#if i knew i would have ptsd when i bought this ticket i never would have spent so much money | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whumpingcrow · 3 years

Text

Pt.24 "Hunting for Bunnies"

CW: creepy/intimate whumper, stalking, discussion of homicide/suicide (explicit), injury mention/description, blood (explicit), strangulation mention, gun/gunshot mention, character death mention, drugs/alcohol mention, prison mention, tics/tourrettes (descriptive), ptsd/nightmares, panic attack, chloroform use, self injury, x-acto knife (brief), gag/restraints, discussion of past whump, vomit mention (brief), conditioned whumpee, stockholm syndrome-type language (let me know if I missed anything!)

Healing was a good look on Elias. As weeks went on, his smile returned to his face, his bruises slowly melted away, the numerous scars scattering his body faded into small pinkish lines. He cut his hair a little shorter, dyed a streak of blue through it. He and Tyson got matching tattoos, little rain clouds and with lightning bolts on their forearms. They were happy, very obviously so.

August wanted to kill both of them for it.

He wasn’t entirely jealous (he was, so jealous he was blood thirsty every second of the day), he was more so just frustrated that Elias thought he was able to be happy without August. He was stupid. Adorable, but stupid. He didn’t know that he needed August to survive. He didn’t know that being away from each other was killing them both. Rather, he didn’t know how much the distance was making August want to kill them both. It would have to be a grand gesture, a murder suicide so beautiful there’ll be copycats. He had to talk himself out of those violent fantasies several times a day, hold himself back from getting out of his car while he followed Elias and just grabbing him. Maybe he’d strangle him again, watch the life drain out of his face, watch him slip into the dark abyss of death. Maybe he wouldn’t, maybe he’d take him home and torture him until he was broken beyond broken and then put him out of his misery. Single shot to the face, like he’d made Elias do to Sawyer so long ago. And then...August guessed he would do himself in after that. He was tired of being in and out of prison, and if Elias didn’t exist anymore, then what would be the point in living? Maybe that was the thought that made him change his mind, when his hand was on the door handle and he was getting ready to make a huge, violent, romantic scene. Maybe the idea of a world without Elias was just too sad, and he knew he didn’t really want Elias dead. He just wanted him away from Tyson.

They were both entirely oblivious that August was even close by, let alone watching them all the time. He was renting a room at a motel a couple streets away from Tyson’s apartment, but he was hardly ever there. He spent most of his time parked near their apartment, which was conveniently on the first floor and had a large window in the living room that was facing the street. There was also a porch in front, where Elias would occasionally sit outside late at night and smoke cigarettes or blunts. Sometimes he was alone, sometimes Allen was there with him. August often thought about how hilarious it would be to walk up to both of them at times like that, just to see them both unravel with fear at the same time. A few nights, when Tyson is working and Elias is all alone, August sits out front in the grass next to a tree and just watches Elias inside. He can see him smoking in the living room, he watches him pass out on the couch, sometimes he goes into the kitchen, comes back with nothing. When he goes to bed, August watches him lock the door, and it pisses him off so badly he wants to throw a rock through the window. He doesn’t want to go inside, he’s letting Elias heal again, he’s respecting his space, for the moment. Still, knowing that Elias actively wants to keep him out stings. So, he holds off breaking in for as long as he can.

It’s just a shame his resolve isn’t so strong, not when it comes to Elias. He can’t stay away from him anymore, he knew it the second he bought a plane ticket back here to find him, despite the very real possibility of being arrested any second. On the plane, he came to the conclusion that he had absolutely no control when it came to Elias. He couldn’t stay away from him, he couldn’t restrain himself when he was hurting him. He loved Elias, loved him so much it was driving him insane. Things just didn’t make sense when they were apart, August could hardly form a coherent thought that wasn’t about Elias, or how much it hurt to only be able to look but not touch. Though, when he broke in he wasn't able to touch Elias still, but it was at least closer than being separated by a window.

Tyson and Elias left the house, August wasn't sure where or when, but when August finally left his motel and pulled up to their place, the car was gone. It would be easy enough to find them, August had Tyson's number still and could get his location in minutes, if he wanted. Instead, he tested the door handle. It was unlocked. He guessed if they weren't there it didn't matter to them whether someone broke in or not.

August didn't make it obvious he was there, not the first time. He went through some of their things, put everything back in its place. He took one of Elias's shirts, a pair of his boxers. He didn't think either of them would notice, which bummed him out because he wanted Elias to know he was close by.

The next time he snuck in, it was when Elias was there. August had held himself off for as long as he could, he'd been in LA for 28 days already and he hadn't been closer than six feet from him the entire time. So when Elias smoked a huge bowl and went to bed without locking the door, it was like he was practically inviting him in, and August just couldn't help himself. He let himself in, he smoked what was left in Elias's bong, and he walked around the house for a little bit, waiting to make sure Elias was actually asleep before he went to see him.

Something about watching Elias sleep had always made August go disgustingly mushy for him. He looked so small, so vulnerable and unaware. This time was even better, because this time Elias thought he was free, thought that life was moving on without August, and yet here he was, kneeling next to the bed and watching Elias's chest rise and fall with each deep breath. He was beautiful, August was jealous of the moonlight kissing his face and making his face glow pale blue, he was jealous of the blankets wrapped snugly around his waist, he was jealous that Tyson got the privilege of sleeping next to this - his - angel almost every night.

August didn't have the courage to touch Elias, he was afraid that if he started he wouldn't be able to stop, he didn't want to get carried away. It might start with trailing his fingertips over his face to see if he'd wake up, then if he didn't he might kiss all over his body until he opened his eyes, then he'd probably smother him with a pillow.

That time when he left, he took the blanket that Elias had been using in the living room earlier. It smelled like him. That night he slept in his car right out front, wrapped up in the same blanket that had touched Elias's skin, his clothes, his face. It was the closest he'd felt to him in months.

After that he was cocky. He found their spare key poorly hidden under a potted plant on the front porch, and he completely took advantage of it. He went in all the time when neither of them were home, cleaning up after them in small, nearly unnoticeable ways, or looking through their things, or just sitting on the bed where Elias often slept, wishing he was there at the moment. He also used it on nights when he couldn’t stand being away from Elias for a second longer, waiting until late in the night to sneak in and sit on the floor for hours to watch him sleep. Once, and he never did it again because Elias almost woke up, August reached out and gently pushed his hair away from his face, where it was tickling the tip of his nose and making his face twitch. It was a reflexive touch, August had only realized he’d done it as an afterthought, when Elias huffed softly and started to move under the blankets. August stared at his hand in disbelief, oh shit I just touched him. And then he left. But Elias still didn’t know he was there, and truthfully, August was getting bored. Bored? Try going insane. He wanted them to notice that something was off, that maybe they weren't as safe as they thought. But they just continued on with their stupid, repulsively happy lives. It was maddening, and at some point August couldn't take it anymore.

The first deliberate mistake he made to blow his cover was running into Allen at a grocery store. He wore a hat and a hoodie, and he carefully avoided him until he was near the front, in a crowd of people. August walked right into him, caught one of the many snack foods that he knocked out of Allen’s overflowing arms, and handed it back to him with a smile.

“Sorry, my bad,” he said smugly, watching Allen’s face fall from his tight frown to a blank, horrified stare. And then he just walked away.

Allen surprisingly didn’t go and tell Tyson and Elias that he saw him, at least if he did, neither of them seemed bothered in the slightest. That irritated August further. He’d been counting on Allen to run and tattle on him, rattle them up so that August could dive headfirst into chaos and whisk Elias away. Incompetent. Unreliable.

So August wrote love notes. He taped them to trees in the yard, tucked them under Tyson’s windshield wipers. They said stupid things like “you’re my favorite brand of heroin, I want to overdose on you” and “I can’t stop thinking about the heavenly way you scream my name today, you look nice by the way”. (His sister had taken a poetry class while they were in high school, he would like to think she would find this humorous. He’d tell her, if she would ever talk to him.) That shook them up a little bit. Really, he believed that Tyson was the only one finding and reading them, and he didn’t think he ever told Elias. Probably didn’t want to scare him. But he started really keeping an eye on the locked doors, as if August hadn’t already made himself at home there multiple times. Elias could sense his tension, it seemed, because he started passing out on the couch and staying there more often, waking up multiple times from nightmares. They were anxious. It wasn’t enough to have them anxious.

Again, August just couldn’t control himself.

So he paid Tyson a visit. He knew his work schedule, knew that he left a little after five in the morning, knew that on normal days he would be home and in bed with Elias by six, they would sleep until around nine. But that day, August was waiting for him, along with chloroform and some duct tape. He followed him to his car, he came up behind him and slowly lowered him to the ground as he knocked him out with the dowsed rag he was holding. He was hardly able to put up a fight. Then he dragged him to his car, and drove him to his motel room. It was easy enough to get inside unnoticed, and also easy enough to tie Tyson up in a chair and gag him before he woke up. He made sure it was all secure before he went back to their apartment.

Elias hadn’t woken up yet, so he had some time to smoke some of his weed and pour himself a glass of wine before he got started. He brought an x-acto knife from his motel, and he wandered around the apartment, slicing into his forearm and using his finger to smear his own blood into declarations of love on their perfect, off-white walls. He wished he could be there when Elias woke up. He could only imagine how his face would look as he walked around reading “I love you so much it hurts”, “you’re mine Bunny”, “we’ll be together forever”, things of that nature. He’d be mortified. Before he left, he slipped into the bedroom and left the nearly empty glass of wine, messy with his bloody handprint, on the bedside dresser so Elias would also see that upon waking up. Then, completely on impulse, he reached out and traced his fingertip over Elias’s cheek in the shape of a heart. The blood on his finger stayed behind on Elias’s pale skin, and August smiled brightly. Elias would be so scared when he got up and was all alone, he’d surely call Tyson first thing. Too bad he wouldn’t have his phone.

August left his car there, took the bus home with his hood pulled low over his face, folding his arms so no one could see the blood seeping through. His hands were buzzing with excitement, high off of the idea of being able to get Elias back.

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

Elias almost slept late into the morning, that was the first sign that something might be wrong. Tyson would usually be home when the sky outside was the washed-out blue it got before sunrise, would crawl into bed with Elias and pull him close. Then he would apologize to Elias for waking him up, and Elias would ignore his apology and ask him about his night, and then they would fall back asleep for a while. That morning, hours and hours after Tyson would usually be home, the sun was floating in through the partially opened curtains and turning the insides of Elias’s eyelids a bright red in it’s warm light. He woke up, stretched against the soft mattress, and then slid his hand over the sheets until he found Tyson, who would be in bed with him by now. Only, he was met with more blankets and an empty bed. Elias could feel the tired, confused scowl spread across his face upon realizing Tyson wasn’t right next to him, but he pushed the bitter anxiety that came with it away. Maybe he was making breakfast, maybe he was in the shower. It was just like Tyson to not wake him up when he decided to start his day, to try and let Elias sleep for as long as he could. He was sweet like that, always had been.

With a yawn, Elias tossed the blanket off of himself and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, stretching his tired muscles out. It was still relatively new, and a little weird, for Elias to be able to stretch and move and even breathe without the addition of earth shattering amounts of pain, but he was getting used to it slowly. It didn’t come with nearly as much strange guilt anymore, he could hardly hear that little voice in the back of his mind telling him that he wasn’t deserving of a painless life, a life of ease. Even some days, when that little cruel voice was more of a brutal yell in his ear, telling him that he wasn’t worth any part of this simple, enjoyable life, he was able to get past it now. The voice would say “this is way too nice for you, you don’t deserve any of this”, he was able to, for the most part, smile and think back, “yeah, and aren’t I lucky I get it anyway?” and most of the time, it helped. On days that it didn’t, Tyson stepped in instead, told him anything he needed to hear: “you deserve everything to be nice, you’re an angel” or “it’s a shitty apartment, not a castle, it isn’t ‘too nice’ for anyone,” or sometimes, when Elias couldn’t be convinced, “even if you don’t deserve it, I want you here with me”. It was starting to feel like today was going to be one of the days that Elias needed Tyson to be louder than that voice in his head, as he pushed himself to his feet with ease and felt bad about it. He tried to reassure himself, he told himself that Tyson was right in another room and all Elias had to do to feel better was go see him. That was easy, he could do that.

He would have done that, if right before he stepped toward the door he hadn't caught sight of a wine glass sitting on the dresser next to the bed. The glass was dirty with a rusty brown color, and Elias frowned and looked around the room before stepping closer to it. He was too afraid to pick it up (it still had some deep red wine at the bottom and Elias knew there was a chance that once it was in his hands it would end up as a stain on the floor) so instead he crouched down in front of it, inspecting the grime closely. It was hand shaped, surrounded by a couple of smudges and fingerprints here and there. It looked like blood.

“What the fuck!” Elias ticced, then, much quieter: “Ty?” As he stood straight, his stomach dropped and his head felt light and airy.

No more blood. No more blood. No more please, god, no more.

“Tyson!” He called louder this time, already feeling the familiar burning of panic clawing restlessly in his chest. There was no answer. His mouth and throat were a desert. His knees were shaking. There was blood in his room. Was he bleeding? He tried his best to keep his arms still enough for a moment to run them over his torso to look for any injuries. He wasn’t bleeding. He wasn’t even fucking hurt. “Pathetic,” he heard himself whimper, “pathetic, pathetic, pathetic! Ty-fucking pathetic- Tyson!” He stumbled back, away from the blood covered glass. Where was Tyson? Surely, Elias was being loud enough with his irritating shouting to get his attention, he would’ve come running, by now, with a comforting hug and reassurance and promises that Elias is safe and good and not dying.

The apartment was a crime scene straight out of a psychological thriller. Every few feet there were drops of blood on the hardwood, and then when he got the courage to look, he also saw that there was more smeared across the walls. As soon as he recognized it as more drying blood, he closed his eyes tightly, breathing picking up the longer he stood there. He tried to imagine Tyson’s voice teaching him how to calm his breathing: “Inhale, Eli. Deep, deep, all the way into the bottom of your lungs. Good.”

“Good boy, letting me cut you open like this. So pretty for me, all covered in blood.”

No more blood! No more fucking blood no more no more-

“Exhale now, baby.”

No more no more no more no more-

“Elias, breathe out. Stop holding your breath now.”

“You breathe when I allow you to breathe. I don’t think you’ve been behaving well enough for air.”

Don’t kill me don’t kill me don’t kill me!

With his shoulders held high and his head dropped toward the ground so that he could open his eyes without seeing the blood, he turned on his heel and threw himself back into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him, letting all the air out of his lungs in ragged sobs. Even then, it was hard to catch his breath in between his unintentional cries of “What the fuck! What the fuck! What the fuck!”

Something deep in his gut made him swivel around and lock the door, and then he slid down it until he was on the floor. He covered his face with his hands, knees up to his chest to protect himself as much as he could. It felt like a nightmare, waking up alone in the middle of the day to find his walls covered in blood, only he just couldn't wake up. “Tyson...Ty...fuck...Tyson…” he crawled across the room, toward his phone, left on the charger next to the bed all night. His fingers were trembling as he tapped in his password, then still as he found Tyson’s contact to call him. As he waited what felt like an agonizingly long time for the ringing to stop, he tucked himself in the corner of the room behind the bed. He made himself small, “pathetic,” so that any pain would be limited to his arms and his legs, and he wouldn’t be hurt so badly, at least.

He couldn’t wait for Tyson to start speaking once he answered the phone, only able to wait with bated breath until the long pause after the last ring.

Click.

“Tyson!” He sobbed, clutching the phone tighter to him like a lifeline. He felt like throwing up. “Ty-Tyson I need you to come ho-fuck-home, I need you to come home right fucking now! P-please-fucking shit- come home.” There was a soft, muffled, sigh on the other line, Elias let out another hoarse sob. “Where the fu-fuck are you?! I...I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry. Tyson please, please co-come home, something’s wrong-”

“Calm down, Bunny.”

No.

No no no no no no no no no no NO NO NO NO!

“You’re freaking yourself out way too much. You have a tendency to do that. It’s adorable, really.” August laughed, Elias almost threw his phone, barely stopping himself. “But not very helpful.”

“No…” Elias squeaked out. He craned his neck to look over the bed at the wine glass. August was here. Is he still here? Elias folded in on himself smaller, safer, more pathetic, “fucking pathetic!” He ticced. August laughed again. “N-no, please, August. Please don’t...don’t…”

August made a soft shushing sound, slightly softened by the static of the phone. Elias’s head always gets messed up when August acts like that, makes it feel like cotton candy and causes his chest to flutter in an agonizingly confusing way.

Sometimes he’s so nice to me I think, since I have no other choice, I’ll force myself to love him. Just so that my love doesn’t go unused. That way I’m not a waste of life completely.

“Stop working yourself up, sweetheart. Seriously, I want to have a conversation with you, you always do this.” He sighed, gruffly, with an air of boredom. “Pretty fucking annoying honestly.”

Sometimes I want to give him a bunch of his own stupid drugs and drag his ass down the stairs and chain him up and bleed him dry-

No more blood! No more blood!

Elias gritted his teeth, he tried to feel the scar on the back of his tongue, he tried to keep his mouth shut. “Where’s...Tyson?” He grumbled.

“Ugh, shut the fuck up!” August shouted.

Elias flinched, pulling the phone away from his face. He didn’t think he heard an echo of his yell in the house. He listened, close, and could hear August’s voice distantly on the phone, but not out in the hall. Not distantly, in the living room or kitchen. He relaxed a little, straightened out his spine as he pulled his phone back to his ear.

“I was about to tell you all of that. I had a whole speech...Impatient little thing.”

Elias forced himself to his feet, took a few shaking steps for the door. He didn’t turn the lock, not right away, shaking hand hesitating over the brass knob. “If y-you hurt him I’ll-”

Again, August chuckled cynically at Elias’s stammering, his false braveness, his beginning to an empty threat. Elias cringed hard. He wanted to hang up the phone and crawl back into bed, fall asleep, and then wake up from this nightmare to find Tyson next to him. But he wasn’t in a nightmare, and his apartment was covered in blood, and Tyson was gone.

“This would be so much easier for all three of us if you just listened, Bunny. Can you be a good boy and listen closely for a second?”

Embarrassingly, Elias felt his knees buckle at the words, and he reflexively nodded at August’s voice.

I’ll do anything you ask, just call me good, just stop hurting me, I’ll do whatever you want.

When August spoke again, Elias could hear the smile to his voice without even seeing him. “Perfect, sweetheart. Now, I need you to do everything I say, ok? Tyson will be just fine if you just do exactly what I tell you.”

“Oh, f-fuck,” Elias whimpered, pressing his forehead against the door to try and steady himself, “God fucking d-dammit-”

“Shh, Bunny. Take a deep breath.” Somehow, August had added some sort of softness to his words, making himself sound caring and gentle and human, and it made Elias even angrier.

Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar!

He forced himself to draw in a deep breath, just because he was told to, just because it was August’s voice telling him what to do, and it was easier to just listen to whatever he was told the first time rather than face the ugly alternative.

“I left my car keys on your kitchen counter, my car is right out front. Full tank of gas, it drives beautifully, by the way. Can I trust you to take care of it when you drive it over here?”

Elias unlocked the door with his breath still held, shuffling out into the hallway. He couldn’t help but glance at the blood on the wall, and his stomach churns terribly. Before he could even process it, his shoulder hit the wall as he stumbled to the side.

I love you so much it hurts.

Elias would prefer the freezing blanket of death over the paralyzing fear he felt reading that.

We’ll be together forever.

He could never get away. No matter where he went or what he did, August would find him, August would destroy him. Maybe it would be easier to just hand himself over to the wolves instead of trying to outrun them.

You’re mine, Bunny.

There were scars everywhere on Elias’s body that validated that, there was a switch in his brain that flipped every time someone sounded too much like August that also proved it, Elias belonged to him now, even when he was far away from him.

“I asked you a question, baby. Will you take care of my car?”

“You’re fucking c...crazy.” Elias cast his eyes back to the ground, pushing himself off of the wall and stumbling out to the kitchen. He found the keys August was talking about. Thinking about August in the apartment, helping himself to a glass of wine, tossing his keys onto the counter, made Elias sway where he stood.

There was a groan on the other line. August was annoyed, Elias would have to pay for that. “I know that, idiot. You don’t think I fucking know that?” A sigh, a soft thud in the back, a small laugh. “Just get here, ok? The address is written on a paper in my car. You might want to hurry, Tyson’s waking up and he’ll be wondering where you are. And if you take too long...he’ll be wondering why you didn’t come rescue him.”

He laughs.

Elias wants to kill him.

Click.

18 notes · View notes

magpie-to-the-morning · 2 years

Text

Some reflections on the past so I can move into the future.

(Trigger warnings for major injury, trauma, internalized fatphobia)

In 2012, my first and only serious relationship ended after six and a half years. We met in college and I truly thought I’d found my soulmate. We had fun and we understood each other and I loved him so much more than I thought was possible. He was my best friend, my home away from home (I went to school out of state), and my partner.

Or I thought he was.

Over one winter break when I was back in NJ, there was a weekend when I didn’t hear from him for nearly 24 hours and I was getting increasingly frantic. I knew in my bones something was wrong.

I was right.

His stepmother answered the phone when I called his house and said “oh god, no one told you?” I’d never felt my blood run cold but it did then. She asked if I was sitting down and I begged her to tell me what was going on.

