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the-marsh-harrier · 7 months

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Make me… (LH!Arthur Morgan x F!Reader)

A/N: This is my first time writing for Arthur, RDR2, and my first time writing for a long time so be kind. If you're going to share my writing, please reblog and I don't give permission for my work to be copied onto any other platforms. I only write on Tumblr so if you see this anywhere else, it's not me.

Masterlist

Part 2 - SMUT DNI if you are under 18!

Terminology: 'Carpet girl' - a woman that conducts sex work on the street usually carrying a carpet with her in order to do this. It's an 1800s term. (I remembered this from a TikTok video so could be remembering it wrong, either way - this is what this term is describing in this fic.)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood, mentions of sexual encounters, slightly NSFW if you squint, use of the word 'skank', Arthur and Reader being rude to each other at the start.

You sat on the old table in the med tent examining the damage to your cheek in a small broken shard of a mirror. You were silently thankful that Tilly had already cleaned the cut and stitched it, so it didn’t look as bad as when you arrived back at camp. However, the blood staining your shirt was still a very evident reminder to how easily it could’ve been much worse.

You had gotten into a fight with a carpet girl in town after you and Abigail had ‘stepped on her territory’ while pulling your little scheme. Y/N and Abigail would take turns to lure a man into an alley, while the lure occupied the victim, the other would hit him round the head with a rock or brick. They’d mug him and run off with the loot. Normally, this wasn’t an issue until today where you ended up with a nasty cut on your cheek from the carpet girl’s switch blade before Abigail knocked her out as well.

“Where the hell is she then?” Arthur’s angry voice boomed over the camp causing you to shrink slightly on the table. You prepared for another firm talking-to from him about being stupid, not needing to pull tricks anymore and every other comment he’d throw at you. You two had never attached a label to what you were but most of the camp had labelled you as Arthur’s whether he wanted to admit it or not.

The flaps to the med tent opened in an angry flurry as his spurs clinked against the dirt floor with every step. You dropped your head quickly, tilting the damaged side of your face away from him. He stopped in front of you with his hands rested on his gun belt. Without looking up, you could already feel the scolding glare pointed directly at your head. You heard he click his tongue frustratedly at your reluctance to look at him.

“Well. Show me your face then.” He ordered firmly but you didn’t move a muscle. You were oddly frozen under the weight of his looming presence – this wasn’t your Arthur, this felt more like his outlaw persona ordering a bounty around.

“Now.” His tone was dark and almost threatening causing you to finally look at him. Arthur looked at the fresh stitches on your face and hissed in a deep breath through his teeth. You saw Arthur lick his teeth as he looked down at the ground before looking at you expectantly. “I know what happened but you’re gonna tell me because I want you to hear how stupid it sounds.”

You rolled your eyes and sighed as you reluctantly recanted the story. “Me and Abigail just went out to make a little money and some skank decided she didn’t like it so… we got in a fight. She started to lose so she pulled a blade out on me and got in a slice on my cheek before Abigail could hit her with a brick.” You felt like a child having to explain yourself to him as he examined the wound on your face with your chin being held up by his fingers. He looked like a man possessed as his breathing grew heavier and his brows furrowed in annoyance. You tried to reach out to him, but he swatted you hands away with his free hand giving you no option but to fold them in your lap.

“You will listen to me this time.” Arthur growled. “From now on, you’re not allowed to use your ‘little tricks’ anymore. No more robbing people, you understand?” You could see he looked genuinely worried under his angry exterior… but it did little to make you want to agree with him.

“Excuse me but who are you to tell me that?” You sassed back as you pushed his hand off your chin. Telling the story again reignited your anger at the woman that had done this to you but now there was only Arthur there to bare the brunt of it.

Arthur’s head quirked to the side slightly as he bit his tongue, taking his time to think about his next response. “Don’t speak to me like that. I’m trying to keep you safe, and you make that difficult when you start acting stupid like this.” The glare he was sending at you could melt through steel.

“No, you’re trying to boss me about.” You snapped back matching his harsh glare with your own as you remained firm.

Arthur’s eyebrows twitched your response as he leaned forward caging you on the table between his solid arms. He nodded his head disappointingly at you. “Damn right I’m trying to boss you about because asking you to stop behaving like this clearly don’t work, does it?” He grumbled as his voice seemed to get lower and his drawl thicker. “I know it’s not the answer you want to hear, but you can’t go about mugging men in dark alleys. It’s dangerous and that-” he motioned to the stitching on your face “-is all the proof of it.”

Something about his condescending behaviour was making you even angrier and wanting to lash out. “Fine! I’ll go back to dancing in saloons then.” You sneered knowing that would get a rise out of him.

“Don’t you DARE.” He sneered back at you and pointed his finger in your face. “You’re more than a pretty face and a pair of tits and after today – that pretty face is gonna have nasty scar.” He tapped your jaw on the side where the wound was but was careful not to touch it.

You scoffed and smirked almost smugly. “It was my ass that got you paying for them dances anyway, you didn’t spend much time looking at my face from what I remember.” You crossed your arms over your chest in defiance. You attitude was causing his temper to rise and his blood pressure to go along with it. You noticed the vein in his neck start to become more prominent and his jaw tighten.

“I’ve provided for you, given you a place to live where you don’t have to spread your legs every night for whoever pays the most, and I’ve kept you safe.” He spoke with a firmer and authoritarian voice, the growl in his tone akin to wagon wheels on gravel. “All those times you needed bailed out of the jail and it was me coming to get you. You should be thankful.” There was a surprisingly calm edge to his voice, like he was somehow managing to keep his temper simmering under the surface.

You laughed sarcastically at him as you leaned forward, getting in his face just like he had with you. “You only paid to get me out because you knew I would’ve fucked my way out that cell otherwise.” You whispered sadistically at him. Truth be told, this argument was doing more to turn you on now as the adrenaline in your system shifted to trigger some other primal instincts in you.

Arthur didn’t like that one bit, as his expression darkened even more. “Watch your tongue when you speak to me.” He warned. “I’d have just as easily left you to rot in that cell. There’s plenty of other women out there who’d be happy to take your place and don’t forget it.” He was angry, and right now your words were getting to him.

“Awh, save your pretty words and choke on them.” You bit back, not backing down. Instead of feeling like a damsel in distress you felt more like a horny depraved wench.

Arthur didn’t budge. Though he was much bigger than you normally, he appeared even bigger as his entire body seemed to tense as he looked down at you. “What did you say to me?” He hissed. “Go on, say it again. I dare you.” He exaggerated the word ‘dare’ with a growl as if he was threatening you, but you didn’t bat an eye to his threat.

“I said...” You whispered dangerously. “Save your pretty words and god damn choke on them.” You hissed back in the same tone.

Arthur’s fist clenched on the table either side of you as he weighed up his next move. It was like a switch in his brain flipped, and there was no going back. You watched as his back stiffened and he ground his teeth in frustration. The veins in his neck bulged against his shirt collar. “I’ll make you regret those words…” He hissed, just barely managing to stay in control of his anger.

Something about seeing him so angry and teetering on the edge of his temper flipped a switch for you too. Something much more desperate and wanton flooded your system as you watched his biceps straining against his cotton workshirt.

“I hope you fucking do.” You smirked and looked him over seductively as you gave into your urges.

“You’re a piece of work, you know that.” Arthur grumbled, as his hands were trembling with rage. He had a million different things he wanted to scream at you… but he was refraining from it. “Don’t think you can turn me on just looking at me with those big pretty eyes of yours.” His voice was laced with sarcasm as he spoke, his hands gripping the edge of the table with enough force it could probably splinter it. “I’m not one of your customers at the saloon anymore.”

“But you were.” You chuckled smugly and looped your fingers round the base of his suspenders. “And you always came back to see me.” You whispered and shuffled forward on the table as you parted your legs. Your hands slowly pulled his crotch towards yours using the spring of his suspenders to do so.

“That was different back then and you know that.” He huffed as his nostrils flared and he stood more upright between your legs. “I was your customer. Not your-” He cut himself off before finishing the sentence. “I was just your customer.” He reaffirmed.

You could see his eyes were darkening for a different reason now. He was visibly trying to ignore the fact you were touching him, your fingers playing with his suspenders and the way your thighs were brushing his hips.

You continued to look up at him with a devilish smirk. “What are you now then? Huh, big boy?” You whispered as you played with the clasps of his suspenders.

Arthur maintained his sharp gaze down at you, his entire being was on edge as he continued to ignore the fact that you were slowly wrapping yourself around him. It was obvious that the both of you were pushing boundaries on purpose. As if trying to make the other admit your situation was much more than what you two had been pretending it was.

“I’m your friend, nothing more.” He grunted.

You chuckled and bit your lips. “I ain’t never had a friend that does the things you do to me before. So, I’ll rephrase my question.” You whispered as you popped the clasps on his suspenders. “What do you want to be to me?” You inched your face closer to his keeping your gaze on his lips and occasionally flickering your eyes up to meet his. You could see he was wrestling with himself to not give into you.

“You’re playing a dangerous game with me that you might not want to play.” Arthur muttered darkly as he tried to remain composed. You watched as his eyes wondered to your hands now hooked on the waistband of his jeans, and then trailed your body to your lips. It was obvious that you wanted him… and it was clear a part of him wanted you more.

You observed him with a calm curiosity. “Tell me what you want me to be to you.” You ordered softly. “Just tell me.” You slowly pushed his suspenders completely off his body before returning your hands back to his hips pulling him impossibly closer to you.

“Stop teasing me.” Arthur groaned but you could tell he was enjoying this much more than he wanted to let on. His hands found their way onto your thighs above your skirt, squeezing them firmly. “Just…” He exhaled, his voice as husky as a cold winter morning. “Kiss me.”

You decided to give in, just once. You slowly leant in towards him, gently brushing your lips to his in a featherlight graze. “Tell me.” You whispered, letting your breathe fan over his lips. You affectionately brushed the tip of your nose against the side of his. “Just tell me what you want me to be.”

Arthur drew in a deep breath as his hands move up to your hips, giving them a firm squeeze, his eyes trailing after his hands avoiding your gaze. “I want you to be…” He paused for a moment as his words go stuck in his throat. He dipped his head to the crook of your neck before he whispered softly against your neck. “Mine.”

He slowly started to kiss along your neck and shoulder as far as your blouse would permit. You knew he meant it – but it still felt good to hear him say it.

You tilted your head back to give him more access to your neck as you undid the buttons of your blouse so you could bare more of yourself to him. You shrugged yourself out of your blouse, leaving it pooled at your waist where it was tucked into your skirts.

“Say it again.” You whispered through a breathy moan as you locked your ankles behind him thighs, keeping him against you.

“I want you to be mine.” Arthur groaned against you neck as his nipped at the soft skin there. His grip tightening on your hips as he harshly pulled you hips closer to his so you could feel the bulge in his jeans. His lips roamed along the base of your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone. “I want you… all to myself…”

You moaned wantonly as he spoke, his words like pouring kerosene on your already burning desire for him. “I already am.” You mumbled as you got lost in him all over again.

Getting lost in Arthur was like swimming in a murky lake, never knowing what was lurking under the surface to pull you under. Every time you’d break free, you found yourself ready to walk back into his frigid waters and drowned all over again and again.

“Then prove it.” He breathed in a deep inhale through his nose against the area where your neck joined your shoulder. He dragged his tongue up your neck firmly up to your ear before catching your earlobe between his teeth. “Kiss me again.” He exhaled into your ear. “But don’t hold back this time.”

You shuddered as he managed to pull a small whimper from you as you relaxed evermore into his arms. You gently coaxed his head round to yours with small nuzzles against his cheek. The feeling of the stumble from his short beard scratching your skin sent shivers down your spine.

Once you were in reach of his lips, you kissed him deeply as your lips rolled against his in firm languid motions. The feelings behind the kiss coming from deep within you. Your lips moved together in a deliberate but effortless way causing you to slowly open your mouth to permit your tongues to dance together. The moment your tongues touched; Arthur made a deep groan seemingly emitting from the depths of his chest. He’d given in completely now and you could feel it.

He slowly pulled back from the kiss, resting his forehead to yours as he panted through clenched teeth. He didn’t want to rush this, not this time.

You waited with bated breath for his next move but what came next shocked you.

“Make me need you.” He whispered lustfully as he calmed himself slightly. “I want you to make me feel like I’m nothing without you.”

His words and tone were so wanting and longing, like he’s been keeping them a secret for his whole life. You brought your hands up from his hip, brushing them against his chest so he’d feel the pressure through the material of his shirt, until your fingertips braced against his jawline. You pulled him into a much hungrier and rougher kiss, pouring your desperation to have him into it. The pair of you panting and snatching breathes throughout the kiss, not wanting to stop even for a second until the burn in your chest became too great and you were forced by your own body to pull away from him.

Arthur’s body shook with the roughness of the kiss as he moved his hands to your waist trying in vain to pull you closer. Your eyes opened briefly to take in the conflicted and vulnerable expression on his face. His eyes still closed as he refused to look at you, part of him terrified that he would see rejection in them.

“Make me ache for you…” he sighed as rocked his body closer to you. “Make me regret the day I met you… I wanna wake up and not even know what’s become of me and wishing I didn’t have to survive another day without you in my bed.”

