#and yeah like. I have had severe panic attacks daily now like I just had one in a parking lot and had to go home and now I just feel?????

[feelslikegold]

.

#so #I guess I need to vent bc I can’t handle my anxiety and isolation any longer ig #my mother has been in the hospital for a week now #she had pneumonia but then they found all these things #like a blood clot in the lung and stuff #and they said it was symptoms of long covid bc me and her got hit hard in 2021 with covid #and they put her on a lot of medication and ran a bunch of tests #and they said that from long covid #she has some damage to her heart #idk anything about medical stuff and she’s waiting on the cardiologist to go talk to her #but I am 2000 miles away #and feel so helpless and so hopeless #and i’m really close with my parents/the baby of the family #and I have had severe anxiety since she went in #and each day it gets worse bc tests show something new #and I literally do not know how to handle it #I also have obsessive repetitive thoughts that are god awful and they have not stopped in a full week #so I have made myself ultimately SO sick from anxiety like I have my own chest pains rn #and then the hypochondriac in me is like…I had covid when she did and we had the same lingering symptoms so like. is my heart damaged too 🙂 #and yeah like. I have had severe panic attacks daily now like I just had one in a parking lot and had to go home and now I just feel????? #so numb and so????? I genuinely hate this I cannot handle shit like this

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim #43: Everything’s Different Now

Masterlist

content: vampire whumper (past), recovery, known whumpee a lil bit, begging, forced medical treatment, needles, panic attack, forced to endure trigger

takes place a few days after Home.

-

Jim anxiously jiggled his leg in the waiting room. Every few seconds, he glanced to the side to make sure Liz was still sitting next to him.

It’s okay. It’s daytime. He can’t get you while the sun’s out, Jim tried to tell himself, but it didn’t feel real. It hadn’t felt real since the moment he stepped out of Kane’s house. He felt like any second, he would wake up back home, just like he’d done every day for the past five years.

Kane’s fucking mini-mansion is not your home, he chastised himself. You’re home now.

“Mommy, that’s the man from TV!”

Jim looked up to see a kid pointing right at him. The kid’s mom looked startled to see him, and a little embarrassed. “Don’t point, sweetie, it’s rude.” she chastised. “So sorry about that.” She said apologetically, but she wouldn’t stop staring. “God bless you.”

“It’s cool.” he dismissed, giving the kid an awkward wave and sinking further into the chair. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, being recognized from the news. It was kind of cool, maybe? But also... weird. Liz reached over and squeezed his hand.

“Mr. Lieberman?” called a nurse.

Jim stood up instantly, relieved to have an excuse to put those thoughts aside. Liz held his hand as they followed the nurse to one of the rooms.

They both sat down as the nurse began checking his vitals. Jim tried his best not to flinch away. He was still getting re-used to the idea that touch doesn’t mean pain.

“Hm, looks like you have a slight fever.” the nurse informed him.

“Oh.”

“The doctor should be in shortly.” She gave him a friendly smile, then left.

“This is so damn weird.” Jim muttered.

Liz got up and leaned against the wall by him. “What? Going to the doctor?”

“Yeah.” Everything about being back in the real world was weird. There were so many people, and they were all just... normal and nice. “I dunno, I haven’t really thought about going to the doctor as, like, an option in a while. I’ve been Kane’s for... almost a quarter of my life. It’s gonna take some getting used to.”

“You’ll get used to it. Means you still spent more than three quarters out.” She patted him on the back.

The doctor came in shortly after. “Jim, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Dr. Augury. How are you feeling?”

“Um, I’m feeling alright.” he replied.

“Good, good. I understand you’re coming to me about several issues after your ordeal. I’d like to take a look at your back, first things first. The records from the hospital indicated you’re at high risk for Lyme.”

“Oh, yeah. Those damn ticks were all over me.” Jim pulled his shirt over his head.

Liz gasped. “Jim...”

“Yep, that’d be Lyme. Multiple sites. That explains the fever. I’ll write you a prescription for some antibiotics and it should clear up no problem. You’ll make a follow-up appointment up front.” The doctor wrote something down while Jim put his shirt back on, then returned.

“Thanks, doc.” He’d have to check his back out in the mirror later.

“What’s next on the list?” the doctor asked.

“So, um, I’ve got... the neck, obviously.” Jim glanced at Liz. He hadn’t brought it up yet, but she had a few new scars herself: most notably, four claw-like marks running down her jaw. He knew hers were from vampires, just like his. He didn’t think he could bear to hear about vampires hurting his baby sister.

“Yes, I see. Is it giving you any troubles?”

“Yeah, actually.” Jim admitted. “Kinda thought it would go away, and like, it’s definitely faded a little, but it’s still there. And not just that... is there anything you could do to make it like, go away? Clear up or whatever?”

“I would recommend over the counter pain relief for the ache, we can reevaluate in a month if it still hurts. As for the scar... this vampire, it bit you on a daily basis?” the doctor asked.

“Yeah.”

The doctor looked at him sadly. “You have to understand that’s years of repeated trauma, reopening the same wound every single day. I can refer you to a specialist, but I’ll be honest, I don’t think the chances of this being able to be removed are high. I’m sorry.”

“I’d like the referral anyway, if that’s alright.” Jim requested.

“Of course.”

“And, um, my arm.” Jim held it up, showing off the unnatural bump under the skin. “He- I broke it a couple years ago and it healed all messed up. Still kinda hurts too.”

“I’ll refer you to a surgeon for that. He can get you some x-rays and fix the malunion. That I’m much more confident can be fixed.” the doctor said. “Is there anything else you’d like to discuss today?”

“Um, I don’t think so?” He shrugged.

“Alright, I’d just like to get a blood sample. Given the consistent blood loss over the past five years, it’s best to make sure everything’s going on alright in there.”

Jim froze. “I think... I’ll pass.”

“Jim, you should do it.” Liz encouraged. “It’d suck if something’s wrong with your blood and we didn’t catch it.”

“Nothing’s wrong with my blood.” Jim protested, unable to keep the tinge of defensiveness out of his voice. Kane certainly never thought there was anything wrong with his blood.

“I’d really recommend getting a blood sample.” the doctor interrupted. “It’s just going to be a little prick, that’s all.”

Head wrenched to the side, fangs sinking into his neck.

“No thanks.” Jim said firmly.

“Jim, c’mon. Please?” Liz’s brows bunched up in concern. “I’m worried about you.”

He sighed. He really didn’t want to do this. He was so fucking tired of having his blood taken. But alarm bells rang in his head: protesting was bad. He was being disobedient, and disobedience will always be punished, and he was so damn tired of being beaten. He knew Kane wasn’t here, but that nagging in the back of his mind scared him. He could behave.

“Okay.” he conceded.

“This will take less than a minute.” The doctor assured as he began preparing the syringe.

Liz stepped over. “Want me to hold your hand?”

Jim searched her words for a trace of mocking, but there was none.

“Yeah.” He felt pathetic, needing his little sister to hold his hand just to get his blood drawn when he was 24 years old. He’d done the same for her when they were kids, but he was surely too old for that now.

Liz took his hand in hers. “It’ll be okay.”

Jim’s eyes followed the doctor as he prepared the syringe. That’s going into me, and it’s going to take my blood. He shivered at the thought, squeezing Liz’s hand.

The doctor was saying something, but as the needle went in his arm, all he could see was Kane.

At first, he went still. It’s feeding time, and he has to be still and obedient during feeding. But then he remembers: he was out. He spent all that effort getting out, he almost died getting out, and now he’s back to being fed on.

He knew it was misbehavior, but the despair at his situation was just so powerful that he had to get away. Jim thrashed, but hands held him down as he cried over the urgent voices around him. “Please, no! I don’t wanna be food anymore! I was out! Please, Kane, sir, please stop!”

“Jim, it’s okay!” Strong hands held him firmly in place as his blood was taken from him again and again and again. “You’re not food, you’re a person, it’s just a blood draw! It’s almost over, just relax.” 

The doctor retreated with the syringe. Jim was vaguely aware of Liz asking him to give them space, and then the door was closed again, and he was alone with Liz, still holding him down. “Please, please, please,” he begged, tears streaming down his face.

Liz let go. As soon as his arms were free, Jim wrapped them around himself, shivering.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do.” Liz said. “The needle was already in you, I didn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Needle...” Jim looked down at his arm, at the band-aid that had made its way there. He hadn’t used a band-aid in years. Kane always just stopped the bleeding himself. “He’s not here.”

“No. The vampire isn’t here.” Liz agreed. “You’re safe. We’re at the doctor’s, remember?”

He nodded slowly, feeling sick to his stomach. “I’m sorry f-for being disobedient. Please don’t punish me. I’ll be better.”

Liz was crying now, too. “No one’s gonna hurt you, Jim.” she assured, hugging him. “No punishing. You’re not... disobedient, you just freaked out. There’s no one to- disobey anymore, right? You’re free.”

“Right. Right, yeah.” Jim shook his head, trying to clear his mind. “S’just weird. Everything’s different now.”

“Yeah.” Liz was looking at him weirdly, like she was seeing him for the first time. “It is.”

-

taglist:

@annablogsposts

@badluck990

@barebarb

@cc1010foxy

@ceph-the-writing-spook

@cicatrix-energy

@crying-wings

@crystalquartzwhump

@cupcakes-and-pain

@cyberneticfire

@darlingwhump

@deluxewhump

@down-in-the-whumps

@elrysdoesstuff

@emcscared-whumps

@extemporary-whump

@extrabitterbrain

@harri-00

@iamtheshriekingguineapig

@icyheart-and-friends

@inpainandsuffering

@interdimensional-chaos

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast

@lactose-intolerant-egg

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@littlespacecastle

@little-whumpee

@lost-in-labradorite-halls

@magziemakeswhatever

@melancholy-in-the-morning

@morning-star-whump

@myhusbandsasemni

@mylifeisonthebookshelf

@neverthelass

@nicolepascaline

@nine-tailed-whump

@no-terms-and-conditions-apply

@not-a-space-alien

@nyooom

@octopus-reactivated

@oddsconvert

@onlybadendings

@owencarvourenthusiast

@pigeonwhumps

@pumpkin-spice-whump

@quietly-by-myself

@quirkykayleetam

@ramadiiiisme

@redwhump

@scp-1296

@secretwhumplair

@the-whumperfly-effect

@the-whumpers-grimm

@thecyrulik

@thegreatwhodini

@themarlo

@thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight

@t0rture-me

@vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff

@whump-blog-reblogs

@whump-cravings

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@whump-me-all-night-long

@whump-my-heart-away

@whump-queen

@whumperfully

@whumpthisway

@whumpilicious

@whumpshaped

@whumpwillow

@whumpworld

@whumpy-writings

@whumpycries

@whumpyzombie

@whumpzone

@wits-and-wrongs

@wolfeyedwitch

#kane and jim #whump #my writing #vampire whumper #begging #recovery whump #known whumpee #needles #whump writing

[teamfortresstwo]

There’s not a specific name for what ares and Hannah experience because it’s dependent on their skills, but I’ve always considered it a branch of schizophrenia, because it certainly draws ideas from real and existing ideas. The main difference between the 2 ideas is how it’s caused/the initial onset, but most symptoms ares experiences are near identical to schizophrenia and any medication that would work for it would still work. <- sort of a disclaimer almost? I always feel a need to clarify.

Hannah’s hallucinations are mentioned to have occurred while she was with aion, but got severely worse after aion disappeared. This is because the symptoms don’t start during periods of high stress or even just in normal daily life at normal. Hannah’s symptoms started at possibly 22, while for ares it started at about 30, which is also nothing to do with how it develops. With how this specific disorder works, it exclusively starts when someone experiences times of extended lack of stress or an odd calmness. Hannah’s emotional stability balanced out when she started working with aion, because the lack of nervous or daily stimuli caused her skill to create new patterns of thought to make up for this. It’s almost like how allergies occur, the immune system believes something normal to be dangerous and tries to attack it, but the mind has a confused response to heighten relaxation. This fortunately means it only shows up when someone would likely have comfortable time and support systems to deal with it; Hannah coped well enough to keep working perfectly fine with aion until aion disappeared. The signs remain stably “uncomfortable to live with but certainly liveable” until someone falls back into stress without support, when it gets MUCH worse; causes Hannah to lose most ability to live independently. It’s much harder to recover from this point onwards.

With ares, he was never really even fully calm after he met dolos because the knowledge that people were looking for him and that they could technically bring oulixes back was always there. He was happy and capable of having a really nice life, but didn’t reach a baseline of actually fully calm enough for signs to start. After he drowns oulixes though, he feels genuinely as if no one could hurt him for the first time in his life. Without context it’d be easy to assume it’s having seen Oulixes’ corpse speaking or threatening him that did it, but it’s not. It’s how safe he felt after that was done. Now, logically, ares has support systems. He has dolos and Lilith and friends who care about him and people he can go to. It should not have hit him as hard as it did. But unfortunately, 2 key things stopped him. 1. ‘Oulixes’ convinced her that the people she cared about had limited patience; she should be better now and she’s not and soon they’re going to get fed up and stop caring. He also created a fear of appearing like Oulixes should she panic and lash out. Wrath was originally much crueler, per se, than ares, and oulixes used him as a “This is how everyone sees you. They all think you’re just like me”. 2. Ares remembers how Hannah was manipulated by oulixes because she suffered from the same thing. He only ever saw her like that. He has a very instinctive fear of telling people he suffers from the same thing because he could be manipulated, he could lose any control he has, anyone could trick him, maybe he just can’t trust anyone, even if they care they could probably do it by mistake- the fear is mainly nonsensical but with how he saw Hannah his entire life, it’s completely understandable.

yeah . 👍

Wait so: Does stress make the symptoms worse or was Hannah purposefully deprived of stimuli ?

OHHHHH . Okay yeah that’s . Really fucked up man . God that’s - yeah . Fuck .

My guys literally cannot catch a break . What if schizophrenia worked like an appendix that actively hated you .

Shit…. At least he has Zephyrus ? I appreciate that Ares goes to him because he doesn’t care about what he thinks so he’s allowed to be annoying and run his patience thin . I hope eventually he realizes Dolos and Lilith will support him anyways, especially since Zephyrus eventually runs away to America with Lucifer, hypothetically .

[lake-archive]

Track 2 - Frequent Visitors

AO3 Link

Characters (main): Doppo Kannonzaka, Reader (gender unspecified)

Pairing: Doppo/Reader

Synposis: At first it started as a few one off talks… Until the both of you became more and more used to each other and talk the evenings away. But did you ever introduce yourselves?

Previous Track - Masterlist - Next Track

The first meeting had taken place several days ago. Honestly, anyone had expected this to be a one and done deal. After all, you were a random worker who had met another at the bar. The two of you had decided to converse a little to dump the pain of your respective workplaces onto another. Nothing more and nothing less. An evening to complain about whatever came into your respective minds. It is not as if his boss would ever figure it out and neither would yours. This evening was fair game, wasn’t it? Yeah, one evening to remember but to also forget. That was what this was supposed to be – A throw–away evening. Nothing else. 

And yet, the two of you would meet each other again. And again. And there was another day where the two of you were meeting another to converse about the pains at work. Or rather the salaryman had been throwing in one thing after the other. And each time he was turning from a sulking, depressed individual into one filled with rage, boiling over from one moment to the next before exploding like a bomb and yelling through the entire bar. That or it had been the alcohol in his system making him act this way.

You were perhaps wondering how much he was going through on a daily basis. He had so much to say, so much to complain about, so much to shout from the top of his lungs. He would always insult his boss, even commenting on his bald appearance. All minor insults which could probably get him into trouble if not careful. 

But you understood, thus nodding along with each word you had heard. After all, the exhaustion can get to someone and the workplace is not kind to the simple everyday worker. You work your ass off, only to get the minimum salary. The smallest of missteps could result in a hefty cut or because your boss just felt like it. Honestly, the pain was more than understandable so you promised to never snitch… Your lips were sealed and it was all staying inside the four walls of this tiny, cramped bar. Then again, it was not as if you could snitch on him to begin with. Given that the both of you– 

“Ah– Erm… Wait… Did we ever…” You heard the salaryman mumble that day. It seemed that in this very moment the both of you had shared the exact same thought, or so was your guess perhaps. 

You decided to finish his sentence, mentioning the lack of a name. This got the redhead to lift his body up, at least a little bit and look at you all apologetic, at the brink of a panic attack perhaps. Yet before he could break out into anything like that you had managed to get a word in, just wanting him to stay calm. This wasn’t the biggest deal to you and it shouldn’t have been to him either. Besides, none of you two had asked the other before nor had even bothered with introductions to begin with so you were as much at fault as him, weren’t you?

He wanted to protest yet you would cut him off, somehow. If anything, wasn’t it the perfect timing now to introduce yourselves to each other right then and there? To make up for it?

Yeah, that's why your lips may not have hesitated to say it out loud, your name, your full name. You even reminded the salaryman to not worry about formalities, just referring to you by your first name. The two of you had gotten past the point where you two should be formal to another after all, weren’t you?

He nodded, though slowly and having been a little caught off guard. Was he not used to this? You could only guess. 

“I… It’s… Nice to get to know you.” He almost mumbled, as if trying to be overly careful with his wording. That and he was most likely tired as well, judging from the increasing bags under his eyes. He surely knew how to keep himself awake at the very least. “I… I am… Uh… Who am I again? Wait, no one forgets that! Hold on, wait! I got it! Where is it!?”

He was nervous beyond belief, wasn’t he? You wanted him to just calm down yet again yet before you could get a word out he had already pulled out a small card and shoved it into both of your hands. “H… Here!” He nearly squeaked as he faced down while having held his arms out, only to let them drop to the sides shortly after.

All you could do now was read the card he had given you, a plain business card. A name was written on it, one of the first lines. ‘Kannonzaka Doppo’. Ah, that was his name. And he works at– 

You took a look for a short moment as something had caught your eyes. What was it exactly? You dared not to word it, not seeing it as necessary. In the end all you did was give him his business card back without any further comment, only a smile gracing your face. Only the usual phrase during an introduction would come out of your mouth, something across the lines of ‘ Nice to meet you ’ or ‘ Let’s get along from now on. ’

Doppo had not expected your reaction in any way or he was simply not used to it. Though you could see him nod, an expression of relief washed over him. It was the first time you saw him making such a face. This was something you would have to get used to and yet you were as well relieved to see him like this. Less tense as well as not really on guard. If this just could happen more often… Well, maybe it will. You could give him the necessary push… Maybe. It would depend on what the future had in stock for the both of you.

“L… Likewise!” You heard him finally say alongside his more relaxed expression, with you nodding once more as reassurance. And even with all of that said there might be only one thing going through your head at that point… 

The world is a small place.

Previous Track - Masterlist - Next Track

#Nimue's Lake #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #x reader #gn reader #reader insert #hypnosis mic #hypmic #hypnosis microphone #doppo kannonzaka #kannonzaka doppo #hypmic doppo #doppo x reader #doppo kannonzaka x reader #hypmic fic #hypmic x reader

[frosteee]

Godrick Companion AU Part 1.5: A JUMPED UP COUNTRY-BUMPKIN

Sorry my part 2 of my Godrick Companion AU is taking so long! There's just so much in my brain I hardly know how to put it down! So to (hopefully) remedy this, here is one of the biggest hurdles of a journey with an angry old hermit like Godrick:

Fear.

Godrick the Semi-invalid

First thing to lay down is how isolated Godrick has been for so long. Not only has he been holed up in Stormveil, hiding from Radahn, but it's probably fair to say he didn't get out much in his former home either.

As the last of a long line of steadily weakening royal, godly blood, and the runt of the lot, he would have been a source of shame. Sickly, too. Undeniable proof that the Golden Lineage was finished. No royal house would dream of marrying their daughters off to him. He would be kept out of the way as much as possible, to avoid embarrassment. Any children (Gostoc included) that he would have had would be bastards, adding to the pile of shame and secrets.

All this to say that as much as Godrick would know a lot about the Lands Between - more than Leuthere at least, who has been away from it for a good few years - 80-90% of his knowledge would come from books, not experience. So if he was inclined to give tips and guidance (which, to begin with, he wouldn't), Godrick's brain would be slower to kick into gear because he's simply not used to using that side of his knowledge on a regular basis.

Add the fact that what little exposure he did have to the outside world was full of terror and uncertainty... yeah. All the lore in his brain would be regularly pushed down by the fear of whatever immediate death-bringing threat is before him.

