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cosmiclatte28 · 3 years

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One More Night (Jaehyun x you ft Doie)

a/n : I am not forcing anyone to read this, this has sort of a sad angst theme. Jae was abusive here and I don’t mean anything to him.. it’s pure fanfic :”) sorry this is in my head and I had to let this out

warning : jaehyun is abusive but he is depressed and sad, doyoung is your manager. Sorry for curses and mentions of alcohol, cigarette, and self harm. angst

don’t force yourself to read this

You don’t understand yourself. Why aren’t you leaving him? After all he had done to you, his words hurt, his actions pained you, you always go home with bruises, but can you leave him? You can, but your heart doesn’t want to.

Like today, your boyfriend called you again to come to his house. Being the good caring lover, you follow his order. As expected, he called you because he had a rough day.

“I'm tired, i'm so tired (y/n).” Jaehyun slammed his third glass of beer on the counter as he sobs harder next to you.

You extend your arm, to grab his shoulder and rub soothing circles there, seeing Jaehyun broke down like this is more painful than letting him lash out his emotion to you.

“You're strong Jae,” you try to calm him down. He was ranting about his life, how his work life in the leading media corporation is stressful and he got a lot of complains from his director when he submitted this month's proposal.

“I am so done with that company. I'll probably get my white envelope soon.” He scoffs when he finishes his fourth glass. You swore you're confused when did he buy his alcoholic supply. Jaehyun never completes his grocery shopping by himself, it's always you but you never buy alcohols… so who?

“Tell me where did you get these Jae?” you point at the bottles and he chuckles deeply “You question unnecessary things peaches, don’t you wonder why you're here tonight instead?” he pulls you up with one swift swing and brings you to the room.

His breath reeks alcohol, his consciousness was below 50%, you were on your right mind until his soft lips enclosed yours and his hooded sad eyes pierce into your soul.

“You love me don’t you?” the same goddamn question. He traces a finger on your jaw and you choose to close your eyes. Staring into his eyes will only make you fall deeper.

“Answer me,” his palm reaches your cheek and you feel it sting. Here it is, his true self is always out when alcohol and stress consume him.

“I love you Jaehyun,” you whisper tears already flowing out of your eyes. This was not the man you know three years ago. You remember him as the sweetheart of the world, not the scariest man who only come to you for pleasure and ignoring you the next second.

“Then be my good reliever,” he slaps you one more time and the rest of the night you only wish no one heard your sinful noise.

“You're going home?” he asks the second he was tired of rocking you. His half naked torso is laying on the bed. A bud of cigarette was tucked nicely between his lips.

You nod your head as you take your time to redress.

“Stay here, you're my lover.” He pats the empty bed side. Oh you wish you can stay, but with the amount of alcohols he consumed and how your body is already bruising, you knew better to go home.

“I have a schedule tomorrow.” You admit.

Jaehyun sighs “Then sleep here, I'll drive you there tomorrow. I miss you,” he sounds like he had sober up.

You shake your head and lean over to kiss him “You hate my agency Jae, don’t force yourself to come with me.” You run a hand over his hair. He leans into your touch, suddenly the angelic heart throb is here again not the demon of the dark side. He closes his eyes after yawning and slowly drift to sleep.

You take his cigarette bud, turn it off in the ash tray and leave the apartment you once love. Your relationship is toxic but you cannot let him go. Not in this state.

“Wow you do know how late this is?” Your roommate peeks over his room door when he heard you enter the house.

You sigh and take off your jacket “Ah Doyoung, yes it’s very late. Sorry for waking you up. Go to bed you still have time.”

Doyoung shakes his sleep away and walks to you. He knows your relationship with Jaehyun. He was there from the beginning until the time it went wrong. He told you to leave him already, but you cannot.

The man grabs his spectacles and calmly takes your arms and wrists then he twists your body to check your condition.

“He wasn’t that rough tonight?” Doyoung still raises from his seat to take the soothing cream he has prepared for you.

You sigh “You don’t have to do this Doie, I can take care of myself.”

He scoffs “You've been saying that for the last seven months but you never for once take care of yourself if I don’t do this.”

He begins with the bruises on your wrists, the red cheeks, the wild hickeys on your neck and when he ensures none is skipped, he orders you to lift your shirt up.

He always complains on how your waist can survive the dead grip Jaehyun has, they always leave bruises on your body and Doyoung hates how you always struggle in the morning to cover up your bruises.

“You should really leave him. This is not good for your body and mental.” He presses some alcohol on the open wound and you for once thank Heaven you knew Doyoung who can take care of you.

“I cannot Doie, he needs me. He said I am the reason he is holding on.” You lean to the sofa and moan at the delight of relaxing your body.

“gosh your silly job and crazy company.” He hisses

You bite your lips as you stare into the ceiling. This is your job, taking cover pictures for special magazines. No it’s not filled with lewd pictures nor nudes, just regular pictures that were found to be able to comfort men and women who are breaking down and sad. The company did get a lot of money and you have many fans. All of them have been meeting you virtually and telling you how thankful they are to see you. They said seeing you helps them overcome one more day.

You were not fond of your job at first, until you met Jaehyun a photographer for one of your biggest project. It’s for the anti depression campaign and since then both of you got to know each other. Jae was a lovely man who also tells you he is one of those subscribers who wants to thank your cute pictures for helping them survive and stop overthinking.

That comment and all comments and love mails from your fans made you unable to crawl out of this hole. Doyoung is not one of them, he is assigned to look after you but he detests everything related to this. It’s just his job and the wage is pretty much high and he couldn’t find another job with higher wage yet.

Jaehyun was good until six months ago he lost his one and only family member, then he regret all of the things he couldn’t do for them. He turned into a mess, your pictures, your comfort words, your presence itself cannot bring him back. He turned into a monster when he's sad and mad. What happened to him scared you, but your heart cannot leave him.

“It's not silly as long as I can live under this apartment Doie. Look around this pretty apartment is good enough for a payback.” You breathe out. Feeling also emotional after thinking about Jaehyun and holding back the pain you're now feeling.

“You have a schedule tomorrow.” He scrolls his phone and notes the time. He is your personal manager.

“I know-“ before you can finish your sentence a knock was heard on the door.

Both of you look at the door and gulp “Who could it be?” your grip on Doyoung’s hand and your phone rang.

“Shit, it’s Jae.” You push Doyoung out of the sofa and push him to his room direction “Pretend you’re asleep.” You send him a pleading eye, you don’t need a jealous Jaehyun at this moment.

Doyoung just follows your words and hide in his room. You calm yourself down and open the door to find Jaehyun not so sobber, but he is here and you’re surprised he could take a cab here.

“I took the cab, don’t worry. I cannot sleep without you.” He nuzzles into your neck and slumps over your smaller body. With much struggle both of you made it to the sofa and Jaehyun is super messy.

His eyes are wet and he was slurring words while closing his eyes and holding on to you tight “Don’t leave me. Come stay with me again. Why did you leave me?”

He sounds pathetic and you actually want to slap him and yell at him “See yourself and think why I live by myself now or at least not with you….” But you know that will only hurt him more and break him.

“Shh calm down Jae” you card his hair and he relaxes into your touch “I am not leaving you,” at least now your heart whispers. Your eyes fall to his wrist that has been healing slowly from nasty cuts and you plant a quick kiss on his wrist “I am proud of you being strong, stay with me too Jaehyun.”

“If getting hurt is what makes you stay a night more, I’ll bear it with you. Please don’t leave me.” Your tear fell and you kiss his cheek. He did not hear your last sentence for his chest has risen slowly and he fell asleep.

You glance to the half open door, of course Doyoung had to be eavesdropping. He tosses you a free blanket and you’re thankful for his quick wit. You cover Jaehyun up and leave to sleep in your own room. What tomorrow brings, you never know. But tonight, you’re glad at least you help Jaehyun overcome one of his dark nights again.

end

i hope no one has to go through this scenario irl..

reach out for help okay, whenever you feel lonely don’t let the loneliness win over you. you should fight back, or find someone to accompany you

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ikevamp-shrine · 4 years

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Ikevamp boy’s with a suicidal s/o

Author: @ikevamp-shrine

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Character(s): Isaac, Vincent, Theo

Warnings: blood, self harm, attempted suicide

I really don’t like how I wrote Isaac’s, but I’m really tired and I wanted to put something out so... yeah.

