#why am i suddenly in such an awful mood and triggered by everything

[my-unmanageable-mischief]

Trying

For the Anon who requested :Please may I request mauraders x y/n reader not eating for days at a time and eat little when they have to eat? 

Trigger Warning : Eating Disorder 

The Marauders x Reader

You pushed around your potatoes with your fork, frowning to yourself as you did so, not paying any attention to the conversation that was going on around you. 

“Aren’t you hungry?” Sirius’s voice finally broke you from your own thoughts.

“Hmm?” You asked, glancing around, James, Remus, and Sirius were all eyeing you. 

“I said, aren’t you hungry?” He repeated himself and you looked down at your plate again, sighing. 

“No, not really.” 

“Can I have your potatoes then-ouch! What?” You looked at James who had spoken and who was now rubbing his side and looking at a glaring Sirius. “What? Why did you elbow me?” You chuckled slightly and pushed the plate towards James. 

“All yours.” You assured and he took them, glaring back at Sirius who was still giving the boy a dirty look. 

“You should eat something, Y/N.” Remus spoke gently, and it annoyed you. You didn’t need him mothering you.

“I’ll eat when I’m hungry, thanks.”

“You’re never hungry.” Sirius argued, “You didn’t eat breakfast. Or lunch, and you’ve barely touched dinner.” You were getting fed up with them so you grabbed your bag, standing up from the table. 

“Mind your business, Black.” You started to walk away.

“Black?” He called, “Since when am I Black?” But you didn’t answer, quickening your pace. You needed to be alone. Away from worrying eyes. 

The next morning you came to breakfast late, sitting down next to Peter with a small huff. You glared around at the spread of goodies that you didn’t want to eat. You shouldn’t have bothered coming, you should have gone directly to class. 

“Morning, Y/N,” Remus chriped, taking a sip of his tea, “Sleep well?”

“Alright.” 

“What’s got you in a bad mood?” James asked as Sirius scooped some eggs onto your plate with a smile. 

“I’m not in a bad mood,” You crossed your arms over your chest and glared at the offensive food on your plate. “And I certainly don’t eat eggs.” 

“Since when?” Sirius asked, pulling the plate away and replacing it with his half eaten oatmeal. 

“Since always.” You pushed the bowl back towards him. “And I’m not hungry.” 

“You need to eat something, Y/N.” He argued, pushing the bowl back towards you.

“I’ll eat when I please, I’m not a child.” 

“Well you’re sure acting like one,” He was getting annoyed and so were you.

“Can you both stop?” Remus begged, stepping in before your bickering escalated. “Y/N,” He added seriously and you glanced at him. 

“Remus,” You mocked in the same serious tone. He frowned and you smirked slightly. 

“You do need to eat something,” You groaned loudly, your head falling back.

“And you lot really do need to mind your own business.” Sirius offered you a spoon and you snatched it from him, stuffing a few mouthfuls of oatmeal into your mouth before swallowing thickly. When you were done you stuck your tongue out, showing them your empty mouth.

“Happy?” 

“Yes,” Remus smiled.

“No.” Sirius glared. 

“Hm?” James asked, mouth full. 

“Have some bacon,” Sirius demanded, “And finish the oatmeal.”

“Or what?” Sirius seemed to consider your question before smirking. 

“Or we will hold you down and feed you ourselves.” That made you laugh properly. 

“Oh, I’d like to see you try.” Remus continued to frown deeply at you, eyes full of worry. You glanced at him and managed to make yourself take a few more bites before pushing the bowl away. “I’m full.” 

“Alright,” Remus assured, “Good.” Sirius didn’t buy it but managed to keep his big mouth shut. You skipped lunch, opting to stay in your room, and you skipped dinner too. Your sleep was restless and you kept waking up, your stomach grumbling angrily at you. You knew you should eat, obviously, you did. But that didn’t mean you could. And the boys wouldn’t understand. The next morning you skipped breakfast and met the boys in Charms, Sirius was in a fowl mood. 

“What crawled into your knickers and died?” You asked, he looked at you, frowning deeply.

“You.” 

“Oh me?” You laughed, “What did I do?” 

“You’re eating dinner tonight, whether I have to make you or not.” You frowned back. 

“Can’t you just drop it?” 

“No! Not when you look like crap!” You winced, looking away.

“You sure know how to make a girl feel special.” 

“You’ve got bags bigger then Moony’s. And you’ve been losing weight, Y/N. You. Need. To. Eat.” 

“You don’t understand,” You murmured, feeling your eyes going glossy. Sirius tried to take your hand but you pulled away from him.

“Then explain it,” 

“I want to eat like a normal person, but I can’t.” 

“Why?” 

“You wouldn’t understand.” You sighed, rubbing at your eyes. 

“Try me.” 

“It’s just hard- when it all tastes like nothingness, when I look at food all I see are calories, and fat, and me, fat.” 

“You’re not fat!” You laughed bitterly. 

“Whatever.” He dropped it for now, thankfully. When class ended you were out of the room before any of the Marauders could even move. You hid in your room during lunch, thankful that the boys couldn’t get into the girls dorm. However, you weren’t so lucky after your afternoon classes, and the four boys ambushed you when you were coming from the classroom. Sirius got one arm and James got the other, dragging you in the opposite direction of the great hall. 

“Where are we going?” 

“You’re eating.” 

“Well we’re going the wrong way for that, you dolts.” You frowned, still being dragged down the hallway. You reached the Hufflepuff common room and Remus went up to a painting, tickling the pear. 

“What?” Suddenly, the painting opened to reveal a bustling room to you. “Is this? Is this the kitchens?” You asked, mildly in awe, “When did you find them?”

“Years ago, doll.” James grinned, steering you over to a table and sitting you in front of a plate full of some of your previously favorite foods. You were surprised, you had never told them what you’re favorite foods were. 

“We asked Lily,” James admitted, sitting down beside you, Sirius on your other side. Remus and Peter went around the table and sat across from you. “Now eat up.” You glanced at the plate, picking up your fork. 

“I can’t... I can’t be the only one eating.” 

“Why?” Sirius asked, frowning.

“You’re looking at me, you can’t look at me like this while I try and eat.” Remus nodded and waved a house elf over, requesting a few more plates of what you were having. You waited until everyone had a plate before taking a small bite. It wasn’t bad. James happily dug in, and Remus began to eat as well. Peter didn’t need to be told twice to eat, and began shoveling food into his mouth. But Sirius didn’t budge. 

“Sirius, eat.” You demanded and he shook his head. 

“I’ll eat as much as you eat,” 

“You’ll starve.” You scoffed and he smirked and you cursed internally realizing you had trapped yourself. 

“So then eat,” You took a few bites of everything, Sirius taking a bite every time you did. You ate like that until your plate was empty, and your belly was full for the first time in months. You set your fork down, and stared angrily at the empty plate. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Remus asked and you shook your head. You didn’t. 

“Please, let us help you.” James begged, giving you his best puppy dog eyes and you smiled at him gently. 

“You blokes do help me. A lot.” You assured. 

“You’ve gotta eat more, Y/N.” Sirius put his hand on yours and squeezed. “Please, if not for you, for us. You can’t look after us if you’re not on your best game.” That made you chuckle. 

“I will... try.” 

“Even if it’s something small, at every meal. An apple. Some bread.” Remus continued and you nodded your head. 

“I will try my best, promise.” James got up, kissing the top of your head as he did. 

“Alright, good, now, back to our dorm. We have pranks to plan.”

#Harry Potter #Remus Lupin #Remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #james & peter & remus & sirius #Sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #James Potter #James Potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x yn #the marauders #the marauders x reader #marauders #marauders x reader #marauders x you #marauders fanfiction #maraunders x y/n

[razzle-zazzle]

Five times others noticed something off about Cole + one time it was explained

3083 Words; Coleverlord

Something was wrong with her son.

Lilly couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment she realized it, but something had changed since that disaster of a boating trip. Cole had been more quiet, lately, had been listless and almost eerily pensive at times.

Lilly didn’t like it. It was unnerving.

They never should have gone. It was supposed to be a fun outing for the three of them, a four-hour tour off the west coast alongside some other passengers.

It ended up being a ten-day stay on an uncharted island. It ended up being Lilly in charge of a group of people not quite accustomed to wilderness survival as they waited for rescue to stumble upon them. It ended up being exhausting, and draining, and the exact opposite of a fun outing.

And then they’d finally been found, and finally arrived home—

And now something was wrong with Cole.

It wasn’t what one would expect in this situation, either. Cole wasn’t sick, wasn’t running a fever, nor was he injured—no, it was none of that.

But there had been a drastic change in his behavior, and Lilly didn’t like it. It felt like there was something in her home, something that never should have been let in but had come in anyway, and that something was pitter-patting down the halls with steps eerily similar to her son but just so slightly off.

“Mama?”

Lilly jumped at her son's voice, caught off guard. She was in the kitchen getting herself water and trying to sort through this awful feeling she had. Her seven year old son was standing in the doorway, hand gripping the frame.

Despite the moonlight streaming in through the window onto his face—or maybe because of it—he didn’t seem quite real. Something about the way Cole was holding himself was just… off.

“Yeah?” Lilly shifted uncomfortably under her son’s stare. Something was definitely wrong with this child. Just him standing there in the doorway had the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

Cole took a step forward. “Had a bad dream.” He murmured.

Lilly set her water on the counter and crossed the kitchen, wrapping her arms around her son despite her instincts telling her to be wary. “Oh, baby, it’s okay,” she lifted him up, bracing him against her hip to hold him more easily. “Do you wanna tell me about it?”

Cole buried his face in Lilly’s shoulder. “Don’t remember.” He mumbled.

Lilly hated that her first instinct here was to set Cole back down again. Hated that, for all that her son was right here and seeking comfort, part of her was convinced it wasn’t him.

Cole was still clinging to her, though, so she returned to the counter to finish her water, holding him close the entire time.

She’d have to tell Wu about all of this, about this unsettled feeling she had, but—

That could wait until the morning.

+=+=+=+=+

Cole had a really weird presence.

Jay didn’t really mind that Cole could sometimes be a little… off. Cole was Cole. Besides, Zane was also weird, but he was no less their brother; the same applied to Cole.

But for how sweet Cole could be, there was still something… unsettling about him. Something that had Jay’s arms erupt into goosebumps whenever Cole was around. And that was after several months of knowing the guy—when they’d first met, Jay couldn’t even look at Cole without his stomach tying up in knots.

It probably wasn’t really anything to worry about, but Jay couldn’t help but wonder why Cole had such disconcerting vibes. And it wasn’t the same as Zane’s uncanniness, because at least when Zane acted uncanny it didn’t put Jay on edge the way Cole sometimes did.

Jay knew Cole… or maybe he only thought he knew Cole. He was probably just being paranoid, but he couldn’t help but wonder sometimes.

He really hoped he was just being paranoid.

+=+=+=+=+

Cole was certainly… odd.

But that was fine. Zane was odd, too. They were both a little odd, but their family still loved them for it.

Sure, Cole’s tendency to occasionally stare westward was unusual, but Cole was Cole. It was when Zane started keeping track of it that things got… interesting.

As they traveled around searching for the Fang Blades, Zane noticed that Cole didn’t stare exactly westward. Rather, it seemed that the angle changed depending on the latitude, as though Cole was looking towards a certain location in particular rather than just out west in general.

