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popcornforone · 1 year

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He Knows…

Marcus Pike Fan Fiction

I’m stressed at the moment & my mental health isn’t in the best place right now. The only things that make me happy or motivated are talking to friends, watching films or writing. Nothing else seems to help at all. So someone suggested I wrote down what was going on in my head, & it turned into this.

If this is too much for you all I’m sorry I really am but I just let go & it really helped. I am always here if you want to talk or not you know that right. It is okay not to be okay peoples.

Synopsis: You have a moment & the world is just on top you but your partner Marcus Pike knows exactly what to say & sometimes that’s nothing at all.

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: this is extremely personal & talks about anxiety, stress, mental health issues, depression & feeling alone. Some anger & panic attacks. Please remember people that everyone is going through there own issues & struggles sonic this is too much & hits to close to home I’m sorry. It’s just sad & heartbreaking & sweet.

All feed back is welcome peoples. Thanks for the read & thanks for putting up with my mood in the last week. I almost didn’t publish it but I thought if this helps one person say or not say something then I’ve done my job.

Marcus knows, he really does. He’s not told you that he knows but he knows. He’s seen the signs, he knows what you go through, he knows it’s going to happen. He wants to help but he knows to not ask, you have to ask him. He knows you won’t over react if he does but he wants you to tell him so you can get it out of your system yourself. He’s carrying on as normal waiting for you to finally speak. He knows he has to be there when you do.

It’s another four days that pass. He comes home to your shared apartment in Washington & sees the contents of your bag scattered across the hall. He can’t smell the dinner that you’ve usually made a start on as he arrives, which he often helps with. He knows where to find you & he knows where to go. He takes off his shoes & socks & expensive dry clean only jacket & walks towards the bathroom. He can already hear the gasps from your mouth & the water hitting the floor. He pushes the door open carefully. He knows.

You sit on the wet room floor, in all your clothes, the hot water running hitting you & the tiles. You’re rocking back & forth going “it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay” in a hushed tone. Silent tears merging with the mist & water which is cascading. Your inner monologue desperate to scream to the world but it’s soft whimpers that escape your mouth. You don’t even notice the door open, let alone it being Marcus. It’s only when that large arm covers you to protect you like an eagle that you register what’s happened. He’s in the shower sitting down with you on the floor fully clothed, stroking your arm, holding your other hand going “shhhhhh let it all out, we’ve got this, you’ve got this, in your own time if at all”. He knows.

You are a firm advocate of it’s okay not to be okay. You’re always a little to honest with everyone about your emotional feelings, but sometimes you lock it away completely, & it builds up inside you until you can’t ignore it. You’d thought it was just because it was your time of the month, or it being allergy season, or 1 too many deadlines at work which didn’t actually need to be looked at for a little while. & yet today on this random Wednesday as you sat in the traffic on your drive home which was longer than usual & the supermarket didn’t have what you wanted for dinner, it just made you snap. You got home & didn’t even get the few bits of shopping out the boot of your car. You’re amazed you even shut the door to your apartment. You were going to have a shower before a work out, a work out to get rid of the stress, but even your brain couldn’t focus to do your release exercise. So you felt the warming mist of the shower & then fell apart in your bathroom, sitting underneath the warm water for the last 15minutes.

You lock eyes with Marcus. His job is so much more stressful & important than yours (he works for the government after all) but he feels your pain. He’s the one who’s had to cope with you for the last few weeks as your mental health has slowly deteriorated. You tell him everything in a ramble, it’s not coherent & you rub your face into his wet blue shirt as you cry from time to time. He just listens. He doesn’t come up with answers, he just listens. He caresses you keeping you under his arms, safe & secure with him. Your apartment you share is all you need & his warm smile. He knows you need this.

“Sorry baby”you say when you’re finished. “That was all a bit too deep, I just feel like I’m letting myself down all the time, that I’ll lose my job, that you’ll see through me & leave me &…” his lips touch yours like a feather to sooth you. He slowly as you spoke that sentence, lifted your chin so your eyes were engaged but he couldn’t resist. It’s probably not what you need at all but he wants your anxiety to be replace by loving butterfly’s in your stomach, filled with excitement. He knows this precious moment may help.

“Anxiety is such a pain, isn’t it baby” he says as you break from the tenderest kiss to ever occur in the world• “there’s nothing I can say to help you though, you’ve heard it all before, we all deal with it in different ways”he gives you a comforting squeeze as he can see you trying to control your breathing “I mean mines not the best method but it works for me. Touching my chest, patting myself down with 3 soft taps, & I feel like it’s moving & going else where. I’m at peace once that’s happened, & I do that everytime I have to speak at work &…” Marcus pauses unsure if to admit to something which would show so much weakness. But you’re vulnerable & he knows you probably need to hear this. Barring his souls only shows strength not weakness.

“Every time we go out as a couple I do it, I’m anxious someone else is going to catch your eye, someone more fitting, someone more handsome & that I will be heartbroken once again” he sighs “I’m anxious every morning, that I’m not enough for you & that one day like all the rest of the the women in the world, you will discover that” it’s your turn to put Marcus at ease. You rest your forehead against his & you both close your eyes inhaling the other in, water still flowing across the two of you. “Why would I ever even consider looking at anyone else baby, I love you, I love you so much, you know that right?” & it’s your turn to instigate the kiss. You hands cup around his face, the beard he’s trying to grow feel corse against your palms & his tash tickles a little, but you want to touch as much of his face as you can. He’s warm, he’s comfort, he’s a loving embrace at the end of any day. You know that & so does he.

Marcus has finally found someone he can trust in you. He never wanted love again after what happened but he knew he had to be in your life the second he’d met you. Someone so honest & true & loyal. Someone who just got him & didnt care about the past. Marcus to you is just Marcus, the man you met at the bus stop, who looked like his world was ending but was soldiering on. The man with all the confidence in the world reduced to a shell due to other peoples actions. You simply asking him if he was okay, started a chain reaction that has lead to your moment right here. He suffers as well & has his moments but he knows not to bottle it up any more.

“I think we need to get out the shower my love” he whispers his hand still trailing across yours as he reaches to turn the cascades of water off finally. You both shiver as he helps you to your feet. You pull Marcus close & you never want to let go. He may be drenched from head to toe looking rouged & sexy, but it’s his hand trailing from your scalp, down your head, neck & spine. Flat & calm while the other arm is wrapped round your waist. He is your comfort person & he is here as your safety. He’s the person you’d want to call at 3am just to say nothing to you, who’d happily walk around a garden centre explaining the difference between one sort of decking & another. He is just that person. He gives you exactly what you need for the right situation, & right now you just need comforting silence or words. He knows.

You both strip out of your sodden outfits & dry off. No tease, no oral, no sex, no love making, you’re just comfortable with each other as you both go into the bedroom & slide on your jammies. Yours are navy covered in the stars of the night sky, his are grey & blue & plain, but you always admire how it just scraps across his skin as he puts the tshirt on. It makes you wonder what his skin feels like despite it being something you touch so regularly. He takes your hand as you towel dry your hair, kissing each knuckle tell you the words “it’s okay not to be okay baby remember”. His hushed tones & lips smoothly forming love on your hands makes you tremble but in a good way. It’s not sexual is just soothing & secure. A million storys & secrets told to each other with a simple glimpse, as your eyes meet. He knows you’re almost there.

You both head to the kitchen to cook, after you send him outside to get the groceries from the car. He’s standing there peeling carrots, when he notices your hand start to shake stirring the sauce. Your bottom lip quivering starting to frown, eyes filling up as you gasp for air. He takes your hand from the spoon & brings you 5 steps back. His touch is an instant calm & you gasp at the air trying to control everything, which you know you can’t anymore. His embrace from behind is warm & firm & as he holds you against him he lowers his head & whispers “it’s okay my love, let it go” he knows you need to release.

You cry & moan & scream. This anguished noise of emotion goes on for a good couple of minutes. Marcus doesn’t let go, he want to feel all the negativity leave your body & after a while he feels your shoulders relax. “Breathe with me baby” in for 4 & out for 5 you both do in unison. You’re almost calm. & then you feel his hand trials down your tshirt which is also holding yours. He placed his on top of yours & motions the three small pats he does for anxiety. Small soft but they do what they needed to. The feel of touch & the idea that you are doing this together, so you can move on with your life yourself, it actually helps. He knows what he’s doing.

You eventually open your eyes, the world feeling clearer you mind less stressed, just a feeling of relief & calmness covering you. He’s still stroking across your hand, calming you like he would rock anyone or thing to help them through this. You go to speak & he shhhs you “I know baby, I know it’s okay, I’m here”. You bring his lips down to yours for a cherished kiss, one that perks you up. He can feel through your lips your more like you. The warmth is starting to radiate through you, making you the kind generous thoughtful person once again, that he met that day. Your own cloud is lifting making you see the sunshine.

When you break you look into his eyes, both of your sets are stinging a little from the intensity of all of this, but it was needed. You already feel so much more like you, just by this release you’ve just had. His smile smoulders & you see the glint in his eyes that shine brighter than the night sky. “Hey Marcus,how are you?” You smile & ask “better, I’m better my love” you stand there with him holding onto you smiling, for a few seconds more before you let go. You are back to being a bit more like you. The anxiety will hit again for you both, you both know it but all the while you’re honest with each other & can help with each others issues, that’s all that matters. Your relationship & love will concur everything. You know that & so does he. He knows…

#fanfic #my fics #minifics #pedro pascal #fluff #marcus pike #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike fic #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #the mentalist #mental health #itsokaynottobeokay

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corbinscrawdadz · 1 year

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Anyone else got an internal dialogue instead of an internal monologue? But like the other side of the internal dialogue has different names during different ‘states’ of it and while they don’t sound different you can tell them apart by like. Feeling? And they definitely like. Are there for different things like. One that may pop up sometimes is just there to shame you for shit and another is kinda Just Some Guy but is also capable of debate BUT can also console you. Shout out to consolation mental construct of internal dialogue btw not naming names but shoutout for the ‘it’s YOUR shower, you’re ALLOWED to piss in it.’ Beautiful quote. Gonna cherish allowing me to piss in the shower forever.

And like none of them converse with one another, it’s always just me and the other side of the dialogue, never more than one dialogue State at a time. They might mention one another to me but there’s no evidence of interaction between said states of internal dialogue.

Can’t really control if the other side of the dialogue is there or not either, nor which state of the other side of dialogue it is.

And like very rarely the other side of the dialogue will have a uh. A feelings. An emotions, if you will. I can feel when that happens and when it does happen it is for the most part negative if strong.

Also have distinct appearances they are visualized with.

There is also often arguing about what to do such as this as an example

‘Mmmm the scalding water must cleanse me-‘

*reaches to turn knob of shower*

‘Wh- hey. No. Don’t do that. Don’t burn yourself’

*reaches away from knob*

‘I must be CLEANSED WITH FIRE’

*reaches towards knob*

And on and on until a final action/decision is made on whether I should shower with warm water or PURGE THE FILTH FROM MYSELF WITH THE HOLY FIRES OF SHOWER WATER

also the uh. Viewpoints? Of certain dialogue states can change over time? Some are more static than others but I can say mx. ‘you’re allowed to pee in the shower’ has uh. Changed a lot in terms of. Opinions? Technically these would be my opinions since I guess technically they aren’t separate entities? Idk, there’s internal debate around that.

Like does anybody else do this? I’ve heard it be called by one other guy as compartmentalization. Anybody else do this with their internal dialogue where they compartmentalize it between themselves and other states of the other side of the convo? And characterize the other states of dialogue?

#psychology #brain #actually autistic #adhd inattentive #internal monologue #internal dialogue #self talk #compartmentalization

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wintersandthebeast · 1 year

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16. Not Hiding

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Link to Master List

When Karl stood, again trying to wipe the grime from his face--and doing a poor job of it, but the rain helped--Ethan marveled. “How did you…come into the mold?” He’d been told Karl needed him to anchor, but the man had careened down on his own once Miranda got close enough. Karl was now staring out over the expanse of a ravine that they stood in, almost thoughtfully gazing at the landscape.

“Donno,” he responded. He plucked off a muck-covered glove and pocketed it, looking as though he was sensing the air. Fingers outstretched as he absent-mindedly walked past Ethan. Sauntering across the mass burial. “Just…sensed you an’ her. Felt what you were feelin’.”

Now Heisenberg threw a grin over his shoulder. “You were worried I wasn’t there.”

“I was not,” Ethan snapped angrily, feeling the flush in his cheeks. “Not at all.”

“Yeah you were,” Karl said with confidence. “I felt it.”

“I can kill Miranda without your help,” Ethan began, feeling the old friend of rage.

“Sure,” Karl interrupted, nodding. “Uh-huh.”

When Ethan sputtered, Karl continued to do some strange form of metal detecting with his arm, and finally the blond huffed, “What the hell are we still doing down he--”

“Gimme a minute,” Karl mumbled, and his eyes closed. “Felt it earlier.”

“Felt what?”

Karl didn’t answer. Ethan rolled his eyes. Well, if they stood here much longer they’d both be clean just from sopping wet rain. Finally Karl mumbled and again thrust his hand outward. Ethan looked on curiously as across the expanse of this chewed-up graveyard, one particular piece of metal seemed to boomerang toward the pair, from the muddy soil. It had been maybe fifty feet in front of them, and now it burst from the dirt and landed directly into Heisenberg’s palm.

“What the hell?” Ethan’s catchphrase of the year.

Karl turned, and held the object out to him. Ethan was both impressed and saddened by the sight of a muck-covered, half-rusted key. The key he’d copied in Heisenberg’s factory. This must be the original…the complete, old, handmade trinket full of gears and some sort of mechanism…what was it for? The head of the key bore the same insignia that was on the doors of the manor. Had been on the factory. A stallion with fiery eyes, surrounded by a horseshoe.

Karl held the item with both hands now, squeezing it as if he were embracing it. A gesture of love and reverence. His free hand wiped at the mud. Suddenly, he pocketed it.

“S’go,” the engineer said with none of the gravity that Ethan felt.

Ethan had never been happier to be on level ground than when he finally planted his feet at the cliffside. The rain had finally given them respite, and now he surveyed the dark landscape as Karl went to fetch the horse. Ethan strode over to the bonfire in an attempt to warm himself, but he was so soaked it was laughable.

He was exhausted. As the light from the flames danced over his face, Ethan considered the insanity of the evening. He felt…something was familiar. What was it? Karl was now walking back, seeming to fully enjoy the cigar he puffed on, his yellow eyes closing as he led the horse to its passenger. And then Ethan realized why it felt familiar.

His graduation party. The beach. Karl, standing there on the bank and smirking at him. No. That had never happened. He’d handed Karl a beer? But he remembered…?

“What?” Heisenberg stared at him curiously.

“N-nothing,” Ethan said, and the other man raised a dark eyebrow. Ethan was eager, he realized, to get on the horse again. Not just because it would mean getting the hell out of these disgusting clothes and maybe even a shower, but because he would be close to Heisenberg again. You really do have mental issues , he chided himself, but his inner monologue wasn’t finished. If Karl’s bad, what the hell was Mia?

Ethan put a stop to these thoughts by clenching his teeth, and then he was distracted as Karl handed him the reins. He wasn’t sure what to do, but held them feeling stupid as Heisenberg walked around the left side of the tall draught horse, patting its neck, and with a skip he deftly leapt, grasping the animal’s mane and swinging his right leg over expertly. When Ethan continued to stare, Karl held his hand out for the reins and then gave Ethan another helping arm up. Then he pulled his hammer into the air and caught it, and they were moving again.

In the time it took for the pair to complete their ‘task’ in the canyon, Ethan had grown comfortable enough to wrap his arms around Karl’s waist fully this time. He had no idea if this was proper horseback etiquette, but it reminded him of riding as a passenger on a motorcycle. Back when you were fun , he thought, and rolled his eyes at himself. Before you got boring and married.

Well , he thought as he and Karl passed the shed where the two Roma boys stared, wide-eyed, can’t say you’re boring anymore . The thought made him tighten his hold on Heisenberg’s belt loops, and though he couldn’t see it, Karl was smirking.

“I feel like we scared those teenagers so badly, they’ll never want to come back,” Ethan offered with a wan smile, resting his chin on Karl’s shoulder. Karl half-turned at this, and chuckled.

“Sure they’ll be back, they’ve got the coolest story for a hundred miles. Don’t you remember what it was like to be that age?”

Ethan’s smile faded at this question. Suddenly, as he began to feel doubly guilty for forgetting his youth, for being an old, un-fun, boring man who just married and tried really hard for years to have a very normal boring adult life, he felt Karl’s right hand cover his own, snake up his arm. The brunette grasped Ethan’s forearm and held it almost possessively. Ethan’s heart flew into his chest and he tried to not flinch from the overwhelming touch.

It felt terrifying, but not…wrong, the way he’d assumed it would. A similar assessment had been made when Karl had yelled at him to sit in the chair what felt like ages ago. But that moment had ended badly, and Ethan had every reason to believe this moment would as well. Karl kept his hand draped over Ethan’s, and Ethan kept his cheek on Heisenberg’s shoulder (blushing furiously) until they arrived at the manor. Then the engineer lifted his arm so that Ethan could dismount.

The tall blond stared up at Karl in the dark. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Nah,” said Heisenberg, eyeing the mountains that stretched up and over the house. “Gotta stable the horse, an’ then I’ll tend to the fire. Those kids should get some sleep. No sense in them catchin’ cold out here.”

Ethan huffed at this, begrudgingly happy that Karl was thinking of others, and then he asked rather bluntly, “You don’t believe in the…spiritual aspect of the fire, do you?”

“No,” Karl said, raising one eyebrow. “I think we saw somethin’ a lot more real than that down there.”

“Why go and do it if you don’t even believe in it?”

Karl actually chuckled, the same half-jovial, half-sinister noise Ethan had heard from him several times. “Because, Ethan,” the man explained with a flamboyant head toss, “I’m a Lord .” He rolled his eyes at this, and tugged on the horse’s reins, heading south this time, toward the stables on the property. The horse tossed its mane as it departed from Ethan as if echoing Karl’s sentiment.

Ethan sighed and entered the house alone.

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Ethan got his cold shower, but the girls were still sleeping in his room, and he didn’t want to wake them. After he dressed in his pajamas, he headed toward the still-lit, but quiet, ballroom. There were couches there, and a warm fire. The guests had all departed, and yet he knew some of the chieftain’s family were staying in the home overnight. Somewhere. Ethan rolled over on the couch, toward the wall, and moved his right hand over his left arm, where his once-enemy had grasped it. What the hell was he thinking, blushing about that? Soon, Ethan was asleep.

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

When his eyes opened, he saw the brushed velvet of the couch inches from his nose. He didn’t quite feel like stirring, but Ethan realized in the night someone had put a blanket on him. He blinked, hearing sounds. There were several people in the large room. Maricara’s voice. One of her daughters? He could hear Rose’s hands and knees slapping on the hardwood. The women spoke in their language. And he heard, of all things, small tapping hooves and the bleats of a goat.

Of course Karl had brought the goat into the ballroom. Just as he started to roll his eyes and turn over to view the scene, he heard near Rose, an almost throaty singing voice.

“Tell ‘em to find me an acre of land, parsley, sage, you, and thyme….”

Karl was singing. Singing to Rosemary. Ethan smiled despite himself.

“Between the salt water and the sea strand...t hen he’ll be a true love of mine.”

He continued to smile. He’d heard the song a lot growing up, but now he pondered on it. Wasn’t the song just an impossible list of tasks to a would-be lover?

Parsley, sage, you and thyme.

Another of the teenagers called into the room, her accent thick. “Phone, for Karl.”

They had a phone here? What the hell? Ethan froze as the man’s heavy footfalls crossed the room, Rosemary babbling after him, and now Ethan swallowed, setting his jaw. He was going to try his powers out all right, and he was going to find out what the hell Karl was---

The footfalls echoed down the main hallway, past the ballroom. Ethan had never ventured that direction. He decided he would, soon. But now he kept his eyes trained on the crushed velvet, waiting to hear….whatever he would hear. He wondered if the radio conversations he’d first heard upon his reanimation were related.

Soon enough Karl turned, and Ethan’s new, heightened sense of hearing followed the sound. Rosemary was still crawling after him, and now Ethan balked as he realized Karl had picked up the girl as he spoke into a landline receiver.

“ Yeah.” Heisenberg, the man who could not ever be formal under any circumstance.

“I just intercepted the report,” the voice was feminine, and…sultry? Ethan scowled. “It’s received, no feedback yet. He confirms your death, with Ethan's and…the rest.”

Karl scoffed as if whoever she spoke of was an idiot. “Dead huh? Figures. Halfass. The kid?”

“Casualty,” she replied, almost smugly, and Ethan’s frown was growing. “But he’s also requesting immediate leave. Knowing him...I'd be on the lookout.”

“I’ve salvaged enough of their drones to build a robot,” Karl responded proudly, and now Ethan could hear him inhaling…his lips on a cigar. The shiver was involuntary.

“You’re not worried at all?” She had a hint of amusement, flirtation in her voice. Karl’s laugh was easy, flirty back.

“You don’t think I can take ‘im? What, you wanna post a guard up for me? Or maybe come yourself an--”

“Karl,” she said with even more humor, but a slight hint of exasperation. Oh, so he was KARL now? Ethan’s face was burning. Just who in the--

“I’m just letting you know. That’s all.”

“I know. Thanks, doll. Appreciated.” Ethan could almost smell the cigar. He wanted to bury his head in Karl’s hair, and also beat him to death with a stop sign. What in the fuck was going on? Drones?? He thought instantly of Chris. Wasn’t Chris looking for him, per Mia?

