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curiousconch · 3 years

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Gravity

Chapter 5 of Ricochet (An Open Heart AU)

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: As Heather struggles to decide how to move forward, she and Bryce gets embroiled in a night full of revelations.

Pairing: Rafael Aveiro x MC (Dr. Heather Song) | Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Heather Song)

Words: 2.7k+ | Genre: Crime, Mystery, Thriller, Romance

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / language and a bucket heap of angst (maybe more)

Author’s Notes: I will expect some hate towards all the drama, but a love triangle is always a complex subject to deal with. In reality, navigating through it does not spare any of the hearts being broken at some point or another, because of the level of humanity that gets exposed when love isn’t returned. I know that firsthand.So this chapter is somewhat taken from that very real experience. But I promise, there’s purpose at the end 🌈🙂

This was inspired by IMHO, one of the angstyiest songs ever produced in the face of the earth - Gravity by Sara Bareilles. Also, disclaimer: majority of the characters are owned by Pixelberry, except the main character Heather Song and an OC villain Jordan Anderson.

Thanks for taking the time to share and read this ❤ BTW, are you Team Bryce or Team Rafael? Let me know in your reblogs!

Rafael tucked his cold hands inside the pockets of his jacket as he kicked a random rock from the sidewalk. He badly wanted to sleep, but he can't. He can't stop thinking about what he's done to Heather, and about how he much he hurt her.

He can't stand staying in his apartment due to the memories that flooded each corner, couldn't even bear to clean up the pieces of shattered glass from that night. So that cold night, he decided to sulk in the middle of the crowd. At least, he wouldn't be alone.

He arrived at Donahues, and nodded to a few regular patrons as he approached the bar. He asked Reggie for a bottle of beer, and settled himself on one of the stools.

As he was about to take a sip, he heard a voice nearby. He could single out that voice anywhere, so his eyes immediately darted towards the direction of a nearby booth. Once he found who he was looking for his gut twisted in knots. He knew that silhouette like the back of his hand.

There she was, leaning on an old jukebox, a glass of cocktail in hand. His heart jumped inside his rib cage, excitement at the sight of her flooding in. He twisted himself to stand, but abruptly stopped as he saw a tall figure approach her.

Even in the dim light, she saw her brilliant smile as she looked up at the guy. He instantly felt like an idiot all over again.

A fast-paced song flooded through the speakers. He saw Bryce offer a hand to her, which she happily took. Rafael saw them dance to the beat, laughter filling the gaps in between. He noticed a new spring in Heather's step, taking him back to the first time he brought her home to his grandmother. It was the same night when he taught her how to dance samba, with only the moon and the dim street lights illuminating their movements. The very night he decided to pursue Heather - the only woman who embraced him at the time when all he could offer was himself, a woman whom at first he thought as entirely out of his league.

All of those fading memories suddenly returned in full color, now when that same woman is dancing with anyone but him. Now it wasn't his hands holding her, it wasn't him who's making her laugh, it was no longer him who made her smile. Instead, he became the cause of her pain.

He looked away, the idea of Heather being with someone else becoming more unbearable by the second. He leaned heavily on the bar and chugged the rest of his beer, before asking for another bottle. He covered his face with the palms of his hands, as the pain of his guilt pricked him inside like a fresh wound.

When the tune ended, he looked back at Heather and didn't immediately find her.

"Rafael?" he stopped as he recognized who just said his name. He wanted to ignore her. But deep down all he wanted was to make amends and be hers again. So despite his shame, he turned to face the music.

"Heather," he straightened himself up, sobering when he saw the shine in her eyes. "How are you?"

"I'm doing fine," her icy tone was like salt to his open scar.

"Can we talk?"

"Why, so you could come up with another of your lame excuses?" she leaned away from him as she ordered a round of shots.

"I deserved that," Rafael rubbed the back of his neck. He stepped closer, fixated in trying not to touch her. "Heather, please, just this once."

"Okay," Heather said before she even had the time to think. She couldn’t help herself, she was still drawn to him, and she cursed herself for it. One moment with him seemed to decimate all of her fragile strength. "Let me just bring this over to the guys and then I'll meet you outside," she turned before walking away, "but you get only 10 minutes, then we're done."