So Zane conducted an experiment. Whenever he noticed Cole zoning out to stare west, he tracked the location and angle as best as he could.

Zane collected this data over the course of several days. When he was finally satisfied and had the free time to do so, he found himself a map, a ruler, a marker, and a compass.

It was time to record the data.

“Hey, Zane,” Jay greeted as he came into the room, “Watcha doing?”

“Recording data.” Zane responded, another crisp line appearing under his steady hand.

Jay came over to look at the map over Zane’s shoulder. “Kinda looks like you’re just drawing lines on a map, buddy.”

“That is what I am doing, yes.” Zane drew another line, extending it out until it intersected with the first. Since Jay was still watching, Zane elaborated, “I am marking down the directions of Cole’s… ‘trances’, as it were.”

Jay hummed consideringly. “Looks like they all converge at a certain point.”

Zane nodded. “Yes, it seems they do.” He added the final line, then capped the marker and set it and the ruler aside to survey his work.

Ten lines, crisp and neat, from ten different starting positions. Ten lines that all converged on the same point off the west coast.

There was nothing at those coordinates other than ocean, at least, there was nothing on the map. It was very puzzling.

“Wait.” Jay pointed at a small island just a few degrees north of the intersection. “What’s that?”

It was the only charted island for miles. Small, nondescript, and uninhabited. But it was also the closest thing to the intersection, and probably their best bet for answers outside of directly asking Cole.

“I’ll have to look into it.” Zane made a mental note to do just that as he stood up and began to fold the map.

Jay grabbed everything else. “Here, I’ll help.”

Zane nodded. “Thank you.”

+=+=+=+=+

Nya liked to think she was good at noticing the little details.

And she was! Whether it be the small details of her mech’s innards or the little things her brother did when he was stressed, Nya was really good at noticing small details.

Which was probably why she had noticed so many odd things about Cole. To be fair, a lot of things Cole did or said were just plain odd—and there was nothing wrong with that—but there were some things he did that just… felt off, sometimes.

So yeah. Nya noticed the small things, paid close attention to the boys and their habits and their moods. Paid attention to the small details of their faces, like the way Jay’d stick out his tongue when he was concentrating, or how Zane’s brow would furrow when he was deep in thought; how Kai’s eyes crinkled when he smiled—

And how Cole’s eyes seemingly changed color every so often, for seemingly no reason. How that dusty, tawny brown that looked so much like the sunbaked earth around the shop could suddenly shift into a deep violet. How sometimes it almost looked like his eyes were glowing in certain lighting. How it definitely wasn’t a trick of the light, no, his eyes definitely changed color.

Which was probably not normal.

Then again, their sensei was technically part dragon and had slitted pupils, so maybe Cole’s magical color-changing eyes weren’t that out there.

It was just a little unnerving, to look at Cole expecting those gentle eyes and see foreboding violet. Almost like there was something else there, something lurking behind those eyes. Something that shouldn’t be trusted.

But Nya didn’t like to think that way about Cole, so she just noted that his eyes changed color sometimes and moved on with her day.

She had more important things to stress about.

+=+=+=+=+

Kai didn’t like this.

There were a lot of things about this island that Kai didn’t like, but the way Cole had been acting since it rose was most definitely on the top of the list.

Cole was always pretty weird. And that was fine! What was unsettling was that he was acting differently from how he usually did.

First, they sail out to this random little island in the middle of the ocean because Garmadon somehow managed to get himself marooned out here, and was demanding they come and pick him up. Then, Cole disappears into the jungle with Jay and they trigger something that makes the island rise, revealing it to be some big evil mega island from Misako’s old texts. It didn’t help that Cole didn’t seem at all bothered by this.

Ever since then, Misako and Wu and Garmadon had been furiously discussing whether to stay and explore or leave immediately, and Kai was pretty sure Misako still had her weird grudge against Cole because he’d overheard her calling him a “problem” again, so Kai was staying away from that argument.

And so the ninja were cautiously poking around the edges of the jungle after having moved the Bounty back out to the new coast, and Cole—

He wasn’t acting like Cole.

He’d been muttering, too quiet to make out any of the words, and he’d go silent if you came closer. He stared into the jungle a lot, sometimes zoning out so bad that not even Jay’s bad jokes could snap him out of it.

All in all, Kai was very unnerved. And an unnerved Kai was an angry one, snapping at anyone who came near.

His stress levels weren’t helped by the fact that last he’d seen Cole, he and Lloyd had been wandering into the jungle. Kai had followed, but he’d lost track of them what seemed like hours ago.

So now the whole group was on an island Misako didn’t want to be anywhere near, Cole was acting like he was possessed and had disappeared with Lloyd for unknown reasons, and Kai was lost in the jungle.

“Amazing! Incredible!” Kai kicked at the dirt at his feet, “Oh, this is just perfect!” He had no idea how to get back. Great. Fucking wonderful.

The jungle had no response for his tantrum, just a few faint bird calls and wind rustling the leaves.

Kai huffed. He wasn’t going to be finding Cole and Lloyd anytime soon, so he should probably try to get back to the beach and tell everyone else what he knew. Of course, being lost would put a damper on it, but Kai was reasonably sure he could figure out where he was.

He looked at the trees surrounding him.

He just needed a little more height.

+=+=+=+=+

Lloyd was pretty sure they were lost.

When he voiced this concern, however, Cole just replied with a chipper “oh no, we’re definitely getting closer!” that wasn’t reassuring in the least. So Lloyd continued to trudge through the jungle after Cole, hoping he’d at least get an explanation for why Cole felt the need to drag him along to… wherever they were heading.

Another leaf smacked Lloyd in the face. “Are you certain we’re not lost?” He asked once more. “Because I’m pretty sure I’ve seen the same tree more than four times already.”

Cole didn’t say anything, just took Lloyd’s hand to help him up a small ledge. They continued their little trek, the jungle slowly thinning out and becoming a mountain.

“It’s just up here.” Cole said. He’d been unusually quiet up until this point.

Lloyd looked up at the rock face that Cole was suggesting he climb and groaned. But Cole was already ascending, so Lloyd swallowed his complaints and got to climbing. It was strenuous and sweaty and exhausting and if Cole was only dragging him up here to show him a killer view or some shit then Lloyd was going to scream, but he’d let himself be led out this far so he was going to climb all the way to the top, dammit.

Gasping and aching in ways that shouldn’t be possible, Lloyd hauled himself up onto the top, flopping over onto his back to catch his breath. Why did killer views have to be so hard to get to?

Cole was already moving, striding towards whatever he’d wanted to show Lloyd. Lloyd blearily turned his head towards Cole, not prepared to see anything in particular—

Oh.

That was definitely… something.

A big metal… thing sat proudly atop the stone, with a whole bunch of gears and rings and big metal balls on the end of rods like some mad scientist’s evil machine or something.

Lloyd pushed himself up into a sitting position while Cole approached the metal abomination. “Am I gonna get an explanation, or… ?”

Cole stopped, still facing towards the Big Metal Thing. “It’s the Celestial Clock.” He said quietly. “It’s supposed to count down to the final battle.” Now that he said it, Lloyd could see something that looked vaguely clock-like near the center of the rings.

Lloyd frowned. “It doesn’t seem to be doing a whole lot of counting down.” Which was a relief. Lloyd would like the final battle to maybe just not happen, please and thanks.

“Yeah.” Cole stepped forwards, tracing his hand gently along one of the rings as he moved towards the center of it. “Because it hasn’t been activated yet.” He stopped at the center and put his hands on a helmet Lloyd hadn’t noticed before. “But if you remove the Helmet of Shadows…”

Lloyd stood up very fast. “Uh, Cole, what—”

“Do you trust me?” Cole’s voice cut through the air like a knife. Lloyd stopped where he stood.

“Lloyd.” Cole still didn’t turn around, “Do you trust me?”

“I—” What was the right answer here? What was Lloyd supposed to do?

“Yeah, I—I trust you.”

Cole picked up the helmet and stepped back, his back still to Lloyd. With a grind and a groan, the clock started moving. “Then you won’t worry about this.”

“But the final battle—”

“Isn’t happening.” Cole snarled. “The clock is going to run down and nothing will happen because there isn’t going to be a final battle. We are not fighting.”

Lloyd took a step back. Okay, this was definitely starting to cross the line into Not Okay. “Cole?”

All the tenseness in Cole’s shoulders dissolved. “I’m sorry.” He murmured. “You’re not talking to Cole right now.”

At that, Cole—or rather, Not-Cole?—turned around, helmet still cradled in his hands. His eyes were a brilliant, glowing violet—no iris, no pupil, just pure, deep violet that had Lloyd’s instincts screaming at him to flee from.

Immediately, Lloyd assumed a defensive stance. “What are you? What did you do to Cole?” He demanded, green lighting in his hands.

Not-Cole laughed, an eerie, broken sound. “Relax, Lloyd, I don’t intend to hurt you.” It took a step forward, but stopped when Lloyd stepped back. “Or did you not hear me when I declared that there would be no final battle?”

“You better start explaining,” Lloyd snarled, “Right now.”

Not-Cole nodded. “That is why I brought you up here, yes.” He sat down, helmet still in his lap, and gestured for Lloyd to do the same.

Lloyd dropped the stance, but stayed standing.

Not-Cole sighed. “Alright, let’s start with an introduction. I am the being known as the Overlord. I came about not long after the First Master created Ninjago, as a counterbalance to his light and order.”

Lloyd processed this, turning it over in his head. “Okay.”

The Overlord nodded, then continued. “The First Master and I engaged in a battle for control of Ninjago. What was going to be a stalemate turned in my favor when I created the Stone Army, so the First Master split Ninjago in half and sunk my half, leaving me bound to it.” It traced Cole’s hands along the edges of the helmet, gaze fixed on Lloyd.

Lloyd frowned. “So, what, you possessed Cole when we got here? Is that it?”

It chuckled. “You’re correct, but your timing is off. My vessel first arrived on this island years and years ago, when a freak stroke of luck resulted in a ship washing up here.” Cole—no, the Overlord—sighed wistfully. “I wanted off this island. My vessel was sympathetic enough to let me in.”

Lloyd tensed. “So you’ve been controlling Cole for years, then.”

“No.” Cole said, eyes suddenly back to their normal brown. “We share this body.”

“Cole.” Lloyd put his hands on Cole’s shoulders. “Are you really, truly okay with this?”

Cole nodded, sincerity in his eyes. “Made It promise not to fight you.” He muttered.

And then his eyes were violet, though not the fully obvious, solid violet of moments before. Just the irises.

“There won’t be a final battle.” It said, “That clock will count down to nothing.” It stood up, still holding the helmet. “And nothing will happen.”

Lloyd walked over, standing beside It. “How can you be so sure?”

“My vessel was never supposed to end up on this island. I was never supposed to leave it. And look at us now, sharing a single body.” It strode forwards, Cole’s arms spreading out to the sides in an sweeping gesture as It stared out into the landscape below them. “Destiny has been defied once.” It turned towards Lloyd, extending a hand. “So why bow to such a shitty destiny if you don’t have to? Why submit yourself to a fight none of us want when it’s not even necessary?”

