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woso-dreamzzz · 2 months

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Help

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Summary: You're struggling a bit

*TW for eating disorder*

You didn't know when exactly it started but you knew it was here to stay.

"You not that hungry?" Millie asks as you sit down next to her for lunch.

Being the youngest member of the team had its perks and this definitely wasn't one of them. Everyone else got to choose where to sit for lunch while your older teammates made you sit with them.

You shrug. "Upset tummy."

It's not exactly a lie. Your stomach churned at the idea of having to eat a big meal (having to eat at all, actually) and it was uncomfortable. But it was uncomfortable not eating as well. You had hunger pangs almost every moment of your waking life.

Eat or not eat.

Pain or pain.

"Are you sick?" Millie asks, brow furrowed as she looks at you," You look a bit sickly."

You knew what she was talking about. You used to be able to control your eating well but you had spiralled recently. You felt ill even looking at the buffet earlier and you refused to even contemplate putting more than one thing on your plate.

It had been like this for weeks now and you knew everyone could see it.

Your skin had taken on a waxy pallor. Your nails had gone brittle and your hair was thinning at an alarming rate.

You hope that everyone just thinks you're sick. You push your food around with your fork before cutting it up into smaller pieces. You had a handle on this. You would get a handle on this.

"Bad night's sleep," You offer to Millie and she takes the bait, nodding like she understood what you were saying.

"Who had a bad night's sleep?" Your captain slid into the seat on your other side, with Pernille taking the seat on her right.

"y/n," Millie says," It's why she looks ill."

"You've been having a lot of those," Magda says, eyes narrowed as she watches you.

You try to be casual but with her and Pernille's eyes on you, you feel like you're under the microscope. You take a small bite of your food, trying not to wince when it tastes of nothing but ashes. You reach for your drink.

"It happens," You say diplomatically. You don't want to give anything away.

Magda and Pernille were protective of you anyway. You didn't want them to know this. They barely let you live on your own. You didn't want to be under their gaze all the time.

"Hmm," Magda hums, still looking at you and you load more food onto your fork.

You lift it up like you're about to eat before moving it back down onto your plate again.

"I heard that Emma's planning new drills. Is it true?"

Your question distracts Magda, who huffs and starts eating her own food. Her gaze is torn away from you as she mutters things under her breath.

You don't pick your fork back up.

Your hunger pangs worsen the more time goes on. You'd barely eaten lunch and you hadn't eaten breakfast either. You just tried to fill your stomach with water, leading to a semi-impressive feeling of bloating while also being able to feel it all slosh around in your belly.

Actually, now that you think about it as you run through drills and complete your sprints, you're not too sure when the last time you ate a full meal.

Did energy bars count as full meals?

Because you ate an energy bar during the break between drills.

Either way, it doesn't seem to be working now. Black spots appear in your vision and you have to stop moving so you can stay on your feet. You scratch at your neck, somehow feeling completely dehydrated even though you know that you had drank water not even five minutes ago.

"Hey." You don't even realise Pernille's holding your waist until she speaks. "Are you okay? You're swaying."

Her eyes look worried and you try to nod but it only makes you feel worse, more black spots appearing before you go almost completely limp.

"Okay," Pernille says softly even though she's panicking on the inside," Let's sit down, okay? We're just going to sit down."

But you don't have enough strength to sit down and you've lost consciousness almost the moment you touch the ground.

"Hey!" Pernille calls out," I'm going to need some medics!"

She checks your pulse even though she's got a feeling she already knows what's happened. Magda can be distracted but Pernille can't.

She's noticed your general wariness at lunch, the way you talk more than eat and how you play around with your food. She knows that you're not eating breakfast too just by the way you ate a cereal bar this morning.

You're sixteen so you're not exactly great at cooking either so Pernille's also sure that you're not eating well at home either.

She knew that she should have put her foot down when you moved from Vittsjö to Chelsea. She knew she should have made you move in with her and Magda.

"We need to get her inside," One of the medics say.

You're almost too light in Pernille's arms as she lifts you and carries you inside.

"Is she okay?" Magda runs over to join them.

"She's not been eating." Pernille feels confident in what she thinks. "So, no, Magda, she's not okay." She lays you down on the physio bed, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "I don't care what she says, she's not okay and she's not going home alone."

Magda's a little dense sometimes. "Who's she going home with? Is someone on the way?"

"Us, Magda. She's coming home with us and she'll be lucky if I ever let her out of my sight again. You've still got the spare bedroom made up, right?"

"Exactly as we left it," Magda says.

She looks down at you. You look much younger than your sixteen years as you rest on the bed. You've never passed out before to Magda's knowledge and your skin looks almost translucent as you lay there.

"She'll come around soon," The medic promises," Get her energy levels up and take her home. She needs rest." He glances around. "And I'll set up a meeting with the nutritionist for next week."

"I've got some trail mix in my bag," Magda offers," I'll grab some."

You come around slowly, blinking your eyes and squinting as you adjust to the light.

"Are you going to yell at me?"

"Why?" Pernille says," Have you done something that I need to yell at you for?"

She helps you sit up, jamming a water bottle between your lips so you can rehydrate before Magda dumps a bag of trail mix into your hands.

You hold it there.

"Eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"Eat," Your captain says firmly," We're not leaving until you've eaten at least half."

You have to fight to roll your eyes.

Fine, you'll play their game, nibbling on the nuts and fruit as you think of some topic to distract them both.

Only Magda doesn't let you speak.

"I don't want to hear any arguments," She says," You're staying with me and Pernille now. We've got your room ready and you'll be eating three square meals a day and snacks."

Your stomach drops. Your throat goes dry.

"What?"

Your mind works in overdrive as you try to come up with some way to make Magda change her mind. You end up deciding that the best course of action is pretending that it's all a joke.

"That's funny," You say," Is this a weekend thing or something? Because I have plans that I can't miss."

Magda's face hardens and you decide that looking at Pernille is obviously safer.

(It's not).

She looks equally as angry, if not more so than Magda. Her arms are crossed over her chest as she stares you down.

You're getting the distinct feeling that you're caught in a bear trap.

"You're a good kid," Pernille says finally as she watches you shovel trail mix into your mouth just so you had something to do," And you're so talented. I don't know what's going on but we're here to help you."

"Nothing's going on."

"There is," Pernille says firmly," And that's okay. We're going to help you."

You stand up quickly, too quickly perhaps because you wobble uncertainly on your feet and Magda has to guide you back to a sitting position.

But you still try to salvage your wounded pride.

"I'm fine. I don't need help."

"You do," Magda says," And I'm sorry that we didn't realise sooner."

"I..." Tears spill down your cheeks against your will. "I don't need help."

"We're going to help you anyway."

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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itislils2004 · 2 months

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Alr guys pt.2 of this, if I do more it'll be about Narinder, Lambam and Ratou. (no promises)

Here's another long rant of headcanons of my Shamura and Kallamar :) !

Heket and Leshy

Summary:

As much as I like to joke about him, he's actually quite talented and meticulous. He prefers to not venture to spaces that could be remotely harmful to him (because he gets sick, really easily), unless the pros outweigh the cons. He's full of himself at times, but he does NOT have NPD (Narcissist Personality Disorder). Simply has a very strong sense of self, and absolutely hates being told what to do (even if it benefits him, and even if he already planned to do it).

He's also quite artistic and has an eye for things, despite not working for the cult he does take charge when organizing events and decorations. He's a perfectionist down to a fault, although he'd never force anyone to fit his criteria he's pushy about it at times.

Smaller character details:

Leshy has a lot of fun hanging out with Kallamar, and likewise for the squid. In fact, Kallamar often has him running errands for him or asks him for help whenever he's trying to make something or simply wants to rant.

Because of his nature to not go out much, he's rarely seen outside of events. But even then he leaves a marking impression on the flock due to his ability to multitask, and his talents.

Gets on well with the Lamb, in his head that is. He's super laid-back whenever he speaks to him. The feeling might not be mutual, but at least he cares for them, a bit.

Sozonius is also a close friend of his, but Leshy wins when it comes to who Sozonius feels more comfortable with, since they were friends even when he was parasite.

^ Either way, Sozonius helps him a lot during research or on the rare occasion they do go out (they both hate Anura, so there's no worries about one of them wanting to go there).

He refuses to learn ASL although he's partially deaf (unless The Lamb provides him better auditory capabilities, very much like Heket. This can be applied to all Bishops except Narinder.)

So whenever he cannot get a grasp on what's going on (although he's gradually getting better at reading lips) he has either Leshy or Heket to help him understand what's going on.

Summary:

Quite the forgetful arachnid, ever since they got indoctrinated, it tends to slip their mind to ACTUALLY take care of themselves. Often forgetting to eat or to wear an extra layer since they can barely regulate their own body temperature. Heket and Kallamar always try their best to make sure they eat properly and not get sick. The lamb tries to do the same, but many times it is unsuccessful since they deviate from the matter at hand. They actually spend a lot of time with the Lamb, often talking sentences that do not have a coherence to it, or simply tales of the past that come unprompted. The Lamb makes little to no effort in stopping them, and allows them to do as they please.

Smaller character details:

context:

Because the lamb actually never really learned how to groom their wool (or simply able to shear it) it tends to get matted and heavy overtime. When that happens they simply unalived reseted themselves to come back to their form, because before they got executed, their wool got trimmed by heretics before getting sacrificed so that the axe would be able to do its job in one swing.

Thankfully though, Shamura (in their right mind) helps the Lamb, and maintains their fleece voluntarily. The lamb has no comment on this action. But they are one of the few people who lets them touch them to such an extent.

Shamura is no (morally speaking) monster, but they don't actually harbor any genuine affection for the Lamb outside of some pity. Their ministrations come from simply Shamura's nature, which leads to them helping the Lamb in minor ways or even offering comfort in little amounts. The lamb prefers it this way. They'd actually reject the help if it was in the name of "affection" or "pity".

However, they have a hard time understanding complex emotions and underlying meaning. They're very literal, but also have a way of explaining things through metaphors. It's their way of understanding complex things, by associating information they already know and molding it.

Loves making jokes!! They tend to be very old/unfunny but they still enjoy it. Narinder always plays along with the jokes and sometimes laughs at how bad they are. They also use a cane/walking stick with the form of a serpent, old relique.

Tries to help around the cult as well, but is often stopped if attempting too hard when it comes to manual labor. They're awfully tall which difficults things, and due to their complexion they have a hard time standing up on their own for a long period of time without the cane (walking normally that is). They do however, work a lot on clothes and such, with Kallamar sometimes helping on the sidelines.

#cult of the lamb #Shamura #Kallamar #myart

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sameschmidtdiffname · 2 months

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heyyyy can I pls req something where Mike tries to make it up to the reader after he says something wrong in their 1st fight as a couple? like “I don’t want to lose you” as an apology and they get back together or something along those lines? tysm I really enjoy ur work :))

But of course!!!

Wanting, Waiting

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: Overworked and underfed, you'll go to sleep once some decent work is complete. However, a late night turns into a day long fight.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no gender specific pronouns for Reader, pre-established relationship, argument, cursing, Reader and Mike both got some shit going on, hints of an eating disorder, overworking, hurt/comfort, crying, mentions of: suicide/death, depression, drugging, and kidnapping. Vulnerability is gross.

Notes: 'Slip' walked so this could run full speed into a brick wall. I feel as though I may have redeemed myself.

▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

This page is mocking me.

The hour is late. I stopped checking the clock around 2:00 A.M., and there's a cup of cold coffee right next to me on this table, several rings on the inside from where the coffee had been left sitting far too long. It's cheap, the flavor sticking to my teeth in a way that settles my lips into a slight grimace as I try to convince my hand to move my pen across the just as cheap notebook paper that has been sitting in front of me since I came home.

Come on. It's words. What the fuck is hard about this?

'It's not hard if you can actually get your head out of your ass and do something,' I think to myself. Not helping.

I have an irritating collection of drafts. Oh yes, I can start them and I can certainly plan out the works before me. But actually writing is somehow impossible, and even though I can feel how thick the block is in my mind, preventing me from communicating my feelings properly, I just can't get break myself out of it.

Come on. Finish one draft. Then everything will click together for the rest.

