#sorry this went on too long and ill probably delete it in a few hours.... i just needed to just... i dunno | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lavenderwhore444 · 3 years

Note

Ok so we all love pervert shigaraki ( Ik u do so please don’t lie to ur self love 😀) anyways what if shigaraki had a huge crush on the reader and steals there panties ( when there out in a mission working there ass off) but the reader notices and placed cameras in her room just to see who’s stealing them surprise surprise it’s ya boy shiggy and the reader finds it kind of cute that he’s that desperate but is also upsetting because there working and he’s here getting off on her stuff so.the reader catch’s him in the act and shows him the videos ( shigaraki at this point is crying from embarrassment and he’s begging for the reader to delete the videos) as a punishment the reader pegs the shit out of him and the ending is fluff since I do love shiggy

First of all English isn’t my first language so apologizes for any mistakes and for the ending please work ur magic sis

💍🧎🏻‍♀️marry me this is so good

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If you want to use interactive fics, it's easy and makes reading fics SO much better. First, you download the Google Chrome extension. You'll see it in the top right corner of your screen. Next, you enter your name in the first box. If you want to change something other than y/n, please click on the text that says “want to change something other than y/n?” here, you can change any word you want to a different word. When I talk about your quirk I will use y/q

Warnings: smut (obvi) shigaraki is a perv degradation a little I think #peg shiggy 2021 fingering for Shig 😌 humiliation??? Idk what to put man request says it all

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🌸 I have an irl on here rn because we both simp for crusty men, and she’s probably lowkey scared of me. I was drunk on having social interaction for the first time forever and was like, “omg, I write for them. I have Tumblr 🤪” Listen, I told you I would do anything for him, and I fucking meant it, ok? And he’s a little pervert, so they're kinda gross (indirectly making me have gross kinks too ig ☹️) Plus, I warned you about his piss kink, that should've been a good indicator to the rest of these 🙄 , Anyways anon has sent me THE BEST SCENARIOS OMG. I have read a lot of Shigaraki fics, BUT THESE ARE SO ORIGINAL IM SO HAPPY. There's one, in particular, I'm excited to write because it's just so cute, omg. 🌸

It was the fifth time this week. You were out on another mission, and Tomura was half-naked in your room on the verge of passing out from how many times he had cum into various articles of your clothing. It started off as just your panties. Perverted but not insane. As time went on, it only got worse. The panties weren’t good enough. He started putting one of your shirts over his face as he got off, and that worked...for a while. His next fix was to steal some of your perfume, but it wasn't good enough.

He felt disgusting the first time he got off in your room. He felt like he'd crossed a line (not that he hadn’t already), but it was the best orgasm of his life. What's done is done, so he might as well take advantage of the rest of your room. He was pretty comfortable now, face pressed into your pillow, inhaling your scent as his body spasmed for the last time. He was utterly spent.

And now, for the worst part, being in your room surrounded by your stuff, smelling your perfume, but still being all alone. It wasn't like Shigaraki had a crush on you or anything. Him having a crush on y/n? Unheard of. The rest of the girls in the league were like family to him. You two just weren't there yet, even though it had been five months, and he blushes whenever you talk to him. So what if he wants to punch Dabi whenever he looks at you? He wasn't in love with you. God damn it, he was just horny. That was it. That was the extent of his feelings, and they would go away.

They didn't go away, but more of your stuff sure did. It was becoming more common for clothing in your room to go missing only to end up clean and folded in the proper drawer. It was weird, but someone was doing most of your laundry for you. It wasn't Dabi taking your stuff. He could get his dick wet whenever he wanted. The other guys preached “don’t lewd y/n” and tried to fight Dabi when he put his hand on your thigh. Toga would steal your shirts but definitely not your underwear. If she did steal your clothing, she’d post a mirror pic and tag you in it.

So that left your boss. Tomura Shigaraki. You thought he hated you. He got all quiet and distant when you talked to him. Was he nervous? He glared at you and Dabi. Or was it just Dabi? Maybe the little creep did like you. He was kinda cute. His messy hair looked so soft, his eyes lit up when he won his games, Shigaraki had this little smile when he was watching the league sit together, and he had discarded father almost completely. But he was a creep, and you definitely didn't have a crush on him. Definitely not.

But part of you didn't want to tell him to stop. It took a while to cook up a plan, but it was foolproof when you came up with one. You found stole the money to invest in some hidden cameras. By now, you were starting to accept that you might like him just a little. But in a sad puppy kind of way. You didn't actually have a crush on him. Nope, not at all.

And it was kind of mean that he was making you do all this work while he got to jerk off in your bed. You'd come back with cuts, scrapes, bruises, and even a broken bone one time, just for him to totally ignore you. He had spent all day ruining your clothes and wouldn't even look at you.

Your behavior had changed towards Tomura, though, and he had definitely noticed. You were acting the same way he was. You were always blushing when you talked to him. You sat next to him while he played games, but it's "just because you're bored." Maybe you were starting to like him back. He had come to terms with his not-so-little crush on you. This didn't stop him from acting like a perv but still.

The cameras had been up for a while, and honestly, watching those videos back was way better than watching porn. Shigaraki looked so sweet and desperate. The way he laid in your bed afterward, holding your pillow, made your heartache for him. He just looked so lonely. You decided it was time to confront him.

"I'm going out for a couple days, guys!" you called, walking out with a backpack on your shoulder.

"I'll miss you, dollface," Dabi called back, blowing a kiss as you laughed at him.

The glare Shigaraki gave him could have dusted him right then and there. You stayed at a cheap motel for a while, watching the cameras. It was pretty nice to finally have some quiet. It didn't take long for Shigaraki to wander into your room with a raging hard-on. You took your time getting home, knowing he'd be there for at least a few hours. You glanced at your phone once in a while, catching two of Shigaraki’s orgasms. You’d hear a strangled cry and see his mouth wide open, eyes squeezed shut, and back arching. He’d coat his chest and your underwear in hot cum. You started to walk faster. Most of the league was asleep as you used your levitation quirk to float silently up the stairs. You opened the door.

“Who knew you were such a perv, Shiggy. All this time, I thought you hated me, but it looks like someone has a little crush on me, ” you said sweetly.

He looked like a deer in headlights, eyes wide as his body froze. A soft whimper left him as his face turned an angry shade of red that matched the head of his cock.

“N-no please, I'm sorry y/n I-i just didn't um ill leave. I'm so sorry, ” he muttered.

He got up, but you pushed him back on the bed.

“Not yet, Shiggy. I have something to show you, ” you said in a singsong voice.

You sat next to him, slinging your left arm around his shoulders. You pulled up the live feed.

“Aww, look at how cute we look right now, Shig, ” you teased.

His face told you that he was terrified.

“Y-you didn’t, ” he tried to fool himself.

“Oh, I did, ” you whispered in his ear.

You heard him sniffle. You slid the bar at the bottom of the screen back to show him what he was doing mere minutes ago.

“No, you can't, ” he choked as tears fell from his eyes, “please don’t show anyone y/n. Please I c-cant. I'm sorry, just don’t show anyone, ” he sobbed, “please don't. I’ll never talk to you again if you want I’ll do anything just don't show anyone, ” he cried.

“Anything?” you questioned.

“Anything, ” he nodded, still crying.

“Well, first of all, ” you said, “you can start by taking me out on a date, ”

He nearly choked as his eyes widened.

“What?” he whispered, wiping his eyes and nose.

“I said that you’re going to take me out on a date, and please use a tissue, ” you said.

He nodded and cleaned up his face the rest of the way.

“And second, you can take off your shirt and bend over the bed with your legs spread, ” you whispered in his ear, pressing a kiss just below it.

He looked confused for a second until his eyes widened, and he did as he was told.

“Now, don't play dumb with me. I know you’ll like this. I've seen you try and finger yourself before, but you did a shit job, and I promise this will be even better, ” you smiled, ruffling Tomura's hair.

He was getting more comfortable with you now, giving a nervous smile and humming when you touched his hair.

You walked back with everything you needed, only to sigh disappointedly, “oh Shiggy, that's not nearly wide enough. I know you can do better than that. Spread your legs more,”

He nodded, eager to please, and nearly did the splits. You giggled and smacked his butt. He jumped, causing you to laugh again.

“You’re so precious. It's a real shame I'm about to turn you into a slutty mess, ” you cooed.

He felt two slimy fingers press against his hole, and he shuddered. He tried to relax and let you press into him. It didn't take very long to get him moaning, bucking against your fingers. Two became three, and three became four before you decided he was ready. You were looking forward to eating him out, but this was supposed to be a punishment. You lined him up, rubbing the head against his hole that was still clenching around nothing. You pushed the entire thing inside of him as he screamed.

You scoffed, “do you know how many people you just woke up? Do you want the whole league to know you're getting pegged as punishment for being a disgusting, perverted slut? You want them to know that I'm fucking your ass? Huh? Do you? Cause I'll bend you over the fucking bar and show them who you submit to, ”

You started thrusting at a brutal pace. Tomura pushed his face into the pillow only for you to levitate him so he couldn't do anything to stop all the sounds coming out of his mouth. You were looking forward to all the looks you'd get as you smirked, and he struggled to sit next to you. You managed to go even harder.

“You’re not sitting or walking this week, Shiggy, ” you cooed.

“No, ” he choked out, “n-no call me Tomura p-please, ” he moaned.

“Tomura, ” you whispered in his ear, “pretty name for a pretty boy, ”

You reached around and twisted his nipple, causing him to cry out. Tomura only got louder as you reached around and grabbed his balls another hand-squeezed his tip between two fingers and pinched gently before jerking him instead. He was losing it now, tongue hanging out, and eyes rolled back. Little screams were ripped from him, and he jerked around.

“Y/n ‘m gonna, ‘m gonna cum, ” Tomura slurred.

“You gonna cum for me, Tomu? Go on, do it, ” you encouraged.

He cried out, his body going rigid as he shot cum out of his cock. He was gasping and panting as you let him flop down on the bed and pulled out.

“C-can you help me back to my room, ” he whispered, looking sad.

“No, ” you said as he frowned, eyes watering again, “because you're staying with me tonight. Get in bed, ”

He blushed and crawled into the corner. You yanked him closer, taking over as the big spoon.

“Goodnight, Tomura, ” you said. Kissing his back and shoulders, you rubbed his stomach and chest, “you're so pretty, baby. I forgive you. It’s obvious you’ve never had a crush on a girl before, and I think you learned your lesson, ” you said, rubbing his sore ass.

He nodded, “I'm sorry, I just didn't know what to do, ” he mumbled.

“I know, sweetie, ” you whispered, “I know. Was what we did ok? Did you like it?”

He nodded, “I liked it, ” he whispered.

“Do you need anything, ” you asked.

He shook his head, “just tired, ”

“Alright, baby, just get some sleep, love, ” you said.

He nodded as you both found an absurd amount of comfort in being so close to each other. You slept like a baby. You woke up to him gazing at you lovingly, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

He kissed your forehead, “I hope you know you're never getting rid of me, ” he smiled.

He kissed you, “y’know I'm kind of disappointed you didn't kiss me last night, ” he pouted.

“Mmm, I was too busy fucking you, sorry sweetie, ” you said, kissing him again.

“You enjoyed your ‘punishment’ a little too much, but having to go downstairs should be punishment enough, ” you grinned.

He groaned, “please don't make me. Let me stay in my room forever y/n, ”

“No, can do Tomu, you need breakfast, ” you said.

You walked downstairs, sitting at the bar and eating your breakfast. No one else was up yet, or so you thought until you heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

“You're not dead?” Dabi asked, completely dumbfounded.

“No dumbfuck, I'm not dead. Why the hell would I be dead?” he snapped.

“I dunno maybe cause you were screaming from y/n’s room all nigh- oh no. Oh god I think I'm gonna be sick, ” he fake gagged.

All you did was laugh at him.

“You two are disgusting, y’know that?” he said.

“We know, ” you smiled eating the rest of your breakfast.

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maria-akira · 3 years

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good girls don't get used: michael langdon x fem! reader

—♡—

READ PART 2 HERE

summary: michael langdon, your ex, falls into a bet wherein he has to (fake) date you. if he falls in love again, he loses and doesn't get the prize.

warnings: private school au, fuckboy!michael, slight mention of sexual topics + i didnt proofread this mwahaha

this fic is inspired by the song 'good girls (don't get used)' by beach bunny.

i don't know if other private schools have bells, because mine doesn't :(

italicized bold words are direct lyrics from the song. but in this chapter, there are none since this is like an intro :)

—♡—

"Dude, shut the fuck up."

"Are you kidding? She really said that?"

"You really think that's gonna happen?"

"Who's class do you have first?"

Voices of different students flooded the white and grey hallways of the school. Different friend groups and teachers can be seen roaming the halls, getting stuff from their respective lockers as they waited for the bell to ring.

"Y/N! Do you mind if I borrow your calculator? I forgot mine at home and Math is my next class." She said while panting.

"Sure, here it is. If you lose it, I'd probably drop kick your ass." Y/N let out a small laugh and grabbed the calculator from her locker, giving it to her friend.

"Gosh, Y/N. I'll never lose it! I'll give it back during recess. Thanks again!" She flashed Y/N a smile and waved bye, before returning to her locker.

Y/N looked at herself in the mirror she had on her locker, fixing the tie that always seemed to be out of place whenever she checked. Her hair was neat, complete with a white headband that complimented the color of her school's uniform.

A few seconds later, the bell rang and everybody started rushing. Different couples were seen kissing before they parted ways for the mean time.

Cringe. Y/N thought. She shrugged it off and held her books tightly to her chest, walking to her next class.

Walking straight into the classroom, she noticed a group of guys dart their eyes to her direction as she entered. They gave her weird smirks. In return, she stared back at them while she made her way to her seat and never broke eye contact. Eventually, she noticed a familiar face among the group.

Michael, her ex.

How the fuck is he in my English class? She thought, along with a whole hundred thoughts roaming around her head. Michael stared back at her, giving her a wink.

Y/N's face gave a hint of disgust, "The fuck do you want, Langdon?" She stood up from her seat and walked over to Michael, pushing his other friends. She heard his friends coo and tease Michael for his act towards her.

Michael put up his hands in defense, "Chill, is it bad to wink at a pretty girl like you?" He said with a smug look, while he grazed his hand over her arm.

"Shut the fuck up, Langdon. Don't you ever touch me." Y/N slapped his hand away, his friends taken aback from her actions. As she walked back to her seat, the teacher entered as well.

Y/N put her face in her hands. By now, a million thoughts were in her head. It's been 2 years since Michael and her broke up, and since then, she made a promise to herself that she would never fall in love with men like him. She was so tired of all the tears and sleepless nights that Michael gave her.

She let out a sigh and lifted her head from her hands. The soft light from the windows filled her eyes after the darkness formed by her hands, causing her to rub her eyes to adjust from the light.

The rest of the hour went smoothly for Y/N, after English class was recess, her most favorite time of the day— aside from going home, of course.

She glanced at her watch, 10:28 AM.

2 more minutes, and English will be over. She thought.

She averted her gaze back on the white board full of scribbles about some writing lesson she clearly did not listen to. She looked over to her classmates and friends, Well they aren't listening either. She laughed at the thought.

As soon at the bell rang, everyone started packing up their notebooks, textbooks, and whatever they had on their table. Every student was seen rushing out of every classroom in hopes of being the first ones in line for the cafeteria.

On the way there, Y/N bumped into her friend group. "Hey Y/N! We heard about happened in English class. Michael is really in your class?" A friend of hers mentioned, "Yea, and apparently that son of a bitch winked at me, such a disgusting ass motherfucker. he should keep his fuck boy ass to himself." Y/N spat out, earning a chorus of 'oh's' from her friends.

When they arrived at the cafeteria, the line was painfully long, all of them groaned in frustration and they had no choice but to wait for the line to move. But once it did, it was faster than usual. After Y/N and her friends received their food, they left the cafeteria to eat at their usual place.

The school rooftop.

A few students know that staying in the school rooftop is permitted, which was why Y/N and her friends loved eating there.

When they arrived at the rooftop, they saw the usual people that they always encounter while staying there. The view was beautiful, there was no doubt about it. The small garden in the rooftop gave a beautiful and elegant touch.

Though there were a few chairs and tables, Y/N and her friends always preferred to eat on the floor. So, they laid the linen cloth on the ground and sat on it. Y/N was wearing the skirt uniform, thus she removed her tux and placed it on her legs to prevent her skirt from lifting.

They shared a few giggles while they ate their meals, laughing about some life experiences, or whatever they wanted to talk about.

Y/N loved this. She loved how she and her friends would have little moments like these, it was like an escape from reality.

The rest of the day went smoothly for Y/N. She didn't fall asleep in any of her classes, which in this case was a very big accomplishment for her.

As soon as she arrived home, her little brother, Aaron, rushed towards her. "Y/N!! I missed you!" He chimed, Y/N kneeled down onto his level and gave him the tightest hug. "I missed you too, Aaron!" Her mom came into the room and smiled. Y/N stood up and gave her mom a hug as well.

"How was school?" Her mom asked, Y/N placed her tux on the coat hanger by the door. "It was fine, Mom. Where's Dad?" Y/N walked over to the fridge and poured herself a glass of milk, "He'll be home soon, he still has a meeting right now." She took a sip of her milk, "Oh, okay. I'll be upstairs doing school work." The glass of milk that was once full, now empty.

She took her things upstairs and plopped herself on the bed. Out of nowhere she felt a vibrating noise from her bag, she rummaged through her bag to find her phone and once she did, a message was see on her lockscreen.

Unknown Sender has sent you a message.

She unlocked her phone and went to her messages.

Unknown Sender: hey ;)

Her eyebrows furrowed. What the fuck?

(Y/N): hi? whos this?

read 2:29 pm

Unknown Sender: oh shit you deleted my number? damn.

"Huh? I don't recall deleting anyone's number..." She went to her recently deleted contacts and it showed nothing.

(Y/N): im sorry, i haven't deleted anyone's number recently, maybe you have the wrong number?

read 2:32 pm

Unknown Sender: im pretty sure you know me, Y/N.

They know my name. And her heart started pounding.

(Y/N): and im pretty sure i dont, so just reveal yourself before i report this number

read 2:35pm

Unknown Sender: ayo chill 😬 its me michael.

"Michael fucking Langdon? You've got to be fucking me right now." She felt rage fill her, slamming her keyboard.

(Y/N): langdon what the fuck do you want? i made it very clear that i dont want you talking to me.

read 2:40 pm

Before Michael could reply, she changed his contact name to 'Motherfucker'

You have changed Unknown Sender's contact name as 'Motherfucker'

Motherfucker: damn you still mad at me after 2 years? gosh (Y/N). whats with the nickname?

(Y/N): of course im still mad, asshole. ill never forget what you fucking did.

read 2:43 pm

Motherfucker: i thought you forgave me 🥺

(Y/N): FORGIVE YOU???? god langdon you're so fucking stupid, i will never forgive you. you didnt even say sorry in the first place!

Pissed off, Y/N blocked his number. "That fucking asshole." She mumbled to herself.

—

"Hey! Y/N!" A familar voice called out from the crowd. Y/N removed one earbud and turned around to find the voice that called her.

Once she saw the shiny blonde locks from that stood out in the crowd, she immediately ran in the opposite direction in hopes of avoiding him.

It was Michael, again.

"Y/N wait!" Michael called out again, chasing her

For some reason, Michael was able to catch her. He pulled Y/N into an empty science laboratory and they were both panting.

"What the fuck do you want this time, Langdon?" Y/N was catching her breath, fanning herself with her hand.

"Okay. First off, sorry for the sudden message. I know I pissed you off and that wasn't my intention at a—"

"What was your intention then?" She cut him off.

Michael panicked.

"Uh, you know? I just wanna talk to you again. Clear the bad air between us.."

Y/N let out a laugh, "Clear the bad air?? Oh gooood Langdon, you are really so stupid! You know what? You just made it worse." She pushed him off and walked out of the room,

"Whatever it is your planning, Langdon, I'm telling to stop it. I don't wanna talk to you or even go near you."

Michael was dumbfounded. She changed so much. He thought to himself.

2 years ago, Y/N was the sweetest, most innocent girl he knew. Playing with her feelings was Michael's biggest regret, and he's starting to feel it again.

Michael was about to leave the room until he felt a buzzing from his pocket, He pulls out his phone to see who was calling him.

Duncan, one of his bestfriends.

Michael answered the call, "Hello?"

"What's the update on your little girl?"

"She still doesn't trust me."

"That's sad man."

"I know. She changed alot. "

"What do you mean by 'changed'?" Duncan emphasized,

"I can't point it out, Dunc."

"Whatever you do, don't chicken out. I promise this bet is worth it."

"Fine, I trust you."

Call Ended.

Michael ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and left the room before the bell rang.

—

It was the last subject of the day. Most students were falling asleep or on their phones.

Y/N was scribbling weird things on the back of her notebook, when suddenly the bell rang. She packed up her stuff and stood up from her seat. Before she could leave the room, she saw a familiar face again.

Michael stood by the doorway of her classroom, the strap of his bag over one shoulder while he looked for Y/N among the other students.

Y/N ignored Michael and walked past him, but he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her towards him.

"Langdon! What the fuck do you want?!" She screamed, all of the students averting their attention to her.