It gestured towards the clock, which was still ticking down. “Just wait. Nothing will happen when the clock hits zero, because there won’t be a final battle. Destiny has no power over us.”

Lloyd watched the clock tick down for a moment, processing what the Overlord was telling him. Could he really trust it?

But then he remembered his father telling him that he was proud of Lloyd, as well as all the things his dad tried in order to stop the prophecy from coming true.

“Alright.” Lloyd made his decision.

“Let’s defy destiny.”

#ninjago #lego ninjago #coleverlord #zaz writes #lilly ninjago #cole ninjago #jay walker #zane julien #nya ninjago #kai ninjago #lloyd garmadon #and then #sensei wu #lord garmadon #and #misako #are all mentioned #the overlord #also the reason cole's eyes were a solid purble when the overlord revealed itself to lloyd is bc the overlord didn't wanna be too subtle #the irises changing color when It's at the forefront is inevitable tho #also no i did not forget about the helmet of shadows #cole/the overlord just did a lil sleight of hand with it when lloyd wasn't looking #it's now the bracelets of shadows #also no lilly does not get to talk to wu about her concerns regarding cole #things keep coming up until she just. forgets to #also take the overlord's words w/ a grain of salt #this is so much longer than i expected #also zane's part is 420 words exactly and i think that's really neat #jay's bit is kinda weak but i didn't have anything better soooooo #aight i'm gonna go shower and eat now thank

[some-days-we-get-sundays]

A Wildmoore Fic- “I had a good teacher.”

“Ok, so hold it like this?” Ryan pointed the gun out in front of her, and then flipped it sideways with her finger on the trigger. 

“Woah woah woah. Ok, no. This isn’t Boyz n the Hood. Nobody holds a gun like that in real life, Ryan.” Sophie came up behind Ryan and reached over her arm to lower the weapon that Ryan was wielding. Ryan rolled her eyes and let go of the gun, letting Sophie take it. 

“Also don’t put your finger on the trigger, you might accidentally shoot someone, put it resting on the side. Like this-” Sophie showed Ryan. 

After seeing Sophie’s gunmanship on full display a couple of months ago when they were trying to catch the Cluemaster, Ryan wanted a lesson. Sophie said she would teach Ryan some skills if Ryan took her flying with the grapple gun. They’d been out here for a couple of weeks now practicing. 

“Sophie, why are you teaching me to shoot with a freakin’ pistol? I know how to shoot with these. I want to learn your bomb ass rifle skills.” Ryan closed one eye and pretended to shoot a rifle, mimicking the way she’d seen Sophie do it. Ryan thought it was extremely hot.  

“Ok, if you want to learn my bomb ass rifle skills, you need to start with the basics first. So come on. Do it like I showed you.” Sophie handed the pistol back to Ryan and stepped to the side of her so she could survey. She watched Ryan point the gun forward and then bring her other hand up under it and place her finger on the side of the trigger instead of clutching it. 

Sophie smiled. “Excellent work, Ms. Wilder.” Ryan brought the gun down and tried to hide a self satisfied smile that was making its way to her face. As much as she was complaining she was enjoying herself. 

“Well, I had a good teacher.” Ryan quipped. Sophie blushed and turned around towards the table so that Ryan wouldn’t see her cheeks tint pink. She grabbed the rifle. 

“Alright, I already showed you all the parts of this so I think you’re ready to practice your form and aiming at a target. So watch me do it first and then we’ll go from there.” Sophie said and then got into position. She looked almost the same as she did the night that they were rescuing Stephanie. Sophie had set up cans to use for target practice, and they were so far that Ryan could barely see them. She watched as Sophie got a concentrated look on her face. She watched Sophie’s form and tried to make note of everything Sophie did so she could do it to perfection when her time came. Then suddenly, BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. Shot after shot after shot rang out and Ryan watched as each can got hit and made a clank. Sophie had hit every one of her targets without a miss. 

“Fuck! That was hot!” Ryan exclaimed. She couldn’t keep her awe at bay. Ryan wasn’t surprised because she’d seen Sophie do that under life or death circumstances- and she’d seen her do it while slightly intoxicated too. So no, she was not surprised but that didn’t stop her from being impressed and a little turned on. 

“Ok, your turn.” Sophie handed the rifle to Ryan. Ryan got into position the same way she’d just seen Sophie do it. 

“Like this?” Ryan asked. Ryan felt Sophie come up behind her and put her hands on Ryan’s hips. Ryan stiffened and her breath caught. 

“Angle your hips like this, make your stance more like this-” Sophie was guiding Ryan’s hips and legs, positioning them in the way they should be. 

“O-Oh Ok.” Ryan choked out. Having Sophie this close to her was messing with her head.

Sophie still standing behind Ryan then put her arms around Ryan’s arms and positioned them how she wanted Ryan to position them. 

“Like this.” Sophie breathed out, her breath warm against the side of Ryan’s face. Suddenly another BANG rang out shocking the both of them. 

Ryan had accidentally fired the gun because of how close Sophie had gotten to her. 

“Oh shit. Shit. I’m sorry Sophie.” Ryan said, guilt and embarrassment clinging to her voice. 

“Hey, hey, it’s ok. Early release. Happens to the best of us. I do have that affect on people.” Sophie smirked and winked, trying to lighten the mood. It worked. Ryan laughed. 

“Uh huh, hot shot.” Ryan bantered back. “Ok, let me try again.” Ryan said gaining her confidence back. Sophie handed her the rifle and Ryan got into position again. There were some cans that we closer up that were for Ryan to practice with. Ryan took a deep breath, aimed, and fired. BANG. One of the cans was knocked over but it wasn’t hit as the bullet had just whizzed by and graced the can. Ryan tried again, BANG, miss. BANG, miss. BANG, miss. Bang, hit!

“Oh my God! I did it! I did it! I did it!” Ryan squealed. She set the gun down and jumped around in place. Proud of the one can that she hit. Sophie came over to give her a high five and instead of high fiving, Ryan tackled her in a hug that took Sophie by surprise. Ryan’s arms were up high around Sophie shoulders and she was standing on her tip toes. Sophie instinctively put her arms around Ryan’s lower back drawing her in close. If she had stood up to her full height, she’d practically be picking Ryan up in the air. Ryan let go and stepped back. 

“Thank you, Sophie.” Ryan said earnestly, a sparkle in her eye. 

“Anytime. We can keep practicing but you’re a fast learner, I’m impressed. You’re really getting the hang of it.” Sophie complimented. 

“I mean, I am Batwoman.” Ryan gestured to herself. Sophie laughed. 

“Woo, and you’re cocky too.” Sophie retorted. She bumped Ryan with her shoulder. 

“Hey, do you want to grab a drink at The Hold Up? Then I can show you some of my moves on the grapple gun.” Ryan said to Sophie as Sophie was packing everything away. Once everything was packed up, they made their way back to Ryan’s car. 

“Oh a tipsy flying lesson from Ryan Wilder?” Sophie joked as they walked.

“Hey, you can shoot rifles with deadly accuracy after drinking hooch from the Crows, I can swing through the city with you in my arms after a couple adult beverages from a gay bar. We all have our skills.” Ryan joked back. They got into Ryan’s car and fastened their seat belts. 

“Ok Ryan, I’ve seen your driving skills, if they are anything like your flying through the air skills, I might need to sign a waver.” Sophie commented.

Ryan rolled her eyes and smiled. “Come on Soph, would you relax and live a little! Besides, I will keep you safe, I promise.” Ryan winked. Then she backed out of the parking spot, put the car in drive, and sped down the city streets as “Gangster” by Kehlani blared through the speakers. 

“Oh Lord.” Sophie rasped out, which was barely audible above the music. Ryan looked at her and gave her another mischievous grin. Sophie then put her head back and stared up at the purple sky and the city lights whizzing by through the skylight in Ryan’s car as they made their way to The Hold Up.

#wildmoore #ryan wilder #sophie moore #i dont know anything about guns clearly #enjoy this attempt at trying for the life of me to write something short #ryan has a car in this lol #i was gonna have it be sophie's car #maybe she is driving sophie's car #nah she got a car in this but it's not the batmobile

[aperrywilliams]

Couvade  (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist

———————

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Summary: The team having weeks full of work, traveling across the country. Tiredness is taking its toll on Reader and Spencer.

Word Count: 3747.

Warnings: References to headaches, stomachaches, and another “aches” as well. Couple discussions. Spencer losing his temper. Spencer and Reader clueless. But fluffy in the end.

A/N: Work has drained all my energy these last few weeks. Something from our favorite doctor to get me back.

——————–

In recent months the cases that were coming to the BAU were a true roller coaster in many ways: some simpler, others tremendously difficult and rough. Some local others far across the country.

With all this turmoil, there wasn't much time left for personal life. My advantage, if I had to compare myself to my colleagues, was that my boyfriend worked with me and at least we could see each other a few moments a day and spend some time together on the jet traveling from one place to another.

I think Spencer also saw it as an advantage, even though as the weeks went by following this same rhythm he was much more irritable and angry than usual. Not that Spencer is an irritable man by definition, quite the contrary, but the work’ stress was taking its toll on us and he was no exception.

One of the few mornings we were able to be quiet in the BAU offices, I approached his desk. It caught my attention that he had the palms of his hands covering his mouth.

“Spencer, ¿what’s wrong?”. Looking at him, I saw that he was paler than usual.

“Nothing , I'm fine. I just feel a little nauseous. Apparently the muffin for breakfast made my stomach funny”, he lamented.

“Baby , I'm sorry. I should have asked when it was made when I bought it,” I tried to apologize.

“It's not your fault. It may be that my stomach is more fussy than usual,” he said with a sigh. Sigh that was apparently interrupted by another nausea. In two seconds Spencer was on her feet running towards the bathroom.

Not that Spencer is a tremendously healthy person, but it was rare to see him sick, except for his headaches and his periods of insomnia, which we were both used to living with from time to time. But this was different. Spencer rarely caught a cold or had stomach problems, even given all the coffee and sugar she consumed daily.

In general, when men feel sick they are like children . And in Spencer Reid that was increased by three. Thus, throughout that day I was concerned with checking his condition, preparing herbal tea and doing everything possible to prevent him from drinking coffee. When we got to the apartment that we had shared for more than a year, I made sure to make soup for him and send him to bed early.

In the following days his stomach discomfort began to disappear. A relief, because my genius boyfriend was unbearable during all those days, so much that we argued about almost anything. I also felt irritable and overwhelmed by the amount of work we had, and besides having to take care of Spencer .

Another case, another trip. On the jet on the way to San Francisco, and after reviewing details of the case, I went to sit next to Spencer. I wanted to apologize for our last discussion that morning. When I got closer he was reading a book, but I knew he wasn't really reading since the pages weren't turning. I was sure he was attentive to how I approached his side.

“Spencer... baby...,” I said in the softest and most tender voice I could. I did not get an answer. “Spencer ... can you look at me please?”. The second call was less friendly. He raised his eyes to look at me.

“I'm looking at you (Y/N),” he replied with a bored expression that began to annoy me and even regret wanting to apologize.

“Thank you. Can you close your book too? I need to talk to you”. Not very enthusiastically he shut the book and put it to the side of the seat.

“Done. What do you want to talk about?”. Same look and same voice. I didn't want to be upset with him, but he was making it difficult for me. I took a deep breath and began to speak.