He’d been in an accident, pulled beneath the wheels of an a car rolling down a hill. The car sat on top of him for what must have felt like an eternity until paramedics came. His spine was broken. They didn’t know if he was going to make it, or if he’d ever walk again.

It was awful. For him, for his family, for me. It was terrifying and uncertain and overwhelming. He recovered, thank god, despite broken bones, a punctured lung, and a spinal cord millimeters from being severed.

Time passed. Life went on. Our relationship started to fade. I didn’t know what he wanted anymore, or why things felt so strained between us. I wanted a partner. He wanted freedom. Both of us were deeply unhappy, struggling with mental health and relationship issues neither of us knew how to name. In the midst of this, he applied to teach in Japan.

I think I knew that was the beginning of the end.

We’d both graduated, I had my own place and a professional job, he had a job he hated and lived at home. I wanted to spend time together and was happy just to be around him (or I thought I would be, if only I could make him happier). Things got more and more painful and confusing until he finally told me he wanted to break things off.

I was devastated. I had just bought tickets to visit him in Japan (he hadn’t left yet, not physically). I cried. I asked him if we could try therapy. He told me he’d been miserable for years. I felt like he’d slapped me. I’d thought we’d sort ourselves out and build a life together, my best friend and I- only to find out he’d wanted out for years. He’d been about to break up with me right before his accident, but he said he felt guilty after how I’d been there for him.

I told him I’d thought he’d propose. He told me he’d refund the tickets.

I felt like my world was cracking apart.

I felt alone and broken and unloveable.

It was hell.

I spent years drifting between furiously trying to dig myself out of that hole and wallowing at the bottom of it. There were ups and downs. I tried to date. I got diagnoses and treatments (depression, PTSD). I gained weight. I worked.

I missed him like a limb.

It’s taken me a long time to work out some of the things that went wrong, and to understand more about myself. My trauma caused intimacy issues in the relationship and I didn’t know how to talk about, let alone fix. I’d wake up screaming when we shared a bed, or cry after sex, and I didn’t understand why. I stopped wanting sex but craved more intimacy, my needs diametrically opposed to his. I wanted stability. He wanted adventure. I felt undesirable, and couldn’t understand desire that looked different than my own. We both made mistakes- we were young and inexperienced, like everyone is at that age. I’ve made my peace with that.

What I haven’t made my peace with, and what still terrifies me, is that I haven’t felt that way since. Was it a fluke? Will I ever have it again? Am I the one holding myself back, or is it a combination of circumstances, inclinations, and random chance standing in the way?

I don’t know. I also still feel physically uncomfortable with the weight I’ve gained, like I don’t see the real me in the mirror anymore. How can anyone love me like this when I know I don’t? But I’m trying. I work on reminding myself to keep trying, to keep learning and growing, to be vulnerable and accepting of myself. To be healthy and mindful and practice self-care. All those things we know but sometimes struggle to implement.

If there’s one thing I want from this year, it’s another chance. At love, and partnership, and happiness. I’ll try to put myself out there more, and to love myself regardless of what happens.

And who knows? Maybe more love is waiting out there for me after all.

#Rambly self-indulgent reflections #I feel calmer after getting this out #Here's to the future #My writing #Words

16 notes · View notes

yandere-society · 4 years

Text

The Ultimatum

Synopsis: Valentine’s Day has rolled around once again, and just like last year, you plan on spending it with none other than your emotional support dog. What you don’t know, however, is that you have an unexpected visitor awaiting for you at home.. and not only does he have a loaded gun on his hip, but he also has your beloved pet in his lap.

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 6,000

Admin: @tatertotthethot

Valentine’s Day Event Masterlist

Trigger warnings: yandere-themes, signs/mentioning of mental disorders such as: anxiety, depression, PTSD and dissociation; Mentions of gang violence; Depictions of gore; nonconsentual kissing (nothing sexual); no dogs were harmed in the making of this…

“Here you go, guys.” You said as you handed the couple across the counter their drinks. You returned their smiles and bid them a good day, but as soon as they turned away and linked their fingers together on the way out, your expression settled into one of disdain.

Baley, your manager, noticed it. But like always, she chose to ignore it. She’s very much use to your secretive, albeit bitter distaste towards romance. She’s been working along side you for two years now, and knows that you’re a big advocate for holiday decorations. You’ve decked the place out on Halloween, thanksgiving, Christmas— even fucking Saint Patrick’s day. But for Valentine’s Day, all you did was slap some heart shaped stickers on the window and didn’t even look too happy to be doing that, either. But she’s never been one to push.

“Guess what I’m doing this evening,” She hinted, hanging the ‘closed’ sign on the door.

“Hm?” You asked, having zoned out while rinsing your shot glasses out.

“I’m gonna eat the rest of my edibles and read some alien erotica.”

Not expecting anything less from her, given her personality, you only choked out a laugh and shook your head. It’d be more amusing if you knew she wasn’t kidding. Baley has a weird obsession with aliens and you never took her serious about it until you bought her a tentacle dildo as a gag-gift on her birthday, and instead of laughing about it and going off into a banter like you were anticipating, she started screaming and jumping up and down like you just handed her the last Golden Ticket to the fucking chocolate factory.

“What about your boyfriend?” You asked, forcing yourself to engage in conversation to keep you from spiraling.

“He’s out of town. So I’ll be thinking of him as I read about the alien king abducting me and using my tenta-holes—“

“Never mind.” You cut her off, trying to let that lighten up the mood. You appreciated the effort, but it didn’t work. You just wanted today to be over.

It’d be a whole lot better if only you could tell her the truth and come clean about your past. But it’s not like she’d believe you, even if you had the guts. But in all honesty, her fantasy about alien abduction was more believable.

You’re a barista making $10 an hour, living paycheck to paycheck and inhabiting the house your grandmother left you in her will. You have no car, you rely on public transportation; all your clothes are from goodwill and when you’re not working at this shop, you spending your life in confinement of those walls with your dog, as a recluse.

If you even dared to tell Baley that, just three years ago, you were living in a million-dollar mansion in South Korea, and had a luxurious wardrobe from big-name designers and that you didn’t even own a pair of fucking socks that were under $100.. she’d look at you as if you were the alien. She wouldn’t entertain the bigger half of the story, about how you were engaged to a man who’s now serving a life sentence and could possibly be put on death row for committing a robbery that left one of the international banking systems short 23-million won— which would amount to be approximately 20 million dollars in America... you would’ve lost her at the word Fiancé.

It’d be easy to prove, though. Your associations to the crime may not show up in your background check, being as you’re back here in America and was never detained, and the news isn’t relevant enough to circulate here. However, a simple google search would reveal it all, even with pictures of you two in public.

But not even you wanted to look up his name to know what was going on with his case. You were still ambient to forget about him, in a way. You wanted to ignore his existence. You fucking loath that man.. you swear, you do.

You had fallen back into a brooding silence again without even meaning to, and although you were busily cleaning up off muscle memory, you were detached. He still has that effect on you. And truth be known, the first year you spent in lonesome isolation after leaving Korea was just a change of scenery but not very different from the lifestyle he had subjected you to. But even still, it was so much better than living with him at the estate. And now, with your dog Sweetpea there, you feel safe again. At least you were in the same place you grew up, and felt closer to your grandmother—

Fuck, you missed her so much. He wouldn’t even let you visit her in person before she past. The man owned his own private jet and it never had any maintenance problems until the one fucking night you needed to go back home. You only got to speak with her on the phone, and bawled your fucking eyes out and spewed out an incoherent apology just hours before her heart gave out. That’s when she told you that she left you the house, and how sorry she was for kicking you out of it because you didn’t pursue the career field she wanted you to go for.

If only they would’ve arrested Taehyung a month prior, you could’ve been there for her. You could’ve hugged her and the two of you could given each other the apology you both deserved.

“Hey..” Baley’s voice suddenly came to your left ear, the only one that you could actually hear out of. Your right one, despite being 80% deaf even with a functioning hear aid, was faintly ringing from the emotional tangent you had accidentally drifted into.

You looked over at her, and broke down. Although she could never fully understand, she still gave you an empathetic frown and was pulling you into a hug before you could sputter out an apology— not that there was any use for one.

You had secrets that still haunted you, and will always impair your daily life— much like your botched eardrum and this shitty device you spent way too much money on. That’s another thing you only had Kim Taehyung to thank for, along with your fucked up shoulder.

You had to carefully elevate your arms but eventually returned the hug and cried a little harder, not able to help it. Sweetpea was a great reciprocate for affection and did a swell job with distracting you, but as far as human comfort goes, you haven’t had so much as that in.. well, seven fucking years. Tae was always big on affection, and also comforted you when you needed it. But it was redundant and didn’t have a sincere effect, being as he was the very one that initially caused the hurt it derived from.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, I never do... but I want you to know that I can see how strong you are. You’re doing a great job at making it through each day...” she muttered, rubbing your back as it shook with each silent sob. You felt bad when you heard her own voice beginning to thicken, but that was no surprise. She was a sympathizer and a little bit emo in general. Seeing others cry was enough to jerk a tear out of her, and you loved that about her. She’s a weirdo, but she’s pure, and she’s very good hearted. You could even say that you may have deeper feelings for her as well, and they may even be mutual, but you were no good for her. Hell, you were already putting her in enough danger just by being an employee at her shop. If you were to let your relationship stem past being friendly coworkers, or even hung out with her outside of work, that could pose an actual threat to her safety.

So, even though you wanted to lengthen the embrace, and longed to tighten your arms around her even more, you pulled back and wiped at your face, giving her a weak grin and a nod instead.

She squeezed your shoulders one last time before taking a step back, recollecting herself.

“You go home. I got everything else.”

You sheepishly nodded again, thanking her one last time before collecting your things and booking it out of there. Had you not felt so broken and defeated in that moment, you would’ve refused. But her show of affection triggered a deep, dire need to give and be given more comfort.

Fortunately for you, though, you had a special someone for that. Your dog is the only living creature on this planet that can be trusted with the revelations of your past. She’s the only reliance you have for receiving unconditional love and support without any judgment... probably because she doesn’t even understand what the fuck you’re saying half the time, nor can she repeat the shit you say, but as far as comfort goes, it’s always a guarantee.

— That’s just in her nature, like most pets. Pitbulls, however, are very sensitive and attentive to certain emotions— especially depression and anxiety. They’re just as good with protecting their owners, as well as they are with babysitting them. Everyone knows pitbulls have a notorious and misguided reputation for being aggressive. But little do most know, before dog fighting became a popular thing and defamed their personalities, pitbulls were primarily referred to as ‘Nanny dogs’. They’re great with babies in general, and very domestic and charismatic by nature. But despite being big, loveable goof balls themselves, they can literally sense stressful emotions and will know what type action to take in order to sedate them.

Sweetpea may not have professional training and certification but it is by her true nature and personality that you call her an Emotional Support Dog. When you’re having another one of your episodes— panic attacks, senseless paranoia, nightmares— she’s running to your aid and doing anything she can to distract and get you to play with her. When you’re depressed and spiraling into another breakdown, she licking at your face and sitting in your lap, not even seeing the problem with her being three times bigger than the average lap dog—

“Kneehemplamaforseeking?”

You sucked in a breath and blinked over at the PetsMart employee, smiling a few away from you. You probably looked lost, and in a way you quite literally were. You hardly remember walking in the direction of this store, let alone entering it. But this a common thing for you, so you easily just went on about your way despite the sudden worry of missing your bus... again.

“I’m sorry, what’d you say?” You had asked, turning your good ear towards her and watching her lips move.

“Do you need help looking for something?” She repeated, carefully annunciating her words this time, now that she could see the device in your ear. In today’s age, most people mistake it as a bluetooth— which has unknowingly saved you from accidentally talking to yourself in public, more than you would know.

You shook your head in response to the lady, and checked the time on your phone. You had 30 minutes left, thank God.

“No thanks. I’m just here to get some treats and waste some time before my bus comes. It’s windy as hell outside.”

“Ah, it certainly is,” she agreed, making her way to the next aisle. “Be safe out there!”

“I’ll try.” You muttered to yourself, grabbing a bag of bacon strips off the shelf— the very thing you had ultimately came for. It should’ve taken you no more than 5 minutes to grab and go. But it wasn’t uncommon for you to take much longer and aimlessly wonder down multiple aisles only to get one or two things from the same aisle, though. You do it at every store you go to, if you can stand to be outside of your home or away from work.

After checking out, you made it a mission to stay present until your bus came. By the time you got home, you were more stable.. up until the bus driver— a sweet elderly man who’s been transporting you on this route for last couple of years, handed you a rose on your way down the stairs.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, young lady.”

You had the strength to give him a genuine smile, but as soon as you stepped off and the doors closed, and the bus engine picked back up and left you with a gust of wind, you broke again.

Taehyung always gave you a bouquet of blood red roses for Valentine’s Day. He knew you were a sucker for them. And you still are, but sentiment wasn’t the only emotion to come now. They brought on an ache. A pain. A worry. A twinge of longing, but a fuckton of resentment.

You wanted to throw it on the ground and stomp at it.. better yet, you wanted to set it on fire and watch it burn while smoking a much needed cigarette. But first, you need to see your dog. You know she’s just as anxious to see you.

You trudged up to your door and was quick to unlock it... but frowned when you didn’t see her on the other side. Maybe it was because your ears were ringing again from how worked up you’d just gotten. But usually, the mere sound of your key twisting at the lock would have her running to the and practically beating it down, and you’d opened to see her gleefully wining out and wagging her tail.

But she wasn’t there.

“Sweetpea?” You called out, making it a point to swing the door shut behind you. Still, nothing—

Whimpering. You heard her whimpering and your head snapped over to the hallway. Your heart began to race. Your bed door was open, as always, and you could hear her in there but she wasn’t coming out. Only whimpering for you to come to her.

Fearing the worst, thinking perhaps she’d hurt herself to the extent that she couldn’t move, you barged down the hallway and listened with a sickening sense of uneasiness as her whimpering turned to muffled howls.

“Sweetpea, wha—“

You screamed. Sheer horror and white-hot adrenaline erupted through your veins and scorched your nerve endings, leaving you numb in the limb to the impact of the floor beneath your kneecaps. All you could feel was the volcanic eruption of despair in your chest and the strain in your diaphragm.

Sweetpea was okay, but very much in danger. She had a muzzle on, and her big, canopy-like ears were peeled back and her big, doughy eyes were wildly beading dead at you as she struggled and pawed at the carpet, watching you fall to you fall out. She was so worried to get to you but she couldn’t, do to the death grip of the man who was holding her by a leash. She couldn’t even interpret the lethality of the weapon that was also aimed at the back of her head— a glock you specially recall being the weapon of choice when Taehyung pistol whipped a man’s head open before emptying all twelve rounds in his magazine into his face.

Now, all you could envision was the same being done to that sweet face and big, bulbous head.

You screamed out and wailed even louder, not even looking at the intruder or registering who it was. Because you already fucking knew and in your mind it was too late.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He roared, making you and Sweetpea flinch. You stopped screaming but your breath was ragged beyond your control. Your vision was bouncing between his fierce scowl and Sweetpea’s fearsome one. You dove forward, intending to crawl and beg but two pairs of shoes stepped out from where they’d been standing behind the door, and their hands gripped you by the biceps before hauling you up to your feet. You didn’t even try to resist them. You knew better than that. But fear still had you discombobulated and speaking out to yourself, feeling incredibly dizzy and disarrayed.

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!”

“You’re not dreaming.” Taehyung snarled, palm itching to slap some sense into you. But even within the three years he’s spent in bitterness, it didn’t change the morality he did have in relations to you. He’d never hit you out of anger.

But then he realized the real reason why you were saying that, when your knees suddenly gave out and the hold his men had on you became the only thing keeping you up right as you fainted out. He didn’t realize you still had that problem, and it hurt him to see that now.

Back when he had you in his possession, you had accidentally witnessed an execution down in the basement of his mansion. It was the first time you fainted, a d your body came toppling down a good ten-or-so steps, which were made of cement, and you were lucky to have only broken your nose and dislocated your shoulder.

Guilt crashed over him, suddenly. He meant to terrorize you in a way that wasted little time to gain submission, but he didn’t mean to trigger your PTSD— although he knew it was likely. Given the resolve, he put the gun back in its holster and stood up, beckoning for Yoongi to take the leash. Jungkook easily held you up by the waste and waited to pass you off to your fiancé before bringing your wrists behind your back. You slowly came to as he did so, and your head lolled back up only for your entire body to snap back into attention all at once, now that you were face to face with the Devil himself.

“Come on, you fucking idiot!”

Your head snapped over and you began to panic again as Yoongi fought with your, trying to drag her over to her cage by the leash. She was putting up one hell of a fight and audibly wheezing from the choke, her eyes now bulging as she looked at you.

You bucked against the both of them, your maternal instincts causing you to go feral as you saw red.

“QUIT! YOU’RE FUCKING CHOKING HER, YOU FUCKING PRICK! PICK HER UP!”

“She’s too squirmy!” He shouted back, the shock of your outburst causing him to lose tension and Sweetpea lunged the both of them forward. Tae was shouting at Jungkook to hurry with the restraints and squeezing you tighter, but you were kicking and flailing like a fish out of water now.

“MAKE HIM STOP!” You cried out, but was forcefully silenced by the gigantic hand that grabbled around the entire bottom half of your face— including your nose. Having been in this situation before, knowing his antics, you knew he wasn’t going to let you breathe again until you did as told. So you were forced to settle down but was still desperately pleading with your eyes, crying as your dog continued to heave against the menstruations.

“Yoongi, for fuck sake, the dog is 50 pounds. Just pick her up and put your in the kennel.” Tae stressed, eyes still locked with yours.

With a grunt, Yoongi tackled your dog and trapped her in a bear hug, snatching her up off the ground. You wanted to scream at him again but you were actually starting to struggle for oxygen, chest jolting with an involuntary attempts to inhale.

“Alright, they’re on. I just gotta link them.”

Tae’s hand finally dropped and you hacked out, swallowing as much air as you could. Now that Sweetpea was safely in her cage, you had time to worry about your own safety, but the look on his face wasn’t giving off such a merciful vibe.

“You do whatever you want to me. I don’t care. I won’t fight back... but if you hurt my dog—“

“If I hurt your fucking dog, it’ll just be tough shit for you. I’ll still do whatever the hell I want and unless you need me to prove that, I suggest you stop with ultimatums..” he chuckled, but it sounded so cold and twisted. He was on the verge of snapping, and was fighting to keep as much composure as he could right now, for your sake.

But he was on a heist right now, you readied yourself for the unknown when he punctuated his sentence by grappling your throat with the same, vandalized and accessorized hand he just smothered you with— fingers digging in at the sides. Your breathing was once again constricted and your eyes reddened in strain, your voice dying out.

Tae may not beat you, but he knows your worse fear is dying by suffocation. Hence, why he’s so big in breath play.

“Can you?” He reiterated, snarling his teeth at you and revealing the top and bottom pair of golden, fang-shaped plates framing his pearly white canine teeth. Back in the day, you found them so extravagant and tasteful, but now you found them all the more threatening.

He waited until your eyes began fluttered back before letting go again, and Jungkook’s body was the only thing that saved you from falling back. You never understood why, but for some reason, Jungkook was the only person Tae allowed to be in closer range of you, even when it wasn’t necessary. He even reminded you of that when Yoongi had stepped a little too close and Taehyung shot a glare over to him that had him taking a couple steps back. But Jungkook was apparently free to stand there, holding you up even as you regained your footing. You feared that one day it will all make sense, but for now, you were thankful that he was there to at least to save you from collapsing.

It’d be great if they weren’t even fucking here, at all.

“Go put the kennel in the car— not on the seats, though. Hobi will kill me if I fuck up the interior.”

“Please let me rehouse her.” You begged, cringing as his eyes returned to you. They looked even more colorless than before. “I’ll come with you, but I don’t want her there with us.”

“She’s fine. As long as she doesn’t shit and piss everywhere and doesn’t chew any of my shit, or try to attack me, I’ll let you keep her.”

“You were just holding a fucking gun to her head, Taehyung. Please let me rehouse her. My friend Baley will take her. All I gotta do is leave her in the cafe with a note— I have the keys. I’ll even let you write the fucking note yourself and we can go...” It was significantly getting harder to speak, now that your airways were irritated and your unsteady emotions were only making it worse.

You had already accepted your fate, but had a twinge of hope left that he’d at least hear you out on that request. His features had softened into a crestfallen display of guilt, and remorse. But your faith in him shattered all over again when he stubbornly shook his head and reached for the gun again. You were just about to throw another fit until he pulled the magazine out and showed it to you.

It was empty, until he pocketed it and pulled out a fully-loaded one and clipped it into place, before putting it back in the holster.

He tricked you, and although it was still pretty fucking evil, you were relieved. He never intended to shoot her and wouldn’t have been able to, even if his finger applied enough pressure on the trigger. But you were still very much in the midst of an abduction, and you still hated this man for what he was doing to you now.

“Why are here?” You croaked.

“To come get you and our new pet,” he announced, faking the enthusiasm before reinforcing his glare. “I’m... incredibly pissed about the fact that abandoned me.. but even more so offended by the negligence to stay updated.”

His eyes then caught the flash of a blue light at your ear. Your hearing aid was dying and faintly peeping in your ear. The remembrance had his entire demeanor shift to a sullen one, like a switch.

