#at least I don’t have panic attacks and cry and have to drink to sleep anymore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

farfromstrange · 11 months

Text

Butterfly Effect | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Masterlist

Chapter 2: Butterfly Pea Flower On Ice

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Barista!Reader (afab)

Summary: Michael has a rough night. When he finds his way to you after only barely keeping himself from making a mistake, he’s miserable and you are… well, he’s not quite sure what you are, but it involves two rusty nails and a wooden sign that just won’t stay where it is, so in need for a distraction and slightly worried about you, he decides to help you out. You reward him by making him yet another extraordinary coffee drink from the menu. Or, you make another sneaky move at Michael after he’s so kind to help you out, hoping he will someday act on your hopeless flirt attempts.

Warnings: Angst (18+ MINORS DNI), past trauma, self-harm, blood, panic attack, Mikey just hates himself, but then there’s some fluff, bad flirting, attempt at humor, and then some angst again.

Word Count: 7.7k

A/n: This time, I dive more into Michael’s mental state. So this is angsty, then he gets some comfort from you, but then it gets angsty again because well, it’s Mikey. He’s stuck in an endless cycle, it seems. I feel so bad for him… but at least he gets a lil' hug?? I hope you like it!

Read Part 1 Here...

His sleep is restless. The memories cage him in like a wild animal. One second, he can breathe, the next the world around him turns into a blur and the oxygen in his lungs gets lost. It’s like someone is sitting on his chest and he can’t escape their claws as they tear him to shreds.

He wakes up drenched in sweat and tears. The sheets stick to his clammy skin. On weak knees, he makes his way to the bathroom. The floor seems to disappear as his past pulls it out from under him.

Pictures flash across his mind. His thoughts start a downward spiral again, one he can’t seem to stop. He’s panting, pathetically so. The cold water he splashes on his face does little to soothe the burning ache that seems to burn through every nerve like acid.

Michael clings to the edge of the sink. He wants to shut it off; he wants to stop thinking. He wants to stop remembering. He wants to stop being him. The things he did… every time he closes his eyes, he sees the blood that once covered the floor of his apartment, the bullet holes in the walls. He thinks of Anna. It’s his fault she lost her mother. It’s his fault she’s traumatized. All of it – all of it, his fault.

As he stares at himself in the mirror, he finds only a shell staring back at him. So many people have tried telling him that he’s the victim, that perhaps he is sick, but the only sick thing about him is his mind, and he feels entirely responsible for that.

His fist lands in the glass of the mirror. It cracks. The glass is thin and the shards instantly scratch the surface of his knuckles, some of them digging into the skin and painting the sink beneath him red with his blood.

Only when the sharp pain reaches his consciousness, Michael finds a way back to himself. He stares at the split skin, watches the blood pool out of the wounds, and the tremor turns into a quiver of shock. It burns, but it burns so good.

He catches the blood with a towel. The first-aid kit isn’t far. Though for a second he considers if he should even allow himself to do so. The pain reminds him that he is alive, and the blood writes a poem on the tiles. A poem of hate, broken love, and self-destruction. There is no hope, only pain, and the blood is a reminder of that. He may be only human, but all the destruction in his life, he caused himself. His blood is a reminder that no one controls him quite like himself, even though he likes to blame it on his surname.

A few doors down, the light at Jimmy’s and Amanda’s place is still on, though they don’t hear the ear-piercing scream that passes Michael’s lips and leaves him crying on the bathroom floor. It’s something they don’t know and he wishes they never have to see. He’s broken, maybe even beyond repair, and he has no one to blame but himself, and that makes him even more miserable.

The pain eats him alive, slowly but steadily. He can’t move, he can’t speak, he can’t breathe. His hand is bandaged now, though only poorly. There is not much more he can take. The tiles are cold, but he can barely feel them. The scream still echoes minutes later, and his voice sounds deafening in his ears.

He just wants this to stop.

As the pictures start flashing slower, the blood loss and fatigue settling into his bones, he remains on the floor. He doesn’t have the strength to get back up. His tears stain his cheeks and wet his beard, and the blood from his knuckles starts seeping through the bandage and back onto the floor. He can’t be bothered to clean any of it.

His eyes flutter, but he doesn’t fall asleep. He’s not sure what state he is in, but he’s not alive. He can’t be alive. Everything’s surreal. The pain hit him hard and now he feels nothing. In a matter of a few seconds, everything stops and he becomes numb, but the numbness hurts even more, and that makes him scream until he has no voice left. And then he gets quiet again.

Ever quiet, and shy Michael who’s only like this because he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to say because he’s scared of himself, and it’s best to keep himself locked away than hurt someone he cares about again. He loves his family, but this is his future he’s talking about, and his daughter… Anna needs a father, and he’s failed her before. He doesn’t want to be the same failure anymore, even though he knows that by lying on the floor and forcing himself to bleed out a wound he inflicted on himself, he has already failed her again because he just wants to give up. And he’s starting to think that there might not be much more he can do, anyway.

Michael wallows until the sun comes up, then he gets up as if nothing happened.

He sits in a restaurant for a while, staring out of the window. Anna looks so much older now than when he left her. She reminds him of her mother. With her uniform and her little backpack, she walks across the street Michael is observing, heading toward the school that is hiding behind the trees.

She always takes the bus from home. Home with her grandma, he knows. But that’s not where she should be. She should be home with him. She probably doesn’t even know he’s out yet, and he’s not sure if he wants her to find out before he can even account for the fact that he’s made changes.

He needs to get a job, get his life back on track, and fight for her. He’s sworn himself as much. But as he watches her walk past him without even looking through the window of the restaurant, his heart aches and it breaks because damn it, what was he thinking? He’s her father, but she barely knows him, and he’s far from being a good father figure. He’s not sure he can ever be.

Paying for his one black coffee, Michael heads out. The cold air hits him. He shivers. He’s not freezing, not at all. Truth hurts, and he hates that it does. It makes him feel so small, and useless like he can’t achieve anything other than cause chaos. And the worst part is, he is completely and utterly alone in this.

His feet carry him down a familiar street until he stops in front of the same place he sought solace in the day before.

You’re rearranging the lunch offers sign right by the door, not even noticing that he’s standing on the other side of the street, observing your every movement.

Michael hesitates. It’s not a good idea, but his apartment feels suffocating and he can’t talk to his family because they don’t understand. They know he wants his daughter back, they just don’t understand the sacrifices he’s willing to make, that he has to make, and he doesn’t want to find himself in the same shit position again that even led him to this point eight years ago.

This is where he lands, the Butterfly Effect café and he can’t quite believe his eyes that you’re truly there.

He still has the empty coffee cup from the day before standing on the dining table at home.

You’re completely oblivious to his presence. Instead, you turn back around and walk back behind the counter.

The café isn’t busy yet. You have just opened your doors, and since you’re on the early bird shift today, your job is to prepare everything and make sure everything’s perfect by the time the first batch of customers comes around. The coffee machines are all working, the plants have been watered, and the display with your baked goods is up and ready. Except for the sign with the menu above your head.

Every last drink was handwritten by you, and the place is perfect, right where everyone can see it. You had to do a few minor changes before opening and decided to take it down to make the chalk letters look their best. Ever since then, you haven’t been able to get it back up. The wood is hanging on by a last nail, but you can’t seem to reach it without a proper ladder – you’re currently kneeling on a very high counter – and to you, it seems straight until you move away and it no longer does, and the fact that the sign keeps slipping infuriates you. If you can’t keep it up there, you have to find another way and then the aesthetic will be ruined. And your boss will murder you, so you have to try, but every time you try, you find yourself beaten again.

It’s you against a wooden board that’s been written on with chalk and a few rusty nails. You’ve mastered harder tasks. Yet, you keep failing.

You take another step back and look at the sign. It’s still tilted slightly to the right, and keeping it up there might be considered a hazard with how unsafe it looks.

The ringing of the bell above the door goes right over your head. You’re too frustrated to focus. If someone wanted to steal the register, they might as well have succeeded.

“That’s a bit wonky,” a voice pipes up behind you.

You jump. You had gotten so used to the silence of being alone in the café, you forgot that you opened the doors to the public before you started struggling with the sign.

You almost fall off the counter when you turn to look at him. “Jesus!” you curse.

Michael takes an instinctive step forward. He’s not close enough to catch you, but he likes to think he is. He could get behind the counter and make sure you don’t trip and break your neck, but that would be pushing boundaries he doesn’t like.

“Careful,” he says.

“I’m alright.” You pray to the rusty nail to hold the sign for long enough so you can serve him – he’s here for coffee, right? “I was just trying to fix the sign, but seems like it can’t be fixed.” You throw your hands up. “This day is going majorly well!”

He looks back at you, the broken expression that has yearned for an escape replaced by a flicker of regret. He walked the streets of the new yet familiar prison that has become his life to get here. He got out, but he hasn’t been able to come home; he wonders if he can even come home when there is no actual home to come back to. Everything feels so strange now, even the walls he’s living in. They hurt the most of them all.

“I can go if this isn’t the right time.” The last thing he wants is to be an inconvenience. He shifts his weight onto his heels, ready to turn around and run. “This was a bad idea,” he murmurs, his eyebrows furrowing close enough to form a deep crease between them, “Sorry.”

You stop and stare at him, your brain processing his face and his words at the same time. He’s wearing a different sweater underneath his jacket today. It’s crinkled and in need of some ironing, but he doesn’t seem to care much.

You see his mind making the decision to leave for whatever reason that you can’t tell, and you reach out. “No!” you’re quick to say.

Something tells you letting him go is a bad idea, and not just because he’s a possible paying customer. There is a reason you wrote the note on his coffee cup the other day and it has never wavered. It persists. You’re surprised to see him, sure, but you also remember telling him to come back someday, and he did.

Your words sound a little more desperate than you intended them to.

There is something different about him today. His eyes are sunken; he looks like he hasn’t slept all night, or he didn’t sleep well, at least. You feel a bubble of concern grow in your chest and spread through your entire body. Like the roots of a tree that wrap around anything they can find. It makes its home there.

Michael stops when you say, “You don’t have to leave. This is an open café.”

He turns back to you, his expression unreadable. He was an easier book to decipher before, now he just seems cold. There is a fire burning bright inside of him and he is about to implode, but he tries so hard to hide it, you can’t see behind the iron curtain he has lowered around himself. He craves coffee, which is why his feet carried him to you, but he also needs more. He hates that he needs more. He hates that he doesn’t know what he needs, but he can’t be alone. He’s lost. He’s all of that and yet it doesn’t even cut close.

The tears weigh heavy behind his eyes. They’re glossed over from the strain it takes for him to stop himself from crying, he has been doing so ever since he laid eyes on Anna only a few minutes ago. He knows what he wants, but he is helpless to get it. It’s a particular kind of pain, not many people can understand, and he can’t describe it, but it’s awful, and it breaks his heart all over again, every damn day. Today has been a lot, and the day is just getting started. He’s not sure how long he can survive this before losing himself.

Fighting is so much harder when you always seem to lose.

You watch him, your fingers fidgeting nervously before you. You often know what to say, but right now, your mind is wiped clean. “You came back,” you eventually speak up.

He smiles, his demeanor reserved but somehow he looks relieved when he hears you talk like that again – kind, understanding, and calm. You’re the only calm thing in his vicinity, and just for a moment, the tornado in his heart transitions into merely a hurricane. The café is empty besides him and you, and part of the stress on his shoulders seems to ease just a little.

“Michael, was it?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

You even remember his name.

A smile finds its way onto your face. You try not to let the nerves show, or the fact that you’re overwhelmed and flustered. You’re a mess, and today it doesn’t exactly feel like you can stand by it.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… I remember your order. I’m not stalking you or anything, but I remember recommending the toffee nut latte to you,” you say, trying to explain yourself somehow, even though he looks nowhere near as uncomfortable with the conversation as you do. “I thought maybe… maybe that’s why you came back.”

Or because of the note, you think to yourself. Hope always dies last. You almost feel bad for assuming because looking at him, he doesn’t look okay, and you’re utterly selfish for wanting this to be about you. This is about him. It should be. You’re no expert, but you’ve seen your fair share of people in pain, mentally and physically, and he might as well fit into both categories.

You just don’t understand, and it stresses you out. You usually don’t let men stress you out, they’re often not worth it and they use your kind heart for what it is, but Michael has a way of getting under your skin without even trying. Once again, it adds to the stress. It’s a stress you can’t pinpoint because it results in inner turmoil and confusion that drives you up the walls.

“Yeah,” he’s even quieter than the day before.

You’re not sure if he means, “Yeah, that’s why I came back.” Or, “Yes, that’s who I am but that’s not why I came.”

You tilt your head, trying not to prod him with the questions that are burning inside of you. “Did you like it?” you ask. “Or are you here to tell me it sucked and you’re never coming back here?”

The waters you’re treading are dangerous.

“No, I liked it. I–“

Your eyes light up. “Yes?”

“Yeah, it was grand. I just–“ A lot is going on in his head, and he can’t sort it. You’re smiling at him and he’s reminded of the day before, but then he thinks about what happened after that, late at night and the early hours of the morning, and his knuckles start to throb with the cruel reminder.

What is he doing? Why is he here? Why is he so desperate for something he doesn’t even understand?

You eye him again. Etched into his features, the frown only deepens. There’s not much difference about him physically, but the sun is out today and he still looks like it’s been raining in his heart for years. It breaks you and you don’t even know him. He avoids eye contact, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. You can tell he’s trying to say something but at the same time stay silent because he’s scared. Why, you don’t know.

You wipe your hands on your apron and take another step forward. “Okay,” you murmur. “Can I help you with anything?”

Your voice is oh so soft. He sucks in a sharp breath. The sound caresses his cheeks, but the touch burns. He feels like he is Lucifer on his way to hell.

“Coffee, maybe?” You’re trying hard to elicit some sort of reaction out of him, to get a sense of what he’s feeling and what you can do to make his day because quite frankly, if he was here because of the note, he would have mentioned it by now.

Maybe he’s seeking comfort, and you’d be the last person not to help a person in need out.

The sign above your head creaks. There is a God, after all, Michael thinks. He looks up at the contraption you failed to save before.

“Looks dangerous,” he states, skillfully avoiding your other question.

You follow the direction of his finger – it’s his uninjured hand. “Yeah, the nails are rusty and it just won’t stay in place, but I don’t have any nails here to fix it,” you say.

He nods. “Do ya have a hammer?”

“What?”

“Just answer the question.”

You blink in surprise at his assertive tone. It’s not particularly harsh, but it also leaves no room for you to argue. Something dark flashes in his eyes, which is instantly replaced by a fear of having gone too far. His lips part to apologize.

“I have a hammer,” you say, and you try to smile enough to ease his conscience.

You’re used to customers being rude to you, and Michael isn’t rude, you would never consider the tone of his voice anything near that, at least not with you; he caught you off guard, that’s all. He sounds so confident when he wants to. He would make a great leader, you’re sure.

It’s not fear that spreads through your veins, you hope he realizes that. You’re even more intrigued now, and maybe you’re a little excited, too. You’re not sure, you know you shouldn’t be, but there is something about his voice and the sharpness of his words that send a shiver down your spine, and it lands right where your legs cross below what he can see on his side of the counter.

He tries to return your smile as much as he can. “Let me fix it for ya,” he says.

You stammer, “Fix it?”

“Yeah.”

The suggestion is a helpful one, and under any other circumstance, you would have said it’s sweet, but this is your workplace and he’s a customer. You’re not allowed to let anyone beyond the small bullpen that separates you and him. If this had been your home or any other place with a wonky sign and not the job you’re dependent on to survive, you wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes.

“I think I know how to fix it,” Michael tells you, “Ya just have to let me try.”

He hardly gets to fix anything. It’s just a sign, but it seems like something he is good at and he doesn’t want you to be frustrated or scared of losing your job anymore. He wants to help. He wants to feel useful. He wants the day to feel less like a waste of his existence and more like he’s making a difference, and an act of kindness that you are in desperate need of feels right to him.

Though when he notices that you’re hesitating, he is about ready to retreat into his shell and bury himself so deep, no one can find him anymore.

You scratch the back of your head. “I don’t know,” you admit. “You get that if something happens to you, I’ll lose my job, right? It has something to do with insurance and the general policy or something. I signed a contract. It’s complicated. I… I love this job. I need it.”

The sign creaks again. He sighs. “What if it drops on yer head?”

Looking behind you, the nail on the right is moving another millimeter downward.

The inside of your cheek is bleeding now from how hard you’re biting down on it. You shouldn’t let the thought of him coming closer to you and pretty much saving your ass and allowing you to maybe get to know him a little better drive you, but it does anyway. Sometimes, you tend to be a little reckless, and Michael brings it out in you.

“Now, will ya let me take a look at it or are ya too damn proud to admit ya need help?”

He’s one to talk.

Fuck it, you think. If the sign falls and destroys all of the equipment below, it’s your neck they’re going to have for the accident anyway because you know it’s loose, but you would have kept it like that if Michael hadn't popped out of nowhere. You don’t even know the guy, but his offer to help is something you can’t turn down. Besides, you’re desperate and know the first regulars will start coming in soon, so time is of the essence. You can’t fix the sign and serve customers at the same time. You’re not a robot, and your colleague’s shift starts in an hour, so you’re alone until then.

Michael is the only beacon of hope to get you through the day with all of your limbs still intact.

With a hesitant nod, you give him the go-ahead. “You can take a look at it if you want,” you say.

“Thanks,” he says.

It’s different to see him fully. He discards his jacket, pulling the sleeves of his sweater up. He’s wearing a T-shirt underneath. A gray one. You try not to stare too much, but his right forearm and the tattoos that litter his skin quickly catch your attention. And he’s taller now that he’s standing almost entirely in front of you.

He meets your eyes. Your skin flushes a soft pink, but you can’t look away. He has a hold on you. He’s got you under his spell. His brown eyes look like honey in the sunlight, and the specks of green remind you of an enchanted forest. An ancient tree, maybe. His hair is dark, but whenever the light shines on it, it seems to sparkle just a little lighter. You feel like a psycho with the way you’re staring, but as you meet his eyes, you notice you’re not the only one.

Michael can’t help it, the way his eyes roam so effortlessly over your body. The apron you’re wearing is black, and you’ve changed the butterfly clip, but the look is the same. You’re wearing a dress today and a pair of sneakers. Your hair is tied up half like the day before, the shiny locks cascading down your back. The color of your eyes seems to reflect in the sunlight, and there is a glow on your face that doesn’t get overshadowed, not even when you feel frustrated.

Like the idiot you are, you extend your hand and decide to introduce yourself properly. You tell him your name, your eyes hopeful enough.

Hesitantly, he takes your hand into his injured one. The bandage feels weird against your skin, and your eyes widen a little. His hand didn’t look like that when you first met him.

“Michael,” he says.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, then look back down at his hand that is still in yours. His grip is firm yet gentle, but you can feel the warmth of the injury under your fingers. “What happened to your hand?” you add. It’s a daring question, but you’re nothing if not curious.

He pulls back, hiding his hand behind his back again. “Had a wee accident, nothing serious. I’m a’right.”

The second he pulls back, you feel a sharp pang in your chest. You feel like you’ve scared him away now. “Oh. I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine. Could ya just give me that hammer so I can do my job?”

You nod, rummaging through the drawer next to the coffee maker for the small hammer you keep around for the smaller signs that often switch places in the café. You meet his eyes when you hand it over, but he only briefly brushes you before pulling the ladder you use to reach the spare mugs on the highest shelf above you in front of himself, and he climbs on top of it.

Michael removes the sign with ease, examining the nails on either side. They’re both rusty and the holes in the walls have expanded over time, but he sees no reason to change them right away. He flicks the right one with his finger and pushes it in a little further, changing the angle of the impact. It doesn’t budge.

“Hm,” he murmurs to himself before turning back to you. You’re watching him like a hawk.

“And?” you ask, part of you now terrified of being completely fucked in more ways than one, and none of it the good kind.

He offers you a small smile. “You’ve got customers coming in.”

The bell above the door rings.

You sigh. “Great.”

“I’ve got it,” he assures you.

“If you fall and break your neck—”

His smile turns into a chuckle. “I won’t.” Then, he turns back around and starts gently hitting the nail on its rusty head with the hammer.

You have no choice but to serve the couple that has come in. If Michael knows what he’s doing, you have nothing to worry about, but you can’t help stealing the occasional glance at him as you brew the coffee and manually steam some milk for the woman’s latte. You don’t even try selling any of the new drinks on the menu since it feels wrong to offer diversity when the back of the counter looks like a construction site, but they seem happy and satisfied when you offer them a free butterfly cookie – because on Tuesdays, there are always free cookies. They find their place somewhere in the café and you just pray they’re satisfied enough to keep quiet about the sign.

It’s not even a big deal, you know that. It happens to the best people, and you’re just a barista in an under-staffed, very loved café in a part of Dublin that is known for destroying every small business it can find and plastering the name of an overpriced franchise on it, or simply tearing down the building and replace it with something else entirely. That’s why you can’t afford mishaps. You need this job, you need to find your footing elsewhere before you can even think about quitting, and you need the Butterfly Effect to stay popular so you won’t get another identity crisis and lose not only your job but the entire café as well. You’re an overthinker, and it’s exhausting to be scared all the time, but you can’t help it when the reality of your situation is what it is. And it’s very real. You’re happy and you have enough money to survive. That can’t change, not until you’ve finally got the means to make your other dreams come true and you can leave the past behind.

That might take some time, but you need the time, too. And you know everyone else you work with thinks the same. You can’t blame them. No one can.

You stop sulking to look up, and it’s then that Michael puts the sign with the menu back up. It’s as straight as it was before, if not more. You quickly swallow your sip of water and put the bottle away, staring at him and his handiwork with a mixture of surprise and awe written all over your face.

“No way,” you breathe.

He gets off the ladder, satisfied with what he managed to do, and then he turns to you to get your approval. Your smile is answer enough.

“I managed to get the nails further in,” he says, “but ya need to get them switched out as soon as ya can.”

“I don’t know what to say. You fixed it!”

“Yeah.”

You reach out, placing your hand on his arm. Your eyes drill into his, and he swallows thickly at the intensity of your gaze. Goosebumps form on his skin. He finds himself looking at where you’re touching him. It’s a gentle rhythm your finger is drumming on his skin, but he doesn’t mind. You’re being soft with him, almost like he is made out of glass. Seconds start feeling like hours. The air sizzles like a broken power cord.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Before Michael can answer, your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, and you pull him into a hug. You, the kind-hearted stranger that he knows he doesn’t deserve, are hugging him, and you pour so much affection into it, he shivers and the tears start knocking on the window of his soul again, asking to be let out. It’s the kind of touch that tingles long after it’s gone, but you’re so warm, your skin is so soft and God, you smell divine. You’re heaven on earth, and your hair feels as shiny as it looks.

He hugs you back. He only endures it when other people touch him, even though he craves it. This is the first time he’s felt this comfortable in years, and your touch becomes a remedy he never thought he would be able to find.

You pull away after a moment. “Thank you for saving my ass.”

He hasn’t quite processed your reaction yet, so all he does is nod. As your grip loosens completely, he slips out and reaches for his discarded jacket. He puts it back on, clearly planning on leaving. The coffee he told himself he would come here for is long forgotten. The hug unraveled something in him, and the way it makes him feel is vulnerable. He can feel the guard he keeps high around his heart slowly slipping away. Your kindness is a trojan horse and you’ve almost managed to breach all of his defenses.

Not wanting him to leave, you find yourself reaching for his arm before he can step back in front of the counter. “How about I repay you with another coffee?” you ask. “It’s on the house.”

You hope he says yes, even if it means just a few more minutes with him.

Michael stares at your hand and how close it’s hovering above his bandage. You meet his eyes, moving your gaze lower. He can tell the question once again burns on the tip of your tongue, but whatever curiosity you have, you swallow. You swallow it for the sake of his comfort, for the sake of getting another chance, and not to scare him away. He’s like a deer in headlights to you, and deers are shy.