Godrick, watching Leuthere sneak past a Lesser Rune Bear: "BOY! Damn thy eyes, COME BACK!"

Now he has a Tarnished dragging him through the most dangerous, inhospitable hellholes the post-Shattering world has to offer. Godrick is PETRIFIED. He can bluff as much as he wants, but the stress and anxiety will creep up sooner than later. He cannot hide it for long. In fact, fighting it makes it worse. This strain escalates into panic attacks, alarming his Tarnished companion and grinding their journey to a halt on several occasions in the early days.

In normal circumstances Godrick would rebuff sympathy and concern as pity, but there comes a point where it's too much and he begs someone to help him. As he panics, he feels his age and weakness and the reality that only one Tarnished stands between him and imminent death. He hasn't felt so helpless in a long, long time. He's spent almost his entire life to avoid it.

Now he's quite literally back at square one. He hates it. He hates Leuthere for bringing him this low. This is when Godrick is at his most hateful, doing whatever he can to impede Leuthere's journey. He lashes out on a regular basis. He wants Leuthere to die.

But if Leuthere died, Godrick would be alone, and they both know he'd be dead in minutes if that happened. Even if he managed to kill the boy and graft his limbs, Godrick would still be heavily vulnerable. The risks are just too great, out in the open, far from the seclusion of Stormveil Castle. This makes Godrick resent the Tarnished even more, that this boy has such power over him.

He doesn't appreciate Leuthere's sincere efforts to quell his anxiety. He doesn't want to accept this. He can't accept this. As far as he's concerned, Leuthere is his jailer, putting him through the terror of death on a daily basis for his own ambitions.

Leuthere is quick to remind Godrick that he did the same for countless Tarnished. Godrick stumbles on this truth, but quickly dismisses it. After all, what's a lowly Tarnished's life to him? They are subhuman, dangerous elements to most in the Lands Between, and Godrick thinks likewise. It just isn't the same. Leuthere cannot compare the lives of Tarnished to Godrick.

What to do?

Trapped in a stalemate, the two men continue on, unable to break the ice, as much as Leuthere tries. Leuthere genuinely tries to show Godrick that he's not some power-hungry destroyer, but Godrick refuses to engage beyond one-word answers or curses.

Leuthere tells the old lord about his past, his quest to put down the Bloody Fingers and their lord. His past desire to return to his parents, who he no longer knows are living or dead. He still lives in hope that Yura at least is alive, but he can find no trace of him.

Godrick has heard of the Hunter of Bloody Fingers, but does not know his location. Still, he has heard of Yura, but he is so full of spite that he refuses to say a word. He doesn't want to engage emotionally with Leuthere at all.

He wants to go home. Even though he doesn't rightly know where home is anymore.

Leuthere begins to silently despair. What can he do? He knows Godrick is a miserable soul, and that there is an argument for Godrick deserving the further misery he is experiencing. But Leuthere isn't a cruel man. He doesn't want to be Godrick's jailer. He doesn't want this journey to be harder on either of them than it needs to be.

He wants there to be hope for the both of them. If there's hope for someone like Godrick, there's hope for his mother, Eleanora, despite the blood on her hands. He begins to understand, as he travels, how everyone he meets are, somehow or other, desperately clinging to acceptance and salvation from the only place they believe it exists. He is beginning to understand that to have a hope of challenging these greater forces, he needs to reach out to the people who follow them first.

He may have entered the Lands Between alone, but he is not alone anymore. He has Godrick, unwilling as he is, and he has so many people around him now.

There is hope.

[Part 1.]

#Godrick the Grafted #Companion AU #Godrick Companion AU #AU #Elden Ring #ER #Leuthere #Leuthere the Tarnished

[lovemesomesurveys]

Have you ever cheated at a card game?

I probably have as a kid. I’m not one to get all super competitive like I wanna play for fun and how the game is meant to be played.

Tell me what colors you’re wearing right now?

Blue.

Have you ever wandered around drunk with your friend?

Yeah to like Dennys or somewhere close to us to eat. A few pancakes, coffee, or late night Taco Bell run were the best.

Are you longing for the day that you’ll be an adult? (If you’re not already)

I’m almost 33 so I’ve been an adult for awhile, but I definitely wasn’t the kid who was in a rush to grow up and yeah I still don’t want it take it back. Let me be a kid again.

Have you ever felt like your heart actually stopped?

Yes.

Are you a fast runner?

Not anymore but there was a time in what feels like a lifetime ago that I was. I used to have great upper body strength.

What’s something you’ve vowed to never eat?

ive never vowed to not eat something but theres a lot of foods that i dont like haha<<< Same. And foods I have no interest in trying.

Are you good at holding back your laughter if needed?

Yes.

Do any of your friends shamelessly burp or fart in public?

—

When was the last time you had a good cry?

I could use that. I want time alone, but that’s hard to do when you’re in the hospital.

Has anyone ever told you they wanted to marry you?

No.

Have you ever had a “thumb war” with someone? Yeah.

Have you ever been so unfortunate to suffer from a hangover?

Yes. The worst was the one that made me over alcohol completely. It’s been like 10 years now, haven’t missed it at all. Not to say I never had a good time drinking, but honestly my main reason was cause that’s what my friends often liked to do and I chose to join in. I could have done without and been fine but I went along with it. That was on me. And like I said, we had fun. That’s the only time I drank, though, just socially.

If you need a job, will you take whatever you can get?

I guess it would depend on my situation. Ideally of course I wouldn’t want to just settle. I’d try to keep looking and figure out options.

Time goes by faster as you get older, don’t you find?

Yes.

Have you ever had a panic attack?

We’re well acquainted.

Are you deathly allergic to anything?

No.

Have you ever had a mouse in your house?

Gahhh, yes.

Do you know what you want for your dream house?

I just know I want a beach house.

Have you ever seen the movie the Notebook?

Nope.

If you download torrents, what torrent program do you use?

i dont download torrents anymore <<< Me either. It’s been several years now.

If you go to school, will this year be different?

I’ve been done with school since 2015.

Do you know anyone who DOESN’T have an ex?

Probably.

Are you able to count to ten in another language?

Yes, in Spanish.

Is there something you know you have to do, but haven’t done it yet?

I’ve put off too many things.

Is anyone you know really religious?

Yes.

Can you sing?

Nope.

Have you ever read “Gone With the Wind”?

No.

Are your eyebrows naturally thick?

Yes.

Have you ever attempted to cut your own hair?

I used to cut my bangs but that’s it.

Has speaking in front of people ever made you sick?

I always got the worst anxiety and dreaded every presentation. No matter how many times I did then throughout school it didn’t get easier.

Have you ever wanted to tell someone how you felt, but never did?

Oh, definitely. That was usually the case.

What was the last movie that made you teary-eyed?

I don’t recall at the moment.

Do you check your email daily?

Yes.

Have you ever breathed in helium?

No, I’ve always been to scared to try lol.

Do you try to be confident and positive about your future?

:/

When was the last time you felt disappointed in yourself?

I’ve felt that way for a long time, but especially now. I had been so incredibly stupid and it cost me a lot.

Have you ever owned a garden?

No.

Who was the last person to text you?

My mom.

Have you had two friends that absolutely hated each other?

Yes.

Do you ever find yourself trying to be the referee amongst your friends?

Yes.

Has a laptop ever burned your legs?

Actually, yes. I’m paralyzed waist down so I don’t feel my legs and I’ve made some mistakes of placing things not knowing it was too hot. I have to be really conscious of that.

Do you know anyone who has a scar through their eyebrow?

My mom does.

Who was the last person to flip you off?

*shrug *

Are you doing anything the day after tomorrow?

Same as everyday.

Anyone’s birthday coming up soon?

Mine at the end of the month.

Would you ever wear fake eyelashes?

I have.

Do you make the effort to smile at people?

No :x

Are you good at following directions?

I think so?

Have you ever just screamed really loud in an attempt to feel better?

Tempting at times. I’m a writer, though. I need to vent and ramble and do so a lot better in the written form.

Are you in any way, still a child at heart?

Yes.

Quality triumphs over quantity, correct?

I think so.

Have you ever danced when there was no music playing?

Yeah.

Do you have someone that you can just act a fool with and not care?

Around my family.

From where you’re sitting, can you touch a wall?

No.

Have you received a text today that made you go “wtf”?

No.

When at a restaurant, do you put your napkin on your lap?

No.

Are you even feeling the least bit tired?

I’m quite tired, but what’s new?

Is there currently any caffeine or alcohol in your system?

I wish I had caffeine. I miss coffee so much.

Do you prefer electric or manual pencil sharpeners?

I don’t care.

Are your biceps at all noticeable?

I have no muscle tone anymore.

Have you ever seen a walrus?

Yeah, many times.

When it comes to dropping food, do you believe in the 10 second rule?

I don’t follow any second rule if it falls on the ground I’m done.

If given the opportunity, would you ride on a camel?

No.

Do you believe that cellphones actually do cause cancer?

It says that on a lot of things. You’ll see the sign about cancer causing chemicals at various places, too.

When people you know cry, does it make you feel like crying too?

Yes, I feel horrible. It hurts me to see others hurt.

Were you single last Valentine’s Day?

Yeah, and every Valentine’s Day.

Do you tend to jump to conclusions?

Unfortunately.

Are you good at remembering your friends’ birthdays?

Yeah.

Is there something you need to do, that you’re trying to avoid doing?

Yes, but I can’t. I’ll have to do it.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

[winter-soldier-vibes]

hi! request for one where reader struggles w depression a lot but hides it, tho it’s been getting worse recently and only bucky has noticed the small signs. then one night after no one seeing her the whole day or maybe something happened he went to check on her but she wasn’t in her room and he panics only to find her on the roof and just talks her down <3 all the love

Of course! I hope you're okay love❤❤❤. I saw another anon request something a lil similar in my ask box but I can't find it, maybe it got eaten, but I hope you like this!

Word count: 3,400 (ish)

Warnings: suicidal thoughts, depression, close to an attempt, Bucky talks about HYDRA, feelings of worthlessness.

A/N: This deals with very heavy subject matter, please do not read if you are in a dark place. I am here to talk if you want but I encourage you that if you feel this way in ANY way, no matter how severe, to reach out to someone. I also just wanted to say that the way someone talks someone down is never the same, some people may find a different approach more helpful or realistic. I wrote it this way because this is what I feel in my experience would have been helpful to hear. So please, if you don’t think it’s the way someone should talk someone down - please don’t come at me for it.

Overnight

People often don’t notice the small signs. The smiles that don’t reach the eyes, the dark circles from lack of sleep, the laughs that slowly become more forced. People don’t often pick up on those things right away. They happen slowly, as depression will often manifest. It’s rarely ever a flip of a switch shut down, happy one day and sad the net. Anxiety was like that, small things can trigger panic attacks. But with depression, it was this slow ache that grew in your chest, this dull cloud that made everything darker day by day.

These things rarely happen overnight.

You don’t know what caused this episode. You had struggled with depression and would go through some really low episodes before returning to baseline. It was never great, but it was...manageable. Most of the time. Some things could help you predict when you would go into another episode but you felt yourself slipping and you weren’t quite sure why.

You started withdrawing from the team. Subtly, not all at once. That would cause too much concern and the last thing you wanted was to be a burden. Especially with something like this, you didn’t even have an explanation.

It started slow, training on your own, missing team dinners, that sort of thing. If they were going out to celebrate or staying in for a movie you would slip away to your room where you didn’t have to worry about hiding it.

You didn’t want to be alone, you already felt so goddamn lonely. But somehow being lonely and surrounded by people who loved you hurt more.

The team chalked it up to you wanting to be alone, a bad day, being tired, etc. Whatever recycled excuse you gave them didn’t phase them. At least, not at first.

See, people who have experienced similar things will pick up in the small signs that others show. Someone who knows what anxiety is like will often be the first to pick up on nervous habits and tics. Often people notice when someone’s energy is coming from adrenaline and caffeine rather than sleep when they’ve done the same thing. Someone who knows what it’s like to feel hopeless and not want to reach out - they notice the small signs of withdrawing.

He noticed pretty early on the change in your demeanor. You had always been one to keep to yourself but this was different. You always seemed exhausted in a way that sleep couldn’t ever fix. Your laugh wasn’t quite the way it used to be, now forced and short, not the usual bubbly laugh it was.

Most people are able to just live and go about daily functions - eating, sleeping - it just came naturally to them. Surviving was natural to them. But it seemed like you had to put thought and effort into surviving.

Which, you were.

Slowly it became hard to motivate yourself to do the basic things to take care of yourself. You would do the bare minimum because you had to, but even that was starting to take more effort than it should. You were eating less because you just weren’t that hungry, but you still did because you knew if you didn’t you’d get sick eventually. You spent as much time in your bed as possible, but not much of it was sleeping.

Bucky picked up on these things and came up to talk to you about them, but you’d smile and shake your head.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just a little tired I guess.”

You weren’t lying, you were tired - emotionally more than physically.

Tired of more than what the day brought - tired of yourself, of your emotions. Tired of the way you felt so out of touch with yourself, out of control. Tired of how you wanted to get better but no matter what you did, it still came back. You were so tired of being exhausted all the time and there was nothing you could do about it.

You were tired of living this way.

You weren’t necessarily suicidal, it wasn’t that you didn’t want to live. You just didn’t want to live this life, not like this. You were so utterly exhausted day in and day out, every day was about getting to the end of it. Everything seemed pointless and you felt like you were watching life go by but you weren’t living it.

You were surviving. And you didn’t see much of a point to it anymore.

Your mask was cracking. And people were noticing.

Maybe it was when you were falling asleep during mission briefings, or nearly passing out in training because you had forgotten to eat. Maybe it was how no one saw you anywhere that wasn’t necessary. The team passed it off as a bad day or week, something you would get over because you were strong.

But apparently not the strong that you needed to be. You could fight off agents, assassins, you could run for miles. But you couldn’t stop your mind from telling you that life was pointless and you were a waste of space. But the team wrote it off as a bad week. But Bucky knew that this had been going on for much longer than a week.

These things rarely happen overnight.

Too many people were asking you if you were okay, and you weren’t, but you didn’t know how to say it. But you thought that if you had to choke out one more “I’m fine,” you would shatter. And you weren’t ready for everyone to see that.

You stopped coming out of your room unless it was for the bare necessities. You would come out at night for water and food, picking at it in your room so that no one would see you.

But that only made Bucky worry more.

The team, again, wrote it off as you needing some “Alone time” because maybe you just had a “bad day”. Of course they worried about you but they thought that if things were bad, or if there was something you needed help with, you would speak up. Because that’s what you did.

But Bucky was worried. He knew that when someone pushes people away, they may think being alone will help, but it only makes it worse. You may not want to talk to anyone, you may think being alone is what’s best. But it rarely is.

Being alone makes it harder to fight your demons. They can run rampant when given the chance. Being alone is the darkest and loneliest hell, and he knew that all too well.

He wasn’t going to leave you alone in that.

He came up to your room one night, wanting to check on you. He knocked on your door, being met with silence. He knocked again, calling your name, but was again met with silence. He tried the doorknob and found it unlocked, opening the door to an empty room.

Where the hell were you?

You weren’t anywhere else in the tower, so where were you?

Bucky stood there for a moment, confused before he remembered the AI system. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.Where's y/n?”

“I believe that they were heading up to the rooftop about a half-hour ago.”

Bucky’s eyes widened as he sprinted out the hallway and towards the stairs.

---

You looked out over the street, arms crossed over your shivering body. For now, you just looked down at the city below. You chuckled bitterly to yourself. There must have been thousands of people down there, thousands of lives, and you wondered how many people felt the way you did right now. So much hustle and bustle, things to do and places to be. You didn’t know a single person down there, it was just a blur of movement. Yet they all had their own personal stories and hells and blessings and shit that made them who they were.

You wondered how many of them pretended like they were fine.

You were standing closer to the edge than you should’ve been. You weren’t doing yourself any favors. You really shouldn’t be up here, but you didn’t know what else to do. Everything hurt all the time and it was just getting worse. You didn’t know whether or not you were gonna jump but here you were, teetering on the edge. Because no matter how much this hurt you still couldn’t bring yourself to fall forward.

You were scared.

You felt tears sting your eyes, angry, exhausted, everything - you couldn’t do anything right anymore, you felt no purpose, you were tired and scared all of the time. You felt so utterly done with everything, yet here you were with a way out and you were too scared of that too.

You were trapped in your body, trapped in your life, and while you didn’t want to die, you didn’t want it to hurt anymore. It wasn’t that you had nothing to live for. It wasn’t that you had nothing left. You knew you did, you knew the team was there for you. You had more support than you could ever need. But you didn’t know how to use them.

You didn’t even know how this happened. How did things get this bad? You remembered when you were happy, the person you used to be. The person everyone still seemed to think you were. Where did they go? What happened to them? And would you ever be able to be that person again?

Did it even matter? Would anyone even care or notice? They did a great job at ignoring what had been happening. Not that you wanted them to find out in the first place. It was so confusing, you wanted to scream for help, you wanted someone to just fucking notice or something. But didn’t you also answer every single “Are you okay?” with "Oh yeah I’m fine, just a little tired.”

So did you truly want them to know? Did you actually want them to notice or help?

You closed your eyes tightly, shaking your head a little to yourself. It was all so confusing, so frustrating. You didn’t know what to do. You felt completely trapped within yourself.

These things rarely happen overnight. And they never get better overnight either.

You took a breath as you looked down, toes slightly off of the ledge. One step or losing your balance would be all it would take. And then it would be over. Forever. It wouldn’t hurt anymore.

“Y/n?” you heard a calm, albeit nervous voice speak from behind you.

You felt your breath catch in your throat. As you squeezed your eyes shut. “No,” you whispered to yourself.

“Y/n, can you come down from there?”

“Why are you here?” you asked, voice strained with pain.

“Because I’m worried about you,” he said, voice sounding closer.

“I don’t want you to be worried about me! I never wanted anyone to worry about me!” you exclaimed.

“And where did not talking about what was bothering you get you?”

“No one would ever have to worry about me again. Not anymore.”

“No one on the team would ever be able to stop thinking about you,” Bucky started, walking closer to you. He spoke gently, worried he would scare you or you would suddenly jump off. “About how we should’ve worried about you. Everyone would blame themselves and ask themselves if they could’ve helped you if they had seen you were hurting.”

You heard his footsteps stop.

“This isn’t going to solve anything.”

You took a shaky breath. “What else am I supposed to do, huh?” you turned around, back facing the streets below as Bucky stood a few feet in front of you. “Pretend like this is gonna get better? Because it isn’t. I’m so sick and tired of pretending like one day everything’s gonna be okay again. It never stops hurting, it never turns off, and I can’t do it anymore!” you yelled, tears streaming down your face. You shook your head. “I know this won’t solve jack shit and it probably makes me weak, but I’m okay with that. Because I’m past the point of wanting to solve anything. I just want it to stop! Is that too much to ask?!”

“It is if your life is the price!” Bucky exclaimed. “We can’t lose you. You’re a part of this team - this family,” he said a little more calmly, trying to keep his own tears at bay. No one should go through feeling so hopeless, and you were one of the kindest people he knew.

But some of the most kind-hearted people are the meanest people to themselves.

“I’m not here to judge you or try to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. I’m not gonna tell you life is all beauty and grace because it isn’t. It’s okay to be in pain but this is not the way to fix it. I just wanna help you.”

You shook your head. “No one can help me.”

“At least let me try,” he said gently.

“You don’t understand okay? It never stops hurting,” you said, voice cracking slightly. “It always hurts and it's this ache in my chest and I feel like I’m suffocating. No one told me that life was going to hurt, no one fucking told me! They say life isn’t fair, or that life may sometimes bring you down, but they never said that existing would be torture. And I don’t want to keep living if it’s going to hurt this much.”

You saw Bucky’s face fall and you shook your head. “Please just go - You weren’t supposed to see this.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’d rather see you at your worst than not see you at all,” he said. “You don’t have to do this yourself. I know it may seem like you do but you don’t. You never had to, and you never will have to. You have me, us, the team - we’re all here for you but we can’t if you don’t let us. But I’m not leaving you. You’ve been alone for too long already.”