“That’s more than enough for me,” he nodded. He trailed her with his eyes before he went outside, finding an empty table in the back garden.

Heather handed out the shots among Jackie, Aurora, Sienna, Elijah and Bryce while she explained the situation. Bryce almost choked halfway through his tequila when she mentioned Rafael. It was as if a bucket of cold water just washed over him. He made an effort to keep his cool, while he internally battled with his desire to stop her from going back to him.

Heather was able to make a read on Bryce’s sudden silence though. He was full of life just a few minutes ago, when he twirled her around as they danced together. She was almost certain that he wanted to interject, but chose not to interfere.

“You really wanna do this?” Aurora broke the quiet that fell upon their booth.

”I don’t know if it’s the best thing for me,” Heather replied, ruffling her bangs. “Maybe? I think I just owe it to myself to hear him out.”

“Well if it helps you both in the long run, I say you should go,” Sienna said as she offered a comforting squeeze on Heather’s arm.

Her best friend as usual, was right. She needed to hear what Raf had to say, regardless of how they both move forward. That was all the encouragement Heather needed. She then tipped off one shot - slightly relying on the liquid courage to help her get this over with. Although there was something that seemed to anchor her on the ground, she went to find Rafael anyway.

Bryce followed her with his eyes, hoping against hope that by the end of the night he wouldn’t have to let her go again.

”Hey,” Heather sat down opposite Rafael in a corner table.

He watched her without speaking, unable to find his voice for a few moments. His chest felt heavy, conscious of the fact that the odds were stacked against him. Yet, he held onto hope, not wanting to give up so easily.

“You wanted to talk, so, talk,” she crossed her arms, and tried to put up a brave front.

He cleared his throat, delaying his response as he tried to compose a coherent offer to convince her take him back. When he found the right words in his mind, he began to speak.

"I'm not going to justify what I did, Heather. It was incredibly wrong of me to betray you and to have caused your hurt," he shifted a little, leaning closer to her, and tried reaching out for her hand. Seeing that she did not flinch, he continued.

"I can never take back what I did, and the damage I've done. But if I have to spend the rest of my life asking for your forgiveness and trying to make this work between us, I will do everything in my power to do that, meu amor," he reached out and took her hand in his. "I simply can't stand to not be with you, I love you so, so much. I still do. So if you still want this, if you still want us, I'm asking you to take me back."

Heather felt her bravado begin to dissolve with his touch. Oh how she missed the calloused hands with which he caressed her, every cell in her body seemed to betray her. She sighed deeply, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. In her heart, she wanted nothing else but to forget everything and move on. But at this point, she wasn't sure if she wanted to do that with him.

"I-I don't know, Raf," she stuttered, her eyes beginning to shimmer. It hurt that she couldn't just say yes to him again. "I know I'll be able to forgive you someday, Raf. But I'm not sure if I can choose to stay with you, for what you've done..." she concluded.

She didn't know. At least not now. That's what he heard her say. Even if there's a slight chance of her being able to forgive him, and to take him back, he'd gladly accept it.

"You don't have to answer now," he said. "Take all the time you need to think about it. I promise I won't bother you until you're already decided," he spoke gently.

"Thanks, Raf. I'll think about it." And with that, she excused herself and went back inside. She went directly to the restrooms, her head spinning. She slumped herself on a nearby wall, inhaling air deeply as if she was drowning. She felt her chest thump with her rapidly beating heart, exhausted with the encounter.

After several minutes, she composed herself and went back out, moving towards the direction of their booth. Her friends asked how it went, so she shared the general gist of it. They all agreed that it made sense, pitching in each of their own thoughts. Heather tried to listen to them, but she was distracted.

Bryce's disposition faltered a little. She noticed that something changed, leaving her bothered. She knew that there’s a reason behind the diminished sarcasm in his voice, as well as in his almost-muted cockiness. She tried to justify to herself that he probably had something to deal with at work, but couldn't completely convince herself. She didn't want to let herself swim in her own assumptions, unless until everything with Raf was settled. So she chose not to prod.

It wasn't long that they all decided to call it a night. They both walked towards his car and got in without a word to each other. She noticed that he barely even looked at her. The rest of the ride back to the condo was spent with her fidgeting with her phone, the awkward quiet gradually swallowing her whole.