Why you’re so obsessed with him, you’re not sure. It can’t be healthy, neither for your heart nor for your job, but he is different in a way that redirects your focus solely on the man he is. You don’t focus on his looks, you focus on Michael alone, and he’s not used to the kind of attention you’re willing to give him, so he’s stuck in a stormy, unfamiliar land, and you’ve got him almost entirely exposed.

This is new for both of you, but for him, it’s worse because he’s forgotten what it’s like to be with people that have never set foot into his life before, and you? You’re a breath of fresh air, something he knows he tends to corrupt and disrupt, but he can’t find it in himself to stop. He’s weak, he’s needy and it’s you. God, it’s just you, it’s all of you, and it drives him crazy, it makes him angry and it makes him want to run out of fear, just to protect you, to protect himself, to stop his life from spiraling out of control and hurting any more people, but you’re normal; Michael needs normal because that’s what he needs to learn how to be if he wants his daughter back and start anew, maybe even get a proper second chance.

But it’s hard. It’s so, so hard.

He hears himself talk, but he’s not in control. “On the house, huh?” he answers like he doesn’t understand what it means, or what you’re trying to tell him. Maybe he doesn’t.

The note was nice, but to him, you seem like the kind of person that would do such a thing for about anyone who has a bad day, and he knows he looks like he has bad days rather frequently. Why he can’t admit to himself that you’re making yet another move at him, that’s not entirely clear. It’s good that you’re normal and deep down, he knows you’re good for him, but it’s also the reason why admitting it to himself is such an inner conflict. Everything that isn’t good for him always ends up being Michael’s first choice because the pain is a bittersweet reminder of what he thinks he deserves. And you don’t deserve a man like that.

The hope in your eyes reignites. “I can make you another toffee nut latte,” you offer. You sound a little shy, but you look even cuter up close.

“I was gonna order a—”

“Don’t say double–”

“Double espresso,” he says, and you find yourself uttering the same two words at the same time.

Your eyes meet, and then you find yourself laughing. The clear sound fills the room with its soft melody. He looks away, his blush palpable as he tries hard not to smile, but he can’t help it.

“Yer gonna refuse to serve me a double espresso, aren’t ya?” He looks back at you.

You gnaw on your lip sheepishly. “Maybe,” you say. “But if you don’t want the same as yesterday, I have something else I think you’ll like.”

“I’m not adventurous.”

“That’s what they all say.”

“Are ya going to let it be if I say no?”

“No,” you shake your head, “Probably not.”

“And if I say yes?”

“You just have to trust me.”

Trusting you, he thinks, can’t be so hard. You’re an easy person to trust. You’re not the enemy. And you’re also not going to poison him.

Michael sighs. “Yer insufferable,” though he says it with a smile.

You take the glint in his eyes as a silent answer. As he moves back to his designated spot in front of the counter, you grab a plastic cup to your left. “You okay with iced coffee?” you ask.

He raises his eyebrows.

“I take it that’s not something you have thought about often?”

“I don’t drink ice,” he says.

“First of all, it’s not pure ice. It’s just coffee with ice cubes. A Frappuccino would be drinking the ice cubes with your drink because they get tossed in the blender with the rest of the ingredients. And second of all, you must have been curious about iced coffee at least once. Or have you never at least tried it?”

“Never.”

“Well, you just have to really trust me on this then.”

“If I get a brain freeze because of ya–”

You smirk. “Trust me, Michael.”

He caves.

Michael watches you move with grace. You’re completely in your element. Every once in a while, your hips sway to the rhythm of whatever song is playing on the radio, and you seem a lot happier now than before. He’s made your day with a simple gesture, and he feels proud of himself for that. He used his hands for good this time. He succeeded. He made himself useful, even if it was just a simple wooden sign that needed to be adjusted. And now he’s getting a free coffee for it.

Maybe being forced to wash cars instead of getting a proper job with Amanda just because Frank can’t live with him not wanting to do dirty work anymore isn’t something he should settle for, after all, no matter how good it may look on the papers for the court.

After a few minutes of debating whether or not to bring up the courage to ask you, his thoughts are interrupted by the sound of ice cubes clinking together, and you place the plastic cup on the counter before him.

He expected an iced latte or a frappuccino maybe, but not whatever it is that you have just placed before him. The drink is blue, maybe even a little shiny in the sunlight. The ice cubes are dancing around each other inside the plastic cup, and there is a tiny blue flower swimming in the foam on top.

Your smile widens at his surprised expression. He looks impressed, even. You take a straw and poke it through the hole, then push it closer for Michael to grab.

“What’s that s’posed to be?” he asks. He’s a little weary as he eyes the cup.

“Poison,” you deadpan.

He frowns.

You snort at how easily he seems to believe you. He’s… unique. “Kidding! It’s not poison, what kind of person do you think I am?”

“The kind that would poison their customer with a fuckin’ blue potion.”

“Hey!”

It’s his turn to smirk, but when he does, it looks a little dirtier than yours. “Just messin’ with ya,” he says. He tries to imitate you, but he fails miserably.

You roll your eyes, encouraging him to take the cup. “It’s called Butterfly Pea Flower,” you explain, and your voice is no longer joking. “It’s not a poisonous flower. It’s originally from Asia, that’s where it grows, but you can get it in many other countries. And it’s edible. If you buy it to make drinks or coffee, it usually comes like this–” you lift the small package with the blue powder that you’ve used to pour into the milk of his latte, “but don’t let the color fool you because it tastes delicious. The flower itself has a natural blue tint, so the powder does too. The flowers in the foam taste like nothing because they’re just edible flowers, they’re not the same. Oh, and the coffee itself,” you say, “is the strongest espresso we have mixed with some milk and a sweet, sweet layer of foam with a sprinkle of chocolate and caramel. You’re welcome.”

You wink at him. He finally takes it, sniffing the content. “Hm,” he murmurs.

“What now?”

“Smells… normal,” he says.

“You seriously think I’d poison you?”

If only you knew the things he’s encountered before. But no, he doesn’t think that – he would never. Not from you, anyway.

“If you keep thinking of me like that, I’ll give you a reason to think of me like that,” you say. It doesn’t as terrifying now that you’ve said it.

Michael bites back a grin. “Yeah, sure,” he says.

Asshole, you think.

He guides the straw to his mouth and sucks on it. You look away quickly. The way his lips purse around the top shortly after his tongue has traced a circle around it have you regretting your choice to offer an iced coffee instead of a regular latte.

Who would have thought that the shy, almost damaged-looking man who helped you out when you needed it after you helped him out when he needed it would be such a fucking tease.

He leaves the bitter yet sweet liquid to rest on his tongue for a bit. You see the wheels in his head turn, and his eyebrows furrow as he judges the taste. His lips smack, the foam making his tongue feel fuzzy, but the taste itself is unique. Very unique. It’s different than a traditional latte, and it’s not just the color. He doesn’t know what to say at first because even with your first recommendation that you forced him to order, you did not fail, and you also didn’t disappoint with this one, either.

“And?” you ask.

“Hm.”

“Michael.”

“Delicious,” he says.

It’s as good as it gets.

“Told you,” you smile.

He returns the smile in a smaller manner, but he’s smiling nonetheless. “I’ve never had iced coffee before, but ya made it easy to like.”

That’s an even bigger compliment and your sass from before vanishes into a flush.

“Are ya sure it’s on the house?”

“Very much so,” you say.

Reaching beside you, you grab one of the butterfly cookies and place it on a napkin. You hesitate. Looking up at him sipping his iced latte, you ask yourself if you should just mention the note to him and crush your hopes before you can get them up, but it’s still a bold move. And you’re unsure. You’re shy. You don’t trust your voice. So you take the Sharpie and start writing on the napkin before sliding it into a paper bag together with his free cookie and handing it back to Michael.

Maybe he will read it, and if he does, he’ll know that the first note wasn’t a coincidence and that this is meant for him and him only. You don’t do this for everyone. You can hear Sarah laughing in the back of your head, and she would have told you to ask him personally and cut this back-and-forth short, but something tells you that writing notes is an easier way into his heart than confronting him with something that might overwhelm him the same way it does you.

The bag slips out of your hand when he takes it, frowning at you once again.

“It’s Tuesday, and everyone gets a free butterfly cookie on Tuesdays,” you tell him.

It dawns on him. You did the same thing for the couple that’s still sitting in the corner of the café. He nods and takes it. It’s just a cookie, after all.

He turns to leave and he hears you say, “Have a good day, Michael!” It doesn’t sound like the voice you use with your other customers. This is the you he expects you to be outside of work, the you that is even kinder and even more open with the people around her, and his heart swells, his guard continuing to slip ever so slightly.

Michael turns around. He opens his mouth and says your name. It echoes. In his mind, it does. He stops thinking. The words are about ready to slip from his tongue.

You have a nice smile too.

But then you beam when he says your name and you ask him, “Yes, Michael?”

And he forgets. He can’t speak. He wants to, but he also doesn’t, and he can’t. His vocal cords shut down and he’s left with nothing but a weak breath of air. The further he gets from you, the harder it gets to breathe, and real life starts to seep back into his bones. His body aches. The bubble bursts. He’s left there, standing naked in the eye of the storm, and the tornado tears down everything around him and lastly, himself.

He can’t do it, and he can’t do it to you.

“Oh just… Nothin’,” he says. He can see the exact moment your heart drops and your hopes are shattered. He feels like an idiot now, but he can’t change it. “Have a nice day,” he adds your name in hopes to redeem himself, but you only nod with a smile that’s far weaker than the first one, and then you say goodbye to him.

He leaves you behind with a heavy heart. The coffee in his hand and its bright blue remind him of you. To him, you are colorful too. You’re not a gray cloud, you’re a rainbow. You’re the sun. You’re everything good and light, and the blue represents the kind of person you are. You put your heart into it, he can taste it. Even more, does he feel bad for being such an incompetent idiot.

Loneliness follows him home. He ignores Jimmy’s calls and he takes a different route to make sure none of his family sees him. Once the door is locked behind him, the four walls that are supposed to feel safe only fill him with dread.

The coffee cup with your note is still sitting on the table. He takes it. Your handwriting hasn’t smudged. Feeling the tears well up in his eyes, he clenches his fist, and the paper crinkles. Your handwriting disappears. It doesn’t make his bad day better today; the nostalgia makes him feel so much worse. He’s not smiling, and he doesn’t deserve that compliment.

He tries not to cry when he sips the last few drops of his latte and unwraps the cookie. You have been way too nice to him. You made it sound like professional courtesy, but there is nothing professional about it.

The napkin slips out, falling to his feet. He’s about to crinkle it too, his hand already hovering above the garbage, when he notices the same black Sharpie that has written his name on a cup twice now.

“Michael, you’re a good person. Don’t forget to smile 2day. It’s still nice when you do. X – the annoying barista who makes you buy overpriced coffee :)”

This is the first time he sees your handwriting smudge. He wishes he could blame it on the condensation of his cup, but the wetness has already traveled to his cheeks and he can’t hold it back anymore.

The tears start falling. They wet the napkin and the note. The ‘X’ that is supposed to mark a kiss gets lost under the rain of his emotions, and he can barely see your name anymore. Your face blurs.

And then, he breaks.

Tagging: @bellaxgiornata @loveroftoomanyfandoms @acharliecoxedfan @lina-mar @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella #kin amc #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella fluff #coffee shop au #hurt/comfort #michael kinsella fic #michael kinsella smut #reader insert #no y/n #michael kinsella x f!reader #michael kinsella x afab!reader #butterfly effect #mini series

113 notes · View notes

stars4ni · 7 months

Text

skz + when your anxious

maknae line + gn reader! ☁️

warnings: anxiety, crying, kisses, stress, cuddling, thunderstorm, panic attack.

genre: fluff + comfort

notes: sorry this took so fucking long, i legit forgot and also i have no motivation. im so so so sorry my loves. enjoy & reblogs would be appreciated!

hyung line

han: you walk into your shared bedroom and lay on the bed. resting your head on jisungs chest, closing your eyes. “hey sweetie, you okay?” you looked up at him. “not really ji, feeling anxious” he ran his fingers through your hair. jisung also has anxiety frequently so he knows how to calm you down. “how come my pretty hm?” you grab onto his waist, snuggling into his chest. “i don’t know i just am” he continues to play with your hair. “i understand, i feel that way sometimes too” you look up at him and smile. “you made me feel a little better, but I still feel awful” He kisses your forehead. “It’s okay love, you don’t have to feel okay. it’s okay to feel this way, and don’t worry it will pass eventually” “will it?” he laughs. “Yes I’m sure of it my love” he kisses your lips. “how about we take a nap hm? that always helps when I’m anxious” “okay sung that sounds good” he pulls the covers over your body. he then wraps his arms around you. “sleep well baby” he kisses you on the cheek. you doze off to sleep as jisung admires your face peacefully sleeping in his arms.

felix: you open the door to your apartment, setting down your things and then sitting on the couch. you were so stressed from work, your boss just kept giving you work even though you couldn’t get any of it done by the deadlines. even if you worked 24/7 you would never get it done. but still agreed to do the work because you didn’t want to seem as a “bad worker”. you just laid on the couch, tears forming at your eyes. you laid there for a couple minutes slightly crying, until you were full on crying. you felt like you couldn’t breathe, you hated feeling anxious. you just kept crying, you couldn’t stop. you quickly stopped crying (or at least tried to) when you heard the front door of your apartment opening. you quickly sat up and wiped your tears away. your boyfriend felix sat next to you, “hi beautiful! i missed you” he said as he hugged your waist. “missed you too…” your voice was soft, sounding like you’ve been crying. “babe…you alright?” he said as he grabbed your face to look at you. “aw bub were you crying?” he said with a pout. “yeah” you said looking away. “why? what’s wrong” he grabbed your hand. “it’s just work” you said starting it cry harder. “hey, hey it’s okay” he said as he put your head onto his chest petting your head. “it’s okay” he kept saying. “it’s okay love, breathe”.

seungmin: “hey weirdo” your boyfriend seungmin said to you as you walked into the kitchen. “hey” you said not even looking at him, or showing any emotion. you just quickly opened the refrigerator and got a energy drink. you walked out of the kitchen back to your room, as you sat in your desk chair you heard min walking in. “min…im really busy” you said typing in your keyboard. “yeah i can see, could you please take a break? it’s been hours. im worried you are going to get body aches” he looked at you concerned. “no babe i’ve got to finish this…” your eyes were glued to the screen. you opened the can and took a sip of the energy drink. “baby how many of those have you had?” min says walking to you. “normal amount… seriously min, i’ve got to get this done go away” he could tell how anxious you were. all he wanted to do was shut your laptop, pick you up, cuddle, and fall asleep. but of course you have been working like a maniac (haha) and not taking any breaks. “fine i’ll go away, just take a break soon” “uh huh…now go away” you said not even looking at him. min left the room and you started to get annoyed with your work. it was due in 30 minutes and you had only gotten half of it done. you were so confused what you were even writing, everything made no sense. you didn’t even think the lack of sleep & nutrition was making you not able to function. you realized that you were not going to be able to finish, you were so annoyed with yourself. you just excepted how you were gonna fail. all you wanted was minnie cuddles, so that’s what you did. you walked out your room to find seungmin on the couch. you sat on his lap facing him, “did baby finally realize they should take a break?” you sighed. you knew he was right. you laid your head on his shoulder. “be quiet i just need cuddles please” “of course my lovely” he said as he then kissed your forehead.

jeongin: you sat up in your bed as you heard a loud noise outside your window, you looked at your phone and saw it was 2 am. it was a thunderstorm, you hated thunderstorms, they always scared you ever since you were little. you were wishing your boyfriend was next to you but he was at his dorm. you so badly just wanted to bury your face into his chest and have him stroke your hair. he always was the best boyfriend when he comforted you when you were scared or anxious. he knew you hated thunderstorms. you looked over at your phone to see a notification from “innie the loml” it read “baby your handsome boyfriend is here outside, please open the door it’s raining really hard 😭” you smiled. you jumped up and ran to the door. you saw him smiling at you. he walked in drying his shoes on the mat and taking them off. “baby… why are you so perfect?” you said hugging him. you didn’t even care if you got wet from his soggy clothes. you were so happy he was here. he kissed your forehead. you went to your bedroom as he followed behind you. he changed into dry clothes as he then crawled into your bed. he wrapped around you as you sunk into each others warmth. the thunder got louder and louder, the rain was so heavy. you hated the loud sounds of storms. you hid your head into his chest. “aw baby it’s okay” he started to run his fingers through your hair, as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. “it’s okay love, im right here” “shhh, it’s alright my love” “fall asleep with me” “you are safe with me sweetie”.

#skz #straykids fic #k-pop #straykids #straykids imagine #stray kids fluff #straykids x reader

27 notes · View notes

riality-check · 1 year

Text

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

Steve wakes up early like he usually does. The sun is streaming through his window right into his eyes, his sheets are bunched at his waist, and Eddie is snoring way too close to his right ear.

Steve doesn’t move.

He glances at the clock. It’s early enough that Eddie would complain about the time even if he got a good amount of sleep last night. But he didn’t. Neither of them did, and Eddie had a panic attack on top of that, so he’s exhausted.

He deserves the sleep, so Steve lets him have it.

Steve, however, is still on a swimmer’s schedule even after two years of post-graduation life. He gets up and tries not to focus on last night.

They say nothing good happens after midnight, but nothing good happens before noon, either. Breakfast seems like a good first step, at least, before they sit down and talk.

Really talk, not huddle and cry on a hardwood floor.

Yeah. Steve needs food before they have that conversation.

He heads downstairs, where he sees Nancy sitting at the kitchen table, steaming cup of coffee in front of her.

Before he can say anything along the lines of “I thought you left” or “how did you figure out the coffeemaker, it took me two months to work the damn thing out,” Nancy points at the coffeemaker and says, “Yours should be done in about a minute. Light roast, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve says. His parents like dark roast. Despite both of them drinking it, that container is more full than the light roast. Steve’s gone through a container of his coffee since they last replaced theirs. He doesn’t even drink coffee all that often.

Sure enough, the coffeemaker finishes brewing, and Steve gingerly grabs his scorching mug and sits across from Nancy.

She still has her curlers in. He’d tease her for it if she didn’t look so exhausted.

He takes a peek into her mug. It’s half empty, but he can see that it’s dark.

“Dark roast, black?” he asks.

Nancy nods.

Nice to know some things haven’t changed since ‘83. Good that that coffee is getting used up.

“You know light roast has more caffeine, right?”

“I like the taste,” Nancy says. She takes a sip of it without grimacing, and Steve marvels at her.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever stop doing that, not really.

“I thought you left,” he says instead.

Nancy shrugs. “I was too tired to drive. My parents are out of town this weekend, anyway, and it’s not like Mike can use the car. I crashed on the couch. The blankets are in the wash right now.”

“I don’t care about the blankets,” Steve says. It’s true. They’re kind of ugly, too. Some gifts his great-aunt made for his parents’ wedding anniversary, he thinks. They’re warm though, and he likes that at least someone got some use out of them.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Nancy stares at him, but Steve knows she isn’t really looking at him. She’s just thinking.

“I think so,” she says after a minute. “Or at least I will be in a little while.”

Steve nods.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“No,” Steve says instantly. “I need at least a day, I think.”

“Yeah,” Nancy says. She takes another sip of coffee. “Last night was a lot.”

Steve sighs. “Yeah. It was.”

He picks up the mug and when he registers it’s not hot enough to make him want to immediately drop it, takes a sip of his coffee. It’s bitter as anything, and that’s when he realizes he forgot to add-

“Milk and two sugars?” Nancy offers. She’s already up, having gotten the milk from the fridge, and now stands on her tiptoes, trying to reach the sugar bowl in the cabinet to the left of the stove.

“I got it.” Steve pushes himself out of his chair, but by the time he’s on his feet, Nancy has the sugar bowl in hand and is setting it, along with the milk and a spoon, on the table.

Steve is both surprised and not that she remembered where everything is.

He adds both to his coffee, stirs it with the spoon, and takes a sip to make sure it’s actually good this time.

It is. Milk and two sugars never fails.

Nancy finishes her coffee and rinses the mug out in the sink. Then, she turns back to Steve.

“Do you think,” she says, tugging at the sleeves of her shirt, “that talking to someone might help you, too?”

Out of all the questions Nancy could possibly ask him, that wasn’t even on Steve’s radar.

He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t think about it. After everything, especially Starcourt, Steve knew he wasn’t quite all right. People who are okay don’t have nightmares that often, or get way too on edge because of flickering lights or Russian.

But that always seemed like a leap he couldn’t quite take. Therapy is for people who really aren’t okay. It’s something that isn’t talked about, not just in polite company, but possibly ever.

Steve doesn’t know if he’s reached that point yet.

But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think about it.

He doesn’t voice any of this. He just takes a sip of his coffee. Swallows.

Says, “That really seemed to scare Eddie. When I brought it up.”

Nancy sits back down at the table. “Yeah. I’m surprised he didn’t go off more since he was already on edge.”

Oh. So she knew. And Steve didn’t.

“I don’t think you can be too mad about that,” Nancy says, and that’s when Steve realizes he was frowning. “You’d tell Robin something like that before you’d tell Eddie.”

Steve opens his mouth to reply, and, when he finds that he really can’t argue with that, closes it again.

“You could try asking him about it, though,” Nancy says. “He might tell you. I won’t, since it’s not my story, but he might tell you.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Well, if it were me, I would press,” Nancy says. “But you’re not me, and that’s not the right thing to do, I don’t think. I think you just need to wait until he does.”

Steve nods. He’s not the world’s most patient person, but he thinks he can wait if it’s Eddie he’s waiting for.

“You didn’t answer my question, though,” Nancy says.

“What question?”

“Do you think talking to someone would help?”

Steve swallows and stays silent. He can feel Nancy’s eyes on him. He knows she’s not doing it on purpose, that she can’t shut off that intense stare of hers, but it makes him feel like a bug underneath a microscope anyway.

“How about this?” Nancy says after the silence stretches too thin. “How about we tell each other?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, we tell each other if it gets bad. We have to tell the other two, not just one other person.”

“What about Robin?” Steve says.

“Her too,” Nancy replies instantly. She isn’t brushing him off. Steve can tell that she means it, that she might even feel a little bit bad for not including her in the first place.

“We tell the other three,” Nancy says, “if it gets bad. That way, we share the load better. And it’s less scary.”

It is less scary. Steve knows Robin better than he knows anyone on the planet, is learning more about Eddie every day, and used to be able to read Nancy’s mind.

He wonders if he’ll be able to get there again with her. He hopes so. Really, he does.

“I think that could work,” he says.

The smallest of grins appears on Nancy’s face. “It’s less expensive, too. For Eddie and Robin.”

Steve is a little embarrassed that he didn’t think about that factor.

“We have to be honest, though,” he says. “No bullshit.”

“No bullshit,” Nancy agrees. Then, she adds, “You were never bullshit. By the way.”

Steve nods. Smiles. Downs the rest of his coffee and stands up.

“Thanks, Nance,” he says.

“I should have said it before.”

“Maybe. I’m just happy you said it all. You didn’t have to.”

Nancy frowns at the floor. “No, I did.”

Steve doesn’t like the look on her face, so he changes the subject. “I’m gonna start up breakfast.”

“Eddie’s gonna want-”

“Pancakes with sprinkles,” the two of them say in unison.

Nancy grins, and it’s less shy, this time. “He steals all my candy, you know.”

“You don’t like most candy,” Steve points out. He walks over to the pantry and pulls out the box mix and sprinkles.

Nancy keeps smiling and just shrugs.

“Eggos, still?” Steve asks.

He turns around and sees that Nancy already has the freezer door open and the box in hand. He hears Eddie’s footsteps come down the stairs. He remembers that Robin is gonna come over in a few hours for their weekly “bridge and bitch” afternoon.