You felt a new lump in your throat, feeling overwhelmed. Trapped between death and your worst nightmare. You never wanted to be vulnerable, you never wanted to hurt anyone with your own pain. But hearing Bucky’s words, seeing the panic in his eyes -

You had already hurt him. And he was right - killing yourself was only going to hurt the team more.

But it just hurt so much.

You had heard it so many times - “think about the impact you’ll have on those you love”, or how “suicide is selfish” and shit - made you feel like a horrible person. Because you did care about everyone, you cared too much. And it wasn’t that you didn’t care about hurting them with your decision - it was just that the pain of staying alive began outweighing the fear of hurting those you loved.

And it was torture.

You wanted to say everything that was on your mind - scream and cry and curse the universe, you wanted to break something, you wanted to be hugged, held, and told it would be okay - you wanted to get everything out.

You didn’t want to be alone anymore.

You’ve been alone for too long already.

You let out a broken sob, knees going weak as Bucky caught you and pulled you into his chest, away from the edge.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you said between sobs.

“I know you don’t, I know,” Bucky said, holding you tightly as if he feared you would disappear if he let you go.

Sticks and stones can break your bones but words can never hurt me was utter bullshit. Because the next words that came out of your mouth hurt Bucky more than anything HYDRA had done to him.

“Please just let me die. Why won’t you let me die? I just wanna die, please just let this be over.”

People didn’t realize what depression could do to a person. Someone who was full of life could end up like this. You don’t know what went wrong or when it happened, but you just felt absolutely broken inside. The kind of broken that can’t be fixed.

Bucky felt his heart shatter, tears falling down his own cheeks at how hopeless you had sounded. He had never been overly close with you, but you were always kind to everyone on the team. And the team had failed you by not noticing sooner.

“I’m gonna bring you inside okay?” Bucky said. You didn’t hear him, crying so hard that you couldn’t focus on anything else. He picked you up, carrying you back into the tower. Bucky brought you back to your room, sitting down on your bed with you. He rubbed a hand up and down your back, holding you tightly as he tried to help you calm down.

Exhaustion overtook you, your body becoming worn out from all of the crying and emotions. You never let your guard down like that in front of anyone, and shame began to overtake you.

“I - I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have seen that I’m so so sorry -”

“Don’t,” he started. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“No one was supposed to know,” you whispered.

“Why not? What’s so bad about asking for help?”

You paused for a moment, unsure exactly why. “I don’t know - I just feel really weak sometimes?” you said, more of a question to yourself. “Like I know everyone needs help and shit but I didn’t have a reason to need it. It hurts but I don’t know why, I cry when I’m not sad, I just - I’m not in control of myself and I don’t know why and if I can’t explain it to myself then how am I supposed to talk to anyone about it?”

“That makes more sense than you think. All of us on the team, we all go through shit. We see so many horrible things, we’ve been through so many things. We all have something. You have this. It’s okay if you don’t know why you feel the way you do but hurting yourself isn’t going to help anything.”

“I know what it’s like, wanting a way out,” Bucky said and you immediately knew what he was talking about. “Days that I wished Pierce or Rumlolw or whoever would just finish me rather than punish me over and over. It wasn’t that I wanted to die, I just wanted it to stop.”

You looked at him. “I know. But what I didn’t know then was that it would end. I never thought it could ever end or that it would ever end, but it did. And if I had died back then I would’ve died only knowing that pain. I wouldn’t have known that it could get better or that it would. And I’m not saying everything is perfect now because it’s not. But it’s better than it was. Okay?”

You nodded, fresh tears spilling out of your eyes. You knew the torture that Bucky went through, everyone on the team did. It had taken him a long time to speak about it on his own and move through it. But he did.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” you said.

“Talking about it, getting it out is a great start. Talking about it never hurt anyone.” When you seemed a little apprehensive, Bucky added, “I felt alone for so long. Battling these thoughts and memories in my head. They never stopped. But when I started talking about it with someone, and they helped me work through it - I don’t know. It helped me a lot. It wasn’t just me and my thoughts anymore. I wasn’t alone.”

I wasn’t alone

“You don’t have to be alone anymore. I’m not going anywhere. Whether you like it or not I’m gonna be right here with you

These things rarely get better overnight. But maybe with someone else, they could get better a little bit quicker.

You gave a small nod. “Okay.”

---

Taglist: @buckys2thicc @babydaddy-buckybarnes @thatfangirl42 @im-sick-of-failing @sup--ernova @peggycarter-steverogers @bucks-bunny @barnesplums @mardema @abitgryffindorky @freigeistundanderes @strawberrimae @broadwaybabe18 @sokovianheadtilt @daydreaming-lightly @onyourgoddamnleft @arkhamasylumresident

be added to my tag list!

main masterlist

#bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #bucky barnes comfort #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #angst angst angst #angst #marvel fanfic #mcu #marvel #marvel fanfiction #mcu fic #mcu fanfiction #tw suicidal #tw depressive

[yuurivoiceincorporated]

Any chance we can get Finn (and maybe Al if you feel like it) with a listener who has SEVERE pollen allergies. Like, they have several prescription meds that they take daily as well at emergency OTC meds, just to be outside, and in this situation, around Finn. (I may be projecting… ragweed season is coming…) Maybe he figures it out when they have a particularly bad allergy attack at the shop or he notices the pill bottles on the counter in their house. I’m curious to how he’d react both initially as well as after the initial shock. Thank you so much! I really enjoy your Lucian works! You’re very talented! ☺️

Pollen Pills

-Finn x reader

-gender neutral reader

-mentions of allergies

“Finn’s shop is nice”, you thought. “I won’t have a bad allergic reaction in front of him that causes him to panic. Yeah, no, no, no, everything’s fine.”

You walked into the shop, the door chimed loudly.

“Oh! Hello, my orchid. How are you?”

You looked around. There’s flowers upon flowers upon flowers! Surely enough to trigger an allergy. Throat closing up, nasal congestion…you shivered at the thought.

“I’m fine! Great, actually. How are you, Finn?”

“I’m doing just fine! I got a new shipment of seeds in today! And I’ve made plenty of bouquets. Today’s been productive, I guess.”

“Th—that’a great, yeah, no, great,” you awkwardly laughed.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Finn studied your expression, like you were a museum painting.

He brushed a little bit of hair out of your face.

“Jeez, your face is red! And hot…your eyes are watering. Hmm…”

You quickly pulled away and avoided his gaze.

“Nothing’s wrong!” You sneezed. “Everything is fine! I’m great!” You sniffled.

Finn furrowed his brow. “Yeah, I’m not buying it. Looks like allergies. What are you allergic to?”

The jig was up. Finn is unfortunately too smart for his own good.

“…Pollen.”

Silence filled the air.

“P-p-p-pollen! W-h-what are you doing here then! I’ll move the flowers this instant! Do you have any meds on hand???” He felt your forehead. “Your temperature is a little high, oh no! I touched flowers! I touched you! Ah! Okay, okay…”

It was cute seeing him all flustered.

“Relax flower boy, I have my meds right here.”

In your hand was a small bottle. You shook it slightly.

Finn exhaled with relief. “Thank goodness. Okay, go take your meds. I’ll get all this out of your way.”

You took your pills.

Finn came back with a glass of water.

“I don’t know if this will help, but it’s here if you need it.”

“Thanks, Finn.”

…

“So, why did you come here if you had a pollen allergy?”

“I don’t know, honestly. I just wanted to spend time with you, that’s all.”

“But, we could spend time together, you know, in a way that isn’t putting you in danger. I love you, and I can’t risk hurting you, even if it is for my sake.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. For now, we can spend our time playing games. Ooh! I got these cards right over here…”

He pulled out a basic deck of cards.

“We can play any game you want.”

#yuurivoice #x listener #x reader #yuurivoice finn

[going-dead]

Lightning Scars and Listening Ears

Phic phight prompt by @datawyrms : Danny Phantom's jumpsuit is hiding a secret he'd rather not reveal to anyone. (feel free to be metaphorical if you want.) l

Team Human: @currentlylurking​

Most citizens of Amity Park often forgot that Phantom wasn’t human. Sure he would fly through the skies, turn invisible, and shoot ectoplasm at the ghosts who would attack the city on a daily basis, but the way he acted when not saving the city always seemed so alive. That’s where the problem lied though. The ghost kid wasn’t alive, a fact that Amity Park never actually thought much about.

Phantom was playing around with some kids in the park when it all happened. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence to see the boy play with the younger citizens of the city, under their parents supervision most of the time. Seeing him give them piggyback rides and playing tag was actually a common sight when there were no ghosts to fight. Phantom had six different kids hanging off of his arms and legs, apparently trying to tackle him and get him to fall down. The group of parents laughed at the sight as the teenage hero fell to the ground admitting his defeat in a dramatic flourish. “Ahh you got me! Foul villains, you will regret this!” He laughed as he lunged at the closest kid and launched a tickle attack. Childish squeels rang out as the uncaptured children ran trying to avoid being tickled. The little girl in his arms was finally released from her attacker when she turned on Phantom and started to tickle him back. His laughter attracted the other kids who scattered and they joined the counter attack.

“I yield I yield!” He flailed his arms as a dozen little hands tickled any spot they could reach. The kids slowly let up their assault leaving the teen gasping for breath.

One of the children, the girl who started the attack on Phantom, pulled on his arm. “Mr. Phantom? What’s that did you get a owie?” She asked pointing to his neck where part of his jumpsuit wrinkled down revealing a few red raised streaks maring his skin.

Phantom froze eyes jumping over to the adults just a few feet over who had stopped their conversation to try to see what the young girl was asking about. He quickly pulled the collar of his suit back into place. He gave the girl and the other kids surrounding him a pained smile. “Yeah I did get an owie. Don’t worry though I’m fine, doesn’t even hurt anymore.” Suddenly blue frost escaped his lips, the adults sitting nearby never saw him more relieved to have a ghost show up than in that moment. He gave quick goodbyes to the kids before shooting off to find the day's threat to the city.

All the adults gathered waved over their respective kids. While they trusted Phantom to get rid of the threat it was always smart to stay inside during a ghost attack. A loud boom sounded in the direction where Phantom flew off, shaking the ground. They all gave each other uncertain looks. “My house is closest we can take shelter there.” One of the men said leading everyone away.

After a block of running the group was almost to shelter when the ghost fight moved over their heads. The adults grabbed onto the children doing their best to shield them from the flying debris. They held the kids against their chests as they watched the sky in horror. They didn’t recognize the attacking ghost, but it was certainly doing a number on Phantom. The rest of the battle lasted at most a minute when Phantom managed to suck up the ghost into his thermos before he seemed to wobble in the sky and falling to the ground creating a small crater where he landed.

The man who was leading the group passed off the kid he was holding to the man next to him. “David what are you-?”

“Brian just hold her.” He ran over to the fallen teen and picked him up in a fireman's carry and rushed the rest of the way to his house.

Once he arrived he kicked open the door and placed the teen onto the couch in his living room. He looked down trying to assess the situation. Phantom’s jumpsuit was torn in numerous places exposing spots of his arms, neck, and chest that had splatterings of green ectoplasm across the exposed flesh. He started taking the rest of the jumpsuit off of the teen wanting to make sure there were no hidden injuries underneath. Behind him he could hear his husband and the other parents come through the door. “Get me a wet rag and some warm water!” He yelled behind him.

Once he was handed the items he started working on cleaning up the cuts and wiping off the ectoplasm. He silently thanked any higher being out there that he took a first aid class a few years back. The wounds actually seemed less severe than what David initially thought, that or the kid had some seriously advanced healing. One of the parents led the kids upstairs while the rest of them crowded around David and Phantom.

Once Phantom was as patched up as he could be David finally sat back and actually took a full look at the boy. His breath caught in his throat as he examined the body infront of him. In the end all he could get out was.“Oh my god. He’s- he’s dead.”

“What the hell do you mean? Of course he’s not, I can clearly see him breathing right now.” One of the parents protested.

David shook his head. “No.” He went to run his hands down his face before spotting the blood- no the ectoplasm covering them and settled for grabbing onto his husband for support. “No, I mean he’s a ghost.”

“Well yeah he’s a ghost it’s not like that’s news now is it?” Brian said running his hand up and down his husband's back.

“You guys don’t get it.” David pulled back. “Think! Look!” He ran his hand through his hair, staining it green. “Look at him.” He pointed at the teen’s unconscious body. There were lightning shaped scars running all over the boy’s body, from the base of his neck trailing all the way down to his ankles. Those weren’t the only scars marring his body though, small scars were scattered all over his body, there was a rather large one on his abdomen in the same spot where he was hit the other week fighting off a ghost who was attacking the high school. The gathered adults looked back at Phantom’s face. As he slept he almost looked like a normal teenager, there were small bags under his eyes, his closed eyes hid the toxic green color, and the glow surrounding him was almost nonexistent.

Three things seemed to dawn on the parents all at once.

1: Phantom at some point had died

2: He died young, at most he was just out of middle school when it happened.

3: From the looks of it he didn’t die in his sleep but painfully. They all silently hoped that at least it wasn’t drawn out.

As they all looked at each other they couldn’t help but think of their own children who were just upstairs. Did Phantom have a family? Did his parents miss their little boy? Do they know that Phantom was their son? Even worse, the boy had a jumpsuit on when he died, was his parents the cause of his premature death?

Of course if Phantom was conscious, didn’t have to worry about the whole identity thing, and could read their minds the boy would quickly put their minds to rest responding; yes, no he sees them daily, god no, and sorta it really was more of a case of teenage stupidity than his parents fault though.

Two of those issues though were quickly resolved as two white rings shocked the group out of their grief for a boy they hardly knew. The rings traveled across the boy’s body replacing bare skin with street clothes and white hair with black. Everyone looked at Phantom(?) confused, the boy in front of them was very unghost-like and the scratch on his face that was previously bleeding green now had a red where the scab was forming.

“What the fu- wait isn’t that the Fenton kid, Danny I think?” David asked looking back at the other parents who were in the same amount of shock that he was. Actually he was positive it was him, his older sister Jazz used to babysit their daughter and he would sometimes come along. If someone was going to respond they were cut off as the boy in front of them started to stir and open his eyes. He sat up almost falling off the couch in his panic, thankfully David was quick enough to catch him. “Woah there Danny, be careful you took a pretty bad beating out there. Hell I’m surprised you’re already awake to be honest kid.”

Danny gave him a thankful smile as he steadied himself. He froze once he caught a glimpse of his hair, his eyes shot down to his clothes. He looked back up and noticed the group of adults in front of him. “Now before you jump to any conclusions there’s a very reasonable explanation for this, or there will be just give me a few minutes.” “Wait so does this mean you’re not dead?” Brian asked.

“Brian you can’t just ask that! What if it’s a sensitive subject?” David scolded his husband then looked over at Danny. “Sorry about him.”

Danny looked over to the men who for some reason had hope in their eyes. “What? It’s fine. I mean I guess no- well yes- no- sorta- it’s complicated.”

As Danny looked at the numerous questioning eyes he sighed. It’s not like he could convince them that it was a trick of the light or something. And he did owe them since they patched him up better than he would have been able to at home in his bedroom. But before he could start he turned to David. “I’ll tell you guys everything but first um… is that my ectoplasm in your hair and on your hands? Because if so you probably should wash that off, prolonged exposure isn’t harmful per say but you could start to glow or something if you don’t wash it off soon.”

David looked down to his hands, apparently just now remembering he was still covered in the boy’s ectoplasm and rushed to the bathroom to wash it off. He’d worry about why the sight of his own blood- ectoplasm didn’t phase Danny at all later.

Once David returned, now free of ectoplasm, Danny sat down and started from the beginning. At one point in the story he must have started to cry because he was handed a tissue box, which he accepted with a thanks. By the end he wasn’t the only one with tears in his eyes, one of the adults had to go into the kitchen to compose themselves. Danny didn’t really understand why though, sure he sort of half died, but he didn’t see why it would affect any of them. “Hey! It’s fine, I’m fine it’s not a big deal! I mean it’s not like it only happened to me. Vlad went through it too like 20 years ago.” Danny seized up after he said that. “Don’t tell him you know about him though! Me not telling anyone about him is the only reason he’s not trying to fully kill me when we fight. That and he has a weird obsession with my mom and me.”

David paused at that. “So you’re telling us that not only did you go through a highly traumatic situation at a young age, but the only adult that even knows about it has tried to kill you multiple times?”

“I mean I guess but Jazz, my sister, knows about it too and she’s older than me and my friends.”

“Danny she’s also still a kid, an older one sure, but she is not an adult. Even if you didn’t go to your parents, was there no one else you could have talked to about it with? A therapist maybe?” David asked.

Danny laughed. “Ah no, Jazz tried having me go to the school therapist but she turned out to be a ghost who wanted to try to cause as much pain as possible. She even almost killed Jazz in front of the whole school.”

“Dear god.” David sighed. “All right, we will all keep your secret on one condition.”  Danny cringed and looked down at his lap, of course there was a catch. He just hoped it wasn’t anything too bad like letting them run a bunch of experiments on him whenever they wanted to. His ghost injuries were bad enough to hide from others, he didn’t need to have to explain away needle marks or something. “You’ll see Brian once a week for therapy sessions. He’s a licensed psychiatrist.”

“Wait what?” Danny looked up confused.

“Oh don’t worry I won’t charge you of course since we are forcing you to do this, and obviously you can choose the day of the week. I usually don't work fridays or the weekends but if those are the only days that work I’m sure we can rearrange some of our family time to make room for you.” Brian smiled. “Now it’s getting pretty late isn’t it? I’m sure it’s about time everyone here starts to head home now hmm? Of course if you aren’t feeling well enough Danny I can call your parent’s up and just let them know you’ll be staying here. I’ll just tell them you were injured in a ghost fight, not exactly lying now is it?”

“Um no I’m fine enough to walk home thank you though.” Danny said. Everyone started saying their goodbyes and calling the children down to get them ready to leave. Danny was the last one left, he was almost out the door when he was stopped by David handing him a piece of paper.

“Here are our numbers, I also wrote down where Brian’s office is, you can set up your appointment over text. As well as our address, you can stop by or call us for any reason Danny and I mean it okay, any.”

Danny looked down at the paper and pocketed it with a nod. As he left he felt almost lighter for some reason. Maybe having adults who knew and didn’t want to kill him but actually wanted to help him wasn’t so bad after all.

#Danny phantom #phic phight 21 #Phic Phight #dead writes #My fic

[ejzah]

A/N: Happy early birthday to @mashmaiden. 🥳 🎂 🎉 Thanks for being a great friend! Per her request, we have another angsty continuation of my recent post-Sidorov story. I hope you all enjoy.

***

A Cry For Help

Kensi checked the dismantled rifle on her coffee table for any lingering gun powder residue. Of course there wasn’t any after her thorough and methodical cleaning. Satisfied, she started reassembling the weapon while the latest episode of “The Real Housewives” played in the background.

Her phone started ringing and she reached over to grab it, automatically pressing the accept button when she saw Deeks’ name on the screen.

“Hey Deeks, what’s up?” Kensi asked, expecting to hear one of his many nicknames and an attempt to lure her from her apartment. “I thought you were joining some of your old college buddies for drinks.” There was a notable silence over the line, followed by a sharp inhale. “Deeks?” Kensi repeated, dropping her joking tone immediately.

“Um, I’m, I’m not doing so great right now,” Deeks managed, taking several breaths between words. His voice sounded hoarse and strained.

“Ok, what do you need?” Kensi got up, already reaching for her keys and phone. There was another ragged breath before Deeks spoke again.

“Sidorov laughed. I keep hearing the way he laughed while they were…oh god, I can’t breath.”

“Ok, Deeks it’s going to be alright,” Kensi said quickly, running out of the house before her shoes were fully on. She fought back her own rising panic; Deeks needed her to be calm and collected. “Just take deep breaths and I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Deeks made a sound that might have been a sign of assent or further distress before her phone beeped, indicating the call had ended.

As she pulled out of her parking place and barreled down the street, Kensi tried to recall everything she knew about panic attacks. Most of what she’d gleaned during her time with Jack, came via google and her scanning every book she’d kept from psych classes.

Unfortunately, with Jack’s, and her own to a certain degree, general distrust of therapists and psychologists, she’d had little formal help. Kensi wasn’t about to let the same happen to Deeks though. She would help him.

Driving at top speed, Kensi reached Deeks’ apartment in 23 minutes. Even that felt too long. She used her spare key to let herself in and found the apartment almost completely dark.