When they entered the hallway, Heather couldn't hold it in anymore. She wanted answers.

"Hey Lahela, what happened there?" she asked.

With his back facing her, she couldn't see his reaction.

Bryce was stumped in place, unable to take another step forward. Damn it, reading me like an open book as always. The swirling emotions in his chest threatened to loose control. He shut his eyes closed for a few seconds, willing them away to no avail. So with clenched fists, he turned around and stared at the woman who captured his heart and threatened to unknowingly rip it apart.

"You're a smart ass woman, Heath, try to figure it out."

Heather's mouth went ajar, unsure how to process his response. "I don't know if I should take that as a compliment or as an insult, Lahela."

Bryce forced himself to walk forward, leading his steps to the liquor cabinet in the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of Jack Daniels, downing it all in one gulp.

"What's gotten into you now? Just this afternoon you gave a freaking speech about bouncing back and yada yada yada, now you're insulting me?" Heather was flustered and beyond infuriated as she followed him to the kitchen.

"I don't have to explain anything to you, not now, Heath." He poured another helping of the strong liquid, hoping it was enough to push down the rising anger within him.

Heather was hell bent in getting to the bottom of it tonight. If there was anything she valued in her life, it was honesty. And when she wants it from anyone, she won't back down.

"Yes, you do. You know fucking well that you need some explaining to do. I'm done beating around the bush with you, I'm done being in the receiving end of veiled threats, betrayals, or hidden truths. I'm not taking that crap from the one person whom I can rely on to not screw me around with lies," she pounded her fist on the wooden surface of the table separating them. "So for the last goddamn time, I'm going to ask, what the hell happened with you tonight?"

He replied by setting down his glass, the force with which he set it down cracking its bottom. All the pent up frustration within him was now manifesting unrestrained.

"Fine, you want to know what's the deal with me? You. It's you, dammit," he finally said without shame, like a contrite man in confession, his hands waving in the air.

Fuck it, I'm doing this. Friendships be damned.

"I never liked commitments in relationships because, I wanted to stay suspended in midair, always on a high," he paused, sucking in a deep breath. "For me, all that romantic crap only meant being pulled back by gravity, it's all just a whole gigantic crash and burn. Ever heard of my mother?" The mention of his own mother's selfish act still stung him to the core. "But every single time I see you, I'm more than willing to crash down to the ground for you. It's because I want you, you idiot. I wanted you ever since I met you. I wanted you so fucking much that I hid it because I wanted to stay in your life, even as only a friend."

There I said it. Bryce no longer felt suffocated, lighter, like a heavy boulder was lifted from his chest.

He watched Heather who was stunned into silence, as he tried to catch his breath. He attempted to translate the expression that suddenly filled her hazel eyes. He sighed in relief when he noticed it soften, as she began to speak.

"A little too late, Lahela," her voice was small, and her smile seem to be filled with sadness.

Bryce's eyes widened in shock, as the meaning of those five words dawned on him.

"You didn't just assume that I opened up to every man that showed interest, didn't you?" she laughed bitterly, sitting down while her knees buckled with regret. "I waited for you to make a move, Bryce. But you never did. So I thought you weren't interested. Then Raf happened."

He couldn't find his voice, confounded with what Heather was trying to tell him.

"When Rafael and I first met, I thought of his as a close friend. It wasn't love at first sight, it was a more of a slow burn. A gentle, uncomplicated but stable romance," she paused, raising her head to look him in the eyes. "But he was man enough to own up to his feelings, Bryce. He was man enough not to hold back," he watched as she bit her lip, struggling not to shiver himself. "But most of all, he didn't quit. Not like you who bailed himself out too early, too afraid to get hurt."

He took a step forward, wanting nothing but to hold her and kiss her. His confused emotions held him hostage to the spot where he was standing.

"I'm not some clueless bitch you think I am. I had an idea, but you were too busy hitting on every woman in front of me that I never thought you'd get serious with someone," she paused, her voice filled with rue and remorse. "For the so-called golden boy of Boston's DA office, you're one hell of a wimp," she rose from the table and walked away, leaving Bryce alone and regretful more than ever.