“But at the same time—“ his voice had fallen into a lower pitch, almost to the point of being a whisper as he stepped closer and easily molded his hands around your face. You suddenly felt fragile, but not in a way that made you giddy, like it use to. Now, you had to swallow down the bile in your throat and fight against the nausea as his suddenly lips came near.

“—It’s really hard take that out on you, when I can’t even blame you for it. But It’s been three fucking years, honey. Three. How could you not even have enough concern for my well being, to not even send a fucking post card? Did you really think you‘d never see me again, and that you had snuck away from me? I knew what you were doing, and where you were going before you even boarded your fucking flight.”

“You’re suppose to be in jail. I thought you were letting me go.”

“First of all, you didn’t even know the original plan to think that it had failed. All my charges have been dropped and the suspicion of my involvement dismissed. Namjoon has been found guilty and is now serving that sentence, like I had initially plotted from the beginning. You never knew shit to fucking assume anything!”

You glared at him despite the jolt that came with his drastic notch in volume, and not your tongue as he went on.

“But I did allow you to leave the country, but only to give you space and to let you touch base with... whatever the fuck it is that you still find valuable here. I didn’t think I’d have to clarify the circumstances of your stay, but for you to not even reach out.. and the fact you got some shitty, minimum wage job on top of it all, when you still have access to the saving account I’ve put in your name.. You really thought we were over? You haven’t even checked the news articles to see any updates on the case. I’ve been out for a week!”

He was still holding your face but his hands were shaking and the pressure was increasing again. He always pulls back and regains control over his temper before inflicting harm, but it’d be foolish to not expect him to one day lose that control. He’s hurt you on ‘accident’ before. He’s slaughtered many people, more than you’ll ever know to keep count. Nothing is sacred.

But now, you are a lot more contempt and able to tolerate the fear of him hurting you on impulse, being as Sweetpea was out of harms way and no longer in the room. You were still shaking though and had closed your eyes, bracing for it. But the jerk of shock only came when his suddenly lips covered your’s, and Jungkook finally backed away.

The kiss only lasted about three solid seconds before he pulled back, and was heavily panting through his nose. You dared to look up and caught a glimpse of the physical pain marring his features. His eyes had gone watery and his jaw began ticking like a time bomb, nostrils flaring and chest rising. He pressed his forehead against your’s and snaked his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck, trying to fight off his own sobs and choking on them more and more with each second.

“You hate me.. you haven’t even missed me.” His voice was so thickened by his emotions that it deepened the natural richness he already had, making it sound contorted and almost inhuman. A tear dropped down his nose bridge and hit your quivering lips, and for the life of you, you couldn’t fight back the heart wrenching burn it inflicted on you.

How could you still feel anything for this man? It can’t be. It just fucking can’t be..

But it was. You were so bewildered and petrified by the oncoming sympathy that it stunned you into a froze state of shock. He kissed you again, thinking it was a show of fear for own safety— and he was right to interpret the fear, but it was with different cause. He was steadily conjuring up feelings that you wished you could’ve watched burn, like you had intended to do with the rose your bus driver gave you. But here you were, heart bleeding for him.

You still didn’t reciprocate the kiss but it brought on more involuntary anguish.. you cried harder and so did he, and as he leaned your head back to kiss at your neck, you stared in perplexing awe at the gigantic bouquet of roses sitting on your nightstand.

“It’s okay. I‘ve missed you too fucking much to punish you now.” He calmed, and took a good 30 seconds to regain his composure. There was still a groggy undertone in his next words, but once again, he was back in his domineering mindset. “But I ain’t cutting you that much slack.”

You yelped when he suddenly shoved you back, straight into Jungkook for the nth time. He heatedly wiped at his eyes and stepped back, and it was the first time you took in how much more muscular and rigid he’d become over the years.

Before, he was a lot more slender and you’re certain that the very shirt he’s wearing now use to be at least 2 sizes too big on him before.. however, the black silk was skin-tight and clinging to the humps of his biceps, and straining around the buttons between his pectorals. His skin was more pale than ever before but now you could see a tattoo curving along his temple, arcing aside the edge of his pierced brow. The word that was written in elegant, cursive writing made your heart palpitate and your stomach twist even more.

Honey. That was your signature endearment. That was the name you’d given him in place of your real one the very night he met you, and asked for it.

This crazy motherfucker really is obsessed with you. How he can lie to you, deceive you, punish you and drive you fucking bonkers and stalk you down only in the act of what he calls love.. and for it to actually be a form of true—albeit dangerous love, was beyond you.

The scripture on his handsome, albeit matured face distracted you for a few seconds. You snapped out of it when Jungkook suddenly hauled you up by the midsection and slammed you down on the bed, pinning his hand down between your shoulder blades and rendering you defenseless.

“What are you doing? Taehyung! Please! Get him off of me!”

“If I could trust you to stay still, I would.” His voice was neutral again, despite a offhanded sniff. You struggled to look back, but it was no use as he was standing out of view.

“Stay still for what?”

“Do you still have your ring?” He asked instead, ignoring you.

“It’s in my nightstand drawer. Now tell me—“

“Told you she kept it,” Jungkook finally spoke— and just like it was back then, it was a very rare occurrence for when he did speak on your behalf. That’s another thing nobody else dared to do, unless asked. But knowing that he was the one stalking you for Taehyung made you all the more disturbed with him.

“Fucking creep. You’re hurting me!” you screamed at him, and he had the audacity to increase pressure. Tae said nothing, nor did he stop his friend from retaliating.

“I also know about your little affair with your coworker. Since when did you start swinging both ways?”

“What are you talking about?” You growled, and he only snorted in response.

“She knows you like her. She knows you stare at her ass every time she bends over and that you bend over on purpose to make her look at yours. She knows you like it when she slaps it.”

You, one again, went unmoving.

Jeon Jungkook is her fucking boyfriend.

“What does Jk even stand for?”

“Jackson. But he doesn’t like to be called Jackie, and you know how I am about nicknames. So I call him JK.”

“Don’t you fucking hurt her, Jungkook. You leave her alone. Tae, don’t you let him—“

“Don’t you worry about me.”

“BALEY?!”

Baley walked into view, an unreadable expression on her face. The mere realization of what was happening finally over filled your mental tolerance and you brain suddenly launched you away from reality.

The beach. You were at the beach with your cousins, all of you a little over the age of 18. You were on spring break your senior year in highschool and talking about the future. Graduation. Prom. College~

“She’s zoned out.” Baley said, and Jungkook finally let go. You were indeed paralyzed and had completely dissociated, talking to yourself. Taehyung, with a fully-loaded syringe in his hand, leaned over to look at your face. Your pupils were dilated, eyes stargazing in general, lips softly moving as you babbled nonsense. He hated knowing that it was coming to this, but he swore he’d earn your forgiveness.

“I’m gonna get your ear fixed.. or at least get you a better device. We’re gonna be okay. We’re so fucking rich now, I don’t even know what to do with all our money— only to turn it into more. I won’t have to work as much. We can get married, have the best fucking honey moon we can imagine. We can get started on a family. I’ll win your dog over, too. I promise.”

He sank the needle into your bicep, and you didn’t even flinch. Only blinked in rhythm as a tear fell.

“I’m gonna be a forensic scientist, like Mawmaw wants me to be.” You incoherently muttered, having said that to your friend, Jessica, on the beach.

It was insensitive, but he couldn’t help but crack a grin at that. Whatever memory you were reliving at the moment, was quite sometime before you actually began your classes for such profession. He bent down and kissed your cheek one last time as he injected the entirety sedation serum into your system and pulled it out. But you were oblivious to it all.

“I think I’m smart enough...”

”You’re very book smart, baby. But you’re probably gonna drop out after three semesters and become a bar tender at a strip club, because you’re not fit to be a homicidal investigator. You’re too soft.”

“I’m not..”

“You sure?”

“I’m gonna be a forensic scientist, like Mawmaw wants me to be.”

“Well, you’re gonna become my wife before you become anything else.”

“Ew, don’t even play like that. You’re my cousin.”

“Jeez..” Baley muttered. “You really have driven her a little bat-shit, huh? This is way more disturbing than I anticipated—“

“Babe, lets go sit in the car. Come on,” Jungkook hurried, pulling her out of the room.

Taehyung continued to whisper sweet nothings into your deafened ear, but the last night you heard before it all went blank was the perfect, bittersweet saying that bidded you goodbye for the night.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Honey.”

#yandere society #bts #kim taehyung #yandere bts #yandere taehyung #taehyung x reader #bts x reader

848 notes · View notes

punksarahreese · 3 years

Text

Letters | A Chance Meeting (Twice Over)

Nosdecember day 12 | @neworleansspecial

Teen!au; Sarah and Ava’s struggle to keep in contact

CW: narcissistic abuse, gaslighting, need-panic and PTSD themes from said abuse, drug/alcohol/gambling mention, homophobia

***

Ava,

I know I haven’t answered your texts in a while. By the time you get this it will probably be a couple weeks since I last messaged. I promise I would never ignore you, what happened is out of my control.

Mom and her boyfriend broke up. Since then, she’s been adamant that we forget our trip ever happened. She threw out all our things from South Africa already, including the t-shirts we bought together. She said I can’t text you anymore.

It’s not fair, I know. I tried for a couple weeks to keep in contact through messages, I didn’t want to worry you, but she found out. She takes my phone at night now, she reads all my texts. I’m sorry, Ava; I don’t want to ignore you, I promise.

If this letter gets to you, send one back if you wanna. My friend said you can mail things to her address, she won’t open them, just so my mother doesn’t take them from me. I’ve attached the address and her name too, if you wanna write me back. I understand if you’re upset with me, just know I didn’t mean to cut you off.

I miss you,

Sarah

Sarah did her best to be subtle as she crept down the stairs, purple envelope burning a hole in her pocket. She hoped her mother was asleep so she wouldn’t have to answer any questions. She did have an alibi in mind though, her school bag hanging over one shoulder and library card on the lanyard around her neck. She had long since mastered the art of lying to get out of her mother’s manipulation, which Sarah feared would progress to her becoming a narcissistic liar like the woman who raised her. Still, that was a worry for future Sarah; right now she just wanted to get to the post office.

Luckily she had been asleep, wine glass abandoned on the kitchen counter and ¼ of a bottle left beside the couch. Sarah didn’t want to think about what kind of a mood she would be in when she got back. The drinking wasn’t always a problem, it came and went as boyfriends left or she lost jobs due to her unaddressed issues. Sometimes it was too much wine, other times she turned to marijuana or spending rent money on scratch lottery tickets. Sarah never knew which one of her mother’s coping mechanisms would appear during an episode, she just knew better than to mention it when it happened. The narcissism never left though, that was something Sarah had been accustomed to since before her dad even left the picture.

Nevertheless, she made it out of the house and to the post office. 30 minutes later, Sarah had mailed her letter, though she did have to pay a bit of a ridiculous fee to mail it where she wanted. That was another feat that made her painfully aware of the distance between her and the best friend she hadn’t seen for months.

Three weeks after that, Sarah’s friend pulled her aside at lunch. She pressed a cream coloured envelope into her hand, not saying a word but giving her a soft smile. Sarah didn’t open the letter until she was on the bus ride home, but the fact that Ava had actually responded to her had the other girl giddy all day.

The replying letter was longer than Sarah expected, two pages of Ava saying she was so glad to hear from her. Ava was sorry that Sarah’s mother was being so cruel, stating that she wished things could be different. What got Sarah the most was the lilac scent wafting from the paper, Ava’s favourite perfume. Of course Ava would be the kind of person to spritz her stationary with her signature scent, just as much as she was the person to fold her letter into threes and seal it with a little anatomical heart sticker. It was the little things like that that made Sarah miss her even more, the little quirks that she would always associate with the other girl.

This started a bit of a routine. The letters took about a week to get to Ava and hers took a bit longer to make it to the US, for whatever reason. Their communication was not the greatest, slower and less frequent than either would like, but they made it work for a while. There was one day that Sarah’s friend, their in-between for correspondence, dragged her to her locker. She gave Sarah a teasing look when she passed her the small package along with a letter, saying that her mom had been confused about the mail since it was less conspicuous than usual. Still, it made Sarah’s day and she spent her afternoon in the corner of the library, going over Ava’s words.

The gift had been a dainty silver necklace, the charm attached to it making Sarah smile widely. It was a dopamine molecule, a neurotransmitter responsible for feelings of love. It was also appropriate because a lack of dopamine causes anxiety, which they both knew plagued Sarah greatly. While cheesy, the gift was so Ava and it was the first gift Sarah had received in a while. It made Sarah’s heart ache as much as it made her happy; what she wouldn’t give to hug her best friend at that point.

After putting the necklace on, she reread the letter. There was one portion that made her want to cry, to drop everything and figure out how to book a flight to South Africa even as a minor.

You’re always on my mind Sarah, as much as I’m embarrassed to admit it. Even though we’ve only spent two weeks in person together, I think you might be my favourite person. These last few months of letters have been a blessing and a curse. I miss your voice, your laugh, and I miss staying up until 4 AM just to talk to you. I miss you more than I thought I would and I’m so sorry things turned out this way. If I could, I would bring you here to live with me in a heartbeat. Forget parents and manipulation, you don’t deserve this. I’m worried, Sarah, You’re so far away and I don’t want to lose you. I know it's childish of me to say, but I just want to run away with you.

That, paired with the love signoff etched into the sweet, lilac scented paper, was enough to make Sarah weep. Ava cared about her, a lot, and Sarah couldn’t properly convey how important that was to her. She hadn’t felt truly loved in God knows how long, so the fact that she was so far away from and so cut off from the one person who made her feel special was so frustrating.

She read Ava’s letters over whenever she had bad days. It was her escape from her mother’s constant manipulation and gaslighting; a reminder that someone out there did love Sarah. She let herself get lost in Ava’s words, the scent of her perfume, and the feeling of her necklace under her fingertips. It wasn’t the same, it didn’t heal her like a hug would have, but it was enough in the moment. She didn’t want to admit how many times she had cried over those letters, though the tearstained paper would be indicative enough. She missed Ava so much and she so badly needed to hear her voice, just one more time. Hearing her speak those words, the promises she made, in that low accented tone would have been Sarah’s breaking point. Still, it was the one thing she wanted more than anything.

They exchanged letters for almost six months, to the point where they had their respective postal systems memorized. Over those months, despite everything, they even became closer. At some point, Ava admitted she had feelings for Sarah. Her letter was filled with apologies and promises that it shouldn’t ruin their friendship. Sarah wrote back and shyly admitted her own feelings, in an emotional note that ended up being smudged from tears. They weren’t dating, they never actually said that explicitly, but they knew they loved each other. The contact was so hard, it strained their relationship so much, but it was what both girls needed. As time went on Ava had no qualms with saying she loved her and every time Sarah read those words she felt her heart swell. Ava loved her, she really did. It made Sarah feel like the luckiest girl in the world, as cheesy as it was.

Sarah had just returned home from school, another envelope tucked carefully into her day planner, when her world flipped upside down. Her mother was in her room, reeking of alcohol, and she had Sarah’s hidden shoebox on the bed. All of Ava’s letters had been saved in that box, tucked away in the back of her closet so she could reread them when she needed to feel loved. The letters were strewn across the floor, some ripped to shreds already, and Sarah felt her heart drop.

“What did I say?” Her mother’s bleary eyes focused on her angrily, “Why do you think you can disobey me like this?”

“Mom, please-”

“No, Sarah,” the letter she had in her hands was tossed at her feet, “I don’t need any excuses. You think you own this house and my rules don’t matter? You’re planning to leave me, aren’t you? You’re going to run away to that little bitch and leave me. Just like your father did.”

Sarah was already crying, shaking with panic because it was all too much. Her letters were almost all destroyed, her mother’s anger palpable. It didn’t matter that Sarah knew she was drunk, it didn’t matter that her brain was telling her she was being manipulative and gaslighting her again. Her words stung regardless, the weight of everything crashing down on her. Sarah couldn’t breathe, was already flinching away from the woman who was supposed to love her unconditionally. Her brain was screaming at her to run but all she could do was sob out apologies because fleeing wasn’t an option.

“You’re just as bad as he is, as bad as all of them. You all want to hurt me, after all I’ve done for you? How ungrateful are you, Sarah Reese? Do you even love your mother?”

The fighting went on for what felt like hours. Sarah was beyond terrified, panic overrunning her system as she took every insult and lie her mother threw at her. She watched as she ripped up the remaining letters, tipped Sarah’s backpack upside down and found the one she hadn't even had a chance to read yet. She followed after her begging as she took the scraps of paper to the woodstove in their old kitchen, trying to reason with her even though there was no point. Her mother just sneered at her as she tossed the papers into the fire, shoving them under the burning kindling with the poker.

“Your phone and laptop are mine,” her words were hissed out, “You don’t leave this house for anything but school. That friend of yours who helped you send those disgusting letters? You will never speak to her again, you hear me?”

“Mom,” Sarah sobbed, “Don’t do this to me.”

“Sarah, I’m trying to help you. You don’t need them, none of them are your friends; they will only hurt you. That little Ava bitch doesn’t love you. No one loves you but me, baby; they all lie.”

Sarah’s stomach turned at that, wanting to throw up and scream at the same time. She shook her head fiercely, Ava did love her. She did, she told Sarah so.

“Mom, I love her,” she whispered brokenly, “Please. This isn’t me trying to hurt you. I love her and she says she loves me too.”

“Baby, no. You’re sick; this isn’t okay. You may think this gay thing is normal and okay but it’s not. It’s ruining my little girl and I won’t stand for it. You will stay here with me and that is final, you understand?”

The pet names were said in a sickeningly sweet way and Sarah knew she would never win in this argument. Her mother’s word was law and Sarah had to accept that. She would have to obey or she would get sent to yet another summer camp trying to brainwash her into liking men. The mood change was evidently another manipulation tactic, to make Sarah believe her mother was the only one who did love her. The cutting her off from everyone was one too, it was the same reason Sarah wasn’t allowed to have a job. She had to be completely dependent on her mother; that way she could never run away. It was horrible, made Sarah feel like a prisoner in her own home, but at the same time she was used to it. She couldn’t breathe, didn’t know how she would cope with this anymore.

“Go to your room, Sarah. We’re not speaking of this any longer.”

Sarah rushed back to her room, which was still an absolute disaster. Her things were overturned and broken, her clothes torn out of the dresser and her mattress half off the bed frame. All she could do was sob as she collapsed onto the floor, shaking like a leaf. She didn’t know how to calm down, didn’t know what would happen now. She needed Ava, she needed to hear her voice. Her brain was overrun with her mother’s words, the claim that Ava would never love her and that Sarah’s love was in some way disgusting. She just needed to hear her say it out loud, to promise that she did care about Sarah and her mother was lying.

It was all lies; everything was a lie. Sarah didn’t know what to believe anymore. All she knew was she was suffocating and she couldn’t live like this anymore; not without the girl she loved.