“Deeks!” She called out gently, not wanting to startle him.

“I’m in here,” he responded in a subdued voice. Like before on the phone, his answer was delayed. She flipped on a light and made her way through the living room to his bedroom.

The lighting was just as dim, but she saw him sitting on the edge of his bed near the headboard, head hanging low.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“Deeks, are you ok?”

“Yeah.” He made a soft sound. “I’m sorry you came all the way out here. I just freaked out.”

“I was worried about you, Deeks. Of course I came, just like I promised,” Kensi assured him. He didn’t say anything else, so she asked, “Is it ok if I turn on a light?”

“Yeah, I uh…sometimes the dark helps. Or at least it’s supposed to,” Deeks said. Kensi didn’t like the dull tone in his voice.

When she flipped on the light, he was still hunched in on himself, one fist clenched on his knee. The jacket he’d worn earlier was strewn across the floor, almost like he’d thrown it there. She couldn’t help but notice there were also a few haphazard piles of books, more clothes, and empty food containers.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Kensi asked, moving closer. She itched to touch him, to provide some kind of comfort.

Tipping his head back, Deeks looked up at her through hooded eyes. That exhaustion was back again in full force. It made her wonder how much he was masking from them all on a daily basis.

“Not really,” he said honestly. “I just back from walking Monty.” He swallowed and cleared his throat. “Everything was fine, but then, uh, I heard this drilling noise and suddenly I was right back there. It was like Sidorov was right there. I couldn’t get away from it or him. It’s all I could hear. That and his voice, taunting me. Telling me I wasn’t strong enough.”

As the words poured out of him unevenly, Kensi couldn’t keep her distance anymore. She sank beside him and covered his fisted hand, noticing that he was trembling again. He flinched at her touch, but she took it as a good sign that he didn’t pull away completely.

“And then I just couldn’t breathe. I kind of thought I was going to die.” He turned his head away, self-consciousness hunching his frame again. “I know, that sounds really stupid.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Kensi assured him. “Nothing you’re telling me right now, your reactions, your feelings, none of those things are stupid. And I’m not judging you for any of them either.”

He pulled in another shuddery breath, a wealth of feeling in the sound. Shaking his head, his gaze moved beyond her, slightly unfocused, distant.

“God, it was like he was right here,” Deeks repeated. “I can still hear him.”He made a strangled sound and he pressed his free hand against his jaw, and suddenly he was breathing heavily, practically panting.

“Deeks, hey!” She grabbed his shoulders a little more roughly than she intended and Deeks tensed, drawing away from her. Loosening her grip, Kensi dropped to her knees in front of him. His breathing was so fast and uneven, she was worried he would start hyperventilating soon. “Deeks, breath with me, ok.” She drew in an exaggerated breath, which Deeks mimicked. “That’s perfect, just like that.”

It was several minutes before he was breathing normally enough that Kensi wasn’t as worriedly would pass out on her. Even then, she could tell that he wasn’t fully present.

“He’s not here, Deeks,” Kensi added, hoping to expel the last of Sidorov’s current hold. “He’s dead. And you’re not.”

Nodding, Deeks lowered his head again, scrubbing his hands over his face. All at once, the rest of tension left his body, and along with it, his energy. He went from hypervigilant to boneless in a manner of seconds; he slumped against the headboard, and dropped his hands, looking up at her again.

Kensi saw a hint of moisture on his cheeks, which made her heart ache for him.

“I swear it hasn’t been this bad in a while,” he said dully.

“You don’t have to make excuses, Deeks. The only thing I care about is whether or not you’re ok. And remember, it’s not a linear process; there’s going to be times when you feel like you’re almost back to normal and then other days where it’s like your starting all over again.”

Deeks swallowed again, hair hanging in his eyes, a convenient cover to his raw emotions. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and his face crumpled.

Kensi stood and wrapped her arms around him. Deeks didn’t resist at all, burying his face in her shoulder. She felt, rather than heard him sob against her, his fingers grasping at her jacket, clinging to her. Kensi held him tight in response.

“I know you probably don’t want to talk about this anymore tonight,” Kensi said after a few minutes. She was afraid of pushing things too far and having him shut her out. Like Jack had done so frequently. Deeks had been receptive so far though, so she wanted to strike before he convinced himself he was completely fine again.

“Well, if we’re talking about what I want, an incredibly strong drink would be great,” Deeks commented, lifting his head. He didn’t attempt to untangle his arms at all. She could tell he was trying for his usual sarcasm, but couldn’t manage it. He brushed a few new tears away from his eyes.

“I think we both know that’s probably not a good idea right now.”

“Yeah.” He sighed and Kensi remembered all the times recently when he’d turned down a beer or cut himself off after one drink. Clearly he’d been exerting some level of control rather than giving into the most readily available form of self-medication. It made her oddly proud.

“Seriously though.” She paused and slid her hands down to squeezed his arms. “I promise I won’t tell anyone about anything that happened here tonight or any other time you need me, but promise me you’ll consider seeing a therapist.” Deeks’ eyes widened at her suggestion and she heled up a hand to forestall any protests. “It makes me the worst hypocrite ever, I know. I just need to know you’re going to be ok and I’m not sure that we can achieve that on our own.”

“I have considered it,” Deeks admitted, to her surprise. “But you know that, no matter where I go, it’ll make it’s way back to NCIS. And to Hetty.”

Neither on of them commented further on his last point; yet Kensi perfectly understood his decreased trust in Hetty. She’d heard, in bits and pieces, about Hetty’s less than sympathetic handling of Deeks’ return. Pushing down her own feelings about the matter, Kensi nodded, hoping to reassure him.

“I know. I have a friend though who kind of specializes in off-the-books counseling. I think he’d be willing to see you and help work through this,” Kensi explained. A glimmer of hope lit Deeks’ eyes and it occurred to her just how despondent he must really feel.

“Thank you,” he told her, pulling her closer again. “For all of this.”

“Always, Deeks. Whenever you need.”

“Do you think…” He paused, his hesitancy obvious and Kensi’s nudged him encouragingly. “Would you mind staying a little longer?”

“Of course. I’ll stay all night long if you want,” Kensi assured him.

With an economy of words and movement, Deeks shifted around until he was laying down and after the briefest of hesitations, Kens curled around him. It was worth the increasingly blurry line between partners and something more, when she felt his chest moving beneath her head in a steady pattern of sleep.

***

A/N: I did borrow a little bit of inspiration for this particular scenario from the show “Ted Lasso”.

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #pre densi #angst #lots and lots of angst #comfort #ejzah fanfiction

[secretly-a-cold-blooded-murderer]

Five Thousand Miles

Warning: Angst, descriptions of covid patients’ suffering, hospitals

A/n: I researched a lot about what covid patients go through in a hospital and their treatments but still took a couple creative liberties so I apologise if the descriptions aren’t accurate. Do tell me how you liked it!

Summary: Y/n tests positive for covid-19 and has to be hospitalised. Her boyfriend, Harry is five thousand miles away from her.

“Harry, I’m scared,” Y/n confessed as she readied herself, struggling with wearing her mask and gloves while also balancing her phone to continue talking to her boyfriend on FaceTime.  

“It’ll be alright, you are taking every precaution you can. Plus, you have to get out of the house sometime, you can’t survive on air alone. Trust me, baby, you can do this.”

Harry’s voice was keeping her grounded, she wanted to continue talking to him but knew it would be impossible to shop and talk to him at the same time, so she nodded at him, “You’re right. Okay, I’ll call you when I get back. Safely.”

Taking a deep breath, she went out the door to a world of germs, people, and newly acquired viruses.

Being in the middle of a pandemic alone wasn’t her favourite situation to be in. It felt better when she had company, people who would help her buy the essentials. As soon as situations eased up a bit, her quarantine partners left New York to be with their families. She was all alone now.  

Looking at all the empty streets, Y/n was left with a weird sensation. The city that never slept had never been quieter. She was so used to being woken up by car horns and car alarms in the morning that during the first few weeks of lockdown, she found it hard to wake before noon. This quiet was almost poetic, like the stuff of post-apocalyptic films. Y/n wasn’t sure if the silence comforted her or terrified her.

There were more people in the store than she had expected, though all in their masks, she breathed in relief. She went straight to the personal hygiene section, remembering the most important item on her list, only to find that the store was all out of toilet papers, the one thing films didn’t guess would be a big problem. She rolled her eyes at the selfish people who had panic-bought more stuff than they would have needed.

She tried every store near her neighbourhood, and eventually was able to get the last set in the final shop she visited. Tired from driving all over the city in search of toilet papers, she went to the check-out line to finally buy her stuff. 

Standing in her place, Y/n noticed the people in the store, few whose foreheads were furrowed, their eyes darting around making sure they were maintaining the mandated distance from others, panic evident on their mask-covered faces. Some others appeared plain bored. Already used to the new routine and just wanting to get it over with. 

She was so lost her observations, she almost didn’t hear it, the woman behind her in the line coughed loudly, making people jump farther apart than the required six feet.

“It’s just allergies,” the woman announced in a nasal voice, rolling her eyes at people’s reaction. 

As Y/n’s turn came at the check-out counter, she found herself frozen to the ground, she didn’t know why but the cough threw her off. It felt weird to react the way she did, but she could not make herself move. She was nervous. She wanted to laugh at herself for feeling this way because of a measly cough, but it wasn’t so simple and right now all she felt was fear.

“Oh for god’s sake,” the woman moved forward, pushing her aside and placed her items at the counter. Even the employee there seemed wary, but knew he had to comply to keep his job.

It was only after the woman left, was Y/n finally able to move, she shook her head as if to shake the incident away from her mind and finally paid for her items.

She ran all the way home, even though she knew she shouldn’t have. She couldn’t help herself, she just wanted to move away from the public and into the safety of her home as soon as she could. 

As she entered her house, Y/n felt her chest tighten, as though someone was sitting on it, she couldn’t breathe properly. It felt like she was breathing through a squished straw. 

In between her wheezing, she searched around for her inhaler in her side bag. She felt her breath coming back a few seconds after she breathed in the medicine. She fell to her knees in exhaustion and took in a few more breaths to calm down.

She then picked herself up and embarked on an extensive set of tasks- Taking off her gloves and mask, removing her shoes at the entrance of her house, washing her hands. But, this somehow didn’t seem enough to her, so she went ahead and took another shower, just to be extra sure.

While in the shower, she cursed her asthma. It wasn’t usually a big hurdle in her life, but now, everything was a hundred times worse. This was the first time she had feared for her life. Her anxiety was at an all-time high and all she had to keep her sane was her daily FaceTime calls with Harry.

Opening her laptop to do her work, she checked the numbers again- seventy thousand new cases. She sighed and closed her laptop, not having the motivation to do any work. She scrolled through her social media to distract herself only to be shoved more news about the coronavirus, she let out a groan of frustration and switched off her phone, deciding to take a nap instead.

Only she couldn’t sleep. She thought back to all the plans she made with Harry, promising him to be there next to him while he toured the globe. She laughed at the situation and how no one in a million years could have guessed the current world state.

She didn’t know when she fell asleep, but she must have as she woke up with a jolt in her bed after a strange dream. She shook her head and looked out her window to see the sky dark. She switched on her phone, it was 8 pm. She cursed to see three missed calls from Harry and one from her friend, Sarah.

Preparing herself, she called Harry. 

“Where were you, I called like three times?” His voice was deeper than usual, she guessed he had just woken up because of her call. She calculated it to be 4 am in London, where Harry was. She felt bad for waking him up like that.

“I know, I switched off my phone and fell asleep. Sorry,” she grimaced.

Harry hummed in acknowledgement, “how you doing?”

She could hear rustling on the other side and imagined a sleepy Harry sitting up in his bed, his hair messy from his sleep, “Just missing ya’.”

“I know, I hate that I had to leave you like that, wish you could come with me,” there was a hint of a whine in Harry’s voice which made Y/n smile.

“Wish I had a visa for England, I really wanted to come too,” and she meant that. At least that way, she wouldn’t have to be alone.

“I’ll video call you tomorrow, it’s late here, or rather early,” what he was saying next was obscured by his yawn. She sighed, she missed him too much.

“Yeah sure, see you tomorrow, bye.”

“Bye.”

When the call disconnected, she messaged Sarah to ask what the call was about, who didn’t respond. She shrugged her shoulders and went down to the kitchen to start preparing for dinner.

~

It started with a headache. She didn’t ponder much on it and instead only took medicine to curb the pain enough to continue working. 

It was when she felt a certain roughness in her throat, did she pay attention. Her cough worsened within days, she was having a hard time breathing normally. It felt like a less severe but constant asthma attack. She took her temperature, which showed her to be having a fever at 101°F. 

It took her some time to even process what was happening to her, she initially wondered if it could be the flu or something non-covid, but she knew she couldn’t take the chances. Harry was the first person she informed.

“What are you saying?!” Harry was frantic, his forehead creased as he ran his fingers through his hair, messing them up.

“I have a fever, a cough, and I’m having difficulty breathing,” counting the symptoms on her fingers, she informed him again.

“It could be the flu, Y/n you didn’t even go outside. How could it be anything else?”

“H, I did go out to buy supplies, didn’t I? Maybe I got infected there somehow. We shouldn’t be kidding ourselves. I have to at least get tested.” You didn’t want to show him just how scared you were, but it was hard to keep your voice from cracking.

“I am scared, H,” you let the tears out. Your shoulders shook while you tried to wipe your tears as they were leaking from your eyes.

Harry closed his eyes, not being able to see you sobbing, “I know baby, but I know you’ll be strong. I will take the next flight to LA. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He promised, his mouth set in a hard line as a strong look of determination crossed his face.

  She shook her head with as much strength she could muster, “No Harry, you shouldn’t keep travelling, plus, you can’t stay with me and I don’t want you staying at some hotel. It’s not safe.”

“Bu—”

“—I won’t hear another word about it. I have Sarah, and you have your work to take care of. I will be fine.”

She knew Harry wanted to say more, object to her claims, she would not be fine. But he knew it would be of no use, once she had made up her mind, it would be impossible to change it. So, he settled for a low nod.

“Keep me updated, I’ll also talk to Sarah. She better be there for it all. You should now call your doctor, see what’s the next step.”

Y/n nodded, smiling that Harry understood. She didn’t want to trouble him. She also wanted to pretend for a few more seconds that this was not a big deal.

She called Dr Gupta, her heart was beating at an all-time high and her energy was at an all-time low. She barely had enough breath to tell her doctor about her situation who booked an appointment for her to go to the nearest covid testing facility.

She took a deep breath, wore her protective gear and drove to the testing lab which was a ten-minute drive from her place. She was already out of breath by the time she reached the place.

When she was done with her test, she felt worse than she had before. Sarah called to check in on her, but Y/n didn’t have the energy to talk so Sarah video-called her, seeing Y/n’s face would have to be enough for her at that point.

Sarah’s eyes softened, seeing her best friend heaving, eyes shut and groaning due to her chest pain. But she knew, more than anything, her best friend was scared.

“I hope with everything that I am that the test comes back negative,” her voice was tinged with worry and genuine hope.

Y/n could only nod.

The call came two days later, Y/n sat up in her bed, she had been dreading this moment these past days, with Harry and Sarah to distract her.

The test came back positive.

She fell back into her bed, cushioned by her pillow and started shaking uncontrollably as she sobbed.

She felt insanely dehydrated by the time she stopped crying, she didn’t even get to call either of her friends. She stood up with a groan, and following one slow step after the other, she went to the bathroom to wash her now tear-stained face.

The call she made to Harry wasn’t an easy one. She knew he would take the news worse than she had, and her reaction was not a light one.

“I prayed. I promise I prayed Y/n,” his words were almost indecipherable in between his cries. His every tear followed the other with a ferocity never before noticed by Y/n.

Her own tears followed suite, she was so sure she had finished up all her tears, but she was proven wrong. Soon, the only conversation happening between the two was through their sobs.

She wanted to curse all the gods, she didn’t want to go through the pains of having this disease and she didn’t want to do it alone. Even though she had Harry and Sarah standing right beside her, knowing they would not be able to meet her in person, she had never felt more alone.

“I don’t feel good, H,” she confessed. Breathing was becoming difficult day by day, she would rather have an asthma attack twice a day than having this constant pressure on her chest and throat. She knew she had to tell him, “I have to get admitted to the hospital first thing in the morning tomorrow, they say my covid could be worsened because of my asthma,” she let out in between a series of coughs stopping her after every word.

Harry nodded, his heartbeat rising. He cursed himself for leaving his girlfriend alone in the country. If he hadn’t left, she would not be going through this, “I’ll tell Sarah, you go rest,” he promised, seeing it get increasingly difficult for her to even sit up in her bed.

If Y/n was scared before, then the hospital made it thousand times worse. It was a scary sight, the covid ward was in an isolated area of the hospital, the doctors and nurses were in full PPE kits, the patients were lined up next to each other separated by curtains. She passed a room with ICU written on the glass door. With what she could see, she noticed several other patients, some with masks covering their nose, probably providing oxygen. Others seemed in worse conditions, they were intubated via ventilators. 

Seeing them facing the same crisis together, although away from their families, but forming a new family of sorts in solidarity to their conditions gave her little comfort. Those who wore the nasal masks and thus still had the ability to talk were speaking to each other, even reading something from their phones to those who were on ventilators. Covid had seemed like a situation she would have to go through alone, her initial views though were changing.

She was admitted to the regular covid ward, with the rest of the non-critical patients and would be observed overnight. She was assisted with oxygen through a nasal mask, just like the people around her, she had noticed.

“Hey, I’m Cecilia, call me Cece,” a thirty-something woman introduced herself from beside you. The curtain was partially open, allowing Y/n to see only her face.

“Y/n, nice to meet you,” she called back, smiling as much her energy would allow.

“Never guessed this is how I would be spending my lockdown,” she laughed lightly, pointing to her mask. She then followed it up with a cough, groaning with the strain.

Y/n felt bad for her, only to be subjected to the same.

These were going to be some long days. Though she did feel better knowing she would not be facing this alone. She looked around the room, at probably twenty patients around her, in the same situation as her, if not in worse conditions. She then thought back to the people in the ICU and what they must be subjected to.

Her phone brought her attention to itself, it was Harry FaceTiming her; putting on a smile, she picked up the call. 

“Hey handsome,” she suggestively raised her eyebrows, not wanting to worry him any further.

Harry did not even notice her words, he was too busy gawking at her nasal mask, “what is that?” worry coating his voice.

“Oh just my new accessory, you like it?” although Y/n wanted to look nonchalant, the pain in her voice could not be hidden, she sighed, “They are giving me oxygen through this.”

Harry’s eyebrows were knitted together in worry, Y/n wanted to make him feel better. She could not rest knowing her love was out there worrying about her, “Look I made a friend,” she turned the camera to Cece laying next to her six feet apart, “Cece, say hi to my boyfriend, Harry.”

She had forgotten her boyfriend was a big deal but was reminded of it by Cece’s gasp, “Harry freaking Styles ohmigod ohmigod,” Cece squealed, making Y/n forget for a second that she was not a teenager.

“Hullo love,” Harry greeted her in his ‘fan voice’, a smile graced her lips. “Hope you beat covid and get better soon.” Cece’s smile made Y/n realise how long these people had gone without having a reason to smile and how desperately they needed it. 

 Cece’s squeal garnered the attention of the people around them. Noticing the pop icon on the phone screen, conversations started flowing between everybody. Introductions were made, friendships were formed and smiles were passed around, along with Y/n’s phone. So, she asked a nearby nurse if they could access a bigger screen so everyone could see and talk to her boyfriend.

When the staff hooked up a screen, Harry gave all the patients an impromptu concert. Y/n had not smiled in days the way this concert had made her. She expected fear, anxiety, deaths and instead got friends, laughter, and music.

When Harry was done performing for his audience, he gave her a brief look. “I love you,” she whispered to him, smiling when he returned the words.

The next day, she was woken up by the noises around her, she panicked for a moment, not recognising the place she was in; but calmed when she regained her senses and noticed the blue curtains of the hospital, several machines and the people they were attached to. 

She made a short conversation with Cece but had to stop because she was getting out of breath. With every passing moment, her chest pain too was increasing. She did keep listening to people chat around her. Some were on calls with their family, others were busy reading books and listening to music. She kept getting shouts of gratitude from the people in the ward for Harry the previous night.