The muscles in your legs flexed as your hips ground against him. The small amount of friction created by your brunched up skirts and his jeans stimulated your core making you to moan quietly. Your breathing was heavy as you held his face close yours with just the tips of your fingers – your hold wasn’t firm, evermore proving he was willingly giving himself to you and only you. You closed your eyes as you breathed him in.

“You make the filthiest things sound like a fucking prayer.” You whispered breathlessly as you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Arthur smirked and chuckled lowly in response while one of his hands smoothed over the hair on the side of your head. “The filthiest things are all I deserve, and all I have to give.” He whispered as he took hold of your chin causing you to open your eyes to see his ocean eyes staring back into yours. His eyes held lustful adoration, something far deeper than you’d seen before. You thought you’d seen glimpses of his love for you before now but now you were truly seeing all of it.

“Let me worship you the only way I know how.” He mumbled, giving into his urges, and kissing you with the force only matched by a hurricane.

A/N: Sorry for the cut off but this fic was getting insanely long. If people made it to the end and want a Part 2, leave a comment or a like so I know. Thanks for reading!

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x f reader #arthur morgan x f!reader #rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #low honor arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction

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gaysindistress · 1 year

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Sad girl - seventeen

summary: James has an interesting new business proposal and one hell of a condition to deal with.

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

warnings: cursing, Bucky’s smartass,, the feelings, talks of violence

word count: 2.2k

part 16 | series masterlist

Taglist: @missvelvetsstuff @angelsincident @spencerreidisagorgman @i-have-no-life-charlie @esposadomd @iateall-yourcookies @littlelizardlizzie @alana4610 @kandis-mom @beware-my-thorns @ozwriterchick @goldensunflowe-r @reader-without-a-story @unaxv @wh0reforbucknasty @cjand10 @vickie5446 @katymae12344 @openup-yourmind

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

“Ok Steve I need you to either watch Bucky for me or go to the store,” her voice surprises the man as she basically corners him in the kitchen.

“Can I say no?”

“Nope, so pick; Bucky or the store?”

Nat walks in to see the unhappy look on his face and a very adamant Doll, “Let me guess; she asked you to go shopping?”

“And I can’t say no.”

Cocking her head slightly with a raised eyebrow, “Better you than me.”

“Actually you both can go! That way nothing gets missed and it’ll be faster,” the excitement is only shared by her as she’s now roped in both Steve and Nat.

Nat lets out an annoyed groan as she approaches the two and snatches the list from the other woman, “Where do we need to go?” Smiling widely, she happily tells them that they need to go to Whole Foods and a fish market to get the ingredients for the dinner she has planned. The two look at each other with the same amount of annoyance but nod their heads in acknowledgment.

“Thank you, thank you!” she exclaims, planting kisses on both of their cheeks before leaving them.

“How much do you want to bet that this isn’t the last time we get sent on errands for her?”

“I don’t think she’s going to send us out again but she will definitely ask one of us to come with her,” Nat answers as they head out of the house.

Upstairs Doll had started reading her book as Bucky was taking a shower. She had only agreed to let him take one alone if he kept the door open just in case anything happened and she needed to rush in.

“If you want to join me, all you have to do is ask,” the teasing tone in his voice causes her to purse her lips.

“No I just don’t trust how loopy you are on these pain meds,” she retorts back as she goes to read her book again.

He only smirks at her as he disappears into the bathroom. When he returns, he ‘forgot’ to bring clothes, so he has to walk through the room with only a towel tied low on his waist. Her eyes briefly look up at him and she has to do a double take at the sight of water dripping down his chest and his short hair glistening. The sound of him clearing his throat breaks her trance and heat floods to her cheeks as she tries to shrink behind her book.

“See something you like?” he chuckles at her reaction to him freshly out of the shower as he dips into the closet and remerges with black sweats that hang low on his hips and a shirt in his hands.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” comes from behind her book.

“That’s why I asked,” he tugs on his shirt, wincing slightly at the movement.

The wince has her dropping her book to make sure he’s okay. He is, of course, and goes back to being a teasing asshole as he wears a shit-eating grin. Her phone buzzes before she can send a smartass remark back.

“Everything’s in the kitchen. Steve is demanding he gets a plate in exchange for running your errand,” is the text that Nat had sent her.

The bed shifts as Bucky sits next to her legs. He takes the book and the phone from her hands so she has to answer him. This earns him a confused look which quickly fades to one of surprise as he sets the items down and pushes her legs apart to sit in between them.

“Oh no, no, no. I know what you’re doing and it’s not happening until your arm is healed,” she tries to tell him as she gently pushes him away.

“Doll, it's okay. My arm is fine. In fact, I think it would be good for me if we had sex.”

“In what world would having sex be good for the healing of an injury?”

“This world,” with his lips descending on her neck as he fully slots in between her legs, hips meeting hers, “If it makes you feel better, you can ride me.”

“Bucky,” she moans out as he nips at a sensitive spot, “I don’t want to hurt you. Please.”

His lips stop and he raises his head from her shoulder to look at her, “You won’t, Doll. It was just a graze.

“It was embedded in your arm. You were in the ICU for a week,” she states plainly.

“Same thing but I’ll respect your no,” he kisses her nose before getting off of her.

She throws her head back against the headboard and lets out a loud sigh, “If you can make it through the whole day without wincing or being in pain, then we can.”

He grabs her hands to help her off the bed, “I’ll agree to that.”

She scrunches her nose at him and smiles before moving past him, “I’m going downstairs to start dinner. You can come to be my eye candy if you’d like.”

She doesn’t need a verbal response because his eager footsteps behind her tell her he’s more than happy to do so.

The kitchen is filled with various aromas from her cooking and laughter from their conversation. True to her word, it’s not a date so she’s wearing cream rib-knit pants and his army sweatshirt. It killed her to not dress up for their first date but she promised him that it couldn’t count until they were out at a restaurant.

“What exactly are you making?”

“ Risotto with scallops.”

“Seems a little fancy.”

She stops stirring the risotto, “are you complaining?”

“Me?” He puts his hand on his chest in a fake offense, “how could I complain when I have a beautiful woman making me a high-class dinner?”

“It’s hardly high class.”

He hops off the counter and grabs her by the hips from behind, “It’s better than what I would’ve made.”

“And what would that have been?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

She turns around in his grasp and changes the subject, “How’s your arm?”

Moving his arm around slightly he answers “Better, still a little sore.”

Humming in response, she returns to her cooking, half expecting him to jump up on the counter again. Since the hospital, they’ve been more affectionate towards each other, a complete 180 from when they first met. It’s not a surprise when he doesn’t move and instead hugs her from behind to watch her cook. Sometimes their behavior ignores the fact that all of this was arranged and might lead one to think it was real.

Regardless it’s becoming real to them as she starts asking him a series of random questions. She starts out with ‘what’s your favorite color’ and eventually lands with ‘what’s your sleeve about’ as they are still next to each other on the island, her perfectly cooked meal finished.

“It started out as something for my mom and just turned into a sleeve,” he explains in between bites, “Doll this is really good. No wonder I married you.”

She clicks her tongue at his joke, “And here I thought it was my stunning good looks.”

“Would you ever get my portrait?”

The question pauses his eating and he takes a moment to think about her question. Would he add her to his sleeve? In theory yes because she is his wife and someone very important to him which is really the only prerequisite to making it on his arm. The real question is would she want him to?

“Is that something you’d want?”

“I think so,” her hand trails over his arm, and the various portraits inked into his arm, “you don’t have any room though so I guess not.”

“If that’s something you want, I’d find room.”

“Where?”

“On my chest.”

“Your chest?”

“That is what I just said,” he gives her a very blank look as he restates what he’d said.

Dropping her hand, she huffs a little upset he’s so blunt, “I know what you said. It just surprised me.”

The upset is clear on her face and it breaks his heart. He can be a smooth talker when he needs to be; however, in moments like this, that ability slips away and he’s left fumbling over his words.

“Doll, I didn't mean it like that. It just seemed so obvious to me because you mean so much that it only seems right to have you on my chest forever.”

“You’d want me over your heart?” her voice is small with insecurity that she hasn’t felt in years.

“Of course, you are my heart,” he grips her hand in his and squeezes it.

She lets out a small giggle when he launches himself at her to cover her in a flurry of kisses and ‘I love you. Just as she’s about to kiss him back, her phone pings next to her plate. Picking it up with Bucky still covering her in little kisses, her face drops and pales when she reads the message.

“What’s wrong?” he asks as he stops his attack and awaits her response.

“It’s Walker. He sent me a number and said that if I want to talk to my mom, then I could call her.”

“Are you going to?”

“Well no shit,” she quickly clicks on the number, still holding Bucky’s hand, “Hello? Mom?”

“Hey baby,” her mom’s voice comes through the other end.

“Oh my god, are you okay? Where are you? Are you safe?” the questions leave her mouth frantically as tears start to fall.

“I’m okay, I’m safe. John is so sweet and kind, I really don’t understand why you broke up with him.”

“Mom, where are you? We’ll come to get you.”

“No no, don’t come to get me. I’m perfectly fine here. He’s helping me get clean so I can see you again.”

“You are not safe. We need to come to get you right now,” she tries to push her mom, “He’s going to hurt you if we don’t get you out now.”

Her mom stops her by harshly saying her name, “Stop. He’s not going to hurt me. I can leave whenever I want. God, you’ve spent too much time with your father, you’ve become bossy like him.”

She takes in a shaky breath at her mom’s words, “Excuse me? You abandoned me. I thought you were dead for ten years.”

“That’s his fault, not mine. I tried to come back but he wouldn’t let me.”

“I don’t believe you,” she scoffs.

“Believe whatever you. You’re just like him. Goodbye.”

The end tone rings throughout the kitchen as she starts to cry even harder. Bucky collects her into his chest as he’s done many times before. Whispering reassuring words in her hair and rubbing her back as she cries, Bucky decides that this is the last time that John Walker will hurt his girl again.

His office had become a place of comfort and safety for him now that Doll had spent time there. The memories of her lounging on his leather couches, working on her computer as he did the same filled his mind. The calming memories were going to be much needed given the nature of this meeting. Steve and Sam are sitting in the chairs in front of his desk while he rubs his jaw at their proposal.

“We could get Anthony involved but I don’t see that going well,” Sam says.

“He’s not going to do anything,” Steve adds, “If you really want to do this, then your best choice is just to take him out and be done. He’s not going to take well to light harassing or a few broken bones.”

The thought of killing John has crossed his mind several times but the cleaning and cover-up would be too much work. However, his increasing boldness is becoming an issue and killing him might come back on the table.

“Can we get Marianne out without her getting hurt?”

“Only if you take out John first. He’s always within eyesight of her,” Sam’s answer is not one he wants to hear.

“We can’t go in guns blazing,” Steve is interrupted by Bucky.

“We lure him out.”

“How?”

“Promise him a meeting with the one person he wants. He won’t be able to say no.”

The two men’s eyes widened in shock at his suggestion.

“You’re seriously suggesting that we use my wife as bait?”

“We use the idea of her as bait. She won’t be anywhere near when it goes down. Nat will stay with her to make sure she’s safe. Steve and I will meet with John and Sam will go in to get Marianne.”

Sam shakes his head in disbelief, “That’s the stupidest fucking idea I’ve ever heard.”

“Please,” Bucky leans back in his chair, arms resting on the chair’s arms, “Enlighten me if you have any better ideas.”

“We get Anthony involved like I said before. He sets up the meeting at his estate, it’ll seem less suspicious that way and we’ll have the help of Anthony’s men. Doll will stay here with Nat like you said while Steve and I go in after Marianne,” Sam explains.

Bucky looks at Steve, “What do you think?”

“It could work.”

Bucky pulls out his phone as he nods in agreement, “Anthony I need a favor.”

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #sad girl - bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob au #mob!bucky barnes imagine #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n

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emoani · 9 months

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Pairing: anakin!modern x f!reader warnings: mention of depression, emotional health, self-harm, antidepressants and other medications

n/a: I don't know if anyone will like this story, but I write it with a lot of affection and feeling since it's all very personal to me. in a way anakin/hayden also "saved" me like with reader, and has been saving me every day. just remembering that english is not my first language, so sorry for the mistakes. Good reading!

ps: can you imagine ani like in that factory girl movie, only older

Sea: Prologue

It was a Wednesday. The day was too cold for the season, and the icy wind ached against my body. Maybe that happened because my body was hurt and full of bruises... Which I made myself.

I was looking at the sea, and the waves that seemed to move kind of slowly. Maybe they weren't moving that slowly, it was just my brain messed up because I had taken more meds than my shrink ordered.

I wasn't sure what I wanted. I took the medicine hoping to get back to reality, just control myself and not get to where I am now.

I really didn't want to die, but I didn't know if I wanted to live either. I didn't want to live like this, always suffering.

I didn't know who I was anymore. What do I want to study? What do I want to work with? Do I like the way I look this way or should I make a radical change?

Thinking is exhausting. The thought of continuing here is exhausting. Sometimes memories are the worst kind of torture. That was why I found myself here on this beach, in a different country (which I had moved to study, but after so many absences I had to drop out of college).

Without looking at anything beyond that blue immensity, which seemed to be as big as my sadness, I started to take my first steps. I shivered with the icy water, and as soon as the first wave hit me, my tears began to fall out of control.