The pair said a quick goodbye, and Ethan realized that he felt sick. This was the same feeling he had every time he discovered one of Mia’s many secrets. He remembered her words, involuntarily. “You were right. I did lie to you. I shouldn’t have--”

Ethan’s face turned into a grimace of pain, and he fought tears. No. Not today.

He turned and sat up abruptly, caught off-guard by seeing two women, the goat, and --where the hell was his daughter?

“Rosemary--” he questioned, and both women, sitting on a nearby couch doing some kind of crocheting, nodded out toward the hallway. Ethan stormed out of the room and toward the sounds of his daughter. Karl was just exiting the doorway of wherever had the phone, when Ethan grabbed the girl from him.

“Easy, Papa,” Karl said, with an innocent smile. Ethan was so angry he didn’t notice or appreciate Karl’s hatless, coatless, glasses-free look.

“Why didn’t you tell me we had a phone?” Ethan snapped, venomous. He stepped forward, and Karl actually backed up, his palms up. The man looked completely caught-off-guard. Not ‘caught in a lie’ like Mia always looked. No, fuck that, it was still fucked up.

“Uhhh.” Karl looked over his shoulder. “I figured you knew.”

“Why the hell would I know that?”

Karl dropped his hands. “It’s not like I made you prisoner in the one room, you did that yourself. You want a phone, I’ll run you a line in--”

“I don’t want a fucking phone,” Ethan snapped, inwardly adding, Who would I call? Everyone I know thinks I’m dead. Already had a funeral and everything.

“Who were you talking to?”

Karl’s eyes lit up and he flashed a smile. Ok, that definitely wasn’t the reaction Ethan expected. He paused to look around the room. This had to be Karl’s living area. Junk metal and old tech lined the walls, workbenches had been created from dressers and other scrap wood, and the lovely faded wallpaper was covered in formulas and notes.

“Work friend of mine,” he said casually. “A spy. Damned good one.” His head tilted, and Rosemary laughed at this in Ethan’s arms. She seemed to like his exaggerated movements.

“You heard that huh? Wild.” Wild, Ethan. That’s what Karl had said, when he casually, openly admitted to spying on him. Ethan was losing his will to fight, but he persisted.

“What was Eva talking about last night?”

Karl’s face was blank. He tossed up a hand, shrugged a shoulder. Be more specific.

“She said…she…goddammit Heisenberg, what are you hiding from me?” Ethan snapped. He couldn't remember what she’d said specifically, but she was chiding Karl about keeping secrets.

At this, Heisenberg’s face fell. Ah, there it was. There’s the look that Mia used to radiate. Ethan had just asked the right questions enough to get in the realm of what was wrong. He couldn’t help but feel the panic rising within him. He hated this feeling, but it was so familiar to him. The room spun.

“Ethan,” Heisenberg started.

“I knew it.” What had he known? Other than that the world was full of liars? Mia’s words. You were right. I did lie to you.

“It--it’s not that I’m hiding,” Karl faltered. Ethan backed away, but Karl was swifter, spinning past Ethan and in front of the doorway. Karl planted his arms in the door frame, looking massive, and dangerous. “Now goddammit, you’re gonna listen to me, since you asked,” the man snarled, flexing his arms against the framing.

“I’m not HIDING anything. You can’t remember what happened to you in the Mold. And I…I don’t know why. An’ neither does Eva.” Heisenberg’s eyebrows raised dangerously. “THAT is all I haven’t told you about. Because….”

“Because why?” Ethan shot back, raising his voice. Rose muttered at him as though she didn’t approve. But Ethan could feel his temperature rising, feel the bleary fatigue of trauma settling over his shoulders. No answer would be good enough, he had already decided. It never was. They were all excuses.

“Because,” Heisenberg growled, and then tossed a hand up. He strode forward, and paced. “Because… if I say it, it’ll sound one way. If you remember it, it’ll be different.”

This just sounded like a riddle, not an answer. Ethan was done with the interrogation. He carried Rosemary away, determined to go back to life where he was ignoring Karl and not drinking coffee with him, or entertaining house guests with him, or watching him ride horses, or healing his body around him, or anything, in fact. Ethan was just going to do this alone, he decided. As it should be.

#winters and the beast #wintersberg

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addythelarrie · 2 years

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Once In A Lifetime

Intro // Part 64

By the end of the day, Harry goes to bed, happy with the monologue he's rehearsed over and over about why whatever happened this weekend should never happen again, and that he's really sorry, but Louis is his superior and it would be extremely unprofessional of them to continue with what they were doing... or rather, trying to do.

After dinner, Louis excuses himself and makes his way towards his side of the house where he takes a quick shower and gets ready for bed.

He hasn't heard from Harry all day, and he doesn't know why that has him feeling disappointed. He was the one who said they'll see each other on Tuesday, so Harry had no reason to contact him. He's his own person. He can do whatever he wants. But he could've at least checked in to see how Katie is doing. He's by far her most favourite person in the unit. Louis knows this because everyday for a week he had to explain to the four year old why Harry was not there. She's about to be discharged, sure he'd want know how she's doing. Maybe he doesn't care all that much. Oh shut up Louis! Nobody cares about her more than him. Any fool could see that. Louis' thoughts are all over the place.

He fumbles with his phone for a few minutes, only staring at the screen before tapping on Harry's name to re-read their messages from the night before.

Only when he turns on his side and catches a whiff of the strawberry scent still lingering on the pillow next to his, does he start typing.

It's only after he hits send that he mentally chastises himself. Why are you being so needy!? Get it together Louis. You're acting like a fucking teenager.

Harry cringes as he reads back their short conversation. It's awkward, and he wants to kick himself. He sincerely hopes that this is not how things will be between them from now on. All the more reason to stop whatever it is they were trying to do. Harry thinks to himself and goes over his well rehearsed little speech one final time before drifting off into a peaceful slumber.

*~*

Louis on the other hand loves the cringiness of it all. He chuckles to himself while reading back their messages.

And so what if he used a patient's name to get their awkward little conversation going. He couldn't very well tell the nurse that he's the one missing him. Which, obviously he isn't. But Katie is. She said it herself. He just wanted Harry to know that the little girl can't wait to see him.

He looks down at his peck, dragging his finger over the bite mark that has now taken on a blueish-purple colour, wincing when he reaches a part that's a little more sensitive. Yeah, you definitely don't miss him. He thinks to himself before closing his eyes. His last thoughts are that when he wakes up, he gets to see those green eyes that unknowingly have him questioning so many things, again.

Harry walks into the hospital half an hour early the next morning, dead set on talking to the Doctor before they start their shift.

He saunters over to the staff elevator and patiently waits for it to come down.

He gets inside and only when the door is about to close, does he hear someone calling out to hold the lift, so he quickly presses the open button on the side panel and waits for the person to appear.

"Nurse Styles." Louis says upon entering the elevator, sending Harry a wink and a sweet smile.

"Doctor." Harry nods his head, looking down at his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. The short ride one floor down is painfully awkward and Harry wished he had taken the stairs instead.

Getting into the unit, Harry makes his way over to the nurses station while Louis heads in the opposite direction, towards his office.

After Harry has signed the register, he thinks now would be the best time to go have this quick talk with Louis. It's better to do it sooner rather than later, he's convinced himself. That way it won't bother him for the rest of the day.

When he gets to Louis' office, he softly knocks on the door, and peeks inside to see Louis' face immediately perking up when he sees him. And well, that kind of makes him feel just a little soft. Louis should always be smiling like this. He thinks to himself.

But alas, he's come here for a reason, so he steps inside the little office. "Can I talk to you real quick?"

"Yeah, sure." Louis replies. "Come in and lock the door, would you?"

"Oh, uhm, okay." Harry replies and does what he's told, only to turn back around and be met with the sight of Louis busy taking off his shirt. "W- w- wha- what are you doing?" Harry stutters and he can feel his cheeks heating up- he can only imagine what they must look like.

Louis quirks an eyebrow. "Getting ready." He answers nonchalantly.

"F- f- for what?" Harry asks. His eyes widening by the second and as hard as he tries, he struggles to take them off the half naked man in front oh him, lingering on the bruise he left. "I'm sorry about that." He sincerely apologizes like he haven't already.

Louis chuckles when he sees what Harry is focusing on. "Hey, don't worry about it yeah." He says and starts removing his pants as well. "You wanted to talk about something?" He says like it's the most normal thing while standing in nothing but a tight pair of boxers.

Harry swallows thickly. "I, uhm, I, yeah, I-" he starts but he can't seem to form a coherent sentence, neither can he find the willpower to tear his eyes away from the only piece of fabric left on the doctor's body.

And just like that, Harry realizes that his well rehearsed monologue has resolved to nothing but a big ball of goo inside his brain.

"W- w- why, why are you un- undressing?" Harry manages to ask a few seconds later, his eyes finally snapping up and meeting Louis' when the latter clears his throat.

"Why do you think I'm getting undressed, Curly?" Louis asks, taking a step closer to where Harry is standing.

Harry's already pink cheeks now starts taking on a crimson colour. "I- I- I- I-." Is all he manages to say when Louis steps even closer and reaches behind him, pulling down a pair of scrubs from the hook behind the door, holding it up for Harry to see.

"I need to be in the OR in fifteen minutes." He says, his eyebrows slightly raised. "What did you think was about to happen?" He adds with a smirk.

Louis is a tease and he knows it. He knows just how to get the green eyed nurse worked up. It's just too easy. Like this morning in Louis' office - the tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife, and Louis enjoyed it. He revelled in the fact that Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from his boxer shorts for more than a few seconds at a time. And well, with all of Harry's attention focused on his manhood, Louis almost started developing a little problem.

"You want it to come out and play, nurse Styles?" Louis asked, smirking when Harry's eyes snaps up to meet his own. "Gotta make it quick though." He adds with a chuckle.

Harry only stares at him for a few seconds, his cheeks flaming red and he swallows hard before he shakes his head, indicating a no.

"No?" Louis questions, just to be sure and watches as Harry then nods his head. "Yes?" He asks, eyebrows raised while slightly tilting his head to the side, a smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when Harry shakes his head again- no.

"Okay, well while you figure it out, I really need to get ready." Louis then says and starts pulling on his scrubs.

It's safe to say that Harry's been in a daze for most part of the morning after he left Louis' office. His resolve to tell Louis they've got to stop what they were doing is now only a distant memory, because right now the last thing he wants to do is stop. In fact, he's ready to give up all control and just put the pedal to the metal.

Well, that feeling of course only lasts until Louis returns from his surgery and starts doing his rounds.

Harry is still a bit dazed out when Louis, together with Doctors Azka, Bea and Joy enters the ward he's currently in. He's entranced by the doctor- by the way he's leading his colleagues through the ward, discussing the patients' progress and vitals and the way he almost giggles while lifting his hand to cover his mouth when doctor Azka makes a corny joke. He's entranced by the way little crinkles forms at the corners of Louis' eyes and how his long eyelashes rests on his cheekbones when he looks down while writing on the patient's charts. He's definitely entranced by the way Louis says his name. Harry. The way it just rolls off his tongue. Harry. It's like he's meant to say it. Harry. He can't help but imagine how it would sound if Louis were to moan it over and over again when-

"NURSE STYLES!" The doctor exclaims and Harry's eyes meets Louis' icy blue ones when he snaps out of his world of thought. He wasn't imagining Louis saying his name. The doctor was actually calling him, trying to get his attention. "Would you mind getting your head out of the fucking clouds for a second and start doing the job you're getting paid to do?" He lashes out and Harry wants the earth to just swallow him right there and then- every eye in the room is currently on him. "Or you're welcome to leave and go tell Matron Payne to move you to another unit." He adds while pointing at the door behind him. "The choice is yours."

"Sorry doctor." The nurse apologizes, not knowing where to look.

"Do you have it or not?" Louis asks and Harry can't help the confused look he's currently giving the doctor. "The vitals chart. I need the last recorded vitals for Mrs. Penz." He adds, his tone laced with irritation.

"Oh, yeah, sorry." The nurse replies, holding out the now half crumbled piece of paper he's been clutching in his hand.

Louis wastes no time in snatching the paper being held out to him, sighing heavily when he tries to straighten it on the overbed table.

And right there and then Harry decides that no speech or monologue is needed. This was a short-lived infatuation and he's over it.

Definitely. Over. It.

Jerk.

Previous || Next

#larry smau #larry stylinson #once in a lifetime #addythelarrie #smau #louis and harry #larry is real #larry is literally real #larries

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sp4c3-0ddity · 6 years

Text

Do I think plance is still one-sided in canon?

Short answer: No

Long answer:

I think season seven - mostly the front half - gave us a lot of evidence to support that Lance feels something for Pidge. But first, a disclaimer:

whether you see it as romantic or not is your prerogative but I’m arguing in favor of romantic so if you disagree this post isn’t for you

(also i got tired of seeing “plance” meta that mostly argues against a//urance - although admittedly this has a bit of that too... - rather than for plance so here this is, in all its “someone’s probably already said it better” glory this is why i don’t usually write meta)

I know Lance’s livid and notable “Don’t you touch her!” stands out in a lot of minds, but I have a confession to make: that line made me sit up, but initially it didn’t scream PLANCE at me (but i’ll still address it later), so first I want to talk about the other bit of specific Lance dialogue that caught my attention:

“Yeah, Pidge loved that robot.”

Here’s the thing about this line: it’s totally irrelevant to the issue at hand. Bob is forcing Lance to play a life-endangering version of Guess Who, and when he gets to Rolo and Bob tries to jog his memory with traveled with Nyma and Beezer, what does Lance remember first? That Pidge loved that robot.

He could’ve thought of almost anything else to do with that incident, so why didn’t he say “yeah, Nyma handcuffed me to a tree” or “Hunk never trusted them”? And it’s not like he mulled over his statement of something Pidge loved before he said it; it was easily and most likely the first thing to pop into his head almost like Pidge is often on his mind or something right

Lance has always taken notice of Pidge. The fact that he noticed her issue with the Kerberos mission and confronted her about it is literally what kick-started the plot (see this meta/theory by @anchoredtether). But this line in season seven? It’s different, because it’s almost completely irrelevant to what’s going on, not to mention the kicker:

What was Lance doing when Pidge showed that she loved that robot?

He was flirting with and trying to charm Nyma. And yet, Pidge caught his attention in some subtle way that allowed him to notice that she was charmed by Beezer. It’s nothing like the incident after the simulator crash, when Pidge tried to harangue Iverson for “slandering” the Kerberos pilot; that outburst was front and center so of course Lance would’ve noticed it. But Pidge latching onto Beezer wasn’t so overt, and Lance somehow noticed it despite being distracted the entire time

seriously though how did he remember the fake distress signal before he recalled that they stole the Blue Lion which was his at the time

so now we can talk about the other Revealing bit of dialogue and what it holds...including how it contrasts to other similar instances for Lance:

“Don’t you touch her!”

i know this has been dissected or biopsied to death a lot but i’m fishing it out of the formaldehyde again because i think it’s Interesting how Lance’s protectiveness of Pidge here is just...different

(And also, is it just me, or is this some roundabout indication that Lance actually thinks of Pidge as a “girl”? Because i personally don’t share the headcanon that Lance is bi so if he’s taken notice of that...but anyway that was a tangent we’ll move on now)

In context, Lance acts as soon as Zethrid and Ezor single out Pidge. His voice - and the look on his face - as he charges is angrier than we’ve ever seen him i think?. And i mean, legitimately angry, because the only times (again, i think; memory might fail me) we’ve seen him anywhere close to this angry were (1) at Keith out of “rivalry”/petty jealousy and (2) at Lotor (also out of jealousy and before he showed any indication that he was hiding something).

(There was also at Keith in “The Journey Within”, and while to an extent I think that was legitimate anger, it doesn’t have the same impetus, at least in my interpretation, since he was angry on his own behalf rather than on someone else’s)

Of course, you can say that Lance’s anger and quick action come purely from a place of platonic/familial protectiveness because he’s put himself in the line of fire for other characters before, most notably Coran (season one), Allura (season six), and Veronica (season seven). But here are a few crucial differences:

I’ll start with the scene where he puts himself between Allura and a blast, since i see this get cropped up as Evidence for them as an endgame romantic pairing. Because Lance does undoubtedly have feelings for her (at least in season six), but his protection of her here doesn’t strike me as evidence for them, exactly, because he’s done the same thing for Coran

(unless you want to make the argument that he’s into Coran too, which, uh, i’m pretty sure that’s one thing the whole fandom can agree is not the case)

But there is one thing here that’s different, and that is that Lance (probably) dies and Allura revives him. But Allura’s revival serves another purpose, and that is to foreshadow her revival of Shiro at the very end of the season

(Now you might say but Reem did you see how Allura looked at him!! And i’ll say i’ve seen way too many “meta” posts comparing that Look(TM) to ones exchanged between Shiro and Keith, and if i was a betting woman i’d put money on sh/eith not being canon so that’s hardly what i consider “proof”)

and then, more than that difference, there’s Lance’s reaction. He wasn’t angry here - he’s not angry while defending Coran or Veronica either - not like he was while uselessly throwing himself at someone that threatened Pidge

And that’s another thing that’s worth mentioning: the enemy threatening Pidge posed a very personal threat in that moment, whereas the enemy threatening Coran, Allura, and Veronica was depersonalized and faceless. could that then be the source of Lance’s anger? That the Enemy was in his face and he thought he could do something about them then?

All right, then what about...Shiro vs. Sendak? Sendak was a very personal enemy to Shiro, and he was very close to killing him before Keith swooped in to off him (which i have Thoughts about but won’t get into in this post). Keith wasn’t angry that Shiro was in danger in that moment, not really. although maybe you can write it off as Keith being “more mature” but i honestly don’t think that’s it because Shiro’s always been a sore spot for him and Keith still gets angry and protective. and i’ve already mentioned what i think about canon romantic sh/eith...

And then there’s the obvious comparison, about how the other members of Team Voltron reacted to Pidge being in very obvious danger during that scene, and the fact is that while they’re all protective of her, they were all much more composed than Lance was. Heck, even Lance was composed before Pidge was singled out

Lance is temperamental, it’s true, but he’s not exactly “volatile”, not in the way Keith was, so this feels especially notable and more than mere protectiveness over a friend or “sister figure”

i know there’s lots more to be said about Lance and Pidge and their relationship from season seven, but i’m more familiar with the front half of the season (i’m never binge-watching thirteen episodes ever again that was a bad idea), so i’ll leave you with a quick comment on their behavior in “The Journey Within”:

they were holding onto each other for most of the episode and did you see the way Pidge clutched Lance’s arm with both of hers also has your otp held hands in canon no i didn’t think so. then there’s this blessed screenshot (thank you @lions-in-hats for it):

tl;dr the writers gave us some indication that Lance has feelings for Pidge, even if they’re not explicit. whether that was intentional on their part remains to be seen, and it’s up to them to do something about it

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egcdeath · 3 years

Text

an apple a day

pairing: soft!ransom drysdale x reader

summary: it seems like an apple a day couldn’t keep the doctor or ransom away.

warnings: sickfic, a lot of fluff, brief mention of throwing up

word count: 2k

author’s note: join my taglist if you’d like! all feedback is appreciated <3

Ransom

U busy?

4:37 PM

Ransom

😏🍆😈

4:38 PM

Ransom

Wow ignoring me?????

5:24 PM

Ransom

Bitch

5:34 PM

Ransom

🙄

5:36 PM

A frantic pounding on your front door pulled you from a bizarre dream within your feverish slumber. You peeled the slightly damp cloth that rest upon your face from your sweaty skin, and lazily tossed it to the floor before audibly groaning.

“Coming,” you whimpered out, hoping that it was loud enough for whomever was at the door.

“Fuckin’ better be,” a voice grumbled as a response.

You rolled over slightly, whole body sore from the sickness that was currently ailing you, and willed yourself to get off of your sofa. Swinging your legs over the left side of the piece of furniture you managed to get up, and sluggishly made your way to the door, ignoring the ache of your neck from resting it on an arm rest.

It seemed like with every step you took, your sinus headache throbbed harder between your eyes, and your fever cooked you a bit more from the inside out.

After what felt like a lifetime, you got to your door and opened it, only to be greeted by your… well, you didn’t really know what he was to you.

“Christ, Y/N. You look like shit,” Ransom commented, raising his brows. “Did you get hit by a car or something?”

You gave him a blank look, and said nothing.

“Is this a bad time?”

“What do you think, dickhead?”

“You’ve had better days,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“Okay, goodbye,” you rolled your eyes and slammed the door on him, finding yourself slightly out of breath as you lethargically shuffled away.

You collapsed back onto the sofa, and reached for a blue tissue box that sat on your coffee table. Did that even happen? Did you imagine Ransom coming to your door? Or was that part of your fever dream?

Settling back, and pulling a wool blanket over yourself, you began to doze off once again, not really having the energy to do anything else.

Ransom

I’m s-word

6:12 PM

Ransom

I’m not gonna say it

6:13 PM

Ransom

But you know what I mean

6:15 PM

Ransom

I’m coming back over baby

6:17 PM

You hadn’t even noticed the vibrating of your phone, as it was currently lodged under a mountain of pillows and cushions. It also helped that you were asleep once again.

This time when you woke up, Ransom was in your apartment, rambling about some encounter he had while he was out dealing with the public for you.

How was he even in your apartment? You felt like you missed a few steps.

“Sit up,” he commanded, setting down a plastic take-out bag, along with the spare keys you kept under your welcome mat on top of your coffee table, before dragging a seat from your kitchen into your living room.

