head up to take a look at the father of your counselee.

Only if you weren't the embodiment of damsel of distress these days, you could very well have a love at first sight. 

The man flaunts a pair of incredibly beautiful yet intimidating eyes, a chiseled jaw that can cut you into pieces, perfectly styled dark hair that falls on his face, and a pair of heart shaped lips which enhances the overall beauty of his face. The fitted dress pants and the black dress shirt give hints of the lithe, well-structured body that lies inside. 

He smiles at you, you do the same. And then you feel a softer, smaller hand wrapping up your fingertips lightly. 

Her cuteness makes you giggle. 

You stand up, taking her hand on yours, you start walking towards a cozier corner of your cabin, where you usually counsel kids. Her father follows you closely behind. 

There's a small and round glass table along with three chairs. One is meant for you and two others are meant for the counselees and their guardians. 

You turn towards Sua’s father. Smiling a little and you say “You need to take the seat first, so that she can be assured it is safe here.” 

“Sure” he replies. His voice is smooth and light, a contrast to his dark and manly features. 

He sits down on the bigger chair and pats on the smaller one, “come on Sua, com ‘ere.” 

Sua leaves your hand and wiggles towards her dad. She easily plops down on her seat. 

“Yuna, can you prepare the game room please?” You ask your assistant.

“Sure, Y/N” She says before closing the door as you get comfortable in your own chair. 

Sua regards you with her big, round doe eyes. She looks at you so intensely as if you have grown two horns in your head. 

You chuckle a bit, “Sua, don’t you like your new friend? Don’t you like me?” 

Sua stays silent. 

“Sua is very friendly. I am sure she will like Y/N very soon. Isn’t it, baby?” Sua’s father chimes in, squeezing one of her little hands with his bigger, rougher ones. 

You are so accustomed to your patients and their guardians to address you as “doctor”, that you had to take a moment after your name rolled out of Mr. Jung’s mouth. 

The change is welcomed anyway. 

You divert your eyes from Sua to him, only to find him smiling at you warmly. You mirror his smile. His smile is so damn gorgeous that you can’t help but feel contaminated with it. 

“Sua, what do you like to play the most?” you focus on Sua again.

“Mario kart” she replies briefly, staring down at her feet. 

“Okay. That's a great game. But what would you like to play outside? For example with your classmates during lunchtime?” You place your next question. 

“My classmates don’t play with me.” She was quick with her answer. 

Your smile drops instantly and you already start mapping out all the possible sources of the issues she is facing. 

Nodding to yourself in understanding, you proceed, “Okay, let’s not talk about games anymore. You tell me what you like more, oranges or mangoes?”

“Mangoes.” she replies. 

“Okay” standing up from your seat, you walk towards your table and call Yuna. She comes within a few seconds. 

You instruct her to take Sua to the game room and treat her to some delicious mango juice. Even though Sua hesitates for a bit, her father’s encouragement works really well. 

As soon as Sua leaves the room, you find yourself quite nervous under the intimidating gaze of Mr. Jung. 

This setting is nothing new. You have been into one-on-one conversations with your counselees’ parents for more times than you can count. But none of them were as young and attractive as Mr. Jung. 

You inhale a long breath before continuing, “so, Mr. Jung, since when did you start noticing these changes in Sua?” 

“Almost a month ago. I can’t pinpoint an exact date but she has gradually become very quiet over this last month. She used to be very chatty. She used to tell me every little thing in detail about her day, her friends, what she had for lunch, what colors she used in drawings and so on. Now-a-days her answers have become vague and insignificant.” Mr. Jung sighs.

“Hmm. and the nightmares?” you ask, scribbling on the ipad. 

“Around the same time. She woke up at 2 in the morning, ran to my room crying and breathing heavily. She didn’t tell me what it was about but kept on saying she was afraid. The same thing happened two more times.” He completes. 

“Umm. The next question might be a little personal but the information is required for future counsellings. I ask for your understanding.” you sit straight. He nods. 

“You said she came running to you when she had nightmares. Hence, I assume you were alone in the room. What about Sua’s mother?” 

“I am a single dad, Doctor. Sua’s mother and I were in a casual relationship when she conceived with Sua unexpectedly. Both of us were just starting our careers so it was tough for us to think of getting married. On the top of that we didn’t like each other enough to proceed with that option. So, we decided to co-parent. But…” he pauses, takes in a long breath and then continues, “she disappeared after giving birth. She left a note behind as an apology, saying that she is not ready to be a mother, asking me not to contact her anymore. My mother and sister helped me in raising Sua so beautifully. They are the only ones to become something close to a mother figure for her. That’s all.” 

You feel something warm flooding in your chest. You don’t know what it is, it can be respect, can be sympathy, can be even admiration for this man who you don’t even know properly. 

A genuine smile takes over your face as you mutter, “You have done a great job Mr. Jung. You have raised a beautiful daughter all by yourself. You have worked hard.” 

Mr, Jung’s dark eyes flood with some emotions you can’t quite name. He stares at you intensely, so much so that you feel he is reading you inside out. You can’t help but stare back at him. 

“Call me Hoseok. So that I can call you by your name too. Is that okay, Y/N?” his voice is deeper than earlier, his smile is lopsided, more like a smirk. 

You find yourself easily smiling along with him, something that has been quite tough for you to do for the past few months. 

“Sure. Hoseok.” Your reply comes out without any further thought.   

Taglist:-

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @soraviie @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @xjoonchildx @justmewondering-recs @cuteipat @miakey98 @purpleanchorcrown @chimmisbae @ane102 @junniesoleilkth @terjeonbebas @kookssecret @appleh4ad @kayleeshinee @whoa-jo

[transbot-brian]

My headcanon for Marius is that he is a bad psychologist normally but very rarely he will pull out this god tier analysis of someone from not even five minutes of talking. He can tell you about things youve completely blocked out from memory and when you ask him about it he'll say some shit like "The way you blinked" with no other explanation

[calmcoldevening]

Slashers x suicidal!reader

TW: suicidal thoughts, mention of blood, suicide, self harm, explicit suicide

Characters: Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair

I wrote this for people who have had suicide attempts or still have suicidal thoughts. honey, you are not alone, if you have such a problem, then please talk to someone from your loved ones about it or visit a psychologist. your health and life are important ♡ at least let's talk about it together, you're wonderful

Ps: sorry for misspels, English is not my native language

Jason Voorhees

• Jason spent most of the day making his rounds around the camp. In the morning, he gently kissed you on the forehead, removing the strands of hair stuck to your skin wet from the summer heat, and mumbled contentedly, enjoying your calm expression.

• This day was not distinguished by anything special. It was the middle of July, so it was quite hot both outside and in the cabins. Knowing that you are certainly suffering from such hot weather, Jason decided to offer you to go to the lake. And although he wasn't a fan of the idea himself, the cool water should have made you feel a little better.

• Jason enters the house and stops awkwardly. Usually at this time you were sitting in the living room and reading one of the new magazines or books that he found for you. You weren't in the bedroom either. The man was seriously scared, fearing the worst.

• Finally, he notices the light pouring from behind the bathroom door and freezes right in the doorway. You were lying almost up to your neck in the reddening water. His bloody knife was lying on the floor.

• Jason is seized with instant panic. At first, he thinks that it could have been done by one of the violators, whom he simply did not notice during his morning rounds. But then in his aching head there are memories of your repeated jokes about death and strange behavior. God, he was so blind.

• Jason gently pulls you out of the water. Your eyes are closed and your body is very cold and pale. The man quickly carries you into the bedroom, completely oblivious to your blood covering all his clothes.

• He checks all the lockers in your shared bedroom, hoping to find one of your small first aid kits. Finally he finds it. The man clumsily bandages your wounds on your arms and stomach, then covering the throbbing flesh with anxious kisses.

• Tears flow down his cheeks as he squeezes your palm in his hands and makes painful sounds. Jason climbs onto the bed and pulls you into his arms along with a warm blanket, hoping to warm your unconscious body.

• He was such a fool not to notice your obvious pain and suffering. Was it that bad for you? Why didn't you tell him about it? Jason could have helped, he would have tried! It will be so bad for him if you are gone...

• The man noticed how your face twisted and you opened your eyes slightly, squinting from the bright light. He was so glad you woke up! Jason gently ran the thumb of his free hand over your cheek, wiping away the already dried tears. He held you as close to him as possible, his excited breath tickled your ear. Don't leave him. Never.

• A hoarse breath escapes from your chest as Jason babbles incoherent sounds of relief. When you fully recover, he relaxes his grip on your body, giving you the opportunity to move, and tilts his head to the side. Why did you do that? Still weak, you shyly look away. You probably didn't think it would turn out that way, he came too early. But deep down you wanted and hoped that he would save you. You awkwardly squeeze the edge of the blanket, stilling sobs. Jason covers your hand with his palm, drawing your attention. He obviously wants to tell you something.

• Index finger at himself. Then at you. His palm touches his lips, and then covers his heart.

Michael Myers

• Michael was out hunting. He usually returned early in the morning, but today Haddonfield was surprisingly quiet, so the man decided to return home a little earlier. After all, you should have been asleep a long time ago, so his earlier return won't be anything special.

• Michael came in through the back door. He took off his dirty shoes, leaving it on the doorstep. You've never been thrilled when you found bloody footprints all over your house in the morning. The man went into the kitchen, intending to get something to eat before he went to bed. The choice was made on a can of lemonade and a pack of chocolates that you bought especially for him not so long ago. Michael rolled up the edge of the mask on the way to the living room and began to eat sweets.

• An instant icy shiver went through his body when he saw you in the living room, hanging in a noose. The food flew out of Michael's hands as he pulled a bloody knife out of his pocket and yanked the rope. The man gently picks up your limp body, pressing it to his chest. He tries to act quickly.

• Smiths Grove has never said anything about rescuing sufferers of asphyxia, but Michael is knowledgeable enough about the abilities of the human body to help. He puts your feet on his knees, gently laying your head on the floor, and wraps his palm around your neck, reddened from the rope. There will be a bruise. The man feels a barely perceptible pulse. For the first time, the whispers in his head fell silent, leaving behind only an unaccustomed painful silence.

• Michael clumsily touches his lips to yours, hoping to do something similar to artificial respiration.

• His body relaxes when your mouth begins to swallow air quickly and superficially on its own, returning your lungs to working condition.

• Michael would be angry if it was another person he was trying to kill. But now he's ready to cry with happiness, watching your eyes slowly open.

• The man jerks up your body, knocking the last air out of your lungs, and presses you to him. He kisses your neck, and you feel warm liquid trickling down your skin. He was crying. The shape of Haddonfield was crying because of you. Michael was afraid of losing you forever.

• "Don't leave," he whispers into your neck, desperately clutching the fabric of your clothes in his fists, "Please."

• The mask has been dropped and is lying on the floor, and now you can see his trembling features. A man runs his palm over your face. For him, you are the most precious thing in this world, even if he didn't say it out loud. You are the first person who made his heart beat faster not because of a desire to kill, but because of a warm tickling feeling in his chest. Love. Michael loved you. For real.

Thomas Hewitt

• It was a particularly quiet day. New tourists were not expected in the next two weeks, until the weather outside the window becomes more favorable; Luda, along with Charlie and Monty, went to distant relatives to celebrate the upcoming holidays, and Thomas spent the whole day in the basement, trying to restore order there.

• And although the man was already pretty tired from work, he still couldn't go upstairs to hug you and spend time together. He has too much to do before his mother and uncles return. Although he was scared by the fact that you've been avoiding him for the last few days. You seemed more closed and scared, as if you were afraid even of your own shadow. You often skipped meals, although Thomas didn't notice that you were against their "special food" before. You were pale and nervous, but he couldn't understand what was happening to you. To all his questions, you refused and said that everything was fine. He was afraid to put pressure on you.

• But it was too quiet upstairs right now. If earlier it was possible to hear your rare quiet footsteps on the old creaking floor, now there was a tense silence in the air. It bothered Thomas.

• Would it be so bad if he left work for a while to check on you?

• The man wiped his hands on a towel lying on the workbench and wandered towards the stairs. The old floorboards screamed, cutting through the silence pressing on the temples like blades. Thomas walked around the entire first floor when, going up the stairs, he heard your quiet sobs. He instantly rushed into your bedroom, from which the noise was coming. The man forcefully opens the door; the tree thuds against the concrete wall.

• You were sitting on the bed, clutching the knife tightly in your hand. Your free hand was like a piece of naked flesh, as if you were one of the victims. Blood was quickly flowing out of your fresh wound, staining your clothes and sheets. Your face was red, and streams of tears were running down your cheeks.

• The man's lips trembled, his eyes ran in disbelief over your shrinking being. Thomas approaches you quickly, cautiously, holding out his hand to you. He touches your trembling shoulder, pulling you to him as gently as possible. With one hand, he buries himself in your wet hair at the back of your head, while with the other, as carefully as possible, he snatches the knife out of your hands. You cry loudly, as if coming to your senses, and bite your nails into his broad back. Thomas wraps his hands around your face, gently running his thumbs over your cheeks. His heart hurts. Why did you want to do this? Is it because of him? Has someone offended you? Why didn't he notice how desperate you were all this time? This strange behavior, lack of mood and apathy, it was all for a reason.

• Thomas picks you up under your knees in wedding style and carries you to the bathroom, intending to treat your wounds. You were the real sun in his life, you accepted him and loved him despite his disgusting appearance, you were one of the few who accepted him for who he is. But he didn't do the same for you. You were suffering, and he preferred not to interfere with your thoughts, for fear of harming you even more.