I didn't even know that from afar he saw everything. In a situation so different from mine, a little away in that calm and empty place, a celebrity trying to escape the hectic life and the paparazzi, smoked a cigarette while looking at the sea (until saw myself in that situation).

I only realized that I wasn't alone when I heard his footsteps in the water, catching up with me so fast that my weak, sad body couldn't even respond in time to pull away.

He grabbed me by the arm and started dragging me towards the sand.

- Who are you, you crazy? Let go of me - I screamed completely out of control feeling my body tremble.

- I'm just a guy trying to prevent a woman from doing something stupid! He answered me firmly, his eyes looked at me seriously as if he were a father scolding a daughter. And anyone looking from afar might even think it was, since he was certainly older than me. Older and very handsome too.

- Go mind your own business and let me go! – I complained.

But as soon as we got out of the water he let go of me and I ended up on the ground, looking at him indignantly because of his ignorance. But I couldn't complain, I had asked him to let me go. I straightened up still sitting and could observe him better: all in black, a cap hid his face.

- Are you a famous or a thug? – I grumbled loudly.

This situation was so stupid that it was funny. All this time I was here, I had only been able to see an artist if I paid for a show, like anywhere else in the world. But it was somewhat ironic, well now in this situation find a possible celebrity.

- Is this important now? – He asked looking troubled, as if I were, I don't know, a fan of his – Tell me, did you take any drugs?

- Yeah, I'm a drug addict. Can not you see? – I scoffed, as I got up and cleaned all that sand from my clothes. I hated the beach.

He took a few steps back, avoiding contact.

- I'm serious. I need to take you to the hospital. You can't even stand up straight.

He was right. I was high on drugs.

- What a fucking hospital – I denied it without bothering to show politeness – Do you see any injuries here? I don't have money to go to the hospital for anything.

- Yes, I do - he replied, looking me up and down. But not in a malicious way, he seemed to analyze me in a sinister way.

- And is? Where? – I asked, looking at my own body.

- You're very hurt... Inside.

next chapter: coming soon

#hayden christensen x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin x y/n #anakin x you #hayden christensen fanfic #anakin skywalker fanfic

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crestfallercanyon · 5 months

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I don't think this is long enough to be a real fic, and it's also not polished as I wrote it in a notes app on a plane, but have a little gallavich ficlet:

Title: A Way to Keep the Nice Things Ship: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich Content Warning: Mental Health, Bipolar Disorder, Hallucinations

Ian recognizes that he needs to take his meds, and maybe even book an appointment, solely based on what he sees when he walks into the kitchen that morning.

Still, he can’t help but stare.

Their apartment floor has little knots in the designing of the boards, trying to fake wood grain, knolls where if it were a tree — and if it were ever real — may have held a nest once. Ian has thought about that before, the potential creatures that could have called their cabinets or their floors home, has imagined it when he’s tired or high, always intrigued by the pattern and the choice to try to give the linoleum a life it never actually had.

That’s imagination. Ian can tell when he’s imagining things. Has a very active imagination — very helpful during sex — and it’s especially ramped up when he’s high.

This is different.

Inside one of the knolls this morning there is something blooming. Lush green and yellow moss spills out of the floor and sways in a breeze that doesn’t exist. A night sky exudes from it, a dark purple mist that floats just inches above the ground, thinking with impossibly tiny stars. The starts of blue flowers are budding in the darkness of the wood grain, the petals a pale blue that Ian decides are the start of stargazer lilies.

It’s beautiful. It’s mystic and wonderful and if he were a child he’d believe he was about to be chosen for some great adventure. If this were a storybook, he’d be Lucy in the coat closet on her way to Narnia. Except he is not a child, this is not something he’s imagining. If he reaches down, he could touch the moss and confirm it to his own senses, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t because he’s lucid enough to know this is not real. Worse than a mirage, this is a hallucination. It makes Ian sad, distantly, that something so pretty is such a warning sign. Not that unlike how venomous snakes are vivid in color, or how poisonous flowers try to draw the eye.

Mickey walks by him, headed for coffee, another solid reason this isn’t real. Mickey would notice something like this. Instead he asks, “Hey. Whatcha staring at?”

This is beautiful, and Ian’s the only one who can see it, and that in and of itself is the problem.

“Just thinking,” Ian lies. It’s not meant to be a permanent lie. He just doesn’t want to lose the sight of something like this so quickly.

Shuffling footsteps, the sound of poured coffee. The misty galaxy above the ground swirls up, mimicking the twister that’s surely in Mickey’s coffee cup. Then the strong scent of coffee is filling his nose, and Mickey is right next to him, holding a cup for him.

“Ian,” Mickey starts, already in that firm tone of hey, do not bullshit me, which Ian doesn’t mean to, he swears. “What are you staring at?”

“Can you get me my meds?” Ian asks, not taking his eyes off the little world in the floor. “I haven’t taken ‘em yet this morning.”

Time, which already stretches and shrinks like a weak rubber band in the dark morning anyway, is particularly hard to track when Ian’s off like this, because he swears it’s two seconds before Mickey’s back and shoving a piece of toast in his mouth. When Ian obediently chews — because he is listening Mick, okay, he swears — Mickey also holds up his pills and water.

“Would you look at me for a second?” Mickey’s voice is no longer in the firm tone, but is a little wary, and a little small, and Ian picks up his head immediately.

Ian smiles at him. Gulps down his pills, wraps an arm around Mickey, and with his water wet mouth he kisses Mickey right on his temple. “Mornin’”

Mickey smiles back, but his eyebrows are furrowed. “Where’ve you been this morning?”

Ian looks down. The little greenery is still on the floor. Meds don’t work that fast.

“Sometimes… sometimes I hate that I have to take my meds.” That sentiment has every alarm in Mickey’s body ringing, Ian knows, so he grabs him tight to assure him. “Not like that. It’s just — sometimes, what I see is nice. It’s actually nice and good a thing I get to have that no one else gets to see. But I have to stop it, because — because it’s not right.” Ian blinks, looks around, and Mickey hands him his coffee. Ian hugs him tight again. “Am I making any sense?”

Mickey considers. Nods, though it’s not all that confident, but he understands well enough. “What have you been looking at?”

Ian grimaces. “Not sure it’s your kind of thing. But it was nice.”

“C’mon. Tell me.”

“I don’t want to worry you.”

“Not worried.” Mickey puts his hand in Ian’s hair. “Want to hear it. Not just the bad shit, though you know I want hear that, too. But just, if it’s nice, then I want to know that stuff, too.”

Ian hums. Takes a sip of his coffee.

Then he decides, why not? Of all the stuff they’ve had to hear from each other and their families over the year, this is hardly the thing that’s going to send Mickey running.

Ian looks down and starts to detail it. Gets really specific, because if Mickey wants to know, then Ian’s going to try to help him see it too. It must take some time, because Mickey hops up on the back of their couch and is almost done with his cup by the time Ian’s finished. Ian’s own cup is a little cold and could use about twenty seconds in the microwave.

He looks at Mickey, and isn’t sure what he’s going to find. Finds himself grinning when he sees the fond smile that’s on Mick’s face.

“So, yeah. That’s all.”

“Sounds nice, Red.”

“Yeah.”

Ian isn’t sure what to say anymore. Is weirdly embarrassed to be so enthralled by something like this. Something that is not even real. Mick’s probably able to tell that Ian’s squeamish about it, because he doesn’t say anything more. Simply drops off the back of the couch and walks up to him. Pats his cheek.

“Let’s get ready to go, eh?”

_____

It’s not until a few days later that it’s brought up again, and it’s not even direct. A journal that Ian was given by a counselor maybe a year ago that was meant for him to get into journaling and he never could, is set out on the nightstand.

“Where’d you find this?” Ian asks.

There’s a moment where he thinks Mickey is going to act like he wasn’t the one who pulled it out. However, there’s only two of ‘em in this place, so it had to be, so he gives it up before he even begins.

“Thought you could write the nice shit down,” he says, trying to sound casual, but Ian knows how much he’s been turning this over in his head. “Or whatever you want. But that way it doesn’t totally go away. Since, y’know, you don’t like that you have to lose that kind of thing.” Mickey shrugs like it’s not a big deal, but Ian’s eyes are bugging out of his head. “Know Franny would love hearin’ about what you see. Debbie says she can’t read the kid enough fairytales.”

Ian blinks at him. His heart aches in a soft way, over ripened fruit, overwhelmed by sweetness.

He walks over to Mickey with his arms open. “C’mere.”

“Oh, don't go gettin' all doe-eyed—”

“Hug me, asshole.”

Mickey scoffs, wraps one arm around him, but when Ian drapes himself all over him, Mickey laughs and wraps both arms around him. Ian nuzzles into his neck. “Thanks for watchin’ out for me,” he mumbles.

Mickey’s hand buries into Ian’s hair, and Ian sighs. “‘Course. You’re my husband.”

#ficlet #my ficlet #gallavich #shameless (us)#ian gallagher/mickey milkovich #hallucinations #bipolar disorder #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #domestic bitches

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yanderedollhouse · 30 days

Text

Part 3

Visitor

Demon!Yandere OC x Suicidal!Reader Summary: An unexpected visitor comes to your room with alarming news. Will you believe them? Warnings: Yandere, Suicide mentions (ideation, failed attempt, urges), Obsessive behavior, needles, religious concepts (angels, demons, heaven, hell), delusions, fantasy horror/ gore, harm and recovery, hospitals, psychiatric ward, manipulation, medical malpractice, murder, harassment, medication malcompliance, noncon, kidnapping Resources: Connect with a trained crisis counselor. The 988 Suicide and Crisis Line is confidential, free, and available 24/7/365. Word Count: 2.3k

Think I forgot how to be happy

Somethin' I'm not, but somethin' I can be

Somethin' I wait for

Somethin' I'm made for

For the next week, you see many people file past your door, going this way and that. A doctor comes in and sits with you and Andreas to write you a few prescriptions first thing Monday morning, but he doesn’t even look your way during the five-minute visit.

Every day starts with meds and vitals. Andreas is extremely gentle with you and explains everything he does before he does it and why it’s important. After a while, you learn that you can extend his visits by asking how things work around the hospital or personal questions about him. You don’t love the fact that you rely on him to be a source of entertainment, but you’re under increased security due to your initial escape attempt.

He told you that the staff wanted to place you under a suicide watch, but he got it waived by offering to take you on as his only charge. As grateful as you are to be able to use the bathroom without someone watching you, you feel guilty to have taken his attention away from people who really needed whatever healing powers he possessed. It was starting to get under your skin. The guilt. The boredom. The ominous feeling that you are wasting space and racking up even more debt.

You had insurance, but you were worried about the deductible, and you couldn’t figure out your financial situation. Andreas told you not to worry about it, but you knew that time was only making things worse. He kept offering to vaguely make things ‘better’ for you. But you couldn’t tell him what to fix. You really felt like the only problem in your life was you! However, you were very tempted to take his offer for a better life just to get yourself out of here.

In addition to the odd nature of your nurse’s healing powers, you begin to get paranoid that Andreas could read minds. Everything he seemed to do was right. He always brought in the food you were craving and seemed to be able to make you comfortable despite the smallness of your room. He brought in as many books as you asked for, claiming that there was an excellent library adjacent to the hospital, and he’d even hinted that you could get more privileges through ‘good behavior’ whatever that meant.

Still, he was very kind and gentle with you. You felt like he had good intentions even if they were wasted on you. He was becoming your friend in a way that scared you. Not because you were afraid of him, no, but because you were afraid of what you might do to him when you are finally free of this place. When you die, will he blame himself for it? For failing? You don’t want that on your conscience.

You were looking out the window, watching the children’s ward play in the very courtyard that you had tried to escape from and thinking about what in your life needed to change when everything did change.

Your door opens very quietly and then shuts with a crack, startling you. Andreas always announces himself when he comes into your room, but when you turn to see him, a striking, very out-of-breath girl is leaning against your door instead. A thousand questions form on your lips, but before you can think to ask any of them, she approaches you with an outstretched hand.

You instinctively shrink back against the window, and she stops.

“Sorry, y/n!” She says. “I didn’t mean to scare you. My name is Cordyline. I was hoping we could talk for a few minutes?”

“How do you know my name?” You ask, not wanting to move away from your safe spot.

“I do all the records and tech work for this ward.” She answers quickly and calmly. Not moving as to not scare you any further. She gestures towards the chair behind her, “Mind if I sit here?”

“Go ahead.”

She sits down and you stare at her from your safety corner. She is really beautiful, with long, silky black hair and visible lashes. She doesn’t even seem to be wearing much makeup. You suppose she’s one of those lucky girls who look great no matter what. She gives you a little pitying smile and you decide you don’t like that.

She sits calmly, resting one hand on a cane and one hand on the ponytail that spills over her shoulder.

“I should explain myself.” She says suddenly, “I don’t have much time. I’m worried about your safety here and I just want you to be able to make a good–no–an informed decision about your future.”

“I don’t understand. You want to help me kill myself?” You ask.

“Uh, no.” She begins to nervously stoke her hair and glances at the door before continuing. “It’s about Andreas, your nurse. He- he’s not the kind of person you want to be tied down to, you know? He is nice enough, but everything he does is a transaction. Nothing good comes without a price.”

“Are you his girlfriend or something?” You can’t imagine why else she would come to tell you these things. “Look- don’t worry. I’m not interested in him or anything like that.”