The seat finally came to a stop in front of you, and you listlessly sat up. You watched as Ransom wordlessly opened the bag, revealing a massive container of a clear broth soup, and an equally large baguette.

“Am I dreaming?” You asked aloud.

“Why would you be dreaming? ‘Cause I did something nice? Or because I’m that hot?”

“Because I have a high fever that’s making me delusional,” you told him, and his brows furrowed once again.

“Let me see,” he mumbled, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead, and humming in thought, “Yeah, you’re pretty hot,” he agreed.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” you mumbled, a random churn in your stomach suddenly taking a huge blow out of you.

“Hey, I did a good thing for you. Don’t get bitchy with me now,” he snapped, narrowing his eyes slightly at you.

You sighed as a response, and Ransom gave you a little smirk before going to open the lid of the soup container.

“Open up wide, Beloved,” Ransom said in a playful tone. If you had the energy, you’d shoot something sassy back at him, but you were finding yourself in less of a state to do so with every passing moment. You simply followed along with his orders, opening your lips so Ransom could deliver a little spoonful of soup into your mouth.

“Mm,” you audibly reacted to the liquid, “did you make this yourself?”

“Hm, you must be sicker than I thought,” he chuckled and dabbed the edge of your lip where a droplet of soup was left behind. “I picked it up on my way back over.”

“It’s really good,” you hummed, “feed me more.”

Ransom scoffed fondly, “you’re lucky I like you.” He began, dishing out another spoonful to you.

You paused to chew on a softened carrot, “you should’ve known that sick me’s demands of you were gonna be a lot more.”

Ransom rolled his eyes, and went back to feeding you. You were both quiet for a moment, maintaining a heavy eye contact while he fed you, until out of the blue, your stomach turned.

Your mouth filled with saliva as you realized what exactly was going on, and you rushed off of the couch with an obscene swiftness, just barely making it to your bathroom before you were emptying your stomach into it.

Ransom quickly showed up behind you, making his presence known by lifting your hair out of your face, and rubbing supportive circles onto your back. He cringed as he listened to you heave into the bowl, and when you finally leaned back, he used a thumb to wipe away the few tears that had begun to slip down your face.

“You okay?” he questioned, squatting down to your level.

“Just peachy,” you choked out hoarsely.

“Maybe you’ll feel better after a shower?” he suggested, flushing your sickness down the toilet while you attempted to catch your breath.

“Okay, yeah,” you began hesitantly.

“I’ll stay in here if you want me to make sure nothing bad happens?”

“You just wanna be a perv,” you weakly giggled.

“I’m just trying to be a supportive… I’m trying to be supportive,” Ransom found his way back up, and turned on the shower’s nozzle.

“Mhm, I’m sure,” you began kicking off your sweatpants when you heard the water begin to putter down, and gestured for Ransom to help you lift off your sweatshirt once he was facing you once again.

“I can’t believe you’re using up the last of that energy to have an attitude with me,” Ransom pulled you out of your shirt, then helped you up and began to direct you toward the shower.

You were more or less silent from there on out, focusing on maintaining your balance in the slippery room. Your brain seemed to become increasingly cloudy with every extra puff of steam. You leaned against the slightly warm tiles of your wall as you attempted to get through the genuinely hellish shower for a few minutes before deciding it wasn’t really worth it, and stumbling back out.

“Was I right? Did it help?” Ransom asked after your period of silence, handing you some fresh clothing that he’d grabbed from your closet sometime between the time you got in and out of the shower.

You shook your head, “shower kinda made everything worse,” you muttered, pulling a new shirt over your head. “My head is killing me. I think I just need to be in a dark room, or go back to sleep, or something.”

You sluggishly pulled on the rest of your clothes, then sniffled as you walked out to your bedroom. As you made your way to your bed, you pushed aside a mountain of tissues from earlier in the… day? Week? With all the sleeping you’d been doing, you genuinely

couldn’t tell what time or day it was. You slipped into one side of the bed, and grabbed a pillow that you promptly hugged.

Ransom slipped into bed beside you, a bottle of cold medicine in hand– when did he leave long enough to get you cold medicine?– and watched the tissues on your side of the bed fall onto the floor in a slightly disturbed manner. Yeah, he was definitely getting sick after this.

“Open,” he ordered, and you happily obliged, opening your mouth a bit so he could pour some medicine down your throat. You dramatically gagged, then wiped the corners of your lips.

“Gross, Ran,” you muttered, burying your face into a different pillow.

“Well, it’ll probably make you feel better. I brought you water for a chaser if you’d like. You probably need to stay hydrated, or some shit like that.”

When did he get water?? Probably when he was getting the medicine. But that would’ve taken him like, five minutes. And getting in bed didn’t take you that long. Right?

You were pulled out of your confused internal monologue by a pink plastic straw being brought to your lips, and you instinctively drank from it. You weren’t completely sure if it was all mental, or the medicine was kicking in extremely fast, but you were starting to feel a little loopy. Maybe time was being weird again because of your sickness.

“I feel like I’m dying. You and your stupid showers made me die,” you whined, pushing away the straw.

“I was only trying to help,” he insisted as he set the drink down on your bedside table.

“I’m your second murder victim,” you continued.

Ransom paused and looked down at you with raised brows, “what?”

“Y’know, I saw what you did to that delivery girl who was bringing me soup. You better clean that body up before I get better, ‘cause ‘mgonna be pissed if I have to do that myself.”

“Okay, I don’t know if you’ve been seeing things the whole time, or if the medicine is rewriting your memories. Either way, I think it’s time for you to go to bed,” he chuckled.

“You’re right. Night,” you hummed before turning on your side and closing your eyes. It was pretty much lights out from there.

——

When you awoke, it was to the piercing bright light of a laptop screen that broke through the darkness of night. You had to blink a few times for your vision to focus, but… was Ransom in bed next to you? Looking at a WikiHow article? If you weren’t completely mistaken, you could make out a faint How to Help A Sick Person Feel Better: 8 Steps (with pictures).

You sleepily reached out and grabbed his wrist, letting him know that you were finally awake. He quickly clicked out of the tab, pulling up his Twitter feed instead.

“Hi,” you greeted. “Why’re you being secretive?”

“I’m not,” he huffed.

“You are.”

“You’re still delusional from the medicine.”

“Probably. But you’re being secretive. And you’re bad at it.”

“Whatever,” you could practically hear the eye roll in his tone.

“It’s late, Ran. Why’re you still up?”

“I just wanted to, y’know…” he trailed off.

“To…?” you pressed.

“I wanted to make sure nothing would happen to you while you slept,” he rushed out. “Happy?”

You swooned aloud at this, “you are such a sucker. Put that laptop down and cuddle me.”

Ransom said nothing, but set the device into your night stand, and wrapped an arm around you, “‘re you feeling any better?” he mumbled as he relaxed into you.

“Kinda. We’ll see in the morning,” you slipped your hand down on top of his, and Ransom promptly moved it.

“You’re already pushing it tonight.”

“You’re always such a dick,” you scoffed with a laugh. “Goodnight, asshat.”

“Goodnight, you sick bitch,” he quipped back.

——

When you awoke in the morning, you couldn’t help but to notice how much better you were feeling. No headache, no nausea, a little fatigue, but hey, you just woke up, and that was to be expected.

As you sat up and glanced to your right, you found a pink-nosed Ransom with a box of empty Kleenex sat in his lap.

“Oh great, you’re awake,” he began in a nasally tone. “Since you wanted to get me sick, it’s your turn to take care of me,” he tossed the empty box at you, the cardboard falling softly onto your lap.

Something told you that this was going to be a long day.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom thrombey x you #knives out #knives out fanfic #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #ransom drysdale

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shihalyfie · 3 years

Text

“There is no one right way to live”

Adventure and 02 really make up an unusual series in many ways, and I think one of them is how kind it is to the human condition. One of its most consistent commitments is to portraying its kids as “real children” -- as in, messy kids with some very deep nuances to their behavior, in ways that don’t reflect what you’d usually expect from media tropes. In some ways, it ended up backfiring (tropes are not inherently a bad thing, and it’s led to miscommunication that persists to this day because the audience has to fight a tendency to read the characters through the kinds of tropes we’re all expecting to find), but it also had the effect that these kids could be intimately relatable to the audience in ways that “textbook” portrayals of kids often wouldn’t be.

Adventure had eight main characters in its human cast, which was extended to twelve in 02 -- a massive balancing act -- and yet took the stance that none of these twelve characters’ very different ways of thinking or living life are fundamentally wrong. Rather, it celebrates the differences between them, and encourages them to embrace them about themselves. But it also does not shy away from the struggles those with each line of thinking might have in terms of communicating and interacting with the world. It’s easy to say words like “be yourself”, but what does “be yourself” really mean?

“Each character’s way of thinking”

Most people tend to define “character development” by “how much the character changed over the course of the narrative”, but if you look carefully, not all of the characters change that much. In fact, Koushirou and Miyako’s character arcs are about how they shouldn’t have to change much about themselves!

What we do get to see, however, is everyone’s intimate thought processes. We’re given so much information about each kid’s background and how it shapes their ways of thinking, and how they react to given situations, that you can get six fanfiction writers who have studied the series well and give them a completely hypothetical situation with some of the characters, and most if not all of them will roughly agree, because each kid’s thought pattern is so well detailed that you can easily imagine how they’d behave even when the scenario is hypothetical.

This, despite the fact that Adventure and 02 rarely use internal monologue (this is something specific to its Japanese version; while Japanese anime generally has less of this compared to Western shows, Adventure and 02 are unusually low on this even compared to later Digimon series, and it’s a possible byproduct of the narrative being eventually revealed to be from Takeru’s perspective and not someone truly omniscient). This is something that also somewhat backfired in that characters who are difficult to read or unaware of their own feelings become very difficult for the audience to read, so you have to read their behavior patterns and put two and two together (such as Takeru outright lying about his feelings regarding his childhood in Adventure episode 12, or Sora’s testimony about her confrontation with her mother not quite tracking with what’s actually depicted in Adventure episode 26). It does, however, have a very powerful weapon that it uses to help the audience understand each character’s mentalities and what they’re thinking at a given moment...

Digimon partners! In a sense, “talking with a Digimon partner” is a replacement for internal monologue, because the kids spill their internal feelings to their partners as if they’re talking to themselves. (Protip for all of you fanfic writers out there who struggle to figure out how to integrate the Digimon smoothly into the narrative: “cutting out most of your internal monologue and replacing it with a conversation with a Digimon partner” is one of your most reliable fallbacks.) This is helpful for characters like Koushirou, who initially starts off Adventure as very isolated from the others but immediately takes well to Tentomon, and Ken, who spends a good part of 02′s third quarter still very emotionally distant from the others and not entirely willing to open up to them, but very conversely willing to open up to his own partner. Iori converses about his conflicted feelings regarding the situation with Upamon during the process of forming his Jogress relationship with Takeru, and, back in Adventure, Takeru himself was willing to show his more “less well-behaved” side in front of Patamon that he normally wouldn’t when he was constantly in the presence of elders.

On top of that, Digimon partners being reflective of the kids’ own personalities in some sense means that they are very good at asking just the right questions at the right time, or saying perfectly well-timed things that the kids needed to hear the most, to get them to reconsider their position or realize that they might be going in the wrong direction...

Moreover, we get a lot of help in 02 simply by virtue of the fact it’s about relationships -- I’ve said this a few times before, but 02 is not a series about platitudes or toxic positivity, and has a strong emphasis on “you must understand the other person’s feelings if you want to truly reach out to them.” Showering happy platitudes about friendship on them means nothing if you’re still technically dismissing their feelings and making zero attempt to figure out why they feel this way! Therefore, everyone only accepts Ken when they each come to understand his feelings on the situation, and the Jogress arcs involve the relevant parties making active attempts to “understand the other person’s feelings” and what exactly makes them behave the way they do, before addressing their problems using what they need most at that moment. Being able to push people forward in a positive direction requires having a proper understanding of all of the negativity that came with it, accepting them in spite of that, and choosing to address what they need.

And in 02 episode 49, Daisuke says something that embodies a lot of Adventure and 02′s attitude towards these things: it’s not a sin to have feelings. Your reaction or way of seeing things, based on your backgrounds and experiences that have shaped you, is not something you can be blamed for having, whether that means being worried, sad, frustrated, angry, resentful, what have you. The only question is what you do in response to your feelings.

It’s easy to say “be yourself”, but that’s obviously a problem if you “be yourself” by rampantly ignoring what other people think and trampling on other people’s feelings, and it’s also a problem if “being yourself” is causing problems for others, and it’s especially a problem if “being yourself” is also hurting yourself while you’re at it -- so what does it mean to be true to yourself?

It’s not about your inherent personality traits, it’s about what you choose to do with them

As I said earlier, Adventure and 02 all arguably celebrate the fact that everyone is so different, and has their own skills to contribute to the group. Everyone has different strengths and weaknesses, and everyone makes up for each other’s weaknesses when they work together. And some of these characters do change in order to become “better people”. But what does being a “better person” mean? How does that tie into still “being true to yourself”, and yet changing at the same time?

02 episode 18 has Miyako in possibly one of her worst bouts of loss of control -- she has an effective panic attack and starts yelling at everyone in all directions, resulting in Hawkmon getting hurt. However, everyone here understands that Miyako meant well and was trying her best given the situation, and nobody scorns her for it, with Hikari even arranging for Miyako and Hawkmon to have proper space to emotionally air things out. Again: it was not a sin for Miyako to have feelings of anxiety, but it was a problem once those feelings led to causing trouble for others -- as in, trampling on their feelings, not having enough regard for their welfare, and such. Well-intentioned or not, Miyako just caused problems, and for that, Miyako labels herself as a “bad” person (tying into her ongoing character arc that involved negatively comparing herself to more mature and put-together people). However, Hawkmon assures her that he likes her the way she is.

But Miyako can’t keep going on like this -- it would obviously be very bad for her to keep being inconsiderate and trample on others’ feelings! But what does happen is that Miyako simply learns to channel these traits in the correct direction -- it’s established that, on the flip side, her being over-the-top brings joy to other people by making them laugh (02 episodes 31, 36, 38), and her aggressive personality is able to reach out to those like Hikari who are too closed in and on another unhealthy extreme! And as it turns out, she is capable of channeling all of those “aggressive” qualities into “aggressively”...reaching out to others and proactively supporting them; all she needed was a bit better sense of regulation so that her energy would go to the places she wanted them to be, rather than rampantly all over the place to the point of causing trouble. She didn’t have to fundamentally change herself into someone like Mimi or Hikari; it was just about adjusting her way of going about things just enough so that she could become more considerate.

Even all the way back in Adventure episode 10, all of the “problems” caused in this episode specifically have to do with Koushirou ending up (accidentally) being inconsiderate to Mimi and Palmon and not taking their feelings enough into account. Again, Koushirou is not treated as if his feelings are wrong or malicious -- he even states that he thinks that the research he’s doing will help everyone in the long run -- but his way of handling this situation is awful, and, regardless of his intent, Mimi and Palmon are feeling abandoned and tossed aside.

For the rest of the series, Koushirou learns to hone his existing skills in analysis -- even his fixation tendencies are treated as a potentially valuable trait -- and, once we learn the details about how he started keeping distance from everyone due to the shock of learning he was adopted and his social anxiety tendencies in Adventure episode 38, Koushirou momentarily tries to force himself to use casual language, and his parents assure him that he doesn’t have to force himself to change. In the end, it’s not an inherent sin for Koushirou to have social anxiety, nor that he needs more time to adjust to becoming more casual with others -- according to Adventure episode 54, he does want to get closer to others eventually, but even Tentomon says he shouldn’t force himself. Koushirou “working past” his social issues doesn’t mean he suddenly has to turn himself into a socialite overnight, but rather, he simply needs to do enough to be able to communicate with others without (accidentally or otherwise) ignoring others’ important feelings. Thus, in 02, he’s still working on becoming less distant from everyone, but he’s managed to become someone who can communicate with and organize people, and is well-respected for it.

A recurring theme in Adventure and 02 is that there’s a good and a bad side to everything, and so if we look at the twelve kids over Adventure and 02, we can see that a lot of the “good things” and “bad things” about them really stem from the same thing:

Taichi: Being an ambitious person who can oversee people in disparate places and bring them together (good) also means that he’s not always good at checking the nuances or other potentially negative contingencies, and can be rather insensitive (bad)

Yamato: Being emotionally sensitive to others means he can be passionate and open about everything, and compassionate to others (good), but also means he can get explosively angry and lose control of himself (bad)

Sora: Being caring towards others and supportive (good) means that she can also end up developing self-destructive tendencies due to her perceived obligations to others (bad)

Koushirou: Being constantly curious and fixated on learning more means he can get to the bottom of things and answer questions that others can’t (good) but also means he can get too absorbed in it and not be able to take others into account (bad)

Mimi: Being extremely sensitive and empathetic means that she’s open-minded, compassionate, and all-loving (good) but also that she takes any kind of discomfort or emotionally draining thing extra hard, and may all too often be unable to take a stand even when she really should (bad)

Jou: Being constantly invested in everyone’s welfare and compelled to help them means he’s very honest and dutiful and otherwise reliable (good) but also means he can make very reckless decisions because he’s so stressed about everyone and everything (bad)

Takeru: Being good at maintaining an atmosphere of moderation and generally being able to handle very tough things means that he has a very strong grip on himself and doesn’t cause trouble for others easily (good) but also means he’s prone to sudden and irrational emotional outbursts because he’s suppressing so badly that he gets no catharsis and isn’t being honest about his own feelings (bad)

Hikari: Being compassionate and all-loving means that she can put her foot down easily for the sake of others and advocate for kindness (good) but also means that her desire to not be a burden on others makes her compulsively unable to vocalize any of her own personal problems to the point of self-destruction and passiveness (bad)

Daisuke: Being so deferential to others and pure-hearted means that he can focus practically on what needs to be done and be a supportive person to others (good) but also means that he’s prone to insecurity, defensiveness, and lack of assertiveness in the face of others (bad)

Miyako: Being over-the-top and full of bright energy means that she can bring joy to others and can reach out to those who have troubles (good) but also means that she has difficulty having restraint from losing control of herself (bad)

Iori: Being humble and a principled person means that he’s good at approaching things directly and driven by a constant desire to do good (good) but also can be so fixated on those principles that he clings onto them even far beyond practicality, and is constantly restraining himself more than should be necessary (bad)

Ken: Being assertive and able to have firm will means that he can get what he wants done for others and show kindness when he needs to (good) but also means that the same assertiveness can be used for uncontrolled sadism and inflicting pain on others (bad)

So, again: all of these characters are encouraged to embrace all of the good things about themselves, and to channel them in ways that are productive or healthy or help them live happily alongside others; all of those “bad” traits also being there doesn’t necessarily mean they have to blot out those personality aspects that have good sides to them as well! It’s just that those “bad” things need to be kept in check so that they don’t cause trouble, and you can read all of these character arcs in ways that involve everyone changing just enough to make sure those “bad” things don’t go rampant and cause problems everywhere -- and everyone’s an imperfect human being, so it’s unlikely that they’ve completely gotten rid of those entirely even into adulthood -- but they have better awareness of what they need to do, and how to better adjust themselves into better people.

Look at the difference between Ken and Daisuke -- Ken had to go through some massive changes because, as the Kaiser, his “bad” traits were going over the top and causing all sorts of harm to everyone, and there was a huge journey he had to go through to get that all in check, whereas Daisuke was always clearly a very pure-hearted person from the get-go and didn’t have to adjust himself as much. Yet you could say the same thing about both of them -- by Ken learning that his efforts and assertiveness were misplaced, and by Daisuke getting around his constant insecurity and need for validation in order to better lead everyone forward, they basically did the same thing, just in different ways, and they’re both better people for it.

And it’s also the philosophy Jou endorses in Adventure episode 50 -- Mimi and Jou aren’t people who are necessarily best at fighting, and this isn’t inherently a sin. It’s just that they need to find ways to productively play to their own strengths in ways that are true to themselves. If Mimi can’t bring herself to engage in direct violence, she can at least use her skills to bring together everyone else who wants to protect the Digital World and prevent more casualties, and if Jou is, by his own admission, “not strong”, he can consider a path ahead of him that involves becoming a healer who can help those who are wounded, and prevent casualties that way.

There is no one right way to live.

What it is you want to do

Here’s an interesting question about the 02 epilogue, and, while we’re at it, 02 episode 50 as a whole: Why are “careers” brought up so much? Timeskip epilogues are hardly new to 02 (and of course have popped up in media for years thereafter), but not all of them involve careers, and even fewer of them have that much focus on shoving “careers” into your face as the main centerpoint, especially since usually this kind of thing would be about family lives or romance or something (and we can say a lot about how the 02 epilogue cared so much about the career thing that it was blatantly prioritizing it over the hot-topic romance issue of Yamato and Sora).

Because, in the end, a career -- or, perhaps, a “future aspiration”, because various details about how the epilogue is presented indicate that “the career that defines your income and adult life” may not actually be the correct term here -- is the ultimate manifestation of “what it is you want to do with your life”. The point driven home by 02 episode 50 is that such a thing should be “what you want to do”, and, given that this was originally supposed to be the Adventure ending before 02 was conceived, it also ties into Adventure’s own theme of “finding your own path”. All of those “careers” listed in the 02 epilogue feel a lot more nonsensical when you think about it in terms of the material hobbies they had during the series, but make significantly more sense when you frame it in terms of what kind of personality each person had and what they would prioritize. Materially, if you think about what Taichi had as a “hobby” during Adventure and 02, it would be soccer, but when you think about him being “an ambitious, wide-reaching leader who brings people from different places together”, his career of “diplomat to bring two worlds together” makes much more sense. It wasn’t about what they’re doing to pay the bills; it’s about “what’s most important in each of their lives”.