#HI THIS IS SAD IM SORRY #this is what happens when you’re the daughter of a narcissist #Sarah can have some more trauma... as a treat <3 #anyway... this sucks but whatever it’s one in the morning hsjskdk #my aus #my-writing #ava bekker #sarah reese #reesker #teen!ava #teen!sarah #teen!au #a chance meeting (twice over)#nosdecember #userglow #mutuals #neworleansspecial

12 notes · View notes

annafm · 4 years

Text

(MEDALION RAHIMI, NONBINARY) - Have you seen ANNABEL MAJIDI? ANNA is in HER/THEIR JUNIOR year. The LITERATURE + INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALISM MAJOR is 22 years old & is a SCORPIO. People say SHE/THEY are DILIGENT, ADROIT, CYNICAL and AUSTERE. Rumors say they’re a member of WINTHROP. I heard from the gossip blog that THEY ARE FAKING BEING A PSYCHIC. (JAMES. 21. EST. THEY/THEM.)

hllo this is anna i hvnt .. played her in a while <3 bt thts okay i think she is very fun 2 play bt like in the way tht she is <3 serious n mean a bit ... bt its okay .. LHKDSGFHLKSDHLKG im sorry this is long this is. an old intro i hvnt rly changed much >.>

CAR ACCIDENT, INJURY TW

aesthetic.

falling feathers darkened at the tips, tweed and pinstripes, red trenchcoats and plaid skirts, worn ballet shoes covered in dust, smudged eyeliner and unruly hair, boxing gloves, ornate canes and pain medication, bandaged hands, classical music floating throughout an empty ballroom, worn jackets and awkwardly cut t-shirts, spilled ink and stained hands, glasses skewed, sneers and jabs, constant fighting, smog in a city, spotlights and encores, piles of books and a long line, backless dresses and sitting alone at a bar, wariness.

basic.

full name: annabel odeda majidi

nickname(s): anna, annie (father only), anna-banana (father only)

b.o.d. - october 31st, 1997

label(s): the catalyst, the charlatan, the minefield, etc.

height: 5′6″

hometown: nyc, ny

sexuality: bisexual

stats

favorite song: you’re dead, norma tanega / now, your hope and compassion is gone / you’ve sold out your dream to the world / stay dead, stay dead, stay dead / you’re dead and outta this world

background.

born to two high schoolers who never married, firoj majidi and parvana banai. they were head over heels for each other - when firoj graduated he took up two jobs alongside community college to support their family, until parvana graduated and took on the arts.

growing up was tough - living in the city wasn’t cheap, parvana’s art rarely sold and the two often went without eating in order to provide for annabel. as a child she’d often wear hand-me-downs from extended family.

was taught to be a hard worker and it was reflected in her schoolwork - anna excelled in all her classes but especially english. her love for writing grew at a young age, and as a child she saved up enough money to buy herself proper journals.

the only thing that she grew more passionate towards than writing was ballet - she caught the image of girls flying through the air and landing on their toes in the window of a dance studio on a walk home from school one day and that was it - something clicked inside of her.

that same day she would spend hours prancing about their tiny apartment, trying to mimic what she’d seen. it was easy to spot the passion anna had for the dance - and within a few months they had saved up enough money for a month’s worth of lessons.

anna was ecstatic - her slippers were old and found in the back of a thrift store by an odd miracle, but she put her all into the lessons regardless. she was quick to pick up on each move, and by the end of the month it was clear that anna had a natural talent.

parvana picked up a job in order for them to keep affording the lessons, month after month - they weighed down on their pockets, but it kept anna happy.

flash forward a few years - life was good. money was still a struggle but they were tight knit.

or rather, anna thought they were tight knit.

firoj and parvana split up when anna was twelve - an event that rocked the young girl’s world, something that she couldn’t understand. they had kept up a front of love when anna was home from school or ballet - but behind doors, they had been growing apart.

anna viewed their separation as parvana running off with another man - an art collector who had a fascination with paravana’s paintings. she viewed this as the end of the world. she viewed this as the death of love.

when anna was twelve, she swore she would never fall in love - refused to believe in its existence. she couldn’t wrap her mind around the simple separation.

her father got a third job in order to keep up with payments, and anna pushed herself in both ballet and school - not being able to handle an empty apartment. she decided to get a job - to help ease her father, but was too young.

so anna decided to do what any average 12 year old would do. she started scamming people.

she’d sell store-bought lemonade as if it were homemade, stole ceramics from art class and sold them to neighbors. she found an old girl scouts uniform in the back of a goodwill and for the next month, she sold knock-off girl scout cookies from the dollar store - going door to door.

her personality had changed drastically - anna went from a sweet, optimistic girl with warm brown eyes and an infectious laugh to cold, calculated, and downright cruel. she knew what she wanted and how to get it.

she got an invitation to a prestigious private school, full scholarship, before she hit high school - originally wanted to reject it as the thought of being surrounded by new york’s richest teens was appalling, but their ballet program was a one-way ticket into the american ballet theatre. anna ultimately accepted the scholarship.

high school was immediately hell for her - pretentious rich kids who all shared a collective brain cell and her secondhand uniform being a prime target for them.

ballet got extremely competitive - anna was a threat to every dancer in their program, bullying and sabotage became standard - but anna retaliated when possible.

this all, however, suddenly stopped when anna picked up her latest scam: faking psychic. through a small network of ‘bees’ she’d pay to gather information (gossip, rumors, etc. etc.) she was able to accurately ~see~ into students’ past, present, and potentially future affairs. the money was very worth it.

from that point forward, people were intimidated by her.

when anna was 16 she was handpicked to join the american ballet theatre’s studio company, alongside 11 other lucky individuals. her dream from that point forward was to become the youngest principal ballerina for abt - and she was going to start by winning over the role of clara in their production of the nutcracker.

she was 17 when she was chosen, much to the dismay of the other girls. she had momentarily quit her ‘psychic’ business in order to dedicate the entirety of her time towards rehearsals & practice.

the final week before her first performance as clara, anna got into a car accident heading home after another tiresome rehearsal. knocked unconscious, anna woke up three days later with no recollection of the accident - and her leg freshly operated on.

it was a devastating event that should had killed her - maybe she would had been better off if it had - but instead, it had effectively destroyed any chances of her dancing professionally.

it took two months of extensive physical therapy for anna to walk again - now relying heavily on a cane.

with ptsd and depression weighing heavily on her shoulders, anna turned back to writing - mostly as a coping mechanism, but it soon became the fierce passion it once was when she was younger.

for the remainder of her high school life, anna dedicated the majority of her time towards recovery, her writing, and directing her school’s theatre productions. oh - and claiming that almost dying had given her the gift of mediumship. it wasn’t too far off from her psychic claims - her peers believed it well enough to either stay away, or pay her for a small amount of comfort.

decided to attend yates for their reputation despite her hatred for pretentious schools (very ironic because she herself is pretentious) & also. she had a scholarship <3 so.

in the midst of writing her first book that’s based heavily on her experiences as a low income student at a private school but like. she’s side-eying all these societies and seeing a Big Money Grab if she were to. write abt them instead

still can’t dance any longer, but she works as a ballet assistant for one of the dance instructors & still tends to barge her way into theatre rehearsals to <3 give her unwarranted opinion

personality & facts.

she’s not the friendliest person. knows what she wants and how to get it, and will not hesitate to use people or push them out of her way in order to achieve her goals.

her cutthroat nature was the reason for her success in academics and dance - tends to intimidate the students in the ballet classes she helps out in.

horribly stubborn - if she’s got an idea of you already in her mind, then it’s hard to convince her otherwise.

still uses a cane - in fact, she can’t really walk without it - unless she wants to be in pain.

it’s sturdy, ornate, and pretty fucking solid. doubles as a weapon if need be - has definitely … hit people with it before, though she’s calmed down now that she’s a little older.

used to be very angry, very defensive as a teenager - is still the same, just … less intense. will not hesitate to speak her mind and let her opinions known - especially in the face of injustice.

doesn’t really have the best … relationship with authority, mainly because of where she was raised and her con-artist businesses. tends to be snarky and sarcastic to anybody in charge - or really, anybody in general.

pretty distrusting, pretty emotionless on the outside, doesn’t like to be seen as weak or somebody to be pitied. keeps herself closely guarded and doesn’t really let others ‘inside’ due to her own comfort levels.

she’ll sleep around but dating is out of the question, for the most part - she’s been on a few blind dates, a few casual get-togethers - but she’s always the one to break things off. is more of a careful hook-up kind of gal.

still does her psychic medium business !! sometimes she wonders if she’s a bad person because of it - but ultimately, it’s on her customers for believing in all that nonsense anyway. anna herself is a skeptic - doesn’t believe in anything unless she can see it and feel it.

is actually … a pretty sentimental person, doesn’t take anything she’s got for granted, and is hugely appreciative of her father. sends him money when she can. hasn’t spoken to her mother in years - pretty sure she’s got a step / half-sibling or two but she’s never met them.

a lone wolf and likes it that way, but she isn’t super opposed to friendship - even if she won’t necessarily call anybody a friend. appreciates others who are similar to her - got their head on right, and knows what they want in life.

has a pretty bad fear of driving - will uber if she needs to go anywhere - even then, being in cars makes her pretty anxious. still has ptsd-induced panic attacks, though she’s managed them pretty well.

doesn’t really do drugs! will smoke weed to ease the ache and her nerves, but otherwise she only takes what is prescribed for her. doesn’t drink anything hard, either. big fan of beer and wine. probably gets wine drunk home alone late at night … like … two times a week.

goes between being high strung and uncaring - she’s not especially moody ( rather, is just consistently angry for whatever reasons ) but she definitely tries to bottle everything up.

probably keeps pepper spray on her at all times, even though she’s got her cane. has cat ear brass knuckles on her keychain - took advantage of the archery club at her private school. she’s not paranoid, she just likes being prepared.

has a soft spot for children, animals, and soft women. kind of person who will put herself in the line of danger in order to protect others - even if she doesn’t necessarily know them too well.

also the kind of person who’ll set something on fire - or do something because you’ve told her not to. incredibly spiteful when wronged. will raise hell if need be.

morally ambiguous tbh.

wanted connections.

who do u think i am ;; either uh. people who have seen her around campus being a bit of a freak like <3 kick someone’s tire in a small fit of rage <3 or spend 20 minutes trying to coax a cat near her so she could pet it <3 or having a that’s so raven moment <3 or someone who tried to help her out with something and she was like. excuse me. what the fuck. get away from me freak loser. maybe threatened them.

slowburn but make it evil ;; uh. when i played her as older she hd a plot where she <3 ws engaged n then broke it off bcos her fiance cheated <3 so i wld like another. plot where she actually <3 tries to enjoy someone else’s company and presence and it just ends up hurting her n reaffirming her idea tht love is? fake n dumb n stupid. thank u.

ykno ... a little dash of spice ... ;; uh. yknow just hookups. hateships <3 or they never talk abt what happened <3 or an awkward drunk one night stand <3 maybe a pregnancy scare and shes like Ah. motherhood Scares me. because she <3 hates her own mother <3 LDSLKFHLGSHLK. it leaves their relationship rly weird the whole ordeal ... maybe even just a blind date <3 or someone she ghosted

read my future ;; customers very classic uh. just people who come to her for her psychic readings <3 and her uh. talking to the dead <3 but also alternately. skeptics ?? people suspicious of her ?? very epic.

like actually Die? ;; enemies. she hates them so bad. maybe its one-sided. maybe theyre an annoyance. maybe she annoys them? very bad not very good.

and we dance dance dance, dance dance dance <3 ;; this is just. fr ballet students. or, hold up, consider this: someone who recognizes her frm this. very tragic event where she cld no longer b a ballerina bc i think it ws. like not the Biggest deal bt if ur muse ran in private school circles ykno ??

pet the feral cat ;; these r the soft <3 normal connections <3 someone she’s soft for / protective of. friends that she doesn’t completely hate.

i Do Not Know ;; i will. take anything. please. weed dealers, people she’s totally sus about for no reason. she steals and reads their mail. they have been rivals for years. they hv a special bond. they r strangers but they get stuck in an elevator. she’s tutoring them bt she wont let them take a break n she keeps making them recite fucking. shakespeare. anything is sexy and fun n cool

#yatesintro #car accident tw #injury tw #ptsd tw

9 notes · View notes

ping-ping-ying · 5 years

Text

NCT 2019: Mafia! Yandere!

Warning: toxic relationships, mental and emotional abuse, mentions of death/murder and suicide, kidnapping, illegal crimes, descriptive violence

NCT 2019: Reaction when their s/o tries to escape

To make this easier these will deadass be split up into units😂

Requested by @99-nct 🌻💓

NCT 127:

Taeyong: Would honestly freak a little. Since he made sure he kept track of you the entire day. He always knew where you were, and what you were doing. So when he came home from working late to see the house completely empty he panicked. But about four days after escaping he used all his resources to track you down, and found you waiting at a train station.

“Hey sweetie.” He pointed a gun to your back.

You stood there frozen.

“On the count of three, you’re going to come back home with me and get severely punished, or I’ll start shooting random civilians, your call.”

Johnny: Wouldn’t be as freaked out as you would expect him to be. All he needed to do was trace your steps. He made sure to look through your emails, phone logs, and sure enough, he found out you bought a plane ticket back home (unless you live in Korea lol) . It took him quite a while to find you in the crowded airport, but once he did, he gripped your wrist making you turn and face him.

“Hey doll face, remember me? The love of your life?”

Taeil: Home boi really caught you in the midst of your escape. You thought he went to sleep so you decided to high tail it out of there. But to your misfortune, Taeil was downstairs sitting in his chair. He held a glass of whiskey as he swirled it around looking at it intently.

“Now my dear, what do you think you’re doing?”

Doyoung: Was quite oblivious of the fact that you tried to escape. You both were at the mall and he went to go order food from the food court. Once he left you, you decided to sprint towards the malls entrance/exit. People gave you weird looks but you didn’t care. Your mind was focused on escaping. A mall cop saw you basically running and he came up to you and told you to stop running. In this moment you were about to tell this mall cop everything, but you were quickly shut down.

“Honey there you are!” Doyoung came jogging up to you.

The mall cop noticed your uneasy state, so he asked you,

“Do you know this man ma’am?”

You didn’t have time to answer because Doyoung came up with a smooth lie.

“Yes, this is my wife. She suffers from PTSD. Something must’ve triggered her, I’m so sorry sir.” He came and held your hand.

“No I’m sorry, please just make sure she is okay.” The cop bowed and walked off.

Doyoung then squeezed your hand tightly, to the point where you thought he was going to break a couple of fingers

“You are in big trouble when we get home.”

Mark: Mark wasn’t really a hardcore vicious yandere. He was actually surprisingly lenient when it came to you. That was his big mistake. You kept up your good behavior so he could give you more freedom, and that he did. You two were at a park and Mark had to use the bathroom. He told you to wait for him, and you, plastered a fake smile on your face and told him you would wait. As soon as the bathroom door shut you made a run for it.

You didn’t care where you were going, as long as it was away from him. You lost track of how long you were running and decided to look back, when you did, you bumped into someone.

“Are you all right miss?” An older woman asked as she helped you up.

“Yes, I need-”

“Babe!” Mark came running up to you. “I told you to wait for me! She’s so competitive, cheater.”

“You two are adorable! Have fun!” The older woman walked off and you looked at Mark.

He grabbed your hand and yanked you towards the exit of the park.

Haechan: This evil little shit actually let you escape, just so he can hunt you down. It was part of this sick little fantasy he had. When he finally caught you, it was not even an hour later. He knocked you out and threw you in the back of the car.

“I could do this all day princess.”

Yuta: It was his fault really. He left you at home alone all day and he forgot to lock the doors and windows. He was such in a rush that he forgot to do it. You walked straight out the door, and hopped into your car. The next thing you remember is waking up in the hospital. You were weak and could barley move, Yuta was asleep in a chair to your left. In that moment, you wanted to just pull out your IV but you couldn’t fore it was probably the only thing keeping you alive right now.

“Honey! Are you okay?!” Yuta popped up and immediately grabbed your hand.

“I think, I’m fine?”

“Where were you going? You know you aren’t allowed to leave the house without me.”

To your surprise, Yuta didn’t even suspect you tried to escape, because if he did, you probably would’ve been better dying off in the car accident. So you made up a lie to save your ass.

“I-I wanted to surprise you and make you your favorite meal. I haven’t cooked it in a while, and you seemed so stressed. I just wanted to do something good.”

“Oh honey.” He gave you a kiss on your forehead. “I appreciate it, but next time, just tell me where you’re going okay?”

“Okay.”

Jungwoo: This sweetheart could turn cold in 2.5 when it came to you. He caught you trying to pick the lock on the front door.

“What are you doing?”

“I wanted to go for a walk to clear my head.”

“No, come back to bed.”

“Jungwoo-”

“COME BACK TO BED!”

Jaehyun: You kept being good and Jaehyun immediately knew something was up. You were usually a brat and acted out. For the past week he kept his eye on you. Then you decided to escape. Jaehyun was in the basement working out when you crept out the kitchen and to the front door. Before you could even touch the doorknob, both of your arms were pinned up against your head and your back slammed against the door.

“I should’ve known you were up to something. You need to start obeying me more princess.”

“Make me.” You spit in his face.

His head jerked to the side for a couple seconds and he smirked back at you.

“You’re in for one hell of a punishment baby girl.”

NCT DREAM:

(Except Mark and Haechan)

Renjun: Honestly, you were afraid to escape from Renjun. He was a sick sadistic bastard who had no problem bashing your fingers if you didn’t listen. So sad to say, you didn’t try to escape this time, due to the fact your broken leg was still healing, thanks to Renjun.

Jeno: Another one who was oblivious to your attempt to escape. He just thought you had to use the bathroom, but when you didn’t come back halfway through the movie he went searching for you. He found you talking to a cop and went up to the both of you.

“Hey babe, you’re missing the movie! Is there a problem officer?” He said ever so sweetly.

“Not at all young man, she just got lost is all.”

Jeno grabbed your hand and squeezed it tightly while walking back to the theater.

Jaemin: Just like Haechan, he loved when you “escaped”. The hunt was his favorite part, he stalked you the entire time. When you were walking back from the store, he sat parked right outside. Now all he had to do was grab you, but he decided to wait. He didn’t find it fun if the hunt ended so quickly.

Chenle: This baby went ballistic. He was looking around the school yard for you. He thought you wouldn’t have gotten out of the hand cuffs. But behold, you showed up to school with your wrists wrapped up. You basically almost cut off your wrists trying to break free. Chenle walked up to you and hugged you.

“What happened? Are you okay? You can’t leave me again. This time you won’t be in handcuffs.

Jisung: The school day was over and you tried to hurry out of the school. Jisung was lurking around and you didn’t want to run into him. A teacher stopped you to talk about your grades (leave it to teachers to ruin everything, lol *disappointed but not surprised*). Jisung made his way to you with a wicked smile on his face.

“Hey Jisung!” The teacher greeted him warmly.

“Hello! Are you ready to go?” He smirked at you.

You knew you were screwed.

WayV:

(this boutta be dark asf sksks for some reason I see WayV as darker Yandere’s then the rest of NCT lord help me sksks)

Kun: You tried and failed for the fifth time to escape from Kun. This time you ended up recieving the worst punishment ever. He tied you up in the basement and didn’t give you food or water for two days straight. Then after he fed you, and made you get on your knees in front of this large bucket. He restrained your hands and held your head under water for 30 seconds. This went on two more times before he dried you off and let you go back upstairs.

Ten: Ten wasn’t expecting to try and escape again so quickly. Since your last attempt didn’t go so well. He caught you trying to hot wire his car, since he hid the keys. He put a cloth soaked with chloroform over your face, so he didn’t have to deal with your struggling. When you woke up, you were chained up in your room on the bed. Your legs were free though. Ten came walking in with a tray of supplies. Ten wasn’t into torture, but you needed to learn your lesson. He sat down next to you and in his hand was a tiny scalpel.

“Stay still baby, this won’t hurt as much.”

He hummed softly dragged the sharp object along your shoulder. The room filled with your ear piercing screams. All Ten did was hush you and continue to torture you.

Sicheng: Oh boy, this dude. WinWin caught you talking to another guy while you were trying to escape. But, he was more angry at the fact you talked to another guy. Straight to the shed you brought you, and tied you up to a chair. This wasn’t a regular chair (cuz know he’s in that zoooone let me stfu lol),this was an electrick chair (e e e electric shock…. okok imma stop now hehe). Sicheng never used this on you unless he was really mad. To make this even more painful, he threw a bucket of freezing cold water on you, and put a cloth in your mouth. No matter how many times you pleaded and shook your head, he flipped the switch. This lasted about five minuets, before you passed out.

Lucas: Lucas was a very jealous yandere. You could look at another guy and he would want to yank your teeth out. Today he saw you trying to escape his house by running out the door. You thought he wasn’t home, but he was. Lucas grabbed you and dragged you upstairs. After tying you up to the bed post, he got out an iron rod. He went downstairs and put it over the lit fireplace for a couple minuets. When he returned, your eyes immediately went to stare at the glowing orange tip of the iron rod. A little smoke came rising off the tip, and that set you into panic mode. Your struggles were useless as he sat down and pressed the tip of the bar to your thigh. Lucas wasn’t phased at all by your whaling screams, and I mean, not at all. Whenever Lucas was mad, all he saw was red, so in this particular moment, he didn’t care that he was hurting you.

Xiaojun: Xiaojun was very quiet, and that was more scary than anything. Once he found out you tried to escape, he went into his sadistic persona. He would torture you softly at first, putting salt on the top of your hand and then pushing an ice cube on it, making it burn like acid. Then he would put a rope around your neck and choke you until you felt light headed. After that, he would choke you with his bare hands, since he doesn’t like using weapons to punish you. Let’s just say, you couldn’t speak, or barely eat right for about week.

Hendery: Didn’t take your escape attempt lightly. He really isn’t into physical torture, so he just made you do hard labor with no food, water, or breaks. Whenever you slowed down or felt like you were going to pass out, he would remind you that if you kept slacking you wouldn’t be fed or allowed back in the house. In some instances, you would rather die than go back into the house.

YangYang: This little puppy, was probably the most sadistic yandere ever. He found you trying to escape, and boy, you shouldn’t have done that. YangYang actually broke both your legs, and mentally tortured you for hours. When you didn’t seemed phased by his mental torture, he chained you up and left you down in the basement until you learned your lesson. You went about four days without food or before he caved in and came down with food and water. When you refused to eat or drink, he threatened to break both your arms. So you ate and drank, then later on cried yourself to sleep.

-PingPing -3:53pm

#nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct #nct dream #nct imagines #nct u #nct yandere #nct mafia #nct mafia au

357 notes · View notes

southernbell91 · 5 years

Text

Some Secrets are Better Left Dead Chapter 4

Warnings: Language, Drinking, Stalking?

Day of the Charity Concert

Several hours before the event Wade showed up with our tickets and a few words of wisdom, this wasn’t my first time going to an event for an assignment like this, but this was my first time going in with the intention of exposing the most connected man in the United States.

Dean arrived shortly before it was time to leave, he looked nice in his “monkey suit” as he called it, a royal blue tux with royal blue tie that matched my simple off the shoulder a-line style dress in the same color. We matched just enough to look like we belonged but should be able to blend in enough not to draw too much attention.Tonight we weren’t going in reporters, simply New yorkers with connections I needed Tony or his friends to talk to me and be comfortable, the minute anyone says reporter people tend to change their tune.

A limo rolled up in front of my apartment building 30 minutes before the event, Dean had used the company card to rent it to help us look the part. Sliding in he started in on his overprotective editor speech.

“Do what you gotta do tonight, but try to stick close ok? Don’t go leaving with no one, I may not see the story here but that doesn’t make Stark any less dangerous.”