Yeah. He thinks they might be okay.

ao3 link

tag list: @ashwagandalf @novelnovella @ladyapplejackdnd @silentiumdelirium @resident-gay-bitch @brassreign @starrystevie @henderdads @greyhoundsgirl @thegingerrapunzel @seths-rogens @questionablequeeries @miss-hit @edmunsn @readbythestarlight @scooby-dum86 @deehellcat @missarte-beltane @theysherobinbuckley @tillystealeaves @mercrx @nightmareglitter

120 notes · View notes

indecentpause · 3 months

Text

Find the Word Tag

tagged by @late-to-the-fandom to find four of the following: moon, noon, soon, spoon, trick, refuse, cruel, energy, draw, velvet, inspiration, side, scatter, listen, study.

I'm just going to go through The Most Beautiful Puzzle and see what I have!

tagging @willtheweaver @bluberimufim @the-angriest-author @tildeathiwillwrite @drippingmoon @revenantlore to find the words fear, faith, fail, and fight! :3

cw: home break-in, active crime scene, panic attack, ableism

moon

soon:

The Inspector leans closer to examine the spot on the screen. “Thank you,” he says. “After she leaves, nobody else arrives or leaves all night. I knew there must be a cut in the footage, I just couldn’t find where.” “So whoever did this had access to the camera footage before you got it, is what you’re saying?” you ask. “Yes,” the two say in unison. The Inspector stands back and Josselin leans in closer. He isolates the spot and zooms in, but the video is so grainy, it’s hard to tell what you’re looking at. “I want interviews with everyone who was on the field or in either of the locker rooms that day,” Josselin says. "Get any footage from the lockers and fields that day, too. From the full previous and following twenty-four hours. As soon as possible.” The Inspector is already across the room on an office phone, speaking softly to someone on the other end.

spoon:

The power is still out the next morning. Shit. Hopefully your food will be okay. At least there’s no meat. The dairy is probably going to be pretty iffy, though, and your ice cream is definitely going to be melted. You peek in your freezer. It’s barely cold. But you take out your cookies and cream ice cream anyway to have ice cream soup for breakfast. You drink it straight from the container. No point in dirtying a perfectly good bowl and spoon, especially since Josselin isn’t going to eat any of it anyway.

trick:

The floor drops from under you and your head whirls. You’re going to vomit. You’re going to cry. You’re going to hope against hope against hope they listen to the Inspector and keep him locked up. But he’s so charming, and wealthy, and manipulative, and he always gets everyone to turn against you and do everything he wants. You want to hope, but you’re so, so afraid to. Josselin turns toward you when you don’t respond and says, “We’ll take care of it.” You’d almost forgotten he’s basically a mind reader. He hasn’t done any of his investigative parlor tricks in the past few days because he hasn’t needed to. But he’s been paying attention, and he understands everything, because he continues, “We’re not going to let him manipulate his way out of this one. Okay? Breaking and entering at the same location twice in forty-eight hours? They’ll keep him locked up this time.”

refuse

cruel:

You lean against the wall, your weight on your good foot. The cane helps a lot. It’s much less clunky than the crutch, and way easier to get up the stairs with. You’re a little afraid to be alone with it, in case someone says something cruel. You’re only in your mid-twenties, and you’ve heard the shitty things people say about those who need mobility devices when they’re young. Some of your old coworkers said those shitty things themselves. Maybe it’s better you’re not a paramedic anymore. Not just for safety reasons.

energy:

After you and the Inspector share some coffee and Josselin finishes his energy drink, the Inspector goes back to his office to handle some paperwork. Pascal doesn’t come down. When you mention it to Josselin, he says, “Pascal needs to get as much sleep as he can. He needs at least ten solid hours to function properly, and once you add in his workday, there’s not much left. I’m just glad he isn’t working at the hangar anymore.” “Hangar?” “He used to repair airplanes. To put himself through college as best he could.”

draw:

Josselin nods, then pauses. “Grab her a cup of water,” he says. “She looks like she needs it.” So you draw a cup of cold water from the cooler and hand it over. Josselin doesn’t take it. “You’re coming in with me.” Your brow furrows. “What?" “You know more about drug symptoms than me. You were a paramedic for years. You’ve seen it in the field, right?” “Well… yes. But I don’t see how—“ “Just follow my lead,” Josselin says, and he steps inside.

velvet

inspiration

side:

“Inspector Montague,” [Josselin] says. You nod in acknowledgement behind him. You readjust yourself around the crutch to make it more comfortable. “We just finished a round of questions with our first potential witness.” The Inspector sighs and drags his hand down the side of his face, catching slightly on the ear loop of his mask. “Nothing?” Josselin says hesitantly. “They don’t keep security guards at the cameras overnight,” the Inspector answers. “Just until 5:00 pm. Whoever doctored the footage must have taken it then.” “Are there backups anywhere?” “Stolen.”

scatter:

[Josselin] hesitates, then picks up his phone and pokes at it a a bit. For a moment, he’s still, then his eyes close and he inhales, sharp and shaky, through his teeth. “What?” He hands you the phone. It’s the living room camera. The furniture has been upturned. Books are scattered over the floor like dead birds. The violin has been knocked over, but it doesn’t look like the case was opened, so maybe, it’s still safe. The cats have been left alone. Oh, god. Oh, Jesus. You pinch the bridge of your nose and hand the phone back to Josselin. “I’m so sorry.” Your voice hitches and breaks. You don’t even want to see what Josselin’s bedroom looks like. “This is—“ “It’s not your fault,” the Inspector says.

listen:

Just as you’re about to go upstairs, [Josselin's] phone rings. You take the first step, but then he says, “Wait a second.” You sip at your boba while he talks, very carefully not listening to what he’s saying so as not to infringe on his privacy. The phone call lasts less than thirty seconds. He hangs up and clears his throat, so you turn back around. “So. I know we just got back, but how do you feel about going downtown again?”

study:

You swipe the message to the side and make the call. You’re getting desperate, and any roommate away from your hometown is better than going back. You meet all the expectations laid out in the ad, so as long as they let you study and don’t mind your ADHD, you’re fine. Your depression is pretty much under control with meds—shit, you still have to figure out how to apply for Medicaid, you’re running low—but they don’t need to know.

#my writing #writeblr #writeblr tag games #last line tag #excerpt #wip #the most beautiful puzzle #sheraton academy #sheraton academy au #meara ryanne #josselin clearwater #donatien montague #inspector montague

9 notes · View notes

yichuuonvenus · 3 months

Text

The After Party- II

Ethan Landry x Reader

Tainted Love- Chapters

~Warnings~

Rape/Non-con, Loss of Virginity, Cock Warming, Dacryphilia, Knifeplay, Forced Orgasms, Corruption, Murder, Blood, Nightmares, Stalking, Underage Drinking, Attempted assault, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Forced Relationship, Dacryphilia, Isolation

“…Two found dead tonight both were New York City University students.”

The TV was so loud that it filled the room.

You hugged the wall, hearing the noise. It all went blank as the new anchor talked about a Ghostface mask near the scene of the crime.

“Pack your things. Me, you, and y/n leave tonight,” Sam said as she went towards the hallway where you were.

“What are you doing up?” Sam said, staring at you in disbelief.

“I- I don’t- I-“ you stumbled, collapsing onto the floor as tears filled your eyes.

A man was in the living room, and Chad pulled him towards the door. Tara got up immediately trying to come up with reasons why it was not about them. Sam grabbed onto you. You were hyperventilating, close to passing out again.

That same horror that you tried your best to ignore and that you wanted to put behind you was all coming back to the surface. Like a ruff tide pulling you under, beneath the waves.

“Tara, we are leaving!”

“Can- can we at least think about this?! Quinn’s dad is a cop! We can call him and find out what’s going on,” Tara spoke as Quinn started to immediately call him.

Sam’s phone rang as she was trying to comfort you, causing everyone around you to stare at it.

“Why did everyone just freak out when her phone rang?” Ethan said causing Anika to huff.

“You gotta keep up.”

Quinn came back her face serious as she handed the phone to Sam.

“My dad wants to speak to you.”

“Watch her,” Sam said as she left to go talk to Quinn’s father.

Tara immediately calmed you down. Trying to pet your hair as a way to keep you from having a mental breakdown.

“Tara… I want- I want to go to bed,” you said barely above a whisper.

You could feel the blood pouring from your stomach the way the knife felt on your chest. The stabs that filled your abdomen. The bloodcurdling scream that filled your lungs. The smile on Amber’s face was the look of admiration for her work.

“Tara, I need to go to bed,” you started to cry.

Tara was quick to pull you on your feet. Chad helped as he guided you back to Tara’s room.

It was like a never-ending nightmare. Ghostface is back and you knew whoever it was wasn’t going to stop until you all were dead.

You went to sleep with the same nightmare bleeding into your head.

Help

HELP ME

SOMEONE

PLEASE

“HELP ME,” a scream tore through you.

“You’re okay… you’re okay.” The person said in a soft voice to try to soothe you.

You opened your eyes. They were blurry and watery trying to make out who it was. Those same brown curls you knew all too well were the first thing you saw. He smelled nice like clean linen as he held you rocking back and forth shushing you gently.

“I- I thought you all left,” You said trying to catch your breath.

“Well… we did and then Tara and Sam got hurt so everyone is at the police station. So Chad asked me to stay here and watch over you,” he whispered loosening his hold on you.

“Are- are they alright?” You sat up immediately a little too quickly causing you to have a dizzy spell.

He steadied you as you swayed. His face was close to yours, breath fanning over your face.

“Yeah, they are fine. They said they’ll be back in a few hours.” Ethan gently laid you back. He spoke up again. “Lemme get you something to drink.”

You nodded and smiled before turning over and covering yourself with blankets.

You didn’t like to be the “weak” one. The one they always had to baby but it was all you’ve ever known. You didn’t know anything else as sad as it was.

You could feel a sinking feeling like there was a hole at the bottom of your stomach and all your organs were going to pour out of you. Blood was the first thing you smelled. It was all over your body it took over your senses. You wanted to scream but all you could do was keep your body still.

You were sweating so much but you were so so cold. You felt hands on you, roaming your head, and the blood was gone.

“You’re burning up,” Ethan said as he held the glass of water to your lips.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you started to cry.

Ethan panicked for a moment not knowing what to say.

“Hey, no it’s okay. Just drink this ‘kay.”

You nodded, slowly sipping on the water he held to your lips.

You were scared, confused, and most of all terrified. Ghostface was back. Whatever it is whoever it was they were back.

“Hey- oh,” Quinn said smirking, “We just came back. We are having a group meeting after class.”

Ethan nodded as he looked at her, you couldn’t see his face but he turned back to you with a smile.

“Drink some more of that water, okay?”

“I will…”

Ethan walked out with a small awkward wave. Quinn sat down on the bed next to you.

“I need to get ready for class and go back to my dorm. I overstayed my stay-“

“No of course not. You are basically one of Sam’s siblings you could never overstay.”

You shyly smiled, “You truly are a good friend.”

“Of course, now go get ready for class.”

You gave her a small hug and gathered your things. You were glad that you stayed here before school started, some of your clothes were in Tara’s closet. You did not want to walk around in your Red Riding Hood costume.

Sam was outside talking to Tara.

“Hey, where are you going?” Sam asked

“I need to go get ready for class today I still smell like a frat party.”

“You can get ready here.”

“Sam,” Tara reprimanded.

“Fine, just be safe,” Sam replied reluctantly.

“I’m always am.”

With that, you walked out with a drawl string bag in your hand.

. . .

When you got to your dorm room your roommate was in the common room finishing up her make up.

“Hey, I was wondering where you’ve been,” she said.

“Hey sorry, I’ve been out with Tara and all of them. We went to that Halloween party,” you stuttered.

She noticed how your voice trembled a bit causing her to look at you with furrowed eyebrows. She knew what happened to you last year. It was kinda hard for people to not know what happened in Woodsboro.

You both were starting to get comfortable with each other but she made sure to make you feel at home and safe. The boundaries you both set have never been crossed you both made sure of it.

She said your name softly causing you to stop what you’re doing and look at her. Your face fell as soon as you looked into her eyes.

“I’m- I’m just so scared,” you whispered as she hugged you.

“I know,” she said softly rubbing your back as lightly as possible.

There was nothing to be said further she already knew Ghostface was back. You pulled back hesitantly.

“I need- I need to get ready for class,” you sniffled.

“Yeah of course,” she said with a smile, “call me if you need anything. I gotta get going.”

“I’ll see you,” you said.

“See you,” she replied.

She left and you stood there for a good while just staring at the spot she was at. You took a deep breath. You’re not in Woodsboro anymore. You were halfway across the country.

There was no way Ghostface was after you or your friends.

At least that was what you wanted to desperately believe.

. . .

“Am I going to die a virgin?” Ethan said.

You stared down at your feet as Mindy furrowed her eyebrows at Ethan. You stared off into the sky not caring for the conversation.

“Uh.. weird overshare but that brings us to our current suspects. Ethan. The shy dorky guy who no one suspects, because he's so shy and dorky.”

“Why am I on the list? Because I'm randomly Chad's roommate?”

“Roommate lotteries can be juked, you could have fixed it to get next to us.” She quickly said. Before making her way to Quinn. “Quinn. The slutty roommate. Horror movie classic.”

“Uhh sex positive but thank you?” Quinn wondered.

You stared off at the planes and the birds. You didn’t care for conversation. How could they blame you?

“Hey, are you okay?” Wes said as he peered into your eyes. You all were at school again. At the picnic table.

He smiled as he looked at you. His eyes were on your lips. You looked around, seeing Mindy laugh along with Tara.

Wes was next to you, his smile was lighting your heart.

“Wes?” You giggled as he playfully nudged you.

“Babe?” He said and when you blinked he was bloody, multiple stab wounds covered his body.

“Wes,” you screamed.

Wes…

“Are you okay?”

You stared at Mindy for a long time. Your eyes were so dull and you could only nod your head.

“Yeah… I- I just… I need to go,” you whispered. You rushed away too embarrassed to even look back and say bye.

Previous Chapter?

Next Chapter?

#dark!ethan landry #dark!ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you

9 notes · View notes

glitxhwayventeen · 3 months

Text

The Smart One: Part Three

Yeonjun

Characters: Yeonjun x female reader

Warnings: mentions of- a fight scene, death, drinking, smoking, partying, sleeping around (but it’s all consensual so i don’t see a problem with it. But i know some people do so TW ig), name calling (but they don’t actually mean it and none of them think they do, they’re loving nicknames), crying, pining/angsty love, blood, another pack’s fight, Yeonjun being dumb basically poor baby

Author’s Note: Home sick with Covid so I figured I’d put out another chapter! Hope it does totally suck :/ it was a bit rushed on my part so I’ll end up going back and editing some things later I’m sure. I know it’s a bit slow but it’s leading up to the next chapter i swear. Let me know what you think!

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

There Will Be Blood Masterlist

The Smart One: Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

🥀

Bold- Dialogue Italics- Thoughts

Tag list- @hihello-pinky

It took Yeonjun a while to stop sobbing mindlessly so he could explain himself and apologize to the pack. And at first, the pup of the pack was really mad at him for refusing to interact with you. Though after he began tending to his wounds, Huening Kai started to think about just how bad the fight they had could’ve ended.

So he, in a way at least, understood that his brother was just trying to protect you. Which the younger boy appreciated, he cared for your safety as his friend too.

Though as the day slowly faded into night, he kept thinking about the current predicament the oldest had to face. And the more he thought about it, the more unfair he found it all. In fact, he still thought the whole situation was bullshit.

He didn’t get the purpose in keeping you in the dark about everything. He didn’t see why you shouldn’t get to decide whether or not you wanted to be part of the family on your own. He didn’t understand why he and his brothers had to live their lives only half fulfilled when all the normal humans got to go on and live normal lives.

But mostly, he didn’t get why Yeonjun shouldn’t be able to have the love of his life by his side.

For as long as Kai had known him, the eldest wolf rarely cared for anything, or anyone, enough to fight for it as much as he had fought for you the last day alone. Truthfully, he hardly even seemed to care about what was going on with his own pack unless he absolutely had to. All he acted like he cared about was the party boy lifestyle he had relished in.

And oddly enough, before the day’s incident, Yeonjun hadn’t even ever fought with his brothers before. Sure he smacked them every now and then to make them come to their senses. Sure he raised his voice at them when he was angry with them.

But he never got to the point of physically attacking them. Other people yeah, he was known to start fights with people outside of their pack. Just never within the pack.

That’s how Kai knew just how badly the whole situation was affecting his hyung. When he threw knocked him to the ground, he could see panic race across his face. He could see the fear behind his crimson eyes. And he could feel the internal conflict he was going through with every punch thrown his way.

He wanted his brother to be happy. He wanted him to get to live the life everyone should have the choice in living. And he wanted you as a sister.

It wasn’t even because it would mean you’d be able to help him with school whenever he needed. Or that you’d feel the need to take care of him as the only mate in the pack.

The truth was, Hyuka was already sandwiched between two sisters in his real family. He loved having them around, even if it meant constantly fighting and bickering with them. So he knew he’d love having you, one of the few friends he had ever managed to make on his own that he never disagreed with, as a new addition to their pack.

And the pup just knew you’d have the best influence on Yeonjun. Where he was frantic and illogical, you were calm and rational. Where his brother was unpredictable and borderline dangerous at times, you were steady and always comforting. Where he was cold and charming, you were loving and awkward.

The two of you were like Fire and Water. Your personalities were so different it was almost comical. But Kai knew that fate wouldn’t have brought the two of you together as mates if it wasn’t exactly what you both needed. And it was cruel of outside forces to try and pull the two of you apart.

He couldn’t stand for it anymore. He wouldn’t. He brought you two together and he was damn determined to keep you that way.

And he knew that once Yeonjun had gotten to know you personally and spoken to you for just a little bit longer, he’d be unable to keep his word on distancing himself from you. All Kai had to do was find the perfect way to get you two talking.

————

Soon, days of ignoring you turned into weeks. And soon those weeks turned into over a month. Yeonjun had managed to stay away from you for over a month, and he was proud of himself for it. Proud, and gutted for not being able to be anywhere close to you for your own safety.

Anytime he felt like giving into his instincts, anytime he could sense he was about to throw it all out the window to go and get close to you, he had to stop and remind himself it was for the best. You were safer with him out of your life now.

Even if you still got bullied relentlessly by some of your so-called classmates. It was better than getting attacked by a werewolf or put in harm's way because a hunter decided to go after their little pack again.

But he would be lying if he said his lack of knowledge about how you were doing wasn’t killing him.

So much so that he had actually gone back on his word to follow you around campus a few times. He hadn’t meant to, truly he was pretty good at staying away from you.

But he just had to make sure you were doing alright every now and then. He stayed out of your line of sight, you had no clue he was anywhere around you. He still kept his word.

He had no contact with you and so he had no idea what was happening in your life minus what he had seen with his own eyes.

In fact, the only news Yeonjun got of you was what he had managed to catch from the pup’s conversations with their other brothers. The eldest didn’t have the courage to ask for any information himself, fearing that if he heard just the wrong thing he’d go running to your side and ruin your life.

And his brothers didn’t want to tell him anything about you if they could help it, figuring that it must’ve been torturing enough to be away from you.

Even so, the oldest of the pack couldn’t help but keep his ears open for any mention of your name or topics that could’ve been related to you whenever he was near them.

So he knew you had picked up two new students to tutor because your teachers asked you to help them out. Because you were someone that cared for others.

He wished he could ask you why you felt the need to spread yourself so think just so you didn’t let your teachers down. He wished he could ask you if you were getting enough sleep and taking care of yourself enough to compensate for the added stress.

He knew that you aced your physics exam you had been worried about because Kai insisted that he and the other boys take you out to lunch to celebrate since you had no one else to reward you for the good job you did.

Yeonjun hoped you listened to the boys when they told you how proud they were of you. He hoped that you believed every word he secretly coached/begged Huening to praise you with because he couldn’t tell you himself.

He knew that you recently went back to visit your mother in… Kenya? At least that’s the word he thought he had heard Kai tell Beomgyu when he questioned why you didn’t have a tutoring session with him that week.

He wondered what your life was like there and if you had a good time. He wondered what your family was like and if you missed them as much as he missed you.

Yeonjun felt like a hollowed out shell. Most days he only woke up or ate because his brothers practically forced him out of bed to shove food down his throat.

He didn’t even try to attend classes anymore, something that his school had sent him a notice for. But he didn’t care, he knew his rather well off and neglectful parents would just donate some large amount of money to the administration so they wouldn’t make a fuss over it or ask anymore about it.

He no longer attended parties. He still drank and smoked, but only when he could actually pull himself out of bed long enough to light a cigarette or pour himself a drink, which wasn’t very often.

And Yeonjun definitely didn’t give a fuck about sleeping around anymore. He had even had a few of his fuckbuddies come knocking on their front door asking why he wasn’t around or why he wasn’t responding to their late night texts.

But it didn’t matter to him, he closed the door in their faces with ease. None of them were attractive to him anymore. None of them excited him anymore. None of them were you.

His behavior was beginning to concern his brothers, so much so that they were beginning to think he was facing some sort of rejection from refusing to be anywhere near you. But truthfully he wasn’t. At least, he didn’t think he was.

He just felt like the flame that kept his hot head floating went out. He was tired and over dealing with any and everything if it didn’t pertain to you.

He thought maybe he’d feel a little better once the pup’s birthday came around. They usually celebrated by ordering his favorite foods and playing games together.

But instead, he was informed earlier in the day that Kai had already planned on going to some party one of his classmates invited him to.

So there he laid in bed, staring at the giant digital 11:55 PM on his alarm clock, waiting for his exhausted brain to finally let him sleep while all he could think about was you.

But just as he had begun to finally close his eyes, just as his mind had finally started to shut off so that he could rest, his phone began to light up and buzz on his bedside table. Someone was calling him.

He was about to just say fuck it and let it go to voicemail. But something inside him told him to answer it, that the call could be important.

Yeonjun propped himself up begrudgingly to grab his phone to see who it was, and low and behold Huening Kai’s goofy contact photo popped up on his screen.

Why in the ever loving fuck was Hyuka calling him so late? Wasn’t he out at some party?

He swiped right to unlock his phone and answer the call, “Huening it’s almost fucking midnight what in the hell could you possibly be calling me for?” The older boy groaned in Korean, his voice no doubt sleepy and dazed sounding.

“I-I’m sorry! I-I didn’t want to wake you!,” a feminine voice told him in English, a British accent slipping through as she stuttered in a panic, “This i-is Yeonjun right?”

His eyebrow lifted in confusion. Why had some random girl answered his phone? Why was she calling him so late? Where was Hyuka and why did the girl’s voice sound so familiar?

“Yes, this is Yeonjun,” He automatically replied in English, not knowing if the person on the other end even spoke his native language or not at that point, “Who’s this? Why are you calling me from Huening Kai’s phone?”

He heard the person clear her throat through, what he knew from experience to be, club like music before speaking again, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I wasn’t sure what else to do,” The girl apologized, “Kai’s very very drunk right now-” Yeonjun carefully tried to listen to the pretty sounding voice, wanting to be sure his tired brain didn’t mix any of its English words up, “He called me to help him get home. But I don’t have his address. I’d take him back to mine but the dorms don’t let us bring back opposite genders at night.”

He knew he knew your name. He was positive he had heard your voice before. It was on the tip of his tongue.

But before he could mentally guess anymore, another very familiar voice began speaking loudly in the background, “Noona wait! Is that- is it- Hi Yeonjun-ah!!” He heard Hyuka giggle as the girl begged him politely yet patiently to be quiet so she could speak.

“I’m sorry but Kai told me to call you because the others were busy?”

“Yes noona! Very verrry busy!” Huening laughed.

Based on his tone of voice, Yeonjun figured he must’ve been drunk off his ass. Which was worrying for two reasons.

One, the pup was a light weight who was naive when he was sober. The wrong person getting near him meant he was easy to take advantage of.

And two, it meant he wasn’t in control of his emotions. And that meant he could end up dissolving his contacts or shifting, at any given minute, and end up blowing their secret to a room full of random people.

“Right- yes busy. Anyways if you could just give me your address so I could bring him home I would really appreciate i-” but Yeonjun cut you off, knowing full well what was gonna have to happen.