1-800-273-8255 Suicide Hotline Number

Vincent

“You know... I shot myself.”

Vincent’s soft words that emitted from the direction of the door startled his s/o who was sitting on the couch in his room, a knife pressed to their wrists and tears streaming down their red, blotchy face.

“Vincent,” they gasped, dropping the knife, causing it to clatter against the paint stained hardwood flooring, as if it burned them to touch. As it fell the blade glinted in the sunlight as if it was reminding the painter of not only his past, but the present issue at hand.

Vincent sighed before walking slowly over to his lover and sat down beside them, pulling them into his arms, and staring at the bright blue sky outside. How was the sky so happy when so many depressive emotions ran through the two of them?

“I shot myself,” continued Vincent as he stroked the back of his trembling s/o, “there’s a rumor, a theory if you must, that a group of kids taunted me then shot me, and I lied by saying I shot myself to protect them.”

“There was no kids then?” The human asked quietly as they breathed in Vincent’s fresh, sunflower scent, calming the racing of their heart.

“No. There wasn’t. I also ate paint to poison myself,” the painter chuckled brokenly before continuing, “can you imagine that? Eating paint to try and kill yourself? Imagine how strange it would have been... walking in on me eating paint, the colors smeared all over my face, teeth stained different colors.”

His s/o began to cry softly once more, their body shaking every once in a while as they took in deep breaths. The sun was warm on their bodies... if only that warmth reached their hearts.

“Why would you do that Vincent?”

The blonde man shifted his stare to his s/o’s eyes staring up at him with hurt and sadness, his eyes softening as he reached a hand up to brush away a tear sliding down their face.

“The same reason you had that knife against your skin. I felt alone, scared, and well sad. I thought that if I left everything behind I would be happy... those around me who I thought didn't care for me, but only for my skills, would be happy.”

“How wrong I was,” Vincent laughed again, kissing the top of his lovers head, “the moment I laid on my death bed, I regretted every once of paint and lead I put in my body. I thought I was alone in life, I wasn't, and six months after my ‘death’ Theo died. I killed my brother because I killed myself.”

“Do you understand what I’m saying _____?” Vincent smiled down at his s/o after whispering the question.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t hurt yourself because you start to be a problem for others,” the human joked sarcastically as they rolled their eyes.

Vincent joined them with a small giggle before saying, “no, mijn schatje, I’m saying that no matter how alone you feel there is always someone there for you. You might not have them then and there, but they might be there for you in a day, month, year, or at the very end of your life. I’m also saying that you have eleven men just a few feet away from you that would do absolutely anything for you.”

“Sure, whatever you say. Though I doubt Mozart would even pass me the salt, much less do anything for me.”

Vincent sighed, shook his head before pulling away from his s/o, putting his hands on their shoulders, and spoke with purpose in his voice, “you have no idea how much they adore you, how they speak with love about you. Even Mozart talks about you,” Vincent trailed off, glancing to the side and muttering, “though in his own special way. Anyway... before you do anything to yourself again, or have thoughts about doing something, please come find one of us. We will listen, especially Theo- though he’ll never say it aloud, he loves you just as much as he loves me, and wouldn’t hesitate to be there when you need him.”

Theo

“Put the damn paint down,” Theo growled as he walked into his brother’s room and instead of seeing his bright brother, saw his s/o staring at a tube of oil paint with a familiar glint in their eyes. A glint he saw many times in Vincent’s eyes before he tried to take his life only to end up prohibited from painting and put under watch.

“Why should I Theo?” They mumbled still not completely out of their trance.

Not answering, Theo stalked over to his lover before gently picking their fingers, one by one, off of the paint. The gentleness of Theo’s touch shocked the human out of their trance, his fingers lacked the usual roughness and it brought stinging tears to their eyes. One shaky breath and their legs fell out from under them as Theo’s s/o plummeted to the ground. Theo followed them, roping his arms around their body that was rattling from their sobs.

“My brother did the same thing,” Theo whispered in his lover’s ear after a few moments of hearing nothing but their chocked sobs, “he would eat paint to try and kill himself.”

“I’m so sorry Theo... sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Look at you Hondjie, such a blubbering mess you are,” Theo chuckled as his incredibly soft eyes stared into his hurting lover’s as he once more delicately touched them, wiping tears from their cheeks.

“Nice Theo.”

Theo laughed again as they still kneeled on the floor, holding each other.

“_____, will you tell me what’s got you so riled up?”

“I don’t know... to be honest. Every since I was young I would have... episodes,” they said struggling to find the right words, “ episodes of just overwhelming sadness. It was almost like a hole in my chest I couldn't fill. I wouldn’t eat, I couldn't sleep, I felt like I couldn't breath, and I just felt so alone.”

“I tried to take my life many times before, but I never could finish it,” they sighed deeply, “I was sad I was alive, and angry that I was too scared to end it. Pathietc right?”

“No, love, not pathetic at all,” Theo whispered as he picked his lover up and walked them to his room not far from Vincent’s before laying them down on the bed and pulling the covers up to their chin, tucking them in tightly to make them feel grounded.

“I’m not good with words, ____, but I do know that when my brother was going through an attack what calmed him down each time was a long walk under the warm sun, a hug, and a nice chat,” Theo spoke gruffly as he took off his scarf among other things and crawled over the bed and covered his lover’s body with his own to add more weight onto the blankets.

His lover yawned in his arms, exhaustion in their eyes, as Theo ran his calloused fingers through their hair.

“Go to sleep Hondjie, I’ll be here to protect you now and forever.”

After a few moments of comfortable silence Theo whispered, “what am I going to do with you, you little trouble maker,” when his s/o finally closed their eyes, and their breathing shallowed as they entered the dream realm.

Isaac

“My god,” Isaac whispered horrified at the amount of blood staining the carpet below his lover’s feet. Isaac, before, had been walking to his s/o’s room to retrieve a tool he had left behind the night prior. He had expected to see the human he had fallen for getting ready for bed or maybe writing as they did every night, but little did he expect to see a knife in their hands as they stabbed themselves in the thigh to hit an artery. Though luckily, they had missed.

Shooting off towards his paling s/o, Isaac barley even noticed the overwhelming scent of the blood that coated his hands, clothes, the floor, and his s/o, as he put enough pressure to bruise on their leg to stop the bleeding.

“What are you thinking _____?!” Isaac rushed out as the panic began to rise in his throat at the blank expression on his lover’s face. Ripping a long strip of the sheets on the bed close to them Isaac gently pushed his s/o down to lay on the floor so they wouldn’t pass out and fall.

“I wasn’t- that's the problem Isaac, I just feel blank,” their raspy whispers triggered something in him. Isaac couldn’t exactly put a name to it all he did know is that it was suffocating.

The physicist took in a deep breath to say something more when the scent of blood finally hit him full force. His fangs pulsed just like the blood pumping out of the wound on his lover’s leg, his pupils dilated, his breath quickened as he could slowly feel himself lose the already weak grasp on his self control.

“... Arthur... ARTHUR!” Shouted Isaac when he noticed his s/o’s eyes flutter closed.

“What Isaac- oh dear god,” Arthur huffed when he finally made his way through the door, only to run back out to grab his medical bag he kept in his closet, “KEEP PRESSURE ON IT, HARD PRESSURE!”

After many anxiety filled minutes and several stitches later, Isaac was sitting on a chair beside the bed, still in his lover’s room, watching as their chest rose and fell gently from under the warm covers. He sighed, running a hand down his stressed face, and closed his eyes, listening to the owl hooting and the crickets playing their song outside.

“... Isaac,” came a small whisper, sounding almost like a plea for help, or a break from the loneliness.

Shifting his tired eyes over to his lover, regret clear as day shining in their eyes, Isaac responded, “hello.”

“I’m sorry,” they said lolling their head to the side, hiding their face from the vampire.

“What are you doing?” Confusion was prominent in Isaac voice, just as much as his lover when they spoke next.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean why are you trying to kill yourself and take yourself away from me? Did I do something wrong?”

“...did I scare you?” Isaac questioned hesitantly, “are you lonely?”

His lover quickly looked back over to Isaac and shook their head furiously, “no Isaac, you didn’t scare me... I just... I don’t know, never mind.”