For the past few weeks it's been just like this. Come home, sit down with projects, and try. But no matter what I do, I just can't focus. It's as though my head simply won't allow it. And this house, quite frankly, isn't helping. It's admittedly unsettling atmosphere, the loud noises born from nothing. It's as though I can feel the weight of the dead that used to sit at the same glass table as I watching me over my shoulder, pressing their non-existent weight against me, making my chest tight with pressure I cannot voice because that's not fair to the ones still here truly haunted by their presence. I'm just a guest who overextends their stay, quite frankly.

Just a page. Just write a page and you can get up for a moment. Ignore how loud the fridge is at something clunks inside of it.

A page. Get a page. Come on, you imbecile, how hard is a fucking pa-

"I thought we talked about this."

It's a testament to my mental state how high I manage to jump in my chair, my tired and over-caffinated heart set off to make me dizzy with over exertion from fear, turning to see who has come to voice their thoughts and damn us both with them.

"Mike," I sigh. I place a hand on my chest, rubbing slightly at the spot where I feel my heart pounding against my sore ribs. "Don't do that."

"Have you slept at all?" Mike asks disapprovingly. His arms are crossed against his chest, heavy bags under his eyes from another night of restless dreams. He can't sleep, I won't sleep. If he'd allow it, we could actually get shit done this time of day.

"A little," I lie. He's just worried. About everything. He always is, which at first was something I loved about him. And usually I still do. It's an admirable trait, to care about someone and love them so much it's only natural to fret over them, to check and make sure they're taken care of properly.

Except it makes me feel guilty.

"Oh yeah? What time?" He asks, narrowing his sleep swollen eyes at me.

Details. Fuck.

"Ah, uh- I don't know, I wasn't looking at the clock," I say sheepishly, trying to flash a disarming smile and make my own bags look like ones of bare minimum rest instead of self neglect. Mike's jaw tightens slightly.

"Oh?" He says in a dull voice that is not raised, yet managed to ring throughout the room nonetheless.

I hum affirmatively, pressing my lips together and fiddling with the cheap pen in my hands, glancing down at it in an attempt at trying not to give myself away.

"Yeah, I don't know. Just like, laid my head on the book and... y'know... drifted off for a couple hours," I try to say casually.

"Ah," he says as though that were enough, leaning now against the doorframe of the hallway, looking at the other wall as though the paint were interesting. "How long after I went to bed, do you think?"

Keep your breathing even. He can smell fear. "Like, a couple," I answer with a shrug.

"Or, like, not at all," he says, turning his head back to stare down at me with a glare.

"I slept," I insist.

"Bullshit. You give me unnecessary detail about your shits post mexican take-out, but you can't tell me what time you fell asleep?" He says accusingly.

"I was asleep! I'm sorry, do you want me to lie and give some time because you need it for some reason?" I ask evenly, shrugging as though to ask what he'd like me to say, blinking at him and adding a tired tinge of a croak to my voice to match his.

"I'm sorry?" He asks, eyes still in narrow slits yet somehow widening slightly, his leg uncrossing from over the other and planting firmly on the floor as he stands straight.

He's not that tall. Kinda short. But he looks much bigger when mad. Kinda like an iguana. I told him that one time and got bit. Jokingly, of course. It's not like he'd just reach over and sna- You know what? Irrelevant.

"I'm just saying," I say, starting to turn back to my notebook as though the conversation were finished.

"No-no, I'd like to hear that again," he says. I can hear his footsteps pad against the flat, tan carpet, my shoulders stiffening slightly as I train my decreasingly neutral eyes on the wrinkled, lined paper in front of me. "I liked the part where you made me sound like some insecure teenager for calling you out on your shit. Very original."

My lips press into a thin line, my grip on my pen tightening slightly.

"It's not that serious, Mikey-"

"Don't bullshit me, and don't use some cheap nickname as a cop out via sympathy," Mike snaps, standing now on the opposite side of the table, pressing his hands now against the glass surface that dirties so easily. Trust me, we've had to clean some prints off of it.

There's a line, and at some point I'm going to cross it. The problem is it's hidden under mental sand that makes me unclear of exactly where it is.

"Michael-"

"That's formal," he says, leaning forward on the table, his tone the same as an interrogating mother just waiting for the moment where no one will blame her for finally tearing you to shreds for what you've said to her outwardly innocent statements. A trap.

"I'm sorry, I thought you didn't like cheap nicknames?" I say, fighting the irritation in my voice, barely managing to remain even as I click my pen to begin writing.

"What's wrong with just Mike?" He asks. He reaches across the table, placing all five of his fingertips on my paper firmly and dragging it back across the table towards him, withholding it from me.

"Would you like me to use just Mike?" I ask.

"I'd like you to make eye contact while you lie through your fucken teeth," he says calmly, not moving as he continues to stare me down.

"Okay, Mike. And what exactly does my sleep schedule mean to you?" I ask slowly, trailing my eyes from his hand, slowly up his arm with pronounced veins and muscles, to the white cotton shirt that was two sizes too large and usually what he wore to sleep in, until I meet his dark and slightly hateful eyes.

"We had a conversation," he starts.

"A conversation," I repeat.

"About a month ago, do you remember?" He asks, cocking his head slightly in that way it does when we both know I'm not going to dare to answer with anything other than he wants.

"You ha-"

"I had a concern," he interrupts me, now looking down at the notebook and studying it as though it were a piece of fine art. "Which involved how absolutely awful your ability is to take care of yourself properly."

"Mike-"

"Shut. Up." Mike says with disturbing calmness. "I'm talking."

Fine.

"It's fucking rude."

Not saying it's not.

"Like your attitude when I try to just help you because clearly, you can't help yourself," he says, now slapping down the notebook to gesture at me as though it were obvious why he was concerned.

I could speak. I'd like to. And he gives me a long enough silence I could. But instead I decide I will simply give him the floor.

"No opinion on this?" He asks shortly.

"No," I say with a dismissive shrug. "You seem to have them for me."

Mike laughs at this statement, and if the sparkle in his eyes didn't seem to have the same dull shine as the glass table between us I'd feel a bit better about it. But I think there's a six foot hole in the backyard I just signed a lease on that makes his disturbingly convincing smile much more worrisome.

"You're funny," he says affectationately. "Get up."

"What?" I ask, blinking.

"Are you deaf now? Up," he says in irritation, beginning to cross back around the table. "This isn't a negotiation."

Before I can speak his hands dig in under my armpits, roughly pulling me to stand and bringing me close to his chest. I should have energy to fight back, I've only been sitting after all. But a physical confrontation would be too loud, first of all. Abby is asleep in her room, and I don't want to make a scene to wake the poor child. Number two, my bones are sore, my head is aching and I generally just do not feel well enough to protest. Physically.

"Put me down, you son of a bitch!"

Verbally, I'm fine.

"You're going to bed, that's final!"

"I have twelve drafts due that I have to get done or else this project-"

"You have four hours of sleep you can get before you have to take your candy ass to work in the fucken morning, or else I'm gonna beat it into you," he hisses directly in my ear, his breath cold and loud so close to me. Jesus, fuck. What did his parents feed him as a child? It shouldn't be this easy for him.

"Oh, I don't do what you want and now you threaten physical violence. Very mature," I mock, reaching out to grip the doorframe of Mike's bedroom, purely to piss him off.

"Save me the dramatics," he snaps in a whisper, wrapping one arm tighter around my waist and using the other to bat my hands away from the frame. I can tell he's genuinely trying not to hurt me, his grip on one wrist firm but careful.

"Just let me write one page," I try.

"That's what you said last night," he says, still trying to pull my hand away. My nails have dug into the frame, making it slightly harder. I can sense his irritation growing. "You got two hours of sleep."

"That's not going to kill me," I argue.

"You haven't slept for more than two hours in a week," he says.

One nail breaks against the frame, making me lose my grip and sending pain down my arm from the awkward angle at which the pressure had snapped it off. I wince slightly, which gives Mike slight pause as he checks my hand, but decides I'm alright before he begins dragging me towards the bed in earnest.

"Why is it so hard for you to just take care of yourself?" Mike asks in frustration.

"I take care of myself!" I say defensively. Mike drops me onto the bed, standing in front of me to prevent any new attempts at escape.

"No, you don't," he says, quiet but firm. "You sit and stare at your notebook and you don't do anything else if you can help it. You sleep for two hours, you go to work, you hardly eat, you don't have energy anymore." Mike's hands are planted firmly on his hips, his nostrils flailing as he tries to take collected, calm breaths. "I care about you. Why can't you?"

"Michael-"

"Stop!" Mike snaps, groaning and turning away from me with a sharp spin on his heel. He buries his hands in his hair in frustration, now pacing between the bed and the door, quietly shutting it so we can argue in peace.

"Why are you so upset?" I ask, genuinely confused.

"Because I don't want to see you live like this. I am concerned and every time I bring it up you dismiss me, you joke, you don't care and I hate that," Mike says, temporarily stopped in his tracks to point at me as he seethes. "I'm watching you waste away and you know what? I'm starting to think part of you likes it."

"Excuse me?" I say, astounded. I cross my arms in front of my chest, cocking my head at him in a way to say 'I dare you to repeat that.'

"You heard me," Mike says, taking a step towards me. "It's like you cannot for one iota of a second conceive of some world where taking care of yourself is a good use of your time. You work, and work until you've burned yourself out so horribly you rot in bed for a month. And unless you're staying here, I hear nothing from you. Not a call, not a fuck you or whatever. It's like you're punishing yourself."

"Now who's being dramatic?" I say.

"See? I can't even point this out without you getting defensive, which just shows you know you're in the wrong!" Mike turns away from me once more, resuming his path of restless walking.

"Why do you even care?" I ask genuinely. This makes him pause again, his glare once more returning to me as he mentally questions my intelligence.

"You know what, I don't know!" Mike snaps, his voice gaining volume. "You are insistent in this fucking- slow method suicide and I'm trying to help you, but you won't let me!"

"I never asked you to care," I scoff, rolling my eyes.

"I never asked to care!" Mike nearly shouts, leaning in close to my face and sneering at me.

This breaks the tension.

His face falls as soon as the words are out of his mouth, his eyes widening slightly like my own eyes. This comment shouldn't really sting. I shouldn't let it. But it does. And for a moment, I do. And he sees that clearly.

"... oh," I say softly, my arms relaxing and shoulders sagging ever so slightly as I drop his gaze, trying to shut off my emotions before they're obvious.

"I'm sorry," Mike says quickly, stumbling to his knees in front of me. "I didn't mean that-"

"It's fine," I say, trying to remain as blank as my pages on the kitchen table.

"I just said it to be hurtful," Mike says quickly, his hand reaching up to cup my face. I take it away, turning my head to the side slightly. There's a new chill in the air, one I can feel seizing my chest.

"You weren't," I say. "I'm going to sleep."

"Please, I don't want-"

"I'm going to sleep," I say forcefully, shoving him away and turning to begin undressing from my work clothes that I still wore. Mike is silent behind me, probably thinking, and I'm close to not being able to hold myself together anymore.

"Get out!" I snap, flinging my shirt at him in a rage and beginning to stand from the bed to chase him out. He doesn't need anymore prompt, quickly scurrying out from the room to wherever it is he'll sleep now. Probably on the couch even though there's another room down the hall. A self induced punishment. Knowing him he probably won't even allow himself a blanket or pillow, feeling the cold air fitting for his selfishness.

Good.

When I wake that morning, I can smell breakfast in the air. My stomach hurts from skipping meals, but I don't want to eat. First of all, I haven't worked for a meal. There's still plenty to be done with my drafts. And food is a good encouragement to keep working. Second, I didn't ask him to care. And he didn't ask for it either. There probably isn't enough for me, and if there is, he and Abby can debate between the two who will have it. I need to shower.

I take forever washing myself. If that's what you want to call it. It was moreso standing under hot water, letting it run cold until I couldn't stand it anymore and hoping my deodorant is able to do some heavy lifting today. I barely have enough time to get to work, passing silently by Mike and not turning when he calls my name, walking out the door as fast as I can without running.

He follows me outside, something shaking in a bag behind me. When I finally open my car door I'm forced to have my gaze in his direction, his body between the door frame and my car door, presenting me with a bag of lunch.

"Please eat," he begs, placing the bag in my lap unceremoniously and then quickly stepping away and shutting the door himself.