“Don’t worry about it. Just watch him please. And send me the address. I’ll be there soon.” And with that, the older boy regretfully threw his blanket off of him, sat up, and threw his leather jacket over his tank top and some sweats over his boxers to head to the bathroom to put his contacts in. This would be fun.

————

When Yeonjun got to the gathering of young people, his nose was immediately hit with the smell of partygoer sweat and bad weed. He used to welcome the unsavory odor. But since he met you, it did nothing but give him a headache.

That wasn’t even the worst part of his night so far. He also had to wake Soobin up to get his car keys. Hyuka felt like throwing up when he went for a ride on Yeonjun’s motorcycle when he wasn’t piss drunk. The elder boy had recently gotten it detailed and he wasn't gonna risk his baby brother ruining it.

He probably would’ve more than likely fallen off of it anyways given the fact that the pup had probably drank so much he couldn’t hold his head up straight.

So he had to unfortunately wake up the alpha to ask him if he could take his safer care. A car Yeonjun wouldn’t normally have been caught dead in because of the mom vibes it gave off.

Yeonjun was also still a little ticked off that Kai had told whoever it was that called him that he was the only one available to help when all three of his other brothers were at home. Two of which were still actually awake.

Not to mention he was ripped from his bed just as he was finally falling asleep. Though maybe he should have, Yeonjun didn’t care if it was Huening’s birthday, he was gonna have to owe him big time for the night’s turn of events.

He managed to squeeze through the front door and did his best to zero in on the pup’s scent. He quickly figured out however, that that task would be nearly impossible. There was too much going on around him.

And it certainly didn’t help that he could also hear everything within the house. He could hear a guy down the hallway get rejected by a less than interested girl. Not that the guy was taking the hint in any sort of way.

Yeonjun soon found himself wondering if you would do the same to him if he had been able to ask you out. But then he realized he was being ridiculous. Of course you wouldn’t do that. You were too nice a person to try to blow off anyone asking you for a date.

He could hear all the best friends fighting outside about who was betraying who and why. He found one girl’s argument so compelling that he almost felt the need to take her side on the childish matter. Her voice was cracking and Yeonjun just knew that she must’ve been on the brink of tears.

He wondered if you would argue like her, if fighting with other people would overwhelm and upset you so much that you’d cry publicly to prove a point. Which he soon remembered was a dumb thought to have. You would never be in the position to argue with someone to begin with.

You didn’t like attention and, according to Huening, you weren’t someone who would fight with your friends. You were more someone who would fight for your friends.

He could hear all the people hooking up in the most public and odd places. Not that Yeonjun could say much, he used to do the same thing before he met you. He had actually had fun doing similar antics with random girls he would meet at parties. He liked the thrill of potentially getting heard or even caught by someone else.

But he knew that, even if he was willing to look through the mortal danger he could end up putting you in, chances of someone as shy and as anxious as you would never agree to doing something so daring. He wouldn’t have minded though.

At least he would have had the opportunity to be with you at all in the make believe realm the sounds around him constructed in his mind.

All the pining and internal pain he was feeling from his brain somehow finding a way to put you into his every thought on the situations around him was making him feel sick to his stomach.

Yeonjun wanted to go home and go to sleep already, at least he could dream about being with you. But no, he just had to come search for his alcohol intolerant brother.

Though just as the older boy was about to cut his losses and call it a night, figuring Hyuka would just have to wait for his fast metabolism to kick in and burn the alcohol out of his system to get home as a consequence of getting fucked up, he caught a whiff of an all too familiar yet enchanting aroma.

His heart sunk instantly in his chest and a whine instantly found its way out of his lips, much to the confusion of other party guests around him. What were you of all people doing at a college frat party?

You volunteered at the library because you thought it was a fun place to be. You tutored other students in your spare time because you wanted everyone to succeed. You were a straight A student on the dean’s list for heaven’s sake. You were too good and too innocent a person to be getting fucked up at a party.

Were you drinking? He didn’t feel any different than he normally did. Which meant you probably weren’t too drunk… right? Surely you wouldn’t have accepted a drink from a stranger. You would’ve known the dangers and the scary intentions behind the gesture…right?

Had you come to the party alone? Were you meeting someone at the party? Were you seeing someone at the party? Is that why you came?

The imprinting bond wasn’t as strong for you, if you even felt it at all given the current state of his relationship with you. Meaning you were still able to date other people and feel something, unlike Yeonjun who now found no pleasure in other peoples company because he had imprinted on you. God he hoped you weren’t there to hook up with some guy.

He didn’t know what to think. A million questions ran through his mind at once, but two kept making themselves more prominent: were you alright? Were you being safe? Yeonjun had to know.

So against his better judgment, he started following your scent rather than looking for his brother. Which ended up working for the better anyways as he was sitting on the couch in front of you, lightly giggling as you kept asking him to take small sips of water.

And that’s when everything clicked. A huge weight felt like it had lifted itself from his shoulders. You were the voice on the phone earlier.

Huening must’ve called you to come and help him because he trusted you and knew you’d come. Yeonjun just hadn’t heard you speak English before as when you introduced yourself, you introduced yourself to him in Korean to make him more comfortable.

You weren’t at the party getting wasted or getting with some random guy. You were at the party making sure his little brother was safe and well taken care of until he could be picked up.

He could hear you lightly giggling at Huening letting some of the water you were helping him drink fall down his chin. And he swore he would sell his soul if it meant being able to hear your beautiful laugh everyday for the rest of his life.

Yeonjun felt like he was on cloud nine. It was the first time he had been so close to you in what felt like forever and there you were being your usual loving and thoughtful self.

He felt such a rush of energy, in fact, that he hadn’t even noticed he had started walking to get closer to you until he noticed a girl come over and hand your shyly smiling form another bottle of water.

But not just any girl. It was a girl Yeonjun knew. She was a mate. Seungcheol’s, Beomgyu’s brother’s, mate. And she had ruffled Kai’s hair and left just as quickly as she had come over to hand you the water.

“Yeonjun-ah!” Huening squealed, making grabby hands at his older brother with a happy, albeit red, face, an action that had you turning around to look at him in return.

It was his first time being in front of you since the day Huening tried to introduce the two of you. He had thought that you’d hold a grudge at him for the whole situation. He thought maybe you’d hate him or call him names. Maybe even refuse to speak back to him or be blunt.

But the only emotion he saw from you was the light in your eyes going out as they widened in horror, mere moments before you dropped your grin and tilted your head down in what looked to be shame.

Yeonjun felt a knot twist in his chest. He knew you likely wouldn’t be happy to see him again, and he was prepared to deal with any angry or agitated remarks that you’d throw his way.

Though you didn’t end up being angry or agitated with him. You weren’t annoyed or holding a grudge. You didn’t pretend he didn’t exist or run away so you wouldn’t have to deal with him.

Seeing him made you feel sad. And that hurt him more than any words you could or any actions you could commit against him.

But you didn’t know that nor did he want to tell you that and make everything worse. So he nudged all the extra sweaty bodies away from him so that he could stand near you and his brother.

“Hi Ningning.”

————

You had just managed to get another sip of water in Kai’s mouth when you saw him. You knew he was coming, he had told you very aggravatingly over the phone that he would be coming to get your student from the party he had called you to so that you could help him.

And that was your original intent. You had received a call sometime after 11:00pm from your friend saying that he was drunk and needed help getting home.

Without question you put on the outfit you had already had laid out for the next day’s classes, grabbed your keys, and spring into action.

You didn’t want anything to happen to him. You knew he was very shy and quiet normally. You didn’t know what drinking a bunch of alcohol in a room full of strangers would do to him. But you knew what they could do to him. And you weren’t going to let it happen. Not if you could help it.

But when you got there, you had very quickly realized that you had no way of getting him home. He was too drunk to be able to remember his address.

He had no real friends around him at the time that knew where he lived either. And you had never been to his house before because you had always met up at school or at food places to celebrate good test scores.

You would’ve just taken him back to your dorm rooms if there wasn’t a rule in place about opposite sexes not being allowed in the rooms after a certain hour. Sure some of your fellow classmates snuck boys into the girls dormitories all the time. But you certainly weren’t one of them.

Doing such a thing was against the rules and you were an avid rule follower. And if your moral compass wasn’t enough to deter you, the clause in your international student contract that stated you could lose your scholarships if you were caught with a boy in your room while on campus was.

But even if you were truly able to get over all the internal alarm bells in your head that told you under no circumstances could you do such a thing for your friend, you had no idea how you would even do it.

So that left you with one last choice: phoning a friend. And, since you knew none of the people who did actually associate themselves with you knew where he lived either, you had to resort to phoning one of his friends.

You just weren’t sure which one. You figured you could try Soobin or maybe even Taehyun since they both lived with him and were friends with him, you weren’t even gonna consider Beomgyu because they’d both end up needing help in the end anyways, but Kai insisted they couldn’t help because they were busy.

In fact, when you listed off other people in his small contact list on his phone, he said most of them were. The only one that wasn’t just so happened to be Choi Yeonjun, the guy that hated you for just breathing.

And while you hated that you’d end up embarrassing yourself talking to him again from sheer nerves alone, you also knew that Kai should be at home in his bed sleeping the alcohol off so he didn’t get himself hurt.

Which is why you ended up calling the popular boy to begin with. Which you could tell he definitely wasn’t happy with given his oh so loving ‘what the fuck do you want’ attitude over the phone.

Which of course made you frazzled and panicked, even though you logically knew he was probably only saying such things because it was so late and he thought his friend was calling him.

So you resorted to speaking English to him over the phone, not thinking that he may not even be able to understand your accent or know the English language at all.

He seemed to understand, at least enough, because he was presently sat in front of you, chastising the younger boy for getting so drunk.

“Hyung, that’s not fair!!” A very child like Kai crossed his arms loosely over his chest, “It’s my birthday. I’m allowed to do what I want to do and no one should be able to stop me.”

While the small smile that had managed to find its way back to your face again at the boy’s cute antics did help you feel a little less uneasy over the situation, you still felt a range of emotions, almost all negative, that you weren’t sure how to handle.

You felt bad for your friend and for not being able to do more by yourself to help him. You felt ashamed for having to call Yeonjun, someone who quite literally hated your very existence, to come and get him in the dead of night.

You felt guilty for having probably woken the older boy up from his sleep and for forcing him to speak with you when he clearly didn’t want to. But mostly, you felt like you wanted to curl up in a ball in your room to cry again.

“Just because it’s your birthday doesn’t give you the right to inconvenience people Ningning.” Yeonjun rolled his eyes and grabbed Kai’s face, making him drunkenly follow his finger to see how far gone he was before letting his chin go and thumping him a little too hard on his head in annoyance.

Not that your friend seemed hurt by it anyways, it didn’t seem to phase him at all really. He actually found it funny and stuck his tongue out at him in defiance.

As the two went back and forth about who was wronged and who wasn’t, you somehow found the courage to move your gaze from your fingers to the party boy’s face.

How could somebody with such delicate features, no doubt handpicked by god himself, be so terrifyingly intimidating? Why did you have to think he was attractive? Why did he have to hate you? Why did life always seem to throw things your way it knows you have no way of getting through by yoursel-

Your thoughts were swiftly interrupted by the pretty boy, who’s piercing stare went from looking at his friend angrily to staring at you with… a look you couldn’t quite place as he spoke again, “Yeah well i’m sure ____ wasn’t too happy about having to drop everything to come help you either.”

Your eyes widened, not wanting to upset either of the two boys as Kai was trying to sober up enough to walk through the crowd of people blocking your way to the exit without having to be carried out.

“N-No!” You stuttered rather quietly for someone trying to have a conversation at a frat party, yet still managing to bring both their attentions straight to you, “I-I mean, I didn’t really- It’s not that I um…”

You noticed that, while Yeonjun had started to look at you with some much earned confusion, your friend began festering a devilish look in his eye and a mischievous smile.

You hadn’t told Kai what you had thought of his roommate, and you didn’t plan to. But part of you had begun to think that he may have caught on somehow.

“I-I didn’t have to drop much to come,” you finally managed to get out, “I w-was just at my dorm. And Kai’s my friend. I-I didn’t want anything to happen to him.”

The two men in front of you dropped any previous faces they had. At first you start to think that perhaps they were getting thrown on by your stress induced stutter you had worked so hard over the years to cover.

But as time went on and no one said anything, you realized the reason they went silent was because they hadn’t been expecting such a sincere reply from you.

Though how were you supposed to know what they wanted you to say or how they wanted you to act? It wasn’t as if situations such as the one you found yourself in were common for you. You hadn’t ever even been to a college party before Kai called you asking for help.

You didn't drink or smoke, the smell of alcohol and cigarettes made you physically nauseous. You didn’t party, you were always taught that education was more important. And you definitely didn’t have friends to joke around with, you didn’t have a frame of reference on how to properly reply to people.

“Hey Huening? You feeling any better? Or am I gonna have to carry you back to that god awful Kia Carnival?” Yeonjun joked, clearly only wanting to lighten the mood.

But your face started to heat up and you dropped your head down slightly, trying to help your very unstable friend stand so that he could get to his vehicle.

“Uh Hyung,” Kai slurred, finally getting to his feet as the older boy dove to put his arm over his shoulder so he could walk with support, “That’s not a very nice thing to say about ____’s car hyung.”

Your eyes widened, but you kept them straight as you stayed on his opposite side so he could safely move through the crowd of people without falling.

You shouldn’t have been surprised. You already subconsciously figured someone like Yeonjun would never agree with the way you lived your beige lifestyle.

Your schedule was as predictable as your responses. Your grades were as perfect as your attendance and your cookie cutter wardrobe. So it only made sense that your car was as bland as the rest of your life choices.

Someone like Choi Yeonjun lived life on the edge. He drank and smoked and partied. He never attended his classes or cared much about his grades. He drove a cool motorcycle and wore leather. He lived a fast paced lifestyle that you just… didn’t.

Part of you wished you could. That you could throw all your ambitions and thoughts to the back of your head and live a hectic lifestyle. But that wasn’t your life. You were bland and boring by most people’s standards. So was your car.

But it was a car you felt you could drive in a foreign country with little to no worry about your safety. It made you feel comfortable and that’s all that mattered to you. So you regretted nothing.

It was just a little embarrassing that someone so popular and wild decided to say such a thing about it out loud.

Yeonjun scoffed at him in return, “Huening I know you’re drunk off your ass right now, but let’s try not to put words in my mouth. I was talking about Soobin’s ugly car.”

“____ has a Kia Carnival too.” Your friend defended you, even though you just secretly wished you would’ve been swallowed whole by the dancefloor you were walking on.

You hadn’t planned on saying anything. You were actually internally praying Kai wouldn’t either. But you should’ve known better.

He was drunk and said what he was thinking out loud when he was sober already. Of course he’d still do the same while he was drunk off his ass.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could vaguely make out Yeonjun’s own fox eyes becoming bigger in surprise to Kai’s response.

“Oh shit! I’m sorry ____!” Yeonjun swiftly let out, saying your name in a way that made your stomach do backflips, “I- I didn’t mean it in a bad way!” He insisted, nearly dropping his roommate in an attempt to get his point across to you by facing you, something that confused you greatly.

His tone sounded almost… apologetic. What was he sorry for? Why would he care if he offended you or not?

The popular boy didn’t even care enough to give you basic human decency the last time you had met. Why did he seem so startled at the realization that he could’ve potentially hurt your feelings by making fun of the model of your car?

All you could think to do was shake your head to hide your blush, “Don’t worry about it. I hear stuff like that all the time from other students.”

Then once more from your peripheral vision, you could have sworn you saw Yeonjun’s face fall into an emotion you could only place as guilt.

Part of you wanted to ask if he was okay. Part of you also wanted to ask what was wrong with him. But you didn’t. You figured it wasn’t your place. You were a stranger to him.

Instead, you helped walk Kai back to his car with his friend, the only sound being made by anyone coming from the younger boy’s mouth.

“Uh guys? I think I’m gonna be sick.”

(Posted 2/5/2024)

15 notes · View notes

rev-wrath · 2 years

Text

Help

Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Jason comes home to a distressed partner.

Notes: Hurt/comfort. Reader uses she/her pronouns. 0.6k words.

Warnings: Reader has a anxiety attack.

There’s little light in the place when Jason walks through it. Only the little battery operated baubles on tables are on. He frowns before calling out, “Babe?”

“Jason.” It’s more a cry than anything. Broken and small. And once he runs to the corner he heard her in, she looks small. Knees to her chest, rocking back and forth, hands clutching the side of her head.

She lets out a sob. “Help.” Any other thought is out the window. He has to stay calm.

Crouching down beside her, reaching for her arms to pull her hands away. “Are you hurt? What happened?” Leaning up just a bit to see if there’s blood on her head. Nothing.

She shakes her head. “I just- the-“ She sounds like she can hardly breathe. “I can’t.” Crumpling against his chest with another cry, body shaking. He lets go of her arms to wrap his own around her.

“I’m here. I’ve got you. Do what you need to do.”

Every shake and high pitched cry makes his heart ache. He just wants to cry with her, for her. Figure out why this is happening and fix it or help her fix it. Instead he holds her, mumbling gentle reassurances.

He’s not sure how long they sit there, but eventually she moves out his arms and back against the wall. Body still shaking, tears still falling, and breath still faltering, but less, better.

Jason leans forward, voice still soft and gentle. “I’m going to get you some water, okay? I’ll be right back.”

She nods. “Okay.”

“Love you.” He’s up and leaving before she can process it. Without Jason there she doesn’t have anything to focus on, something to easily ground her. Sucking in a breath she tries to focus on her surroundings.

Jason grabs her reusable bottle off the table. Opening to check it, he sees there’s a little bit of water left. He heads off to refill it. He has to keep his mind focused. Figure out what happened and how to help. Most importantly he needs to stay calm. For her at least.

Filling the bottle up he secures it before heading back to his partner. Crouching down once more he offers it to her.

“Here.” Her hands shake a little bit but she takes it nonetheless. Carefully bringing it to her lips and taking a sip. The sensation helps a bit.

“What happened, (Y/N)?” He keeps his voice gentle, eyeing her. She keeps her eyes on the ground.

“I just- my thoughts took over.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t really remember them.” She just remembers the panic coursing through her.

“Okay.” He exhales. “Okay. You wanna sleep for a bit?”

She thinks about it, but ultimately decides that she just doesn’t feel like it. It might help, it might not. Either way she’s not feeling it. She shakes her head.

“Alright. Want else? Food, hoodie, blanket, TV?”

“Blanket. Please. And,” she hesitates. “cuddles. Hold me?”

“Yeah. Of course, love. Be right back. Drink some more water.” He kisses her forehead.

Eyeing the nearest piece of furniture she presses herself in the corner further. She feels safe here. Knowing Jason’s nearby makes her feel… good.

Her partner comes back with a fluffy blanket that he wraps around her.

“Good?”

She nods. “Yeah.”

Sitting down next to her he pulls her into his arms. She’s half on his legs, her upper half against his.

“This okay?”

“Can you… talk?” She feels ridiculous with the way that’s phrased. “I just, I don’t want it to be quiet.”

Jason immediately starts talking about some random thing. Nothing either of them have to pay much attention to.

Here in his arms, she thinks she’ll be okay. For now at least. After all, Jason can’t solve all her problems or fight her demons for her. But he can help her.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd imagines #red hood imagines #reader insert #x reader #dc #read reed

96 notes · View notes

piscespixiewastaken · 2 years

Text

Despair and Desperation

Masterlist, Previous > Next

STORY BELOW CUT

content warnings: eye trauma, nightmares, implied child abuse, sexual innuendos, violence, mentions of blood, panic attacks, kidnapping

Artemis’s cry cut through Foaly’s consciousness. The tremor in the Mud Boy’s voice only accentuated by the mic on his throat. Spiro’s leering face could be seen through the iris cam as he grabbed a sharp implement from a nearby table and rushed at the boy. There was a scream for help before Spiro raised the blade above Artemis’s head. Foaly could do nothing but watch in horror as the blade struck and the scream for help became a scream of pain.

Foaly jumped awake, chest heaving as his mind processed where he was. A dream, he realized. It was only a dream. But no matter how much he assured himself, it didn’t make the dream less terrifying.

His wife, Caballine stirred next to him.

“Foaly, what’s wrong?”

He couldn’t answer, just trying to get his breathing back under control, to clear his head from the horrid scream. Because no matter how much he assured himself, that scream had been real. He had seen Spiro stab Artemis in a fit of rage. The screams and the way all feed, visual and auditory, suddenly cut off had been haunting Foaly’s nightmares ever since.

Caballine sat up and rubbed her husband’s shoulders. “You did everything you could, dear. It’s not your fault.”

Foaly took a shuddering breath. “I could have. I could have snuck him help. Something. He’s dead because we couldn’t help him.” Even if the Mud Boy had been annoying and arrogant and a general pain in the ass, he’d been improving. He didn’t deserve to be abandoned. He didn’t deserve to die.

Caballine said nothing as she hugged Foaly close. It was a long time before either of them got back to sleep.

Spiro stared out at the skyline of Chicago. He had needed this. A break from the office, from the workplace drama that was inevitable in such a large corporation. So instead of spending his weekend in the penthouse, he’d taken the day with Blunt and gone out on Lake Michigan in a yacht. Well, not just with Blunt. A few local mafia members, including one Carla Frazzetti and her boss, also sat on the boat, enjoying the first sunny days of summer on the deck.

He raised a glass of water in greeting as one of the mafia bosses approached his chair. The rotund man laughed as he plopped a deck chair beside Spiro.

“This is the life, ain’t it?” the man stated. Marco Giuliano was not a man to hold back from life’s pleasures, immoral or otherwise. Something Spiro could respect despite his inability to partake in the more drink-oriented ones. Hence his glass of water instead of the martini that Marco held in his beefy hands.

“It is indeed. Now if only we could get away to Cuba or a proper coastline,” Spiro commented, smiling.

Marco laughed again. “If only, if only. Say, where is that little brat I keep hearing you have tucked away in your penthouse. I thought you might have brought him out. I could use some fun.”

Spiro tried not to let a sour look cross his face. He would need to keep a tighter check on the lips of his security and tech staff.

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to there. We did have a new technician start up last month, young, fresh out of school. Maybe he’s the one you’re thinking of?”

Marco looked puzzled. “Could have sworn I heard different. But eh, work gossip is still gossip. This mean things are going well for you?”

Spiro’s smile returned with ease. “Absolutely. I can’t wait to stick it to Phonetix once they see what we release next.”

Marco grinned. “Well, just don’t be causing too much trouble. My buddy’s got connections there.”

Spiro took the hint. “Nothing that’ll put them under. Just something to show they have some upgrading to do if they want to stay in business.”

Marco nodded. “Excellent. Keep up the work for us, Jonny boy.”

He strolled away, glass still in hand as he grabbed the waist of an escort standing by the deck railing. At least Spiro thought it was her waist. He didn’t dwell on the thought. Carla however had some very choice words to say as she walked up beside him.

“Pig,” she muttered. Spiro raised an eyebrow in her direction.

“Didn’t think you were the judgmental type.”

She shrugged. “I had been looking at that one.”

Spiro glanced back at Marco and the young woman on his arm. “Ah, well, there’s plenty that’s been paid for.”

“And he’ll take them all at once if he could. Hence, he’s a pig.”

Spiro shrugged this time. “Fair enough. Need something?”

Carla did not sit down next to him. “I heard what you told Marco.” Her voice lowered so that only Spiro could hear her. “You kept him alive?”

Spiro nearly scoffed. “You expect me to kill a child in cold blood? When he’s much more profitable to me alive?”

“Profitable?” Carla’s voice betrayed a morbid curiosity.

“Of course! With a brain like his, I’ll be making bank on every patent possible. And if he ends up running out of use, his family has plenty of enemies who’d love a swing at him. Sell him off, profit regardless. I’ve already set up a way to destroy any evidence of his kidnapping as well. Nothing could point to him being under my possession.”

“He seemed rather stubborn and strong-willed by your description. It sounds like that’s changed,” Carla noted, her curiosity still piqued.