• The man was carefully watching you and your tired eyes from what happened, wrapping your left forearm with a thick layer of bandages. Thomas gently runs his finger over your swollen cheeks, removing wet strands from your skin.

• Finally, he gently takes your healthy palm and draws a question mark, asking why you would like to do this. You were silent. He frowns, but nods knowingly. He'll ask a little later, you need to rest. Thomas draws a small heart and kisses the inside of your palm, and then kisses each finger. He wants you to know that he really loves you and is ready to help. You're not alone.

Vincent Sinclair

• Vincent started paying more attention to your behavior. You became more distant and silent, you were constantly in your thoughts, sometimes even at moments when one of brothers was talking to you.

• Did he upset you in some way? Or maybe you feel bad because of Bo's harsh comments?

• You often locked yourself in the bathroom or in your shared bedroom while the man was working in the basement. It bothered him. It was as if you were withering right before his eyes, dissolving in his arms.

• Vincent didn't know how best to talk to you about it, after all, expressing his own thoughts is not his strong suit. But he wanted to help you. One day, when you looked particularly drooping, he returned to the bedroom a little earlier than usual, hoping to talk to you. What was his surprise when he found you with a blade in your hands. You sat on the edge of the bed, biting your lip, and left slow deep cuts on your body.

• The man quickly ran up to you, snatching the bloody object from your hands and threw it into another part of the room. His gaze trembled, wandering over your wounded flesh. Thousands of painful thoughts raced through his head as he slowly knelt down in front of you, wrapping his hands around your hands and gently stroking the back side.

• Vincent wanted to show you how much he cares about you, how much he loves you. His heart ached when he saw your tears mixed with your own blood.

• Water gushed out of your eyes when you poured out all that pain accumulated in your chest, allowing yourself to cry. Your body was shaking and hurting. Vincent put his arm around you, gently stroking your back and trying to calm your sobs.

• You have him. You don't have to deal with all the pain alone. Vincent knows how strong you are, but that doesn't mean you have to keep all the problems to yourself. He wants to help.

• The man pushed the mask off his face, exposing his lips, and slowly began to cover your face and neck with kisses, trying to take away your pain. You were his only ray of light in this pitch darkness, and he won't let you fade away. He loves you.

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 49)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (44) & Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson Mini (6)

Masterlist (other parts here)

Jordan woke shortly after 7am, her body programmed to, regardless of how late she went to sleep. She was alone on the couch when she woke, a blanket covering her and could hear soft whispers as if they were trying to avoid disturbing her. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, looking over the back of the couch to YFN and Lucy who were sitting on the kitchen counter stools opposite each other. YFN winced as Lucy gently rubbed some cream into her palms. She’d been knocked down in Barcelona just a few days prior and although her knees had been protected with her pants, her hands had copped quite a scraping. She watched as they interacted, sitting close so their thighs were touching and looking at each other when the other wasn’t looking as if they were high-school sweethearts. She and Leah had been similar once, for seven years almost. After they’d broken up, Jordan had thought it was because she’d done something wrong at first, and then she thought perhaps Leah had just fallen out of that love for each other that she still felt. Seeing her around so often hurt like a knife in the heart. The thought that what was once the promise of a lifetime, reduced to nothing. Their sweet nothings, torn away, replaced by generic teammate speech and not even the good, fun kind like with Katie and Caitlin and Lucy, but the bad kind; the ignoring, the minimal words, the monotone, the lack of emotion as if Leah really wanted to get it through to her that she meant nothing to her anymore. It had broken her, and she hadn’t fought it.

She hadn’t seen the point. When Leah makes a decision, she makes a decision. Captain Leah Williamson. Truthfully, Jordan never felt like she was good enough for Leah with the dresses, interviews, events, paparazzi. With her fame and the expectation that surrounded her. It took a while for her to be thankful of that, because it had meant it was easier to understand why they broke up. It took a while, of course; with the five stages of grief. The denial came from shock and was immediate as her mind simply refused to believe it. The anger came next when she’d seen Leah laughing and enjoying herself around their friends. Then came the bargaining as she delved deep in herself to understand why and think back on their relationship to try and find the cracks, what she’d done wrong or what Leah had done that wasn’t so perfect either. She couldn’t find them, though. Leah was perfect to her. She was messy, stubborn, insistent, always being pulled every direction by people like a puppet. She remembered times where Leah had been crying on the couch with the pain of her endometriosis; Jordan tucking her in with some painkillers and a hot water bottle on her lower belly, and other times where she came home almost a shell of a person because she’d been stretched too far and hadn’t seen her psychologist in a while. But Jordan never saw any of those things as less than perfection. Leah always spoke about her imperfections, and Jordan had listened as she always did, Leah complaining about herself, and that Jordan probably wouldn’t remember anyways.

Truth is, she remembered a lot of those little things, she would just forget the things that weren’t so important to her. And with Leah’s self-proclaimed imperfections, came the happiness Jordan couldn’t forget. Leah loving to sing in the shower, so loud Jordan would chuckle at it from the kitchen. Her confidence. Her sense of humour. The fact that she never liked being the butt of jokes. Her love of golf. Her ability to drive confidence into a team, regardless of if she was captaining the side or not, just her presence and aura. She really tried to hang on the ‘bad’, but it wasn’t bad to her. Instead, the happy memories had flooded her mind and with that, Jordan fell deep into stage four of grieving. Depression. That’s when YFN had found her at the beach. She hadn’t known how long Jordan had been going for, but truthfully, it had been months. She’d only been at that beach for a week or so during the International break, however prior to that, she’d been sitting in whatever park she could find, just laying back and staring at the sky as it darkened. She thought she’d be stuck in that fourth stage forever, hitting her lowest point when she’d met the Australian. She was the perfect person at the perfect time. An unbiased ear, uninvolved in any of the drama of women’s football. Jordan hadn’t gone to anyone else because they were all so involved. Everyone knew Leah. She never realised just how much her whole life, all her friends, all of her everything was involved in the sport and the people in it. It was sobering and terrifying to be in that mind state. There had been times where she knew she should have reached out to someone, anyone, but she couldn’t. She knew if she spoke to Leah that she would have been there for her, but Jordan never let her know how low she had fallen. If she’d known, she would have dropped anything and Jordan knew that. Luckily, YFN had brought something else into her life. A different perspective, a different kind of friendship. Pure empathy and love from a stranger who just wanted to see Jordan happy again with nothing in return. Only after being around her and speaking with her did Jordan realise how dark her mind had become, and so she automatically gravitated towards the light that was YFN. Spending time with her and chatting about anything and everything, lots of which wasn’t football, which was new to her. She’d encouraged her to go on dates, and even held her feelings for Lucy aside. Jordan still didn’t know how she did that; just looking at the two, they were magnetic. And looking at them now over the back of the couch, Jordan realised for the first time that maybe this was a hard lesson she needed to go through, because now she was stronger, and if it hadn’t happened, she wouldn’t have a new friend, and YFN and Lucy would have never met.

Lucy finished rubbing the cream gently into her palms and turned them over, kissing her knuckles. She looked up and they shared that look that Jordan had seen often, the one where they shared their love with their eyes. It shifted slightly to a hint of melancholy at what Jordan could only assume was Lucy’s upcoming flight home that morning. Lucy leant forwards to kiss her when Jordan’s stomach growled loudly and they both spun to her. A moment of surprise was quickly overcome with sympathetic smiles.

“Morning Jords.”

“Morning Dory,” YFN untangled her body from Lucy’s and came over to lean over the couch. Jordan laid back down and stretched. “Good sleep?”

“I think it’s the best I’m going to get,” she admitted.

“What time did you say you had to leave…?”

“I have to be at training by midday. I’m lucky Carla has given me that off to be fair.”

YFN hummed. “Okay well you need to leave by 9:30. It’s currently…” she looked at her watch. “…7:22, so we all have a few hours together.”

Jordan rubbed her eyes again and yawned as she nodded. “What time is Lucy’s flight?”

“She changed it to 1pm so she can come to work with me for a few hours and see the new office.”

Jordan popped her head back up over the couch. “Don’t you have a game tomorrow?”

Lucy nodded. “Yeah, but my knee is being a pain. Jonatan knows I work hard so I’ve only trained a few days this week to avoid straining it. I have a boxing class tonight though which will be my work out before the game.”

“You’re playing?”

“The full ninety if my knee can take it,” she shrugged. “It’s El Clasico, they’ll have to drag me off.”

Jordan chuckled and YFN rolled her eyes, giving Lucy a look. She didn’t like it when she was in pain. “So we can all have breakfast together, if you want? Lucy’s favourite around the corner?”

Jordan nodded as she wondered where Leah was. It was early. She would be up and on her way to the oval, perhaps. She was training again, close to playing so-

YFN’s hand on her shoulder snapped her out of it. Jordan looked up at her. “How are you feeling about last night..?”

Of course, YFN had known what she was thinking about. She had that ability with people; she always knew what they were thinking. Jordan appreciated that because it meant she didn’t have to speak her feelings so much, which was the reason she’d gotten so low in the first place. She looked over at Lucy who was silent, and listening to what she had to say.

“I’m…overwhelmed I think. I’m trying to understand what my feelings about it are. I just started to get better… to potentially move on and… this.”

YFN nodded, understanding, and squeezed her shoulder. “What do you need right now?”

Jordan sighed. “I want to get back to what I know which is training for the game tomorrow.”

“But what do you want…? In this moment? Before you go home and try to figure it all out?”

YFN looked like she already knew, and just wanted her to say. Jordan knew what she wanted. “What I want doesn-”

“None of that bullshit, Jords,” she said. “What do you want?”

“It’s stupid…”

“Nothing is stupid. Be honest with yourself.”

“I don’t know if I will ever trust her again or let myself be with her again. But right now, knowing what she did for me without me even realising… and finally knowing that we weren’t broken after all… I just want to hug her. No talking, no awkwardness. I just want a Leah hug.” Leah hugs were the best part of her day, something she missed. It was pure comfort for her. But she knew she couldn’t have that-

“We can arrange that.”

Jordan’s teary eyes shot up to YFN’s. “What?”

“I’ll give Leah a call. No talking, no awkwardness, just a hug.”

“She has training,” she whispered.

“Not today, she’s a guest at a local kids football club this morning just around the corner.”

Jordan didn’t know that. She was nervous suddenly.

“Just a hug,” YFN reassured. “Then us three will go to breakfast before you head off to training.”

Jordan nodded and YFN bent down to give her a tight hug. “If she says no-”

“She won’t say no. And until she gets here, you’re just going to have to enjoy my hugs.”

Jordan chuckled and squeezed her tighter.

“I’ll be in the shower,” Lucy said. She wandered over and kissed YFN on the cheek when they finished their hug. “Join me after your call?”

YFN nodded and went outside to make her phone call while Jordan started packing her clothes. YFN didn’t take too long before she was back inside and joining Lucy in the master ensuite. “We’ll put more cream on these after the shower,” Lucy said, looking at her palms before pulling her close and kissing her on the temple. “You’re a really good friend, little one.”

YFN leaned into her lips, enjoying the love before they parted and she left Lucy under the water to grab her toothbrush. “So are you, Luce,” she said with a smile and began to brush her teeth all while unashamedly looking Lucy up and down.

“Like what you see?” She asked with a Lucy grin as she washed herself.

She couldn’t help but reach out and run her fingertips over Lucy’s abs, nodding.

“Good because it’s yours. Get used to it.”

“I’ll never get used to it,” YFN said around her toothbrush.

Lucy chuckled. “Oh, what happens if I get a belly after I retire?”

YFN spat out her toothpaste and put her brush back. “Well I know how much you like your food…”

Lucy looked offended.

“And condiments have a lot of calories…”

Even more offended.

YFN grinned and stepped back under the water with Lucy, one palm rubbing her belly. “I’ll love you with a belly, Luce. I’ll love you because you’re you.”

Lucy loved that. She took her wrists gently and dragged them up around her neck, her own hands moving to her hips to hold them flush together as she kissed her. The combination of her soft lips and the taste of toothpaste had her moaning into her mouth. How did she get so lucky? They kissed like that for a little longer before she pressed their foreheads together and opened up to YFN. She didn't even know she had anything more to open up to her, but the words just fell out.

“I’m worried nothing will feel like love again after you,” she admitted huskily.

YFN gasped; words were her love language. Along with all of the along love languages.

“Oh, Luce,” she murmured with affection and kissed her once before being cheeky. “Play your cards right and there won’t be an ‘after me’.”

Lucy chuckled. “There are different types of love, love. You know what I meant.”

“I know… and let’s see how you feel if we have babies.”

“Babies?!” Lucy asked, her head pulling back. YFN was shocked. Had she spoken too soon? One look at Lucy’s lit up eyes and she knew she hadn’t. “You mean ‘when’, not ‘if’.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“Yes.”

YFN hummed. “You’ll make a really good mum, Luce.”

Lucy leant down and nipped her ear. “And you’re going to be so sexy pregnant.”

YFN bit her lip, feeling herself getting excited. She couldn’t help her body reacting to Lucy or leaning even more into her strong body. Lucy noticed, of course, and she pressed back as her hands moved down to her ass-

“Are you guys drowning in there?!” Jordan yelled from outside their bedroom. Somehow it was loud enough to hear.

“Just a minute!” YFN yelled in reply as she laughed. She looked back at Lucy who was still giving her a look. She scoffed and pointed her towards the shower door. Lucy pouted and gave her another kiss before she opened the door. YFN turned back towards the body wash as Lucy’s hand smacked her ass so hard, Jordan must have heard the sound. YFN yelped at the sting and turned but the shower door was already closed, Lucy laughing on the other side as she took a towel. Oh, the cheek of her.