There's a small moment where he and I just share at each other through the glass, time slipping away without notice. He hasn't slept, he'll be late for work if he doesn't get dressed soon, and the bag on top of my thighs is warm. Fresh. A petty part of me wants to roll down my window and throw away the meal, back out of the drive way and let that fester in his mind out of hate. He thinks words can hurt? Actions are so much worse.

But there's something in his eyes. Defeated, resigned. Childlike is almost the word I could use. In front of my car is the 12 year old boy who tried to chase down his brother, the 18 year old who decided to sacrifice his life raising his little sister while saying goodbye to his parents, and the 27 year old man who's just trying to keep everything together.

I don't know what to say to this child. Or to the man.

So, with the turn of my key in the ignition, I don't.

It's late when I come home. When the manager had asked me to stay late I almost called Mike to break the silence and tell him this. But there was still a part of me that didn't care whether or not he knew. Really, I didn't have to return home tonight. I could go back to my apartment and just let him rot in bed the way he claims I do. How could he say such a thing, anyways? I rot in bed? What about the days I've walked into the house and he hasn't slept all week, where he's claiming he's trying to kick his medication and he'll get the hang of it soon. Where his sister is eating every meal almost burnt because he can't think straight enough to remember time. Where I've had to coax, beg, demand of him that he just takes a pill because he's laying on the side of the bed, small and curled in on himself, dead eyed and obviously tired but still not sleeping. One time I slipped it into his food. And I felt awful. Do not think for a moment I wanted to do that. There was a betrayel in his eyes when sleep began to overtake him. I hoped he wouldn't notice, but he must've. Some tell in the drugs effect that made him aware his rest was not voluntary. But I didn't care. I stroked his hair through the night, and I'll do it again. He could hate me however long he needed to, he just needed sleep first.

The irony still hasn't struck me when I walk through the door of his house, well past dinner, Abby in the bath. The door was left unlocked, which is unusual for this time of night. Mike jumps from the couch the minute I open the door, standing with his hands by his side anxiously pulling at the edge of his oversized sweater.

Everything's oversized with him. The thought occurs to me that his father was slightly bigger.

"Don't leave me," he says quietly, his voice small and pathetic like him. But I don't say that with hate.

"I just got home," I say. "Be a bit odd to leave again."

I try a smile, but it's artificial and we both know it's only for his comfort. It doesn't touch him, his eyes glassy and lips slightly parted the same way a child's is when they're trying to breathe as their sinuses spring to life in wake of forming tears.

"I didn't mean it," he says, still standing in the same place. If I was a better person I'd probably run to him. But I'm not.

If I were a better person, I'd say I believe him. But I don't. And suddenly my throat is swollen with hurt, my own bottom lip is sticking out and now we're both trying not to cry because this is so overly taxing. We're adults but emotions are hard. Vulnerability is hard. It is a damnation that we both detest, both avoid. In better states we would joke about this, would laugh and tease the other for not having the emotional capability to voice our thoughts. But we're not. So we don't. And now we're crying openly in the off-putting, attempted to look cozy living room that we can never fully relax in.

"I don't wanna lose you," he says between small hiccups, hands now balled into fists that he buries under opposite armpits, shifting his weight so that he doesn't look so small. His glances bounce between me and the hallway table, never fixing on either of us as he tries to state his mind like an adult. "I've barely had you."

In my heart there has been a constant ache, hurt flowing and pumping through my veins like the blood that ran cold last night at his hurtful words. His apologetic words make the ache somehow worse.

"I don't mean to be a burden to you," I say softly, feeling a small, stray tear break the fluid barrier of my waterline to race down my cheek, allowing a pathway to the fatter drops that threaten to quickly follow.

Mike's face shifts, stepping towards me and holding out his arms.

"No, never," he says just as soft, trying to comfort me. I freeze as he approaches, my body stiffening as I try to swallow the lump and convince myself that I can survive his touch. His touch that I normally crave the moment I'm around him, that I seek in the dark of night even when the bed is overheating, that I'd go insane without.

"I've never asked you to care," I say, voice breaking and tears rolling freely now.

"I know," he says into my neck, which is wetting as he shakes around me, his grasp firm and careless of whether or not it's too much.

"I don't mean to cause problems. I just...." I don't know what I mean, how I wish to finish the statement. If I was clever, I could. If I was clever, I wouldn't even be in this problem to begin with.

"I'm just scared," he chokes out, his breathing horrible as he struggles to keep his crying from being obvious. "You look sick all the time and I don't want that."

He's told me the story. His mother wasting away, thinning and slipping, starving and dying. How he'd returned home to a baby wailing in her crib as their mothers body lay in a pool of blood he never really got out of the carpet. He lied to me initially when I saw it the first time, said it was wine. It wasn't until we had a few glasses ourselves that his eyes glazed over and he told me. It was disturbing how neutral he kept himself to the subject. A habit he'd developed much too long ago to break.

"Mike-"

"I try, and I try and if something doesn't give soon I'm gonna fucking lose it," he sobs into my skin, arms tightening around me.

"If what doesn't give?" I ask softly, trying to pull him away to look into his eyes. But he doesn't budge, sobbing a little bit harder and gripping a little bit tighter. He doesn't respond, simply shaking as he breathes heavily against me through his mouth.

"Hey," I say softly, trying to wrap my arms around him, failing and giving up as I realize his grip is too tight. "I'm not going anywhere."

His mouth closes a little, quieting his breathing slightly as he sniffles.

"I'm an idiot, but I'm not suicidal," I say softly, trying again for a joke. He doesn't laugh, but he does pull away slightly to look at my face, lips swollen and quivering as he blinks at me.

"You scare me," he says quietly, not quite meeting my eyes. He's watching my lips, but I think that's because that's the closest he can get to making eye contact.

"I scare you?" I ask, furrowing my brows. I lick my dry, cracked lips for comfort. "Why?"

"Because I love you," he says shakily, sighing as though it were exhausting to admit while still holding that nervous flicker in his eyes. "Because when I think about not being with you the house seems colder. And I can't go back to hating this house."

I open my mouth to respond, but there's more.

"Because I love your stupid smile when you're excited, or how you do that cricket leg thing when you're falling asleep. Or how if you want my attention you'll bury your head in my chest and pretend you're doing it in your sleep even though I won't judge you for doing it while you're awake."

"I don't-"

"I love how defensive you get over things like that," he says, bringing one hand to cup my cheek, resting his thumb that smells like the creamy lavender handsoap next to the bathroom sink on my lips. "I love how you look waking up next to me, how you play with Abby. And for a really long time I didn't see myself ever having kids, but when I see you curling her hair at the kitchen table I think maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I just took up another job and saved money so that we could-"

"Mike-"

"Stop cutting me off," he says gently, his eyes finally meeting mine with just the smallest smile. "It's rude."

At that I do stop, my body finally relaxing into his grasp as I lean into him and his touch.

"I want things I haven't wanted since before Garret went missing," he says, stroking my lip. "And I want them with you."

Dinner was just as delicious as lunch, even if it was late. And the bed is soft like our voices as we make plans for years down the line. And after a week long break, the pages are finally filled once again.

Just like us.

¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

Literally had a come to Jesus moment while writing this that not only do I fear being vulnerable irl, but in writing too. Nearly threw up while writing this. Book aable feet.

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

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sunflower-lilac42 · 1 month

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✧ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐞 | trevor zegras ♔

summary: jack and the brothers show up to their sister's apartment and words were said and things were done

warnings: fighting between siblings, slut-shaming, jack being a dick, jack being sad, mentions/allusions to eating disorders/lack of eating, mentions of dying, negative/bad thoughts, allusions to panic attacks, crying, jack being sad, jack crying

file type: fic; part two - the secret's out

published: 3/29/24

notes: so here's this. i don't know if this is actually good or not or if i just babbled on for almost 5k words. however i hope you guys are pleased with this, thank you for the huge support on part one, i honestly wasn't expecting that! i am so grateful for all of you. let me know what you want to see next!! | add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!

part one (the secret's out) | nhl masterlist | main masterlist

She wasn’t expecting that. Maybe if she looked at her phone she would have a little bit more of a warning but she didn’t. She and Trevor exchanged wide glances, trying to figure out their next move. Lia looked between them, “I can tell them to fuck off if I need to. I got this.”

“I’m going to have to face them at some point. Might as well do it now.”

She pushed the covers off of her and stood up, making her way to follow Lia when Trevor stopped her, “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“What’s the worst that can happen?” She would soon regret those words.

She made her way into the foyer of their apartment, opening the door that Lia had previously closed. She looked between all three brothers, drifting her eyes to make eye contact at the various heights of the three. At first glance, they seemed perfectly fine. But to her, and Trevor, they looked pissed.

They all did this weird thing when they got angry or frustrated, y/n included. They stood with their hands in their pockets as their faces settled into a glare. They stood shoulder-width apart and stood eerily still. They could be a statue with how still they stood. Now it sounds normal, but to anyone who knows them, it wasn’t. They would all stand that way when at least one was mad.

Knowing that, when she saw them she shrunk into herself. Her eyes flickered to the ground and she stayed silent. Trevor stood off to the side and out of sight, not wanting to make matters worse for her. Luke was the least mad, he understood why they hid it and honestly was supportive of the couple. He had no reason to doubt their relationship.

At this point, Luke was the one who was most worried about her. He knew how she could tend to always do what everyone wanted her to do. She hated making people upset and hated disappointing people, especially her family. She stepped back and allowed the three to walk in, proceeding to stand in the living room.

Jack looked around and spotted Trevor, “Oh of course you’re here.”

Another thing she hated was fights. It meant that someone had done something wrong and when she was involved, it meant that she did something wrong. On top of that, the sound of fighting had always been triggered from a young age. No matter who it was, why they were shouting, where they were, it always hurt her. She couldn’t remember what made her feel this way but her parents always told her she got into a fight with her brothers and ever since then she hated it.

“Don’t be mad at-”

“Don’t be mad? You’re fucking my best friend of course I’m mad!”

“Justice for Cole, for real,” Lia murmured as she walked into her room, having no energy to deal with the situation.

Y/n flinched at his words, she really didn’t think he would be this mad. Jack redirected his attention to the boy standing in the corner, “And you? Putting your fucking hands on my sister?! Come on, dude.”

Quinn and Luke stood behind Jack, allowing him to blow off some steam. They wouldn’t let things get too out of hand. Jack continued to ramble about how betrayed he felt by both Trevor and y/n, only some words sticking out to the two of them. At this point, she was pretty sure he was getting angrier than calmer.

“You just had to go and ruin everything, didn’t you?” His eyes fell on his sister and everyone gaped at him.

Trevor pushed himself off the wall and made his way over to stand next to her, “Don’t do that, Jack. It was both of our decisions. Not just her.”

“Can’t fight your own battles anymore?”

Y/n was in shock at how he was acting. He had every right to be mad but he didn’t have to say what he was going to, what he had been saying. Though, as much as she was surprised by it, she knew she deserved it. She thought she deserved every negative thing that came her way and this was no exception. She allowed Jack to yell at her, slowly shrinking into herself as Trevor stepped in front of her.

“No wonder relationships never worked out for you. Wonder how long you’re gonna keep him around. Should’ve known you’d go after any guy that pays attention to you. Don’t know why everyone was saying I would be the slut of the family.” He ran a hand harshly through his hair.

That made her eyes tear up, it was a low blow, and everyone in the room knew it. She had never had the best track record with relationships, she was always scared of her brothers finding out that she broke them off before they had a chance to notice. There was one time when they found out that they hated him and hated the fact that she hid it from them. They got too protective and demanded she break up with him but she was going to anyway so she didn’t fight back.

Luke tried to interject after he said that, noticing the way she was practically crying. Jack silenced him by holding a finger up. Jack’s gaze once again flickered between the two before finally landing on Trevor, “You’re a dick you know that. Can’t keep a girl for the fucking life of you, can’t keep it in your pants. Well, I guess neither can she, can you y/n?”

She raised her head to look at him, eyes watering as one lone tear fell down her cheek. Jack’s mind was clouded, he couldn’t think about anything but the anger he felt. It clouded his judgment, laced his voice, and triggered his words, that’s all he could focus on. He would never speak to her like this but when the article came out and more and more people started to agree with it, he couldn’t see past the frustration.

“I mean are you even my friend anymore? What kind of friend hooks up with their friend’s sister?”

“Of course, I’m still your friend Jack, but-”

“But what? You thought with your dick instead of your head?”

