#their therapist actually could make an appearance idk yet

[acaciapines]

i’m so curious to see how kris well develop as a character in the dess raises kris au bc like. in the first story kris has all these wonderful friends who are supporting them and helping them through this really big event in their life (as well as an actual therapist) but in THIS au they don’t really have that (or at least they don’t have it to the same extent that they did in the other fic)

kris's arc! i have quite a few very fun ideas as to what i want to do with it, partly cause, yeah, kris here has a much smaller support system than they do in my other big fic! so a lot of this one is of course them GETTING that support system cause of COURSE all the kids are gonna be friends by the end of things!!!

another major part of kris's arc here is starting to work thru their mommy issues basically. kris has basically been raised by overworked single parent chara while idealizing dess who isnt ever around, and i plan to go into that a LOT, in regards to kris, and how they conceptualize themself due to all of that. one big thing is that over the course of the story we see kris grow a lot closer to chara! still not, fully solidified yet, but i do really want to do a lot with that relationship.

oh and because I'm Me despite the fact that this is not a fic about being nonhuman, we're, uh, for sure gonna get a lot of that in the background lol. kris is a deer-monster! like dess :)

AND THEN THERES THE NOTE ABOUT HOW KRIS MIGHT GET POSSESSED BY THIS AU'S ADAPTATION OF THE PLAYER. but we'll. uh. get into that once i figure out how im adapting the player lol. i have some VERY fun ideas tho, including a character that i've had in my back pocket for years lol. i've always been looking for a fic to bring this character into, and i think this au might be the one...

but yeah!! kris <3

[azaleaniath]

👯‍♀️time to pull the infinite request card (i promise to not abuse it)

“I don't like you and I don't want to like you.” arranged marriage-ish prompt if you don't mind

Give me angst with Neteyam or Ao'nung idk i want to cry tonight as usual 😨😨🥶 up to you if you want it to end happy or not 😚 Please and thank you 🙏💙💙💙💙

alright babes, time to get your therapist on the phone. It's only 900 words but these 900 words will, guaranteed, make you sob.

~ NETEYAM X FEM!OMATICAYA! READER ~

Nothing can bind us

includes: arranged marriage, lots and lots of tears, angst, rejection

SFW

900 words

____________________

"Ma 'Teyam!" you called your mate when you saw him, a big smile decorated your face as you spotted him through the woods. But it seemed as if he hadn't heard you at all.

You followed him with quick steps while he walked away faster.

The sound of your voice only stressed him out already.

"Wait, please!"

"Lo'ak is waiting for me, i need to go."

Lately, he rarely found time for you. Maybe he was just stressed from his clan leader tasks and duties, you thought to yourself.

He called his ikran while he pathed away with quickening steps.

Still following him, you picked up the pace as well.

"I need to talk to you darling, i have wonderful news for you!"

You tried to reach out for his hand but as soon as the two of you touched, he jerked away quickly.

His reaction made your stomach turn, yet you didn't think that much about it. Maybe he just wasn't successful during his hunt in the morning and it had frustrated him?

"(Y/N), not now. I'm not in the mood to talk now."

The fact that he called you by your name worried you. When was the last time he did that? You couldn't even remember.

"But I need to talk to you now."

The feeling in your stomach only got worse at his annoyed growl before he muttered "yeah, we actually do need to talk."

His ikran shortly arrived, landing close by. He rushed to his companion reaching out for his queue.

He did not look at you and yet you could tell exactly that his face was laced in distress.

"What's wrong, love? Ma 'Teyam, talk-"

As you reached out to his shoulder he pulled away abruptly, his face twisted as if he was disgusted by your touch.

"Don't call me that."

You inhaled sharply, feeling the world around you break apart. The air seemed too thick to breathe for the moment. Your eyes began to burn as you just stood there, staring at him in solace.

You held a hand to your stomach, the other one to your throat that felt as if a rope was tightening around it more and more. His ikran roared as Neteyam connected his queue to it, getting ready to mount it.

"What?"

His ears twitched at the sound of your cracked, whispering voice.

"I can't do this anymore."

You did not understand. What was he saying?

"Ma 'Teyam, what's-"

"I just told you to stop that!"

Every muscle of your body tensed even more at his harsh voice which brought you closer to your tears.

"But I love you, we-"

"I can't do this anymore, don't you listen to me?!"

He finally looked at you, now that you wished he wouldn't. His eyes seemed to loveless, furious almost.

You swallowed at his words, not knowing what to say or do. The look he gave you tore your heart apart.

"I've tried everything to love you! I tried to fall in love with you, tried to be happy with the decision our parents made for us, but I can't! I don't feel anything when I look at you!"

There it was. The words you hoped you'd never hear, words that only appeared in your nightmares.

But now that he started, everything spilled out of him like a drop of water that turned into a riptide in seconds.

"I liked you like a friend at most. But I can't bring myself to mate with you! Just thinking about spending my life with you, it doesn't sit right with me one bit! I don't want a future with you and I never wanted a future with you! I am so sick of your face, I wish I would have spoken up sooner about this stupid arrangement!"

By now, your eyes weren't just wet. The tears that rolled down your cheeks rolled uncontrollably, they did not cease to fall.

You couldn't do anything but just stand there and cry, shivering.

Neteyam mounted his ikran, the look in his eyes did not change one bit even as he saw how you felt your world crumble and turn into dust, instantly blown away from the wind.

"The best news you could have for me is that you found someone else. This... situation, between us, it doesn't work and I don't want it to work. I can't hide it any longer. Nothing can bind me to you, not even my parents."

"Nothing?" you breathed out amlost silently, tasting the salty tears on your lips.

"Nothing. I'll talk to your parents and apologize to them for having to reject you, but-"

"You can't do that." you huffed under your tears, clenching your arms tighter around your stomach. It felt like you had to throw up from his rant alone.

Now that he had finally spit it out, his eyes seemed even more loveless, almost as if he was disgusted my the mere sight of you. He didn't have to pretend anything anymore, and it relieved him.

"And why is that?"

You couldn't even tell what exactly you looked at. While only staring into the air blankly, you quietly mouthed the words, that appeared in his nightmares as well.

"I'm pregnant, Neteyam."

________________________

taglist: @luvlykrispy

@zatarias-pandora

@vviolaswrld

@yeosxxx

@lilgurlbeoncrack

@philiasoul

@ch0nky-child

@itszzmoon

@simp4ff

@itsnotme02

[batrachised]

AU where Teddy moves away, goes to therapy, and realizes his mother wasn’t just clingy, she’s abusive. Sabotaging someone to keep them isnt love. You can be hurting and still held accountable for your actions. Their reactions to your boundaries are not your responsibility.

Teddy gets a job as a police sketch artist.

He comes back to the island to visit and starts getting Very Alarmed about Dean. He replays their childhood in his head with a new, adult perspective and sees it all click into place.

He talks to his therapist and his law enforcement contacts and realizes he can’t have actually have Dean arrested and that Emily might be too groomed to see what’s going on. After all it took him years himself and he’s removed from the situation and isn’t the target.

He talks to Aunt Elizabeth and Ilse and Perry and they make a plan. (Idk what specifically tbh)

Ultimately it will be up to Emily to leave but they’re gonna do what they can to give her the space and safety to start thinking more clearly about it.

Teddy carefully starts telling Emily what he learned about abuse and boundaries and keeps it all about him and his mother but hopes she’ll think about Dean.

He carefully asks questions and listens without giving her any specific advice unless she asks.

“Why do you feel you owe him? Do you feel that way about other people in your life?”

“It sounds like you feel responsible for his disappointment?”

I keep trying to find a way Teddy (or better yet - Emily) can have Dean arrested but I can’t come up with it.

Man Teddy could have been such a good character and he was just fully wasted. Emileddy even has interesting opposite-but-similar trauma in so many ways.

Lucy Maud didn’t even try with them. 😩

YOU UNDERSTAND MY PAIN ABOUT TEDDY KENT! Normally I try to avoid dunking on teddy because if you like him, great! don't let me spoil your fun! However, emily and teddy are my least favorite lmm pairing

Re: teddy's mom, I think that's something we see appear more than once in LM Montgomery's work--someone who is emotionally abusive or worse but legitimized through being presented as a tragic figure. Unfortunately no examples come to mind, but iirc her short stories can have that theme. An extreme example is the short story of the man who falls in love with a woman, she chooses to marry someone else and has a daughter, he helps raise the daughter, and then MARRIES THE DAUGHTER IN WHAT'S PRESENTED AS A FIX IT SCENARIO.

With Teddy, I honestly think the problem is that he doesn't balance out Emily well. Other LMM pairings go very well together in a satisfying contrast--Teddy doesn't. I still (yes, still) need to embark on my reread of the trilogy (Emily of New Moon is sitting on my dresser as I type), but although my memory could be deeply flawed and downright horrifically wrong (yes i'm still scarred about dean priest), I remember him being too similar to Emily, and more than that--being dull as dishwasher compared to all the other male characters, especially Perry!

Your ideas are very appealing because they make him protective of Emily haha, he needed something...more to his character. If I were writing Emily, although I do not pretend to have anywhere close to LMM's talent, I would probably just give her a love interest with an entirely different personality. What would that look like? I don't know! I do think that Teddy Kent was not a good foil to Emily Byrd Starr, and the book suffered for it (at least for me!)

[aspd-culture]

Greetings,

1. Your content is very helpful, big thanks for answering questions so thoroughly!

I have aspd+npd and adhd.

cd in childhood ✔️

So I started therapy again, had my 3 visits to get-to-know-eachother and soon will have weekly or so appointments.

Now she ain’t really familiar with cluster b (I know I know…), but no other therapist in my area takes new patients or is familiar with the topic either.

Now today I told her about my diagnosis’s straightforward and she’s all about “not labeling symptoms as diagnosis’s”, she’s an in depth-psychotherapy psychologist and works with the NVC nonviolent communication concept by Marshall Rosenberg *deep sigh*

“Based on the teachings of Sigmund Freud, traditional psychoanalysis deals with the reconstruction of long-repressed memories, while depth psychology focuses primarily on the "present conscious".”

Now I know I will have to withhold my “I know better about this” reactions to some degree, I told her about cluster b treatment being specific and a lot of other disorders have same/similar symptoms aka having labels like aspd&npd IS HELPFUL CUZ NOW YOU KNOW WHAT YOURE WORKING WITH?? (+do precise research)

but we talked a little bit about me experiencing npd shame and she was like: “well that contradicts itself, you cannot have aspd and experience shame, aspd lacks that & you appear to be a nice lady anyway” *implodes*

The mocking laugh I had to withhold omg.

Now going by the books at least >3 symptoms have to be present & I have more than that.

Everyone experiences it differently, idk if it’s even considered somewhat of a spectrum?

And I HAVE THE LITERAL DIAGNOSIS ANYWAY.

Like what does she not get about me ALSO HAVING NPD COMORBID?! and shame being the core of NPD?

Now… I’ll probably stay with her for a while (if I have the self control) since I really need therapy to some degree at least, cuz things suck big time right now.

And my question is how to teach her her job and explain the aspd&npd comorbid stuff to her and that labels do play a role here? Idk just overall advice?

End of frustration rant🤦🏻‍♀️

-K

Thank you, I do my best!

TW, all caps text in the response (not aggressive, in a surprised/reaction way)

I'm just... gonna liveblog my response to this bc I have so many feelings on this therapist already and I have barely read 1/4 of the ask yet.

Not being familiar with cluster b pds actually isn't always a bad thing. I will happily take unfamiliar over some of the so called specialists in that area who believe in "narc abuse" and the like. I generally recommend people who think/know they have ASPD to seek out therapists in the range of trauma specialists over cluster b specialists for that reason.

Ugh, I can't stand the "I don't like labels/diagnoses" therapists enough already when they're referring to new ones while in their care, but to say that to someone who is telling you about a dx they already have is a new low.

Not the Freud! Not the "present conscious"! Gross gross all around imo. If that works for some of you that is awesome but I can't stomach that kind of therapist just for me personally.

Reconstruction of repressed memories is tricky because if they don't handle that right it is a very sensitive moment for them to fuck up/say something shitty, so I personally prefer to let those bubble up naturally, but because I have DID (oh ya, that official dx happened btw) they are more likely to bubble up for me than for a singlet. It makes sense to me that singlets would want a therapist for that.

OH DEAR FUCK I DID NOT THINK IT COULD GET WORSE. Ok so unpacking that - pwASPD absolutely experience shame, which is extremely common in traumatized people of any variety. In fact, shame is a very common symptom of PTSD. Remorse and shame are not only not the same, but they are so far removed from each other than even most ableist prosocials know and admit that those two are not even in the same family.

The "you appear to be a nice lady" is the icing on the "Get the fuck rid of this therapist if you can" cake for me, because it reeks of ableism and sexism at the same time. AFABs often have their symptoms of ASPD ignored entirely or intentionally mis-attributed to autism or BPD because they just cannot fathom an AFAB not thinking like a lady. ASPD is demonized and AFABs are infantilized and their tiny prosocial brains blow up because those two cannot co-exist.

I, to be quite honest, would chuck her in the unfixable pile. I wish I could give you advice on this, but there is just too much ableism, sexism, and ignorance in how she reacted in just this single interaction you described for me to think she's salvagable. When it's one little thing you can sometimes teach them/get them to learn with you - even though that is literally the opposite of what therapy is supposed to be - and get something good out of it, but with all of this I think it presents a much larger risk to you to try.

If you can't switch any time soon, I would try and stick to discussing non-cluster b issues as much as possible.

I can not and do not give professional advice because I am not a professional and in good conscience, I can't advise leaving one therapist without a direct plan on how and when to get another one ASAP. But I will say that specifically in relation to cluster b disorders, this therapist sounds like she will be more damaging than anything for that. That doesn't mean that she can't help with other conditions or stressors you're experiencing in the meantime, though!

Plain text below the cut:

Thank you, I do my best!

TW, all caps text in the response (not aggressive, in a surprised/reaction way)

I'm just... gonna liveblog my response to this bc I have so many feelings on this therapist already and I have barely read 1/4 of the ask yet.

Not being familiar with cluster b pds actually isn't always a bad thing. I will happily take unfamiliar over some of the so called specialists in that area who believe in "narc abuse" and the like. I generally recommend people who think/know they have ASPD to seek out therapists in the range of trauma specialists over cluster b specialists for that reason.

Ugh, I can't stand the "I don't like labels/diagnoses" therapists enough already when they're referring to new ones while in their care, but to say that to someone who is telling you about a dx they already have is a new low.

Not the Freud! Not the "present conscious"! Gross gross all around imo. If that works for some of you that is awesome but I can't stomach that kind of therapist just for me personally.

Reconstruction of repressed memories is tricky because if they don't handle that right it is a very sensitive moment for them to fuck up/say something shitty, so I personally prefer to let those bubble up naturally, but because I have DID (oh ya, that official dx happened btw) they are more likely to bubble up for me than for a singlet. It makes sense to me that singlets would want a therapist for that.

OH DEAR FUCK I DID NOT THINK IT COULD GET WORSE. Ok so unpacking that - pwASPD absolutely experience shame, which is extremely common in traumatized people of any variety. In fact, shame is a very common symptom of PTSD. Remorse and shame are not only not the same, but they are so far removed from each other than even most ableist prosocials know and admit that those two are not even in the same family.

The "you appear to be a nice lady" is the icing on the "Get the fuck rid of this therapist if you can" cake for me, because it reeks of ableism and sexism at the same time. AFABs often have their symptoms of ASPD ignored entirely or intentionally mis-attributed to autism or BPD because they just cannot fathom an AFAB not thinking like a lady. ASPD is demonized and AFABs are infantilized and their tiny prosocial brains blow up because those two cannot co-exist.

I, to be quite honest, would chuck her in the unfixable pile. I wish I could give you advice on this, but there is just too much ableism, sexism, and ignorance in how she reacted in just this single interaction you described for me to think she's salvagable. When it's one little thing you can sometimes teach them/get them to learn with you - even though that is literally the opposite of what therapy is supposed to be - and get something good out of it, but with all of this I think it presents a much larger risk to you to try.

If you can't switch any time soon, I would try and stick to discussing non-cluster b issues as much as possible.

I can not and do not give professional advice because I am not a professional and in good conscience, I can't advise leaving one therapist without a direct plan on how and when to get another one ASAP. But I will say that specifically in relation to cluster b disorders, this therapist sounds like she will be more damaging than anything for that. That doesn't mean that she can't help with other conditions or stressors you're experiencing in the meantime, though!

[nerdy-talks]

I saw a post on instagram and idk what to make of it. From the sound of things it seems like the OG Obey Me! game isn’t gonna get any more chapters? that Nightbringer is gonna replace it since its ‘better and improved’??

My ask for you Nerdy-sama — what is your take on this info? do you think its true?

I assume you're talking about this post, dear anon?

So, here's my theory :

I know I'm probably just grasping at straws and likely living on false hope... But!

Maybe the devs are going to focus on Nightbringer temporarily to give both old and new fans more background on the brother's post-war/pre-RAD days. Obviously they want to do this anyway to give us insight and info from their past that we are/might be missing out on.

And since we will most likely be witnessing all of the brothers' pain, regrets, and struggles as they are freshly thrust into the Devildom... I assume the devs intend to use that scenario to help us better understand the brother's origins which will ultimately (hypothetically) help us feel much closer to them.

Then, once MC re-forms their bonds with the brothers and basically works their way up to returning to the "present" again, I'm genuinely hoping the devs will then start updating the original Obey Me! game more. In the meantime, maybe the devs will just keep putting past events into Lonely Devil for everyone to get caught up?

Regardless of if I'm completely wrong or at least somewhat on the right track... I REALLY hope they don't neglect the og Obey Me! or worse : abandon it altogether.

I've been playing Obey Me! since the beginning and I seriously don't want to say goodbye to the game I've grown so attached to and love so much.

I know the devs haven't announced lesson 81 or any new news for the og Obey Me! yet... But it still says "coming soon" when you try to advance. So until they officially confirm what they plan to do with the original game, I'll keep holding onto hope for an eventual continuance.

Side thoughts :

Wouldn't it be super interesting if Diavolo's true reason for opening up RAD and wanting to bring demons, angels, and humans together is all because of MC?

I mean... I highly doubt MC is going to be able to deceive Diavolo, a demon who could immediately tell if someone is lying, or even Barbatos, a demon who could see into the future.

So what if they see right through MC's ruse yet allow them to continue helping the brothers purely out of curiosity? Barbatos will know MC isn't up to anything devious, while Diavolo is intrigued to see how this human-in-disguise handles themselves amongst powerful demons who are trying to cope in their new world while also learning how to control their sins.

Maybe MC will be responsible for influencing Diavolo in such a positive way once he realizes that if you remove/ignore race (since the brothers won't realize MC is a human, therefore putting them on basically equal footing), that everyone could co-exist peacefully with one another.

I'm also super curious to see how Satan will be since I assume he'll be born shortly before MC arrives, and even Belphie since he'll be in his prime "I hate humans" phase.

They're just some random thoughts that popped into my head, so I thought I'd share lol

Either way, I'm sure we'll play the role of family therapist once again. But hopefully all of the new info/knowledge we'll be obtaining will become extremely relevant for possible new chapters in the og Obey Me! after everything is said and done.

Who knows... Maybe Michael will finally make an appearance. Or even better : maybe MC will actually have an opportunity to stay in the Devildom with the brothers and/or marry them/officially become their family (in the og). After all, won't MC rightfully belong with the brothers permanently once they know everything about them from beginning to end, both good and bad, inside and out?

Personally, I would love if MC could become immortal like Solomon so then they really could stay with everyone forever. Especially since Thirteen is now on MC's side, so I highly doubt she would have any objections to missing out on MC's soul lol

But again... Just some random thoughts ^^

[dear--charlie]

Dear Charlie,

It is I again ... :)

Well, I actually forgot about the existence of this blog, it has been ... 5 years? Is that possible? That sounds like a lot, it's scary how much of my life has already passed.

I am yet again depressed and disassociated. This time I also packed an eating disorder with me, so it's not all the same boring routine... Splendor at it's finest.

A year and a half ago or so I started university and honestly, I hate university. I have very few friends there and one of them forgot about me the second she got better so I decided to cut her off, to not feel the shame of being used. The other one is also quite mentally ill to be honest and she also suffers from an ed, which makes it hard for me to interact with her as someone trying her best to recover. I recently had a lapse (or relapse? I can never understand what's more appropriate and calling it relapse just feels like I am bragging for attetion) and when I decided I'd stop it and try to recover again, I had to bring the time I spend interacting with her to a minimum. Maybe some people will call me selfish, but do I care? If you were in my shoes, you'd talk differently. People's hate is just the cost of making your own decisions about life it seems.

On another note, I am going to therapy, yay. I also went to this ed treatment center when things got bad with eating and I am still going there in secret from my family.

Now that I mentioned therapy, there is one thing I really want to write here. It happened almost a year ago already, but it honestly still haunts me. Maybe I am too dramatic idk, people have it way worse...but this is MY note so I can write whatever I want right... xd

Well, when I became anorexic about 2 years ago, I sought out a therapist. She was recommended to me by my friend I mentioned above with whom I no longer interact. It was an old woman, 60+, very short, but this person had something so unsettling about her, Charlie, that you entered the room she'd sit in with a feeling of being somehow tried by a figure of immense evil. I felt something was strange about her quite early on, but this lady charged very little for her services and I am a poor student, so I didn't want to give it up... Until one time. She'd often make weird remarks about how pretty I am, asked me who had green eyes, if my mom or dad, I believe it was already on the first or second session... I felt weird, but decided to overlook it. She then later on kept mentioning another client of hers, telling me that I could meet him and talk to him as we both have a history of living with a very manipulative grandfather. I assumed she meant calling him to one of our sessions and having this weird group therapy. Well, I was wrong. One day she asked me if I've ever had a boyfriend - I haven't yet, so I told her no. She acted as if this was a problem - what a total c*nt tbh :^) - but anyway, she then later in the session mentioned him again and kept saying that he is old, way older than me. I felt weird, so I asked how old? And she replied: "Quite old." ??? red flags, I know, but well, I made her tell me he was 34 or so. I don't exactly remember. Well, she said again that we have to meet up, me and him. I was like mhm she probably means some different time. No. At the end of our sessions someome rang her bell and she replied: "*his name*, come in" I was scared, even though still trying to convince myself that nothing is wrong. Well, I wanted to leave, but the witch literally stood in front of the door and wouldn't let me. The man appeared at the doorstep. She told him he should take me for a ride somewhere in his car at the weekend and asked him if he had time - he said well yes. Then she asked me if I wanted to go and I felt so scared by that time - but I managed to say I'll think about it. Well, after this happened, I was mortified and I ended up ending everything with her.

This scared me so much, Charlie. I don't tell people about it anymore, but sometimes I see an old woman outside who faintly resembles her and get a shiver of dread up my spine. Sometimes the memories of her just come to me as flashbacks and I feel dirty. I felt dirty after this happened to be honest, even though nothing really happened to me. I guess I felt strangely exploited and objectified. I came to her for help but she did this thing...for what? God knows.

On another note, lately I am obsessing over a certain anime character and its weirdly healing me even though I am still feeling very bad. He is not a good person, but I relate to him a lot for some reason.

I also write a lot, Charlie, my stories are probably the only thing that genuinely makes me happy to be myself. I also try to draw when I can.

Well, this is all the brain vomit I can think of for today.

Thank you for listening.

-mv

[littleoddwriter]

Outside | Dr. Otto Octavius/Dr. Octopus x Male!Reader

Hiya there! So, Doc Ock appeared in my dream last night (idk what it was about, though), and I can’t get him out of my head again. Thus, I decided to write a comfort story about something I struggle with a lot, because why not. Yeah. ANYWAY- I’d also be taking requests for Otto now, just FYI. (I’ve only seen Spider-Man 2 yet, though. Idk when I’ll be able to watch SM: NWH. But I’ve seen some clips of him in it.)

summary; You’re upset about not being able to go outside by yourself, and so Otto comforts you and offers to go on a walk with you.

notes; Male!Reader; Established Relationship; Domestic Fluff; Slice of Life; Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence; Agoraphobia; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Self-Worth Issues; Anxiety; Panic Attack; Hugs; Soft Kisses; Otto acting as an at home therapist for You.

Taglist: @gnrlkenob @plat-the-cat

Reblogs would be appreciated, thank you!

“Y/N, I’m home!” Otto’s voice rang through your shared house, startling you. You’d been caught up in your own thoughts and you struggled to appear busy, like you had planned to look for when he came home.

“Hi, my love,” you smiled nervously at him, trying so hard to look happy and sincere about it. Going by the way his face fell as soon as his eyes met yours, you had failed miserably, though.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen? Are you all right?” Question after question spilled out of your very concerned partner. Your heart hurt with the fact that it was your fault that he was suddenly worried. He shouldn’t have to come home from a hard day of work and worry about you when he was still standing in the doorway to the living area. He was supposed to relax.

“Nothing. I’m fine, Otto,” you lied as you walked over to him, laying your hands on his broad shoulders in a placating manner as you softly kissed him on his cheeks and lips in greeting, like you always did.

Otto looked you over with a frown, carefully assessing you. It made you feel exposed, like he was going to see every single dark secret you may have. “Clearly you’re not fine,” he stated and kissed your forehead softly, “Tell me what’s wrong, my dear. Hm?”

Lightly massaging his shoulders, you mulled it over. You could insist that it was nothing or that you simply didn’t want to talk about it, and he would leave you alone eventually. But your mind was screaming at you. It had been running in circles all day long and you were exhausted. You needed to talk about it, lest it would drive you completely insane. And it wasn’t as though he didn’t know what was going on. Of course he did. But it was different when it was just a knowledge he had about you, or when it became an actual issue that upset you so much that he was concerned about you.

Humming in thought, you averted your gaze, keeping it trained on his chest, so you wouldn’t have to see the look on his face when you talked. “It’s- it’s really stupid. But basically it’s just that I haven’t been outside by myself for, you know, a walk or something in over two weeks. And it’s just really upsetting me today because I’m working so hard to get better and go outside; even when everything in my body and mind is against it. But I just haven’t been able to force myself to go lately, anyway. It makes me feel like I’m not gonna make any progress, like, ever.” You squeezed your eyes shut in frustration and embarrassment, grimacing. “It’s so stupid. I’m sorry.”

Otto sighed sadly, wrapping his arms around you in a loving embrace. “Oh, Y/N,” he breathed. “Would you tell me it’s stupid, too, if our roles were reversed right now and I’d be telling you about the exact same problem?”

“Of course not!” you responded immediately, looking at him incredulously.

“Then why is it stupid when it’s you?” he retorted, tilting his head to the side.

Hesitating, you frowned deeply. “Because it’s me.”

“And what about you makes it so different? Where’s the difference between this being your issue or anybody else’s?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned. “It’s logical to me, at least.”

“But that doesn’t make it true, does it?” he prodded gently, “Your statement isn’t true just because you think it’s logical and the truth. I’d argue that what you’re saying about yourself is, in fact, very far from the truth and nothing but a hurtful lie. Your anxiety doesn’t make you or your behaviour stupid. It’s something you didn’t choose to have. And it’s something that makes life a lot harder for you than it needs to be.”

Shoulders slumping, you looked at him in defeat. “Maybe you’re right, yeah. It just doesn’t feel that way. Because all it makes me feel like is that I’m a failure. I should be able to go outside like any other person and not have a panic attack, but I can’t. And that makes me feel stupid- less than,” you admitted quietly, continuing to knead his shoulders to keep yourself grounded and do something nice for him, since you already felt like you were bothering him enough as it was.

For a moment, Otto just stayed quiet with you and rested his forehead against yours. His actuators had been awfully still throughout this entire conversation, but now they, too, wrapped around you lightly, embracing you. It felt protective. Your heart skipped a beat because of it. Such a simple gesture that weighed so much.

“I’m sorry for worrying you as soon as you came through the door, my love,” you told him sincerely, feeling ashamed and guilty for stealing his time and energy like that.

“No apologies necessary,” he said gently, “Listen, sweet boy, I’d rather come home and talk to you about whatever is weighing you down, than sit back and relax without knowing what’s going on with you. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” you nodded before kissing him on his lips ever so softly, quietly thanking him for his attention and support.

Otto and his actuators let go of you, then, and you followed him into the kitchen, where you prepared dinner together in a comfortable silence, which was only ever broken if one of you needed something from the other. It was as though all worries were left outside of this area, replaced by both of your mutual love for cooking and the feeling of home that you created in the kitchen.

Cooking was one of your favourite things to do with Otto. It helped the two of you bond when you had first started dating and it continued to strengthen it every time you stood there together, preparing your meals. Especially because it involved his actuators in such a gentle, skilful way that was always a great help, and also really warmed you up to them more quickly.

After you were done eating and you were busy washing the dishes, while Otto was drying them off with a clean towel, you felt a lot more at ease than before. It was no surprise to you, considering how great of an effect Otto’s mere presence had on you. He always calmed you down so instantaneously by just being there. That was something you truly appreciated and loved about him. To you, nobody could ever compare to him.

“Sweetheart,” Otto softly called, ripping you out of your content thoughts.

You hummed to let him know you were listening.

“Well, I was thinking about what you said earlier. And I figured we could go for a nice evening walk once we’re done with the dishes. What do you think?”

As soon as he mentioned the walk, your anxiety spiked and your stomach dropped. You felt nauseous.

“I don’t know,” you answered shakily, “Shouldn’t you finally be relaxing? I’ve already used up enough of your energy with this little issue.”

“I am relaxing,” Otto told you with a sincere smile, “And I’m not asking because I think I have to, just so you know. I want to go for a walk with you. It doesn’t have to be long at all. But I’d love to spend some different kind of quality time with you, hm?”

Despite how anxious you felt, you knew that if you didn’t take him up on his offer, you wouldn’t be going outside for another week, or until you had had an appointment somewhere again. It was your best chance at getting some fresh air and trying to make some progress. And really, you believed Otto that he wouldn’t have asked if he hadn’t wanted to. It was hard to internalise that, but you knew he wouldn’t lie to you.

“Yeah- yes, all right. Let’s go for a walk, then,” you smiled; although your lips were quivering slightly.

The way your answer made Otto beam at you, though, replaced your anxiety with an overwhelming feeling of love and safety. You could do this.

While you got dressed to go outside, though, you were shaking because of how anxious you felt. It got hard to breathe for you. You were nauseous. Your head was spinning. But you wouldn’t back down for once. Otto was with you. It would be okay.

“Ready? Or do you need a moment?” Otto asked you gently, placing a comforting hand on the small of your back.

“Trust me, if we don’t go now, we won’t go at all,” you chuckled wryly.

Otto simply nodded and gently guided you through the opened door, then, not wasting another moment.

Once you were outside and had gone a couple of steps, you were nearing a panic attack. You gripped Otto’s hand tightly in yours, trying to ground yourself before it got too bad.

You wanted to do this. You wanted to succeed.

“It’s all right, sweet boy. I’m here, remember? I’ve got you,” Otto assured you ever so gently as he squeezed your hand rhythmically.

His words and especially his voice calmed you down a little. Just hearing that he was beside you and that you weren’t actually alone made it a little easier for you.

“Could you keep talking, please? It doesn’t matter what you say. Or- actually. Please tell me about your day, Otto,” you asked him with a quivering voice.

With a smile on his lips, Otto started telling you about the day he’s had, filling you in on everything that happened, what he’s discovered, and so forth. All the while, two of his actuators wrapped around your side lightly, protectively, making you feel even safer.

It was nice hearing Otto talk about everything so passionately and animatedly. He was a sight to behold when he was speaking. You always found him to be captivating as he was; but especially when he opened his mouth, and that smooth voice of his was to be heard and his eyes lit up, conveying his enthusiasm.

When he was done talking, the two of you came to a stop, and you had to realise that you were back at your house.

You had done it!

You’d actually gone for a walk, and you didn’t have a full blown panic attack.

“Thank you so much,” you told Otto as soon as you entered your house, “I love you. Thank you.”

“I love you too, Y/N. You’re welcome.” He smiled at you and leaned in to capture your lips in sweet little kiss. “Maybe we should do this more often. What do you say? I could certainly profit from it, as well,” Otto suggested gently, and you immediately agreed to it.

You didn’t care about how many panic attacks you were bound to have. You had to start somewhere, and this was the best chance you had, then.

For the remainder of the evening, you showed him exactly how grateful you were for his efforts, as you helped him relax with a massage, while you were watching a movie that was on, but neither of you paid any attention to.

[mental-health-advice]

Hi! I am not diagnosed but I have been positive I have pocd for a long time now and I really need ur help

I’m not attracted to children in any way, I find the thought utterly vile that anyone would want to do that do a child.

A thought came to my head the other day that when I was around 13 I read a nsfw fanfiction about 8 year olds

As a 13 year old I only read it because it was smut and I was only just discovering about the sexual world, I’ve had a really hard few days trying to convince myself that I’m okay

Do u have any tips? Thank you!:)

Well shit my pocd's acting up yet again. I felt attracted to an underage anime character for a couple of seconds and now I'm yet again googling things to see if I'm an ephebophile and having a panic attack. The attraction might just be a bout of pgad. But I feel like I'm just making excuses bc I don't want to be a predator. Am I really suffering from pocd or am I actually an MAP?

Hi,, okay this is that same 16 yo with POCD, and now that I’ve got my thoughts in order I feel I can ask questions in a better way.

- I developed POCD in June, in truth before then I’d experienced these thoughts before, like once or twice, however had brushed them off cause ‘no way, that’s not who I am obviously, ew that was random.’ They only reappeared when I saw a child and had an insanely strong gronial response - causing me to panic and be unable to eat for like a week, vomit and feel depressed before I did research.

- Since then it’s gone and returned - usually worse cause Ik more and my brain asks more questions. As of rn I’d say im ending this current phase. The thoughts no longer freak me out - in truth I no longer really get them. My main current worry are gronial responses. I’ve never really experienced sexual or romantic attraction, however as soon as I think of my pocd (which is like all of the time) I instantly get a gronial response. They last for ages - it’s awful. I’m now worried that this is just sexual attraction and that this is beyond my control - even though I never really have sexual thoughts anymore? They also usually make an appearance whenever I see a child or anything related to them. Like automatically, usually accompanied by a quick thought just to scare me more. This sucks and I hate it. Before POCD I used to really enjoy reading romantic novels - now I can’t cause I constantly monitor my reactions to them and freak when I don’t feel aroused by then anymore. I want to experience sexual attraction with someone I want to be with, and I wanted my first crush/relationship to be special however Ik that attraction can’t be forced. Now I panic constantly and worry that that crush will never appear cause what if I’m just in denial. I freak out when I look back at how my POCD started cause what if that was an awakening or sm?? This makes me depressed and numb - and doesn’t go away as I constantly preform compulsions, like research, scrolling on forums or ruminating (which is all the time-) This is quite distressing to reach out about, and through I am seeing a therapist idk what she‘d say about all of this, ik That you guys have had POCD asks before so I wanted to reach out. I’m very sorry about how long my previous asks have been - it’s annoying and I’m repeating myself, I’m just in a bad place rn and feel the need to share my honest feelings somewhere. I wish I could go back but Ik this isn’t possible. Any tips/good advice? This’ll be the last ask I send - yet again I am so sorry.

i deal with near constant groinal responses. not even just around the focus of my obsessions, but everyone. someone touches me? groinal response. someone looks at me? groinal response. i hear a loud noise? groinal response. i feel horrible and they're all completely unwanted. i don't think it's pgad, just ocd, so i'm wondering if you have any tips for dealing with them? i try not to focus on them, but i guess the more i try not to focus on them the more attention i'm putting on them, which leads to more responses 😭 i plan on seeing a professional soon, but i'm worried they won't understand, especially since the responses aren't really even caused by thoughts anymore. they're automatic.

Hello there,

I'm sorry that you're going through so much distress. I can hear a lot of anxiety, confusion and fear in what you're saying. I realised I answered a message from you yesterday without the whole story, or all the thoughts surrounding the issue. I've put your few messages together to make one big reply to, to make everything easier to access. There's a few things that need addressing here, so I'll try break it into chunks.

Firstly, thank you for being brave enough to reach out when you need help for something that feels so scary. You've done a really great thing! It seems that no matter the underlying cause of the arousal, you are experiencing extreme distress over it. And you know what can exacerbate or cause arousal of the genitals? Anxiety, fear, the flight/fight response. So every time you're feeling arousal now, you're panicking, which can lead to actually experiencing more arousal. What would be a really good start is when you feel that sensation, use some calming techniques. Take a moment to close your eyes, and do some slow, deep breaths. Allow your body and your fight/flight system to slow down. It may help to imagine something nice and relaxing as you close your eyes and do this breathing - maybe a beautiful location you've been to before that makes you feel safe and relaxed.

Now, you've said that those thoughts aren't you. They're intrusive and obsessive thoughts, which can be scary. Try to remind yourself of this. Try to see those thoughts as a separate thing - like a scared friend that's jumping up in fright and yelling "I'm scared, I think I feel this! This is wrong!". What would you say to this friend? Can you try say these things to yourself. This is the way that I address my inner anxiety sometimes. I treat it like a friend. I tell them it's okay, I'm here for them, that they're panicked right now but we're going to work through that together. Maybe find a distraction or even literally give myself a hug! It's okay to do these things, to soothe yourself and help keep in control of the anxiety.

As for the specific examples you've given, there could be a few reasons why you're experiencing these kinds of responses. I just want to note first that I'm not a medical professional, and can't give advice that would substitute theirs. So the first situation, you were 13 and reading NSFW fan fiction. There's a few things that stick out to me here. Firstly, you were 13 and there's a lot of changes going on in your hormones at that point, and arousal can happen even spontaneously for some people going through puberty. You were reading a NSFW fan fiction, and this was your first exposure to sexual content. Arousal would be a normal response in this situation. I know you've said the fan fiction involved a child, but it is possible that your reaction had nothing to do with that, and everything to do with hormones, and reading sexual stories. The second situation was a brief feeling of arousal at an underaged anime character. Now, don't get me wrong, there's some great things about the anime world, but there's also some really yuck things about it. One of these things is that artists specifically sexualise young characters, children characters. Did this character have sexualised features? If the answer is yes, which I feel it likely is, then your reaction was likely to those sexualised features and not to the fact it was a young teen.

I want to tell you a very personal story that I don't think I've ever shared with anyone. It very much ties into the body experiencing and confusion flight/fight arousal and sexual arousal. Just a trigger warning that this paragraph will mention sexual abuse. If that's too triggering, please do skip to the next paragraph. I experienced abuse as a child, and one day I was watching a movie with my husband and a graphic scene came on of sexual abuse that was extremely similar to something I experienced. The way my body responded was what I thought was sexual arousal. After it happened, I had a terrible guilt in my stomach, like how could I ever get aroused from seeing something so horrible, something I really tore my own life apart? I also went on a googling trip that night, because I felt sick to my stomach and was bawling my eyes out. As I read, I found other people who had very similar experiences (in this case, people who had been abused getting aroused by seeing scenes of that abuse). So I started to read why that would happen. What I came across was: it's normal for people to be aroused during sexual events that they did not want to happen, and that sexual arousal is a response driven by our fight/flight system. Another word for an activated flight/fight system is arousal. When you experience that fear, your body becomes aroused (ready to run or fight). This can include blood rushing to the genitals. So what I experienced was actually a natural fear response from my body, that my mind then interpreted as something very wrong. Now, I can't say for sure what you are experiencing, but seeing as these seem to be very intrusive thoughts, it could be possible that the intrusive thought triggers fight/flight (arousal), which your brain then interprets as sexual feelings, rather than bodily arousal as a response to distressing thoughts. This seems especially true to me given that you no longer experience what you thought was attraction, but you do experience this response every time you think of those intrusive thoughts. When this happens, go back to what we discussed above - calming your brain and your body down, letting the bodily arousal relax and the stress melt away. You may find that by calming your body in these moments, that feeling of arousal will fade.

Again, I'm not a medical professional, so I unfortunately can't give you an answer as to what exactly you are experiencing. It certainly sounds like you are experiencing a lot of anxiety and intrusive thoughts. You also have said multiple times that you might be experiencing PGAD, which is a medical condition of persistent, unwanted and often unprompted arousal of the genitals. These could all be true - but the only way you will know is if you seek the help of a professional. I know that this sounds very scary, especially given how scared the topic makes you. But if you can, I really recommend reaching out to an adult that you trust. We have a page on getting help here that shows the different people you can reach out to. If you don't know how to start, you could try writing down what you want to speak about, or start out by saying "I am experiencing intrusive thoughts and they are causing me anxiety". You deserve to get some support through this. I do think that seeing a therapist would be a really good idea for you. It will help you to work through the confusion of it all, and also build up some tools to help cope with the activation of your fight/flight system.

I really hope that this offers your some insight and some tools to help. Don't be sorry for reaching out, it was a really brave thing to do. We're always here if you need more help too.

Sending positive thoughts your way, Alexandria.

[nerdygaymormon]

uhhhh david have you gotten the liahona yet bc idk how to feel about an article i found in there yesterday. it was pretty comforting and basic, but did use ssa the whole time. BUT the youth one was pretty crappy, it used ssa to the max and gave no real hope, was pretty bland and annoying about oh itll be find just believe and jesus and get hatecrimed <3 i would like to hear your thoughts on it, its the first time ive seen any queer topics in church magazines

Thanks for bringing these to my attention.

"Same-sex attraction" (SSA) is the preferred term of Church leaders. They say it's a way of not making it your identity, that this isn't part of who I am but rather is something I'm dealing with. In other words, people "have" same-sex attraction, not that they "are" gay or lesbian or bi.

There have been a few leaks from behind-the-scenes where the apostles say they use "same-sex attraction" because it's the term that people like least. People like it less that same-gender attraction or gay/lesbian. SSA includes the word "sex" and I guess the idea is it gets people to think of sexual acts and feel queasy.

SSA is the term normally used in Church magazines because they follow the lead of the First Presidency and apostles.

There's 3 items in the Church magazines this month about queer people! That's a lot for one month.

————————————————————

The first is a bishop talking about how to understand and include LGBT people at church. After becoming bishop, 3 sets of parents contacted him distressed that their child is gay or transgender (I note that the parents used "gay." He also mentions contacting someone who 'identifies as gay").

His first recommendation is to follow the living apostles. (which explains why the bishop uses "SSA" even though everyone else around him used "gay"). It's a good idea for a local leader to find what the current leaders are saying because it's changed. He also says to read the Church's websites titled “Same-Sex Attraction” and “Transgender.” He provides two lovely quotes from those pages about diversity at church and being loving to people who are different.

His second recommendation is to not be afraid to talk to people who identify as gay, but instead try to have love for them and then let the Spirit guide you in what to say. We're just people, it shouldn't be scary to talk to us, that shows how different he thinks we are from the other people he interacts with in his ward.

The bishop's third suggestion is to speak to people who are familiar with LGBT "issues," share your testimony, and apologize for hurtful things you say. His list of people to contact for help understanding was a little disheartening because he starts with his stake leaders, ward leaders, other bishops, and so on, actual queer people were the last people on his list.

He continues by saying to pull aside members who are saying homophobic or transphobic things and give them some personal guidance, don't share private information that a member shares with the bishop, and just because someone has these "attractions" doesn't mean they're acting on them, and if they aren't "acting" on them then you can let them have a calling.

I have a few comments about the last few things. If no one corrects the homophobic/transphobic comments in public but instead privately suggests the person do better, every one who heard those comments thinks they stand unchallenged. The atmosphere created by the comments is unchanged. Especially if the bishop was present to hear those words, if they go uncontested then people think this is what is acceptable.

You'd think bishops know not to share private information a member shares with them. I've been around long enough to know that when a bishop is unsure what to do, he starts contacting his network (stake presidency, other bishops) asking for advice. Some bishops are discreet when doing this and others name the individuals.

While it seems basic, I recently had a counselor in a bishopric who didn't think gay people could get a temple recommend, that there's a zero-tolerance policy. That is an attitude that is outdated by a couple of decades, but it shows that people need to learn that simply existing as a gay or trans person doesn't automatically mean we are committing great sins.

I do find it interesting there appears to have been quite a few queer individuals in his ward, at least 4 or 5, and reading between the lines it seems they all stopped attending.

The bishop's heart is in the right place. I get he's following the Church leaders and that limits some of what he can do for queer people in his ward. I think his perspective primarily is of making the parents feel more welcome in the ward and not ostracized for having queer kids.

————————————————————

The second article in the Liahona is written by a person with same-sex attraction and his work to overcome the shame he felt.

It's a much better article than the one written by the bishop. This person shares about the shame they felt at having gay feelings and working with a therapist to overcome that shame. He shares 3 lessons that helped him with this process.

1) God and Jesus love and accept him as he is. This is a message that doesn't often get conveyed to queer members and it's important they know this.

2) The Atonement of Jesus Christ offers healing. At first he was wanting the Atonement to cure him of being gay, but instead it helped him be healed of the shame he felt. I hear so many members who think the Atonement can change us from gay to straight, and that's not true. I'm glad he made this distinction. Our Heavenly Parents don't view being gay or trans as something that needs to be cured. I wish that message was taught more openly in the Church.

3) Build deeper connections and show compassion. Loneliness and feeling like you don't belong at church are two of the most troubling aspects an LGBTQ+ person has to deal with if they are active in the LDS Church. Developing close friendships will help with that. Also, queer people tend to be more compassionate than the average person and I believe it's because of the experiences we had to deal with of living in a heteronormative world that isn't made for us.

He includes a few useful tips at the end on how to engage with queer people.

All in all, a much better story than the one written by the bishop. He shared part of how it feels to be a gay member of this church, the idea that he should be ashamed for who he is, that being gay isn’t a burden, that he doesn't fit in.

I appreciated he said this is part of his layers of identity and at the core of his identity is that we're children of heavenly parents. That's more nuanced than the apostles who reject being gay has anything to do with identity and our only identity should be a child of God.

————————————————————

The final story is from For the Strength of Youth. This piece seems like it's written by a queer person, but it's anonymous and given as general advice to show that people with same-sex attraction belong at church.

This article makes 3 main points. The first is that God loves you. That's true, although accompanying quotes to back up this principle aren't specifically about queer people.

The second point is "you belong." All sorts of people attend church, and God is no respecter of persons. Then they have a quote from Elder L. Whitney Clayton that people with same-sex attraction are welcome to come to church. To me, he's an odd choice to give this message as he led the Church's fight in California on Prop 8 to make gay marriage illegal again. Words aren't enough. Saying I'm welcome is not the same as making a welcoming climate.

The third point is that God will help you. They include a quote from Laura F. who experiences same-sex attraction. She writes about prayer, scripture study, temple and church attendance. However, she also says she doesn't know what her life will look like in 20 years, she seems to be leaving open the possibility her journey with God will lead her to romance and out of the church. I thought that was very honest and important.

————————————————————

I found it noteworthy that nowhere in these 3 articles does it say being alone and celibate is good and what God wants.

I appreciate the idea that we can make our local congregations less homophobic/transphobic. The suggestions from the bishops shows that the bar is pretty low and it doesn't take much to make an improvement from how things are now.

The voices of the two gay members was important, what they shared was useful but nuanced, didn't make commitments to staying in the church long-term or testify that what the church requires is what God wants for them.

Even so, it's clear the publisher is very careful. They use "same-sex attraction" so often, I think readers would be surprised the preferred term of most same-sex attracted people would be gay, bi or lesbian. While they addressed some things, like homophobic/transphobic comments, feeling shame & not fitting in, I think they largely skated past the things that make queer people decide that this church isn't for them.

There's a part of me that says I'm glad we're having this conversation in the Church magazines, but another part that says this is too sanitized and doesn't get at the heart of things. These are very hopeful messages that make it seem that queer people could easily choose to stay in church if a few adjustments were made and if they only understood God loves them, which avoids the "doctrine" that excludes queer people from the highest blessings and joys and makes us essentially second-class citizens in the kingdom of God, at least according to our church.

[extravaguk]

santa&prada

part of my opposites attract! series. 

ksj / knj / myg / jhs / kth / jjk

pairing: rich!jimin x reader

summary: Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

wordcount: 5k

genre: smut - angst(? - fluff (? idk u tell me

rated: m 

warnings: a christmas fic in late november, cursing, a huge misunderstanding lmao, i call jimin ‘park jimin’ too many times bc i felt like it, car sex, oral (f recieving), some good ole spanking, (kinda) rough and unprotected sex, a lil of dirty talk, spit kink. thats about it. just an excuse to write jimin fucking you in a car. jimin is not as bad as oc thinks srsly.

The first time you meet Park Jimin is through mutual friends. On a firday night on December, with white, red and green lights decorating the streets of New York, filled with the typical hustle of the masses doing last minute Christmas shopping, the freezing weather impacting your body temperature, cursing yourself for choosing tights, a skirt and heeled boots that are too pretty but too uncomfortable to wear.

You had never considered yourself a particular enthusiast of Christmas festivities. You guess discovering Santa Claus was, actually, your parents before the rest of the kids in your class was one of the many reasons that made you grow up too soon and therefore, not allowing you to fully enjoy the month of December. Or maybe it had nothing to do with Santa, and more to do with your parents deciding to get a divorce a day before Christmas Eve. A traumatic event for seven year old you, but completely forgotten and overcome by twenty-four year old present you.

Growing up each Christmas suffering the consecuences of a shared custody would have probably had a disastrous effect on anybody else, but not you. Although the separation was a tough reality to accept at first, fortunately your parents were always capable of raising you in an environment full of love and affection, just like any other kid. And you prided yourself on having moved on from those circumstances a long time ago (even if your therapist disagreed and blamed many of your behaviors on it. Whatever.)

To put it simply, December was just not the month for you. It was just another month, like the remaining eleven of the year, except Mariah Carey's voice was heard every five minutes everywhere you'd go and people gave each other presents as if it was only during that time of the year when they remembered their loved ones. 

The only thing you could thank Christmas for were the well deserved two weeks of holidays our work allowed until the new year's arrival. Fifteen days of rest, peace and baking those gingerbread cookies that Seokjin died for and that you sincerely denoted as nauseating.

You truly had no idea what exactly you did wrong that night. You don't know if it was something you said, or something you did, but what you did know was that Park Jimin pursued a silent and personal vendetta against you that continued nowadays.

"Here are your disgusting cookies, you filthy animal." it might have been that very first sentence you said when you entered the bar and reunited with your friends that didn't cause a good impression. "Shit, it's cold as fuck. My nipples are harder than my life." or maybe it was your selection of words while you waved every familiar face hello until you stopped to look at the only (pretty. too pretty, as well) one you had never seen before.

"_____, it's Chrismtas! Santa Clause will only bring you a lump of coal if you keep cursing like that!" Lisa laughed while she kissed your cheek and made space for you to sit next to her. "Oh, by the way, this is Jimin. A friend of Namjoon. He's a newbie!"

Park Jimin was stunning, you had no trouble admitting that. You weren't blind, you weren't stupid, and you could go as far as theorize that his dark eyes, his light and always immaculate styled hair, his sharp jawline and those plump lips as red as cherries must have been sculpted by Satan himself.

Fuck, you were even sure you'd be on your knees in front of Park Jimin in an alternative universe begging for his dick inside your mouth. But in the universe where you and the real Park Jimin reside, he would never come near you unless somebody was aiming a gun into his skull.

You're not precisely sure what it was, but a brief exchange of glances and an evasive and sligh shake of hands with Park Jimin was enough to make you feel ashamed and withdrawn for the rest of the night.

If Jimin wasn't even able to drop a polite "Nice to meet you", he sure as hell wasn't able to pretend you even existed.

Even the small talk you had tried to engaged with him about his shiny pair of shoes went terribly wrong.

"Oh, are those Dolce and Gabbana?"

"Dolce and Gabbana are homphobic, racist and sexist, so no" the grimace on his face should've been enough to make you regret speaking to him in the first place , but the snarky voice of his made you want to run away and hide from him until next Christmas.

In reality, you swore you didn't care. Seriously. Other's opinions were never something that could easily bother you or keep you awake at night. You had always turned a deaf ear to the cruel children that made fun of you due to your parent's divorce, you had always ignored the amount of men that never considered you "ladylike" enough (what the fuck did that even mean, anyway? what exactly made a lady and what didn't?), and you had always disregarded any envous comment surrounding you.

So, fuck Park Jimin! You had said to yourself. He's just a well mannered rich boy. Somebody who didn't resemble you in any aspect. A stupid, pretentious, spoiled boy who's had everything he's ever wanted in the palm of his hand, unlike you. Who the fuck cares what Park Jimin thinks? 

But apparently, you did. 

You would have never placed such importance to whatever it was that roamed inside Jimin's head if his appearances in your group of friends hadn't been so recurrent.

Because each time you were forced to see Jimin's face, you were also forced to experience a strange knot of discomfort and humilliation growing in your stomach in his mere presence. It's not like Jimin did anything specific to make you feel that way. He might not even do it on purpose, or his intentions might not be entirely evil. Maybe he simply didn't realize how he always avoided being by your side like the plague, or how his body immediately tensed and he balled his hands into fists everytime you were less than two feet away from him, or how he would look at you from the corner of his eye everytime you decided you speak, almost as if he was waiting for you to shut up to finally let out the air he was containing inside his lungs in relief.

Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

And with time, you couldn't help but attribute that disdain and hostility that Park Jimin always directed at you to the many undeniable differences that constituted each of you. Park Jimin, with his impeccable and always well ironed Prada shirts, his spotless trousers, jewelry that probably costed more than three of your annual salaries, and always emanating that Givenchy fragance that screamed "wealth!" every rare occasion you could experiment his presence next to you. Exactly two years after that first meeting with Park Jimin, you hadn't been able to avoid reciprocating that feeling of contempt towards him. Not when you were the only victim of his arrogance. Everybody loved Park Jimin, and Park Jimin loved everyone. 

Except you.

Clinging to your glass of Don Pérignon and finishing the rest of the liquid in one go, you try to snap out of your own thoughts, reminding yourself to return to the conversation you're currently having with Taehyung about a pretty waitress that he's met during one of his art exhibitions (or at least that's what you think you caught him say) and forcing yourself by all means to stop observing the friendly and kind smiles that Park Jimin was shooting to those present from across the room and that you will never be able to achieve. 

"_____? Are you even listening to me, darling?" Taehyung's voice is what makes you finally look away from the dumb blond standing on the opposite side of the room, blinking a few times before clearing your throat. 

"Sorry, Tae." letting out a sigh, you try to brush back and put in place the strand of hair that escaped the intricate hairdo you had tried and so miserably failed to do yourself to try to fit in and hopefully impress such environment of preppy and privilaged people (ahem, Park Jimin)  falling on your forehead as best as you can. "Just been really stressed this week and I'm on another planet. You know how I feel about Christmas. I think I need a new flute of . Or five."

Taehyung sends you a look full of empathy and places one of his hands in your shoulder, squeezing lightly in a comforting way. "I'll get you another one. I'll be right back." You quickly interrupt him though, to prevent him from standing up before you.

"No, really. I'll go. I need some fresh air anyways, if you don't mind." And of course Taehyung doesn't mind, so you get on your feet as graceously as your tipsy state allowed you to (who told you it was a good idea to drink three glasses in less than thirty minutes of the extremely expensive champagne Taehyung had brought to the Christmas party he had organized and why did it convince you it would appease your anxiey?) and make your way towards the table where the rest of the bottles are. A table dangerously close to the conversation Jimin and that friend of Lisa (whose name you don't remember) were having.

Both are with their backs turned and, honestly, you take a silent moment to thank God or whatever is up there because the last thing you need right now is yet another awkward interaction with Jimin, so you try as best as you can to refill your glass of champagne to get out of there as soon as possible, praying to make your exit going unnoticed.

But no. Because the stars and the universe loved to align to make you suffer! They love to play with your karma and they love making you damn that one day you didn't help that lady cross the street. They love making you regret buying those plastic straws. They love making you feel guilty for hacking your neighbour's Wifi when you run out of money to pay for yours. Because the moment you try to take a hold of the bottle in your hands, it slips out of your grasp, and you're watching in slow motion how the sparkling berverage ends up spilling all over the extremely expensive (or so you assume. Balenciaga maybe) suit pants Park Jimin decided to wear that night.

Everything is kind of blurry and you can't even hear anything. You can only watch as Park Jimin turns around, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed, until his eyes find you, the bane of his existance and immediately recognizing the culprit of his now drenched piece of clothing. And you can watch as, once again, his gaze turns almost black and narrow lightly as to reprimend you for what you've caused. But of course he doesn't say a word. He has nothing to say. He doesn't even look surprised. No. Because obviously, Park Jimin knew that if there was somebody in this room willing to ruin his night, it would be you, and only you.

"Shit!" you're the first one to break the strained silence, but that only makes Jimin flinch. "Shit, shit, shit. I'm so fucking dumb! J-Jimin, I'm so sorry, let me just go grab a paper tow-"

"Don't." his voice cuts through you. Literally cuts through you. Because it's not often that Park Jimin decides to aim his words at you, but everytime he does it holds the same frigid tone. Like knives trying to painfully stab your being. "Just, don't."

In reality, you don't know a lot of things and you don't know what causes what happens next. You don't know if it's the specific time of the year, you don't know if it's your internal stress, or if it's Park Jimin, his voice, or the fact that he will never like you. But it's instant. They way something compresses your chest, and suddenly your eyes are not glaced by the alcohol but by something wet that threatens to flow. You would never admit to anyone they're tears.

So, shutting your mouth and swallowing the uncomfortable feeling of anguish in your throat, leaving your flute forgotten on the table and grabbing the bottle instead. Without saying a word, your feet start moving up the stairs of the ridiculously enourmous house Taehyung owns towards the first free and empty balcony you can find. Free of people and free of Park Jimin.

Closing the large window behind you, you allow yourself to close your eyes and take a deep breath; the icy temperature outside immediately welcoming you. Although the hairs on your arm stand up and you know you're probably going to catch a cold (because the dress you've chosen for the dinner is not at all appropiate for such winter climate), at least the tension in your body seems to disappear while oxygen keeps that ugly feeling in your heart at bay from continuing to choke you.

With shaky hands, you take a big gulp straight from the champagne bottle. Fuck Park Jimin. No man will ever have the power to make you feel what you're feeling right now.  Fuck Park Jimin. And fuck his beautiful face and his ability to make you tremble and fear looking like an idiot. Fuck his fancy clothes and his perfect manicured hands and his marvelous but frigthening presence. 

Knock knock.

The sound makes you jump back from the window, hand grasping your chest while you turn around, coming face to face with the man in question.  Your first instinct is to ignore him. But that thought is already out of the way when it's him the one who struggles with the window lock before opening and taking a step towards you. You step back as he steps in, raising your head up high and puffing your chest. Because your second instinct is to tell Park Jimin to go fuck himself.

"_____, I would like to-"

"You would like to what?" Jimin looks taken aback at your harshness. Alcohol has always been a weapon of mass destruction in your system, provoking words to flow too easily and without filter out of your mouth, more than they already do when you're sober. Especially when it's mixed with the frustration you've been harboring inside of you for two years. That's why when the words start to come out, they won't stop. "To make me feel like shit one more time? To look at me with that fucking conceited face trying to make me feel like you're better than me? Or would you like to ignore me once again as you always do everytime we're in the same fucking room to make sure I know you hate my mere existance, even if it's just the two of us right now?"

The steam leaving your lips due to the accelerated beat of your heart blurs his face for an instant while he looks at you dumbfounded. The silence and his expression makes you scoff, an acidic smile adorning your face while you take another sip of your drink because even with such a stupid face, he still looks delectable with his white shirt and ruined pants. You turn around, removing a tear that you hadn't even realized had fallen during your speech and that, frankly, you were hoping he hadn't either. You would blame it on the cold, anyway.

This time, a gust of wind running through you from head to toe, making you forget of Park Jimin's presence looming behind you, reminding you it's still December and the fabric of your dress is doing nothing to conceal you from the cold.

But before you can do anything about it and blame yourself for being dumb and not taking your coat with you before deciding to step into balcony, Park Jimin surprises you once again, this time by placing his navy blue blazer over the naked skin of your arms.

Your back straightens when you feel his warm breath caressing the back of your neck, at the same time that a voice you have never heard Park Jimin use with you echoes in your ears.

"I really don't hate you, _____. I..." Jimin wets his lips. His body trembles, but it's not due to lacking his own coat, while his brain hurriedly searches for words eloquent and adequate enough to explain voice his thoughts. "I like you very much, _____."

Scoffing again while you shake your head, you push down with all your inner strenght the incipent fluttering of butterflies in your stomach that Jimin has managed to cause in just a matter of seconds. It's probably the longest sentence you've heard from him in two years, and you don't exactly understand why your body is reacting the way it is. But you're also not willing to give Park Jimin the satisfaction of knowing that. He doesn't deserve it anyway. So with all the courage you can muster, you turn around with your hands clenching.

And even though being at such short distance from Jimin is a bit overwhelming and unexpected for you, the irritation still making your blood bubble is enough to not let a man as handsome as him derail you from your current circumstances.

"Well, fuck you Park Jimin. You certainly have a funny fucking way to sh-" his hands cradling your jaw that pull you closer to him and his lips that silent you roughly, but with surprising care. Only for a moment. A moment in which your body betrays you and make you melt into hir warmth. But his voice, low and sinfully husky, murmurs against your lips. 

"God, that mouth of yours..." he goes back to attacking your own lips, this time more firm than before, snatching a sigh from you. The sound has his tongue asking for permission into your mouth, and with your body betraying you once again, you part your lips to allow him in. It's him who whimpers this time, while one of his hand moving until it reaches the bottle in your hand and letting it drop carelessly onto the floor, ignoring the sound of glass shattering and the future scolding you'll get from Taehyung. Instead, he sneaks that same hand on your waist, pulling your body flush against his, fingers digging onto your skin. "It's been driving me crazy for two years. Two years, _____."

He mumbles between kisses and swipes his tongue against yours, while he stars walking the both of you until your back meets the nearest concrete wall. 

"Two years of having to hear the incessant filthy words that leave your mouth..." his own stop their movements and you catch yourself before begging him to reattaching his lips to yours, enjoying instead the path of wet kisses and bruises his lips traile from your chin to the pulse of your neck "...and trying my best to hide the painful boners I get whenever you're nearby." 

With your eyes shut, your hands are back in motion, ignoring the voice in your head reminding you he's still an asshole and finding their way between Jimin's soft golden strands of hair. He hums in appreciation, sending goosebumps all over your body. "So, s-so why not do anything about it sooner?" you say, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe properly.

You feel Jimin's body tensing before you and he ceases the movement of his lips against your neck. Breaking away, your heart stops, afraid you might have ruined the moment. But Jimin's in search of your eyes, eyebrows very lighlty raised, the intensity of his gaze pinning you in place. You don't know for how long you stare at each other until Jimin comes out of the trance, eyes descending over your flushed cheeks, the very same color as your lips and the soft flesh of your neck until they reach your cleavage, the glimmering fabric encasing your breasts, taunting him the same way they had been doing all night long.

"You scare me so much..." and then, one of his hands repeats the same journey his eyes just did, until he touches your shoulder, right under his own blazer. "Everytime I look at you, all I can think of why the hell a girl as real as you like you would even glance my way." he slides the strap of your dress slowly tentatively, just enough for you to stop his advances if you chose so. You don't. "You're smart in ways I could never compare, so funny it makes me jealous, and so pretty it leaves me speechless. You're...You're everything I'm not."

His voice resonates in the atmosphere, and you would love to blame it on the cold again for how your body has reacted, but your body heat has increased so much since he started kissing you that it would be stupid not to admit that it's just the effect that Park Jimin has on you tonight. You're sure he would've had the same effect if it had happened before.

Your now uncovered breast doesn't even has to suffer the consequences of the icy wind, because one of Jimin's arms quickly comes around you to hold your body against his, lifting you ever so slighty until your erect nipple is at the same level as his mouth and his lips are enveloping it in their warmth. You gasp his name, and that encourages his teeth to tug softly before his tongue stars moving in circes. 

"My God, you're so perfect." Your head spins while you hold onto his shoulders as tight as you can, the undeniable heat roaming all over your form, hips involuntarily rutting his incipent erection poking your abdomen. "Been thinking about this since that night we first met." Looking for relief, Jimin mirrors your movements without ceasing the administrations on your chest, as one of his hands lifts one of your thighs to wrap around his waist, closing the short gap remaining between the both of you. 

"Ohmygod! F-fuck, Jimin," trying to form coherent phrases is almost impossible, not with Jimin finding a slow and tortuous rythm with his hips, his clothed cock rubbing against your core. Something shifts in the air, because Jimin stops abusing your nipple with a loud pop, and shuts you up by pressing his mouth onto yours in an urgent, dirty and desperate kiss. You could almost hear him swearing, while his hand keeps your jaw in place.

"S-stop talking like that, ______." his voice, inaudible, and his face now hiding in the crook of your neck, the thrusting of his hips speeding up, more and more frantic this time. The hand not holding your thigh against his hipbone reveals your other breast, hand covering it and giving it a light squeeze before tugging at your unattended nipple between his forefinger and his thumb while his tongue and teeth mark the skin on your neck. 

"Hell, I've been dying to stuff your mouth with my cock to prevent you from such foul language," the soft whimpers leacving your mouth coax him into taking the hem of your dress and bunching the fabric until his fingers easily find the place in your body calling to him the most through the lace.  It's immediate, how his fingers dampen at the first touch, surprising the both of you, and how your body jolts and an embarrassing sob escapes your throat. "How-how are you this wet? Holy hell, I could just slide right in..."

And as he says that, one of his fingers pull aside the fabric of your underwear and glide into you, so easy. You insides burning while he fingers you, another finger being added with his thumb rubbing circles on your nub. And fuck, you're not sure if you're just too horny and Park Jimin is a magician with his hands, or maybe it's the way he keeps mouthing at your chest and whispering how soaked you are, but you don't think you've ever been so close to cumming in such a short period of time.

"W-whats stopping you?" you manage with a voice that doesn't even resembles yours, but before your hands can even make work of the zipper of his trousers, he pulls his finger out from your center, causing you to whine in protest.

Jimin licks his lips, eyebrows framing the dark expression that his eyes ooze. Although the desire in his eyes is more than evident, it is also evident the faint hesitation in them. Because Park Jimin doesn't do things this way. Park Jimin was raised in a world of correct manners and conservationism. A world that has taught him when and how to act. And as badly as he is dying to fuck you against the wall of Taehyung's ridiculously inmense house, he also wants to do the right thing. 

"Let me take you on a date." 

Park Jimin has been spoiled his whole life. Being born in a well-off family has always provided him of everything he had ever wanted and more. From the innecessary number of toys Santa Claus left under his Christmas tree every year since he was a baby, to his fisrt extravagant sports car at the age of eighteen. Park Jimin has never been a greedy or needy man. How could he, when he's had everything he's ever wished in the palm of his hands. He has never missed anything in his entire life. Hasn't missed a roof over his head, warm food on his plate or brand new designers clothes each week. 

It has taken him two years to control himself. He still remembers that night he first met you, just like he remembers every single time you both had coincided in the same place at the same time. He remembered your scent, had memorized your figure over your pieces of clothing and had tried as best as he could to keep a distance from you because he knew you would never give him the time of day. How could you? You probably despised everything he was because he was definitely nothing like you, and that thought intimidated the fuck out of him. He was a mess everytime you wear nearby. Never relied on his voice because he knew he would stutter if you ever spoke to him, could never trust his eyes because if he ever looked at you he was afraid he wouldn't be able to look away. 

And everytime you spoke, shit, that voice of yours always cursing here and there left him wondering how would you sound in a different setting and if you would still be that badmouthed. More specifically, between his sheets. So he did everything he could to minimize your interactions as much as possible. He just never thought he would come across as such a jerk. It was never his intention to hurt you, and seeing you cry that night (although you denied you did, over and over again) seriously made him realize he wanted to make things right. 

He was trying really, really hard to keep it in his pants, to be the same well composed and controled Park Jimin he had mastered himself to be. 

But that damn dress.

After seeing that little black dress hugging your figure when you started taking off your coat at the restaurant, the brief flash of thigh tights that you accidentaly (or not so accidentally) had blessed him with by crossing a leg over the other, that exposed collarbone calling his name and those heeled sandals with straps wrapping around your ankles, reminding him of the snake tempting Eve, Park Jimin was sure he needed to dig into that apple more than anything he has ever needed before.

That's why he surprises you right after you both finish the second course meal by telling the waitress you won't be having desert, at which you look at him somewhat indignant. But the look he shoots you is enough to make you understand if somebody was going to have desert tonight, it would be him. In his Mercedes. 

"I'm gonna-" you gasp, fingers tugging at the soft strands of his now ruined blond hair, his head between your thighs and your legs thrown over his shoulders. His hands have a grip of the meaty flesh of your ass, holding you firmly againt his mouth as it works wonders on your clit. You're sure it hasn't even been ten minutes since Jimin had opened your legs in the backseat of his car, not even bothering to take your underwear off, simply moving the fabric aside before diving in, and you already feel yourself on the edge of an orgasm.

"I know." voice vibrating right into your core, he slows down his administrations, tongue carefully and delicately lapping at your folds while he enjoys the feeling of your fingers loosening their grip and fondly brushing his hair back. You meet his eyes as he pushes a finger inside your core and your whole body twists in agony. 

"N-no!" 

Jimin stops immediately, lifting his head and focusing his concerned eyes on you. He's about to ask you if he's done anything wrong, but you're fast to roughly pull him up by his hair until his face is leveled with yours. You answer him by kissing him and he returns the kiss with the same eagerness, and now it's your hands that are looking for his cock, palming him through his pants.

"Your dick. Inside. Right Now." you punctuate each phrase with a kiss and he only stops kissing you to pout.

"But I wanted you to cum on my tongue." but still, he's putty in your hands when you undo the botton and the zipper. "Wouldn't you rather me fucking you in my bed, where we're more comfortable?" you notice the slight quivering of his voice when you slide his trousers and boxers down, just enough to pull him out. 

"You can eat me and fuck me as many times as you want tonight, tomorrow and whenever you'd like, but right now..." none of you contain the moan in unision that leaves each of your mouths when just the head of his lenght comes in contact with your entrance. "I really can't wait anymore." brushing your lips over his, you lower your voice. "Wanna get on my hands and knees for you."

Park Jimin has tried to do things the right and appropiate way throughout all his life. He's been a professional from a very young age on how to be in charge of his emotions, his desires and his impulses. Always well mannered and well composed. 

But it's in this moment that Jimin comes to the realization that the only thing that has ever made him lose his mind and self control, is you. Seeing you like this, ass up, grinding your drenched and still thong clad cunt all over his precum dripping lenght, he can't control the way his hand bunches the fabrick of that damn dress over your waist, then flies to your right cheek, a sharp sound of skin filling the air, tearing a gasp from your throat.

"God, I'm-I'm sorry. Couldn't help mys-"

"Do it again."

And he does, the palm of his hand now leaving a reddenning print on your flesh, making you jolt back involuntarily, aligning yourself to the head of his cock and like he had hoped, he slides right in. Not all the way, because Jimin is sure he would cream inside you too soon and he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he did. He wets his lips, clenching his jaw and dropping his palm one more time, hand more steady and purposeful. 

"You like it rough?" voice hoarse and a hand beside your head holding himself, your back to his chest, twitching beneath him as he soothes the sting with his free one. 

"I like you rough." turning your head slowly to peer at him from the corner of your eye, your hips moving on their own accord trying to take him deeper. Your head is suddenly pulled back harshly, Jimin's fingers tangling in your hair as his own hips close the remaining gap between your bodys in an abrupt thurst. You squeal, Jimin's cock finally filling you up to the hilt just like you wanted him to be, the pleasure making your arms wobble and finding it harder to mantain your balance. 

Jimin's breath fawns over your ear, his tongue darting out to suck on your skin sending chills down your spine. "You're such a dream." he groans, torturously sliding out of your core that's gripping around his shaft for dear life. A whine of protest escapes your lips and he tightens the hold on your hair in response, diving right back in. You fall forward, your arms' strenght betraying you as his thrusts find a new rhythm. With your eyes closed shut, you try to muffle the sound of your voice with the back of your hand as Jimin's lips place soft kisses to your exposed shoulder.

"Don't be quiet." he stands straight, the pull on your hair arching your back in such a enticing way it was Jimin look away for a second, cock buried inside of you and his hips faltering. "Been dying to have you like this for so long."

Another clap of his hand against your right cheek, and a particular stroke of his dick that has you mewling as your climax approached again. "S-so good, Jimin. Oh my god."

"You're gonna cum for me?" his fingertips leave bruises on your skin and the windows of his Mercedes are foggy, just like your mind. You can't concentrate on anything that's not Jimin's cock sliding in and out and how much you wished this had happened way sooner. "Gonna cum for me like a good slut?"

Park Jimin always takes his time. Always does things nice and slow to assure the best outcome possible. 

But he can't contain the acceleration of his hips against yours as your walls clench impossibly tight around his cock, your orgasm finally taking over . Can't contain himself from falling forward again, hand twisting your head in his direction and his mouth searching for yours in a fiery and messy kiss. And he most definitely can't barely contain himself from cumming when your you ask him to spit in your mouth. 

"You're gonna kill me." he breathes, removing himself off you and quickly maneuvering you on your back, his dick finding its way back inside you. Picking up right where he left off, skin slapping against skin in an obscene melody, he collects a considerate amount of saliva in his mouth before dropping it into your welcoming tongue, watching you swallow with a smile he hopes he'll be the only one to see in the future. 

And that's what has the last bit of his self restraint slipping from his fingers. He somehow manages to rip the top of your dress down, fabric tearing until your tits are free and his mouth is attacking your nipples, white strings of his release panting your walls, some of it them oozing out that he fucks back right into you. 

It's between ragged breaths, kisses and tender carresses that Jimin promises you more dates in the future and new dresses that he can't promise not to savage apart again.

[wamulu-gorillaz]

Hi :D

Can I get a match-up for one of the gorillaz members please? Nothing romantic tho because I'm 17 and idk thanks ^^ I'm thinking more of like a friendship dynamic thing you probably know what I mean :)) Would be very very nice ^^

My appearance:

- brown hair with a blonde strand on the right (my hair like medium long idk it's usually a bit over my shoulders)

- glasses lol

- blue eyes but there's like a green ring inside?? idk lol blue-green??

My personality:

- ENFP 7w8

- bisexual she/her

- i don't really believe in zodiac signs but I'm a Capricorn

- i highly (!) suspect that I am neurodivergent (i think I have adhd but i didn't see a therapist yet)

- my favourite color is black 🖤

- i love love love music, it's just amazing when you can listen to a song and imagine different movie scenes or something like that you know? ^^

- i speak English, German and a tinyy bit of French

- whenever I'm home alone i physically CANNOT shut up, I always talk to myself

- crackhead energy i guess

- chaotic

- sometimes can't emotionally distance myself from others

- depends on the person and really got better over the years, but I was, and kinda still am, a people pleaser that has a hard time talking about my feelings when I'm sad or angry

- tough love?? but also soft love?? both??

Hobbies and similar stuff:

- some of my favourite genres are Rock, Alternative/Indie stuff, Punk, Metal and also some pop songs, it really depends on the song itself tho

- started playing bass after discovering Gorillaz

- surfing the web yk

- memes are funny

- videogames 👍

- reading psychological thrillers

- i love psychology, especially criminal psychology 🧠

- watching true crime stuff while eating or working (or doing anything really)

- sometimes I obsess over games, shows or bands so my personality kinda varies sometimes lol but deep down I'm the same

- I joke a lot lot lot, and I always try to cheer people up by being optimistic and making jokes but I can also be serious about stuff

- don't know what to believe in, I was baptised and am officially catholic buuut idk i wanna leave church, I actually feel pretty negatively about being a christian, it's way to conservative for me and other reasons

- my beliefs basically are: do whatever you wanna do, have fun and don't hurt yourself or others, like if you want to, then be in a relationship with 100 people or none at all, be you ^^

- joking around and laughing loudly and a lot, not giving a sh*t about life in the moment and making everybody around you think you've officially gone insane

My style:

- I usually wear black pants and black shirts with a grey-black flannel or something similar

- i love alternative/gothic/punk styles but I am too shy to wear them at school 😅

What I like:

- when people have good humour

- when people are understanding

- when people aren't too sensitive like boundaries are very important and have to be respected but a little bit of teasing under friends just has to be there yk

- onion chicken 🤤

- sleeping, daydreaming, interviewing myself

- when people get what they deserve 😩

- doing risky stuff. You need somebody to try and get over the fence of this abandoned building? I'm in.

What I hate:

- people that truly (and I mean like really truly) believe that they are always right

- wet food

- not being taken seriously when I am truly serious and need somebody to listen

- injustice.

- insects.

Some of my favorite Gorillaz songs:

- Tranz, M1A1, Punk, 5/4, Spitting Out The Demons, Murdoc Is God, Kids With Guns, Clint Eastwood...

I hope this isn't too much, if yes I'm sorry 😅

Thank you so much!!

2D!

- Being besties with 2D would be both a gift and a small burden. For example - both of you talking to yourselves could turn out to be a nightmare. You might end up having four conversations at once; one with yourself, and one with 2D who's actually talking to himself, one with 2D talking to himself, and then one with you who's actually talking to yourself. It's a muddled mess! When you realise the chaos, you both burst out laughing!

- Hello sorry but both of you freaking out over insects and Noodle has to come rescue you? This is a common occurence

- Late night video game marathons involve all the snacks and all your favourite games, too! Both of you will disappear together and might not ever resurface until someone comes to fetch you

[sarahjtv]

BNHA Chapter 315 Quick Analysis: #GiveDekuTherapy2021

Ok, another chapter!  And it’s a doozy that’s for sure.  Man, the people on social media were NOT very happy with what happened and I understand why.  Though, I think Horikoshi has bigger plans going on in his head.  So, I’m not going to go screaming to him telling him how to tell his story.  I personally still liked it a lot and have hopes for our lovely Lady Nagant.  

Anyway, doing these smaller analyses actually do make my life easier since they consume less time.  To give you an idea, the Spoiler Analyses I did before took 1+ hours to complete for me since I had so much to say and I had to constantly go back and forth with Tumblr and the leaks.  At least here, everyone knows what’s going on and I can go off the official translations.  TL;DR: Doing the Quick Analyses are easier and I think I’m going to stick with them.  Onto the chapter:

It’s actually kind of good to know that not all of Overhaul’s screws are loose.  He’s still ultimately thinking about the Boss and wanting to fix him, but he does still recognize Deku and is willing to ID him for Lady Nagant. Of course, he’s so eager to get to the Boss that he’s practically scolding Nagant for not holding up her part of the bargain yet.  

Holy crap that Rifle can get swole.  No pun intended, that thing on Lady Nagant’s elbow is massive.  I guess this is what happens when she exchanges her accuracy for speed and power.  It’s cool, but damn is it gnarly to look at.  Looks like something out of a gorey horror manga.

But, Deku swings in and uses his new Quirk to speed blitz his way to push Overhaul out of the bullet’s way!  What a badass!  Deku using his brains is aways cool as hell to see.  You love to see it, my dudes.

And we FINALLY get an explanation on the 3rd Holder’s Quirk: Fa Jin.  It’s basically stores and releases kinetic energy that is built up through repeated motion.  So here, Deku uses Fa Jin on his legs which is why he was kicking and squatting so much earlier.  So, he used that energy to boost his speed + 45% of OFA + use of centrifugal force via swinging with Black Whip = Faux 100%!  Deku is insane; the guy’s a madman and I love it!

After saving Overhaul, Deku tells Overhaul that they’ll talk later.  It’s just one panel, but this implies that Deku really will try to at least have a conversation with Overhaul to understand him since he was unable to back in the Yakuza Raid Arc.  So, we’ll see if Deku will help Overhaul go down a better path.  Though, again, I really wouldn’t blame Deku if he chose not to given the horrors Overhaul has done in the past.

And then we have a beautiful double-page-spread of Deku using the last of his Fa Jin to pull a sickass Faux 100% Manchester Smash on Lady Nagant’s Rifle to break it. Horikoshi is really drawing straight fire at this point.  You can even see close-ups of the raindrops at a few points.  It’s so cool to see Deku go 100% again even though this one is a pseudo one.  Not only is Deku powerful as hell, but he’s also not breaking his body too much this way.  Though that’s gotta hurt for Nagant since that Rifle is a part of her body.  Yeesh...

Now Lady Nagant can’t fight and her Air Walk stopped working for some reason (AFO?).  As she falls, Deku grabs her hand and realizes that she still has the heart of a hero despite everything.  Deku begs her to fight along side the good guys again.  You can even see that small glimmer of light back in Deku’s eyes again.  God, I love Deku.  He really does try to understand and see the best in everyone.  He did it with Bakugo, Shoto, Gentle Criminal, La Brava, and even Shigaraki.  He has this way of reading people and getting to people’s hearts.  That’s one of the main things that makes Deku a true hero.  

And Lady Nagant agrees... Until AFO reveals that he (probably) used one of his Quirks to secretly plant a bomb in Lady Nagant to blow her up in case she turned on him.  Man, fuck AFO.  All my homies hate AFO.  I want to burn this fucker alive and watch him suffer.  What a despicable waste of air.  Good thing we’re actually meant to hate him.  

And Deku just watches Lady Nagant blow up right in front of him.  This kid is screaming in horror and I’m positive he’s even more traumatized after this.  Deku’s been though far too much over the past month alone and I really REALLY worry about his mental health at this point.  I’d hate to see him break down emotionally, but I would be ok if he did because Deku deserves a good cry at this point.  I want him to see some kind of therapist after all this is over.  IDK if Horikoshi will let him, but at least before this series is over at least.     

Then Hawks finally appears like I though he would!  He uses his little feathers to catch Lady Nagant from falling further.  Good on him for saving his senpai!  And I’m glad this confirms that Hawks’ wings are growing back.  They’re so cute and tiny!  Hawks isn't Quirkless after all.

So, Lady Nagant’s probably not dead.  I know people are pissed that she was basically used as a plot device for other characters, but even Horikoshi acknowledges that through AFO’s dialogue about Lady Nagant constantly being used as a tool.  Horikioshi knows what he’s doing; it’s not like he’s getting rid of her just because.  The man wouldn’t let a character like her, one given a LOT of important backstory and development, die just like that.  I’m thinking that Deku’s probably going to force Overhaul to use his Quirk on Nagant to heal her if he can.  And if he does, not only is Lady Nagant ok, but this could be that better path Overhaul could go down.  All in all, I don’t think Lady Nagant is dead.  I think Horikoshi has bigger plans for her.  I really hope I’m right

Horikoshi writing his characters at this point:

[sjjdkdkwo]

Thinking about Nick and Stephen again and idk I just feel they’d have such a neat relationship? I know Nick only has like 4 lines in the movie but still. I really want scenarios where they could interact more? Just, anything really? Like—

Nick finds Stephen in an empty room in the hospital, he’d stopped by earlier to see some other friends. He and Nick are still learning how to go about starting something that isn’t intense dislike or scorn for each other, but they’re well off now that they can at least exchange pleasantries. Still it’s surprising to Stephen that Nick has actually sought him out that day instead of letting them run into each other’s paths naturally like normal. So he prepares his usual greeting but stops when he gets a good look at Nick. To say he looks awful would be an understatement, his eyes are sunken and dark, his hair looks greasy and uneasy, and he looks like he hasn’t eat much if at all. Before Stephen would’ve thrown a rude jab at him, and told him to fix himself up before heading to work. But he’s different now, and the sympathy that he once lacked brings him to give Nick a soft but firm hello and a curt nod. Though he’d loathed to admit it at one point, he now sees that he and Nick share the same prideful and independent personality(perhaps why they’d gotten along so poorly before) and he also knows better than to make his concern obvious.

Unlike before however...Nick doesn’t hide his sorrowful state behind and air of superiority and confidence and instead asks Stephen if they can speak in private. He joins him in a more quiet and solitary part of the hospital and waits for Nick to speak. Nick confides in him that he believes he’s being haunted. Stephen narrows his eyes and asks Nick why he’s telling him of all people only for Nick to scoff. He’d seen him portal of one day after he’d finished speaking to Christine, and he’d managed to put two and two together. He knows Stephen can help him, and does something unexpected. He begs Stephen to go to his home with him that night to help keep him safe from the spirit who he believes has become more malevolent. Stephen considers him for a long moment, and after taking in the fear and panic in his eyes, and the slight tremble of his body, he agrees. He feels uneasy as he watches relief flood Nick’s eyes.

Stephen makes it to Nick’s apartment later in the day, and tries not to feel awkward. They’re not exactly friends yet, and usually their prone to not speaking to things beyond medical articles and the weather on occasion. So when Nick lets him in with a smile—his features leased strained and more relaxed than they’d been in the morning—and leads him to the living room Stephen can’t help but feel confused. Shaking any lingering perplexity though he settles in gets started on trying to gauge the energies in the room while trying to keep up with Nick’s newfound desire to ramble on. He’s put off when he finds that...nothing in the apartment feels odd. In fact, there’s nothing there.

He knows by now though that sometimes spirits don’t linger permanently, instead making sporadic visits in between and decides to stick around enough to see if that’s the case. Settling in he takes in Nick’s apartment. It’s nice and well decorated but something about it feels cold and almost unlived in. He lets Nick talk him into picking out music while he prepares dinner(Stephen had given in after enough persistence) and then settles onto the counter to watch Nick work. He won’t offer him help, and he thinks Nick knows that too, not with his hands being the way they are. And while he and Wong had overcome his shame and embarrassment enough to work through meals together some nights, Nick is different, still not yet friend enough even for Stephen to even let his hands settle on the counter out in the open. Nick doesn’t seem to mind though, instead filling in the silence with his own commentary on the culinary arts and Stephen finds himself actually listening to him. Apparently it’s something he enjoys, a sentiment picked up from spending many hours in the kitchen with his grandmother. And as the afternoon goes on, Stephen can admit that Nick is not bad company at all. He even finds himself chipping in to the conversation, enjoying the easy flow that develops between them.

After dinner there’s still no sign of supernatural entities and so he asks Nick when the spirit normally takes to appearing. Nicks goes silent for a second, and Stephen can see him swallow. With a shaky breath he tells him it’s presence is most prominent in the night, and Stephen calls Wong to let him know he’ll be home later than he’d intended. After Nick invites him to sit down and watch television, and though he hesitates at first, Stephen settles down next to him on the couch—leaving a bit of room between them. After deciding on something together the easy conversation picks up again, and before Stephen notices, night has befallen them. He also notices that Nick has gone quiet for the first time since he’d arrived and turns to look at him, assuming he must’ve fallen asleep. But he hasn’t.

Instead Nick looks blankly at the screen in front of him, still and unmoving even when Stephen calls his name. Stephen searches again for any sign of the spirit with not luck in sight. Until he realizes. There is no spirit, and Nick is not being tormented. Not in the paranormal sense at least. Stephen tells him so, and is surprised when Nick nods in agreement, further giving in to Stephen’s uncertainty and he has to ask. “Why did you ask me to come here then?”

Nick doesn’t reply at first. Instead keeping his empty gaze forward as though he hadn’t heard him. Stephen wonders if he didn’t. But before he can answer Nick tells him. After the snap he’d encountered many issues, he doesn’t go into detail, and Nick had been left trying to deal with the aftermath of it all. He admits that it had felt like he’d woken up to a different world(technically they had) with everything he’d known gone or changed. And he’d been alone. Stephen doesn’t have to ask to know that likely means Nick’s close ones are dead. Nick tells him he’d tried at first, and really he had, to adapt and try and catch up. Everyone else had, even through their grief. But through it all he couldn’t, and at the sudden foreign territory his mind had well, shut down on him. He doesn’t even remember how it started or when he’d first noticed something was wrong he says, and the one day, he’d wanted to die.

Stephen lets him go on, a chill settling in the middle of his spine as he takes in Nick’s words. Emotion over flooding him not just for the suffering of another person like usual, but of someone he knows. Nick tells him he’d ask him to come over because the thoughts had gotten stronger, and he hadn’t known if he could trust himself to be alone anymore. He lets out a quiet apology once he’s done, and Stephen’s heart aches at the fact that Nick thinks his sorrow and state of mind are something to be sorry for. Even so, Stephen is aware that a few encouraging words will not be enough, and instead tells Nick not to apologize and asks him if he wants to see a trick. Nicks face twists into confusion but Stephen goes on, brining his shaky hands up, letting Nick see them on purpose—as if to let him know there is no shame in the way he is feeling, in being vulnerable—and with a few movements of his fingers produces a butterfly. Nicks hole face breaks out into shock as he scrambles back and Stephen almost laughs, but stays silent, allowing Nick to lean forward again to stare in wonder and Stephen’s seemingly facile show of magic. The usual questions follow. How did you do it? What is it? Can you show me?

Stephen is happy to entertain every question, carefully watching Nick’s face for any signs of the despair that had been their prior. He knows this won’t fix anything, but that’s not what he’d intended, knows Nick needs to seek proper care an attention. Something unfortunately even Stephen can’t provide. No, what he’d wanted to create was a distraction. A moment for Nick’s mind to not know peace, but to be overtaken by something other than sadness and goes about showing Nick more spells and gestures as the night goes on.

Nick has still not gotten a hold of magic by the time his morning alarm goes off(not that Stephen had expected him to), startling at the sound and looking back at Stephen with astonishment. Stephen only smiles, kind but not pityingly and places a hand on Nick’s shoulder and giving it a soft squeeze.

Waiting for Nick to scurry to get ready, Stephen places a few protective spells around the apartment. When Nick comes out he thanks him for the evening and tells him sincerely that he’d enjoyed himself. And he had. Nick gives him a lopsided smile and agrees before going serious and thanking Stephen. It’s quick and stiff but Stephen can look through it and see all the emotion and sincerity hidden behind it. Smiling he tells Nick to set an appointment with a therapist and to his relief Nick nods. Then he tells him he’ll see him again later that night. In his own home. This time he does laugh at Nick’s shocked face and tells him where to find him. Nick nods dumbly again, thanking him once more and waving him off.

Later he meets Wong, and between the two of them he endures their critiques and chastising on his inability to rely on others even now. But watching Nick laugh about a story from their residency days he thinks he’s ok with it. He’s happy to be a distraction for Nick, and starts to realize that maybe he can be a friend now too.

[burn-this-diary]

Diary,

When i said don’t look back i guess i really fucking meant it lol. So it’s been. Idk probably two years since I’ve touched this blog, at least. Maybe 3. I used to date entries at the very end and a lot of them are from 2018, I might have updated it since but I’m too lazy to go through it again.

Anyway in that time I’ve since: graduated college, macheted a life for myself out of the weeds of my family home, established a career path vaguely related to my major, gotten rejected from graduate school, and I still have managed not to accomplish any of my personal growth goals other than getting on meds and seeing a therapist consistently. By personal growth goals i mean like, lose weight and get a girlfriend kms.

Patheticville. I have a whole lot to show for these years but it feels like fuck all nothing because of how lonely and boring I am. Also ugly. I’m not even trying to be self deprecating it’s just an objective fact that i have made myself ugly and now it’s getting harder and harder to fucking fix it. And guess what my entire early 20s are behind me, with almost NOTHING to show for it.

It hurts my feelings, how unkind I’ve been to myself, and now, when I’m finally at an okay place in my life, I have to sit here and fucking untangle the mess I’ve made of myself before I feel like I can actually let myself live.

And it’s sad, sure, but I’ve made my peace with it in that regard. Mostly I’m just fucking annoyed! Like, I’m antsy to start living but I feel like I can’t until I work through some of this shit. Like, I’ve spent so long basically cryogenically frozen in my parents house not living just like. Existing there. And now that I’m out all of that time is wasted and I have to make up for that lost fucking time, and it’s really hard because I can’t do that until I untangle the web.

I cried 3 times today. Morning afternoon and night. Once at work, once at therapy, and once alone, and I still feel like trash garbage, and I think it’s because so much of my life right now is out of my control. It also hurts my feelings that I’m just some little peach letting people fucking put their hands all over me in the grocery store, put me down and I end up bruised. And nobody wants to buy the bruised fruit. (Even if I’m sweet and ripe on the inside)

The cold hard truth is that looks matter. They matter more than personality when you’re getting to know someone, especially a partner, for the first time. You swipe right or left based on looks. You see the photo and then you read the bio. You make up your mind depending on if you like what you see.

Nobody would like what they see in me, as I am now. Maybe with like, a gut job and a complete overhaul of my appearance I could find someone willing to like, glance in my direction. But not now, and it’s frustrating. Because I finally feel like I have something to offer, and I can’t put myself out there because I know that I’ll be rejected.

You wear your trauma around you when you’re overweight, and everyone can fucking see it like a neon sign that reads avoid at all costs. And you know what, I don’t blame them. It just sucks, because it takes so long to undo that and lose that trauma weight, and even if I’m mentally feeling better than I have in years I have to wait for my fucking body to catch up.

Everything I do feels like a lesson in patience, and because I’m so frustrated with the process I obviously haven’t learned anything about it yet.

Everything is like, bad and weird lol that’s the the gist. The ttlr, or the TIL i can’t remember how reddit people abbreviate lol. I’m a tumblr bitch which means I don’t know fucking anything.

Anyway. See you in 2025 when I’m fucking 30 and remember that this blog exists again. Peace

Oh also coronavirus happened and that was bad. Feel like i should throw that in there.

[satsuma-saturn]

Wings of Wax and Feathers - Belphegor x Reader

A/N: not my best work, but i felt the need to post smth, since i haven’t posted a fic in a while. was gonna finish it sooner, but i highkey had a seizure and have just been recovering from it. anyway, i hope u enjoy and feel free to request shtuff that u wanna read. i’m also expanding on writing for more than just OM!, like MM, MLQC, Love Unholyc, and that’s probably it, but idk. My brain is malfunctioning after sleeping for only 3 hours lmao. Uh, I’m not rly a big acc, so I don’t rly get any requests, so send in requests if ur so inclined!

WC: 1322

Warning(s): general angst, mentions of character death, mentions of strangulation

as always, fic is below the cut-

His dark hair shines bright in the moonlight, violet eyes illuminated, like stones of amethyst. You stand before him, watching him gaze off into the distance. He seems distracted, not having noticed your presence, despite you standing in front of him, within his line of vision, or peripheral, at least. A frown dances across your face as you decide whether or not you feel like bothering him. On one hand, you had sought him out specifically to speak to him, but on the other, you don’t feel like being snapped at. Even if he isn’t the Avatar of Wrath, he sure as hell acts like him.

For weeks, you have been avoiding him, knowing full well that he has wanted to talk to you about “The Incident.” The incident that everyone refuses to even acknowledge. Not even Mammon, who held your corpse after the life had been choked out of it. When you brought it up with him, he pretended to not know what you were talking about. Belphegor is different, though. He knows it happened and he wants to make amends. You aren’t sure that you want to, though. Often, you find yourself flip flopping back and forth between wanting to continue avoiding him and actually speaking to him. Even if he were to apologize, you aren’t sure if you could ever have the same relationship with him as you do with his brothers.

Yet, you find yourself standing in front of him, as he stares at the stars, blissfully unaware of your presence in front of him. At this point, you still aren’t sure you’re ready to talk to him and make amends, but your feet moved faster than your brain, leading you to seek him out. There’s a quality about him, giving him a soft, innocent look. Just a boy who wants to sleep and spend time with his twin brother and little sister. Beneath that soft exterior, however, is a cold-hearted killer. A demon. Of course, they’re all demons. This is their world and you’re just living in it. Even sweet, gullible Mammon is a demon beneath the surface, capable of what Belphegor did to you and worse.

Wind whips around you, chilling you to the bone. Why, of all nights, did you decide that seeking him out in the winter night was a good idea? Ordinarily, one would assume that Hell, or the Devildom, as it’s known by the demons, would be hot at all times. At least, that’s how it’s been portrayed in all forms of media you’ve seen. The Devildom does have winter, though. Winters are different in the Devildom, compared to the human world. Temperatures are colder than anywhere in the Human World, even the coldest of places. Despite the cold, tonight is warm, compared to other nights in the Devildom, yet freezing to you.

“MC.” A quiet voice drags you from your reverie, as stoic, violet eyes bore into yours. He seems to have finally noticed you. Beyond saying your name, however, he says nothing else. Just stares. There’s a tired expression on his face, but just beneath the surface, you sense his irritation. Obviously, he had come all this way to be alone and just think, but you showed up, invading his space. The demon doesn’t say anything about it, but somehow, you’re sure that that is what he’s thinking. It’s hard to tell with him, though, as he wears the same tired look on his face, no matter his mood, similar to a certain police captain on a show that you watch in the human world. Dark circles accentuate the bags under his eyes, which anyone would assume came from a lack of sleep, but you know better. All he does is sleep.

“Belphegor, hello. I was looking for you.” He says nothing, just staring at you, not blinking. You feel like a turtle, wanting to slip back into your shell, but there is nowhere for you to run. The Avatar of Sloth isn’t a threat to you, at least not now, but you still feel uneasy around him. Perhaps you should have brought Mammon or Beelzebub with you, but they’re back at the House of Lamentation, unaware of Belphegor’s location, or that you had sought him out. If Mammon knew anything of your fear of the youngest brother, he would have kept you from searching for him in the first place.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, he finally speaks again. “Why? You’ve been avoiding me, but suddenly you wish to be in my presence?”

You ponder his question. Other than trying to make amends, for the sake of the other brothers, what is your reasoning for seeking him out? The two of you know that you would rather be anywhere than where you were. “I guess I just want to smooth things over with you and make amends, y’know? For the sake of your brothers. All this time, I’ve been playing the demon family therapist, and it seems my work isn’t over yet.” Momentarily, you pause, giving him time to absorb what you just told him. “So, you don’t hate humans anymore. You’ve seen that we aren’t so bad, right? It isn’t any human’s fault that Lil-”

“Don’t say her name!” He snapped, his violet eyes blazing with anger. What is the point of trying to patch things up if he won’t even listen to you? His anger was starting to rub off on you, as you scowled at him. Maybe you made the wrong decision in coming here. “Humans are insolent, insignificant beings! Just because you are the descendant of someone that I cared about, doesn’t mean that my viewpoint has suddenly changed on your kind. You’re the only human that’s worth allowing to live. The rest can all die, for all I care,” he says, as if that makes anything better. His voice grows louder with every word, causing you to back away slightly, out of fear. You don’t notice it, but he does. Even if it is his fault, it still stings to see you so frightened of him.

Even without the fear of him, his words are not what you wanted to hear. You should have known. Demons are creatures of habit, not putting forth the effort to change themselves for the better. It was in their nature, and you should have expected the Avatar of Sloth to be the least likely to make a change in his nature. “You know what? I tried! I tried to patch things up between us for your brothers, but you’re too far gone! You don’t care about me! You don’t like me! I only matter to you because I’m some distant descendant of your sister’s! This may not be what you want to hear, but it’s the truth! Stop pretending that I’m anything to you but some vicarious version of your sister!” Your hands tremble as you shout. The demon is silent, his violet eyes piercing yours. He doesn’t even appear to be reacting to your words. “What?! You have nothing to say?!” Hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes, as you try to fight them off, not wanting to cry in front of him. Sniffling, you wipe your nose and turn to walk away, the icy dew soaking into your boots, which offer little protection against the cold. As you start to leave, he settles on a fallen, rotting log, burying his face into his hands.

Belphegor lifts his head from his hands, speaking quietly to himself. “My name is Icarus, and I have flown far too close to the sun.” He sighs and runs a hand through his dark locks, feeling all alone in your absence. If only his love for humans hadn't turned to hate. Maybe then you would feel comfortable around him. For now, though, he will have to watch you from a distance, keeping tabs on you from Beel.

[retrievablememories]

no manners | lucas

title: no manners pairing: lucas x black!reader genre: angst, implied smut request: “Aww thanks✨😊 Hope it’s not too much(I have a wild/creative imagination😌) Could you write a fic where Lucas is married to an African American who lives in America while he’s in China with WayV. One night after a call where Lucas suggests she go out with friends because she’s too lonely, she drinks too much and ends up going home with a stranger. When she wakes up she finds out what she did and a few days later she finds out she’s pregnant 💁🏿‍♀️that being said ain’t do it if it’s weird” word count: 5k warnings: workplace sexism/harassment, infidelity, alcohol use, mentions of intoxicated sex, mentions of pregnancy, emetophobia warning, mentions of blood, medical setting, angst!! just sad shit man a/n: hard to think of a good title, idk. the song’s about a sad relationship so close enough? ion fuck with drake anymore but passionfruit was the soundtrack for this one lol

You wake up in the middle of the night again—you’ve been doing it a lot lately. Your head aches a bit and your throat feels dry. You reach for the bottle of water on your nightstand and drink from it, though it doesn’t make you feel any better.

Pulling the covers back over yourself, you turn towards the empty side of the bed and feel that familiar pain settle in your body again. There are painkillers for physical discomforts, but what do you do for this kind of ache that comes from deep within the heart? You sigh and simply close your eyes, trying to block out the feeling. 

It’s been over 3 months since you’ve seen Lucas in person, which might as well be the equivalent of several lifetimes for you. You knew this was going to be inevitable once you got married, and even while you were still in the dating stage you experienced it. But you’re not sure if you could’ve accounted for just how intense it would feel now. It’s different now. You’ve made a home together—are going to have a family someday—and yet you barely get to spend any time together.

Burrowing deeper under the covers, you curl yourself up as small as possible, as if you can squeeze out the pain by leaving no more room for it.

Even work is bland now. You work at a firm for a fairly popular magazine in your city, and although your duties keep you busy most days, even those things are starting to lose their appeal. Your peers certainly don’t help.

“You look like you’ve been going through it,” Your coworker Daniel says over lunch. Your other coworker, Patrice, elbows them in the side for his indiscretion.

Your jaw clenches. You have to make an effort to relax your body and gather your thoughts before responding. The last thing you need right now is to lose your job, although you already know Lucas could support the both of you if necessary. “I’m fine. Just a little sleep deficit, but I’ll live.”

“Don’t mind him,” Sharia says, rolling her eyes. “We all get a little worn out sometimes. I hope things get better for you soon.”

“I’m just pointing out the obvious,” Daniel interjects, holding his hands up in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger. Sharia’s right, though; we all know how you’re feeling.” No, you don’t, you think, resisting the desire to scoff in his face. “Work’s been pretty hectic the past few weeks.”

“Yep, real busy,” you say curtly, not wanting to draw this conversation out further. It’s clear that he thinks he’s making some kind of connection with you, despite him knowing jackshit about anything that’s going on in your life. His presumptuousness has always rubbed you wrong.

“Absolutely. Hopefully the big boss will ease up on us soon here.” You think Daniel is done, but then he speaks again, and Patrice puts her head in her hands. “Anyway, how’s everyone’s home life faring from all this? You and the husband doing all alright?” You know that last statement is specifically for you, and it makes you even more weary.

Sharia shifts uncomfortably as if she can feel the tension you’re experiencing. She’s the only one on your job who knows who you’re married to, as you didn’t want to let your other nosy colleagues in on your life. She’s the only one you can trust to keep your business on your front porch where it belongs. 

“We’re doing fine,” you say, keeping your voice light. “How are you and your girlfriend?”

“Actually—are you sure you and dear husband aren’t having any problems? You know...of the bedroom variety? Maybe that’s part of why you’ve been so stressed lately.”

“Jesus, Daniel!” Patrice exclaims in disbelief.

“You’re way out of line.” Sharia gives Daniel a warning look. “We’re at work, this isn’t gossip hour. I don’t think you need another HR report under your belt.”

You continue to sit with your hands clasped together, digging your nails into the back of your hand and watching the wall clock count down the minutes until the lunch break ends. Still 10 minutes left. If this were any other setting, any other person, you would’ve cursed Daniel out and likely given him a good backhanding, but he knows you can’t do anything here. And that’s precisely why he does it.

“What goes on in our lives is none of your business,” you say slowly, trying to keep your voice even. “I don’t know where you pull this crap from. You should listen to Sharia.”

“I hope that’s not a threat, because we all know the boss doesn’t care,” Daniel scoffs. “I’m not going anywhere, so you girls might as well get used to it.” Thankfully, he decides to take his leave at this point, collecting the rest of his lunch and stalking back to his office.

Patrice and Sharia exchange looks, and you merely sit and continue staring at the clock, watching the hands count to the next hour. It’s all you can do.

You’re relieved when you step through the front door of your house that night. Or maybe relief isn’t the word for it—but there is definitely a sort of deflation that happens once you pass through the threshold. You feel sapped and tired, and you can only think of scraping together whatever leftovers you can find because you’re too tired to cook a new meal.

As you walk into the bedroom, you remember that you and Lucas are supposed to video chat tonight, and that makes you feel a little better, but not as good as it could. You glance at the empty side of the bed and sigh heavily.

The rest of the evening passes by simultaneously too slow and too fast. It’s almost like the weight of your depression is dragging down the rest of the world and making time flow in a strange, nonsensical fashion. You eat your leftovers, watch bad reality TV, and even try to check a few work emails before your mind drifts off again. You keep replaying the events at lunch and getting upset again, though you don’t want to.

By the time the hour for your video call comes along, you’re curled up on the bed holding your phone tightly, waiting for it to ring and your husband’s name to flash across the screen. You answer almost instantly when it finally does.

“Yukhei,” you breathe out once his face appears on screen. The sight of him is enough to make your eyes sting immediately, and your throat is choked off with tears.

“Y/N!” Even through the phone speakers, his voice is loud enough to fill your room, and your sudden laughter at his excitement is enough to make the tears building in your eyes finally fall down. Lucas leans closer to the screen, his features drawing into a concerned expression. “Oh, shit—Y/N, what’s wrong?!”

You’ve stopped laughing now but the tears keep flowing, and you wipe your eyes futilely. For a while, all you can do is shake your head and keep crying as Lucas coos to you on the other end of the phone, growing increasingly concerned about your emotional state.

You put the phone down to wipe your face, and only then are you able to calm down enough to speak. “I just hate everything.”

Lucas frowns. “What do you hate, baby?”

“This fucking job, I hate Daniel, I hate being talked to like I’m an idiot, I hate…I hate you not being here.” You pick up the phone again. Your head hurts from crying, and you put your forehead in your hand as you look at Lucas on the other line.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I wish I could be there with you. You know I’d kick his ass for you...and anyone else who makes my baby cry.” He sighs and chuckles, though there’s no real humor to it. “Maybe I should kick my own ass too, then. I’m always away from you, and I know that doesn’t help. There are moments everyday when I wish I was there beside you, but…”

“It’s not like you can help it,” you say, and you feel powerless to do anything about it. “You shouldn’t...feel bad about it.” If only you could take your own advice.

“It’s impossible not to.” Lucas’s fingers drift to his wedding ring, twisting it around his finger like he does whenever he’s distressed. It’s become a subconscious thing for him at this point, but you always notice, and it comforts you to know your relationship can be a solace for him. “I have the other guys here, and it helps, but...who do you talk to when you’re feeling alone, besides me?”

“Ugh…” You lean back against the headboard. “No one, really...I don’t want to bother Sharia with my issues. Or my other friends. I feel like everyone already has their own stuff to deal with…”

Lucas leans forward again, as if he’s talking to you face-to-face. “My dear wife, I won’t pretend to be your therapist, but I think I have a prescription for you.”

You laugh and shake your head. “And what would that be?”

“You should go out. Take a few days off from work, leave the house, do whatever. But I really think you need to be around other people.”

“Go out?”

“Yes, with your friends! You’re cool with some people from work—Sharia, at least. Or your college friends, if not your coworkers. Anyone. I don’t want you to be spending all your time alone.” A melancholy note enters his voice. “And since I can’t be with you now, I want you to at least get out without me.”

“I don’t know...”

“What’s wrong?”

“The problem is that I miss you. Going someplace where you aren’t isn’t gonna help.”

“You’re so stubborn,” Lucas says, but his voice is warm with affection. “Just do it for me, please? You don’t think it hurts me to see my lovely wife so upset? I only want you to be happy.”

Your heart warms at that, and you look up at the ceiling, not wanting to start another wave of tears. “Well, okay...you’re right. I’ll try it this weekend. But I’m still gonna be thinking of you the whole time.”

Lucas smiles. He brings his ring finger close to the camera and kisses the band of metal. “For life, right?”

You mirror his actions. “Always.”

The next day, you catch up with Sharia at the copy machine. 

“Hey girl, how are you doing?” she asks, feeding more paper into the machine. “Not too bad after what that fool said yesterday, I hope.”

The mention of that leaves a bad taste in your mouth, but you shake your head and pretend to brush it off. “I’m fine, no one’s thinking about that sleaze. I was wondering if you were up for hanging out this Friday? It’s kinda short notice, but me and some friends are planning to go to a club…”

Her eyes light up at that. “Oh? Which club are y’all going to?”

“The one on the same street as that new five-star restaurant that just opened up. Apparently it’s a bit exclusive, but one of my friends claims to have direct connections, so we’re gonna try it out.”

“Oh, to be rich and glamorous.” Sharia laughs. “Sure, I’ll go. I’m always up for some fun. Anything that’s not this damn job.”

“Great! You know where I live, just swing by around 8?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Sharia looks like she wants to say something else, but Daniel strolls into the room and she rolls her eyes, quickly turning back to the copy machine.

“Hey ladies, what’s going on?” Daniel leans against the wall as if he plans to pull a long conversation out of you, but you shake your head and walk out.

“Bye, Daniel.”

Sharia follows suit, grabbing her documents out of the machine and not even checking if they’re correct before following you out. “Yeah, not gonna happen.”

The Friday night that you head to the club is unexpectedly hot. It rained hard earlier that day and the air is still thick with humidity, which makes you grateful you’re gonna be spending most of your time indoors. Your friend’s connections come in to save the day, just as she promised, and your group of five is soon standing in the club without having to wait in a hot line all night.

Your friend leads everyone over to the VIP section and you all sit down, marveling at the club’s sleek interior. Everything is all glitter and glass and steel, giving the building an almost futuristic look.

“We need some drinks, there’s no way I’m spending all night in a club like this sober,” one of the girls suggests. The others agree and spend a few minutes playfully arguing over which drinks would be best to get before standing up.

Your friend notices you’re still sitting down. “Are you two coming with, or do you want us to order for you?”

“Just order something for me, doesn’t matter what it is,” you say, waving your hand. Sharia agrees. She waits until the others leave, then turns to you with a serious look.

“You should quit.” You stare at her, wondering if maybe you’ve misheard over the loud music.

“Quit? My job? Do you hate having me around that much?” you joke, though you feel confused and a little hurt.

“Now you know—what I’m saying is, we both know who your man is. I think you would be fine if you just quit and started looking for another job or even stopped working for a while. There’s no reason why you should have to stay there and keep putting up with Daniel’s shit.”

You don’t hate the idea. It’s one you’ve thought of numerous times before, but you’re not confident about taking the first step towards it. “I don’t think it’s that simple...having a job keeps me busy. I’d probably die of boredom if I didn’t have work. And anyway, I’m not really ready to be a housewife...especially considering that my husband isn’t even there half the time.” Your mood drops a little when you think of this. Sharia notices and tries to pull you back before you lose steam before the night even starts.

“Hey hey, it’s just a suggestion! You don’t have to do anything except whichever choice will be easiest for you. I’m just trying to look out for you girl, God knows no one wants to be harassed on the job everyday.”

“I hear you. But I don’t want to think about this anymore,” you groan. 

When the other girls come back, you take your drink and immediately down half of it in one go. You need something to distract you from the bad mood attempting to creep up on you.

“Well damn, okay! Someone’s eager!” you friend shouts, and everyone else laughs.

The rest of the night goes similarly, quickly spiraling out of your hands before you can really realize it. The alcohol makes you unable to think about any one thing for too long, which is what you want—maybe even need. You lose track of how many drinks you have and how many songs you dance to. All you can feel is the burning in your throat and the blissful emptiness of not having to think, worry, or stress. For once.

At some point, someone’s hands are on your body and you think maybe it’s one of your friends, but none of them would touch you like this—or kiss you like this. It’s not Lucas either, it can’t be because he’s still in China isn’t he? but you want it to be Lucas, it should be Lucas, so you return the kiss anyway, and there’s more touching and feeling—

until you end up in someone’s car, a taxi maybe, it’s not the car you came in but that doesn’t matter either, just the hands and the sensation of it all, of being touched by a person other than yourself when you haven’t felt it in a long time—

and maybe if you close your eyes for long enough it will be him.

The first thing you notice is the splitting sensation in your head. You don’t remember how you got into your bed or how much you had last night, but you haven’t experienced a hangover like this since your college years, so it must’ve been a lot. You groan and bring your hands to your head, also noticing that your bonnet is nowhere to be found. You must’ve been really wasted last night.

You reach for the water on your nightstand, but it’s not there. In fact, nothing’s there. Your hand meets air, and you suddenly feel slightly alarmed—where’s your nightstand? You finally crack one eye open only to see a room entirely different from the one in your home. 

You jolt up, which only makes your head throb harder, but you can’t be bothered with that right now when you’re in a strange place. Pure panic explodes in your chest as you look to the side and see a strange man sleeping next to you in bed—his bed. You can only see his top half, but you can assume he’s naked underneath, as you are equally nude.

“Fuck, no,” you blurt out. You throw the covers back and move as fast as you can to collect your strewn clothes, not really caring if you wake the man up at this point. You just know you’ve got to get the hell out.

You pull your clothes on and dial for an Uber on your phone, sprinting out of the bedroom just as the man starts rustling in the bedsheets. You realize his place is some sort of luxury apartment, which means he’s probably one of the many famous or semi-famous men who frequents that club. That idea makes you panic more as you unlock the door and run out of it; you don’t have the patience to wait on the elevator, so you take the stairs two at a time.

You’re full-on shaking by the time you get to the bottom and end up outside on the sidewalk. Some people passing by give you sideways glances at your presumed Walk of Shame, with you still wearing your club outfit, but there’s no room to think about their judgment. You’re too busy being eaten alive by your conscience.

The ride home is mostly silent. Your driver tries to strike up a conversation at first, but they realize you’re in no state to talk and leave you to your thoughts. With your hangover, the sun’s brightness feels like nails stabbing into your skull, but the pain gripping your heart still manages to be worse.

Your wedding ring feels especially heavy on your finger, like solid lead weighing you down. You badly want to take it off, but you also don’t want to remove one of the few things tying you to Lucas right now. The conflict tears you apart. You almost feel like your ring has become a sentient thing, burning your skin and pinching your finger with the threat of cutting it clean off.

You scrub yourself for what seems like an hour after you get home. When you finally get out of the shower, you end up in the armchair in your room, sitting in your towel and simply staring at the bed. Lucas’s side of the bed. The side of the bed where a picture of you two sits framed on the nightstand, one you took on the day of your wedding shoot. It seems to mock you now, saying, Look at what a good thing you had. Look at what you’ve destroyed.

The ring burns again.

Monday feels surreal in a sickly way.

You don’t call or text anyone over the weekend—not even your friends who are worried and demanding answers for what happened at the club. You feel like maybe you shouldn’t be, but you’re angry at their demands; why didn’t anyone stop you if they were so concerned? Weren’t they all there, too? Either way, it’s too late to think about “what ifs.” What’s done is done. You don’t want to talk or think about it anymore. But that’s impossible.

Stepping into work doesn’t feel real. No one knows anything except Sharia. All your colleagues still greet you like you’re the same person, the same hardworking employee and loving wife they all know. It’s better that they don’t know, but in some irrational way, this also makes you angry. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t treat me like I’m the same person. My life is ruined; nothing can ever be the same.

Nevertheless, you interact with them all like it’s any other Monday and play along with their tired banter even when you want to scream to the world that none of this matters. You do a decent job of avoiding Sharia during the first half of the day, occupying your time with assignments and then creating busywork when you finish those. 

Until lunch. Then there’s nowhere left to run.

You go to your car with the excuse of picking up your food today—even though you don’t intend to do anything but sit in the parking lot—and no one questions it but her. She follows you outside. You don’t even have the energy to tell her no. You’re at least glad that she doesn’t speak until both of you are safely in the car and away from other ears.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know if that matters,” you say blankly.

“Well, it does. You might have made a terrible mistake, but you’re still human.”

“There’s no way to be okay after this. Sharia, what the fuck am I gonna tell him?”

“There’s nothing you can tell him but the truth. He deserves to know that much, at least.”

“I can’t do it.”

“Y/N, it’s better to get this over with sooner than later. It’s only going to hurt worse if you wait. What would you do anyway, just ignore his calls?”

You grip the steering wheel. “...Maybe. If I have to. I don’t know.”

Sharia sighs. “I can’t tell you what to do with your life. But he will need to know at some point.”

“He’ll hate me,” you blurt out, a tear already rolling down your cheek. You try to stop them from coming, but this is the first time you’ve allowed yourself to cry since it happened. You’ve surprised even yourself with how long you avoided this part. The dam has no choice but to break, sending you into a cascade of tears as you rest your head on the steering wheel. 

Sharia’s arms are warm around you, but her embrace does nothing to make you feel better. You feel as if you don’t deserve this kind of reprieve from her. And certainly not from Lucas.

A couple weeks later, you sit in your OBGYN’s waiting room, your body stiff with fear and anxiety.

You haven’t talked to Lucas in the entire time since you went to the club that Friday night. You know there is no way he’d go that long without talking to you, though—which is why you blocked him on every avenue you could think of. To be safe, you also blocked all of this group members, making sure there would be no way for him to get into contact with you. 

You feel like you’ve lost your mind with the lengths you’ve gone to—what if he thinks you’re kidnapped or dead?—but you’re more afraid of facing him. The thought of looking in his eyes while your transgression swims in the back of your mind makes your stomach pitch to the floor.

And you would like to think that’s the only thing making you sick these days. But you can’t ignore the odd pains and nausea and sudden spotting even if you wanted to. It’s what has landed you in this doctor’s office today, with your hands tucked between your knees and your head spinning as you try to ignore the bitter taste of bile rising in your throat. 

Eventually, you can no longer push it back, and you go to the bathroom to empty your stomach—even though there’s not much there to begin with.

When you leave the restroom, a nurse is standing outside in the lobby, her expectant eyes landing on you.

“Mrs. Wong?”

“That’s me,” you say weakly.

“Hi! Come on back so we can get your vitals. I hope you’re doing okay today…” You follow her into the back rooms to get poked and prodded, your blood pressure and temperature taken and your height and weight jotted down on a chart. You don’t pay much attention to what she’s saying. Every word sounds like it’s being filtered through a foggy telephone. 

You return to reality when she hands you the transparent cup and the pregnancy test to take, and things become even more painfully clear when another nurse comes in to take your blood. You know the blood test results will take longer to come back, but you requested it anyway. You have to be sure.

Despite the nurses’ cheerful demeanor, you feel cold and isolated when you use the test in the small restroom. The feeling only worsens when the doctor confirms the reading and happily shakes your hand, unaware of or unwilling to acknowledge your dread.

It’s positive.

That weekend, you finally unblock Lucas. Your mind is in a tangle while you do it, but you can’t avoid him any longer.

You don’t know if he’ll even answer your call. You wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. Maybe he’s busy with practice or even asleep. But what makes you feel worse is that you know he’d never ignore you if he wasn’t otherwise occupied.

His name only stays on your phone for a few seconds before he’s immediately picking up the video call, his face suddenly appearing in full color before you. He seems panicked, almost dropping the phone in his haste to answer it. When he rights the screen again and sets it on a steady surface, his expression is difficult to decipher. Then it turns into pure discontent.

“Do you have an explanation for this?” You’ve never seen Lucas this irritated before, and it makes you tremble. It can only get worse from here. “I called and texted and nothing got through. I look on your social media and I’m blocked on every platform. What is this, Y/N?”

You can only shake your head. The words are stuck in your throat. You chew the inside of your cheek, unsure how to respond.

“This isn’t a joke, Y/N. What’s going on?”

Your grip on the phone tightens as your stomach ties itself into a knot. You feel sick again, but you can’t throw up now. “Yukhei, I went t-to the doctor, I-I’m pregnant.”

Lucas pauses, and various emotions flit across his face in the span of a few seconds. His eyebrows draw together in something akin to confusion and hurt. “You’re...pregnant? Why the hell did you need to block me for that? Please don’t tell me this about my career again. Baby, listen to me—”

“Yukhei, I’m only 4 weeks.”

Lucas’s words drop off completely. His body stills, and for a moment you wonder if the video has paused. Your palms sweat and your skin prickles. He sits back in his chair and looks off to the side as if he’s trying to gather words. Finally, he says,

“What are you telling me? Because this isn’t what I’m hearing, is it? This is some kind of prank, right?” His voice gets louder and more frantic towards the end, though he struggles to keep from outright yelling at you. “If you want to play games, this isn’t funny.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can say—there’s no excuse for it, but I was drunk, I-I was lonely, I just don’t know—” You form a fist with your left hand, digging your nails into your palm, and the warm metal of your ring against your skin threatens to burn you again.

Lucas lowers his head and pushes his hands through his hair. He keeps his head down like this for a while as you stumble and try to explain yourself, your words devolving into barely decipherable sobs.

“Shut up. Just shut up!” His words are muffled from him covering his face. He’s never talked to you like that before, which makes you want to cry more, but you don’t say another word. “I just don’t want to hear it. I’ve sat here everyday and thought of you, counting down days until I could come back to the U.S. to see you, and this is what you give me.”

You merely sit and listen with your heart trying to burst in your chest. His words feel like knives being thrown at you; the pain is practically physical.

When he finally takes his hands away from his face and looks up, his eyes are wet and red with tears. “This is impossible. I need time to think about this.”

“I-impossible? Wait, Yukhei—”

He hangs up the call before you can finish speaking, though you aren’t sure what more you could’ve said to him anyway.

With nothing but your screen staring back at you, a sense of unease seeps into your body and makes your limbs stiff. You want to reach out for him, want to make him see that you never intended to hurt him this way. You don’t want to lose everything you’ve built this soon. And yet, you can already see it all slipping through your hands.

You are more alone than ever.