YFN somehow managed to dry, get dressed and avoid Lucy’s hungry looks and teasing. It was barely manageable, and only because her focus was on Jordan. As she dragged Lucy’s little suitcase out into the living area, her phone buzzed.  It was Leah.

“Leah’s here…” YFN said and watched as Jordan became even more nervous. She looked at YFN with those doe eyes of hers. YFN wandered over and put a hand on either arm. “Just a hug.”

“Is it stupid?”

“No. A lot of things can be said with a hug. You can forgive with a hug, and love with a hug. Go get what you need, Dory.”

Jordan nodded and walked nervously to the door. She paused and took a deep breath before she took hold of the door handle and stepped outside. Leah was leant up against her car, sunglasses on, arms crossed and staring down at her feet. When she noticed Jordan, she stood immediately and moved the glasses to the top of her head, her arms not knowing what to do by her side. Jordan wanted to hug her. Leah needed it just as much as she did. She waited for Jordan to approach her and when she came closer, Leah held her arms out wordlessly. Jordan fell right back into that usual spot she had for seven years, her head buried in Leah’s neck and her hands pressing into her back as Leah’s longer arms wrapped around her upper back, holding her close while her cheek rested on her hair. They stood there for a while, feeling each other’s chests rise and fall with each breath, feeling each other’s heartbeats through their clothes. It was a release of emotion and felt like safety to each of them. Safety in knowing they could still comfort each other. That regardless of what happened, they would always love each other.

Jordan only spoke when she was completely and utterly relaxed in her arms.

“Thank you for protecting me,” she whispered. Leah shivered at the feel of her lips moving against the skin of her neck. She opened her mouth and Jordan stopped her. “No…no, don’t speak. Please. This is all I can take right now.”

Leah nodded softly against her hair. Jordan started to let go slowly, reluctantly, and Leah unwillingly followed suit. Everything was at her pace now. Still touching, Jordan looked up and asked softly, “Can I pencil in another hug for Sunday night?”

Leah smiled and nodded. Of course, she could.

“And maybe dinner…” Jordan suggested, her eyes moving down to her shoes before she took a breath and looked back up.

Leah nodded again; her eyes soft. Whatever she wanted, she’d give her.

“Thank you,” Jordan whispered, sharing one more look before she stepped back out of Leah’s grip and walked back up to the front door. Leah watched her every step of the way. She had no idea how she’d ever been strong enough to push her away. Her whole being ached for her, already missing her touch, let alone everything else. But now she had something to hope for. Sunday night.

[bet-on-me-13]

Immortal Danny meets his Families Reincarnations after years

So, Immortal Danny had to suffer through the deaths of his friends and family. For some reason, they never became Ghosts in the Zone, but he has kept looking for them in the Zone for centuries.

Then, one day, Clockwork come to him and explains that his Friends have all been Reincarnated. Due to them having died peaceful deaths, there weren't enough emotions to be turned into Ghosts, instead their souls were Reincarnated due to the amount of Ectoplasm in their bodies.

Danny goes to the Universe where they were Reincarnated, and finds that they all ended up reincarnating in a similar time-frame and location, and all ended up meeting eachother again.

His family and friends Reincarnated as the Bat Family

Bruce is actually the reincarnation of Jack Fenton, and while he is still a much better driver than before, Alfred prefers life thank you very much. He uses his Tech Know-How to build all his Bat-Gear. Hall also freakishly strong, and he isn't a Meta, so he has always been a little confused about that. His lingering guilt at being a bad dad in his past life leads him to be as great a dad as he can in this one.

Maddie Fenton is now Selena Kyle, using her natural athletic expertise and genius level technical know-how to steal artifacts from museums better than her canon counterpart ever could. She has always felt a connection to Batman for some reason, and flirted constantly.

Jazz became Barbra Gordan, and she is just as much a psychologist in this life as the last, but she uses it for Crime solving instead. I'm just going to say that she was officially adopted without Comissioner Gordans knowledge. He is not happy when he finds out that his daughter is legally shared by him and bruce.

Sam became Cassandra Cain, who for some reason has new Plant Powers reminiscent of Poison Ivy. Her soul is still technically that of the "Daughter of Undergrowth", so she gets her plant powers even in death. She now considers Poison Ivy her new sister for some reason. She is also still a Vegan.

Tucker is now Duke Thomas, who is confused as to why he seemingly has Egyptian Magic alongside his own Meta Abilities all of a sudden. He also has a talent for Coding and Hacking that could rival every other member of their family.

Tim used to be Wes, who befriended Danny after a while in his old life. He uses his smarts to figure out Batman is Bruce Wayne, and becomes the second Robin.

Dick was Dash, who mellowed out and became a good friend to Danny a while after the end of the series. In his new life, he is much kinder to everybody around him, as a remnant of his guilt for being so mean in his past life. It's alsowwhy he became a Cop.

Jason is undecided. Maybe he is still a friend to Danny, but he met him when he died and Danny found him while wandering. He considered him a little brother before he was resurrected and lost his memories. Or maybe he was another of Danny's friends, idk.

Alfred used to be Mr Lancer, and he has always had a weird talent for dealing with chaotic and freakishly strong teenagers. He also has a Love for helping children down on their luck.

Steph could have been Star, who rekindled her friendship with Danny after a few years as well. I honestly just like the idea of Danny's bullies becoming his friends after getting their life together.

I don't know about many of the others

This could then go 2 ways

Option 1:

When Danny discovers that his Family has all Reincarnated, he decides to Reincarnate as well to be with them again. With the help of Clockwork, he becomes Damian Al Ghul, born only a little time after his other family and friends.

He makes it so that he will slowly regain his memories and powers over his lifetime until he hits the age of 14, the age he was when he died.

The other Batfamily Members are confused, because Damian all of a sudden called a Family Meeting, and began telling them a story about how they were all the reincarnations of the mortal friends and family of the Ghost King. And that he is the Ghost King as well.

And it makes sense for some reason, they have all had vivid dreams of past lives, or skills and abilities that they don't remember picking up.

They slowly accept his story and the story continues from there.

Option 2:

Danny just goes directly to them after figuring it out, and the Batclan is suddenly visited by the God King of the Afterlife shouting about how he finally found his family.

Danny is just happy to be there, while the others are looking at bruce like "Oh my god, his Adoption Addiction has gotten so strong that the souls of the dead are being adopted by him"

And Danny is meeting his new brother Damian.

Or, Bonus Option

Danny goes to meet with them, then Damian walks in and pulls him aside. Tells him to ask for Clockwork to Reincarnate him, and pushes him through a portal.

A combination where Danny meets them, and then after he meets them goes back in time and Reincarnates himself as Damian.

[kitorin]

one more time.

contents. 6.031k words (gave up on proof reading i'm sorry-), second chance romance, hurt to comfort, author + psychologist reader, swearing, nsfw (not smut just mentions), getting drunk, one nightmare, abandonment issues, kaiser’s terrible with people, it takes a while for kaiser to appear

part two to this

a/n. i guess you could read this as a stand alone, but a lot of the details won't make as much sense (like they'd have a lot more relevance and meaning if you've read part 1). and you're being referred to by your first name by your nephew for the sake of keeping it gn

"y/n?"

Your nephew's question brings some of your attention towards him, with the rest focusing on the road. Rain droplets raced along the windows, and he must've gotten bored of guessing which one was the fastest. 

"Yeah? What's up?"

"When are you getting married?"

The innocent yet so significant question made you choke on your own spit. It was unexpected for a child to not gag at the idea of intimacy and love, let alone one questioning your marital status.

"Why are you asking something like that?" You carefully dodge the question, given that you have little to no experience with any sort of romance, the closest to love was an eternity ago. Despite graduating from college already, nothing about that had changed.

"Well." He begins explaining himself. "Mama and papa met each other in high school, they got married when they were younger than you." Unlike you, your sibling had a quite successful love life, already married and with a child. The fact that they were even high school sweethearts seemed to only accentuate your sorrowful envy.

"Your parents were lucky. Not everyone gets to meet the person they love forever in high school. Even if they do not everyone ends up marrying them." It was a difficult approach. You wanted him to fully understand the possible outcomes of love but didn't want him to avoid it entirely. "Love is dumb luck. Sadly, not everyone ends up loving someone who loves them back."

"Hmm." He sounds like he's deep in thought, which also surprised you given that he was still young and oblivious to these sorts of discussions. "Were you unlucky? Is that why you're not married?"

The query stung a bit. Not necessarily because it hurt to be reminded of him, but because it wasn't mere misfortune. It was ultimately up to him to act that way. 

"Hmm, I guess. Your father got all the luck I suppose." You chuckle, an attempt to conceal that your heart was begging for some sort of closure, even after all this time. 

"But that's not fair."

A sigh leaves your lips as you continue. "It isn't. But that's just life."

"What happened to them? Did they not like you?"

"They did at one point. I think. It was pretty obvious but after I liked them back, they became a bad person" It felt so weird. You've bottled up all the memories and emotions, sealing them away from the world, yet with this tiny child you've decided to open up. It's odd, but not uncomfortable.

"They're dumb." 

"You can't say that. It's not their fault for not liking me-"

"But you're amazing. You always spend time with me since Mama and Papa are too busy to. You bring back yummy snacks and tell the best stories. You even teach me so many new things. You're the best person ever." 

Although misery from the past had been reawakened and nurtured at the topic of the conversation, his kindness seemed to combat that, you can't help but grin.

"I'm glad you appreciate that."

"You deserve better!" 

That makes your breath hitch up, a weird, indescribable sensation accumulates in your chest, and for the first time in a while your eyes begin to prickle. 

You blink away the sensation. Three, simple words uttered by a literal child, yet it seems to affect you so much to the point you're moved to tears. 

Because no one ever told you that.

No accusations of you being delusional and crazy. No sort of discomfort inflicted through others attempting to make it public. 

It was what you've been waiting to hear for so long.

"Thanks bud. Keep this a secret from everyone else, yeah?" You come to a stop at a red light, turning towards him with a grateful smile.

He mimes zipping his lips. "Of course!"

"I know everyone's asking about me getting married, but it won't happen."

"Why?"

"Because." Because you feel undeserving of it. Because you're terrified of being abandoned like that again. Because you're simply just scared. "Because it just won't. I'd rather focus on making sure you and your parents are happy."

"Am I supposed to do that when I'm older?"

"Maybe not to my level. Make sure you treasure your family, but your lover too." Now that piece of advice makes you wonder what it'd be like if you got lucky.

"I don't want to get married even if I'm lucky. I want to be cool like you and take care of family too."

"Then do that. But don't close off your heart completely. Your dad didn’t think of love when he was a kid, look at him now. But it's completely okay if you don't love anyone." Obviously, you'd support him no matter what, but a part of you desperately wished that he'd be lucky enough to never experience what you did.

He nods but changes the topic. "What about you? You seemed happy when you talked about that person. A different kind of happy."

What was that supposed to mean?

"It's just nostalgia."

"That's a hard word. What does it mean?"

"You'll learn when you're older. Promise." And with that you dodge the topic of love, adjusting the conversation to one about the new Doraemon episode he watched the other day.

"Holy shit Ness look at how good they are at this."

"Fucking useless."

"Please help me with trig, I'm begging you. Really? Thank you so much."

"That's such a bitch move. Class average was so low, yet they're still scared of showing their high B. Fucking pussy."

"I love you."

Fuck. 

Another nightmare. It's only a mess of his words, both the good and the bad; followed by overwhelming dread and fear swallowing you. A wave of relentless cold engulfing you and drowning you in the depths of torment.

The dream leaves you drenched in sweat and panting. It doesn't fucking make sense. It's been years, you were only kids and now you're an adult. Yet it still leaves you so affected. You don't even clearly remember what he looked like. Only the cerulean orbs and the blonde wolf cut. 

Most people brush off any sort of heartbreak in high school as trivial and temporary, yet yours has clung onto your heart so persistently, that it still constantly haunts you. 

Nothing's working. Attempting to date others only accentuated your paranoia and abandonment issues. Trying to open up to trusted ones caused the words to get stuck in your throat, to the point it feels suffocating. You even wrote an entire book about it; sure, it was effective in expressing yourself and it was a huge hit and profitable, but something deep down still hurts. 

You keep trying and trying, heart craving for closure. But the only way you'd satisfy that miserable desire is through meeting him.

Only you know that so damn well.

Maybe that's why you keep fiercely trying. It's your own way of hopelessly trying to escape him.

But it's futile. It's so draining.

It doesn't matter though. It should stop soon. It's such a stupid thing to be sad over. You're successful, a now bestselling author known for your beauteous expression of love and hurt, while still working as a psychologist. You've achieved something majority of people couldn't do, and you're seeing the fruits of diligence and hard work. But it still hurts.

You do your best to shrug off this sense of dread, focusing on what's important. 

"Thank you for today!"

Your nephew wore his signature grin, one that was adorable and so full of joy. It was almost impossible to not smile back at him. 

With the commencement of school holiday, you decided to take him to a nearby soccer match, France vs Germany. You didn't know anything about soccer, but he loves the sport, constantly practicing and rambling about Julian Loki (a.k.a. his favourite player of all time) You got extremely lucky, if it weren't for Yoichi and his connections to the JFA you wouldn't've been able to surprise your nephew. Yoichi wasn't prepared to see you constantly thank him ("You're my closest friend, your nephew's a good kid too. Lemme coach him some day!"). He even managed to get you three VIP seats.

"Yocchan, how do I win more? I want to shoot the most goals in my team!"