Isaac’s s/o sat up and threw the blankets off of them, sending a strong gust of blood scented wind his way, before he could stop them. Once more Isaac felt himself losing control as he growled out lowly, face flushed as red as the apples he is made fun of with each day, “never mind what _____? Damn it all, you have no idea how bad I want you, how much you make me lose control.”

“Show me Isaac, cause right now I really need someone to tell me how much they need me.”

“You know what _____? I’ll make you a deal- you tell me how I can help you and I’ll... absolutely ruin you,” muttered Isaac as his face got an even deeper red. He felt as if he was doing this all wrong, helping his lover that is. For Gods sake they just stabbed themselves and he is telling them he would screw them if they told him what was wrong. At least then he would have some idea as to what to do.

“Deal.”

MASTERLIST

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howtodisassembleyourdeviant · 4 years

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Belong

I kinda lost the plot with this one. I kept getting interrupted. I also did not intend for it to get this long. Idea stemmed from one of the prompts posted for Cute Girls and Hot Androids.

Warning: NSFW (I can’t help it. I love writing sin.)

He thought he was doing everything right. He scoured through hours of research, read books, watched movies, even gathered knowledge by observation. things seemed to be going so smoothly.

"Don't EVER do that again!"

Your words still rang in his mind, stuck on repeat. He just wanted to show his affections. After two months, he thought it would be perfectly normal, almost chaste with what he has noticed among other couples and media, to desire physical affection.

he just wanted a hug.

you were standing in front of the coffee machine in the break room, watching as it fills your coffee mug. You had been putting in a lot of hours lately, sent on call after call, only to come back to a large stack of paperwork. With his own duties, he could not offer assistance, though he tried to ensure you, at the very least, ate something, even if it wasn't particularly healthy. You were stressed and you were tired. Perhaps, that had been his mistake. He wanted to offer you comfort, and studies show hugs can lower stress levels.

He had come up behind you, offering a morning greeting and getting a mumbled 'morning' in return. Just as you were about to grab your mug, his hands slid against your sides. The strange sound you made, coupled with the way you tried to jump away, caused him to pull back. You swiftly turned, looking around the room wildly before turning on him. Your threatening words had caught him off guard, and he stood watching you storm away with wide eyes and a hand over your mouth. Your cheeks had been flushed a bright red. Were you embarrassed? Was being embraced embarrassing for you?

Or was it him?

The thought that you might be uncomfortable because he, an android, tried to touch you made his artificial heart stop, falling from its place in his chest and sinking into a dark abyss. Looking over his memories, he realized that you had not actively sought out his touch on previous dates. He had always initiated it, taking hold of your hand when walking or a quick embrace at the end of the evening. Even with those, you had been quick to pull back. Why would you agree to date him if you had an aversion to his touch? Were you simply being too polite?

Depression threatened to crush him under its oppressive weight, but he couldn't give in. He can't believe it. You cared for him, you said so yourself. There must be something that he's missing.

In your mad dash, you had left your coffee, still sitting under the coffee maker. He made it, just how you like it, taking it and wordlessly dropping it off on your desk. You quietly thanked him, cheeks still tinted red. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Connor tried hard to focus on his work, but he kept thinking back to you. He tried to figure out if he missed some human cue, something to explain your actions. Every time his mind played the audio of your voice, so enraged by his actions, he sank a little deeper into despair. He moped about the DPD, doing small favors in hopes you might smile at him. Give him some reassurance that he hadn't inadvertently destroyed his chance to be with you. It wasn't until the end of his shift that you messaged him.

"Would you like to come over to my place tonight?"

He agreed with no hesitation. He sat at his desk, ruminating on his thoughts for the next hour until you were done with your work, then he followed you out.

In your car, he wanted to strike up a conversation, anything to fill the silence hanging heavily over the two of you, but your answers were quick and precise, blocking his every attempt. Maybe you were thinking of the best way to break things off, not wanting to hurt his feelings. His chest ached, and all he wanted to do was crawl into a hole and stay there indefinitely.

At your apartment, you kept fiddling around, doing anything and everything to avoid the android standing at your door. He couldn't take it anymore. He just wants things to go back to the way they were.

"I'm sorry," he said, "Whatever I did to upset you, I didn't mean anything by it." You turned to him, seeing his pained expression. Your face scrunched up, as if you were fighting back tears.

"No, no, it wasn't you. You didn't do anything wrong," you sighed, sitting down on the couch, gesturing for him to join you. He complied. You didn't speak right away, trying to gather your thoughts. He waited patiently, hoping to get an explanation and not a dismissal.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you. I know you didn't mean anything by it. It's just-" you huffed out a breath, "-growing up, I didn't receive much attention from my parents. My father was AWOL and my mother worked all the time. When she was around, she viewed affection as weakness. I was brought up believing that."

Connor's eyes widened. To think that you had been denied such a basic human need for so long. He hasn't known emotions for long, but in the same aspect, he wasn't that old either. In that time, he probably had more physical reassurance than you had in your entire existence. It should be a sin. He realized you were not finished.

"In high school, a friend had tried to give me a hug, but when she touched my sides, I didn't anticipate it and I... squeaked. Our little group all heard it and assumed it was because I was ticklish. After that day, they would poke or squeeze my sides any chance they got and I guess some of the sounds I made were a little... provocative. I didn't want the attention, so I started distancing myself from them. Eventually, I just kept to myself.

"It took a long time to change my way of thinking, that showing affection was okay as long as it's wanted, but you are the first person to get this close. I guess when you touched my sides, old scars resurfaced." He fought against the urge to apologize, knowing you didn't blame him. How could he possibly know that? Still, for you to go so long without any physical affection, and then for your first experience to be so traumatic, he can understand why you were so quick to anger back at the station. You feared it happening again.

"My systems indicate that your symptoms are consistent with being "touch-starved". The best treatment is to be consensually touched on a regular basis, starting out slow and gradually working up to more sustained holds. If you wouldn't mind, I can offer my assistance."

You smiled softly at him, giving him a nod.

"Okay."

Slowly, he brought his hand to yours, feeling the slight flinch before you relaxed. His hand traveled up, resting on your forearm, stroking the soft skin with his thumb.

"Is this okay?" He wants you to be comfortable with everything he does. Your eyes were closed when you nodded.

The gentle touch felt like too much, yet not enough. You wanted him to touch you, to hold you. You wanted what others had all their lives, to be comforted by touch, rather than be scared by it. His hand didn't move, and you realized he wanted to move slow to avoid over-stimulating you. But, you wanted him to move faster. You craved the touch, needing so much after being supplied so little. You had never trusted anyone so much, but you knew Connor would never do anything to intentionally make you uncomfortable. You can only hope he would not mind if you smothered him under your needs.

Connor was happy that you trusted him so much, and he would not take advantage of it. He kept his touch chaste and ensured you were comfortable in your environment before he would do so. He felt a little guilty, but the small sounds that you made were heavenly. He broadened his explorations of your skin, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, whispering reassurances as you began to snuggle against him. It was a week later, sitting back on your couch, that you decided to speed things up a little.

"Could... Could you turn to rest against the arm of the couch, please?" You asked hesitantly. He looked confused, but complied, legs resting on the seat. You reached out, gradually pushing one of his knees to rest against the back of the couch while the other leg was nudged to the floor. You sat between them, nervously lying down against him, body tensing against the warmth before slowly relaxing into it. Connor was secretly relishing in the feeling of your weight on him, but he kept his hands to himself as you got comfortable. You laid on your side, one of your hands at his shoulder.

"Are you okay with this?" You asked.

"Yes, " he leaned forward and pressed his lips to your crown, "absolutely."

You pushed against him, listening to his mechanical heart, enjoying its steady beats. You had never felt such a level of comfort, as if this was where you were supposed to be. Unbeknownst to you, Connor felt the same.

He made a bold move, taking a hand and gently setting it on your waist. You jolted, squeezing his shoulder as you made that strange sound again, a mix between a squeak and a moan. Still, you didn't remove his hand, nor did you ask him to move it. You started to relax into it, loosening your grip, even allowing your fingers to begin roaming. He had to bite his lip when they slipped under the collar of his shirt. Your soft touch felt so nice.