And, as far as the series is concerned, none of these decisions are the “wrong” ones; if there’s a “wrong” decision, it’s the one 02 (and later Kizuna) warned you about, in terms of blotting your own self out and making yourself unhappy because you did it for the sake of society’s expectations instead of for yourself. There’s even a difference between the Adventure group and 02 group in their own priorities, in that the former is more individualistic and far-reaching in terms of personal ambition, and the latter prioritizes mutual support and living simpler lives as long as it makes them happy, and as far as Adventure and 02 are concerned, that’s all fine, because those are choices that suit their own dispositions and fit things that they want to do first and foremost.

Everyone is different, everyone has different priorities, and everyone has different ways to live. Everyone has different perspectives and feelings, and once the arguments are ironed out, those should be cherished and celebrated.

#digimon #digimon adventure #digimon adventure 02 #shihameta

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goldentsum · 4 years

Text

— delivery boy

PAIRING: shinsou x reader

GENRE: fluff, awkward scenes

WORDCOUNT: 2.3k

SUMMARY: a sleep-deprived college student just trying to get by the hellhole he’s in by getting a job as a delivery boy. shinsou hates what he does but if he can get a certain cutie, it might lessen his hatred for his job.

TAGS: college au, just fluff with soft and awkward shinsou, sleep-deprived! shinsou as always, cursing, crack

AUTHOR’S NOTE: quarantine made me do it. sighhh, can’t i have a cute delivery boy everytime i order shit? also, shinsou is me pls. D:<

shinsou hates his job. he doesn’t like it one bit. the way some orders are too long that he was using his big brain juice all the time or when someone cancels their order when he already bought the fucking food, he absolutely hates it. his faith in humanity is decreasing at a rapid speed with his job, not like it exists to begin with anyway.

the purple-haired male is proud of his 4.0 gpa despite him slowly losing his sanity as he lose sleep over it but there was this asshole of a teacher in literature 3 was making it difficult to maintain it just because the old geezer has his head stuck in his ass and he won’t even give them the ppt slides, that asshole.

shinsou rubbed his tired eyes while his one hand typed on his computer, listening to the asshole professor in front. the male craned his neck and massaged his neck then took a quick sip of coffee, closing his eyes as he did so. when he opened his eyes the slide in front was already different, making him put down his drink in surprise and tried to copy the notes in a hurry, cursing quietly when he noticed that the last sentence in his notes was cut off.

he fussed over his notes because it was the only thing that’s keeping him from failing the class. the professor was an asshole and liked to pick on his students and shinsou absolutely hates him. he swears when he graduates, he’ll curse the professor off and flip him off as he walks away from this hellhole.

when the class finished, shinsou looked at his notes in horror. it was cut off in a lot of places and so incoherent that when he tried to read it, he thought he gave himself an aneurysm because of it.

his tired eyes stared blankly at his screen while his internal monologue went on about how he’ll just find a sugar mommy and live his best life while the other students went out the room. his thoughts were then cut off when he heard an oh so familiar voice echoing out to him like a siren in the sea.

purple eyes turned to the side and saw you with your friends who were waiting outside the classroom door as you walked away from his sight. shinsou’s not gonna admit it but he finds you really pretty. you’re just so soft and small compared to him. your sweet smile was always present every morning unlike his dead eyes and resting bitch face. annoyingly, you always distract him from the lessons which freaks him out.

no one has ever fazed him but then you came along with your annoyingly pretty face and aesthetic outfits. always sitting beside him, you smelled really sweet too as creepy as that sounds, and you always greet him with such softness that it made him wanna vomit rainbows and sparkles. no one has ever caught his attention so how the hell can you distract him without even doing anything?

also, why do you write your notes in a notebook and still make it look really good and clean? every time he looks over to your side, he sees your notes and his eyes bulge out when your pretty handwriting, the cute and small illustrations, and pretty colors of your notes fill his sight.

that’s also one of the things shinsou liked admired about you. you’re probably the only person in your whole batch who writes their notes on a notebook, not that it’s a bad thing but how can your notes still be so pretty and organized even with professor asshole’s hellish pace of changing the slides?

shinsou sighed and ran a hand through his messy tresses then fixed his things up to get away from the hellhole and come home to his lovely bed. It must've been at least 24 hours since he last slept because he was up all night the other day to fix and perfect every assignment in the devil’s class.

when he finally got to his dorm, a huge sigh of relief left him as the tall male practically collapsed on his bed. his fatigue overcame him in an instant as his eyes closed in instinct, finally sleeping after stressing so much and intaking coffee, lots of coffee. thank god that it was friday and he didn’t have to wake up early because he finally passed his requirements to every class for the semester.

it was already the next afternoon when shinsou woke up, his body ached but at least he wasn’t running on caffeine to keep him from falling over and dying on the spot.

loud clanking was heard from his kitchen as he perked up in confusion for a moment then groaned in dread when he realized who it was. shinsou let his head hit the pillow once again, staring at his ceiling and he felt a headache coming in already.

fucking kaminari is in his dorm again. he didn’t get the blond’s actions but the latter always told him that he was “making sure he wasn’t dead yet” but shinsou knows that kaminari only wants free food but he appreciates the effort, he guesses but can’t kaminari check if he wasn’t dead a little quieter?

he sighed in annoyance and grabbed his phone, going out after stretching and feeling his bone pop satisfyingly. shinsou was greeted with the sight of kaminari fighting with the sizzling oil on the pan in his kitchen.

“what the fuck are you doing?” shinsou’s bored voice reached the blond male who looked at him and smiled, “morning dude. i noticed you had bacon so i’m gonna cook it.”

shinsou was about to reply but the sharp yelp kaminari let out cut him off and he watched the shorter male curse at the pan, rubbing the spot where the hot oil hit him.

he scoffed at the scene and shook his head as he sat on the couch and opened the tv. he was scrolling idly through the channels and when he didn’t find anything entertaining, he stopped on the news.

opening his phone to check his social media feed as he let the tv and kaminari’s curses and screams become background noises. shinsou just wants to see what type of shit people are in these days and it wasn’t because he’s gonna stalk your account. definitely not that.

shinsou scrolled through your pictures on ig, admiring the aesthetic ones combined with chaotic energy in your profile. he smiled a bit when he noticed you unarchived an old pic in your ig. you had shorter hair in the picture and wore some funky shades.

“ohh~ who’s that? she’s cute” kaminari popped out behind him, looking at shinsou’s phone over his shoulders. shinsou jumped at his friend’s presence, letting go off his phone accidentally as he tried to grab it to not let it smack against the hard floor.

when shinsou saved his phone, he whipped his head and glared at kaminari, “what the fuck, denki!”

“geez, sorry man” the latter nervously chuckled and walked back to the kitchen with fear coursing in his body when the taller male’s glare didn’t falter. shinsou rolled his eyes at him and looked at his phone. his usual dead eyes widened whilst horror filled his system.

on his phone, it showed your old picture from a year ago and on the bottom left, the heart was filled. shinsou quickly unliked the picture and threw the phone beside him on the couch as if it burned him.

“what the fuck what the fuck no no no no--” he mumbled in distress, his heart beating a mile per second. he paled when he imagined seeing you again in class on monday.

“i’m gonna puke,” shinsou muttered and held his head, eyes wavering in fear. kaminari poked his head from the kitchen and saw his distressed figure.

“um? shinsou? are you okay, dude?”

when he heard kaminari’s voice, his head whipped to him in a snap. shinsou smiled at him as a shiver ran down kaminari’s spine. “do i look okay, denki?”

a loud scream echoed in shinsou’s dorm and that was the last time anyone has ever seen kaminari denki. rip.

shinsou was stressing the fuck out, he even felt tears prick his eyes with how stressed out he is. nothing could compare to the stress he’s feeling right now well maybe his first finals was also this stressful but that’s not the point. kaminari tried to cheer him up with some bacon and eggs but the male was so snappy though he ate the food after denki left.

after sulking in his dorm, he shook it off and tried to take his mind off it. he showered, worked out a bit in his room, and made some shake but the embarrassment was always looming in the back of his mind. you might think he’s a creep or something. you two barely talked to each other with only good mornings and pleasantries exchanged for the whole semester so what the hell is he gonna do?!

before he knew it, he was accepting some orders in his phone to let out some steam and keep him busy. for the first 2 orders everything was fine but he suddenly got tired and the shame he left at his apartment was still in his system. so he accepted the last order for today before going back to his dorm to do his last resort of screaming into the void. he then went to the boba shop to get the orders.

getting the order, he went straight to a nearby dorm in his campus that’s being shown in his phone to get the money and yeet himself out afterwards. shinsou rubbed his neck, mentally and physically tired after going around and delivering people their food and from getting a harsh life-changing embarrassment happen to him. he’s never gonna stalk you or anyone for that matter again and if he ever sees you again, he’s gonna jump through the nearest fucking window, he doesn’t even care anymore.

as he rang the doorbell and waited for someone to open the door and get the heavy milk teas off his hand, he was already thinking of going to another school and just live a whole new second life. dramatic as that sounds but it was tempting at this point.

but life was not having it. life wants to see him suffer thoroughly. before he thought he just had some bad luck but now, he knows that life was fucking him over and laughing at his misery.

the door opened and in came to view the last person he wants to see right now, you, and it’s not fair, why are you answering the door with an oversized shirt and some shorts with messy hair, looking like a goddamn cutie! you want to kill him, don’t you?

your (e/c) eyes gleam with familiarity when you see the awkward tall male from your class and saw the precious boba in one of his hands.

“shinsou, right? i didn’t know you did delivery?” you smiled at him making the purple-headed male scream internally. he cleared his throat awkwardly and nodded, “y-yeah, the pay isn’t that much but it helps...” he replied so painfully awkward that if anyone sees you two, they’ll cringe. it was that bad.

but being the angel that you are, you giggled and nodded as if you weren’t affected by his awkwardness. he’s thankful for that.

“wait a second, okay? i’ll get the payment” you chimed and he nodded as you run inside the dorm. shinsou’s mind was running a mile per second, did you not receive the notification of his shameful actions? or were you being an angel and sparing him the embarrassment?

he wants to hibernate and never leave him bed after this. shinsou snapped out of his thoughts when he saw you jogging towards him with the same beautiful smile you wear everyday and he unconsciously straightened up.

“here you go! thank you, shinsou!” you giggled and got the milk teas of his hands while you gave the money to him.

“thank you, (y/n)... um, are you gonna drink all of that?” he asked, cursing his mouth when he just blurted it out. your eyebrows quirk playfully and chuckled, shaking your head no.

“no, silly. my friends are inside” shinsou nodded stiffly and looked around making you two just stand in silence. a painfully awkward silence. shinsou saw you were about to say something but a loud voice from inside the room called out.

“(y/n), where the fuck are you?! the boba! ..shit-! i saw that, you cheater!” you looked back and rolled your eyes then looked back at him. you waved your hand at him with a smile, “well bye, shinsou. thanks again” and closed the door.

shinsou exhaled a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding, looking at the closed door. he then walked away though his eyes were going to the door again and again until he couldn’t see it anymore. he looked at his hand and saw a piece of paper inside the bundle of money.

with furrowed brows, he opened the folded paper and he was floored!

hi shinsou! call me sometime! :)

xxx-xxxxxxx

-(y/n)

okay, maybe being a delivery boy isn’t so bad after all. he got your number didn’t he? talk about lucky!

extra crack ending: when you and shinsou are finally dating

(y/n): so... are we really not gonna talk about the post that you liked in my ig?

shinsou: you knew?!

(y/n): duh bitch.

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duuhrayliegh · 3 years

Text

watch your six - part two

pairing: eventual bucky x reader

warnings: some violence, trigger warning of sedation (it isn’t in there for a long time and the description of it isn’t super good BUT it’s still there), mentions of kidnapping, i think that’s it.

word count: just a bit over 3k

a/n: okay! here’s part two, i’m experimenting with the longer parts, so let me know what y’all think of it. bucky does make an appearance soon, i swear y’all :) just be patience with me babes. also, i know this isn’t like the typical fan fic because it isn’t in the second person but we’re powering through together. i hope y’all enjoy babes <3

p.s.: if y’all want to be added to a tag list for this series, shoot me a message and we’ll get it worked out

series m.list

ray’s m.list

*****************

I shot up from my bed, eyes wild and frantic searching for anything to ground me to my current surroundings. It was just a dream, just a dream. It was just a dream. Except it didn’t feel like a dream. Everything was too detailed, too crisp for it to have really been just a dream. I swung my legs off my bed and grabbed a hold of the fluffy white comforter. Groaning, I pushed my feet to touch the cold hardwood of my apartment. I made my way towards my kitchen and my coffee maker. I popped a breakfast blend K-cup into the slot and dumped a mug full of water into the side of the machine. Pressing the button, I turned while listening to the coffee machine force the water through the coffee grounds and filter and into my cup.

Looking out into my living room, I eyed my couch. It was intact with no bullet holes riddling the cushions. It was still the pristine white that I’ve spent many nights curled on watching movies. The dark stained wood coffee table in front of it brought memories of long study sessions with books and loose papers strewn across it. A faint smile graced my lips as I was reminiscing. The black coffee maker spit the last of the dark substance into my mug, so I reached into my cabinets and pulled out the essentials. I’ve never been one for pure black coffee, tastes like tar in my opinion. The aftertaste isn’t something that I want to deal with for as long as it’ll last.

I dumped two spoonfuls of sugar into the cup and then poured a dash of liquid creamer in along with it. Stirring the now light brown liquid, I raised the mug to my mouth and took a much needed sip. Sighing as I swallowed, I walked around to the couch in the living. Plopping down, I kicked my feet to rest on top of the coffee table. Leaning back against the cushions, I tried to process what my dream was about.

It was just too real to be a dream, right? It was awfully specific to be a dream. Squinting my eyes, I nodded my head and set my mug on the table. Reaching for my laptop and opening the first browser I could, I searched ‘dream analysis.’ Maybe they’ll have something that can give me an answer as to why it was so clear. Scrolling down the first website, my eyes scanning the bolded letters. Nine Common Dreams and What They Could Mean, oh perfect. Flying, being naked in public, teeth falling out, cheating, none of these are like my dream. I shook my head and swiped out of the website and back to the search engine.

It was late in the morning and the sun was rising to its peak when I finally gave up. It’s obvious what happened though, I’ve gone mental. Absolutely insane, just plain certifiable. No, no, that’s not what it is. My coffee now gone cold, I placed my closed laptop on the coffee table next to the discarded coffee mug. I stood and my head started throbbing. Deciding I would have a better outlook on things without a pounding head, I took a shower. The water was a pleasant, scalding temperature. Leaving the bathroom with my hair in a towel and another wrapped around my body, I changed into a simple pair of ripped mom jeans and an oversized t-shirt. Hanging my towels on the rack in the bathroom, I brushed my teeth and then turned out the light as I left.

Today was my one day off of work this week and I was going to savor it. Slipping on a pair of ratty sneakers and grabbing my purse from the hook next to the door, I left my cozy apartment. I locked the door and shoved my keys all the way to the bottom of my purse. I left my building with the intention of trying to shake off the nightmare that I had. To do so, I went into the coffee shop at the end of the block. I pushed the doors open and was greeted with a warm and inviting atmosphere. Dark floors gave way to twinkling lights illuminating the charcoal gray walls. Behind the counter, I make eye contact with the barista and receive a tight-lipped smile from him. “Hi, welcome to Beniot’s Beans. What can I get started for you today?”

I glanced at the chalkboard menu and ran my eyes over it quickly. I already knew what I wanted, but I needed to prepare myself to say it out loud. “Hello, can I get a medium caramel iced coffee to go, please?” I rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet as he scribbled my order onto the clear plastic cup. He told me my total as I looted in my wallet for my bills. After placing the money in the register, he explained that they would call my order when it was ready. I nodded and walked off to find somewhere to sit that was out of the way. After situating myself on one of the comfortable armchairs, I pulled my phone out in an effort to discourage human interaction. After retrieving my order from the counter, I sat back down in the armchair, trying to decide what to do next. The hour was just rolling over to being almost lunchtime, which made me realize that I hadn’t eaten anything yet. Shrugging my purse back onto my shoulder and shoving my phone into it, I left the store throwing a small wave to the barista behind the counter.

Sighing contentedly, I made the trek back to my apartment while steadily drinking the iced coffee. Some people say coffee shouldn’t be cold, and then there’s people who have sense. Giggling to myself, I took in my surroundings. Brick buildings lined the small two-way road. The donut shop on the opposite side of the street had two cop cruisers sitting in front of it. The contrasting black and white paint with black lettering outlined in yellow was intimidating. There was no reason for it to be, but there was just an aura of discomfort encapsulating the cars. By this time, I had stopped, slurping on my almost empty iced coffee. Breaking out of my trance with a ring of a bell, four officers exited the donut shop. Two of the officers held off-white cardboard boxes, they were all laughing at something. I tilted my head and scrunched my brows, guess the stereotype about cops is true, they love their donuts. Sensing a stare, one of the officers looked around for the source. Eventually, our gazes locked and he winked. Uh, ew. Making a face, I shook my head and went about my way back to my apartment.

Despite that experience, it was nice to be able to have no specific agenda, just relaxing and going with the flow. My inner monologue stopped when I got to my kitchen and started deciding what to prepare for lunch. Finally landing on a box of macaroni and cheese to satisfy my hunger, I set to work. The pot of water now on the stove, I tossed my empty plastic cup from the coffee shop into the garbage bin. I went around to my living room and grabbed my coffee mug from earlier and placed it in the sink, after rinsing it out. I’ll wash that and the stuff I use for lunch after I finish eating. I dumped the box of uncooked noodles into the now boiling water. Soon, the macaroni was ready to be eaten, so I poured the cheesy noodles into a bowl. Hoisting myself onto the granite countertop, I began to inhale the food. Wow, okay I was hungrier than I thought. It didn’t take long to finish off the noodles. As I was washing the dirty dishes, the intercom system of the apartment went off. Weird, I wasn’t expecting anyone. “Who is it?” I inquired into the speaker box. “Hi, I’m looking for the inhabitant of this flat.”

My brows furrowing, I asked again, “Who is this?”

“Ma’am, please don’t waste my time or yours. Is this the woman who lives in this apartment, yes or no?” They sounded exhausted. “I need to speak with the woman who lives here.” I was shocked, this didn’t seem right. Alright, I’m a woman living alone in an apartment building. Some stranger comes to my building, asking to speak to me, so what do I do?

“Uh, yeah they’re not here. You’ll have to come back later.” The lie was easy. Safety first and all, right? There was no reply after waiting a few minutes, so I went back to doing my dishes. After drying and putting them away, I kicked my shoes off and settled into my couch with a fluffy blue throw. Flicking the TV on, I picked the home improvement channel. I stretched out on the couch while wondering how realtor Bessie May was going to find this couple the perfect home. Snuggling further into the pillows, I was able to drift off into a dreamless slumber.

*********************************

It was loud banging that eventually roused me. Untangling myself from the fluff that wrapped around my legs, I toppled onto the floor. “I’m coming, hold your horses!” I shouted at the door. Who the hell? I swear if it’s my crazy neighbor again. “Marge! If this is you, we are going to have a problem!” I huffed my way to the door and yanked it open to reveal a group of men in what looked like dark tactical gear. Confusion overtook my facial features. I took a step back and tightened my grip on my door knob.

“Um… hi? Can I help you?” I questioned the group at large.

“Ma’am, we’re looking for the permanent resident of this apartment.” The man to my left said. He was short and stocky, he was also the only man wearing a dark gray suit. “Are you the permanent resident of this unit?” He continued while trying to see over my shoulders and into the living room.

“No, they’re not here right now.” I repeated the lie from earlier. I had an inkling this had to do with that, what else could it be?

“Well, do you know when she’ll be back?” He pressed, still stealing glances into my abode.

“No, she didn’t say. You’ll have to come back later. Goodbye.” I stated while closing the door. I was almost home free until a combat boot clad foot was stuck into the door frame.

“You see ma’am, this really isn’t the time to be lying to me.” The suited man explained. I took a deep breath and continued trying to close the door.

“Well, I’ve already told you all I know. The person who owns this place isn’t here right now.” The door was stopped yet again by the same foot.

“Ma’am, you need to invite us inside. We have things to discuss.” Suits ordered.

My brows raised, “Or what?” I scoffed, “Look you need to leave before I call the police. Good day to you gentlemen.” Another attempt to close the door was once again defeated, but this time the door swung in. Allowing entrance into my apartment. My eyes widened and I rushed away from the door, putting as much distance between the group of men and myself.

“What the hell are you doing! I’m calling the police.” I reached for my phone that was laying on the coffee table. It was snatched away from me by a man in tactical gear. His hair was cropped and dark, he slipped my phone into one of the many pockets of his vest. I raised my eyebrows at the man, and began demanding my phone from him.

“Listen ma’am, we’re going to need you to come with us.” Suits insisted. My gaze darted to him, if looks could kill man. “We’re allowing you the privilege of getting a bag of your necessities.” I took a deep breath, trying to calm my ever rising nerves. I brought the heels of my palms to my eyes, trying to clear the fogginess of sleep to process what Suits was saying. “We don’t have all day. Get your stuff now.” I shook my head and started refusing.