For the next two days, that kept her going. She learned about her fellow patients, Jonathan was 59 years old, his son was an engineer and he couldn’t have been more proud; Jaya was a 42-year-old woman with bronchitis and wanted to visit Paris at least once in her life. Marc was a 50-year-old diabetic who was in a band in the 80s, they were planning a reunion show. She met countless people, each with their own stories. 

At about 10 am on a Thursday, her situation worsened. The doctors had come for a routine checkup, only to see that her oxygen levels were dropping steadily and she needed immediate assistance.

She was shifted to the ICU ward. She had to be intubated and thus was given a board and marker to write anything if she wanted.

“—Yes sir, she was shifted to the ICU this morning—”

“—We can’t say much right now, but we’ll inform you if anything changes—”

“—Okay, take care, Sir.”

Y/n heard bits and pieces of the conversation her doctor was having with Harry, although since she was on medication, she couldn’t register much of it. The nurses brought her phone to her, a silhouette moving on the screen.

“Hey baby, how are you feeling?”

Y/n pondered how to describe the immense pain burning through her respiratory passage and the lack of oxygen eating away her lungs and not give him nightmares. So, she offered him a tired thumbs up.

Harry watched his girlfriend cough, her face contorting in pain and could not control his tears, he didn’t want to think about the worst-case scenario but could not stop his mind from going there. He knew how low the chances were of people on ventilators coming back. But he had to remain positive, someone had to. She needed him to be strong for her. So, he wiped away his tears, put on his best brave face and talked to her.

He called her every three hours. Giving updates to her about his day, talking to her about whatever he could. He talked enough to compensate for the silence on her part. She smiled through every sentence, even though he could not see it, even though it wasn’t visible on her face, even though she didn’t have the power to, she smiled.

And she listened. So she didn’t have to focus on Josephine dying next to her or Augusta who was a hair length’s distance away from dying the previous day. Even though doctors told her that her situation was worsening, she listened because that became the only thing keeping her from giving up.

As her pains didn’t go away, and her condition worsened further, she was given sedatives and was thus mostly asleep. Which she was thankful for, for she couldn’t take it anymore, she just wanted to rest.

Dr Garcia came by routinely to check on her, talking to her about the outside world, gave her the gossips being passed around the hospital. Even though she was barely awake to listen to any of it, she was thankful for the kind doctor providing a calm lull while doing her job.

“Mr Styles, I’m afraid her condition isn’t getting any better. She should have shown atleast some improvements,” Dr Garcia informed Harry in a heavy voice.

On the other side of the line, Harry didn’t know what to do, it felt like someone was pulling away the floor under him. “What happens now?” He asked, praying for some hopeful news.

“We really can’t say much, each case is different, but it would be better uhm,” the doctor was thinking through her words, wanting to be as considerate as possible, “is there any family of hers that would want to talk to her?”

Harry almost let out a sob as he realised what the doctor was implying ‘is there anyone who would want to give her a final goodbye?’

“No, Y/n’s family passed away in an accident when she was 16, it’s just me and Sarah,” he explained, his voice on the verge of cracking, it was becoming harder to get words out of his mouth. He didn’t want to talk anymore, he just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry.

“Oh, I understand,” Dr Garcia nodded, feeling sorry for the young girl who had stolen the hearts of everyone in the ward. She was a sweet girl, who had dreams and still held love for life even after everything she had seen. “This is not the end, Harry, she can still recover, God, I pray she does, this is not the end.” She really believed the words she was saying and wanted Harry to feel the same.

He nodded, tears clouding his eyes. He too really wanted to believe that.

A beat of silence fell upon the conversation, both in deep thought, “Harry, she wrote something on her board when she was awake yesterday,” Harry’s ears pricked up, “she wrote and I quote ‘I will not give up’ with a smiley face at the end. She is a fighter, you remember that,” Dr Garcia gave her parting ways and went back to her work.

Y/n’s words were imprinted in Harry’s mind. After the call, he made himself more presentable, wiping his tears and drove up to the church near Y/n’s house. He had come back to LA after Y/n was admitted to the ICU. He couldn’t be five thousand miles away from her in that condition.

The church was almost empty, which was surprising to Harry, given the situation, but he wasn’t complaining. He walked up the aisle, his hand grazing each wooden bench as he reached the altar and kneeled. He didn’t what to pray or how to pray, but he tried anyway. He closed his eyes and called out to God; he prayed with every part in his body, with every bone, every muscle, every fibre of being for his love to get better. For her to keep fighting. And for him to gain enough strength to deal with it all.

All this time, he had been feeling so helpless, not being able to do anything to make her better. But he made peace with the fact that the only thing he could do right now was to have faith. To have faith in God to guide him and her, in Y/n to be the stubborn strong-willed woman that she was and continue fighting, he had faith in his faith and that it would not disappoint.

He stayed there, talking to God until the closing hours. He then went back to Y/n’s place and sat on the sofa, waiting by his mobile, ready for any phone call he might receive.

He was awoken the next day by his phone ringing on the coffee table next to him. He looked at the time, it was noon, he picked up.

“Congratulations Harry, she’s getting better,” the relief was evident in Dr Garcia’s voice.

Harry felt himself getting physically lighter.

“I mean there is still a long way to go, but her oxygen levels are rising, her lungs are recovering, she’ll be soon able to breathe on her own. Harry, she did it, she won,” Harry didn’t listen to the rest of what the doctor was saying, he was too busy falling in love with the love of his life. It felt like he himself had come back from the dead. He knew his faith could never disappoint.

“Thank you doctor, I’ll be waiting for the call when you tell me she’s tested negative,” he laughed, his lungs breathing in air after what felt like a lifetime.

Dr Garcia chuckled along with him and agreed, telling him Y/n would call him when she woke up.

~

“You know I love you right? My fighter,” Harry tightened his grip on her hand and kissed her knuckles.

Y/n’s head fell back as laughter bubbled out of her, “You just told me that like two minutes ago.”

“I know, but a few weeks ago I thought I would never get to say it to you ever again. So, I will keep reminding you every minute that I love you and that you are the strongest person I know,” he snaked his arms around her, placing his head on top of hers, “I really missed holding you.”

She breathed in Harry’s scent, slowly regaining her sense of smell, she had missed this too. She cupped his cheek with her right hand and gave him a light peck.

Harry grabbed the back of her head, keeping her lips on his, deepening the kiss. When they separated, he rested his forehead against hers, not wanting her to move even an inch away from him.

Noticing her deep breaths, he whispered in her ears, “This is the only reason I want you to be out of breath. This and well... the other one,” he smirked.

“Oh hush you,” Y/n blushed, she sucked in a breath through her teeth, “Shit man, I love you.”

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #covid19 #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #angst

[kaylaxwrites]

Into You

Pairing: Jessica Jones x Reader Words: 2.5k Summary: After the police practically dismiss your concerns of stalker, you turn to Alias Investigations for help. Request:  Jessica Jones x f reader where reader hires her as a pi (for whatever reason) and the case takes awhile so reader develops feelings but doesn't want to act on them because it's in appropriate since Jessica is working for her. Then as soon as the case is over Jessica pulls out two glasses and some whisky and is like "I'm a pi obviously I noticed you're into me now let's drink together and see where this goes cuz I like you too" (anon) A/N: Sorry this took so long! It might not follow the request exactly (I forgot to make the case like take a while) but I hope you like it! 

Warnings: reader has a stalker, gets cornered by stalker and is also punched

Tears stung your eyes as you stepped out of the police station. You were convinced, you knew, you had a stalker. Someone had been following you for several weeks now, left crude “love letters” taped to your apartment door, and generally left you with an unsafe and uncomfortable feeling. You went to the police today for help—any help—and left feeling crushed and defeated. The officers inside didn’t take you seriously, brushed you off, dismissed your concerns and you were angry.

Afraid.

You started walking down the street back towards your apartment, brushing away stray tears. Being in the open—even in front of a police station—made you feel uneasy. You didn’t know what to do next and you were about to spiral into a panic attack. One step at a time, you tried to tell yourself, taking deep breaths as you walked. You would go home, and figure out what to do there. Right now you just needed to get home and calm down.

You looked to the sky as a means to keep your tears at bay when a sign in a fifth-floor window caught your eye and slowed you to a halt.

Alias Investigations.

A private investigator? Could they help you with your problem? Maybe they could help you get the evidence you needed for the police to take you seriously. Did you have the money for it, though? Fuck it, you thought. It would be cheaper than moving across town and changing your name. With a steading breath, you opened the door to the building and made your way inside.

You soon arrived at the fifth floor and anxiety knotted your stomach. This building looked sketchy—the suspiciously blood-like stains in the elevator was more than enough to give you that uneasy feeling—but you were already here. So might as well. Right?

You knocked hesitantly on the door, surprised when you heard what sounded like muttered curses from the other side. Did you come at a bad time? You almost left but then the door creaked open and you were met with the annoyed face of a pale, black-haired woman.

“Can I help you?” she asked curtly, opening the door only enough to show her shoulders and face, trying to appear as unwelcoming as possible.

“Uh…” The woman and her weird greeting left you somewhat speechless so you weakly pointed at the window where Alias Investigations was printed in bold letters. “Alias Investigations?” you said as if she wouldn’t know the name of her own business. You could kick yourself for your awkward stuttering.

“Shit. Hold on.” She closed the door in your face and you took a step back, startled. Through the opaque glass on the door, you could see the silhouette of the private eye quickly picking up the main room of her apartment, throwing trash and other stray items out of sight. You stopped yourself from smiling when the door was thrown back open and she welcomed you inside.

You sat tentatively in one of the chairs across from her desk as she sat heavily in the opposite seat, folding her arms on the top of her desk. She gestured for you to start talking and you did. “I think I have a stalker,” you started. But then you shook your head, restarting. “I know I have a stalker. I don’t know who he is, but I’ve caught glimpses of him a couple of times and he keeps leaving me these…letters on my door about once a week.” You dug into your bag and pulled out several of the letters you tried to bring as evidence, laying them on the table.

Jessica, you realized from her name tag on the desk, picked them up and scanned through them. “Have you been to the police?” she asked.

“I went there this morning. They practically dismissed me outright. I was walking home when I saw your sign.” You nodded towards the window behind her that advertised to the street.

She shuffled through the letters some more. “And do all of these…?”

Talk graphically about what your stalker would do once you were “together”?

“Yeah. The officer…” You cleared your throat, feeling tears stinging your eyes once again. “The officer said that I-I had probably led some guy on and that’s why he was leaving me love letters. He hasn’t threatened to kill me, so they aren’t—they aren’t going to help me.” Your voice was strained by the end of your sentence and you knew Jessica picked up on it.

“And you don’t know who it is?”

You shook your head. “Like I said, I’ve caught glimpses of him, but…”

“What does he look like?”

“Tall. Six foot, maybe? White. Not skinny, but not like super muscular either. He always has a hood or sunglasses on, so I’ve never really gotten a good look at his face. He hasn’t talked to me in person, either. Just leaves the letters.”

Jessica thought for a moment, looking over the letters once more. “I’ll help you,” she said eventually.

You nearly shot out of your seat. “Really? Oh my god, thank you. I don’t know what else I’d do.” You reached into your bag for your wallet. “How much will I owe you? I only have two hundred to give now, but I can find more to pay you later.”

“I’ll take a hundred for now. I’ll figure out the rest later.”

You pulled five twenties out of your wallet, half of your paycheck you cashed out earlier that day. You also gave her your phone number, address, and your schedule for the week. Jessica said she’d be in touch with you and you soon left afterwards, feeling lighter than you had in weeks now that the weight was beginning to lift off your shoulders.

You didn’t hear much from Jessica the next few days. She said she was going to watch you in your daily routine for a little while to see who she could find that was suspicious or she saw a lot in your vicinity. You never once saw her watching you, so you had to take her for her word—that either meant she was really good or you just gave a hundred bucks to someone who was going to ghost you. Thankfully, by the end of the week, you didn’t have to worry about being ghosted by a P.I.

Jessica found your stalker.

James Williams, she said his name was, but it didn’t ring a bell. You didn’t know him and you weren’t sure how he knew you. “You could’ve helped him at work or smiled at him on the street,” Jessica assured you. “These assholes will take any random act of kindness as a love declaration.”

“You could say that again,” you muttered. But you thanked her for her help and ended the phone call, agreeing to meet in about two hours after you got home from work. You pulled yourself from your hiding spot in the stock room of your workplace and finished up your shift.

By the end of the hour, you were starting your walk to Jessica’s office. You were less than two blocks down the road when an arm wrapped around your shoulders and backed you against the wall of an alleyway. Your head smarted against the brick and you blinked rapidly as you took in the face in front of yours.

You didn’t recognize it, but it must be…

James.

“What—what do you want?” you stuttered, your brain suddenly short-circuiting.

“You called…you called a P.I.?” he asked. He almost sounded…heartbroken. “I—I had a plan. I had a plan for us and you ruined it!”

“I don’t want to be a part of your plan. I don’t even know you!”

“I had everything figured out. We were gonna—”

“Get off of me, fucking creep!”

You instantly regretted your words as a look of anger flashed through his eyes. Maybe calling the psychopath a creep wasn’t the best way to go. Before you could brace yourself, he swung his fist and you were met with a flash of pain in your nose, a trail of blood following not long after. The force of the blow had you spiraling towards the ground and your felt your ankle twist as you fought to remain upright. Gravity won in the end and your palms scraped across concrete as you fell. Before your thoughts could even register, James’ hands were at your shoulders, lifting you upright, and pressing you against brick once more.

“Do not…call me that,” he said between heavy breaths. You flinched when he reached a hand up to cup the side of your face, brushing away blood with his thumb. Your mind flashed through every self-defense post on social media, but you couldn’t think clearly to remember specific moves. You were halfway to hyperventilating when James was suddenly yanked aside and thrown down the alleyway.

“You okay?” a voice asked. You looked to your left. Jessica.

“I’ll be fine,” you managed.

Blood was pouring from your nose still and you tried to stem the flow with the sleeve of your shirt. Movement down the alley caught your eye and you glanced over. James was staggering to his feet and started towards you. Jessica huffed and rolled her eyes, meeting the man halfway. In the blink of an eye, she lifted him and threw him into a nearby dumpster, latching the lid closed so he couldn’t escape.

“That’ll hold him until the police get here,” she said, brushing her hands off.

“Police?” you asked.

“Yeah, that little stunt will get him time for assault. And you won’t have to worry about him anymore.” She took a few steps towards you. “Let me see,” she said, gesturing towards your face. As the bleeding was now mostly stopped, you lifted your head so she could see the damage. “It’s not broken,” she said after a moment, “but you’re gonna have one hell of a shiner in the morning.”

Great, you thought. But if it was the price to pay for getting rid of your stalker…

At that moment, a police cruiser pulled into the mouth of the alley.

You don’t remember much of the statement you gave to the police. The throbbing in your skull pretty much override it all. But thankfully, before long, the officers were taking James away in handcuffs and you were allowed to leave, the card of one of the officers pressed against your hand. Jessica stayed by your side through it all and you were thankful for her presence.

When you were allowed to leave and the officers had left, you tried to stand on your sprained ankle, but could barely make it a single step. The walk back to Jessica’s office was going to be one hell of a trip. Jessica took one pitying look at your pained step and bent as if she was going to pick you up. You quickly shuffled out of her reach. “What are you doing?” you asked.

“You can’t walk,” she answered simply.

“So what? You’re just going to try and carry me? Halfway across Hell’s Kitchen?”

“You got a better plan?”

You looked down at yourself. Your shirt was splattered with blood from your nose. Couldn’t exactly take an Uber looking like you did. “I guess not,” you sighed in defeat.

“So?”

“But you can’t carry me!” Jessica was tiny and you… “I’m too…”

“Heavy?” You gasped as your eyes widened in shock. Jessica was blunt, sure, but… “Shit, not like that. I didn’t—” She sighed. “Just… Look.” She knelt down in between two parked cars, placing a hand under each of the bumpers. With barely a grunt, she stood, lifting the ends of the cars on either side of her until the wheels were nearly waist high.

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

“Yeah.” She dropped the cars and they bounced to the ground. You were surprised the alarms didn’t go off or the wheels didn’t bust. “So are we good here?” You stuttered to find words. You wanted to just let her pick you up—she did just lift two cars, after all—but you were still worried. “So can we go or what?”

“I-I guess.” You moved awkwardly as Jessica lifted you into her arms. Your ankle throbbed as your weight was lifted off of it. You tried to situate yourself comfortably as Jessica carried you, but you didn’t know what to do with your arms. You settled on one across the back of her shoulders and the other curled into your chest, trying to minimize the points of contact with Jessica’s body.

But then you realized just how close Jessica’s face was to yours.

You took in her profile, watching how her hair bounced as she walked, how her pale skin practically changed colors under different streetlights. You realized then just how beautiful she was and maybe you were starting to have a thing for her. Great.

You blushed and turned away as her eyes turned to you. She huffed out a chuckle before returning her attention to the sidewalk.

Eventually, Jessica set you down on the couch in the living room of her office. She stepped over to the bookshelf in the corner of the room, a bookshelf that held more liquor than books, and poured two large drinks. She crossed back to you, offering you one of the glasses. You took it gratefully as Jessica fell on the couch next to you. You sipped your drink slowly, carefully—but by the time you were only a quarter done with yours, Jessica had already refilled her own, having brought the half-full bottle across the room with her.

The two of you sat there quietly, drinking, unwinding, for several minutes until you felt the need to break the silence. “Jessica, I—,” you began, but she cut in, finishing your sentence for you.

“You’re into me.”

Your face flushed and you turned your gaze quickly to the dark amber liquid in your glass. You weren’t even really sure what it was—whiskey? Bourbon? Was there a difference?—but you were tempted to reach over and chug the whole bottle if this was the conversation Jessica wanted to have. “I-I was just going to say thank you,” you stammered, “for everything.”

“You sure that’s all you wanted to say?” She turned her whole body to face you, tucking one of her legs underneath her. You refused to meet her gaze. “I’m a PI. A good one. And you’re an open book. You didn’t think I noticed?”

Your face burned hotter than ever and you wished the couch would swallow you whole—were you really that obvious about your feelings? Jessica reached behind her for the liquor bottle and refilled her drink once more as well as topped yours off. You took several burning gulps to try and distract yourself from the situation. You would give anything to be anywhere but here. You were into Jessica, but she wasn’t into you—the following conversation would be the most embarrassing of your life.

“I’m—I’m sorry. I should go.” You stood to try to gather your coat and your bag, wanting nothing more than to leave.

Jessica’s iron grip on your arm stopped you dead in your tracks. “For what it’s worth,” she said, almost scoffing, as if what she was about to say wasn’t worth anything at all, “I’m into you, too.”

divider by writeyourmindaway

#jessica jones x reader #jessica jones imagine #jessica jones x you #jessica jones x Y/N #jessica jones/reader #jessica jones/you #jessica jones fic #reader insert #mine

[femme-malewife]

Breaking Down Sia’s Movie

Okay, so I watched Sia’s movie “Music”. And I bear witnessed how awful it truly is. So before I get into this, here’s some warnings:

1. This is going to be a long post

2. There will be mentions of restraint scenes and how they’re handled as well as images. View at your own discretion.

3. There are Spoilers so if for some godforsaken reason you WANT to see this movie...don’t click “keep reading”

Okay, so before I get into the actual contents of the movie let me say the characters all suck. Not a single character was likable and the plot was barely coherent. The main character, Kazu (or just “Zu”) is a recovering alcoholic and she’s just,,, all around not a good person. She’s very irresponsible.

Ebo, her love interest, is also shitty. Not only is his character based on racism to make the white girl look heroic and brave, but he doesn’t actually know how to take care of Music, the autistic girl.

There was also this weird subplot with this fat Asian guy but we’ll get to that later.

And another thing to address there’s like about roughly 10 music videos sprinkled in throughout the movie??? And almost all except ONE of them were extremely bright and colorful and each time I had to keep looking away. Not only that but ALL of the transitions from “reality to music” was always very sudden and has sent me into sensory overload.

And one last thing before we dive into this- Music stims a lot. And yet in her music videos in her mind, she’s not stimming...like, at all. Considering Sia researched with AutismSpeaks, I’m sure she has the idea that stimming is a bad thing.

So the movie begins with Blackface and immediately we jump into extreme bright lights and music. Music wakes up, and we get a feel of her daily routine. Get up, eat eggs, have her hair braided, go on a walk, come home, watch tv, go to bed. (Or at least that’s the generalization of it) And I DO mention this schedule because it’s important later.