“I know I know” I conceded. Checking my purse to ensure I didn’t forget anything. “Do you have a game plan going in?” He asked eyeing me curiously, he could sense the nerves building in me. “Yeah, kinda. Find out what I can about anyone around Stark tonight or Mrs.Potts. I’m keeping an eye out for the Redhead too, I wanna know what her deal is in all this.” I added Showing Dean the Picture of the mystery woman on my phone along with a few other frequent flyers. He nodded looking at the images.

The limo doors opened when we arrived at the venue, Dean slid out then held his hand for me to follow. Making our way in we handed our tickets to the attendant, were escorted through the security check then led inside with a large crowd of people. The hall itself was massive, huge banners adorned the walls displaying the names of the Schools the event would benefit, there was a huge stage dead center at the end of the room. The wall to the right of the stage sported a large open bar with more than a dozen bartenders working to make the patrons drinks, tables littered the floor for people to sit and listen to the music being played, all performances by the schools represented today. Waiters and waitresses circled the area passing out flutes of sparkly drinks and tiny foods, luckily Dean and I agreed to eat before so as to not let our hunger distract us.

An hour into the event our mingling was well underway, I had been talking to notorious brain surgeon Dr.Stephen Strange when the crowd suddenly frenzied around us. Tony Stark was in the building.

I couldn’t see much when Stark entered the party, the crowd around him simply too large, at some point I lost dean in the chaos and decided to make my way to the bar to collect my thoughts and figure out my next move.

Drinking down most of my Jack and coke, I turned to examine the room and see if I could find my in when I felt the hairs on my neck prickle up.

I was being watched.

I subtly took another sip of my drink and began to slowly scan the room, trying to appear to be looking for someone. When my eyes landed on the long dark haired man across the room from me I froze, despite the large amount of people between the two of us it was obvious I was his focus. Even from this distance I could tell he had strong facial features, I recognized him as one of the frequent flyers in Tony’s circle, continuing my scan I realized he was standing just to the left of Stark and his growing groupies.

Dean was on the other side of the group, talking to an African American man, I knocked back the rest of my drink and made my way towards the pair. Painfully aware of the eyes following me as I crossed the hall. Coming closer to dean I noticed the man he was speaking to’s posture screamed military, so it made sense Dean would gravitate to him, his father was a former Marine.

“There you are” I Greeted Dean as I approached.

“I was worried you took off on me.” I added giving him a playful slap on the arm, that Whiskey making me a little more playful than I intended.

“Never” Dean said quickly. “Just chatting with my new friend here” he gestured towards the man. “Layla, this is Sam Wilson he’s former Air Force and a VA Counselor who specializes in PTSD. Sam, this is my associate Layla James.”

“Pleasure to meet you ma’am” he said smiling, as we shook hands, his slight southern accent noticeable.

I smiled back and greeted him “Nice to meet you as well Mr.Wilson.”

“Please, Sam.” he commented.

After a few moments of small talk we moved the conversation to a nearby table and the guys started sharing stories, apparently both had lived in Washington DC for a time and had some shared life experiences there. I half listened as I scanned the room still trying to find my in with Stark, starting to worry this night would be a bust when my eyes landed on a pair of bright blue ones watching me once again, this time from two tables over. The mystery man was watching me, making me feel what I imagine prey feels like when being hunted by a wolf.

Another man, Colonel James Rhodes joined our table after some time, I knew this man, he was on my frequent flyers list with Tony for these events and one of his closest friends. I started listening to the conversation a little closer taking lots of mental notes, trying to ignore the feeling of the mystery man’s eyes on me. Colonel Rhodes was telling us a supposedly funny story about delivering a tank to some palace in the middle east when our conversations were interrupted by a unmistakable loud voice.

“There you two are!” Tony Boomed, clapping his hand down on James shoulder. “I was starting to think they kicked you out of this little shindig for being too boring” He joked.

Rhodes shrugged him off and we all chuckled at his little jab. My laugh, slightly louder than necessary, caught stark’s attention, he shot a look over to me his infamous smile adorning his face.

Noticing his friends weren’t alone he gestured towards myself and Dean and ask his friends “And what do we have here?” reaching a hand out to me first he introduced himself. “Tony Stark, and you are?” He asked giving me his classic Stark smile.

“Layla James, Mr Stark. It’s an honour to meet you” I greeted returning his bright smile.

“Oh Please, call me Tony. Mr Stark was my father” he corrected. Then gave a small semblance of attention to Dean seated to my left as they exchanged pleasantries his focus never fully leaving me. A few more jokes, and a couple rounds of drinks courtesy of Tony later it seems his whole group had made their way to our table. I was listening intently to tony who was seated between Dean and Sam Wilson, when I glanced up and noticed leaning on the wall just a foot or two down from our table was the mystery man from before, watching. His stare so intense it made heat rise up the back of my neck and goosebumps cover my arms, im not sure what his fascination was but Im not sure I wanted to find out. Dean noticed the sudden attention that was on me and instinctively put his arm over the back of my chair, leaning into me slightly, if I hadn’t witnessed it with my own two eyes I wouldn’t have seen the mystery man tense slightly at the display, his jaw clenching for a moment.

After another 45 minutes of light conversation, my mystery man never leaving his post on the wall, even after he was visited by Tony’s mystery redhead on more than one occasion, I decided to excuse myself to the restroom. Tony had bought another round of drinks and I was starting to feel it’s effects. Stumbling through the crowd, I grabbed a quiche of some sort off a passing tray in hopes of soaking up some of the alcohol I had consumed. I was at the end of a small line to get into the ladies room, playing on my phone while I waited, making notes to look into the new people whom I met tonight Colonel Rhodes and Sam Wilson plus anything I could find on the mystery man. Nothing. The line moved quickly and made way into the restroom to handle my business. My head was swimming slightly so I didn’t even notice the silence in the room until I left my stall and saw I was alone, almost. Leaning on the counter waiting for me to walk out was the redheaded woman from before, she was watching me just like the man. “Hi” i greeted weakly as I began washing my hands, trying not to overthink or pay her much attention. Something didn’t feel right. Finally as I was drying my hands she spoke.

“What’s your deal?” She asked Bluntly

“Excuse me?” i asked confused, internally I was freaking out, externally I held my composure, mostly.

“I said, What. Is. Your. Deal?” she asked again emphasizing each word, talking to me like I was a child or stupid. That shifted my mood quickly, one thing I can’t stand is being talked down to. Even when I was a child the case workers and therapists talked to me like I was too stupid to understand anything. Im not stupid.

I stared at her a moment. “Im sorry, I don’t think I understand what you mean” I replied, glancing at the door, there was no way I could just bolt, I don’t know why but I had the feeling she was more than capable of stopping me. She raised her eyebrow at me clearly understanding my train of thought, then sighed, uncrossing her arms taking a step towards me, I took a defensive step back. It had been a minute since the last time I got into a fight, but im sure if needed it would be like riding a bike, a very violent bike.

“Your accent isn’t from here, most likely Midwestern, Clearly you didn’t grow up around here nor did you go to any of these schools, the guy your with sounds southern so same for him. No ring so not married, body language when you sit with him screams professional so co-worker or boss, not Boyfriend, although there is something there I think just not mutual. I’ve been to over a dozen of these charity events over the last few years and have never seen you, and trust me I would remember. It’s my Job. Your dress is nice, name brand even but is tattered slightly at some of the seams. Worn. Which means you’re obviously not part of the Socialite scene, you have a great rack but your not showing it off and wearing entirely not enough make up to be a gold digger so I repeat. What’s your deal?” I stared frozen, she made me, and I honestly had no idea what to say to her. I took a shaky breath ready to lie out of my ass, at that moment though a brunette woman burst through the door, interrupting our stare down. “C’mon” she said to the redhead. “We’re clearing out, heading back to the tower.” She said barely acknowledging my existence. The Redhead nodded then turned to me almost as if she wanted to say something before the brunette barked “Now” They left and I took a second to compose myself before following shortly behind them. When I hit the hall I saw the mystery man waiting at the opening near the bar, he called the redhead “Nat” grabbed her arm and pulled her aside and started arguing in what I believe was Russian. I only caught one quick look at them both, both returning my look,before i made my way to Dean who was waiting near the entrance, saying goodbye to Sam and James we made our way out to the limo without a word. Once seated I told him everything that happened. Pulling up in front of my apartment Dean agreed, something about things were off and there might be a story. He extended my deadline giving me a month to find the story.

Boy what have I gotten myself into?

Mystery mans’s POV I started watching her the moment we hit the room, I couldn’t explain it there was just something about her presence that drew me in. I clearly wasn’t the only one, the Surgeon she was talking to when we walked in seemed mesmerized by the brunette haired woman before him, that blue dress complimenting her beautiful complexion nicely. Oh boy, this wasn’t going to end well. I crossed the room fairly quickly as our group split up upon arrival, trying to put some room between me and the mystery woman. Picking my spot on a wall I settled in scanning the room constantly for any sign of threat, some habits die hard I suppose. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a blue blur make it’s way to the bar across from me, she ordered a drink and started her own scan of the room. To be honest she looked a little out of place in a room like this, not dressed like one of Starks typical whores, no, she looked more like she should be in a Library not at this stuffy shindig. My staring got carried away and before I knew it I was caught.

Shit.

Once she made her way across the room to who I can only assume was her date, who happened to be talking to my comrade Sam Wilson I shifted trying to keep an eye on her. I was busted though, not by the mystery woman though, but Natasha. I should have known she would be lurking, one of the only people who can sneak up on me. “What do you want Romanoff?” I asked lowly, not even bothering to turn to look at her. Continuing to scan the room.

“I want you to get your head out of your ass and focus” she snapped.

My attention jerked to her momentarily before continuing my scan.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at, but I suggest you butt out” I responded showing no emotion to the redhead. I knew she could see through that though, somehow she always did.

“Im just saying Barnes, we have a job to do and Im not here to babysit just because some skirt has you forgetting the job.”

“Whatever” I huffed, “Just find Hill and finish the transaction so we can get out of here” I said dismissing her, returning my attention to the mystery woman.

When the jackass she was with put his arm around her it took everything in me not to rip that arm off for touching her. What was happening to me? Natasha returned once the transaction was complete to let me know we were in the clear, she returned once more to bring me a drink, not that it really did any good but helped me look the part I suppose.

After a few too many drinks the mystery woman headed towards the bathroom, I was mesmerized by her grace despite the amount of alcohol Tony kept giving her and her friend, she seemed to glide through the crowd avoiding a few advances of some of the lonlier patrons, but not missing the passing food tray. Making me chuckle to myself.

Did she ignore the men on purpose or was she that oblivious to her pull?

When I saw a streak of bright red headed in the same direction a few minutes later I pushed off the wall and headed that way.

What the hell are you up to Romanoff, i thought to myself.

The hall to the bathrooms was nearly empty so I stopped at the end of the bar, refilling my drink to wait until one of the women emerged. A few minutes later maria hill approached me, she was rounding up the crew. Finally, I couldn’t wait to get out of here. I told her Nat was in the bathroom and that I would finish my drink and be on my way, the second Nat emerged from the hall I called for her and pulled her aside.

“Nat!”

“Chto za chert?”(What the Hell?) I hissed at her in russian.

“Kakiye? YA sledoval za dogadkoy.” (What? I was following a Hunch) She answered back.

Both of us turning to look at the woman as she passed us quickly making her way to her friend.

“Ty sobirayesh'sya ostavit' yeye v adu, Ty menya slyshish'?” (you’re going to leave her the hell alone, do you hear me?) I practically growled at her, making our way towards our people.

“Bez raznitsy” (Whatever) She said as she rolled her eyes and removed her arm from my grip, she would probably have some bruises tomorrow.

As we made our way out I scanned for the woman one more time but she was gone, I needed to find out more info about her, it was going to be a long night.

(AN: I Used Google to Translate to Russian so if it’s wrong I apologize!)

Tags: @lancetuckershairgel @stuck-y-together @buckmesideways22 @eurynome827 @book-dragon-13 @marvelous-meggi @spacemansam @cametobuyplums @loricameback @collinsstanharbour @marvelgirl7 @jewelofwinter @jobean12-blog @sebastiansloserclub

#Some Secrets Are Better Left Dead #BamaQueue #Bammy Writes #Bucky Barnes #dark!bucky #layla james #dean winchester #AU marvel #Avengers Au #fanfiction

21 notes · View notes

honeyimthedevil · 4 years

Text

First date

One day when Peter went to the tower he was ready to tell Bucky how he felt. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Peter walked out of it and was met with angry Steve and calm Bucky.

"Bucky, can I talk to you?" Peter broke the silence.

The two heads turned to him and Bucky nodded. But Steve didn't moved.

"Alone" the boy added.

Steve, annoyed, stood from the couch and walked to his room.

"What's going on Peter? Bucky asked.

"I wanted to tell you that I, that I, um, like you" Peter said and looked at the man in front of him.

Small smile appeared on Bucky's face. Peter hasn't seen Bucky smile, never.

"That's good, because I like you too"

"Really!?"

"Yeah. Do you wanba go out later today?" Bucky suggested.

"Yes, of course. But where?"

"Where ever you want"

"Do you want to go to the movies?"

"Sure. When?" The older one asked.

"In two hours here" Peter suggested.

"Okay Petey. See you then" and Bucky walked off.

Not a minute after that Peter was running to Tony's lab.

"Dad. DAD. He likes me too!" Peter screamed when he entered the lab.

"Well, that are some great news Petey!"

"This is AMAZING! We are gonna go out later today"

"Where will you be going?" Tony asked.

"We're going to the movies, nothing special. But it will totally be amazing" Peter said.

Peter rushed out of the lab and to his room. He took a shower. Then was the hardest part, picking an outfit. He walked into his closest with only a towel around his waist. It has been around forty minutes when he finally decided what to wear.

He sprayed himself with his cologne and walked in the living room. Bucky was already there sitting on the couch. When he saw Peter entered the room he stood up and walked to him.

"You look good Pete!" Bucky commented.

Peter's face turned red.

"T-thanks, y-you too" Peter said the blush getting brighter.

Then Steve walked in the room. He looked at Bucky then at Peter.

"What's going on?" He asked.

"We're going out, right Pete?"

"Y-yes"

Steve threw them one last look and walked away.

"We should better get going" Bucky said.

"Y-yeah, let's go"

Peter led Bucky to the movie teather. For most of the time, when they were walking, they weren't talking. It was comfortable silence. Peter walked in the teather and Bucky followed him.

"What do you wanna watch?" Pete asked.

"I don't know. What can we watch?"

"There are 'Annabel 2' it's horror movie. 'The quake' it's about the end of the world and 'Wonder woman' witch is fantasy"

"'The quake' is a no. It will probably trigger my PTSD" Bucky said and Peter nodded.

"I don't want to watch 'Wonder woman'" the boy said.

"So, It's Annabel"

"Yeah. Let's go buy tickets"

Peter bought two tickets. They both agreed that they didn't want popcorn so they walked in the movie room. They sat at the back. The film started (I haven't watched Annabel 2. I'm sorry if there isn't scenes like this) and when the first jump scare played Bucky saw Peter jump slightly in his seat. On one of the more scary scenes Peter closed his eyes shut and tilted his head to the side. Bucky took Peter's arm in his and asked, "are you okay? We can go out of here if you want"

"N-no, I want to watch till the end"

Bucky only nodded in response.

The man kept his hand in Peter's, who was holding on it like life depended on it. Bucky felt the boy hide his head in his shoulder. He looked at Peter and placed the boy on his lap and then wrapped his arms around his small frame. Peter stayed in that position for the rest of the movie. When the people started leaving the room Peter got himself off of Bucky and walked next to him awkwardly.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable in there. It was just so scary and-"

"Hey, don't worry. I actually enjoyed it" Bucky interrupted Peter.

Bucky slid his hand down and grabbed Peter's. He looked at the boy asking with his eyes if it was okay. Peter just squeezed his fingers around Bucky's hand.

"Wanna go somewhere to eat before going back to the tower?" Bucky asked.

"Yeah, sure"

They went to the local restaurant and sat on a table in the corner. They ordered their food and Peter asked, "Did you like living in the 40s?"

"It was good in some ways, but I prefer this time"

"Why?"

"Back then I couldn't express my feelings. I am gay. I was gay in the 40s too. Even Steve don't know. If someone knew the truth I was going to get killed. But now I can walk around hand in hand with a boy without getting injured about it. And I met you too" Bucky explained.

Peter blushed at the last sentence.

"Is Steve homophobic?" The young one asked.

Bucky just nodded. Peter grabbed his hand and said, "Hey, it's gonna be okay. And even if he say something you have all the team on your side" and smiled. Bucky smiled back at him.

When they finished with the dinner they hedded back to the tower. Bucky had his arm around Peter's waist and Peter had his hand in Bucky's jacket pocket. That's the way they walked out of the elevator and in the living room where the team was watching a movie.

"Hey guys" Tony greeted them.

All heads turned to them and Steve furrowed his brows when he saw the position they were in.

"How was the movie?" The billionaire asked.

"Someone got scared and that someone hid for half of the movie" Bucky said and looked at Peter who was as red as tomato.

"Buck, were you two on date, because it seems like that. I didn't think you would date a guy. But I guess you are one of the faggots" Steve stated.

"What do you think you are talking Rogers? It's 21 century. All people are accepted. You need to grow up!" Natasha said.

"Guys, go to someone's room while we teach Steve a lesson" Clint said

"But-" Peter started.

"Go!" Tony commanded.

Bucky and Peter went to the boy's room and sat on the way too big bed. They were hearing the shouting from the common room. Peter got closer to Bucky and put his head on his shoulder. The older one layed them down on the bed. The boy had his head on Bucky's chest while he played with his fluffy brown hair. Soon the sleep took over Peter and Bucky followed soon after.

Peter was wearing this ☝️

Bucky was wearing this ☝️

#writing #fanfic #fluff #avengers #winterspider #winterspider fic #marvel story #marvel fanfiction #marvel ship #marvel #irondad #spiderson #spider son #spiderman #winter solider fanfiction #spidermanxwintersoldiar

8 notes · View notes

cupidmarwani-archive · 5 years

Text

The Rehabilitation of Ava Bekker (1/12)

Summary: Ava Bekker panicked, and now that Connor is dead, she has to start over.

Warnings: PTSD, Flashbacks, Smoking, ETC

Ava panicked.

There was too much that happened, and she had just wanted to be loved. It was that simple. She wanted someone to hold her, and tell her she was good, and make her feel like she was loved. Connor had been the easy choice, the one standing beside her at every turn, smiling at her. He told her that her surgeries were perfect. She had wanted him to stay, wanted him to be everything to her and vice versa. Everything she did, Ava did out of love.

Except for that last part, which was done out of panic. She asked him for an hour to get to the airport and he said no. He was blocking the exit. And Ava didn’t know what could possibly come next for her, so she did the only thing that came to mind and put the scalpel in her hand to use.

There was a lot of blood. On her. On the floor. Mostly on Connor. She ran for it then, and made it all the way home. She gave herself five minutes to wash the blood. Ten to pack and get the cash she saved under her bed in case of emergency because, really, once she killed Connor’s father, she knew deep down that she’d need an escape plan.

She took a cab to the airport, bought eight tickets with her spare cash, and grabbed the one no one would ever think to see her on. Sicily, Paris, Cairo, Mexico City. Albany, Boise, San Antonio, Minneapolis. Enough places that no one would know where to look, and the plane she got onto was headed straight to the midwest. Minneapolis is a big enough city to get lost in, and an easy starting point to get to the middle of nowhere.

Now she’s here, on an ugly blue seat that’s rough against her legs, squished between a matronly woman knitting with knobbly brown yarn and a man that smells like fish and has decided that her leg room is his. To say the least, it’s unpleasant. But at least she’s not in cuffs, she thinks. Connor with his arms crossed, that disgusted look on his face, watching her dragged away. That would be the worst part.

It hasn’t hit her yet, what she’s done. After showering, her body is clean, for the most part, and she even clipped her nails to get rid of the caked red beneath them. She can see, in her mind’s eye, how he collapsed with his hand on his neck, blood splattering out of him and hitting her hands, her scrubs, her face. She left behind evidence at home, she realizes. But it’s not home anymore, and it doesn’t matter because no one will be able to find her after this. She’s planning on disappearing.

Hi, she thinks to herself. My name is Avery Rhodes. I’m twenty eight. I moved from South Africa with my parents when I graduated high school, and then studied art for a few years. I worked at a Denny’s because my art degree was worthless. Nothing worked out, so I came out here to try farming. No, I’m not married. No, I don’t have a special someone. Yes, I can pay rent, at least for the next few months.

Ava tightens her hands on her backpack. After the plane tickets, she still has about twenty grand in cash. Enough for a used truck and gas to get somewhere far from the city, and then start new as a farmhand for someone with little internet access and a warm bed she can sleep in. She’s being idealistic, if she’s honest with herself, but it’s this imagined plan that keeps her from hyperventilating or bursting into tears. The running away, she’s thought of all this, but killing Connor wasn’t part of the plan. She didn’t want to kill him. She didn’t mean to. It just kind of happened, and now she can’t take it back. And Connor, he’ll never hold her through the night and tell her he loves her again. She’s completely alone, even squished in the middle seat of a cheap airline with her carryon rattling overhead.