Seeing his reaction, you immediately pulled back, but he caught your hand, kissing your palm, over and over. He could feel you shiver, watching as he licked up to the tip of your finger. He wasn't sure what made him do this, but he liked how you watched his every move, waiting for what might come next. However, he wanted you to decide the next step, so he released your hand. You put it back on his neck, pulling yourself up and turning to lie on your stomach. His hands returned to your sides, adding gentle pressure, making direct contact with your skin as your shirt rode up. Your eyes kept glancing down at his lips, creeping closer and closer. Anticipation built up to the point where he felt he might combust, artificial breathing picking up. When you finally made contact, it was his turn to make a strange noise, softly moaning against your lips.

When the two of you kissed before, it was always so brief, and he was always the one to initiate it, wanting to put his studies into action. The first time, it was like a jolt to his systems, and every kiss after made him desire more, but you always pulled back and smiled before finding an excuse to leave. It made him doubt his research. This, however, made him forget about it altogether, losing himself in the touch. The way you kept moving against him, and those needy sounds you were making, it was all so captivating. A touch of his tongue to your bottom lip was all it took for you to open for him, allowing him to explore your mouth, sliding against your tongue. You pulled back, gasping for breath. In his haze, he had forgotten about your very basic human need. His body begged for more, wanting to feel everything, a tingling beneath his skin. When you went to kiss him again, he turned his head.

"I'm concerned, " he whispered.

"For what?" Even your hushed voice was enough to send him into overdrive.

"If we continue, I may not be able to stop, " his dark eyes met yours, a fear residing within them. He doesn't want to do anything that could hurt you. He felt an ache, a need that wanted to be quenched. It wasn't something he didn't know about, but being what he is, he didn't expect it to be so strong. Malfunctioning programming and system errors were becoming common in deviancy, but rarely did a program activate on its own and refuse to deactivate.

Connor's hands had moved in the heat of the moment, one resting under your arm, the other on your hip, pressing you tightly against him. You could feel a hardness, pressing against your thigh. When your eyes widened in shock, Connor looked away. You cupped his cheek, turning him back to you. Your heated stare kept him locked in place. You leaned forward whispering into his ear.

"Then, don't stop."

His body shook, holding you tighter, the strong hold making you moan. The sound vibrated through his being, and before he realized it, he had you flipped, pinning you against the couch.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" You smiled. Everything Connor ever did was for you. In his arms, you are safe.

"Yes. I want you, Connor."

That was all it took to break down his restraint. He lifted you up, carrying you to your room and lying you down. His lips were on you again, kissing along your jaw, behind your ear and trailing down your neck. Your hand raked through his hair, his moans intermingling with yours. Your other hand tugged at his shirt. You wanted it off.

He got the signal, pulling himself away and making quick work of the buttons, tossing the shirt to the side. You drank in the sight, hands running along his synthetic muscles. When your hand made contact with the center of his sternum, he flinched. You knew what resided there, just under fabricated skin. He didn't flinch again when you returned your hand to that spot, gently stroking it before returning to your exploration.

While you were distracted, he slowly worked his hands under your shirt, starting with the hem at your hips before gliding them upward. He could feel you quiver at his actions. Just as he reached the bottom of your ribs, you took hold of his wrists. He quickly withdrew them, watching you sit up and take off your shirt, unsnapping your bra and taking it off before your nerves could set in. You had never been so exposed, though you suppose, neither has Connor. It felt amazing to be able to bare yourself, body and soul, to someone. To trust someone without any worries or doubts.

Connor wasn't sure where to start, it all looked so soft and inviting. Fingers danced along your skin, making you quake under his gentle touches. When his palm ghosted over one of your nipples, you released a moan. He focused on it, intoxicated by the sounds you made and the way you gazed at him, like there wasn't an outside world, just you and him in nirvana. He likes that thought.

Curiosity made him lean forward, taking one of your nips into his mouth, feeling it perk up as his tongue played with it.

"Connor!" You moaned, arching into him. A leg went over his hip, trying to pull him closer. Switching to your other breast, he brought himself to rest against you, groaning at the contact against his throbbing member. His need flared again, and a warning started to flash in his vision. He was overheating. It spurred him to move faster, a hand slipping to your jeans, skillfully unbuttoning them and pulling down the zipper. In no time at all, he pulled off your pants, your panties pulled down with them. He couldn't help but stare, your sex already so wet for him. Embarrassed, you tried to close your legs, but he took hold of your knees and pushed them back apart.

"So beautiful, " he murmured in awe. His curious fingers slipped between your folds, amazed by the way you threw your head back, moaning his name louder than before. It sounds so much better from your lips. His touch was everywhere at once, every caress causing you to make more of those beautiful sounds, your face contorting into what could only be described as pure bliss.

It wasn't long before he slipped a finger inside, feeling your tight walls. He can't help but wonder how he will fit. You squirmed under the strange feeling. He slowly worked it in and out, letting you get accustomed before he added another, tenderly working you open. Adding a third finger, he touched a spot inside that left you breathless. You held him still, wanting more.

"Please, Connor." He couldn't deny you, undoing his own pants and swiftly taking them off, followed by his boxer briefs. You couldn't help but steal a glance at his length. He was big, making your nerves falter. In the dim light, you noticed that the tip was blue in color, leaking a steady opaque fluid.

"I can hide it if you prefer, " he spoke above you and you realized you had been staring too long.

"Hide what?"

"The color. I just have to adjust the thickness of the skin." He can make it wider? You weren't sure you could fit him to begin with! "Your heart rate increased, so I assumed the odd color was distressing for you." You realized he was worried you didn't find him human enough.

"Connor, I don't care about that. I love you for you. Never feel that you have to disguise yourself for me."

"Love?"

Shit. It just slipped out. You knew you loved him, but that didn't mean you meant to say it! Too late to go back now.

"Yes, Connor. I love you. Is that okay?" Just as you finished speaking, he was on you again, body pressed tightly against yours as he kissed you passionately.

"Yes, " he moaned against your lips, "I've... I've never felt... Anything like this. I think... I think I love you too." His words were broken up between each kiss, unable to stop. You felt so light, needing him to hold you down, grasping onto him desperately. He had no issues with it, happy to hold you forever. Tears escaped your eyes with your elation. This man, this perfect mechanical man, loved you. Anything after this point is just icing on the cake.

Taking himself in hand, he stroked his length, groaning as he spread the lubricant, ensuring he was properly coated for your comfort, before lining it up with your entrance. You tensed at the contact, taking a breath to calm yourself. He pushed inside, just the tip, feeling you squeeze around the intrusion. It felt so good, unlike anything he has ever known before. He fought against himself to push deeper before you were ready. When he felt you relax again, he moved forward, sinking in slowly until his hips met yours.

"Fuck, " he ground out. "You're... So tight..." He rested between your breasts, kissing the skin to distract from the stimulation and the desire for more. He waited until you were ready, nodding your head. Testing the waters, he pulled out slightly, only an inch or two, before pressing back in. It felt incredible, and from the way you moaned into his ear, you enjoyed it as well. He started off slow and gentle, but he wasn't sure how long his careful control will last.

You couldn't contain the sounds that left you. Every time you called his name, he would speed up, setting a steady pace. Your fingers clawed at his back, leaving marks that will be gone before the morning. You wrapped your legs around his hips, allowing him deeper. The slight change of angle caused him to find your weak spot again, making you cry out. With the precise movements only an android is allowed, he hit that spot, over and over. You could feel a knot forming, getting tighter with each thrust. Connor started kissing your neck again, and you could feel him latch on to your sweet spot, marking your skin. He wanted everyone to know who he loves, who you love. His hand went to your clit, stroking it to match his pace.

"Connor!" You screamed, the tension snapping. Connor slowed down, drawing out your orgasm. You had never come so hard, squeezing him from within. He groaned at the feeling. When you came down, he picked up his pace, chasing his own end.

"Connor, ahh... You feel s-so good... I, hah, I love you... Come for me, Connor, come for me!" You moaned, hand pulling at his hair and tearing at his back, the sensations coming across as pleasurable. Your words were all he needed to send him to his own end, thrusting deep as he filled you with his synthetic seed, each spasm making you take more of him. Connor rested against you, feeling your fingers run through his hair. When he went to move so you wouldn't suffer under his weight any longer, you held him in place.

"I like how you feel. It's comforting." He looked up to you, seeing your content smile and sparkling eyes. At that moment, he realized he wanted to see that look every day, every moment of his existence.