“No, that’s the problem. I heard you had rejected his offer and,” She sighs, “I’ve honestly never seen him this obsessed with er- helping someone. And there’s something you need to know.” She leans in. “I know you know he has a certain power to heal people, but he can control other things too. And it’s worse when you know where that power comes from. Look, I know this is going to sound completely insane, but Andreas is a demon.”

“A demon? Literally? Like a literal devil?” You look for any hint of humor in her eyes but find nothing. She’s dead serious. Your mouth hangs open in questioning confusion, but you fail to put anything into words.

“I know it sounds crazy and I know you’re probably so confused, but please, he can’t know I was here, okay?”

She seems so scared and sincere. You nod. She smiles at you genuinely now, full of relief.

“I should leave you be now but remember there are people on your side here. Things will get better. As long as you don’t make a deal with him.” She stands and takes her cane. From here, you can see that she’s wearing a medical boot on one foot.

“Um. .” You start.

“Yes?” She looks back at you.

“Did he do that?” You point at her boot.

She looks down as if remembering that it exists. “Oh, no! He didn’t.” She reassures you but doesn't tell you what happened. Before she can turn again to leave, there’s a soft knock on your door. It’s Andreas and you both know it.

Before you know what you’re doing, you hurry her into the corner behind the bed and answer the door. You know that he’ll come in anyway if you don’t answer.

“Hi, can you come back in a little bit?” You ask him after cracking open the door. “I uh got really into writing in that journal you gave me, and I don’t want to lose my train of thought.” You pray that was convincing and he looks like he winces a little bit. Must be a trick of the light.

“Sorry, this will only take a minute. It’s midday vitals.” He says and pushes the door open. He directs you to sit down on your bed and you do, but you make sure to rest as close to the edge as you can. He wraps the sleeve around your arm, and you just know you’ll be caught by the intensity of your heart hammering in your chest.

“You’re usually more talkative than this.” He remarks. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, I’m just trying to keep all the ideas in my head to write down.” You say and to put him at ease, you add: “I thought of some things I might want to change about my life.”

His eyes seem to light up with something. Happiness? Or is it mischief? You can’t be sure.

“That’s good. You’re all done here.” He removes the sleeve and wires from your arm. “Now, do you need anything from me?”

“Nope!”

“Y/n.” He crouches down at your eye level. “What are you hiding?” His eyes flicker behind you briefly but you can’t make yourself look. “Or should I say, who are you hiding?”

Your mouth opens and closes but no words come out.

“You can tell me; you’re not going to be hurt. Is someone here with you? Another patient?” He stands back up, waiting for your response, but none comes.

Instead, Cordyline pokes her head up from behind the bed with her hands up in surrender.

“Don’t hurt them.” She says. “It was my choice to come here.”

“It was your choice to disobey direct instructions?” Andreas asks harshly, in a tone you’ve never heard him use before. “I left loopholes in your contract because you work best when you can use your own creativity. Not so that you could betray me.”

Ah, you think. These are his true colors. The niceness, that gentle nature of his seems to have disappeared with a snap.

“Wait.” You say, “She didn’t do anything wrong. She just came here to talk because I was bored and sat on the buzzer.” You hate to lie, but you like this girl. A lot actually. And you don’t want to see her in trouble.

You see Cordyline stumble around the bed now, as if making toward the door, but Andreas is faster and shuts it quietly. Cutting her escape route off.

“And what did you talk about then?”

Cordyline hesitates, then seems to resolve something within her before she says: “She needed to know. She needed to make an informed decision.”

“Oh.” Andreas seems a bit surprised at her candor. He looks down at her for a long minute, then starts to laugh quietly. “Is that so?” He asks rhetorically.

He grabs the front of Cordyline’s scrubs in one hand and slams her with unexpected strength against the wall. She gasps and claws that the hand holding her in place, but he doesn’t budge. With his free hand, he traces a line abound her abdomen.

“And did you tell her that I can decide to take my payment at any time I decide fit?” He asks, but Cordyline is too out of breath to respond. She shakes her head. “I wouldn’t mind a demonstration.” He continues. “You’re useful but not irreplaceable.”

“No.” You say quietly, realizing she was right. She was telling the truth and trying to save you from this monster. Through your blurry, tearful vision, you see Andreas’ form start to warp into His. This can’t be happening. It can’t be happening again.

“Look what you’ve done.” Andreas hisses at Cordyline. “You made her cry. Now, before I consume your soul in front of you, do you want me to cut the fetus from your body? I’m not unfair. I’ll let him grow up with my guidance. And who knows! In eighteen years, maybe he’ll want a deal himself.”

“Wait!” You say more clearly this time, sick to your stomach at his words. “I’ll do it. I’ll make a deal. But you have to leave her alone. And give Cordyline her soul back. That’s the only condition.”

Andreas turns to you and your stomach drops. The whites of his eyes have gone completely black. The typically familiar look on your friend’s face has been replaced by this hungry, demonic one. His mouth opens into a wide grin, revealing sharp canines that you don’t remember noticing before.

“My darling is kind enough to want to spare you.” He says to Cordyline, who has gone several shades paler. “But the rules don’t work like that, do they?” Andreas releases Cordyline and she crumples to the floor. “Let's make a deal. I’ll spare her life today and you will be bound to me for eternity. That’s fair, right? A life for a life.”

He takes a step towards you, but you shrink back, unable to catch your breath. Cordyline starts to move a little on the floor. It’s happening again. Again! And you’re just as helpless this time, if not more than ever before. You start to hyperventilate and feel the world shifting. Growing larger around you. Not now! Not again! You bury your head in your hands. Hoping the world will disappear. And this time, it does.

“Y/n? Y/n!” You hear a soft voice. A familiar voice. You open your eyes to see Andreas kneeling near your bed. His eyes are. . . normal? You look behind him and Cordyline has disappeared.

“Where is she?”

“Who? Did you have a nightmare?” His eyes are full of worry. He stands up and pulls you into a close hug. You struggle a bit, but eventually end up clinging to him. You can hear the steady beat of his heart and try to match his breathing with your own like he taught you. That’s right. He’s human. Just a regular person who lives and breathes.

“I’m sorry, I think I did have a nightmare.” You say, internally kicking yourself. How could you have dreamt that he was a demon?

After all, he’s the only person here on your side.

#yanblr #yandere drabble #obsessive yandere #yandere #yandere blog #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #andreas my oc #yandere aesthetic #male yandere #female yandere

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joonslfttiddie · 30 days

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HOME

Chapter 47: Blindsided...

💜Fic Pairing: OT7 x OFC

💜AU/Genre: Reverse Harem/Polyfidelity/Ghosts/AMBW

💜Warnings: Adult Language/Adult Content/Murder/Blood/Attack by stalker/Strangulation/Magik/Spells/Rituals

💜Rating: MA

💜Word Count: 6,561

Another POV

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Tell him what exactly? What is there to tell? I'm going to pursue Tia...point, blank, period. It's common for younger siblings to have a crush on older siblings' partners, so he'll get over it. Plus, I don't have to explain myself to Tony. Judging by our conversation the other day, I think he knows how I feel about her." There is a short pause before Jason asks, "So, is there something you want to tell me?"

Their family had warned Brandon that his hatred for Tony would come back to bite him in the ass. He was warned that Tony would get enough of his mistreatment and eventually get his lick back. It seems like Tony accumulated all of the licks he's ever owed Brandon and hit him all at once. He knew exactly what he was doing when he dropped that bomb, telling Jason about things he'd witnessed. He told him all about the shit Brandon was saying to his crew, all about the text messages and pictures, and about the videos Brandon and Tia exchanged.

"Bro, what?" Brandon's heart is thumping hard against his throat, and he's getting noticeably uncomfortable. Jason's tone clearly indicates that he's not himself right now. This is the side of him that Brandon doesn't like.

"Don't 'what' me, bitch. Was there anything going on between you and Tia? Is there any truth to what Tony said?"

"I mean, we spoke a bit, but it wasn't nothing crazy. Why? What did the motherfucker say?"

"If you're innocent, why does what he said matter?" Jason stands up from Brandon's bed, circling him like a lion prowling on its prey. "If you're innocent, let me see your phone. Let me see for myself," he says as he stops, standing close to Brandon's face. Too close... he can feel the warmth of his breath on his skin. His breathing is deep, flowing through flared nostrils.

"Jason, why are you acting like this, man? Did you take your meds?"

"I'M NOT FUCKING CRAZY, BRANDON!"

"Hey, hey, hey...whoa! Okay, man," Brandon says with his hands up in surrender. "I'm not saying you are, I just asked a simple question."

"I told you, I don't need that shit. It makes me feel numb, like I'm not living...just existing. I'm fine...I feel better, and I think even more clearly without it. JUST BECAUSE I TAKE IT SOMETIMES DOESN'T MAKE YOU BETTER THAN ME!"

"Alright, man. I'm not better than you. You got it. Let's just drop it, okay."

"Don't tell me what the fuck to do!" Jason pushes his brother hard, his back slamming against the edge of the door's frame. "Let me see your fucking phone, B."

"Jason, stop this! There's nothing to see on my phone, bro." Brandon, reaching back to soothe the ache in his back, lies knowing that he's stupidly saved every message and attachment, and if Jason catches a glimpse of anything between him and Tia, he will flip completely the fuck out.

It is rare to see Brandon afraid, shrinking under the scrutiny of his brother's demented gaze. Even more rare for him to concede for that matter. But this has always been their dynamic; Jason would stop taking the medicine he was prescribed as a teenager for his 'episodes', for when he gets angry. During this time, he seems to target Brandon, bullying him and treating him the way Brandon treats Tony. With Brandon still refusing to surrender his device, Jason says, "Bet."

That one word sends a terrifying chill through Brandon's body, knowing how unpredictable, impulsive, and violent Jason can be when he is unmedicated. If Jason saw the filth he had sent to Tia or received, no matter how long ago, he would die today. Even though he hates Tony, Brandon is thankful he is not here, being sent away to his mother's side of the family the day after nearly being caught at Tia's house again. Jason is damn near uncontrollable when he gets like this; leads to someone dying, or someone being murdered.

Before Jason can act on his unspoken threat, sirens can be heard coming closer to the house. The flashing lights from the police cars streak across the bedroom walls as the cars kick up dirt to park in front of their residence. Jason makes a break for it, dashing up the hall, out the back door, and through the wooded area behind their house. Brandon, more afraid of what Jason is capable of, stays at the house and waits for the barrage of policemen to move in as he chooses to deal with them rather than his brother.

Jimin's POV

The house has been eerily quiet and seems to have come to a standstill. Everyone is home, but as I'm gathering evidence from Namjoon and Tia's bloody clothes and the doorbell camera footage, no one can be seen or heard. I guess that's to be expected because of the way I'm feeling right now. I can't really blame the others for being distant either. Downstairs, everything's in its place, no longer showing any proof of the traumatic event that took place just hours ago. I text the family group chat, not really expecting a response, but I let everyone know that I'm leaving.

Jimin: I'll be right back. Running down to the precinct to holla at Detective Lopez.

There is no response, but everyone acknowledges by giving a thumbs up. This feels so strange. The love between us seems to be suspended in the air, and how it will fall is unknown. I feel so heavy, and I'm admittedly pissed. I can only imagine how everyone else must be feeling.

Should I have said something? Should I have mentioned what Tia told me to the others? Maybe we could've prevented all this shit. Maybe they would've been able to prepare and feel less blindsided, at least mentally.

As if attempting to empty the thoughts from my mind, I shake my head to grab my keys, and then I walk through the foyer. At the front door, I pause, taking in the details of the wooden floor beneath my feet. It's as if nothing happened, but I take notice of the feeling that comes over me while in this area. Nausea, pride, horror, anger, relief...all at once. I gotta get the fuck out of here.

Once I'm at the station, I have to sit and wait for Detective Lopez after handing off the evidence to the police evidence technician. The crime scene investigators trusted that I would bring Tia and Namjoon's bloody clothing untampered with, satisfied with the pictures they were able to get of the two still wearing them while at the house. Jason and his brothers are sloppy criminals, making this a pretty open and shut case; that and Tia's quick thinking to alert officers before things went down.

"Park," the detective calls as she rounds the corner. "Sorry to keep you waiting. How is she doing? I can't imagine what she's just been through."

"Honestly, I don't know. She doesn't want to talk about it," I say, then I grit my teeth to avoid saying something else I may regret. Just hold it in. Hold it. "This has been a rough year for her, that's for sure."

"I bet. Thanks again for bringing over the clothes and footage. And, of course, this stays between us as this is not protocol. Jungkook asked for a favor, and I didn't want Tia to have to come down here after everything."

"Yea, yea...no problem. We appreciate your consideration. So, what's gonna happen to the guy that shot him?"

"Well, we had to bring him in for questioning, but the footage from the doorbell cam and the statements you all provided will clear him. Today has been wild! Officers brought Brandon in as Jason was going to Tia's place...your place?"

I am usually amused at people's reactions regarding our untraditional relationship and thankful when they are understanding, but I'm too shaken to acknowledge it this time.

"Wait, what?! What has he said?"

"Just that Jason was off his meds. He said he figured he would be going to your house but didn't expect him to attack her like that. He is usually pretty violent when unmedicated but said that Jason had a thing for her."

"Again...what? I thought it was Tony."

"Your girl is popular. All three brothers were interested."