Outside the window, which is half-lidded to protect against sun, the city has given way to green pastures and neat bricks divided by crops. The darker ones are soybeans, she thinks, and when she lands she’ll probably find out for sure. There are plenty of big company farms out here with background checks and files and worse, but there are also little family owned ones out there, especially some that might be hiring. She can figure this out, she tells herself. One way or another.

There’s another hour or so left for this flight, and Ava tries to distract herself with the sky magazine. A high powered blender, an inflatable pillow. She stares at the pictures, but doesn’t process them. Her body is humming, almost, with leftover adrenaline from what she’s done. Deep down, at the bottom of her backpack, is a picture she couldn’t leave behind, one she had printed out a few weeks ago. Her and Connor, happy and smiling. His arms were around her and they had kissed just before that picture was taken. She wants to look at that, but it’s too risky right now.

Beside her, the old woman keeps knitting. The fish man keeps hitting her knee with his. The plane keeps roaring and Ava, surrounded by people, feels so completely alone that it burns.

She doesn’t know what to do with herself, in a situation like this. There are no surgeries to prep for or consults to host. Connor isn’t a few steps away for her to talk to and look at and thinking about him hurts right now with the weight of what she’s done. Later it’ll sink in, she thinks, watching her twitchy hands on the edges of the magazine. They’ve always been so steady. They had to be, when she was a surgeon. The slightest twitch, the slightest misstep, and she could commit irreparable harm. Ava prides herself on being steady. But right now, she shakes. Because she was steady when her scalpel found home not too long ago.

When the plane finally begins its descent, she hasn’t been able to still her angry muscles. Everything’s too much, including the buzz of the other passengers quietly talking. She’d like to be in a quiet OR, able to focus because she’s always been good at that. Real things, like standing in line with her luggage while people bump shoulders with her, aren’t as simple or doable.

She might start screaming, as she shuffles past a starbucks-that-isn’t-a-starbucks and wonders where she can buy a prepaid cell like in all the movies. Not the sort of movies Ava usually watches on her own, but one’s she’s seen at Connor’s side and remembered. There’s probably one in the big mall just a cab ride away. The twin cities have one of those, huge. There’s supposedly even a theme park inside. But that’s not what Ava is here for. She steps outside and hails a cab to the mall, a plan clear in her mind.

Step one, get a prepaid phone.

Step two, use it and free coffee shop wifi to look for a job ad.

Step three, buy a used car and go to the job.

It seems simple like that, and helps her keep from stumbling over her own feet when a cab pulls up and asks where she’s headed. She’s got the money to do this and, before she knows it, she’ll be safe and away, and she can reach into her bag and pull out the picture of Connor and her. He’s with her. She’s okay. All she has to do is keep going.

#rhekker #chekker #fic #mine #rab!fic

19 notes · View notes

hearteyes-for-killmonger · 5 years

Text

In My Mind x 03

*Reuploading because I've edited these to flow a little bit better. Thank you for your patience!

Memories in dreams

are the ones we've built our life on.

---

“How do we find someone without a face, a name, or an idea where they went. It’s been two days she could be anywhere. It’s like chasing a ghost.”

“We don’t.”

You eye him carefully and he clarifies.

“She found you before. If she has something to say, she’ll find you again.”

Erik didn’t seem the type to let something like this hang unattended so why would he move on from this so easily? Maybe there really was nothing else you could do to find her.

“Assuming she was real,” he adds, “We need to consider illogical options since this is an illogical situation.”

You continue to stare at him. He's calm and seems to be handling all the ‘weirdness’ gracefully.

“If you’re okay, I’m okay,” you say and you get a text. It’s from Lia. You have a braiding appointment and your last customer is there waiting. You’d forgotten all about her. “Shit! I gotta go back to the salon. I forgot I had one more client.”

He slips his shoes back on and downs the rest of the water in his glass.

You walk out to the living room leaving him behind and as you open the front door you hear him move fast to the kitchen putting the glass in your kitchen sink and he jets ahead of you pulling you by your hand down the staircase and down to the ground floor where you exit. He doesn’t free your hand once you emerge.

“Uh uh, what you coming with me for?”

He pulls you to his car and closes you in, clicking your seatbelt.

“You gone keep that lady waiting,” he chides stopping your protests. He drops behind the wheel and speeds off shortening the already short trip back to the salon. The second the car goes into park, you leap out unsteadily and he follows as you burst through the salon door.

“I’m late, I’m so sorry. I’ll dock $10 from your total.”

You look up and instantly drop the keys in your hand on the floor.

“It’s you,” you gape and the woman smiles in response to your surprise. You turn to Erik and he’s gone. Everyone else is gone. It’s just you and this mysterious lady with the kind face in the empty shop that’s gone dead silent.

“Nia,” her warm voice echoes and you feel peace and calm radiating from her form in an overwhelming energy that gives you no choice but to settle down. Her eyes are tender and full of kindness. “Nia, I have been sent by your God to guide you. You have been graced with a great gift to assist with your great purpose, and now you must demonstrate your capability.”

God sent? Is she an angel?

You notice her shadow looks nothing like her, it has six arms and large wings.

“Help N'Jadaka. Help him find peace. Do this and then your purpose will be revealed.”

“N'Jadaka? Who... Oh, Erik. But how? What do I do?”

“How’d you know that name?”

You turn around and it’s Erik looking at you with a distrustful expression.. like you’ve lost your mind. When you turn back the woman is gone. You grab his forearms.

“Tell me you saw her.”

He squints and shakes his head.

“I saw you drop your keys and freeze, then you said my name... What she say?”

From the corner of your eye Glenda is staring at you this time blatantly.

“I’m fine, just dropped my keys. Clumsy, you know,” you offer with a matching clumsy shrug and she doesn’t seem to buy it.

“I thought you were going home. What you doing back,” she asks.

The second part of that seems to be aimed at Erik. She doesn’t trust him, it’s clear in her eyes and body language. You look at Lia and she’s shaking her head.

“I already cornrowed your client, remember? You done for the day. Go home. Get some sleep, you definitely need it.” Lia turns her attention to Erik. “Iunno who YOU are and why y'all so close all of a sudden, but make sure she gets some sleep.”

—

“They think I’m fuckin crazy,” you groan from the passenger seat. You’re holding on tightly to your seat as the car moves aggressively. Erik had taken it upon himself to drive while you told him about your encounter with the mysterious woman. He passed your apartment complex giving you more time to talk while he rode around. He didn’t want you to leave a thing out.

“So you supposed to be my psychologist.. Help me find myself and shit,” he mumbles and you’re also not sold. It sounds ridiculous.

“I don’t know, but apparently you NEED peace because you don’t have it. So let’s just work on that.”

The car turns onto a highway and you watch the signs before turning to look at Erik’s face. He’s just chillin on the surface.

“...You’re taking me somewhere aren’t you.”

“Yep.”

“Where?”

“What that sign say?”

You look at the upcoming sign that says EXIT and it has a bunch of fast food and restaurant logos. Thank God, because you could eat right now. He pulls into a restaurant called Bear’s Den. It’s a black owned restaurant, you think. When you enter, a lot of the staff is black and the menu is so country. It’s comforting.

Erik orders lemon pepper chicken with a salad and fruit cup. You order chicken and dumplings with a pineapple casserole, something you’ve never had before. You let Erik try the casserole, but he isn’t feeling it like you are. The two of you eat mostly in comfortable silence with minimal verbal conversation. However, nonverbals are HIGH as you exchange meaningful glances and facial expressions.

He's trying to read you while you're trying to understand him.

He requests the check and rejects your money when you offer to pay for yourself, which is perfectly fine by you. You’ve eaten your fill for free.

“Go to the bathroom before we leave to go back. You drank a lot,” he says and you raise your brow.

“I’m appreciative that you bought me dinner, but that’s a little too personal for you to be worrying about.”

“And my dreams and my life ain’t personal,” he shoots back.

“I didn’t invade your mind on purpose.”

He nods in the direction of the restroom and you roll your eyes. Raising from your seat you walk to the rustic multi-stall restroom and actually empty your bladder. Maybe it was good that you went. When you resurface, he’s not in the restaurant and you walk out to find him in the car. Buckling yourself in, you brace yourself for his crazy driving and somehow, you still aren’t prepared. He's driving so fast for no reason. It's like he's got a pregnant woman in labor in the car rushing her to the emergency room.

On top of that, he's going the wrong way. This is not… the direction of your apartment.

“Where we going now?”

The car moves aggressively and quickly further away from home and he takes his sweet time responding, apparently in no rush.

“Airport.”

Airport.. The AIRPORT?!

“The fuck? You leaving so soon?” He couldn’t leave! You still hadn’t figured anything out.

“You’re coming with me.”

“The hell I am!”

“LOOK. You gone HELP me or NOT?” His volume is rising. He’s serious... He's serious and he knows as well as you do that the both of you need to figure this thing out.

“Ugh.. How long? If we're gonna do this, I need to cancel my appointments,” you sigh taking out your phone.

“Indefinitely, for now.”

“FUCK.. this..,” you lay down your phone before picking it back up, angrily tapping at your phone screen. How selfish of him to expect you to uproot your life, possibly lose your client base, and follow him to tend to HIS mental health issues. You said you would help him, but you meant on your terms, not his. “You do understand that I have bills, shop fees, clients, and in short.. a life outside of this.. Do you not care?”

His shoulders roll and he takes the exit to the airport.

“I got you.. Don’t worry about it.”

He’s so cryptic. 'Don’t worry about it,’ right.. You go through your Styleseat and cancel everything, silently fuming. He’d better 'have you’ or there’ll be hell to pay. Trained killer be damned.

—

“So you’re just gonna leave your car?”

“...It was a rental,” he chuckles.

“When did you buy me a plane ticket?”

He ignores you, but this ticket says you’re going to Oakland, California. You’d never been to the west coast, but now you’re placing his accent.

He drags you past security and you have no luggage, but they wand you briefly. You have to take your shoes off too. Then you board and he gives you the window seat, which you’re grateful for.

The fluffy cotton clouds are so full, they look like you could jump onto them, wrap yourself up and sleep. But the sky is darkening rapidly so the sights are getting increasingly tougher to see, clouds included.

“While you’re playing shrink with my PTSD, I want to test this ability of yours some more.”

That doesn’t sound promising. You face him and that familiar feeling of trouble washes over you. He definitely plans on using you for personal gain, IF he can get a handle on how your newfound ability works. It’s disheartening, but you hold the cards.

“Erik, I told you everything I knew about our situation. This isn’t something you can manipulate to work how you want.”

His small dark eyes narrow and shoot darts through yours. You don’t waver. You can see his complicated mind scheming behind those eyes, but then they soften.

“Lotta people sleep on this plane... Try to get in someone’s head. If you can’t, it’s okay but just try.”

He’s not going to leave you alone about this. You close your eyes and draw a deep breath in, releasing a long breath through your nose. You relax yourself in your seat and rest your head against the window. You push all thoughts away, trying to make things as silent as possible and then you focus. You’re searching for a vibration, a visual, a feeling. Everything goes black and then it suspends.

Black...

A sunny field abundant with white lillies.

“Nia, wake up we here.”

Your head snaps up and you open your eyes willing them to focus. You watch Erik put away earbuds and pocket his phone. People are standing in the aisle with luggage waiting to exit and you jump up.

“Erik, you didn’t sleep did you?”

“Nah, but you did for three and a half hours.”

Your eyes search for who it could’ve been, but there’s no way to tell. No one’s wearing lilly printed clothing afterall. But then an elderly white man stands in the row behind you and Erik and it looks like he could’ve been sleep just now.

“I saw something,” you tap Erik as it’s your turn to exit the plane, and he follows your eyes to the old man. Awe lights his face but then a dark glee darkens it. He pulls you behind him by your wrist into the gate where people sit waiting to board their own flight and you wait behind him until the old man appears.

“Ask him what he dreamed about,” he whispers hurriedly in your ear.

“You ask him!”

“If I ask him he gone see nigga and have a heart attack. You ask him.”

Rolling your eyes, you fix a faux sweet look on your face and jog lightly up to the old man who's passed you both at this point, gently grabbing his attention.

“Excuse me sir, this is an odd question, I know, but.. did you happen to dream of a sunny field of white lillies?”

Your eyes plead your silent apology and his dull eyes look baffled. He shakes his head subtly and doesn’t respond, but his surprise tells you that’s exactly what he dreamed of. His thick pink finger points at you.

“How did you know? Are you a magician?”

She shake your head and walk away rejoining Erik. Grabbing his arm, you lead him past the old man who is still staring at you in confusion.

“He dreamt of lillies. I saw it. It was him,” you whisper. The corner of Erik’s mouth lifts and his eyes shine, but he says nothing else. “I know what you’re planning,” you whisper still clutching his arm because he hasn’t pushed you off.

“Do you,” he toys.

“I don’t know the specifics, but I can tell you I’m not helping you profit off of me.”

“What if I just want you to profit? You don’t like money?”

“This is a gift from God. I won’t abuse it. You’re gonna heal and find peace and then I’m a figure out some deeper purpose. That's our plan. Stick to the plan.. N'Jadaka.”

The name earns a light humored jolt out of him. He likes that name.

“Is that a chosen or a given name?”

“Given.”

You watch his face for more information knowing he can feel your stare, but putting two and two together you think it goes back to his parents.

“I’ll tell you more when we get to my place... You’ll probably see it all anyway.”

Other Chapters:

#erik killmonger #original #killmonger #erik stevens #erik killmonger fanfiction #killmonger fanfiction #in my mind

48 notes · View notes

annabcll · 5 years

Text

MEDALION RAHIMI / CIS FEMALE. — annabel majidi is really making a name for themselves as a tier 2 shepherd. i think that she is studying english + investigative journalism in their junior year at lockwood, living in audax. originally from new york city, new york, anna is known to be diligent & adroit, but can also be cynical & austere. — james / 20 / est / she/they.

4/5 !!! so close !! anna doesn’t really have ... any changes to her, except for her connections to the victims section so :^)

TW POVERTY, CAR ACCIDENT, INJURY, DEATH MENTION, GRIEF MENTION

a e s t h e t i c s

falling feathers darkened at the tips, leather jackets and pinstripes, red trenchcoats and plaid skirts, worn ballet shoes covered in dust, smudged eyeliner and unruly hair, boxing gloves, ornate canes and pain medication, bandaged hands, classical music floating throughout an empty ballroom, bomber jackets and cropped tees, spilled ink and stained hands, glasses skewed, sneers and jabs, constant fighting, smog in a city, spotlights and encores, piles of books and a long line, backless dresses and sitting alone at a bar, wariness.

general info !!

full name: annabel odeda majidi

nickname(s): anna, annie (hates), anna banana (father, exclusively)

b.o.d. - october 31st. scorpio child.

label(s): the catalyst, the charlatan, the crepehanger, the minefield

height: 5′6″

hometown: nyc, ny

sexuality: bisexual

stats

biography !!

parvana picked up a job in order for them to keep affording the lessons, month after month - they weighed down on their pockets, but it kept anna happy.

flash forward a few years - life was good. money was still a struggle but they were tight knit.

or rather, anna thought they were tight knit.

when anna was twelve, she swore she would never fall in love - refused to believe in its existence. she couldn’t wrap her mind around the simple separation.

so anna decided to do what any average 12 year old would do. she started scamming people.

high school was immediately hell for her - pretentious rich kids who all shared a collective brain cell and her secondhand uniform being a prime target for them.

ballet got extremely competitive - anna was a threat to every dancer in their program, bullying and sabotage became standard - but anna retaliated when possible.

from that point forward, people were intimidated by her.

she was 17 when she was chosen, much to the dismay of the other girls. she had momentarily quit her ‘psychic’ business in order to dedicate the entirety of her time towards rehearsals & practice.

it was a devastating event that should had killed her - maybe she would had been better off if it had - but instead, it had effectively destroyed any chances of her dancing professionally.

it took two months of extensive physical therapy for anna to walk again - now relying heavily on a cane.

with ptsd and depression weighing heavily on her shoulders, anna turned back to writing - mostly as a coping mechanism, but it soon became the fierce passion it once was when she was younger.

decided to go to lockwood after graduation in order to stay somewhat close to her father - she’s here on a full scholarship for her dual-major in english & investigative journalim

is in midst of writing her first book, based heavily on her experiences as a scholarship student at a private school, YA fiction, essentially - mostly just to dip her toes in the water and to try and become an established author. if it goes well, it’ll become a series.

the watershed app captured her attention immediately, and she’s been slowly trying to work her way up the tiers of shepherds. finds it completely fascinating, and uses it to help with her psychic business.

still can’t dance any longer, but she works as a ballet assistant for one of the dance instructors.

personality !!

lives in audax, where things break A Lot. she’s usually seen threatening RAs and maintenance men until they fix whatever problems. :^)

that being said - she’s not the friendliest person. knows what she wants and how to get it, and will not hesitate to use people or push them out of her way in order to achieve her goals.

her cutthroat nature was the reason for her success in academics and dance - tends to intimidate the students in the ballet classes she helps out in.

horribly stubborn - if she’s got an idea of you already in her mind, then it’s hard to convince her otherwise.

still uses a cane - in fact, she can’t really walk without it - unless she wants to be in pain.

it’s sturdy, ornate, and pretty fucking solid. doubles as a weapon if need be - has definitely … hit people with it before, though she’s calmed down now that she’s a little older.

used to be very angry, very defensive as a teenager - is still the same, just … less intense. will not hesitate to speak her mind and let her opinions known - especially in the face of injustice.

goes between being high strung and uncaring - she’s not especially moody ( rather, is just consistently angry for whatever reasons ) but she definitely tries to bottle everything up.

probably keeps pepper spray on her at all times, even though she’s got her cane. has a gun hidden in her dorm, cat ear brass knuckles on her keychain. she’s not paranoid, she just likes being prepared.

kind of wants to write a novel based off of watershed so! she takes a lot of notes - tends to be very observant.

has a soft spot for children, animals, and soft women. kind of person who will put herself in the line of danger in order to protect others - even if she doesn’t necessarily know them too well.

also the kind of person who’ll set something on fire - or do something because you’ve told her not to. incredibly spiteful when wronged. will raise hell if need be.

morally ambiguous tbh.

connections to the victims !!

tatiana samuels / mutually disliked each other and they’d avoid one another if possible. nobody is quite sure of why - some say it’s because tatiana was skeptical of anna’s psychic business, others say it’s because tatiana had gotten a bad fortune predicting her death.

george craig iii / once a friend of anna’s due to their similar personalities - their friendship was ended because of tatiana. once again - it isn’t quite known why, but it’s been hinted that tatiana had made george choose between her friendship & anna’s. tatiana had been the obvious choice, and that was that.

hana williams / a friend & a client, anna would regularly do tarot readings for hana. after tatiana, anna had tried to keep her readings positive.

christoph wainwright / enemies due to christoph pushing her buttons and generally just rubbing her the wrong way, her own suspicions leading to a natural defense against him, which he reflected.

wanted connections !!

maybe … a roommate?

acquaintances. people who’ve seen her around campus and are curious. people who’ve seen her like … kick someone’s tire in a small fit of rage or spend 20 minutes trying to coax a cat into coming near her so she could pet it.

someone from new york who recognizes her from whatever !! whether it’s from newspaper details of her incident, her legacy at her private school, her legacy as a ballerina before her incident, etc. etc.

has taken up boxing recently - so somebody whose helping her at the gym?

someone who tried to like. help her cross the road or something because they saw her with her cane and she yelled at them so now they’re in this weird spot.

dance students !! if somebody does ballet - she might be helping them.

someone she’s soft for for whatever reason :/

hookups !! of any sort !! the kind where you never talk outside of it, or a hate-fuck scenario … anything !!

customers who come to her for psychic readings and like. comfort in the form of talking to the dead.

people skeptical of her !! maybe trying to ruin her in some way.

other shepherds. someone higher up that she’s trying to manipulate in some way for her own benefits.

a drunk one night stand that neither wants to talk about.

a pregnancy scare with another, separate one night stand! it turned out to be nothing, but there was some. weirdness. between them afterwards.

a blind date or two dnfjgkmh

someone she ghosted :/

ok ok ok so … back when anna was an older muse, she was fresh out of a broken off engagement b/c her husband-to-be cheated on her … so i kinda want … smth similar to happen to her again ? y’know. make her fall in love. break her heart. ruin her again. it’d b fun ! angst is fun !

someone she’s like, protected from a creep at a bar or a club ! and now they feel indebted towards her and she’s just like uuuh no. stop.

annoyances !!

like … maybe a pal or two, or three. mainly just people she gets along with !!

on the other end - something where they just. despise each other for whatever reason. pure hatred.

hatred but make it sexy.

a dealer because even though she can get medical marijuana … it’s good to have a lil extra on ya :)

people She’s suspicious of for whatever reason - someone she caught doing something. suspicious. untrustworthy.

someone where their mail keeps getting mixed up.

uuh really im down for anything !!

#wshintro #car accident tw #injury tw #death mention #grief mention #being poor :/ tw :/#thts a joke im also very poor

6 notes · View notes

writing-in-the-impala · 5 years

Text

You Always Hurt The Ones You Love (Part 7)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

AU: Professor!Bucky Barnes/ Teacher!Bucky Barnes

Series Summary: You fall for your smoking hot literature professor Bucky Barnes (quite literally) what follows you never predicted would happen.