***

Bryce spent the next morning in an empty apartment. He heard Heather move around and leave at dawn to catch her early morning flight to Baltimore. But he didn't have it in him to face her. At least not yet.

Gathering the will to pull himself up from his bed, he prepared for another day at work. He mindlessly went through his routine as he processed the events of last night. He finally admitted his feelings to her, but she trampled with it with her own revelation.

Her words echoed repeatedly in his head, and he sunk within himself a little more. I waited for you to make a move, but you never did. He hated that she was right, that he was just some egotistic, self-absorbed coward who missed a hell of a shot with her. He also hated being helplessly powerless to do anything about it, her being more than 400 miles away from him.

So he instead made himself busy - preparing drafts and evidence for the various cases that was about to go to court soon.

The day was almost done when his phone began to ring incessantly. He ignored it at first, but it rang and rang until there was no the point to refuse to answer it. Sienna's name popped up on the caller ID. He sensed that something was wrong.

"Sienna?"

On the line, Bryce could hear the rising panic in her voice.

"Johns Hopkins just called Dr. Ramsey. Heather didn't show up in the research facility today. Did she chose to stay back at your place? Bryce, please tell me you know where she is?"

Tag list - @choicesficwriterscreations for Fics of the Week

Ricochet AU tags - @eleanorbloom @ramsey-lahela

#open heart #open heart 2 #open heart au #rafael aveiro #bryce lahela #choices #choices fanfiction #rafael aveiro x mc #open heart fanfiction #bryce lahela x mc #rafael x mc #bryce x mc #pixelberry #choices fic writers creations #play choices #fics of the week

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psychicmoth · 4 years

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i barely (lol) use tumblr these days but it thought it was better to make make a long post about this (re: artists & online audience engagement) instead of a thread of tweets. take this as a rambling, i'm not an example to follow, but i feel like some of the stuff i have to say might help someone out there.

i know it can be incredibly frustrating not getting attention on your art, it hurts, it causes pain, because you invested a lot of time and effort working on it. but i think it's immensely important for artists, especially beginning artists, to learn how to set healthy boundaries around these feelings, because they will never reflect your personal value, never. you are a human before an artist. of course the lack of attention affects you, of course, it sucks, but i'm here to ask you to 1. please, continue trying, i promise you there's an audience for everybody out there and 2. give yourself time to analyze why this might be happening, in case this is something you want to work on.

i don't know your life, i don't know the personal relationship you might have with your art, but i know it can be such an intimate and vulnerable one. cry, if you need to, baby, i'm gonna be here holding your hand ❤️ but once you feel ready, give yourself some time to think. and i promise you, it's gonna hurt less.

it's important to take a step back. even if the lack of attention feels like a personal rejection, it is not, i promise, it is not. it's such a hard thing to separate yourself from, especially in a culture where numbers seem to be everything, but even if it's super hard and discouraging, remember that every well-known artist started somewhere and every person has their own journey. natural inclination to a craft is just a tiny, tiny part of the work, there's a lot of practice and hard work behind, so of course your first artworks aren't gonna your best work! of! course! of course there's always place for improvement! and everybody has the capacity to!! i promise!! please, keep creating.

wait so- do you need to improve your work? maybe, this is an always for me anyway. but, please, take into consideration that this can mean a lot of things. it can be that your anatomical/color/design skills need more work and study, it can be that the subjects you chose to work with are not common or popular at the moment, maybe the message you are trying to communicate/present is not clear enough or contradictory or too niche or strange or- it can just be that the composition you chose doesn't work well with the vertical format of mobile phones or the particular cropping of the social media where you posted lol it's a whooooole journey, there are infinite reasons why someone didn't engaged with your work and sometimes it's super hard to figured it out yourself, that's why seeking feedback is always important, from different people. feedback can be a hard experience too, and i'm so sorry i don't have good news about this part, but it's a fundamental part of the process. eventually, you will build your own criteria and have a better understanding of your own work, and you will learn to know what feedback to follow and what not. i'll get easier. i promise it will. on the other hand, i think it's also important to learn to not obsess over it and always give yourself space to rest and recharge, and you know, live. you are a human at the end. give your 90% instead of your 100%, but always, always seek improvement.