As we already know, Music (who is played by Maddie Ziegler, a neurotypical actress) has very exaggerated movements. She has this very weird way of walking and constantly looks like she’s doped up on medications and is high off her ass.

Everyone around her treats her like a toddler, being overly friendly and being all around accepting and caring of her.

Now I bring this up because that in itself is already problematic. It makes neurotypical people think “oh it must be great being autistic people will buy you things, give you free stuff and you’re so unaware!” when this is the furthest thing from reality. If people saw someone like Music out and about, they would be giving her dirty looks, they wouldn’t buy her free things, they’d move away from her.

Autistic people are not that accepted into society. You’re more likely to get cussed out than helped.

So Music returns home, and finds her grandmother, her previous caretaker, dead on the ground. She has no reaction, just smiling and giggling away and sits down.

One thing I noticed about Music is that she’s literally always stimming. Like, LITERALLY always. There is not a single moment on screen where she’s NOT stimming. And that’s not to say it’s bad but it feels way too forced and honestly? It felt and looked more like a mockery of autistic people who need to stim often.

So George, a man next door, came over to help fix something in the apartment. And it was only After he came in that Music got worried about her grandma. Or at least she was lowkey panicking. This is when Zu comes into the movie and gets a call and has to now come take care of Music.

Also apparently the fat Asian neighbor would??? Flash a flashlight in her room while she’s in bed and move it around as if she was some sort of cat??? I’m pretty sure that scene was just an excuse to launch into the second music video of the movie.

So Music wakes up and echoes “Make you eggs” to Zu, who makes her eggs. Remember the routine I mentioned? How Music gets her hair braided as she’s eating? Well, as Zu’s going back to bed, Music starts echoing “Braid your hair”. Zu doesn’t know how.

So Sia incorporated a meltdown scene of Music being stressed of the routine is being broken. Music starts hitting her head and thrashing around screaming “braid your hair” repeatedly. Zu not knowing what to do tries to pin her against the wall and was literally screaming at her to calm down.

And this is where we met Ebo, Zu’s love interest. He noticed Music having a meltdown and...well...

Zu questions if he’s hurting Music and...

And after that, everything is suddenly all perfectly fine because Music understands that Ebo doesn’t want her hurt and she needs to calm down. And it’s also wonderfully okay because he can braid her hair. She goes back to breakfast as if nothing happened.

Obviously this is extremely problematic. Restraining autistics during a meltdown is a very sure way to kill them. If a neurotypical is reading this and is doubtful, here is one instance of an autistic boy being restrained and killed.

After that, Zu and Ebo follow Music on her walk to get to know her route. After returning, Zu makes a comment about how she’s thinking about sending Music to a “people pound” and then adds “oh but I guess I can keep her”??? Honestly if you took this scene out of context I’d be wondering if they were actually talking about a fucking animal.

Zu later finds some of her old toys and talks to Music about them and mentions how someone “has seizures just like Music”.

Um...when did Music have seizures? This was NEVER brought up prior to this and it will never be mentioned throughout the movie. A meltdown! Is not! A seizure!!

The movie follows Zu around being irresponsible, borrowing money, and so forth.

And then we get to the park scene. Hey remember the first meltdown scene? Music had a meltdown about her routine being broken? Yeah that doesn’t happen. Zu flat out says that the change of route is good for her and Music just happily goes along with it with that dopey ass expression on her face.

Ebo explains that Music wears her headphones “because her hearing is so sensitive she can hear whispering from two rooms away”. First of all, we autistic people are NOT superhuman.

After he says that he says “she can understand everything we are saying” and yet they literally have to repeat themselves several times to get her to understand. They don’t treat her like she understands them. They treat her like a two year old who doesn’t know any better. That was literally the vibe I got throughout the entire movie, especially at some later scenes.

So Music sees some kids running around and that sends her into a meltdown. And Zu wants Ebo to restrain her like he did at the apartment and...um.

Ooooooookayyyyyy. Yeah, that’s your problem??? Okay make the tall white girl be a “hero” then.

Oh yeah just like that!

Also what the fuck is Music’s expression here??? This is a normal look for her throughout the movie and she’s having a Meltdown.

Oh and after Music “calms down” from the meltdown??? She’s back to being 100% PERFECTLY HAPPY.

AGAIN, NEUROTYPICALS, DO NOT THINK THIS IS OKAY!!!!! NONE OF US ARE LIKE THAT!!! IF YOU RESTRAIN AN AUTISTIC YOU WILL MAKE THEM PANIC MORE AND POSSIBLY KILL THEM!!!

So, we keep going on with the movie, following Zu continuing to be irresponsible and frustratingly impossible to care about.

And at one point, she has to bring Music with her to this place where she “works”. And on the way there she tells Music to “not do one of her freakouts and just get it out now”.

Um...so sorry that a meltdown is causing YOU trouble??? A MELTDOWN IS NOT A FUCKING TANTRUM!!!!!!!!!

Later, when walking, Music wanted a snowcone, so Zu got her one. While she was getting her one, Music, QUITE LITERALLY OUT OF NOWHERE, lays on the ground under the bench and starts to eat gum from it.

...Um. What??? Why??? To show us how “hard” it is being with an autistic girl??? Literally what was the point of this scene???

So, afterwards, Music gets stung by a bee, which she’s allergic to. Zu restrained her while she was screaming, though it was brief, it was still uncomfortable. She gets brought to the hospital and she’s gonna be okay because she had an EpiPen with her.

But the doctors say that Zu’s occupation is empty for the insurance.

And here’s where I got from pissed and annoyed to downright uncomfortable.

Zu realizes her bag is missing and for several minutes, she literally starts screaming in pure anger and frustration, at home she’s searching, throwing things, kicking things, screaming some more...

Like WHY isn’t ZU being restrained??? Why is it acceptable for her to do that but it’s bad for Music to have a meltdown??? Honestly when Zu started screaming and throwing things, I actually flinched.

Oh also during these scenes the fat Asian kid was taking Ebo’s boxing class and hugged his opponent during a match and I guess at his apartment his parents argued about that (they didn’t include subtitles on that bit as they were speaking another language....nice. Note the sarcasm.)

and the dad literally attacks his wife and throws his son aside...and the fat Asian kid dies.

So like...what was the point of the kid dude??? No, seriously, what was the point? To buy Music a watermelon pop at the start of the movie??? We didn’t get ANY information about him or ANYTHING. And he just up and dies. Like if you take all his scenes out of the movie, nothing would change.

While the kid’s dying, Zu’s so stressed that she gets drunk and tries to talk to Ebo, but she gets loud and emotional and a neighbor comes out and Zu drunkenly attacks him.

Oh, so even if Zu is drunk and attacking people, pushing them, etc, SHE doesn’t get restrained. She just gets told stop. Okay. Sure.

Zu goes to a bar, returns home after another annoying music number, and makes Music her breakfast before she goes on her walk.

Ebo visits, and he practically says “aight I’mma focus on my own health I’m out”.

Zu starts becoming actually clean after that, she and Music staying with George.

There was pretty much just a dumb montage of her life after that??? One bit was Music having ANOTHER meltdown (for unexplained reasons) and Zu grabbing her yelling to calm down.

After some time Zu decides to drop Music off at a mental health facility, and when they were there, Music suddenly starts saying “don’t go sis” and “sit down now”.

Hold up.

So this movie is telling me that Music is nonverbal, but she can say some phrases, and also she understands what’s going on and YET NO ONE IN THIS ENTIRE MOVIE HAS TREATED HER LIKE SHE’S A HUMAN BEING WHO KNOWS WHAT’S GOING ON...suddenly, out of nowhere, she knows what’s going on. She suddenly knows she’s about to be left alone and suddenly she can talk more than repeated phrases.

I...I don’t think that’s how that works there, chief!

Zu changes her mind and she and Music go to the wedding that Ebo is at. Ebo is a guest at his brother and ex-wife’s wedding. (Which he mentioned earlier in the film and said he’ll tell Zu the rest of his story later which he never does btw)

and while he’s on stage finishing his speech, which is about how he doesn’t know what love is, Zu and Music come running in and Zu goes up on stage and basically tells him she’s now clean and she’s learning to love. And suddenly Ebo’s in love with Zu and introduces her to his entire family at the wedding, share a kiss and then everyone started clapping.

...No, I’m not kidding. Everyone was applauding them. At his brother’s wedding.

They start to play a song, but then Music starts kinda quietly kinda brokenly singing, it was hard to hear but yeah.

And then it cuts to another bright music video and the movie THANKFULLY ENDS.

GOD. That was so frustrating to watch.

I hated the characters, I hated the plot, I hated how Sia chose to “represent” autistic people, it was all a one, big, irritating MESS.

And in the end, do we learn ANYTHING about autism??? NO.

In fact, if I was a neurotypical with NO knowledge of autism, I would assume autism makes you some stupid 2 year old that you need to restrain when they’re stressed.

I wish I was kidding.

Just because some autistics are incapable of fully taking care of themselves doesn’t mean they’re just “teehee brain empty everyone around me is in a super bright music video!” like what the fuck???

This movie was problemtic, offensive, and WHY is it titled “MUSIC” when literally Zu is the protagonist??? Zu is the protagonist, her main story is about her and Ebo falling in love, and her subplot was...taking care of Music.

And then the mini subplots of the movie too. I genuinely don’t understand the point of the Asian kid. And Once, Ebo mentioned needing medication but they never bring THAT up again either.

Even if you erased Music’s character entirely in this movie and it wasn’t about a recovering alcoholic taking care of her autistic sister, the movie would be trash, poorly made, poorly executed, poorly directed.

And, the site I used did NOT add any warnings about restraint NOR did it say “hey don’t restrain autistics in a meltdown” or anything. And considering this movie had 4 RESTRAINT SCENES (2 of them being fleshed out and the others being quicker)...that’s pretty bad.

All around, this movie was awful.

-50/10, I would sooner watch 2019′s Cats.

#actually autistic #neurodivergent #sia music #anti sia #sia movie #a full breakdown of the movie #autistic meltdown #mentions of restraint #images of restraint

[thenexusofsouls]

Tony, do you trust Pepper to be around Carter? (I think you mentioned something about Pepper hurting Tony with how she handles his problems and vice versa? So I'm curious about how he feels about Carter's connection to Pepper, since I believe her mum mentioned Carter sees Pepper as a mother figure.)

@starcchild

"To be around her? Yeah, sure. Why not? I think they get along pretty well, all things considered. Sometimes I feel like Carter gets along better with Pepper than I do,” Tony said with a lighthearted chuckle.

{Okay, lemme take over and answer this OOC because Tony is an unreliable narrator in his own story, heh. So the thing with me is... I don’t ship Tony and Pepper because I believe their relationship was very toxic. He was too much inside his own head, evasive and avoiding, and didn’t really pay attention to the majority of her needs most of the time. He got very hooked on her and once he did, he had tunnel vision and didn’t want anybody else, even if she wasn’t right for him. Pepper... related to Tony as if he did not have several sources of trauma that made him behave certain ways and do certain things, and instead of trying to understand and constructively help him, she shamed him both in public and private by implying that he was childish, disregarded his nightmares and panic attacks as nuisances, and literally walked away from him as he was begging her not to leave after a traumatic mental health episode. SO... yeah, I don’t ship them. HOWEVER... I do recognize and accept as canon that they are shipped, that Tony loves her very much, and that in most threads and AUs I will have to honor that ship, heh. And that’s fine. Just because I don’t ship them doesn’t mean I can’t or won’t write them as shipped if need be, and I have absolutely nothing against Pepper writers. I can separate my own opinions about the ship from how Tony feels about Pepper IC.

Now that I’ve clarified all that, when I do write them as I see them, in a very toxic and antagonistic relationship, which I have done off-Tumblr before, Tony falls into some unfortunate behaviors. He will make excuses left and right for Pepper’s mistreatment of him. If she walks out on him in a tiff, well it’s because he did or said something wrong. If she wants to take a break, that’s okay, she deserves a break from having to put up with him on a daily basis. Pepper puts up with so much from him and he’s lucky to have her and for any time she wants to give him. That’s how he thinks. So... let’s say he has a panic attack and she walks out because it’s annoying her or she thinks he’s being dramatic for attention. He will believe that’s true and feel 100% at fault. If anyone says, “Wow, that was mean of her,” he’ll come back at them with “Hey, no, she puts up with a lot from me, and you don’t understand.” So he makes excuses and defends her way too much.

But that’s for himself. If Pepper gets haughty, nasty, condescending, or pushy with someone else he cares about, he will come back at Pepper and defend the person like he really should be defending himself. So let’s say Pepper starts criticizing Carter for something. Tony will come to her defense, tell Pepper to lay off, tell her she doesn’t understand, tell her she’s being insensitive, whatever the situation dictates. So although in my IC answer he said yeah sure Pepper is fine around Carter, that’s him pulling a rosy lens in front of everything. If Pepper says or does something he doesn’t like to or around Carter, he will absolutely say something... he just won’t do that in his own defense. If that makes sense.}

#{ i am the caretaker of souls } ᵒᵒᶜ #muse: tony stark

[justatiredpotato]

Set Me Free | Chapter 1

Chapter List

Pairing: hybrid!Yoongi x human!reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, coffee shop AU, hybrid AU

Word Count: Chapter: 6,000~  Total: 40,000~ (I’m sorry xD)

Updates daily at 10pm MST

Warnings: violence, discrimination (against hybrids), mentions of injuries and blood, anxiety, panic attacks

Summary: Yoongi, a cat hybrid, has been hurt time and time again by a world that would have him believe he’s worthless. One day he finds himself in your protective care, and gets a new family to boot. But is it really that easy to escape the past and embrace a new beginning?

Author’s Note: I love writing reader inserts but I just can’t write Y/N. It feels weird to me. So in this fic the reader’s name is Yeoji. I hope this isn’t too confusing for anyone! This is my first time posting my work so I appreciate any support it gets!

You raised the blinds just high enough to let a sliver of pre-dawn light in, but low enough that you wouldn’t be blinded when the sun crested the buildings across the way. You peered through the sheer fabric onto the square outside. The area had seen a lot of development in the last few years. Trendy little shops now lined the street. The coffee shop you owned and operated was tucked between a couple of over-priced restaurants with laughably tiny servings. 

While you weren’t thrilled with the increase in your overhead costs, you couldn’t deny the recent boost in business. There was a steady flow of customers through the whole week, not just in the early morning or on weekends. It had even become necessary to hire a couple of part-timers to keep the place open longer. Not that you minded. You were actually glad for the opportunity to give your friend, Jungkook, a job. 

The rabbit hybrid was nervous by nature despite his imposing appearance; he stood at least a foot taller than you. Your brother, Namjoon was fiercely protective of him. Jungkook came into your lives in your final year of college. The police brought a battered and terrified Jungkook to Remedy shelter, which was run by your friend Jin. They hadn’t seen what happened to him, and he wouldn’t say. As far as you knew, Namjoon and Jin were the only people he ever told.

Your eyes focused on the patio before you, as the very bunny you were thinking of appeared at the door. One of the boys came in on the weekends to work alongside you and help with the rush. The square was usually packed with couples on dates, window-shopping and listening to musicians that busked along the sidewalks.

“Morning, noona!” Jungkook chirped with his wide bunny grin.

“G’morning Koo,” you said, attempting to match his energy level despite the early hour. He laughed sweetly at the nickname. You were the only one he let call him that since he turned seventeen.

“Did you have your coffee yet?” He asked. You shook your head no. “Waiting for your favorite hybrid to make it for you?” 

“Don’t let Jimin hear you say that. You know he’ll take any opportunity to pout,” you said. 

Jungkook chuckled at that. Jimin was the shop's other part-timer. Many hybrids were affectionate, but the ragdoll hybrid took it to another level. He spent every possible second with his arms wrapped around his nearest friend. You were counted among his friends from pretty much your first meeting. When the chance to work at your shop had opened up, he thought it would be a great chance to have some independence. 

Jimin had been rooming with Jin for years. Despite his desire for independence he simply couldn’t stand living alone. So he shared an apartment with Jin and Taehyung, a sweet tiger hybrid. Taehyung had been hard to adopt out because despite his good nature, he was an exotic breed, and a predator no less. Few wanted to risk taking responsibility for him, and those that did had less-than-good intentions for him.

Life was scary as a hybrid. Between the massive industry of underground fighting rings, sex trafficking, and abuse in even seemingly decent homes, any adoption was a gamble. Jin tried his best to vet each family, but he couldn’t catch every red flag. You and Namjoon knew better than most how that haunted him.

Several years ago, the two of you stopped by the shelter. Neither of you could reach him on the phone and you were starting to get worried. You finally found him in his office, passed out over his desk with several empty bottles of soju scattered around. Namjoon tried to rouse him, but all he could mumble was ‘dead, dead, dead’ between hiccuping sobs. The next morning you learned that a hybrid he’d helped earlier that year was found dead in a seedy part of town. The couple that adopted her were being investigated on suspicion of hybrid trafficking. 

He wasn’t the same after that. He got back to his usual smiling self, but he was slower to trust, and slower to laugh. Every time a hybrid left the shelter for their new home there was a flicker of sadness and fear in his eyes.

“Noona? What’s wrong?” Jungkook asked, breaking your train of thought. You turned to look at him, blinking to stop your eyes watering at the memory.

“It’s nothing Kookie, just thinking about this sad movie I watched last night.” You and Namjoon both agreed that it was best to keep the more tragic events from the shelter quiet. Jungkook had been through enough in the past, and you didn’t want to hurt him further by bringing up old memories. Jungkook frowned at the response.

“It must’ve been really sad,” he said, sniffing lightly. His frown deepened and he searched her eyes. He seemed to debate pressing it further. You knew that his hybrid senses were telling him you were lying. But he seemed to decide it was best to let it go, instead holding out a hot cup of your favorite coffee, a soft smile returning and making his eyes scrunch.

You took it, grateful for the coffee and his letting you evade the question. You set about your morning tasks, laying out chairs, brewing coffee for the self-serve station, and checking that there was creamer chilled and ready. Sunlight sparkled in the air, reflecting off the morning frost. 

It was supposed to snow that night. You shuddered. You hated winter for forcing you to pay for heating, if nothing else. Whenever your friends got together at your house—a tiny one-bedroom apartment above the cafe—Jimin whined about the cold temperature. But you refused to pay for anything beyond what would keep your pipes from freezing. It was expensive enough to own a building in your area already. Instead you wore layers and piled blankets on your bed. Jimin wasn’t really upset anyway, he loved any excuse to cuddle. Movie night usually ended with him and Taehyung asleep on either side of you.

“You actually going to turn on the radiator tonight?” Jungkook teased.

“I have my radiator on! It’s just… turned down,” you said.

He chuckled, knowing you were too stubborn to waste money on ‘luxuries.’ He turned away at the jingle of the door bell. The first customer of the day came as no surprise. A familiar, slouching form appeared, dropped a couple of equipment cases off at the side of the door, and shuffled up to the counter. The young man had black hair that hung down and nearly covered his eyes, which flicked up to meet hers. His lips twitched in a hint of a smile.

“Good morning, Yoongi” You said with more than your usual morning cheer. Jungkook scoffed and you threw him a dirty look. The young man in front of the counter didn’t seem to pay attention, his eyes determinedly focused on his beat-up boots.

“Morning,” he mumbled, glancing up to briefly meet your eyes.

“The usual?” you asked, trying to hold his gaze.

“Yeah,” he said. This time offering you a genuine smile before he looked away again. He busied himself looking through a well-worn notebook while you relayed his usual order to Jungkook: cheese toast and a small hot americano. You returned to the counter and accepted his punch card. He practically filled one every other week, since he was in nearly every day. 

“Performing in the square again today?” you asked. He was one of the buskers that was a regular in the area. He nodded. “You should put on a coat. It’s supposed to snow later. You’re going to freeze if you’re out there all day like that.”

You looked over his clothes. The hoodie he wore was ragged at the sleeves. He had the hood up, cinched a bit against the biting wind. His signature beanie was just peeking out from under it. He scuffed his feet, uncomfortable under your appraisal. 

“I’ll be fine,” he answered shortly. He looked up at you, eyes wide as he realized how curt he sounded. “I stay warm when I’m performing.”