"I love you, " he spoke, in amazement, and when he heard you murmur them back as you started to drift off, he knew that he would fight with everything he has to keep you in his arms, in this place you both belonged.

#Cute Girls and Hot Androids #Connor fanfiction #connor x reader #rk800 connor reader #rk800 #DBH #detroit become human #gaming

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imagine-nation20 · 5 years

Text

Home

Summary: Life is tough, and you find out just how tough it is when you’re forced to leave Central City. They think it's because of the Iris, but it is so much more than that.

Requested By: @disneygirl2202

Request: Request for Barry Allen? You’re dating Barry Allen shortly after you left the League of Assassins. Well they start threatening you and such around the same time Iris realizes she’s in love with Barry. So you use that as a cover up for you leaving despite Barry’s protests. Well a few years later, him and Iris are still figuring things out but Cisco and Caitlin let it slip that you’re back and Barry runs off to find you. If possible can I get an fluffy/angsty ending? Sorry if too specific.

A/N: Um… I have not written for tv barry ever, and I haven't watched they show in a while, so this probably gonna be so inaccurate. Sorry. but no, actually it isn't too specific. This actual really helps for getting back into writing for barry.

~~~

You were having a really shitty day already. Not only had your boss yelled at you for a mistake that your coworker made, but you had received yet another note. This one came exactly like the rest. An old, worn envelope on your front doorstep, the same wax seal keeping it closed. You had only recently left the League of Assassins, with the help of Oliver of course, and he had sent you on your way to Central City. Yet they were still as persistent as ever.

That was also, of course, how you met your wonderful boyfriend Barry Allen. The adorable speedster had somehow wormed his way through the walls that years of League drilling had built up and nestled into your everyday life. You, in turn, thought you had taken the place of his significant other as well.

That is, until the topic of Iris came up. You weren't jealous of her, or intimidated. No, you knew Barry wouldn't cheat on you.

Leave you, however, was another story. You knew what he felt for Iris was more than what he felt for you. You knew his feelings for her were much more deep-rooted than his feelings for you. They had the time to burrow further into his heart after years of growing up together, and you were only a placeholder. A circle in the square-shaped hole he had made for her and her alone.

So, the letter in your hands was the final blow. The last fearful word that ended up being the straw that broke your tired camel's back. The only question now was, how far did you have to run, and how would you tell Barry.

The answer was, you wouldn't. Barry didn't need one more problem put in his shoulder, and you didn't want him to feel obligated to help you. No, you were an assassin trained under Ra's al Ghul himself. You would handle this.

It was the whole reason you hadn't told him about the letters in the first place.

And, if you were correct, he would soon be over it and crawling into Iris’ waiting arms. No one would miss you after a while, and things could be better for team flash. They would go back to how they were before you came to them.

This was the right choice. You were so sure.

So, to not make everyone worry, you packed your bags while Barry and the others were out, not taking much since you were on the run, and left a note.

----

Barry got home late. Iris had wanted to meet him at Jitters, and he humored her. She was confused, he was too, and this conversation went like all of them did.

She told him she was blind, and he told her she was too late.

For years and years, Barry had waited for her, he had wanted to hear what she was telling him now. However, she was just a few months too late. It had taken him years to realize how much he loved Iris, but in a matter of weeks, he realized he had loved you more. Somehow, you had done the impossible and reshaped the hole in his heart for yourself. You weren’t trying to be Iris, you weren’t there to fill her space. No, you had healed it, made your own space. One that, if left unfilled, would leave his heart more broken than anything else ever could have.

He opened the door to their apartment, seeing the darkened living room. He was confused, since normally you waited up for him no matter what. He flicked the light switch, shaking the odd feeling off and looking around. Something was off, he could feel it. It wasn’t until he moved to their bedroom and noticed the open closet and drawers with your missing clothes that it finally clicked.

You were gone.

He panicked, rushing back out into the living room and spotting the note you had left. He had never moved so fast, reading through the letter with tears building in his eyes. His head shook with every line he read, realizing the mistake he had made.

He was so stupid, how could he not realize what was going on. If only he had been more observant and not so focused on Iris. He looked back to the table, seeing a conveniently placed receipt.

Central City Metro.

He sped out of the apartment, not caring to lock the door behind him.

You stood silently, waiting for your train to arrive. You hoped it would be here soon, as you were sure Barry would be done with whatever he was doing right now. Your mind wandered to picturing him with Iris, not caring you were home alone, planning on leaving.

Your train arrived, cutting off the depressing thought. Getting your duffel bag over your shoulder, you clambered onto the car and remained standing, as all of the seats were taken. You could see straight out of the car, the way you came from.

The doors began to close, just as a flash of red and yellow zipped into the station. As the doors closed the last few inches, with wide eyes, you watched as Barry called out to you in tears. You didn't have time to reply or even react before the doors shut and the train took off.

--Two years later--

It was the same old routine. Barry would save Central City, be congratulated by his team. Turn down a drink or meal with Iris, and go home to an empty apartment.

The pillows on your side of the bed no longer smelled of your shampoo, and they hadn't for a while. Your coffee cup had been pulled from the cabinet and packed into the small box of stuff you had left, which was tucked into the back of the closet. A picture of you and Barry was still resting on the nightstand, but as he stumbled into the room after a long day, only to see it and be reminded of the pain, Barry picked it up and chucked it across the room. It hit the wall and shattered, tumbling to the ground as Barry climbed into bed.

If he was honest with himself, he didn’t even know what he got out of bed for anymore. The city seemed safe for the time being, and any other reason he would have to get up had left on that train two years ago. He could still picture the look of shock on your face as he stared at you through the closing doors. It hurt him to think that you were shocked because you thought he didn’t care enough to run after you.

He saw the looks of pity from Caitlin and Cisco. They had both been devastated at your departure, but had also moved on recently, realizing that you weren’t coming back. Barry, sadly, had not. When you had first left, he had kept track of every train that came in or out from Star City. Sometimes he would wait at the station.

Cisco was the one that let it slip.

“She’s back, in Central City. Here on a mission from Oliver.” Cisco explained, catching Barry’s arm as the speedster tried to turn and leave. Caitlin piped up.

“Are you sure she wants to see you now? After everything?” Her voice was soft, and she bit her bottom lip.

“I have to tell her. It might not fix things, but she has to know.” Barry stressed. He took his arm out of Cisco’s grip, leaving his friends in the lab to share worried glances.

You were in the motel when you heard the knock. It was frantic, quick, like the person was nervous or in a hurry. Grabbing you sword next to the door, you unsheathed it, ready to attack whoever was on the other side. The chain slid from the lock with ease, and you yanked the door open, sword hidden behind the door.

You faltered.

“Barry?” His name came out in a whisper, shock wrinkling your brow. He looked halfway dead. His eyes were heavy with lack of sleep, the dark purple bags visible even in the shade of the motel. He looked thin, thinner than you had ever seen him, his shirt hanging off his body.

“I know you don’t want to see me, and I know your upset, but please, just hear me out,” He pleaded. You straightened, a mask of indifference slipping over your face. You moved aside, letting him through the door and shutting it behind him.

“Make it quick, I don’t have all day,” Your voice was cold, and Barry watched as you sheathed the sword.

“I know you left because of everything going on with Iris, but you have to know, it wasn’t what you thought it was,”

“Wasnt? Is it now? Why are you even here, Barry?” You asked, placing the sword on the dresser. He sighed, rubbing is forehead.

“No, it isn’t. I…” He paused. “There hasn’t been anyone since.”

You paused, turning to look at him. He continued.

“I used to love Iris, I won’t lie to you, but that pretty much ended when you came to Central City. I never once, not even for a second, thought of leaving you,” There was another sigh. “(Y/N), I loved you. I still love you, and I’m sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t.”

He stood up, not meeting your eyes.

“I’ll let you get back to your life now,” He said, moving towards the door. In a desperate attempt to not let him walk out of your life, you tugged on his shirt, pulling him back into a hug.

“It may have been partially about Iris, Barry, but I always trusted you. I didn’t want to put you in danger, so I omitted the other reason,” You admitted, tears welling. Barry pushed back slightly to look at you.

“What do you mean?” His question came out soft; understanding.

“I was receiving death threats from the League of Assassins. It was only a couple at first, but they began to be more frequent, and more violent,” A pause for breath. “I left to protect you Barry, all of you. I thought if I left, you would be happier. You would go to Iris, and you wouldn’t have to face the League. I thought I was doing the right thing. I’m so sorry, Barry.”

He pulled you into a hug, so tight you almost couldn’t breathe. Tears dripped from his face to your head, wetting your hair.

“I don’t think it is possible for me to be mad at you. Upset and worried, yes, but not mad,” He took a shaky breath. “Can we go home now?”

You nodded, moving to grab your stuff.

“Only if you help me take out these guys Oliver sent me to get,” You said, a smile stretching onto your face.

“I’d be stupid to turn down an offer like that.” He took your hand, leading you from the room.

You were back home.