I stand there wide-eyed and speechless while Lopez nods as if reiterating her last statement. Poor Tia. While I am the angriest I've been in a hot minute, I must let it go. I need to get back to her.

"Damn. Alright, thanks again. I'm gonna go ahead and get back to the house. I'm sure JK will be in contact with you soon."

"No problem. I hope you all can finally get some rest with one brother gone, one here, and the other being picked up right about now."

"I hope so too-" I start before I'm interrupted by Lopez.

"Hey, here comes our hero," she whispers to me.

I look toward her gaze and see a tall, broad-shouldered man with his head hanging low as he's wringing his jacket nervously in his trembling hands. He flashes a somber smile that only reaches one corner of his lips. Something in the pit of my stomach flips, and my heart pounds. I just want to hug him and protect him. To make it all better.

Is this gratitude for saving my girl or something else?

Tia's POV

The house is quiet, but I know everyone is here except Jimin. I feel weird, or maybe this is normal after a traumatic event, but I don't feel like myself. I've been sitting here in the theater for a while...not looking at my phone or the projector screen. I'm just staring into nothingness, mind empty, unsure if this is real life. I feel like I'm here, but I'm not here; teetering on the edge of reality and someplace else. Not that I'm having auditory hallucinations, but I'm hearing something. No, I'm feeling something, and it's on repeat. I can't quite make out the signal, and the more frustrated I get while trying to decipher whatever this is, the more encrypted it gets. I'm nearing the fringe of tears before I give up.

FUCK IT!

"Tia."

"Mom?!"

When I look up, I'm back under that tree whose branches twist and coil like the curls in my hair, and I'm sitting next to my mother. I instantly burst into tears and lay my head on her lap.

"I know, baby, I know," she says and begins petting my head. "It's been a tough day, and I'm sure it's been traumatic, but you're not done. You'll need to do a couple of things, and then you'll be all done. You're right at the end, and you're doing so well."

"Please, help me, mom. I don't want to do this anymore. I can't."

"Yes, you can, and I am right here...I'm always with you. And, my dear, you already know what to do. But, I will sit with you for a bit longer, then you have to finish this."

"I don't know... I don't know what to do," I sob into her dress, shaking my head.

"Tia, you do. Now, you can cry and let it all out, but then you have to get back to it. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, and only you can end this. It has to be you."

Laying in my mom's lap, I slowly come back to myself and stop crying but remain there. We don't speak as she caresses my hair, and we just sit in comfortable silence. I look up to her as she smiles down at me. I notice a woman appears behind her, adorned with a similar expression that beams down at me from over my mom's shoulder. The woman is me, but she's not me. She looks like me, almost identical, but I can sense she's someone else; someone I feel very strongly connected to. She winks at me, and in what only seems like seconds, I find that I'm waking up on the theater chair, fully rested and filled with determination and calm.

'Limited power. Do the work. Unstoppable.'

This message, as clear as day, is on a loop, but I do not know what it means. However, there's suddenly an epiphany...knowledge that I didn't know before that is coming forth. I know what I need to do at this particular moment.

Immediately, I grab my phone and text a list of items to Jimin in hopes he can grab them before coming home. He replies back to me, letting me know he will grab the items, so I run up to the kitchen to prepare what I already have. I open a few windows, then get started.

After filling a large pot about halfway, I turn on the flame. As it's heating up, I sprinkle in a bit of sea salt before moving to the side to slice a lemon and a grapefruit, adding half of each to the water. Then, I drop in a small sachet that I've filled with basil, thyme, a few bay leaves, rosemary, cloves, mullein, and cinnamon sticks. I put the remaining slices of lemon and grapefruit into the air fryer to dehydrate them. The smell that fills the kitchen is sweet and familiar, even more so after I add in a few drops of lavender and bergamot essential oils to my cauldron. I allow the concoction to simmer for approximately 25-30 minutes, until the water begins to take on an amber hue. I turn off the fire, allowing it to steep and cool for just a moment.

As that sits, I add the same herbs to a cup I use to blend smoothies. Just as the air fryer beeps to signal that the lemon and grapefruit are done, I hear Jimin coming inside, the bag rustling in his hand.

"Babe?!"

"I'm in here," I attempt to yell back to him, but my voice is more gruff than usual, and my throat is sore.

"Something smells good," he says when his handsome face emerges into the kitchen. His smile seems disingenuous, and his mood is noticeably flat. He places the bag on the island next to the stove while peering into the pot. What are you making, tea?"

"It smells like it could be, huh? But no, I'm making a floor wash," I push out, voice cracking like a prepubescent boy. "I need to clean the foyer," I tell him as his arms wrap around my waist, squeezing and pulling me tight against his body.

He clears his throat and says, "The professionals cleaned it earlier. It looks spotless."

"Yea, I know. They cleaned the surface but I need to do a deeper cleanse. A spiritual cleanse."

"Oooooooh, okay. So, is this what you needed this other stuff for?"

I reach for the bag and pull out some of its contents: dried calendula flowers, hyssop, Epsom salt, dried eucalyptus, nettle, and dried lotus flowers. Thankfully, the old metaphysical store my mother frequented isn't far from our house.

"I'm going to do a spiritual bath to cleanse myself with this stuff and make a smoke bowl with some of it."

"The lady at the shop told me to tell you everything will be fine," he informs me while resting his chin on my shoulder. "I asked how she knew, and she said that she could tell by the items you requested. She even put a few incense sticks in for free."

"Awww... how sweet," I say, loving how gifted individuals in these areas can understand each other on another level. Taking the items from the bag, I lift the sticks up separately to my nose, then allow Jimin to smell. "Sage, dragon's blood, frankincense, and myrrh. She definitely knows the vibes."

With him still attached, I add the eucalyptus, lemons, and grapefruit to the cup and blend them down into small fragments. Then, I pour that into a large mason jar before blending the nettle, calendula, bay leaves, hyssop, and lotus. After adding most of that to the jar, I cover the ingredients with the Epsom salt, a few drops of the essential oils, and give it a good shake. I reach into the cabinet to grab a smudge bowl that mom used to use to burn herbs. It is small, maybe the size of one cupped hand, but I'm able to put the rest of the herbs in it.

Pushing that all aside for later, I carefully remove the sachet from the hot liquid while speaking my intentions over the water, followed by an incantation that I don't think is coming from me. The words seem to flow, as if being spoken through me by someone or something else, but I close my eyes and relax, allowing it to come over me as my breath wafts into the mixture blowing the steam as I speak.

"I call upon my ancestors and guides from north, south, west, and east,

Protect our home from evil; send it back and away from me.

I banish all negativity, curses, and dangers seen and unseen,

Spreading love, protection, and positivity over my home and my family like the water as I clean.

As I will it, so mote it be,

Àse.

Thank you,

May you go in peace."

"That was beautiful, baby," Jimin says, then kisses my neck, staying there for a moment. He sniffles then says, "So beautiful."

"Thanks! I don't really know where it came from, though. They don't seem like my words. They just sort of flowed out."

"Maybe it was just your heart overtaking your mind. Don't you always say to lead with love?"

"Now that...that was beautiful," I say, and we both let out a half-hearted chuckle, although my intent was not to be funny. "I needed to hear that." His statement makes me feel more confident about getting out of my head and following my intuition.

"Are you about to clean now? Is this something I can help with?"

"No, I think I got it."

"Yeah? Okay." He detaches himself from me to lean against the adjacent countertop, arms folded across his chest as his eyes trace the floor, avoiding eye contact. "Look, I know you said earlier that you weren't ready to talk. I understand, but I was hoping to speak with you about today. It's just that-."

"Baby, I know. I can feel the same frequency coming from all of you. Let me do this first, and then we can all talk as a family," I request, still riding the high of my new-found mission, completely immersed in my task.

"Yeah. Okay," he says, sounding different from his previous response. This one lacked tenderness and care and oozed with sarcasm and resentment.

"Jimin, I know you're upset. You all are in some way, shape, or form, but let me do this first. Please," I beg while being pulled to complete my tasks.

"Do what you gotta do, Tia."

Tia??? Not beautiful? Wow, so, he's MAD mad.

"Wow, are you serious right now?"

"What? I said go ahead. Be careful. I'll be in the shower," he announces before pushing himself from the island to go upstairs.

I can't help but scoff as he walks past me, knowing his statement is not half as carefree as he's trying to portray. The vibes are apparent. Please, I could feel the tension in how he held me, in the tone of his voice, all in an attempt to mimic his typical self.

Are you fucking serious right now?! Ain't no fucking way he's mad that I'm not ready to talk. I know he had a traumatic day, but mine wasn't exactly a walk in the park either. I'M the one that was stalked. I'M the one that was attacked. I'M the one that was pinned under a man as he had his fucking head blown off. I mean, it didn't come off, I don't think....bitch, focus.

I continue what I'm doing while ranting to myself, becoming noticeably more irritated the more I think about it, wanting nothing more than to storm up the stairs and curse him the fuck out for treating me this way. But I don't. I'm trying to do better...be better, not only for myself, but for them. I'll finish up here while keeping my thoughts to myself.

Bitch, calm down. They've been through a lot, too! Not only today, but dealing with all my shit this whole time. THEY were here for me when I was stalked. THEY were here for me when I was poisoned. THEY were here for me when I was attacked. And they took care of me the whole time. I gotta stop being selfish and be more considerate of my loves.

Lead with love... lead with love... lead with love.

I repeat this mantra mentally while doing breathing exercises. Still breathing and chanting as I grab my mop and bucket from the supply closet near the basement door. Slowly and carefully, I transfer the sweet, light brown water to the bucket. After returning the pot to the stove, I made sure to grab a couple of the incense from the counter, place the bottom of the stick between my teeth to free my hands, and lug the bucket into the foyer. Here, I grab the matches from the console table drawer and light the incense sticks the shop owner gifted.

Then, I begin to repeat my incantation as I swish the mop around in the water, taking notice of how my body is reacting to being back in this area. My throat is already scratchy, uncomfortable as I force my raspy voice out, but I'm having to work even harder than just a few moments ago. I feel hot with sweat beginning to cause my shirt to stick to my back and my mouth is extra watery. I feel like I'm going to be sick. It feels like my throat is tightening and it's getting harder to breathe, just like I felt earlier with Jason straddling my frame, attempting to choke the life from me.

Something doesn't want me to do this. It knows my intentions.

Nevertheless, I spin the excess water from my mop and plop it on the hardwood. Ignoring my lightheadedness and the way my face has begun to tingle as if losing blood circulation, I continue and swirl the mixture counterclockwise, ceaselessly speaking the spell:

"I call upon my ancestors and guides from north, south, west, and east,

Protect our home from evil; send it back and away from me.

I banish all negativity, curses, and dangers seen and unseen,

Spreading love, protection, and positivity over my home and my family like the water as I clean,"

I say this nine times then seal it with, "As I will it, so mote it be, Àse. Thank you. May you go in peace."

Again, I dunk the mop into the steaming water, then begin to mop the entire foyer, only moving counterclockwise to dispel the dark, heavy, curse-like energy out of our house. Suddenly, my mind shows me where the men have been in my home. As if night has suddenly fallen, the house goes dark. I'm only able to see a silhouette of where Jason's body was on the floor and footprints from their previous visits glowing neon red. Fervently, I begin to clean with purpose, targeting the indicated areas and with each swipe of my mop, I watch the figure and footprints ignite into flame before disappearing; only a small cloud of smoke is left in its wake.

A calming energy seems to be here with me and words are spilling from my mouth, my body seems to be moving on its own. Whatever or whomever is here is helping me, giving me more energy and strength to fight. The pressure on my windpipe is damn near insufferable, and I find myself panting and becoming lightheaded.

Dunk. Swish. Spin, Mop. Even as I'm almost gasping for air, I make my way into the kitchen, cleaning the shoe prints from the ceramic tiles, removing all of the negative energy those men brought into our home.

Taehyung's POV

The scents coming from downstairs smell comforting and sweet. Judging by how Jimin stomps up the stairs, I'd say his mood is quite the opposite. Laying on the bed in our shared room, I ask, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What? I'm fine."

Anyone could see that he is upset from the flush of his cheeks, how his nostrils dilate, and the redness of his eyes; as if he's been crying.

"Okay, if you say so. You definitely don't look fine."

"Fuck," Jimin says, plopping to sit next to me on the bed while wiping his face.

I immediately sit up and put my phone down. I want to let him know he has my attention. Admittedly, I'm a bit caught off guard that he's sitting on my bed after working out in the dance studio, but I've also never seen him this way.

"What's up?"

"It's Tia, bro, or it may just be me," he sniffles. "I'm livid, but I don't want her to feel worse, so I'm trying my best to act normal. I kinda just snapped at her. Why is shit so cryptic with her? Why do we have to wait until she's ready to talk like we haven't experienced something traumatic as well? It just feels a bit selfish, I guess," he confesses, head down while fiddling with his fingers. I watch as a single teardrop travels from the inner corner of his eye and over to his nose. It stalls for a moment before it falls from the tip of it and onto his lap.

"I get it, I really do, but we just have to be patient with her. Yes, what we saw today will haunt our dreams, no doubt. But, she's been through so much," I say and place a reassuring hand on his shoulder before I continue. "I'm not saying you're wrong, Jimin, and I get where you're coming from, but we have to think about Tia, too."