Spiro’s smile turned nasty, and for a brief moment, Carla felt a sense of pity for the Fowl boy. “Oh, it’s changed all right. He’s become an obedient little bitch, if you catch my meaning.”

Carla did catch his meaning. And her brief moment of pity for the young teen solidified. “I see,” she replied quietly.

Across the harbor in the tall, gleaming tower Spiro owned, a 14-year-old boy sat in the medical suite with the nurse. Two hulking guards stood outside, one of them with gritted teeth and clenched fists.

Chips watched as Pex’s knuckles turned white and thin bits of blood slowly dripped to the floor from his fists. He was angry. No, beyond angry, though Chips didn’t think he knew the right word for it. Whatever it was, it was bad and it was big. He heard the kid whimper from behind the door and then suddenly cry out. Pex immediately rushed to open the door. Chips peeked inside.

Artemis was shaking on the bed, clutching his head where his empty eye socket sat. Bloodstained wrappings lay around him from when the nurse changed the bandages on his eye and throat. Miss Scorzi made shushing noises to soothe the boy as he hunched forward. Chips heard a growl beside him as Pex stepped forward.

“What’d you do to him?” he demanded. Artemis flinched, looking up at the two men.

Miss Scorzi frowned at the significantly larger man now standing in her doorway. “Do not disturb my patient, Pex. He’s under enough stress already, and more sudden noises will only make this harder for both of us.

Pex wasn’t dissuaded. “Why’d he make that noise?”

Miss Scorzi stared the man down before sighing. “The bandage stuck to the wound a bit more than I expected, and it pulled at the skin. He’s fine, for now.”

Chips watched Pex look at Artemis and then back at the nurse. He growled again, this time in a different tone.

“I just… It was… It’s the same noise he made after Boss…” Pex stuttered. Chips felt like his body wanted to move down and inside of himself. It took him several minutes to realize that this feeling was sadness.

Miss Scorzi had a look on her face that seemed to match what Chips was feeling. She also looked back at the teenager on her medical bed. “I know. I wish the boss would do things differently. If Doctor Julio hadn’t been visiting that day….”

Artemis tensed, his breathing speeding up as his face went pale. Well, more pale than it was. Miss Scorzi rushed over to him, placing her hands on his shoulders.

“Hey, hey. Look at me,” she said, gentle and firm. Chips also moved forward and placed a hand on the boy’s head.

Artemis slowly began to breathe more normally again. Chips was relieved. He didn’t know how to handle panic, especially with Pex here. He knew Pex would panic first anyways.

“You’re safe right now, kid.” Chips found his voice was so quiet, he almost couldn’t hear it. He realized he was angry too. “He can’t get you here.”

Artemis nodded. Miss Scorzi gave Chips a grateful look before gently rubbing the boy’s arm. “Let’s finish getting you patched up, okay? Then these two will take you back to your room. Spiro will be out for most of the day, and I’ll see if one of the other staff members can stall him before he comes to see you. Okay?”

It wouldn’t be much. Chips really hoped Boss came back in a good mood. He thought back to what Pex had mentioned a few months before. And he realized something. Chips realized he didn’t like Boss holding the kid here either. He had thought after a year, things would calm down. But they hadn’t. They’d gotten bad, real bad. Maybe someone needed to do something about that. He just didn’t know who.

Taglist: @artemis-fowl-angst

#artemis fowl #tw: child abuse #tw: blood #tw: eye injury #tw: kidnapping #whump #jon spiro #i’ve never written something like this before and oof #is this my thing now?#do I write whump now??#jon says no fairies au

18 notes · View notes

xieyaohuan · 1 year

Text

All God's children took their toll, Chapter 3: Of Men and Monsters

Summary

Hughie's gone missing. Starlight knows who's got him. She will get her boyfriend back. No matter what it takes. No matter what it takes. Aka Starlight and The Boys kidnap Homelander in a desperate attempt to find Hughie

Pairings

Homelander/Everyone, basically (see AO3 for more detailed tagging)

Notes

I've been meaning to write some Homelander whump, so I've decided to take this year's Whumptober prompts out of order and and try to string them into a HL whump long fic.

Chapter 3 written for Whumptober 2022 Day 7 prompt: No. 7 THE WAY YOU SHAKE AND SHIVER Shaking Hands | Seizures | Silent Panic Attack

Warnings: panic attack, voyeurism

Read on AO3

All is quiet except for the walls of the Aquarium rattling and vibrating.

Kimiko is sitting on the worn out couch in front of the control room, Annie’s head in her lap. They have turned off the halogen lamps in the observation room, so the monster’s tiny prison is the only source of light; it feels like watching some kind of dark, twisted and very repetitive movie in a theater.

Butcher and MM are taking a nap, and Serge has dozed off at the controls, so it’s only her and Annie left in the observation room. And Mindstorm, of course, chained to the wall in the corner, pretending to be asleep as he likes to do. Kimiko keeps a close eye on him because she knows he’s listening in on all of their thoughts, and it’s only a matter of time until he will use all the information he’s been collecting.

The clock on the wall says 4:30 am, but it’s always dark down here, so it doesn’t make much of a difference what time it is. Underneath the clock is a flip chart with their daily checklist jotted down in green marker. The first part is Butcher’s barely readable handwriting:

- Check cameras - Check locks - Check vents - Send update to M - Check generators!! - Redundancy is your friend!

The second part was added by MM:

- Drink 8 cups of water - Eat at least two meals per day (a candy bar is not a meal!!) - The dishes don’t do themselves asshole you know who you are!! - Get 6 hours of sleep

Kimiko can’t remember the last time she’s slept more than four hours; it must have been before her brother’s death.

She hasn’t slept since coming here, and it’s not just the noise from the cell that’s keeping her awake but who they’re working with and what she knows now they can do. She snuck outside to take a walk earlier, get away from this unnerving set-up for a bit, calm her nerves. Technically, there was no one to stop her, but two of Mallory’s men were following her the whole time. Of course she's known for a while now who Butcher is working with, but that doesn't make her like this any better.

Annie has finally calmed down and stopped crying, but her shoulders are still quivering. She had another shouting match with Butcher earlier when he told her to go to sleep, that she’d feel better in the morning as if things were that easy. He should know better, Kimiko thinks.

She runs her fingers through Annie’s hair, wishing she could say something to make her friend feel better, give her some comfort. At one point, she takes out her phone and starts typing:

Hughie will be okay. We’ll find him. We’ll find him soon, I promise.

Then she quickly deletes the words again before Annie looks up and sees them. She doesn’t want to lie, promise anything she can’t make true.

We’ll make the monster talk, she types. He’ll tell us everything he knows.

He doesn’t look like a monster now. He looks small, that’s the best way to describe him, trying to make himself even smaller so that he might somehow, miraculously, go unnoticed. He’s got to know that every movement, every twitch of his muscles is being scrutinized, recorded, assessed.

Kimiko has watched him go from yelling inaudibly at his captors from behind the glass to increasingly dire attempts to free himself to breaking down into helpless sobs. He is curled up into a ball now, shaking uncontrollably.

There’s vomit on the floor.

She doesn’t feel sorry for him. She used to be locked into a prison of his making. It’s only fair that he is locked into theirs now.

No. She can’t feel sorry for this man who slept with her brother’s killer, who adored a murderer, worshipped her, affirmed her, protected her until the very end. Not that he hasn’t killed countless people himself - the terrorists he created along with their victims, as if they were all the same to him. Kimiko can’t lie to herself, she wants him dead, reunited with that killer girlfriend of his; they belong together, monsters that they are.

Still, she expected anger from him, hate, rage.

Not this, whatever it is.

It’s the cell. Kimiko has been in there only once when Butcher asked her to test it, to see if it is truly supe-proof, which it is. All she could see was the bright ceiling lights and her own reflection, tinier and tinier versions of herself locked into smaller and smaller cages, as if someone had managed to imprison all possible versions of her. She was only in there for five minutes, but she couldn’t wait to get out.

Annie starts stirring in her lap, jolting Kimiko out of her thoughts.

“Is Butcher asleep?” She asks.

Kimiko nods, and Annie sits up.

“I know you’re here to watch me,” she says, “make sure I don’t do anything stupid, but the more time we lose-” her voice breaks and she’s fighting the tears again. “The more time we lose, the lower the chances we’ll find Hughie alive. Butcher should know this.”

I know, Kimiko signs and nods just to make sure Annie knows she agrees. He should. For someone who likes to fantasize day and night about “making that cunt squeal and beg and regret the day he was born,” Butcher seems surprisingly terrified of the messy reality of making him talk now that he has him. Kimiko doesn't blame him, but he'll need to get over himself if they ever want to get out of this nightmare.

“Have you ever hurt someone before?” Annie asks. “You know, have you ever-”

Kimiko nods again.

She’s tortured plenty of people. They made her do it in the camp.

“I want you to teach me.”

Kimiko knows she should say no, absolutely not.

Instead, she gets up, walks to the kitchen and returns with a glass of water. Wetting her finger, she starts drawing on the floor: all the things she has seen, all the things she has done, all of the things she’s had done to her - just water on gray stone as she is reimagining the horrors of life in the camp, and it feels odd to share, wrong but freeing. The water will dry, and the images will be gone, and that’s good; some things are not meant to be recorded so permanently outside of the human head.

Her water drawing skills are lacking, and Annie has trouble understanding some of the blotchy images, so Kimiko takes out her phone and starts typing into her notes to explain, erasing the words as soon as her friend has seen them.

Annie nods. “That should work. That’s good. That’s very good.” For a moment, she seems content revelling in her little revenge fantasy, the illusion of victory.

I understand, Kimiko signs. But you will also hurt yourself. You will be-. She stops mid-sentence. It’s a stupid thing to say, and she’s glad her friend probably didn’t catch her meaning.

Bad man, Annie signs back. Deserves. Serge has taught her a few of the signs they use. Kimiko appreciates the effort, though it can be hard not to take offence at the patronizing nature of the simple language the others use around her. Whether they speak to her in sign language or address her in English, they always seem to assume her to be so innocent. Even Serge. No, especially Serge.

“We need to go in,” Annie insists, snapping Kimiko out of her thoughts. “Please. You and I, we can go in together and-” She nods at the half dried water drawings on the floor. “You can teach me directly.”

Kimiko takes another look at the cell. The monster is still shaking, but he has somehow managed to pull a piece of his cape around his shoulders to cover his face, hiding from the bright, flickering light and his own reflections. They may not even have to do much. In this state, he might talk just in exchange for a semi credible promise to be let out of his prison.

“Please,” Annie says.

Okay. Kimiko nods. I’ll go in with you. She just wants this to be over, find Hughie, end the creature in that cage, get out of here, never have to think about this place ever again.

Her friend actually looks surprised. There’s something else in her eyes that she can’t really place.

She gives Annie’s hand a quick squeeze. Okay. Let's do it.

Serge is still asleep in the control room, but his eyes snap open as soon as Kimiko enters.

I need you to open the doors for me, she signs. We're going in.

For a second, Serge looks at her like a puppy, confused and sleepy. When he realizes what it is she’s asking, he panics. “Butcher is going to murder me, mon coeur.”

Please, Kimiko insists. For Annie. For Hughie.

“Are you even sure he’s the one who took him?” Kimiko knows Serge has his doubts, but she can’t believe he’s starting this discussion again now of all times. “Wouldn’t he, je n’sais pas, just show you his corpse, all bloody and mangled? It’s what he does, non?”

Annie looks like she’s going to slap him. “Well for starters, he knows Hughie is missing,” she says. “He was gloating about it to me! And besides-”

“He coulda overheard it somewhere,” a familiar voice says. “cunt’s got super hearing, case ya didn’t notice.”

Butcher is standing at the door to the control room, wearing black boxers and a dark floral print shirt, tapping his crowbar against the door frame, looking tired and cranky. “Can’t leave you people alone for five fucking seconds, can I.”

“You and I both know he didn’t 'overhear' it, Butcher,” Annie says. “Nobody even has a fucking clue Hughie is missing. We didn’t exactly advertize the fact.”

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t agree,” Butcher says, and Kimiko can tell he’s trying to sound conciliatory, but lack of sleep and perhaps his overall disposition are preventing him from being very convincing.

“You can either go back to bed, Butcher,” Annie says, “or you can come with us. I don’t care which one you choose, we are going in.”

For a moment, Kimiko is worried that they’ll start yelling at each other again, but then Butcher seems to recover his old self again. “Well, what are you fucking waiting for,” he says. “Let’s go.”

#whumptober #homelander whump #homelander #kimiko #panic attack #captivity #posting my whumptober fic in november yay #not tagging according to whumptober rules because i'm late and lazy sorry #my fic

3 notes · View notes

leilersworld · 2 years

Text

HEAL ME, HELP ME, HURT ME. (Bradley Bradshaw x oc)

Chapter 3- The Beach day. (with a trying secret)

warnings- mentions and drinking of alcohol, experience of a hangover, revealing of large secrets, experiencing of a panic attack, crying, angst.

summary- leilani enjoys a day under the sun with her newfound friends, from drinking, to tanning, to playing an aggressive round of football, she genuinely has a good day. until she decides it’s time to wind down and gets a huge slap in the face from her past that neither her or anyone else was expecting. will she be able to place her anger aside and allow love to heal, or will she continue the rigorous cycle of feeling alone and hurt?

———————————————————————————

Leilani had awoken around nine the next morning,and surprisingly her headache hadn’t been terribly trying. She was thankful for Pennys instincts though, because as she rolled away from the wall her bed was placed against, she saw a note, Advil, and a cup of water on her nightstand. Quickly placing the tiny blue pills in her mouth and swallowing them with a large gulp of water, she picked up the note with her shaky fingers and read it to the best of her ability with her tired eyes.

Honey,

Amelia and I have left to go sailing for the day. I heard some mumbles last night about you And the pilots going to the beach, have so much fun! Don’t forget sunscreen, please. We Will be back tonight, Hope to see you then.

P.S.- Im proud of you for breaking out of your box.

Love you,

Pen.

She smiled widely at the last part of the note, and she wished she could tell Penny in the same moment how she wouldn’t have been able to do it without her, but that would have to wait for nightfall. Usually when Penny went sailing she was home no later than nine, but since they had left so early, she assumed they would be back by seven at the latest.

After folding up the note and placing it in her top drawer (with every other letter penny had written her) she sat up in her bed and reached down the sheets to grab her phone, which always sat charging at the end of the bed by the nearest outlet. She unplugged the white cord and brought her phone down with her as she placed her head back on her pillows, covering herself with her thick comforter which she had assumed fell off of her when she was tossing and turning in her deep sleep.

As her bright screen lit up she winced, and sucked in a quick breath of air at the sudden light that filled the room. Quickly turning the brightness down, she saw an unread message from who she could only assume was rooster explaining the plan, and just as she had assumed, it was. She opened her messages app on the bottom of her screen and clicked on the (still) unnamed contact with a blue circle to indicate she had a text.

Hey lei, its rooster! We’re all gonna head to the beach around eleven, make sure to fuelup on some food and water after last night, haha! Hope you can still make it, we should be smack dab in the middle, don’t worry you won’t be able to miss us. Anyways, hope to see you :)

She smiled at the sweet text that was sent merely thirty minutes ago, and after yawning she began quickly typing her message back to the man.

Hey rooster!! I’ll be there with booze and snacks lol! Thanks for the invite, last night was absolutely amazing and I can’t wait to do it all over again today. See you soon!

She quickly sent the text back before scrolling through her other socials to make sure she was kept up to date with her long distance friends and such. After laying in bed for at least a half an hour more, she finally gained the energy to go downstairs and make herself some well needed food. Mixing the slight hangover and Advil with no food would not go down well with her stomach at all. A theory she had tested with friends in Virginia, which quickly taught her the hard way that food was a necessity after a night (or day) out.

Once in the (overly) bright kitchen, Leilani deciding on toasting a bagel and having a banana for breakfast. Now, usually she would make herself a breakfast, but since she was productive last night and actually got herself to go out and do something, she gave herself some props and went easy that morning. It might sound counterintuitive to others, but it made more than enough sense to her. And as many already know, something as burdening as depression doesn’t go away overnight. It takes time, and theres really high highs and very low lows. Leilani knew that, she saw that in her mothers experiences battling it herself.

So even though she was practically on top of the moon now, she couldn’t guarantee that tomorrow she wouldn’t crash and burn and not get out of bed all day. Going from doing absolutely nothing all day to practically doing things all day two days in a row was a lot. It wasn’t too much, because she knew she could handle it, and more than just handle it she could enjoy it as well. If it had been any other group of people Leilani was convinced she would have said no to going out all day today, but something about her newfound friends drew her in, and left her wanting more.

So once she was done practically scarfing down her breakfast and quickly finishing her iced coffee she began packing her beach bag, which consisted of everything she might (or might not) need. The usuals of course, sunscreen, which she brought extra of in case the group forgot theirs, two towels, sunglasses, a book, and a few waters just in case. She also remembered her promise to Bradley to bring booze and snacks, so she packed a seperate cooler bag filled with a galore of snacks, and a variety of alcohol to choose from.

She really had no idea what the group liked other then the obvious choice of Budweiser so she packed some beers, some seltzers, and some vodka sodas just in case someone wanted something else other than beer (which would probably be her).

Considering she had completely showered yesterday, and the fact that she would get sweaty at the beach, she opted out on not washing her hair but taking a quick body shower to try and wash off the musk that laid on her from last night.

Finally around eleven Leilani had her swimsuit and cover up on, glasses on her head, hair pinned up, and everything she possibly could’ve needed for the day ahead of her. Lucky for her, Penny had taken the boat today, which meant she could take the car. She gently placed the two large bags in the passenger seat and walked around the front of the car to seat herself on the drivers side. Once the engine was ignited, she made the short (enough) drive to the beach, and as she pulled up the time was eleven fifteen, “perfect, fashionably late” she thought to herself.

She stepped out of the small car and scanned the beach to see if she could spot her friends bunched up, lucky for her she did. Also lucky for her, rooster had noticed Pennys car pull in the lot and was already on the way to help her carry anything she needed him too carry.

“You made it!” He said as he climbed over the half wall that kept the sand and sidewalk disconnected from each other.

“I made it!” She continued in the same tone as she moved around the car to open the passenger door, so that the two bags were easily accessible.

Rooster ended up carrying the snack bag, since he insisted, while she was trudging behind him with her beach bag hanging off of her right shoulder. As the two rejoined the group everyone smiled politely her way.

“I brought booze and snacks” Leilani stated as she placed her beach bag in the warm sand. Just as she had expected everyone got excited over the alcohol and snacks that were provided, and many thank yous’ were given from everyone a few times over.

For a few hours everyone alternated on what they chose to do, Phoenix and Leilani had basked in the sun while Leilani read her book and phoenix drew shapes in the sand for a bit. The boys went from aggressively throwing each other in the chilled beach water, to relaxing on the lounge chairs, to playing a (not so friendly) game of dogfight football. Which is how the girls now found themselves with their buns tightened, and hunched over in a starting position playing with the boys. It took some well off convincing for Leilani to join in, but a few pleases from rooster was more than enough.

The boys had explained it in a few simple words “Its normal televised football, but more aggressive!” Which had followed with rooster and hangman promising Leilani she wouldn’t break a bone trying to have fun with the much bigger men then her. So once they began playing, Leilani was actually overjoyed she had said yes. It was an insanely fun game, and one she had never even considered that she might have enjoyed if she didn’t try it.

The rest of the game consisted of the boys bragging about every catch of the ball or successful block against the other team, and even though Leilani hadn’t been playing like a most valuable player, she still had an immense amount of fun. Near the end of the game, rooster threw the tiny football across the beach and somehow she had caught it in her hands without dropping it on the wet sand, which meant she had successfully intercepted the ball from roosters team. Once the ball was tightly secured tucked under her right arm, laying on her stomach, she began running across the beach. It was as if another miracle brushed her for the second time that day when she reached the “end zone” lines and scored her team a point, winning the game entirely. Even though rooster hadn’t been on the same team as her, he was still just as proud and excited for her as he would have been if they had joined forces, so he ran at her and threw her over his shoulder as they both giggled like school children.

Eventually rooster had placed her gently back down on the now dry parts of the sand, and as much fun as she had, she was tired and in desperate need of water. Her legs moved for her mind subconsciously as she nearly threw herself at the cooler bag which luckily had a few more cold waters tucked away in its compartments. She grabbed out a bottle and popped it open, quickly chugging at least one- third of the bottle down, her throat desperately needing something to coat her (now) dry walls.

She had decided on checking her phone in case penny or Amelia texted her, so she walked over to her and phoenix’s laid out towels and picked up her sand covered phone from the corner of her towel. Quickly scrolling through the lock screen, she heard a voice from over her shoulder that made her slightly jump. She quickly spun around to see Bob standing behind her standing shyly.

“Sorry didn’t mean to scare you!” He said in a lighthearted tone.

“Thats okay! Just didn’t hear you walk over” she said before giggling lightly.

“Was just letting you know that you played good.” bob mumbled out as he sat on the chair next to her towel, which led her to sit down on her towel so they could converse for a bit. She hadn’t gotten to talk to him at all today, so she figured it could be good for the both of them.

“Thanks bob! So did you!”

She had closed her phone and let it land on the lock screen, now looking at his eyes so they could have a real conversation. She noticed his eyes flick down to her lock screen, and his brows furrow. At first she didn’t understand his confusion, her phone laid on the insanely wide arm of his beach chair, because she hadn’t wanted it to get any dirtier on the sand. She read the situation as him not wanting her phone placed in an awkward position for his comfort, so she quickly picked it up and muttered out an apology.

“Sorry! Didn’t want it to get dirtier so I put it there out of instinct” she said while she turned her neck away from him to place her phone under her butt so the sun wouldn’t hit it directly, but as she swung back to meet his gaze she saw his brows still furrowed and when she looked deeper into his eyes she saw a sense of false reality.. Like something he had just seen changed the original route of his life, or impacted him deeper than her lock screen should have. She looked back at her phone screen to make sure the picture she thought it was, was still the same one, and to no ones surprise her lock screen was still a picture of her, her mother, and her father sitting poolside when she was merely eight years old.

As much as she may have secretly despised her father, she still wanted to remember him, she had no intentions of making him a forgotten memory. Or of making him a ghost in her own mind, she wanted to remember him, because even though everything came crashing down when he died, she had a few really good memories with him that she would never ever forget.

“Bob?” She said in a hushed tone as she saw he was still stuck in his longing gaze.

“Can- Can I see your lock-screen again? P-Please.” He stuttered out.

Now, Leilani had always noticed bobs shy personality, but he had never ever once stuttered around her or anyone else. So as she reached for her phone with her left arm and grabbed it she came to the conclusion that something must have been considerably wrong in order for him to be speaking in the tone he was speaking in.

“Of course” she muttered out as she handed him her dirty phone.

The hot sun was beating down on them, but the sun began to set sometime in between starting their conversation and now, so bob could gaze at Leilanis phone much better now that their was no added glare to it from the rays that shone down on all of them.

Once the phone was secure in his hand he clicked on the power button and pulled his sunglasses off to examine it closer, and Leilani watched the entire time. She watched as he brought the phone in a strangely close proximity to his face, and she also saw him began to tear up. He quickly pulled his sunglasses down to mask his now seen emotions, and shakily reached his arm out to hand Leilani her phone back.

Now, Leilanis brow had been furrowed as well. Why the hell was he acting so strange towards a picture of her, and her parents. It made no apparent sense to her, so she pushed for answers that she rightfully deserved.

“Bob, whats going on?” She managed out through glazed eyes.

He rushed to pull his phone out of his pocket with shaky hands, and she saw him maneuver through the screens, and then she saw his thumb go wild as he scrolled through an unknown app on his phone. This continued for about a minute, until he seemingly clicked on something and the insane scrolling stopped. Now, his sniffles were apparent, and he gasped loudly as a hand flew to his mouth.