'ok but i feel like maybe my art is not the problem here' yeah, unfortunately your artistic skill are never gonna be enough, these is a conversation about engagement in digital platforms, so of course it's fundamental to remind you that your social media skills are crucial, too. too crucial maybe, so the sooner you learn to master them, the better. yeah, figuring out the best time to post is important. yeah, choosing the best tags matter too. but it goes further than that. sometimes i get overwhelmed thinking about social media because the more you study it, the more your realise how a complex structure it really is uhm. everybody knows that building a community and staying in contact with it is fundamental, in a personal or professional way, because they are not only connections, they are humans too. we, humans, need these connections. but it's super important to remember that some of these connections, or how we refer in this conversation, engagement, is determined by multiple other reasons beyond our basic social skills, kinda. some of them are rewards for playing the algorithm game right. using the right words, engaging in certain conversation or w certain accounts, interacting in the right interval of time, etc. social media platforms benefit from us by us staying here, active, present, creating conversations, discussions, investing time here, making these sites perfect markets for investors. at the end, everything revolves around money and brands. that's why they constantly feed us rewards, numbers that stimulate our brains. and that's why it's important to not let them eat us alive and learn to maintain the most healthy relationship possible w them. of course i'm not saying that all the attention well-known artists get is a byproduct of their good social media skills, of course not, but they are important, very important, and it's a good idea for you to try to learn more about these topics and how every single detail about these sites we use have been thoughtfully planned. for you. to stay. it will help you to be more strategic about showcasing your work and choosing how to wisely spend your time here. you mental health is the most important thing at the end, don't forget that. it's a lot of work to do, yeah, but that's what we have if we want to reach a bigger audience ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

before ending this rambling, i don't want to forget to mention how there can be other hundred things that can get between you and your potential audience, of course, and it's very, very important to keep them always present in our discussions. life-threatening conditions, economic hardships, marginalization are some of them, definitely, and i think it's very important to keep having conversations about them. we as a community have a responsibility to amplify these voices and make sure resources to grow are always available there and not only in moments of extreme need or in reaction to horrible events.

so. yeah. life can be so... hard. the artistic journey is never-ending. whoever is reading this, you have my whole support ❤️ i know it's really easy to get discouraged, but please, keep creating, we need more art in this world more than ever :')) 💖

take care, i hope y'all are having a good day ❤️

ps. btw, my dms are open for advice or feedback! you can do this! 🌻

#artadvice #art advice

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hybridequalist · 4 years

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Thinking Out Loud (Part 3)

So I forgot to cross-post this here. Whoops. Sorry for the long break. Part 4 will be out tomorrow.

Taglist: @nesli26, @manga-crazy, @venomemes, @galleyleelol, @makingtimemine, @jackie-sugarskull, @nightshade7117, @skysthelimit291, @randomshizzles101, @inumorph, @snow-massacre, @phantom-fangirl-stuff, @pixellated-sparks, @vsalamandor2, @otaku-mai, @snarky-badger

---

You knew you were in trouble when you saw Lauren's smug face the next morning. If she didn't make the best breakfasts in the world, you'd have turned around and walked right out.

You managed to avoid looking at her directly long enough to sit at the table and pour yourself some juice, but Lauren picked up your glass and held it out if reach, still grinning.

“Hey there, who was that hunk you rode in with last night?” she signed with one hand.

“Shut up!” you signed back, feeling your face flush. “It's not like that!”

You swiped at your captive juice but Lauren was much taller than you and she smiled down at you.

“Spill,” she challenged, her fingers translating her sass with a flourish.

“It was not a date, we barely know each other and he was just dropping me off. Now juice!”

“Details girl. Details.”

“I didn't have dinner! Let me eat!”

That broke her teasing mood. Lauren finally relinquished the cup and ran to get the hot breakfast off the stove. You felt a slight twinge of guilt as she began to fill your plate more than usual, taking a noticeably smaller portion for herself.

To anyone else, Lauren’s behavior may have just seemed motherly but you knew better. Your psychic eavesdropping had caught more than one memory of Lauren as a disadvantaged teen, hungry and turned away from entry-level work because of her deafness. You knew all about her determination that no one renting from her would lose as much opportunity as she did worrying about when they were going to eat next. No one else could know that, however: your landlady was a well-dressed, modern woman who got her hair dyed some new radical color every other month. Without your power, you wouldn’t know the reason why she invited you to breakfast, that she planned to ensure you had at least one decent meal every single day.