You passively listen to Yoichi's advice for your nephew, as you can't understand or contribute to the conversation much. It's impressive how people play with this many people watching. The whole stadium was flooded with people, except for the VIP section but that was purely due to how expensive it was. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you to France vs Germany!" The commentator booms, earning a cheer from everyone. You expected it to be loud, but not to the point you think your eardrums would burst. 

The event went on normally. Player names were read out, with an energetic screech from your nephew when it was Loki's turn. At this point in time, you were pretty laid back, given that you recognized no one.

"Aaaaand Germany's ace and forward, Michael Kaiser!"

You froze. 

Michael Kaiser, the Michael Kaiser from back then? 

Finally, you have a vivid image of what he looks like. His blonde hair was partially dyed blue, the pretty shade slowly fading out, and navy roses decorated his neck. Red eyeliner adorned his almost feline like eyes. He looks almost unrecognizable yet he's still the boy who had a crush on you. 

Suddenly, VIP seats weren't so tempting anymore. Suddenly, you want to drag yourself out of there and ask Yoichi to supervise your nephew.

But he still looks beautiful.

"I hate that bitch." Same Yoichi, same, you silently agree with him. "He's insufferable and a fucking prick."

"Language." Although you'd agree with him, it was a bit too early for your nephew to start speaking like Yoichi (though you wouldn’t mind him learning how to verbally defend himself from Yoichi).

It's only 90 minutes. There's over 20,000 people. Kaiser won't notice. Besides, high school was years ago. He's a professional player and seemingly a famous one, he would've met plenty of players and coaches, too many to even remember your existence.

You suck up your fear, the three of you cheering on Loki.

"Do you think I can be like Loki?"

The game concluded, and to your nephew's joy with France's win, 3 - 2. To be honest, you were still clueless about the sport, but you could at least tell Loki lived up to his name, rapidly scoring and leaving his opponents in the dust.

"Of course, you could be better than him!" You appreciate Isagi's support but that probably wasn't the right thing to say in an environment full of soccer fans. Nor the smartest.

"I'm going to head to the bathroom, I'll meet you outside." You hurry away, ready to get out of the stadium.

You were being too paranoid earlier, obviously nothing would happen. To a national athlete like him, someone he hurt all the way back in high school, someone who he entirely ignored for a few years too.

"Fucking found you."

As if the universe was transpiring against you once more, you're dragged into some unknown corridor, a hand silencing you.

It's him.

Michael Kaiser, now a full-grown adult. His high school popularity bloomed into real world fame and glory now. While your success had sprouted from seeds of hurt. 

Now you're pressed up against a wall by him again. This time with his arms having an iron grip on your shoulders, roughly pushing you against the wall.

You can't help but reflect on last time something like this happened. But instead of childish affection it’s aggressive and rough, with his aquamarine eyes clouded with something unreadable. That wasn't particularly new, but what changed was that the foreign but hostile glint flickering in them.

All Kaiser does is stare, hair messy from the match and breathing unstable.

You don't say anything either, you can't even think properly, let alone find the right words to say.

"I've waited for this for so fucking long. You're too distracting."

His arms wrap around you, tightly, as if his life depended on it.

You can't move. Your body won't let you. It's not like you were petrified with fear. It was more so all the conflict of emotions. You weren't sure if you wanted to reciprocate the hug, scream for help, or spit in his face and swear at him.

"Kaiser... Please let go."

He abides, partially, changing back to his original position of holding you against the wall.

"No."

"Please?”

" You always fight back when you're uncomfortable." He wasn't wrong, you didn't exactly hate being in his proximity. You hated how he treated you, and how he's suddenly here again.

"You don’t mind this, right?”

Despite his words, his releases you, allowing you to run away whenever.

But you don't.

Because even though it'd be smarter to run away and never see him again, the tiny hope within you is still pleading for closure, and Kaiser himself.

"Kaiser, I can't, my nephew-"

"Is with Yoichi." Kaiser brings his face a lot closer to yours. "If you wanted to run away, you would've already."

Both of you remain silent, as your cheeks heat up at his touch and presence. His hands reach towards your face to caress your cheeks, the roughness of his calloused hands contrasting your soft skin. Annoyingly, you whimper at the unfamiliar sensation. It earns a cocky smirk from him.

"Cute, you really haven't changed."

"I don’t want to see you."

"Why? We both know you would've already kicked and slapped me if you really hated me."

"Because" Because he scarred you beyond words. "Because you hurt me. A lot." Your voice cracks up at the end, he's the one person you didn't want to be vulnerable around, both before and after heartbreak. 

For the first time in forever, there's something vaguely readable in his eyes. Was that regret? Sorrow? Guilt? Empathy, even?

"I know, I could tell-"

"Then why did you do it?"

You've given up on sounding stoic, evident anger was displayed in your voice.

"I tried everything, dating other people. Yet you still haunt me to this day." Years of accumulated feelings were finally released. "Just when I finally figured out, I liked you, you fucking did that then, and then." The rest is cut off by him.

"... You liked me back...?" There's a significant shift in his tone, from cocky and confident to vulnerable and shocked. "You, liked me...?"

"Of course I fucking did Michael." A quiet gasp leaves his lips at the sound of you finally using his first name again. "You were so sweet and was always there no matter what, until you decided to hate me for no reason."

"No, I've never hated you-"

"Just stop lying. Please. First you lie about loving me and now-"

He swallows the rest of your words with a kiss, denying your claim. The kiss gives you butterflies, your cheeks heat up even more and his lips taste you and him; sweet and irresistible.

When he's done his face is flushed as well, lips swollen. His chest rises up and down, he seems more flustered from the kiss rather than the actual match itself.

It's back to the uncomfortable silence, his hands gripping your shoulders tight and various emotions clouding your mind and heart. 

Without a word, Kaiser just leaves. 

The action evokes a nostalgic yet dreaded emotion, it's just like how he initiates whatever he wants without considering anyone else. 

You swallow your hurt, leaving the hallway and finding Yoichi and your nephew.

You don't lie to your loved ones. You’d rather die than deceive your nephew or your best friend Yoichi. But tonight, was an exception. 

It's not like you wanted to make Yoichi baby sit your nephew ("Sorry, work suddenly called me in), but you were too hurt to spend time with anyone.

The bar's loud, all the noise drowns out your thoughts, as you're up to the nth bottle of alcohol, no one was keeping track.

It's out of character for you to drink so much, but the state of being disconnected from the world, not having to deal with any worries was irresistible. 

"You're drinking a lot." A stranger seated next to you comments, you don't bother questioning who they were.

"I desherve it." You slur out, evidently flat out wasted. "I hate men! Especially the German ones." A few glares were probably received after you said that.

"Why's that?" Their calm tone juxtaposed your upset and livid one. 

"Because, because, this bitch leaves me heartbroken for years, appears out of nowhere, kisses me and." You're cut off by a hiccup. "Disappears again! I, I-" You're a complete mess, hiccupping while chugging down alcohol, and now sobbing with tears messing up your expression. 

The stranger doesn't respond, taking a quick sip from his own glass.

"Did you know," You begin explaining, despite them not asking. "I did so much. I never wanted to date much but I tried to so I could forget him. I even went to a party, and I'm scared of those. Heck, I wrote a whole ass book! At least I can monetize my pain."

"You must hate this guy."

"Beyond words, he's the reason why I think everyone will leave me, but I still feel like I have some kind of hope. If you want to know more, you should read my book." Now you were self-promoting, but the alcohol diminishes your shame. At this point it wouldn't be surprising if people were concerned about how much you've drank. "There's no point of a stupid psychology honours degree if I can't fix myself."

All they do is chuckle, still calm. "I'll read it, and I'm sure he likes you back if he kissed you. There's nothing about you to fix." 

You burst into laughter; you sound borderline manic. "That's what I thought after he said he loved me." Another glass, swallowed down by you with ease.

"After all, there's no way the Michael Kaiser would actually love me."

The next morning you wake up, with a splitting headache and swollen eyes. 

You try to get up and get started with the day, but the lights are so blinding, only amplifying the splitting headache. 

How much did you drink? 

Now you start remembering last night, the (probably) unhealthy amount you drank, your inconsolable bawling and that mysterious yet kind stranger. Your immediate reaction is to grab your pillow with plans of screaming into it, out of embarrassment, praying that you'll never meet that person again and that they'll forget who you are.

Wait.

Since when were your pillow cases white? 

And where did your bookcase go? What about the drawings from your nephew and childhood you cherished and decorated your room with? And what happened to your clothes, since when did you own white robes?

Shit.

"Finally awake?"

Your eyes have finally adjusted to the light, and blinding white melts into something, no, someone.

Kaiser. 

He's seated at the end of the bed, white robe matches yours, with his exposing his toned and muscular chest, and the navy roses blooming on his neck.

What the hell happened. 

It's as if your fight or flight response was triggered, and your brain decided on flight with full confidence, you scurry backwards, avoiding him like the plague.

"Did we-?" The new and completely different outfit and waking up in his bed were obvious hints.

He blinks. 

There's no fucking way. 

"Did you at least use protection? If I get fucking chlamydia because of you, I'll ki-" 

Kaiser laughs. So hard that it sounds like he can barely breathe.

"I didn't say we slept together. The y/n who never understood anything remotely sexual, instantly assuming we went that far." He composes himself, "No, we did not fuck. You were too drunk to consent."

"Then..." Your hands grip at the robe.

"Nothing happened. All I did was give you that to change into"

Alright, now you've confirmed that you don't need to get tested for any STDs or STIs.

"Goodbye then, where's my stuff?" As you try to get up, his hand holds you and your shoulder down, denying your question.

"Don't run away."

It's so ironic for him to tell you that when he stopped talking to you, avoided you, and even went as far as treating you badly. Anyone would want to run away if their first love who had scarred them emotionally randomly reappeared in their lives. 

You remind yourself to remain rational, to stay calm and respond maturely, to deescalate the cascading sentiments overwhelming your heart, like a proper, polite, and perceptive adult. 

But you don't want to be an adult. Not when it feels exactly like your high school years, ones where you had stayed up late just to innocently fawn over Michael Kaiser. Only for your heart to be a toy, one that he had thrown away and ruined merely because he had enough of playing with it.

You're a scared teenager alone in your room again, fearful of everything, heart closed off to the point not even you could fully comprehend what it was feeling. 

You just want to run, to run away from all your problems until they'd give up hunting you down, until they found other prey to pursue, until you could live at peace with your scars.

When people mention 'confronting your fears', most would imagine someone fearless and undisturbed, someone who knows what they're doing. Yet you completely contrast that curated image, a troubled individual who wants to return to how they were before their irremediable suffering.

"Don't give me that crap. You're the one who fucking did that to me."

He's the one who decided to poison you with the suffocating fear of abandonment.

"You never cared for me in any way, why should I bother listening to you now?"

To break your heart was one thing. To do it out of nowhere without explanation after years of captivating affection was another.

Kaiser remains silent, expression still stoic. 

"I hate you." 

That's what you've told and convinced yourself for so many years, yet something inside of you refused to fall for your self-inflicted dishonestly. The part that miserably prayed that Michael Kaiser would one day go back to the boy who was head over heels for you.

You've managed to forget this torment for years, but all he's doing is ruining it, making it even more difficult to get over him and the indescribable hole in your heart.

But now, it doesn't seem like you're the only hurt one.

By the end of your speech, you're panting, despite only staying still in bed. You still have so much more to say, but you're already in disbelief that you've finally expressed the hardships plaguing you, and to the reason for said burdens.

"Why'd you hurt me?" And it finally happens. Tears. Ones that had hid from the world, cowering at the thought of another witnessing this pathetic vulnerability. “Everything would be so much easier if you never appeared again, but you had to randomly appear again to kiss me, only leave again.” 

He finally speaks. Voice equally soft and weak as yours. “I know I did. And I know it wasn’t right. But I never wanted to, I never wanted you to hate me or end up hurt. I’ve always wanted the opposite.” Kaiser shuffles closer, hand inching closer towards yours, not daring enough to hold onto it. 

He inhales, deeply, as if this whole ordeal had an emotional toll on him too.

“I didn’t avoid you because I hated you, or wanted you to get hurt. I wasn’t trying to play with your emotions either. I was young and foolish.” For the first time, he’s readable, evident sorrow painting his features. Right now, he was a complete juxtaposition of his image on the field, assertive and lionhearted to now frightened and uncertain.

He’s not done yet. “I’ve always liked you, from the day we started talking. I wanted to love you properly, to take you out on nice dates and to be a boyfriend no one could ever compare to. I was just… scared.” The Michael Kaiser admitting to fear was something new. “Scared of ending up as a disappointing lover or you never reciprocating. I ran away yesterday because I was a coward. But I don’t want to stay as one. I refuse to."

Kaiser continues. “It feels unreal, the idea of you liking me back when you’re so perfect. You’ve always been mature, diligent, and hardworking, your future seemed so bright with how academically proficient you were. At the time I was so unsure of myself and felt so inferior, it doesn’t justify anything I’ve done but I wanted to rather hurt instead of being hurt.”

“You, think I’m perfect…?” It’s such an innocent question. The praise seemed to melt away the resentment accumulated within your heart, and momentarily you forget wanting to leave.

“Of course, I do.” There’s still the same vulnerability in his expression, but this time it’s complemented with a soft smile. “I mean, look at you. You always got the top marks, and you’ve achieved a dream of entering the psychology field. I still love what you wrote about PSTD.”

How did he know that?

“I never mentioned my job.” He still remembers that one piece you wrote, a task that your English teacher had given. You were allowed to write anything you wanted to, and that was the birth of that PTSD essay, which Kaiser had found impressive for the level of detail it had.