You weren’t sure how standing behind a keyboard and laptop could keep you warm, but you didn’t press the issue. You handed back the punch card and gave him his total. He rummaged in his pockets before frowning and looking up at the menu.

“That’s wrong,” he said.

“Hm?” you asked, though you already knew what he meant. He pointed to the menu over your shoulder.

“Your prices went up, but this is what it always costs.” He pulled a jumble of crumpled bills and coins from the pocket of his hoodie, counting through them. A couple of coins fell and clattered across the counter.

“I gave you the regular customer discount,” you said. Jungkook chuckled as he joined you at the register with the completed order.

“That’s not a thing,” Yoongi said as he finished counting out his change and handed you the total with the new prices.

“It’s my shop. I’m making it a thing,” you argued, pushing the money back toward him.

“Please, Yeoji-ssi. I don’t need a hand out.”

“I didn’t mean that you need it, I just wanted to,” you finally stammered after an awkward pause. Now you were embarrassed, and you felt bad for unintentionally insulting him. Yoongi cursed quietly under his breath. Beside you Jungkook’s ears twitched, and he sniffed curiously; no doubt sensing something you couldn’t.

“I know, I’m sorry. That’s very generous of you,” he said as he gently pushed the money back toward you. Tucking his toast into the backpack and taking his coffee he hurried back toward the door. He fumbled for a minute, trying to carry his equipment and the hot beverage. As he finally got his things together and went to push the door open, you called after him.

“Hey, drop by if you get a chance to take a break and warm up.”

“I’ll try,” he said, turning around and flashing another soft smile as he pushed through the door.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

You thought about Yoongi a lot through the rest of the day. Jungkook noticed and teased you all day. You couldn’t scold him for it though, you’d teased him plenty about his first crush.

As long as Yoongi had been coming to the cafe you’d been curious about him. He was quiet, handsome, and talented. You’d heard him perform in the square before. He played the keyboard but also produced tracks that he played from his laptop, blending the simplicity of the piano with a full-bodied studio sound.

You often wondered why he wasn’t working at a studio, producing for idols. He could have been an idol himself with the good looks he hid behind a beanie, hoodie, and bangs. The more you learned about the boy, the more you wanted to know. On your break, you googled his name and found a few YouTube videos of performances at clubs and underground rap battles. Apparently he wasn’t just a musician, he was a talented lyricist and rapper as well.

“Doing some research on your boyfriend, I see?” Jungkook said, resting his chin on your shoulder. You jumped, turning to swat at him as he quickly danced away.

“Don’t read over people’s shoulders! That’s rude,” you scolded. You could feel your face turning pink, and it irritated you to know that he could sense your embarrassment. “He’s not my boyfriend. And I was just curious about his music.”

“Mhm, right,” Jungkook said dismissively. “You’re seriously browsing Google? Come on, doesn’t this guy have an Instagram?”

“Not one that I can find.” Your tone made it clear that you had made a thorough search and failed.

“Wow, really? No social media presence at all? Maybe he has Twitter.” You shook your head. “Facebook? LinkedIn? MySpace? AOL?”

“AOL did IM and email, you dork,” you interrupted, cracking a smile. “And no, I can’t find him on any platform besides YouTube. He doesn’t seem to have his own channel…”

“Weird…” Jungkook said. “Are we sure this guy really exists?” You snorted. “I’m serious! For someone to be completely off the grid on the internet is like, unheard of. Maybe he’s hiding from the law! Or in witness protection. Noona, what if your boyfriend is a drug dealer!”

You swung at him again, this time successfully landing a smack on his shoulder. He ran back out front when the door chimed.

“He’s not a drug dealer, stupid!” You called after him. “And he’s not my boyfriend!”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Namjoon picked up Jungkook after closing that evening. They were having a boys night at Jin’s house.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join, noona?” Jungkook asked, pouting a little bit to try and convince you.

“We really don’t mind, noona. Jimin and Tae would love it if you came,” Namjoon added.

“I appreciate the invitation, but I’ll be fine Joon. And Koo, you know Overwatch isn’t my style. You have fun with the boys. Make sure to let them win a few times,” you said, getting on your toes to ruffle Jungkook’s hair affectionately.

“I will,” Jungkook said, leaning into your hand for one last ear scratch.

You waved off the boys and set to cleaning up for the night. After mopping and turning out the lights in the front you went in the back to wash the dishes. Through the door leading out into the alley, you heard shouting. Listening for a minute, you shrugged it off. Probably just college kids from a local frat house. You often heard them as they stumbled home from the local bar. It was Friday night after all.

That explanation left your head quickly when you heard a scream. The sound nearly made you drop the mug you were washing. That wasn’t a scream of young men goofing around, it was a cry of pain and fear. Before you could think better of it you shook the water off your hands, grabbed your  phone, and raced for the door. 

You burst out into the alleyway struggling to stay upright on the thin layer of freshly fallen snow.

What you saw made your stomach turn. A group of four young men were crowded around the dumpster. Something, or more likely someone, was crumpled in the corner between it and the wall. You couldn’t see much, just rumpled fabric and a couple of bags laying around. The bags were opened, the paper and garments they had contained tossed around the alley. 

The men took turns throwing brutal kicks at the person in the corner, who was now curled so that the only thing you could see besides the snow-soaked hoodie was his hands clutching something to his chest. 

“You thought you could fool everyone? Thought you could scam a buck out of us?” One of the men sneered.

“Too bad. We know what you are. Just because no one wants you doesn’t mean you get to do whatever you want,” another said

“You’re just a toy that someone threw away. What were you thinking trying to pull something over on real people?” another said, punctuating his point with a kick to the ribs that sent the victim sprawling onto the snow.

“Hey!” you shouted before you could think better of it. You hurriedly lifted your phone to dial the police. It was dead. Panic shot through you as the four guys turned to you. Thinking quickly you put the phone to your ear and started talking. 

“Hello? I need the police. I’m in the alley behind ***********. There are some young men here and I think they’ve hurt someone.” One of the men took a step toward you, further illuminating his face in the dim security light. You took a step back. “Hey, I have all of this on CCTV! Your faces are on it!” you warned before returning to the imaginary phone call. “Yes, the cameras run 24/7. Everything should be on there…”

The guy closest to you stepped back into the shadows, cursing.

“Let’s go,” he said, turning to walk away and nodding for his friends to follow him. One of them turned to spit on the figure in the corner before walking away.

“You’re lucky, freak.”

You kept talking until the group disappeared around the corner. As soon as they were gone you rushed to the person in the alley. The person flinched away as you approached, tucking in on himself. You stopped, listening as he said something. It was muffled by his arms, which were held up in an attempt to protect his head. 

“What did you say?” you asked, moving a little closer.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…” he repeated over and over again. The man’s voice trembled to the point it was hard to understand him, but his voice was undeniably familiar. As you came within arms reach you got a clearer view, and your blood ran cold. There bundled in a thin, soaked hoodie, was Yoongi. The snow that had melted over him from his body heat was quickly refreezing. He shivered so badly you could hear his teeth chattering.

“Yoongi?” you asked in a choked whisper.

He looked up at you then. One of his eyes was blackened, almost entirely swollen shut, with a cut through his eyebrow dripping blood onto his eyelashes. His nose was bleeding, possibly broken. The split in his lip lined up with a quickly darkening bruise on his jaw.

“Oh my god, Yoongi! What happened?” you asked, reaching out for him.

“Please,” he said, more of a whimper than a word. You froze. He was scared you were going to hurt him.

“Yoongi?” you said, more softly this time. “It’s okay. They’re gone. I’m not going to hurt you. Would you please let me help you?” The panic in his eyes seemed to clear a little, and he seemed to really see you when he met your eyes again.

“Yeoji-ssi? I shouldn’t be here. I’m sorry. I’ll leave,” he mumbled, wincing as he tried to stand.

“Woah, hold on.” You reached out to steady him. He flinched at the sudden movement, but didn’t pull away this time. “You aren’t going anywhere. Come on, let's get you inside before you freeze.”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. It’s really not worth the tro-“ he started.

“Yoongi,” you said in your older-sister voice. He seemed to realize that that was the end of the discussion, because he sagged against you as you slung his arm over your shoulders. His free hand was still clutching something to his chest. You glanced at it and your eyes widened. A tail. You looked up at him with a clearly shocked expression. He let out a kind of tired, resigned sigh.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. Like I said, I can just go. You can leave me. You probably don’t want me here.”

“Why would you say that?” you said, immediately regretting your tone. He shrank into himself, curling his shoulders in to make himself smaller, even as he winced at the pain of moving.

“Sorry,” he repeated meekly, pulling his arm off as if he expected you to shove him away. You grabbed his hand and settled it back over your shoulder.

“I’m not mad at you, Yoongi. But why would you think I would leave you here?” you said. As you limped toward the door into the café he couldn’t meet your eyes. He’d embarrassed you, again. Of course you’d want to get rid of him. He hung his head and obediently followed you inside. His heart broke as he saw his bags, open and empty, strewn around the alley. His notes littered the floor, already soaked and probably illegible. He glanced around, seeing the edge of his keyboard where it had been shoved under the dumpster in the scuffle. Turning, he realized his backpack—containing his laptop, important papers and notes, and what little money he had saved—was still lying in the corner where you’d found him. 

He turned to you to say something, but found you were already at the door. As soon as the door closed behind him, what little strength he had left him. You eased him to the ground as best you could. He grunted, muffling a whimper of pain. He already felt pathetic enough.

“Okay, I’m going to call the police and an ambulance,” you said, tossing your dead cell phone on the counter and hurrying to the landline. Thank god you hadn’t hadn’t got around to cancelling it yet. Yoongi’s eyes widened and he lurched forward, trying to stand. He only made it one step before he fell, yelping in pain and landing on his hands and knees on the tile. You rushed back to his side.

“Don’t,” he begged through gritted teeth. You stopped short, thinking he didn’t want you to touch him. “No cops. No ambulance,” he got out before lowering himself to lay on his side. You quickly moved to lay his head on your lap instead of the cold floor.

“Yoongi you’re hurt. And those boys should be arrested! Besides, I’m sure someone is worried about you. Don’t you have a…” you trailed off, looking for the right word.

“Owner?” Yoongi said, disgust clear in his voice.

“I was going to say guardian. That’s what most of my friends call their arrangement.” 

“You have hybrid friends? Or your friends own hybrids?” Yoongi asked.

“I guess both, not that my hybrid friends are anyone’s property-“ you cut yourself off. “Yoongi this isn’t important right now. You need help.”

“No. The hospital will call the police, and the police will put me in a shelter.”

“You’re alone?” you asked cautiously.

“Yeah. I’m better his way. If I can just sleep here, I’ll be gone in the morning. Please,” he said. His voice kept getting quieter, losing its bite the more he spoke.

“No,” you said firmly.

“I’m sorry, I know you don’t want me here. I’ll be gone before you wake up. I won’t touch anything. You can just forget all of this.”

“No, Yoongi. I meant I’m not letting you leave like this. I’m getting you help and you’re going to let me.”

You took off your sweater and put it under his head so you could stand and get the phone. Yoongi moved to protest, but you threw him a look and he surrendered. You dialed and watched as Yoongi’s eyes fell closed despite his best attempts to fight it.

“Noona? What’s up?” came the answer on the phone.

“Hoseok, I need your help,” you said, not wasting any time. You could hear the sound of video games and trash talk pause in the background as the other boys asked Hoseok what you called for.

“Shut up a sec and let me ask,” he said to the younger boys who were no doubt hovering around the phone trying to eavesdrop. “Sorry, noona. What do you need? It’s late. Is everything okay?”

“I need a doctor.”

“Are you okay?” he asked immediately, his voice more urgent now. You could hear a whine on the other end already, probably Jungkook, already worried.

“I’m fine, Hobi, but could you take this conversation somewhere more private?” you asked, not wanting to expose the younger boys to any unnecessary trauma. There was shuffling and complaints on the other end of the line, then the sound of a door closing.

“Talk. What’s going on?” Hoseok demanded. The door opened and closed again and you heard Namjoon’s voice.

“What’s happening? Is she okay?” he asked. “Are you okay?” He repeated more clearly, evidently sharing the phone with Hoseok.

“Yes, I’m fine! But I have an injured hybrid here. He doesn’t have a guardian and he’s too scared to let me call an ambulance.”

“What happened to him?” Hoseok asked. He was a doctor specializing in hybrid medicine at the nearby hospital. He often helped out at Jin’s shelter. You felt some relief as you sensed he was in what Taehyung liked to call ‘doctor mode.’

“Some kids beat him up. It’s bad. He’s passed out on my kitchen floor right now. Drenched from the snow too. I can’t carry him into my apartment myself and it’s way too cold in this kitchen.”

“I’m on my way. I’ll have to grab some supplies from the shelter.” 

You heard the door opening again, and a bunch of voices throwing questions at Hoseok and Joon.

“Jin-hyung, shelter keys?” Hoseok requested over the noise.

“I’m going too,” Namjoon chimed in. There was more arguing and shuffling noises as coats were grabbed and shoes were put on and everyone insisted they were coming. You were distracted by a soft murmur from Yoongi, still on the floor behind you. You stretched the phone cord and returned to his side.

“What is it, Yoongi?” you asked, pulling the beanie off to brush some of his fringe off his face. His soft black ears were flattened against his head, and you gently smoothed over them too.

“My bag,” he mumbled, eyebrows creasing even in unconsciousness.

You interrupted the arguing boys on the other end of the phone.

“Bring the boys,” you said.

“Are you sure about that?” Namjoon asked, knowing that you, Jin, and himself all agreed it was best to protect the three maknaes from this kind of situation when it was possible. 

“They can’t come in and see him, but I have a job I need them to help me with. Make sure they dress warm,” you said.

“If you’re sure,” Namjoon said, deciding not to question you. 

“We’ll be there in twenty minutes,” Hoseok said. “Do your best to keep him warm until then.”

“Okay. Please hurry.”

As soon as you hung up, you quickly ran into your apartment in the back. You pulled as many extra blankets as you could carry out of your closet and rushed back to Yoongi. You debated for a minute before pulling off the drenched hoodie, only to find that the black t-shirt he wore underneath was no drier. You weren't confident that you could get the garment off without further hurting him, so instead you piled blankets on top of him. You filled a couple of hot water bottles and tucked them around him; then filled a couple more and tucked them into your bed so that it would be warm when the boys carried him in.

You returned to the kitchen, where Yoongi was barely visible for all the blankets he was packed in. Glancing at the clock, you saw that only 10 minutes had passed. It felt like you’d been waiting for hours. The time crawled as you alternated between watching the seconds tick by and watching Yoongi’s chest rise and fall.

You jumped when the knock finally came at the door. They’d come to the back, the front door to your apartment, and you ran to let them in. Hoseok immediately slipped past you and headed to the kitchen. The others moved to follow, but you stopped them.

“I need you guys to help me with something,” you said. “Those thugs trashed his stuff threw it all over the alley. Joon, can you take the boys and go gather what you can and see if any of it can be salvaged? I know he said his bag is back there. It seemed important to him.”

Namjoon nodded and quickly herded the boys around the building and into the alley. You pulled Jin inside.

“I need you to help Hobi and I get him inside.”

“That bad?” he asked, frowning. You just nodded. He followed you back to where Hoseok was already taking stock of his patient.

“You did good, noona. Seems like you staved off the shock. Move him, and then I’ll dress these wounds.”

You carefully pulled the blankets away.

“Be careful, he was really protective of his tail. I think it’s injured somehow,” you warned before Jin and Hoseok picked him up. They exchanged a glance as they moved toward the apartment door.

“What?” you asked. “Is something else wrong?”

“No,” Jin tried to assure you, though his tone wasn’t comforting. “It’s just… Hobi, I know he isn’t a big guy, but is it normal to be this light?”

“No,” Hoseok answered grimly. “Definitely not.”

Now that your attention was drawn to it, you noticed how slight Yoongi was. His ribs were clearly visible through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. You felt a lump in your throat and looked away, hurrying to open the door.

“You can put him in my room. I put some water bottles to warm the bed.” They nodded and quickly settled him on the bed.

“Do you think we could cut away this stuff?” Hoseok asked, gesturing to his clothes. “It’s all trashed anyway.”

“I don’t know if he has much else…” you said, hesitant to ruin his things.

“I just don’t want to risk further injury trying to get them off intact. And we can’t leave him in these, he’s already nearly hypothermic,” he said.

“We can replace them,” Jin suggested. “I brought a change of clothes. It’s in a bag on your coffee table, noona.”

“Right, great,” you said. “I’ll go get them.”

You hurried out of the room to get the bag Jin mentioned. When you came into the living room you found Jimin, hovering by the door.

“Noona, there was a keyboard by the trash and papers everywhere. Are they his? Should we get them too?” he asked, shifting from foot to foot. His nose twitched, and you realized he could probably smell the anxiety and pain in the air. You sighed.

“Yeah, grab everything you can. We can sort through it in the morning, and see what we can save.” He nodded and turned to leave.

“Chim,” you called and he turned. You wrapped him in a comforting hug. “Thank you.”

A purr echoed in the boy’s chest, even as you heard him sniffle. You knew this whole experience was hard for him. He was one of the volunteers at the shelter the day Jungkook was brought in. That experience still haunted him. It’s why he stopped working at the shelter and took a job at the coffee shop. His tail curled around your waist as he hugged you back tightly.

“He’ll be okay, Chim,” you said, stroking his hair. “We’re going to help him.”

A pained groan came from the room behind you, and you pulled away from Jimin.

“Go back out and help the boys. Once you’re done, leave the stuff in the living room and go to the cafe. Tell Jungkook I said everyone needs a hot chocolate,” you petted his hair one last time and guided him out the door. A shout echoed out of your bedroom, and you couldn’t tell if it sounded pained, angry, or scared. Snatching the bag off the coffee table, you dashed back into the room.

“Get off me!” Yoongi shouted, tail clutched to his now bare chest. Jin stood back, hands up in surrender as Hoseok tried to calm the panicked cat. 

“Look man, your clothes are soaked. We’re risking hypothermia if we don’t get you into something dry.”

Yoongi looked down, seeing what remained of his ratty t-shirt cut open and in the trash. The right leg of his jeans was sliced along the outer seam up to his mid-thigh.

“What the hell did you do to my clothes?” He shouted again. He winced and swayed from the strain of sitting upright.

“Yoongi,” you started softly. Yoongi turned to you, eyes wide with panic. You approached slowly, not stopping when he spat at you to leave him alone, hurling threats and nonsense at you. As you sat on the edge of the bed he shrank back into the bedding around him and refused to meet your eyes.

“Please,” he said, his voice so quiet you hardly heard him. “Please just leave me alone. Please don’t hurt me.”

“Yoongi,” you said again, “I want to help. You’re safe. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.” You reached out to gently take his hands. “I swear, I’m going to protect you. Please let me. These are my friends, and they’re trying to help.”

He drew a shallow breath, wincing at the pain in his ribs and nodded. You stood and moved to leave, trying to spare him some privacy.

“Wait!” he said, stopping you. “Please don’t leave me.”

You turned back to him and took in his face, still chapped from the winter wind. You couldn’t leave him. So you stood with your back turned, awkwardly rocking on the balls of your feet as Jin and Hoseok helped him change.

“That’s much better,” Hoseok said, evidently satisfied that his patient was no longer at risk for hypothermia. You turned to find Yoongi with his ribs already wrapped and Hoseok working on dressing the wounds on his brow and lip. The flannel pajama bottoms Jin had brought were much too big for him, you might’ve giggled at how cute he looked if the situation were different. Without the dark hoodie and ripped jeans, Yoongi was undeniably adorable.

“I brought my clothes since I wasn’t sure what size would fit. I guess we should’ve borrowed Jimin’s instead,” Jin said with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

“Thank you,” Yoongi said, bowing his head in thanks.

“It’s no problem. I’ll bring by something that’ll fit you better tomorrow.”

Yoongi glanced from you to Jin to Hoseok, then back to his hands in his lap. He focused on Hoseok’s hands, which were now busy setting the break in his tail.

“Don’t worry about it, I probably have something in my bag I can wear…” He trailed off, remembering the state his belongings were in the last time he saw them. “I’ll go clean up my stuff as soon as it’s light tomorrow. Don’t worry, I’ll be out of the way before you know it.”

“Yoongi,” you said, trying her best not to sound frustrated. Yoongi’s ears flattened and you knew you hadn’t succeeded.