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, teacher-student relationship (but like it’s all legal chill) and mentions of PTSD because it’s Bucky, SLOWburn we’re in for a long ride

Word Count: 1741

A/N: Analysis of Bucky stolen from @yetanotherobssesivereader who wrote an amazing post describing how Bucky showed signs of torture and that he wasn't okay I loved the analysis and think it's canon so I had to include it

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST | Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

You were dreading going to class and seeing Bucky, you didn't know what you should do, you knew you can't not turn up to class because that would send a strong message of you not wanting to see him but you also knew you didn't want to see him because you were confused and you hated the fact that you were longing to kiss him again. You approached his classroom with dread however we're surprised to see the whole class outside the room in the corridor. "What's going on?" You asked one of your friends from class.

"Doors locked, no one knows where Barnes is." He replied and you nodded a thanks. Minutes later everyone received an email.

"Class cancelled. Couldn't find a parking spot. - J.Barnes"

"Class cancelled!" Some kid shouted and the crowd dispersed. You decided to go to Tony's office because you weren't in the mood to take a subway all the way home.

"Hey kiddo." Tony said when you knocked on the door and walked in.

"Hey, you busy?" You asked.

"Always but never when you come in." He said with a wink and you laughed.

"I wanted to talk about May's birthday." You said.

"Aren't you meant to be in class?" Tony asked as you sat down opposite him.

"Barnes cancelled." Out simply replied.

"Oh yeah apparently he's off sick all week." Tony replied, sick? So he lied in the email saying he couldn't find a parking spot, so this means all your classes with him are cancelled.

"Yeah, anyway Peter and I have a proposition." You said and Tony leaned in.

"I'm listening." He replied.

"You know how May has always wanted to spend a night in one of those hotels where the rooms are huts in the water." You said.

"She never told me that..." Tony said.

"She probs knew you'd pay and take her that's why she never told you, anyway they are really expensive but Peter and I have been saving up for literally years and we have enough for a room for you and May for a week in AVANI Sepang Goldcoast Resort but we forgot about the flight so we were wondering if you could help us out pay for te flights and we'll pay you back when we have the money because we need to book this now and don't have enough." You explained.

"Kid I can pay for the room too." Tony said.

"No, we don't want you to pay we just want a small loan if you get me? We'll pay you back." You explained.

"Okay, how about we do this I'll book the rooms and flights and you'll pay me back?" Tony asked and you nodded.

"That would be amazing yes please." You said.

"Okay so when am I booking this." Tony asked.

"I was thinking flight out in May's Birthday and then a week in Malaysia?" You said and Tony nodded clicking some stuff on his computer.

"Okay, aaaaand booked. You and Peter are coming too." Tony informed you.

"No we don't have enough to pay for so many flights." You protested.

"Yeah but I do and you deserve to enjoy yourself after collecting all that money, May would want you there." Tony explained.

"It's meant to be like a romantic get away for the two of you." You continued to protest.

"That's why you and Peter have your own rooms and so you won't bug me I bought extra tickets so both of you can have a +1. And if it's a romantic get away you should bring a boyfriend and Pete can bring that nerdy friend he builds ships with or his new girlfriend." Tony said.

"How do you know about her?" You said confused.

"I know everything." Tony said and you thought not everything you don't know Bucky kissed me but you were never going to tell him that.

"Get ready to spend a week with Natasha." You said.

"You know what leave, and don't come back. If you bring Natasha you're not allowed on the plane." Tony said and you made a fake offended face. "You have 2 months find someone and I don't want to kick you out but I think I'm late to teach a class, I'm not really sure." Tony said and you laughed before hugging him, thanking him and saying goodbye.

Bucky didn't show up to class for the whole week. On Friday you got annoyed, this was childish, yes he made a mistake but does that mean you can't be friends, does that mean he can't teach you, you were gonna fail just because that idiot kissed you. You didn't know what annoyed you more the fact that he regretted kissing you so much that it hurt and made you feel terrible or the fact that he was acting so childish. You decided to go to Steve so you knocked on the door and heard a "come in." So you opened the door to see Steve sitting at his desk grading some papers. "Miss L/N, how can I help you?" He said formerly and you shit the ford before speaking.

"He's not ill is he?" You asked your voice angry but weak.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He said.

"Cut the bull shit Rogers you're mean to be the honest one, he's the lying one." You said annoyed.

"Language, Okay fine yes he isn't ill but he might as well be he hasn't left his flat all week I don't know what's wrong." Steve said.

"He hasn't told you?" You asked your mood changing why wouldn't Bucky tell Steve, his best friend.

"No. All I know is it's something big because Bucky is pretending nothings wrong but something is up." Steve said you could see he's being honest that he's worried. "How did you know he wasn't ill?" Steve asked and you didn't know what to say, because he kissed me and then went missing so I know he's avoiding me is what you wanted to say but knew you couldn't.

"Because he sent an email saying class is cancelled because he couldn't find a parking spot and then Tony said that actually he's ill so I knew he's lying to someone." You explained. "So what's wrong with him?" You asked sitting down.

"I don't know, he doesn't tell me stuff." Steve said.

"But you're his best friend I thought he tells you everything." You said confused.

"You'd think." Steve said with a slight laugh that he used to mask the pain. "Look Bucky avoids telling me things he believes will hurt me or upset me, he tries to deal with problems alone." Steve explained and you felt bad for Bucky and Steve noticed the look on your face as it's the way he felt and he continued. "Look I know Bucky has told you a lot he's been really open with you which is rare for him but how much did he actually tell you?" Steve asked.

"Just bits and pieces, he told me he had a bad experience in the army, he was captured and he was made to do terrible things, something to do with Tony that's why Tony isn't too fond of him um, he told me about his PTSD, his depression, he told me about you saving him that's about it." You explained.

"Wow So he actually told you most of it. Okay I'm gonna explain to you something about Bucky, which you've probably noticed with the times he's had outbursts on you, now this is between me and you because I just want to explain Bucky a bit to you because I know he tried to push away people he's don't it with me too and I just want you to know he thinks he's doing the right thing." Steve explained, it sounded odd why was Steve now talking about Bucky pushing you away? Did Steve actually know about the kiss? He did. You were sure of it.

"So Bucky is bad at dealing with emotions but good at hiding them, after he was captured by Hydra and then rescued from te Hydra Facilities to me he smiled but when I looked away he'd stop fake smiling. For a long time I didn't realise but it was one of the signs he wasn't okay but he hid it well. When we were celebrating the rescue everyone was together but Bucky, he decided to sit apart from everyone tossing back whiskey and probably trying to forget what happened when he was captured. I know they did terrible things to him he's never told me that but when I first saw him at that facility he was repeating his name, rank and serial number the therapist told me it was a sign he was tortured, I was an idiot for asking him to go on another mission with me. But he followed me like the amazing friend and soldier he is, and because of me got re-captured by Hydra after nearly falling to his death out of a train, they tortured him broke him. And yet he still pretends like none of that happened, when Bucky was rescued and went through the therapy to be Bucky again he tried to push me away, he was scared he'd hurt me, he pushed Dot away too. He has trouble letting people in and let me tell you that after Dot broke up with him I thought he'd close off again completely but he didn't he actually opened up, but now he's trying to push you away because he's scared he's gonna hurt you. His PTSD is getting worse which probably means he thinks he's the winter soldier and not Bucky and he's scared that he will hurt you. He cares about you and if you care about him you will try and reach out to him even when he shuts the world out." Steve said his eyes pleading you to save his friend.

"Thank you, this must've been hard for you to tell me.... you know what happened the other day don't you?" You asked cautiously.

"I live across the hall, he didn't even have to tell me I heard the swearing." Steve said.

Part 8 | More stuff I wrote

Tags (send me an ask or message and I’ll add you): @iconictaurus@whosmarisaaarw@grayxswan@sideeffectsofyou @alt-er-love-er-alt

#avengers endgame #james bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #james barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barns x reader #teacher!bucky barnes x reader #teacher bucky #steve rogers #teacher! Steve Rogers #the winter solider x reader #the winter solider fanfiction #the winter soldier #captain america

71 notes · View notes

alexander-anders · 5 years

Text

Is that { he/him + Garrett Hedlund } walking through the door? Oh no, that’s just { Alex Anders }. They’re { 31 } and room with { Nico Daimen }. Sometimes they might remind you of { yellow paint, muddy hands, broken mirrors}, and they’ve lived in the house for { two months }.

for those of you who don’t already know him, this is my sad, difficult child. He causes me much pain and I love him, but I’m also sorry for any characters who attempt to interact with him. Anyway, allow me to explain his shit past in bullet points below ~

tw: death tw: ptsd tw: war

Alex grew up in deep Texas. Like, DEEP Texas, small town, the works. He had a single mom and he was an accident, the last of five boys. His siblings did not care for him, making him kind of the black sheep of the family, the one that always ended up getting picked on.

He was always a little odd, but most people blamed it on him being the youngest. He was five when it took a more serious turn, he started responding to voices that nobody heard and talking about things just before they happened. It was an impossible feat, and everyone did their best to hide that part of him. Magic might be acceptable in their world, but less so in their area and certainly not this form of magic. Psychics were not welcomed, at least not when it came to their family.

So Alex did his best to suppress the powers and spent most of his childhood in solitude. The best thing to happen to him was in high school when he was sent to the school counselor on his second day. She had her own magic and was able to recognize his gifts, take pity on him. She taught him how to control it, suppress it only when necessary, even use it to his advantage.

At that point, Alex realized he was actually very smart. He was able to put more focus on school, and by the time he graduated, he had his pick of colleges. He knew exactly what he wanted; to help people. He picked the most difficult road he could and started working towards medical school. When it came time to choosing a specific path, that was easy too. He wanted to go where he felt he could do the most good, so he joined the military.

It was not a good choice. Shipped off to a foreign fort under heavy fire, he spent two years in hell. Unable to gain relief, he was trapped there in horrific conditions, doing whatever he could to keep the men around him alive and together. Living with them in his head, under claustrophobic living conditions, he eventually snapped.

Alex walked out in the middle of the night, in the open. He’s still not sure how far he made it, before he walked into an IUD. Miraculously, he didn’t lose any limbs. He did land on a rock that left a dent in his skull and permanently ruined his ability to shut things off. He woke up from it as a prisoner of war, spending the next two years in a dirty jail cell.

He never expected a rescue, but it came anyway. People were calling him a hero and telling him he was going home. They told him that his family would be coming to pick him up, and unwilling to face them, Alex left. He started walking and he didn’t stop until he found and airport and bought the first ticket out of the country with the money he’d been given with an honorable discharge.

The plane landed in Paris. He wandered, for a while, living off the streets and the kindness of strangers. Eventually, one of those strangers was decent enough to take him to Les Amis de l'ABC. He had a room, he had work, he had something to do again. And it got easier. Working kept the demons in his head at bay, and while the nightmares haven’t gone away altogether, the’ye getting better.

Okay so because I understand that doesn’t really explain everything about Alex or what he can do, allow me to throw some extra random stuff at you:

His abilities: I’m hesitant to say ‘abilities’ honestly, bc this is not an abilities rp. But he does have a specific form of magic and DO NOT ask him to try spells, it won’t end well. So, here’s what he can do:

Telepathy: Alex can hear people’s thoughts. Well, Alex can’t NOT hear people’s thoughts. They’re not always definite words, and some people are more clouded or guarded. But, he can’t stop himself from hearing, and sometimes it gets way too loud for him. Sometimes he also can’t keep track of what’s thought and what’s said out loud and responds to thoughts.

Empathy: He doesn’t really feel what people are feeling as much as he sees their emotions in colors. Kind of like an aura around them. He has a color for most emotions, but sometimes it comes across as an adjective like ‘streaky’ or ‘curly’ instead.

Psychometry: When Alex touches things, he can get a read off of them. Sometimes it’s a memory, if it was a strong one. Sometimes it’s just a feeling connected to the object. If it’s a person, touch usually just makes his other powers stronger.

Clairvoyance: This one is MUCH weaker and rarer than the rest, for him. He very occasionally gets flashes of things that are about to happen, or could happen. They don’t always come about, and he doesn’t always know if it’s real or just his mind making things up. Occasionally, he can seek something out, but it’s really not a trustworthy enough gift for him to rely on.

Personality: So my child is a little scrambled in the brain. He has some MAJOR PTSD and Survivor’s Guilt, and his brain damage has sort of messed up his ability to talk straight. So he uses a lot of riddles and metaphors and generally I just decided I wanted to challenge myself with a character and created this absolute disaster of a human, please love him, please plot with me <3

#lesintro #about #alex #my disaster child #hmu if you wanna plot #all four of you #lol

2 notes · View notes

rey-png · 6 years

Text

Bilgewater

Summary : "I feel like this place is going to be the death of me." Rey mumbles absently, gazing out at the murky horizon without quite seeing it. If she could unfocus her eyes enough, maybe, just maybe she could see something other than grief and horror between those gnarled trees. Kylo seems to consider her words carefully, his expression strained as he comes to stand at her side."This place is going to be the death of all of us."

---------

Following the mysterious death of her best friend, fifteen-year-old Rey is forced to flee the small southern town of D’qar in search of a fresh start. Only the demise of her beloved caretaker Ben Kenobi coaxes the young woman back to her home nearly a decade later. Her arrival carries a tempest that unearths the hollow town’s past and present horrors, threatening to pull Rey under the bayou she had fought so desperately to escape from.

Pairing : Rey / Kylo

Additional Tags : Southern Gothic, Cults, Past Child Abuse, Murder Mystery, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Memory Loss, Slow Burn, Eventual Romance, Alternate Universe - Twins, the solo twins to be exact, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Rating : Explicit

Chapters : 1/?

"To realize that all your life - all your love, all your hate, all your memory, all your pain, it was all the same thing. It was all the same dream, a dream that you had inside a locked room. A dream about bein' a person.... And like a lot of dreams, there's a monster at the end of it."

PROLOGUE

Brambles tug at too-thin arms, nipping at exposed flesh until her clothing is speckled with bright red stains. Her feet nearly send her sprawling as she trips over exposed tree roots, but still she presses onward. Physical discomfort is not nearly enough to slow her down as the baying of hounds rings through the tepid summer air.

Flashlight beams cut through the darkness around her, flickering like lightning bugs through the underbrush. They are accompanied by distorted voices, some of them calling her name, some of them wailing in despair. Even the pleading voice of her guardian isn’t enough to stop her in her tracks. Something far more sinister is following at her heels. She can feel it breathing down her neck.

Ahead she hears another cry, high pitched and frightened, one that quickens her pace and silences those at her back. ‘Rey!’ Cutting through the trees, her bare feet meet water, sinking deep into mud, splashing noisily through the bayou. The scum that coated the top of the murky water so dense she could have sworn it was earth.

‘Rey! Please!’

Rey tries to call out as she wades deeper into the mire, to assure them that she is on her way, but no words fall from her lips. She reaches up with trembling fingers to press against her mouth, wincing as they catch on the barbed wire that gagged her.

A pained whimper erupts from her chest, harmonizing with the brutal cry that rips through the swamp. Her movements become frenzied, the world around her warping and twisting, bleeding into inky blackness. She scans the gloomy, star studded horizon, slipping on the mud and rocks beneath her in her haste to find the source of such a blood-curdling lament.

The woman loses her footing, tumbling forward into the foul water with a strangled gasp. Hands shoot out to steady herself, only to catch something soft and cold beneath the ripples. Rey frowns, brow puckering as she clutches at the odd form. Narrowing her eyes through the dark, she tugs lightly, fighting to regain her balance.

A mottled grey face blooms from the star-laced water, bloated and terrible even in the half light. It’s the face of a girl, a face eerily similar to her own. Bubbles erupt from her gaping mouth, that bloodcurdling lament spewed right along with them. Bruised lids pop open to reveal yellowed, unseeing eyes that peer up at her in fear and agony.

Rey jerks backwards as dead hands clamp around her wrists, dragging her towards the terrible, dead face of Kira Kryze. The barbed wire around her mouth tightens as she shrieks in terror, the taste of copper thick on her tongue, gagging her as the shadows rise up around the girl and the corpse...

“It sounds like this dream correlates with the phone call you received yesterday.”

Rey’s unfocused eyes flick back to her therapist, blinking hard as she forces herself into the present. Even in the smog infused city, she can taste the foul water on the back of her tongue. Perhaps that was just the bile from the previous night though. She could still feel that suffocating darkness and the frozen grip of her best friend a she dragged them both down to the depths.

“It’s more than likely, right? I mean, nothing else could have triggered it... I haven’t had dreams like that in years .” They were the reason she was there in the first place, after all. Those grisly nightmares she could never quite remember. They’d began vividly and in earnest shortly after she’d left D’qar, night terrors that left her nearly incapacitated with exhaustion during the day.

Only a friendly intervention from her dear friend Finn several years back had propelled her into the office of a psychotherapist. ( Heavy eyes droop, her car swerves, Finn yells and grabs the steering wheel before they careen off the highway. He drives her to Norra Wexley’s every week after and pays for every session. )

Doctor Wexley sits upright in her chair, cool eyes fixating on her patient as she jots down another note on her pad without looking at it. Rey could swear the woman was able to see right through her sometimes, which is likely the reason she rarely scheduled appointments anymore unless absolutely necessary.

This was frighteningly necessary.

Upon waking, Rey had turned on every light in her apartment and sat huddled on her ratty sofa, shivering before the TV. It took well over an hour and every single grounding technique she’d been taught to calm her down. The moment she did, her shaking fingers punched in a text, which was replied to only five minutes later, confirming an appointment for later that afternoon.

Rey’s intuition had always been keen, growing up as she had. She knew things. It was her gift, of sorts.

Old Ben Kenobi was saved in her speed dial, and the number that flashed across her screen was not.

The moment she saw that fucking area code, she just knew .

Just as she knew the news of his death had been the catalyst here.

The young woman runs a hand over her weary face, wanting nothing more than to lace her fingers through her hair and tug so hard it all came out. Rey had done well for herself the last decade. She could think of home and withstand the occasional news her he would send without dissolving into a fit of despair. She wasn’t the scorned and frightened girl she once was. She could handle things damn it…

Wexley seemed to understand where her rampant thoughts were beginning to stray and was quick to interject “You’ve come a long way, Rey. This isn’t a regression. These feelings, these experiences are normal. I would have been surprised if you DIDN’T react as you did. This is a harsh blow.”

Rey nods silently, resting her chin on her hand as she stares off into space. She got that, but it sure as hell didn’t make her feel any better.

Where Rey came from, one didn’t air their dirty laundry because one always had their shit together. Those that didn’t or COULDN’T comply to those unspoken rules were considered frail and weak. The idea was so saturated that even if those around you cared, they were so over burdened with their own repressed issues they didn’t have the capacity to take on yours as well. It was why they were all rotting, why she was still rotting.

She’d read Doctor Wexley the same spiel time and time again until she sounded like a broken record. She can’t tolerate vulnerability in herself. It makes her skin crawl to be seen as anything less than a pillar of strength, even before a person who was paid for this nonsense. It’s why she keeps her mouth shut as her therapist barrels onward with her words of wisdom.

“This is not a sign of weakness.” Wexley punctuates her words with a sharp tap of her pen against her notepad “You know this… I don’t think you know how proud I am of you though.”

THAT catches Rey’s attention. She nearly gives herself whiplash meeting her eyes.

She could count the people who were proud of her on one hand.

Doctor Wexley smiles kindly at her and leans forward in her chair “You could have done things the easy way. You could have said you weren’t going to show up and you could have sold that house from here… But you bought that plane ticket. Rey, that’s a huge step. When you first came to see me, that girl would NEVER have considered what you did today.”

Now it’s Rey’s turn to smile, though it doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “I just wonder if I don’t have ulterior motives for doing this. I owe Ben that much but...”

There are some tragedies you never stop punishing yourself for, regardless your level of involvement in them. There are some people that will never stop punishing you for them too. There was a vicious cycle of injury, self-inflicted and otherwise that stemmed from that old town. Six years of therapy couldn’t rectify her need to crucify herself. Maybe it was all some subconscious ploy to drag her back.

“I think your heart is in the right place.”

Rey isn’t sure her heart exists in this place at all anymore.

She nods in agreement regardless and clambers wearily to her feet. Her hour was up and she had a lot of preparing to do, physically AND mentally.

“Thank you, Doctor Wexley… I guess I’d better go pack for a funeral.”

Me @ myself: don't you dare start a new fic when you have an entire series you need to work on also me: laughs manically as i hit publish

Anyway here is the southern gothic fic nobody asked for. This has been rolling around in my brain forever and I've finally started piecing it together. It's heavily inspired by True Detective, which I've been binging recently. Needless to say, this is going to be INCREDIBLY dark. It's sort've my therapy fic and will explore the repercussions of trauma as I've seen it in myself, in those around me, and from what I've learned from research, therapists and other professionals. Please mind the tags. I'll be adding more as I write this & will add warnings in each chapter as I see fit, namely where sexual abuse is concerned.

A short snappy set up! I'm a quarter of the way done with the next chapter so it should be up soon! Comments and reblogs are fabulous! Please let me know what you think <3

#reylo #kylo x rey #reylo au #reylo fic #reylo fam #southern gothic au #crime au #*solstuff #sb: choose a fic thats most important to u #me but crying: I CAN'TTTT #anyway this fic is gonna be insane and i'm excited to write it

2 notes · View notes

rebaobsessivelywrites · 6 years

Text

The Profiler in the Therapist (ch 4)

You can find this entire fic here on AO3.