“Your books state it.”

And how does he know about those too? You used a pen name for privacy and to avoid any attention to your personal life and loved ones.

“I never mentioned being an author.”

“You certainly did last night. I quote ‘you should read my book’.”

Wait.

A wave of realization crashed over you, the poor individual you complained to about Michael Kaiser was Michael Kaiser himself. Now the memories are flooding in, the declarations of hate, the miserable murmuring, and your stupidly embarrassing behaviour.

But even after recalling all the events and details of that night, you don’t remember providing a title and your pen name. It’s a complete secret, not even Yoichi or your own family know.

“I didn’t tell you the novel name though?”

Kaiser’s now grinning, but there’s still the soft feel to demeanor. “I’m a bit of a fan. ‘Where the Sea and the Horizon Meet’ is my favourite." It’s the book you wrote about him.

“But how did you know I wrote it?” Anyone can write about their tragic first love and the bitter yet beautiful saccharinity it entails. Your pen name didn’t allude to your legal one in any manner, and you dismissed any questions that interviews that attempted to intrude into your personal life.

“Because I instantly knew it was about you, about us. I’d never forget that day, right before English. When wanted to tell you I loved you since it was so pretty that day. I missed bothering you. I missed you.”

He actually remembered?

All this time you had assumed it was a memory that had been sitting at the back of his mind, only to be forgotten so easily after a couple of years.

You don’t say anything. It’s so confusing and overwhelming, the person who hurt you did it out of the fear of hurt, yet still missed you.

“You didn’t forget?”

“No. You were the first and only person I’ve ever loved.”

First… and only too?

You hadn’t shown any signs of auditory hallucinations recently, right?

Even though he himself just said it, it’s still a fever dream to you, unreal and fictitious.

Did you hear that right? You’re the first and only person he’s ever loved; all those touching memories were real, that heartfelt proclamation of love wasn’t fake.

Despite Kaiser’s confession to being in love with you, there was the tiny part of you that was still convinced that you were dreaming; that none of was real.

Because someone who completely destroyed you so long ago shouldn’t be able to waltz back in so easily.

Yet every part of you is begging for him to come back.

You haven’t said anything for a while, only lost in the storm of thoughts while trying to navigate the seas of your emotions.

“Same.” You whisper, you wish you had said something more than a simple agreement, but it’s all you can muster. And it’s true. No one else had been that loving with you. “I don’t hate you. I hate the pain I felt.” You take back your claim, and he looks like he’s received the best news of his life, relief washing over his features.

“I know, which is why, I would never do again. That’s if, if you’re willing to give me another chance.” He finally has the courage to hold your hand with his own, fingers ghosting over your knuckles. “I want to love you. Again. This time properly, and until I learn how to do perfectly.”

There’s an undeniable fear of you have of vulnerability and love, yet the offer is so tempting.

Is the risk really worth it?

You’ve always depended on logic and rationality to make decisions, and here, it’s clear that trusting someone who hurt you isn’t a smart idea. It’s common sense, but something about him makes you want to oppose your usual ideals; to get hurt over and over again until something works, to finally break down the walls you’ve miserably built, and to expose your heavily guarded heart.

“I love you y/n.”

It doesn’t the possess the same grandeur it did that day, years ago, but it still conveyed the same passion, laced with his true feelings for you.

Only this time, you say it back.

“I love you too… Michael.”

“Am I allowed to kiss you again?”

You permit his request, pressing your lips against his, and it tastes just as saccharine and tempting, but this time it’s now garnished with satisfaction.

“Congratulations on your wedding, Kaiser!”

A smile tugs at his lips as his teammates congratulate him, well pleased with how the event had been turning out so far. His parents were overjoyed about you and the occasion, and everything was running smoothly.

It’s been around three years since you had given him another chance.

You looked flawless, the outfit you chose complemented all your tones (though he’d argue that any colour and shade would’ve looked beautiful on you).

Kaiser couldn’t find the right words to describe how euphoric he felt. The closest to this happiest he’s ever gotten was when you accepted his proposal.

He's relieved and buzzing with a sense of pride. Not the typical, cocky kind, but the kind of proud where he’d be able to happily tell his younger self about all of this, that it all works out in the end, that he eventually makes up for his actions; that he ends up marrying his long time crush.

Everyone was happy, at least, except for one person.

“I can’t fucking believe you’d date and marry this man.”

Kaiser snickers at Yoichi, someone who he’s been competing against constantly and has been his rival for years but is also your best friend.

“I swear, he’s not that bad. But I understand if you’re disappointed.”

 “Excuse me, I’m the perfect boyfriend and husband.”

“Oi, did you hear something? Must’ve been a fly. Didn’t expect any here.” Michael’s jaw drops at being ignored by Yoichi.

“Shit, I’ve forgotten the bug repellent, my bad. My mother might’ve brought some.” Michael lets out an exaggerated gasp at the betrayal.

“You guys are so mean.” You and Yoichi grin at his faux pout.

“Well,” Yoichi begins to slip away. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone; I’m going to go say hi to Kunigami and Hiori again. Kaiser I’ll kill you if you ever hurt y/n.” He waves a small bye to you before running off.

“Someone seems to trust you a lot.”

“I- “Before Michael can try to defend himself and respond with a witty comment, your nephew interrupts, with his parents following from behind.

“y/n! Congratulations!” He comes running towards you with a bouquet, so big that it was almost the size of him, it’s a miracle how he’s able to carry it. You quickly accept, hoping that it wasn’t a hassle for him to bring it.

“Thank you. How’d you carry these? They’re too big for you.”

“He insisted.” Your bother replies to you, his wife nodding. “He said he wanted to be the ones to give them.”

A hand playfully ruffles his hair. “Thanks bud.” Even after years he still has the same kindness and enthusiasm.

“We’re going to say hi to everyone, are you coming?”

“Can I talk to Michael and y/n more?” They nod, reminding him to be polite and greet everyone afterwards.

“I can’t believe you’re dating the Michael Kaiser though.” Kaiser stands with pride at your nephew’s disbelief, about to make a confident statement until your nephew continues. “You better behave properly, you clown.”

Again, Michael’s jaw drops and the sight has you biting your lip to avoid laughing uncontrollably. Your nephew runs off to his parents, saying that he wants to see his grandparents.

“Since when did he talk like Yoichi?” He nudges you, still shocked at being called a clown again. “He even waited for his parents to go. And he ran off immediately. ”

“No idea, but I like it.”

“Of course, you do…” He takes a few moments to stare at you, dazed by your beauty and seemingly in a trance. “You’re stunning.”

“What’s with that suddenly?”

“It’s not sudden, you’ve always been cute. And pretty. And just perfect in general.”

“Someone’s cheesy.” But your smile is out of control.

“Thank you.”

“For?”

“Giving me a second chance.” The morning you woke up in his hotel room comes to mind, and although you were conflicted on whether to let him back into your life again or not, you don’t regret anything.

“Liebling, I’m truly forever grateful for it.” His hand takes yours, planting a kiss on your knuckles.

Because it’s been amazing with him. From the small yet sweet things like how he'd pay attention to literally everything about you, and remember every time detail about you to his grand proposal by the beach, the one that was located near your high school, the one outside of the window when he first declared he loved you. You adored it all; the connection you and him had that no one else would ever understand, to how the sun sunk into the sea, breathtakingly beautiful. Even the aftermath of arguments because he always refused to deal with them immaturely, knowing the consequences of not doing things right better than anyone else. The mere thought of you crying could bring him down to his knees.

Now, if someone were to ask you about Kaiser you'd end up stumped, thinking of all his actions of love, from always defending you no matter what, even if it's him against the world and the media, to how he constantly teases you (he never shuts up about how you assumed you had slept with him when you woke up in his hotel room.) He's your everything, your boyfriend, lover, your own proof reader and soon to be husband.

Now, you'd describe him as your favourite, someone you adore beyond what words could capture, not even your experience as an author could ever change that.

“I love you, so so much. I would die for you Liebe.” Kaiser eagerly kisses you, and no matter how many times he does you never get sick of how he tasted, or how soft and tender they were.

“I love you too Mihya.” You breathe out, crimson dusted all over your face as you’re panting in between words.

He really wasn’t lying when he said wanted to love you properly.

© kitorin : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Part 10- keep me from my grave

"Well, don't sing me praise. Just keep me from my grave." -Me Against the Devil by The Relentless

Main Masterlist Regent Series Part 9

They met at a bookstore. 

It had been almost two full months since the Joker had met his end, his head mounted and strangely not decomposed, with Jason returned to the Batfamily Gotham had settled into a lull. Not a quiet one, but a lull nonetheless. 

Jason was taking a break from sorting through cases with Dick, head throbbing from the lack of sleep and patience for annoying siblings wearing thin. 

The bookstore, tucked away in a quiet part of Old Gotham, was often empty of people during the day. Despite its large bay windows, comfy seating and welcoming atmosphere, the Page-Turner would remain a hidden gem to the city dwellers. For Jason, it was a haven he could never feel bad about keeping to himself. 

He’d branched out from classics some time ago, deciding to try other genres he’d long since ignored for the Bard, meandering around the shelves to find a title that caught his eye. 

It was between the mysteries and thrillers that he found her. 

Her. 

She was sitting on the ground with her back pressed against the thriller shelves, slender jean-clad legs tucked towards her chest to cradle a book, eyes never straying from the pages, red hair tied into a low ponytail with what looked like a small braid tucked behind one ear. Jason couldn’t tear his eyes away from her soft features, desperately wanting her eyes to meet his, her lips to offer him a smile and her hands to cradle his own.

 For the first time in his life, Jason finally understood what the regency novels meant by love at first sight… because the man was halfway there already. 

The Page Turner was a haven admist the chaos that was Jazz’s life, especially once she finally admitted to herself and Danny that she needed help to manage her depression. Her little brother was concerned, but also relieved when she confronted the elephant in the room first. He’d been weary of bringing it up himself, not wanting to worry her more. 

(Silly brother.)

(It was her job to worry.)

Nonetheless, Jazz asked around among the living and dead for a therapist recommendation, which she was correct about it being difficult in Gotham, but Jazz didn’t want to branch out just yet. A toss up between disbelief and enthusiasm awaited her, but she didn’t let it deter her from contacting the recommended psychologist- Harleen Quinzel. 

A bit awkward to be in a session with the reformed rogue, dutifully ignoring whatever lingering shades wanted her attention. Harley was a great listener, more importantly she cared about Jazz as a patient, as a human being. Whatever Bozo the Clown had done to her, what she had survived, had given Harley a new lease on life with his death (ironically). 

“It sounds like ya never been allowed to simply be, Jazz.” Harley spoke plainly and evenly, her brooklyn accent barely clipping her words. The redhead had spoken of her childhood, her brother’s death, the neglect.

Opened up about the nightmares, how Danny’s destroyed grave haunted her. Let the truth spill from her lips, free to simply exist in the space between the two women. Sure, Jazz would never spill secrets about the Realms, but where it concerned her guilt, or lack thereof, about the blood on her hands- yes, Jazz knew Harley wouldn’t judge her. 

And it was true, Jazz had no childhood. She was Danny’s caretaker, his first memory, his first steps towards, the first to have his back. There had never been just Jazz, only Jazz and Danny. Every dream she’d once had, broken and scattered in the ashes of Danny’s grave. 

(Danny had no hope of reaching the stars, of being an astronaut, with his death.)

“Sweetie, Danny sounds like he is capable of taking care of himself for a while. Have you considered finding a hobby?” Harley questioned, sincere in her wish to help. 

Jazz sighed, “I wouldn’t know where to begin.” What did she have outside her little brother and work as Regency? 

“Do ya like to read?” 

Jazz huffed, finding amusement with that question. Of course she liked, no, loved to read. It had been her one escape from the nightmares so long ago, but she hadn’t found the time since taking regency to lose herself in a good book. 

Harley didn’t need her to respond, offering a sincere smile in response to Jazz’s lack of reply. 

“There’s a bookstore in Old Gotham, the Page Turner, ya could check out? There’s no pressure to pick up a book, but it would be enough to just get through the door, yeah?” 

“I’ll try.” 

“That’s a good start.” 

As it was, Jazz wasn’t able to find time between Realms Work and patrol to do anything other than sleeping, eating, and various other tasks that filled her days (and nights). The more it itched at her, to listen to the therapist she liked, the more Jazz wanted to read a book. To get lost in a good story, just like she used to. 

Patrols were harder with Hood back, his haunt under his command once more and streets protected by a vigilante in red. Only twice in the few weeks since Jason had been moved from her side to the batcave had the Regent caught a glimpse of him, both as his nighttime persona, and from a distance Jazz hadn’t been able to sense him as clearly as previous. He did seem healthier with the pure ecto and his Proto-Core, though Jazz was in no mood to test her luck by crossing into his Haunt. 

The girls were sad to see the Regent less, even though Jazz remained firmly in the Phantom haunt and was barely a few minutes away at any given time, but it was the principle of the thing. The Regent was one of the good ones and a woman at that. A woman who could kick ass wasn’t rare, but it was rare that they would take up a vigilante role for the occupants of the Alley. 

Red Hood, while awesome and respected by his people, was a man. 

Some of the girls were gradually drifting into the Phantom haunt, or a shitty part of Old Gotham that bordered on the Alley. Regardless of it’s quality it belonged to the Phantom Fraid… and Phantom was a Protector Spirit. 

(With the Regent and the Phantom, crime was all but extinct in their haunt.)

With the decrease in crime, Jazz was finally able to dematrilize her armor, set down her sword and enter the Page Turner. 