“I want to apologize for our discussion this morning. I know I said not very kind things to you. None of that was truth, you have to believe me. It's just that I also feel overwhelmed by everything and I understand that you are tired, but I am too and you know that I say things without thinking when I am like this…”. His gaze softened when he saw that I was genuine and tears even started to come out of me without my meaning to. He sighed and extended his arms for me to snuggle with him, which I did immediately burying my face into his chest.

“I must also apologize. I didn't react in the best way either. I yelled at you and that's not right. I also feel overwhelmed and tired, more than usual. Being sick last week didn't help me much either… ”. He hugged me tight so I felt his words were sincere.

“I'm sorry. I hope this job’s rhythm drops in the next few days, I don't want to live fighting with you”. I said giving him a soft kiss on his chin and drying my tears.

“I don’t want that either. In fact, I think we should take a few days off, just for us. At this point I am having a hard time separating work’s moments from our private’s moments,” he stated.

Spencer was right. What seemed to be positive also had its bad side: Which was the real boundary between the professional and the personal? We always tried our relationship wasn’t a problem for our job, but it was also important to do the reverse exercise: our job shouldn't be a problem for our relationship either.

All this time that we had been on this beat - more than 10 weeks and counting – we had no enough time to spend together like a real couple. The last time we had sex was before Spencer got sick and it was a quicky in my hotel room during a case in Denver. And before that, I don’t even remember well.

I hadn't felt very good either. Going from place to place around the country had me dizzy most of the time and with headaches for weeks. Of course, none of that managed to incapacitate me at work, so I didn’t take it seriously and didn’t tell anyone about it . I also had a few days with stomach pain and nausea, which I explained by the poor diet we were having between so much travel. After a few weeks I began to feel better from these discomforts, but irritability and tiredness continued.

I was still cuddling with Spencer when I felt him whine shifting for a more comfortable position into the seat.

“Spencer, what’s wrong?,” I asked lifting my head to look at him.

“Since yesterday I have a back pain that is killing me. (Y/N), I still have some years to go to turn 40 and I already feel like an old man!,” he complained.

“We haven't slept well either. Hotel beds are not the best. I have also had back pain some weeks ago. But I think I'm used to that and it doesn't hurt so much anymore.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’m complaining about my pain and you too haven't felt well lately. I'm failing miserable as a boyfriend”. He gave me a kiss on the forehead, hugging me tight again.

“I didn't want to worry you with those things. I know how you get when something happens to me, surely you would have insisted on me taking a leave. And it's not a big deal. The worst is the tiredness and the bad mood, besides that I feel that my body weighs on me. I gained weight grossly. I look awful,” I said, pouting.

“Of course you’re not. You look beautiful. Tired… but beautiful”. He took my chin and gave me a soft kiss on my lips.

“You say it just to not make me feel bad,” I replied when we pulled away.

“(Y/N), I mean it. You know I like everything about you,” Spencer replied as he stroked my back and rested his chin on my head. How I missed those moments with Spencer, even though I wish they weren't on the jet on their way to a case.

The San Francisco case was terrible. We were in the fifth day and couldn't identify the unsub yet. We were sleeping very little and badly. We couldn't even agree between ourselves on the profile, which triggered a heated discussion with Spencer while we were in the meeting room we had been assigned to work. The worst thing was having this argument in front of the whole team.

“You are not seeing the obvious (Y/N), it’s impossible this can be done by a single person. There aren't any hints of that in the evidence”. Spencer spat as he pointed to the board with the notes and photos we had.

“Are you saying I don't know how to do my job? I am seeing the same evidence as you, but you are so obsessed with your theory that you are not able to think of other possibilities”, I replied back.

“Obsessed? Oh no, no. The only one obsessed with a theory here is you. You have not put any evidence of what you are saying!”

“Don’t say that. Look at this board! What do all these photos tell you? Why couldn't it be a single person with a psychotic break? Can't you see the pattern? I began to despair and inadvertently tears I couldn’t control began to fall. That upset Spencer even more.

“Your crying isn’t going to convince me of this stupid theory (Y/N)!,” he shot almost making my heart shatter. Watching the exchange grow increasingly rough, Prentiss finally intervened.

“Reid! Enough!,” she said seeing how I couldn't control my tears and my hands started to shake. At the wake-up call, Spencer fell silent and realized my state. I started to feel dizzy. He tried to grab my arm and I avoided him.

“Don’t touch me!,” I yelled at him, as I headed straight to leave the room, but the dizziness intensified and I fell to the floor losing consciousness.

***

I managed to grab (Y/N)'s head before it hit the floor. At that moment I realized that I had lost my temper and had pushed (Y/N) to the limit. JJ immediately came over to help me. We checked the pulse and checked for any injuries. Meanwhile, Rossi went in search of the paramedics.

I felt a lump in my throat. Suddenly the nausea returned. I couldn't help myself and ran to the bathroom. I was cursing myself for not being able to control myself. My girlfriend had passed out because of me and I couldn't even be with her because I felt sick again.

When I came out of the bathroom I was intercepted by Emily in the hallway. She told me that (Y/N) had regained consciousness but they would take her to the hospital for a check-up anyway. I just wanted to go with her.

“JJ went with her and the paramedics. I'll let you go with her, but first tell me what's going on between you both. You two have been between fights and reconciliations for weeks. Your mood is a roller coaster, we no longer know what happens to you. I understand that we are all tired of this rhythm, but in you guys it seems like something unbearable! Are you okay? Can you tell me Spencer…”. Emily was right. We had weeks between discussions and mutual apologies. Now, I couldn't find a mildly convincing reason for the situation.

“I honestly don't know. I don't know what happens to us. Until a few weeks ago everything was fine and now… I don't know. I can't control myself. There are days when I feel tired, jaded. Others where everything seems normal. I have felt sick more often. I can't even stand myself sometimes,” I said scratching my head.

“Whatever it’s, I think you need to talk. This kind of outburst can't happen again, Spencer. Now go with her”

“Are you sure?... what about the case?...” I asked.

“Unbelievably, your argument gave us a clue. Rossi, Luke, and Tara are analyzing it now. So don't worry about the case, go. Talk to (Y/N)”. I nodded and ran to the hospital.

***

When I regained consciousness I was still in the meeting room, JJ was holding my head and a paramedic was checking my vitals. I felt embarrassed. I wanted to get up but JJ wouldn't let me. She told me that they would take me to the hospital to check me up even though I had already regained consciousness. I just shrugged. I didn’t know why so much commotion, for me it was just fatigue and the anger of the moment. Anger that still ran through my body, because I didn't even want to ask where Spencer was.

At the hospital a nurse came to my room and asked JJ leave the room for a moment. Then she took blood samples from me, measured my blood pressure, among other things. When she was doing that she asked me what happened. The nurse asked me too about my health in the previous weeks and I told her about my back pain, bloating, headaches, nausea and dizziness. She just nodded and told me that we should wait for the tests to rule out things and conclude if it was only fatigue and stress that triggered my fainting. Then she left the room and JJ came in again.

“What did she tell you?,” JJ asked me.

“Nothing yet. She took samples and said we have to wait,” I replied shrugging.

“What do you think it is?”

“I don’t know. I guess it's stress. In the last two months we have not had a truce JJ, I don't know how you are still standing…,” I said with a sigh.

“Yeah, I know. We have had very intense weeks lately. But it looks like it hit you and Spencer a lot harder. Are you two okay?”. There was genuine concern in her voice, but honestly I didn't have an explanation beyond the obvious: stress.

“Yes , I guess. I mean, it's true that we've argued more often, but that doesn't change how I feel about Spencer. In the opposite. It's weird what I'm going to say, but I miss him. I mean, I miss our moments together without having to think about work or argue”. I hadn't realized that tears were already coming from my eyes. “Shit JJ, and now I'm crying and I don't know why… I should be mad! He yelled at me in front of everyone and called me stupid!”

“You need to talk about it, (Y/N). I'm sure he didn't mean it”

“He is an idiot, JJ. He is almost more insufferable than me…”. I crossed my arms over my chest frowning just thinking about what happened. And as if it were fate, at that precise moment Spencer Reid made his appearance in the hospital room.

***

I walked into the hospital room and saw (Y/N) on the bed with her arms crossed over her chest talking to JJ. They both looked at me standing in the doorway. I could see (Y/N)’s anger on her face. She had right, I wasn't going to blame her for that. I steeled myself and approached (Y/N). If I had to receive her anger, I was willing to accept it.

“How do you feel?,” I asked. I wanted to take her hand, but she quickly pushed it away.

“Fine”. She didn't even want to look at me. Her eyes fixed on her feet covered by the hospital bed’s sheets. At that moment JJ ​​got up from her chair heading to the door.

“I’ll be outside calling the team. I let you talk for a while”. On leaving JJ closed the door. (Y/N) still didn't look at me.

“(Y/N)… I’m so sorry. Baby, I'm really sorry. I lost control. I don’t know what happened to me. Nothing I said I meant it. (Y/N), you have to believe me, I don't want you to think I don't value your job. That’s not true, you are invaluable to the team. You are an excellent profiler…,” I was looking at her with pleading eyes.

“You yelled at me. You treated me lousy. I don't know what is wrong with you. If you're as overwhelmed as I am, that doesn't give you the right to do what you did either”. She looked up and I could see that she was hurt. That broke my heart.

“I know. I'm sorry. I don’t know what's happening to me these weeks. I would like to give you a better explanation, but I don't have one. I know it’s wrong and I promise I will do whatever it takes to make up to you. I love you, (Y/N). I can’t stand see you hurt because of me”. This time she reached for my hand and squeezed it hard.

“I should hate you Spencer Reid. But I can't…” (Y/N) said shaking her head and huffing. “I guess I must believe you this time. You are not forgiven yet, though,” she warned me. I kissed her hand nodding in agreement. At that moment the doctor entered the room, still checking a folder with many papers.

“Miss (Y/L/N), good afternoon, I’m Dr. Anna Ragger, how are you feeling?”

“Much better now, thank you doctor,” the doctor nodded looking at me. “He is Spencer Reid, my boyfriend,” (Y/N) hastened to explain.

“Ah. Nice to meet you. Well, I have the results from your blood tests.” I was standing next to (Y/N) without releasing her hand.

“Is there something I should be concerned about doctor?”, (Y/N) asked.

“It depends on what you consider to be a concern, but I would say no,” doctor replied with a shy smile on her face. I looked at (Y/N) who had the same confused face as me. Before the doctor could say anything else, I felt my stomach twist again. Dr. Ragger looked at me strangely.

“Is something wrong sir?,” she asked. When my nausea subsided, I was only able to speak.

“I'm fine. I've only been with some stomachaches for a few weeks…,” I mumbled.

“What else did you feel? Fatigue? Headaches? Body aches? Mood changes?,” Dr. Ragger asked. I looked at her in amazement. She had perfectly described my symptoms of the past weeks. (Y/N) was frowning trying to understand what was happening.

“Yeah… ehm… all of them. Well, we've had very difficult weeks at work,” I replied. The doctor tried to hide a smile.

“Have you heard of Couvade syndrome?,” I thought for a few seconds and yes, I knew what it was.