~~~

This request has been in my inbox for forever, and I’m finally posting it. I hope it was good, since haven’t seen the show in years. Probably will end up taking it off my list, actually, but idk.

#The Flash #The Flash Imagine #The Flash x Reader #Barry Allen x Reader #barry allen #The Flash oneshot #Barry allen imagine #Barry allen oneshot #Cisco Ramon #Caitlin Snow

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welcometoyournewhell · 5 years

Text

Your Needed!

TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDAL THINKING

Shiro tries to cheer Lance up as he realizes the whole team has been treating him poorly.

After Lance’s panic attack over Allura, and not so much Lotor, entering the worm hole Pidge had asked that Shiro remove him from the room. Lance was still a little uneasy around Shiro after he yelled at him.

He was just trying to help! Plus Shiro’s really scary when he’s mad. The two sat down as the lack of oxygen in the castle was starting to get to them. “How long you think before everything's working again,” Shiro tried to break the awkward silence.

“Oh um... I don’t know.” Lance didn’t think they’d be able to turn it back on. He was actually okay with it too. The depression of everything was really starting to get to him. His family was so far away, Keith was gone, Allura was with Lotor, and everyone was treating him rather poorly.

He wasn’t needed.

“You alright?” He flinched when he felt Shiro touch his arm. “Yeah I’m okay.” He didn’t bother to look at the other, he could tell Shiro had a shocked expression on. “Hey is this about earlier? I’m sorry I yelled at you.” He moved closer to the younger paladin. “It’s fine. I deserved it anyway.” Lance was trying to ignore the pain in his throat, his eyes were watering slightly.

“No you didn’t. Lance what’s going on?” Shiro reached for his shoulder once more, only to be rejected. “I’m fine Shiro. I could care less that you yelled at me. I could care less about how everyone’s been treating me. I could care less that Keith just up and left and that Allura is dating Lotor. “ He turned to look at the other.

His eyes were watery and blood shot, he looked like he needed sleep. “I could care less that I’m about to die and can’t even say good bye to my family.” Shiro looked completely shocked. “Lance I didn’t. Look, no. Come here.” He forced the other into a hug. “I’m fine Shiro, please let go.” He did as he was asked. “Lance I’m sorry I guess I’ve been a little overwhelmed.”

The Cuban boy shrugged. “You have a right to be. I’m not upset Shiro, I’m really not. I’m tired, and I want to rest.” He tried to stand up but the lack of oxygen caused him to slid down the wall. “Guess you’ll be resting out here then?” Shiro was trying to make light of the matter.

He wasn’t met with a response. Lance was just blankly staring at the wall before him. Shiro felt awful, he didn’t know what to do. It’s like he wasn’t himself lately! Yeah everyone was stressed, but they were all taking it out on Lance. “Your needed Lance, and we all care about you.” He tried to break the silence once more. “I know Shiro. I’m fine.”

The older frowned. “But your not. I feel so bad that I yelled at you like that, you didn’t deserve it.” With out thinking he began to rub the other’s back. He noticed after the other flinched slightly. It was instinct after dealing with Keith for so many years he guessed. How else did he used to cheer Keith up?

He studied Lance as he pondered on the thought. His memory seemed to be extremely fuzzy. Lance stopped fighting him, just staring at the wall. It was as if he were in a trance.

‘Shiro nhhahahao!’ Keith was on his back giggling as the older male tickled his sides. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong and why you keep punching James?” Keith shook his head before squealing. “Not the tummy!” He was truly adorable. 'Tell me and the tickle monster stops!’

Coming back to reality Shiro jumped as Lance was now staring at him. “You spaced out for a bit, maybe you should lay down.” The air levels were getting lower. Shiro shook his head before continuing to rub Lance’s back. He didn’t want to tickle him now, he may kill him from the lack of oxygen.

He’d have to wait.

‘Takashi! That tickles!’ Shiro had the taller pilot pinned beside him as they lay in bed. His fingers were roaming over Adam’s torso as he made up for a fight. “Not there!” His fingers were scratching gently behind the other’s ears and under his chin.

“Shiro!” Gray eyes met blue. Lance was now hovering over the black paladin’s body, elevating his head slightly. He’d fallen over and scared the other. Suddenly the lights in the castle came to life, slowly the two started to feel like they could breathe again. “Pidge did it,” Lance said sounding almost happy. Almost. Offering to help the other up, he was pulled back down.

“What are you doing? Don’t you want to join the others?” Shiro let out a sigh. Lance had depression, he knew that. But the way he was just talking... it wasn’t. “Lance you can’t jut say that stuff an exspect me to let you walk away. Your a valued member of this team, and none of us have the right to treat you the way we have.”

Lance gasps as his space father started to prod at his sides from within his hoodie. “S-Shiro wait! I’m really tickli-- hehehaha!” He squirmed slightly as the other moved his hands around. “That’s kind of the point then huh? How about here? Does this tickle?” Lance shrieked as Shiro reached under his arms. They seemed to be as, if not more, ticklish as Keith’s!

“S-Sthahap! Your gohahahing to make me pehehee!” More, definitely more. “Well your no fun,” Shiro jokes as he starts to move around to other areas he could exploit for longer periods of time. Everywhere he moved to it seemed was more sensitive then the last!

“Hey, guys?” It was Hunk. Shiro looked up as he was tickling Lance’s ears, pinning the blue boy against him. “What’s up?” He noted the smirk on Hunk’s face before he continued. “Pidge says we should have enough oxygen until Allura gets back. But with Lance here, we might not.”

Shiro slowed his pace, reducing Lance to breathless giggles. “Unless you know how to tickle him right, that is.” They two sharred a look of agreement as Lance started to panic. “Hunk don’t even... not that!” He whimpered softly into Shiro’s shoulder as his best friends began to just barely touch his soles. “Doing this on his tummy causes the same reaction, it still tickles like crazy but he doesn't laugh all that much.”

Shiro laughed slightly. “Good thing Keith didn’t know about this.” He thought for a moment. “Wait, Hunk why didn’t you tell me this before? I could have just tickled those two to death when they fought!” Lance squeaked as Shiro began to race around his tummy.

Hunk shrugged. “Lane would have tickled me to death for it.” Lance whimpered again as his space family found new spots to trace. “So your ticklish too?” Hunk didn’t feel threatened by the grin on Shiro’s face. He simply shrugged. “Yeah, not as bad as Lance though.”

“Sthahp... I sahaid..... I’m fine.” His eyes were starting to close. The light touched were putting him to sleep. Hunk looked confused. “We’ve all been treating lance pretty poorly and... his depression is... getting there.” Hunk’s face fell before he crawled up to his best friend. Pulling the two into a group hug he felt tears come to his eyes.

“No Lance, we love you! Don’t think like this, please.” It’s not like it could be helped, they all knew it. “Come to me when your upset. I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk!” Lance stroked Hunk’s hair. “I’m... I’m okay now guys. I needed that.”

He smiled softly. “Thanks.”

#depressed lance #space dad #hunk garrett #takashi shirogane #lance mcclain #ticklish lance #ticklish keith #ticklish adam #voltron #vld #suicidal lance

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russdoc · 7 years

Note

Post Book of Russel: A depressed Murdoc and Russ get a Very Special Package from Japan. This of course, changes everything (Family/hurt/comfort).... I'msuchasuckerforthese,

I struggled a lot writing this fic aaaah. I’m really worried about how this turned out because I didn’t exactly know how to handle it, but I really love this prompt. I hope more fics like this start popping up I need my Russel/Murdoc/Noodle family reunion hmmm.