Leilani was now exceedingly worried about what was going on with the man next to her. She wasn’t left wondering for much longer though, because he flipped his own phone screen towards her merely a few seconds later and from the bright light she saw something she had never expected to see. The picture consisted of a little boy (who looked exactly like bob with more boyish features) so she assumed it was his child self since the picture was blurred and had a film filter over it. Standing over the boy, was a man that look bizarrely like her father, and once she looked farther, she knew that it was her father. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind, that the tall man that stood holding bobs shoulders and smiling in the picture was her own father.

“What the hell?” She muttered out.

He began nodding furiously, and extremely fast.

“Thats my father Leilani.”

And thats when reality hit her like a semi truck. She felt nauseous, like if she stood up she could easily throw up and hit people ten feet away from her with how far it would go. It felt like her lungs were collapsing in on each other, or maybe her hearts ovaries were giving out on her and her brain was no longer pumping blood throughout her bodily systems. Naturally, she couldn’t truly put the feelings she was experiencing into words, so she stayed eerily silent. As well bob, the two racking possibilities in their minds while staying silent next to each other.

She now felt tears rush into her eyes as bob did a few minutes ago, and she tried her absolute best to push them down, but she just couldn’t. They began flowing freely, and that was when she felt a hand brush against hers. Usually, physical touch would have grounded her. But now? She didn’t want anyone, not even rooster, touching her. She quickly jolted her hand away and even quicker stood up from her towel and began stomping away from bob like a young child.

“Leilani wait!” She heard his strained voice from behind her, but she chose to block it out. She slid her phone open and frustratingly struggled with the controls, as tears flooded her eyes and she began to not be able to see straight. Somehow managing to open her call log, she clicked on Pennys contact in the favorites and brought the phone up to her ear as she was still stomping away from the group. Her feet moved for her mind, and her face was now at least ten degrees hotter from the rush of blood she had experienced a few seconds earlier.

One ring, two rings, three rin-

“Hi honey!” She heard on the other end of the line.

Her saliva must have gotten caught in her throat , because everything she had planned to say quickly dissipated, and her mind was as blank as an empty chalkboard.

“Honey?” She heard penny say again.

She breathed in deeply trying to control her rising panic attack, and decided the most important thing to do at the moment was to ask penny the damn question she called for.

“Does my father have another child, penny?” Her voice went cold. There was absolutely no emotion behind it, or…none that she chose to display would be a better choice of words. She was feeling too many things at once to explain the tenderness of her heart at the moment. On one hand she was so angry, angry that her father could’ve had an entire separate life, angry that she would probably have to accept the fact that he wasn’t off doing drugs all that time, he was just with his other family. On a whole other hand though, she was devastated, and felt like she would never be good enough for anyone if she couldn’t have been good enough for her own damn father.

There was something else hidden in the surface though, something she wasn’t even expecting from herself. A very tiny part of herself, a very hidden part of herself, was so ecstatic. She had a brother! She had a god damn brother which meant that someone in her family was still here, in the flesh. Someone she could talk to, someone she could relate too!

For now though, she chose anger to be here forefront emotion, at least for the time being.

she heard penny loudly sigh on the other end of the phone.

“Honey I am so sorry, I never wanted you to find out like this” Penny said breathless on the other line.

That was when Leilani allowed herself to let out a heart wracking sob, that she was sure her friends could hear from down the beach.

“You’re kidding” she said in between heaving breaths as she slid down Pennys parked car.

“You have to be kidding penny. Its not real, don’t tell me he left us for another family p-please don’t tell me that!” Her voice got increasingly louder with every syllable she spit out. The anger now dissipating, and the sadness crashing over her like a salty wave from the ocean not even a mile away from her.

She could hear penny beginning to cry now, as well.

“Im so sorry baby..” She whispered out.

Leilani lost it. Warm tears began flying down her face, and the warm air hitting her body while she heard penny on the other line trying her best to calm down her storm of tears as well.

“I- I will be home soon. I promise. We can talk about everything then my love, okay?”

Leilani managed out an ok before she couldn’t speak anymore, and hung up the phone quickly after penny said goodbye. Her phone loosely fell out of her hand onto the paved street next to her, and she didn’t really care where it went right now. She was trying to get the tears to subside but they wouldn’t, nothing would go away. Not the burn of her cheeks, or the wrenching of her heart, or the burden of her father never loving her.

When the world seemed to go dark, she saw a tall figure quickly climb over the half wall. Even though ten minutes ago she hadn’t wanted anyone to even lay a hand on her, she was now entirely grateful that rooster was there in the flesh. All she wanted was to be held, to be protected for once in her god damn life, to be fucking wanted. For once in her worthless life she wanted someone to care enough, to just hold her while she cried.

“Come here” she heard the deep voice say from next to her on the dirty parking lot floor.

She quickly slithered her way into his arms, and allowed her limp body to fall on his toned chest. Honestly, she was sure twenty minutes from now she would feel embarrassed by the actions she had just allowed herself to take, the stomping away, the yelling, the sobbing on a mans chest she met merely yesterday. For now though, she couldn’t care less about any of that, for now she just needed comfort.

His arms quickly lapped around her waist, and pulled her closer. Close enough for her to be practically sitting on his lap, with her head still leaned against his chest and one of her arms rested on his upper body while the other gripped the back of his shirt tightly in a fist near his waist. She began to speak, while also simultaneously gripping tighter onto the back of his shirt.

“Did- Did he t-tell you” She sniffled out like a toddler.

Rooster began stroking her hair and back gently, pulling her into his neck so she had a warm place to nuzzle into.

“He did. Im so sorry” rooster continued.

She sniffled and wiped the now falling snot on the inside of her large tee shirt that she wore over her bathing suit.

“He was never around, and when he died when I was thirteen I figured he was with groupies doing drugs, but- but now I know..” Her voice began to fade as she let out another wracking sob, which just made rooster instinctively try and pull her closer. He had wished that her skin could just sink into his at the moment, because somehow they were as close as humanly possible, but still not close enough.

“Hey its okay honey, you don’t have to do that to yourself. Not now, not ever, he’s gone and there is nothing you can do to fix his mistakes. He was an awful father to you, and you never deserved that, but now you’re older and you’re stronger than you were then. I am so proud of you for making it so far in a life that has given you nothing, Leilani. You are, incredible.” He finished.

His kind words truly did help her, and also pulled her back to reality. Once she realized where she was, and who she was practically laying on, she pulled her head out of his neck and wiped her tears with the heel of her hand.

“Hey” she heard rooster mumble out.

She felt his strong calloused hands pull hers off her face, and as they were dropped gently in her lap he brought his hands right back up to her face and placed them on either side of her cheeks. Gently, he turned her neck towards him, creating a longing gaze between the two.

“Let me take care of you please, I’m pretty sure you’ve never let anyone take care of you, so let me.. just this once”

At the kind remarks she leaned into his warm hands, a ghost of a smile appeared on his face as he used the pads of his thumbs to wipe the remaining tears.

The twos eyes were still connected with each other, and Leilani swore no one had ever looked at her so loving, no one had ever looked at her like they cared so much. She wasn’t used to feeling this loved. For god sakes she had just met the group and they already felt like family.

Within such a close range of each other, Leilani could smell Bradleys musky body. For some reason after a long day of sweating and being engulfed by salt water , he still smelled amazing to her. Little did she know he felt the exact same, he could smell her faint perfume and the smell of her sun bum sunscreen, a scent he was sure he would never get tired of.

“Thank you” she mumbled out as she smiled lightly.

“Don’t thank me yet, honey. What do you say we go back to mine? I can grill us some dinner and I have a huge hammock I think you’d love, you’ll read, I’ll cook, then well have dinner and stay out talking all night. “ Leilani began largely smiling at the thought of such a heavenly night.

“I would love that”

He now nodded while smiling largely, following her actions.

“I need to talk to bob first, so lets go grab the stuff and I’ll do my bidding” she said before giggling and wiping the under part of her nose once again.

So the two walked back to the middle of the beach together, their hips bumping every once in a while since they were walking in such tight proximity of each other. When they reached the group rooster began collecting her things, and Leilani grabbed bobs hand gently from behind him. He was talking with phoenix and fanboy which he quickly left behind as he saw Leilani looking at him with brooding eyes.

They walked about ten feet away from the group, just enough chance for privacy.

“Im sorry, I know that was a lot” Leilani muttered out not looking up from the sand.

She had planned on not breaking her gaze with the sand, but that plan quickly changed course when bob grabbed her other hand, which gave her a spur of the moment prowess, and allowed her to bring her gaze to match his.

“Leilani you’re my fucking sister, I’ve waited twenty three years for you, I won’t wait any longer, okay? I am not upset with you at all.. I don’t think I could ever be. I love you already.” He said in the most confident tone she had heard yet.

“I love you so much” was all she said as she threw her arms around his neck and allowed herself to sort of fall into him.

They stayed connected in the warm embrace for a minute longer before Leilani slipped out of his tight grip and smiled at his gaze, now feeling comfortable enough to hold eye contact.

“Im gonna go with Bradshaw but uh.. Lets go to lunch, tomorrow. I’d like to get to know the only really family I have left” she said as she smiled gently, creating a lighthearted mood between the two.”

“Sounds good, sis.” The nickname made the two giggle like children.

They walked back over to the group and Leilani made sure she said all her goodbyes, specifically giving hugs to phoenix and Jake, the two whispering sweet things in her ears about how strong she was and how much they adored her. It felt really nice to feel wanted somewhere, and Leilani couldn’t imagine herself anywhere else.

Once the goodbyes were closed, Leilani and Bradley walked off together, and they continued walking until they got to Bradleys car, him opening the passenger door for her.

Once in the drivers seat, Bradley quickly started the car and pulled out of the spot he was parked in, and with that the two made the quick drive to the Bradshaw residence. Leilani couldn’t wait for what the night had in store, she wasn’t exactly sure what would come next, but she knew if it was with Bradley she would have a good time, and that was all that mattered.

#bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #top gun fandom #fanfic #lei writes

4 notes · View notes

zenyukifanficblogs · 2 years

Text

Jennifer’s Adventures; The Start Of A New Life Chapter 19: Mystery Flowers

Credits: @Aesthetics__ Junghwa’s POV

“Bora’s mum fallen ill and Bora has to be there. Can you manage together with me for today?”

I asked Inhye as I read out Bora’s text to her from my phone. “Don’t worry cause you can ask the favour back some day when you need it.” I added on with a smile reading the screenshot.

She smiles and nods her head. About 3 hours into our shift, the mail man came to our cafe for the first time ever.

“Erm…Miss Jen Jeon?” The mail man asks and I walked over acknowledging before he gives me a bouquet package. “For you.” He says and I just signed the required documents

“From who?” I asked the mailman before he leaves. “Anonymous.” He says before he takes the free complimentary drink and leaves the cafe.

“Anonymous who?” I scratched my head before going into the kitchen opening the package to be a bouquet of red carnations.

“HAHAHAHA! AT LEAST SEND SOME PINK ROSES!”

I laughed looking at the pretty looking carnations that attracted Inhye’s attention.

“What’s that?” She asks me. I then showed her the carnations I’ve gotten. “Awwww Mr Valentine?” She giggles asking me.

“Nooo-wait! What’s this?” I wanted to answered but was stopped by me noticing a small white paper stuck onto the bouquet.

“Wait a second.” I added on taking it out to see it’s a small note from somebody who never left his or her name on.

‘Have a good day and I always have thoughts of you’

The note says when I turned it on. “Okay this is so weird.” I said. “Did the mail man just now tell you who the note from?” Inhye asks me. “No. Anonymous.” I shook my head telling her.

“Oh my gosh! You got a secret admirer~” Inhye tells me with a wide grin. “Don’t tell my brother about it. I don’t want him all jumpy and playing the guessing game.” I said to her.

“I won’t.” She smiles covering her mouth before I laughed and just assign her some tasks to do for me.

I went back after my shift and closed the shop. My brother isn’t at home, most likely out with his members so I just go take a shower before going to the couch to find some movies to watch and fall asleep there.

Jungkook’s POV

“Come on! Cheer up Jungkookie~”

Jimin jump-hugs me from the back happily at the park which caught me by surprise. It’s been a while since somebody did that to me, I guess I am still missing Chanyi.

“I know you’re still feeling guilty about not knowing Junghwa getting treatment for panic attacks for the 2 years but hey it’s not your fault.” Suga pats my head saying.

“I know” I said softly. “At least she seems to me she’s doing alright now.” He added on. “The treatment maybe did work for her. Think it on a happier side.” Jin says.

“She might relapse which is my concern.” I tell them both honestly. “I’m really scared about it.” I burst into tears somehow.

“Come on you cheer up man!”

They all started hugging me and tickling me. “If your really that worried take her to dr shin again.” RM tells me. “I’m taking her there soon again in a month’s time.” I said sniffling

“Good. Now what else is bothering you?” He asks. “Just this” I say with a pout as Jimin is wiping all over my face with his hoodie sleeve.

“Better after crying?” He asks. I nodded my head.

We headed back after a while to my apartment, Netflix is still on and Junghwa is sleeping away peacefully

“So cute.” Jimin softly says. “She is” I softly agree carefully picking her up which woke her up “I am only moving you to bed.” I tell her.

She just nods her head and while the members are getting really comfortable around the living room, I took her to her room.

I carefully place her on the bed and pull the blankets over her. I put a plushie under so she can hug onto it.

She is soon asleep again, I just ruffle her hair a little before leaving the door closed and join the other members so she can get some good sleep.

#bts fanfic #fanfiction #zendayayukiko #jenniferadventures #kpop fanfiction #zenyukikpopfanfic #zenyuki

1 note · View note

winter-soldier-vibes · 3 years

Text

Burnout (Bucky x reader)

“Burnout”

Bucky x reader

Warnings: burnout, overworked, mental breakdown/panic attack

Word count: 3377

A/N: Take care of yourself, burnout is real and you CAN get sick. Trust me. I’m always here if you wanna talk to someone about anything or want another friend. Stay strong <3

Includes: Lyrics from the song “Weight of the World” by Citizen Soldier

Tags: @buckys2thicc @thatfangirl42 @thundering-barnes @abitgryffindorky @ladyfallonavenger

---------

These nights were becoming more common. And that wasn’t a good thing.

You sat at your desk surrounded by papers, empty cans of energy drinks, and a bright laptop screen. You held your head in your hands and you tried to keep your eyes awake, turning the screen brightness higher.

1:46 AM

You sighed and rubbed your eyes, trying to rub the sleep out of them. You took your hands away and looked back at the screen briefly before covering your face again.

You lived with the Avengers and were a huge asset to the team. Not only were you enhanced with powers, but you were incredibly intelligent. That being the case, you worked with Tony and Bruce in the lab either developing new ideas or fixing suits after missions. As well as being on the mission yourself. Therefore you trained early every morning with Steve and Bucky. You also did most of the mission reports, switching off with Steve once and a while.

Most nights you could be found either working through paperwork, down in the lab working into the morning with Tony, or researching for new projects in said lab. You never meant to stay up as late as you did, but no matter how hard you worked, more work kept appearing. Every 10 PM soon turned into 2 AM, and you could never quite catch a break. You had turned to caffeine not long ago, quickly using it as a crutch to supplement sleep.

You had just gotten back from a long mission with the team, and were incredibly sore. Steve hadn’t gone on this mission, leaving you to finish the report. Add to that, Tony wanted to make a better suit for Peter, and Sam’s wings were busted. Tony was working on Peter’s suit, wanting to make it perfect, leaving you with fixing the wings for Sam.

You decided to work on Sam’s Falcon suit first, seeing that you lived on Planet Earth and he could be scheduled for another mission at any time. What seemed to be superficial damage turned out to be extensive, and required much more repairing that you had anticipated. What you had planned to be a 2 hour process had turned into just over a day of work in the lab.

Not wanting to lose your place and needing a distraction from the soreness, you had worked for hours straight, only breaking to relieve yourself every so often. You were exhausted and ready to fall asleep when you laid back in your bed. Only to check your notifications and see an email from Fury requesting the mission report immediately.

Sent hours ago.

Which led you to where you were now. You hadn’t slept in almost 48 hours, sore from the mission, with a tedious mission report to fill out. Taking a deep breath, you removed your hands from your face.

2:07 AM.

You groaned, but brought your hands back to the keyboard and began typing. The words were blurring together and you shook your head a few times trying to stay awake. Somehow, you finished the report and sent it off and looked at the time again.

3:13 AM

You rubbed your temples before climbing back into your bed, sighing out as your eyes filled with tears. It wasn’t uncommon for you to go to bed this late/early. Lately Tony had been coming up with more ideas and would ask you to help. Since Tony works through most of the night, you had learned to do the same. You don’t remember the last time you had more than 3 or 4 hours of sleep.

You were off the hook for training for a few days, due to having just gotten back from a mission. And while you had been hesitant at first, you were grateful now that you had a bit more time to sleep. Despite the caffeine you had consumed to stay awake, you were absolutely exhausted. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes but you tried to breathe through it. You just wanted a break but couldn’t seem to catch one.

You curled into yourself as your stomach began to growl. ‘When was the last time I ate?’ you thought. Not that it mattered, there was nothing that could bring you out of your bed at that moment. You drifted off to sleep.

-----

You woke up to your phone chiming and groaned, picking it up to see what was so important. Your eyes find the top message, informing you that the mission report you had submitted was incomplete. You jolted out of bed and over to your desk to begin working on the report again, biting back tears of embarrassment at such a ridiculous error on your part. How could you have been so tired that you missed an entire section of a report?

You cracked open another energy drink that you kept in your room and began guzzling it. You were still in the same clothes as the day before and you hadn’t taken your hair down from it’s bun in days. Your stomach grumbled but you answered it with more of the energy drink. You would deal with hunger later. This was much more important.

Your head was pounding and you could barely sit up straight. You had barely gotten a few hours of sleep and somehow felt more tired than you had before it. Your sight became more blurry as it became harder to suppress the tears. You were angry at yourself, why couldn’t you just get this one fucking thing done?

You worked through the section quickly, or at least, you tried to. You kept having to reread sections, not comprehending what the words were saying anymore. You rubbed your eyes aggressively and shook your head, trying to concentrate. You reached to grab the energy drink again, but instead accidentally spilled it all over yourself. Letting out a “Fuck!” as you stood up, something inside you snapped.

You threw the can across the room, not caring how much was left inside of it. You flipped your chair and crumbled the miscellaneous papers on your desk. You let out a scream of frustration, and threw a picture frame across the room. After which, you bent over and placed your hands on your knees, small sobs beginning to wrack your body. You were just so tired, you had work to do, but you couldn’t do it no matter how simple it was.

You walked around the mess and into your bathroom, closing the door. You turned on the shower and got in, not even bothering to take off your clothes or wait for it to warm up. You didn’t care. You couldn’t. You sank to the floor, tears streaming down your face as the shower began to warm. You couldn’t bring yourself together, every time you tried to calm down a new wave of frustration and exhaustion would hit you and you would start crying all over again. You held your hand to your chest, trying to catch your breath a little, not having much success. You were gasping for air, it felt like you were breathing fire. Unable to fight it anymore, you started choking out lyrics to one of your go-to sad songs.

Feel the weight of the world over me tonight.

If I break, if I break down this time

You took a shaky breath and choked out the next line

Hope you know I tried…

Meanwhile, Bucky had been thinking about you. The two of you were very close, you had been ever since Steve had introduced you to him. He was in awe of how you could both rival Tony in the lab and himself in the training room. That and how much you did for others. You had helped him a lot when Bucky had first come to the compound. And he was very grateful.

He knew you had gotten back from a mission a few days ago, and were probably exhausted. From what he had heard it had been a brutal mission. However, in the past, you had usually gotten back into the routine of daily life pretty quickly. He hasn’t so much as seen you since you got back.

He couldn’t help but worry.

He decided to go to your room to check on you, seeing as it was later in the morning and you had had a chance to sleep. Little did he know, you hadn’t. When he got to your door he knocked and waited for a response. He was met with nothing. However, with his enhanced hearing, he heard muffled singing from inside. He couldn’t hear the words, but you sounded in pain.

My mind’s such a mess, I can’t handle it, I’m at the end of my rope.

Worried, he let himself in and took in the state of the room. It was completely trashed, shattered glass, overturned furniture, crumbled papers. He heard the shower running and could hear your cries through the lyrics

My neck is breaking body shaking

Sometimes it’s so hard to breathe

But no one sees it follows me i always end up underneath

The weight of the world…

You began coughing, still gasping for air and holding your chest. Bucky came over to the bathroom door and opened it, concerned you were in pain. You were sitting on the floor, drenched and shaking. Steam filled the room, fogging up the mirrors. He came over to you, trying to get your attention but you couldn’t hear him. Worried, he stepped into the shower as well, swearing as it burned his skin. He crouched down in front of you and took your face in his hands, trying to guide your face to his.

“Y/n, y/n can you hear me? Can you look at me?” he said.

Coming back to your senses slightly, you tried to figure out who was in front of you. You grabbed one of his forearms and focused your eyes, still struggling to breathe. You found Bucky’s blue eyes looking back at you.

Bucky, knowing you were now aware of his presence, reached to turn off the water while still maintaining eye contact. You were coughing, choking on each breath, still shaking and crying. Bucky had never seen you like this. You tried looking around again, forgetting briefly where you were and what had happened, breath picking up again in confusion. “Hey, hey, y/n? I need you to keep your eyes on me okay?”

“It...hurts..” you gasped out, feeling like fire filled your lungs. Your arms had gone numb and in the absence of the warm water your wet body was now shivering from both the cold and anxiety.

Bucky quickly looked you up and down. “What hurts, y/n?” he said calmly but firmly even though he was freaking out internally.

Fresh tears spilled out of your eyes. You tried to talk but couldn’t speak through your panic. You rubbed your chest, willing your heart to slow down but it wouldn’t.

Bucky, still keeping his eyes locked on yours, said “Listen, y/n, I need you to try and breathe with me slowly, okay? Like this,” he breathed in deeply and let it out slowly. You tried to copy him and after a few breaths lost your pace. You shook your head. “I can’t…. I...I…”

. “It’s okay, you’re okay, you’re safe y/n. Try again, I’m right here okay? Look at me.” he said, still breathing deeply. Eventually, you were able to find a rhythm and catch your breath, becoming aware of the situation and everything that had happened. Now able to breathe, you felt new tears of shame rush to your eyes. There were a few moments of silence

“What happened?” Bucky asked, concern etched on his face.

You let out a small sob and covered your face, and Bucky’s heart shattered. He had never seen anyone this upset, nevermind you. You had always been so strong, energetic, joyful. And here you were, soaking wet and shaking on the shower floor. What the hell had happened to you?

He stood up and got out of the shower, also soaked, but he didn’t care about that right now. He leaned down and put one arm behind your back and the other looped under your knees and he picked you up. He placed you down on the vanity and stood in front of you. He carefully took your wrists and pulled them away from your face, you looking at him through bloodshot eyes.

“You - you’re soaked,” you said, both out of shock and in an attempt to deflect the attention from you.

“Wh- I mean, yeah, so are you,” Bucky said. “Y/n, can you tell me what happened?”

You looked down at your hands and swallowed thickly, embarrassed. “I, uh…” you cleared your throat. What had happened? You closed your eyes and rubbed your head.

The shower

The song

Your room

The report

The energy drink

Oh fuck

You sighed out “Shit, I just…” again, shame began to overtake you. “It’s stupid, forget about it,” you said, trying to stand up.

Bucky stopped you, confused. “Y/n, whatever just happened, that… That’s not caused by something stupid. I’ve never seen you so upset before. Hell I’ve never seen anyone so upset before. But I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Really, Buck, I’m fine,” you said.

“Then why are you trying not to cry?”

You sighed. There was no other way out of this. You looked at him and said, “I was just done.” You looked back down at your hands, and continued trying to keep the waiver out of your voice. “I just, um...After the mission I had to fix Sam’s wings, and it took me longer than I expected. And then I still had the mission report which took me all of last night and then I found out that I had missed an entire section. And I got mad that I couldn’t focus or stay awake and I just kind of...broke.”

As you looked back at him, face not as red, he could see how tired you seemed. “Are you sleeping?”

“I mean, a little bit it’s not like I’ve been awake this whole time but -”

“Y/n.”