Michael put a finger on his lips, shushing her. "Let's go somewhere private, yea?"

"But—"

Before she could object, Michael dragged her outside towards the parking lot.

"Okay this is actually something serious—"

"CUT THE SHIT LANGDON! IM TIRED OF YOU."

"Woah‐woah! Easy now. I actually need your help, with school..."

Michael rubbed her shoulders, looking straight into her eyes. For once, Y/N believed him. His eyes were speaking the truth.

"Okay, fine. Shoot."

"I can't believe I'm saying this.."

"Don't waste my time, Langdon."

"Fine! I'm failing."

Y/N's mouth hung open. Michael was one of the top students in their batch and this was obviously a huge surprise for her.

"Oh, really? What am I gonna do about that?" She crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side.

"Can you please help me? Like, tutor me?" At this point, Michael was desperate.

"Um, no thanks. Just fuck some other girl's pussy for your grades." Y/N pushed him away, but Michael stopped her again.

"I'm serious, Y/N. I really need your help."

"Why me?"

Now that made Michael nervous.

"Because you happen to be the top of our batch right now?"

"Fine! Under one condition."

Michael was curious, "What?"

"If I do this tutor shit, we're doing it at my place. I can't tutor you in your messy ass room." Y/N said. She always remembered how messy Michael's room was when they were together. He would only clean when he was scolded by Y/N.

"That's fine by me."

"Okay then. 5pm, sharp."

She walked away, but Michael pulled her again.

"Let me go! What do you want now?" Y/N said, clearly annoyed.

"Unblock my number, silly." Michael chuckled,

"No."

"How are you supposed to know if I already arrived?"

"Theres a doorbell, dimwit. I'll be downstairs waiting for you."

"Bu—"

"Bye, Michael. I'll see you later." Y/N flashed him a small smile and continued to walk away.

Once he saw Y/N reach the bus stop, he started walking to his car, until someone tapped him on his shoulder.

"Hey Michael, whats the update? I saw you talking to her." It was Duncan. His brown hair was lightly gelled back and the first two buttons of his white dress shirt were undone.

"I'm still trying to win her back, I lied to her that I was failing so she could tutor me. That way, it'll be easier."

Duncan smirked, "That's my boy! When will this tutor thing start?"

"Later, 5pm."

"Hmm, that's good. Remember, if you fall in love again, bet's over."

"I won't."

—♡—

tags mwah: @kitwalker02 @sojournmichael @angelicmichael @deademobitch @iheartfrogs101 @tatestripedsweater @mrs-march-ahs

i hope you guys enjoyed this. i wrote this while doing schoolwork </3

#michael langdon imagines #michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #ahs x reader #american horror story #ahs #ahs 8 #ahs 9 #ahs smut #cody fern imagines #cody fern x reader #duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd x reader #michael langdon smut #duncan shepherd smut #american horror story 9 #xavier plympton imagines #ahs apocalypse #ahs imagines

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binxyu · 3 years

Text

When people spoke of love, you grimaced inside. You had never felt truly loved before and the only person you had ever wanted couldn’t have you. Love? It can be deadly. It can be staggering. It can be the end.

>>Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x reader | best friend!hyunjin x heartbroken!reader

>>Word Count: 2.8k

>>Genre: Oneshot / Requested / Angst

>>Warnings: Mentions of murder, s*icide, mental illness, self harm, mental and physical abuse, and death

Hyunjin had always been suspicious of your boyfriend. It was natural for him to be protective but something had always been off about him. Maybe it was the way your boyfriend always had his arm around you when he was around or that bruises showed up on your skin when you spent time with him.

Whatever the reason was, Hyunjin didn’t trust him and he couldn’t help but worry about your safety and happiness. When you two were alone, you always seemed so happy and excited to see him. But, whenever you met up with him or your other friends when your boyfriend was with you, you seemed tired and depressed.

Of course, Hyunjin could’ve been overthinking, but he had known you for so long that he knew when you seemed off. You were the only reason Hyunjin was even still alive and you lit up his world. Seeing you constantly depressed, unmotivated, and in pain was so different. Hyunjin hated that different.

“Y/n, you feeling okay?”, Hyunjin asked now that you and him were finally alone. He had noticed as soon as he saw you that your cheek was bright red and there were small bruises spread across your wrist and arm. You had tried to hide them with your long sleeve, but Hyunjin still noticed.

“Oh, yeah I’m fine!”, you smiled softly, a smile that would usually make Hyunjin smile too but he knew this one was fake. It was forced and that was obvious. He knew because he also used that fake smile a lot. The only time he didn’t was when he was with you.

“Okay... let’s go get you those new clothes then”, Hyunjin smiled back, deciding not to continue talking about it. He wanted you to at least be happy with him for a little bit, so he held your hand and walked with you towards the nearest clothing store.

“Hyunjin! What about these?”, you held up a pair of shorts and the man smiled at you, thinking you’d look cute in them. He said you should try them on and he’ll get them for you, but you remembered the dark bruises and scars all over your thighs and realized you could never wear shorts again. You held back your tears and shook your head.

“It’s getting cold out! I better get jeans instead”, you smiled at him and Hyunjin’s eyebrows furrowed. It was warm outside recently and spring was coming soon, but he didn’t comment on it. If there was a problem then he assumed you would tell him like you always did.

Help me. Please

That’s what you wish you could tell him, but you knew your life would be in more danger than it already was. Hyunjin’s life would be too. He didn’t know enough about your abusive boyfriend to keep himself safe.

He didn’t know that your boyfriend hit you, slapped you, and tried to kill you. He didn’t know that he was a criminal and would kill you if you tried to leave him or tell anyone. The less Hyunjin knew, the safer he was. You knew that.

“Okay, let’s get jeans instead”, Hyunjin nodded and you were thankful he didn’t ask questions. You went through more stores and Hyunjin spoiled you, trying to make you feel safe and happy for a few hours. He also had noticed that your clothes recently had been ripped and dirty, so he wanted to get you new ones.

“Thank you”, you actually let out a genuine smile as you watched Hyunjin carry all the bags of clothes he bought you. You tried to tell him to stop and let you buy them even though you knew you couldn’t afford them. Hyunjin still bought them anyways and you were beyond thankful.

“Your welcome”, he put his arm around your shoulder and kissed your head like he always did. You felt your heart beat a little faster and you mentally scolded yourself.

Calm down. If you love him then he will be gone.

That thought always appeared in your head whenever you were with Hyunjin. You loved him more than anything, but you couldn’t accept that. You couldn’t act on that. He would be dead if you did.

Or I will be.

You knew that about Hyunjin’s scars and depression. You were the only reason he lived and you knew that. You saved him and without you there would be no Hyunjin.

If I die then so does he.

That is why you put up with your boyfriend and faked a smile. Your love for Hyunjin kept you alive. It kept you fighting.

Fighting for another day. Fighting against your thoughts that told you to end your pain and leave. Fighting against everything against you.

Just to see the man beside you smile. Smile just another day.

“Let me at least buy you some hot chocolate”, you begged and Hyunjin pouted, but he eventually agreed and you let out a sigh of relief as you two walked to a café together.

“You know me too well”, he chuckled and you rested your head on his shoulder happily.

The worst thing of it all, Hwang Hyunjin, is I still want you.

I want to love you, kiss you, and protect you, but I can’t.

“Here you go!”, you handed Hyunjin his hot chocolate and he sipped on it, letting out a hum from the sweet taste. You loved his reaction to sweets. It was always so cute and that’s why you just needed to get him hot chocolate. You always wanted to see that reaction each time you met just in case you never saw it again.

“You really are my best friend. Thank you”, Hyunjin patted your head and watched as you drank some of your hot chocolate. He laughed when there was a little whipped cream left on your upper lip.

“You have got to be doing this on purpose. It happens each time”, the truth was you definitely did it on purpose. Every touch from Hyunjin was precious now. It was the only touch you didn’t flinch from. The feeling of just his thumb rubbing the whipped cream off your lips was precious now.

“Maybe~”, you joked and giggled, holding Hyunjin’s hand again as you two walked out of the café. You two happily sipped on your hot chocolates as you walked. You knew your boyfriend was coming to pick you up soon and you should probably let go of Hyunjin’s hand, but you just couldn’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to let go of your light because if you did then he might just flicker out.

“I knew it”, Hyunjin said after a little bit of walking in comfortable silence. You raised an eyebrow at him and turned your head to look at him.

“Knew what?”, you asked and Hyunjin looked into your eyes, noticing how they had tear stains around them. You looked down and saw that he had lifted your sleeve up all the way. You didn’t even notice since you were so deep in thought.

“He’s hurting you, isn’t he?”, Hyunjin took a deep breath as he looked at the deep cuts on your arms and bruises. You shook your head immediately.

“No no! I just got them when I fell the other day”, you lied straight through your teeth. Well, for the most part. You did get them from falling, but that fall was not an accident. Not by far.

“Y/n... the truth”, you still refused to tell him the truth even though you could tell he knew. He knew everything. He had.

“I promise it’s the truth”, you lied again and Hyunjin sighed. He rubbed his finger over one of the cuts and then lifted your arm to kiss it.

“Just... never hurt yourself by staying with someone like that. Never”, his heart hurt as he felt your pulse on your wrist speed up. You hadn’t been loved in so long and he knew it. You were hurting and he had no idea why you wouldn’t just tell him the truth.

“Goodbye Hyunjin...”, you whispered and sighed before you took his arm out of his grip and shoved your hands into your pockets as you walked towards where your boyfriend was parked. He had seen it all. You knew he did.

“You’re an idiot, you know?”, your boyfriend chuckled and shook his head in disbelief once you were inside the car.

“I told him I fell. Don’t worry about it”, you sighed and realized you made a mistake when your boyfriend gripped your jaw harshly and turned your head towards him.

“Did you just tell me to do something?”, you whimpered when he slapped you across the same cheek he had this morning. You knew it was definitely more than red now and likely bruised.

“I-I’m sorry. It won’t happen again”, you felt a tear go down your cheek and your boyfriend wiped it away with his thumb.

“Then stop crying like a pathetic bitch. Damn... I should’ve killed you when I said I was going to”, he shook his head and started the car, pulling out of the parking spot and starting to drive towards his apartment.

You just held your bruised cheek and covered your mouth with your free hand, tears going down your cheeks as you tried to see Hyunjin. He was looking away from the car on his phone and you looked down to see your phone had a notification.

Tell me. Tell me you need help.

You read the message and kept quiet, wiping your tears away and trying to think of what to say. You just messaged him that you were fine and put your phone up. Eventually, you hoped, he would drop it and accept your lies as truth.

“Clean up the house and then I’ll give you your phone for an hour”, your boyfriend instructed once you got back to his apartment and you nodded, quickly getting to work on cleaning. Your boyfriend went through your phone as you did and you were thankful you had deleted Hyunjin’s message before he took it.

“You do realize he likes you, right?”, your boyfriend asked as you folded his laundry. You looked at him briefly before you continued working.

“Who?”, you asked back, not even caring in the slightest since you would never be able to love anyone else again.

“Hyunjin. It is quite obvious”, he answered back and you stopped what you were doing, accidentally dropping one of the shirts in the wrong basket and you quickly picked it up and fixed it.

“How?”, you looked at him and he chuckled, walking over to you and gripping your jaw.

“I was kidding. No one could love you. You are obviously too desperate”, you should’ve seen that coming, but, somehow, his words made you think about it.

Does Hyunjin love me? Like I love him?

You pushed the thoughts out of your head once your boyfriend let go of your jaw and went back to lay on the bed. You let out a quiet sigh and continued cleaning.

Once you were done, you finally got your phone back and a moment alone. You did what you always did and facetimed Hyunjin. Just the sight of his face was enough to make the soreness in your body worth it.

“Y/n!”, he exclaimed, obviously excited to see you for some reason. You giggled and waved your hand at him as you laid on your bed.

“Hey Hyunjin, what are you so excited about?”, you asked curiously and he brought a big stuffie into the camera. You looked at the bear in awe.

“This! I won you it!”, he smiled and, somehow, you fell in love with him even more than you thought was possible.

It’s going to be the death of me, but I can’t live on like this. Surrounded by lies.

I love you Hwang Hyunjin.

“I love you Hwang Hyunjin”, you didn’t expect the words to come out as clear as they did. You knew your boyfriend heard those words. He heard everything, but you finally felt free. You spoke the truth for the first time in months.

“Y/n... I love you too. More than anything”, Hyunjin smiled softly on the screen and hearing him say those words somehow broke your heart more than heal it. Tears started to stream down your cheeks as your boyfriend slammed the door open and walked over to grab you.

Goodbye.

You put your thumb on your palm and closed your fingers around it, hoping Hyunjin knew the symbol. It was the symbol for abuse.

You kicked and screamed as your boyfriend grabbed you and turned the call off. He threw your phone at the wall in anger and shoved you onto the ground, kicking your stomach over and over. You could feel the bruises forming and the pain spreading through your body, but, at the same time, all you could think about was Hyunjin’s words.

Y/n... I love you too. More than anything.

You smiled. Through the pain, you smiled.

“What are you fucking smiling about?!”, your boyfriend yelled and you finally had enough. You were free. Even if it would only be for your final moments of life.

“I’m loved! Unlike you! You will never be loved”, you retorted and the man looked shocked before he grabbed you by the hair.

I love you more Hyunjin.

“What did you just say?”, the man looked down at you in anger and there was no way you were backing down now.

“You will never be loved. I never loved you. Fuck you”, you spit in his face and he wiped it away before picking you up and walking to the roof as you kicked at him and screamed. The building was always empty at this time and he knew that.

“I hope it was worth it dumb bitch”, he sighed once he got to the roof and put you on the ledge of the building. Only one tear went down your face. That tear was for Hyunjin. Only him.

He held you there tightly and, for a moment, you actually felt at peace. The wind blew into your hair and the sight of the city was beautiful with all its lights. The stars were only barely visible, but they were there. They were waiting to greet you once you left.

Maybe I’ll become a star. Maybe I can still look out for my love.

Hyunjin. I will miss you. I’m so sorry.

“Y/n!”, you thought the voice was just in your mind until your boyfriend briefly let you go to turn around. You tried to run away from him, but he grabbed you again. You looked at Hyunjin, his hair in a mess as he looked at you from the door. He looked back at you.

“Let her go”, he tried to rationalize with the man holding you and you shook your head at him.

“Leave Hyunjin. Live your life”, you smiled softly at him, reassuring him you were going to be okay.

“No. I can’t live without you”, your boyfriend scoffed at this and moved towards the ledge again.

“We will meet again. Just not in this life. Just be strong in this one without me”, you sniffled, holding back your tears as you were placed on the ledge again.

“I-I can’t. Please fight”, he moved slowly closer and you shook your head.

“I can’t Hyunjin. I don’t have any fight left”, you eventually let your boyfriend push you off. You weren’t really scared surprisingly as you started to fall. The wind felt nice against your back and you were free. Free of pain.

Well, you were at peace until you felt a pair of arms wrap around you. You opened your eyes to see Hyunjin’s face right in front of your’s and the building you were pushed off of in the background.

“No. No! Hyunjin no!”, you desperately cried out and he shushed you, kissing you passionately. You kissed him back as you could feel your bodies nearing the ground.

“I love you. Let’s be together through everything. Go together. You know I couldn’t live without you”, you did know that and you wrapped your arms around him too. Both of you were holding onto each other tightly and Hyunjin turned with his back facing the ground, hoping somehow he could save you. You knew it was hopeless though.

You were going to die in each other’s arms.

“Goodbye Hyunjin. I love you too. I’m so sorry”, you shoved your face in his chest and he stroked your hair.

“Shhh, it’s not goodbye”, he cooed before everything went black.

For this life, it is.

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missed-connections-of-fear · 3 years

Text

on avatarhood post-fearpocalypse

Not sure how to write this one down. When I haven't been actively putting it off, I've been starting and deleting this for the past hour or so. I think a place of honesty is the best way I can carry forward. So, uh, four things:

1. This isn't really much of a lost connection. Sorry.

There are some people I encountered that I do, genuinely, want to see and/or hear from again. There are others that, while I don't want to see again, I am morbidly curious to see where they ended up. The only problem is that, well, in some ways I did lose connection! Internet connection. Voluntarily.

After the apocalypse, I just didn't touch the internet for months. It was annoying as hell, but I absolutely had to. For the first month after I got home, I kept most of my electronics in a box. Stayed as far away from social media as possible, and am still trying to. This is because--

2. My domain was... weird.

As in: my domain was my phone. I think.

No, I wasn't (physically) trapped inside of it, or attached to it in a dependent way. Well, I guess in some ways I was trapped in there, right? When I realized that my phone was... I don't know, malevolent? Influencing me? Influencing others? When I realized that, I tried to break it or throw it away a few times, but it'd remain in tact, or just come back like the world's weirdest boomerang.

But even during the apocalypse, it was just a normal phone (aside from not running out of battery). It was my only degree of normalcy, so I started to make diary vlogs. I thought it was really funny how TikTok was still operational, so I decided to post some there for kicks just to see what other people thought. Hell, I just wanted to know if there were other people still out there.

I didn't want to think about the implications. I still don't. Call me a coward if you'd like: I certainly do.

3. I need to find someone else like me.

The main reason I'm writing this here, now, is that I want to know I wasn't the only one who had a domain like this. I hadn't realized how literal some domains were until everyone else in my life started to talk about it, and for--er, reasons--I wanted to keep my mouth shut just in case whatever I said gave someone the wrong idea.

I really need to hear that I'm not the only one whose domain wasn't a place. I really want to hear that there's someone else out there who--I don't know, wasn't confined to a location but was still afraid. Apparently there were some people who just can't feel afraid and weren't affected, and there was this whole thing about Melanie King "severing a connection" or whatever, but... I was neither of those things.

I've always been a little emotionally detached, but that didn't mean I wasn't fucking terrified, y'know? I could see the Change from my apartment window and I thought my family's mental illnesses were finally catching up to me. There are so many things I thoughtlessly recorded that I ended up deleting once everything stopped. I don't even know why I thought it'd be a good idea to keep those, even if it was just to reaffirm to myself that it was, in fact, happening.

Recently I bought a new phone. The dread remains all the same whenever I look it.

4. I think I was an Avatar.

I tried to delay the inevitable as long as I could, but that was probably, deeply, unfair. And this is starting to get away from me very fast, so I think I need to get to the point, like, now.

I don't want to get too deeply into it--"it" being all the warning signs and personal trauma and whatever the fuck entails "becoming an Avatar." I might have even been an Avatar even before the Change; I genuinely don't know, but it doesn't matter much to me anymore.

(My personal opinion is that, in the apocalypse--and if evidence suggests, before it--there was a spectrum with two ends when it came to the entities: the fearful and the feared. One ate, one was eaten, and your point on that spectrum could be shifted at any time. Any time.)

That aside, I genuinely don't know what entity I "served" or whatever. It was part coping and part survival the entire way through for me. Beholding seems like the obvious choice, since I was recording and talking to people, but... I embodied a lot of other things too. I think if I explain it, it'll make more sense:

Sometime into making my vlogs, I started running into other people. They'd always be a little bewildered to see me, but whatever torture they were enduring or inflicting would just... come to a halt. In the beginning, I didn't even realize that the people were going through hell: I was just so relieved to see someone that I'd call out to them, ask them how they were doing, sit with them and just relish the company of a human being for awhile. I didn't even realize the camera was recording some of the time.

And those first few times, I'd practically beg the person (or people) to come with me. They always accepted, even though I was simultaneously super clingy and closed-off. They always put up with me and my stupid phone. But they were never able to stick around.

By the time I stopped remembering faces, I stopped asking.

I had resolved to find somebody important to me in the very beginning, so I was always travelling. But I never stopped trying to talk to anyone I found. I'd always say some shit like, "Care to introduce yourself to the viewers?" and, "So tell us what traumas are going into your cringe compilation," and other influencer lingo just to lighten the mood, but some things--referring to the "viewers" and speaking about myself in the plural--became reflex.

And our conversations always came with the expectation of speaking of some sort of trauma. A tiny part of me always looked forward to it: I always tried to remind myself that people wanted to talk about themselves, their problems, and to be able to talk; that I was just one of many people in a bad situation and that I shouldn't prioritize my own suffering.

But I think... well, if I describe it, there's no damn way I won't be called a sociopath by someone. So just assume that I uncomplicatedly enjoyed their pain and pat yourself on the back for being able to believe you're still morally upright after all this time.

Sorry. It's just... I've been thinking about how people might respond a lot. I've curated a lot of this just to make sure no one tries to witch-hunt me while still trying to keep my story believable.

I think that's a sign to stop digging my own grave.

Apologies for how long it got in the end there, haha. I'm trying to... not really put this all behind me, I don't think any of us can. I've accepted what had become of me--or, well, I'm in the process of it--thus why I'm back on the internet in the first place.

I haven't gotten rid of the old phone yet, because... I've been thinking about uploading some of the videos I've recorded. From the Fearpocalypse. I desperately want to delete all of it, to keep it out of reach (my reach, particularly), but I... I think it needs to be archived somewhere. Anywhere.