“Jesus, Jack can you calm the fuck down? I get you’re mad I do, but you don’t need to say that kind of shit. Especially to y/n.”

“You know you’re gonna have to choose right? Between me and her.”

“Okay.”

Y/n looked up at her boyfriend with worry, he had just said all of these nice things about her and their relationship. It’s not that she didn’t trust Trevor to pick her, it’s just that with all the guys that she chose her brothers over, she thought this was finally karma. But Trevor’s lips turned into a smirk, “I choose her.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, matching Jack’s eyes, “You what?”

“You heard me. I love her and frankly, I’m not willing to be friends with a little bitch who yells at their sister because she finally found someone who she loved and who loved her back. And someone who’s got a bigger ego than their dick.”

If things weren’t silent before they sure were now. Trevor cocked an eyebrow as Jack stood there in silence. Not even two minutes later Jack was storming out of the apartment with his two brothers following after him. When Luke reached the door he looked back at his sister and went to take a step back but Jack called out his name and he disappeared down the hallway.

Trevor watched as y/n stumbled backward and caught her in his arms, slowly sinking down to the floor like he had done earlier when he arrived. He shushed her as the words “I hate them” tumbled out of her mouth over and over again. He placed a kiss on her forehead as tears dampened his sweatshirt, “I got you, baby. We’re gonna be okay.”

✧༺✎༻∞

Over the next week or so, y/n heavily debated what she wanted to do. If she wanted to go home to her parents, go home to Trevor’s new apartment that he had bought for them, stay away in London to hide from her problems or move to an entirely new country where no one could find her. However, none of these seemed like plausible, realistic options.

Jack’s words clouded her judgment, should’ve known you’d have gone after any guy that paid any attention to you, you’re a slut you know that, god forbid you let me have my own friends, you ruin everything. She would never be able to forget those words.

It hurt, knowing that her brothers didn’t want her as much as everyone else did. It was bad enough that she got spammed comments about her being a slut or a whore or a traitor (sure that last one wasn’t as mean as the others), but to hear it from her own brother, her twin brother. Nothing compares to that feeling and nothing will ever compare to that feeling.

She beat herself up every day about it, going as far as to try and break up with Trevor. But, Trevor was having none of it. He wasn’t going to let some self-centered jerk come and ruin all that they had worked for, and fought for, even if that self-centered jerk was her brother. Her happiness was what mattered to him and it was all that was going to matter to him.

It was five days after Jack and co. invaded her apartment. She and Trevor were on her bed, underneath the covers. She hadn’t really talked, still reeling from the events of the past week. Everything seemed to happen so suddenly, and abruptly, that no one gave her time to think about anything. It was like the Universe was punishing her for finally doing something for her and not for someone else.

“Baby?”

She looked over at him, eyes slightly becoming bigger as she hummed, “Hmm?”

“I asked what you wanted to watch.”

“Oh, I don’t care. You pick.”

Trevor frowned, “What’s wrong? I mean I know what’s wrong but like. What’s wrong?”

“Do you think they still love me?”

“Who?”

“My brothers.”

Trevor thought it was physically impossible for his heart to break anymore. He knew how much y/n adored her brothers, they were her role models, they were the ones who made sure she was at school on time, they were the ones who read books to her when they were little, they were the ones who bugged the ever-loving crap out of her, they were the ones who did everything for her.

He pulled her into a hug before pulling away and cupping her cheeks, “They love you with their whole hearts, y/n. I promise you everything I believe in.”

“Then why does it feel like they do? Like I could die and they wouldn’t care?” Her voice cracked as she spoke, suddenly becoming flustered and finding it harder to breathe.

Trevor couldn’t contain his tears any longer especially as he looked at the look on her face. He pulled her into his arms, practically shoving her head into his chest as he cried with her. Y/n felt his few tears drop down onto her head but didn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything as she cried herself to sleep.

They both fell asleep not long after that, Trevor following in her footsteps. Lia had come in to check on them about an hour after and they were still asleep. She walked out of the room and saw a figure in the living room, “How’d you get in here?!”

The figure turned around and Lia mildly calmed down, “Luke?”

Luke gave Lia his ever so charming, but awkward, half grin, “Hi.”

“Okay, this still doesn’t answer my question. How’d you get in here?”

Luke pulled a key out of his coat pocket, “Y/n gave me a copy when she was drunk and I never gave it back.”

Lia audibly “oh’d” at the words and was about to shrug it off until she turned around, “Why are you here?”

His smile crumbled, becoming more awkward, “I wanted to apologize to y/n/n. I know I wasn’t much help on Saturday but I regret it. I regret it so much. She’s my big sister, of course, I love her. And I know how much Trevor makes her happy and I just want her to be happy. There’s nothing, no one, that would change that. She deserves it more than anyone.”

“Really?”

Luke’s eyes moved to find the voice and when they laid upon her figure, his eyes teared up, “More than anything.”

Luke was the one person who was by y/n through it all. The one person who always thought she was right no matter what. He thought that she could do no wrong. Y/n was the one who gave Luke advice on everything, the one who read him bedtime stories even when she barely knew how to read, the one who gave him shit for failing miserably at talking to a girl.

He hugged her, grateful that she gave him the time to actually apologize instead of throwing him out like he thought she, or Trevor, would’ve. After Luke’s surprise visit, the four sat down and ate dinner. As much as y/n tried to hold back from asking the question, it was burning in the back of her mind, “Is Jack still mad?”

Trevor stopped eating, a piece of food shoved into the side of his mouth. He looked up at her but didn't raise his chin. He moved his gaze from his girlfriend to the boy sitting next to her as he waited for his response. Luke himself had been in the middle of drinking when she asked, and he swallowed nervously, “No.”

“No?”

“He’s um been locked in his room all week, I can hear him crying through the walls. I don’t think he’s really eaten anything.”

Y/n frowned, “I should-”

“Nah, let him wallow in self-pity a little more. He rarely ever gets to do it.”

“But if he’s not eating, Luke, that’s a problem.”

That seemed to click into Luke’s brain, “Oh shit.”

Luke fumbled for his phone all of a sudden becoming a more worried younger brother. Y/n watched in anticipation as his phone rang with Jack’s contact splayed across it. She forgot that she stole their phones and created matching contact posters for all of them and she realized that they never changed it. It was the same layout for all of them, a collage of pictures together, some funny and some meaningful. And at the center of each of them was the same picture when they were little. They were at one of the boys’ hockey games and y/n sat in Quinn’s lap with her pigtails in and her custom jersey, one that was definitely way too big for her, with all three of their names on it.

It had been a long day when that picture was taken but you couldn’t tell. All of them were sporting huge grins and everyone was trying to hold y/n up because the three knew that she could and would collapse at any moment. Just after Ellen snapped the picture, she did indeed fall asleep in Quinn’s lap, who then carried her to the car as Jim grabbed his bag (because he refused to give either of his parents his younger sister).

She missed those days, the days when everything was just simple. Where they were just four little kids, where the boys were just three brothers who loved to play hockey, where no one knew about them (well, cared about them), where she could just be a girl with three brothers. She missed the days when they were too young to know about these kinds of emotions.

Jack’s voice brought her out of her memories, he sounded as if he hadn’t spoken in days (which he hadn’t), but also sounded as if he had just got done crying, “What?”

“What are you doing right now?”

“Is this all you called me for? Aren’t you literally in the next room?”

“Yeah about that…”

“He’s with me.”

Jack was caught off guard. He sat up a little straighter, his tears stopped, and he rushed to pull himself together even though no one else was in the same room let alone the same apartment as him. His voice was hesitant as he spoke, “Y/n/n?”

“Hi, Jacky.”

The nickname sent a rush of sadness through him, he missed her and he knew he didn’t deserve to. He had been an ass and that was an understatement. His rage clouded his judgment and he took it out on her and Trevor. At this point, he wasn’t mad anymore, at least at himself. He would never forget the look on her face when he left. He’d seen that look about 5 times in his life and he was never the cause of it.

He knew he shouldn’t have said what he said, he knew he shouldn’t have even gone to London while he was mad. He wanted all of it to be over, to hide away and never see her face again because he didn’t want to face the reality of which he screwed up.

He kept repeating “I’m sorry” over and over again, all four of them listening intently and waiting for it to stop. Lia excused herself and she heard Jack sniffle, she knew this was a family, and Trevor, matter and not so much as a her matter.

When she left, Jack completely broke down. His sobs were loud against their ears, they could hear his breathing pick up, it was scary how much it sounded like y/n when she broke down, “Jack please calm down. You’re going to overwork yourself.”

However, Jack couldn’t. His mind plagued him with the idea that she was mad at him (which she wasn’t, but rather upset), that she was going to yell at him and call him names, and that she was going to stop talking to him forever.

Luke was grateful that he called Quinn before he left. He had made Quinn take a few days off to go see Jack knowing that he was going to be leaving. He didn’t want to leave him alone despite being mad at him for the way he treated their sister, especially when he was like this.

“Jack.”

It was common for y/n to take on the role of an older sister, despite being the second youngest of the family/ There was something that was always comforting about her words and her hugs that made everyone fall in love with her and make it so they opened up to her easily.

“I’m so sorry y/n/n. I love you so much and Trevor and you guys are so good together. I’m sorry I said what I said and I’m sorry I called you that. You’re not. I know you break up with everyone because of us and I hate that. I- I-'' He couldn’t breathe and she knew that. Call it twin telepathy if you please, but to them? It was just a known fact.

“Breathe Jack. It’s okay. We’re not mad at you, I promise.”

“Well…”

Y/n glared at her boyfriend who immediately shut up and sunk back into his chair. Luke stepped in while y/n went to scold Trevor, “Hey Quinn’s going to be there soon, okay? Let him in when he knocks.”

“What- why?”

“Because we’re worried about you, Jack.”

“Why? I deserve it.”

Y/n whipped her head to the phone, “No you don’t. Don’t you ever say that again. I know what you said was out of line, believe me. But you are my brother, okay? And I love you now and forever. Now unless you like to commit mass murder or do something you know is disgusting, that is never going to change.”

They could hear the knocking coming from the other end of the phone. Then they heard Jack shuffling and when he opened the door, they could hear his sobs. They were harsh, violent, and loud. Unbeknownst to the three in London, Jack practically fell into his older brother’s arms when he saw him. Quinn then picked up the fallen phone and said he would call black later, leaving the three in silence.

Trevor looked up at his girlfriend, seeing the worried look plastered on her face. He immediately stood up and wrapped his arm around her shoulder before bringing her into his chest, “He’s okay, baby. I promise.”

Her sniffles were audible but barely. Trevor thought to himself before kissing the side of her head, “Go pack. We’re going to New Jersey.”

He tapped her butt and she looked up at him with wide eyes, “What?”

“Yep, come on. I know you and you won’t stop bugging yourself about it until you see him.”

“Okay.:

Luke looked between the two, “Hey just because I said I was okay with it, doesn’t mean I want to see it.”

Y/n giggled and she wiped her eyes rid of tears, “That’s your problem, I guess.”

✧༺✎༻∞

They were lucky enough to get on the flight quickly. They were supposed to get to New Jersey at 9 Eastern time, so hopefully Jack would be okay by the time they got there. They were practically sprinting through the airport, Trevor dragging his and her suitcases behind him as Luke dragged his own. Y/n in all honestly felt as if they were in the scene from Home Alone except with fewer kids and a little more time.

When they got on the plane, they sat next to each other uncomfortably due to the lack of space, “I can’t believe we’re sitting in these seats.”

Y/n looked at Trevor with a deadpan face, “Dude are you shitting me? We booked these tickets like an hour ago.”

“Did you just dude me?”

“Did you expect anything less from her?”

“No one asked you.”

Y/n looked forward and rolled her eyes before making eye contact with one of the flight attendants, “Men am I right?”

The girl nodded her head and even gave y/n an extra set of earplugs. Trevor and Luke would not stop fighting the whole way to New Jersey it felt like, making little jabs at one another, all while y/n sat in the middle of them and blasting her music up to a “healthy” volume. One time Trevor looked over at her and hit her arm to get her input, “Don’t hit my sister.”

“Would you two actually shut the fuck up?”

The two held their hands up in surrender before slouching down in their seats like they were scolded by their mom. They crossed their arms across their chests and both held pouts, “You guys are children.”