You looked at him. “A couple of hours a night at most,” you said quietly.

Bucky nodded sadly. “Anything else?”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times. “I mean it’s not a big deal -”

“What I just saw was a big deal,” Bucky said gently.

“I haven’t really made time to eat either,” you tried to laugh it off a little. “Just kind of chugged energy drinks. But then I spilled it all over myself, so...bad idea I guess.”

Bucky wasn’t laughing. But he wasn’t angry either. He was, but not at you, never at you.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“Why didn’t you say anything? The days off after missions are there for rest.”

You shrugged. “I had important shit to do.”

“Well you’re pretty important shit too,” he said a little more firmly, but still not angrily. He sighed. “But really, if you’re not okay then nothing gets done. You’re going to get sick if you keep doing this to yourself. When was the last time you had more than a few hours of sleep?”

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly.

He sighed once again. “I’m sorry,” you said, fearful that he was angry with you.

“No, it’s not your fault I just…” he looked away for a second before looking back at you. “I don’t like seeing you like this. I don’t want you pushing yourself so hard and getting hurt.”

You sighed sadly and rubbed your eyes. “Every day I tell myself it’s the last day I’ll stay up so late. I always tell myself I’ll eat after my project is done. But no matter how hard I work there’s just more and more work that needs to get done. And I can’t keep up. I feel like I’m drowning. But no matter how much I hate it I...I always come last,” you said.

“You shouldn’t have to,” Bucky said.

After a few moments of silence, Bucky pulled you in for a hug, you still sitting on the counter. You closed your eyes against his chest and sighed out, feeling good finally getting all of that off of your chest.

“You’re taking the next few days off.” he said.

You pulled back and looked at him. “But the report -”

“Is mostly done and Steve can get the rest of the information from Sam.” Bucky finished for you.

“But -”

“Nope. There is not a single thing you could say right now that is going to prevent me from making sure you take care of yourself for a few days.” he said, and you knew he was right. Nodding, he pulled you back in for a hug.

“We should get out of these clothes.” you said softly, shivering a little.

Bucky laughed a little. “Yeah, we really should.”

You moved to stand up from the counter, still a little weak as you leaned on Bucky a little. You walked slowly out to your room and were met with the mess you created earlier. “Shit,” you said, taking in the broken glass and furniture.

Bucky turned you around and said “Do you want to come to my room? We can deal with this some other time.”

You simply nodded, stepping around the broken shards of glass and to the hallway. Bucky’s room wasn’t far from yours, and luckily no one was in the hallways to comment on how both of you were in wet clothes. Once in his room, he closed the door after you and went to his dresser. He pulled out a pair of sweats and one of his T-shirts and handed them to you. “They might be a little big but -”

“Thank you,” you said, taking the clothes and heading to his bathroom. You closed the door and peeled your current outfit off of you. You found a spare towel and dried off the rest of you, and pulled on Bucky’s clothes. They were huge on you, but you didn’t mind. You took your hair down and redid your bun before splashing some cold water on your face. Deeming you looked more presentable, you came back out and saw that Bucky had also changed. Smiling warmly, he pointed to the bed.

“So you are going to lie down, and I am going to go make you some food. I’ll be right back.”

You started shaking your head. “No, it’s okay, you don’t have -”

He raised his eyebrows, still pointing to the bed. Swallowing a laugh, you nodded and sat down on the bed. Bucky then left the room and returned a few minutes later with a sandwich. After you had eaten it, you laid back in the bed, melting into the softness of the mattress. You faced away from Bucky, who was sitting next to you on his phone. He was (slowly) texting Steve to finish your report, which took very little convincing.

After a few minutes, you asked “Can you lay down with me?”

Bucky smiled a little to himself. “Sure, doll,” he said, and he moved to lie down next to you. Unsure of what exactly you wanted, he gave you space. Not soon after, you turned over and scooted closer to his side. After a moment of shock from Bucky, you asked “Is this okay?” Readjusting a little, he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer. “Yeah, is this okay?” he asked in return. You merely hummed in approval, already feeling safer in his warm embrace. He let out a small laugh. “Try to get some rest, y/n. I’ll be here whenever you wake up.”

It was the most peaceful sleep you had ever had.

674 notes · View notes

kywaslost · 3 years

Text

How they help with sensory overload/panic/anxiety attack

Requests are open!

Warnings: mentions of sensory overload and panic/anxiety attacks, abuse

All of class 1-A were sitting in the common room, some watching a movie while others were talking loudly. Normally you would be joining in the chatter, talking about the day’s training and classes, even helping todoroki and some of the other students make dinner. But today was different. Your anxiety was through the roof. The past few days have been filled with tests and exams from all of your teachers. It was nearing finals as well, causing you to lose sleep so you could study. It didn’t help that you hadn’t slept in two days due to stress and anxiety and that you had to do one-on-one battles with your classmates that morning.

Right now you were silently following your boyfriend Bakugou around. He was going to go get a drink, getting up from his seat next to the bakusquad. You stood up and followed him, walking really close to his back.

“Hey,” Bakugou barked, not knowing it was you that was behind him. When he saw a glimpse of your hair and felt your head lean against his back, his face softened. “Oh, sorry,” he apologized under his breath. He turned and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. “If you wanted a drink you could have just said so, I would get you one.” You leaned into his side and walked with him. The lights were getting really bright. The song changed, blasting in your opinion. You buried your head in Bakugou’s side to try to at least muffle the sound a little. He poured two cups of water and handed one to you. The two of you sat back down and you cuddled really close to the blond headed boy. After a few minutes you buried your head closer to him. Bakugou noticed and grew agitated.

“Oi,” he growled quietly. “What is your problem? Are you--” he noticed how you flinched away from his growing voice. He also noticed how you covered your eyes from the dim lights in the room. He sighed, setting down his cup of water. He pulled you to his lap and pressed your head to his chest. He covered your ears and shielded your eyes. The two of you stayed that way until Bakugou carried you to your dorm. He stayed with you until you fell asleep.

You had a lot in common with your father Shota Aizawa. You were quiet, always tired, but also very smart. You didn’t like loud noises and they scared you to be honest. If you didn’t get away from the noise or it didn’t go away you’d start to shake. The reason was understandable, of course. It was simple. When you were only six months old your mother was killed in a villian attack. As Aizawa fought the villain that killed your mother Present Mic saved you and got you out of harm’s way. Both you and Aizawa were devastated. As a fact, you were selectively mute. You would only talk to your father and Uncle Mic. That was far as it went.

Your friends never understood why you never spoke a word. You were in class 1-A under your father’s teaching. You had one friend going into that class and it was Izuku Midoriya. He was with you ever since the very first day of school when you were kids. He understood that you didn’t speak and would stand up for you when the other kids in class 1-A kept trying to get you to talk. It was several months into the school year and you were in Present Mic’s English class. He was naturally a loud person due to his quirk but he always tried to tone it down when you were in his class.

There were two doors in Present Mic’s classroom; one in the front and one in the back. You just so happened to sit next to the one in the back. At the moment Mic wasn’t really teaching. There were only ten minutes left of class and Mic decided to let the rest of the time be spent however the students wished. Right now the bakusquad were goofing off and laughing. The room was starting to get loud. You looked around the room, taking in all of the noise.

“Hey mute mouth!” You turned your head to the source of the yelling. Bakugou was sitting on top of a desk, staring at you. Your body started to tremble, becoming afraid of all the noise in the room. You slowly turned your head to the side as if asking him what he wanted. “What in the world is wrong with you?” By this time you could barely catch your breath. Your trembling got worse. Now the room was silent as everyone was looking at you.

“Y/N?” Present Mic called from his desk. “Are you alright?” You didn’t even spare him a look when you raced out the back door of the classroom and down the hall. It was empty, quiet since classes were still in session. You slowly slid down a wall to the floor, curling into a ball. You shook terribly, starting to scream and cry.

“Hey, kiddo, whoa you’re ok,” a voice said from beside you. “It’s me, Uncle Mic. Do you mind if I touch you?” You continued to scream as doors opened and teachers poked their heads out into the hall. When they saw Mic shooing them into their rooms with his hands they closed their doors and continued on with their classes. Mic slowly wrapped his arms around your shaking frame. He pulled you to him and rested his chin on your head.

“It’s ok kiddo,” he whispered uncharacteristically. “Just breathe ok?” He sat there with you until your screaming ceased and your breath was steady again. He smiled, “Hey, there we go!”

“Too loud,” you muttered. “Way too loud.”

“I know little eraser. I’m sorry. I’ll try to keep it quiet next time.”

When Kirishima first met Bakugou he never would have thought he would be dating the blonde boy’s sister. Your quirk was just like Bakugou’s only you shot ice explosions instead of fire and instead of sweating nitroglycerin, frost would coat your skin in very thin layers.

Kirishima always offered to help you with your quirk. While you could practice your attacks Kirishima could test his hardening skills. Another thing Kirishima did was understand you had bad anxiety. You never told your brother but when he was kidnapped, you were petrified. You loved him as much as you never admitted and you were afraid you wouldn’t see him again. That’s what made you transfer to the hero course at UA. You had the chance to keep an eye on your brother and learn how to save people from the very thing that happened to Bakugou.

You and Kirishima had just gotten back to the dorms from a sparring practice you two held after school. Once you had showered and eaten you two were in his room, relaxing. He was sitting at the desk in his room, scrolling through the internet on his computer. You were laying on his bed asleep. He looked across the room and smiled softly when he noticed you were cuddled up with one of his pillows. You were hidden by his blankets and warm in his hoodie as your face was buried in the pillow.

That’s adorable, Kirishima thought as he pulled his phone out and took a picture before he turned back to his computer. He sat in silence for a few moments when he heard very soft whimpering coming from his bed. It was almost inaudible, it was so silent.

“Baby?” the red head called softly. He turned back around to face the bed again, trying to see where the noise was coming from. He saw your sleeping form twitching from time to time, face plastered with looks of fear. Kirishima worriedly stood from his seat across the room and made his way over to you quickly. He sat beside you and rested his hand on your shoulder, turning you on your back. You continued to whimper and started to mutter.

“No,” you whispered. Kirishima pulled your back to his chest and held you there with one arm as his other hand ran though your hair calmingly.

“Hey,” he whispered. “It’s ok. You need to wake up ok?” Kirishima had to tighten his grip as you started to thrash around harder. You started to cry in your sleep, gripping the arm that was wrapped around you tightly. Kirishima continued to smooth your hair and whisper to you to wake you up.

You gasped through tears as your eyes shot open. Kirishma shushed you quietly, still attempting to calm you down. “Hey, it’s ok little rock. You’re alright.” You struggled to catch your breath, still shaking.

“Kiri!” you gasped, trying to pry the arms away from you. Kirishima picked up on what was going on and let go, sliding off the bed and kneeling so he was eye level with you.

“Oh,” he said quickly. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t think it would get this bad.” You sat up and pulled at the collar of Kirishima’s hoodie. He could see the panic in your eyes. “Hey, it’s ok. Do you want me to help you take that off?” You didn’t hear him, still pulling the fabric from your body. “I’m going to take that off ok?” Kirishima gently pulled the fabric from your hands and over your head, leaving you in your black t-shirt you had been wearing.

“Let’s calm your breathing little rock,” he said with a soft smile. “Can I hold your hand?” You nodded frantically as he gently took your right hand in his. He placed it to his chest. “Feel that? Feel my breathing? Try to match me ok?” It took ten minutes for him to get your breathing to slow.

“Is it ok if I hold you?” You nodded again as the red-head slid in beside you and pulled you into his lap. “You’re still shaking,” he muttered. “Do you want some water?” He pulled a bottle off the nightstand, opening it and handing it to you. He pressed it to your lips and tilted it so the cool liquid fell through your lips. You took a few sips before pulling away. You took a shaky breath and wrapped your arms around Kirishama’s waist. Kirishima pulled you close and held you tight until your shaking ceased.

“Do you feel any better?” the boy whispered quietly.

“Hmhm,” you hummed and buried your head in his chest. “Thank you Kiri.” You leaned up and pecked his lips. “I’m sorry.” Kirishima frowned, pulling your face to look at him.

“Don’t be sorry love,” he said softly. “You can’t control these things. I’d do this 100x over if it meant you would be ok in the end. I hope I don’t have to, because this isn’t good for you, but I will if I have to.” A tear fell from your eyes and Kirishima wiped it away. “Can you tell me what triggered this?” You looked away.

“I dreamed of Katsuki being kidnapped again.” Your voice was quiet. Kirishima rested his chin on your head.

“I’m sorry baby.”

Deku was the most observant person you had ever met. He noticed everything within a matter of seconds. This meant a lot to you. You were quiet by nature, only ever really talking to people you were close to. This included Midoriya, Todoroki, Bakugou, and Kirishima. You would exchange a few words with the rest of your classmates but that was as far as it went. Izuku always noticed when you were getting too anxious or tired. He knew how to calm you down and make you feel comfortable.

This was one of those days he had to use that knowledge. You were having a day with Todoroki, Iida, Ochako, and Deku. The five of you were walking through the mall, window shopping. It was more of a friends day than a shopping day since all you all did was talk with each other. You all were eating lunch in one of the many dining areas in the mall. It was nearing the busiest part of the day as the crowds of people grew and the noise got louder. This didn’t get past without you noticing. You started to flinch whenever a particularly loud noise came from the crowd.

“Are you alright Y/N?” Todoroki asked over his bowl of cold soba. “You look frightened.”

You shook your head and said quietly, “I’m fine.” Deku noticed this. He took your arm gently and pulled you to your feet.

“We’ll be back,” he said quickly, pulling you away from your friends and to a quiet, secluded part of the mall. He sat you down and sat beside you, wrapping his arms around you. “Hey,” he whispered quietly. “It’s too loud isn’t it?” You nodded as the boy pulled your head to his chest to try and hide you from the noise and light.

“The lights are too bright,” you whispered. Deku hid your face more.

“I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let Ochako drag you out here.”

“It’s fine.” The two of you sat like that until you calmed down. “Let’s go find the others,” you said as you sat up. As you made your way back to the table, Todoroki bumped into you.

“Oh, there you are,” he said as he steadied you. “Are you alright?” You nodded.

“I’m alright,” you whispered. “It was just getting too loud and bright.” The boy nodded as he walked with you and Deku, each of the boys having an arm wrapped around you.

When Shinsou started UA, he swore he wasn’t there to make friends. He kept true to his word, or at least until you showed up. You were accepted later in the year since the school sent you an invite once they noticed you would do well in their school. You were in class 1-C. Your quirk would do well in that class, but most of your classmates didn’t agree.

Your quirk was mental drawing, meaning you could draw what the people around you were thinking. Most of the kids in your class didn’t like your quirk; they thought it wasn’t fitting for a hero. This caused you to keep to yourself and not talk to anyone. This only added on to the torture.

You were sitting at your desk before English class as you doodled on a piece of scrap paper. You sat in the back corner of the class by the window. This way, you got the best lighting and the best view. You stared at your paper absentmindedly as your pencil slid across the paper. It started with small lines here and there but then developed into the shape of a person. You were working on the other eye when a group of classmates caught your attention.

“Hey mute girl!” someone called out. You looked up with shy eyes, hiding your face behind your hair. You turned your head to the side slightly, acknowledging their presence. There were three of them, all towering over your desk. The one in the middle ripped the paper from beneath your hand.

“Hey!” you said, reaching for the drawing. “Give that back!” The men laughed, hovering over the paper and pointing at certain spots, laughing even harder.

“This is your quirk?!” The one on your right laughed. “Seriously, this sucks.”

The one on the left spoke,” You’re never going to make it big here.”

“What’s your problem?” spat a voice from behind the boys. The three turned around.

“You!” they scoffed, laughing. Immediately, they fell silent and stiff. You looked around them to see Shinsou Hitoshi staring at them.

“Give the girl her paper back,” commanded the man. The boy with your drawing placed it back down on your desk. “Apologize.”

“We’re sorry,” the three said in a monotone voice. The man with purple hair smirked. “Now act like the chickens you are until class starts.” The three boys started clucking, running around the classroom. You giggled, watching them embarrass themselves. The man controlling them sat down at the desk beside you.

“Thank you,” you whispered to the man.

“Don’t mention it,” he grumbled. “They deserve everything they get.”

“You’re name’s Shinsou Hitoshi, right?” you asked quietly. He nodded, taken aback. He didn’t think you knew who he was.

“Yeah, and you’re Y/N? The new one?” he asked. You nodded.

“Yeah.” You sat in silence before you decided to speak again. “How did you manage to get into a class like this?” you asked. “You have the perfect quirk to be a-”

“Villain?” Shinsou spat. “You know what, I thought you were different. I guess not.”

You were confused. “No,” you stated. “I was going to say you had the quirk of a hero. You could do great things with a quirk like yours.” Shinsou gave you an amazed look.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He flashed you a small smile and class started.

You slowly packed up your belongings in the locker room. You just finished your last class of the day, gym. You were exhausted, ready to grab a cup of coffee and head back to your dorm. You grabbed your backpack and walked out of the locker room.

“Hey wait up!” You turned around to see Shinsou running up to you. He slowed down to match your pace. “Hey,” he smiled. You grinned slightly.

“Hello Shinsou. What’s got you in a good mood? You usually don’t talk to others,” you pointed out. Shinsou shrugged.

“You’re not like the others. So, got any plans?” you shook your head.

“Not really. I was going to go get a coffee then head back to the dorm to study for our upcoming exam,” you answered

“Mind if I join you?” Shinsou asked. Your smile brightened.

“Sure!”

The two of you sat in your dorm room, studying. Shinsou asked if he could join you in studying and you agreed. Right now he was reading through a textbook while you were flipping through your notes.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Shinsou started, catching your attention, “Can I see the drawing you were working on earlier?” You nodded shyly, leaning over to grab your sketchbook. You pulled out the loose piece of paper and handed it to the boy. He looked at it, amazed. “This is amazing!”

Your cheeks reddened as you hid behind your hair again. “Thanks,” you muttered. “It’s my quirk; I can draw what someone nearby is thinking,” you explained. Shinsou handed the paper back to you, accept his hand hovered near your head. He made eye contact with you before he brushed the hair from your face and behind your ear. He smiled before returning to his book. Silence fell between the two of you once again.

You and Shinsou became friends quickly. He’d walk with you back to the dorms after school and would even train with you from time to time. He understood that you were shy so he didn’t push you to do anything you didn’t want to. Month passed and it was time for break. You had invited Shinsou to come over one night to watch a movie, seeing as though you thought both your parents were working. He showed up in a pair of grey sweatpants and a purple hoodie. His hood was up when you answered the knock at the door.

“H-Hey Shinsou,” you greeted quietly. He smiled.

“Hello Y/N, may I come in?” you nodded, letting him in and leading him to the couch. There were several warm, fluffy blankets and pillows strewn over the couch.

“What movie would you like to watch?” you asked the boy. “I have so many dvd’s, Netflix, Hulu, and Disney+ so I’m pretty sure I could find almost everything.” Shinsou shrugged as he plopped down on the couch, pulling a few blankets out from under him. You started pacing, fumbling with the remote and flipping through the apps on the TV. You also started to ramble and list off the movies you noticed.

“Y/N-” Shinsou started with a small chuckle. “Y--Y/N.” He gently took your hand and pulled you down to sit beside him. Your face reddened as you returned the small smile Shinsou was giving you. “You need to calm down,” he laughed. “I know you're anxious and I understand. Why don’t you go get something to drink and I’ll look for a movie, ok?” You nodded as he smiled. He gently took the remote from your hand and you went to get a glass of water.

Shinsou could hear a door open and close from the back of the house. “Y/N?” he called out quietly. There was the sound of glass shattering and shouts coming from the kitchen. The boy ran as fast as he could to where you were. “Y/N!” He slid into the kitchen to see a man towering over your trembling body. Blood dripped from cuts on your head and glass shards surrounded you. The man was yelling at you, or at least he was until he saw Shinsou standing in the doorway. The man sneered back down at you, raising an arm above his head. In the blink of an eye Shinsou was standing over you, forcing your father’s hand away from you.

“What are you doing!?” Shinsou screamed angrily.

“Get out!” your father yelled. Shinsou activated his quirk.

“Leave,” he seethed. “Leave, and don’t come back.” The man turned and walked out of the door he had come through. Once Shinsou was sure the man was away from you, he turned around and dropped down by your side. You were hyperventilating and crying, freaked out. “Hey,” the boy said calmly. He attempted to reach out towards you but you flinched away from him. He frowned. “Ok,” he nodded. “I won’t touch you. Just try to calm down, ok?”

You continued to gasp, taking in much more air than you needed. “Look at me.” You looked up to see dark purple eyes filled with concern and kindness. He smiled softly when you listened. “There we go, that’s great. Now breathe with me, ok?” He took huge deep breaths, still looking into your eyes. After a few breaths you started to breath with him. You reached a hand out to him and he took it, squeezing it gently. You finally calmed down enough to speak.

“You should go,” you breathed, trying to stand. Shinsou pulled you back down so you were now sitting on his lap. He hugged you close to his chest before examining your head.

“I’m not leaving,” he stated. “And you’re bleeding. We need to get you looked at.” You started to panic again, shaking your head frantically.

You started to beg, “Please, no.” Tears streamed down your face and Shinsou wiped them away. “I can’t. They’ll take me away, please we can’t!” Shinsou rocked you back and forth.

“Ok,” he soothed. “Ok.”

Your teacher would never admit it but he cared deeply for his students. He would give his life 100x over if it meant his students would be alright in the end. He knew everything about his students; what they could do, what they couldn’t do, what they were afraid of, and what they were comfortable with. Aizawa was sure that his students could handle their own and would come to him if they ever needed them but there was one student he wasn’t too sure about. Y/N L/N. Aizawa knew that she had doubts about herself. He knew that she was always anxious and could get jumpy easily.

Today Aizawa was going to have his students present ways to help some of their classmates. Earlier in the week he had the class draw names and then they were to come up with ways to help the student they pulled out of a box with their quirk. It was your turn to present and you were starting to panic. 90% of the class had never even heard you speak.

“Y/N.” Aizawa spoke. “You’re up.” You took a deep breath before standing, walking up to the front of the class. You opened your mouth, attempting to speak, but no sound came from your mouth. You froze as your heart rate increased and your breath hitched. You shook your head, dropped your papers, and ran out of the classroom. Momo gasped.

“Do you-” she started but Aizawa cut her off.

“No.” The teacher followed his student out the door slowly. He roamed the halls as he looked for you.

You leaned against the wall, sitting on the cold tile floor. Tears brimmed your eyes as you took deep breaths to calm yourself. This wasn’t exactly the first time you’ve had to run out of class and later apologize to your teacher. You heard soft footsteps approach you and then someone sit down beside you.

“Are you alright?” you jumped slightly from the voice, still a little on edge. You looked to your side to see your teacher, Mr. Aizawa. You nodded, continuing to calm your breathing. Aizawa hesitantly wrapped an arm around your shoulders. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes.

“I’m sorry,” the teacher whispered. “I should’ve known something like this would have happened.”

You shook your head. “It’s alright.” Aizawa’s eyes widened and he smiled. You were talking to him. “I need to outgrow this sometime, right?”

“It’ll take time, but I’m willing to help in any way that I can.”

Hawks knew that when he married you that there were many things that triggered sensory overload and anxiety. That’s why he let you stay in his office at the agency during most of the work day. You would help him with paperwork and you’d schedule events for him. That’s what you liked about your husband. He knew what triggered you and did his best to keep you safe.

When you had attacks out of nowhere, Keigo was always there to talk you down. If you were comfortable with him touching you, he’d hold you close to him and whisper in your ear. If you didn’t want physical contact he’d just sit with you and try to bring your attention away from what was triggering you.

Today was just one of those days. The days where you didn’t feel like yourself and just felt off. Your anxiety was through the roof and you didn’t feel like leaving your bed. Hawks had left before you were awake, having a conference to attend to. He should be getting back to the agency about now, you thought as you lay motionless on the bed. You were supposed to be at the agency right now but you couldn’t find the will to get out of bed. Your attention moved to your buzzing phone on the nightstand. Hawks. You let it ring as you continued to lay there.

“Honey, I’m home!” Hawks called as he walked into the apartment you both shared. “Are you alright? You haven’t answered any of my calls and you weren’t at work.” He roamed the house, looking for you. He pushed open the door to the bedroom and saw your shaking form on the bed. He rushed over. “Baby, are you alright?” You didn’t answer as he pulled the blanket away from your face. He frowned. “Honey you’re having an attack. Can I touch you?” You nodded through your fear as Hawks swiftly picked you up and sat you in his lap. He shushed you quietly. “Breathe with me, ok?” Minutes passed as you struggled to come back down to earth and breathe.

“It’s one of those days, isn’t it?” Hawks asked quietly. You nodded as your eyes drooped. These attacks always drained the energy right out of you. “Why don’t we take a nap?” You looked up and pecked Hawks’ lips before nuzzling further into his chest.

“That sounds nice.”

Having dealt with quite a few of these himself, Shoto understood that you wanted space when attacks hit you. These attacks came out of nowhere, most of the time when you were relaxing with your boyfriend. The two of you were cuddling on his bed, sitting in silence. You were curled up against Todoroki’s side, half asleep. The boy rested his cheek on your head as he read the book in his hands. Todoroki knew that you were having a particularly hard day. You were much more shy than you usually were and you clung to Todoroki for most of the day, not that he didn’t mind though. You usually only did that when your anxiety was worse than usual.

“Hard day?” he whispered to your half-conscious form. You hummed in response. “Anxiety?” You nodded. Todoroki pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Do you want to talk about it?” You opened your eyes, staring off in front of you. Your breath was still shaky, but it had been that way all day so you were used to it.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you muttered. “I just woke up and felt anxious.” Todoroki could hear the tremble in your voice and wrapped an arm around you.

“Why don’t I make you that tea that always helps you calm down?” he offered. “Then we can take a nap, maybe even watch a movie.” You nodded.

“Thank you.” Todoroki returned to his dorm room about ten minutes later with a cup of steaming tea. He set it down on the nightstand when he saw your sleeping form on his bed. He knew he should let you sleep but the tea he brought he knew would calm you down. He slowly lowered himself to lay down beside you, running his hand over your arm.

“Y/N,” he said softly and planted a kiss above your ear. “Wake up darling. I’m back.” You stirred and sat up. Todoroki handed you the cup of tea and pulled you to lean against him. The two of you stayed like that until you finished your tea. Once Todoroki placed the cup back on the shelf beside the bed, he laid the both of you down. “Better?” he asked and you nodded.

“Better.”

The boy always had a lot of energy due to his quirk. Denki was loud and always excited, which is why you two got along so easily. There were countless nights when you and Denki would stay up late playing video games together until breakfast the next morning.

You were trying to set up one of the gaming systems as Denki walked into his dorm room, arms filled with snacks and drinks.

“Ready sweetpea?” Denki beamed. “How late are we gonna play today?”

You giggled at his sweet greeting. “I don’t know. My best guess is that we’ll lose track of time and end up falling asleep in class again.” Denki laughed. You sighed and moved to sit on your feet. “Can you help me Denki? I have no clue what I’m doing.” The boy nodded.

“Of course baby bolt,” he smiled. “Here, look.” He started to plug in certain cords and wires. He moved to pat your shoulder but sent sparks through your body. You twitched, wincing. Denki was taken aback before he launched forward and hugged you. “I’m so sorry!” he cried. “I didn’t mean to!” You laughed.

“It’s alright Denki, I’m alright.”

You played video games for about twenty minutes before you put your controller down and squeezed your eyes shut. “You alright chickadee?” Denki asked from his spot beside you. His voice wasn’t that loud, but it was like a bell ringing in your head.

“Please keep your voice down,” you whimpered. Denki scooted over to you, pulling you into a hug.

“Sensory overload,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. I caused this when I shocked you earlier.” The boy continued to shield your eyes and stay quiet until you made it clear you were ok.

“Can we just go to sleep?” you asked quietly. Denki nodded.

“Of course baby bolt, if it’ll help at all.”

406 notes · View notes

sweetchup · 2 years

Text

Things you might not know about Bivalve (Ch.11)

A/N: If you are Minor please don’t read this, I know I can’t technically stop you guys but just a warning. It gets explicit.

The chapter most of you have likely been waiting for Chapter 11. Chapter 11 is filled with references. It’s honestly a chapter Author had a lot of fun with.

Fact 1: The Pacific Manor is the largest manor just like how the Pacific Ocean is the largest ocean. Author once again thought she was creative.

Fact 2: Reader is dropped on the couch in Poseidon’s office. This is the same couch Poseidon was sitting on when Amphitrite was flirting with Poseidon in Chapter 9. Aka the Couch Poseidon got a boner on thinking about the reader. It was a forewarning about what was to come.

Fact 3:Poseidon hands the marriage document written in old English to reader. This is a funny joke in of itself. Though if you look closer it’s even funnier. At first one would assume that Poseidon just didn’t want to bother translating the document to modern English but you have to realize Poseidon is a GREEK god so they speak GREEK (Ancient Greek as well). So he basically translated the document in English for the reader but then didn’t want to seem too caring and translated it to old English. The P in Poseidons name stands for petty people. PETTY.

Fact 4: Not only in this chapter but in the last one as well, Poseidon has begun staring the reader in the eye. Subtle character change in Poseidon and reveals his change in opinions about the reader.

Fact 5: Poseidon helping the reader about to go through a panic attack. Once again, subtle character change.

Fact 6: Author writes about reader struggling to breathe when the reader IS UNDERWATER. But then again how do you write fish accepting oxygen in the water. You call it breathing. Author was having a mental break down after realizing that fact, she hopes you are too :).

Fact 7: There is a million other ways for Poseidon to give the Ambrosia to the reader. He could have honestly put in the cup for crying out loud or help his arm up for her to drink from. But he chose kissing. He uses the excuse that it is because she will only mess it up. I’ll let you decide whether he had his mind in the gutter or not.

Fact 8: Technically this is the readers first kiss with Poseidon as she was a. unconscious for the previous one and b. doesn’t know how Poseidon gave her the blessing in the first place (likely believes he waved his magic wand and poof). So, also technically if you were to ask either one of them what was there first kiss with the other, they would have totally different answers.

Fact 9: Reader compares to drinking Poseidon’s blood as building up a tolerance as if it’s Poison. An off handed insult the Author put in.

Fact 10: The fact the Poseidon hasn’t had sex with anyone since Triton was conceived. This means this is the first time he is getting laid in at least a century, probably more if you consider how far back greek mythology is written. A century!

Fact 11: Does this technically mean Poseidon’s dick is an ancient artifact?

Fact 12: People believe that Poseidon looking at reader’s stomach was supposed to mean that he was imagining knocking her up. I originally wrote this scene to symbolize the inner battle with himself and that he was trying to ground himself. But I much better like the people’s opinion.

Fact 13: Poseidon is prideful but still admits he is an idiot. This shows that he is internally constantly bashing himself into being the perfect being. An small scene into Poseidon’s psychological self… during a make out scene. Yay!

Fact 14: Reader is willing to sleep with Poseidon even though she hates him. This shows that while she doesn’t like Poseidon, she is attracted to him.

Fact 15: And finally. The secret that I keep in the deepest depths of my hidden dungeon and the question I get asked the most. Was there going to be a smut scene after this chapter. And I can finally answer said forbidden question. Yes, yes there was. Author just decided to change the rating to more family friendly last minute 🤩🤩. So you can thank your author for that.

Do I still have the smut scene? Yes, yes I do. Is it almost a full chapter long as well? yes yes it is. Is it going to ever be released? 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Do with this information what you wish.

#bivalve #shuumatsu no valkyrie #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #snv poseidon x reader #snv #record of ragnarok #the more you know

46 notes · View notes

morelikedoccock · 2 years

Text

If You Play With Fire (or Electricity) pt. 10

Summary: You've been badly burned before, so when you encounter a man who has clearly had some sort of freak accident that left him with burns even worse than yours had been, you feel compelled to offer him help, even at the cost of your safety (and maybe also your heart).

Doc Ock x gender neutral reader

Rating: M

Tags: reader with past, gender neutral reader, Canon-Typical Violence, Burns, Scars, Choking, but not sexually, caring for burns, someone's gotta notice those, First Aid, Medical Procedures, Injury, Blood, Blood and Injury, Caring for cuts, Unconsciousness, Dreams, Feelings, oooh someone’s catching feelings, reader gets injured, Nudity, Angst, Definitely more feelings, Fluff, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Near Death Experiences, Crying, Prophetic Dreams

Inspired by this post

Link to Ao3

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5 pt. 6 pt. 7 pt. 8 pt. 9 pt. 11 pt. 12 pt. 13

~~~

Chapter 10.

When you sleep that night, your dreams are fragmented, confused. Shattered pieces of scenes flash by in your mind, brief glimpses of metal and fire and blood. A dark river. Try as you might, you can’t piece them together, can’t pull them into an understandable semblance of a picture. Fear is a hot iron branded against the nape of your neck, an electric heat that courses through your whole body, tingling and buzzing as it travels through your veins.

You wake muddled, feeling groggy and less than rested. Your skin is still tingling. For a moment, you lie in bed, your brain scrambling for some proper hold on reality, then the memories of the previous night filter in and you sit bolt upright, a hand to your mouth.

I can’t believe I really did that, you think. A rush of warmth floods your face. You had kissed Otto. Finally, after weeks, months now, of wanting him, thinking of him, dreaming of pressing your lips to his, you’d finally done it. Now, you just have to wait for the consequences. You had panicked a little when it had happened and hadn’t really given him enough time to react. He could be angry, distant, or— anything, he could be feeling anything and you won’t be able to know until you see him again.

Maybe he’ll stop coming back.

That thought has you up and getting dressed. If you follow that rabbit hole, you’ll never get out of bed, let alone leave on time for work.

Work is… almost unbearable. You anxiously rub the scars between your fingers until they start to hurt. Your mind is filled with chaos the whole day, bouncing between remembering your strange dreams and spiraling into deep, empty wells of doubt.

What will Otto say next time I see him? Will he even come back? Maybe he’s pissed. Maybe I was reading him wrong, and he hates me now.

And on and on.

While you’re clocking out, you hear a coworker say the word “Friday”, and you suddenly remember that it’s the end of the work week. It’s Friday, with the weekend ahead, and the weekend means even more time to dwell on—

“Hey!”

You turn toward the speaker, feeling like you’re moving through jello. It’s a colleague of yours, one who you like well enough to smile at as she approaches.

“What’s up?” you ask.

“A couple of us are going out for a drink, wanna come with?”

You’re sorely tempted to refuse, but honestly you could use a lighthearted night on the town to distract you from your thoughts. Plus, it’s been forever since you’ve gone out.

“Sure,” you reply. “I’m down.”

The bar you end up at is a comfortable walking distance from your apartment, which is a relief. You were dreading the idea of trying to take a taxi late at night. A short walk should be manageable. In theory.

Though your head is spinning by the time you start the trek to your apartment, you do successfully make it back. The front door causes you a bit of trouble. After wrangling with it for a moment, you realize you’ve been pushing when you’re supposed to pull. How embarrassing. At least there’s an elevator, and you don’t have to navigate any stairs. Safe inside it, you slump against the wall.

Otto had been in this elevator with you, once. Twice, in fact. Both times you had been tucked into the tight space with him, you had felt… safe. More than a little filled with thoughts and desires, but still physically safe.

Now you just feel lonely.

Before you know it, you’re back inside your apartment. You double check the lock out of habit, then wander over to your couch and drop onto it, feeling the sinking of your body into the squishy cushions like the weight of your mind sinking into sleep—

And then he’s there, warm and large and so beautifully alive, his face alight with happiness as he takes your hands and pulls you close, then twirls you away. Your feet skim across the smooth floor as if you’re floating, lighter than air.

Otto, I didn’t know you could dance so well, you exclaim, catching his hands again. He swings you around into a dip, his arm protectively around your shoulders as he bends you over his knee.

Flattery will get you nowhere, my darling, he murmurs in your ear, and oh, you could simply drown in the beautiful smoothness of his voice. Then you’re spinning again, and this time it’s the actuators that catch you, spin you, and dip you low. A giddy laugh bubbles from your throat. Your heart pounds in your ears, but not from nerves, no. No, you trust him completely.

It’s joy, pure and simple. The joy of dancing with him here, far away from the pain and stress of the real world. In your own blissful corner of existence. Dancing with the man your heart yearns for, who holds you close as if his yearns for you, too.

Waking from that dream is like remembering an appointment you’ve been dreading with everything you have. Despair and frustration wash over you as you return to your body, lying on your couch. The weight of reality is like a heavy blanket, pressing you down into— You crack one eyelid, curious, then both eyes fly open as you realize that the weight you’re feeling isn’t a figment of your imagination at all, but a thick leather coat. It’s soft and warm, and smells of smoke, metal, and… you sniff again, puzzled. Is that the scent of earl grey tea?

“Bergamot,” you mumble, still only half awake. Why does the coat smell like bergamot?

The coat. This particular coat—

You sit up so fast that the world spins. Once it has settled again, you look around.

“Are you aware that you talk in your sleep?”

He’s there, sitting at your kitchen table, a mug of something that steams in one hand, a newspaper in the other. He sips from the mug.

“Oh also, I helped myself to your coffee, I hope you don’t mind.”

You’re way too distracted by the fact that he’s there, sitting nonchalantly at the kitchen table as if he does this often, to really even comprehend what he had said. Eventually, the words trickle into your mind.

“What time is it?” you ask. Otto checks his watch.

“It’s almost 4am. Frankly, I’m surprised you're awake.”

“Why are you drinking coffee at 4am?”

He surveys the paper, not meeting your eyes.

“I have work I need to do later.”

“Otto,” you groan— and you swear you see a faint pink rise in his cheeks when you speak his name— “shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

Then as your brain begins to warm up a bit, you take a better look at him. He’s sitting calmly enough, but the hand holding the mug is shaking slightly. Your eyes slowly adjust to the light from the single lamp in the corner, and you’re on your feet before your mind fully catches up with your vision.

You stumble as you approach him, your anxious pace just a bit fast for your sleepy legs, but you just barely manage to catch yourself. Holding onto the table to steady your wobbling knees, you stare at him, taking in the numerous cuts peppering his face and chest. None of them need stitches, you can tell immediately, but they all need to be cleaned, and a few could use a proper covering.

Muttering unintelligibly, you retrieve your kit and grab a bowl of warm water from the kitchen. The bowl sloshes a bit when you set it down on the table in front of Otto.

“I don’t care how heroic Spider-Man is,” you grumble, “the next time I see him I’m telling him to fuck off.”

“You don’t have to do anything for these, that’s not why I’m here.”

The words make you pause, clean cloth half-dipped into the bowl.

“Why are you here, then?” you ask. He doesn’t answer. Instead, he sets the mug and the paper down, then finally meets your gaze.

“Your goodbye had a rather dramatic flair last night,” he says. “And quite an abrupt ending. I thought it might be appropriate to follow up with you after such a parting.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you mutter, feeling suddenly cold. “I didn’t ask, I was out of line—”

He holds up a single finger, and you clamp your mouth shut.

“I wasn’t finished.”

He lets out a deep sigh, and takes your scarred hand in his, the leather of his glove warm against your skin.

“Do you remember when you asked whether or not all my injuries are ‘worth it?’” he asks. You nod.

“And I said that it is worth it. I… I have a very important task I have to finish, one that demands all of me. I must rebuild it, I must.”

His hand tightens around yours, almost painfully, then it loosens.

“I don’t really have time for… for this. For more.”

And then he lifts your hand, pressing his lips to the scars between your fingers.

“I— my purpose right now is my project. But… that doesn’t mean— I don’t—”

He struggles for the right words, but you don’t really need to hear more. Your heart hurts, but you do understand. You have known since you first met him that he is driven by something important, so important that he is willing to keep risking himself for its sake. It’s only natural that he wouldn’t have extra time or energy to devote to anything else.

You gently retrieve your hand, pat him on the cheek, then dip the cloth into the rapidly cooling water and begin to clean the cuts on his chest. His ribs rise and fall with his breathing. You find yourself almost unconsciously matching his breaths, steadying your hand while you dab away the dried blood.

Warm wetness trails over your cheeks. You barely notice.

His chest attended to, you begin cleaning the cuts on his face. His eyes follow your movements, then focus on you, and when you meet them it’s like falling, sinking into deep wells of swirling emotion.

“I really do hate seeing you cry,” he whispers, and then he reaches up, his touch gentle as he wipes away your tears. “And I hate even more that I continue to be the cause of it.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. His hand cups your cheek, and you can’t help but lean into his touch, just as he had leaned into yours the previous night. Except he hadn’t kissed your palm, like you’re kissing his now. You wish distantly that he would take off the leather gloves so you could feel his skin against yours.

A hand slides around your waist, pulling you closer until you’re tucked between his thighs, bending slightly toward him, your eyes not leaving his. The hand on your cheek moves to the side of your neck, the thumb resting just below your jaw. The intimacy of the gesture steals your breath as quickly as a punch to the gut, and warmth floods into you, pouring through your veins like liquid sunlight, chasing away the pain of heartache.

“Please don’t apologize, my dear,” Otto says softly, the thumb just below your jaw caressing a slow circle against your throat. “I already feel like a bit of a monster.”

Words fill your mouth, words of protest, of adoration, of consolation, of comfort, but they’re all lost when he tilts his face up to yours, gently tugging you down so your lips can press against his. You gasp, a quiet, nearly inaudible sound, then you part your lips and drink him in, the taste of him as heady as the alcohol you’d imbibed just earlier that night. Headier. One of your hands finds its way into his hair, your fingers tangling in his curls. They’re just as silky as you thought they would be.

He pulls you just a bit closer, tilting his head up even more to deepen the kiss. It’s pure heaven, his lips soft on yours, his arm around your waist.

When you finally do come up for air, you’re sure that the room is spinning again. Stars wink in front of your eyes.

“Am I dreaming?” you ask. Otto chuckles, and you revel in the feeling of the laugh rolling through his body and into yours.

“What, you dream about kissing me that frequently?”

He sounds amused, almost sarcastic.

“More often than I can even begin to explain,” you reply before you can think better of the words. Then, embarrassed, you squirm out of his grip to get a clean cloth from your kit, having dropped the one you’d been using when he kissed you. Clean cloth and a fresh bowl of warm water in hand, you return to the table, where Otto is sitting, a hand over his eyes, a beautiful pink flush bright in his cheeks.

You smile. The sight of him in such a state is quite adorable.

“Otto,” you murmur. “May I finish cleaning your cuts?”

He uncovers his eyes, and blinks almost timidly up at you, then nods.

The situation seems so much more intimate now. You’re still careful, still gentle as you clean the cuts one by one, but there’s something different about the thumping of your heart. A tiny crease between his eyebrows is begging for you to smooth it away with your lips. Instead, you bite back a moan of longing and continue to wipe the blood and dirt off his forehead.

You’re hardly focused. Your eyes travel slowly down his features, moving over his heavy brow, sliding down the stately line of his aquiline nose, and finally coming to rest on his mouth. His pronounced Cupid’s bow. His soft, full, slightly parted lips.

You just barely finish cleaning the cuts before desire wins the struggle inside you and you’re bending down again, desperate for just one more taste of him—

And he meets you halfway, his arms wrapping around your waist, his mouth hot on yours, matching your desperation with ardent need, kiss for kiss, gasp for gasp. He pulls you closer until you’re pressed against his chest, practically straddling his lap.

“Otto,” you whisper against his lips, and he kisses you harder, deeper, his tongue slipping through to twine with yours.

It’s like tearing off a limb to pull away, but your concern for him provides enough incentive to do so.

“Aren’t I hurting you?” you ask, touching his chest beside one of his many cuts. He takes a deep breath, then shakes his head, apparently a bit lost for words.

“Okay well, let me cover these before they start bleeding again.”

His hand remains on your waist as you begin to cut a gauze sheet into smaller squares, then tape them down over the largest, deepest cuts. He continues to watch you, his eyes moving from your hands to your face, then back to your hands.

You tape down the last gauze square, then it occurs to you that you’re sitting square in Otto’s lap, straddling his thighs, and you feel yourself blush.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize,” you say hastily, moving to stand up, but he catches your hands in his, gently tugging you back down. Heat burns in your face. It throbs like fire in your cheeks and sears your lips as Otto leans forward to kiss you once more. This time his mouth is heartbreakingly gentle, as if he thinks you might crack under his touch. At this point you’re not sure that you won’t.

You sigh against his lips, savor one more second, then pull away to rest your forehead on his collarbone. His arms wrap around your waist, holding you close.

For a moment, you just breathe, blissful in the comforting warmth of his embrace, your hands resting on his shoulders.

“Otto?” you finally mumble.

“Yes?”

His voice is quiet, his breath ruffling your hair. Your heart skips a beat.

“How did you come up with the concept for your actuators?”

“Pardon?”

You sit up and meet his eyes.

“I think it would be neat to learn more about them, if you’d be willing to tell me? Or even just if you have a recommendation for books that discuss some element of mechanical prosthetics, that would be good too.”

Otto stares at you as if you have just suggested that you should pick up blindfolded tightrope walking. After a long moment, he frowns slightly and looks up at his actuators. You follow his gaze and discover that the arms have all been watching the goings-on with apparent curiosity, their claws open, pinkish lights bright and unblinking.

“You’re making a strange request,” Otto finally says, his gaze returning to your face. “Why do you want to learn more about them?”

You fidget, then meet his eyes.

“I just want to learn more about you, Otto, and they’re connected to you. They’ve even communicated with me a few times when you were out cold. …Plus, I just think they’re interesting.”

Otto’s cheeks are flushed again. He cups your cheek in one hand, the touch tender, his thumb running a circle over your cheekbone, then he lets his arm fall back to his side.

“I’ll think about it,” he says. That’s good enough for you. Suddenly overcome with a wave of long-overdue exhaustion, you cover a jaw-breaking yawn.

“I need to go back to bed,” you say, and climb reluctantly off his lap. He doesn’t stop you, but he does get to his feet and escort you to your bedroom. You pause beside the bed, something belatedly occurring to you, and turn to him. He raises his eyebrows, but this time you’re not talking to him.

“Can I see you for just a second?” you ask, beckoning to one of the tentacles, the one who seems to like you the most. It slides forward obligingly, and you take the claw in your hands. The light shines up at you, the open claw like a three-petaled flower with a pink center. Pink, you realize. It’s the color that has caught your attention. Even as you watch, the pink light seems to become paler, fading almost to pastel, then turning back to a brighter shade.

In your mind’s eye, you return to the first time you had ever met this man, months ago.

Teetering on the edge of indecision, not sure if you should see if they are alright or just keep walking, you notice something stirring around the inert form slumped against the alley wall. Four red dots of light swing around and seem to focus on you. Your feet freeze to the ground.

The lights had been red, a bright, saturated, blood red. Now they could barely pass as hot pink. You shift your grip so you can run a finger over one of the metal joints, pondering this change. What could it mean? Under your touch, the light flickers to pastel pink again. Curious.

You release the claw and sit down on the edge of your bed.

“Thank you,” you say to the actuator, which returns to its usual position hovering behind Otto, then you turn your gaze back to him. He’s watching you, a very odd look on his face.

“What?” you ask.

“You are… strange,” he replies. “But they like you.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Hearing that you’ve earned the approval of an intelligent computer program should feel bizarre, but it’s actually kinda nice. You look down, rubbing the scars between your fingers.

“I’m glad.”

A hand grips your chin and tilt your face upwards, the touch sending goosebumps down your arms. Otto examines your expression for a long moment, then he leans down and presses a quick kiss to your lips.

“Goodnight. And keep yourself out of trouble, will you?”

And before the stars can disappear from your eyes, he’s gone.

#doc ock #x reader #doc ock x reader #my fic #injury tw #cerbin writes #if you play with fire (or electricity)

71 notes · View notes