You’re not an advice column, but since I’ve already gotten this far… well, I shouldn’t ask more than that. If I upload those videos, and you recognize me or yourself, feel free to reach out. I live in East Texas, but I somehow stumbled across some domains in Britain, Egypt, Japan, the Philippines, etc… (I didn’t learn about the Entities until the late leg of the apocalypse, so I was just trying to find domains that seemed to connect to the fears of the person I was looking for. Lots of Lonely, Slaughter, and End domains.)

(ROSE’S NOTES: damn another long post, I don’t know what to say. I uh. I hope you can find comfort in the internet again. I personally don’t know what i’d do if I had that domain. The internet is a safe place for me and has been for nearly a decade. Damn. Rose getting into stuff she should talk to a therapist about huh? Anyways. I guess to make a post that’s already long longer, I hope this post has made you feel better. I hope you find someone to talk with who understands what you went through. Take care my friend)

#the magnus archives #tma #unreality #unreality tw #missed connections of fear #submission

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honey-dewey · 3 years

Text

Finding the Right Voice

Frankie Morales/Mute and chronically ill Reader

Word Count: 1,804

Warnings: Reader is both mute and has gastroparesis. Reader throws up once.

After much pestering from the boys, Frankie reluctantly signs up for a dating app, intending for it to be a joke. Until he falls in love. You and him text daily, getting to know each other so intimately despite never meeting. At least, never meeting until Frankie wants to take you on a date. So how the hell are you going to explain to him that you are constantly ill and will never speak again?

Frankie had always thought dating apps were a waste of time. Who the hell actually met the love of their life through the Internet?

Frankie Morales, that’s who.

Of course, he’d been hesitant to tell the boys he’d found someone, mostly because he knew they’d give him shit about it. And they did, of course. But now, months after meeting someone, they realized Frankie was genuinely happy and toned the teasing down.

“I’m just worried!” Frankie said, staring at his phone. “They haven’t responded in days.”

“Dude,” Benny said, gesturing with his beer bottle. “They’re probably just busy. Or out somewhere with shit cell service. I dated a girl like that. She went on vacation with her parents and didn’t call for like. Two weeks. Thought she’d died. But when she got back.” He leaned back, smiling drunkenly. “The apology sex was mind blowing.”

“Okay!” Santiago interjected, throwing an arm around Frankie’s shoulders. “You think they’re on vacay, Fish?”

Frankie shrugged, grabbing his own beer. “I dunno. They aren’t the vacationing type.”

William snorted from across the table. “Just like they aren’t the phone call or meet in person type?”

Immediately, Frankie knew where this was going. “Ironhead.”

“I’m just saying!” William pointed out. “How do we know that Catfish isn’t being, well, catfished.”

Frankie sighed into his bottle. “I don’t wanna talk about it Will.”

Santiago, who was somehow the voice of reason here, nudged Frankie. “You texted yet today?”

“No.”

“Why don’t you?” Santiago suggested. “Then leave it alone for a while. I doubt they’re meaning to leave you, they seem too nice.”

Frankie picked up his phone and opened his texts. Aside from the group chat he had with the boys, the aforementioned number was the last one he’d texted.

Frankie: Hey, haven’t heard from you in a bit. You doing okay?

Twenty miles away from the bar Frankie was in, you were leaned over the toilet in the hospital, hurling away what little applesauce you’d eaten for dinner.

Sitting back against the cold tile of the hospital bathroom wall, you sighed deeply upon hearing your phone ping. Who the hell wanted to talk to you right now?

Of course, it was Frankie.

Settling down in the bathroom, you unlocked your phone and texted him back.

You: I’m so sorry Fish. I’ve been a bit sick.

Fish: You don’t have to apologize for that. Are you feeling any better?

You snorted softly. As if.

You: Not really. It’s just gotten worse. Spent most of today throwing up.

Fish: You’re drinking water, right? Gotta stay hydrated.

You snapped a photo of your half full water bottle a nurse had brought you and sent it to Frankie.

You: Yep! Gotta finish this before I go to bed.

Fish: That’s good

Fish: Wait a second. Are you in the hospital?

You swore silently. How the fuck? Unless he frequented the same hospital as you, how the hell did he even know where you were from that blurry water bottle photo?

You: Yeah, I got here today. Nothing too serious, I was just too dehydrated

You felt bad lying to Frankie, but you really didn’t want to tell him the truth. The truth was too long, too complicated. Frankie would probably leave if he learned the truth.

Fish: I’m not too far away, if you’re at the hospital I think you’re at. Want me to drive you home when you leave?

You: Nah. I’m staying with family rn and it’s a haul to get out there

Another lie, another stab of pain through your heart.

Fish: Okay. I still wanna take you out though. We could get dinner and walk around the park.

You almost started sobbing.

You: Oh Frankie. I wish I could.

As soon as you typed the message, you deleted it. Best not to let him think anything was wrong. Instead, you took a minute and finally replied with,

You: That sounds lovely Fish.

Fish: But?

You: But I don’t think I can.

Back at the bar, Frankie was slumped over the table, staring at your tiny message of rejection.

“Dude, that’s hard,” Benny commented. “I’m starting to think Will might be right.”

“I’m sorry?” William said, coughing as he swallowed wrong. “Say that again?”

“No.” Benny leaned over the table and patted Frankie’s wrist. “I got nothing dude. Nothing.”

Santiago sighed. “Why don’t we stop giving Fish a hard time?” He said, seeing the hard lines in Frankie’s face appear. “They said they were in the hospital, so maybe it’s really bad.”

“You think?” Frankie asked, looking up with wide eyes.

“Maybe,” Santiago said. “They might not want you to worry about them.”

Frankie looked back at his phone, at the waiting message. He picked his phone up and typed one more message before shutting it off and pocketing it.

Frankie: I just wish I could get to know you. For real.

You stared at your phone, tears sliding down your face. Frankie would never know, if you could help it. He’d never know that you were so sick all the time. That you couldn’t eat anything without hurling it up hours later. That you hadn’t uttered a single word since you’d turned sixteen. That you’d never speak another word again.

Putting your phone away, you abandoned the water bottle and shakily crawled back into bed, sobbing silently into your pillow until you fell asleep.

The next morning, a team of nurses checked you over and deemed you okay to leave the next day. You nodded numbly, absently fiddling with a small stuffed toy as they started your laborious morning routine.

“This came for you last night,” a nurse said as everyone left your room. She placed a worn out baseball cap and a folded note on your bed. “From a very nice gentleman who seemed rather heartbroken.”

The nurse left, leaving you to grab the cap and the note.

The cap was worn out, the edges all frayed and the logo on the front nearly illegible. The note was in much better condition.

Hey.

So, I’m sorry about what I said last night, and I feel like a text wouldn’t have made it better. This is my favorite hat. It’s seen some shit, just like me. And just like you, I think.

Look, last night, I sounded like a dick. I want to make it up to you, I really do. But I don’t know how to take you on a date or anything. I sure hope it isn’t because of me that you don’t want to meet. I know my nickname is Catfish but I promise I’m who I say I am.

Tomorrow, I get off work early. If you’d let me, can I pick you up and take you out? Or at least take you back to my place for a movie or something? Please.

Love, your Frankie.

You ran your fingers over the lettering, memorizing how Frankie wrote every single word. Maybe, maybe it was time to open up. The worst that could happen was rejection.

Scooping your phone up, you texted Frankie back.

You: Tomorrow at 4, that’s when they discharge me. Get here early tho, I have some stuff to explain.

The next twenty four hours were hell for the both of you. You were both plagued by so much anxiety it was hard to do even the most basic of tasks, but you managed. Eventually, you received the text you’d been dreading all day.

Fish: I’m here. Visiting room B.

You took a deep breath. All your personal belongings were in a drawstring bag you put over your shoulder. You headed out of your room and slowly down the hall, towards the visiting room.

Opening the door was the hardest thing you’d ever done.

Once you’d opened the door, you stopped in the doorway, taking Frankie in.

He looked exactly the same as he did in his photos. Tall, handsome, kind. He smiled upon seeing you, and you swore your heart stopped.

“Hello,” Frankie said, moving towards you and holding out his hand.

Hello you signed, waiting for Frankie’s reaction.

He paused, his hand falling to his side. “Mute?”

You nodded.

Frankie simply smiled again. “So that’s why you don’t like phone calls,” he said. “It’s okay. I know some ASL.” He paused, taking you in. “Can I hug you?”

Yes please.

He wrapped you in a warm hug, allowing you to collapse into him. Months of text messages and listening to his voice mails were nothing compared to this.

Eventually, he pulled away, and you two sat on the uncomfortable couch.

“So what’s with the tube?” Frankie asked, gesturing to your face.

You pulled a whiteboard out of your bag and began to write, going slowly so you spelled everything right.

I have a condition called gastroparesis. My stomach is paralyzed and won’t move food to my intestines. I “eat” through a port in my side and this tube in my nose leads to my stomach, so whatever I drink can be drained out. I went mute before I got diagnosed with this.

“Oh.” Frankie blinked a few times. “So I guess dinner is off the table too.”

You snorted, laughing as best you could with no voice. No dinner. you signed happily. But a movie would be nice.

“A movie it is,” Frankie said, standing. “C’mon. I’ve got a bunch of movies at my place. And I think the boys are coming over tonight.”

You stood, following Frankie to his beat up old truck. He talked your ear off about all sorts of things while he drove home, and it wasn’t until he’d pulled into the driveway that you’d remembered his hat.

Close your eyes. You signed, digging around in your bag.

Frankie did, laughing when you snuggly placed his hat on his head.

“Thank you,” he said, taking your hands. “I was really worried you’d catfished me at first. I didn’t know what to think when you didn’t want to call or meet. I dunno, I just thought you weren’t, y’know, you.”

You shook your head, pulling your hands out of his. I wouldn’t dream of it.

Frankie smiled. “I love you.”

I love you too Fish.

That night was the happiest you’d been in years. Frankie’s friends were all amazing people, and all three of them immediately overlooked your muteness and illness. You were happy and Frankie was happy. To them, that was all that mattered.

“So Fish,” Santiago said, leaning across the couch to nudge Frankie’s bicep. “Aren’t you glad we forced you to download that dating app?”

Frankie looked at you, curled up under his other arm, sipping water and waiting for the feed bag with your dinner in it to finish draining into your port. You looked up at him, smiling and nestling closer.

“Yeah. I am.”

#triple frontier #frankie morales #francisco 'catfish' morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal #my writing

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psychovigilantewrites · 4 years

Text

Don’t Call Me That Pt. 2

Wordcount: 10,129

A/N: I thought this part 2 would total up to 10k words, but when it hit 10k, I realised that I was only about 65 percent done. So based on the responses I got from tumblr, I decided to publish this first and then conclude the story later on!

TW: mentions of r*pe, mentions of torture, mentions of drugging someone (??) , mental breakdowns, vulnerability, descriptions of anxiety

Also, HERE’S MY FAV MEMES!! I’m so sorry that I can’t tag respective meme creators, because I saved them on my phone and some of them I forgot to include your usernames!! I’M SO SORRY!!! And honest to god is wear there were more but i must have lost them im so sorry im so incompetent lmao

memeesss

You glanced at your phone.

It had already been a week in Hawaii with your friends, and Jason still hadn’t texted you.

Well, you should have expected it, really. Jason was a traumatised, mentally ill man who had been locked away for two years.

Of course he wouldn’t text you first.

You had contemplated texting him over the past few days, typing in an array of messages ranging from a simple “hey” to a whole paragraph, and deleting all of it without hitting send. Did he even switch the phone on? Was he surfing the internet? Or was the phone still there on the shelf where you had left it.

It was driving you crazy.

“Do you have a boyfriend we don’t know about?” a voice called.

You looked up and squinted at the man who was standing up, looking down at you. You were sitting on the beach, a little further away from the ocean where your friends were.

“What are you talking about?” you asked as Alex plopped down next to you.

“You’ve been fidgety the whole time,” he pointed out, combing back his dark shoulder length hair with his fingers, getting sand in them. “We’re on a private beach, and you’ve been fussing over your phone. Who are you talking to?”

“No one,” you grumbled truthfully.

“The girls have been gossiping,” he gestured to the two other girls playing in the water. Your closest friends. It was four of you in that inseparable group.

“Of course they have,” you groaned, “Tell them to SAY IT TO MY FACE, COWARDS!”

You shouted at them, earning you grins and middle fingers from the distance.

“They’re saying you’re in love with someone,” he chuckled, “But they always say stupid shit like that without any evidence. But sometimes, a girl’s intuition is just right, ya know?”

“Stop beating around the bush, Alex,” you rolled your eyes at him despite knowing he couldn’t see past your sunglasses. “No, I’m not in love. I’m just waiting for a text that might never come.”

“Why don’t you text him first?”

“Because it’s not as simple as that!” you flailed your arms, “He’s… complicated. I can’t just text him anything.”

“Girl, unless he’s Mr. Nottingham, or related to you, then it really isn’t that complicated,” he joked.

“Ugh,” you groaned again, falling back onto the cloth you spread out. “Fine. I’ll text him.”

“Atta girl,” Alex grinned, “I’m gonna head back in the water. Join us after. Please?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved.

Opening the text window for what had to be the thirtieth time, you finally decided to text him.

You: Miss me yet?

Staring intently at the small ‘sent’ below your message bubble, you waited for it to turn to ‘delivered’.

“Yes!” you hissed. It meant that Jason had indeed switched on the phone.

But after twenty minutes you realised that it didn’t matter if Jason switched on the phone if he didn’t want to talk to you. Cursing to yourself, you decided to join your friends in the water, hoping it’ll distract you from checking your phone every five minutes for a text message that might never come.

After an hour of actually spending time with your friends, all four of you returned to the villa, your mood elevated. Checking your phone, you could have jumped for joy when you saw not one, but four consecutive texts in a row.

Jason: Duck off. Jason: What the duck Jason: WHY CANT I SAY DUCK Jason: I DUCKING HATE THIS

You couldn’t let out a string of giggles.

“Oooh, lover boy texted you back, huh?” Alex peeked over your shoulder. “Gimme, I wanna mess with him.”

He snatched your phone from your hands, surprisingly swift and smooth for a civilian, raising it way above his head so you couldn’t reach it and opened the camera.

“Alex-!”

He threw his other arm over your shoulder and pulled you into his bare chest, crushing you before you could tackle him down. He snapped a picture and sent it.

You froze in horror.

“Why the hell did you do that?!” you yelled.

“Relax, I was just messing around,” he gave your phone back to you.

“You don’t- you don’t understand, you fucking asshole!” you screamed.

“I- I’m sorry,” Alex stuttered, surprised by your reaction. “I was just-”

“Fuck off!” you snapped.

Panicking, you saw the little notification below the picture turning from Received to Read.

No. No, no, no, no.

This was bad.

You didn’t want to overwhelm Jason by sending him photos of your activities, thinking that he might react badly to the sudden surplus of familiarity and sense of being close to someone. Now you were worried that he might start to push you away in fear, reverting back to how he was before, and months of progress would have been all for nothing.

He would probably start swearing at you, or worse- switch off the phone and reject any form of communication completely. You hurriedly texted a reply.

You: I’m so sorry! I didn’t send that, my friend was just messing around.

Expecting the worst, you braced yourself for the inevitable. Instead, he sent you:

Jason: Who the hell is that guy?? Jason: Why are you in your underwear??

Your mouth hung open as you stared in shock at the screen. Because you took so long to recover from the shock, he sent you another message.

Jason: ???

Snapping out of it, you texted back.

You: That’s just my friend. Sorry about that! And I’m not in my underwear, it’s a bikini! I’m in Hawaii.

You waited for him to reply, but ten minutes of you sitting anxiously on the turquoise sofa in the middle of the villa listening to the waves of the beach outside from the open doors passed by, and he still hadn’t.

Perhaps he’s busy- wait. There’s no way Jason would be busy. You tried to coax him into a conversation.

You: You can turn off your autocorrect if you want to swear without hassle. Go to your Keyboard settings.

You plopped your phone on the empty seat next to you and dried your hair.

“Ugh, come on!” complained Natalie, fully clothed and washed, walking towards the open concept kitchen from her room. “You’re getting sand everywhere!”

“Woops, my bad,” you grinned.

“There’s a shower outside on the porch for a reason you know,” she flipped her blond beach waves at you, looking through the fridge.

Alex stood quietly at the kitchen island, now scared to say anything.

You rolled your eyes. “Just don’t do it again.”

“Okay, I promise!” he grinned.

Ding.

Jason: fuck. fuck. fucking fuck. Jason: found it. You: Proud of you, man.

You went to your room and showered, then dried off and put on fresh clothes while waiting for Jason to reply.

Of course, he never did.

Groaning, you had to remind yourself that he was not used to human interaction, and texting would come unnaturally to him. Which meant that you had to be the one to keep the conversation going.

You: Do anything interesting since I left?

You saw him typing almost immediately this time.

Jason: no.

Of course not.

You: Have you been eating properly? Jason: yeah.

God, it was so difficult. You were in the middle of typing something when he replied again.

Jason: yoire not my mom Jason: yoire Jason: YOIRE Jason: FUCK WHY CANR I TYPE

You felt guilty for laughing, but you did anyway.

You: Now that you switched off autocorrect, it won’t correct your typos and misspells anymore. Jason: i fucking knw that. Ive been gone for two yeard not twenty. You: Then why do you sound like a grandpa? Jason: BECAISE YOU GAVE ME A FUCKINF IPHONE!! I USED AN ANDROID!!

Now you were really laughing out loud, so you sent him a GIF of a woman rolling her eyes.

Jason: wtf you can send gifs throug text now?? You: Welcome to 2020, my dude. Jason: im not your fucking dude

Typing a reply, Jason interrupted you once again.

Jason: teach me how to do that

Smiling widely, you found that you couldn’t wait for the next week to pass by so you could go back and see him.

***

“How’s Jason?” you asked the minute you reached the Cave computers, panting from the run down.

“Wow, hello to you, too,” Dick chuckled, spinning towards you on the wheeled chair.

It was a Sunday afternoon, and Bruce and Dick were in front of the computers, discussing a case that had connections to Bludhaven Police Department.

Gone for two weeks, you had a lot to catch up on.

“According to Alfred, he’s doing well,” Bruce answered, “Even started to ask for seconds last week. Now Alfred has been making portions for two.”

“He asked? For seconds?” you gasped. “How?”

“He left a note on the tray two days after you left. He’s been making meal requests, too. Texts Alfred in the morning to let him know.”

“Texted?!”

“Alfred slipped his number on the tray in case Jason wanted anything specific.”

“I slipped mine as well, but he hasn’t texted me yet,” Dick pouted.

“When did he start texting?” you ignored Dick.

“Last Sunday.”

So the same day you started texting him, then.

“He hasn’t texted me,” Dick sighed, looking dejected like a kid who was told Disneyland blew up.

“He’ll come around, Dick,” you offered him a smile, “I mean- he’s already texting Alfred!”

“Yeah,” he lamented.

“Okaaay, nice talk. I’m gonna go see him now, bye.”

You ran to the box, but stopped right before you opened the internal door. After checking your hair with your phone camera, you tried to stifle the butterflies in your stomach.

Ugh, you were so fucked.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door.

“Yeah,” Jason’s muffled grunt answered you.

Pushing it open, your eyes immediately went to the bed only to find that he wasn’t lounging around reading a book like you expected. Instead, your mouth dropped open when you saw him on the floor, doing push ups.

Shirtless.

Jason had changed drastically during the two weeks you were gone. You noticed that he had definitely gained weight, as well as muscle mass.

“Uh, wh-what are you..?”

He stood up, and you swore your heart skipped a beat.

His muscles were much more prominent and defined now, and he looked like he was going to achieve Dick’s physique if he kept it up for another month or two.

“Welcome back,” he simply said before taking gulps from a water bottle you definitely had not seen before.

“Thanks,” you walked over and sat on his bed, “I’m glad to see that you decided to start taking care of yourself again.”

“What, this? This isn’t for me.”

“Huh?” you cocked your head in curiosity.

“I… I lost a lot of muscle mass. My body- it isn’t how it used to be,” he frowned, “And I can’t have you lusting over it when it’s not at its peak.”

“What- what do you-?” you stammered, suddenly getting hot.

Jason merely smirked and then continued his push ups.

You watched as his developing muscles rippled, a thin layer of sweat making his skin glisten in the light. It was amazing how he had progressed so much in such a short period of time. You guessed that he must have just been occupying his days by working out.

No wonder he’s been asking for seconds.

“Enjoying the view?” Jason breathed, pausing with his arms straightened, his head angled upwards towards you.

“No, shut up,” you looked away.

“Here, be useful,” he started, “Sit on my back.”

“What?”

“I’ve gotten used to my own body weight, I need extra resistance,” he elaborated, “Come on, sit on my back.”

“But it’s all sweaty,” you whined, pretending to protest. Definitely pretending- for the sake of your own dignity.

You got up and went over towards him anyway.

Carefully, awkwardly, you sat on his back as you would a park bench. You rested your palms flat against his sticky skin to stabilise yourself. Suddenly, he dipped down without warning, earning a soft squeal from you.

“Fuck, you’re heavy,” he strained, but continued to do the push ups. He was shakier, struggling with the weight, and after twenty-five, he paused. “Okay, I think I’m done.”

But before you had the chance to get off him, he suddenly stood up, throwing you off his back to have you fall on the floor on your ass.

“Jason, you assho-” you clapped your hand over your mouth, realising what you had just said.