“Yeah, that won’t be happening. I’m asking you one last time to leave my apartment before I start screaming.” I crossed my arms over my chest in a protective stance. They’ve got five seconds before I raise hell. Suits made a face that looked like he was disappointed.

“Grab her.” The man who took my phone advanced at me. His whole hand covered my upper arm, lifting it and beginning to drag me to the door. I started kicking out, clawing, trying to make contact with anything that I could hurt. Damage, don’t stop fighting. Don’t give in. Whipping my upper body around, I managed to scratch the man's cheek. He cried out in pain and his grip loosened for just a moment. Long enough for me to wrench my arm away from him and run towards the front door. My path was interrupted by a wall of a man. Towering over me, he wrapped both of his arms around my torso. Effectively stopping all of my movement while he turned me in his grasp to face Suits once again.

“Help! Someone help me! Help me!” This was a quiet enough building, shouts like that would surely gain someone’s attention, right? “Help! Someone help me, please!” I was screaming my throat sore. Not stopping until there was a large hand placed over my mouth. Even then, there were muffled cries that could be heard throughout my otherwise silent apartment unit. Stifled sobs were leaving my lungs in heaves. Suits approached me and shook his head,

“It really didn’t have to be like this but, of course.” He turned to one of his goons and nodded his head towards me. I began screaming again as the final goon stepped forward. His hair was slicked back and I could smell the hair gel that he must have just dipped his head into. Hair Gel reached into his pocket and brought out a small white case.

He unzipped the case and gestured to the mass of a man behind me. My head was moved to expose my neck, I struggled against Mass while Hair Gel approached. Screaming and thrashing trying to disrupt what I thought was about to happen. Hair Gel assembled a syringe, outfitting it with a blue capped needle. Hair Gel extracted a clear liquid into the syringe, he got closer to my jolting body, glaring at Mass.

“Hold her still, you buffoon.” He grunted at Mass. The grip around me began cutting off my circulation to the lower half of my body. Not deterring me in any way, I still made it as hard as I could for Hair Gel. There was a pinch on the side of my neck, and then a warm feeling passed through my body. Mass’s hand was still covering my mouth and his arms around my torso, if it weren’t for that I probably would’ve fallen straight to the ground. Oh hell man, what am I going to do now?

My body went limp in Mass’s hold, and my mind was starting to become fuzzy. Looking around at the three men in front of me, I worried what was going to happen. I’ve seen Taken. I know what happens to girls who travel alone. That kind of stuff doesn’t happen to people like me. Suits sighed yet again, looking disinterested in the whole affair. Suits looked to the man who I scratched and shook his head at him.

“You seriously let her get her hands on you?” Suits mocked, “That’s pathetic, Gomez.”

“Pathetic? She was clawing me, man!” The man, Gomez, defended.

“It doesn’t matter, you idiot. You still aren’t supposed to let it happen.” Suits berated Gomez and then waved him off, “Go get the stuff. And don’t mess it up this time, ya got that?” Gomez rolled his eyes at Suits, but nodded anyway. He left the room towards my bedroom. My eyelids started drooping, I willed them to stay open a bit longer.

“How long’s it gonna take that stuff to kick in?” Suits asked Hair Gel.

“Oh, it starts working immediately.” Hair Gel finished replacing everything in his white case, turning to me, he continued, “The body reacts to the compound right away, inducing temporary paralysis. It’s really quite remarkable to watch it in action.”

Suits glanced at Hair Gel, “You mean to tell me it doesn’t make them unconscious? What the hell did I bring you along for?”

“Of course it makes the victim unconscious, what do you think I’m stupid or something? It just takes a couple of minutes for the enzyme to break down for the brain.” Hair Gel tilted his head while looking at me. He gave me a once over and if I had any kind of control over my body, there would’ve been an unmistakable shiver that passed through my body. Gomez emerged with a duffle in tow and dumped the closed bag on the couch.

“Don’t forget the laptop, Gomez.” Suits reminded him while his attention was on the kitchen of my apartment. “Alright, let’s go.” With the effort it takes to lift a feather, Mass carried me bridal style out of my unit. My eyelids were becoming even more heavy and I screamed and shouted in my head, but my mouth just wouldn’t move. The four men made their way out, passing my crazy neighbor Marge.

“Can I help you boys with something?” Marge’s door was open, and she leaned up against the frame, watching this scene go down.

“Nothing to be worried about ma’am. This is official government business.” Suits reported, simply shrugging off Marge.

“Government business?” Marge shrieked, and a glimmer of hope flashed in my head. Marge won’t fall for your bullshit Suits. She’s going to save me. “I always knew there was something off about that one.” What the hell, Marge?

“Like I said ma’am, nothing to worry about. Now if you would, just go back inside. We’re done here.” Suits advised. Marge, who was none the wiser, bounced her shoulders and turned back into her own unit. She could be heard through the door explaining to her guests that her next door neighbor was always strange and never really sat right with her.

“Doesn’t surprise me they’re taking her away. I always knew something was off about that girl. I told you so.” Marge howled with laughter after her statement. My last hope dashed by my crazy neighbor’s complete ignorance and lack of acknowledgement for her surroundings. Mass began his descent of the stairs with a steady pace. The constant rocking back and forth of his body weight served to lull my eyelids the rest of the way closed.

#bucky x reader #eventual bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #sebastian stan #bucky fanfic #female reader insert #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes

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downbytheouterbanks · 4 years

Text

Happy Place (Rafe x reader) pt 3

part 1 & part 2

The second Sarah walked into her room and caught sight of you sitting cross-legged on the floor, with the same confused look that you had when she was teaching you how to use a tampon, she knew it was go time. She immediately mirrored your position and sat cross-legged in front of you, her presence made you somewhat snap out of your daze.

“Honey, what’s got your panties in a twist? Do you need a lesson in Diva Cups now?” Sarah joked, trying to lighten your mood so you would open up to her. She was successful has she earned a soft chuckle from you. Sarah had her hands placed on her knees and you grabbed them, holding her hands in yours as you looked at her with the most serious expression she had ever seen grace your face.

“Sarah, I’m going to tell you something and you have to promise to not get mad at me and unfriend me because you are my best friend and also like my only friend on this island and I would spontaneously combust if I didn’t have you in my life.” You let out while holding eye contact with Sarah.

“Why would I get mad?” Sarah asked as she quirked her head to the side, not understanding your urgency.

“Sarah I need you to say you won’t get mad and promise me.”

“I won’t get mad, I promise, here,” She takes both of her hands from your grasp and holds out her pinkies to you, “double pinky promise.” She says with a comforting smile. You lock your pinkies with hers, dramatically placing a kiss on both of your hands, complete with a “MWUAH” after each kiss. “Now spill, missy!”

“Okay, so remember when we were younger and we talked about how in all the cheesy romance movies we used to watch, every couple had like a moment? You know like the moment they realized they have feelings for each other?” Sarah nods her head, signaling you to get to the point. “Well, I think I just had a moment.” Sarah’s eyes went wide and she gasped.

“Oh my god, with who?”

You took a deep breath, not happy that you have to admit it out loud since she couldn’t piece the puzzle together, “With Rafe.” Little did you know it was at that moment that Rafe was walking by Sarah’s room, and at the sound of his name coming from your voice after what just happened between you two, how could he not eavesdrop?

For the first time in her life, Sarah had no words to say. And that made you panic, launching into a word vomit explanation.

“I mean it’s not like I came onto him or anything and he didn’t come onto me either! It’s just you were still in the shower and my sunburn was bad and I needed something to put an end to the fire that I was feeling and I could reach my back to put the aloe gel on myself so I asked Rafe and he didn’t mean to see my tits, that was my fault I didn’t see the mirror! But he looked away really fast and then everything was fine until he breathed on me and I think I moaned? Not like because I wanted him or anything-GOD NO! It was just he breathed on this one spot and then it felt good and then the next thing I know, he’s helping me put my shirt back on and then we are just kinda holding each other and I thought I was just thinking but I said something out loud and I REALLY WISH I HADN’T because honestly, I don’t think I can look at him the same-” and with that, Rafe decided he didn’t need to listen anymore, he backed away from the door, retrieved a bottle of whiskey, and retreated back to his room, which he did not plan on leaving until you were gone. What Rafe didn’t hear was how you finished your ramble.

You had continued on to say, “like I think I’m attracted to him but I don’t want to pursue anything if he doesn’t feel the same way and especially not if you aren’t cool with it.” As soon as those words left your mouth, you closed your eyes and took in a deep breath.

“You really had a movie moment with him?” Sarah softly asks, and as you open your eyes you are met with a look of hesitation and doubt from your best friend. “How do you know?” You look around the room, trying to formulate your next words.

“This may or may not make sense but like when he held me like so close to him and then I looked him in the eyes, it was kind of like everything was still like I was absolutely paralyzed but like I could feel butterflies everywhere.” There is a moment of silence after you say this and you still refuse to meet Sarah’s gaze until she gives your hands a squeeze. When you look at her, she has a soft smile on her face which you return.

“That sounds really special,” She says and all you can do is sheepishly nod, “but like my brother, really?” At that, both of you get lost in a fit of giggles. When the two of you finally catch your breath Sarah hesitantly asks, “So what are you gonna do?”

“I mean in all honesty, I didn’t really think that far because I don’t want to mess up our friendship or my friendship with Rafe.”

“(Y/N),” Sarah says in a serious tone, “I don’t think there is anyone else on this planet who could balance out my brother. As long as you don’t ditch me for him, I’m okay if you want to see where it goes. I mean you said you had your movie moment and that is something that we have both been dreaming about, what kind of friend would I be if I made you miss out on that?”

Sarah and you still had chick flicks to watch and pizza to eat, however, so any business with Rafe, you promised would wait until the next day. When the morning rolled around, you and Sarah lounged about in the kitchen, Sarah making her famous banana pancakes (they’re only famous because it is the only food she can make from scratch), patiently waiting for Rafe to be lured out of his room by the smell of breakfast so you could talk to him. Ten am quickly turned to eleven am and Rafe still had not made an appearance from his room, you were starting to get anxious because you promised your parents you would be home by noon so you could help your mom get ready for the gala that was being hosted at the country club later that evening.

“Maybe just go knock on his door? He could still be asleep.” Sarah suggested as a last-ditch effort, you were starting to panic and feel that maybe you over-romanticized everything that happened in your head, maybe he didn’t get those same butterflies that you did.

“Okay, wish me luck.” And with that Sarah shot you two thumbs up before you made your way up the stairs, your pace slowed as you approached the door, trying to prepare yourself for every possible situation. When you finally found yourself standing in front of his door, you took a deep breath and then knocked, “Hey, Rafe, sorry if I’m waking you up but I… I uh just wanted to talk to you. I wanted to talk about what happened yesterday.” You waited for any kind of response and when nothing came, you knocked again, “Rafe? It’s (Y/N).”

On the other side of the door, Rafe laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He was debating. Should he just ignore you? Would you go away if he just stayed silent? He decided to see how his silence would play out. You tried knocking one more time and even tried his doorknob but he locked it last night so it didn’t budge. After trying the door he heard your footsteps retreat, “finally”, he thought to himself.

You grabbed your stuff from Sarah’s room before making your way back down the stairs and into the kitchen to tell Sarah. She tried to tell you that maybe he had his AirPods in or she also assured you that he could be a REALLY heavy sleeper sometimes, but you just took it as a sign. You thanked Sarah for having you over and gave her a kiss on the cheek before heading out the door of the Cameron house, saying that you’ll text her when you get to the gala tonight so the two of you could meet up because even though her parents weren’t there, Sarah and Rafe still had to go and represent the name.

Your walk home consisted of you trying to talk yourself out of the romantic fantasy you had built up in your head, trying to cushion the blow of rejection. It’s not like you liked him for that long, right? It’s been maybe ten hours since you started feeling something towards him. Maybe it’s just a harmless attraction. He is hot, there is no denying that and you have never been in that kind of contact with someone you found attractive before, so maybe your brain just shut down when he touched you? That could happen, scientifically speaking, right? By the time you crossed the threshold of your house, you were emotionally drained from all your inner monologue and you despised your attraction to the male species.

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

You finished slipping on your heels as your mom appeared in your doorway, “Hey, sweetie, are you sure you want to drive separate?”

“Yeah, I just want to have some time to myself to mentally prepare for this. Plus, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to last at this thing.” Your mom nods and lets you know that they were leaving now and would see you there.

Your parents left and you got up to approach your mirror, your emerald green gown complement your complexion and the freckles that had begun to pop up all over your skin from being in the sun. You felt elegant, the shape of your dress was classic and the fabric draped over your skin. You felt sexy, the dress was constructed with a deep-v showing just the right amount of cleavage and with a deep-v that left your still sunburnt back exposed. You felt free, the dress held you in above the waist without constricting you, and then the skirt held excess folds of fabric that could billow in the wind and expose your entire right leg from the well-hidden slit.

You couldn’t wait to see what stunning outfit Sarah had chosen so you sent her a quick text as you made your way out of your house letting her know you should be at the country club, ready to dance to crappy music and eat flavorless food in about 15 minutes.

Sarah was waiting for you outside, a stark white gown adorned her figure, making her sunkissed skin stand out. She dorkily pretended to be a paparazzi, using her hands to mimic taking pictures of you as you made your way to her. You shook your head and giggled before mustering up the most dramatic model strut, and when you finally got to her she yelled, “pose for me!” You just giggled at her antics and linked your arm with hers, and she led you through the crowd inside the building, introducing you to people who you didn’t already know, but more importantly, leading you to the buffet outside.

Sarah and you made your way outside, the large patio of the country club had the food buffet on one side and the open bar on the other, separated by the dance floor littered with people of all ages acting as an obstacle between the two necessities of the night. Upon seeing the food, the two of you wasted no time, desperate to see what sustenance there was, on the other side of the dance floor by the bar, your entrance was noted. Rafe stood with Topper and Kelce, “eyeing what company was up for grabs tonight,” as Topper had put it.

Rafe’s eyes landed on you the moment you had stepped outside, he sucked in a breath, stunned by how gorgeous you looked. Topper had also taken note of your entrance, “Damn, that new girl is something else. Did you see the slit in her dress? What I wouldn’t give to run my hand up her leg and-”

“Topper, watch what you’re saying, she’s my sister’s best friend.” Rafe cut him off, jaw clenched.

“Oh damn, she’s been hanging with Sarah? Lucky you, man, I mean look at her!” Topper exclaimed gesturing to the buffet area where you and Sarah now stood, “Like she has such a nice rack on her-” Rafe clutched his whiskey glass tighter, “I could just imagine how perky they would be-” Rafe clutched his whiskey glass TIGHTER, “I just want to like get my head right in there y’know? See how hard I could get her-” Rafe’s grip on his glass was fatal, it shattered in his hands, causing Topper to stop his rambling and turn to him.

“What the fuck, man?” Was all Topper could let out before Rafe decked him.

“I told you to watch what you’re saying, man.” Rafe had grabbed Topper by the shirt and now held him close enough that he got spit on Topper’s face as he said those words through gritted teeth.

“Well, you should have said that you were pussy-whipped instead,” Topper said as he pushed Rafe off of him. That was the moment everything went to shit.

You and Sarah’s heads had whipped around to the bar at the sound of the glass shattering and at the moment Rafe punched Topper, THE FIRST TIME, you began weaving your way through the mass of people keeping you from him.

You had lost sight of the fight as you navigated the crowd, you just kept praying the sounds of brawl would stop. When you finally broke through on the other side, you let out a relieved sigh as a group of people tore the two guys apart.

“Rafe?” You timidly let out, biting your lip as soon as his name left your mouth.

His head snapped over to where you stood, your face was ridden with concern, he watched your eyes rake over his body, almost as if you were doing damage control. When your eyes came back up to meet his, you saw shame swimming in his pretty blue eyes.

You spoke, again, but this time more sure of yourself, “Rafe, wanna come with me to get some air?” He nodded his head and you approached him, signaling the guys who were restraining him to let him go. You held out your hand for him to grab and then you wordlessly led him from the stunned crowd of onlookers and out to the parking lot, as you approached your car you used your free hand to grab your car keys from the pocket in your dress. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze before letting it go to open your passenger side door for him and then heading around the car to the driver’s side. You put the key in the ignition and started the car, music from the radio flooded the space and the air conditioning blasted a much needed cool breeze onto the both of you.

You just sat there, your hands resting on the steering wheel, looking forward, you didn’t know if you should look at Rafe or not. Taking a deep breath in and out, you moved your right hand from the wheel to the gear shift and put the car into reverse, when Rafe spoke up, “What are you doing?”

“I’m driving”

“Why?”

“We can’t sit in the parking lot anymore.”

“Why?”

“You’re hurt and bleeding and need to be cleaned up.”

“Oh.”

“I was honestly expecting you to say “why”, again. You have a really good impression of a 4-year-old, you know that?” You heard him chuckled softly at your remark and quickly stole a glance at him as you were driving, a soft smile sat on his bruised and cut up face. Silence washed over the two of you, again, the only sound was coming from your car, the blowing of the air conditioning, and the soft hum of the radio.

“You just drove by my house,” Rafe pointed out the car window and looked at you, puzzled.

“Yes, I know. You’re coming back to my place.” Your answer was met with a sigh from the boy in your passenger seat.

“You know you don’t have to do this, I’m a big boy who can take care of himself.” You couldn’t help but laugh at his response.

“Well, one, I would think that a BIG BOY would know not to get into fights with someone who seemed to be his best friend. And two, I don’t trust you to be alone right now, you are being far too quiet which means you have a whole bunch of emotions stirring up in you.” Rafe scoffed at your words before responding, “You don’t know what happened and you don’t need to care about me.”

“You remember you owe me a favor, right?” Rafe hummed in response to your question.

“Well consider this me cashing it in, do me a favor and just let me care about you, okay?” You say as you pull into your driveway, putting your car in park and getting out, moving around your car to get the door for him, he laughs at this as he gets out, “Wow, (Y/N), I didn’t know you were such a gentleman.”

“Whatever, come on, punching bag, I have a first aid kit in my bathroom.” You say and as you hold your hand out, again, for him to grab, allowing you to lead him to your room.

When you open your door to your room, you don’t think much of it. It is the same room your have stayed in every summer for as long as you can remember and he has been in here before, but when Rafe crosses into your room he stops in his tracks, bringing you to a holt. You turn around to see him looking everywhere, taking it all in, “Wow,” he breathes out.

“What?” You looked at him confusedly.

“It’s really your room now like it reflects you and who you are now, it’s not just the stereotypical summer beach house room.” His gaze finally shifts back to you, you’re still holding his hand and a sweet smile graces your face.

“I guess I never thought about it that way, now come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” You tug him along, again, dropping his hand as you get into your bathroom to reach for the first aid kit in your cabinet before patting the counter and stepping back, motioning for him to sit on it. He obliges and you open the first aid kit, laying out everything you need next to him on the counter. Rafe watches as you step between his thighs and gently grab his hands in yours, inspecting the one that once held a glass of whiskey, you wince, “Rafe, there’s a piece of glass in your hand, doesn’t that hurt? How are you so calm right now?” You grab a pair of tweezers to retrieve the glass from his skin and as you set your focus back on his hand he responds, “It doesn’t hurt when you’re holding it.”

You feel your face flush, “Okay, Romeo, you might want to rethink that,” you say as you use your tweezers to pull the piece of glass from his skin. He hisses from the pain and lets a few expletives fall from his lips. “Shhh, shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay.” You try to soothe him, you use one hand to tend to the wound left behind by the glass and the other rests on one of his knees, your hand giving it a soft squeeze and then absentmindedly letting your thumb rub side to side motions. He places his free hand on top of your hand that rests on his knee, “oh, sorry,” you say and take this as a signal to pull your hand away but he quickly dismisses you, “no it was nice, keep doing it, I just wanted to hold your hand.”

“Oh, okay, but I need it for a second to put a bandaid on this cut. Who is your favorite Scooby-Doo character?” You say as you hold up your box of Scooby-Doo bandaids.

“Velma.”

“Huh,” you say as you search in the box for a Velma bandaid, “I pegged you as a Fred kinda guy, he’s the man with the plan and suave with the ladies.”

“Yeah, well,” Rafe responds as you open up the bandaid, “Velma reminds me of you so she’s my favorite.” He states softly in a matter of fact tone.

“Oh.” Was all you could say as you gingerly placed the bandaid on his cut before you carefully bring his hand up and place a kiss with a quiet “mwuah” on his now Velma protected wound.

A quiet giggle escapes your lips, and his, as you place his hand down and move your attention to his next injury to tend to. “Hey, (Y/N/N)?” Rafe quietly asks. You hum signaling him to continue. “Would you, uh, kiss all of my boo-boos? My mom used to do that.” You look up at him with apologetic eyes and nod at the blushing boy, you remember his mom, she was easily the kindest person you had ever met. So you continued on in silence this way, you cleaned the cuts that scattered his knuckles and then leaned into him to clean the few cuts that were scattered on his face. First, you cleaned the one on his cheekbone, then the one above his eyebrow, placing a chaste kiss to each spot.

You looked at the last cut you had yet to acknowledge, the cut on his bottom lip. Rafe looked at you, he knew what you were staring at and he broke the silence, “I’m all cleaned up now, (Y/N/N),” he tried to ease whatever you were feeling but you just shook your head, you knew he felt your hesitation.

“No, I don’t want you to get an infection or anything like that,” you assure him (and maybe yourself) as you grab the washcloth and run it under the warm tapwater one more time. You lean into him and gingerly dab at his lip.