But you feigned your usual innocence as you dug into the delicious food, trying to ignore Lauren’s racing mind as she conjured reasons for why you hadn’t eaten last night and did her best to combat them, holding off judgement until you were able to tell her the full story.

When you finished eating, you gave her the abridged version: that you had met Eddie at work and run into him again at the grocery store yesterday. Glossing over the details of the store being attacked, you chose to omit Venom entirely and instead told Lauren that in the panic you'd been knocked over and hit your head, that Eddie had looked out for you and been kind enough to bring you home when you woke up.

Lauren was a touch suspicious, sensing your editing but uncertain what you were holding back. Still, she shrugged and you recognized the return of her teasing mood and held back a premature weary sigh.

“You know, that Eddie guy sure is nice to look at,” she signed with a grin. “And he's a biker boy. You always did have...interesting taste.”

You flushed violently, hiding your face to block her words.

“Stop!” you signed, going redder as Lauren laughed at you. You heard her making mock kissy noises when your phone suddenly began to ring. You both jumped at the sound and panic instantly set into your chest. Lauren noticed you freeze and came over to your chair, fishing the device out from your pocket. Her eyes widened and you saw her smile.

The image in her brain showed Eddie's caller ID. The ID you'd tiredly assigned him before sending your own name over text.

Hot Mess Eddie

The ringing cut off and a text chimed out almost immediately in its place. Same contact.

You stiffly held your hand out for your phone and Lauren passed it over with a smirk before grabbing your empty plate as an excuse to give you some space.

Hey, sorry to call. I forgot.

Forgot? Forgot the one thing everybody seemed to mark as your defining trait.

Another text.

Reporter instinct. BTW, did you take my helmet last night?

Hemet? Oh, the one you'd been wearing. If your memory was correct…

It's on my coffee table, you replied. Do you need it?

Nah, but you’re gonna need it if you want me to pick you up later. You gonna be up for lunch?

Your pulse quickened and you almost dropped your phone in shock. Was he...asking you out?

I don’t have a shift tonight, so I can stay up. But why do you want to go out to lunch? I’m not exactly a conversationalist.

It took almost a minute before you saw the little ellipse that meant he was writing out a reply.

V wants me to tell you that he’s got a surprise. I still think it’s a bit early, but he’s giving me a headache for arguing. It’s pretty cool tho, gotta admit.

Surprise? What? Why?

You heard Lauren snicker and saw a flash of your own face in her thoughts. Apparently your face was red enough that she could see you blushing from the kitchen and you instinctively turned away, willing the blood to leave your cheeks.

Do you have a place in mind? You typed slowly.

----

You did you best to suppress jitters as you stood at the curb, motorcycle helmet tucked under your arm. You’d requested Lauren stay inside, but you knew she was watching from her window--both to satisfy her curiosity and ensure your safety.

You heard their thoughts before you saw them. Much like actual voices, it started quiet as they entered “hearing” distance but became steadily louder along with the revving of the motorcycle’s engine.

You pushed back, trying to force deep breaths, to keep your thoughts under control. Yet the tunnel vision started to set in despite your best efforts. Fragmented thoughts began to whirl like multiple tornadoes and a rising sense of panic began to choke you, cutting off all air. Tears stung your eyes behind closed lids when suddenly you felt two strong hands rest on your shoulders and heard your name, though it was muffled under your roaring pulse.

“Hey! I think you’re having a panic attack! Are you breathing? Can you try breathing?”

The realization that someone was in front of you pulled you out of the whirlpool slightly. It may not have brought the world back from crumbling, but suddenly you felt like there was an anchor keeping you from entirely plummeting into the black hole.Your hands reached out against your will and you found yourself clinging to this person’s chest, hands twisted into what felt like leather.There was no air in your lungs--not that you could feel--and your throat was stubbornly unresponsive to every sound you tried to make. So you reached out with your last resort.