Oh, no. Oh, fuck.

He stood towering over you, his jaw clenching as he stared you down with his cold, blue eyes.

“I’m so sorry! I forgot! It was a reflex and-”

“Whatever. I don’t care anymore,” he rolled his eyes, reaching for his bottle.

You blinked. Then scrambled to your feet.

“You don’t care anymore?” you repeated slowly.

“I don’t care if you call me that,” he huffed.

That made your heart swell and melt at the same time.

“I got used to your voice,” he mumbled, expression changing as he looked away. He frowned, as if he was angrily staring at a distant object.

You had just guessed that he didn’t like to be called his name because of a sense of familiarity, but now you were thinking that there was much more to that than what you had originally thought.

“So, I can call you… Jason?” you tested.

“Yeah, call me whatever you want,” he sat on his bed, looking up at you.

You smiled, thankful that you had finally crossed that bridge. “You know, I could get some workout stuff for you? Weights, bands, that bar thing that you can put at your door frame for pull ups…”

“You’d like to see that, huh?” he smirked.

“You flatter yourself too much,” you scoffed.

“How was Hawaii?” he changed the subject all of a sudden.

“It was fun. Beach was great, locals were great, loved the vibe- what are you doing?”

Jason had stood back up and started to walk closer and closer to you, getting all up in your space like a predator finally cornering its prey. You kept on taking steps back until your ass hit the edge of the desk.

Nowhere else to run, your heart started hammering. He leaned in, his hands resting on the desk on either side of your body, trapping you against the table and himself. You looked up and gulped. You could almost feel the heat radiating from his bare skin.

“Are you afraid of me?” he muttered lowly.

“Why would I be afraid of you?” you whispered.

“You tell me,” he said.

“Well, I’m not afraid of you,” you stated.

“Oh really?” he raised an eyebrow. Then, you felt his hand grip your wrist tightly, pressing down on your skin with his fingers. “Your pulse is very fast for someone who’s not afraid of me.”

“It’s because you’re all up in my space!” you argued.

“Didn’t look like you mind when your friend,” he snarled the word, “was all up in your space.”

“My friend? What- oh,” you widen your eyes in realisation, “You mean Alex.”

“Is that his name?”

“Alex is just a friend, nothing more. He’s just someone I’m close to,” you reassured him.

Which then made you think about why you were reassuring him.

“Oh, you were definitely close to him,” Jason growled.

“Wait- are you… jealous?” a smile creeped your lips.

He scowled at you for a few moments, and you could see the little tics in his expression that said he was annoyed. The flared nostrils, the muscles of his jaw clenching and unclenching, the very slight twitches at the corner of his left eye.

“No,” he finally said, taking a step back from you. “I’m going to shower. Since you couldn’t stop staring at me, the invitation is still open for you to join.”

“You know, I’m starting to think that maybe I prefer it when you were broody instead of this. Please go back to your depressive mental state,” you sarcastically replied.

Jason barked out an actual laugh. Though his laugh was odd, like someone who’s only now discovering that humans were indeed capable of laughter, you found comfort in it. It was no longer hysterical and devoid of humor. He was getting better, learning to embrace a connection with someone, and it made you extremely happy.

“Maybe I should,” he answered with a cheeky glint in his eye, “Then that way you can give me more sponge baths.”

He left you alone in his room, flushed and at a loss for words.

***

“I find it very odd that people would yell ‘Batman!’ when they realise you’re there,” you rambled while climbing out of the Batmobile.

You were absolutely drenched from the downpour that had been going on all night. It was 4 am on a friday night and you had just returned from patrol.

Bruce took off his cowl immediately, revealing tired eyes despite the relatively slow night.

“It’s like they’re saying ‘Look at me! I’m here! Please knock me out or hang me upside down from the-’ Bruce?”

Bruce had stiffen, staring at something behind you. You turned around and was shocked to see Jason in the mid-distance, sitting on the ground outside the black box that was his room, leaning against the cool metal.

He himself was staring intently at Bruce, not even sparing you a glance.

You looked back and forth between the two men, sensing a high tension silent conversation.

Then, Bruce’s eyes relaxed and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards ever so slightly in that hardly-there-Bruce-smile.

He gave Jason one stiff nod of understanding, then walked away to the computers at the other end of the cave, leaving you alone with his son.

Jason relaxed as you walked over to him, wringing your hair to squeeze out all the excess water.

“Aw, you waited up for me,” you teased, standing in front of him with your hands on your hips, grinning away.

“Fuck off,” he snorted, “I was bored.”

You noticed him clenching his jaw as he looked at you from top to bottom, eyes lingering longer on the ‘R’ on your left breast.

Ah, it was his first time seeing you in your uniform.

His uniform.

Suddenly, you felt like an imposter in those colors and had the strong urge to rip the uniform off.

You wanted to say something, but Jason beat you to it.

“There were times in that shit hole where I wanted to burn that uniform off my skin,” he grit, “Kept on thinking to myself. I wish I never became Robin. I wish I never met Bruce Wayne.”

Your heart shattered at his confession. It was extremely rare for him to bring up anything related to his two year torture, and the previous times were never in such detail.

Realising you needed to say something, you opened your mouth. “I’m so-”

“Don’t,” he cut you off, “You don’t have to say anything.”

Yes, sometimes you knew that he just wanted you to listen.

You nodded silently and went to sit next to him on the floor.

“It… suits you,” he forced out.

“Hmm?”

“The uniform. It suits you. More than it ever suited me,” he grumbled.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think your ass would look quite nice in green,” you joked, nudging his shoulder with your own.

He chuckled deeply, nudging you back even harder- hard enough for you to lose your balance and topple sideways, earning another breathy laugh from Jason.

***

Another month passed by, and you found yourself falling deeply for Jason- much to your dismay. You knew Jason wasn’t ready for any kind of intense emotions, and that it would take a very long time before he was.

So you swallowed your emotions down, stifling them and hoping it would go away.

The two of you had developed a pleasant friendship, often bickering and joking around, with Jason teasing you about your obvious physical attraction to him.

He also now occasionally waited outside his cube for you to come back after patrol, never really venturing too far from it, and still avoiding contact with both Bruce and Dick. Only you and Alfred had the privilege to speak to him.

Even then, sometimes you would visit his room but only getting a “I’m not feeling it today. Please leave.”

Understandingly, you would nod silently and leave him alone. You knew he still had his bad days, sometimes not eating his meals.

But mostly, he was getting better, both mentally and physically.

With nothing much to do the whole day, Jason was now obsessed with working out and bulking up. He now had a few simple equipment in his room- mostly weights.

You figured that it was a coping mechanism for him, a healthy outlet to channel all his rage and negative emotions into.

But come on. He was getting even hotter and it was making it extremely difficult for you to stop yourself from checking him out, fantasizing about him when he wasn’t around. Still, you couldn’t complain. Even though he hadn’t reached Dick’s size yet, he was very near to it, and his naturally bigger body frame and build made up for the still developing muscles.

Hell, he was now sporting a six pack.

But you knew that he was still not as well as you hoped he would be. The bloodshot eyes he had was proof that he doesn’t sleep well- and you soon found out why.

It was a little past midnight on your night off from patrol, and you were using your break in the best way you could think of- by sleeping. Something woke you up that night.

A soft knock on your door.

You frowned, eyes still closed, wondering who it was.

Bruce would usually knock twice. Strong, clear, and with purpose. Dick would start pounding rapidly on your door, annoying you intentionally. Alfred would give three soft knocks followed by a ‘Miss?’

Your eyes flew open. There was only one other person in the manor.

Throwing your covers aside, you jumped out of bed and rushed to the door to open it.

Jason stood outside your door in the dim lights of the hallway, frowning and running his fingers nervously through his messy dark hair. He was wearing a t-shirt with boxers, standing awkwardly.

“Jason?” you hated how your voice sounded so sleepy. You cleared your throat. “Are you okay? Would you like to come in?”

He nodded silently, and you made way for him to enter before closing the door behind you.

“Sit on the bed,” you told him while jumping back into yours, sitting up cross legged.

The bed dipped when he sat on it, copying your motion and crossed his legs.

You waited for him to say something, your eyes straining to catch his in the dark. But he just remained silent, staring into space and avoiding your eyes.

“How did you know this was my room?” you asked, starting with a light topic.

“Only one that was locked. I already know where everyone else sleeps,” he explained.

“That’s right,” you realised, “I tend to forget that you’re probably even more familiar with the manor than I am.”

“Did you know there’s an old dumbwaiter in Bruce’s room?” you saw him smirk from the shadows that was casted on his face, “I used to hide in there, waiting to catch him off guard.”

“What? Why?”

“Dick and I, we had a bet,” he recalled the memory, “Whoever gets to surprise Bruce first would owe the other a special favor. Only rule was that we had to have it on video as proof.”

You appreciated that moment, the first time he ever spoke about both Dick and Bruce as a fond memory.

“I won, by the way,” he continued, “But- I forgot to press record on my phone.”

“Oh, no,” you groaned for him.

“Yeah, and Dick refused to believe me,” he chuckled, “That old man didn’t want to admit it either. But I swear- the look on his face when I jumped out while he and some model were going at it- priceless.”

Your jaw dropped, and then you burst into a fit of laughter, tears filling your eyes.

“You- you- you jumped out on him while he was having sex?!” you squealed.

“Yeah,” he grinned, “I didn’t even care that it sort of scarred me, because I managed to catch Batman off guard.”

The both of you laughed, his deep voice mingling with your own on that quiet night.

“I’m glad you’re here, Jason,” you smiled warmly at him.

But then, his smile fell.

“I hate my name now.”

“I’m sorry,” you began, “You said it was okay to call you that, so I-”

“No, it’s fine,” he started running his fingers through his hair again, “It’s just- I don’t know.”

“You can tell me anything,” you reassured, “It won’t leave this room. I promise.”

He looked at you, worry in his eyes. “Okay. Fine. Yeah.”

You waited for him to begin.

He took a deep breath. “I’ve been having nightmares. Almost every night. It’s always the same one.”

“You want to tell me about it?” you prompted him after waiting for him to continue.

“I hate my name because he said it a lot. Joker,” he scowled, “After repeatedly burning my skin for my name, it’s like that’s all he said. In that annoying, high pitched, sing-song voice of his. Jason, Jason, Jason. It made me hate my name. It made me hate hearing it.”

“I- I didn’t know how much time passed when I was in there,” he continued, “But, fuck. It was- it was hell. And the worst part was that I kept on waiting for Bruce. Waiting and hoping for him to find me and save me. I was so desperate. You- I-”

He choked on his words. His eyes were squeezed shut and his lips tight.

You wanted to reach out to him, hug him, tell him that everything was okay now. But you didn’t. You waited for him to collect himself so he could finish telling you his story, just like how he wanted to.

“Anyway, I- despite all that,” he sighed, “That was the only thing that kept me sane. I kept on clinging onto the hope that he was out there, searching. And that helped for a while. Until- until that happened.”

He was breathing heavily now, fidgeting more. Jason was definitely getting increasingly agitated the deeper he went.

“Fuck,” he breathed, “Fuck.”

The moment you realised he was crying was when he let out a sniffle. You automatically took his hand in yours, squeezing it as a form of comfort.

“It’s okay,” you told him, “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”

“No,” he shook his head, “I need to. I have to. I can’t take this anymore. Keeping everything in, I feel like I’m about to fucking explode.”

“Okay, then take it slow,” you said, “No rush. Anytime you’re ready.”

He nodded, eyes still closed, as if he was afraid of letting you see him cry.

“One night,” he began, “I think- I don’t know what was different- but I think something went wrong for him. Or right? That’s how it was. Tormenting me was fun, but it was also an outlet for him. But at the same time when he was happy, he also tortured me. He came to me, and- injected me with some sort of drug. That never happened before. He made sure that my head was clear whenever he hurt me so that I could feel everything he did.”

“But- he did- and- immediately, I felt weak,” he continued, “I mean, I was already weak. But my head. It was cloudy. I remember everything clearly, but it was like my brain couldn’t process it, couldn’t communicate with my body. I felt like I was looking out through a window that was my eyes- like I was in someone else’s body, experiencing someone else’s moments.”

“He released me,” Jason’s voice was now barely a whisper. “He released me from the ropes, and I fell to the floor. And then he- he- fuck.”

He let go of your hand and started pulling at his hair, rocking back and forth on your bed. He was sobbing now, his shoulders jerking up in sharp intakes of breaths. The only thing you could do was to stay silent and hold back your own tears.

You rested your hand on his knee, giving him a textile connection with reality so he doesn’t fall into his own thoughts.

“You- he- he- ruh- ruhp-”

Your heart sank to your stomach in horror as you realised what Jason was trying to say. It was as if you were plunged into icy water, chills running down your spine at the true revelation of what he had gone through in that cursed cell.

“Oh, no,” you breathed.

“He pushed me down,” he choked, “Pushed me down and climbed on top. I- I couldn’t even fight him. I was- I was conscious the whole time and I knew what was happening, but I couldn’t fucking do anything.”

Your tears were falling down now, both at the sight of Jason looking so vulnerable and fragile, and at his confession. Not being able to help yourself, you threw your arms over his neck and crashed into his hard body, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

His arms immediately wrapped around you, clutching you so hard it was painful as he buried his own face into your shoulder.

“And he kept on saying my name,” he said in muffled cries, “Jason, Jason, Jason. The whole fucking time. And- and I knew. He didn’t do it for pleasure. He did it to torment me. He- he didn’t even- he didn’t even finish.”

Jason sobbed into your skin for the next few minutes, his tears soaking through your night shirt. “But I did. Even though it was painful. Fuck, the pain was worse than anything he had ever done to me before. But- he- I- I fucking came.”

The both of you were sobbing now, his ragged breaths mingling together with your own on that quiet night.

His grip on you was tight, as if he thought that if he let go, you would disappear. So he clung onto you with all his might to keep you there with him as he recalled the horrific events.

“That's what broke me. I was so disgusted with myself. I hated myself. And he- he saw everything and- and laughed. He laughed so hard, I thought he was going to choke and die. I’ve never seen him laugh like that. And I remember every single fucking moment of being helpless on that fucking floor while he- fuck. Fuck.”

“And then he left. He left me on the floor bleeding and I never saw him again. And I went fucking insane. I tried to kill myself so many fucking times. So many times, I lost count. That’s what I dream about every night. His laughs, and his ‘Jason, Jason, Jason’.”

And that was that. That was the story.

The end of Jason Todd.

The both of you cried long and hard that night in each other’s arms. Eventually, you both lied down on the pillows together, underneath the covers.

“Please don’t tell Bruce,” he whispered to you.

Your head was on his chest, his big arms wrapped around your waist, your legs tangled with his.

You smiled at that. Even with the trauma, even with the sense of abandonment he felt, he still wanted to protect Bruce from knowing the truth.

Because the both of you knew that the truth would kill him.

“I promise,” you whispered back.

And then the both of you fell asleep together.

***

“Has Jason been sleeping in your room with you?” Bruce asked you on one fine Saturday morning at breakfast.

It had been about a week and a half since the first time Jason knocked on your door and poured out his feelings to you.

“He gets nightmares,” you tried to explain.

He thought that if he told you everything, the nightmares would stop. But it didn’t. But he then realised that the only thing that made it better was sleeping by your side, having someone there to wake him up from living his own hell in a loop.

“And do the two of you… Just sleep?” Bruce frowned.

“Yes!” you widen your eyes in horror at the insinuation. “Bruce! Come on!”

“I know you have feelings for him, and I’m sure he does for you as well. But I don’t think something like that is what Jason needs right now,” he stated.

“Yes, I know!” you groaned at the thought having that kind of conversation with him, “Jesus, Bruce. I know. I’m just there to wake him up or help him fall back asleep. Nothing more.”

Bruce nodded, deep in thought. “Has he… told you? About what happened?”

You pursed your lips. “Yes.”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“No.”

“Hmm,” his frown went deeper. “I understand. He will tell me when he is ready.”

“Exactly,” you smiled, hiding the fact that Jason may never tell Bruce what happened. Never the full story.

“He still hasn’t left the manor?”

“No,” you sighed, “I asked him if he wanted some fresh air. Just outside the main door, not even going down the steps. But he refused. Told me to, and I quote, ‘Fuck off’.”

“Well, he’s only just left the cave, and it’s just to your room,” Bruce thought out loud, “It’s still progress. Especially since he’s been talking to you about the past.”

“He only spoke about it one time,” you said, “And then never again.”

“I see,” he hummed, “And you’re okay with him sleeping with you?”

“Next to me, Bruce, sleeping next to me,” you corrected.

“Yes, and you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah, it’s all good,” you assured him, “I can kick him out any time I want- but I don’t want to. He looks like a lost puppy sometimes.”

“An angry lost puppy.”

You chuckled at that and couldn’t agree more.

*** While Jason got the sleep he needed when he was next to you, it was counterproductive on your end. You had never been with anyone before, and definitely had not slept on the same bed with another man.

So to feel his body heat and breaths against your skin, his occasional light snores, it made your mind go on hyperdrive.

Most of the time, the two of you would just lie down, your back against his front, or your backs against each other, or both on your backs just staring at the ceiling- and talked. You would be the one talking the most, of course, about anything you could think of. You would tell him about your day, your patrols, something you read about online, or the current news.

But that one particular night during week three of him sleeping next to you, the two of you were silent. It wasn’t an awkward or uncomfortable silence, but the kind of silence that was pleasant and was better described as a peaceful quiet.

You had your back pressed against his front and his arm was lazily draped over your waist. It was a cold night, and you were wearing just a tank top and pyjama shorts, snuggling under the covers that went up all the way to your nose.

Shifting a bit while snuggling comfortably, you pressed yourself against Jason’s body to get more of his heat. But then, you were met with something poking against your lower back.

“Ngh, please ignore that,” Jason huffed.

Oh.

For some reason, you forgot that Jason was a physically healthy male who was capable of having sexual thoughts and feelings. All this while, you thought you were the only one.

“Are you- uh- is that- uh-” you stuttered, feeling your face flush with heat.

Feeling your body suddenly alert with excitement.

“Yes, it’s my fucking penis,” he grit almost angrily, “What, never heard of an erection before?”

“Of course I have!” you argued rather defensively, “It’s just- I’m surprised, that’s all.”

“Why?” he demanded, “You didn’t think I could get it up or something?”

“No, of course not!” you denied, “It just didn’t cross my mind, that’s all.”

A pause. Then-

“Well,” he sighed, “You wouldn’t have been wrong.”

Your mind blanked for a second.

“What do you mean?” you asked softly.

“It’s my- fuck- it’s my first time,” he confessed.

“Your first time getting an erection?” you gasped.

“No, you idiot,” he snapped, “It’s my first time getting hard since… since… then.”

Oh. Oh, you were an idiot.

“It’s just- after that- even when I was downstairs, alone and safe, I- I couldn’t,” he told you, “I kept on thinking back to that time and- and I couldn’t. I found it disgusting.”

And immediately, like someone doused you in cold water, any feeling of horniness you had when you first felt his erection against you disappeared. You just felt so sad for him, but also angry. Angry that he had to go through all of that, and angrier that there was nothing you could do about it.

“So, why do you think you’re getting it now?” you asked. Perhaps talking about it in an objective manner would help guide him through his thought process.

“Are you kidding me?” he scoffed, “You’re fucking pressing your ass against my dick, what did you think would happen?”

“Wait, what?” your eyes widen, “You’re hard because of me?”

“No shit,” he said, “You’re hardly wearing any clothes, too.”

You shouldn’t feel happy due to the circumstance and context, but there you were ecstatic that he found you attractive enough to pop a boner after so long.

“Fuck,” he sighed, suddenly pressing himself closer to you.

His hand that draped over your waist when to actually grip it. Then, then, he grinded his hard on against your ass.

“Mmm,” he rumbled deeply, “Feels good.”

There. That was it. You were once again flooded with the feeling of heat that pooled at your stomach, a tingling sensation started at your core. Feeling hot despite the low temperature of the night, you clenched your thighs together, needing the slight pressure.

“Yeah?” you whispered.

“Yeah,” he grinded on you again, and then unexpectedly let out a chuckle.

“What is it?” you smiled, loving it whenever you heard him laugh.

“I thought… For the longest time, I thought I was broken. That he broke me,” he revealed, “I thought I needed to get all Wingardium Leviosa on this little fucker.”

“Oh my God,” you laughed and groaned at the same time, “You’re so fucking embarassing.”

He laughed along with you and continued. “But now I’m hard and- and horny. You made me feel like I’m normal again. Like I’m sixteen again, and getting horny over everything.”

Sometimes, we take the normal things for granted. Food, shelter, clothes. In this case, it was a goddamned boner. In a way, Jason’s erection was symbolic- however funny it sounded. Getting your sexual appetite and need back after being so traumatised was a massive leap for many people who had experienced the same thing.

It meant that Jason was healing well.

“Does that make you happy?” you asked.

“Not particularly,” he admitted, “But I’m definitely not sad either.”

“That’s good enough for now, then,” you beamed.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

Another few moments of silence. You could feel it, his cock pushing into you. However tempted you were to push back and grind, you held yourself still.

“Uh, Jason?” you voiced.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to like, take care of it?” you asked, “I mean. My bathroom is available. Or- there are many empty rooms.”

“No,” he simply stated.

“No?”