Fandom: Bones (TV) and Criminal Minds (TV)

Entire Fic Description:

Dr. Lance Sweets is no longer the innocent eager psychologist he was a little over a year and a half ago. His time as a prodigy profiler at the BAU was a blessing. His time in a serial killer's basement was not.

Now, scarred but healed, Sweets is 'retired' to calmer job in the FBI as a therapist. As he helps others, he helps himself. But... is it enough? What will he do when one of his most fascinating (unwilling) patients asks for help on a case? How will his new team take his past as his secrets slowly start to come out?

Entire Fic Warnings: cannon-typical violence, past torture, panic attacks, PTSD, serial killers

Chapter word count: 4,071

Chapter warnings: nothing? let me know if I’m wrong

Summary: Part one of a two part social fluff plot. Sweets hangs with Reid and a (ahem) other friend in LA, and he decides to observe his two problem patients in a work-free environment.

Please read the fic! First chapter, previous chapter, next chapter, master list. And let me know if you want to be tagged.

The months following Christmas were quiet, much like the month leading up to the holiday. Sweets heard little about cases, from either team, however it was in no way truly calm… after all, Hotch was still stressing over the Reaper, along with the rest of the BAU, and the Jeffersonian team was still searching fruitlessly for Gormogon. Despite that, very few people seemed to be murdered in that first month, and it was nice to see both teams taking a breather. Which, Sweets reflected, was relative. The Jeffersonian had been doubling down on cold cases and unidentified remains, and the BAU had been flying hither and yon giving recruitment talks, filling their days pouring over their own collection of cold cases, and consulting with various other FBI teams.

So, it was busy, but quiet.

That hadn’t lasted long, at least not for the BAU, as they were called out to Los Angeles in early February. Sweets found out through his usual means; one of the team members called to let him know they’d be out of town and where they were going in case he needed them. He found out about the end of the case in the same manner… however, it was a little more surprising.

It was early in the afternoon the very next day. Sweets was settled behind his desk, reviewing his notes on a certain an agent and consultant, who were due in a few minutes, when his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, frowned, and answered, “Reid? What’s up?”

“Hey, Lance,” the other doctor greeted happily, “Nothing much. We wrapped up the case.”

“Already?” Sweets sat back, surprised.

“Yeah,” Reid gave a light huff, “It was a bit of luck… and bad luck. See, we thought the killer was a male vampirist, potentially someone with Renfield’s syndrome. It frequently comes with schizophrenia, so we thought they would be simple to spot, but the killer was actually a friend of one of the victims. She was manipulated by a rock star’s assistant.”

Sweets frowned in slight confusion, “Where was the bad luck in this?”

“Well,” he sounded hesitant, “JJ went to go talk with the victim’s friend before we knew that the killer was female, and… the manager who was manipulating her hit JJ with a shovel.”

“What?!” his eyes went wide.

“I should have gone with her…” the profiler sounded guilty.

Sweets knew about the history with the two agents and how splitting up… never seemed to turn out well with them, but this was a little far-fetched. “Spencer,” he sighed, “There’s no way you could have known.”

“I know,” the genius sighed as well, “Everyone has already made sure I know that.”

“Is she ok?” Lance ventured.

“Yeah; she’s cleared to fly and everything.”

“Good,” he smiled in relief. After a moment of comfortable silence, Lance decided to cut to the chase. He knew Spencer well enough by now to know that he had something else on his mind. “What else is up?”

“Um, well… I’m not flying back with the team. I got invited to dinner by a friend, and I saw that Dr. James Fallon of the University of California, Irvine School of Medicine, is doing a talk tomorrow about his latest research. In fact,” he paused to clear his throat, “I was wondering if you were interested in going with me.”

Sweets blinked in surprise, “In California? Reid…” Did the profiler expect him to fly out there? While Dr. Fallon was one of the best neuroscientists in the field and the two friends had talked several times about attending one of his lectures together, it was in California. Tomorrow.

“It’s Saturday tomorrow, so you don’t have work,” Reid persisted, “I mean, you’ll have to reschedule with Rossi, but he won’t mind, and I’ll pay for your tickets, and—”

“Whoa there, Spence,” Sweets jumped in, “You can slow down; I get the idea.” He shook his head at himself. There was no way he could actually resist the spur of the moment suggestion; despite the insanity of it, domestic flights weren’t that expensive and he did want to go. It sounded fun. “I’ll look into getting tickets after my next appointment.”

After a beat, the genius choked out, “Really?” sounding thoroughly surprised.

Sweets smiled fondly, “Why not? I haven’t gotten to see you for a few weeks now, and we have always talked about it…”

“Awesome!” the other young man nearly cheered, “I’ll pay you back.”

Sweets twisted lips down in an attempt at a serious expression, despite the fact the other profiler couldn’t see him, “We’ll see.”

At that moment, his door chose to open with a light click, and Agent Booth’s voice drifted in (“Oh, come on, Bones!”) followed swiftly by the man himself and, a moment later, his partner.

“Sweets—” Reid protested on the other end of the phone.

“I’ve got to go, Spencer,” he interrupted his friend, eyes on his patients, “I’ll call you once I’ve bought tickets.”

While he spoke, the partner pair settled onto the couch, observing him on the phone with curiosity.

“Fine,” the genius allowed, trying to sound grumpy despite the clear smile in his voice, “Bye, Lance.”

“Bye,” he returned with a brief smile. He then swiftly flipped his phone closed, scooped up his file, and stood up to move around his desk in one smooth motion. He gave the pair waiting for him a sheepish smile, “Sorry about that.”

“Are you going to a game?” Booth asked, leaning forward slightly.

Sweets, however, frowned in confusion, “A game?”

“Yeah! A sports game,” he gestured emphatically towards the therapist, “You said you were buying tickets.” Beside him, Dr. Brennan rolled her eyes.

“Oh, no,” Sweets corrected, settling into his chair, “I’m buying plane tickets.”

While Agent Booth seemed a little put off, it was Dr. Brennan’s turn to perk up, “Where are you going?”

“California,” he smiled at her, “The UC Irvine School of Medicine, to be specific. A friend and I are going to attend a lecture.”

“Really?” the anthropologist smiled back, “By whom?”

“Dr. James Fallon. He’s a neuroscientist who studies—”

“Psychiatry,” she finished with clear disappointment, “I’ve heard of him.”

Internally, Sweets rolled his eyes at the FBI consultant. She still refused to accept the validity of his field. Externally, he simply kept smiling and decided to elaborate slightly, “He has made several interesting discoveries in regards to imaging various mental disorders.”

Brennan nearly scowled and opened her mouth to, no doubt, begin refuting the other doctor’s discoveries, but Booth clearly saw the signs and jumped in to avoid a repetition of the old argument. “You’re flying all the way to California just to attend a lecture?” he asked incredulously.

Sweets shrugged in reply, “It’s all we have planned at the moment, but my friend is a Caltech graduate, so I’m sure he’ll insist on showing me around LA. However,” he continued swiftly before they could stay off track, “Let’s get started with the session.”

Was it wrong that he took a strange form of satisfaction from Booth’s groan and Brennan’s disgusted huff? I mean, he mused, they do make my job very difficult.

Bright and early the following morning, Sweets found himself dragging his sorry ass off the plane, glaring at the pink-tinged sky visible outside the LA-X window. In his professional opinion, it was way too early. It was the weekend; normally he was able to spend this time lazing in bed reading a good book, but instead he had gotten up before the break of dawn to get a ride to the airport and fly across the country with the sun chasing him all the way. He still felt half asleep, plodding along towards the exit with his small carryon.

That all changed, however, as he passed the “NO RE-ENTRY BEYOND THIS POINT” signs and looked up to catch sight of his friend clutching his messenger bag and waving enthusiastically. He couldn’t help grinning and waving back.

Yes, it was early… but it was so worth it.

“Spencer,” he greeted warmly, giving the older genius his customary shoulder punch in greeting. (Morgan had definitely rubbed off on Sweets…a fact that the occasionally mischievous agent was inordinately proud of.)

As tradition dictated, Reid gave him his best fake annoyed look, wrinkling his nose, before swiftly breaking out into an even larger grin. “Hi, Lance,” he returned, “Ready to see Los Angeles?”

Sweets grinned impossibly wider, “As ready as ever. I hope you’ve got a plan for what you’re going to cram in before Dr. Fallon’s lecture.”

Reid’s eyes downright sparkled. “Oh, I have a few ideas. Come on,” he started moving away, motioning Lance to follow, “First, though… The friend I visited last night offered to ferry us around on the condition she get to buy us breakfast.”

“That seems a little backwards,” he commented, slightly confused, as he followed Reid.

He chuckled, ears distinctly turning red, “Well, I guess it’s logical to her,” he glanced over at his friend, “She’s, uh, rich.”

Sweets felt his eyes widen with realization. During a stalker case they worked while Lance was still on the team, Morgan had off handedly mentioned a similar case they had handled in LA a few years before he or Prentiss had joined. A case where Spencer had grown quite close to the victim while protecting her.

He turned and gave the genius a teasing grin, “This friend wouldn’t happen to be Lila Archer, would she?”

Spencer’s steps faltered for a moment, “How did you… Derek told you, didn’t he?”

“Right in one,” he chuckled, “Although, to be honest, it was relevant to the case we were working at the time.”

“The Michael Hicks case,” he guessed again, heaving a long-suffering sigh.

“Yep,” Sweets grinned sideways at him, “You’re pretty good at this guessing thing.”

“You’re not exactly making it hard,” Reid snarked back, pushing through the glass door, letting a slight breeze roll in. Sweets shook his head fondly and followed him into the Californian dawn and over to a nondescript black SUV with tinted back windows. Reid swiftly ushered him into the front seat, greeting the driver, before sliding himself into the back with the movie star herself. Only after both doors were shut did he greet Lila as well, and introduce her to Sweets.

Sweets smiled at her, twisting around in his seat, and took her proffered hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Archer.”

She shook her head and chuckled. “Please, Dr. Sweets,” she urged, “Call me Lila. Any friend of Spencer is a friend of mine.”

“Then you should call me Lance,” he returned warmly. “Spencer tells me you’re set on feeding us.”

Lila glanced at the man in question, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “If Spencer had his way, you’d have seen half the city before he even thought to find something other than coffee.”

Sweets outright laughed at that. Yeah… he mused, grinning at the genius’ affronted look, Spencer and his coffee… That sounds about right.

“Besides,” Lila barreled on, grin still firmly in place, “It’s my day off and I know the best breakfast place in town.”

Sweets had been 100% converted to a Lila Archer fan. She was amazing. First she took them to a wonderful family owned breakfast and lunch place just a few miles out of LA proper, near the beach. It was obviously an older building and a little run-down, but it was well maintained and had a wonderful homey feel to it. Similarly, the food had obviously been made with love and was the best thing the profiler had eaten in a long time. Spencer agreed wholeheartedly with the assessment, explaining that Lila had shown him the place nearly three years ago and that he came whenever he could.

After that, Lila had insisted that they needed to see Hollywood (“It’s the city of stars, Spencer! You can’t just take Lance to the colleges.”) She had dragged them to her current set and shown them the hustle and bustle of life behind the camera before shooing them off to see Hollywood Boulevard—but not before extracting a promise from Spencer that they would actually go and a promise from both of them that they’d have lunch with her.

Let it be said that Lila had a stubborn streak a mile wide and a glare to be reckoned with. Even though she wasn’t joining them—due to the inevitable swarm that followed her every move—she was still able to dictate their agenda. It was rather incredible.

Spencer, for his part, had not seemed overtly upset at having his plans subverted and entertained himself and Lance with the history behind the iconic locations along the street. At one point, in front of the Chinese Theatre, he collected quite a crowd of tourists as he expounded on the many conflicting stories of how the tradition of imprinting and signing concrete by celebrities had started. The young genius had been quite baffled by the attention, and Sweets laughed for several minutes once they had moved on down the street—especially when he noticed a few of the tourists were still following them, as though hoping for another historical analysis.

“But I don’t know that much,” the genius had complained, “It’s not like I’m an expert; I only read a few books after Lila insisted I go here the first time.”

“You may not be an expert, Spence,” Sweets had shot back, leaning against a wall, subtly gasping for breath, “but the average person can’t recite the book written by an expert they only read once.” The look on Reid’s face—full of acquiescence, but frustrated and uncomfortable all the same— had merely set him off again, clutching at his stomach as he laughed himself silly. He didn’t even mind the incredulous stares from the swirling sea of passing tourists. It was just too funny.

After he had recovered somewhat, they wrapped up their tour and met Lila’s driver, a pleasant man named George, who struck up a conversation about astrophysics—of all things—as he drove them to the restaurant of Lila’s choice for an early lunch. Apparently his son was planning to go into the field, but was incapable of explaining anything, so he had taken to quizzing Spencer whenever he came to visit.

Honestly, Lance found this just as amusing.

Lunch found the trio in a private room in the back of Lila’s favorite lunch spot—when she didn’t have to eat on set. It was far fancier than the breakfast place, and smack-dab in paparazzi central, but served high quality American fair and catered to tourists and celebrities alike.

Lila had been delighted to hear that they had followed through with their promise and had quizzed them—though mostly Lance—on their impressions. The therapist was relieved, however, when the actress decided she was satisfied with their stories (and finished laughing at Spencer becoming an impromptu tour guide) and changed the subject.

“Lance!” she turned from a bright red Spencer to look at the other profiler, “You work at the FBI too, right? With the BAU?”

“Ah, yes,” Lance blinked a few times before catching up to the shift in conversation, “And no. I used to… however, I’ve moved away from field work recently. I’m currently a physiatrist and therapist for the DC office.”

“Really?” she leaned forward in interest, “How come?”

There was a beat of frozen silence. Sweets cleared his throat awkwardly and glanced at Reid before turning his attention to pushing a tomato around his plate. Thankfully Reid got the message loud and clear and murmured quietly, “We have a very dangerous job.”

Sweets didn’t look up, but he heard realization dawn on the young star with a sharp intake of breath. “Oh,” she breathed quietly, “I’m sorry.” After a short pause, Sweets was starting to wonder if the conversation was going to fall flat completely, but Lila, being the eternally determined woman she seemed to be, recovered quickly. “So, helping people with personal problems… I imagine that’s quite different from chasing serial killers.”

“Yes,” he agreed, smiling slightly in both amusement and relief, “It is. I do still consult on homicide cases from time to time, though.”

“A grand total of two,” Spencer grumbled.

Lance huffed and glared at his friend, “Hey, it counts!”

Spencer’s lips twitched slightly, but he retained a glum tone as he argued, “They were given to you by two of your patients.”

“If you can even count them as patients,” he shot back, “They certainly don’t act like it.”

“What’s this I hear?” Lila’s eyes were sparkling, “You have problem patients?”

Lance sighed. “They’re an agent-consultant team,” he explained, “both brilliant in their own ways, with one logical to the extreme, the other emotional and instinctual. They’re constantly arguing, but somehow always work well together.”

“They’re in therapy because he arrested her father,” Spencer added helpfully.

Sweets turned to the genius in shock, “How did you…?” Reid gave him a sheepish look. “Garcia hacked into my files, didn’t she?” Reid nodded almost imperceptibly, and Sweets sighed, “I hope she knows that’s very illegal.”

“She only read the information you received with the initial request, before the full file came in.”

“Still illegal.”

“But better,” he pointed out.

Sweets rolled his eyes, “I will believe that Garcia didn’t read information she had access to when a pig flies up to meet the metaphorical jumping cow.”

Across the table Lila burst out laughing. Both geniuses turned to look at her in shock for a moment before Sweets turned to Spencer, a smile and remark ready, only to find the profiler observing the star with a fond expression.

Well, that answered that question.

“I think I’d really like to meet Ms. Garcia sometime,” Lila smiled, “The more I hear about her the more I like her.”

“I’m pretty sure she’d like you too,” Lance commented, before giving Spencer a meaningful look (now that he wasn’t focused on Lila).

The genius flushed and glared as Sweets, but agreed, “Yeah. I’m actually a little afraid of what the two of you could accomplish together.”

Lila seemed pleased, but turned back to Sweets, “Back to your problem patients… what makes them difficult?”

He frowned at her and considered his options briefly. After a moment, however, he decided that the problem he was having didn’t compromise their privacy. “They don’t believe I can actually help them, and don’t, in fact, believe they have a problem. They frequently refuse to participate in activities and I… I’ve never heard them talk about themselves.”

“Isn’t that,” it was Lila’s turn to frown, “the whole point of therapy?”

“No, I mean, they talk about feelings sometimes, or a piece of their lives, but it’s always… connected to their only point of commonality—”

“Work,” Spencer interjected helpfully. “Based on what I know about Dr. Brennan, it doesn’t surprise me.”

“You saw her once,” Sweets complained, “at a lecture.”

“Take them somewhere else,” Lila threw in from left field, effectively cutting off any friendly bickering. After both doctors had turned to look at her in surprise, she shrugged self-consciously, “I mean, if all they talk about it work, put them somewhere where they can’t.”

“Are you sure you’re a movie star?” Sweets half-joked, “You wouldn’t make a bad therapist.”

He was rewarded with the memorable experience of causing a popular celebrity to blush crimson. A meaningful look later, and his friend followed suit.

Yes. He was definitely a Lila Archer fan.

They parted ways with Lila in the restaurant, promising to visit again—and in Spencer’s case, call. Sweets was practically giddy with the discovery of the ongoing non-relationship his friend had with the star and was thoroughly disappointed that he’d be unable to act like an excited kid about it with Garcia and/or Morgan. But… if Spencer hadn’t already shared, it wasn’t his place.

George had happily ferried them to the Irvine School of Medicine and promised he’d be back to pick them up and take them to their hotel. Knowing it was under Lila’s orders—er… request—they didn’t bother arguing. The lecture itself was fascinating, covering Dr. Fallon’s recent discoveries in the neurology of psychopaths. Following the lecture, the pair hung around for nearly an hour, listening to students and experts alike quiz him on his research. They even contributed a few questions of their own.

From there, they wandered campus for a few hours before calling George and finally returning to the comfort of Spencer’s hotel room. It had been a long day, but Sweets was feeling satisfied rather than exhausted. He and Spencer curled up on their respective beds—Sweets with work and Spencer with a book.

The room itself was pleasantly warm from solar gain, as was the décor—with an earthy red wall paper and beds with soft gold comforters. They pulled the drapes, allowing only the filtered sunlight that slid through the curtain and the simple incandescent lamps to light their work. These various sources of warmth, physical and metaphorical, seemed to settle into Sweets’ very being and he found himself smiling for no reason as he typed up tedious physiological reviews and evaluations. It was this fulfilled sort of mood that allowed him to knock off all of the work he had brought with him, and do some serious brainstorming about a few problems.

Spencer on the other hand was conked out on his bed, fast asleep with his book lying forgotten on his chest. Based on the case, followed by a night with Lila and an early morning and busy day with him, Sweets was not surprised,

Smiling absently once again, he flicked through his notes before settling on his most recent session with Dr. Brennan and Agent Booth. That reminded him… He reached for his phone and dialed a familiar number.

A moment later the ringing stopped and a slightly sleepy voice filtered through, “You’ve reached the home office of awesomeness, how can I help you?”

“Pen, it’s,” Sweets paused to glance at the clock seeing that it was seven, “only, like, four in DC. What have you been doing?”

“Lance!” she perked up a bit, “I hope California has been nice.”

“It’s great. Still, though, why are you so tired?”

“Oh, I was just up late last night, wrapping up a non-BAU project,” she sighed. “But, anyway, what’s up?”

Lance smiled and told her about his day, minus Lila. She laughed herself silly, hearing about Spencer the Tour Guide. But, finally, he reached the reason he had called, “Listen, Garcia, you can’t hack my files.”

“I didn’t read your files!” she objected vehemently, before tacking on more sheepishly, “I just read the ‘reason for referral’ for the wonder duo.”

“That’s still bad, Pen…” Sweets sighed.

“Look, I’m sorry. I won’t touch it anymore. Pinky swear,” she pleaded. Sweets just smiled to himself and stayed silent. “Oh, ok, fine!” she huffed at him after a long moment. “It’s just,” she whined, “I’m curious about them.”

Sweets smiled to himself at her tone. “What if you could help me with them?”

“What?” she was, for once, lost for words.

“I’ve decided I need to observe them in an environment where work is a taboo subject, but I need help to do that. If I were to try and do something with them where it’s just me…”

“Say no more, Sir Sweetness, the Queen is here to help!” she declared happily, “What are we doing together?”

“I’m not sure yet—I think I need to talk to them in their next session to get a feel for what would be the best choice— but I imagine it will be an engaging activity you do as a group.”

“Like painting?” Garcia asked hopefully.

He chuckled at her, “Maybe.”

She squealed quietly on the other end of the line, “Wonderful!”

“Can I call you once I have a better idea of when and what?”

“You better, Lancelot!”

As Sweets bid her farewell and eased himself out of bed with the intention of waking Spencer for dinner, he couldn’t help yet another smile. He had wonderful friends… and he might, just might, manage to figure out two of his most difficult patients. Thanks to Lila Archer. He grinned wider, shaking Spencer gently by the shoulder.

This had been one fantastic Saturday.

#reba's fanfic #profiler in the therapist #tag more later

1 note · View note