"I'm always thinking of her. She's my number one priority, always. Hell, just seeing and hearing the effects of her attack; her throat seems sore and her voice is so fucking hoarse. As soon as I heard it, it's like my heart broke for her all over again. I should have done more."

"Look. We are here for a reason. We all love Tia and want to cherish her while keeping her safe, not just physically but mentally, too. You did what you could do, there's nothing more you could have done. I know you're upset she didn't tell you that was going to happen. Shit, we all are, but we know she's not the type of person who would hurt us intentionally. So, let's find comfort in that. She had to have her reasons for doing things like she did. Let's just wait and hear her out."

"You're right. I'm just in my feelings. I was here, right here at the house, and I couldn't keep her safe. What good am I? You know? Do I even deserve to be here?" He covers his mouth with his hand and sits like that for a moment with tears dancing in his eyes, threatening to fall.

"Honestly, I feel like that's a normal reaction to have. We're all having similar thoughts and doubts right now. I would be concerned if you didn't feel any way about it."

He chuckles a bit then wipes his face again before pushing his hair from his forehead. Finally, he allows himself to relax, leaning back against me.

"Yea, I feel you. Thanks for letting me vent, Tae. Today has been rough."

"Of course."

"Where is everybody?"

"Jungkook is in the gym with Hobi down in the dance studio. Yoongi found some art supplies down there and is painting by the pool. Namjoon is still in the library."

"It's so neat that we're able to feel each other's presence. I can feel that they are all here, just not exactly where. Can you feel their exact locations?" He turns to look at me over his shoulder, fascination and wonder in his eyes.

"I hate to burst your bubble, but no. I went for a stroll earlier while you were out, and I saw them," I say with a snicker.

"Oh," he says with a smile and rests against me again. "Well, speaking of being able to feel each other's presence..."

Jungkook's POV

I'm so fucking pissed. I hardly know what to do with myself. I've been in the gym most of the day, torturing myself and this punching bag. Even though my fists ache, I continue in an attempt to punish myself. Maybe I'm trying to beat the anger that I have towards Tia. I don't take my role as her man lightly, so I'm livid that I wasn't there to protect her. I wasn't there when she needed me most. I didn't have a choice in the matter as she knew and didn't tell me. I'm pissed at the Burton brothers and the fact that I didn't get the chance to kill Jason myself.

*thump, thump, thump*

I'm a fucking police officer! I should've trusted my gut.

*thump, thump, thump*

I should've been here. I should've protected her.

*thump, thump, thump*

What if he had hurt her worse than he did?

Exhausted, I hug the bag. My body is dripping with sweat, and my nose is starting to run due to my overheating. My throat is dry from breathing heavily, but this isn't enough. I need to suffer at least a fraction of her suffering. Thinking back on how she looked when we got back, shaken, battered, and bruised, her face and clothes soaked with blood. I've seen a lot in my line of work, but that image will be seared into my memory to haunt me for the rest of my life.

She wants to explain why she couldn't tell me, but I can't hear it now. I can't trust that my words won't do more harm than good to her, and I don't want to hurt her more than she's already been. Reluctantly, I release the bag after one more hit and then allow myself to collapse onto the floor. The coolness of the hardwood helps to regulate my body's temperature. I know I should head back to the house to shower, but I'm not ready. I'm embarrassed to see the guys because I couldn't protect her. I don't want to see her because I'm angry, and the bruises around her throat are a physical representation of me failing her.

Namjoon's POV

I don't know who I'm trying to fool, sitting here with my nose in a damn book, unable to even comprehend the words. I trusted her and allowed her to lull me into a false sense of security. I had a feeling that something was up with her. I knew it! But I allowed my trust in her to override my own intuition. I can't hold back the tears that well up in my eyes when I hear her calling out to Jimin. Her voice is hoarse and rasping, being forced from her throat, nothing like the sweet tone that usually drips from her lips. My heart aches for her, even though I am so upset. Thinking about it has me unintentionally balling up the cover of the paperback book in my fists.

"Ugh, I can't do this. I need some air," I say to myself.

I place the book on the couch and stand to head outside, knowing that I will be able to find some kind of peace out there. When I reach the front door, multiple feelings come over me all at once and cause the hairs all over my body to stand on end. I can't seem to get out of the door fast enough as I fumble with the lock. It's like the air is thick here, causing me to struggle to breathe. Finally, I'm out and lean my back against the door, thankful for the fresh air and cool breeze. I know that it won't fix everything, but I grab some equipment from the truck and get started on the lawn. There's not much to be done as I've already taken care of everything, but I just need a distraction. Even if only for a moment, doing something that I enjoy and can get lost in, I need something that doesn't require me to think or feel.

Hoseok's POV

Lying here in the middle of this floor, I can feel the bass from the sound system booming through my body. I'm at the point where I don't think I can dance another step as I'm panting, my chest rising and falling to the beat. I feel like coming down here was an attempt to push the negative feelings and thoughts out of my mind, but they are all rushing back to me now. Fuck...what have I gotten myself into? Of course, this shit would pop off as soon as I've finalized all my shit back in Bangtan. Am I making the right decision to move in?

Now, not to be mistaken with me regretting committing to Tia and the guys, it's not that. However, the uncertainty of whether my feelings and the respect I have for my loves will be reciprocated is concerning. Ain't no fucking way I should have come home, blindsided by finding a dead man lying in the middle of the foyer. As if that shit isn't disturbing enough, ain't no way my lady should have known it was going to happen and not felt the need to inform me.

I sit up with a huff, pissed and unable to hide it even if I wanted to. There is no way I will ever be able to scrub the visual of Tia, sitting on the edge of the couch, stiff as if trying not to transfer the blood and flesh from her face and clothes onto the fabric. Her face; blood and tear-stained and her expression of horror and shock. Jesus. Just thinking about it has tears welling in my eyes. My poor baby. Even though I'm mad, I want nothing more than to have her in my arms.

After turning off the music and the fans, I leave the studio and go into the gym. I find Jungkook, soaked with sweat, sprawled across the floor.

"You good, Koo?"

"I will be, bro. You?"

"Same. I will be."

"Yea. You heading back in?"

"Yeah, I need to see Tia. I'm pissed, don't get me wrong, but I just need to see her. To hold her, you know?"

"Absolutely. I'm trying to get out of my head first. I don't want to act in a way or say something that will hurt her further," he confesses as he sits up, remaining seated on the floor.

"That makes sense and says a lot about the love you have for her. Honestly, I don't even know if I'm really upset with Tia for real."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know if I'm upset with her or if I'm upset with myself and taking it out on her. I'm mad that I wasn't here for her AND the fact that I didn't even get a chance to choose whether to be here or not. But, ultimately, it's more because I feel inadequate," I admit and shrug my shoulders. "I think I'm just going to let this shit go and focus on the good. She's still here. Today could have ended much differently."

The look on Jungkook's face is as if I'd cracked some type of code. His expression can only be described as one of enlightenment, as if he'd not thought about the alternative ending.

"Bro-" he says with a quiver in his voice, then takes his bottom lip between his teeth.

Fuck, did I say something wrong? I didn't mean to make him cry! Instinctually, I rush over to his side and wrap him up in my arms.

"Koo, I'm so sorry. Is it something I said?"

He shakes his head against my chest as he silently sobs. We stay this way for a while, him leaning into the comfort of my embrace as I'm stroking his back through his sweat-soaked shirt. He sits up when he's ready and wipes his nose on the back of his bandage-wrapped hand.

"You didn't say anything wrong. You're right. I was so focused on my anger towards Tia and didn't even take into consideration that I could possibly be projecting my feelings on her when I was just mad at myself. I'm pissed because of what he did to her and I'm embarrassed that, as a police officer, I couldn't even protect my own girlfriend, you know?" Still squatting down to his level, I nod, completely understanding him. "He really came to our home, our safe haven, and attacked her in broad daylight. I'm down here, making this about me when I should be taking advantage of the opportunity to hold her in my arms again. I should be comforting her. Like you said, today could have definitely ended differently. I could have lost her."

I stand up and reach down to pull him up with me.

"Let's go see her."

Yoongi's POV

I'm so glad I happened to find some paint supplies and canvases in the storage closet of the pool house. I grab what I think I'll need and decide to set up here at the pool, not wanting to disturb Jungkook and Hoseok from what they are doing but also not brave enough to go into the main house. My feelings are all over the place, and my mind feels so cluttered I don't want to be around people right now. The past 24 hours have been insane, and I'm trying to wrap my head around it all while also giving Tia space to process her own thoughts.

I am just going to take this time to paint my thoughts and feelings in hopes of clearing them out of my head and putting them on the canvas to help me process. I've completely relinquished control over this creation and am allowing myself to subconsciously dip into the different colors, placing them here and there without thought. I'm imagining this is what meditation is like: allowing my thoughts to come, acknowledging the thought, then allowing it to pass. I continue to do this until I have nothing else to think about, my last thoughts being, 'What can I do for Tia? How can I help her? Are the guys okay?'

When I hear the door to the pool house open, I look up and see Jungkook and Hoseok walking toward me. Their sweat has drenched their shirts, causing the area to become darker than the rest of the fabric, creating nearly perfect triangles down their chests. I also realize that I've zoned out and I'm unaware of how much time has passed, but my canvas is now completely covered.

"Hey, did you paint something pretty?" Hobi asks before coming over to take a peek.

"Ummm... my intention was to clear my mind, to get all the crap out and onto the fabric."

"Damn," Jungkook says when he looks at it. "Do you feel better?"

"I do, actually. I typically love to paint but I kind of spaced out with this one. I don't even know how long I've been at it."

The guys help me pick up the supplies, putting some back where they belong, and taking others into the house to be cleaned. I take the artwork and easel inside, deciding to leave it in the basement to dry.

A/N:

So so so sorry for the long wait but this chapter is extra long to make up for that. Life has been crazy, but in a good way. I hope that you all have been well, happy and healthy.

Thanks so much to @downbad4yoongi and @heathfritillary for beta reading this chapter.

#joonslfttiddie #bangtanwhq #ambw #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #black protagonist #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoesok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #reincarnated lovers #reverse harem #reincarnation #bts

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compassionatereminders · 1 year

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How do you get over dislike/distrust in therapy?

Ive been seieng shrinks on and off since i was 12. they only ever were effective for getting me medication or telling my parents to stop being dicks. as an adult, ive tried a few different therapists but the search is exhausting, and even after finding someone, it always ends up being annoying, akward, and obvious they dont actually care

I know therapy is good and would help me etc, but finding therapists is damn near impossible, let alone finding a good one. Theyre all overbooked and its hard to see a therapist caring about me in any way more than "Person who pays money to sit around while i join the zoom call late and force them to meditate while i try to remember why theyre seeing me"

My psychiatrist decided to drop me because I couldnt find any therapists available as I work 40+ hours a week, and tbh her dropping me didnt inspire me to look harder, its just making me want to give up on all of this entirely (luckily my PCP will keep providing my meds but jfc)

I'm gonna butt in with the controversial opinion that you do not have to be in therapy if you do not want to be and also haven't benefitted from it. There are other ways to work on yourself which are just as valid - and while therapy CAN be really good and helpful, it is not actually inherently superior to all other coping strategies.

#chat with kat #medical neglect tw

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bottlecaprabbitgames · 1 year

Text

Weight Loss, Dieting, Medical Shit Goin' On

At the request of @meethisharma , I'm making a big post of like. EVERYTHING I've learned so far since truly trying to lose weight and do better since February of this year. I'm of course going to go into my background as to why I need to lose weight and my life as an obese person, different references I've used to help with my weight loss, dietary changes, THE WHOLE SHEBANG.

So uh. Buckle up, it's a LONG post.

(Also, shout out to Jordan Shrinks over on YouTube, I've followed this woman for years and she is still the biggest inspiration and my favorite fucking person who has helped me shape my routine for weight loss.)

Why did I start trying to lose weight?

I have been obese pretty much my whole life. In high school, I weighed 260-270 lbs. Both of my parents struggled with drug addiction, and that meant that we ate a lot of unhealthy, over processed food as it was the cheapest. I also rarely, if ever, drank water growing up; we mostly had soda in the house, and that's what I drank.

Last year, in May of 2022, I weighed 330 lbs. This was after I had already lost an unknown amount of weight, as I put on a LOT working at McD's given the food was free and I was broke most of the time. This was still not enough for me to start losing weight, but I did start packing my own lunches and at least started eating better. In September, I started my first hotel job, and with the better work and pay, I was finally able to afford insurance for 2023 and start going to doctors like I needed to. I've always had a LOT of chronic issues, but none were ever diagnosed as I really didn't go to the doctor much unless it was an absolute dire emergency.

Timeskip to the first week or two of February, 2023, and I finally get in to see a nurse practioner who will lead me to find my current primary care doctor. I weighed 312 lbs, and she was very... well, blatantly, she didn't even give me the time of day LMAO. She didn't even bother to tell me I was pre-diabetic, I had to find that out from looking at my lab results myself.

Week 3 of February, I get in with the guy who's now my primary care doctor. He's also fat, like I am, and he was also far more direct with me about my situation. As it turned out, I was in like stage 3 hypertension (my blood pressure was 150 smth over 140), I was almost 90% deficient in vitamin D (y'know, the shit that makes your bones HARD), my iron saturation in my blood was in single digits (aka severely anemic, borderline needed a blood transfusion), I was well into my way to being a Type-2 Diabetic (my A1C was 5.8, you need to be 6.4 to be diagnosed), AND... my liver was struggling really, really badly. Side note, he's also a mental health professional, and he's the one who originally diagnosed my severe PTSD and got me in with my therapist.

