Safe with him - Chris Evans [Blurb]
pairing: Chris Evans x neutral!reader
summary: Chris discovers you got assaulted coming back from your job. After that Chris takes you and picks you up from your job.
a/n: it's almost 2am, so bear with me. btw, this was requested by (x) and (x).
TW: mentions assault (not explicit), bruises, and unsafe feelings. Do not read if you feel triggered, thanks.
Feedback, comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated <3
It was around 9 am when you woke up, still shaken from the night before. You did your morning routine, pretending it was a typical day, but it wasn't. You were feeling sick and nervous, it was like they stole from your house and not your purse, and they left an evident mark on your face and neck that saluted you when you finally dared to stare at yourself in the mirror. You washed your face carefully, avoiding touching your cheeks. Even though it hurt, you applied makeup to cover the bruises and then took a pill for the pain with your breakfast.
You did your day as normal as you could, running errands and filling out paperwork, forgetting about yesterday until you got an email from your bank letting you know your account will be frozen for the next three weeks.
You arrived home (feeling bad the whole ride) and went to wash your face, removing the extra layers of concealer and foundation you applied earlier. You were making a simple dinner since it was just you for the next few days until Chris came back from filming, and you were praying the bruise wasn't noticeable by then. You didn't want to tell him you got mugged. He already felt bad, leaving you for weeks -sometimes months- by yourself; you didn't want to add up to his load.
You were enjoying the show Netflix recommended when you heard a noise. It was the door opening. It made your body flinch and your heart race as you slide down the sofa.
"Honey, I'm home!" you heard his voice. It was your boyfriend. He is a safe person. You are safe with him.
"Oh my god, it's you," you murmured as you recomposed yourself. He placed his suitcases in the foyer. "Thought it was a robber."
"I don't think a burglar would announce themselves," he said making his way to you with a smile on his face that dropped when he got close to you. "Who did this to you?" he carefully placed his hand on your shoulder and neck to inspect your profile. You were going to tell them the truth, but the only thing that came out was muffled cries as you leaned towards him and he welcomed you with his arms. You instantly felt safe and secure with him as he rubbed your back to help you let it out.
"I got... assaulted last night... coming back from my job... wasn't even late and..." you were saying, hoping he understood you through your crying.
"It's okay, babe. I'm here." he hugged you a bit harder, not caring about his light sweater getting damp by your tears.
"...and they got my bag... lost everything."
"It's okay, that doesn't matter y/n." he comforted you as you cried. "Did you call the police or-" you nodded, interrupting him as you calm yourself.
"Someone found me sitting in the street and call them, so I had to fill in forms and everything. Was pretty bad."
"Did you call someone?" you kept silent and he took it as a no. "Why not?"
"Didn't want to. You were busy and-"
"And I would have gone there and held your hand and helped you, y/n. And if I couldn't I would have called Scott or mom." you heard the worry in his voice as he played with your hair, the action was soothing. "I'm glad you are okay," he said before kissing your temple.
—
Chris picked you up that night just like yesterday. It passed almost two weeks. The bruises were long gone but you still felt unsafe after taking a few days off, so he decided to become your chauffeur.
The ride with him is fun and light, you sing along to the music, you update him about the clients that come and go every day and he tells you about a possible project he was to join.
Life is better with him by your side.
༄✧*‧₊˚✧ ・゚*:・・゚✧*:・゚✧˖*°࿐
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found a post on twitter about an htf "autism torture fetish anon" on this blog. please enlighten me, i am horrified
oh no its escaped containment??? fuck me running
well, there was once an anon who came here and told me that they enjoyed hcing multiple characters as autistic, because they thought they were so cute being brutally tortured and maimed. they also said that they had a lot of autistic friends.
when i expressed horror, they said they couldnt keep following me, because i was autistic, and then sent another anon like "uh hm i shouldnt have sent that actually!"
it was an insane night
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After 3 hours of working on an Annihil drawing, I finally got him looking how I liked him, and was ready to start coloring.
… Fresco then crashed. Which, I wasn’t worried about, I saw it save maybe 5 minutes before.
It completely rid of those 3 hours. The version history only has the one from 3 hours ago, and one that apparently was right before it crashed, which is exactly the same damn thing with none of my updates.
Now I have to spend time AGAIN fixing him, drawing his wings and tail, and so much more, that again took 3 hours
I just needed to get this off my chest cause I’m really pissed off rn, cause like why would you have an, apparently “amazing” save system, that doesn’t upload a save to the cloud at LEAST within the hour??
Not to mention how often the damn thing crashes, I’m not a super detailed artist so I don’t produce a lot of strain on the program, yet it still crashes at least once whenever I use it.
Sorry just, writing this to calm down so I can suck it up and redraw it all… ugh
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you're in the habit of denying yourself things.
if someone asked you directly, you would say that you love a little treat. you like iced coffee and getting the cookie. you drink juice out of a fancy cup sometimes, and often do use your candles until they gutter out helplessly.
but you hesitate about buying the 20 dollar hand mixer because, like. you could just use your arms. you weren't raised rich. you don't get to just spend the 20 dollars (remember when that could cover lunch?), at least - you don't spend that without agonizing over it first, trying to figure out the cost-benefits like you are defending yourself in front of a jury. yes, this rice cooker could seriously help you. but you do know how to make stovetop rice and it really isn't that hard. how many pies or brownies would you actually make, in order to make that hand mixer worthwhile?
what's wild is that if the money was for a friend, it would already be spent. you'd fork over 40 without blinking an eye, just to make them happy. the difference is that it's for you, so you need to justify it.
and it sneaks in. you ration yourself without meaning to - you don't finish the pint of ice cream, even though you want to. the next time you go to the store, you say ah, i really shouldn't, and then you walk away. you save little bits of your precious things - just in case. sometimes you even go so far as putting that one thing in your shopping cart. and then just leaving it there, because maybe-one-day, but not right now, there's other stuff going on.
you do self-care, of course. but you don't do it more than like, 3 days in a row. after that it just feels a little bit over-the-edge. like. you can't live in decadence, the economy is so bad right now, kid.
so you don't buy the rice cooker. you can-and-will spend the time over the stove. you can withstand the little sorrows. denial and discipline are practically synonyms. and you're not spoiled.
it's just - it's not always a rice cooker. sometimes it is a person or a job or a hug. sometimes it is asking for help. sometimes it is the summer and your college degree. sometimes it is looking down at scabbed knees and feeling a strange kind of falling, like you can't even recognize the girl you used to be. sometimes it is your handprint looking unsteady.
sometimes it is tuesday, and you didn't get fired, and you want to celebrate. but what is it you like, even? you search around your little heart and come up empty. you're so used to denying that all your desires draw a blank.
oh fuck. see, this is the perfect opportunity. if you had a mixer, you'd make a cake.
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When Jo gets older, would they prefer to live more reclusively or have a constantly revolving door of guests?
Jo would murder someone if she had a constantly revolving door of guests. She build a tree house in the woods of victor's village the winter after her victory and lived out there for months (part of that was grief) without seeing anyone. Hermes had to come find her when it came time for the 72nd Reaping lest their escort and stylist teams have to trudge out to the woods to find her.
Even older, Jo would much rather seclude herself out in her tree house than deal with people constantly in and out of her house - she'll never call it a home, not with her family buried in the backyard. She'd allow Cadie, Finn, Annie and Cas to come visit, but that's it.
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