“No.”

“It’s kinda poking into me.”

“Just ignore it.”

“Ignore it?” you gaped, “How can I ignore it? You’re literally pressing it into my ass.”

“Well, then do you want to take care of it?” he teased.

You couldn’t argue back. “Fine, I’ll ignore it.”

He chuckled. “I’ll turn around.”

When he made the movement, you suddenly grabbed him by the wrist. “No, it’s fine. Stay here.”

You expected him to tease you like he usually would, make a crass comment, or even a ‘fuck off’.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around you again in silence, and the both of you drifted to sleep.

***

“Do you think this color suits me?” Natalie asked, holding up a floral red dress.

The four of you were at the mall in Diamond District. Now that high school was over, and everyone would be going off to separate colleges in a few months, you tried to spend time with each other as much as you could.

“Any color suits you, Nat,” you rolled your eyes, “You’re hot stuff.”

“Jesus, it’s like you’re shoving it in our faces at this point,” Sarah added, flipping her brunette hair to the side, tight curls flowing down.

“Aw, you guys,” Nat pretended to tear up, “I’m gonna miss you guys so much!”

“Not again,” Alex groaned, “We’ve been through this so many times.”

“I’m gonna be so miserable without you guys,” Natalie continued on, ignoring Alex’s interruption.

“I don’t know,” Sarah shrugged, “I think I’d enjoy New York. I can have pizza parties with the rats in my overpriced apartment.”

You chuckled at Sarah’s joke. Everyone was leaving Gotham except you. Deciding to continue with Robin, you opted for Gotham University- prestigious, old, and most importantly, close to home.

Your phone dinged in your pocket. You opened it to find texts from Dick.

Dick: OH MY GOD. Dick: I’m at the Manor. Dick: Was going to the Cave gym to work out. Dick: AND Dick: JASON IS HERE!!! WHAT DO I DO?!?!

That was new. Jason would usually just use whatever basic equipment he had in his room to work out. The fact that he was at the Cave’s sparring area where all the other fancier work out equipment were was out of the ordinary.

You: Just go. See if he reacts. If he suddenly stiffens and just stay there not doing anything, then leave. If he continues on, then it’s okay to stay- but don’t initiate anything! Dick: OKOKOK

You waited anxiously for Dick’s update. All four of you were now walking towards the food court, but you hardly listened to their bickering. Forty-five minutes passed before Dick texted you again.

Dick: OMG HE TALKED TO ME You: What did he say? Dick: He asked me to pass him his towel. You: That’s all he said? Dick: IT’S PROGRESS OKAY!!

Dick was right. It meant that Dick was now the third person Jason had spoken to. Adding another person to his list of contacts was definitely progress.

You were happy for him.

You:Is he still there? Dick: Nah he left Dick: But WOW he’s looking good. He must have been really going at it. I think he might get bigger than me soon You: All he does now is work out. He’s obsessed. Dick: Yeah I can tell

You decided to leave it at that for now and try to concentrate on your friends, but Dick sent another message.

Dick: ARE YOU TWO HAVING SEX?!?!

You spat out your drink, earning weird looks from everyone.

You: DICK!!!! WTF NO!!

Dick never replied.

***

“Can I ask you for a favor?” Jason asked, his voice breaking the silence of your dark room. The two of you were on your bed, lying down and staring at the ceiling.

“Of course,” you said. It didn’t matter to you what Jason asks for. He hardly ever asked for anything.

“Could you… Take me out tomorrow?” he requested, “If you’re not doing anything else, that is.”

“Uh, sure!” you nodded, surprised. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere,” he shrugged, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, okay,” you hesitated, “But- are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to go so far so quickly. Maybe you should start with just going to the backyard?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” he insisted. “I’m not a kid.”

“Okay then,” you agreed. “Tomorrow.”

You kept on glancing anxiously at him the next day as he climbed into the passenger seat of your car. He was quiet, but looked perfectly fine.

Switching the engine on, you drove out of the garage and out the large automatic gates. Trees soon surrounded the lonely road on both sides as you descended downhill into town.

“So where are we going?” he asked.

“I thought Robinson Park would be nice,” you said. It was around three in the afternoon, yet Gotham was dark as though the day was ending. It was cloudy, skies grey and wind blowing.

“You’re taking me to a park?” he scoffed.

“It’s more quiet than anywhere else,” you reasoned with him, “Less people. Spacious. Lots of greenery.”

“Whatever.”

Reaching the parking space of the park, you noticed that there were a few cars. Mothers and nannies liked to bring children out to the park around that time. Joggers and teens, college students and retired elderly seeking a little escape from the high rise buildings of concrete and glass.

You turned the engine off and proceeded to open the door, only then noticing Jason stiffening. Looking over to him, you saw that his eyebrows were pulled down in a deep frown, his jaw clenched, his hands in fists on his knees.

You didn’t say anything or make any comment. Leaning back into your seat, you waited until Jason was ready.

About five minutes passed before he took a deep breath, gave you a nod, and then opened his door.

The two of you walked along a path at the park, going deeper inside and further away from your car. There were a few joggers around, some tourists, and some teens taking photos. You saw a group of kids in the distance playing frisbee, and the others were walking their dogs.

An empty bench stood in the middle of the park, overlooking a clearing. You headed there, Jason following closely behind.

“It’s a bit gloomy today,” you pouted, “As if Gotham could be anything other than that, of course.”

You looked at Jason.

He looked like a scared dog being brought out for the first time.

His jittery knees were bouncing rapidly, his wide eyes were darting at every movement, his forehead was covered with a thin layer of sweat, and his breathing was heavy.

“Woah, woah,” you reached out to him, putting an arm on his back. “It’s okay. I’m here. Just listen to me talk, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he gulped.

“Try to calm your breathing,” you instructed, “Deep breaths, Jason. In… out… In… Out… Yeah, see that’s great.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, now calmer. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled warmly, “You’re doing just fine.”

“No, I’m not,” he strained, “I feel like everything is too big. Too vast. The fucking sky looks like it’s going to crash down on me and at the same time suck me up into a void.”

“And despite all you’re feeling right now, you’re not breaking down or anything, are you?” you tried, “You’re okay, Jason. This is progress.”

“I guess,” he sighed, “I’m just- I’m so used to having four walls and a ceiling. Now everything feels too big.”

“I understand,” you empathized, “Whenever you want to go back, just say the word. Or we can even just go and sit in the car. No problem.”

“Yeah, okay, let’s do that,” he stood up.

The walk back to the car was faster.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking pathetic,” he said, running his fingers through his hair.

“No, you’re not,” you reassured him, “That was great, Jason. Come on, it was your first time outside in two years and a half. Cut yourself some slack.”

“I’m so fucking broken,” he choked.

“Don’t say that,” you scolded, “You’re not broken. And you know what, even if you think you are, we can always fix it. Baby steps. Maybe we can do this once a week. We were out for like, ten minutes? Next week we’ll try fifteen. How’s that sound?”

“Twice a week,” he stated, “I just want to be normal again.”

“Okay, twice a week, then,” you agreed, “We’ll try again in a couple of days, okay?”

“Okay,” he paused, “Thank you.”

“No problemo,” you grinned, “Would you like to stay here a bit longer or shall we go back?”

“Let’s go back.”

“Wanna stop by the diner? You can wait in the car while I ask for a take-away?”

“...okay.”

***

Jason and you had gone out twice more. Once three days after the first time, and the other a week later. The second time he went out, he lasted twenty minutes, though you were sure he was being stubborn on his part. He looked like he was having a heart attack, but he insisted on staying until he hit the twenty minute mark.

The third time, he was much much better. Surprisingly so. The two of you sat down on that bench for half an hour, with you even leaving him alone for a few minutes to get two ice cream cones.

After that, you took him for a drive around the city. He seemed to be more comfortable in the car, so you went all the way from Robinson Park to Diamond District, and back to the manor.

Bruce seemed very pleased with your update, and you swore you could see him actually smile.

“Thank you,” he had told you. “You’ve done more than I could have ever asked of you.”

“It’s no problem, Bruce. Really,” you reassured him.

“I’m his father. He is my responsibility. It’s my fault he’s even in that state. I wish I could do more for him,” he said solemnly.

“The fact that you understand what he needs is more than helpful, Bruce,” you smiled, “Not many parents can do that. You understand and respect him. That’s enough for now.”

He simply nodded.

Ever since your scheduled outings, Jason had become more and more relaxed whenever he was in the manor. He now walked to the kitchen on occasion to mess with Alfred while he cooked meals for him, sometimes sitting in the living room lounging on the couch while reading. Most of the time, though, he was down at the sparring zone of the Cave, working out.

But at night, he would never fail to knock on your door.

And at that particular night, you found yourself in the same situation again while lying down on your side with your back to his front, for the fifth time.

“You officially have to stop calling yourself broken,” you grumbled, “Because that thing poking into my ass is definitely not broken.”

He chuckled lowly. “You complaining, sweetheart?”

Oh, and yes. Jason now had started calling you ‘sweetheart’. Why? You had no clue. It was just a thing that happened. The look on your face when he first slipped it in was probably a sight to behold.

“No shit, I’m complaining, Jason,” you groaned, “You haven’t jerked off, yet? Not even once?”

“Nope,” he popped the P, “I just… I don’t want to… I don’t want to come.”

You sighed, understanding the situation. He had been disgusted with himself because he had ejaculated when Joker… Well, that. You hated to even think about it, so you always shoved the thought away.

“But unfortunately for me, I still get super horny,” he rumbled deeply, pushing his hips into you even more, “So fucking horny.”

“And then I have to suffer,” you complained.

“I can assure you, blue balls are more painful than something poking into you,” he bickered.

“It’s not that…”

“Then?”

“I get horny too, come on man,” you whined, “I’m a hormonal teenage girl. What did you expect?”

“You get horny too?” he whispered after a pause.

“Uh, yeah,” you admitted nervously. Somehow, the mood shifted, and your heart started drumming against your chest.

“Because of me?” he asked.

“Not you specifically, I mean,” you tried to back track, “You’re… Your dick pressing up against me like that, I mean, come on, Jason.”

“Simple question sweetheart,” he told you, “You get horny because of me, yes or no?”

You gulped. “Yes.”

Fuck, why did you say yes? You could have lied. You could have not answered.

“Yeah?” he breathed. You noticed that his hand was now on your hip, right above the waistband of your sleeping shorts, drawing circles onto your skin with his thumb.

You were nervous. The butterflies in your tummy was not helping you calm down.

“Yeah,” you squeezed your eyes shut, as if to protect yourself from anything he had to say.

“Fuck,” he groaned, gripping your hips and grinding his hard on against your ass even more. And did it… Fuck, did it get even harder?

Afraid of saying the wrong thing, and also out of nervousness, you remained silent. Jason’s chest rose and fall against your back, his respiratory rate increasing. His pinky finger slid underneath the waistband, testing the waters before slowly slipping his hand into your pants.

He went in so slowly, as if waiting for you to tell him no, to rip his hand away, to wrench yourself away from him. But you never did, so he went in deeper, caressing the skin beneath your pelvic bone, his heat just burning into you.

“You’re not wearing any underwear,” he commented, voice suddenly husky.

“I don’t wear them to bed,” you informed him.

“You mean to tell me,” he growled, “That all this while I’ve been sleeping next to you and you never had your panties on?”

“It’s more comfortable that way,” you mumbled.

“Jesus Christ,” he cursed. “Thank God I never knew. Would have been torture, and trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

“Jason,” you gasped.

“It’s true,” he said, “Damn, sweetheart.”

He went lower, closer to your center.

Your core was tingly, small pulses of electricity buzzed through your body as Jason came closer and closer and closer and-

He slipped his hands between your closed thighs and cupped you.

“Mmm,” he moaned softly, “Warm. Fuzzy.”

“Fuzzy?” you laughed, even though you felt like screaming on the inside. Screaming for more.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, burying his face into your nape, taking a deep breath. “You smell nice.”

Oh, shit. You totally forgot about Jason’s aversion to strong smells.

“I’m sorry!” you quickly apologised, “I can switch to an unscented shampoo as well so it wouldn’t be too strong for you.”

“It’s fine,” he said, “I like it on you.”

He ground his hand into your center harder.

“Mmpf, Jay,” you breathed, “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed, “I’ve never touched a girl like this before.”

“Really?” you widen your eyes in surprise.

“I was kept in a cell for two years, I couldn’t exactly talk, let alone touch, anyone can I?” he quipped.

“Right.”

“Teach me,” he said.

“What?” you whispered despite knowing what he meant.

A pause of silence. A deep intake of breath, a slow exhale.

“Teach me how to touch you,” he purred.

Fuck, you felt like exploding.

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Yes. If you… If you want to.”

Your mind quickly tried to analyse the situation. Bruce had specifically said that Jason didn’t need any complicated matters in the relationship. It made sense. You didn’t want to overwhelm Jason with any confusion or uncertainty.

But at the same time, you’ve been figuring out how Jason thought, bit by bit. He’s told you many times that he just wanted to be normal again, to feel normal, to do normal things. And this was something that was normal, that he should do, that he wanted to do.

And you knew that he probably would take the rejection even worse.

“O-Okay,” you agreed.

Slowly, you separated your thighs, raising the one on top and hooking it over his legs behind you. Due to your shift in position, you felt the minute Jason’s fingers dip slightly into your folds.

“So, uh, this is my first time with a guy as well,” you squeaked, “But I’ll try to guide you.”

You licked your lips.

“Uhm, well, I guess you can start by running a finger up and down between my- oh! Yes, just like that.”

His middle finger slid down to your opening, and then up again slowly. His movements were uncertain, brushing only slightly against your clit unintentionally.

It was different, having someone else touch you. Somehow, despite the inexperience, it just felt better.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped, “You’re so fucking wet. Do you usually get this wet?”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “No? Yes? I don’t know! I can’t feel it.”

“Shit.”

You let him play with you some more, his fingers sliding up and down, sometimes pressing against your fleshy parts, sometimes circling and gathering your wetness, sometimes just parting your lips. Hell, he even tapped the tips of his fingers on you randomly or brushed into your delicate fuzz. You knew he was just exploring, feeling you for the first time.

And that thought made you smile and sigh.

“Teach me how to make you feel good,” he rasped.

“Uh, so your fingers are wet, right?”

“Yeah. Because you’re leaking all over them.”

“Okay, good. Now find my clit. It’s slightly above your finger, okay, to the left a bit. More. Okay, there! Yeah, right there,” you sighed, finally feeling that delicious pressure.

“Here?”

He tapped your clit.

“Ah!” you moaned, “Yes- but don’t just- nevermind, just gently circle it. Clockwise.”

He obeyed, and hell since when did Jason just obey?

He circled you gently, like you said. But he also went so, so slow.

“Faster, Jay,” you panted.

He went faster, making you groan in pleasure.

“Like this, sweetheart?” he muttered, his voice low and cracking, and sexy, and husky. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and it drove you wild.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “Yeah, just like that. Fuck.”

“Feel good?”

“So good, Jay. Press a little harder now- fuck. Fuck. Yes, perfect. Just like that.”

The pressure built as his fingers did their magic.

“You- you’re surprisingly good at that,” you stuttered, “You sure- mmm- you sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Despite what you think,” he husked in your ear, warm breath tickling you. “I’m very good at following instructions.”

“I can see that.”

“But I’m also good at improvising.”

“Wha- oh. Oh. Fuck! Jason! Oh my fucking god!”

He started pressing even harder, and going even faster, throwing away the slow build you were going for and instead pushing you towards orgasm fast and hard, as if he was determined to prove something to you.

“Feel good, sweetheart?” he purred, “You gonna come soon?”

“Oh my- fuck, yes! Fuck, don’t stop!”

“You want to come for me?” his deep voice rumbled.

“Yes!”

What the hell? When did he learn how to talk like that?

Because with the mix of his heavy pants, his low voice coaxing you, his barrage of pleasure at your clit, you felt the familiar tightening of your core. You threw one hand back and found his hair. Running your fingers through them, you gripped them tight and pulled.

You pulled on his hair as he forced the orgasm onto you.

“Oh my God. Jason, I’m gonna- fuck- I’m- fuck- ah!”

You moaned loudly as you felt your walls flutter, clenching over nothing as you reached your high.

“O-okay, stop, fuck,” your hand went from his hair to his wrist, stilling him. He withdrew his hands from your pants, and went to grip you tight again by the waist.

“Fucking hell, sweetheart,” he groaned, grinding into you. You pushed your ass back, feeling his hardened length against your flesh in your post-orgasm bliss. “Jesus, that was so hot.”

“That was- yeah,” you giggled, “Fuck.”

His face was still buried in your neck. You could feel his lips on your skin.

“Uhm, I can, you know,” you sputtered, “Try to help you out?”

“It’s fine,” he breathed, body still tight against yours, “Just go to sleep.”

“Are you sure?” you asked again, feeling guilty that he didn’t get off. “I don’t mind.”

“I do,” he said, “It’s okay, sweetheart. That was great. I enjoyed that. I told you, I don’t want to come.”

“Okay,” you sighed.

“Go to bed.”

“Thank you, Jason.”

“Fuck, I’m so horny.”

“Jason,” you whined, “Really, I can help-”

“I’m kidding,” he chuckled, “Goodnight.”

You pursed your lips.

“Goodnight.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood #robin #jason todd imagine #dont call me that

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spicysoftsweet · 4 years

Text

Rookie Crush - Tonpa x Illumi forever **NSFW**

A/N: I’m sorry for this. I have nothing else to say. I’m probably gonna delete this in 24 hours.

Tonpa let out a deep breath as he looked around the sea of examinees before him, a grin unfurling on his face as he counted the number of unfamiliar faces. Run 35 would be a good one for the Rookie Crusher - there were quite a few first-time applicants this year.

He moved gregariously from wary groups to stragglers, lowering their guard with a friendly demeanor before he offered them a drink that would wreak havoc on their gastrointestinal tract in mere moments. It wasn’t like he was really poisoning them anyway. Plus, if you couldn’t handle a little tummy-ache, what were the chances you would make it through the treacherous Hunter Exam? This was an act of mercy, he figured.

Tonpa finally settled on another small group including a young boy dressed in green and his two much older friends, preparing to offer them a drink before turning with the others to observe an ear-splitting scream.

The magician, Hisoka, had severed the arms of another contestant and Tonpa used this opportunity to offer a word of caution to the newcomers, lowering their sense of security even further. However, as he observed Hisoka leaving, far in the distance, another man caught his eye.

It could have been the simple fact that he had never seen so many piercings on the finite space of a face, but something about the way the man looked at him stirred interest in him. Had he already fallen to his vices several examinations before? He didn’t exactly look like he wanted to kill him and Tonpa knew his own square nose and contemptuous smirk were too memorable to forget.

Before he realized, he was walking towards the tall man with the purple mohawk and frozen smile, disregarding the reactions of the four rookies he had just attempted to make ill.

The man’s frozen smile grew wider and he approached him as well.

Tonpa spoke first, realizing his voice was suddenly drowned out by the chatter of the other contestants, suddenly more diminutive than usual. The man before him had a gaze that was intoxicating, but still he didn’t sense violence from him.

“What’s your name? I’m, er, Tonpa.” Why was he introducing himself?

The man creaked unnaturally as he rose from the wall on which he leaned and uncrossed his arms.

“Gittarackur.” He leaned over the short man, whispering into his ear. “Leave my brother alone,” he whispered in a metallic voice.

Tonpa’s heart suddenly pounded in intense fear, worsening even further when he placed a hand on his shoulder.

Which one? Who is he talking about? Tonpa frantically went through the contestants he had already spoken to today. But Gittarackur leaned back again, looking him straight in the eyes.

With unmistakable lust.

“However, if you would like to have some fun and need a better distraction -” his hand tightened on the man’s fleshy shoulder, “Follow me.”

---

“How, ah-” Tonpa let out a yelp as Gittarackur, who had shocked him the first time by drawing him from the other contestants to a secluded area only to pull the pins from his face and transform into a beautiful young man with long raven hair, and then twice by telling him he wanted him, surprised him a third time this very moment by ramming a perfectly erect cock up his bare ass.

Beads of sweat formed on Tonpa’s forehead as he heaved, bracing himself against the tree illumi had pinned him against facefirst. How did he end up in this situation? Never once had he been the object of anyone’s desire, he had only contented himself on ruining the dreams of others. Now he was living a dream, or was it some kind of twisted nightmare.

Tonpa was waiting for the catch as Illumi continued to groan and pound inside him. Regardless of whatever the catch was, as Illumi continued to give him the strokes of a lifetime, Tonpa realized, there was no way a man this powerful could be failed.

As he felt Illumi go deeper and deeper into his guts, his fingers digging into the meat of his butt-cheeks as he hit Tonpa’s prostate with surgical precision, he realized his life had been a mistake. Why crush rookies when he could instead get someone to crush his pelvis instead?

“I-Illumi…” Tonpa moaned as he came.

Illumi’s lips brushed on his neck just slightly before he released.

“Yeah?”

“If you don’t get back, you’ll fail.”

Rookie Crusher he would be no more. He wanted nothing else but to see this man succeed. He was in love.