NEEDLESS TO SAY, I WAS NOT IN THE BEST CONDITION. I was actually well on my way to developing early heart disease, osteoporosis, diabetes, blood clots, like everything I was the MOST afraid of was what I was about to have. Because I wasn't taking care of myself, I was living off of ramen and fast food and processed as shit food all the time, TV dinners... I'd make a meal out of a family-sized bag of chips or a whole roll of crackers and several slices of cheese.

My doctor was very point fucking blank about my outcomes. I could've died if I did nothing. A really horrible way to die, too. He told me that if I wanted to make changes, he'd get me every resource possible he could to help me, but I had to want the changes if they were gonna stick. Keep that in mind, right? YOU have to want the changes needed.

And that's when everything started.

THE GAME PLAN

SO, what did I do to start losing weight? What changes did I make?

Everything. FUCKING everything. My doctor said I needed a low-as-possible sodium diet, so I changed it. I needed to start exercising, so I did. I needed meds and to get into therapy to help deal with my mental health, so I religiously take my meds and I go to therapy as many times as possible each month. He also wanted me to get a daytime job, as my overnights were likely making things worse, and I finally got that done now, too.

A big thing to add here, too: my doctor has not talked to me about BMI. The only thing he has asked me to do is get to 200 lbs. He says so long as I don't drop under 120, he's said it's fine whatever weight I stop on, so long as I get to 200.

But where did I begin? The SIMPLE shit.

I started with ten minute walks. That's it for exercising, I started with TEN MINUTE WALKS. And you know what? It was fucking hard. It still is. It's like pulling teeth sometimes to get me to get up and go take a 30 minute to an hour walk. But don't let these fucking fitness influencers bully you into thinking that if you can't handle pumping iron in the gym for 6 hours straight then you're always gonna be a fat slob or whatever those fuckheads say these days. And, if you don't like walking, if you'd rather lift weights, you can do that too! If you don't want to go to a gym like I don't, order some cheap ones off of Amazon or Walmart. Go cycling or swimming or jumping rope. You don't have to go big and hard into exercise to be healthier. Start small.

Now, diet-wise, I threw myself in it a little too vigorously and I also paid the price of wasting like $50 each payday in shit I didn't eat or still haven't, and I also fucked up my GI tract for a solid month. I was ROUGHING it. Raw-dogged the low sodium diet and it did it back double time, do NOT do what I did. There's gonna be a WHOLE section after this one on dietary shit. Big thing, though? MEAL PLANNING. I don't care if you only meal plan one meal of the day, I only do my damn dinners. Just take time on your day off to batch cook a bunch of shit to be able to eat for one meal throughout the week.

MAKE GOALS. I don't care if the goals you set seem shallow to you or not, make some fucking goals. Keep them on a list you can easily find, especially like on your phone. HELL, keep the list in SEVERAL ways, like a paper on your wall. I have another section planned for like examples and my own goals on down.

EXERCISE

AGAIN, start small. Don't go hog wild and try to do an hour a day at the gym to start; that's gonna burn you out and wear you down before you even get started. Also, you don't need a gym to exercise. If you never wanna step foot in a gym, you NEVER have to.

Start with a five to ten minute walk every other day. You don't like walking? Cool, get some cheap weights (or a kettlebell weight) and lift weights for 5-10 minutes. I just recently got a 5lb kettlebell on Amazon for like $8.55 after tax so I can start doing weighted exercises. (NOTE: don't start with big heavy weights. You'll fuck up your muscles and joints. You'll want to research what weight to start with first.)

I think it wassss two weeks of me walking for ten minutes every other day before I moved to 15 minutes? Now, in May, I can go for an hour at a leisurely pace.

My Routine:

45 minute-hour walk at LEAST 4 days a week.

One day of 30 minute power walking or walking-jogging intervals. I walk along the street I live on, and I do 1/3 of the way jogging, the rest walking.

At LEAST one day using resistance band exercises. Resistance bands are like $10 at Walmart, I recommend using a light one to start WHILE AT YOUR HEAVIEST WEIGHT. Resistance bands work by using your own body weight as the resistance, so it's best to start while you're still at the heaviest.

Hoping to work the kettlebell in on at least three days of the week, doing weighted HIIT exercises (high intensity training).

DIETARY CHANGES

The BIGGEST piece of advice I can give you is to make sustainable changes. The reason diet culture doesn't work is because you can't survive off of diet food for a long period of time, meaning you'll just regain the weight back once you return to a normal diet. Also, carbs are not bad for you. Unless a doctor specifically tells you to lower carb intake, PLEASE do not just suddenly decide to stop eating carbs as you can permanently damage your major internal organs.

Now, I am not on a diet, persay. The changes I've made I plan to keep for the rest of my life. Now, I can only tell you what I do, and not what you should do. I have some formal training in nutrition, and I can give you advice on what not to do, but again, I can mostly tell you what works for me.

NOW THAT THAT'S OUT OF THE WAY, HERE WE GO! I am on a low-sodium diet, meaning I do not add salt to shit. I use Accent, a shit ton of seasoning and spices, and I get my canned food no salt added when I can. I also mainly only eat turkey and chicken (mostly chicken), while beef and pork are like... a treat every once in a while. I also get low sodium canned tuna or like... actually good fish sticks. And, as I live on the Gulf Coast, I get fresh shrimp once or twice a month. I also do NOT add sugar to something unless it's a recipe for like bread to feed the yeast. I get canned fruit in 100% juice, or I get it frozen mostly. If I want to add something to make it sweet, I dump fruit in it. I've also recently been adding like... one packet of splenda ALONG WITH FRUIT to my oatmeal. Tastes p good, do not recommend splenda in coffee. Shit's nasty.

I am also a calorie counter and believer. The easiest way to think of calories is like... energy. One calorie is one unit of energy. I HIGHLY recommend using a couple of calorie calculators to help figure out your daily intake, and I use the My Fitness Pal app to keep track of what I eat, especially as I am prone to boredom eating and binge eating, as I do still struggle with disordered eating. I also keep an eye on my macros (protein, carbs, fats), as well as my cholesterol, sodium, and saturated fat levels.

So, what does Cy do for food? A lot but also... not very much, lol. I am a convenience bitch. I ain't here to cook several times a day and shit, I ain't got time for it. I be makin' shit as easy as possible.

I do often drink protein shakes before or after I walk or have an intense workout. You don't have to, just keep in mind you DO need high protein intake before or after working out, to help your muscles repair themselves. I get the cheap af Purely Inspired brand at Walmart, mix it with frozen fruit and milk in my blender.

PLEASE, GOD, DRINK WATER! Drink plenty of frickin water. Your body has to be hydrated and the more water you drink, the less water your body retains as extra. A bit weird, I know, but take it from me as I carry about 10-12 lbs of water weight a day, and it was a LOT more when I wasn't hydrating properly.

I meal prep one meal a week. It's dinner now, so I take a day I'm off, make a big batch of smth, and separate it into like 5-7 containers, freezing some and fridgerating the others. I post recipes and total costs over on @cylentlycrafting , and I get those cheap ass Mainstays meal prep containers. It's like $5 for 5 of em, and I have like... 3-4 sets.

The main meat I eat now is chicken, as it has the highest amount of protein across all meats. I also pretty much exclusively eat whole grain foods (brown rice, whole wheat bread, whole wheat or brown rice or quinoa pasta), and I keep instant brown rice and instant oats on hand. Listen, I'm an impatient ass mfer, I don't have 45 mins to cook some goddamn rice.

I also luv eggies. And cheese. And dairy. Though I typically get reduced fat dairy products, except milk. Reduced fat sour cream, reduced fat cheese, sometimes reduced fat yogurt, but I take any yogurt I can get my hands on.

I use a LOT of canned beans, peas, chickpeas, and tomatoes. I also get frozen broccoli, cauliflower, sweet potatoes, red potatoes, and carrots as far as veggies go. I also often get chopped romaine lettuce, carrot chips, grape tomatoes, and onions. That is the beginning and the end to the veggies I eat, and best be fucking sure I put red kidney beans and chickpeas in everything almost it. Broccoli, too. Tomatoes.

Fruit wise, I have a LOT of fruit cups and canned fruit in 100% fruit juice, frozen fruit, and I also have a thing for clementines lately. Been eating tf out of them.

Snackies wise, I usually get that big box of baked chips from Lays. Peanut butter and graham crackers. Dark chocolate. Power Crunch protein bars because PROTEIN BARS DON'T HAVE TO BE DISGUSTING!!!!!

I pretty much exclusively use olive oil, but canola oil is also pretty damn good if you're on a budget! Just avoid regular butter, that shit's got so much calories and fat in it.....

Listen, you don't have to go broke buying shit. I tend to allot more money to food than most people because I have a LOT of food issues, and because I commit hard to shit. I have olive oil mayo and butter replacements, I keep low sugar and low sodium ketchup, and I buy expensive ass Lucini tomato sauce. You don't have to. Like I also buy tater tots and off-brand coco puffs and mini wheats.

I have experimented with a LOT of brands in the past few months, which I will probably make another post about eventually? Maybe? Also more budget-friendly shopping hacks and shit given I be trying to save as much money as possible.

GOALS

Listen, like every big project, you need goals. Getting your body healthy is a big project, and you should make goals. Goals on why you want to get healthy, goals on why to keep going even when shit gets hard. I don't care if it's the most vain shit ever, if it's a goal it's a fucking goal.

Here are some of mine:

More clothing options. If I lose more weight, I will be able to fit into smaller sizes and have more choices on what to wear.

SELF CONFIDENCE

Feeling less embarrassed when eating out somewhere.

HEALTH. A large part of me always feeling shitty is my diet and lack of proper vitamins and nutrients.

Prediabetes. I don't want to be like my mom and papaw and have to poke myself multiple times a day nor be reliant on insulin.

FINAL THOUGHTS

The main things I can impress upon y'all:

Build sustainable habits. If you don't think you'd be able to do it for the rest of your life, maybe rethink the habit before it becomes too set in stone.

You're gonna fall off the horse sometimes. You're gonna cheat, you're gonna make slip ups. And that's okay. Don't feel guilty, don't overrestrict or punish yourself for it. You're human, and you're trying, and that's okay. You can only do as much as you're able to right here and right now.

It's a hard and long road. Getting healthy and fit isn't going to be a breeze in the park. This shit is hard, especially if you're building new habits from scratch. But you got this. YOU CAN DO IT.

You HAVE to want this for yourself. No one else can want it for you. It has to be on you and you alone.

You're gonna find people wanting to sabotage you, as horrible as it sounds. Sometimes people feel threatened when others attempt to better themselves, because that person or those persons know they wouldn't put the time or energy into doing so themselves. And, unfortunately, some of those people are your close friends and family :/

TRY NEW THINGS. FAIL AND KEEP GOING. I have tried so much shit in the last few months, and some has stuck, some has not. I have learned I do not like a lot of vegetables, and that's okay. I also make taco salad (from 'scratch') at least two to three times a month. What works, works!

You are going to bloat A LOT when you start amping up workouts. Your body holds extra water and nutrients for up to FOUR WEEKS after you start exercising or start a new exercise routine/build up on your existing one. This is to repair your muscles and joints as they grow.

Scales like to lie, and they won't tell you how much water weight you're holding. And yes, you will be able to tell you're bloated. I never knew of bloating until now and sometimes shit fits weird when I'm majorly bloated. It SUCKS

Measure yourself. Your stomach, chest, waist, hips. All of it. Keep it. It'll be amazing to see how much you've changed eventually.

I actually would LOVE to keep making posts like this. But, here's my current progress:

I am a little under 270 lbs, unsure of how much as I am starting and trying new exercises, as well as my new job being HELLA more active than my old one.

I do have more processed stuff in my diet, but i do try to balance it with healthier food, too. Budgeting is.... hard.

My blood pressure tends to run 110/70 now.

I hope this helps someone out there.

My heart rate has gone down from 100+ bpm, to now it's at 60-75 bpm.

I also drink diet soda now, usually one a day.

#weight loss #weight #nutrition #health #health and wellness #wellness

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chirp-a-chirp · 4 months

Text

Court of Darkness: The Battle of Facial Hair*

*I wrote this story while hopped up on cold meds. So take this crack-fic with a grain of salt. Enjoy the horribly edited photo.

Description: A rumor spreads (from Vane knows where) throughout Saligia that a royal’s future prospects and strength can be determined by the amount of facial hair he possesses. How does this impact the princes?

Tags: Humor; crack; fluff; (brief mc mention using they/them pronouns)

Word Count: ~1250

…

GUY and TOA

Jasper receives a letter from the Avari royal court. He reads the contents to Guy.

Jasper: King Roc has grown a magnificent beard since you last saw him. The ladies of the court find his Majesty even more attractive than usual.

Guy: …

Guy: He has never lacked for female company.

Jasper: His Highness suggests you grow a beard as a sign of Avari strength.

Guy: *Scoffs* Suggests?

Jasper: Perhaps suggests is an inaccurate word. Here is the royal decree—you will begin growing your beard now.

Guy: Bah.