“Yeah. Couvade syndrome is something that happens to men when their partners are pregnant. It emulates the symptoms that women experience during the first trimester of pregnancy,” I explained. The doctor nodded, smiling. (Y/N) dropped her jaw. Dr. Ragger, seeing I had not thought enough about my own words, intervened again.

“That likely explains your symptoms...”

“You mean I have that syndrome? I don't think so, because for that to happen (Y/N) would have to be... oh!”. The realization hit me like a freight train. “Oh!”, I exclaimed and looked at (Y/N) and then turned my eyes again to the doctor. “(Y/N) is...?”

“That's right, Miss (Y/L/N) is pregnant. Congratulations!”.

“Oh my God, are you sure Dr. Ragger?,” (Y/N) asked almost jumping out of bed. I started to feel dizzy. Dr. Ragger noticed my reaction and helped me to sit in the chair where JJ was before leaving the room.

“Yes miss (Y/L/N), your symptoms are consistent with pregnancy, and the blood tests confirmed it. My guess is that you must be in your 10th week of pregnancy, which would explain why your boyfriend would be experiencing similar symptoms. It doesn't happen to all men, of course, but there is always a possibility,” she explained. A little less dizzy I got up from the chair and stand beside (Y/N) holding her hand, still paralyzed. She was astonished yet.

“Well. Now that we are clear about the reasons for your symptoms, you are ready to go home miss (Y/L/N). Talk to your obstetrician about the next steps. Congratulations again,” Dr. Ragger stated before leaving the room.

Once we stayed alone in the room, (Y/N) shook her head in disbelieve. Maybe my face still didn't reflect it, but inside I was burning with happiness. Admittedly, it wasn't something we would have planned, but I was ecstatic at the news. I noticed tears began to roll down (Y/N)'s cheeks. I panicked. Maybe she was not happy with the news.

“Baby, what is it?”

“Spencer... we hadn't planned this. We hadn't even talked about the possibility of having children. And now it's happening... I’m happy, but I don't know if you want this. I can't force you to be with me for that. If you're not comfortable with this, it’s okay, I'll understand... really,” (Y / N) began to cry. I took her cheeks with my hands.

“Hey, look at me. Everything is gonna be okay. We will be okay. I love you so much (Y/N), and that's reason enough for me wanting everything with you. I want to be with you, I want to have children with you. I want you to be my wife. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You make me the happiest man in the world, and that is why it hurts when I see you suffer for something I did. Please forgive me for these days that I have put you through...,” I said kissing her forehead. I could feel her body relaxed at my words. She took a deep breath.

“Only if you're willing to forgive me for what I'm going to put you through in the next few months... and the rest of your life, Dr. Reid,” (Y/N) said now with a small smile on her face.

“Fair is fair. I'll face it happily,” I replied laughing. I was so pleased seeing the woman who made me so happy every day smiling again.

“I love you Spencer,” she said in a whisper into my lips before kissing me.

“I love you… both,” I replied when we parted. Both smiling and happy for what the future held for us.

——————–

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #dr. spencer reid #couvade

[brownandblackpearls]

🍞 ℋunger (Asra x EDReader, ED.MC)

Memories of your disorder slowly return and take over once again. You fight it but one bad day reveals everything that you wanted to hide the most.

─── Asra x black female reader

─── imagery + fiction

─── no smut

─── TW: Eating disorders and explicit ED behaviors, hurt/comfort, past abandonment, body dysmorphia, body image, confrontation, if you know you have triggers with ED, skip this one.

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

Some days are harder than others. You try your best.

But often, the best just isn’t enough to keep the spiraling at bay.

Asra knows your fondness for baked goods and chocolate well. Since you raved about that pumpkin bread a few months ago, he’s insisted on bringing you loaves every few weeks.

But as more your memories return to you, not all of them are pleasant. You begin to recall everything, including the unhealthy habits you used to have, and how people reacted to them before.

You remember what it was like when you were younger and larger than you are right now, you remember how you were treated by others who had so much to say about your body and how it fit into their thoughts, into this life. You remember things said in passing by family, friends, people who were supposed to care about you and love you.

Now? No matter how much you’ve tried to throw away those instances, those memories, the reawakened disorder clutches to the trauma like a lifeline, desperate to live through you. Desperate to starve and purge, and lessen and lessen you until there’s no more fear of fat.

But that’s just the thing. The fear is endless.

And worse, it’s a lie.

You know you’re not fat...And you know being fat means nothing on your inherent worth, your value, your beauty, your being. But it feels too difficult to put this beast down on your own.

As strong as you are, as strong as you’ve become, you wonder if some demons are stronger.

So you hide it.

You don’t want Asra to know what you’re thinking when he unwraps another chocolate truffle for you, you don’t want him to hear you try and fail to eliminate what you’ve eaten late in the night, you don’t want him to understand the things you tell yourself in the dark of your mind on your lowest days. You don’t want him to know that it took wiping your memory entirely for you to rid yourself of a condition that’s plagued you since before you knew him, that you’ve hidden since before you knew him.

Some days, you can eat.

Some days, you can’t.

Asra finally realizes on one of the days you weren’t careful enough.

He had brought more of that damned pumpkin bread and you’d already been silently agonizing over your physique that entire morning. Dress after dress, outfit after outfit, none of them seem to fit quite right enough to quell your inner critic.

“I’ve brought you some more from the market.” Asra is happy, holding his prize out to you.

You plaster a strained smile onto your face, thanking him, but you realize too late that it doesn’t shine through your eyes.

He sees.

“Are you...feeling alright?” He asks. “Is it the bread...? Do you not like it anymore?”

You grit your teeth behind your lips in anxiety, shaking your head a little too quickly.

“No! No, I love it. I’m just feeling a little...ill, that’s all!”

Asra frowns and lays the back of his hand to your head, brushing it down your temple and trailing his fingers down your tumbles of hair.

“You don’t feel warm…maybe it’s a chest cold? I’ll make you some tea, alright?”

You nod, feeling awful for lying to him.

Ashamed and embarrassed of yourself, you try to save the mood by plucking up the bread from his hands.

“I’ll save and eat this for later, when I’m feeling better!”

The statement does little to quell Asra’s concern over your ‘chest cold’, but he spares you a brief, appreciative smile before rushing to make the tea.

You climb the steps of the shop and head to your room to hide the bread away.

It’s almost tucked into your drawer when you smell the scent of it.

‘Not now...’

Your stomach gurgles, sick of fasting and excited to consume more carbs, more sugar, some kind of quick energy supply. All those days you hid not eating while Asra was away are beginning to catch up with you.

You grit your teeth and begin to count backwards, planning on drinking plenty of water to help kill the craving. But before you know it, the bread’s out of the drawer, in your hands, and being stuffed fervently into your mouth.

Without even really being present for the act, you ravenously chew the bread down. For a moment, the endorphins of finally getting fed surge through you and lift your spirits.

Halfway through the loaf, you feel the crash.

Hands full of bread, face covered in crumbs, your eyes well up and you begin to wail silently. Your body bends over under the weight of the grief, unchewed pastry falling out of your mouth and hitting the floor. You clutch your hands into tight fists of aggravation at yourself, crushing the pumpkin bread and trembling under the intense amount of anguish you feel right this second.

‘How could I have eaten that? Why did I eat that? What have I done?’

‘Now I’ll gain. I’ll be big again. No one will want me because I can’t control myself. They’ll make sure to let me know it, too.’

‘He won’t want me. Just like the rest of them. He’ll see how I really am.’

You cry and cry, unaware of Faust sliding out from under your bed. She tilts her head at you, swaying closer.

‘…!’

She cries your name.

Your mind is filled with fast thoughts that you can’t stop, and you don’t catch how Faust tries to reach you.

‘Sad? Hurt?’

When you don’t answer, Faust quickly slithers out the room, unseen.

Before long, fast footsteps ring out from the hall and you hear your door open.

‘Oh no...’

Asra calls your name and you hide further into yourself, clutching the floor.

He hates you, there is no doubt now, he is seeing the ugliness of your secret, the self-loathing, the ridiculousness of falling apart over blasted pumpkin bread, the lack of self-control, the fear, the shame, the shame, the shame—

Asra calls your name again, pulling you by the shoulders into him.

You try to keep your sobs in, your body wracking with the intensity of them. Your trembling grows to the point where it frightens even you.

As soft as water, Asra soothes a hand down your face, your neck, and calls to you as one would to an injured, trapped fawn.

“It’s alright. Let it out. Don’t hold on to all of that, let it out. I’ve got you, I’m here now.”

The sobs come then, long and loud and persistent. Years and years of pent up secrecy, of pain, of long body checks in mirrors and pools, of hidden and regurgitated food, of meanly whispered words and condemnations….all of it spills out of you.

When the waves of grief finally cease, Asra just holds you.

‘He is still here?’ you think. ‘Why?’

You wait for abandonment. You know how that feels. That is familiar. Judgement is familiar. Pain is familiar. And you just know it is coming.

Yet, nothing happens. Asra continues to hold you. No one says a word.

Long heavy silence rings in the air before he finally speaks.

“Faust said…that you…after you ate the bread…”

You nod stiffly into his chest, sniffling.

“I don’t eat.” You say plainly. “I never eat. At least, I try. But then I do and I ruin myself.”

Asra cradles your face, peering at you.

“Ruin yourself? From one piece of pumpkin bread?”

You tear up again, certain that you look and sound a complete mess.

“You don’t understand,” you insist, “it’s because of me…! Anyone else could have it…but not me, because if I have it…I’ll g-g-g-g-” you can’t even get the words out. “I just can’t.”

“Is this just about the bread? Or other foods...?”

Your face wilts and you look down in shame.

He knows, then.

“How long have you felt like this...?”

You trace the floor, shaking your head.

“...Years. I’m so sorry.”

“What...? Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve helped you. You know I would’ve—”

Your face twists and you close your eyes, tears spilling out.

“—It’s…it’s stupid…! It doesn’t even matter, I’ve been told so in the past…I’ve told others before, and nothing was done or I was criticized, or they left and I…I just was afraid that…you’d see how silly I was...how damaged I am….that you might leave…”

Asra pulls you so close to him that you can hear his heart thrum like a locomotive in his chest. He is worried sick over you, you suddenly realize.

“Look at me,” he demands, his voice so serious that you can recall nothing like it from all the years of knowing him.

You obey, eyes wide and watery.

“I will never leave you,” Asra promises so solemnly, that he sounds as if he is swearing an oath on his very soul. “I love you, do you understand that? You could change in a thousand ways and I’d still love you. You could fall for another and I’d still love you, and watch over you until we were all dust in the wind. You are the most important thing in my life and it’s my job to protect you, to uplift you. I don’t ever want you to think I would leave you. Especially not over something like this.”

“I-I’m sorry!” You plead for forgiveness for doubting his love. You know that he is loyal to you, you do. It’s just...the disorder makes it so difficult to think sometimes, to remember the truth. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have doubted you…I just…! I don’t know. I didn’t want to upset you...?”

“I am upset that I couldn’t have helped you with this sooner, that I didn’t realize. I should have realized...” Asra admits, frowning to himself. “But I can help you now. You’ve told me, and it’s alright now. We’ll face this together.”

You cling to Asra’s shirt like a lifeline, just breathing.

You know you have a long, difficult road to walk. You know it’s not as easy as finally getting the help and support you need, that there’s not a snap of fingers or a spell even that can speed this process for you. It can’t do the work for you.