#tonpa x illumi #illumi #illumi zoldyck #tonpa #i'm so sorry #please forgive me #no more rookie crusher

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sociopathlove · 4 years

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When I was little I would sit and stare at the TV and hope something tragic would happen to me. I’d pray to God that maybe I’d be kidnapped and held for ransom. To be fair I didn’t know what rape and murder was so I thought all kidnaps were about ransom. Or maybe my parents would get back together because I had a secret twin.

Sometimes I’d sit outside in the grass with my best friends and make up lies trying to be interesting. I’d always been the weird kid. I was diagnosed with obsessive compulsive disorder when I was four. And no not the cute “I want all my shoes in order and a clean room! I’m so cute.” That’s quirky TV obsessive compulsive disorder. I wish I was so lucky. Nope. While people were outside playing I was ripping my eyelashes out so my baby sister wouldn’t die. Fun fact. I didn’t have a baby sister at the time. But I’d convinced myself the unborn baby that didn’t exist yet would die if I ate anything orange.

Needless to say. I was fucking weird. Growing up in the south with mental illness.... Sorry for my frankness- Jesus FUCKING Christ. I might as well been a witch in the Salem witch trials. And then when I was around thirteen I came out. Well I didn’t come out, I was shoved out. If you’re straight and still reading I’ll explain what coming out means. And why the joke about me being shoved out is funny. I’m gay.

I’ve probably lost about 60% of the readers. I promise this book gets.... actually it gets worse so yeah. Anyway- back to the pushing out moment. Ya see the thing is, in the summer of 2007 something actually happened to me. My medication was straightened out, and I started acting kind of normal. Well normal for a set amount of hours. And the best thing ever.... I became beautiful. Suddenly people who use to think I was weird suddenly thought I was interesting.

I started acting out because I was finally cool. I smoked a little weed and did a bump of cocaine once or ten times. I tried out for cheerleading and became a queer leader. Yeah. I was that typical gay guy with six white girls as friends and yes all with a name that started with a K.

My parents could see I was spiraling. You’d think. Nope. They did not. My mother thought “finally he’s normal and fitting in.” And my father was always working so as long I was at the dinner table before sneaking out he didn’t care. I should mention my parents were divorced. My father had soul custody and I saw my mother on the weekends. Most of the time. She liked to drink so.... well I’m foreshadowing now.

So anyway- at the end of 8th grade year our school did this thing where we all went to the water park as a treat for going into high school. And I had been secretly texting this guy Chris. Like sexting and everything. The Razor had just come out and I had one... yes I know. I was hot shit. So the morning of the water park I went out to our laundry room to grab my baiting suit and our nanny had locked the door behind me. Probably not on purpose but... who knows? I knocked and knocked but she was busy. So I just shimmied up the landing and in through my window. I changed, went to the water park, had a GREAT day. But all came crashing down when I returned home. Because ya see: I FORGOT TO PUT THE FUCKING SCREEN BACK ON MY WINDOW!!!!

I walked in and my mother and father were standing there. Why was my mother sober and at my fathers house? Why wasn’t my father at work.

“Give me your phone.” My mother said. They accused me of sneaking out. Which I had been. But that was none of their fucking business. Why were they even in the same room together?

“Sure.” I’d said. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. I have texts to delete!!!!! As I was trying she snatched it away.

My father had a drink in his hand and was silent. He didn’t ever punish me. He just gave that look. You know the one? Where it’s like “god you disgust me.”

As my mother was going through my phone she got this funny look on her face and looked up smiling.

“So do you have anything to tell me?” She asked taking a seat on the formal living room sofa. I don’t think I’d ever seen anyone sit on it before. I decided to stay standing.

“Nope.” I flashed my new pretty smile they both had bought me. But her eyes narrowed. God she was pretty. Her long black hair and blue eyes. Sure she had Shitty bangs but they worked for her. Everything about her was polished. I assume that’s why my father fucked her. But she was a bitch. And that’s why he left her. So I assume. He never spoke of her.

“Are you sure?” She smiled with a smile prettier than mine looking down at my phone and back up at me.

“Positive.”

“Interesting. Who is Chris?”

LIE LIE LIE LIE.

“Oh that’s my friend Kaitlyn’s boyfriend. Her parents took away her phone.” True! “And so she texts her boyfriend from my phone sometimes.” Shut up. Too many details.

My mother was unphased. And then her face did this weird thing I’d never seen. And she calmly set my phone down.

“This Kaitlyn. Her boyfriend calls her ‘baby boy?’”

Fuck ME!!!!!! My father still silently sipping his drink pacing the room stood still.

“I’m not sure. They’re into some weird shit.” Was my excuse.

“I’m sure.” My mother nodded. “Margret! Get me a drink.” I finally took my first breath thinking it was about fucking time she had a drink. I could hear Margret scrambling to make my mother a drink. After Margret brought her a drink my mother took a long..... LONG sip. Drink! Drink!!!! Please get drunk.

“Wanna try that again?”

“What?” I asked. She did that gross thing where she licked her teeth and purses her lips. It made my skin crawl.

“Fine. Maybe I’m bi.” I said. And then she smiled. I was gay as shit and she knew it. But that’s what we all say at first. No offense to bisexual people.

“Told you, we made a weird one.” Was all she said but not to me, to my father. She tossed my phone back at me. Stood. Swallowed her drink and left.

My father left the room. And Margret took me upstairs to my room. They never spoke of it. I wasn’t punished. In fact I think my father even tried to make an effort. When I’d come home from the galleria with my friends he’d nod and say “hey girlfriends”. Too much. But at least they didn’t hit me. My mother continued to drink herself to sleep and chain smoke cigarettes in her used Volvo.

Like I said in the beginning. I always wanted something tragic to happen to me.... but this wasn’t it. Oh no. Just wait.

So my life went on. I continued to climb the social latter, and even came out at school, realized I was rich and might be gay but I was a part of the elite of Houston. I actually got a boyfriend from a neighboring school. How cute. And then something tragic actually happened to me.

Two days after I started my sophomore year my mother was running errands with my grandmother and they were hit by a drunk driver and died.

And after the funeral. My father had Margret pack up my bags. I actually came home from the funeral (stoned off my ass) to my bags packed.

“What’s going on?” I asked very confused. “Are you going on a trip? Dad, I need you right now.” I wiped away tears that had been falling from my face all day.

He cleared his throat.

“Dad?”

“I think it’s best if you stay with my sister in Maine for the year.”

“But- wait- wha-“ he raised his hand to silence me.

“I’ll come visit. She’s expecting you, wipe your face. Fern’s don’t cry.” And he left the room.

I wiped my face and Margret helped me pack a few more things before loading me into a town car to IAH.

I finally got my tragic story. Dead mom. And being shipped off to an aunt I’ve never met. Or even heard of. Fuck man.

#gay #gays #gayboy #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtq+#ocd #obsessive compulsive disorder #obsessivecompulsivecontestant #childhood #psychology #sociology #space

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makeyourdeanabi · 3 years

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Finale Reaction- 2 months later

In the wee hours after the Supernatural Finale, after tossing and turning in my bed, I got up and wrote this... this was before I was actually active on Tumblr and I never thought I would share this because I was too self conscious. I deleted it shortly after I wrote it because it brought me so much pain to relive it. I have since watched the Finale again and have come to terms with it and I felt it was a good time to share my thoughts. I hope that my words may bring other people comfort who feel the same way. Thanks for reading :)

Alisha

P.S. Sorry so long, I was feeling things and the words just kept coming and coming ___________________________________________

I don’t blog. Never in my life have I sat down to tell the world about my feelings in such a manner. I may contribute on message boards and social media comments, but I never thought anything was worth my time to spill my guts into the ether when I am near certain that not a soul will read them. But here I am. I have to write because if I don’t get these thoughts out of my head, I am going to go full on insane.

That ending was bad. It was a disservice to the 15 years of an incredible show that was not only genre bending it was cultural norms bending.

I could mention the various tropes that this ending (and the previous episodes) invoked, but I am not well versed in them and would never want to do anyone a disservice with a comparison that wasn’t apt.

The buildup up of each character arc and then the glaring lack of conclusion for said character arc was laughable.

To say I am disappointed is an understatement.

To say I am heartbroken is an understatement.

I am destroyed.

I am destroyed that the two men who have been with this franchise since day 1 wrote and directed an episode that they thought was the perfect ending. They thought this is what their devoted fandom wanted.

I am destroyed that the lead actors signed off on this script and went so far as to call it their favorite. I realize Jared was the only one calling it his favorite episode. Jensen admitted he had reservations about the episode and needed the wise words of creator Erik Kripke to accept it. I do have to say that taking the word of a man who left the show 10 seasons ago and hasn’t been involved in all the plot lines and inner workings since season 5 is probably not the best idea. I could be mistaken about the extent of Kripke’s involvement, but I am fairly certain that I am right in my assumptions.

Dean spent 15 years (probably more) of his life feeling unloved, unworthy, self-conscious and convinced that his life had but one purpose and that purpose would ultimately be the death of him, and he had made peace with that.

He is given a best friend, potential love interest, who helps him to see that he is more than that, so much more than that. He is selfless, he is caring, he is a lover, not a killer. His friend’s soulmate’s sacrifice is the catalyst for him believing that all these things are true. He even takes the step of admitting out loud that he knows he has changed. He knows that his life is worth living to the fullest and appreciating what he has every day and honoring those they have “lost along the way.”

To then kill him during a routine hunting trip in which the boys are up against a vampire nest they could take down in their sleep. What could possibly have been the purpose for that? To show that once they were no longer God’s little play toys their lives were expendable? WHY?

Dean, arguably the greatest hunter in the SPN universe, was taken out by a fucking rusty piece of rebar, and instead of trying to call for help and get the man to a hospital (not sure it would have helped) he has his final monologue, the one he has been due for the latter half all of Season 15. He died scared, in pain, and sad.

Dean goes to heaven, and its not the heaven we have been told of in the past where you are living in your memories. Its truly life after death and its wonderful. He meets Bobby again and told that various people in Dean’s and Bobby’s life are close by. His parents live down the road. His father, who was never confirmed to be but was most likely an abusive bastard, lives just down the road with his mother. Wonderful. (WTF?) He gets confirmation that Cas is out of the empty and he smiles, nothing more. He sees baby and goes for a drive, not to find Cas and thank him for his ultimate sacrifice, but to just drive. I like this part because we see a happy, content Dean, and we finally get to hear Kansas’s “Carry on Wayward Son” (DONT GET ME STARTED ON THE LACK OF THE ROAD SO FAR AT THE BEGINNING OF THE EPISODE). I just wish Dean’s path to heaven had been a little easier on him.

Dean deserved better.

Castiel, the selfless angel who just wanted to find purpose in his life and ultimately found it in death. He dies never being told that he is loved, after countless times of professing his love to his found family. The angel who sacrificed himself to the Empty, a horrible place of unspeakable torture, to protect the man he loves. A man who, mere days later (in my mind anyway), arrives in heaven after being killed in a gruesome accident, rather than fulfilling his destiny that Cas fought so hard to protect. Some sacrifice. It turns out that Cas is saved by the Empty from Jack, but we don’t get to see his joyful reunion with Dean, the man he loves.

Cas deserved better.

Sam is left to live this life without his brother, and potentially the love of his life because the writers couldn’t be bothered to confirm Eileen’s re-existence after Chuck’s rapture. He has a family, and he grows old (mind you with REALLY bad makeup in a show that is known for their incredible makeup/special effects departments).

He seems to be happy, but you can tell something is missing. We come to see that he raised his son to be a hunter. He raised his son in a life that, at the outset of this show, he was desperate to get out of and live a normal life. Perhaps he no longer believes that anyone can live a normal life knowing what is out there. *EDIT* Looking back I don’t believe he raised his son to be a hunter, just gave him the tattoo in case.

He names his son Dean, because of course he does. He has a wife who we see from a distance and is never given the clarity if it is Eileen or not. He finally dies after what looks like a slow and painful illness and is sent to heaven.

In heaven he meets up with Dean. This was lovely. The two of them meeting again after so long, for Sam, that is. Dean only had to seemingly wait for a few hours.

Sam deserved better.

For a show that had the potential to go out on a historically significant high, this is disappointing, to say the least. The story had the potential to end with 2 brothers who have sacrificed so much and saved so many people, find a happy ending. Not only that but find a happy ending with a deaf partner and a gay angel. If that isn’t breaking barriers and bending norms, I don’t know what is. I really would like to know what prevented this from happening. Be it the CW from restricting them or maybe the absolute lack of originality from the writers, I am curious as to their reasoning. Maybe it was COVID. Maybe because they couldn’t have those two actors physically on set due to protocols, they didn’t want to shortchange them by having them appear otherwise: disembodied voice, phone call (DONT TOUCH ME) or even a flashback… hell STOCK FOOTAGE! I don’t know and I clearly can’t imagine the reason.

I realize that there is nothing that can be done about this episode now and that accepting it and moving on is really the only way forward. But the legacy this show has left, and its lasting impact on me and my life, cannot be ignored. I was looking forward to indulging in past episodes of this show for the rest of my life. It is going to be a long time before I can watch an episode without anger and resentment towards what I know to be their eventual end. That, to me, is unforgiveable.

I don’t expect anyone to actually read this because I do not have any followers. I have never blogged in my entire life and was only recently introduced to the online fandom, but I needed to write this. I needed to share the impact that this episode had on me. I do hope that it does reach those in the fandom that may have similar feelings and are able to use my words to help express how they are feeling. We can move on, and we will move on, but we need to do it together.

I know that there are people who, if they read this, would shake their head in disbelief that I became so emotionally invested in this show that watching a bad ending would take such a toll on my mental health.

To them I say, imagine this… The Pittsburgh Steelers (my favorite team, they can imagine their own) have an incredible season. A season where they saw a myriad of highs and lows. Veteran players making incredible comebacks, rookie players coming in to their own. Season ending injuries that lead to the next man stepping up and contributing in ways they weren’t sure possible. Now imagine they make it to the Superbowl and after 3 tough quarters, in which they played their best, getting better with each quarter, they lose it in the final minutes. All that blood, sweat, and tears for nothing. Now imagine that was their last season and the Pittsburgh Steelers are no longer an NFL team. They are done. No “we’ll get ‘em next season.” No “it’s just a game and there is always another one”. Just done. Their entire franchise, for a brief moment in time, reduced to those final minutes where they failed to win. Devastating. Of course, in the long run that is not what they will be remembered for. I mean, after all, they have won 6 Lombardi trophies, and no one is taking that away from them. But the sting will remain for a while. *EDIT* This was as close to prophecy as I will ever get, the Steelers did all of the above until the playoffs, but THANK GOD, there will be another season.

If I can’t make you understand with a sports metaphor than I will never make you understand.

I love this show and this loss is devastating. I do hope that it is remembered for more than their last-minute loss. I hope it is remembered for the joy and acceptance that their fandom felt with each episode, for the laugher on set and the gag reels. I hope it is remembered for the individual players who gave it their all. I know it will be, but for me personally, this sting is going to last for a while.

#Supernatural #spn #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #eileen leahy #series finale #season 15 episode 20 #damn you dabb #damn you singer #destiel #supernatural

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

Alice of Human Sacrifice

[Tour]

title has absolutely nothing to do with the fic, i just listened to the song again and thought it sounded cool

Tw: Suicidal thoughts, skin picking

———————

Howard found her collapsed on the ground, face-down, like the dead bodies in those forensic shows Bessie liked to watch. She was bent in the way the bodies usually were, too, with her arms crooked and elbows pointing out, and her knees at an awkward angle. And, also like those bodies, she wasn’t moving at all.

She could leave. Howard has just come back into the theater for the book she had forgotten. She could leave and pretend she hadn’t seen anything. This was not her problem.

And yet, she was stepping forward from the hallway and into the cluttered dressing room.

She kept telling her, what if this was her on the floor? She would want someone to help her. She wouldn’t want to be left all alone with whatever ailment had caused her to blackout in the first place.

“Joan?” She called out.

The girl on the floor didn’t budge.

Howard crouched down next to her and gently nudged her arm.

“Joan. Are you there? Can you hear me?”

Nothing.

Howard pursed her lips. Carefully, she rolled Joan onto her back.

Joan wasn’t as filled out as she used to be. Even in her past life, Joan was thin, but at least her face wasn’t as lean as it was now, with sharp jawbones and deep hollows under her eyes. She looked so frail, sickly even, as Anne had once said. While unconscious, that comment seemed so much more accurate.

Joan did look ill. She was paler than usual, making the bags under her eyes and the flush on her nose and cheeks appear even darker. A slight fever was lit beneath her skin when Howard felt her forehead.

That contact was what finally roused her.

“Joan?” Howard peered down at the icy blue eyes peeking out from behind fluttering eyelids. “Joan, it’s Katherine. Are you alright?”

Joan mumbled something incomprehensible. Her head lolled across the ground as she blearily stared up at the ceiling. She still didn’t appear all that there.

“Joan.” Howard shook her slightly. “Come on, Joan. Wake up.”

“...c-can’t...”

It was such a weak, pathetic reply that Howard couldn’t even muster up the effort to be annoyed. The girl below her was just so damn pitiful. She couldn’t snap at her when she was being looked at with those big, dumb eyes.

“I-I’m sorry...” Joan croaked.

Her eyes then rolled to the back of her head and she once again fell into a pit of unconsciousness.

Just leave her. A crueler, more repressed side of Howard whispered. She isn’t your problem.

She hates how she considers it. But it was true. As pitiful as she was, Joan wasn’t anyone close to her. She didn’t care about her like she cared about the other queens or Bessie. She wasn’t anyone’s special to her.

So why was she picking Joan up? Why was she carrying her to her car and carefully putting her in the back seat? Why was she putting herself through the hassle of going to the hospital? And why did she care?

———

Hiding her problems from the others was easier than she expected it to be.

She thinks, as some point, that they did their best to make her feel included and a part of the group, but they’ve given up since then. They’ve marked her as a lost cause and have moved on. And Joan doesn’t blame them.

She was falling deeper and deeper into depression as the days went by.

She can’t remember when it started, she just knows it came about from lack of attention and lack of love and lack of friendship and lack of everything. And that was pathetic.

Above all else, she seeked the approval of others. Why couldn’t she function without it? Why has she turned into such a mess?

What’s happening to her?

She stopped eating awhile ago. The hunger pains are awful, but at least nobody paid enough attention to her to hear the desperate growls of her stomach. Sleep went next, and then speaking to others, and then water.

On top of depriving her body of all of its basic needs, she’s taken to overworking herself after practice or shows were over. She’d tell everyone that she’s just staying to work on new songs or mixes, and it’s not like they think much of it or care, but she’s constantly pushing herself to the point where she can’t breathe during a simple rehearsal of No Way.

(Let’s see if you can hold your breath for the entirety of All You Wanna Do, Her mind will sometimes whisper.)

Another nasty habit that had come back was her skin picking. Picking wasn’t an act of needing attention, like she knew she would be accused of if people found out, it was more of an act to get adrenaline, to escape the constant pain and anxiety that thrummed through her body on the daily. Letting her fingernails carve off pieces of her skin, scratching away the dead, bad parts of her, deeper and deeper each time, just released the most amazing endorphins that she couldn’t even begin to explain. It was like she was floating. And it was the only thing that made her slightly happy anymore, as disgusting as that may have seemed.

She soon created a ritual for herself. After working her body to almost complete fatigue, she would stand in front of her mirror, take off her shirt, and stare at her body. She would name the few things that she had started to like in her head then list all of the bad things she needed to get rid of.

Disgusting.

Freak.

Outcast.

Pathetic.

Words would swim through her head, blinding her by the intensity of the emotion in those words. These were words that she saw some fans write on posts she would make, whether they be piano covers or, more embarrassingly, song covers. Those always got the most backlash- “u sound like shit” “why are you even trying? You’ll never be as good as the queens” “Are you trying to one-up the queens?” “Why are you singing Katherine’s song? That’s so rude!! It’s not about you!! You’re awful!” “my ears are bleeding!!!!”- and everything that was said piled up in her head, even after she frantically deleted the posts.

It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the positive comments when they came about, they brought tears to her eyes by the sincerity in them. But those dozens of people who hated her... She just couldn’t take it. It’s helped drive her down a terrible path of destruction that she can’t seem to get off. All she ever wanted was to prove to the queens and other ladies that she was worthy of their attention, their love, their praises. But now she’s turned herself into some self destructive freak that will never, ever be loved.

Still, she wonders why someone is touching her. And carrying her.

She can feel their arms supporting her and she leaned into their warmth. She wanted to call out to them, to thank them, to beg them to never let her go, but she can’t speak and blackness is starting to encompass the little vision she has left...

———

Howard doesn’t know how long she waits in the lobby of the A and E, but it’s definitely long enough for the man sitting to her far left to stop bleeding from the large gash on his arm and consider just leaving. He doesn’t, although Howard can see her weigh out the options in his eyes.

There’s other people in pretty rough shape in there- a sick young man in the corner looking like he regretted every decision he’s ever made in his entire life; a teenager who /didn’t/ regret every decision he’s ever made in his entire life, but definitely wished he didn’t go with a stick-and-poke method of getting a tattoo; a quiet-looking girl who stared at the white walls around her with wide eyes and also had her right arm horribly limp at her side; someone whose jaw was unhinged like a snake...there were enough characters in this place to make an entire circus.

Eventually, she was called, so she scooped Joan up from where she had her slumped in the chair beside her and followed the nurse into the back. Then, after Joan is set up in one of the rooms, it’s back to waiting.