A distinct mix of old books, ink, and some kind of body spray welcomed the redhead once she stepped inside, intrigued by the sense of calm that greeted her in place of a human. 

Which was fine, Jazz preferred to browse in peace. 

Grateful for the shelves being categorized, Jazz found herself enthralled by a thriller (They Never Learn by Layne Fargo) and didn’t notice another person in the aisle until they were within arm’s reach. 

Jazz flinched back, embarrassed by her lack of focus and attention to her surroundings, dangerous when one is a vigilante in Gotham. She greeted the man in front of her after a few moments of awkward silence, his stare making the redhead even more embarrassed, but now by her appearance. She'd been too tired to fuss with her hair or clothes beyond ensuring the orange-red strands were brushed into a semblance of order and her clothes were somewhat decent. 

(Jazz was more concerned with her bracelets being concealed under glamour and sleeves.)

(The metal, eternally cool against her warm skin, offered some comfort in times like these.)

(She was the Lady of the Acropolis, once student of Pandora, the Ancient of Peace.) 

(There is nothing that can make her feel lesser without her consent.) 

“Uh, hi.” 

(Oh how eloquent, Jasmine.) 

“Hi.” The deep voice, smooth and accented like a native Gotham, made Jazz finally move her gaze from his chest- nice chest as it was, it was his eyes that made her breath rush from her lungs. 

Jason. 

.....Jason!

(Oh yes, Jazz picked a good day to walk into the Page Turner.) 

(She was finally able to talk to her dream man.)

(She wasn’t disappointed.) 

(And by the smiles they had as walked away, neither was Jason.) 

A/N:

This isn't the best, I know. Hey, they finally meet! Keep an eye for the updated masterlist, because I'll be putting the link up and changing some of the chapter titles. Thanks for reading!

Update: “They Never Learn” by Layne Fargo is an actual book, with a female Anti-Hero who kills bad men. I don’t want to say more because I’ll spoil something, but it’s a great book.

[loserlvrss]

꒰ 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄 ꒱ 이민호

summary : it's coming up on your boyfriends' death anniversary, and something's finally telling you to let go

genre : angst, minho x afab!reader tws : angst, death, grief, depression, various substance abuse, mentioned suicide, various suicidal thoughts, very slight reference to religion author notes : maybe i cried idk word count : 3.4k

skin to skin. it’s what most humans crave. the contact and warmth of someone; romantically, familiar, platonically. all humans are the same. we are designed to crave a comfort since birth, to form connections beyond intellect. we look for anyone and everyone who could fill that desire… and when abandoned, nothing will ever feel like enough.

“you’d never leave me, right?” you said, tracing small circles on the tan skin of your boyfriend, whomst you love with your entire heart. he was everything to you, and you him, “you’ll stay with me forever, right?”

you bounced lightly as he chuckled, “of course,” you felt his hand grip your bare side harder, “forever.”

“promise me.” you held up a pinky, and his eye cracked open at the shade behind his lids.

he stroked your side gently as he brought his other hand up, locking his smallest finger with yours, “i promise, y/n.”

the bitter reality hit as your eyes opened. you couldn't figure out the time, and honestly you didn't want to check. the void of color in your room — life — was enough to always put a dampen on your spirit, and ultimately, day. you turned over, and for it being a relatively good dream, you were drenched in sweat. you reached across the bed, the sheets wrinkled where you hadn't been sleeping. but, you were alone, and it sunk whatever was left of your heart.

you grumbled, borderline whined as you turned over. you don't know why there was an actual pain shooting throughout your body. you don't know why the impending desire to just lay there until the end of time consumed you. you don't know why your eyes teared up, creating a watercolor painting against the dimmed colors of your room.

you don't know why you were always questioning what was real and fake nowadays. you could've been caught up in a nightmare — you figured you could wake up any moment and not feel this jaded in your everyday life — but it never subsided.

you didn't want people to tell you that everything would all be okay. you didn't want people to tell you that depression passes. you didn't need anyone to know that what you felt right now was less than human. you didn't need the memories to remind you of what can't be washed away; of what you can't get back. you didn't want to lose those moments in time though, like you had lost the real thing, because it was all you had left, but knowing that you couldn't make any more felt like ripping stitches.

it was acid on a never healing wound knowing that peace was something you only felt when asleep. and the only way you got to sleep nowadays was with the aid of various drugs.

it was an unhealthy habit. a struggle you knew shouldn't feel as good as it did. but a vice is still a vice whether it has that name or not.

your hand reached to the side table, finding your phone and ultimately leaving it face down. you continued to search until your hand found a rattling bottle — an orange pill bottle — that peers would say you practically lived off of. and you did. only ever feeling remotely like yourself when a couple were thrown to the back of your throat to dissolve into your bloodstream.

you truthfully didn't know the dose you were supposed to be taking, everything dulled down by your seemingly never ending high — you never being sober because it was too hard to — and you definitely didn't know why your psychologist kept prescribing them. maybe she had no idea that you were on the edge of a cliff, just desperate for an excuse to topple off it, but you found it hard to believe that she was that bad at her job.

you felt like you were just a lifeless vessel being controlled by the fumes clouding your brain. yet, if you wanted to stop, you would, right? it wasn't an addiction if it was willing, was it?

maybe. but truthfully your secondhand high was too strong for you to care. so, you lit up another carelessly thrown about blunt, inhaling the smoke until you were completely numb. until you couldn't feel your fingertips. until you couldn't form a coherent thought.

until you couldn't remember why you wanted to die, too.

you trudged the scene your bedroom was in: clothes, packages, bottles and other miscellaneous things littering the hardwood. despite being alive, you felt like you were drowning. a physical sting in your chest. a deep sigh that never escaped your lips. you were walking on broken glass with every step, but the pain would never be comparable to the turmoil you already find yourself in.

if this wasn't hell, you didn't want to know what was.

you never turned on any lights, the windows being covered by curtains 24/7. you could see through the flimsy fabric that the sun was barely still up, or maybe it was just gracing the sky with its' presence. you didn't know, and if you didn't have to make a living in a capitalist society, you wouldn't care either.

you would be contempt living (more like going about) your day inside the confines of your home. sure, you hated being alone, especially with your thoughts, but you were never truly alone; haunted by the ghosts that paint your walls in a dark shade of red; and you were never sober enough to think anymore.

never letting yourself feel the gravity of grief, quoted from your therapist, is not allowing you to receive closure, to heal from the loss of someone you gave your entire heart too.

however, closure, in your fucked up mind, meant forgetting. and as much as it pained you, chained you down in the depths, you couldn't let go of the memories. even if you ended up dead because of them. at least, you thought there was a chance you'd be able to meet again that way.

you weren't in denial, like your all-knowing doctor seems to think. no, you knew what happened. you remember it clearly despite trying your hardest to cloud it out. you couldn't be going through the stages of grief if they never changed — they couldn't even be considered stages if they've turned into your despised lifestyle.

you loved, but hated the never changing facial expression. you loved, but hated the liquid that made you so slurred. you loved, but hated the fact that someone you couldn't have left you with the door wide open. you loved, but hated knowing that maybe you weren't good enough to make him want to stay. you loved, but hated that you are still so in love with him when he's, where? if he could see you in this state, would he be able to say that he once loved you too? if he could see you crying every night, dressed in the clothes of his that you have yet to wash, would he still think that out was the only way in?

he was your everything, even after everything had ended.

so, why weren't you his last thought? why didn't he even have the decency to write you a letter in embodiment of his dying wish? why couldn't he just give you the answers you used to so desperately yearn for? even in death, he had to be the selfish one. wasn't leaving enough? you didn't know.

but, it's been 12 months.

those answers never came, and now you didn't expect them to magically appear. not after you tore apart your entire apartment, inch by inch, crevice by crevice, coming up empty like it was a cruel fucking joke. like you were a rat trapped in a cage, on the hunt for cheese that was behind an unreachable wall.

you used to wonder if you had done something differently, complained less, listened more, would he not just be the rain that splotched your skin.

it's as if the sky was mocking you. as if it's asking if you really had the audacity to be upset with something you couldn't control.

but you were only half alive, barely half a mind to think of anything rational when your stability was ripped from under you like it was just a flimsy rug to being with.

you were free falling, and you never learned how to fly.

“y/n,” your eyes tried focusing as best they could, but the flashing lights were making your head spin more than it should, “we have to check inventory before opening. the boss said someone’s been stealing — and we’re not accusing you because we know what you take.”

the woman in front of you, your coworker of a couple years brought her hand to rest against your forehead. “are you okay? you seems worse than normal.”

“u-uh, yeah.” she eyed you in disbelief, “i’m good.”

you weren’t, but you still followed her behind the bar to crouch down and count the bottles. you’d probably use most of them anyways, as tonight was always the busiest of the week.

truth is, you weren’t even sure what number you were on when you fell onto your butt, catching your coworkers attention. the booming music making your chest bounce with the bass, and the in-time lights spinning and flashing and changing was throwing you off.

even if you were crossed, you’ve never had a problem getting your work done. you could even fight back the nausea, the discomfort and dizziness that it caused your body — but today, today was different.

you weren’t in-tune with anything. not being able to beat the funk. even when you tried to stand back up, you put your hand on a bunch of napkins, slipping and falling right back to the ground. it was frustrating, borderline humiliating. even as she tried to help you up out of the good in her heart.

you felt tears brimming, “y/n. it’s okay, let’s just get up. i can take inventory. you seem like you need to rest for a little bit before opening.”

stupid, useless, unbelievable.

why couldn’t today just go the way it was supposed to? you kept wondering if this was a cruel joke. today of all days had to be the worst on top of everything it stood for. it had to be someone’s doing. and whoever’s been controlling your life must’ve been one sick individual.

you, at least, hoped they were happy in your misery.

you huffed, forcing yourself onto your knees, hands splayed over them. you looked at the bones of your knuckles, wondering how hard one had to hit to get knocked out — you were always better unconscious than conscious.

then, your eyes set on a clear bottle. it was filled to the brim with a blue liquid that you didn’t even bother to read before pulling it off the shelf. you opened it and took a long swig. when you finally put it down, your coworker had a horrified look on her face.

you gave the bottle up easily when she reached for it, “y/n… what’s the matter with you today? you need help. seriously, i’m so sick of you fucking everything up!” she grabbed at your hands, trying to get you to stand up, but you were too heavy for her to even begin to move; a dead weight, if you will. “oh my god, get up! all you do is get high and throw a pity party! how long is this going to be? how do you even live like this?”

it was a question you heard often. how do you even live like this? but they didn’t know living would be such a painstakingly long journey. sure, maybe they were only asking because they cared, because they were genuinely curious, but you had no answer.

and you feared you never would.

was living truly worse than dying? all signs would point to yes. maybe he had the right idea after all…

you heard whispering above you, “it’s his death anniversary today, j-just — let’s just send her home. we can deal with it tonight, right? customers aren’t going to want to see her drinking their drinks. help me get her up. she’s miserable.”

you felt like you had lost all control — seemingly having none to begin with — you got up on your own, something within possessing you, and stumbled to the door.

maybe your coworker was right. maybe you do fuck everything up. maybe you were miserable. maybe that’s why you’re here and he’s not. maybe that’s why you can’t seem to grasp the sand that keeps slipping through your fingers. maybe you were better off with the same fate as the one you loved so dearly. maybe the depression would finally consume you, like your therapist said it would if you didn’t intervene, like you’ve been praying day and night for.

you wanted to die, but you always thought it would’ve been in his arms.

now, you were cold. a wondering spirit searching for the only thing that could set them free; and what you feared is knowing that that thing wasn’t something that you’d ever find.

you swear you could feel a hand on you. a grip on your shoulder that kept pulling you back. but maybe that was your diagnosis of trauma-induced hallucinations. because truthfully, your derealization and depersonalization had gotten so bad your doctor thought about prescribing you anti-psychotics.

however, you’d have to un-ghost your psychiatrist for that to ever happen.

your breathing was labored, the earth spinning too quickly for your liking. you tried to blink away the blurriness, but the sky was also too bright, despite the rain, making you squint.

it seemed everything was retaliating all at once. it’s said karma catches up with bad people, and were you finally falling victim to it?

no, you were just falling.

falling so hard that you can’t even remember what happened next. did you pass out after hitting your head on the concrete? did you die? you could only hope for so much.

your eyes opened, but the world seemed different, colorful once again; a dusty orange hue to the air. you looked around confused as to how you ended up back in your room.

did someone find you? so you hadn’t hit your head hard enough to die; maybe next time, you thought.

you looked to your feet as they left wet footprints behind on a clean floor. all of your boyfriend’s clothes were folded nicely on the bed, as if someone had just washed them. it no longer smelled of mildew and various rotting substances. you couldn’t even find the couple grams that were on your nightstand this morning. but there was also another smell wafting through the air; a smell of tea and cherry blossoms.

much like that night 12 months ago.

the night everything in your world had come crashing down upon you. the night you lost every part of yourself to the grim reaper. the night you lost the game you thought you were winning. the night you lost the only love of your life.

the night minho, your boyfriend of six years, committed suicide.

he left you to relive every waking moment without him like life was a cruel fucking joke on you. left you with the pitiful looks friend and family would give you. left you with funeral preparations and arrangements. left you with heaps of chrysanthemums. left you to weep as the cherry blossoms fell from the trees and snow from the sky.

he left you in every season, and you never knew why.

you never knew why the radio static sounded like him. never knew why the smoke would bounce off his silhouette. never knew why you prayed to someone who clearly wasn’t real — who clearly didn’t care to hear your pleas — but, god did it bother you once you’d figured out you wasted all that time. you never knew the why of a lot of questions, and it left you feeling nothing but empty; numb; jaded; hallow; anything that spelled out that you were just a walking corpse with very low cognitive recognition.

you found it hard to believe he loved you as much as he did. but if face-to-face, you’d forget that thought ever crossed your mind, because at the end of the day you were beyond devoted to him. he was your soulmate, and you’d find him in any lifetime, you were sure of it.

so, why couldn’t you let go? why couldn’t you do yourself the favor and move on? whether that be in this or the next life. why couldn’t you follow his lead and find him once again.

maybe you would finally awake from this torturous nightmare —

“minho?” you all but shouted out against the gentle breeze of an opened window, “minho? are you there? is that you?”

you heard the pattern of steps on wood, soon met with the face you’d not grown to forget. he looked confused, concerned at your obvious state of disbelief, “are you okay, baby?”

you felt his hands on you, watching as they slowly followed the length of your arms, finally pulling you into his chest.

you wanted to ask how, but you know that you only ever see him when you’re high. but you didn’t feel high right now; and you obviously knew what it would feel like if you were, after abusing anything you could get your hands on for a year.

you wanted to come up with any excuse, but the very real scent of his cologne (that had faded from his hoodies after a couple months) filled your nostrils. you felt comforted, which hasn’t been something you felt for what seemed like decades. minho was the only one who brought you solace, but he had left you. so how was he — no, how were you here right now?

god, you must’ve finally hit your wall. you must’ve finally found the breaking point and flew past it. you had finally gone insane, that was the only real explanation you could come up with.

your therapist said it would happen if you didn’t quit, but why would you ever listen to her? hell, maybe you should’ve. but, if this was insane maybe you didn’t really mind being enclosed in his arms.

but it felt wrong. how could you spend months of your precious life grieving the fact that he was dead, if he’s hugging you right now? how could you spend all your time getting high enough to not feel sad if he was right here in front of you?

his flesh felt real, but so did the ache in your heart.