“(Y/N/N)?” Rafe mumbles.

“Why are you talking when I am trying to clean this giant-ass cut in your lip?” You say somewhat exacerbated, and lean back just enough so you can look him in the eyes. His face flushes and he averts his eyes from meeting your gaze.

“I just was gonna say that you have a really cute concentration face.”

“Is that all?” You ask as you start to lean back in, he nods, and you bring the washcloth back up to his lip, dabbing at the cut a few more times before going to lean back from the very close proximity you had found yourself in, placing the washcloth down. You’re about to move completely from your position between his legs when you remember his words from earlier. A flush overtakes your face and Rafe notices, “what?” he inquires with his eyebrows raised and his lips parted. Before you can talk yourself out of your moment of confidence, you lean back into him, your faces mere centimeters apart, you move your gaze from your focus on his lips up to meet his eyes.

“What are you doing?” He whispers, following your lead and leaning in so your noses touch.

You lean, lips grazing his as you whisper, “kissing your boo-boos, Romeo.” Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt him press his lips against yours, desperate for more, and you were tempted to give in, but you pulled back which elicited a groan from the bruised boy on your counter. You brought your hand up to his cheek and he leaned into your touch as your thumb gently stroked his cheek, he brought his hand up to cradle your face in the same manner, you bit your lip, trying to suppress the grin that his touch brought to you. He noticed this quirk of yours and traced his fingers down your face and traced along your lip, making you release the bite you had on it, “don’t hide that pretty smile from me.” He now held your chin in his hands as you smile at his comment. You slowly retract your hand from the place it has found cradling his face, which brings a frown to his features but you just place a peck to his lips as you grab his hands in yours, giving them a slight tug before you drop them from your grasp you back into your bedroom. You sit on your bed, leaning against your headboard as you watch him slowly make his way to you, climbing onto your bed. He shimmies his body about on the bed, making you laugh, “Hey don’t laugh at me I am trying to get comfy, and it’s hard to do when you’re sitting up like that! What do you think you’re doing? We just kissed, it’s snuggle time.”

You shake your head at him, but he just continues to look up at you from his position laying sprawled out on your bed. Rafe lets out a small cheer as you slink down on the bed, the two of you lay there for a moment, just laying down and looking at each other before you lean in and place a kiss to his forehead, to both his cheeks and then to his lips, your hands reaching up to comb through his hair making a content hum come from him, “babe, I’ll play with your hair if you lay your head on my stomach.” He smiles as the two of you adjust, you laying on you back while he scoots down to rest his head on your stomach, his hands playing with the tulle of your dress, “I like that,” he says before you even have the chance to run your fingers through his sandy blond locks. You giggle, “like what? I haven’t even touched your hair, yet.”

“No, I liked you calling me “babe”.”

“I can do that, right?”

“I would think so, you’re my girlfriend now, right?”

“Hmmm, I don’t know about that. Only if you’re my boyfriend now.”

“Okay, I would like that very much.”

“Babe.” You said, liking the way it rolled off your tongue.

This prompted Rafe to prop his head up on your tummy, “what?” he asks.

“Oh, nothing I just wanted to see if it worked.”

“You know there are a few other things that we can see if they work.”

“One step at a time, babe.” He giggled and then moved his head back to its previous position so you could continue playing with his hair.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, he spoke up, “so like does this make me your favorite Cameron sibling, now?”

a/n: so that’s all folks, i wasn’t planning on doing any more parts to this story, i hope you enjoyed it! it is my first fic so i would really appreciate any feedback you have! also a huge shoutout to angie, i would not have written this without her support ((:

taglist:

@myjjbaby @drewswannabegirl @prejudic3 @starkeybaby @spicybluelays @fav-imagines @spilledtee @pookie-cleary @little-ms-awkward @babygurlbarnes @drewsephsmiles @junkiemuppettxx

#time to do a week worth of econ homework in an hour #teehee #i need to learn time management #i hope this doesnt suck lol #also when i said feedback i meant nicely worded feedback dont hurt me im fragile #anyways back to the regularly scheduled tags #drew starkey #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe imagine #obx imagine #outer banks imagine #my writing

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

FAMILY.

Johnny “Coco” Cruz + Leticia Cruz x Marcus Alvarez daughter!Reader

Anon asked: would you write an imagine in which you have established relationship with coco and letti considers you as her mom and then you get pregnant but you think coco wouldn’t like that and would break up with so you decide to start avoiding and distancing yourself from coco and letti but like so angst at first but in the end real fluffiness

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💖

Word count: 2.2k

Author Comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif credits: @thesewickedhands

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @arveeee @witchy-wish ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

“You can't leave me”.

You're ignoring him, with the suitcase over the unmade bed filling it with the clothes you have in his house. He grabs your wrists forcing you to look at his eyes.

“What I did? What I said to make ya' leave me, mami? I'm sorre', so sorre' for whateva' I said, did or I didn't say or I didn't do... Lemme make it up to you, please”.

You know he's falling into pieces. You've been the world to him, and you still are even if you're killing him painful and slowly. His dark orbs are reddened about to cry, producing you a knot in your throat. But you fucked up your relationship. He doesn't know, but you did.

“You ain't nothen' to say, ah? You're gonna gimme' the silent treatment after five years together?” His voice is starting to break too, while he lets you go nodding. “You save me from the same death you're condemning me to. You lied to me. You told me that you always be by my side. By Letti's. Are ya' gonna give her an explanation?”

Zipping the suitcase, containing all the tears in your eyes, you drag it above the floor through the hallway towards the main door. The one who gets opened by a feminine hand. The girl looks at you confused, turning her gaze to your stuff, and then to his father.

“Coco, what's'ap?”

“I don' know! She's just leven'”.

“(Y/N)?” She takes a step next to you. “Where you goen'?”

“Letti… I ca—can't. I'm sorry”. Giving her a kiss on a cheek, you pass the girl away. “I'll call you, mi niña, I promise. But now… I just need to go”.

It's all you say hearing the girl crying as long as walk downstairs, begging you to come back whilst Coco is holding her. You can't do it to them, that's what you think, taking the decision by your own risk. Your father is already waiting you in front of the house and, putting inside the trunk your things, you have a seat on the copilote one. He turns on the engine, raising his gaze up to you waiting for some words. But there's nothing. You don't have the strength to say anything, breaking in crying when you ride the street going back home.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

It's been two days locked in your old room, lying on bed with no moves more than necessary and your phone off. You know by Bishop that Coco is devastated and that he had to ask for some free days. He also came to your house some times, begging to your father to let him come in and talk to you. But he didn't let him. Holding the pregnancy test by two fingers, with your head resting on the wetted pillow because of your agonics tears, your eyes are on the two pink stripes confirming that you're pregnant.

You know Coco's past. You know how much he did suffer when he knew he was about to be father. Thrice. First Letti. Then Daniel. And after him, Rico. He doesn't have any touch with the two boys, and he also doesn't remember the face of their mothers. But with Letti he wanted to do the right thing. And you know, he doesn't want to have any other children. So, you fucked up. Of course you could go to a clinic and make like it never happened. But you want that baby, being the product of a relationship with the love of your life. You can't simply pretend that it has never existed.

Your father doesn't call to the door, coming in without expecting, and keeping the test under your pillow as soon as you can do it. But he's not stupid. He has seen it.

“Is that why you left him?”

He has always been a very prudent man with his words. Now, he can't. Walking close to you and sitting on the mattress, the man pulls away a bristle of hair behind your ear.

“Mija, talk to him… Don't be as the other women who were in his life”. Marcus says carefully, leaving a soft and gently caress on your cheek. “You're better than them. You're everything for him and his daughter”.

He's right. He's always right.

“You didn't ask him if he wants to have it. You don't know what it's inside his mind. No ones knows”.

“He said…”

“It doesn't matter what he said, mija. It's his child too. And if this happened it's because of both, not only you, not only Coco”.

Getting up to sit on the bed, with the test between your fingers, you look at your father licking your lips.

“And if he doesn't want it, we will take care of this baby”.

The hand of your father placed on your stomach gives you some chills, nodding with your head down straight to it. You hug him, being all that you have needed these days. His arms push you into him, comforting you as only your father can do, leaving some kisses all around your head.

“I love you, princesa, and that's never going to change”. He says with a dearly tone in his voice, before cleaning the tears almost dried on your cheeks. “Call Coco. Talk to him”.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

After two mental breakdowns, a shower and a coffee, you get dressed ready to drive. You take the long way to his house, with low velocity, trying to order the words inside your head by creating a monologue you will forget when he'll be in front of you.

Getting more nervous when you find his car and his motorcycle parked in the closest sidewalk, you swallow hardly and noisy, placing yours behind them. Grabbing your bag from the other seat, you step out of your Ford, straight to the door. You kept the keys for some reason you don't know, taking them off of the pocket to open it. And you can't even get surprised when you reach the house, coming in, finding a complete mess. The smell of tobacco has flooded the flat. There are empty beers wherever you look at. Pizza boxes above the table and a towel of dirty dishes in the kitchen.

Letti gets out of her room as soon as she heard the main door closing. She stares at you for a second, the enough time to know it's not a dream, nor an illusion, just to run like never before till she's able to hug you. The girl is crying as you are, holding her closer to your body, feeling how much you missed each other. It was a mistake. The worst one of all. Pulling her away some inches, you cup his cheek in your hands, kissing them so loud it almost makes an echo.

“Where's Coco?”

“I think he still drunk…” She tries to say, hugging you again for some seconds.

“Okay, lemme' see”.

Giving her your bag, you cross the only hallway to the room you have shared for the last years. Opening the door and seeing how dark is inside, you roll up the blind a little. Enough to watch him wearing the first shirt you gave him almost six years ago. His hair is a full mess scattered above the pillow, holding it with both arms and a leg above it too. There's some blood in the nearest wall to the window, raising your eyes to his raw knuckles. This is your fault and you can't help but feeling a tear falling down.

Sitting by his side, you try to think how's the best way to waking him up, pulling away some bristles of black hair. Leaning towards him, you leave a soft kiss on his temple with a hand caressing his bare arm.

“Coquito…” You mutter with a smooth tone, seeing how he stirs under your touch. “Lemme' take you to the shower, c'mon…”

He's drunk. Too much drunk, he can't even put up his body, having to push him into yours till his feet reaches the floor.

“C'mon, Coco”.

He's humming something you can't understand between sobs and growls. Making a gesture with your head to his daughter, to ask for some coffee, she nods without hesitating. You leave him sit on the toilet, taking some seconds to open the faucet with cold water. He's going to hate you more than he already does. Helping him to get undressed becomes a truly nightmare, until you manage to put it in the bathtub. He's awake in less than two seconds, cursing in spanish and killing you with his gaze.

“Have a shower, I'll find some clothes”.

He doesn't say anything, staring at you whilst leaving the bathroom. But the first thing you do it's open every window of the house and the door to the terrace. At least, the smell of fresh coffee is helping somewhat. When you come back to the bath', Coco is already sitting on the toilet with a towel covering half of his body and his eyes on his feet.

“Why are ya' here?”

“Wear'et. I'll be waiting you in the living'” Before he can complains because of your words, you lean next to him enough to kiss his forehead. He's shocked. You can see it and you can feel it. But he's going to need a coffee first.

“You're not leven'?” Noticing the worry in his voice, finally lifting up his gaze to yours, you shake your head firmly. He nods biting his inner lip.

Five minutes later, Letti and Coco are sitting in front of you, waiting for some words to come out of your mouth. But, as you knew, you forgot everything you were supposed to say. Grabbing you bag, you takes off the pregnancy test looking it for a second, before leaving it on the table.

“Leticia, go to your room”.

“Bu—”.

“Now”. He just say. You nod in agreement, looking how she's trying to hide her excitement. She does it in silence. “This is wha'... wha' you left me?”

You're astonished when he shows you how disappointed he is, taking the test with both hands and focusing on it.

“I… I just… don't know what to say. I don't blame you, but when you said to Letti you didn't want any child, I just… I just thought you would hate me”.

“How? How could I hate you? Who do ya' think I am? I lo—I love you, mami. More than anyone, you alreade' know'et”. He's desperate and confused, gesticulating with one hand whilst the other still holding the white stick.

“'Cause I'm pregnant, and you don' want it”.

“Who the fuck told ya I don' wan'et, ah? I didn't wan'et with a crazy bitch! You're ma' girl. You're ma' family, ma' life. And a mom to ma' daughter... I wan— I wanna… do all these bullshit tha' happens in tha' movies you and Letti like. You made me a bette' man, a bette' father. Why…? Why I wouldn' like to have a baby with ya'?”

You can't help but crying loudly, covering your face with both hands as you nail your elbows on the table. He's right. You didn't ask, you just took things for granted. Two strong arms surrounds your body, forcing you to rest your head on his chest.

“I'm so sorry, Coco… I was scared… I di— I didn't want to lose you”. Moarning without consolation, you hear some steps coming towards you too.

“Lemme' do'et, please”. He begs you, looking for your eyes. “I love you, mami. I truly do. And I also love that kid. Lemme do'et”.

You nod, feeling how Letti's arms wraps you and her father. You were wrong. So wrong. More than you thought. And now you know it but, at least, he didn't kick your ass for what you did.

“I always wanted to have a sister or a brother, if it helps…” Letti mutters, making you chuckle between some tears filling your eyes.

“I'm sorry for what I did”. You say then, pulling them away so you can clean your cry.

“Don' leve' us again, please”.

Coco leans towards you with both hands on your neck, taking you closer to kiss your lips, your cheeks, your temples… All your face. You nod again feeling how that heavy and painful weight is disappearing of your shoulders.

“We're a fam', rai?” He asks, raising his gaze to his daughter for a while. She nods too, before the girl hugs you again sitting on your lap.

“And maybe you're not my true mom, but you're the one I want”. She says making you cry again, regretting all the pain you made her.

“I'm sorry, Letti… I'm so sorry”.

“You don' have to. You're back at home”.

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #johnny coco cruz x reader #coco cruz x reader #coco cruz #coco cruz imagine #johnny coco cruz imagine

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erekiosuncreativeideas · 3 years

Text

The Part-Time Puppeteer - Chapter 07

<= Chapter 6

Summary : It is time for Lukas to show his acting skills... But of course, nothing can stick to the plan, can it? Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828971/chapters/81199699

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New chapter, woohooo ! This one was fun to write, I hope you'll like it ! Happy reading !

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Chapter 7 - “But what if I fail?”

Eventually, Lukas’ anger slowly disappeared, only to be replaced by a growing stage fright. The more seconds passed, the more his stomach hurt, and he felt like a weight was settling on his shoulders. As time went on, he was starting to regret agreeing to this whole thing- fuck, fuck, he should have said no, he should have insisted, why in the hell did he even agree to this…!

The student jumped as he heard a knock on the door and, for a small moment, he thought it was MJ coming back. However, he quickly pushed that idea away- there was no way that jerk would be polite enough to knock- he hadn’t the first time. But as the young man wondered who could be behind the door, it opened slightly. Through the small opening, Lukas’ eyes fell on Grooves. Instantly, his face paled up- oh gosh, it was time, already?

-“Ah, Mike told me you’d be in here,” the director’s suave voice brought him back to reality, and the student swallowed nervously.

-“Is… Is it time?” he asked, his voice trembling and full of anxiety.

The other didn’t respond right away, and entered the room instead, quietly closing the door behind him.

-“No, you still have a few more minutes,” his boss replied, though that didn’t reassure Lukas, on the contrary. If the director was there, then it meant something, right? He couldn’t think of any possible reason on why DJ Grooves would come into Mike’s workshop- and even then, from the other’s words, it was like he had been looking for him.

This… Didn’t sound so good, suddenly. And apparently, his fear must have been quite visible on his features, as the director seemed to notice it:

-“Okay, listen, darling,” he started, clasping his hands: “The Conductor and I were talking with our investor, the person funding this whole project.”

-“Oh, yeah, Mike told me something like that,” the young man nodded, still feeling anxious: “Is… Is something wrong?”

Perhaps the other was there to tell him they were going to take MJ back? It seemed like this conversation was important enough, and honestly it sounded like DJ Grooves was trying to bring up a sensitive subject. But maybe it was for the best? Lukas was not an actor, and they did promote him out of the blue, without really thinking about it- Although, why would they tell him to learn the lines all for nothing? Before he even got the chance to display his “acting skills”? He had used his own free time to learn them, it was a bit frustrating to have memorized them if he weren’t even going to get his chance.

His internal monologue was interrupted by DJ Grooves’ low voice:

-“Listen, I’ll be honest with you. MJ isn’t a great person to be around, but he is famous. When we announced to our investor we had pushed him out of the project, he… Wasn’t exactly pleased.”

The young man lowered his eyes and nodded- yeah, that made sense. Sure, MJ was a jerk, but he would have attracted more attention on the show.

-“So, you’ll take him back on the team?” guessed Lukas, who wasn’t so surprised, though perhaps disappointed. Of course, it was less stress on his shoulders, but… Yeah, he would be lying if he said it hadn’t brought him some excitement, or some change in his anxious routine. But it was certainly the best choice to make- however, that meant MJ would have the time of his life humiliating him about this, especially after their argument.

-“What? No,” the director frowned, his expression turning confused for a moment: “I mean… That is why I’m here, actually.”

It was Lukas’ time to be perplexed now, and he couldn’t help but tilt his head, not really sure to understand what the other was trying to say.

-“Look, darling, you did a good job yesterday. However, our investor is very insistent on keeping MJ on the team, because all he’s seeing is a celebrity who’s going to attract attention. And don’t get me wrong, it’s true,” he raised his hands, like he was defending himself: “But that means you need to prove your worth to him more than anything.”

Oh no. No, no, no, he could see where this was going.

-“Wait, wait…” he interrupted the other, his face paling up: “Are you implying this is some kind of… Exam?”

The man in front of him readjusted his glasses while raising his eyebrows, an unimpressed expression on his face:

-“Oh, I’m not implying anything, darling,” he answered simply: “I’m stating it, this is exactly what it’s going to be.”

It was like a cold shower for the young man, who was having a very tight knot in his stomach. His breathing increased in pace, and so did his heartbeat. Oh, fuck, fuck, he was going to hyperventilate, shit, this couldn’t be happening- he couldn’t do this! Playing a role was one thing, but having the future of a show depending on his sole performance was too much, way too much- okay, yeah, they’d probably get MJ back if he failed, but that still meant his performance would be examined.

This was too much stress for him to handle, he couldn’t, he just couldn’t-!

-“Woah, there, hey,” the director’s suave voice wasn’t enough to calm him down, but it did distract him slightly from his new panic attack. He felt something brushing his back hesitantly, and it didn’t take him long to understand DJ Grooves was trying to comfort him- but it only made it worse. Lukas didn’t like being touched when his anxiety was at its peak. He stepped away, and the director didn’t insist.

-“I… Suppose I did good to tell you in advance,” the other added, visibly uncomfortable by the current situation.

-“I can’t,” Lukas breathed out, really doing his best to calm himself down, in vain: “I didn’t even apply for this, I can’t, I just…”

His head was starting to spin from the stress, and he quickly sat down, not wanting to collapse on his second day at his job. He leaned against the wall and took deep breaths, bringing his hands up to rub his eyes. God, being so tired really wasn’t helping his mental state… Sounds of muffled fabric next to him caught his attention, and when he looked at his side, he was surprised to see DJ Grooves sitting next to him.

-“It’s okay to be scared, darling,” he spoke again, his voice sounding more reassuring than before: “It’s your first time acting, it’s normal. But you have something, you have potential.”

The student scoffed and rolled his eyes with an ironic smile:

-“Yeah, right. The only reason I’m replacing MJ is to teach him a lesson. I’m not stupid.”

The director shot him yet another unimpressed look:

-“You really think we’d lose production time just to punish a full-grown adult? You think it’s worth wasting a day of work?”

That made Lukas wince, and he looked away, falling silent. Yeah, okay, that was fair, but that didn’t mean it was the right decision to make!

-“I’m not going to lie, you do need some training, but there’s a spark in there,” he pointed to the young man: “You might not be able to play any character, sure, but you have a thing with villains. It’d be stupid to let that go to waste.”

A long sigh left Lukas’ lips, and he buried his face into his hands. His panic attack was slowly dying down, but God, did he feel terrible right now… His stomach still hurt like hell, as if someone were playing with his guts and twisting them around. Fuck, the last time he had felt so stressed was for his finals the year before… And back then, he had an idea of what awaited him! Today, however? He had no fucking idea.

That terrified him.

-“I can’t do this,” he weakly mumbled through his hands: “I’m not an actor, I’m just…”

-“A part-time stagehand?” the other guessed the rest of his sentence: “Yeah, that’s what you’re going to become again if you fail. But, darling, imagine if you do impress our investor! I know you had fun yesterday,” the director nudged him, with a teasing tone.

-“N-no, I didn’t,” denied the young man, though it was a lie. He had had a blast the day before… That is, when he had managed to throw his anxiety through the window, if just for a moment. But this was different, this was… Official! Yesterday, he had thought he was helping that little girl to get that role, now… Now he was doing that for himsel f, and fuck, he was not ready for it.

-“Oooh, don’t you lie to me. Sure, you were all shy at the beginning, but then… It was like you had flipped a switch, and then, there was the spark I was speaking about.”

The student remained silent. Yeah, it was true… Somewhat. Without knowing how, he had been able to put his fear aside.

-“I just…” he spoke again after a moment, shrugging: “I thought that since I didn’t have a choice, well… I told myself ‘ why the fuck not ’, you know?”