She was /really/ starting to wish she had just left Joan. This was ridiculous!

A buzz snapped Howard out of her trance. She blinked and squinted at her phone, which she had been mindlessly scrolling through, and saw that she had gotten a text from Anne on the group chat they were in with the other queens.

Anne: where r u?

She had completely forgotten to tell the others about her impromptu caretaker status.

Katherine: Passcode question: What’s my favourite drink?

What? She may as well TRY to entertain herself while she’s sitting here rotting away.

Anne: come on, kit, i gave u the code this morning. i don’t think the answer has changed in the twelve hours since we spoke.

Anna: is this just a thing you two do???? i’ve never gotten a passcode before

Katherine: Passcode question: What’s my favourite drink?

Anne: fine!

Anne: raspberry tea with lemon

Anne: happy?

Katherine: Very.

Katherine: I’m at the A and E.

Anne: WHAT

Aragon: What happened?

Jane: Are you alright?!

Anna: woah woah woah are you okay?!?!

Cathy: Are you okay?

Anne: KAT ANSWER US NOW

Howard smiled to herself. It was nice to have people that cared so much about her.

Katherine: Calm down, I’m fine! I just had to take Joan and now I have to stay here until she’s done being examined or something. I found her collapsed on the floor.

There was a momentary pause from all parties.

Aragon: Oh dear.

Jane: Poor Kitty. Having to stay in such a place for so long. Hopefully you can leave soon!

Anna: oh that kinda sucks. having to stay awhile. they take FOREVER.

Anne: what if i came and picked u up? i can smuggle u out so u don’t have to stay!!

Howard blinked. How weird. None of them seemed to be worried about Joan at all.

Katherine: What about Joan?

Anne: what about her?

She toiled over the option in her head- finally going home would be nice. She was quite hungry and had been looking forward to the weekly movie night that night. It was her turn to pick!

But she couldn’t leave. She had already given the hospital all her information, so they’d probably find a way to drag her back. And she couldn’t leave Joan.

Katherine: As much as I want to, I can’t.

Anne: hm. suit urself.

It was at that moment when Howard’s name was called. She tucked her phone away and got up to meet the nurse standing at the back doorway.

“Joan is stable,” The nurse explained after they took a peek into the room the music director was being kept in. Joan somehow looked even more vulnerable in a hospital bed, caught in a tangle of wires and tubes. “We have her on fluids right now so she’ll get rehydrated. She’ll be able to leave soon.”

Howard nodded, her heart leaping with relief. However, it was stamped back down when the nurse went on speaking.

“But she will need to be taken home and watched over.” The nurse said. She looked Howard up and down. “You said you were a coworker, yes? Do you know if any of her family members are willing to come get her?”

“Oh, uhh...” Howard had no idea how to explain that she and Joan both were actually reincarnated beings from the 1500s and not just some people who happen to have the same names as the past queen of England and a lady in waiting. “It’s not really the best situation...”

“Ah,” The nurse nodded, seemingly buying the excuse, which wasn’t exactly a lie. “I see. Well, does she have any friends?”

Howard struggled not to grimace, but the nurse seemed to notice.

“What about you? Can you take her?”

“Me?” Howard blinked. “Well-“

“She won’t be able to leave until someone picks her up,” The nurse continued. “We’ll have to keep her here until we know someone can watch over her for a few days.”

Howard bit her lip. If the nurse was trying to guilt her into taking care of Joan, then it was definitely working.

She sighed. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

———

Joan’s apartment was exactly what Howard was expecting- bare, cold, and empty, aside from all the necessities. There were no potted plants or decorations or photos. The walls were just plain cream against regular pieces of furniture. Dreary grey and ugly brown and plain white splattered the flat, which almost seemed more like a cell.

No wonder Joan was so miserable.

“W-well, umm...” Joan looked very anxious- it’s the only expression that’s been on her face since she woke up in the hospital. “I-I could- y-you- umm...”

It was so sad. How could someone be so nervous all the time? Surely it wasn’t healthy.

“Just sit down, dear,” Howard pressed Joan down onto the couch. “I’m going to take care of you, so there’s no need to stress yourself out.”

“There’s every reason to be stressed,” Joan mumbled, worriedly wringing her hands in her shirt. “I— I should make you something to eat!”

She’s on her feet in an instant, instantly wobbling treacherously on her weak legs. Howard lunged out and steadied her.

“Woah there!” She said. “Joan, take it easy. You’re not well.”

“But you need to eat,” Joan reprimanded. “A-and so do I...”

“Then I’ll cook for you.”

“N-no,” Joan whispered softly. “No, Katherine, p-please- I need to do this. I need to be useful.”

Howard frowned, then sighed. “Alright.”

They soon got to work. As they did so, Howard noticed Joan loosen up a little. Despite the girl looking completely exhausted, she seemed to be slightly more happy than she was before, relaxed with the presence of another person.

“So...” Howard started awkwardly. She didn’t know what to talk about with this girl. “How have you, uhh...been?”

“Fins... WELL.”

Words more or less began to fly from Joan’s mouth like uncovered popcorn on a hot surface. It seemed like she had been bottling up a lot, or maybe she was just afraid of not getting to talk fully if she didn’t speak fast enough.

Poor kid, Howard thought, She must be so lonely.

“Yesterday was shit.” Joan spit, and Howard was slightly stunned to hear the usually very timid and quiet girl swear, “I fucked up another thing at work because I’ve been so drowsy and the stage manager said it was okay pretty much only because he understood that this was a—“ She paused to do air quotes with her fingers. “—‘rough time' for me. And I thought that was literally the stupidest understatement I've ever heard so I was thinking about it all day and getting really mad and then, like, out of nowhere I thought, dude, it IS a fucking rough time for me, and I decided to do something nice and fun and go out and buy groceries like my—“ She paused again to do quotation marks again, although, this time, it made the statement being quoted a little more sketchy, “—‘therapist’ said I should, but then I accidentally told the cashier that I loved her instead of saying thank you and now I’m never going back there ever again, and than I started thinking about THAT all day and then, well— I guess I passed out? Because you found me...and helped me... Oh, thanks, by the way! I, ahh, honestly thought you would have left me. But you didn’t! So yay! Thank you! Also, do you like oatmeal?”

Everything came at Howard so fast her mind had to scramble to process everything.

The first thing that registered in her mind, however, was Joan’s final comment- about her not leaving her. A feeling of guilt welled up inside of her.

But then Joan flashed a rare grin at her and she couldn’t help but smile as well.

In stark contrast to the (relatively) sharply-dressed girl the woman met a year ago, Joan was dressed in baggy sweatpants and an even baggier shirt with the words “Trust me, I’m a doctor” and a picture of a plague doctor on it, which has been the clothes she had found her unconscious in. The head poking out at the top had hair that was sticking out in all directions. It made her look smaller and lankier than she was. Younger, too. Sometimes Howard had a hard time believing she was college aged.

The sight made Howard’s heart ache in realization because it was a reminder of how unfair everything she’d gone through was. It wasn’t until that moment that she really remembered that Joan had watched her die.

“That’s a lot,” Howard finally said, then glanced over at the pot bubbling on the stove. “So...oatmeal?”

“Aaaaand cinnamon toast!”

“You’ve got everything sorted out, huh?”

“Pretty sure,” Joan said, “I’ve, umm...kinda been thinking about what I’d want to eat if friends were ever over.” She blushed shyly, messing with the hem of her shirt.

Once again, Howard’s heart ached.

How long has this girl been alone...?

“Wanna help with the toast?”

“Y’know, I make a pretty mean cinnamon toast.”

A crooked grin replaced the plaintive look Joan had been wearing, and she turned around to pick up a loaf of bread. “You know I’m not gonna believe that until I taste it, right?”

“Heh. Guess I’d better back up the claim, then.”

Joan beamed magnanimously and handed Howard the loaf, which she set down on a nearby cutting board. With a rumbly clearing of the throat, Howard pushed her sleeves up and rubbed her hands together.

“Alright. Melt a little butter in the microwave and grab that cinnamon I see over there. If I’m gonna make this bread, I’m gonna do it right.”

“Yes ma’am!”

They set to work with a bustle as Howard cut the bread and Joan retrieved the necessary ingredients and dropped them on the counter next to her, pausing every so often to check on the oatmeal bubbling on the stove.

“Hey, you mind if I unmute the TV or put on some music or something? I need some background noise.” Joan said after a while, nodding in the direction of the radio on the counter and then glancing momentarily at the TV.

“Sure,” Howard said, “Just keep it down so we don’t disturb the neighbors. And none of that skippity-bop or whatever it is you kids listen to. I don’t have the stomach for that.”

She was teasing Joan by acting older than she actually was, and the sickened look the girl gave her was completely worth it. Howard bursted into laughter.

“It’s called hip hop , Howard. God. I know you aren’t THAT old! What are you, twenty-two?”

“You are now my new favorite.”

Joan beamed at that then padded over to the radio. She began tuning it to different kinds of music stations until a thumping electric beat started to pulse in the air.

“You want the neighbors to think you’re holding a dance party or something?”

“Maybe I do!”

Howard chuckled. “Can you grab a tray I can stick these on?”

“Yeah!”

Joan bent down to retrieve a baking tray from the clutter of pans in a lower drawer, and by the time she’d straightened up, she already had another idea.

“Oh man! You know what’d be great? I have about five billion kinds of lettuce in the fridge because I was dumb and went shopping while I was hungry the other day. We should have a salad! Caesar! With croutons and crap!”

“You can leave the crap off of mine, thanks.”

“You know what I mean,” Joan hissed playfully. “Here’s the tray. I��ll go start watching the lettuce!”

Joan threw open the fridge and leaned in, gathering armfuls of vegetables. Howard watched this with a fond shake of the head before returning to her own task. It sent a pang through her chest, brushing the butter and sugar and cinnamon across the fluffy bread like she vaguely had all those centuries ago, before her life turned into a spiral of unwanted sex and grabbing hands and unreceived loads of semen...but it wasn’t so bad. Being in a bright kitchen and listening to music she’d never willingly put on of her own volition was miles better than trying to do the same thing in her own one. She had the queens now, too. She wasn’t alone. And, with Joan around and doing this with her...Howard felt like a mother.

A timer buzzed and she sidled over herself, seeing as Joan was already occupied. When she stood straight again after sliding the pan of bread into its place, she wiped the sweat from her brow and looked back over to her young chef companion— only to find her rocking and head-bobbing in place as she shredded lettuce with her bare hands, tossing it into the bowl in time to the punchy music on the radio. Howard found herself shaking her head again, this time in amusement.

“Glad you’re happier than you were when we first got here.”

(It wasn’t just when she found her- Joan always looked like she had been hit by a truck with acid wheels, her remains were burned by a flamethrower, and then she was poorly put back together.)

“Mm,” Joan replied distractedly, snapping her fingers jauntily to the tune. “I'm not, actually. I’m just kinda faking it ‘till I make it. You know?”

“Oh,” Said Howard, suddenly feeling very worried. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“S’okay. Means I’m doing it right.”

Before Howard had a chance to ask if she was okay with her Mummy Voice, as Bessie has dubbed it, the song on the radio changed and Joan’s eyes lit up.

“Oh man! I love this song!”

She flung the last of the lettuce leaves into the bowl and started to dance even more enthusiastically (and goofily), pumping her fists in the air.

“Wait, don’t tell me this is-“

“It’s Smash Mouth! The ballad of the 90s! Shrek’s theme song! You’ve seen Shrek, Bessie said she made you watch it with her last month. C’mon, dance with me!"

The worry quickly became a mixture of exasperation and amusement.

“Joan, I don’t think-”

“Come on! You dance all the time in the show! And you don’t have to break a hip or anything, just move around a little! It’s impossible to be completely bummed when you’re dancing.”

Howard closed her eyes and sighed deeply. Then started to slowly step side to side.

“—Aw man, NO. Is that the Carlton? NO.”

“Hey, you whelp, don't make fun. There is NOTHING wrong with the Carlton."

“NOPE. Not allowed! Jazz it up a lil!”

Finally succumbing to deep laughter, the queen found herself picking up her feet and turning in place. And, as an afterthought, even threw in some jazz hands.

After all, what could it hurt?

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cetologies · 3 years

Text

i once again... need to vent. so i apologize. i don’t have another outlet but it is under a read more. this is my personal experience, on the off-chance someone reads this and decides to pick a fight with me. i feel like i don’t have to say that but alas, the internet.

posting this late at night so hopefully too many won’t be subjected to it. i go into detail a little bit on this stuff.

tw: ED, body dysmorphia, OCD, depression, SH, anxiety, s//cide ment

i’m sorry i tried to tag it as well as possible to cater to anything blacklisted, i will most likely delete this but otherwise if something needs to be tagged differently please tell me

this is definitely the worst i’ve felt in a long time. years probably. and some of it is my fault, so i feel like i’m not allowed to complain. but i will anyway. all i’m asking is to get down to 115 again. i was that small when i was 16 and i want to be there again. i haven’t weighed myself with intention to see what weight i am in maybe 4-5 years.

i make it a point when i go to doctors offices to not tell me my weight. i cover my eyes and *usually* explicitly state that. but i didn’t three years ago, though i said “i don’t want to know my weight” and put my hands over my eyes and she still told me my weight. i remember crying and being loud, the doctor (who had known me for years) had immediately asked the nurse if she told me my weight.

i’ve always had body image issues but holy shit not like this. i’ve suffered with depression and anxiety most of my life. i’ve ticked off almost every single box in terms of diagnosed mental illnesses (except schizophrenia... which even that i’m starting to check off a few). but like i said, holy shit never like this. i would like to say this is harder to deal with than the anxiety/depression i previously have dealt with, but i dont know anymore.

this definitely hurts so bad though. i am getting depressed again, and cannot see this getting better anytime soon. partially my fault once again. i’d just like to lose a little more weight before seeing a doctor. i think i weighed (at the time of that incident above) around 129?? which is... healthy for my height but so is 115.

my problem is i can’t eat. i can’t think about eating. my default state is now just nausea. i get nauseous from not eating, i get nauseous thinking about eating, and i get nauseous from eating. since october i cant stomach anything. i started adderall in december and it made it 10x worse. i’ve since switched to adderall xr (adzenys?) and i can at least drink water now and only a get half as nauseous. but that was really scary!! i had a little swig of water, no more than a sip, and had to lay down for 4 hours because i was so nauseous.

my main issue is now i feel guilty for eating. which is normal for eating disorders. but i can’t eat more than 100 calories without wanting to self harm. it’s ridiculous, and i know it’s ridiculous but unfortunately that’s the number i can’t let go. i cried for an hour today bc i ate those lil brownie little bites and it was the second thing i ate today (aside from celery, which i also got sick and felt bad about eating bc i googled the calories: 60) and accidently saw how many calories they were. 240.

so i ate 300 calories today and that was enough to make me want to vomit (i can’t, i’m emetophobic) and crawl into a hole and disappear. i have never ever dealt with stuff like this before and it’s so scary. i’m afraid my health is failing because of it but i can’t stop. it’s so unrealistic to eat less than 100 calories a day. the standard recommended is 2000, yet for some reason i can’t eat more than 100 without wanting to die

i check my body measurements 3-4 times a day. i spend at LEAST two hours in front of a mirror body checking and looking at my figure from all angles. these issues have definitely stemmed from my figure along with my insecurities. my entire life the only thing i’ve been complimented on is my measurements. it’s all i have. i’m not very pretty, but people are in love with my figure. and i am too! so many people tell me my body is great the way it is but i don’t care what they think, i care what i think. and i think i need to go back down to 115.

i’ve chalked up my self worth to my body measurements. it’s not something that’s generally achievable without surgery, so it feels almost like a trophy to me because of how fucked up my brain is. i can’t lose it because that’s the only thing that i like about myself. or at least the only thing i like about myself that i don’t want to impulsively destroy like my eyelashes

and it’s not like i’m trying to achieve a completely flat stomach or anything. i just look a little disproportionate to me, since i carry fat only in the stomach. a little pudge is natural and i understand that. like i said, 115 is still healthy for 5′3′’. it’s not like im trying to drop down below 100. i had told myself once i lost the weight, then i’ll go get help for the fact i am violently nauseous no matter what.

which leads me to my next problem: this is my only solution. i can’t lose weight through exercise (esp exercise that involves numbers) bc of my OCD. i have such bad obsessive nature with any numbers (as stated w/ my weight, my body measurements, etc) and like i did when i started looking at calories, i’ll become so obsessive with exercise that if he doesn’t reach my fantastical expectations, i’ll want to self harm.

something that’s really making me upset is i specifically never looked at calories, checked my weight, etc. because i knew this would happen. i went out of my way to avoid stuff like this bc i knew i was susceptible to this kind of thinking and it still happened anyway. my body is going to start shutting down soon if it hasn’t started already.

it’s fucking ridiculous though! i’ve tried to kill myself (and still, suffering as i am, i still thank god i made it out alive) and it’s just crazy that that was over anxiety, depression, agoraphobia, bullying, etc. and now i want to kill myself bc i ate CELERY!!! bc it’s 60 calories!!! like its so illogical!! i’m a very naturally logical person so this is just like each side of my brain hitting the other with a bat.

it doesn’t look like i’ve lost any weight, despite purposely not eating for 4 months. my grades are bad, my gpa dropped .5 points bc of covid and i’m fucking stupid anyway. i try my best not to self harm bc of my fear of blood but i usually end up scratching myself til i bleed anyway.

i’m suffering and trying my best to make it through this but i’m trying my best. i just want to wait to get help until i lose a little more. but i am fucking suffering. all i want is to eat again. or at least to eat and not feel guilty afterwards. my portions are so much smaller, i can only eat a few bites of any meal and it’s so fucking scary but i can’t stop myself from wanting to lose more.

like i said, i’ve always had body image issues but nothing like this. i’m so so so scared but. there’s nothing my brain will allow me to do until i lose a little more weight. im afraid im causing/on the road to causing irreversible damage but i just!! can’t stop!! not being able to eat more than 100 calories is so fucking ridiculous i’m ashamed of myself. i shouldn’t be having anxiety attacks over eating celery.

#sorry i've been crying all day over the last thing #daelin speaks #body dysmorphia //#tw body dysmorphia #tw body image #body image //#eating disorder //#tw eating disorder #ocd //#tw ocd #tw depression #depression //#tw self harm mention #self harm mention //#tw anxiety #anxiety //#tw suicide #suicide //

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fics-of-my-mind · 4 years

Text

Trust - Chapter III.

Where are you now?

home

Isn't it like 4 AM there?

yeah...

Are you OK?

just stressed a bit I guess

You said you needed to vent?

I did

can I call you?

Warnings: mature content, BDSM content Pairing: Nick Jonas / Other Female Character This fanfiction can also be found on Wattpad by fnntth

I don’t own Nick Jonas or any other recognizable characters. This fanfiction is completely fictional, its only purpose is entertainment.

Chapter III. - It’s four AM and I think I might lose it

Nick’s texts are bold

Milla’s texts are italic

The whole 'let's be venting buddies' idea seemed nice, up until the point when ten minutes later I realized, he didn't give me his number. I felt disappointed and a little bit mad at myself. Now I had no real proof that my mind wasn't playing wicked games with me and I, in fact spent the night running around in Barcelona with Nick Jonas himself.

I didn't tell the girls where I've been when Vanda opened the door with her tired eyes at 6:23 in the morning, not wanting to seem crazy. They've both known about my fangirling habits, but there was no point of telling them something that even I wasn't sure really happened. I just fell into my bed and slept until noon.

After returning home, I couldn't find my place. I went back to work, met up with friends, went shopping and even went for lunch with my family, but something was missing. It felt stupid – missing something that I've only had for like seven hours tops.

I tried doing something useful, that could actually have a good effect on my non-existent love life, so I downloaded Tinder. Then, after a day I deleted it. Honestly, I was more than fed up with our generation's dating culture. I couldn't embarrass myself to meet up with complete strangers and have sex – I kind of envied the people who could do it. I guess, it wasn't coded into me.

I was almost 25 years old, and I've never had a proper boyfriend. I blamed the series I watched growing up for my high expectations in men. But really, was it too much to ask to be taken out for a drink or dinner before having a one night stand? I would've had no problem with that, or at least I don't think so. But when a guy messages you on Tinder and his second sentence to you is 'wanna have sex', it kind of just kills the mood for me.

I've watched some of the videos I made during the concert, and every time I could feel my stomach clench. Even if we take my night with Nick out of the equation, it was still one of the best nights of my live, and definitely one of my best concerts. It was my teenage dream come true to watch them perform.

It took me two weeks to get back to normal. By then, my mind was mostly focused on my friends, my job, my colleagues, whom I adored and not on the lack of reaching out from Nick. I kind of let it go – I only thought about him on sleepless nights. I had much more on my mind, with the coronavirus setting its foot in Hungary, and Amalia being in quarantine for it.

In early March, they closed our office and we were forced to work from home, which I handled pretty badly. I loved being home and I loved being alone, appreciating the time with myself. But normally, I had people around me during the day, I was going somewhere, not just sitting from the couch to the dining table, then back to the couch.

At least I had my dog, Milo with me to help me get through the quarantine period. My daily routine consisted of walking him three times and going to the grocery store every few days. That's all, otherwise I was completely alone. I hated it, and I was feeling so bad, that I've had at least one mental breakdown a day.