Gen. 2.2k words. Featuring a lot of Murdoc and Russel talking. Warning for vomit and injury. Maybe I’ll write a part 2 for Noodle and Murdoc’s talk in the future. I’m tired!

“W-what was it like?” Murdoc’s voice was quiet. His head was pounding. Murdoc blows on his coffee and pulls the sleeves of his bathrobe over his cold hands. The morning wasn’t good to him. It didn’t help that Murdoc got piss drunk and collapsed in a pool of vomit last night, either. And maybe Russel, who had found him, cleaned him up and put him to bed, now sitting across from him in the kitchen not mentioning last night, at all, also made him a bit…nervous.

Russel lowers the newspaper and meets Murdoc’s tired, sunken eyes with his own. He quirked a brow and didn’t answer, so Murdoc gulped and held his coffee cup with both of his hands. “What was it like…seeing Noodle again?” he clarified.

Oh. Huh. Russel folds the paper, furrowing his brow in thought. Moving forward had been the priority for Russel. Focus on the now. The past wasn’t on his mind as much. Maybe it was because he never had the time to really…process, as of late. Seeing Noodle again? It was… “Good,” he nods. Murdoc drinks his coffee, oddly satisfied with that. But Russel continues.

“She’s like…doubled in size. I think she could be as tall as me now,” Russel lifts his hand to his forehead, “maybe taller. Who knows.”

“That’s kind of hard to believe,” Murdoc said, “do you remember when 2D could carry her around? That toothpick could barely carry the speakers without toppling over.” Russel snorts, then is surprised of himself. He really shouldn’t be encouraging the way Murdoc talked about 2D like that. But still…this was kind of nice. Reminiscing, like this. He dropped the paper onto the kitchen table. “I think that just makes her more intimidating,” Russel laughs.

“Even to a giant like you were?” Murdoc smirked. That made Russel laugh, too. “Oh, yeah.” Murdoc noticed the crinkles by Russel’s eyes when he smiles like that. “I don’t think much would scare Noodle, anyhow.”

“Mmmhmm,” Murdoc agrees, closes his eyes and rests his chin in his hand, listening intently. “She’s always been overwhelming, hasn’t she? I mean, she had this mask on,” Russel gestures to his face, “and it’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but under it, she had this burnt eye. She didn’t tell me how she got it, but she took care of it – took care of herself, like…like an adult and I just…” Russel sighed, “she’s kickass, man. Always bouncing back, no matter how bad it got. Seeing her grow up…I was- am, proud of her.”

Talking about the past hadn’t been the best for Russel. He would get lost in it at times. And getting lost in his mind was troublesome, to say the least. Venting wasn’t worth losing himself, Russel had decided on his bad nights. But this… felt right. Talking about it…reminded of him those early months after Del had left him. Telling people about him, about how much he meant to Russel, was relieving. Validating. But this wasn’t the same, was it? Noodle was still around. He and Murdoc knew that much, at least. But still…this was good. Like she was still with them.

“Er, Russel,” Murdoc interrupted, bringing his hand to his mouth, “I think I’m going to be sick again.” And he did. Right into his coffee cup. He hid his face in both of his hands and whined. Russel sighed and got up on his feet.

“I’m sorry,” Murdoc groaned. He looked at Russel with hooded eyes. There was sick on his lips. “For last night, too.” It was odd for Murdoc to apologize, but Russel would rather not let Murdoc think that. He just takes the paper towel from the sink and breaks a piece of it to wipe Murdoc’s face with. Russel could feel how hot Murdoc’s cheeks were, and then folded the paper to also wipe his sweaty forehead. “Thanks.” Murdoc didn’t meet Russel’s eyes. He nervously fiddled with his fingers.

Russel crushed the paper in his hands and threw it in the bin. This morning had been particularly weird, even for Murdoc. He had woken up early this morning. Asking questions about Noodle. He was also so…reserved. Was he still drunk? This had been happening more frequently, hasn’t it? Maybe Russel should-

“I want to see her again,” Murdoc mumbled. Russel stops and takes one good look at Murdoc. He’d been a mess. Sympathy crawls up Russel’s neck, and his heart pangs. “Me too,” he said, quietly. At least the morning didn’t last long.

It was a mistake indulging Murdoc. Russel blamed himself. Talking about Noodle had brought back a flood of memories. Memories of his travel to Plastic Beach. Of finding her. Of losing her. Again. This couldn’t happen, he told himself, he couldn’t let this happen. This had been how he lost Del. He let his guard down and laid himself bare, and it cost him his soulmate.

Russel pushed those thoughts down. He took a breather and reminded himself of what was important. The now.

Stressing over the past wasn’t helping anyone. Russel kept up with the news and spent his time spreading it. Keeping himself and others informed on the state of the world today was his high priority. Russel was going to be active because that’s what the world needs. Not some loner feeling sorry for himself.

He had to stay productive – he couldn’t be anyone’s burden anymore.

So, Russel found himself holed up in his room, typing away on his computer or working on his small political art projects. He would periodically go down to the kitchen to get himself something to eat or to check on Murdoc (he wasn’t home much, though, so Russel didn’t bother sometimes), but besides that, he had lost the sense of time and the state of his living space. He became so focused that everything around him just faded into background noise.

Without warning, a loud thud came from right outside his door. It had been Murdoc. Russel forgot that he had left his empty spray cans out in the hallway.

Murdoc had a bruised knee. He winced as Russel lifted him back onto his feet. Russel hooked his arm around Murdoc’s waist, letting Murdoc lean against him as they made their way into his room.

Russel rummaged through his drawers for his pain medicines (his rapid growth and then degrowth left lingering aches) and grabbed his half-finished bottle of water and handed it to Murdoc who laid on his bed, his leg propped onto his pillow. “Sorry, man,” Russel said, sitting down by his side. “Huh?” Murdoc grunted as he shifted in his seat. “O-oh, right, the leg.” Russel tilted his head, confused.

“D-don’t worry about that, what’s up with you, mate?”

“What?”

“That’s the whole reason I came up here,” Murdoc leaned back into the pillows, “to check up on you. Ever since our talk about Noodle you’ve been…out of sorts.”

Russel scoffed. “Excuse me- “-I barely see you around the house,” Murdoc slurred, his hands moved as he spoke. “And l-look at your room. You’re sleeping a lot less, too -even less than me, which is saying something,” Murdoc laughed. Russel didn’t find that funny. “You’re not like this, Russ.”

Russel is taken aback. He felt like he had been…accused of something. After all his efforts, there was still something at fault. And it was evident, what with this bruised knee propped on his pillow. And having it being pointed out by Murdoc of all people, too-

“At least I’m being productive, and not getting shitfaced every day just to come home and make a fool of myself.”

“What?” Murdoc spluttered, shifting to sit back up right, wincing as he does so. Russel realized what he had said, but didn’t feel like backing down now. “Russ, I- “-no. I’m sorry I got your knee busted, Murdoc, but I’m doing fine. I’d be more worried about how you are doing. Even before we had that talk, you’ve been a walking disaster. Even for you.” Russel’s lips tightened. The conversation lulled as Murdoc stared at Russel, his hands in his lap.

“Russel,” Murdoc said eventually, “I didn’t come here to fight you, mate.” Russel folded his arms. He was unimpressed. “Then what did you come here for? What do you want, Murdoc? What is up with you?” Russel felt his voice become louder and louder. How long had he been keeping this in?

Murdoc sighed, glancing at his knee. Minutes pass by, both waiting for the other to say something. When nothing had come from Russel’s question, it had been dropped. Well, that was pointless. Russel leans back, about to apologize, when Murdoc says;

“They found Noodle.”

Russel felt that the wind was knocked out of him. “Oh, my God,” Russel breathed. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Murdoc shrugged, rubbed his upper arms. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Holy shit,” Russel said. Now he felt so embarrassed by his outburst. Murdoc was right. This really wasn’t him. “I’m sorry, Murdoc. Oh, my God. I shouldn’t have said that- “

“- you’re right, though,” Murdoc muttered. “As soon as I heard about Noodle I got drunk and acted like an asshole. I can’t even let you finish your sentences without getting sick or tripping over something.” Russel shakes his head and rests his hand on Murdoc’s other knee.

“You’re not the only one,” Russel said, “we were both idiots. After you brought Noodle up the other day, I avoided all the baggage that came with it. I got so obsessed with this…I thought I was making a difference but just,” he gestured to them both, “look at us. Look at me. This…I’m not helping.”