“I’m sorry. I can leave now if you want,” he said, tail curling back around him as soon as Hoseok released it.

Your heart, already cracked from all the events of the night so far, finally broke completely. Hoseok stepped aside to make room as you came to sit beside Yoongi again. He was shaking, and you realized that he was terrified. He genuinely believed that you wanted him gone; that you’d throw him out in the snow right then and there.

“Don’t leave,” you said, your own voice trembling now. You reached out and lifted his chin so he’d meet your eyes. He did, and you found they were shining with tears of pain and fear that he was desperately trying to hold back. “Please don’t leave. I want you to stay.”

His shaking hand came up to rest over yours, which still cupped his cheek. He leaned in to the first gentle touch he’d felt in years, and the tears finally fell. You pulled him into your arms, and he let you. He buried his face in your neck and cried as you pulled a blanket over his shoulders. 

Eventually the sobs quieted. His breaths came in little gasps now, as he tried to catch his breath despite the pain in his ribs. You leaned away after a while to look at his face and saw he’d fallen asleep. 

You looked back to find that Jin had gone to check on the boys. Hoseok sat quietly at the end of the bed, not wanting to interrupt. He gave you an approving smile, and you thought his eyes were a bit wet too. It took you a moment to notice Namjoon standing in the doorway. Hoseok helped you ease Yoongi down to lie comfortably, and you carefully disengaged herself from his arms. The two of you exited the room as quietly as you could.

“You were great with him, noona,” Hoseok praised. Namjoon beamed with pride before pulling you into a tight hug.

“I’m proud of you,” he said, planting a kiss on top of your head.

“Thank you, Joonie.” Your voice broke and you finally felt all of the emotions hit you. Your shoulders shook and you struggled to stay quiet as you sobbed into Namjoon’s sweater.

A/N: So so so much thanks to my beta reader @sunshineboysbts​ for helping me create and edit this whole fic! She’s been listening to my ramblings for actual months while I worked on this. Love you, girl!

#yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #hybrid!au #hybrid!yoongi #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #bts #suga #suga fanfic #cafe!au #yoongi #bts suga #bts yoongi

[soulmate-game]

Part 1

After the Discovery, things didn’t change as much as everyone thought they might. “Everyone” being just Marinette, of course.

She got a lecture from Lois about worrying her, and then a joke from the older woman about no longer having another non-hero in the house to team up with.

“Wait, Dad,” Jon spoke up after that comment from his mom, bobbing up and down on his heels. Both him and Clark had long since changed out of their costumes, which didn’t take long considering both of them having super speed. “Does this mean Mari can meet Damian? And is she going to join a hero team—“

“I already have a team, Jon,” Marinette interrupted, soft but firm at the same time. Two months was more than long enough to know that Jon could talk forever if he was allowed to. “Chat Noir, Viperion, Bunnyx, and Ryuuko are all Miraculous users like me,” she had already sat down and explained the bare basics of her abilities and the Paris situation. Lois had known better than to scold her, no matter how gentle the scolding was, before Marinette had a chance to say anything.

Clark blinked, looking between both of his kids. And yes, Marinette was well and truly one of his kids already. He couldn’t hold back a soft chuckle. “She can meet Damian when school starts back up again, Jon. We don’t want to rush anything,” he started out by telling his son. Marinette was still very jittery. Two months was nowhere near enough time to recover from the trauma of watching your parents die, after all.

(In fact, Clark thought, for some people not even a lifetime was long enough. Batman briefly came to mind as an example.)

The girl still had nightmares almost daily, and panic attacks that resulted in brief spans of mutism at least once a week. Those, at least, had severely decreased in frequency, but it was clear that she was far from ready to meet very many new people. Especially people like Damian Wayne, who was hard enough for someone in perfect mental health to handle even on a good day.

“And Marinette,” Clark switched over to his pseudo-daughter. “If you have that many teammates, surely they would understand that you need a break,” when Marinette didn’t meet his eyes, Clark felt dread build up in his stomach. “Marinette, they know about your parents, right?”

The girl fidgeted. Clark closed his eyes.

“Nobody knows my identity,” She admitted after a tense silence. “I know everyone else’s, even though I only found out Chat’s by accident. But they don’t know mine, and I can’t ask them to give me time off anyway.”

“Why not, honey?” Lois asked as gently as she could, picking up on the beginning signs of Marinette closing herself off. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything any of them could do to stop it. Marinette refused to meet any of their eyes, and even before she spoke her new family knew that they wouldn’t get anything else meaningful out of her about the Paris situation, at least for the day.

“They need me.”

Clark and Jon traded a look. That statement felt a bit too familiar for them. It was something they heard from a lot of heroes who tried to justify overworking themselves. It was something both of them had said before.

But they let the topic rest for the night. Pushing Marinette wouldn’t do any good for anybody.

—*—*—*—*—*

A week passed. Lois and Clark were sitting on the couch watching TV when Lois caught her husband’s eyes darting up to the ceiling. Sighing, she turned the volume down a few notches.

“Did she leave for Paris again?” She asked even though she already knew the answer. Clark nodded grimly.

“Yesterday she didn’t get back in until almost four in the morning,” he admitted, running a hand over his face. “And now, it’s already eleven and she’s just now heading out. I know she doesn’t want me or Jon going to Paris because of Hawkmoth’s magic, but…” he trailed off with his mouth set in a deep frown. Lois could only sigh and lean against his arm comfortingly.

“I know,” she breathed quietly.

“She can’t keep working herself to the bone like this, Lois. Sometimes she’ll head right over to Paris after a nightmare, like she needs to remind herself of something, but she always comes back in less than an hour in that case. But this— when she leaves to fight HawkMoth or patrol Paris before ever going to sleep in the first place— it’s like she’s trying to avoid the nightmares by overworking herself too much to even dream.”

“I know,” Lois rubbed a hand on Clark’s back in gentle circles.

“It reminds me of Batman sometimes,” Clark said, his voice filled with uncharacteristic defeat. “Marinette doesn’t get violent like Bruce, but… never sleeping, throwing herself into heroism, she even refers to Ladybug as if they are different people, Lois. I can’t always help Bruce since he’s a grown adult and more than capable of shutting me out when he wants to, but Marinette is our kid now. I’m just not sure how to help her.”

Lois took a deep breath. “Well, she’s not Bruce so you can’t just bait her into a spar to sort out her feelings,” she mused with faint humor. “But how about we start with sending Jon to Paris the next time you guys hear her leave? The sooner we figure out exactly what the situation and her relationship with her team is like, then maybe the sooner we can find some answers.”

Clark nodded, and looked back up to the ceiling. “I know you heard that, Jon. Don’t get in the way, and come back if Marinette finds you and tells you to. We don’t want her to think we don’t trust her.”

A beat passed, and Clark rolled his eyes fondly.

“Don’t forget to go to bed as soon as she gets back, Jon. I don’t want to deal with two overly exhausted children.”

A thump.

“I’m sixteen!” Jon yelled back, clearly for Lois’s benefit as his mom let out a short burst of laughter.

—*—*—*—*—*

“Ladybug!”

“Look, it’s Ladybug!” “Woo! Go ladybug!” “Could you beat this guy extra fast, Ladybug? I’m late for a meeting!”

People in the streets were shouting in French happily, pointing up at their resident spotted heroine. Some people groused at her in mild or fond annoyance, asking her to beat the Akuma-of-the-day a bit faster for various reasons or jokingly calling her a slow poke. Most people just got pictures or videos on their phones of her as best as they could, watching her swing by in awe and admiration.

It was familiar. Too, too familiar, and Jon made sure to get it all on camera. His parents would want to see this. The pair of contacts he was wearing, a gift from Red Robin, translated everything that was being said for him into helpful little English subtitles.

And there was his sister. Marinette had been tough to pin down, and this was Jon’s third time trying to follow her in Paris. The first time, the day after that late night discussion between his parents, ended in less than five minutes. Marinette caught him and sent him home firmly, which was followed by a heart-to-heart with all four of them when she got home.

She still refused to tell them anything more than the basics about Paris’s situation. For some reason, she seemed extremely reluctant to talk about it. She had no problem comparing experiences and hero jokes with him and his dad, but the moment they tried to talk about Paris-specifics, Marinette clammed up.

It was the second of Jon’s attempts to follow Marinette, just a week after the first, that brought up a possible reason. Because Jon had watched a civilian that he hadn’t been able to get to in time get pinned under a thrown car and killed—only for Ladybug’s powers to reverse all the damage and bring the man back to life.

Jon had raced back home right after that, not even giving Marinette the chance to see him. After relaying what had happened to his parents, they all agreed to one last tail. The pieces were already falling together, and none of them liked the picture they were painting. They wanted to confront Marinette as soon as possible. So here he was, another week later.

Jon kept recording throughout the fight, watching as Marinette clearly led her team. There was no mistaking that all her teammates respected her and treated her word as law. Even Chat Noir, who was Ladybug’s deputy, always referred to Ladybug’s opinion before issuing any orders. Civilians didn’t always flee the scene, taking their time as they tried to record the fight. And when the Akuma was beaten and only Ladybug made a move to catch the corrupted butterfly, the final pieces clicked into place. Jon managed to stay still long enough to catch the crowd of fans running forward, trying to mob Ladybug with pleas for autographs or statements or interviews, before he left. Ladybug’s team had acted as a buffer between her and the crowd anyway, so Jon was able to leave with a clear conscience.

When he walked into his house, already changed back into normal clothes, he waved his phone with a serious look on his face as both his parents waited anxiously.

“Yeah. This is pretty bad,” Jon warned them as he hooked his phone up to his laptop, and played the footage for them.

—*—*—*—*—*

When Marinette got home, it was to a clear intervention. Nervously detransforming, she looked to Tikki and back to her new family. The Kwami, who had previously just been explained away as the source of her powers, gently nudged the girl forward. She knew her holder needed this.

Clark and Lois gently explained why they asked Jon to follow her, explaining that they were all concerned about how badly she was overworking herself.

“You’re getting only three hours of sleep, and that’s on the days that you wake up with nightmares,” Clark’s

voice was quiet, begging her to listen. “Every other day, you teleport to what I can only hope is Paris every time, and you don’t come back for hours. Even if you spend that whole time fighting Akumas, you still only get an hour’s worth of sleep maximum when you get back. Sometimes you don’t even sleep at all until you collapse of exhaustion,” he leaned forward over the table, worry etched in every line on his face. “Marinette, we’re worried. We wanted Jon to see what the situation in Paris was like, because we thought that maybe it would explain why you seem to care about it more than your health. We didn’t know if it was just you needing to keep busy, or something else.”

“And you’re gone during the day too,” Lois added. “And we get that. HawkMoth attacks whenever he feels like, and we all understand if you have to disappear at odd times to fight his Akumas. But this is more than that, isn’t it?”

Marinette’s hands were clenched into fists, and tears were starting to bubble up in her eyes, but she didn’t say anything. Jon slowly approached her, waiting for her small nod before laying one of his larger hands over her fists and gently prying them open before she hurt herself. He kept his hands there, holding hers for both of their comfort.

“I took a video, today,” he admitted gently. “Dad already erased it from the laptop and my phone, don’t worry. But they— we all— needed to see it. The way Paris treats you, Marinette—“

“It’s like how Metropolis used to treat Superman. How they sometimes still do,” Lois interrupted, trying to get Marinette to meet her eyes. “We all thought that Superman showing up was the end of our problems. That as soon as he showed up, the villain or criminal or whatever that was causing us problems was done for. That he could save everyone,” Lois’s eyes grew melancholy. “But we had to learn the hard way that he’s not invincible, no matter how much he might seem like he is. We had to learn the hard way that nobody, no matter how strong or how many powers they have, can save everyone. The kind of trust we had in him before is toxic, Marinette. It’s toxic to us, because we stop being as careful as we should be if we think he’s always going to catch us. And it’s toxic to him, too.”

“How?” Marinette asked, her voice impossibly tiny and her eyes glittering with unshed tears as she darted her eyes between them. “They need someone to believe in. They— I make them feel safe. I— isn’t that good?”

“You feel like it’s your job to be there no matter what, right?” Clark asked, meeting her gaze with a warm, but firm one of his own. “That you have to do whatever it takes to win every battle, no matter what it costs you, because they believe you will. You start feeling like everyone you don’t save is your fault. And that’s not okay,” he stood up and Jon slowly backed away, allowing their father to kneel by Marinette and clasp one of her shoulders. “It always hurts. You might never forget the faces of the people you can’t save, but it isn’t your fault. You told me and Jon that you don’t blame us for what happened to your parents, that it’s stupid to blame the hero for something that wouldn’t have happened if the villain didn’t attack in the first place,” his grip tightened slightly, trying to offer comfort when Marinette tended at the mention of her parents. “If you don’t blame us, even though we were the ones in costume and fighting that day, then you need to stop blaming yourself too.”

The tears finally overflowed, salty water trickling down Marinette’s cheeks and sloppy sobs ripping themselves from her throat even as she threw herself into Clark’s chest. He hugged her tightly, letting her cry.

“B-b-But,” Marinette stuttered in between hiccuping sobs. “My powers reverse damage, m-my powers bring people back,” she sniffed, burying her face deeper into Clark’s chest. “I wanted t-to help. I-I was. S-s-So close to tr-transforming and fighting with y-you, but I didn’t. I d-didn’t, so I c-couldn’t bring them b-back. I should have been tr-transformed, th-that way they would be—“

“Shh,” Clark whispered gently, rocking her in his arms. “It’s not your fault. Metropolis wasn’t your city. You were protecting your identity, and that was the right choice.”

“But—!”

“No, Marinette,” Clark interrupted, holding her just a little tighter as she continued to tremble and sob. “If you had transformed, someone would have figured it out. A French class comes to Metropolis, and one of their students mysteriously disappears at the same time that a French hero shows up in America for the first time? Maybe you could have brought them back, but none of you would have been safe. Our villains, the villains of Metropolis, of the League, they would have suddenly known about you and might have researched Paris. Maybe HawkMoth would have gained a new ally, or maybe a villain would attack you just because you’re a new hero to target,” Clark sighed, rubbing his hand gently over Marinette’s back as her sobs quieted into a few hiccups and sniffles. She was listening. That was a good sign. “So yes, maybe you would have been able to save them that once, but you could also have opened up a new can of worms that you might not have been able to handle. Things could have gotten worse, and Jon and I wouldn’t have even known to help you. You would have continued to shoulder everything on your own, but you don’t have to. You did your best, and your parent’s deaths aren’t your fault. And you have Jon and I now, and your team even if they don’t know who you are. You can rely on us a little. If you keep going on like this, though, you’re going to kill yourself Marinette,” this time his grip tightened for a whole different reason and Clark buried his face in Marinette’s loose hair. Even after only almost three months, the thought of losing her made him breathless. She was his daughter, even if not by blood, and he couldn’t stand the thought of her hurting herself like this.

“Please, Mari,” That was Jon, who had knelt down by their side and joined the hug. “Let us help you. I promise we’re not incompetent heroes.”

Marinette’s laugh was watery, and hysteric. She accepted a tissue from Lois, who was suddenly sitting down only a foot away from the three’s group hug. After a good nose-blow, Marinette took a deep breath.

“Maybe now’s a good time to give them a proper explanation, Marinette,” Tikki said as she floated down to land on her wielder’s head, giving her the best hug she could. Marinette gave another wet chuckle.

“Yeah, I agree,” she took a deep breath. “But it’s a long story.”

“Not a problem,” Lois assured the girl as she forced herself up and stretched her arms out. “I’ll get the extra pillows and blankets. We can relax on the floor and have story time, and then binge watch movies and have a sleepover in the living room. Clark, could you be a dear and move the couch out of the way?”

—*—*—*—*—*

“You have a rule against killing, dear,” Lois whispered groggily from where she was laying against Clark’s side. Marinette was sprawled in between him and Jon, safely in their cuddle-cocoon. Both of their kids were deep asleep. Clark grunted.

“Yeah, but he put so much responsibility on kids, Lo. Kids,” he whispered back, turning his head to try and lessen the chance of waking up Jon. “And he didn’t offer them any support for almost a year, made them figure out the whole hero thing and their powers on their own,” the clearing of a tiny throat made Clark stifle a snort. “With their Kwami,” he whispered, quietly appeasing the eavesdropping Tikki who was laying on Marinette’s chest pretending to sleep. “But a god isn’t exactly a replacement for an actual hero mentor, you know,” he shot at her, making the tiny goddess shrug in acquiescence. “And making her Guardian— he basically threw all his responsibilities onto kids, and ran away. And now Marinette has to heal from all the unrealistic expectations she gave herself. So forgive me if I’m entertaining a few more violent daydreams than usual.”

Lois patted his arm and kissed his cheek. “I’m sure they will be just as violent and gratifying to imagine in the morning. Go to sleep, Smallville.”

—*—*—*—*—*

It was another two and a half weeks before Marinette met Damian Wayne for the first time. She looked from the fellow teenager in a perfectly-pressed uniform and then over to her brother with a raised eyebrow.

“Does he fly in on a helicopter every day?” She asked him incredulously, making Jon grin and nod. She looked back over at Damian, who was clearly annoyed at her for speaking about him when he was right there. “I will never understand rich people.”

Damian scoffed, rolling his eyes. “And I will never understand simpletons. Kent, who is your friend?” He practically spat the last word, making the inner bully-detector in Marinette go off. Her interactions with Chloe and Lila kicked in, and sparked her old habits. Marinette flashed a bright smile, stepping in front of Jon before he could say a word and holding out her hand to Damian. Clark, who was talking to Bruce nearby, out his hand over his mouth to hide a snort. Bruce raised his eyebrows, paying close attention to the interaction now.

“Hi! I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Clark and Lois took me in a few months ago, and they said I’m already family. That means that I’m Jon’s sister now, which means that it’s my job to keep him away from bad influences. My hobbies include annoying bullies and not being a welcome mat. How are you?”

Damian blinked once. Twice, and then took her hand and shook it firmly even as a smirk spread itself over his lips.

“Damian Wayne,” he replied easily. “And I apologize for assuming you were a simpleton. I think we can tolerate each other just fine.”

As Marinette and Damian kept trading sarcastic quips with one another that got steadily less passive-aggressive as time went on (with Jon watching in dismay as somehow Marinette seemed to get along? With Damian? And they were scheming? This couldn’t end well.), Clark and Bruce watched the kids walk into their school building.

A moment of silence stretched, before Bruce finally caved and asked; “Took her in?”

Clark grinned slightly, knowing Bruce never would have been able to resist sating his curiosity over the new girl in his care.

“Lois and I practically adopted her. Technically her paternal grandmother has custody and only gave her to us to take care of while she recovers from her grief in a different country, but that’s only because trying to adopt her without being French citizens would have been almost impossible.”

“Grief?” Bruce’s eyebrows pulled down, and Clark’s smile grew somber.

“Remember the attack in late May, back in Metropolis? The one that actually had the first fatalities in months?” Bruce’s face went slack in realization, followed closely by his eyes snapping to the school’s doors. Clark nodded. “Looks like your penchant for adopting black-haired, blue-eyed orphans is contagious. She was scraping the skin off her hands and giving herself burns trying to dig them out of the rubble. When Jon and I realized that they were both of her parents, I had Lois look into her to make sure she had family to take care of her,” Clark sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “The options were a grandmother who never stops traveling or a great uncle she barely knows who only speaks Mandarin when she doesn’t. So we pulled a few strings, and now she’s a Kent in all but name.”

“I hope Damian can avoid saying the wrong thing for at least a day before I talk to him later,” Bruce said with a sigh as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “At least she seems to have won his respect pretty quickly.”

Clark laughed. “Oh yeah, she tends to do that. No offense or anything Bruce, but I think it’s a good thing we were the ones that adopted her before you got the chance,” he turned and smiled at his old friend. “You wouldn’t be able to handle Marinette. She’s closer to a Super than a Bat.”

—*—*—*—*—*

@fantasiame @thestressmademedoit @amayakans @resignedcatservant @too0bsessedformyowngood @chocolatecatstheron

Part 3

This. Was. Supposed. To be. Fluffy. Damn it. But oh well, natural story progression calls for more hurt and comfort I guess? Maybe one part left in this story I think.

#marinette joins the kent family #jon kent and marinette #mlb x dc #ml x dc #platonic jonette #daminette #if you squint #pre daminette #Marinette Kent