That's when it happened. In the middle of a Wednesday, just as I was scrolling through my emails on the company laptop, my phone went off.

so, I kind of need to vent...

It was all the message said, yet I knew who it was from. My stomach clenched instantly, and I could feel my heart beating against my chest really hard. Here it was, my proof that I wasn't just hallucinating that night. I took my phone into my hands and typed my reply.

Well, hello to you too, Mr

hi. :)

Hi :) :)

sorry I've been MIA

just needed to get back to the states

do a few interviews

I smiled softly. I had no idea why he felt the need to apologize. He was busy, he was important, he was famous. I knew well that he had responsibilities. He was also married, so he also had a wife to take care of.

It's OK.

Where are you now?

home

Isn't it like 4 AM there?

yeah...

Are you OK?

just stressed a bit I guess

You said you needed to vent?

I did

can I call you?

I quickly checked my Outlook calendar. Nothing else was in it for the rest of the day, so as long as my coworkers didn't want to chit chat on a Teams call, I was okay to talk to Nick. More than okay, in fact, I wanted to hear his voice.

Yes.

It didn't take more than a few seconds for my phone to ring, startling me, even though I've expected the call. My hand was shaking as I reached to my iPhone, and even though it was a reaction of a twelve-year-old fangirl, I couldn't calm myself.

'Hey.'

'Hey you,' I heard his deep voice, and suddenly all my nerves were gone. He once again had the same effect on me, as back in Barcelona, instantly calming me. I couldn't quite place this.

'So, what's up?' I asked, clearing my troath.

'Are you at work?' he asked, probably checking to see if anyone could hear me.

'Yes and no,' I said. 'Since Monday, we are forced to work from home. Sooo... I'm home.'

'Do you live alone?' It was kind of ridiculous. We've barely known each other (except for the fact that I did knew a lot about him), and the fact that he had no idea about my living situation just confirmed this. We still weren't any more than strangers, yet he was calling me from the other side of the world.

'I do. Well, I live with my dog,' I shrugged, even though he couldn't see it. 'Where are you? And what are you doing up at 4 in the morning?'

'I'm home. In the music studio.' So the walls were soundproof. Smart, if you don't want anyone to hear you talking on the phone. For example, your wife. 'Couldn't sleep.'

'Why?' I asked.

'There's just a lot on my mind, I guess,' he answered, his voice sounding really tired. I was concerned for him.

'Things like...?' I tried asking him again. There was a reason he's called me. There were things he needed to talk about and I quite enjoyed hearing him talk. His voice calmed me, and I felt much closer to him than just some fan.

'We probably have to cancel our Vegas residency due to COVID.'

'That's understandable. You shouldn't feel bad about it. You can't really control it.'

'I know,' he said, staying quiet for a few seconds. I waited for him to talk again. 'Just don't like to disappoint anyone, I guess.'

'You aren't doing this, Nick,' I said softly. 'The virus is. Fans will understand. You will make it up to them."

'Yeah, I guess you're right.'

'What else is on your mind?' There was a long pause before he spoke again.

'Have you heard Demi's new song?'

'I have,' I nodded to myself. It was quite fresh, just a few days old. 'You and her used to be friends, right?'

'She was my best friend,' he corrected. I searched my memories, I did know that they went on tour together and did Carpool Karaoke and other things together. I had no idea when that ended and why. I knew about Demi's OD, but nothing else.

The fangirl in me, who wanted to know everything desperately wanted to ask him about what happened. The person in me that was supposed to be his 'vent buddy', knew that this probably wasn't the right time to ask the questions. Luckily, this side was saner.

'But she isn't anymore,' I declared the obvious. 'And you are hurt by her video clip, where she just walks by you, right?' I asked, trying to decipher how he was feeling at the moment.

'It's not like I don't deserve it,' he said quietly. I didn't really know what to say.

'It is okay for something to hurt, even if you deserve it, you know.'

'Thank you,' he said even quieter. 'I think I needed to hear that.'

'Is there anything else that's bothering you?'

I could almost see him bite his bottom lip before answering.

'No, nothing really.' I knew he lied, but didn't press it. 'I just can't really talk with anyone else about Demi. Well, probably except Joe, but he's home with Sophie, so I didn't want to nag him.'

'Okay,' I nodded. This was weird, talking so naturally about things with him. Talking about his life, about people in his life... It was just crazy.

'How are you doing?' he asked, sounding genuinely interested in the answer.

'Fine, I guess.' I was doing just fine – minus the mental breakdowns, and the fear of this whole situation.

'Now tell me the truth,' he commanded, and my breath caught up in my throat. I wasn't surprised that he noticed my lie, I noticed his too. I was shocked that he did in fact call me out on it, in a very commanding tone. Like he expected me to tell him how I was really feeling.

'Why do you think I'm lying?' I asked, raising my eyebrows.

'You are, aren't you?' he asked. 'This venting thing can only work if we both trust each other with our problems. This has to be a two-sided thing.'

I did get where he was coming from. He had a lot to lose with trusting in me, but he did it anyway. Me telling him about my own problems meant that I also trusted him, that I also put my secrets and my fears into his hands. He wanted to be assured that he wasn't making a fatal mistake by opening up to me. Not that I had any intention of selling him out, but I understood that we were practically strangers to each other.

'I'm worried,' I said finally.

'About what?'

'This virus. About my family falling ill. About losing my job.'

'Why would you lose your job?' he asked, and it wasn't just a rhetorical question, he really did want to know about my concerns.

'I was just hired, you know. Just in the beginning of last month. Before that, I was an intern for a year, and I've worked my ass off to get a permanent position. But if thanks to the virus, the financial crisis hits and they start to fire people... I'm just worried that last one in means first one out,' I explained.

'Did your boss give you a reason to worry?' he asked.

'Not really. My boss is amazing. Really, she's more of a friend than a boss.'

'So if you two have a great relationship, and she managed to make you permanent part of her team, don't you think that she'll do everything in order to keep you?'

I stayed quiet for a minute.

'I don't like it when you are being reasonable,' I said jokingly.

'Sorry,' he chuckled. 'But really, why worry before you actually have the problem?'

'I guess, I just worry a lot about non-existent things,' I shrugged. 'It's always better to be prepared for everything.'

'Hmm, is it?' he asked, clearly amused about the things in my head. 'What else is bugging you?'

'I'm lonely,' I said quietly. I hated to admit this, because I was the person that always told everyone that I was doing more than okay on my own, and I didn't need a man to make me feel whole. Now, as I was alone in the apartment all the time, I started to realize that having some company would've been nice.

'What about your friends? Where are they?' he asked.

'Most of them went home to their families when the state of emergency hit.'

'Why don't you go home to your family then?'

'I'm kind of afraid to infect them. I mean, I'm the one living in the big city. If anyone caught the virus without noticing, it would be me. And I wouldn't feel comfortable knowing that I may give it to them,' I explained.

Nick stayed quiet for a while. My inhibitions of talking to him about my life were long gone. It kind of felt nice to say the words out loud, to share with someone that I was in fact, feeling lonely. Even if that someone was on the other side of the world.

'You don't have a significant other?' he asked eventually, as if it wasn't clear already.

'No, I don't have a boyfriend.'

'Why?' Came the next question. I bit my lip and contemplated telling him the great answer on my mind, that I was thinking for years now.

'I'm just not the type of girl that guys fall in love with.'

'You do know that's bullshit, right?' he replied, sounding irritated.

'No, Nick, really. I never had a real boyfriend, only guys that I've hooked up with, or that led me on to believe that here was something more going on, when there wasn't,' I said, and even though I didn't feel perfectly comfortable talking about my love life, or the lack of it, somehow I couldn't stop myself from speaking. 'And I got tired of that a while ago. It's still better to be alone than not being appreciated and having to make compromises.'

'What do you want from a guy? When is he worth the compromises?' he asked, and I could hear the curiosity in his voice.

'Quite honestly, if he makes an effort, he's probably worth it.'

'An effort like a big romantic gesture?'

'No,' I chuckled. 'I don't really like cheesy things. If he brings me flowers or takes me out for dinner, it's more than enough. But it's not like any of those things happened.'

'C'mon, you must've gotten flowers from guys. They must've taken you out to eat.'

'I did get flowers from guys. Just not flowers that were of any romantic origin. I got flowers for my birthday or international women's day, but that's about it. And as for dates... Nobody really ever took me out for dinner or lunch or whatever.'

'How?' he asked, sounding doubtful.

'Well, I must repulse all the men,' I laughed bitterly. Sometimes I did believe in that.

'Don't be stupid,' he said quietly.

'I'm not. I mean... Here I am, almost at 25, never been in love, never even been on a proper date. And honestly, I have no idea why it never happened, but nobody has ever asked me out,' I shrugged to myself. 'There must be something seriously wrong with me.'

Even though I tried to play it cool, these concerns were real for me. I thought about it a lot, how it has never happened. Maybe I expected too much. Maybe I wasn't pretty enough. Maybe it was written on my forehead that nobody should ever date me.

'There is nothing wrong with you, trust me,' Nick said, and there was something in his voice.

'I don't want you to feel sorry for me.'

'I don't, Milla, I just can't quite comprehend how you've never had a boyfriend,' he explained. 'You're beautiful, smart, hard-working. You care about people. You're witty and funny, and I've only talked to you twice in my life and I already know this.'

'C'mon, Nick,' I could feel myself blush. 'You're just saying those things to make me feel better.'

'I'm really not. I just don't like that you think so low about yourself, like you think something is wrong with you.'

'But what if there is?' I asked, opening up about one of my biggest concerns. 'What if I expect more than I deserve?'

'Trust me, wanting to get flowers and being taken out on a date, aren't that huge, earth-shattering things.'

'Well, I'm still alone, aren't I? Maybe I scare people.'

'Or maybe,' he started about a deep sigh. 'People around you don't deserve you and they know it.'

I stayed quiet for a bit, biting my lip again. After some time I sighed, not finding the energy to fight with him about this anymore.

'Damn you for always knowing what to say.'

#nick jonas #nick jonas imagine #nick jonas fanfiction #nick jonas fic #nick x reader #jonas brothers #jonas brothers fanfiction #jonas brothers imagine #nick jonas x reader #fanfiction

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spideyfic · 5 years

Text

Lean on Me

This little fic was inspired by the FFH deleted scene of Peter falling asleep on MJ's shoulder on the plane home.

Rated mature just to be safe, even though nothing much happens.

No beta, so apologies for any mistakes. This was written in a couple of hours with no plot in mind, so it's pretty much a stream of consciousness fic.

Word Count: 2370

*****

Peter Parker showed up at the door of MJ’s London hotel room twenty-two hours and thirteen minutes after she walked away from him on Tower Bridge, looking considerably less broken than the last time she’d seen him.

He leaned against the door frame, giving her a cute, lopsided smile that caused a flutter in her stomach and made her catch her breath. “Hey,” he said. “Can I come in?”

She opened the door wider and stepped to the side, sweeping her arm behind her to invite him in. The room wasn’t as fancy as the one in Prague, just a basic Holiday Inn, but it was nice enough, with two double beds and a small couch under the large window. The trip had been a disaster from start to finish – well, she guessed some parts of it had actually been pretty good – but the one bonus of some random dude named Nick Fury commandeering Peter and subsequently their entire trip was that they’d all ended up with individual rooms, rather than the shared rooms and dorms they’d expected. MJ appreciated the privacy, particularly now Peter had shown up, all shy smiles and softly tousled curls, with his sparkling brown eyes and his dimples.

She closed the door and Peter threw himself down onto the couch, his arm draped along the back, and she took that as an invitation to sit next to him. “You healed up fast,” she said, twisting her hands together to stop her reaching out to hold his, feeling shy and unsure of herself.

In a surprisingly bold move, Peter moved his arm down from the couch back and linked his fingers with hers. “Spider-Man perks,” he shrugged. “I heal super-fast and don’t get ill. I’ve still got kind of a limp but that’ll be gone by tomorrow.” As he spoke, he gently rubbed his thumb across hers, and she shivered a little.

“Where were you?” She already knew he’d been with Happy, having had a long conversation with May the previous evening, but the defensive, untrusting part of her wanted to see how honest Peter would be.

“Happy took me to one of Tony’s – uh, Pepper’s - empty houses here.” A flash of grief passed across his face, and she squeezed his hand. “He patched me up, bought me a change of clothes and wouldn’t let me leave until I ate and slept. I guess my suitcase is still back in Prague.”

She grabbed her rucksack from the floor, and pulled out a tightly rolled bundle consisting of a pair of jeans, a hoodie, a few t-shirts and sneakers. “I packed these in my backpack. I had the rest of your stuff in my rucksack but it kind of got blown up on the tour bus.”

He unrolled the clothing, beaming at her when he saw his NASA shirt and his recently acquired favorite tee, which read, ‘if you believe in telekinesis, please raise my hand’. “Awww yes, you saved my best shirts. You’re the best MJ, I lov ... I … um …” he flushed pink, biting his lip, and he was so adorable that she wanted to kiss him, so she did, and he tasted like spearmint, his mouth soft and slick and warm beneath hers and oh, that was his hand on her waist, moving to caress the skin between her shirt and her waistband, and it was so much better than his hand on her shoulder.

Frustrated by having to twist to kiss him, she was about to abandon all restraint and straddle his thighs when Peter’s phone, which she’d also packed in her carry on and was now charging on a bedside table, began to vibrate with an incoming call.

She hauled herself away from him with great reluctance, wiping a hand across her mouth. “You should get that, it’s probably May.”

Chest heaving, he frowned at her before standing to grab his phone, swiping at it to answer the call. “Hey, May,” he said, his voice soft and gentle. “Yeah, I’m OK, I promise. Happy took really good care of me. Are you alright? Sorry I was asleep every time you called, I was out of it for a while.”

As Peter talked, MJ carefully smoothed out his clothes then folded them, setting them out on the spare bed. She snuck little glances at him, watching as he paced back and forth over a square two feet of carpet, tethered by the phone charger, her eyes lingering on his neck where his hair curled over the pale skin above his shirt collar. Struck with sudden mischief, she crept up behind him and pressed her lips to his nape, making him squeak and drop his phone.

That made him frown at her again as he rescued his phone and turned his back to her, but she saw how his hand reached down to adjust the front of his pants and she felt a little thrill that she could have that effect on him. “Sorry, MJ made me jump. What – no, my Peter Tingle doesn’t react to her.” He was blushing fiercely as he whispered the last part, even his ears turning red, and she actually giggled. What on earth was this boy reducing her to? Michelle Jones didn’t giggle. “Oh my god, May! I’m not talking about this with you! No. Oh, you talked to her? Yeah, she worked it out, she’s super smart. I know. OK, I’ll see you later. Larb you too.”

As soon as he hung up, Peter flung himself face down on the bed, burying his face in the comforter. “Kill me, kill me now.” He mumbled something into the cotton that she didn’t catch, and she laid down next to him, turning onto her side.

“What did you say?” She trailed her fingers across the back of his neck and he shuddered beneath her touch, goose bumps erupting across his skin.

He turned his head to glare at her. “I can’t believe you made me have a boner when I was talking to my aunt,” he muttered. “Just kill me before I die of shame.”

She cackled, shoving at his shoulder to turn him on to his back. “May’s cool. I told her we kissed three times and she cheered, then told me you’d had the talk and would be responsible and not get me pregnant.”

Peter slapped his hands over his face and moaned. “You talked about our – our sex life with May? Our sex life which is never even going to have a chance to exist because I’m never going to be able to have a hard on ever again. I’m traumatized.”

They lay side by side, hands just touching, not feeling the need to talk. MJ liked the quiet, was never one to fill silence with conversation just for the sake of it, and it felt comfortable with Peter. The two of them were the very definition of awkward, but something between them clicked, turned the awkwardness into something warm and familiar.

“So, what is this?” Peter said after a while. “Like, I don’t want to pressure you into a label or anything, but are we boyfriend and girlfriend? Because I feel like we are but we’ve not had that conversation and I don’t want to assume.”

“We are,” she assured him, and he smiled that little smile again, one that she’d never seen before the Blip, and only ever seemed to be aimed at her. It was his smile just for her and it was lovely, made her feel wanted and loved and beautiful, which was a new feeling for her. She’d always felt like an outsider, destined to be forever alone, and until Peter came along, she’d been content with that. But he felt like coming home, and he looked at her like she was the center of his universe. She still wasn’t sure what someone like Peter Parker, who was so sweet and attentive and kind, saw in her, but she wasn’t going to fight it. She was his and he was hers and he’d been all she’d thought about for the last six months.

He hooked his little finger around hers. “I have a girlfriend.” He sounded giddy and happy and it made her melt.

“You do.”

“My girlfriend is amazing. She takes down drones with a mace and is totally cool about the fact that her boyfriend is a part-time superhero.” He sat up, crossing his legs and resting his chin in his hands. “Thank you.”

“For what?” She mirrored his position, their knees pressing together.

“For not caring that I’m Spider-Man. Or I guess not minding is more accurate. I know it’s a lot to deal with, and I’m glad you know, because I hated not telling you, but I was worried I’d scare you off and never have a chance with you.”

She was just about to kiss him when there was a knock at the door, and she sighed with frustration. “Yeah?” she called out.

“Michelle, it’s Mr. Harrington. Just letting you know that we leave for the airport in fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks, Mr. Harrington,” she said, before pressing her forehead to Peter’s. “I hate phones and teachers. All I want to do is kiss you and people keep interfering.”

He curled a finger under her chin and tipped her head up for a soft kiss, before touching the broken black dahlia hanging around her neck. “We’ll be home soon, and we can go on proper dates. Go to the Hall of Science then walk through the park.”

Of course Peter Parker would suggest a trip to the Hall of Science as a date, but then he knew that the way to her heart was either through a good murder documentary or sciencing the shit out of something, so it was actually perfect. “As long as we can hold hands and make out, I’m in.”

He kissed her again, and then stood. “I’m gonna go change before we leave.” He grabbed his jeans and a t-shirt and disappeared into the bathroom, and she did a quick check to make sure she’d packed everything. Not that she had much to pack; just a couple of changes of clothes and her phone, everything else burned up during the attack on the tour bus.

Peter came out of the bathroom and he watched her as she shoved things into her backpack. “Have you’ve got room for a couple more things? I literally have nothing left other than what you saved for me.”

She added his pants and shirt to the bag, along with the dress shoes – Happy apparently went shopping at Bodyguards R Us for Peter’s clothes – then held her hand out to him. “Let’s go home.”

***

Peter managed to stay awake for about thirty minutes after take-off. They’d planned to watch a truly awful movie that was a blatant rip-off of the Avengers, with characters called Metal Man, Thunder God and even Arachnid-Man, which made Peter laugh in embarrassed delight, but he didn’t even make it past the opening credits before his head was nodding towards his chest. She pulled the cheap airline buds from his ears and he startled awake. “Huh?”

Reaching across him, she reclined his seat then did the same to her own. “You need to sleep.” During their three hour wait at the boarding gate, he’d admitted to her that he wasn’t quite as OK as he’d made out, and that his super healing left him exhausted as his body put most of his energy into repairing any injuries. She’d been watching his energy level drop throughout the morning, leaving him pale and quiet, and had made sure he ate and drank plenty before boarding the plane, predicting that he’d pass out within an hour.

He hummed tiredly in agreement and slouched down in his seat, trying to get comfortable, but no position seemed to suit, leaving him shifting around and rolling his shoulders.

MJ pushed the armrest up from between them then patted her shoulder. “Lean on me,” she said, and Peter snuggled in against her without any hesitation, wrapping his arms around his middle and sighing contentedly.

“Y’r comfy. Soft,” he murmured, before falling asleep.

She’d fully intended to watch the rest of the shitty film, mostly to have Arachnid-Man material to embarrass Peter with, but the sound of his relaxed breathing and the soft brush of his hair against her neck and face made her rest her head on his, leaning towards him and his warmth and closing her eyes. His head fit into the curve of her shoulder and neck like a puzzle piece, as though he was made in just the right shape to slot in alongside her.

She didn’t fall completely asleep, just dozed in a weird twilight world where she was still vaguely aware of what was going on around her, but not really registering it. Peter slept deeply and peacefully, and something about him trusting her enough to fall asleep on her felt intimate, like they’d skipped straight past the early stages of dating right to an established relationship. She was aware of every minute movement he made, heard his little snuffles and sighs.

He slept all the way across the Atlantic, right through lunch then dinner, stirring to consciousness only once, lifting his head briefly from her shoulder to smile at her and rub at his eye before settling in against her once more, shrugging a couple of times before falling back to sleep.

She resumed her position, making the most of these quiet, precious moments with Peter before they had to go back to their normal lives. Well, she guessed their lives weren’t so normal when compared with most other people’s, but she wouldn’t trade her life for anyone else’s. She loved Peter, had never been so sure about anything in her life; she’d loved him for a long time, and she suspected that the reverse was true. They had the whole summer vacation stretching out before them, and she intended to make the most of every single second she spent with Peter.

There wasn’t anything in the world that could keep them apart. She was going to make sure that they had the best summer ever.

#spideychelle #peter x mj #peter x michelle #peter parker #michelle jones #peter parker/michelle jones #peter parker/MJ #my fic

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