Jasper: Please tell me how a beard feels. I might endeavor to use one on my upcoming missions.

Guy: You’re enjoying my misery far too much.

Jasper: Impossible sir. *Smirks*

Two weeks later, Guy sports a very thick, luxurious black beard. It is neatly trimmed, complete with sideburns and mustache. As Avari fangirls oooh and aaaah over Guy’s facial locks in a hallway, Toa walks by.

Toa: How like Avari to be swept up by a rumor. Qelsum would never succumb to such a pathetic attempt at a power display.

Knight: Toa! Toa! An express letter has come from Qelsum!

Toa: *Reads letter, eyes widening ever so slightly. His eyes flicker to Guy and then back at the letter*

Toa: …the royal court cannot be serious.

Guy: What was that about pathetic power displays mongrel? Heh Heh Heh. *Walks away*

Within the next few weeks, Toa has a long, thin, deep blue goatee. The Qelsum royal court feared the consequences of Guy displaying a full beard without a Qelsan counterpoint—and as this display did not involve a direct magical competition against Avari, the Qelsan court insisted Toa grow out his own facial hair.

As much as Toa does not want to admit it, the goatee does have advantages. His chin and upper lip were much warmer with a layer of hair covering it; dignitaries were in such awe at the power conveyed that numerous agreements advantageous to Qelsum were given; and teaching had become easier as his goatee conveyed an air of authority that made even the most unruly students obedient.

The fangirls for Toa and Guy are louder than usual, all insisting THEIR prince had the more magnificent facial hair. Clearly, the fullness and thickness of Guy’s beard conveyed his superiority—no, no, the Toa-sters insisted, Toa’s long beautiful goatee showcased Qelsum’s might better. Guy and Toa grumble at the comments and at one another frequently, both embarrassed at the farcical turn the situation had taken. But until their kingdoms release them from their hairy obligation, the facial hair remains.

MC: What IS it with people’s obsession over size?

Fenn: It’s not the size that counts Treasure. It’s how you use it.

Speaking of how you use it…

FENN and ROY

Fenn: I say Roy, you’re not participating in this facial hair competition?

Roy: Why, no. I prefer the clean-cut look. It suits my purposes.

Fenn: *Smirks* You can’t grow a full-beard, can you?

Roy: *Smiles bigger* I did not say that, Master Fenn.

Fenn: You didn’t have to Roy.

Roy: And is there a reason why you’re only growing a mustache?

Fenn: It suits my purposes equally well. Or so I’ve been told. *Wink*

Fenn grows a long twirling lavender mustache. The mustache, while not particularly full, has the remarkable ability to grow and shrink several feet at Fenn’s discretion, like magical retractable hairy vines. It becomes an extension of Fenn himself—for better and worse.

Female student one: My date with Prince Fenn was absolutely divine!

Female student two: So was mine. A night with Prince Fenn is like being caressed with two sets of arms!

Fenn: Are you two comparing notes? May I join you? *His mustache elongates and tickles the ear of each student*

Students: Oooooh!

Roy is incapable of growing a full beard. He CAN, however, maintain a 5 o’clock shadow on his face. This beard stubble is very light in color—so light, it can only be seen if one were mere inches from his face. Roy uses this fact to his advantage.

Roy: Did I miss a spot while shaving Heartspell? *Nuzzles his face against MC’s cheek and neck*

MC: Roy! I’ve told you that tickles!

Roy: Yes, your point being…? *Continues to nuzzle their increasingly red neck*

MC: I didn’t want to resort to this, but these are MY leg hairs…

Roy: Oh you are quite the devious little…*starts laughing as MC lifts the fabric up from Roy’s pants and rubs their leg against Roy’s exposed shin*

Grayson walks up to Roy’s door. Upon hearing dual voices laughing from within, he turns to the diplomat next to him. “My apologies, it appears Prince Roy is indisposed.” Grayson barely withholds the word AGAIN.

RIO and LYNT

Rio, Lynt, Sherry, and MC eat in the dining hall. Sherry asks if Rio and Lynt intend to grow out their facial hair.

Lynt: *Shrugs* It’s too much a bother. I am a Prince whether there is or is not hair on my face.

Rio: Nope. The only hair that grows on me and my dad is on our heads. Not that it makes a difference—dad’s the best king there is!

Sherry: You two are the only ones that show any common sense.

Rio: Roy’s an S:Rank and he doesn’t appear to be taking this rumor seriously.

MC: *Rubs their neck, muttering* Yeah, APPEARS.

Knight ambles over with a tray of food. Suddenly, he jumps in the air.

Knight: OI! Keep your hands off me you—! *Rubs his backside*

Fenn: *Smiles cheekily while retracting his mustache* My hands didn’t touch you, did they, dear Knight?

LOU and the PRINCES

Lou summons the princes to his office. Guy and Toa glare at one another miserably while scratching their faces. Fenn twirls one side of his mustache while lightly massaging Lynt’s hair with his other mustache half.

Lou: I suppose you all would like to know who has won my facial hair competition.

Guy: *Eyes widen* …

Toa: YOU started this ridiculous rumor?! *Lou’s familiars, Phinny and Nix, resignedly nod their feathered heads*

Lou: I have written to each of your fathers to announce the winner—

Rio: Wait, where’s Lance?

Toa: He hasn’t shown up to class for days.

Lou: The winner of this contest is—*at this precise moment, Lance casually enters the office* Master Ira!

The princes stare in bewilderment as Lance opens the door. He hasn’t been seen in four days, but in that short time he has gone from clean shaven to a full dark purple lumberjack-style beard. Lance has spent the past few days with the child Christoph. He’s just arrived from reading Christoph a series of Saligian fairytales—including a reenactment of the brave woodsman (complete with full beard—grown to amuse the boy). Lance reveals none of this as he glares at Lou.

Lance: What utter rot. *Leaves and closes the door*

Lou: Oh well, I’ll give him his prize later. *Turns to the other princes* As the contest has ended, I’ve informed the kings you no longer need to participate if that is your desire.

Guy immediately removes his beard with magic, muttering “Ridiculous.” Toa sighs deeply and leaves without another word. As the other princes leave, Lou calls out.

Lou: Master Invidia! MC has been sporting high collared shirts as of late. Have they caught a chill? The visiting diplomat was quite worried on their behalf.

Roy: *Smiles* Rest assured, I will take care of them.

#court of darkness #otome romance #fluff and crack #crack fanfic #otome game #otome #guy avari #toa qelsum #roy invidia #fenn luxure

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angel-of-the-moons · 9 months

Note

Hi there! So I hope this isn’t too strange of a request to make. I think your writing is wonderful and I wanted to maybe request something myself? Something somewhat angst but comfort and fluff, being a mother/parental figure to Pavitr and being assigned on a mission with him but everything goes horrifically wrong. (One or two of the assigned unnamed members of the spider society dying in the fallout and having to abort the mission). The survivors of the mission are completely devastated and numb, but reader’s concern is mainly Pavitr? Just finding him either in one of the bathrooms back at HQ or waiting for rescue crying his eyes out, and comforting him and just trying to ease the trauma he’s witnessed. (If that isn’t too much of course! That boy is sunshine incarnate and I want him to at least feel safe in danger *sobs*) 🤍

Oh my god Nonnie you monster genius!

Danger Close

Pavitr Prabhakar x Parental Figure!Reader

TW/CW: Angst, Mentions of Violence, Death, Trauma, Comfort, Injuries

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

The moment you stepped through the portal to HQ, the first related image in your mind was a kicked hornet's nest.

Every Spider of shape, species, gender, and size were scrambling, a small alarm blaring in the distance.

You immediately grab one of the other Spiders, another Peter Parker.

"What happened?" You say, trying to sound calm over the chaos flowing around you.

"S-something's happened." The young Peter stammered. "Pavitr and Team 47 were on a mission, and the Green Goblin and Kraven were involved and--"

You put your hand on his shoulder and stoop yourself a bit to be closer to his eye level. "It's okay, kid." You tell him. "Just take a deep breath."

Peter does as you ask, and blurts it out. "Two of them are dead."

Your eyes widen and you grip his shoulder in a soft but tight grip.

"Who--"

"Pavitr is in the med bay, now. It was bad. The others dragged him through the portal, and--"

You didn't need to hear anymore, you fling your wrist out and shoot a string of webs to pull yourself to one of the higher platforms, narrowly avoiding Noir as you go, breaking out in a dead sprint as you speak into your watch.

"Lyla! What's the status of the survivors of Team 47?" You say, breathing hard as you bump shoulders with other Society members as you dash by.

The tiny hologram of the usually snarky woman appeared next to you as you ran, her face fallen behind her heart shaped glasses.

"Hobie had to have some stitches and his arm put in a cast. The other Spider-Woman with them has a severe concussion and was put under medically to help her." Lyla told you.

"Pavitr?" You say, your voice already out of breath. Thought out of concern, shock, or just running you weren't sure at this point as adrenaline flushed your system.

You narrowly avoid stepping on Spider-Cat.

Lyla knew about your soft spot for Pavitr--hell, everyone did. Hobie joked multiple times you should just adopt him already, and even jokingly slapped some crappy handmade adoption papers he scrawled in a notebook on a table in front of you one day.

"Pavitr has a broken arm, a few fractured ribs, some internal damage..." Lyla had begun to rattle off the extent of his injuries, but stopped when she noticed the ever increasing spike in your heart rate and blood pressure.

Finally, you see the sign marking the medical wing.

You make a handbrake turn to the intensive care unit, having to grip the corner of the wall to keep you from sliding into the one opposite of it.

And you see Hobie, looking right pissed, shaking, as a Spider-Woman in a nurse-like costume tries to console him, to calm him down.

But Hobie punches the wall next to him and curses loudly.

His demeanor changes when he sees you get close. He shrinks, almost. Practically unheard of for Hobie Brown, of all people.

The way he says your name tugs at your heart, as does the look in his eyes. Haunted, in pain. Guilty.

"I... I messed up." Hobie blurts, his voice hollow, looking down at you. "The one corner I didn't check, and those bastards--Pavitr pushed me out of the way and--I fucked up."

You put your hand on his cheek to calm him, briefly. "You didn't mess up, Hobie. These things happen. We know this every time we put on our suits. Where's Pavitr?"

Hobie swallows the lump of concrete in his throat, and lifts his head to one of the rooms, the glass doors covered by the curtains that were pulled inside.

You punch in your ID number and the door slides open, allowing you into the sterile-smelling suite.

A Spider-Man wearing what almost looks like a military medic uniform turns to look at you.

"Right, Hobie said you'd..."

His voice was cut off when Pavitr shakily called out your name.

When the Spider-Medic moved, you felt like your heart had been cracked in two.

Pavitr Prabhakar. The Spider-Man who was the biggest ray of sunshine ever, looked shell-shocked. His face pale, bruised. His leg was in a cast all the way from the knee down; cuts in his skin were bandaged and stitched shut. His arm was in a sling, the bandages across his chest already having small blotches where blood has begun to seep through.

You didn't like the size of the bloody bandage across his abdomen.

Pavitr. Poor Pavitr. First the death of his uncle, and now this horror up close.

You immediately move to his bedside and your hands are outstretched, open, but unsure what to do as the Medic mumbles something and checks his charts, leaving to give you privacy.

Pavitr immediately latched onto you with his good arm, burying his face in your chest with weak, boyish sobs as he babbled about how he couldn't save them. How he almost couldn't save Hobie, the man who was like a big brother to him, and the other Spider-Woman on the team.

You gently pet his hair, muttering soft gentle things to him, to try and ease him through what looks like a guilt-induced panic attack.

"I'm--I'm sorry." He hiccuped, shaking, wincing as sobs wracked his injured body. "Now they can't go home..."

"Hush, Pavitr." You murmur, giving a soft kiss to his hair, in a loving paternal gesture of comfort.

"You know they wouldn't blame you."

"B-but--"

"Hush, now, Sunshine." You coo, smoothing his hair beneath your hands as you hold him to you and essentially let him use your suit as his handkerchief.

"It's like I told Hobie... He's blaming himself too, you know. He thinks it's all his fault... Like you do. Like you're blaming yourself right now, honey." Your tone is gentle, patient, and you hope it sounds convincing enough to hide your shaking hands and trembling breaths.

"It's a risk we all take. The moment we first decided to become heroes. We all know this is a possible outcome every time we go on a mission. A sacrifice some of us will have to make, at some point in our lives."

You let out a wary breath as Pavitr sobs silently, clinging to you like a child desperate for the safety of his parents.

"Don't ever blame yourself. These things happen. They happen to normal people every day. This is just one thing we have in common with them."

Pavitr lifts his face, tears down his cheeks and nose running.

"But I could have done something..." He says, his bottom lip wobbling.

You wanted to cry for him.

You reach out to the bedside table and grab some tissues, easing onto the bed with him to gently clean his face.

"Hush, now... hush." You soothe as you toss the tissues into the bin.

You move yourself up, sitting next to him fully as he clings to you again. He does this sometimes, clinging like a koala bear baby to people he likes. He does it with you and Hobie the most.

It wasn't just cuddling this time, or a gesture of affection. He needed comfort.

"Can you stay with me?" He sniffles.

"As long as you want me to, Sunshine." You say softly, wrapping your arms around him.

#answered #pavitr prabhakar x you #pavitr x you #atsv pavitr #spiderverse pavitr

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