You couldn’t keep the mental communion open for long--your focus was too scattered, your emotions too sweeping--but for a brief moment, you sent a burst of your emotions into the person crouched in front of you. All of your panic, your desire to be comforted, you desperate need to re-learn breathing, you sent it out in an unspoken plea for help.

For a moment, nothing happened. Your anxiety spiked in immediate response; You asked for too much; You would be cast away to fall into the abyss; You were going to die here.

Then you felt the fabric under your fingers ripple, like a living being woven of some strange material, flexing like a cat leaning into human touch. You felt your hands sink into it, giving you a better grip just as you felt thick arms wrap around you, pulling you into the stranger’s solid chest.

A voice rumbled through that chest. You couldn’t understand what they said, but found yourself zeroed in on the sound of their breathing, the feel of their pulse. Their arms tensed and relaxed in time with each breath and you found yourself trying to mimic the movement with limited effectiveness. The vibrations of your anchor’s voice rippled through your body, accompanied by some kind of lower pitch you couldn’t identify. It made you shiver and that motion made you realize that you were quaking so hard that there was no way you could have supported yourself.

Eventually, the panic began to subside into exhaustion; your violent shudders calmed into small fits of shaking and then entirely faded away. Your mind rose from the pit of despair and the sounds of the world and the thoughts of others returned.

The first thing you became aware of was who held you--that double-toned mental voice was entirely unmistakeable.

“Yeah, I’ve got you,” Eddie was saying.

“WE HAVE GOT YOU,” Venom corrected and you felt the jacket ripple--or rather, the symbiote disguised as a jacket.

“You just need to keep breathing. As long as you breathe, you can make it.”

You heard footsteps coming from behind you on the pavement and you twisted to see Lauren running from the front door of the complex. She reached you and Eddie and dropped to one knee, looking you over worriedly.

“You good?” she signed. You shakily nodded and tried to pull yourself to your feet. Your knees buckled before you really got anywhere and ended up halfway dangling, clinging to Eddie like a baby koala. He chuckled.

“You think it’s okay if I carry you inside?”

Could he even lift you?

“EDDIE, WE ARE STILL HEALING. DON’T MOVE TOO FAST.”

"I know our limits, Vee. But we gotta make sure she's safe."

You jumped when you felt new hands on your arm, but it was only Lauren trying to get your attention. She repeated Eddie's question in sign and you shakily gave an affirmative.

Eddie's arms were sturdy--no sign of the injury his other half had mentioned--as he carried your tired self back into the apartments. Lauren led him to her apartment and showed him to her bedroom, indicating she wanted me put in her bed. You protested in sign, but she conveniently didn't see your words.

It wasn't until you were laid on the bed that you realized how much your little attack had worn you out. The second your weight left Eddie's arms, your eyes slid shut and you yawned deeply.

"Go ahead and nap," Eddie encouraged. "I'll be out here...if your landlady is okay with it."

You tiredly gave a thumbs up and heard Venom's thoughts call out to you.

"WE WILL KEEP YOU SAFE FROM ANYTHING. EVEN YOUR OWN BRAIN. SO DON'T HESITATE TO CALL OUT FOR US--IN ANY WAY YOU CAN."

You couldn't help but smile as you slipped off into sleep.

#venom #fanfic #fanfiction #hybridwrites #reader insert #2nd person #writing #my writing #update #venom movie

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hybridequalist · 5 years

Text

Thinking Out Loud, Part 3

So...this took forever. Moving and doing the job hunt will do that to a writing schedule. But, here it is!

Repeating the taglist from last time:

@nesli26, @manga-crazy, @venomemes, @galleyleelol, @makingtimemine, @jackie-sugarskull, @nightshade7117, @skysthelimit291, @randomshizzles101, @inumorph, @snow-massacre, @phantom-fangirl-stuff, @pixellated-sparks, @vsalamandor2, @otaku-mai, @snarky-badger

***

You knew you were in trouble when you saw Lauren's smug face the next morning. If she didn't make the best breakfasts in the world, you'd have turned around and walked right out.

You managed to avoid looking at her directly long enough to sit at the table and pour yourself some juice, but Lauren picked up your glass and held it out if reach, still grinning.

“Gurl, who was that hunk you rode in with last night?” she signed with one hand.

“Shut up!” you signed back, feeling your face flush. “It's not like that!”