You will have to learn how to eat without shame again. How to stop internalizing the pain and abandonment from the past. How to realize that pumpkin bread is just pumpkin bread, and that this was never about the food to begin with.

You will have to learn to look in a mirror and smile genuinely, even on the bad days. You will have to learn to eat food without calorie-counting, without crying.

You know there will be nights where you will fail, days where you stumble, and moments where you wish for nothing more but to be ill once again.

Asra can be there to hold your hand, to keep you steady, but he can’t do the work that you will have to do.

But you also know...

...you are worth it. A good life is worth it. A life with someone who cares for you, who loves you, is worth it. And deep down, you know that you care and love yourself, in a way, through all the pain.

You want to overcome. To heal.

Asra’s voice breaks you out of your trance.

“You’re not alone anymore. I’ll...I’ll write to Julian! And we’ll all come up with a plan, together. Okay? We can start today. Okay..?”

You keep your eyes locked on him, holding. Just holding.

“Okay. I’m ready.”

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

AN: Do not under any circumstances copy, repost, or edit any of my work including this one. If you see someone do so, please let me know.

If any of you are interested in a short follow-up with Dr. Julian assisting you in overcoming ED, let me know.

☾ check my blog for more imagines.

#asra x mc #asra x reader #asra #asra alnazar #x reader #the arcana #imagine #self insert #y/n #asra y/n #asra x y/n #the arcana x reader #tw eating things #eating disoder mention #ed #ed revovery #ed imagine #black reader #black mc #black main character

[writingsfromhome]

Invisible Load

A/N: This one deals with your heavy past and a very annoying (but tempting) present

T/W: Mentions of abuse

————————————————

"You're in my space," you huff as Harry, once again, crowds you.

"Well we're trying to fit into frame!" Harry points to the automatic camera just as the flash goes off. "Great, look what you've done."

It's hard to take him seriously when he wears a blonde wig and a fake moustache. You move your elbow in front of him and pose in time for the last picture. The group rushes to the laptop to see it.

It was July 4th weekend and you were invited to your one of your friend's big weekend party she was throwing. You didn't realise a particular English artist would be in attendance. If you knew, you would have come up with at least five solid excuses.

You've worked with Harry professionally in the past, helping write some of his songs. But he had a habit of rubbing you the wrong way, having a counterargument for everything you said or thought just because he was a good looking member of the male species, he thought the world revolved around him.

You go over and look at the photos. They're funny except for the one where Harry and you are glaring at each other.

"I think it's cute," Harry says from behind, directly into your ear and you can't help but flinch. If he notices, he doesn't say, he just continues. "The way the camera caught us flirting like that."

"If this is the way you flirt," you look over at him. "It's no wonder you're single."

That sets Harry off laughing. You make eye contact with your friends and they give you the look like cut the tension and just sleep with him already. You roll your eyes. All your friends were convinced the constant arguing was just sexual tension but you disagreed. You just hated cocky guys like Harry.

***

The sun beats down on the party late afternoon and everyone crowds in the shade. For someone who was stuck in studios most days and nights, you relished under the sun. You let the cotton dress slip off as you undo the buttons and lay on a lawn chair, your skin warms under the sun.

"What a vision," you hear Harry say, you can feel his eyes on you. Ugh, you hated the way he made you want to cover yourself immediately.

"That would be a compliment coming from anyone but you," you mutter back. You don't realise how close he was because he actually hears you.

"Maybe you can't take a compliment."

You squint against the sun, Harry sits on the chair beside you. He'd also taken off his shirt and mimics the way you lay. Couldn't he leave you alone for a second?

"Maybe you need to give better compliments," you lay back down. You could ignore him.

"This is nice!" Harry says. "It's like we're in our London studio all over again,"

"This isn't nice and I don't miss it," you remember all the bickering and him wanting to change anything you suggested. "You shitted on everything I suggested."

"Because it didn't fit my brand," Harry says simply. You sit up again, leaning on your elbows to stare at him. He was being serious.

"Your brand," you scoff.

"Yeah," Harry finally sits up himself and eyes you. "Mysterious, sexy, yet fun."

"Sounds more like a magician," you say.

"A magician?" Harry swings his legs to the floor. "A magician?!"

You shrug.

"A magician..." he mutters to himself. You smirk, you managed to get under his skin. But you wipe the smile off as soon as he asks, "Well how's your work going?"

You think about how you haven't written a decent thing in months. "Okay."

"What does that mean? You miss me and my magic?"

The way he could take your insults and turn them back into jokes on you irritated you. But you don't show it. You just lay with your eyes closed and respond, "You're the last thing I miss-get that clear. But I haven't really written anything I like recently."

"Writer's block?" Harry asks.

"No, I don't get writer's block. I've been writing for as long as I could remember."

"You've never had writer's block?" Harry didn't believe you and his accusations force you to sit up and face him.

"No, and I don't have it now." You would never admit it but those two words scared you. "I'm just...stuck."

"Well I can help you through 'being stuck'...say, over dinner?" Harry offers.

"How about over my dead body?" You shoot back. You weren't about to spill your heart out to him just to have him argue everything you say and humiliate you.

"Waste of a good body if you ask me," Harry smiles like he knew exactly what his comments were doing.

"Why do I even bother," you glare.

"I heard the best way of getting over being 'stuck' is just relaxing. I know a few ways to help you relax."

"Oh I bet you say that to all the girls." You cross your arms over your body, suddenly conscious of how much of you Harry was eyeing.

"I've got plenty of songs written about me. It's proof I've unstuck them."

"The talent's all theirs Styles, don't take credit."

"I only take credit where I'm owed." Harry shifts from his chair to yours. You use your feet to push him off.

"Harry!" Someone from the pool calls out. "Come here and show Ben the thing you did earlier."

"Duty calls," Harry lifts your hand to his lips but you manage to snatch it away before he could kiss it. You don't admit the thought had sent your heart racing.

***

Later that night on the beach, your group of friends, plus Harry, watch the fireworks. They move closer to the show going on down the beach but you stay closer to home for now, just taking in the night.

You stare in awe despite seeing them every year, you imagine soaring up to the sky like they did, just to explode in a kaleidoscope of colours. How freeing it seemed. A burst of temporary colours for people's enjoyment, then fading into dark. It was also sort of sad. You wouldn't mind being one of them.

"I thought this was a happy moment," Harry somehow finds his way to you.

"Who said I'm not happy?" You ask, the crackling in the sky above.

Harry turns his camera to you, he'd taken a sneaky photo of you. You never thought of yourself as photogenic but he managed to capture the exact mood you were feeling in the moment. Your head is tilted to the sky, a thoughtful expression on, the can in your hand pressed against your chest, your other hand draped across your waist. The sky above is flecked with colours.

"You've got a good eye but please delete that," you still say. You didn't want your pictures on his phone, who knows what he did with them.

"It's an amazing shot," Harry compliments himself. "And I'm keeping it. It's not like this is the only picture of you on my phone."

"What does that mean?" You try to snatch the phone but he dances away.

"I have loads of you on this," he holds his phone up high. You try to grab his arm to bring it down but he switches arms and begins scrolling.

"You don't have!" You jump for it but he's too tall. "My permission!"

"This isn't the bloody Oscars I don't need a disclosure," Harry laughs as he finds what he's looking for and shows you. It's a photo of you sleeping, a close up of your open mouth. You see red.

"Harry!" You give one final warning before launching at him to grab the phone. He twirls away and dodges your every move. "When did you even take that!"

He's too busy laughing as he runs along the waterline. You'd like to push him into the water to get rid of those photos.

"At the studio, last year," he continues dodging you. "You fell asleep after a late night. I had to! In case I needed blackmail. I also have this!"

He pulls up another and from where you stand it's your face mid-sneeze. The cocky bastard!

"I am going to shove my foot so far up your ass!" You charge at him and he continues running away.

"Didn't take you for the kinky type!" He has to stop as the sandy beach gives way to the forest. He bounces on his feet, his eyes on your approaching figure.

"You're one of the most self-centered, egotistical, pieces of shit I have ever met!" You make a final lunge for him and crash into his body as he stays in place. Although you manage to grab hold of the phone, your loss of balance sends you tumbling back and the phone is flung from your hand into the forest behind him.

The breath leaves your body as it connects with the sand and Harry barely catches himself over you as he falls on top. His hands are on either side of you, your heaving chest touches his everytime you take a breath. Being under him like this made it harder to breathe normally.

"I've dreamnt about this," he grins down at you. You shove him but he's rooted in place. He untangles your legs from his. "Now where is my phone?"

In the fall you forgot you'd accidentally tossed it. You look up wide-eyed and he stares. "Y/N! My phone?"

"I sort of...maybe...accidentally tossed it that way?" You point to the dark shrubbery. He turns and swears. Your heart pumps intensely, the blood rushing to your head as you anticipate his rage. He turns around, his eyebrows drawn and he raises his hands above his head. You flinch and squeeze your eyes shut.

But nothing comes.

"Hey," Harry says softly. You feel the pressure of him leave your torso and you peek one eye open. He's sitting next to you, a look of concern on his face.

You swallow the lump in your throat, mortified as you realise how triggered your response was. You see the pity in his eyes and feel the pinpricks in your own.

"I'll help you look," you mumble, standing up to brush the sand off of you. You didn't want to wait for him to pretend to be nice. You just whip out your phone's flashlight and watch your step.

"Y/N," Harry calls out to you. You hear him approaching, hesitation in every move he makes. "I'm not angry at you. At all."

"That's great," you put on your tough face again—that was the only way people couldn't find out what a broken mess you were inside. "That's not going to help me look for the phone."

"The phone doesn't matter just wait, look at me for a second."

"I have to look for the phone," you repeat, your eyes searching the bushes.

"Y/N," he says sharply. You curse your own reflexes as you flinch again, finally turning to look at Harry with what you hope looks like a death glare. You raise your eyebrow when he just stares. "Sorry I didn't mean to call your name like that. I was just surprised. And...I wasn't going to hurt you or anything."

"Thanks," you dismiss him with an eye roll. You turn back to your search. You were glad the flashlight was pointed to the floor and not your face because you could feel the tears slip down and make trails proving how weak you were. In front of a dick like Harry Styles.

You finally see the glint a little further in and go to it, using the time to wipe your face before returning it to him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to toss it." You sound distant, even to your own ears.

"I'll delete the pictures," Harry says from behind you as you speed walk down the coast towards your friends.

"Whatever," you say over your shoulder. It didn't even matter anymore.

***

You wake up early, before anyone was up. It’s not like your racing mind let you really sleep at all.

The cool morning breeze is a welcome feeling on your tired body, and you brew a pot of coffee, the rich smell adding to the morning ambience.

You decide to take your coffee down to the beach but realise a figure swimming in the waters. You recognise Harry's worn out tshirt and shoes on the sand. He doesn't seem to notice you so you settle down and watch the sun slowly make it's way over the horizon.

"Where's mine?" Harry walks up to you after his swim, dripping wet and making sure he splashes you with the droplets from his hair. He lays out the towel he brought and collapses on top of it.

"You could dry your hair instead of dripping all over me," you glare at him. You see the sparkle in his eye—he was going to turn your words into something dirty. But when you make eye contact, he knows you know and that seems to be enough for him. He just grins and holds out his hand, you pass him your cup.