Next to him, his interlocutor smiled, as he got to prove his point.

-“So what’s so different here, then?” the latter retorted, his voice amused: “Why don’t you flip that switch again?”

-“But what if I fail?” Lukas brought his head back up and gave his boss a distressed look.

-“Then you’ll go back to being a stagehand, which is what you applied for in the first place. You’re not losing anything, darling, we’re not going to fire you if it doesn’t work out. Acting isn’t always about success, it’s about… Passion! Doing what you love, being yourself!”

He paused for a moment, his smile widening:

-“And for you, darling, it’s about having fun.”

The words had a bigger effect on Lukas than what he had first expected. Oh, he wasn’t convinced, his anxiety was still eating him from the inside, but at least… He was reassured on the fact that his promotion wasn’t just to piss MJ off. Sure, that asshole entirely deserved it, but it was good to hear he wasn’t being used.

He was genuinely wanted on the team. Obviously, he would never be as talented as the other actor, Grooves had even been honest about that, but… At least it was motivating, knowing people thought he had potential. And if it was the case, then… Why wouldn’t he give his best? His boss was right, he had nothing to lose, so… He might as well try and see where it would take him.

Plus, he had learned all those lines, it would be stupid to give up when he tried so hard to memorize them… Especially when it had cost him two hours of sleep.

Eventually, after what felt like centuries, he let out yet another sigh, as a small smile grew on his lips:

-“Alright,” he snorted: “You win.”

It was the director’s turn to sigh in relief at the student’s approval.

-“I knew I could count on you, darling,” his face was showing clear victory, and he moved his left hand to tap the young man’s shoulder: “Let’s show them what a great performance looks like!”

An embarrassed giggle left Lukas’ mouth as he looked away:

-“Ahaha, yeah…”

The two men stood up, careful not to damage any in-progress costumes. DJ Grooves dusted himself before doing the same to Lukas, who was taken aback by the attention. But he supposed that it was part of giving this investor a good first impression… Oh fuck, he was really doing this, wasn’t he?

He shook his head, and took a deep breath. Yes, he was going to do this, he could do this!

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

No, he was not going to do this, he couldn’t do this.

Now that the young man was on the scene, puppet in hand and a tensed smile plastered on his face, his motivation had been beaten to a pulp by his raging anxiety. Contrary to when he had acted in front of his bosses, this time the room was full of people.

People who had stopped working on their task just to watch him. Mike was one of them, perhaps one of the few people sending him thumb ups as encouragement. Great friend, really, but too bad this was far from enough to make Lukas more comfortable.

-“So… Your name is… Lukas Pryce, is that it?” asked a voice who sent shivers down the student’s spine. In front of him were both the directors and the investor he had been told about. It was an old man, around the same age as the Conductor. While the latter seemed like a person not to fuck with… That other person looked like a cold blooded murderer- as if a single word would be enough to make him snap. And with the clothes he was wearing- a dark green tartan suit and black loafers… Yeah, Lukas felt he was facing the boss of a criminal organization or something.

This wasn’t reassuring him in the least .

-“Is that it?” the voice called out to him again, and he jumped, his smile faltering for a short moment.

-“Y-yes, that’s me… Sir,” he quickly added, his voice trembling. Behind the man, the young student saw the Conductor facepalming, and DJ Grooves looking away, probably feeling second-hand embarrassment.

Yeah, no, there was no fucking way he was going to do this. How was he supposed to say his lines without stammering or without even messing this whole thing up?! He had not prepared for this- not like it would have helped a lot, but it would have been much better than learning that only fifteen minutes before rehearsing!

The investor shot him an unimpressed and annoyed look, rolling his eyes. He then looked back to a copy of a script he had been given by the two directors, flipping the pages as he was searching for a scene- oh, crap, this was going to be one of the scenes Lukas had the most trouble remembering, wasn’t it? With his luck, he couldn’t see any other scenario, this was going to be the worst day of his life all the way until midnight!

The man opened his mouth after flipping through the script, only to be cut short by a door opening loudly in the back of the room. Most of the crew, including the investor, turned to see who had interrupted the rehearsal. But of fucking course it had to be him .

The biggest douche in the universe had decided to grant them all of his presence- in other words, MJ was here now, bearing the widest grin ever. He was wearing what seemed to be a very expensive fur coat, as well as sunglasses preventing people from seeing his eyes at all. In his right hands, the bastard was holding a peanut bowl, casually eating some with his left hand.

Oh, obviously, that asshole wanted to see him fail. Why else would he be here when he had no other reason to be here, without any role in this show anymore?

-“Don’t mind me,” he sang with that insufferable voice of his, loud enough for everyone to hear him: “I’m just here to watch the show,” he smiled more, and Lukas just knew there were mockery, sure, but also bitterness. Wasn’t surprising, to be fair, given the other’s personality.

The latter found himself a chair and sat down, crossing his legs and, oh, how Lukas wanted to punch that arrogant face. But he wouldn’t. He was a civilized person, after all… And a coward too, but this wasn’t the topic of the day.

A long sigh came from the investor, who turned his head back to the student with a tired look, one that clearly said “I’m tired of everyone’s bullshit right now”. It wasn’t like Lukas could blame him… Though he was too preoccupied by his own situation to care.

-“Alright… So, as I was about to say… What about the scene from the act’s finale?” the older man suggested, even if it didn’t sound like an offer.

Lukas was about to say something, but when he noticed that the investor wasn’t asking him but the directors instead, he decided to shut his mouth. Apparently, he was not being consulted in the choice of the scene… Well, at least, he was lucky enough it was one of those he knew the best. It was one of the most interesting and, perhaps it was the future lawyer talking here, but it was intense . Like all these trials he had studied, with those passionate lawyers defending their clients, guilty or not!

The kind of lawyer he wanted to become.

-“Heh, if you say so,” the Conductor shrugged, before giving Grooves a reluctant look, as if he were acknowledging his colleague’s presence, for once. DJ Grooves was taken aback by the sudden politeness, but quickly glanced at Lukas, silently asking if the scene was one the student knew well enough.

This was… A really kind attention. Quickly, the young man nodded imperceptibly, and his focus went to his script soon afterwards. Searching for the scene he was going to perform, one of his ears was still listening to the discussion in front of him.

-“I think it’s a very good choice,” replied the eccentric director, his tone then shifting to a pensive one: “but we need someone to play Hat Kid… And Hailey isn’t here today.”

DJ Grooves looked around in the room, searching for anyone who could fit the role- until he and Lukas spotted a raised hand among the crowd. Their eyes moved in its direction and- oh for fuck’s sake, why couldn’t he have one (1) good day of work here?

Of fucking course MJ would be the one to raise his hand, his face beaming with that asshole attitude. In the other side of the room, Mike was trying to catch his attention, most likely to tell him to drop it, but the actor royally ignored his twin. Now, Grooves and the Conductor were very aware of MJ’s hatred towards the student- hell, the entire crew had seen that diva throw a tantrum the previous day! So it made sense that the two directors refused his oh so kind offer.

-“I don’t think it’s a good idea, darling ,” DJ Grooves was the first to answer, frowning, and it didn’t take long for the Conductor to add his own spiky comment:

-“Yeah, laddie, why are you still in the studio?” the old man put his hands over his hips, furrowing his brows at MJ, whose face darkened at the refusal. It didn’t last too long, however, as he rapidly put on his nice, innocent mask on.

-“Oh, I just thought that, since I used to have this role before and everything… I’m probably the only one knowing these lines by heart, aren’t I?” The mask fell for a few seconds as he smiled victoriously: “Even Hailey’s lines. I don’t need the script.”

Lukas tightened his fist- God, he wanted to punch that jerk’s face so much! What was he trying to do? Prove how much of a better actor he was? Hell, this most likely was it. What a brat- how could a grown ass adult act like a child so much?!

The Conductor was about to refuse once more, and DJ Grooves certainly would have too… If it weren’t for the investor, who interrupted them both with just a gesture of his hand. For the first time since he had entered the room, the older man’s lips were curling up in an intrigued smile.

Oh, this couldn’t be good.

-“Why not,” he agreed, gesturing at MJ to stand up and come closer: “This could be interesting, don’t you think, gentlemen?” the man continued, turning his head to the two directors, who were visibly wincing. Soon after getting the go-ahead, the actor’s face lightened up with arrogance, giving off a “I told you so!” kind of vibe. He quickly took off his sunglasses and his fur coat, showing the clothes he was wearing underneath: a fancy red shirt with psychedelic patterns, a black denim jacket, dark blue skinny jeans as well as black, shiny shoes.

What a show-off. That guy had changed clothes in the small amount of time they had gotten since their argument. Was he trying to impress the investor? Seriously?

The diva walked quickly to the scene, taking the stairs two by two. From afar, Mike was watching with an aghast expression, glancing nervously at Lukas and his brother, probably fearing for a fight. And that concern was more than justified, given how much the student wanted to strangle the jerk in front of him. However, the latter knew very well the ex-stagehand couldn’t do anything, and smirked widely in consequence.

That bitch-!

-“So, here’s what we’re going to do,” the investor announced, joining his hands together, all while the Conductor and Grooves could do nothing but watch with a grimace: “You will both play your roles, MJ as Hat Kid and… Uh…”

-“L-Lukas, sir,” the student reminded him, with a nervous voice, earning a mocking look from the diva at his shyness. The student glared at him in response, though not for long, as he had to focus on the older man’s words.

-“Yes, Lukas. You will play the Moonjumper’s role. Whoever plays their role the best get to keep the job,” he then turned to the two directors, shooting them a serious glance: “And I will be the judge of that, being the one funding this whole project. Do we have a mutual understanding, here?”

The duo frowned and gritted their teeth- but they couldn’t say anything. Not only the other was right, he had a power of decision on the show given his financing, but it was also a fair deal. Whoever had the best act would get the role- but in hindsight, was it, really?

MJ was a skilled actor, who had started his show-biz career when he was still a kid. He had a dozen of blockbusters in his resume, and even more regular movies and TV shows. With years of acting and practice in that field, living the celebrity life to its fullest… He was more than capable of getting a role in a children’s show!

In comparison… Lukas was a nobody, just like MJ had told him earlier. He had no experience in acting other than what he had done the previous day. Sure, Grooves had been nice enough to say he had “”potential“”, but next to a fully accomplished actor? He was never going to win, that was obvious. And yet…

Yet, Lukas wanted to win. Not only because he wanted to piss the diva off (’cause, frankly, he deserved it), but also because he felt like… If he had to try, and if he had been forced to learn all those lines on his sleep schedule, then, why shouldn’t he give his all? After all, this was probably going to be his last time on stage. Why not enjoy it while he still could? Furthermore, if he had to bear with MJ’s mockeries after losing, it was far better to have given his all rather than just… Giving up without even trying.

His glance went back on the celebrity, giving him a determined and serious look… Before dropping the script to his feet. MJ wanted to fight like this? Then he was going to get it. That asshole wasn’t the only one who had memorized all the lines- at least, this scene.

Lukas was not going to back down.

-“Ready? And… Action!” the investor yelled in the Conductor’s loud hailer, momentarily taking the director’s role.

The student felt his stage fright disappearing. Instead, his mind was soon filled with anger, determination and energy. And so, since he had the first line… He opened his mouth, and began what was perhaps one of the silliest thing he had ever done before.

Acting.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Heeeeey, looks like we're going to have an acting battle in the next chapter ! ... I sure wonder who's going to win :)c

=> Chapter 08

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ninnodesu · 3 years

Text

The New Matriarch, ch 2.

Tw: - Memories of rape - Brief mentioning of rape!

Thomas B. Hewitt.

It's…, Sunday? Yeah, it's Sunday. He thinks before rubbing tired eyes to wake them up before squinting to the window that's cracked open. The sun's up, but it doesn't feel as warm as it usually is, even early in the morning. Seems like today's going to be a milder day.

Good. I don't have to overheat and die. He chuckles at his own bad attempt at a joke as he rolls out of bed. His back cracks in a symphony of newly awoken and hard working bones as he stretches, a grunt escaping his lips. He trudges over to his dresser and pulls one of the drawers out, grabbing the first t-shirt he sees. It’s gray and worn out with small holes in the seams under his armpit, but he knows they can’t afford to get new ones.

It will have to do, I guess, he shrugs and pulls it over his head. Realizing he probably should have taken a shower first, but frowns. He knows it’s no point in showering before going to work in cleaning the barn. His mama asked him the week before if he could help clean the barn, she wanted to see if there was anything of value they could maybe sell at a yard sale to try and scrape up some more money.

Even though the scraps of meat rejects he snagged with him home after a hard day's work were enough, his mama was longing for bread and maybe some fruits and vegetables. And those were expensive. So he promised her he would take a look and throw away obvious trash the next day he was off work. Which happened to be every Sunday. Before heading out he pulls his boots on and reaches for the mask hanging on a hook next to his door to buckle it on the back of his head. All the years he's been wearing it has turned his skill in buckling it to perfection and he fastens it while walking through the upstairs hallway, tired floorboards greeting him under his weight.

He stops suddenly at one of the stairs that makes a particularly alarming creak and bucks a bit, “Hm…”, he bounces as carefully as he can to not break the board to test it. Making a mental note that he has to take a look at that specific step at another day. Hoping it’ll not break in the meantime.

With a yawn he enters the kitchen where his mama is preparing breakfast to the best of her abilities with what they've got, some sausages she managed to throw together with whatever scraps he could snag with him from work, and eggs. In his heart he thanks God that they still had chickens.

"Mornin', darlin'", she says as he walks up to her and nuzzles his forehead to her temple. A small hum from him to wish her the same. "You goin' to fix that barn I asked you for today?", stuffing half a sausage in his mouth as he grunts. His own way of saying “yes”. He doesn’t like speaking anymore. Not since he carved on his face, a desperate attempt at trying to remove dead, and sick skin. He only knew pain during the healing period. And he lost a lot of weight at first, both speaking and eating only caused him pain. So he stopped talking. Doing his best to avoid unnecessary pain to his already throbbing face.

Yeah, don't worry, mama. Even if Sundays are the only days he has off work, he's still happy to help. And today seems to be a mild day. Even if the sun's out it goes behind clouds from time to time.

Rather today than next week. He thinks to himself munching away at his breakfast while looking out the window, not focusing on anything particular, leaving his brain a chance to wake up properly. Somewhere in the distance, he hears a loud burp, and then a door closing harshly, probably to try and wake up the last family member who was still snoring on the couch and then the sound of angry stomping wakes him up from his daydream and he lets out a small discrete sigh.

Great., he huffed silently at the sight.

His brother, Charlie, enters the kitchen. He reeks of both tobacco and alcohol,

Already? Come on, man…, Thomas just makes a grimace behind the leather as he follows him with his eyes. Usually, it was when Charlie had alcohol still running in his blood that he barked orders at Thomas, so he was used to Charlie drinking not being the best of signs. He never really did like when he drank, even less so early in the morning. Sure, the slaughterhouse had a worse smell, but that smell he was used to.

Charlie plops himself down at the kitchen table and just violently stabs one of the sausages with a fork.

"Mornin', mama.” His twisted and crooked smile directed towards their mother, before his eyes drilled into Thomas and he returned the stare. A tired but fierce stare off between the brothers. “Remember what mama told you, boy. You're goin' to clean the barn.", Charlie nods at him with a really childish tone at the end and Thomas grunts a reply before looking away, annoyed.

"Leave Tommy alone, Charlie!”, their mama scolds him and lightly smacks his head with her towel. “He's already done promised me that he's gonna. Let the boy finish eatin' his breakfast in peace."

Thomas lowers his head and smirks behind his mask while looking down at his plate. Mama always has his back.

"Yes, mama.", Charlie's voice is low but he gives the big man in front of him an annoyed stare. "Mama's boy…" he mutters under his breath before starting to eat the impaled sausage.

By the time Thomas has finished his breakfast, he hears shuffling from the living room and his uncle stumbles into the kitchen on tired legs. His uncle has never really seemed to pay him much mind, so Thomas does the same as he puts his plate in the sink. All he does is give him a nod on his way over to thank his mother for the breakfast by giving her a small kiss on the cheek through his mask and rub her shoulder before heading out to the barn.

Thank you, mama.

Outside, it's cool - for once - and he can't help but to close his eyes and relax when he feels a breeze caress the part of his face not covered up. He raises a hand and touches his mask, wishing he could feel the breeze on his entire face. But he knows better. Charlie would just harass him if he caught him without it.

Forget it. He shakes that thought away and trudges over to the barn and gives out a loud groan when he sees how much he actually has to do today.

I'll be sore tomorrow at work…

Hours go by. Lunch is over before he even realizes he's eaten it. The clouds have gathered over his head and he's afraid it'll start raining before he's done. On his way in to gather more junk lying around he hears something, a voice.

What th-.... He stops, trying to listen and see if he hears it again. Silence.

Maybe I'm imagining things. He shrugs, but then hears it again. "Please, help me!”, He gazes out towards the wheat field, squinting eyes trying to see something. He still can’t see anyone, though. He’s sure he did hear someone. He turns to look towards the main house to see if it came from there, but nothing. Not his name, no sounds coming from the house that would indicate someone came to hurt his family.

“Hm…”, he takes one step, and then one more away from the barn, toward the general direction he thought the voice came from. His curiosity has peaked.

After a few minutes of silence has passed he’s suddenly startled and his head jerks toward one of the walls where he sees a woman.

What the he-... where did you co-, his inner monologue is interrupted by her hoarse voice. “Please… please help me.”, it’s hard to hear, but knowing how rough his own voice is after so many years of choosing to be silent he’s learned to distinguish words. Seeing her walk towards him makes him back up himself. She’s all beaten up. Hair is more of a mess than his own and she smells of sweat, blood and earth. She’s so much smaller than him in height, not that he’s particularly surprised, honestly. Clothed in something that looks like several potato sacks badly put together through the years to accommodate her growth. She’s dirty, and it looks like she’s badly hurt. He just watches her at first. “I beg of you. They’re chasing me. I need… I need help.”

You look like you’ve been through Hell... His eyes flicker towards the main house when he notices that she's not looking directly at him, but rather outside. Suddenly, he reacts to footsteps. Close ones and he turns his attention to them, tilting his head and listening to them. Following them.

Deep into concentration he feels small, weak fingers gripping the hem of his rolled up sleeve, tugging at it to get his attention. “Please…”.

He lets out a sigh. You must be truly desperate to reach out for me, lady. His head is directed towards a sound, and around the corner comes a man, and he looks straight at him as he takes a step in front of the strange woman, shielding her, Thomas stares at the man.

“Ah, good. I see you found our sister, there. I’ve been looking for her.”, Something tells Thomas it’s just lies. “I can take care of her now. She’s uh… She’s unwell ”, the last word came out as a whisper, something that shouldn’t be talked about.

Thomas just stands there, crossing his bulky arms over his huge chest, trying his best to look intimidating enough to avoid any violence.

You really think I’m falling for that, huh?, he smirks behind his mask and tilts his head to the side.

A stare off ensues. One huge man looking down at the smaller one. The bull versus the fox. Thomas lets out a big huff that sounds like a mixture between a laugh and a sound an annoyed bull makes.

I’ll humour you, but only because it’s fun to see you try.

“Look, we’re just here to take her back to her room so we can take care of her, okay? That’s all there is.” The stranger takes a step forward, and Thomas manages to hear whispers close by.

There’s more of you, huh?

Thomas looks down at the girl who has curled into a tiny ball behind his legs when he feels his pant leg start to shake slightly where she started gripping it out of fear.

“No.”, it’s dark, and hoarse, but it only helps to convey his statement. “No?”, the man mimics, suddenly realizing that his lie had failed. “Heheh. I see. That bitch told you, didn’t she? Well, this one is ours. We bought her. She is our property.”, Thomas frowns when he sees a sneer appear on the stranger. Then he chuckles darkly.

What the hell are you talking about?

“Tell you what, big man? If you hand her over to us, we can arrange a fee for you.” His leg suddenly gets warm as she hugs closer to him, clings to him, even. Like he’s some kind of life preserve for her. And that’s when his brain switches.

You can relax, I’m not letting them take you, he puts a hand on her head to try and convey his inner monologue and conversation with her. “Leave.”, he hasn’t spoken this much in months. But he wants her to know that she can stay, at least until his mama has had her say in it. “I’m not leaving until I get my property back!”, the stranger practically roars as he lifts the gun he’s been holding behind his thigh.

Thomas’ eyes darken at the sight, he truly doesn’t want to resolve to violence, at least not if his family isn’t involved, there’s no point. And as far as he’s concerned, this woman is not family. “You’re one big beast, you know that?”, a small chuckle emitted from the gun wielding maniac standing in front of the pair.

Then, like a gift from heaven - for once - he sees Charlie as he butts the stranger with the end of his own shotgun. The man falls to the barn floor. It’s not until he hears the thud that Thomas finally relaxes his stance a tiny bit.

Useful, for once.

“Who the fuck is that, Tommy?”, Charlie nods towards the scared girl still behind Thomas’ leg, who's desperately trying to curl into a smaller ball. Thomas’ looks down at her at first and then just… shrugs. He has no idea who she is. All he knows is that she’s the first person ever in his entire life who has been this adamant with getting his help. He puts his hand back on her head again and slowly strokes her messy hair.

It’s okay, now.

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

You.

Your sight darkens slightly and you fall into shadows as something big steps in front of you, and you look up to see him look toward something. You follow his gaze and see him, the one who had shot you and you take a step back behind the giant in an attempt to completely disappear out of sight. Why is he alone? Where’s the rest?!, your brain starts to go into that panicked state and you fall to the floor, your legs can’t keep you up anymore as fear sets in. You can’t see anyone else. There were at least three… Three… and… the dog… “Ah, good. I see you found our sister, there. I’ve been looking for her.” Liar.