You swiped at your captive juice but Lauren was much taller than you and she smiled down at you.

“Spill,” she challenged, her fingers translating her sass with a flourish.

“It was not a date, we barely know each other and he was just dropping me off. Now juice!”

“Details girl. Details.”

“I didn't have dinner! Let me eat!”

“You know, that Eddie guy sure is nice to look at,” she signed with a grin. “And he's a biker boy. You always did have...interesting taste.”

You flushed violently, hiding your face to block her words.

The image in her brain showed Eddie's caller ID. The ID you'd tiredly assigned him before sending your own name over text.

Hot Mess Eddie

The ringing cut off and a text chimed out almost immediately in its place. Same contact.

You stiffly held your hand out for your phone and Lauren passed it over with a smirk before grabbing your empty plate as an excuse to give you some space.

Hey, sorry to call. I forgot.

Forgot? Forgot the one thing everybody seemed to mark as your defining trait?

Another text.

Reporter instinct. BTW, did you take my helmet last night?

Hemet? Oh, the one you'd been wearing. If your memory was correct…

It's on my coffee table, you replied. Do you need it?

Nah, but you’re gonna need it if you want me to pick you up later. You gonna be up for lunch?

Your pulse quickened and you almost dropped your phone in shock. Was he...asking you out?

I don’t have a shift tonight, so I can stay up. But why do you want to go out to lunch? I’m not exactly a conversationalist.

It took almost a minute before you saw the little ellipse that meant he was writing out a reply.

V wants me to tell you that he’s got a surprise. I still think it’s a bit early, but he’s giving me a headache for arguing. It’s pretty cool tho, gotta admit.

Surprise? What? Why?

Do you have a place in mind? You typed slowly.

***

Suddenly, you felt self-conscious. You were dressed nicely, but the priority of your outfit was comfort, not fashion. Your hair was also fine, but you began to wonder if maybe you should have done something special with it. This was supposed to be a lunch meetup, but you didn't know what type of venue it would be. Your heart rate picked up and you felt your anxiety starting to raise its vicious head. You pushed back, trying to force deep breaths, to keep your thoughts under control. Yet the tunnel vision started to set in despite your best efforts. Fragmented thoughts began to whirl like multiple tornadoes and a rising sense of panic began to choke you, cutting off all air. Tears stung your eyes behind closed lids when suddenly you felt two strong hands rest on your shoulders and heard your name, though it was muffled under your roaring pulse.

“Hey! I think you’re having a panic attack! Are you breathing? Can you try breathing?”

For a moment, nothing happened. Your anxiety spiked in immediate response; You asked for too much; You would be cast away to fall into the abyss; You were going to die here.

The first thing you became aware of was who held you--that double-toned mental voice was entirely unmistakeable.

“Yeah, I’ve got you,” Eddie was saying.

“WE HAVE GOT YOU,” Venom corrected and you felt the jacket ripple--or rather, the symbiote disguised as a jacket.

“You just need to keep breathing. As long as you breathe, you can make it.”

“You think it’s okay if I carry you inside?”

Can he even lift me?

“EDDIE, WE ARE STILL HEALING. DON’T MOVE TOO FAST.”

"I know our limits, Vee. But we gotta make sure she's safe."

You jumped when you felt new hands on your arm, but it was only Lauren trying to get your attention. She repeated Eddie's question in sign and you shakily gave an affirmative.

Eddie's arms were sturdy--no sign of the injury his other had mentioned--as he carried your tired self back into the apartments. Lauren led him to her apartment and showed him to her bedroom, indicating she wanted me put in her bed. You protested in sign, but she conveniently didn't see your words.

It wasn't until you were laid on the bed that you realized how much your little attack had worn you out. The second your weight left Eddie's arms, your eyes slid shut and you yawned deeply.

"Go ahead and nap," Eddie encouraged. "I'll be out here...if your landlady is okay with it."

You tiredly gave a thumbs up and heard Venom's thoughts call out to you.

"WE WILL KEEP YOU SAFE FROM ANYTHING. EVEN YOUR OWN BRAIN. SO DON'T HESITATE TO CALL OUT FOR US--IN ANY WAY YOU CAN."

You couldn't help but smile as you slipped off into sleep.

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