"Holy hell Y/N, this coffee's pure sugar," he hands the cup back. "How the bloody hell do you manage that?"

"That's because it's as sweet as me," you shoot back. "I don't know how you drink yours without it."

"The only way to enjoy a good cup of-"

"Do you want more or not?" You cut him off. He knows what's best for him, cutting his monologue short and accepting the cup. You decide to give over the whole thing and just enjoy the sunrise, surprisingly, Harry stays silent beside you. The two of you watching in silence.

Eventually, you lean back onto the sand and close your eyes, the morning rays kissing you good morning. When you open your eyes, Harry is propped up watching you.

"Do you mind?" You ask, but for once he doesn't look like he's going to bother you. You remember yesterday, cringe, he was probably just taking pity on you again.

"I do actually," he gets off his elbow and sits up. "I do mind."

A minute passes, then another. "Just spit it out!" You finally say. "I'm not taking part in your dramatics."

"Okay," Harry stares right into your soul. "I mind that a wonderful woman like you thought I was going to...to hit her yesterday when I was just showing my exasperation. I mind that someone as strong as you has to put on a brave face like you do.”

Oh my god. He really said that. You were mortified but also, touched. Then the thought creeps in again...he just felt sorry for you.

"Exasperated," you quote. "That's a big word coming from you."

He frowns. "You don't have to make a joke."

"You don't have to worry," you sit up. "I'm perfectly fine. I'm not some pet project you have to pity alright? I flinched! People flinch all the time! Don't read into it."

“Okay I know I push all your buttons," Harry's words come rushing out. "I like to banter with you and tease you and watch you roll your eyes at me or try to come up with a good comeback. But I respect you enough to recognise you probably been through some shite. And I would think you respect me enough not to feed me some BS story.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” you knew how cruel your words sounded but you couldn’t stop. “I don’t have any respect for you! You’ve never given me a good reason to. You are always pushing my buttons and every time I’ve ever worked with you, you’ve just made me feel small and shot down every single one of my ideas. The way I react is none of your damn business, you don’t need to psychoanalye what I’ve been through and I don’t need any of your pity. Even if you mask it as respect or whatever.”

You run out of steam as Harry’s face slams shut. You never wanted to be cruel, it was a toxic cycle to get roped into but all you could do now is just turn back to the house. You’d said more than you meant.

***

You push around breakfast, claiming a stomach ache and stay in your room for most of the day. Actually, the guilt of what you said eats away at you. You knew what it felt like to be shouted at like that, taunted, and broken down. Maybe your flinch was a reaction from broken relationships. Relationship. But the way Harry treated you, reminded you of someone you knew.

But you knew deep down you couldn’t project your past onto everyone. And that’s the one thought that pulls you out of bed and down to the pool.

“Anyone see Harry?” You ask as you scan the crowd for him.

“I think he’s still in bed. Said he had a killer hangover,” someone lets you know.

You go up to his room and knock lightly but no response. You knock again, try the lock, but still no response. You go back to your room.

You collapse under the weight of the guilt, shame, and misplaced anger. It wasn’t fair, just when you think you moved on, you fall into the same patterns.

Something pushes you to get your notebook and begin writing; page after page you pour out everything you’d been supressing for the last year. Your hand cramps and the ink runs out but you move to your phone and continue the onpour of everything you’ve ever wanted to say. By the end of it, the sun is starting to set, and you smile through the blurry vision and the aching hands. You had so much to work with—you were finally writing again! Now It was time to try Harry.

His room door is ajar when you walk past, maybe he joined the party down on the beach. You grab some of the pizza laying on the kitchen island and make your way down.

Harry stokes the bonfire, talking to a few friends around him. You sit opposite him and just watch as he listens attentively to what someone else is saying, how he throws his head back and laughs. How he wasn’t a bad guy—the villain you painted him out to be in your head. He was just human, and so were you. And...there was something between you two that you were afraid of diving into again so you just let your past take over.

Harry finally looks up and notices you. He hesitates and you tilt your head to the right. He understands.

You walk over away from the light of the bonfire and sit down. Harry joins you a few minutes later in the sand.

“I’ve started writing again,” you say to break the ice.

“That’s good.” Harry doesn’t give much. You take a deep breath, he wasn’t going to make this very easy.

“Yeah...so, Harry, I said some shitty things and I’m really sorry.” You take a deep breath. “I was scared, and projecting my past onto you. And you didn’t deserve that. Even though you’re a a jerk sometimes, you didn’t deserve that.”

He doesn’t say anything for a while. Just staring out at the setting sun glimmering on the water. Finally, he bumps his shoulder into yours and you look at him, curious. But he just smiles, unguarded and unusually kind. “I did sort of deserve it. I give you a hard time so But you don’t deserve whatever happened in your past. And you don’t deserve carrying it around all the time-“

“Tell me about it,” you huff. “My back aches carrying it with me all the time.”

“Let me help,” Harry gets on his knees and pretends to lift something off your back. He struggles, groaning as he leans back with it.

“I should unstrap it from my shoulders first,” you state.

“Oh, duh!” He watches you unstrap the invisible load. Then he stands up and pretends to lift from the bottom. “Some help?” He asks.

You go opposite him and pretend to lift from the bottom. As you two straighten out, you can’t help the grin you give him. “The ocean?” He asks as you suggest: “the ocean?”

The two of you make an exaggerated show of staggering to the shore and tossing it in. He shields his eyes, watching the load drift off to sea.

“How does it feel?” He turns to you. It felt like a whole new world, it was silly but you felt lighter. Just inviting him into your world, made you feel a little less alone.

“Like a fresh start,” you finally say. “I’m letting go.”

“Didn’t I tell you I knew ways to make a girl relax?” He grins. You push him but it’s playful, the smile on your own face never leaves. When his face grows serious, you freeze.

“What?” You ask.

“Can I kiss you?”

You blink, he’s still standing waiting. And you didn’t realise how long you’d been waiting for this. You just nod, your body pumping every ounce of blood straight into your head. When he steps forward, he doesn’t do anything too sudden. He just wraps his arms around you, keeping eye contact, his nose gently bumping against yours. You smile, suddenly wanting to hide, he kisses the corner of your smile before making sure you were okay with it. Then he grabs your face, you close your eyes and let him kiss you. It tastes like wood smoke and pizza and the sea. But most of all, it tasted happy.

“You’re okay?” He asks.

“I am,” you drape your arms around him. “Finally.”

“Is it finally time?” You hear a shout from your friends. It felt like your own private world so you forgot everyone could see you two. But when you turn around everyone is just as excited as you felt.

“Finally no more sexual tension!” One of your friends says.

“We’d all better find some earplugs for tonight.”

“The Y/N and Harry train can finally leave the station.”

“And it’s riding all night long,” the group laughs.

“I think that’s enough,” Harry laughs, leading you back to the group but you’re both thoroughly embarassed, Harry just does a better job at changing the subject.

“I told you so,” my friend winks when you walk to up her.

“You did,” you say as you look out to Harry. He’s talking to someone else but his eyes never leave you.

He finds you later, kisses you without a care to what anybody would say. Then he whispers in your ear, “what do you say about starting the train ahead of schedule?”

The blood rushes to your face but for once you don’t scold him, instead you grab his hand. “We should go while everyone’s distracted.”

As the two you inch towards the house, Harry says, “See what happens when we put our minds together?”

“The way you like it?” You ask. “According to your brand?”

“Yeah, you called me a magician. Now I’ll show you how I make the magic happen.”

You groan at his joke as he runs the rest of the way in, racing to the bedroom. You stumble behind and feel weightless as you collapse into bed and finally give in to everything you ever wanted.

It was liberating.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #fic #writingsfromhome #tw: abuse #one shot #?

[cuddlepilefics]

Balloon party

Fandom: Stray Kids, 3racha

Sickie: Jisung

Caregivers: 2basco (Chan, Changbin)

 Jisung’s POV.:

It had been a while since we’ve last been on a game show, so the entire group was hyped for our afternoon schedule. Those shows were usually the most fun to participate in, so not even the grueling dance practice this morning could dampen my mood. I was really looking forward to a fun afternoon, using this thought to keep me going, ignoring the burning in my muscles. “Alright, we’re done with practice for today. Let’s head back to the dorm. Make sure you shower quickly, so everyone gets a chance to freshen up before we need to leave again”, Chan announced and I dropped down next to my bag. My sweaty back against the wall, I pulled out my water bottle, chugging the small amount of water that was still left. We didn’t really get a chance to rest very long before Chan dragged us back home to ensure we wouldn’t be late. I was starting to get more hyped up, the more time passed. While waiting for my turn to shower, I wanted to help Channie-hyung make lunch but apparently, he didn’t trust me to be of much help, so he sent me away. I passed the time playing games on my phone, hearing the leader chuckle: “He’s already bouncing off the walls now, what am I going to do with him after the show?” A small giggle escaped my lips. I wasn’t sure who my hyung was talking about, it was either me or Felix, the younger Aussie seemed to be just as excited as me.

Lunch was filled with lighthearted chatter and I noticed that everyone had missed going on game shows. They were a welcome change from all those serious interviews and way less tense than most public appearances, so it’s not too hard to see why we liked having them in our schedules. We finished our meal and cleaned the dishes. Before heading out, I grabbed a chocolate bar as dessert which I devoured on the way to the car. I startled a bit when I heard a loud voice behind me: “Yah! Who gave the squirrel chocolate? You know what sugar does to him.” Afraid my dessert would be taken away from me, I stuffed the last few bites into my mouth and turned around to give Changbin an innocent smile, with my cheeks still puffed up. “Sung, you know how energetic you get when you eat candy. Who gave you that?”, my hyung frowned. I swallowed and giggled a bit: “I gave it to myself. You know, Jisung is a big boy. Don’t worry, the fans love my energetic self.” – “Yeah, maybe the fans do but what about giving your hyungs a hard time?”, Changbin argued. I looked at him innocently, pretending not to know what he was talking about, and asked: “You mean like that?” Then I started to chase him in circles around the rest of the group, who just rolled their eyes at me.

We made it to the car and I collapsed into my seat still panting from our little chase. Changbin plopped into the seat in front of me, turning around to give me a death glare. Probably a warning to not sneak my hand forward to tickle his side. Did I care? Nope, I didn’t. Instead I continued to bother my hyung for the rest of the ride. At some point, even Chan turned around to warn me and I felt a bit sorry for not being able to keep my overflowing energy under control. I managed to pull myself together right as the car came to a halt. From now on I need to be professional, I reminded myself, as we went in to get our hair and makeup done. It wasn’t that hard to do, since the effects of my earlier snack were slowly tapering off. Especially the hyung-line kept watching me warily, expecting a prank from me at any time now. They weren’t wrong but I refrained from doing anything, instead just looking forward to the games we were going to play soon.