“I can take care of her now. She’s uh… She’s unwell”, you jerk your head and eyes towards him when you hear his disgusting voice. You glance up at the huge man when you see his hands raise as he crosses them over his chest. You take a big gulp of air. He’s huge…

Silence.

You jump a bit at the moment the giant huffs. “Look, we’re just here to take her back to her room so we can take care of her, okay? That’s all there is.”, you flinch when you hear a shuffle towards you both.

No, no no no no. Not the box, please. Anything but that fucking box! You curl up, instinct kicking in as you start to grab at the strange man’s pant leg while shaking. You’re so scared. You look up at him when you feel a pair of eyes gaze at you. And that’s when you finally manage to see his face. Or, whatever there was of it. It’s covered in a mask.

Strange… But his eyes seem kind. Light blue, you can’t see any kind of hate in them. You can’t really see any clear emotion at all, actually.

“No. ”, a shiver runs down your spine when you hear his voice. It’s dark, almost as hoarse as your own. But you feel safer than you’ve felt since you started running. “No?”, the man with the gun mimics, his voice is low, and clings to your ears and nerves as black tar.

You zone out, memories starting to trickle into your brain. Memories that makes you nauseous. Memories of his voice sticking in your ears as he forced himself into you, his tongue tracing venomous trails across every part it could reach. This disgusting voice, this sticky and tar like voice of his. You hate it. You hate it so much. In the middle of remembering all the sticky things his voice told you, you wrap your arms around the big leg in front of you, and bury your face in it, shielding yourself. Right now, the only safe place you can remember in your life is this man.

That’s when you feel a hand on your head. It’s not clamping down to hurt you, or to force your face up to make you recieve some disgusting load. It’s just… there. It’s there like a warmth, a helmet. A way to comfort you, you make you realize he wants to help you.

“Leave. ”, that same dark voice speaks. His whole body vibrates. “I’m not leaving until I get my property back!”

Shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up!, you press your eyes shut. Just hoping it will end. You keep your eyes shut. Not wanting to see his face anymore, not wanting to be here anymore. You just want everything and anything to end. You want to wake up from this nightmare. And that’s when you hear a thud and another voice speak out.

“Who the fuck is that, Tommy?”

Tommy? Wh… Who’s “Tommy”?, your brain is too tired to fully function and put two and two together.

This new voice sounds older, it’s definitely another man. But you can’t place him. It’s new. It isn’t until you feel the same hand on your head again, but this time in a stroking motion, that you get the courage to look up. But you can’t relax yet. You know there’s more people here. Around the house. You’re just not sure where they are. So you decide to try and talk again.

“M...m-...”, you take a shaky breath, and try to gather saliva again, easier this time. “Ther- there’s more…”

“More what?”, The old man spits at you as he crouches down to your eye level and looks at you, he seems angry at you, so you flinch further behind the behemoth, who all he can do is stand there since your grip is tight on his leg. His hand still on your head, intently watching as you attempt to have a conversation with the old man.

“O-... of them…”, you whisper as you nod towards the one lying down on the floor, still breathing.

“Are you trying to tell me that there’s more of those bastards on my property, girl?”, the old man spits.

He’s definitely angry, shit.

All you can manage to do is nod. The old man stands tall and puts his hands on his hips as he clicks his tongue. You stay put, almost too scared to move a muscle, your nerves still on high alert, ready to sprint if you hear any kind of loud noise. But nothing happens, it’s still. “Come. We’ll talk to mama.”, the old voice mumbles out, “After that, you’re helping me bring our sleeping friend to the sheriff’s station.” Before you’re able to fully comprehend what’s happening your protector bends down best to his abilities and slowly pats your arms holding him tight while keeping eye contact with you.

“Wh… what…?”, you’re confused. So, so confused as you look at him. He lightly takes hold of your arms and slowly pry them open to release his leg. “Oh…”, is all you can say as you understand what he wants and you release his leg by your own will, but still not fully grasping what he wants to do, at least not until you feel his strong arms under you.

One hooking under your legs and one resting at your back.

And you’re off the ground. It’s not until he takes one step forward that your brain sends a harsh reminder about the pain in your shoulder and you shriek out.

“FUCK!”, it’s loud enough - or you’re way too close to his ear - that he jumps, his grip almost slipping. The pain is enormous all of a sudden, and that’s when it happens. You pass out. Your brain, and body, finally giving up. You can’t run anymore, and you mentally accept your fate, not caring what it might be and you’re put into a deep slumber.

#The New Matriarch #TNM #thomas hewitt #thomas leatherface hewitt #thomas hewitt fanfictiom #slasher #tcm fanfiction #tcm: the beginning #tcm #charlie hewitt

24 notes · View notes

c-ptsdrecovery · 4 years

Link

Humiliation, negating, criticizing

These tactics are meant to undermine your self-esteem. The abuse is harsh and unrelenting in matters big and small.

Here are some examples:

Name-calling. They’ll blatantly call you “stupid,” “a loser,” or words too awful to repeat here.

Derogatory “pet names.” This is just more name-calling in not-so-subtle disguise. “My little knuckle dragger” or “My chubby pumpkin” aren’t terms of endearment.

Character assassination. This usually involves the word “always.” You’re always late, wrong, screwing up, disagreeable, and so on. Basically, they say you’re not a good person.

Yelling. Yelling, screaming, and swearing are meant to intimidate and make you feel small and inconsequential. It might be accompanied by fist-pounding or throwing things.

Patronizing. “Aw, sweetie, I know you try, but this is just beyond your understanding.”

Public embarrassment. They pick fights, expose your secrets, or make fun of your shortcomings in public.

Dismissiveness. You tell them about something that’s important to you and they say it’s nothing. Body language like eye-rolling, smirking, headshaking, and sighing help convey the same message.

“Joking.” The jokes might have a grain of truth to them or be a complete fabrication. Either way, they make you look foolish.

Sarcasm. Often just a dig in disguise. When you object, they claim to have been teasing and tell you to stop taking everything so seriously.

Insults of your appearance. They tell you, just before you go out, that your hair is ugly or your outfit is clownish.

Belittling your accomplishments. Your abuser might tell you that your achievements mean nothing, or they may even claim responsibility for your success. [Ignoring or refusing to celebrate your accomplishments may also be emotionally abusive/neglectful in a close relationship.]

Put-downs of your interests. They might tell you that your hobby is a childish waste of time or you’re out of your league when you play sports. Really, it’s that they’d rather you not participate in activities without them [or they’re jealous of your skill in this or some other area they don’t excel in].

Pushing your buttons. Once your abuser knows about something that annoys you, they’ll bring it up or do it every chance they get.

Control and shame

Trying to make you feel ashamed of your inadequacies is just another path to power. [These abusive behaviors can be harder to recognize in parents than in romantic partners, as parents generally exert some level of healthy control over young children’s lives. The issue is then with the degree of control, the age of the child, and the extent of the trauma caused.]

Tools of the shame and control game include:

Threats. Telling you they’ll take the kids and disappear, or saying “There’s no telling what I might do.” [From parents, threats that they’ll take your belongings or seriously and unjustly punish you]

Monitoring your whereabouts. They want to know where you are all the time and insist that you respond to calls or texts immediately. They might show up just to see if you’re where you’re supposed to be.

Digital spying. They might check your internet history, emails, texts, and call log. They might even demand your passwords.

Unilateral decision-making. They might close a joint bank account, cancel your doctor’s appointment, or speak with your boss without asking.

Financial control. They might keep bank accounts in their name only and make you ask for money. You might be expected to account for every penny you spend.

Lecturing. Belaboring your errors with long monologues makes it clear they think you’re beneath them.

Direct orders. From “Get my dinner on the table now” to “Stop taking the pill,” orders are expected to be followed despite your plans to the contrary.

Outbursts. You were told to cancel that outing with your friend or put the car in the garage, but didn’t, so now you have to put up with a red-faced tirade about how uncooperative you are.

Treating you like a child. They tell you what to wear, what and how much to eat, or which friends you can see.

Feigned helplessness. They may say they don’t know how to do something. Sometimes it’s easier to do it yourself than to explain it. They know this and take advantage of it.

Unpredictability. They’ll explode with rage out of nowhere, suddenly shower you with affection, or become dark and moody at the drop of a hat to keep you walking on eggshells.

They walk out. In a social situation, stomping out of the room leaves you holding the bag. At home, it’s a tool to keep the problem unresolved.

Using others. Abusers may tell you that “everybody” thinks you’re crazy or “they all say” you’re wrong.

Accusing, blaming, and denial

This behavior comes from an abuser’s insecurities. They want to create a hierarchy in which they’re at the top and you’re at the bottom.

Here are some examples:

Jealousy. They accuse you of flirting or cheating on them.

Turning the tables. They say you cause their rage and control issues by being such a pain.

Denying something you know is true. An abuser will deny that an argument or even an agreement took place. This is called gaslighting. It’s meant to make you question your own memory and sanity.

Using guilt. They might say something like, “You owe me this. Look at all I’ve done for you,” in an attempt to get their way.

Goading then blaming. Abusers know just how to upset you. But once the trouble starts, it’s your fault for creating it.

Denying their abuse. When you complain about their attacks, abusers will deny it, seemingly bewildered at the very thought of it.

Accusing you of abuse. They say you’re the one who has anger and control issues and they’re the helpless victim.

Trivializing. When you want to talk about your hurt feelings, they accuse you of overreacting and making mountains out of molehills.

Saying you have no sense of humor. Abusers make personal jokes about you. If you object, they’ll tell you to lighten up.

Blaming you for their problems. Whatever’s wrong in their life is all your fault. You’re not supportive enough, didn’t do enough, or stuck your nose where it didn’t belong.

Destroying and denying. They might crack your cell phone screen or “lose” your car keys, then deny it. [They also break your belongings when “in a rage” and “out of control”... and yet prove they ARE in control by never breaking THEIR belongings in similar circumstances.]

Emotional neglect and isolation

Abusers tend to place their own emotional needs ahead of yours. Many abusers will try to come between you and people who are supportive of you to make you more dependent on them.

They do this by:

Demanding respect. No perceived slight will go unpunished, and you’re expected to defer to them. But it’s a one-way street.

Shutting down communication. They’ll ignore your attempts at conversation in person, by text, or by phone.

Dehumanizing you. They’ll look away when you’re talking or stare at something else when they speak to you.

Keeping you from socializing. Whenever you have plans to go out, they come up with a distraction or beg you not to go.

Trying to come between you and your family. They’ll tell family members that you don’t want to see them or make excuses why you can’t attend family functions.

Withholding affection. They won’t touch you, not even to hold your hand or pat you on the shoulder. They may refuse sexual relations to punish you or to get you to do something.

Tuning you out. They’ll wave you off, change the subject, or just plain ignore you when you want to talk about your relationship.

Actively working to turn others against you. They’ll tell co-workers, friends, and even your family that you’re unstable and prone to hysterics.

Calling you needy. When you’re really down and out and reach out for support, they’ll tell you you’re too needy or the world can’t stop turning for your little problems.

Interrupting. You’re on the phone or texting and they get in your face to let you know your attention should be on them.

Indifference. They see you hurt or crying and do nothing.

Disputing your feelings. Whatever you feel, they’ll say you’re wrong to feel that way or that’s not really what you feel at all.

Codependence

A codependent relationship is when everything you do is in reaction to your abuser’s behavior. And they need you just as much to boost their own self-esteem. You’ve forgotten how to be any other way. It’s a vicious circle of unhealthy behavior. [It is generally caused by poor boundaries. The good news is that you can LEARN to create healthy boundaries!]

You might be codependent if you:

are unhappy in the relationship, but fear alternatives

consistently neglect your own needs for the sake of theirs

ditch friends and sideline your family to please your partner

frequently seek out your partner’s approval

critique yourself through your abuser’s eyes, ignoring your own instincts

make a lot of sacrifices to please the other person, but it’s not reciprocated

would rather live in the current state of chaos than be alone

bite your tongue and repress your feelings to keep the peace

feel responsible and take the blame for something they did

defend your abuser when others point out what’s happening

try to “rescue” them from themselves

feel guilty when you stand up for yourself

think you deserve this treatment

believe that nobody else could ever want to be with you

change your behavior in response to guilt; [for example,] your abuser says, “I can’t live without you,” so you stay

#emotional abuse #child abuse #abusive relationships #toxic relationship #toxic parents

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shortstories-slp · 3 years

Text

Paperback Writer

{Wu Honghui, born in the Hunan Province of China on October 7, 1996.}

{He has brown hair, hazel eyes (+wears glasses), weighs 130 pounds, and height 5’6”.}

{Homosexual}

{He is a writer mainly in the romance genre.}

Honghui rushes into his publisher’s office and slams down an overflowing portfolio.

“Mister Editor! I brought in a new draft. Please read it and give me feedback.” He yells over all the talk in the office, and everyone falls silent narrowing their eyes on him. A man a little older than him walks over and smiles, stating.

“Hello Honghui! I’m your new editor Feng Haoyu, but you can just call me Hao.” Honghui looks at him and he blushes.

“Ah. It’s nice to meet you Hao. Uhm. I just wanted to drop this off for you to read.” He mutters and slides the portfolio towards Haoyu, before making a beeline for the door. Haoyu smiles and takes the portfolio to his desk, beginning to read over the draft. He begins to make corrections to it.

Honghui sits on his sofa and pets his calico cat, thinking about Haoyu.

“I wonder what happened to Mister Gou?” He says to himself and sighs, shaking his head. He decides to read through his own copy of the draft to see if he can find any mistakes.

|A Few Hours Later|

Honghui rests his glasses on his head and sets down his red pen, pinching the bridge of his nose. His phone chimes and he opened his text messages, placing his glasses back on his nose.

Feng Haoyu: Hello Honghui! This is Feng Haoyu. I’m texting you to inform you that I’ve finished reading the draft. You can pick it up whenever you have free time.

Wu Honghui: Thanks Hao! ^o.o^ I will be there to pick it up tomorrow morning.

Feng Haoyu: Okay. See you then!

Honghui gets up from the sofa and walks into his bedroom, yawning. He takes off his glasses and slips into bed, falling asleep rather quickly.

|The Next Morning|

Honghui walks to a café and picks up an iced caramel macchiato, before continuing to the publisher’s office. He sips his macchiato and walks into the building, waiting near the front desk. Haoyu walks out to greet him and hands him the portfolio.

“I wrote comments in the margins, and I fixed a few grammar mistakes. Overall, it was alright.” He explains and Honghui nods, before asking.

“It was just alright?” Haoyu replies.

“Yeah. It was just like any other romance story.” Honghui feels a pang of hurt in his chest and mumbles.

“Why are you even my editor? I only write romance.” He turns on his heels and starts to head to the door, briskly.

Haoyu watches him leave and shakes his head, thinking.

‘You have the passion and drive to write better stories and genres, but you choose not to. Why is that?’

Honghui gets home and sits his portfolio onto the counter, staring at it.

“Hey Bean! I’m sure you can cheer me up.” He says to his calico cat, crouching down to scratch her chin gently. His phone chimes and he groaned, not wanting to open his message but he does so regardless.

Feng Haoyu: I’m sorry if what I said earlier came off as rude. I just know that you can write better things, but it’s not my place to tell you what genre to write. I hope that you will still work with me.

He looks at the message for a while, trying to think of how to respond to that. Honghui sits his phone down and distracts himself for a while, reading through the portfolio.

‘Haoyu did make a good point. I can do better than a traditional romance novel.’

He thinks and finally decides how he is going to reply to the text from Haoyu.

Wu Honghui:That was pretty rude of you to talk to me like that. e^e However, you can make it up to me by treating me to lunch. You were right though. I am going to make less traditional romance novels from now on.

Feng Haoyu: I wouldn’t mind treating you to lunch and great! I can’t wait to see how to change the rhetoric of the boring romance genre.

Honghui smiles at the message and locks his phone. He takes out his notepad and starts to write different prompts for his stories. After brainstorming, he narrows down the list and circles one of the prompts beginning to type on his computer. Honghui ends up falling asleep at his desk.

|The Next Day|

Feng Haoyu: Hey Honghui! Are you free to have lunch today?

Haoyu looks out the window of his apartment, feeling anxious about having lunch with Honghui.

Wu Honghui: Yes! Can we go to the sushi buffet place? OvO

Feng Haoyu: Of course! What is your address? I will pick you up.

Honghui texts his address to Haoyu and takes a shower, before getting dressed. He slips on his shoes and blushes when he remembers the situation, he is in.

‘Ah… this makes it seem like we are dating. I mean I don’t mind, but what about Hao? Augh!’

He thinks and struggles with his internal monologue but gets interrupted by his phone ringing.

Feng Haoyu: “Hey. I’m outside in the blue car.”

Wu Honghui: “Oh! I’m sorry. I will be out in just a second.”

Feng Haoyu: “Okay take your time. I will be waiting.”

Honghui composes himself and grabs his side bag, along with his house keys. He locks the door and walks out to Haoyu’s car, getting into the passenger seat. He buckles up and adjusts his glasses, before looking over at Haoyu.

“Okay. I’m all set.” He says in a chipper tone.

“Yeah. Let’s get going.” Haoyu says and starts to drive to the restaurant.

|At the Sushi Buffet|

They get seated at a booth near the back, sitting across from each other they fall into an awkward silence. Haoyu clears his throat and asks

“So, how long have you been a writer? Why do you like to write romance novels?” Honghui replies

“Well, I’ve been writing for about three and a half years now. I write the romance genre just because it is fun and appealing, but I want to make same sex romance novels too. They are pretty rare and… never mind.” He rubs the back of his neck and avoids eye contact. Haoyu nods and supports him.

“That sounds like a stellar idea. I think you should go for it.” Honghui smiles and asks

“You really think that?” Haoyu replies

“Of course!”

They get greeted by a waitress and then get up to pile their plates with sushi.

|After Lunch|

“I fixed all of the stuff you marked in my draft Hao. So, I think it will probably be ready to publish soon.” Honghui says happily and pats Haoyu’s shoulder. Haoyu replies

“Well, give it to me when we go back to your house.” Honghui nods and gets into Haoyu’s car. He gets home and gets out of the car, looking at Haoyu.

“Just give me a minute and I will bring the revised version out to you.” He states and runs up to his front door, unlocking it. He heads inside and grabs the thick stack of papers, carefully carrying them out to Haoyu’s car. He puts them on the passenger seat and thanks Haoyu.

“Thank you for taking me out to lunch Hao. It’s been such a long time since I went out with someone. I mean had lunch with someone.” He stumbles over his words and blushes wildly. Haoyu smiles at him, causing his heart to race.

“I know what you mean. It was nice hanging out with you Honghui.” He says and drives off after Honghui shut the door.

Honghui goes into his house and mentally hits himself, thinking.

‘Now he probably thinks I’m a weirdo. Great.’

He walks into his office and starts to draft another story.

|A Few Weeks Later|

Feng Haoyu: Your story has been published and it is being printed right now. What languages do you want it translated to later?

Wu Honghui: Yay! *\(ouo)/* I wanted it translated to English, Japanese, French, and German eventually.

Feng Haoyu: Noted. Also, I never got to ask you this, but why do you use emoticons? It’s not very professional. You should limit yourself and try to sway off using them.

Wu Honghui: But I love using Emoticons. 3:< I don’t have to be professional talking to you, do I? You are only a year older than me. |||<(@o@)>|||

Feng Haoyu: I would prefer if you didn’t use them, but it seems like it can’t be helped.

|A Month After the Publishing|

Honghui sits out on his veranda and reads a book. His novel seemed to be a hit and it just passed the goal of selling 500 books. His phone rings and he shut his book.

Feng Haoyu: “Hey the office is having a celebration for your 500th book sale. It’s tonight. I can pick you up if you would like.”

Wu Honghui: “Will I have to get dressed up? I don’t want to but if I have too I will.”

Feng Haoyu: “No, but if you want to you can.”

Wu Honghui: “Okay. I will see you later.”

Honghui hangs up and gets dressed in a casual suit. He grabs his bag and waits for Haoyu to come pick him up.

|The Party|

Haoyu and Honghui walk into the office together and they start to hang out with Haoyu’s coworkers. They have cake and a few drinks. Honghui signs a few books and steps outside to get fresh air. Haoyu walks out after him and shifts his weight nervously, before walking closer to Honghui holding something behind his back.

“Hey Honghui. It’s been a few months since I’ve become your editor/publisher, but I feel like we are more than just writer and publisher.” He tries to explain his feelings and Honghui looks up at him. Honghui starts to ask him a question.

“Wait! Are you going to...?” Haoyu interrupts him and asks

“Honghui. Will you date me?” He pulls a bouquet of flowers out from behind his back. Honghui blushes and counters

“No. I mean yes, but what about you? This isn’t very professional and you yelled at me for using emoticons… This is more serious than that.” Haoyu hangs his head and responds defeated

“Yeah… I guess you are right. I will j-.” Honghui interrupts him this time and shouts

“I want to date you! As long as it is fine with your supervisor!” Haoyu smiles and replies

“My supervisor doesn’t mind. I can assure you of that.” Honghui hugs him tightly and mutters

“I am so happy right now!” Haoyu hugs him back and kisses the top of his head.

“I understand why you truly only write romance novels now… Honghui.” He states softly. Honghui looks up at him and smirks.

“Well, why is that?” He asks and Haoyu replies

“It’s a secret.”

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