“h-how?” he hummed, not entirely hearing what you said. you pushed him back, but the grip on your forearms remained, “how are you he-here? how are you alive? y-you killed yourself, minho.”

he seemed confused, a slight smile still adorning his features though, like he couldn’t believe the prank you were playing on him. but to you, he looked so real, just as you couldn’t erase from your memory — a snapshot in time that you captured oh-so-long ago.

“you’re dead, i-i was there. i buried you!” the room seemed to lose all color — like it’d been splashed with arctic water, a shiver running up your spine — which once had an orange hue, was now a dark shade of blue, like the depths of the ocean.

his face lost the smile, ice lacing his fingertips almost like he had been deep in the dirt rotting away. “i found you minho. i-i tried to save you but it didn’t work! i tried, i swear i did, b-but,” tears brimmed your eyes, quickly making their way in valleys down your cheeks. your voice was weak, but you hadn’t used it much in the last year anyways, “you were dead, minho! the emt’s pronounced you dead at the scene. y-you’re not real. y-you left me. i watched them put you in the ground. i cried for hours, minho! i stayed with you for days. i prayed to a fucking god i don’t believe in to make you come back to me! i only ever saw you inside my head, when i wished upon every star it was real! minho, you’re gone.”

his words were a push to the knife that only ever danced upon your skin, never plunging and never drawing blood, “then, why won’t you let me go?”

reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

[irrevocableloves]

violent delights

twilight rewrite! edward cullen x fem!witch!reader

chapter seven: port angeles

previous chapter ౨ৎ masterlist ౨ৎ chapter eight

summary: a trip to port angeles should ease her mind, right?

warnings: swearing, violence, harassment

words: 2.9k (unedited)

I was back in the meadow. The sun beaming into my eyes, swallowing me in its warmth. The aroma of blue and purple cosmos, lisianthus, sweet peas, and scabiosas wafting through the air.

“Y/N!” I heard a voice yell. Jacob.

He pulled me out of my daze, his arm wrapped tightly around my wrist, leading me away from the sweet meadow. Everything was almost a blur.

“Jake? What’s wrong?”

I was being pulled deeper and deeper towards the dark and menacing forest. 

Looking back at the meadow, the light that emerged was almost blinding as it walked even closer. Edward. His skin faintly glowed as he approached, his eyes an intimidating black. He held out a hand towards me, asking me to come with him.

Jake's grip around my wrist had vanished entirely. In his place was a large light brown wolf with dark brown eyes and sharp teeth that snarled.

I froze at the sight.

“Y/N, trust me.” Edward said in almost a whisper.

I walked towards him slowly, cautious of the enormous wolf that was inches away from tearing at my skin. As I reached out for his hand, I heard a low, menacing growl coming from my rear. The wolf launched at us, Edward jumping in front.

“NO!” I cried out, springing upwards from my bed. I was completely drenched in sweat, the vivid image of that vicious wolf with its sharp teeth lunging towards Edward still burning in my mind's eye.

It was only 5PM. I forced my body to move, reaching my computer and closing the numerous tabs still open from the previous day. I didn’t want to make the same mistake. To search for absolute nonsense just to come up with nothing but a recommendation for a psychologist. I couldn’t plainly type in ‘vampires’ and expect an answer. My brain searched for the answers in Jacob’s story. The cold ones.

In my search, I came across all sorts of legends from different cultures. The Danag, a Filipino vampire who’d planted taro on the islands, working with humans until Danag had drained a woman’s body of her blood. The Romanian Varacolaci, a powerful undead being who could appear as a beautiful pale-skinned human. The Slovak Nelapsi, who was so strong and fast that it could massacre an entire village on its own. Amidst all the bad, the Stregoni benefici was an one of good, a mortal enemy of all evil vampires.

The myths were quite different from one another, only some backing up the ones I’d seen in horror films. The typical myths such as coffins and withering into ash in the sunlight were almost amusing.

With each myth, I compared it with my own observations of Edward. His impossible speed, strength, beauty, the way his eyes shifted colors, and how his skin resembled porcelain. His touch was ice cold. From the many dreams where I’d felt his touch. It was freezing, almost burning, then it would shift to a sweet and calming warmth. In reality, I’d only felt the burn of his touch with layers of clothing separating the two of us, but nonetheless, his touch left a lasting impression on my memories, making it difficult to forget the strange and hauntingly beautiful being that he was. Despite his otherworldly appearance and behavior, there was something about him that made me want to understand him even more, and with each new discovery, I found myself drawn to him in ways I never thought was possible.

What I needed right now more than anything was to shake him off. He had completely invaded my brain without even trying. I got up and out of the house, not even putting a second thought to where my feet were taking me.

My feet had guided me to a thin ribbon of a trail, one that led through the forest. After the incident with the animal attack, my dad insisted that I shouldn’t wander, but I couldn’t help myself. Even after everything, I still found comfort within the trees. One day, Billy had caught me lurking and convinced my dad that there was a spot on the reservation that was open and in his words, “a hell of a lot safer.” His daughter’s Rachel and Rebbeca brought me through the ribbon trail, revealing a tree, one that looked to be much fuller of life than the rest. It was a willow tree. It stood right in the center of the trail, the other trees surrounding from the outside. It had almost felt as if the image in front of me had been ripped out of a fantasy book. Ever since then, I’d catch myself running to this tree whenever life had felt completely out of my control.

Once I reached the tree, I stood to admire the way the trunk had twisted and turned, how the branches stretched out in every direction, the way its lush green leaves draped over the branches. It was almost unreal. As soon as my back had touched the trunk and my bottom had felt the legs of the tree, I instantly felt bliss. Even as the slight trickles of rain fell onto my cheeks, I remained.

Many questions still lingered in my mind. Could the Cullens be vampires?

From what I knew, from all that Edward had warned me about. How he was dangerous… a villain… Could that all be connected to the stories of bloodsucking monsters? They had to be something. Edward Cullen most definitely wasn't human. In Jacob’s stories, the Cullens seemed like saints in comparison to what I’d read, so perhaps all hope wasn’t lost. But hope for what? That somehow Edward was wrong about himself? That he’d graciously allow himself to let me in? To truly see him for what he actually was and not be blinded by the stories written from the outside?

If Edward was a vampire, why was I searching for some sort of way in and not out?

I had two options. The first was to take his advice: be smart and avoid him as much as possible. To tell him to leave me alone and actually mean it this time. To quite literally build a wall around him and pretend he was only just a figment of my imagination. No matter how much I wished that I could succeed, I knew that I wouldn’t. The second option was much more tempting, which was to continue to get to know him even with the knowledge that I know now. He wasn’t a monster, he just couldn’t be.

Once I finally felt that my escape had been fulfilled, I trekked my way back to my house, following the neat trail that stayed intact somehow.

Opening my eyes, I was greeted with an illuminating orange tint in my bedroom. From the window, beyond the pillows of clouds, I was able to see a tint of the blue in the skies.

For the first few classes, I couldn’t help my jittering. It felt as if the sun had completely cleared the clouds in my brain. Was it because I might’ve figured out his secret? That I wasn’t afraid for some terrifying reason? I didn’t fully understand my enthusiasm. Despite my discoveries, the excitement I’d built up to be face-to-face with Edward after our last encounter was almost nauseating. I was hoping he’d once again steal me away from my friends, with only his company at the same empty table. But once I walked into the cafeteria doors, I faced disappointment. The Cullens’ table was empty. Even as my eyes searched the crowded cafeteria, the table we occupied just last Friday was full of freshmans. As I moped throughout the entirety of lunch, I had a small glimmer of hope that he’d be waiting for me in Biology class, with a smirk ridden on his face after he’d seen my glumness quickly turn into pure joy. But, that didn’t happen.

The rest of the school day had gone by in a blur, my utter depression making the day absolutely useless. Even with the rumors that Tyler Crowley spread about taking me to prom had completely gone over my head. What was it about Edward Cullen that made my emotions go untamed? I felt pathetic. I’d hardly known him, yet my life revolved around him. My happiness was dependent on his wavering presence.

I was hoping time with Angela and Jessica would lessen my misery, but as I sifted through the various dresses, my thoughts had only worsened. 

I was going to this dance alone, Jessica and Angela wouldn’t let me escape it, insisting multiple times that I should ask the desperate flocks of guys who were just waiting for my question. I couldn’t help but think of Edward, all while the girls mentioned over and over how ‘into me’ he was, but the thought of asking him filled me with a level of humiliation that I couldn't bear.

After a couple minutes through my search, my eyes had finally fallen upon the perfect dress. It was a deep burgundy color, littered with a pattern of beads that looked to be a vine of flowers blooming across the dress.

I pulled the dress from the rack, admiring it from all around before bringing it to the dressing room. 

I slid the dress up my body with ease, the soft, silky material easily gliding over my skin. Looking up towards my reflection, I was in complete awe with not only the beauty of the dress itself, but how it had perfectly caressed every curve and contour of my body. I almost shrieked with excitement, forgetting for only mere seconds that I had no date and no Edward.

I stepped out of the dressing room and found Jessica and Angela, who were giving each other opinions on their dresses they had on.

Once they turned around, their jaws had immediately fell, screeching and running towards me to get a better look of the dress.

“Oh my god. That dress is fucking gorgeous!” Jessica squealed. “Where did you even find that?!” She began to rummage through the dresses in a rush.

“You look hot.” Angela said with her jaw still wide open. “You’re buying that right now, I swear.”

“If you don’t, I will!” Jessica yelled, still searching through the dresses.

“I’m getting it, Jess.” I laughed. “Maybe, I do need a date.”

“Oh my god! Yes! Please!” Jessica squealed.

Once I changed out of the dress and into my normal clothes, I went to the register and paid. In the meantime, I waited for Jessica and Angela to find their dresses, giving them opinions on each, ranking them from best to worst. Even as I was fully occupied, I couldn't help but sneak glances at the bookstore across the street.

“Hey,” I hesitated. “Do you guys mind if I check out the bookstore?”

“Oh, yeah! Did you want us to come with you?”

“No, no, you guys can take your time. I’ll just meet you guys at dinner, yeah?”

“Wait!” Jessica yelled just as I was about to open the door. “Pink dress is number one right?”

“Definitely. Makes your boobs look good.”

“Okay, okay.” She relaxed. “Have fun! Remember, 7:30PM at Bella Italia!”

“Got it!” I gave her a thumbs up and headed out the door.

The walk to the bookstore wasn’t far, but I still managed to take in the sights of Port Angeles. As I approached the storefront, I could already smell the musty aroma of old books and the faint hint of coffee wafting through the air. Once I opened the door, I was greeted with almost endless aisles of books. I eagerly made my way through the aisles, my eyes scanning the spines of every book, my curiosity piqued by each and every one.

I didn't have any idea of what I was searching for, but somehow an array of books had appeared in front of me to dig into. Every book had to do with spiritual powers, energies, and connections.

As I lost myself in the books in front of me, the hour had slipped away without me even realizing. A buzz from my phone had broken me from the trance. It was Jessica, informing me that they’d already secured a table at Bella Italia. I immediately started to panic, shoving all the books I'd purchased into my shoulder bag and rushing out of the bookstore.

I didn’t realize how long the walk to the restaurant from the bookstore was until the sun had completely set. Almost no one was on the sidewalks, except for a group of four men that were towards the corner that I needed to turn into. I considered rerouting, turning entirely back around and taking the longer route to the restaurant, but I decided against it. I rummaged through my bag that slouched on my shoulder, frantically searching from some old mace that I’d stuck in there years ago. When I finally found it, I readied it, clutching my bag for dear life as I made my way towards them. I tried hard to keep a normal stature. I couldn’t look afraid because that’s exactly what they wanted: a frail girl that they could poke at to mug or possibly worse… I shuddered at the thought, but continued on. But as a neared closer, the thoughts were almost unbearable, as if my brain had been altered and spoke in their manner.