“Me too,” Murdoc placed his hand on Russel’s, “I should’ve told you earlier. I’m sorry.”

The conversation fell again. Murdoc leaned back into the pillows, and Russel dropped his hands to his sides. It had all happened so fast and there was so much to take in. Russel really wanted to lay down. He looked to Murdoc, struggling to ask if he could leave, the tension still thick.

Murdoc wouldn’t meet Russel’s eyes, but he sighed again. “But, for what it’s worth, I think you are helping. Like, how you cleaned me up the other day. Thanks for that.” Russel smiled, slightly. The bags under his eyes were heavy. He probably just needed a nap. “Sure, man.”

A FedEx crate sat in the entrance.

Murdoc and Russel stood in the doorframe, glancing at each other. “There’s no way,” Murdoc whispered to Russel. Russel shrugged, then stepped forward. He unlocked the latches with shaking hands, then moved back to join Murdoc. They both waited in anticipation as the crate began to creak.

Before they knew it, the top had flown off. Noodle’s head popped up. She kicked the front, standing upright with a guitar in her hands. She didn’t need to jump out, did she? Once the crate had collapsed beneath her, she played one sweet riff and pumped a fist in the air. “Hai!” she greeted, beaming a smile.

They stared. Russel was right, Noodle was just as tall as him.

Eventually, Russel bursts out with a laugh, unfolding his arms and running up to Noodle, grabbing her by the waist and spinning her in his arms. They both laugh, tears stinging their eyes, the guitar bounced on Noodle’s back. When he sets her back down on her feet, she gives him a long, big squeeze. She pulls back to pinch his stomach and laughs as she says “look at you! I thought you’d be using the backyard as a bed. What happened?”

Russel shook his head, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I’ll tell you later,” he smiled. Noodle smiled at him one more time before turning to look at Murdoc still standing in the doorway. He watched them, amazed and frozen to his spot.

So, Noodle walks toward him, slow and careful. Murdoc’s heart hammered in his chest and his nerves were shot. He was ready to be slapped, to be yelled at and to be ridiculed. Get what he deserved. But that didn’t happen. She hugged him- very lightly and rather awkwardly, but still. He returned it, his hands resting on her shoulder blades. “Welcome back,” Murdoc whispered. He could feel her smile. “Happy to be.”

Russel felt his heart warm as Murdoc broke into a sob.

Noodle and Murdoc were on the sofa. Murdoc was leaning against the arm, asleep and snoring. Noodle chuckled at him before returning to watch whatever was on TV. That was a sight Russel hadn’t seen in a long time.

He joins them, grunting as he sat down on the other end of the sofa. Noodle rested against him, hooking her arm through his. Russel nodded in Murdoc’s direction. “What happened to him?”

“Well, I think he said something about his knee,” Noodle quirked a brow at Russel, but he didn’t acknowledge it, “then he drank my beer and fell asleep. Now I’m watching this terrible American show about that Archie Andrews man, but I think he killed someone?”

Russel chuckles, rests his arm on the frame of the sofa. “Oh, yeah. That shitshow. It’s creepy, actually. I read this article about how they keep hiring these adult actors to hypersexualize the show so as to attract an audience, but all it does is create an unhealthy standard for teenagers to be expected to reach and- “

“-I missed you,” Noodle yawned, resting her head on his shoulder. Russel stops, then grins down at Noodle lulling to sleep. “I missed you, too, Noods.” The three of them fall asleep there. The night was good to them.

#fic #im not a 100% happy with how this fic turned out but!! fuck it im tired #i hope you like it at least anon

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yearwithoutbeer-blog1 · 7 years

Text

Mechanisms

Two hours.

That’s how long it took me to fall asleep last night: two hours.

It’s my fault, really, in that I took a two-hour nap when I got home from work. The day wasn’t long or rough, stressful or even tiring; it was just another day at work. No, the reason I took such a long nap — when I’m trying to swear off post-work naps — is because of breakfast.

But first, a backstory.

Some time in early 2015 — around this time, as a matter of fact — I became depressed. Not sad. Not mopey. Not blah. Depressed. The idea of getting up to prove myself a productive human being on a daily basis held zero appeal. Strike that. It’s not that it held “zero appeal,” it’s that I saw no point. This, despite the fact that I had begun a new full-time career with upward trajectory after spending 16 years in a part-time job with zero possibility for growth or an open track to full-time status. This, despite the fact that I was now earning an annual salary that was double what I made before, with paid holidays, vacation, and sick time. This, despite the fact that I loved the new position and my employers appreciated me. Things were going exceptionally well for me, life wise. But — a month before my 37th birthday — I realized 40 was around the corner; I realized I was no longer in my carefree early 20s; I realized I had real responsibilities, adult responsibilities, like paying insurance premiums and fighting through the red tape that is health care. And the thought smothered me with a long, impossibly dark shadow. The only oases were My Wife, The Cats, staying home, and beer. Even podcasting — which has always been able to pull me out of my own head — held little appeal. In fact, if you look at the Edge of Forever back catalog, you’ll see a clear sign of this; at the start of 2015, we went from releasing episodes every fortnight to whenever-I-felt-like-it. There were months-long gaps between episodes, because I could not raise the energy or will to record regularly.

All of this lasted until roughly June 2016. During that time is when my drinking increased, and I began to put weight back on — neither of which helped the depression. As I waded through the mental muck, I began to pay attention to my body. Specifically, the signs of when things were going to get worse — mentally. This way, when I came through the other side, I’d know when I was about to fall into another hole.

This leads me back around to Monday morning.

As I made my morning coffee, along with a few eggs, the feeling hit me by surprise. It felt like a punch to the gut, then a blow to the head; everything inside me dropped then was coated in a foggy haze. For a moment I stood there, confused, not sure what the hell had just happened. But then came the familiar, unwanted abyss looming just overhead, on both sides, behind me, a few inches in front of my face, and underneath my feet. Almost at the same time, all of my energy for the day washed away. Mind you, this was not even an hour after waking up.

At that moment, if I could have crawled back into bed for the day, I would have. Covers pulled up over my head; the right side of my face sinking into a warm, soft pillow; closing my eyes, allowing the street noises of Chicago to lullaby me back to sleep all sounded like the best plan ever. But, one must adult, so I went about the day as planned.

Then I crashed for two blissful hours after work.

It was one of those naps where it could have easily — so very easily — turned into an all-nighter. Not specifically due to the sudden rush of depression from the morning, but more from the energy required to remain an upright, productive adult between 9:00a and 5:00p while the sinking feeling builds a nest in your soul. With anxiety, it’s draining enough to be on all the time at work. Add in the energy-suck that is on-coming depression, and you wind up with so little energy it’s almost laughable.

So I slept and slept and slept, knowing full well it would present an issue later that night. In the moment, though, I did not care; bed was all I wanted, and bed is what I had.

When it came time to turn in for the night, try as I might, sleep did not come ‘til after 2:20a. Though there was a hint of it shortly beforehand. At one point, My Wife got up to use the bathroom. As she crawled back into bed, pulling the covers up over her ears, there was a sudden double flash of lightning just outside the window, followed by thunder so tremendously loud The Cats jolted at the foot of the bed. My heart THUMP-THUMPed with excitement — I do ever so love storms — and My Wife squeaked in mild fright. Though the blast of light and window-shaking boom raised my adrenaline — keeping me up an additional 20 minutes — it was worth it to feel The Kitties snuggling back in for warmth and safety, for My Wife doing the same as she gripped my hand and pulled it toward her, for the knowledge there was an oncoming storm that would wash away all of the gunk and grime from the day.

This morning, tired though I surely was, I found I was better equipped to deal with the returning dread of aging. As I look ahead and see 40 is now a little over a year away, as more adult responsibilities find their way onto my To-Do list — including taking responsibility for my beer consumption — as the realization that I am, truly, not anywhere near my early 20s sinks in, I find I’m okay with it. Or, at least, dealing with it thanks to the mechanisms I’ve put in place throughout the years dealing with anxiety and the 18 months of depression I suffered throughout 2015 and 2016. It makes not drinking harder, especially since beer was one of those coping mechanisms, but pulling through it is something I can do. And doing so beer-free is something I need to do.

#beer #depression #sleep #naps #40

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