The two didn’t say anything but an older lady came up and looked at the girl, “Thank you.”

Y/n looked up with a small smile on her face, “For what?”

“For shutting these two up.”

“Oh, it’s no problem ma’am.”

“Are you guys siblings?”

Y/n pointed to Luke first, “He is, this one over here is my boyfriend.”

“Well, you two better listen to what she says. Especially you, young man. You might lose her if you don’t.”

Trevor now turned so he was facing the older woman, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She smiled and then walked away back to her seat. Trevor then reached for y/n’s hand and brought it into his lap, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

“Ugh.”

✧༺✎༻∞

Eight hours later, the three were back to running through the airport to get to their Uber. Yet, this time it wasn’t as urgent. They were jogging at best, trying to get there quickly but also not wanting to exert more energy than they had to.

They sat in the back of the car all crammed together as they watched out their respective windows. Sometimes Trevor or Luke would nudge y/n and show what they thought was oh so interesting to them. It usually turned out to be a weird-looking tree or a dog, which she couldn’t really complain about.

When the car pulled up to the apartments, y/n thanked the driver before running up the stairs with Luke and Trevor following behind her. She knocked harshly on the door and waited for someone to answer. Quinn opened the door, “What are you guys doing here?”

“Where is he?”

“In his room, he’s sleeping.”

She pushed past him and navigated her way through the apartment and to Jack’s room. When she pressed on the door and opened it slightly, she teared up. His eyes and cheeks were puffy and red, dried tears were covering them. His hair was greasy and messy from the amount of times he had run his fingers through it.

She sat on the edge of the bed and shook him awake carefully, “Jack.”

Jack stirred a little, opening his eyes in a daze. It had been days since he was able to sleep properly. When his eyes adjusted and focused he saw her sitting there, looking just like how she always did when something went wrong. He sat up quickly but scooted back so his back was against the headboard, “What’re you doing here?”

“Making sure you’re okay.”

“Why? I don’t-”

“Don’t say it, please. I understand why you were mad, I’d be mad too.”

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have called you a slut.”

She inhaled harshly, “You’re right. You shouldn’t have, but I understand why you did. And I’m not mad at you Jack. Sure, I’m a little hurt, but that hurt will go away with time and be replaced with other memories.”

Jack gave her a look as she stood up, cocking his head to the side. She stared back, “Well are you going to hug me or am I going to have to hug myself?”

He was quick to stand up and hug her, basking in her infamous hugs, “I love you.”

“I love you too, you dork.”

A moment passed and then they pulled away from each other. Y/n was the one to speak, telling him that he was going to have to eat soon. When he protested, she responded, “Come on, Hughes siblings movie night featuring Zegras. And we’ll all eat together.”

“Okay.”

When they walked out of the bedroom, the three were sitting on the couch watching whatever hockey game was on TV.

“No hockey. We’re watching a movie.”

“Don’t say it.”

“We’re watching Descendants”

The boys groaned and she pouted, “Meanies.”

“We love you, but Descendants? Again? How old are you again? 22?”

“Don’t give me that shit, Mr. “Oh there’s nothing else on, let's watch Mighty Ducks for the 100th time.”

Jack looked at her offended, “Hey, Mighty Ducks is a classic. Trevor, help me out here.”

Trevor shook his head violently, “No way dude. I was already scolded for being too loud on the plane.”

“You got scolded?”

“Your sister’s scary!”

Y/n gave the two a look, “Oh I see. ‘I choose her’ my fucking ass.”

“Woah, too soon.”

“Descendants or I’m going back to London.”

The boys groaned out a fine and made room for her on the couch, “Jack what do you want for food?”

The other three let out protests, asking why he got to choose, “Um when was the last time you three ate?”

They sat in silence, “Exactly.”

Halfway into the movie, the food arrived and y/n got up to grab it. When she got back she handed out everyone’s food and listened as they sang Did I Mention? She smiled to herself as she heard them singing, joining in herself, “I gotta know which way to go, come on, give me a sign. You gotta show me that you’re only ever gonna be mine.”

When she sat back down, she sat next to Trevor who continued to sing into her ear as if he had written the song to her. She started blushing and as the song ended he kissed her on the cheek. They stared at each other and then she felt a wrapper hit her head, “Hey!”

“No kissing in my apartment.”

Y/n only stuck her tongue out before continuing to eat her food, comfortably resting under Trevor’s arm.

𝑴𝑰𝑺𝑪𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑬𝑶𝑼𝑺 𝑷𝑳𝑨𝒀𝑬𝑹 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

#sunny lune writes #trevor zegras #tz11 #trevor zegras x reader #hughes!sister #jh86 #qh43 #lh43 #hughes brothers #hughes brothers x reader #nhl #hockey #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey nhl

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equizona · 1 year

Text

⤷ ROMANTIC HEADCANONS

michael afton || five night's at freddy's

gender-neutral reader

masterlist, navigation

i'm having michael brainrot and I can't when write his name right and also the new tumblr update can go choke on some shoelaces

⤷ MICHAEL AFTON

Michael is the type to get jealous easily. He's insecure, has abandonment issues, is making minimum wage and has a fuck ton of trauma attached to him. He knows he isn't the best boyfriend one could ask for, and that you probably deserve so much more, so seeing you with other people he just knows are better than him? It makes him want to crawl into a hole and cry.

Despite how easily he gets jealous, he doesn't show it very often. He refuses to guilt you into staying with him, or isolate you from having relationships outside of him. His father did that with his mother, and he got front row seats to see how well that turned out for them.

Michael doesn't make a lot of money, so he can't get you expensive gifts or take you out on fancy dates. Instead you both often go on walks, have picnics and watch movies at home. He'll save up for occasional amusement park, circus or whatever else you like for dates, though he tries to save those for special occasions.

He probably stays over at your place quite often. He doesn't like to be alone and he doesn't like the idea that he'll wake up tomorrow and get a call that someone broke in and killed you, or something like that. He stays over where you live often for that reason. He doesn't let you go to his place, either, since he knows the animatronics could easily figure out where he lives if they wanted.

He gets a lot of nightmares, too. He doesn't expect you to comfort him or anything, he knows he can be stressful and doesn't want your sleep being put aside for something as stupid as a bad dream. He doesn't really want you to do so, either, since he feels so guilty. The best thing you can do for him is let him cling to you, hug him back and go back to sleep.

He most certainly has an eating disorder. He forgets to eat and drink most of the time, and majority of the time when he doesn't forget he either thinks it's too much work or too expensive or just not worth the effort. However, if you bring him food or a drink, he'll make sure to consume all of it, no matter how nauseous it makes him. If he ends up vomiting, he might have a breakdown from guilt. Especially if you made it yourself.

On a less angst filled note, Michael is really good at making food. If you have ingredients and don't mind him messing around your kitchen, he will make the most heavenly tasting food you can imagine. Since he doesn't work during the day, he'll make you breakfast when he gets back, alongside lunch for whatever you have to do during the day.

He'll also make you dinner, with him making you m meals a good chunk of the time, it makes there be at least one less thing to stress you out. At least, that's what he's hoping for. If you give him the money, he'll go grocery shopping for you as well! He has all your preferred brands memorized too, so not to worry about that.

His parents didn't teach him very basics things about hygiene or cleaning, so while he isn't really a messy person, he doesn't know how most things work and decides to just leave things where they are. If you teach him to do the dishes, use the laundry machine or a vacuum, and assure him you won't get mad if he does something wrong, he might try doing some of your chores for you.

If he does it right and it makes you happy when he does it, he'll keep doing it. It makes him pretty happy, actually, to be doing it. He remembers his classmates whining about having to do chores with their mothers while he spent most of his day worried he's get yelled at for moving a glass over to the sink from the counter. Most might think it's boring to clean, but he thinks it's nice. And if it makes you happy, and makes your life easier? He's pretty ecstatic to be doing the dishes.

Michael naturally runs really hot. He could be your personal heater easily, and he's very comfortable and warm to hug. Despite how warm he is, he gets cold super easily, so he's always dressing warm and laying under blankets, which just makes Jim run even warmer.

He has a soft spot for children. If he builds a more stable life and routine with you, he'll probably try doing babysitting during the day for some extra money. He's actually really good with kids, too, even if he might seem sort of intimidating at first. He's also able to make all of them eat their vegetables and fruits, so parents adore him as well.

He is weak for matching things. Matching outfits? Keychains? Bracelets? Phone cases? Mugs? Blankets? Shoes? He doesn't care, he just loves the idea of matching with you.

He likes doing arts & crafts. Sometimes the kids make him do it with them too, and he's pretty good! He occasionally gives you those handmade bead bracelets. If he sees you wearing them he'll probably cling to you for the rest of the day.

Michael is actually like, really good at singing. He'll sing when he cleans, when he's doing his night shifts, when he's cooking or baking. If you like his singing, he might sing you a lullaby to help you sleep. If you sing with him he will be the happiest person on earth.

He likes a lot of things that are less traditionally masculine and more traditionally feminine, like flowers and soft things. (Blankets, stuffed animals, etc.) If you get him flowers, he'll press or dry them so he can keep them for much longer.

He's not much of a fan of animals, and animals don't like him that much. The exception being foxes, since he thinks they're very pretty. If you have any pets, he'd be happy to help you takecare of them, but he won't have a very deep emotional connection with the animal.

#five night's at freddy's x reader #five night's at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf x reader #michael afton #michael afton x reader #micheal afton #micheal afton x reader #mike afton #mike afton x reader #mike schimdt #mike schmidt x reader

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ed-recovery-affirmations · 2 months

Text

I just made myself a cup of a new tea, one from a set that a friend sent me. I was super curious to try it with and without milk in it, so after I take a sip without, I'm going to add milk to my tea.

That may seem like such an inane little story to post on a blog, unless you have an eating disorder. I'm sure many of you know what a big deal milk in tea can be, and what an important act of self-love it is.

It was poured into many of our ears, approaching teenhood in the mid-2000's, not to "drink our calories." For those of us whose restriction was weight-based, many of us practiced filling ourselves with water, with our coffee black and unsweetened whether that was how we liked it or not, and with tea that never contained milk.

Like many people who've struggled with binge eating and with restriction, I struggle with creating anxiety-inducing rules about when is okay to eat, especially if I'm between meals and worrying if I should allow myself a snack, or if it's okay to quench my thirst with anything other than water. This is especially true between meals. For some reason my brain has accepted the "extra" caloric intake as part of a meal, but still balks at the idea of introducing these things independently into non-meal parts of the day. I would like to note that my chronic illness and my body's reaction to food has also influenced this weird relationship between me and my favorite treats, such as a piece of candy, or a beverage that might happen to contain a greater-than-zero calorie count.

But tonight, before bed, I want to try this tea. And it sounds like one that'd be super tasty with milk, as it has cocoa powder and vanilla in the blend. So I let my tea cool in the room with me as I type this, telling myself that I can get up and go back for milk after I taste it.

Now I have gone to the kitchen.

Now I have poured in a splash of milk and tasted. It's soy milk, as regular milk sometimes hurts my stomach and I don't want my sleep to be disrupted. Due to my chronic illness, this is still something I have to think about, and I'll be honest, I hate it. Things like this make it so hard to tell myself I can let go of my food fears, because my brain knows that some of my food fears will turn out to have validity, and so what if they all do?

Now I have poured in another splash. Tasted.

Now I have poured in a third, much larger splash. Tasted.

Oh, this is it. This tea tastes like a warm dessert. But now it's too cool, so I need to microwave it back to its best heat. I used to not want to microwave my food. As a teen I heard a hippie say that microwaves destroy the nutrients in your food because the radiation breaks down their molecular structure. This is absolutely false. In fact, it's been disproven that microwaves break down nutrients any more than other methods of heating food, but for a long time I believed it. And even after I learned the truth, I still found it hard to convince myself it was okay to use microwaves for a very long time.

I have just finished my tea in my room. I took the time to identify that I wanted it. I took the time to truly taste it in several different ways, consider how I felt I wanted it and bring it to those specifications. It wasn't planned for any specific time or day, but I agreed to give myself this the way I wanted it anyway. I've been drinking my coffee with milk every morning, too. I actually like black coffee, but I like it better with milk. And I give myself things throughout the day that I enjoy, to enhance my experience of my existence. Life is hard, and it's okay to allow yourself, to the fullest extent you can, the small joys that bring you through the day.

I wanted to share this with you. I hope you don't feel the crushing weight of morality when staring at a bottle of regular soda and the sugar-free, when you wake up with your morning coffee, when your self-care regimen includes a cup of tea. I hope you practice actively giving yourself the love you need this week. And I hope you give it to yourself exactly the way you need it.

#recovery diaries #ed recovery #restriction recovery #self care #food cw #long post

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exhaslo · 5 months

Note

I love your work so muchhhh <333

Can you do one where it's like you and Miguel are dating and it's only been like a couple weeks and he finds out you have an eating disorder and he is really supportive :)

(Also can't wait for more of puzzle pieces I love it <<<333)

Awe thank you!!! Also, sorry this was so late, holiday season got me working like crazy!

Also, not sure which eating disorder you want me to write, so I'll write this one based off a personal one.

Warning: Mentions of eating disorder, fluff

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Am I pretty enough for him?

Am I thin enough?

Am I even good enough?

A shudder escaped your lips as you stared at yourself in the mirror. Yet another day went by as these raging thoughts consumed your mind. No matter how perfect your life was. No matter how perfect of a boyfriend you had. You always worried that you were still not good enough.

Your stomach rumbled, causing you to groan lowly. You had skipped breakfast and were now planning on skipping lunch. You needed to get thinner. You wanted to be perfect for Miguel. You wanted people to believe that you were good enough for him.

You glanced at yourself once more in the mirror. You looked fine. As long as you looked the part, it was fine. Checking the time once more, you hurried. Miguel was going to pick you up and take you out on a date.

Hopefully there won't be a dinner option.

--------

There was a dinner option.

You kept your smile towards your loving boyfriend as Miguel walked you into a nice restaurant. You were so happy to find someone like him. Miguel was tall, strong, handsome and so kind to you. No one had ever checked all of those boxes.

"Wow, this place is beautiful. How'd you find this place, Miguel?" You asked, staring in awe at the architeceture.

"Well, I get a lot of recommendations from my coworkers that I usually tune out," He told you.

You chuckled lowly, finding his dull humor cute and funny. Miguel worked at Alchemax, one of the largest companies in the world. He was a great scientist, honestly an actual genius for his age. All the more reason why you had to be perfect for him.

All eyes were on Miguel. He was well known for what he did at Alchemax, that and he was the CEO's son; something that he did not like to admit. So money was also not an issue for him. Another secret box you had to check off.

"Order whatever you want. I was told the food here is amazing," Miguel said as he started with a drink. You hesitated,

"Oh, I'm not really hungry. Maybe just an appetizer." You lied. Miguel watched you order a water,

"Are you sure?"

"Yep!"

--------

Miguel kept staring at you as you scanned the menu. He furrowed his brows, observing your every movement. Miguel did not want to say anything yet, especially not in public. Instead, Miguel decided to order a bunch of food for himself.

"All of that?" You nearly gasped. Miguel resisted a chuckle,

"I had a long morning. Need to refuel, you can help yourself to try any of it." He offered.

Miguel saw your hesitated smile before you refused his offer. Once the table side bread came in, Miguel watched as you nearly drooled for them. He swore there were tears forming as you held back from eating. As concerned as he was, Miguel knew better than to ask you here.

He didn't want you to cry in public. Miguel didn't want to hurt you in anyway. There had to be a reason why you were holding back. Miguel was understanding. He wanted to know what you were thinking. What you were feeling.

"Wow, everything smells so good," You whispered as the waiter placed the mountain of food in front of the two of you.

"Enjoy," Miguel hummed as he stared at your salad, "Hm, looking at it now, I don't think I can eat all of this alone."

"B-But why did you order so much?!"

"It looked and sounded good," Miguel chuckled towards your reaction.

You looked so cute when you were eager to try something new. You were just perfect to Miguel. The smile on your face as you did anything new with him was enough. Just your touch alone was enough for Miguel.

You were the best thing that had ever happened to him.

And Miguel wanted to make sure that he was being a good boyfriend to you.

----------

Dinner was both amazing, yet horrible. Your stomach was hurting so much because you were starving. All of that food just made you want to cry. It looked so good, but if you even took a bite, you knew that you would gain so much weight.

"(Y/N), now that we're alone, may I ask you something?" Miguel asked softly as you sat in his car.

"Sure,"

"Why are you forcing yourself to starve?" His voice was low as he turned to face you, "You look exhausted, baby, and pale. I'm worried for your health."

"Ah-"

You were at a loss for words. Before you could even process a response in your mind, your tears rolled down like a broken dam. Your chest tighten and burned as you tried to control yourself. Your breathing shallow as you whimpered those sad sobs you've been holding back.

"Baby, don't cry. Come here," Miguel pulled you into his embrace, rubbing your back, "How long have you been holding this in?"

"I-I just...I'm not good enough for you. I need to lose weight. I'm too fat." You sobbed into his chest. Miguel stroked your hair,

"You're perfect," Miguel sighed softly, thinking about his words very carefully, "Starving yourself isn't the way to lose weight. You're just hurting yourself."

"It's the only way I can. I...I can't eat anything or..."

"(Y/N), eating a healthy meal won't make you gain weight. No matter what you look like, I will always love you."

"I...But-"

"How about this, for every meal I eat...You eat." Miguel offered, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

Your heart raced with fear as you looked at Miguel. You couldn't eat. You just couldn't. You were convinced that everything was going to make you gain weight. You had to eat less. You needed to lose weight for him.

"You're perfect, (Y/N). My perfect girl," Miguel whispered as he pecked your lips, "It hurts seeing you in pain."

"You say that now...But when I'm overweight-"

"I'll love you just the same." Miguel said firmly, "We'll start slow. Easy and simple foods then we can move on to bigger meals, okay?"

"...Small...right?"

"Yes, small."

You fiddled with your thumbs as Miguel kept comforting you. You could still feel how hot your cheeks were from crying. Your eyes stung and you were parched. Sniffling lowly, you glanced at your wonderful boyfriend,

"...I am...a little hungry..." You whispered. Miguel smiled as he put his seatbelt on,

"Is soup a good small start for you?"

"I'd like that,"

--------

From then on, Miguel helped you eat more little by little. With each meal he praised you and comforted your looks. Miguel helped your self esteem every day. His loving comments and actions helped you finally eat normally.

Eventually, you were finally able to look in the mirror without shame.

Sometimes you still had those thoughts of starving yourself, but you had Miguel to wash them away.

You were fine, just the way you are.

Always will be.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope you enjoyed it! Like mentioned, I just used a personal issue of mine since I wasn't sure what disorder you wanted to me write about since everyone has something different.

But to those of you out there struggling, I know it hard. I still sometimes starve myself, but you're not alone! Please eat something! Start small! When in doubt, soup is my always go too!

Especially Pho. I will eat the shit out of Pho.

Anyway, stay safe and healthy out there!!

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel x you

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larissareadings · 3 months

Text

It’s okay, love.

➤ pairing: Draco Malfoy x gryff!fem!reader (house barely mentioned).

Request: None

tw: eating disorder; mentions of bullying and anxiety attack.

Note: I’ve wrote this based on personal experiences and what I needed at the time. DO NOT read this if it’s not comfortable for you. If you or someone you know is struggling with an eating disorder, please reach out for help.

English is not my native language so I’m sorry if there is any mistakes. This is my first fic ever so it might not be so good. I hope you enjoy it though.

Summary: Y/N is a keeper at the Gryffindor (barely mentioned) team, who has been developing an eating disorder and Draco Malfoy seems to be only one who noticed it.

Y/N always had problems with her body image. At her early teens at Hogwarts she used to be mocked, mostly by Pansy Parkinson and her friends, because she was too thin. When Y/N turned 14, she started gaining weight since she was eating too much due to her increased anxiety, and then she was again being mocked, except now because she was getting fat, and everyone talked about it, even when they didn’t want to be mean, saying things like “you should get on a diet”. By 16, Y/N started focusing on her weight loss journey, she was finally gonna be health, delicate and beautiful as the other girls her age.

Some months later

It was right after the quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. They won, of course, since you’ve let too many quaffles go through the goal hoops. You’re a keeper at the Gryffindor team, and you’re good at it. When you’re not dizzy anyway.

“It happened again, didn’t it?”

you heard the familiar voice behind you. It sounded soft, which was not a usual thing. You closed your locker and turned around to face Malfoy. The others had already left the locker room, so now it was just you and him.

"It happened what again, Malfoy?" you asked him, trying to sound indifferent, when you were all, but that. He had some power over you, it was irritating actually, how nervous you would get when he was around.

Malfoy has been acting weird these past few months, he didn't tease you anymore. When his friends said anything about you, he would either just leave or just stare at you, but never laugh with them, never contribute to their bullying. He was the only one in the group who said nothing about your recent weight loss. The others did. Pansy would never loose the chance to say you finally learnt to shut your mouth.

You hated that he hadn't said anything, you worried you hadn't lost enough weight for him to notice, and you wanted him to see that you could be pretty too.

He looked in you up and down, checking you, before focusing on your eyes again and said "Dizziness."

You didn't understand why he was saying this, why he would notice you feeling dizzy. "Yeah.. just a little. I'm bit distract that's all". A few seconds went by where he said nothing, just stood there looking at you. Was that concern in his eyes? You couldn't tell. "Look, uhmm, I don't know where this is coming from, but I have to go. If you have any jokes to make about me being a bad keeper, or an ugly, fat bad keeper or whatever" you noticed him flinch at that, as if it had hurt him. "say it now or leave it for tomorrow 'cause I'm really tired and just wanna go to my bed"

He walked towards you, enough for him to talk low and look closely into your eyes, making you even more nervous, and said "You have to stop this, Y/N, it's making you sick."

"I don't know what you talking about"

Now he let out a breath in disbelief. "Oh, you don't know what I'm talking about? Let my clarify to you, then, It's a very simple concept, really, I thought you would know it by now." He was actually getting angry. "In order to live, people have to eat. It's the only way to get nutrients into your body. Really, Y/N, that's basics"

"I know about that. It's a good thing I eat, then, right?'' You said also angry now with his sudden aggressiveness.

"Do you though? 'Cause what I'm seeing-" he said gesturing to your body "is a girl fading away, a girl who plays with food at lunch instead of actually eating it, a girl who who used to be a great keeper, but now can't barely stand in a broom because is too weak to do so." He could feel his heart in his throat. He was so nervous, so scared you would fall off that broom. More than he could ever admit. He was keeping his worry to himself for months, hoping you would stop, hoping someone would intervene, but no one did. People just kept either praising your weight loss or humiliating you. But he couldn't stop himself anymore, if you had got hurt today, he would never forgive himself.

You felt your heart skip a beat at that. He was worried. Really worried. You didn't know how to react. You felt seen, someone saw what you were going through. But you also felt good, reassured. So you WERE thinner, and he noticed. “You know what? I don’t get it. Weren’t you and your friends the ones who said I was too heavy to play quidditch? that my weight would slow me down? that I would fall? that the broomstick couldn’t take it?” you now had tears in your cheeks. Your vision was blured by the tears and, God, you were so tired.

Malfoly’s heart might’ve actually broke in that moment. He was so angry at everyone who didn’t notice you hurting yourself, when he was actually the who drove you into it.

‘‘I am so tired.” you kept talking now, tears rolling down your face. “Why is it never enough? I’m tired. I’m thin, I’m ugly. I’m fat, I’m ugly too, and disggusting. I need a diet. I do a diet. and now fading away? OH well, just let me be happy for once.and I am happy now, ok? I’m finally beautiful.” You were talking so fast and you were feeling so weak. Malfoy saw that, so he immediately hold you in a hug, preventing you from falling. Your head were now in his chest, and you were trying to stop crying, trying to make your heart go back to it’s normal rhythm.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, love.” He said stroking your hair. “I’m sorry” he said almost inaudible.

After a few minutes you heart and breathing were finally stable again. You detached yourself from his harms, although his hands were still in both sides of your arms. You looked up to him with watery eyes. You hated crying in front of people. "I'm sorry" you said.

"It's okay." He said again, looking back at you. Taking his hesitant hand, like he was afraid to actually break you, to clean your cheeks from the tears. "I promise".

"Why are you doing this?" you were really confused. You had never seen Malfoy this gentle and.. scared?

He caressed you cheeks while looking from your eyes to your mouth. He then joined your foreheads and spoke really low, like a whisper. “I need you, Y/N.”

“what?” you said also in a whisper. you couldn't believe what you were hearing.

“I need you, and I need you to get better. This is making me crazy. I’m scared all the time. I’m scared you’re gonna fall off the stairs, or the broom. I’m scared of you getting hurt. Please.. just- just let me help, ok? Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Anything.”

“Can you.. uhmm. eat? with me, I mean” you asked detaching your heads to look in his eyes.

“Sure” He said immediately. “Is that all?”

“No.” you let out a breath in relief with his answer and smile a little. “But it may be a start. I think”

“Ok.” He returned your smile. “You should probably talk with someone else, though. Someone who could help more. A professor, maybe. I’ll go with you, if you want me to.”

“Yeah.. ok. Can we go to McGonagall, then? Not now, please. When I’m ready.”

“Of course. Anyone you want, love.” He said looking back at you before you hugging him again. Letting your head rest in his chest while he stroke your hair again. This felt like home to both of you. You were so scared, but he was hopeful. He would do anything for you to feel better.

This whole not eating thing made you so tired, but it was also so addictive. You didn’t know if you could ever get better, but maybe this was a start. Having someone to lean on, someone who cared.. it certainly helped.

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy angst #angst with a happy ending #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy imagine

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blackopals-world · 11 months

Text

I Found Home

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6)(Part 8)

Part 7

Feeding the baby

Jamil

"The Negotiator"

It was that time again. Lunch.

It was the designated time to introduce new foods to Grimm. She couldn't do it in the morning because he'd get fussy, and couldn't do it during dinner or he might not eat and go to bed hungry. Yuu never wants Grimm to go into a state where food is withheld like when he was before she adopted him.

Grimm was a picky eater of anything that was food. He'd eat pet food, buttons, paper, and anything else he could get his hands on before real food. The doctor called it Pica. Grimm was malnourished for a long time and developed disordered eating.

The doctor offered Yuu options on how to deal with it with comfort that Grimm will likely grow out of it.

So every lunchtime Yuu prepared small samples of food to try. There was baby food, raw fruits/veggies, and simple cooked foods. Last was a plate of "safe" food Yuu knew Grimm would eat.

Yuu stated with something simple "sliced peaches".

Jamil was busy but nearly as busy as he used to be. He could afford to take a day off even if he was a government official, a world leader at that. Kind of a big deal. He was no longer a common bureaucrat.

When he was younger he wanted power and control and he earned it. The youngest member of his cabinet, he ran on a platform for workers' rights.

And Kalim. Well...

Yuu always worried about Jamil and as much as she cared about Kalim she had objections.

"You're friendship can't last much longer. It can't take any more strain." She sighed.

"I don't have a choice. He needs me and I have to serve him." Jamil reasoned, he didn't like it either.

"I hate-!" She started to yell before taking a deep breath and sighing. She shook her head. "I hate when you say things like that. Jamil, you are a human being. You have free will. You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

He wished he believed her back then because she was right.

Jamil left Kalim's side. He couldn't live his life as a servant. It was best for both of them in the end. Now they were actually friends with no power imbalance.

Kalim learned to take care of himself. After a poisoning incident, Jamil got angry calls from his parents who blamed him for leaving. Hamil in turn blamed Kalim's family who were truly to blame. In turn Kalim stood up for Jamil.

Afterwards, Kalim took his role seriously with no one to cover for him. He needed to move on his own merit. He made the difficult choice to deal with his family. He cast out any threats, and hardened his heart when his murderous siblings begged forgiveness. He got security from Floyd's organization. He learned to protect himself and handle his own food. He had grown up and now understood Jamil.

They both were happier than ever and while their work lives never met they still hang out together. Kalim often jokes that they both have to worry about poisoning and kidnapping now.

Jamil owed it to Yuu. He learned the day she left that you have to do what you want before you lose the chance. Now he wanted to tell her all of this in person.

"One more bite?" Yuu asked holding out a spoonful of peaches.

Grimm didn't like the texture at all. One bite was enough but as his mother lingered with the offending spoon he was getting mad. He was tired. He wanted the food he liked.

There was a knock on the door. Yuu wasn't expecting anyone. It might be the neighbor.

Yuu stood and wiped her hands on her apron after telling Grimm to stay put. Grimm pouted as he raised is arms to be picked up.

"No, Grimm." Yuu said sternly.

Grimm bounced up and down on his booster seat as he waved his arms. A velcro baby at his finest but Yuu didn't give in.

She opened the book to find an old friend. Audibly, she gasped.

"Jamil?!" She knew it was in an instant. Yes, he looked different but I was still the Jamil she knew.

His hair was longer if that was possible and it was tied back in a long braid. Yuu reached up and brush her hand over his cheek. She could feel remnants of stubble prick her skin.

"Jamil you look...great." Yuu let out a breathless sigh of astonished joy.

Jamil shared the sentiment. Yuu had filled out since their time together. Her hair was tied up loosely. She had a glow now.

"So do you. Look at yourself." Jamil smiled pulling Yuu into a hug. A tight comforting squeeze you give to someone you have missed for so long.

"What are you doing here?" She asked after they let go.

"To see you, what else?" Jamil said pulling her right back for another hug "Have you gotten bigger?"

Yuu laughed as she smacked the hands that squeezed her hips. She then remembered that she still had a toddler to feed.

"You should come in. We're having lunch." Yu said leading Jamil away from the doorway.

"We?" He asked but when he saw the pouting red-faced little boy.

"Grimm, this is my friend Jamil" Yuu said "Jamil, this is my son Grimm."

Grimm visibly deflated. His eyes lit up with curiosity as he waved his hand.

Jamil felt a twisting in his chest. He had one again come in second and someone else had taken the place he coveted. He wouldn't blame Yuu though, if she decided to start seeing someone she had that right.

"Your husband is out right now? I kind of want to meet him." Jamil said, his voice was tight. He did want to meet this guy but only to compare himself. He had high expectations.

"Jamil, I don't have- It's just us here." Yuu frowned as she pulled him into the next room. "Look, I know Grimm has just adjusted to having someone to take care of him. I don't need him feeling unwanted because I'm perpetually single and can't give him a father."

"I'm sorry, I thought- I wasn't trying to hurt you. I believed that if you did have a child there was no chance the father wouldn't have already married you long before then." Jamil put a hand on her shoulder.

Jamil didn't know what he did but he had a toddler in his lap. Grimm was currently playing with the gold beads and clasps in Jamil's hair.

"Don't let him put one in his mouth. He will eat it." Yuu warned making Jamil's plate in the kitchen. " Try to feed him the food in the bowls."

Jamil carefully redirected Grimm away from his hair and turned him to face the assortment of colorful kiddie bowls. Each one was filled with a colorful arrangement of snack-sized samples."

He picked up a small spoon and a bowl of what he thought was pureed squash and tried to give it to get Grimm to eat it.

"No!" He yelled as he hid his face. Well he coved his eyes and thought if he can't see it then it wasn't there.

Jamil tried to remember if object permanence happened at different ages.

Jamil then tried a spoon of mandarin orange slices.

Grimm cautiously sniffed it but he caught wind of the sugary syrup and covered his mouth.

"You're right, I hate this stuff too." Jamil sighed putting it back.

Next up pickles. Grimm took one bite and his face scrunched up like one of those baby-eating lemon videos. Grimm didn't hate it though, he was just confused about why the cucumber tasted weird.

Next on the list was some lightly seasoned grilled sliced zucchini, carrots, and mushrooms. Jamil recognized the sauce used, it was similar to the kind he made when he had to get Kalim to eat vegetables.

Grimm didn't want it and immediately he shook his head.

Jamil contemplated using his unique magic to "convince" the boy to eat. Then he remembered that Mother dearest would scalp him if he tried.

"Fine if you don't want it. I'll eat it. Your Mom and I used to eat this together." Jamil said eating a veggie slice himself.

Grimm saw Jamil eat his food and began whining as he tugged on the adult's shirt. He poked out his lip and gave Jamil his best puppy dog expression.

"Gimmie some. Please." Grimm asked almost forgetting his manners.

Jamil smiled slyly as he fed the toddler veggies.

"Do you like it?" He asked smugly.

"It's yummy." Grimm nodded "Thank you."

Grimm seemed to get into a better mood as he finally ate.

Yuu came back into the dining room and placed a plate of masala fish curry and rice in front of Jamil with a cup of tea.

"You okay, Grimm can be clingy but it seems he likes you." You said reaching down to pick up Grimm and put him back in his seat.

Grimm squirmed to grab hold of Jamil and hold on to him.

"No, mama!" He pouted.

"It's okay Yuu. He can stay." Jamil said shifting his hold so that he comfortably cradled Grimm. He found the kid pretty cute.

Yuu sighed as he sat across from them. She thought that Grimm had enough of experimenting for the day and gave him his usual food. A plate of cut strawberries with bananas, half a Pb&J, and cream spinach. Cream spinach is a new entry after he liked it during their last taste test. Grimm was in a stage where he needed iron-rich foods along with calcium and zinc. That along with Pica. He needs food like this.

Unfortunately, Grimm had lost interest in his food and wanted whatever Jamil was eating. Jamil redirected Grimm a few times but eventually gave in and shared his food.

Yuu watched as Grimm ate tiny spoonfuls of fish and rice. Jamil would wipe the red sauce that would smear across the toddler's mouth. He was a natural with Grimm.

"You should at least try to eat some of your own food especially if we are sharing," Jamil said firmly spooning some spinach into Grimm's mouth. But Grimm only ate after Jamil did.

"He really listens to you. What's you're secret?" Yuu laughed.

"No idea, he's your son." Jamil thought that was answer enough.

"Book time!" Grimm yelled dragging a book down the stairs.

He held up a red book with gold lettering "The Serpent of the Sands". Jamil raised an eyebrow as she glansed at the nervous Yuu.

"You wrote a book." He said reading her name on it.

The book was about two brothers. One kind the other clever. They searched for a great treasure together but when they found it the magic staff chose the kind brother as its master. The clever brother was angry because if he had not helped they would have never found it. The staff whispered to the clever brother that he was the true master until he betrayed his kind brother. But the clever brother realized that it was the staff that was corrupting him. Usually, the story ends where the clever brother would give the staff back after realizing that he couldn't weird the staff like his brother but instead, he snapped it in half. No power was better than risking everyone with corrupted power. The clever brother knew that he didn't hate his brother, he hated the situation that put them against each other. They reunited before parting ways on their own journeies.

It was a beautiful tale based on what Yuu wanted for her friends. Jamil could see that. He knew that he was the brother in the story. He wished he had read it a long time ago. In the end, Yuu was right about everything. He felt like a dumbass for not listening. He loved that about her.

TagList:@kamisatoaiko@professionalreblogs@kai200x@lianreine@loivre @code-roevember @growingupnrealizing @ryxmix @blazestar0525 @botswanasvetlana @shrimpyfishyy @imasimpsowhat06 @nooneknows8976

@utaubara @springdrop-701 @ayachansan @otomyoli @savanaclaw1996 @who-mst @cloudy51 @siren-serenity @bontensbabygirl @queen-shiba @night-shadowblood-writes2 @colombia-chan @canubringmeacokepls @mikk-o @twistedcece @dreamlessnight @spritofthesea @angelicupiid@naroshinozaki

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst jamil #jamil viper x reader #twisted wonderland jamil #jamil x yuu #jamil viper #twisted wonderland yuu #twst yuu

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

Text

Don't Speak 35

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, allusions to abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: we got that xmas hangover.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You get to the bottom of your glass before you’re even done your sides. You pick at the white meat and smear it into the puddle of gravy that floods the plate. Each bite is better than the last, easing that tenuous knot in your stomach. You haven’t eaten like this in weeks.

“More wine?” Steve offers as he grabs the bottle again, topping up his own glass before gesturing to your own.

Andy clears his throat as you look up. For a moment, there was only you and the plate. A soft fog limns the edges of your vision and dampens your worries. You peek around as Amber leans in from your other side.

“I’ll take some more if there’s enough,” Amber shifts her glass over, a mouthful still in the belly, “it’s so good. I’ll have to take a picture of the label.”

Her arm touches yours. She’s giving you permission, more so encouraging you. Is it so bad to enjoy yourself? Even Andy said today is special. A little bit of wine isn’t so bad. You barely feel any different.

“Sure, I’ll… I’ll have a bit more, please.”

Andy sniffs but you refuse to look at him again. You caught the glint of his disapproval before. He’s never happy with anything you do unless it’s… that. Steve pours the golden wine into your glass, then Amber’s, only a small amount left in the bottom as he sets the bottle down.

You chew on a gristly portion of meat, the clink of cutlery filling the strained silence. Amber sighs and takes a drink, carefully placing the flat base of her glass on the table. She swallow as stirs her mashed potatoes.

“So, you said you were almost done your painting?” She begins, “I’ll have to check it out after dinner.”

“Mm,” Andy grumbles, “garage gets pretty cold this time of year.”

“I’ll put a coat on,” Amber shrugs, “I’d love to see what you’ve been working on. You know I always love your art. Actually…” you can tell she’s rambling, out of nervousness, but more to fill the lull, “I was hoping you might make me something, if you have the time.”

“I could…” you begin.

“She can give you a quote,” Andy intones curtly. Your eyes flick over to him, surprised. “Can’t make much off a hobby.”

“Oh, of course, I wouldn’t presume,” Amber says, “materials plus work.”

“I hate to overstep but I’d love to have a look as well,” Steve says.

Your eyes round and you nod, cheeks hot at the prospect of showing them. Your work is always so personal and this piece feels even more so. Your first major commission and it’s almost done. It’s a real accomplishment, how did you not see that before?

“Sure,” you gulp.

“After the banana pudding of course,” Amber insists, “save some room, bub.”

You smile as your stomach squeezes tight. If you eat much more, you won’t have room for dessert. You reach for your glass to wash down the stuffing. The wine makes you feel hollow, it gives you room for more.

“Lot of sugar,” Andy comments.

“It’s Thanksgiving,” Amber shrugs, “what’s a few extra calories? Besides, it's tradition.”

“Your tradition,” Andy snips.

“Well, if you don’t want any, more for us, right, bub?” She nudges you gently with her elbow.

You nod, “it’s my favourite.”

“Bub?” Andy scoffs, “she’s an adult.”

Amber sits back sharply and hovers her fork over her plate. She stares at Andy as he glares back. Tension roils between them.

“And I’m so proud of her,” her words drip with venom, "she’s come so far. Steve,” she looks at the therapist as he watches with arched brows, “thank you so much for all you’ve done for my sister. I see how far she’s come.”

“She’s a strong woman,” Steve leans on an elbow and lifts his glass, “she’s doing all the heavy lifting.”

Your chest flutters as you kick your legs in giddiness. The smile he aims at you takes your breath away. It feels good to have someone proud of you, but him? It’s amazing. You feel like you could do anything, that he truly believes that you can.

“Thanks,” you squeak and take another drink.

Andy huffs and sits back. Your gaze meets his as you swallow and pull the crystal rim away from your lip. You lick away the glisten of wine as he watches you. Your glee quickly dissipates as the heat of the alcohol mingles with the blaze of his chagrin. You’re almost annoyed by it.

Why can’t he just be happy? Everyone else is.

🕊️

“Good job,” Amber preens as you slice fresh banana, “whipped cream is ready.”

She lines up the four clear bowls on the counter as she stands beside you. She pulls close the bowl of banana pudding and spoons it into each. You can smell the banana-ey goodness. It makes your wine-coated stomach growl.

“Then some cream,” she dollops some of the whipped cream onto each, “and then,” she slides a bowl your way, “you can add as many slices as you like.”

You arrange five slices on the first bowl; one in the center and four around the edge. She passes the next bowl and you do the same. She adds a spoon to each and spins one in admiration.

“Alright, we’ll get it on the tray,” she declares.

You nod, stifling a yawn. Your eyes are itchy as the large meal weighs down your stomach. You could nap right then and there. The wine’s glimmery effect doesn’t help your state as you feel slightly off kilter after two and a half glasses.

She loads up the rectangle tray with the bowls, then pulls over a round one. She places the full teapot beside the coffee urn, then stacks four cups on it, alongside some spoons, the sugar bowl, and a small jug of dairy.

“You got that,” she gestures to the pudding.

You grab the tray and slide it to the edge of the counter. Your fingers loop through the slots in the side and you lift it, focusing on keeping it all steady. You smile as Amber balances the tray of drinks.

“You feeling okay?” She asks.

“Yes,” you chirp, “I’m excited for the pudding.”

She laughs and shakes her head, “always were easy to please.”

She leads you into the front room. The football game buzzes on as Andy sits with his chin in his hand, elbow on the armrest, and Steve stands by the mantel, playing with the signed baseball. It’s stolidly silent beneath the drone of sport commentators.

“Coffee, tea,” Amber places her tray on the low table, “and my famous banana pudding. Well, she did most of the work.”

She turns and smiles at you. You look around as you falter. You just stare dumbly, unsure of what to do next.

Steve makes you flinch as he approaches, “may I?” He waves a hand towards the tray in your arms. You nod and he takes one with a thanks. “Mmm, smells and looks delicious.”

He backs away, cradling the bowl with one hand as he stirs the spoon around. You turn awkwardly and march over to Andy. You offer the tray and his dull gaze drifts to you. He sits back and lets his arm fall straight over the armrest.

“I’m full,” he says.

You wince and look down. Oh. You just stand there.

“Here,” Amber comes up and touches your elbow, “let me get this.”

You spin, startled, and the bowls slide over the tray. One flips over the edge as Amber catches the tray and the pudding splatters onto the carpet around your feet. You squeak and look down as your sister takes the tray from your grasp. She sets it by the coffee and tea as you step back and gape at the mess.

“Jesus…” Andy sighs as he leans forward to take in the mess.

“Accidents happen,” Amber takes your hand and guides you away from the pudding, “no big loss…” she gets down to scoop up the globs with her bare hand back into the bowl, “you’re not having any and nothing broke.”

You look between them. Andy scowls as Amber is unbothered. She gathers up the sticky mess and stands.

“I’ll go grab some paper towel,” she says.

“That’s gonna be hard to get out,” Andy glowers at the carpet.

“I can get it out,” Amber assures, “don’t let me ruin dessert.”

She strolls out and you hear her clinking in the kitchen. She appears again with the roll of paper towel and a bowl of water. She gets down and starts her tedious work of trying to sop up the remnants.

“You know, it didn’t get too deep,” Amber says as she works.

You watch her and sway, putting a heel back to keep yourself steady. You cover your mouth and swallow a burp. Your sister looks up at your looming figure.

“Have some pudding, bub.”

You murmur, something indiscernible. It’s hard to move as you feel Andy watching you. You know you messed up again. That he’s upset. He won’t eat the pudding and now you’ve gone and made a mess.

You tremble as you feel an ache inside. For an instant, you feel smothered, as if you're being held down.

“It’s good,” Steve encourages as he shows half a banana slice on his spoon, “thanks, girls.”

You try to smile at him but can’t. Instead, you claim a bowl but your excitement is gone. You flop onto the couch, catching your spoon before it can tip over the edge, and rest the bowl in your lap. You’re going to be good and eat your pudding. You can’t get in trouble if you focus on that.

“She’s drunk,” Andy accuses as your spoon clacks loudly on the side of the bowl.

“She’s fine,” Amber insists as she wets the paper towel, “really, she had two glasses, she’ll survive.”

“She doesn’t drink,” he retorts.

“What number is that?” She glances at the green bottle by his elbow, “three? Four? You said it yourself, she’s an adult.”

He snarls, “do you always come into people’s houses and argue with them?”

She tuts and shakes her head. She says nothing though you see her response clenched in her jaw. She continues her work, drying up the patch with a folded square of paper towel before standing. She disappears into the kitchen and returns.

She grabs a bowl and sits between you and Andy. She leans over as you stir your pudding but don’t taste it. You’re embarrassed and your appetite is gone.

“Come on, bub, it’s your favourite,” she coaxes.

You sniffle, only then feeling the prick in your eyes. Andy’s right, you’re drunk. You don’t feel good. You’re dizzy and tired and you just want to hide.

“I’m sorry…” you babble.

“Aw, bub, it’s okay. You can always save it for later,” she assures you, “do you need some water?”

“I told you, you gave her too much wine–”

“Andrew,” Amber snaps as she whips her head around, “she’s fine. We’re fine. I got it.”

“Don’t talk to me like that. In my home,” Andy girds.

“Everyone, chill out,” Steve puts his empty bowl on the tray, “you’re both stressing her out. That’s all. She’s fine,” he nears the couch, “how about we get some fresh air, huh?”

Amber looks up at Steve, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t meaning to–”

“No, don’t be,” he assures as he gently takes the bowl from your hands, “it’s part of therapy. One of her exercises. She gets overstimulated.”

“Oh?” Amber looks at you and back to the doctor, “yeah, she… does.”

“I suggest the both of you take a few breaths as well,” he chuckles as he helps you stand, “we’ll be a couple minutes.” He touches your arm as you get to your feet, barely feeling your own body move, “hey, how about we get your coat on and go outside?”

Your eyes flick up and you nod blankly. You don’t really understand what he’s saying, you just know he wants to get you away from this. You wish they could just get along. You wish you didn’t cause all this trouble.

“I’m sorry, bub,” Amber says.

“You two,” Steve points at your sister then Andy, “talk this out.”

Silence, sweltering and suffocating pervades the room as the doctor leads you out. Only the television continues to blare as he stops you in the entryway and pulls a coat onto your shoulders. He gets down to lead your feet into your boots and then puts on his own.

He opens the front door and shuffles you outside. The autumnal air sweeps around you and you pull the coat snug against the shiver that rolls through you. You look down as a swell of woodsy scent tickles your nostrils. It’s his coat. It’s loose on you but warm.

You look up at Steve as he stands, unaffected in the thick wool of his sweater. He puts his hand on your shoulder and squeezes, “tough day.”

“I… I am drunk,” you admit.

“That’s fine,” his hand trails down your arm, “you’re allowed to indulge, sweetheart. And a day like this, who wouldn’t?”

“He’s mad,” you say.

“Let him be.”

“But…”

“The both of them are too stubborn for their own good. They both love you but they can’t see past that. They shouldn’t be fighting for your love, they need to share it,” he runs his hand back up as you teethe your lip. He touches your cheek, the warmth of his fingertips making you shudder, “but I can’t blame them. You’re a special girl, who wouldn’t want all of you?”

You bat your lashes up at him. Huh? You don’t know what he means, but it feels good. Everything he says is just so wonderful.

He smiles at you, his fingertips dancing along your jaw. You gaze up at him, hypnotized by his deep blue eyes. In that moment, you feel drawn to him, magnetized by his touch. He steps closer and you quiver again. His eyes fall to your legs as you rub them together, the cold wind gusting up your short skirt.

“Oh, you must be freezing,” he drops his hand back to your shoulders, “you’d be much cozier in one of your cute little sweaters huh?”

You nod, dumbly. You can’t speak. You can only think about the weight of his large hand on his shoulder. You think about the vibrator in your drawer…

“Here, you need this,” he surprises you as he pulls you close, embracing you against the chill, “it’s amazing what a good hug can do.”

You stand stiff and stunned. His scent rises from his sweater and from the coat around your shoulders. You’re consumed by it and the heat rippling off of him. You let yourself sink into him, bending your arms slowly to hug him back. Something you’ve never really done with anyone but Amber.

“It’ll be okay, sweetheart,” he coos as he rocks you, “you’re doing really good. Don’t let them ruin all your hard work.” He pets your head and nuzzles your hair, “you’re a very good girl,” he purrs, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Dr. Kemp,” you press your cheek against his chest and close your eyes, a smile dimpling into your cheeks.

“Alright, so you keep being good for me, sweetheart,” he strokes down the back of your neck, “when we go back in, you’re going to be strong, right?”

“Yes, doctor,” you murmur.

“Good girl,” he praises again, gently releasing you and leaving you even colder than before, “I know you care about both of them but remember, you can tell them no.” He drags his hand around you frame your face, “I think they need to hear it.” He drops his hand, turning his palm up as he turns halfway back to the door, “ready?”

You reach for his hand and squeeze it, facing the suburban facade, “I’m strong,” you repeat, “I’m gonna be good.”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #steve kemp #defending jacob #fresh #au #library au #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #don't speak #series

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