“Hey! Watcha doing out here on your own?” One of them nearly shouted, an evil and taunting laugh coming out of their mouth immediately after. Finally, Something to do. I flinched, hearing those words in almost a whisper. Now, I couldn’t help but look afraid, but still, I pretended to ignore them, straightening my back and picking up my pace.

“Oh, c’mon! Not even a ‘hello”?” I didn’t even bother to respond or even look at any of them as I passed by. What I would do for– Wow– Stupid Bitch… I didn’t dare turn around as they spoke, even if it felt as if they were screaming it in my ears, but the voices began to fade as I walked further away from them.

Once I saw that I was alone, I realized the nerves had caused me to miss a turn and walk into a dead-end. I was stuck behind some old storage buildings at the end of Port Angeles. I'd recognized it from the one time I’d come with my dad to put away the many Christmas decorations that he could no longer fit in the garage or attic. 

Then suddenly, almost louder than ever: Looks like we got something to play with tonight. I stopped in my tracks. It was completely silent. Not even their boasting laughter from a minute ago could be heard. Just the sound of my wracking breaths.

Just as I turned around to walk back, just ten feet away from me were two of the men from the group from before. I never had a good look at them because of the darkness and also the fact that I refused to look in their direction.

Instead of walking back in their direction, I turned to my right. I even considered running, but at this point, I was outnumbered and the two other men were possibly waiting to cease on my escape. You don’t know that they’re following you. I tried to make myself feel better even though I knew they were. Why wouldn’t they? Why were their thoughts and energy so strong that I could practically pull it from their sick minds? Was that what I had done? Was that the answer as to why their thoughts were screaming into my mind as if they were all surrounding me?

After crossing the street, I found myself behind an old warehouse and just as I was about to turn to go around it, I bumped into someone. Just as I was about to routinely say I was sorry, I smelt the reeking smell of alcohol and two men smirking disgustingly in front of me, inching towards me.

“Hey! Where you going?” I turned around, hoping to make a smooth exit, even considering breaking into a run, but I’d just bumped into another two figures. “Don’t leave, we’re just having fun here.”

They all huddled around me, spatting obscenities in my face to the point where I’d completely forgotten the mace that was in my sweaty and shaky hand. The voices were almost too much. I felt a hand grab my arm and yank it towards them, forcing me to face them, to which I brought myself back to reality, forcing up my knee and hitting the man’s groin and macing him. A scream erupted and as the other three men tried to grab me, I heard a car screech and veer out of the corner.

Headlights suddenly blinded my vision. In the meantime, I’d managed to pull myself away from the group and jump out of the car’s direction, preparing to run in case the car was not for my rescue. Once I saw the car almost ram into the four men and skid to a stop before me, I let out a breath of relief, especially after I’d seen who’d gotten out. Edward. All thoughts, not just the men, but my own had vanished.

“Get in,” Edward said, his voice laced with venom as the four men stared bewildered back at him.

I didn’t even give it a second thought as I practically threw myself into the car, slamming the door behind me and locking it.

next chapter

a/n: i’m so sorry this took so long !!! i had such a writer's block (which is weird because this is literally a rewrite????) but i’m gonna try to go back to updating every week or two weeks if i can!! also i’m not sure if i wanna have edward’s confession in the car or have it in the woods like in the movie. i love the drama of the forest, but i also love the intimacy of the car, but idk i think i’ll do a mix of both??? but hehehe it’s my favorite part so i’m super excited to write it!!! i’m leaving the dinner scene in the next chapter too just bc i feel like it fits better imo. please leave some feedback, your thoughts, and reblog if you can!!

tags: @measure-in-pain @brekkers-whore @rejectedbimbo @leilanileila @anothercoffeeblogx @cevans-winchester @trawberry-fire @tiniewife @nephilimsss @itszzmoon @astrovampie @cryingoverfictionalmen @boxofbadsenses @ttnaanj @iheartprettygurls @aoi-targaryen

taglist ₊˚⊹♡

[magnetothemagnificent]

Just saw someone say that RAMCOA "isn't real and is an antisemitic conspiracy theory" which... I don't know. I think that's dismissive of the pervasiveness of Xian abuse and the actual context of RAMCOA. A lot of Xians are involved in organized cults and traffic/abuse people through various means. At the very least I think there is nuance here. I'd like to hear your take though

For those who don't know the acronym, it stands for Ritual Abuse, Mind Control, and Organized Abuse, and was coined by the International Society for the Study of Trauma and Dissociation (ISSTD), and organization with a history of past and present abuse and corruption.

It's not real. It's a conspiracy that began in the 1980s and 1990s with the Satanic Panic. Some corrupt psychologists practiced "repressed memory recovery", where they convinced their patients that they were ritually abused by satanic cults as children, but forgot about it due to trauma. In reality, it's actually very easy to convince someone that they remember something, even when it didn't actually happen. There is no nuance. While cults absolutely do exist, there is no underground network of cults (Christian or otherwise) engaging in occult ritual sacrifices and abuses. To assert that there is leans deeply into antisemitic and xenophobic conspiracy.

Disclaimer: I'm not saying that certain dissociative disorders aren't real. They've existed before the Satanic Panic and before the epidemic of false memory implanting by psychologists. However, people with trauma disorders are very susceptible to manipulation, especially by mental healthcare professionals. Someone can genuinely believe they were kidnapped by a network of occultists, that doesn't mean it actually happened to them. It also doesn't mean that they're malicious liars- false memories can feel very real, and as we've learned, it's quite easy to convince someone of a memory that didn't happen. People who believe they were victims of these things deserve our compassion- the bad-faith actors are the doctors and therapists who manipulated them, not the people suffering from mental illness.

More reading:

Evidence Against Dr. Colin A. Ross

Dangerous Therapy: The Story of Patricia Burgus and Multiple Personality Disorder

Satanic Panic: The Creation of a Contemporary Legend

Martha Ann Tyo v Ross

Satanic Cults, Ritual Abuse, and Moral Panic: Deconstructing a Modern Witch-Hunt

Dutch Investigators Find No Evidence Of Ritual Child Abuse

Supernatural Support Groups: Who Are the UFO Abductees and Ritual-Abuse Survivors?

[hooked-on-elvis]

Hello!! I was just wondering about something...we don't really have a understanding of Elvis' personality, yeah we have books, videos and articles about the people they were around him but I'm talking about REALLY getting a hold of what personality he had is what's been circling my mind lately.

I don't know why, I've been really interested in personalities recently lol specifically Elvis'😅

Hi, sweetie! Yours is a good question to keep in mind, really. I like to wonder on this topic too. I guess Elvis' personality is very difficult to summarize because of the way his actions contradicted themselves in the messages they give. He was mainly a good person, as we all know, but also incoherent and even scary at times. It's frustrating trying to describe him because nothing seems to fit well-enough to describe how intense he was.

One thing we know for sure is how dual Elvis was - and we all are, no doubt, but Elvis's duality was very prominent, very much like changing one thing into the complete opposite in no time, as if there was no middle ground, just this or that.

The way I see it, EP was like a whole universe with all it's wonders and scary truths put together at once; like white and black, the good and bad, fire and rain, light and dark, a desert weather and a harsh winter in just one little space. He could be a spontaneous, extroverted open person, very sweet, generous, peaceful, attentive, warm, easy-going, friendly, supportive, affectionate, loyal, very wise, meditative, spiritually fervent believer in God, family-oriented, just an ingenuous little boy with a soothing peaceful and loving energy that could calm the most anxious of hearts that approached him, without even meaning to, and yet at the same extent he could also be shy, a loner, mean (here and there, both in words and actions), freezing cold, selfish, a loner, unreasonable, hot-tempered, promiscuous, sly, hopeless and lost, a control freak and a reckless disturbed man with such intense energy people could be afraid of doing something that could unleash the beast in him (that's why very, very little of his friends or family were brave enough to go against any thing Elvis would say/do or with his way of thinking), and then again he would turn into something else... He would look so confident, so strong and self-assured, a very powerful entity, but around the ones he trusted just enough he still let himself be vulnerable, acting just like a baby, begging for someone to take care of him, to show him patience, understanding, to make him feel safe, to hold him and never let go.

With the little knowledge we have about EP, we could use those and many adjectives to describe his personality but we can't summarize Elvis Presley better than to simply say he was human. Elvis was "too much of everything"... overwhelming, in a good and a little bad way too. The way he was such a good person, the way through his friends, family, co-workers and fans' memories Elvis sounds like one of the best people one could ever have the pleasure of meeting in this life, his moments of irrational and hurtful actions (towards people and himself) confuses us when we try to understand what Elvis was really about. I bet it was very confusing to understand him even for his family, lovers and friends, so it wouldn't be easy for us to understand him when we not really met him in person.

The King's personality is so intriguing! That's why there's books with analysis in both scientific medical and social fields, psychologists and psychiatrists wrote after studying Elvis' behavior patterns and what they tells us about him. Much beyond the stories their friends and general acquaintances told and how they portrayed EP in those many books and interviews we read/saw over the years, I think those psychological studies are the best way to go in depth about Elvis' personality. Even so I don't believe one single book can do all the accurate, proper work on it, one of those books I can mention now is "The Inner Elvis - A Psychological Biography Of Elvis Aaron Presley" by Peter O. Whitmer Ph.D. - I haven't read the book myself because I want to finish the friends and family books, the most important ones at least, before going deeper into Elvis' personality analysis but I've read parts of it and it's interesting. I would recommend you, if you haven't yet, to read this book.

Anyhow, I think we'll never have an accurate picture of Elvis Presley as a person, friend. One: Because people in general are difficult to understand. We contradict ourselves all the time, according to the situations we face. And two: Because nobody, for the best they can be at reading people, can really tell us what goes on inside another one's heart and mind. I guess being such a mystery is another wonder of Elvis. Another thing we can be sure of about him is that he was even not close to be a boring person.

[back2bluesidex]

Where Do Broken Hearts Go (18+) - Masterpost

Pairing: Model, ex-boyfriend!Jungkook X Child psychologist, Fem!Reader X Lawyer, Single Dad!Hoseok. 

Summary: Jungkook stripped your emotions naked, left you bare in the chilly wind of despair and self-doubt with an unending heartache. You tried your hardest to move on from him, to live for yourself but failed miserably. Each night you had to come back to your empty home where memories and broken dreams were scattered all around the floor, until one day a little angel and her unbelievably beautiful father came into your life. Finally, when you find yourself healing, maybe falling too, Jungkook had to show up! Again!

Theme: Angst, drama, eventual smut, fluff. 

Warnings: mentions of infidelity, mentions of cheating, broken relationship, reader is suffering so bad, pining, more will be added to each part. 

Word count: will be mentioned in each part. 476 for the prologue.

Listened to: Where Do Broken Hearts Go by One Direction

Taglist requests are closed!

Minors and karens are not allowed in this blog

A/N: First of all, Happy birthday to Jungkook. Secondly, I finally grew enough balls to start another legit series after a damn year. And obviously it had to be angst. Hope you guys like this attempt of mine.

Disclaimers: Pictures are taken from Pinterest.

Chapters:- 

Prologue || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 - Finale

Drabbles: Daydream, Incognito

Prologue under cut

“No. No. This is not true. This is not true.” Your murmur under your breath. Clenching your phone hard, you try to keep your breathing stable. 

“Calvin Kline Ambassador Jeon Jungkook is rumored to be dating actress Han Jiwon.” you read the headline again and then dive into the article. It explains how your boyfriend had been seen leaving his hotel with one of the most popular actresses of the industry. 

There is no mistake, it is Jungkook indeed. You would recognize his bunny features even in your deep sleep, no matter how many hats and masks he uses to conceal his identity. In the picture, he is tightly grasping the hands of the actress as both of them are caught by the camera. 

The picture was probably taken last month during Jungkook’s overseas schedule. He didn’t mention having a “friend” over there. He never mentioned anything about meeting Jiwon there. But again, he hardly ever mentions anything anymore. 

You put your phone upside down. Inhaling a deep breath, you shut your eyes. 

Your body feels heavy, your heart twists in a fear of uncovering a truth that will leave you broken, will leave you stranded on a lonely island all by yourself. 

You knew he was changing, you knew he was drifting apart, you know he doesn’t look at you with the same glint in his eyes. You know it all and yet you kept your fingers crossed. 

A tear rolls down your cheek and you gulp the lump that formed in your throat overtime. 

The door lock chimes in signaling someone has just punched the key-code. You know who it is but you stay in your place, eyes closed. 

Soft thud of foot-steps echo in your otherwise silent apartment. You still don’t budge. 

He slowly walks closer to your body, stands right beside you, and places a hand on your shoulder. 

“It is not what you think it is, Y/N” Jungkook speaks with a barely audible voice. 

“I know.” you reply while standing up from your seat. 

“I didn’t cheat.” he explains again. 

You come face to face with him. His face bears no sign of discomfort, pain or guilt. It’s just… blank. His eyes are so blank that you think he is actually sorry for not cheating on you. 

“I know.” you offer again. Walking forward towards your boyfriend, you wrap him in your embrace but… he doesn’t hug you back immediately. 

When he places his hands flat on your back, not totally wrapping you up the way he used to, you know it. You know it’s gone. 

The familiarity of his warmth, his scent, the feeling of being home, is gone. Even if your body is touching his, you know he is actually miles and miles away from you. And you have doubts if he is ever going to return or not.

--

Taglist:-

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @soraviie @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel