#me who’s been in three forms of therapy for three years looking at this ask: 😏

[kookslastbutton]

Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter ii

✒ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, fighting, confrontation, tornado of emotions, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world, public shaming (both direct and indirect), morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of abandonment issues, mentions of therapy, attempts to self-regulate but reader is pissed, mentions of self-blame though oc knows its not entirely her fault, mentions of defamation charges, JK is just 🤬 while KTH is 😇

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: Woah okay....so had I fun writing this, even though it took me a hella long time to decide whether to continue the story as a series or not 🫣 Anyway I altered the summary slightly from chapter one (and updated for consistency purposes), but it doesn't change my overall plans! As you read this chapter, I hope you will be able to see my vision (I'm nervous af! haha)! Enjoy 🥰 (edited but pls forgive me for any oversights...my typos are ridiculous)

series masterlist | next >>

You’re seated in a wide sofa chair, surrounded by four blank walls, and the gentle sound of water tricking from a faux rock waterfall. Every element of the space is carefully integrated as a means to calm you. Yet it doesn't calm you in the slightest. Your hands are clammy. Muscles tense with the adrenaline spiking through your veins. It doesn’t help that you’ve been running on nothing but black coffee all week either, refusing to eat until the first promo shoot with your company’s new endorser was launched.

A natural in front of the camera, Kim Taehyung was able to speed the process up, yet it didn’t stop the massive dark circles from forming under your eyes. This morning, he'd told you they were unnoticeable but you've seen how you look in the mirror, and they're anything but unnoticeable. Still, you find his gesture to soothe sweet. Thankfully, your new partnership has been smooth sailing which is quite a blessing considering the disaster he nearly walked into.

Yes. You’re referring to that disaster in particular. When, in some desperate last-minute attempt for validation, you threw yourself into the arms of your ex-husband.

More like fixed the collar of his shirt and whoops, slid right on his dick…again.

What is wrong with you?

You’ve been asking yourself the question far too many times. You’d think being a hot-shot CEO of a million-dollar tech company would make you like titanium, resilient as finely pounded steel but no; you're just barely keeping yourself together. You regret your rash decision that day, you regret ever marrying Jeon Jungkook, and you regret ever giving in to your stupid feelings.

That’s why you’re here now, waiting in the office of your therapist’s private practice, hands restless in your lap. You’ve been seeing Melody for just over two months since your divorce was finalized, ready to move on; trying to, more like.

‘JeonX CEO Jeon Jungkook’s ex-wife compensated $1.8 billion in divorce’

‘South Korea’s Golden It couple split with ex-wife taking half the company revenue’

These are the lovely words that greet you from your phone screen.

You have the urge to grab your special red ballpoint pen from your bag and scribble out the entire paragraph, except it’s not a printed gossip magazine— it’s a newspaper column on the internet. Instead, you close out the pesky tab on your phone and reply to its sender.

Chim 🐥: can you believe this crap they’re saying about you?! It's no shit you were given a hefty divorce settlement. You brought in half the income! They’re making you look like some kind of gold digger. I swear if I ever lay my eyes on that pretty ex-husband of yours, I will end him! 😡 [sent at 5:06 pm]

Park Jimin, your childhood best friend, sends you a follow-up text when you don’t immediately reply to the news articles he forwarded over. He’s been extremely overprotective of you lately and especially pissed at how the media’s been portraying you, while Jungkook is seemingly getting a free ride. He’s always had an axe to grind with your ex-husband, to be honest, the divorce gives him only more reason to hate him.

You: Thanks for your concern Chim, but nothing they say surprises me anymore. If you don’t mind, can you stop sending these to me? [sent at 5:12 pm]

You hope your message doesn’t read as cold or dismissive. Jimin’s concern for you is a light in a dark place, but you don’t really want to be reminded of the amount of slandering articles still targeted towards you.

Gone are the days when the public saw you as a powerful woman in business, the one to watch, or the CEO of the fastest-growing startup in the last ten years. You're now simply Jeon Jungkook’s conniving ex-wife; as if you’ve merely seduced him for his money and ran when the going was good.

Of course, the whole situation is skewed to his side; half the world is in love with him after all, and that includes the few lingering reporters who've been practically salivating three feet from you at any given chance, hoping to get an exclusive “inside look”. Your marriage was a sham, you wanted to scream, a mutual business transaction.

Too bad rather than an increase in status, resources, and market share, you gained a pile of twisted, unwarranted emotions and regrets.

“I apologize for the wait Ms. __."

The door swings open as your therapist rushes into the room. She stops at her desk to retrieve last week’s session notes, then takes a seat in the chair adjacent to you with crossed legs.

“It’s okay,” you assure, straightening your posture. “I understand how crazy busy the day can get. It wasn't a long wait anyway."

Melody gives a small smile and jots a few words on her notepad. “Thank you for understanding. How are you doing this week?”

You take a deep breath. "Tired," you respond, "especially this week at work. It's like as soon as I wrap up one project, there's another jumping out from nowhere." You used to be ahead of the game. Now you're barely surviving.

"That's right," she hums. "Last week you mentioned having to attend a charity gala soon. Would you like to start there today?"

Crap, you're suddenly reminded that you have to pick up your gown by 7 pm tonight. You entertained the idea of not going to the gala at all, but that would do you no favors in the end. Given your situation, you can't skip out on such an important charity event.

"Sure," you nod. "The Winter Gala's tomorrow night, actually. It's funny how I used to look forward to it every year, being an opportunity to network and catch up with my peers. I can't say I feel the same thrill this time around."

"Because of the divorce you mean?"

"Exactly. Being the CEO of one of the largest software corporations in the world, my ex-husband's influence far exceeds my own. So whether out of loyalty or political agenda, anyone who's anyone will be on his side of the room. I'm gonna end up being that one awkward person in the corner in a far too expensive Dior gown who no one wants to dance with." You nervously chuckle out the last sentence.

Melody opens her mouth to respond, yet stops when she notices you're not quite finished.

"It'll be the first time seeing my ex-husband after months of no contact too. I guess that's what I'm looking forward to the least."

When you think about it, the most you've seen of Jungkook is his face appearing on the massive screens downtown. He's been featured in at least a dozen interviews lately, teasing a brand-new product his company's planning to release in the spring. Seems he's doing well.

"What you feel is valid Ms. __." Melody seeks to assure you. "In the past, you used to go to these events with Jungkook right? He provided you with a sense of safety, as you did for him, no doubt. I wonder if it's a lack of consistency and belonging that worries you, more than it is about seeing your ex-husband and your peers. Companionship too, of course."

"I suppose that makes sense, but it never used to be this way." Your voice raises to match your sudden argumentativeness. "I used to be very comfortable in my own skin. I used to be confident going to these events alone, long before Jungkook came into the picture."

You pause to take a breath before continuing.

"When Jungkook became CEO of his family's software company, JeonX, he was steps away from being bought out by both our competitors, so a partnership was proposed. We married at 27 as nothing more than two ambitious, rising leaders in business. Neither of us was after love or romance when our careers were at stake."

"But then that changed for you," your therapist carefully observes. "Combined, you both held the largest share of the tech market. You and Jungkook were also in an extremely intimate relationship, yet treated it as a business contract. Unfortunately, those don't always come out clean in the wash. It appears to me that while you gave him three honest years of your life, he stole those three years from you."

The words take a moment to sink in; Jungkook stole three years from you. It conflicts with what you want to believe, though from the bottom of your heart, you know she's right.

"I feel so...guilty. I hate that I fell for him, and I hate that I'm struggling this much to let him go." As you tear up, Melody hands you a tissue from the side table with an empathetic gaze. You mouth a thank you and gently dab your eyes with the soft fabric.

"I'd give yourself some grace Ms. __. But if I may ask, what about Jungkook?" she gently probes. "Do you think he feels the same?"

"No...," you say with remorse, shaking your head. "He's moved on."

Melody remains silent for as long as you need in the moments following, cautious to follow your lead. The last thing a therapist should do is rush their patient through the session, so she sits patiently and waits for your go.

"Sorry," you finally say. "We should continue."

"No need for apologies," she replies. "Take your time."

It takes a good minute or two longer of sitting in your car before you can fully compose yourself. As usual, your session with Melody was intense and insightful, but it was far too short. You're gripping the wheel with both hands when her final words of the session echo through your head: "Give yourself some grace; blaming yourself won't do any good."

Seemingly simple advice, yet tough to follow when you constantly feel responsible for the mess you're in. Yes, even though Jungkook has the bigger end of the stick, you made your share of mistakes too. You should have looked into other options when you found out your competitors were looking to buy out JeonX instead of eloping with their CEO.

Just what were you thinking __? you harshly scold yourself. You were trying to protect your company. You both were. Too bad you placed the cart in front of the horse.

Forcing yourself to take a slow, deep breath, your eyes widen in alarm when you catch the time on the clock— 6:38 pm. Fuck! The boutique that's holding your gown for tomorrow's gala is closing in twenty minutes. Without a moment to spare, you yank the seatbelt and slam your foot on the gas.

"Good evening Ms. __." A young woman, fitted in a black pencil skirt and white blouse, greets you with a faint bow as soon as you step foot into the posh boutique.

"Hello, Hana," you refer to the young lady by name with a smile. "I'm terribly sorry to be coming in this late. I came by to pick up the gown I sent in for alterations two weeks ago. The event's tomorrow and I know the shop will be closed for the day."

Knowing the exact dress you're referring to, Hana responds with a soft tone, "Please don't worry Ms. __. We have the gown ready." She disappears to the back of the shop to retrieve it.

As you wait, your mind drifts to memories of last year's gala. You had worn a vibrant, gold gown that evening, slightly risky with a low neckline. Jungkook liked it though, as he wore a matching gold vest himself. You can imagine how crazy the press went when you both set foot on the scene, arms linked and appearing to have coordinated your attire perfectly.

Every investor at the gig wanted to be your friend that night, anxiously pushing through the crowds to speak to you. One of them nearly split your dress in two, as he had accidentally stepped on your gown after one too many drinks. You recall Jungkook scolding the man before turning his full attention to you, making sure you were alright. You consider this to be the first time you truly started looking at him as your husband, a feeling of warmth blooming inside you.

How foolish you were to let that feeling grow.

You're attending the gala alone this year, without him.

Possessing no desire to call attention to yourself this year, you've chosen a rich, navy blue gown instead. It's subtle yet sophisticated. Made out of the finest silk, its silhouette is sleek and falls straight down to the floor without any extravagant frills. The neckline is simple too, paired with a tasteful open back. There are no flashy accessories or embellishments, just a straightforward, classic design. You find the gown beautifully elegant, and nowhere near as bold as your previous one.

"Here it is Ms. __," Hana chips from afar, her heels clacking against the polished floor tiles. In her hand is a generously sized garment bag, your dress flowing underneath.

"Thank you so much, Hana," you say, taking the gown from her hand. "Again, I'm sorry for my tardiness picking this up. I hope you have a wonderful night."

You leave the boutique, the sun having already set.

The Winter Gala takes place on the top floor of Seoul's most luxurious hotel, specifically in its grand ballroom. The walls are adorned with gold trim, and its floors are elegantly lined with polished black marble. Above, a magnificent glass chandelier glimmers, catching the moonlight filtering through the surrounding glass windows.

Despite being a private event, the gala attracts a whole slew of press and locals who eagerly gather on either side of the hotel's front doors, treating it as a prime spot for viewing the red carpet.

Physically, you're ready; dressed to the nines, and makeup done just right. Mentally, you're absent; secretly sipping a margarita at the end of the earth, wherever that is. The day finally comes for you to make an appearance at the Annual Winter Gala and it's clear, you're not prepared in the slightest.

Your nerves consume you as you sit in the backseat of your limousine. You protested against being dropped off at the front entrance. Hell, you hadn't even wanted to arrive in a limo. However, your PR team insisted you be seen arriving, happy to be supporting a charitable event for the eighth year in a row.

Reluctantly, you complied.

Chim 🐥: I wish I could be there with you tonight 😞 No matter what, don't let those snobs get into your head. You look stunning and you have nothing to be ashamed of! [sent at 6:23 pm]

"Thank you, love," you whisper to aloud upon reading your best friend's endearing message. Before you can craft a reply, your door is flung open, with harsh flashes of cameras blinding you. When you step out of the limo, you hear a mix of passionate cheering and interrogative remarks.

"Ms. __, could you share with us your experience of attending the gala without Jeon Jungkook by your side for the first time?"

"Ms. __, it's unexpected to see you here this year, especially considering your recent separation from your ex-husband, who is also on the guest list!"

"Ms. __, how do you plan to navigate the evening's festivities without the familiar presence of your former partner?"

Just keep walking __. If you can just get inside the building and tune out the noise, you'll be fine. You coach yourself with every step, but make little progress with the amount of discomfort only skyrocketing. Your photos are being taken, and questions barrage you from all angles. To top it off, you feel a strong migraine coming on and oh fuck— is that the devil now?

You don't have to glance back to guess the sudden increase in cheering is due to the arrival of another hot A-lister. It has to be Jungkook with a new woman by his side. You think he wouldn't bring a date to an event like this, even if she were a hire? You'd be horribly mistaken.

You fight against the urge to turn around and confirm if your suspicions are true.

"__!" a voice calls out, which you ignore.

But wait a minute.

You stop in your tracks—that's not Jungkook's voice at all; it’s far too raspy.

Peeking over your shoulder, your jaw falls open as you see Kim Taehyung steps behind you wearing a boxy grin on his face. He's dressed to the hills with a shiny maroon, Louis Vuitton suit hugging his slim waist. Quite handsome, per usual, but what is he doing here?

Taking the initiative, Taehyung strides next to you and waves to the crowd charismatically. “My movie shoot wrapped up early so I thought I’d swing by and see what all the excitement’s about,” he says.

You observe how easy it is for him to appease the crowd, a skill you’re still working to sharpen.

“Tae-” you begin.

He then turns to you and looks straight into your eyes. You shiver at from the sudden intensity.

“I got an invitation too, and the gala happens to support a cause that I find close to my heart.” His voice lowers for the next part, allowing only your ears to hear. “I also didn’t want you having to be alone this evening, __. I hope I didn’t overstep my boundaries.”

Taehyung’s words manage to coax you away from your previously frazzled state, comforting you as the chaos quiets around you.

“Thank you, Taehyung. You didn’t, don’t worry,” you reply, giving a tight-lipped smile. “It’s actually a good thing you came since you’re basically the second face of my company after all.”

“I’m happy to hear that. We’ve been working so well together recently, and I don’t want to ruin it. May I?” He offers you an arm.

“You may.” You slip your arm into his and continue towards the hotel entrance. You admit you’re glad to see him.

With Taehyung nearby, your apprehensions of the night start to subside. He’s not always beside you, slipping away to mingle often, yet his mere presence relaxes you. You haven’t even thought about Jungkook to be honest. Well, maybe a little bit.

You take a sip of the drink in your hand and casually scan the ballroom until bingo, you spot your ex-husband by the bar in the middle of half a dozen people. Figures he’s the center of attention, effortlessly tethering people to himself. Jungkook loves the spotlight, and the spotlight loves him. As you continue watching him from across the room, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions swirls within you; longing, sorrow, anger. You haven't seen him in over two months, it feels surreal.

Memories of your time together come flooding back all at once—both the good and the bad, yet mostly bad. It's strange how someone you were once so close to can suddenly feel like a stranger. You allow your gaze to linger a moment longer, curious to conclude a date is nowhere in sight. Perhaps you’re mistaken and they’ve merely slipped away for a second. You’re positive he would’ve brought someone.

Bitterly, you gulp down another sip of your drink. When you place your glass down, you nearly choke at the sight of Jungkook's dark eyes burning holes at you. You avert your gaze immediately, silently begging that he didn’t just witness you staring at him and take it as an unsolicited invitation to come over.

“So,” a provocative voice unexpectedly slides next to you. “Looks like you just traded one bachelor for the next __. I’m shocked to see you’ve shown up to our little soirée.”

Oh god, you roll your eyes, recognizing the owner of the slithery voice like the back of your hand. You do not have the stamina for this tonight.

“Kathy," you greet with the fakest, yet sweetest smile possible. "Nice seeing you again. I haven't seen you since last year. How's the baby?"

"Oh please," she scoffs. "Don't try to deflect, sweetie. We both know it's you who is of far more... intrigue. If you understand my gist."

You want to hurl at this woman's condescending tone. Nothing gets under your skin more than someone your age calling you sweetie. It's not endearing in the slightest, especially when it's Kathy Lee, Director of CommaTen. You despise each other, likely because you both hit it big in the industry at a young age. Meeting someone who reminds you so closely of yourself isn't always a blessing.

“Anyway, as I was saying," she continues, brushing her hair behind an ear. "I have quite the bone to pick with you about stealing that actor from me. Kim Taehyung was mine first, you know."

Hers? She speaks as if a person can be owned. You won't lie, you're surprised Taehyung agreed to partner with you at a time when most of Seoul's elites have turned against you. You're naive to assume that his support wouldn't backfire on his reputation. On the other hand, he's been your endorser for two months now and his following remains fully intact.

“To be frank, I didn't know the two of you were talking business at all," you respond to the accusations with composure, though burning up inside. "But of course, he's free to make his own decisions, can't he? Whatever the reason, something must have enticed him."

“You—" Offended by your insinuation that your offer was better than hers, Kathy doesn't stop what comes next. "We both know the only reason why Kim Taehyung's with you is because Jungkook left you! And you need the extra publicity, isn't that right?"

Fuck. Well, now you're really fucking embarrassed because, at that moment, everyone in the room shifts their attention your way. A pin drop could be heard in the entire ballroom since even the live band ceased their playing.

This is why you didn't want to come. Your fingers fumble with the fabric of your gown.

“Don't act like you're above me just because your company might be worth more than mine, __. We'll catch up with you soon," Kathy spits her final words before spinning around and triumphantly walking away.

Don't cry, you tell yourself. Everyone's staring at you; the press, your peers, Jungkook, and Taehyung. Don't you dare cry.

As the murmurs of conversation gradually resume around you, you force yourself to take a deep, steadying breath. Kathy's words were nothing but a feeble attempt to save her own face. Besides, what company doesn't have at least one endorser?

"Are you alright?" Taehyung's low, gentle voice catches your attention as he swiftly returns to your side, no doubt influenced after witnessing Kathy's verbal jab.

You manage a tight-lipped smile, nodding faintly as you attempt to push back the overwhelming wave of humiliation. "I will be," you reply, though the words feel hollow even to your own ears.

His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer, a silent understanding passing between you.

"I hope you don't take her words to heart, __," he mutters. "I chose to become your partner because I genuinely believe in your product. I'm selective about who I support, so please trust me when I say it wasn't because of material gain or pity."

You're on the verge of responding to his reassurance when you catch sight of your ex-husband from the corner of your eye, striding his way over to you for the first time tonight. His expression is unreadable, so you brace yourself, unsure of what to expect.

"__," he starts, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable urgency. "Can we talk?"

You and Taehyung share a quick glance before you follow Jungkook out of the ballroom, seeking privacy.

As soon as you're out of earshot, Jungkook turns to you, his features softened by a hint of concern. "Hey," he starts. "I meant to get over to you sooner but got tied up. You know how it is."

"Yeah, I know," you respond, though you'd rather he didn't come over at all, especially after being dragged into the spotlight in front of all your peers and colleagues.

The two of you share an unsettling silence before he speaks again.

"You-You look good." He allows his eyes to rake up and down your body, causing you to cross your arms in discomfort. There was a time when his gaze brought a flutter of excitement, but now, you're not so sure it brings you the same pleasure.

"I'm sorry for what happened in there," he says. "You okay?"

"What?" you repeat, your eyes wide with surprise, stunned by his unexpected apology. "Am I okay?"

Where was this concern when he handed you the divorce papers nine months ago? Or when he willingly took advantage of your vulnerability that time in your office, only to disappear afterward, as if he hadn't just torn your heart out of your chest? You clench your fists, trying to contain the rising temperature of your anger.

"Yeah, about what she said about you," he clarifies. "It was uncalled for, and I feel horrible about it." He reaches out to touch you, but you instinctively step back, as if his touch would scorch you.

"Please, don't," you sigh, a trace of weariness in your voice. "It's fine."

"I'm serious __, I can have her charged with defamation for that. It wouldn't take much!" His insistence is unwavering, and it strikes your last nerve.

"You don't need to fight my battles for me, Jungkook," you suddenly snap, voice stern. "I'm not completely helpless now that you've divorced me!"

Jungkook's expression darkens, regret flickering in his eyes. "I'm not saying you are. I'm just trying to help."

"Help?" you repeat, doubtful. "How do you think that's going to look for me in the media? Jeon Jungkook slaps another high society member with a defamation charge for ex-wife. Thanks, but no thanks. I get enough of that as is."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know they've been difficult on you recentl—"

"Difficult?" you interject, your anger bubbling to the surface. "In case you haven't noticed my face is on every gossip magazine, billboard, press release, and anything else they can use to scorn me with. It's unbearable, especially since I still have a business to run."

Jungkook winces, clearly stung by your words. "Then let me help. I'll get them removed for you. I still care about you, __."

You scoff. "You care about me? Is that why you made me sign our divorce papers three months after you found out I wanted more than a fake marriage?"

His jaw clenches, gaze dropping to the floor guiltily. "It's not like that, __. I'm not trying to be an avoidant asshole. I want you to-"

"Find someone else. Yeah, I got it," you mutter bitterly, feeling a fresh wave of hurt wash over you.

"I'm sorry, __. I am."

You stare at him, torn between resentment and a lingering ache for the connection you once shared. Now, he's apologizing?

"So am I," you say, slowly backing away from him. "You don't have to do anything, Jungkook. I'm fine."

You then turn on your heels to return to the ballroom where Taehyung still waits for you, leaving your ex-husband standing in the hallway, alone.

a/n: A much-needed confrontation between oc and jk eh? But... *laughs evilly*..this is not the end...LMK what you think! 🤔🤍

Masterlist | Requests: closed | Taglist | Fic Recs

Tags:

@jksjx @lovingkoalaface @junecat18 @babystarcandyjk97 @wobblewobble822 @a-gayish-unicorn @neverthefirstchoice @whipwhoops @hubbytaehyung @jalexad @cassies-cookies @llallaaa @marshieeeemallow @baechugff @lovemazespluto @eegyo @iwanttobecalledaurora @harmonyflora @francheskarm34 @sftlrmin @saba-ya @11thenightwemet11 @yoursnixni @zafirowwa2909 @btsffreader92 @junniesoleilkth @iamcamlb @bangctans @lilliankoo @talyaaas-blog @blackswan18 @appleh4ad @hoseokteardrop @613tannies @whoa-jo @borahaeb1ch @getougf @chimmisbae @kookcobain @miniekookiegucci @purplelanterns @eegyo @inthemiddleofsomething22-blog @darkuni63 @bibimboppin19 @phanniefoo @chieftoadturkeynickel @existenciosa @dasommwa @hrndez2008 @minayas1998 @sumzysworld @pwd54gr54 @jellycake2109 @sigxx123 @00frenchfries00 @importantperfectionmiracle @stigma93 @lpgirl2324 @youremyjinearth @moonups-stuff @bubblyyz @hvnnibvni @ttanniett

side note: I tried tagging readers in comments but most of them didn't go through, so i'm sorry about the clutter here...😬

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook imagines #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #bts smut #bts angst #bts au #bts imagines #bts fanfics #bts x reader #fic:guiltypleasures #kookslastbutton

[runnning-outof-time]

Hello! Can I request John with "Do you actually love me?"

Hi there @kpoploverxx-12 ! Thanks so much for sending this in! I’m sorry it took so long for me to write it! I hope you like what I did with it! This is my favorite John fic that I’ve written in a long time….it might even be my favorite fic of this celebration. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

Exactly Like That

John Shelby x Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 683

Summary: Two friends become a something a little more than that when John lets those three words slip.

John and (Y/N) were sitting on the bank of the Cut, like they usually do. They’d gone there nearly every Friday for the last ten years, spare the years when John was away at war. Whenever he’d come home though, they’d somehow find themselves sitting there.

In a way, it became like their therapy. The calming sound of the water flowing became the backdrop that the two would share their goings on to.

It was there that these two became closer to each other than anyone else in their lives.

John just finished telling (Y/N) what was happening in his family. She was the one person who would listen to everything and not tell a soul. She did so because she knew John would do the same for her. They were both thankful for each other in that regard.

“You’ll get through it, John. You always do,” she said to him, a smile forming as she turned to face him. “And hey, if you don’t, I know that I’ve got a handsome amount of money coming my way,” she joked then, cracking up at her own statement.

John couldn’t help but laugh. Her laughter was like music to his ears. It always instantly put him in a better mood. “I love you,” he admitted once his laughter died down and he’d been watching at her as she came down from her fit of giggles from a few moments ago.

“Yeah,” she agreed, not really hearing what he said at first. Silence fell over them as (Y/N) looked down to the water again. Then it clicked. “Do you actually love me?” she asked, a seriousness present in her voice that hadn’t been there seconds ago. This conversation had essentially changed tones on a dime.

“Yeah, course I do,” John responded without a second thought.

(Y/N) froze for a moment, her heart rate quickening. “Yeah, well not like that, right?” she scrambled to ask while mentally telling herself to calm down and not get ahead of herself.

John’s eyes danced over her face for a moment, taking her features in before the slightest smile graced his lips. “No, exactly like that,” he spoke with sincerity, like it was the most important thing he’d ever said.

(Y/N) let out a breath, her eyes going wide as she quickly looked straight again. She was freaking out now, and she didn’t want him to see it. In all their years of friendship, she never thought that things would get to this point…where she’d make her feelings for him known.

Nothing was said as John reached over and gently took hold of (Y/N)’s chin so that he could guide her eyes back to his. They held eye contact for a few moments, the air around them holding this weird tension that neither of them had experienced before.

John just had to break it. “I love you, (Y/N). Have since you and I was kids,” he told her, speaking softly due to their proximity, but she heard every word clear as day. She also didn’t miss his eyes as they flitted down to her lips. There was no hesitation in her moving the slightest bit closer to him, showing him that she wanted exactly what he wanted. He licked his lips before continuing, “…been wantin’ to do this for a long time too,” he breathed, giving her no time to respond - if she even wanted to - before he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss felt exactly like those kisses that are described in the romance novels…the ones that sweep people off of their feet. (Y/N) was thankful that they were sitting, because otherwise she wasn’t sure if she could trust her legs to hold her up.

“I love you too, John,” she breathed against his lips once they broke the kiss. Her eyes were closed, but she was able to feel his smile, and that alone made her smile. Nothing else was said as their lips met again…nothing more was needed to be said.

**tags in reblogs so that hopefully they get sent

MASTERLIST

#john shelby #john shelby x reader #john shelby x y/n #john shelby x you #john shelby blurb #john shelby imagine #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders blurb #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #k’s 3.5k celebration

[starlightandfairies]

Leg injury -Austin Butler~

Description: Reader injures leg filming a scene and Austin takes care of you.

Warnings: Broken leg, fluff, implied female

Key: POV = Point of view, Y/N = your name

Word Count: 989

*Please send through requests!*

2nd Person's POV

Austin had met you at a photo shoot, you weren't originally meant to be the model standing in with Austin but the other model had dropped out and chose that she didn't want to do the photoshoot. So going through the books, looking for anyone that they thought could be a good match against Austin, they found your headshot. At the time you were an actress trying to get any sense of work. So, you ended up doing the shoot with Austin, the two of you finding an interest in each other and that created the pathway for your relationship. 

Across the next three years later your friendship turned into a romance, and you started to gain more roles as a guest in tv shows, having a couple of episodes before being written off as there was no longer any use for your character and had also been placed in movies for ten minutes before your character was either or you were playing the younger version of the main character so once you had filmed your scenes you were sent off. 

So, over the last two months, you auditioned for a movie, got the lead role and began filming with the others that had also been cast in the movie. You didn't do some of your own stunts, some of which made you uncomfortable. This current stunt was not meant to be a difficult one, you had been strapped into a harness, a suspension-like bungee wire hooked onto the back. All you had to do was stand on the edge of a tall platform, jump to a lower one and then switch with the stunt double who would be thrown off and onto a crashmat. 

Normally, Austin would be there, watching you perform your scenes, however, he had to do some interviews that he had been requested to attend. After the whole process of being hooked up to the wire, getting into position and making sure everyone else was ready. Getting into character, you ran and jumped where the marking previously was. You had no clue how it happened or what happened to begin with. 

The wire snapped before you could reach the other platform, you fell and just missed the crash mat, a scream escaped your lips as pain raced up your left leg. 

You had been raced to the hospital, an obnoxious plaster cast placed on your leg, resting in bed while you waited for Austin to come home. Austin raced into the hospital room, looking panicked and worried. 

"Sweetheart, how are you doing?" He whispered, sitting at your side as he placed a hand on your face and rested a couple of kisses across your face. 

"I can't feel the pain, I'm on a lot of painkillers." You explained, smiling at him and holding his hand, Austin was glad to know that besides the broken leg, you were otherwise okay. Austin rested a kiss on your lips, holding your hand and looking over your form. 

"They won't be mad at me?" You asked, Austin shot you a look and brought your hand to his lips and rested a gentle kiss on the back of your hand. 

"No, sweetheart, they won't be mad, if they are I'll yell at them. Y/n you're the one that should be mad at them for not checking that wire." You nodded at his words, taking a breath and smiling as he handed you some water. 

"Thank you." He nodded and grabbed a marker out of his pocket. 

"Can I draw on it?" You nodded happily at his words, Austin chuckling as he moved the chair he had been sitting on closer to your leg and lightly began drawing over the plaster. You watched some sitcoms on the tv, ate the food that was brought in for you and talked with Austin as he drew cute little pictures on his new canvas. Austin placed the marker down, moved back to you and rested another kiss on your forehead. 

"The doctors were saying that I would need to be in a wheelchair for a while, then be placed on crutches and then I'd also need physical therapy in the end." You explained sighing at how drastic it all sounded. Austin caressed your cheek, resting loving kisses on your forehead and gave you a caring smile.

"I'll be there with you, all the way. I promise." He reassured, grabbing something from his bag and smiling at you before showing you a teddy bear. 

"You brought me Cookie!" Your teddy bear from your childhood was named Cookie, it normally sat on your bedside table and Austin didn't call you childish for keeping the childhood comfort. You cuddled the sentimental item close to your chest, smiling happily at the boy and rested a kiss on his lips. 

"I love you."

"I love you too." He whispered, sitting back in the chair and watching as you fiddled with the ears of the loved but well-maintained toy. 

"They're talking about returning to filming two weeks after I'm out of here, they just film me from the waist down or do scenes where my leg isn't showing. They don't want to use CGI unless they have to." 

"We'll see how that goes. We don't want you pushing it too much." He stated lightly, standing up and closing the blinds as the sun was pouring in violently. He switched the lights on, smiling as you looked more relaxed from being able to see properly. 

"Thanks for taking care of me." 

"Always. I'll look after you. You're my girlfriend and I'd be a pretty shit boyfriend if I didn't." Austin reassured, resting a kiss on your lips and tracing patterns on your arm. Austin discovered it to be a way to soothe or calm you whenever you needed it. 

#austin butler x y/n #austin butler angst #austin butler #austin butler gif #austin butler icons #austin butler x reader #austin bulter x female reader #austin elvis x reader #austin butler fluff #austin butler x you #elvis 2022 #austin butler elvis #austin!elvis fluff #Austin Butler #austin!elvis x reader #austin x reader #elvis movie #austin!elvis fic #austin!elvis x y/n #austin!elvis x oc #austin!elvis x female redaer #fluff #angst

[disillusioneddanny]

Eloped in Space Part 6

Read part 5 here 

The days after Danny had moved into the manor had been strange to say the least. Dick couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that the man who had become like a father to him had turned into some love drunk dork. 

They were still slightly in their puppy love stage but Danny had managed to keep Bruce’s hands off of him long enough for Danny to decide that he was going to bond with each one of Bruce’s kids. He had apparently decided that the first one to do this was with Dick. Danny and Bruce had been back on Earth for about a month now as Danny settled into living in the manor and getting used to how everything ran. According to Damian, Duke, and Tim it was an interesting adjustment but they all seemed to enjoy having the man there.

“So,” Danny said, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on them. They were currently at some random diner in Bludhaven, Danny insisting that he could come to Dick to see him. Something about making a point to make an effort in this familial relationship. He rested his elbows on the table and stared at Dick with those blue eyes that looked as though they had seen their fair share of trauma in the world and refused to let it get him down. “Tell me about your relationship with Bruce. Is he good to you? He’s not shitty or anything? You get plenty of love and affection from him?”

“Uh…no?” Dick said slowly, furrowing his brows. “Bruce is the most emotionally constipated person I know. I think you’re the only person I’ve ever seen him act like that with anyone before.”

Danny made a face and nodded. “I see. Well, just so you know, Bruce will be starting therapy next week. He will be going three times a week until his therapist decides he can go less. He’s also going to be starting some medicine to help with his depression,” Danny said with a small smile, tiredness shone in his eyes. 

“H-how did you get him to agree to that?” Dick asked, eyes wide in shock. Bruce? In therapy? What the actual fuck? What had Danny done to the man?

The Ghost King simply shrugged his shoulders. “My sister was a psychiatrist and took mental health very seriously. I myself see a therapist twice a month. It’s nice to have someone to talk to about all of the craziness that can happen in the world and in our existences. I told Bruce that if he wanted this relationship between the two of us to work he would need to be in some form of therapy. Then last week he met my sister and Jazz basically made him agree to meeting with her three times a week.”

“Wait, your sister? I thought you were like some immortal being, I didn’t realize you had a living family?” Dick asked, looking at the man who had declared himself his stepfather in confusion.

Danny grinned. “Yeah, Jazz died like two hundred years ago or something like that. She’s a ghost in my realm. Our parents both moved on, as did my friends that I grew up with. But Jazz decided that she had to be a pain in my life for eternity. Like I said, when she was alive she was a psychiatrist. And she’s insisting that she works with Bruce to make sure she’s okay.”

“Isn’t it like a breach of trust or something since she’s your sister?” Dick questioned, taking a sip of his soda. 

At this his stepfather’s face fell in annoyance. “Trust me, Jazz is a pain in the ass. She would never break Bruce’s trust and if anything she’ll just tell him anything he wants to know about my childhood or something. But, he’s going to be getting therapy and Jazz is going to start working on that emotional constipation ASAP.”

Dick smiled at the man. “Danny, you’re an amazing step dad. I can’t believe you got Bruce into therapy. Alfred has been trying to convince him since the guy was eight and nothing worked.”

Danny gave him a rueful smile and took a bite of his burger. “I love Bruce a lot, Dick. I’m going to make sure he’s taken care of, whether he likes it or not. I have been around for a very long time, Bruce is the first person I’ve ever loved like this. And because of that, I’m going to make sure he’s okay and isn’t hurting. Under that emotional constipation is a man who loves his family more than anything in this world. The entire time we were on that mission together, all he could talk about was how proud of you guys he was and how much he loved you all. It was very sweet.”

“How’d you do it? How’d you get past it?” Dick asked, looking at the man like he was his own personal hero. At this point he pretty much was. 

Danny just gave him a secretive smile, eyes shining. “I have my ways to get under people’s skin. I can also read people pretty well and knew just which buttons to push. It also didn’t help that from the moment I met Bruce he just looked at me like he either wanted to fuck me or whisk me away to protect me forever. He also had this look like he wanted to learn all of my secrets which was pretty fun. But we just got to know each other on that mission and the more I opened up about my life and after life the more he was willing to do the same.”

Dick took a bite of his own burger and smiled as he mulled over it. If Danny was able to successfully get Bruce in therapy to work on his problems and get the man to open up more, Dick would probably lose his ever loving mind. He couldn’t believe the changes he was seeing in Bruce but he was excited to see how it would go. 

“I think you’re going to be really good for him, Danny,” Dick said with a small smile. 

Danny beamed at him. “I think he’s going to be really good for me too,” he said quietly.

Read part seven here

@mynameisnotlaura @neverlandingbird @angelheartgamer @connorsbonez @quietlyscared  @kgne-k @namichanth @magificence12  @alinmenttreasure  @phantomskeep @themirrorghost @dragonmoon2995 @numbuh-7-knd @blacksea21090 @blankliferain @avenInfear @rentatsunagi @bytheoldwillowtree @michikoy-yuki @aro-acedumbass @legowerewolf @justwannaseesomebrozawa @starscreamlover @undead-essence @skulld3mort-1fan @random-shit-writing @yinari-uchiha @dragongoblet @lesling123 @ascetic-orange @pastalavistamf @illusionwolfwriter24r8 @drowningroane @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @daemonlogical @jogjosmowwdkfs @markus209 @fox-sama97 @that-one-goblin @immakittybear @the-legal-shipper @blackstar-gazer @spoopyspoony @mj-arts-n-stuff @cloudminder @ serasvictoria02 @thegatorsgoose @ mnemovoid

#dc x dp #dc x dp au #dc x dp crossover #batfamily #batpham #Danny Fenton #Danny Phantom #Bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne x Danny Fenton #Deadbat #Dick Grayson #pop writes #dis writes #eloped in space

[raindrop-on-a-spiderweb]

A Message To My Readers

I don't tend to use this tumblr as a personal blog, but I feel obliged to be honest to my readers this time.

On August 11, I shot myself in the head with a .22 caliber revolver.

The bullet entered through my right cheek, fracturing my orbital and mandibular, and exited through the side of my nostril, embedding shrapnel inside my face. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt very much. All I felt was a burning pressure tunneling through my face, and warm blood fountaining onto the collar of my dress. The rest of that night I do not remember–save that in the ambulance, blood clots the size of caterpillars were dropping out of my nose.

I spent the next few days in the hospital, the side of my face swelling up so much I couldn't see out of my right eye. I was in the hospital under observation for three days. Nurse aids--new hires I was supposing– kept looking at me with that faint gaze of horror and slight fascination, at the bloody mess on my face swelling up into a bloodier mess, like rubbernecking at a car accident. Otherwise my stay was uneventful–I watched the Discovery Channel and reread The Master and Margarita several times while we waited for the swelling to go down and for my flesh to knit itself together enough so I could be discharged.. My left nostril leaked so much blood it covered the pillow. Scabs formed to close the bullet wounds on both sides of my face.

I was then transferred to a psychiatric ward. The experiences I had there and the people I met I will remember for a lifetime. It was a fascinating cross-section of humanity. There was an 18-year-old redneck father-of-two (!) who, during a group therapy session where we were asked to find coping methods to deal with depression, yelled out "GO TO A SHOOTIN' RANGE!". The head nurse on the ward constantly quoted One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest. There was a woman who believed she was "powerful reincarnation of an ancient druidess". Another man had been a highly successful local restauranteur before meth addiction and mental illness took away his life. A slight, blonde former nurse who after a failed relationship, stabbed herself in the liver and trachea.

The library was meager, but I read John Muir's First Summer in the Sierra and lost myself in snowy mountain peaks and the spray of waterfalls. I made myself popular by giving out palm readings in the day room and was correct approximately 80% of the time. I described one man's temperament as "fiery", which he correctly understood to mean he was an asshole. The ancient druidess asked for a reading but spent most of the time telling me about her myriad other reincarnations (respectively, killed in the Holocaust, killed in the Victorian era, killed in the medieval era). An old former nurse–not the blonde lady– came for a reading and it was so accurate she got teary-eyed; we soon became fast friends. She was elderly but sharp as a tack and had worked her whole life in the profession; through the 70s and 80s. She had never married, although she wished she'd had children. She had been a sci-fi writer as well and had a wealth of advice for me, one being that you should never become a nurse. Nursing had ruined her body and left her wheelchair bound.

My roommate was a quiet woman who barely said two words to me the first day and spent most of her time staring at the wall and sleeping. The therapists could not crack her in the least. By the second day we fell into a card game with each other, and little by little she lit up and started smiling. When she laughed it was infectious. She, I and the elderly nurse spent long hours in the day room, playing cards and watching television and laughing with each other. The night before we were discharged, we were up late, and she confessed her terrible circumstances, her life in foster care, her husband who had molested her children, her trafficking, and her upcoming court hearing so she could claw back custody of her children. A flash of contemplation passed her face, and she said to us, "I have talked more with you than I ever have with any of my therapists." I still have her and the nurse's numbers.

The therapy I was given and the connections I made were overall wonderful and affecting experiences. I left the ward looking forward to meeting the world headon, but when I got out, things grew worse. My mother withheld my medications and electronics and blamed me for everything; wanted me to go to a halfway house (thankfully my father let me stay with him permanently). I was on the verge of filing a police report before she gave them back. And then I realized I was being kicked out of the house. To walk into your room and realize it is not your own anymore, to see your belongings packed up and ready to be stored away or sent back with you, is a jarring experience; to have your eyes go to a familiar place and have it be so alien.

Then she said those words that made my heart drop to my stomach: That I was writing awful, dark things for an audience and that she was completely ashamed of me, and that she thought that it contributed to my decision to end my life. (and also that I was "posting sarcastic comments online for ego strokes"--wtf?) She had gone through everything private of mine, everything I strived to keep separate from my real life identity for this very reason, and told God knows how many people. All for nothing now.

Few things can compare to the horror of having a loved one finding out the deepest, rawest, most honest parts of yourself and reacting with disgust. To have them point a finger at your most delicate personal works and say, "This is responsible for your attempted suicide," when writing had brought me nothing but delight, happiness and friends at some of the darkest times of my life. Part of the reason I love writing was the lack of restraint and escapism, and the idea of being someone else. How could I possibly return to writing knowing that someone was constantly judging me and looking over my shoulder? How could I write honestly, without constantly second-guessing myself?

Anyway, my mother wanted nothing to do with me and threw me out with my father once I got my belongings. The last thing I said to her was "Next time, I won't miss." C'est la vie and that's the end. I'm officially disowned now and cutting off contact. No clue where I stand will-wise, but I don't care anymore.

We got in the car and went home. As my mood sank, I was tempted to do the unthinkable and I gave some serious thought to deleting my account and works. The thought of my mother (and potentially other family members too) reading these stories of mine in all their graphicness was a crippling prospect. It also occurred to me that she had started packing my room up when I was still in the hospital, and that finally made me cry. I wondered whether she was the same person who loved me and hugged me and protected me as a child, or she was the same person all along and I just never noticed.

When we got home to my dad's farm I was shaky and unfocused and my mind was in a dark fugue. But it was a bright and sunny August day. As soon as I got out of the car my cats poured out of the fields and out of the barn to surround me, meowing and excited after a week of not seeing me, Spot and Zorro and Aldous and Erik and Gidget. We're glad you're back. We're glad you're here. Beings that didn't judge me, that I didn't have to explain anything to or justify myself to, that just were happy that I existed.

As I felt the sunlight on my shoulders I started to cry again, but they were tears of relief. How could I have tried to kill myself when a moment so beautiful existed? Things will look up. They always do.

I love writing and I will never, and can never, stop.

#personal #writing

[scholastic-dragon]

Flufftober Day 2: "You've told your parents?"

Male!Werewolf (Liam) x Fem!reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: !toxic parents! (Homophobic and rude to non-werewolf people) therapy mentions, stress cooking, established relationship, spelling mistakes, talk of panic and anxiety attacks, ☆pasta☆

Summary: finding your boyfriend stress cooking, you ask him what's wrong.

Your keys jangle as you remove them from your jacket pocket.

Balancing a small package on your leg, you turn the key, hearing the lock click open. Tucking the package under your arm you push the door open.

The smell hits you first.

It's 4:30 pm, you'd just gotten off work and assumed your boyfriend Liam was still at work since there was a package at the door.

Putting your keys in the dish at the entrance way, you set the package on the table next to it.

As you kick off your boots you hear the clatter of spoons and pans and sizzling food on the stove.

Your jacket goes next, hanging it next to Liams. So he did come home early.

"Baby?" You say into the apartment, peering into the living room, seeing it empty. In fact, it doesn't look like he'd sat down at all, none of the pillows had been moved and the blankets were still neatly folded on the top of the couch.

Looking to the left you see him in the kitchen, standing a little over 6 feet tall in his wolf form, cooking various things.

He hadn't given any indication that he'd heard or noticed you yet, moving from pot to pan, stirring and adding spices to the various food items.

He was wearing his favorite sweatpants, but in his wolf form, they came down to the middle of his calf, or haunches, as he called them. As he turned to dig into a silverware drawer you saw the back of the pants.

He had specific pants that he wore when he changed, they were longer and had holes in the rear-end for his tail.

These pants had a jagged and uneven hole, as if he half haphazardly took a pair of scissors and cut them. Or maybe be used his claws and just ripped them.

"Liam?" You softly come towards him. Normally when he changed like this, he would be very easily triggered and anxious.

Finally his head lifts up to you, two emotions flash across his eyes: regret and relief.

"Hey, baby," He wipes his hands on the apron tied around his waist, looking away at the stove. "You're home a little early,"

"Could say the same about you," You came up to the kitchen island, standing at his side. "Did something happen at work?"

"Uh..." He clears his throat, looking at the ground. "Well, the boss had to leave early because his wife went into labor, so we all got to go home,"

"Did...did something else happen?" You look him up and down. He knows what you're trying to ask: he doesn't normally change in the middle of the day like this unless he's had an anxiety attack.

He doesn't answer right away, going to a pan and flipping over onions and peppers. You give him time to think about his response, knowing he's still working on opening up.

"Well...uh, as you know, the other day was our 3 year anniversary," He sets the tongs down, turning to you but not meeting your eyes. "And we got all those sweet messages from our friends and that card from your parents...and it-well, I-I..." He stuttered, voice catching in his throat. "I did something I shouldn't have."

"Liam?" You step forward, gently touching his forearm, making him meet your eyes. "It's alright, no one's mad at you,"

He scoffs, tears brimming his eyes. "There are two people who are actually very mad at me,"

Then it makes sense, the intricate meal he's making, his random change, his sweatpants.

"Did you call your parents?" You make your tone as neutral and possible, not wanting to make him feel worse.

His lip quivers. "We've been together for three years, we live together, we're probably going to get married and they didn't even know about you...I just- I wanted to see if they'd changed."

"You've told your parents?" He nods. "You called to tell them about us?"

You knew little about Liams parents, but you knew they weren't good people. They shunned anyone who wasn't a werewolf and even cut off all communications with Liams brother for being gay.

Liam had told you that he only introduced one girlfriend to his parents, she was a human and they hated her. Well, not her, but the thought that she could possibly not carry on the werewolf bloodline. So Liams mother paid her to leave Liam, and the bitch took the money and left without a word.

It's why Liam was so hesitant when you first started dating when you asked about his family, he was afraid you'd leave like the last girl.

"I just wanted them to know," His shoulders slump forward. "But I shouldn't have called, I made a mistake,"

"It's not your fault," You squeeze his arm. "You can't control how they react, only how you do,"

He scoffed, blinking away tears. "Yeah, I had a panic attack, ripped my favorite pants and am now stress cooking."

"Do you want to call Dr. Loone?"

"I already did," He swallows thickly. "I have an appointment tomorrow at 3,"

You rub gentle circle on his arm, scratching through his fur. It took him a long time to accept he needed professional help, but once he found Dr. Loone, he began working through his trauma.

"Do you want to tell me what they said? Just to get it out?"

"No," He shakes his head, taking your hands in his large ones. "No, you don't deserve to know all the horrible things they said about you," He pulls you into his chest, rubbing his nose on the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

"Well if you need to rant, I'm here," You mumble into his chest, the fur sticking out from his collar tickling your forehead.

"And I'm so grateful for that, truly. You have no idea how much you mean to me," He exhales deeply, possibly for the first time tonight.

"So, changing the subject," You pull away slightly, looking up at him. "What're you cooking?"

His head snaps towards the stove, slipping out of your arms to stop anything from burning.

"Can you put the pasta in the colander? I'm almost done with the sauce," He nods to the back burner, a large steel pot steams with pasta you don't recognize.

"Or rather," You say, rolling up your sleeves. "What do you want help with?"

Dr. Loone suggested that after addressing what caused the panic attack, distract yourselves to calm the mind, then go back and reevaluate what happened. In most cases it worked, for Liam is was helping him in the kitchen.

Being careful not to burn yourself, you take the pot, dumping the water into the sink and the noodles into the colander.

Liam takes a pan full of ground beef and added the cut up onions and peppers, then added a quarter of a jar of tomato sauce.

"I'll put the sauce in, the garlic bread is almost done, could you pull that out of the oven?" He reaches past you, shaking the colander to get the excess water out and bringing it to the stove. Carefully he dumps the pasta into the sauce and stirs it.

Putting the colander back in the sink he takes the pasta and starts to plate it.

The stove beeped loudly, you jumped slightly, grabbing an oven mitt sitting on the edge of the counter. You take out the delicious bread and set the hot tray on the counter.

Working in tandem, Liam brings the plates of pasta to the dining table and you bring a large basket full of garlic bread and a thick stack of napkins.

You sit at the head of the table and he's on your left side, you feel his tail gently brush against your ankle, you know it's on purpose.

The pasta is delicious and you can tell Liam is calming down with every bite. He hasn't changed back, he probably won't until tomorrow morning, but his wolf form has never bothered you.

After dinner, you lean back in the chair, sighing loudly, unbuttoning your jeans.

"Oh, I don't think I can eat another bite," You rub at your stomach. Liam laughs, taking both of your plates and rinsing them in the sink.

"Not even for pumpkin pie?" He laughs heartily when your head snaps up, eyes wide.

"How long would it take to make it?"

He shrugs, looking back at the messy counters and stovetop. "Hour and a half?"

"Yeah, I could have a piece by then," You nod, standing and taking care of the spare garlic bread. "I was thinking about taking a shower, are you okay...?"

Sometimes Liam hated being alone normally after a rough day, but he also hated showering in his wolf form.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, I'll be okay, you can go shower," He takes a moment to think, before smiling and nodding.

"Alright, I'll be back in time for pie," You smile, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

You feel slightly guilty for leaving Liam alone, but about 30 minutes after you get in, there's a knock on the door.

Liam comes in, leaning against the door frame. "I never asked how your day was,"

You let him stay, telling him about everything that happened, big and small details that would pass the time faster.

Then the oven beeps, and he leaves to check on the pie. After he's made sure he didn't burn it, he's back with you. He stays with you the whole time, afraid if he looks away you’ll disappear. 

Now dressed in pajamas and in the living room, the pie is done and he's finishing up the whipped cream.

"Do you want to help me with the-" He doesn't finish as you're already at his side. He laughs, handing you the piping bag.

"How much should I put?" You stare down at the two pieces in front of you. "Cause I like a lot on my pumpkin pie,"

"Here," He chuckles again, coming up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. He takes your hands in his and shows you how to do the whipped cream. "Do a little swirl, like this,"

His chin is an inch above your shoulder, his body surrounding your form, you giggle at the hair brushing against your arms and back.

Eventually you do get the cream on the pumpkin pie and sit in the living room together.

"Are you feeling better?" You ask around a mouthful of pie.

"Yeah, a little," He swallows his bite, nodding his head. Meeting your eyes he smiles, he leans forward from his spot against the arm rest.

You meet him halfway, kissing him sweetly. When you pull back, you sloppily kiss his nose.

"You got pumpkin-" He aggressively wipes at his nose with his forearm. "Great, now all I'm going to smell for the next few days is just pumpkin,"

You laugh, taking another big bite of your own piece. He lowers his arm and looks to you again, smiling at you.

He'd never been more grateful to have you in his life than today. And now, seeing you laughing in your pajamas, hair undone, the setting sun behind you, making your skin glow: he knows he made the right choice buying the ring that's hiding in his dresser.

Tags: @flufftober @turtle-babe83 @thelaundrybitch

#You've told your parents? #flufftober #flufftober2022 #flufftober day 2 #day 2 #werewolf x reader #werewolf #monster lover #monster romance #monster x reader #liam the werewolf #liam x reader #flufftober 2022

[angelisgonnastartchangingurls]

alice, on a wednesday

alice hadn't asked about annie in a while. that was fine, annie knew alice had a lot going on. both her parents had recently been sick for a while, and the prospect of having to care for them both in the near future was making her despair and was causing her to dig up old resentments. when annie pointed out that alice seemed to almost be justifying in advance her plans to put her parents in some kind of care facility, alice told her to fuck herself.

"there's nothing wrong with that," annie said. "putting them in a home, i mean. you have money. you're successful. that's one of the perks."

"what do you spend your money on?" alice asked. "you dress well, but i mean, you could drive a much fancier car." annie's car was almost always parked at her office because she walked from her apartment. the truth was, annie had a significant savings and really only spent money on going out to eat and buying drugs. but she knew not to tell alice about the drugs.

her cocaine usage was up. annie did blow with julia, jim and robbie a lot, and also with claire and sophie, who were sort of a couple now and were sort of a newly forming friend group. several nights earlier, a few days after fucking richard, annie had engaged in a threesome with sophie and claire. it had been electric. they'd taken a lot of pictures, and annie had showed them to julia, and jim, and robbie, and even her dad. she wondered who sophie showed pictures to.

annie had deliberately chosen a particular photo to send her dad, one of her and sophie scissoring while claire touched herself over them. she loved the three bald pussies all together, thought it was quite beautiful. she'd asked her dad if he could tell which one was her. he'd guessed correctly of course.

"if your mom died," annie asked alice, "and your dad asked you to suck him off, would you do it?"

"do they discuss hypotheticals like this in therapy school?" alice said.

"only in the dorms," annie said.

alice laughed. "you mean like... how long has she been dead in this scenario?"

"two weeks," annie said. "and you know, your dad, he's not used to not cumming so much. your mom was there to relieve the tension. now she's not. which is why he's asking you."

"i can think of several women he'd go to first if my mom was dead," alice laughed.

"but let's say he doesn't. maybe they're all dead too."

"very brutal hypothetical. okay. uh, yeah, if he ASKED me to, I would."

"you wouldn't think it was gross."

"no," i mean, my preference is pussy but if the roles were reversed and my mom asked i would say no."

"me too."

"but you're more straight than i am," alice said. "i mean i can tell you're exploring the other side."

"you can?"

"your nails are shorter and you look at me differently," alice said. "you look at me the way men do. and recent converts."

"i'm sorry," annie said. "i didn't realize i was..."

"it's fine. who doesn't like being objectified? i'm 41, i don't have many more years of that ahead of me."

annie thought of her mom and the way robbie talked to her.

"what prompted the dad blowjob question anyway?"

"just something i was talking about with a friend."

"and you both said you would do it?"

"yeah," annie said. "i would have a hard time not fucking him."

alice laughed. "if my mom was dead i would probably entertain the idea of fucking my dad. like in the way some women start wearing their mother's clothes when they die."

"yeah," annie said. "huh."

fathers were still on her mind when marie's session started an hour later. she'd been putting off annie's instructions to masturbate and so annie was digging in on why.

"when your dad told you it was a sin, was it because he caught you doing it?"

"no," marie said. "i caught him."

"oh," annie said. "interesting."

"i walked in on him in his room pleasuring himself, and he told me he was sorry, and that i shouldn't do it because it was sinful."

"at that point, had you tried it?"

"yes," she said.

"and did seeing him do it, did that... i don't know, did that ruin it for you?" annie asked.

"i guess it was... an unflattering view of him."

"sure."

"but," she started.

"but what?" annie said.

"my husband, you know, when my husband and i have sex, he often uses his hand to finish and... i like that. i like watching that a lot."

"at the risk of asking a really reductive question, is your husband's penis... bigger?"

marie laughed. annie was excited to get a laugh out of her. "yes," she said, proudly. "significantly bigger."

"you and your husband have sex pretty often?" annie asked.

"yes," she said. "five or six times a week."

"has that always been the case?"

"when the kids were very young, no," she said. "we didn't have the energy."

"do you think he jerked off much during that time?"

"oh, i assume so."

"does that bother you?"

"no," she said. "does it make any sense if i saw it doesn't because my husband isn't religious?"

"that makes sense. he's not obeying your parents' value system because he doesn't share it."

"yes."

"but you do."

"yes. i think so."

"maybe you don't?" annie suggested. "maybe that's part of the resentment."

"i'm a christian," marie said.

"sure," annie said. "maybe."

marie took this in.

"it's great that your husband has a big dick," annie said.

marie laughed again.

"maybe you could start by masturbating for him," annie suggested. "as part of your sexual activity. maybe you could both just jerk off for each other. you could watch him, and he could watch you."

"people do that?" marie asked, blushing.

"yeah," annie said. "my boyfriend and i used to do that most mornings." she was thinking of her first college boyfriend, scott, whom she'd been with for almost three years.

"it's a compelling idea," marie said.

when marie left, ted's daughter lucy was sitting in her waiting room.

"hey lucy," she said. "want to come talk?"

lucy was mad at annie for dumping her father, though she told annie, ted had seemed to take it just fine.

"that's because once your father had sex with me we had nothing left between us," she said. "that was all we wanted. just to experience it."

"but you've created a vacuum. every time there's a vacuum, my aunt swoops in again."

"your dad's sister. who isn't shaved."

"yes," lucy said. "she's around all the time again. she comes to our apartment from the gym just so she can shower with the door open and get dressed in front of my dad."

"i respect the hustle," annie said.

lucy groaned.

"lucy, what do you want from me?" annie said. "you know what to do. you know how to get attention. just do it. bring home a boy and fuck him with the door open. lounge around in cute panties all day. you've got this."

lucy apologized for barging in; annie told to her stop by any time.

[granulesofsand]

TW: Programming talk [not in depth]

I saw you answer an ask about RAMCOA and questioning if someone suspects they have been through it, something like that. I have a similar question, definitely from the same vein, and I'll try to keep this relatively simple. Some context is required for our specific case and why we are asking, but a general answer is also appreciated.

My general question is that: could someone not remember the RAMCOA they experienced?

I have suspected that my system contains programmed alters, but we have no tangible memories of RAMCOA. I feel like I would remember something like going through RAMCOA, if that makes sense.

This question comes from a place of pure ignorance, to be so honest and upfront. I've tried to do my due diligence when looking into RAMCOA and others' experiences, but every time we look into it, we have to take a huge break because of repeated triggering of what we think would be one of the programmed alters we suspect [of which there are five alters we suspect are programmed]. On top of that, bringing up him, and the subsystem he's from [all of which are suspected to be programmed alters], in therapy has been counterproductive for our safety. The last time we tried, he [the specific alter] triggered us to have a psychotic episode for 2 weeks, and it was dangerous for us. It was such a drop of a pin, snap of a finger trigger that it was jarring and terrifying. Straight up terrifying. I haven't experienced an episode so severe since I was medicated for my psychosis symptoms [so like,, 6+ years].

Our therapist tried to reassure us by saying that 'your brain split him because you needed him', but I cannot FATHOM why my brain would split off him [whose sole purpose is to trigger those episodes, as well as a second purpose I won't state] or any of the alters we suspect are programmed. They cannot deviate from whatever purpose they had before, and our usual approach with getting alters to work with the system, rather than against it, simply does not work. New approaches? Those don't seem to work either [or we just haven't found a way yet, ig]. He and the others can't deviate from what we call their 'scripts', just for the sake of labeling the experience we're going through. We don't even know if that [scripts, but in the way we are using it] is specifically a RAMCOA term, but we can't understand their behavior and that's the closest thing we can call it without calling it 'programming' or 'programmed behaviors', which we are unsure of it actually being that because of the lack of memories of RAMCOA [circled it back to the question].

Feel free not to answer this ask and straight up delete it. Your system's safety is more important to me than knowing the answer /gen/. Especially since I can't even say I will see you answer because I don't follow you, and likely one of the two gatekeepers from that bunch of [suspected to be programmed] alters will eat the memory of sending in the ask. I just generally don't have a place to ask this, and bringing it up in therapy isn't an option at this current time if the specific alter keeps getting retriggered. The only reason the gatekeeper of the subsystem [of the possibly programmed alters- the gatekeeper is his own can of worms] is letting me send this ask in is because of the anon feature and not being a follower.

🗝️🏷️ deprogramming, programming, neither with much detail

As always, I can’t tell you anything for certain. You can take as much of this answer as you find useful, and it’s just as good if that’s none of it.

You can absolutely have survived RAMCOA and not be aware of it. Systems are usually programmed so they don’t remember, and that can include the alters with the jobs.

Our system was designed to have at least three alters for every program; one who was present for/remembers the pain of the programming, one who formed in response to/to hold the beliefs of the programming, and one who carries out the assigned task.

The three are usually together under one shell, which looks like one alter to the rest of us, and have amnesia barriers between them. Sometimes they’re in different areas, or have some kind of bond that connects them in separate forms.

We also struggle with uncooperative insiders. Building trust takes a long time, and they were not sitting patiently while we worked on that. They had been taught to view the others they were hurting as subhuman, and continued to do their assigned tasks and disrupt healing.

Programming isn’t required to get alters who function this way, but deprogramming follows a similar process.

When the symptoms are present, or if you can interact with this insider without those, ask them why they do it. Ideally, start respectful. Keep asking questions, and acknowledge the good of whatever they’re doing— that helps them to feel understood, and they will have some reason for doing their task.

Sometimes the first answer (that isn’t cussing, staring, or leaving) is along the lines of “because I want to” or “you deserve it”. This is where you ask follow-up questions, such as why they want to or what you did wrong.

It might take negotiating to speak to them at all, and they’re likely to give an answer that riles you up. Regardless of what they meant by it, you have the bestest (/src) role of mediating and gentle parenting them. You might not actually be much better, but you gotta present a face that they can trust, and you can’t break that trust once you get it (as in try not to and make repairs when you do).

With programmed systems, a lot of alters are formed while the body is young. Our group programmed to have systems regulate themselves by 13, and programming typically stops before the system is expected to start their own life around 20. That often leaves insiders, particularly those who never surfaced, stuck at whatever developmental age the body was at when they were trained.

It’d be easiest to ask them how hold they are and how old the body was when they were around, but you might be guessing if they’re not talkative. Try not to talk above their developmental age, and use basic words where you can without using a baby voice at them.

Showing fear is unlikely to help, but so is aggression. Meet them where they are, match their tone and posturing unless it triggers defensiveness in them, and practice asking questions without interrogating, which some programmers teach lockdowns for.

And that’s the game; you keep trying and make sure they can understand when you address them. Working on memories happens when they’re ready for it, so you likely won’t have confirmation for a while.

In the meantime, make sure they’re comfortable wherever they are (as opposed to stuck in memories), and make some safety plans until you can ask for their jobs to be undone or turned down.

I think asks are supposed to show up in your notifications when they’re answered, so maybe you’ll see this. If you do, I’m sorry it’s all vague and grueling. Welcome to deprogramming, whether you need it once or a thousand times over.

#ramcoa #tw ramcoa #did osdd #osddid #polyfragmented system #traumagenic system #cdd system #adaptive system #ec did #hc did #pg did #ramcoa programming

[cxcassii]

About me ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Hi hi! I’m cassi or you can just call me cass

She/they pronouns

I will blog mostly about my writings/brain rots/art WIPs. Unapologetically unhinged abt eremika

Massively multifandom / multishipper. MAINLY fixated with eremika, presently. I’m into a lot of different things, though and I’m not choosey about stuff!

This blog is STRICTLY 18+ as I request minors do not interact.

dead dove/dark fic connoisseurs are welcomed

I’m down to talk about anything! NSFW/SFW so long as conversation is respectful.

Please, carefully read the tags of my fics before divulging! I tag all my works very specifically.

I do not take kindly to any forms of harassment, hate or bullying. Automatic block if you cross any of those three.

My asks are open!

All of my fics are located on Ao3 & this is my Twitter/X & instagram

Ao3 Fics

Healing In Your Pheromones — explicit, omegaverse au { on-going } — Alphas go into feral rut eruptions after a while if they’re continually nulled by suppressants. The dominants are transported to sanctums that are known as Rehabilitation Sanctuaries. Compounds are operated by omegan priestesses who perform pheromone therapy on the alphas brought in.

The ultimate theme is futile opposition of your destined mate. The healings of past trauma in said mate. Learning to allow what should come naturally.

A.K.A — there’s not enough em a/b/o au’s out there, so here! this is my contribution to the cause.

Eternally Yours — mature, rating will go up in future chapters, reincarnation/modern au { on-going } — It's been 2,000 years since Eren Jaeger was a titan shifter and unleashed the blood drenched madness of the rumbling upon the world. Now, in the year 2023, he's a twenty-four year old who lives with his best friend Armin. He goes about his days working as a pharmacy technician all while attempting to cope and come to terms with the loss of the loved ones he still remembers with clarity from his previous life. The atrocious sins of his past life he can never ever truly atone for.

But most of all, there's one person he simply can't forget: His former love of his life, Mikasa. It's when he's not actively searching for her that they cross paths once again, and their love will be tested when Eren learns that Mikasa not only doesn't remember their past life together, but is also seventeen years old.

A.K.A. — reincarnation au

(+ slight age gap) ! Heed tags!

A Slice of Paradise — explicit cabin au { completed/one-shot } — In the paths, residing in the remote seclusion of their small temporary eden, their fabricated home—their carefully crafted cabin.

The intimate instances they partook and shared within;

Eren and Mikasa absorb the small remaining amount of time they have together.

A.K.A. — cabin au + titan nsfw content

^ WARNING! Please do NOT indulge if you don't wanna read titan nsfw content. You have been heavily advised!

asking for it — explicit, modern au { completed/one-shot } — Eren and Mikasa have been married for five years. Eren has been gone on a business trip for a little over a month. Mikasa so lovingly welcomes him home.

A.K.A — the married hobo looking Eren x subby Mika au

Tale By The Sea — explicit, mermaid au { completed one-shot } — He never much believed in the lore of mermaids. Sure, he had heard plenty of exaggerated fables and tall tales. Eren was a pirate, yes, but that didn’t mean he inherently believed in all the ole folktales of the sea. The man’s main purpose was sailing nation to nation. Taking on odd jobs for treasures, riches, jewels and everything in between. He was a jack of all trades kind of pirate.

However, in a twist of fateful events;

Eren’s beliefs are tested shortly after taking on an odd job. Foolishly, he’d set sail alone. Subsequently, his ship crashed right into a beast of a storm. Thrusted into the chasm of the deep blue, his world goes black swiftly after the thunderous sea sinks his vessel.

Next thing Eren knows, he’s waking up staring straight into nearly sky blue, silvered eyes. A glimmering, shimmered tail whipping around a head full of lustrous raven locks.

“How goes it, human?”

“Uhm, y-yer a…”

“Yes, a mermaid. And I saved your life. That means you owe me one.”

Well, guess Eren be damned.

Maybe mermaids did exist.

A.K.A. — the mermaidKasa x Pirate Eren au

Porcelain Menial — explicit, modern messy stripperKasa au { on-going / returning from hiatus } —

Mikasa, age 24, was a stripper in the night-time at her cousin Levi's night club, Club Rose.

It was during a brief—though highly sexually charged—lap dance did a certain brunet, deeply sun-kissed, and aqua-teal-eyed man slipped her a hefty amount of cash.

Unaware, Mikasa stumbled into the same man again in the most unexpected way.

Or what she presumed was unexpected.

Cunning and clever, Mr. Eren Jaeger’s keen on precisely he how pulled the strings and how exactly he planned to invite the stripper into his home.

A.K.A. — The messy stripper/maidKasa x closeted kinkster doctor Eren au ✨

( ^ messy writing in this one, as it’s my first multi-chap fic, be warned! )

#introducing myself #navigate

[asterhaze]

If you get this, answer w three random facts about yourself and send it to the last seven blogs in your notifs! Anon or not, doesn’t matter, let’s get to know the person behind the blog :)

Thank you for the ask! I have enjoyed talking about myself a little bit lately.

Serious: I also art! Though I haven't posted any of my newer stuff online because my tablet broke and some of my traditional work is stuff I want to eventually draw digitally and hopefully sell. I'm terrified of AI taking away my dream of being a super cool artist writer dream before I even have a chance. So yeah.

Silly Fact: I have a horrible phobia of mascots. It inspired a comic idea that I will probably end up writing about evil mascots that try to take over the world and cause the apocalypse. It's a pretty serious phobia that councilors and therapists have tried to help me with but nothing has worked because I've refused exposure therapy. There are some masks that trigger this phobia, but honestly it's mostly helmets!

Random: I only started writing seriously last October, and the amount of progress I have made this year shocks even myself. This is hard for me, but here is an example of my writing from last October versus something I wrote a few weeks ago.

October:

Glen stood beneath the willow tree in a small graveyard. He stated down at two small graves whose names had been worn away by time. But he knew them well and kept them close to his heart.

"Maria. My love. I miss you dearly, even still to this day." Glen began, going down on one knee to brush his hands across the grass. "I wish I was there with you. Wherever you are and whatever is beyind this life. I wish we could sit beneath our willow tree and I could tell you how much I love you again."

Last week - a longer piece that may or may not make it into a final draft-

“Now your suit really will be ruined. Your socks too.” But I have the money now to buy new clothes. Who cares, Maria, about suits and pants and socks and shoes? Who cares about arranged weddings? Who cares about any of that when you’re dead, dead, dead and I’m here, here, here? I’m still here, here, here… He reached out, brushing his fingertips along the front of the tombstone, weathered smooth by time. Faintly he could see the first letter of her first and last name but the rest was worn away. He traced the letters, very gently, before pulling his hand away and putting it back in his lap. Willow had cried and cried so many times sitting here before Maria’s grave. Mourning her, missing her, wishing desperately that she would come back to him and forgive him for everything and being left with only memories. The tears had dried decades ago, but the longing in his chest and the aching in his soul still remained. Now he just stared, his eyes glossed over, his lips moving without a voice as he spoke in his imaginary world where Maria was fussing at him for this, that, or the other. He knew he was crazy, or ill, or pretending, or at least that whatever he was doing was wrong but it made him feel better. Talking there, remembering things, it made him feel complete despite reminding him otherwise and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was that people left him alone at the graveyard, let him spend however long he wanted there, or maybe it was because he was close to her again. Eventually, when a headache was starting to form across his temple, he imagined Maria turning to him and smiling. Still wearing that horrible dress that flattered only her body, sickly yellow. Maria fluffed her skirt, slapping it when she was done, before turning to walk away. Won’t you take me with you this time? Can’t we go together? I’m tired of living without you, Maria. Maria looked over her shoulder, a sad look over her sunshine eyes, as she sighed and turned away. “You’re too good.” And with that, he imagined her walking away and fading from his vision in a great glowing light that blinded him until he closed his eyes so tightly shut he prayed he would never be able to open them again. Anything else he would see would just tarnish it. Tarnish his memory of her, but eventually he did open his eyes, and there was all that was left of her before him. Faded, worn, and nearly falling apart. Here Lies M….M…. Loved Forever.

Tagging: @mthollowell-writes @rainisawriter @doublegoblin @gummybugg @veetvoojagigthemagnificent

[lollygirlpops]

Thanks so much for the tag @dribs-and-drabbles! I loved reading yours so much 🤩 Just realised I’m three days late with this - it’s been a very strange few days on a personal level here. Anyway! Enough of my weirdness! Onward, with more of my weirdness!

Get to Know Me Tag :)

do you make your bed?

I hate that I can’t put the fitted sheet on my bed. It always pings back into my face so always have to get my partner to do it and it’s infuriating. I’m an independent woman. Why can’t I do that one thing?

Oh. And if this is referring to making the bed during the day, I leave that duvet folded back and the window open. In a house with kids, ventilation is vital - and that includes the beds!

what's your favourite number?

Don’t think I have one. Umm, prefer even numbers. Not sure why? Maybe it’s because I’m an 80s kid and my teachers were a bit weird!

what is your job?

I’m a copywriter for a marketing agency. Spent today writing about skiing in the Alps followed by 2k words on car insurance. It’s a mixed bag, client-wise 🫠

if you could go back to school, would you?

I loved my secondary school. Honestly, I was the biggest dweeb (I mean, I still am) and weirdly, I have this recurring dream I’m in my sixth form common room. Bloody loved sixth form!

can you parallel park?

Yes, but please don’t watch me as I’ll mess up and have to start over, leading to a big queue forming. When no one’s around I can get that Punto into the spot first go!

a job you had that would surprise people?

People are always surprised that I worked in an opticians for a year. Fun fact: I’m contact lenses and dispensing optician Level One. As I was the admin person who answered the phone, they wanted me to sound like I knew what I was talking about when I was asked stuff by customers (I rarely knew anything about anything). Fun fact 2: Contact lenses freak me out. Glasses all the way!

do you think aliens are real?

It would be weird if we were the only intelligent life forms in the universe. Don’t know what I’d do if I saw an alien though. Probably nothing good.

can you drive a manual car?

I can only drive a manual car. Never tried automatic but always think it sounds a bit like you’re driving a go-kart.

what's your guilty pleasure?

Ooh. Now. I have a lot of pleasures but I’m trying hard not to feel guilty about them (that’s therapy, baby 😂). But does early 00s garage music count? Currently have the lyrics to a Mis-teeq song in my head (All I Want - it’s a banger!) and I kind of want to time travel to 2001 and wear those redundant belts with the massive buckles and teeny skirts teamed with kitten heels again.

tattoos?

Yep, two. One of a fairy because I’m obsessed with fairies. And…umm… stars that look like weird flowers that were added by a guy called Wolf in a dodgy tattoo shop in Sheffield when I was 19. Choices were made. Mostly terrible ones.

favorite color?

Orange.

favorite type of music?

Ohhh anything that’s not, like, acid house or drum ‘n’ bass. My Spotify Wrapped basically was a mix of stuff from the late 90s and 00s and Thai pop (I wonder why? Ha! 😝)

do you like puzzles?

Wish I did. Really wish I could do them but my brain isn’t logical.

any phobias?

I have pretty severe claustrophobia. Once winded my maths teacher on a school trip to Greece when she tried to put a snorkel on me (panic attack. Not assault. Honest!). And on holiday in Ibiza, my friend had to hold my hand and guide me out of Pacha nightclub when we were meant to be watching Swedish House Mafia. Maybe the moral is I stay put and don’t go abroad? 😂

favorite childhood sport?

I’ve always loved dancing. And does rounders count? Loved a game of rounders!

do you talk to yourself?

All the time! I work from home on my own all week so I have fascinating chats with myself about what to have for lunch and whether I need another cup of tea.

what movies do you adore?

I went to see Moulin Rouge the musical in London last week as a belated 40th birthday treat and I’d genuinely forgotten how much I love that film. It’s just one of the best ever! So good!

Speaking of Baz Luhrmann films, Romeo + Juliet was IT for me. Leo DiCaprio was so beautiful. And that soundtrack…

Speaking of film music, Cruel Intentions was another iconic film with an excellent soundtrack. So good.

coffee or tea?

Tea (must be Yorkshire Tea). But I need coffee to get me through writing content about insurance.

first thing you wanted to be growing up?

This is a funny one. I should probably say I wanted to be a dancer because I was on the stage from the age of 3. But I don’t think I ever did want that. I can clearly remember deciding I wanted to be a journalist, though. I was 9 and reading the local newspaper. Didn’t want to be anything else and it’s actually so nice that I can say I achieved my dream and got to edit magazines. I miss print magazines so much.

Right, that’s it from me!

Onward tagging: I'm not sure if anyone’s done this yet, so here are some no pressure tags for you @ungaroyals @darktwistedgenderplural @stretchoutfics @simonsapelsin @impossibleknots @skibasyndrome @sillylittleflower @gulliblelemon

Alsooooo! If you sent me anything recently I promise I’ll respond soon. Life is life-ing at the moment so I’ll be right back 💕

#tag game #tell me about you

[sir-yeehaw-paws]

🍉💌

(Sending good vibes 🔆🌻)

Real Writer Asks

Aww how sweet. Right back at you Anon!

🍉in what ways has writing helped you process trauma and/or navigate through your own life?

Interesting ask this one is. Because I feel like I'm the kind of person who hasn't used fic for trauma processing. Yet I know that isn't fully true, either. I definitely incorporate some of my own life experiences into my fics, and as a reader, have sought out media with topics I find too difficult to take to a table IRL. But I also spent over 20 years in therapy so I was lucky enough to have that space. I could say that, much like when I'm a player character in a video game, writing men in particular has helped me tremendously with the long, uphill battle of being trans. But I don't actually write trans characters that much. I feel as if perhaps I prefer the point where all the negotiating aspect is gone, and I can just fully embrace the final package. Fully-formed men or, whatever you want to call it. I am an incredibly intense daydreamer, for instance. I talk to myself regularly, I am constantly finding myself in a daze. Fantasizing. Looking at things in reality and being reminded of the media I enjoy. I am a creative, but I can struggle to stay consistent. Writing is a constant in my life. And one that has provided an outlet in so many ways. I've made brief mentions of the incident before. How in a huge fit of mental breakdown I wiped all my creative works (My original AO3 works, my tumblr, live journal etc) from the world. I did this all within days of my inpatient admission to the hospital, and when I came out of it realized I'd just dumped a huge portion of things I'd created over years of hard work and friend interaction out the door. I erased a large part of myself when I did that. And have promised myself no matter how bad it gets, I am never-ever doing that again. It is not worth it. But I acknowledge I wasn't thinking clearly, either. That I was in a place where my head was nowhere on earth; and the decisions I made that night. Offline and online, were a sign of something bigger. Beyond me. Art, creativity, outlets. These are so important in our world. But everyone gets something different out of it. I have been writing fanfic since I was 17. I'm now 32. Huge parts of my personal growth have come with writing, and some of my life events took place around it. That's crazy to think about sometimes.

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

Sure! You can have some snippets of this BBKaz fic I'm writing right now that is from BB's POV. I almost never write BB, and never his point of view because I find him so hard to write. So I feel like, for once, I'm developing some confidence about doing so. Which is exciting. He feels almost obtainable to write out for me and I'm excited to see how I do and how it comes across.

Tidbit's Below Cut:

“An enemy, a friend. Incapacitate, when possible, Jack. Just because we have strengths does not mean we need to abuse them.” But she was wrong, wasn’t she? She was the deadliest force he’d ever known.  How true. How easy. They’d have turned on him. Against the pile, the thick cloy of blood, John listens for the kick of weak feet up ahead. The tallest man of the lots sagging hard. From his vantage point, glancing down his smoldering barrel, John can make out that bright blonde hair. Matted, sticking to his scalp from blood, mud, and trickles of tissue from a comrade or two. His men. The ones John slaughtered in the counted heartbeats charging up his lungs. Three broken fingers scramble for a nearby machete, John takes a leisurely stride. “You’re lost, Commander.” He knows the man speaks English. The contract hinted at it. Aviators, cracked with John’s own wild-mane hair, blood-stained cheeks in their reflection slip down a haughty nose. “Then kill me!” such an odd voice. High pitched, scratchy. Incredibly, the man continues to make demands, “The machete, take it. Cut off my head!” Intrigued, John wanders towards it. Steps over the crumpled form of the man’s deceased second in command. Feels the strong heft and weight in his calloused palm. One of the man’s hands is defiantly held under his back, John only manages to catch a tell-tale grip on something round and solid, clearly bumpy in that fumbling grip. Complete, utter defiance. A trick up his sleeve. Bastardized hope reaches into the deep crevice in his hollow heart. A sudden burst of CPR adrenaline thick. Water in his desert. Light in his tunnel. “I don’t think so.” John thrusts the machete up, pushing the flat of the blade hard against the man’s side. Sends those shattered frames to ground as he rolls him to brace on his hip. Pins his wrist with that threatening edge, digs into those fine, tender bones and new blood coats it’s shiny-dented steel. His captive thrashes, whines with angry fear when John leans over him, wiggling the grenade he wrenches free of his palm in his face. Face to face with a cracked skull inches away, the Commander sneers, sputters. “It was a good try.” John’s breath stumbles as he wraps an arm about the captive’s throat, imagines a man with such fire. Such pride. Clever and desperate.

#real writer asks #asks #answered asks #ask games #fanfic asks

[rk-ceres]

Neglected PT. 1

George Weasley X Reader

PT.2 PT.3(+18)

George gets busy and you fight.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

To say the shop was busy was an understatement for the passed two months George has rarely been home, you packed the rest of the food in the bag as you apparated to the office “hey love, i brought you dinner” you smiled at him as he mulled over the paperwork “i was thinking.. we could go out to the movies tomorrow night theres the new Marvel movie that came out, and then hit the muggle arcade. Or Theres a fair in town and i sorta wanted to go with you” you said with some hope in your eyes it was your 25th birthday tomorrow and you wanted to celebrate with your boyfriend by going out on a date “i dont think i can love, i have to get these done by Friday or we’ll be penalized” he said not looking up from his form “but….” You started “love i cant im up to my neck in paperwork” he sighed annoyance in his voice “its my…” “Y/N I SAID NO! IM BUSY JUST GO HOME!” He yelled tears filled your eyes “fine… i’ll just see you at home then. I love you” you sniffled out “love.. wait” he breathed out “Do you even remember what tomorrow is Weasley?” You asked him tears leaking down from your eyes he looked taken aback by you calling him by his last name he shook his head “im sorry love its just the shops been kicking my arse. With Fred on paternity leave its me doing the work of three” “whatever George.” You muttered under your breath “we’ll talk about it when i get home” he said annoyance still in his voice “And when will that be George next month? Or will i see you three months down the line. Do I have to make an appointment for you to come home?” You snapped at him “you havent been home in three weeks” you looked down wiping the tears from your eyes “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT ME TO DO Y/N ITS MY MONEY THAT TAKES CARE OF US NOT YOURS YOU WANT US TO LOSE EVERYTHING WE HAVE AND ARE WORKING SO HARD FOR!” “NO I WANTED YOU TO MAKE TIME FOR ME ON MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY!” You screamed at him finally crying harder his eyes widened as he looked at the calendar on his desk “its the day before my birthday George” “love i…” he started “I WASNT ASKING FOR A FULL DAY GEORGE I WAS ASKING FOR ONE FUCKING EVENING ONE DATE! NEVER FUCKING MIND THANK YOU FOR SO GRACIOUSLY TELLING ME THAT I DONT MATTER TO YOU!” She yelled “WHAT ARE YOU EVEN ON ABOUT! OF COURSE YOU FUCKING MATTER TO ME Y/N!” “YOU SURE HAVE A FUNNY WAY OF SHOWING IT! GOD GEORGE HOW CAN YOU BE SO… SO…” you threw your hands up in frustration “so what Y/n” his voice low warning you to let it go but also challenging you to keep going “so clueless to everyone elses feelings but your own cant you see youre hurting me? Cant you see how much youre ignoring me for what?” Your voice breaks “we’ve been together for almost six years and not once have you forgotten our anniversary… my birthday… you made time for me for every small win I had you celebrated it with me. I took care of you. I took care of you before we even got together LETTING you and Fred get away as a prefect. Turning my head as head girl! I let you test your products on me you turned me completely blue! I never complained because i saw your brilliance and your potential from first year. I helped you not Fred with your potions and working out the bugs because i knew you and him would be big one day and now that you have your success? Your empire? You just forget about me. You know George. i never doubted it, I wasnt one who said you couldnt do it. I supported you. i cooked for you i cleaned for you through your over nighters. I took care of the scars Umbridge gave you. I…. i picked up the physical therapy duties helping you walk again after the war. I SAT UP WITH YOU THROUGH THE NIGHTMARES! I healed Fred while taking a wall to my back for him and after graduation I put my life on hold so you cold shine with your shop. Yes you make more money than i do. But if i had started when i was supposed to id be pulling in just as much as you are but I took that gap year for you to start this” she threw her hand up in frustration as he stared at her nostrils flaring

“but you have always been more important to me George. I LOVED YOU BEFORE YOU HAD MONEY! I LOVED YOU THROUGH HAVING MONEY! I CAN LOVE YOU WITHOUT HAVING MONEY BUT YOURE TOO DAFT TO SEE THAT!” You sobbed furiously wiping the tears from your eys swiping your thumb under your nose his eyes softened as you scolded him “Youre still the most important thing to me so much so that im still loving you even if you…. You dont even…. Realize…. Or notice me” You paused looking up to his eyes filling with angry tears and frustration “but as soon as Fred takes a step forward in life you decide to what? Punish me as if i did something wrong?” Your voice cracked “when was the last time you held me. You even remember that? Did I tell you my grandmother died? And that I need you?” His eyes widened he stepped forward “darling i” “NO DONT CALL ME THAT DONT MAKE ME OUT TO BE THE BAD GUY. YOU DONT GET TO GASLIGHT ME INTO BELIEVING YOULL MAKE TIME FOR US AND THEN YOU DONT! JUST. WHAT EVER GEORGE!” You yell he stops walking tward you “YOU FUCKED UP AND YOU DONT GET TO MAKE THIS RIGHT WITH EMPTY PROMISES AGAIN! TAKE SOME DAMN ACCOUNTABILITY FOR ONCE! Youve already promised it George ‘i promise i will make more time for you darling i just have to get through this month’ that was four months ago.” “So youre giving me an ultimatum?!” He yells “no George. Im giving you space to figure out what you actually want in life because the way its been going its sure as hell not me. I cant do this anymore.” “what are you saying Y/n” he huffed “im saying to Look at me and honestly tell me that youre not seeing someone else” you wiped the tears off your face “Y/n… are you saying you think id cheat on you?” He asked ludicrously “Baby… thats… thats not” “what am i supposed to think! Youre never home anymore George! I know. I know the shop comes first. But i… if you wanted to break up with me all you had to do was say so” “youre jumping to conclusions y/n! Youre putting words in my mouth! And assuming things that arent true!” he rolled his eyes “am i? Am i really? When was the last time you came home. When was the last time you kissed me because i cant remember. When was the last time that you told me you loved me? The last time you wanted to even touch me?” He looked down lost in thought “thank you. For your time. But seeing as youre busy and dead set in making me feel worse, unwanted, and worthless. Im going home. I hope you enjoy your dinner. Its your favorite i just made it because i missed you. I hope you dont mind.” he looks at you he reaches for your wrist “we’ll talk when you get home yeah George i know!” You yelled ripping your arm out of his grasp “see you in three fucking months!” You yelled as you grabbed your wand flashing out

he felt guilt for snapping at you he wanted to chase after you but he didnt he just rubbed over his face in frustration. You understood. You did but it still hurt. disapperating back to your flat you called Hermione sobbing a few minutes later he Flooed back into the flat needed to make sure you were okay. Your loud sobbing could be heard from the living room as he stepped out “i didnt mean to bother him.. i just wanted to be with him at some point tomorrow was that so bad of me? Is it so bad that i want to see him at least once every thirty eight hours or To request his attention?” She spoke into her phone “all i wanted for my birthday this year was for my boyfriend to spend some time with me. I dont want presents or a party at all. No lavish gifts just spoil me with attention love and kisses. All I wanted was was his time and attention like before thats enough i didnt mean to piss him off Mione…” she sniffled “hes never yelled at me like that before we’ve never fought like that at all! We yelled at eachother and i hated it. Its just like my aunt and uncle Dursley it brought me back to privet drive. this is exactly what i didnt want! i mean yeah. We’ve fought but hes never yelled. I froze… and yelled back he didnt even tell me i love you too. He just stared blankly at me and said ‘we’ll talk when i get home’ like hes home every night he hasnt been in our bed for two months he comes home to shower thats it! Im lucky if i see him before he pops back off!” she started to cry harder hurt hit him as he listened through the door “do you think theirs another woman?” You sniffle “maybe he’s found someone who’s worth the effort and its not me” you sobbed “when i asked he dismissed it like i offended him and he got so defensive about it it makes me think that he’s gone back to Angie” he was about to open the door “But its fine. Im fine. Its just another day anyway. I’ll just watch movies alone. Again i called off of work i dont think i can work like this” she sobbed into the phone “i mean i know my department in the ministry doesnt pay well i know but i love it it makes me feel like im actually making a difference i dont want him to fall behind because he takes care of me so i can do what i love but three hours tops. Thats all i asked i asked for three hours three hours of his undivided attention” she sniffled “no no. You and Harry dont have to come over, im sorry i ruined your date and dropping everything to listen to me rant. its fine im not up for company anyway. I just wanted him. Hes all ive ever wanted and dreamed about.” You sniffled as his grip loosened on the guest bedroom door “its just that for once i wish i was a priority, im fine with being an option… i know he works hard, and he’s stressed and things are hard right now one day. One day him to myself i havent asked for anything in months i pick up the slack at home. He leaves the house in shambles and i cook and clean when i get off tuck him in when he faceplants on the bed exhausted Mione he hasnt touched me since the baby was born and Fred went on Paternity leave he hardly even looks at me when hes home i feel so useless its like im invisible” she sighs out “i know he’s busy Mione but its been almost seven months since hes touched me or even looked at me! And when i try to talk t’im he gets snippy! Its like he doesnt remember me. Like im so insignificant that its easy to forget. Maybe I should just leave…. Maybe its over between us and he just hasnt found the right words to tell me that he’s fallen in love with another girl and hes.. hes just stuck with me. Ive moved into the guest bedroom im giving him space to figure out what he wants because i cant do this i really cant i dont know if im just being insecure or if i actually do have something to be worried about. i dont even think he’d notice if i just. Moved out completely” you let out sob after sob

“it would make it a little better if i knew where we stood if he still wants me the way he did when he promised me kids and a wedding, im just still his annoying clingy girlfriend that he just kicked out of his offic e!” ‘You can come stay with Harry and i for a while if you want too’ George heard Mione’s voice on the other end of the line “i cant. I cant leave him, hes still my one and i… I love him… i just needed to rant its not all bad, hes sweet and kind i just have to get through this paternity leave and hopefully things will be better” you sniffled “i just miss the man i fell in love with i havent seen him in a while” your voice broke “do you want Harry to talk to George? I can…” “No Mione it’ll only make it worse” you cried “i need to get to bed. Call you in the morning?” Your voice cracked “are you sure you dont want me to come over “im sure Mia” “if you dont call me by 11. In coming over. To check on you we’ll eat icecream and cry together.” after your phone call you laid on the bed sobbing with your knees to your chest

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

#george weasley angst #george weasley x fem #george weasleyxreader #george weasley

[phantomasc]

The Moose Charlap-Carolyn Leigh musical version of  Peter Pan will tour America next year.

this new tour will feature a revised book by Native American playwright Larissa FastHorse, who has been brought on to tackle the musical's depiction of Native Americans.

You might wan to see it. I know how much you like the 1954 Peter Pan.

Thank you for being a PHNOMAL friend, and telling me before I saw it in the news. I trust you to listen.

"Peter Pan" was my first Broadway musical, and is one of my favorite musicals besides "The Phantom of the Opera," "Annie," and "Oliver!" When I was six my family and I went to BlockBuster and got the VHS tape of "Peter Pan" my mom had asked me "Do you know a woman named Mary Martin played Peter Pan?" I had seen the Disney version, so a woman playing Peter was special. I liked Peter because he didn't grow up, and he could fly.  I watched the Mary Martin version with my family. My Brother, Sister, Mom, Dad, and me. I LOVED it more than the Disney version. Though we lived out in rural New Mexico I saw it as often as I could, my Mom would make the special trip to get the VHS tape all the way from town.

My siblings loved it too: we played this version of Peter Pan my sister made waves and costumes for all of us to wear. We built the house for Wendy with this toy building set we had and sang the song (I was Wendy though my favorite character was Peter) “Tender Shepherd” was sung after “Rock-a-Bye baby” at bedtime (it worked well because there are three of us and three Darling children.) Of course, my favorite part was the part where you would clap to save Tinkerbell. and it was always magical to see Tinkerbell come back to life. Being as young as I was I assumed Mary could see me through the camera and I would make eye contact with her and form an emotional bond with the woman whose name was read to me every time before the movie started. I couldn’t read then. Of course “Oh my Mysterious Lady” made me laugh my head off. The rescue of Peter by Tiger Lily and the Indians on scooters was also funny, the look on Cyril Ritchard's face is priceless.

Then of course came "Ugg-A-Wug" I had been born with Cerebral Palsy and thus had to go to speech therapy so I assumed I was misunderstanding the characters and tried to understand them. The limits of my six-year-old vocabulary meant that all of the words meant "help" except "Ugg-Ugg-Wah" which meant "I Promise" Jerome Robbins' choreography is the reason I can get the meaning of the words

I went to speech therapy as a kid with Cerebral Palsy,  and the I Gotta Crow (Reprise)  I think resembles that because I had trouble with the “R” sound! Mary Martin was a #WomanRoleModel as Peter Pan for me at six years old!  This is really the only thing I remember seeing that was positive and affirming of my disabled identity.

Then my seventh birthday came, and I got my own Mary Martin Peter Pan VHS tape by that time the Cathy Rigby version had come out and my Mom heard about it and got it for me for Christmas. I watched it with almost the entire side of my Dad’s family who was there for Christmas. My sister reminded me of Cathy Rigby, with my CP, my sister seemed like she could do anything. and I  watched both versions on a TV that was above my head. I would look up at women doing what I wanted to do, go to Neverland!  To me a small child they were larger than life and in a way still are. I also felt that I was in love with Mary Martin though at six years old with only exposure to straight romances in children's media coming out was impossible without the language. I also connected strongly with the fact Mary Martin and Cathy Rigby both played a boy. To me it was I can be a boy and a girl at the same time, The basic definition of Genderfluid, was shown, taught, and absorbed without the need for the word. "Peter Pan" makes me feel how II want to think in my AFAB-gendered body, which is neutral!

Then my mom decided that we should perform "I Won't Grow Up" in the school talent show because she thought it was cute and funny.  This led to my VHS being taped over because it was always in the VHS player. I cried, of course. My Mom bought me the DVD, which I still have to this day. The VHS getting recorded over turned out to be a good thing. After all, all our VHS tapes got given away because we moved to Alabama.

I CAN'T see another version with CHANGES, because I HATE CHANGE! I KNOW that makes me a COLONIST RACIST! The most HORRIBLE thing is I don't even care that I'm a MONTER who doesn't deserve to LIVE anymore! #PeterPanLive made that clear nine years ago! I'll be alive ten years from now. “Peter Pan” Is tied to me being TransMasc, Mary Matin was my Trans Role-Model, so it’s Autistic Confort Media, so changing it is TERRIFYING.

#musicals #mary martin #peter pan #Trans Role-Model #Peter Pan on Tour

[sunny-mercya]

Hey, Brother do you still believe in one another?

08. Therapy

Heiji Hattori x Male Reader | Platonic! Shinichi Kudo x Brother Reader

Fandom -> Detective Conan/Case Closed

Masterlist | Previous / Next |

Warning -> Mention of Self-Harm

Call the doc, I must be sick

Better get me my medicine 

Think I might need another prescription 

You hadn't been to your therapist, Mrs. Takana, since your last junior school year. She wanted you to start Senior year without any form of Medication or sessions, you were getting stable enough at this point and giving it try, in her opinion, would be good.

Being back now, in the child-friendly decorated like room of, felt off to say, almost weird. Nothing had really changed in here, besides a few additional toys—you guessed at least, because the they do look a lot more than before. 

You sat on the couch playing with some buildings blocks, which laid on the coffee table in front of you, as you waited for her to come in. Waiting in any kind of medical institutions was making you always anxious. 

Mrs.Takana opens and closing shortly afterwards the door, smiling at you and giving a short greeting, walking in with the folders tucked under her arm and carrying a tray with drinks and sweets. Putting the tray down onto the table, she takes her folders and takes a seat opposite of you.

«How are you doing [Name]?» Mr.Takana asks you, skimming through the papers and already begun to scribble down some notes. 

«I'm, I'm not sure.....» you told her, not really knowing how to properly word whats on your plaguing mind or how to tell her of the current situation you're in.

In all honestly, if it wasn't for your parents and Sachiko, you wouldn't have been coming back here at all. It wasn't like you didn't like Mr.Takana, she was a great therapist and helped you greatly during your elementary and junior years, but you thought—a dumb thought, that you could handle it on your own, how it wasn't and wouldn't get so worse at all. 

Your parents had come back for a visit, something they would do every three months or so to simply check up on Shinichi and you and because, they aren't admitting it aloud but you could tell from the way your mothers face brightens when she had the chance to eat some traditional and authentic sweets again, they sometimes do get homesick too.

They had, to be more precisely it was your dad who did, picked up on your behaviour. Noticing the self harming and destructive patterns, which had resurfaced again—though they hadn't completely gone, never would perhaps. How moody you were getting, snapping every so often at your mom for being too overbearing, overwhelming lovely, to you. The obvious lack of constant sleep and when you do get the chance to finally find some rest—you would wake up screaming from the nightmares.

Your tries of desperately covering everything with make-up. How anxious and paranoid you had gotten, whenever at night the front door isnt locked or the curtains closed.

Something was troubling you, bringing you into a state of fright. When Sachiko had elaborate her thoughts of possible why's, your mom had been the one to make appointment calls right away and dad reasoning with you why you should start with therapy again. They only meant it well.

~~~

«That's fine, how about we play a bit with the building blocks and you tell me when your ready, take your time.» Mrs.Takana, true to her words, was starting to take the blocks and stacking them. She wasn't going to push you into telling her, knowing well enough that stressing a patient would cause more harm than good. And time you took, a hour had passed with you two just sitting in silence and stacking blocks and eating some sweets. 

«I....well it started, I mean.....» you paused, discarding the blocks completely, putting them aside on the ground. Taking one of the mystery puzzle boxes, mysterious because the picture had been covered up, from under the table. You could focus more if you do puzzles.

«Shin-chan had disappeared without a word or that's what he wanted me to believe. I seriously had thought he had died, I was worried sick but it turns out Shinichi is just ignoring me on purpose, because he calls Ran every so often. I don't know, it just really hurts that he does this........and like—» you paused, scratching your wrist as hard as you could before continuing.

Mrs.Takana letting you as you pleased, observing you. She knew exactly when she had to step in, to stop you from going into a full blown panic attack. She takes notes of everything you were telling her, about your troubles and the emotions you were feeling.

«Are you able to get some sleep?» she asks you, one of the few serious questions she would ask you in between.

«No. Just a few minimal hours here and there, but most of the times I drinks lots of black coffee to keep myself functional awake.»

«And your nightmares?»

«Getting worse with each day. I mostly sleep in my parents room nowadays to get a bit of comfort, but it ain't helping anymore...»

«[Name], had the thoughts of self-harming occurred again? Did you restart with hurting yourself?»

You nibbled on your lower lips, bitting and pulling skin. You had gone silent after her last question. Putting all your focus on the puzzle now, which you had almost completed. A picture of cats it was. There would be no use in lying about it.

«Yeah.....I did....again......I tried not to think about, but when I had looked in the mirror and saw myself, I couldn't, couldn't help it and took the next best blade and start to cut..........honestly, the only thing I fear about this, is that they will noticing it, I think they already did tho, and like be disappointed in me....»

~~~

Four hours you had talked with Mrs.Takana and now you had to attend weekly, if nothing comes between it, a session with her.

Walking out of the clinic, it actually was more a separate ward of the Hospital, you waved at Sachiko, which was coming to pick you up. Conan was with her. 

«Why are you here munchkin?» you had crouched down to him and tapped his nose as a greeting, a small smile on your lips. 

«Auntie Yukiko had asked me to go with Sachiko, she also told me to tell you, that she wants to go shopping with you tomorrow. Ne [Nickname], what were you doing here? Are you sick?»

Your mom wanting to go shopping with you on her second last day, before flying back to the USA, was so her. 

«I had a appointment, nothing to worry about. Anyways, Sachi I need to go to the pharmacy first and then we could go to an Café, sounds good or? I'm a bit hungry after all.» standing back up, you took Conans hand in yours and starting to walk.

Mrs.Takana had given you a prescription for a few medications, it was more than what you got prescribed the first time. 

«Oh [Name]~ I have to tell you about the new make-up collection from Fionala! I can't wait to – » Sachiko rambled on about girly stuff, Conan blending her out.

Conan knew exactly what sort of appointment you had here. Back then, when he still had been Shinichi, he sometimes would accompany to them, giving you support and waiting for you. 

Conan didn't knew that your mental health had gotten so bad again, but then again with him staying by Ran, how was he able to know at all? He have to ask his parents tonight about it.

Pills and potions

we're overdosing

#male reader #anime #x male reader #case closed #detective conan/case closed #detective conan #heiji hattori x male reader #heiji hattori #hattori heiji #kudo shinichi #shinichi kudo #x male!reader

[theworldoffostering]

I reached out to the day treat program again yesterday. They finally did an intake over the phone. It took two hours and ended with Ms. 6 refusing to enter into the program voluntarily because she didn’t want to miss out on school (the program runs 6-8 week so would interfere with school quite a bit). Kids ages 14 and up have to do these programs voluntarily in our state. Parents cannot “force” their kids to do mental health treatment.

The program called back the following morning and said they wouldn’t take her anyways. We were trying to get her into a day treatment program for trauma, but they said she’s not a good fit for it due to her RAD diagnosis. Sigh. They recommended intensive in-home family therapy. Yeah, right. No one does that in our area. Ask me how I know. I’ve been looking for the last three years for an in-home therapist for Baby.

Interestingly enough, if you would have asked me a year ago if Ms. 6 had RAD, I would have said no. She’s never presented (to me) as a RAD kid despite that being her diagnosis for the last 6-7 years or so. She had to have that diagnosis in order to be in the residential facility she went to, and they are the ones who diagnosed it. I just figured they diagnosed it as she needed a place to go. I’ve never read of RAD seemingly laying dormant for four years and then rearing it’s ugly head in the form of behaviors as seems to be the case here.

I’m discouraged y’all. Her psych’s office hasn’t called me back despite me calling them twice last week. The therapist thinks we are adding borderline personality disorder to the list, said that the episodes we are seeing are unpredictable, and that Ms. 6 sort of just throws a bunch of stuff out into the world to see what sticks. She’s irrational and seems to enjoy playing the role of victim. I just want to keep her safe, but I also want to be safe, and I want our other kids to feel and be safe too.