The first few games were really fun and I was truly enjoying myself. Until the third game of the afternoon was announced. We were supposed to pair up and dance with a balloon stuck between our bodies. The team whose balloon dropped or popped last wins the game. I cringed and barely had the time to mentally prepare myself before the staff brought in a bunch of balloons, a lot more than we’d need for the game, probably for aesthetic reasons. I didn’t care about those reasons, my eyes going wide at the sight of the colorful party decoration. Balloons, I had always despised them. The colors were always way to bright and unnatural, they felt weirdly squishy and made those awful squeaking noises when you touched them wrong. Worst of all, they were like a ticking timebomb, ready to explode at any given moment. I couldn’t touch them. ‘No! Not going to happen.’ They even said the balloon would probably explode between us while we dance. My hands started to shake and I shoved them into my pockets, so nobody would notice. Of course, we had some time to fool around before the actual game started but unlike earlier, I didn’t join my friends. I tried to stay as far away from the dangerous balls, squinting my eyes at them as a warning. ‘Don’t you dare explode on me!’

Hyunjin chased after Jeongin, waving a bright orange balloon in the air. He dragged his hand over the rubber material, triggering a shrill squeak. I flinched as a shiver ran down my back and I pleaded in my head for them to please be careful and not accidentally pop the balloon. Changbin must have seen my face because he suddenly appeared next to me, a pink balloon in his hand. Smirking, he dragged his fingers over it and I jumped at the sound. I was starting to flush hot and cold and my hands were sweating. “What? You don’t like that sound?”, the older asked innocently, “Guess what, I don’t like being tickled either.” – “H-Hyung, please don’t do this”, I pleaded, backing away. He gave a fake-confused look, dragging his finger over the rubber again and asking: “You mean this?” I nodded, backing away further as my shaking hands went up to cover my ears. Changbin only laughed and I thought I heard something along the lines of ‘too bad, this is your payback’, but I wasn’t sure because it was muffled by my hands. He held the pink bomb closer to me and instead of covering my ears, I shielded my face with my arms. He couldn’t see the tears stinging in my eyes as he went to produce that awful sound again. Except this time, it was different. The last thing I remembered was a loud ‘BOOM!’ before everything went black.

 Changbin’s POV.:

I was just getting Jisung back for being an annoying squirrel on the way here. It was funny, he really seemed to hate the noise and I was certainly using that to tease him. Apparently, I had gripped it too tightly because the next thing I knew was the balloon popping in my hands. There was barely a second for me to get over the shock myself before a movement caught my eye. I cursed, jumping forward to secure my arms around Jisung’s waist to keep him from hitting the ground. Carefully, I lowered his to lay down on the floor and tapped his squishy cheek. No reaction. I shook his shoulder and called out his name, catching the attention of the remaining members. “What happened?”, Chan frowned crouching down next to us. I was starting to freak out and I cursed my voice for wavering when I replied: “I-I don’t know? The b-balloon popped and suddenly he was out.” A staff member joined us and felt my dongsaeng’s pulse, announcing that it was strong and fast. “Why don’t you take him back to the dressing room. There’s a couch you can put him on”, she asked and I immediately scooped the younger up. I couldn’t help but feel like this was all my fault.

I placed Jisung on the couch and studied his face. Chan put a comforting hand on my shoulder and it was only then that I noticed I was crying. He took Jisung’s wrist again and checked his pulse. It was still strong but beating steadily at an only slightly too fast pace. The rest of our group was asked to stay out of the room to give Jisung some space and I could only imagine how worried they must be, not being able to see him. I took Jisung’s limp hand in mine and cringed at how sweaty his palm was, was he scared? I gave it a gentle squeeze, mumbling ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again, till I felt his hand twitch in mine. Suddenly, the younger shot up and pulled his hand away, scaring me. His eyes darted around the room and he looked so small and so stressed. His breathing quickened and I patted his arm to catch his attention. “Hey, you’re okay, Sungie. You’re okay. Look at me!”, I said and he turned to face me. There were tears streaming down his puffy cheeks and I was almost thrown off balance when Jisung crashed into my chest, sobbing loudly. Taken aback, I wrapped my arms around him and stood up, pulling the shaking boy with me. I sat down on the couch, keeping the younger in my lap as he cried into my shoulder. Chan returned with some water and sat down next to us. “Hey Sung, can you tell us what happened?”, he asked carefully. The younger only continued to cry and I sighed: “It was the balloon, wasn’t it?” Jisung nodded against my shoulder, trying to pull himself together.

We waited in silence for our dongsaeng to calm down, so he could explain more to us and so I could apologize. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this guilty in my life but it didn’t seem like Jisung was mad at me, if he was, he’d be clinging to Chan and not me. Jisung’s cries quietened to soft sniffles and he looked up at us with swollen eyes, admitting: “I-I’ve always had that fear, I don’t think it’s bad enough to be called a phobia, -“ – “You passed out! I’m pretty sure it is bad enough to be called that”, I interrupted. “I don’t like balloons. I don’t like anything about them, not their color, not the way they feel or the sounds they make and even less the fact that they can explode at you any second. I’m pretty sure balloons are made by Satan to eliminate us”, Jisung rambled and I couldn’t help to feel even worse. How scared he must have been when I cornered him like that. My arms tightened around him and I buried my face in his hair mumbling ‘I’m sorry’. Jisung gave a weak smile and patted my head, whispering: “It’s okay, hyung. You didn’t know and you deserved to pay me back.”

“Talking about knowing. Why did you never tell us?”, Chan question his forehead creased. Jisung shrugged, blushing a bit, and replied: “One, it’s quite embarrassing and two, we do have a few pranksters in this group, so I guess I was afraid of the teasing and having that information used against me.” I nodded, it made sense but I could promise him: “Seeing how bad it is, none of us would ever dare using this against you, Sung.” Yes, we could tease each other endlessly but we knew our limits and wouldn’t harm any of our friends. He nodded and smiled when the rest of the group joined us. Not having heard our conversation earlier, Seungmin brought one of the balloons with him. I felt Jisung tense in my arms and was quick to ask Seungmin to take the balloon out of the room. He didn’t understand why and pouted a bit because he had planned to take it home with him but he sensed the seriousness in my voice and complied. Jisung hugged me closer and whispered a quiet ‘thank you’ in my ear. I squeezed his shoulder in reply. He didn’t have to tell the others about his situation right now and I totally understood if he’d rather explain it to the at home. Our manager came in and announced that we could go home now. “Why don’t you guys go first? I’m going to take Jisung for some cheesecake on the way home”, I asked, wanting to make it up to my dongsaeng. A wide smile spread on the younger’s face and he giggled: “You’re giving me sugar, hyung?” My eyes met Chan’s in horror. “Channie-hyung, help! What have I done?”, I panicked. He just laughed at me: “Nope, you brought that on yourself. I’m taking the others back to the dorm. Have fun!”

#stray kids #skz #sick #sickfic #angst #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #comfort #3racha #hanjisung #whump #seo changbin #bang chan #han jisung

[p0gue420]

!Too Young To Feel Numb! (Kie x Reader)

ATTENTION!! There are a lot of trigger warnings in this one! Including: drinking, drugs, talks of feeling alone, depression.

Summary: Y/n started smoking weed at the age of 8, It’s all she’d known; She grew up around it so it was normal for her to start super young, she told herself that’s the farthest she’d go...only smoking weed..never any hard drugs. She thought she could learn from her parent's mistakes, guess not. 

pairing: Kie x female!reader, Rafe x Platonic! reader, JJ x Sister figure! reader

Warnings: Substance abuse, depression, suicidal thoughts, marijuana Underage drinking,(reader is 15),

A/N: Alot of grammar errors because i dont feel like checking it so sorry....not really,hehe

---------

I use to think people were crazy for even thinking about doing anything harder than weed. Yeah...I was like 7 so it doesn’t count.”Yo you gonna babysit that shit or pass it, I mean...I have all day but  would love to do something besides wait for you to pass the blunt.” I rolled my eyes waiting for JJ to hand it to me.”Chill, what’s up your ass today?”

He finally passes it, after what felt like hours. I take a long hit before seeing he’s actually wanting me to answer his question.”Nothin. man, I’ve just got places to be.” I mumbled out hoping he wouldn’t start asking any further questions. He stares blankly awaiting me to pass it back, knowing I don’t share my feelings so he simply lays off. “Hey. You trynna go surfing today….whenever you’re done with your….things..?”

“Uhh, yeah text me and-” I’m cut off by the sound of my phone vibrating...Barry.

Barry:

Meet in twenty? I got extra today

I look up from my phone stuttering my words, and fumbling.“Uhm, I gotta go do something, but I’ll text you later to surf, yeah?” I say nodding towards JJ as I began walking out.”Uhm yea sure, hey-” I was already out the door.”-be safe.” he muttered to himself left wondering why I left so fast. On the way to my bike, I ran into Kie and Pope laughing about something before Kie began to make her way over towards me.

“Hey, Y/n! Heading out so fast, are we?”Kie pouted her lip out mimicking a whimpering sound.” heh, yeah sorry bub. I gotta go handle some things and I’ll be back later.” I peck her lips in a swift movement as well as pull up the front of her crop top, covering her exposed cleavage.”Those are my love,keep them covered” I wink at her. She laughs and heads inside after blowing me a kiss,that I catch and pretend to place in my heart..Wow im so whipped.

My thoughts cut off by a loud vibrating noise.

Barry:

You coming?

Read: 46 sec.ago

Me:

Omw now!

Read: just now

I hop on my bike heading over to Barry’s place knowing a shortcut I found a few days ago.

It only takes 10 minutes before i’m in front of his house walking up the steps of the porch.My clean oxygen is immediately replaced by the smell of cigarettes,weed,and...Is that burnt hair?I scrunch my face in disgust at the awful smells.”Aye look who it is!” Barry calls out after seeing my face, He’s standing beside..Rafe cameron.

Now...I’m not friends with Rafe but i also don’t exactly despise him.I babysat wheezie all summer last year,most the time he’d join..keep me company;I don’t think he knew i was with Kie but he’s not all bad.He’s helped me more times than I can count,only because i've done the same for him though.

“Yo waddup.I didn’t expect to see you here.” I share a short handshake with Barry and side hug Rafe,he seems unprepared for it so he stumbles a bit but eventually hugs back quickly.”uh yeah.just doing some..business” Rafe says avoiding eye contact,looking everywhere except my face.”anyway i'm gonna head out, i'll catch you guys later.” Rafe walks towards,im guessing his bike;I head inside following barry so i didn’t really catch what he drove in.

“So like I said I've got your usual ,and then I got a little extra something I thought you may like.”He continues on but I'm so wrapped up in the fact that I want to consume something soon,anything;I don’t know exactly what he's saying.”Sound good?” He asked “Uh what?sorry I zoned out a bit.”I shook my head pushing my long hair out of my eyes.”Look,Usually altogether this would be alot of money but considering I stole the pills,I'll spare you the oxy,wadda yuh say?”, “Yeah sure,80$?”

He nods his head holding his hand out as i hand him the money.He hands you a bag full of coke in a plastic baggy, along with the pills in its original container it was prescribed. “Ight,thanks man.Ill see you later next week!” I wave goodbye as I show myself out, shoving the ‘things’ I had bought into my bag and swinging it back on my back.

~Incoming call from:Bubbs<3

I instantly pick up not wanting to worry her.

I instantly hear the boys laughing and playing in the background,but wait for her to say something.”Hey baby, you heading back yet?” Kie questioned sounding bored of the childish boys we spend our time with.”Not yet,i promise im almost done,ask the boys if there's drinks at the chateau please.”She turns her head away from the boys asking what there is to drink besides sink water.

I hear a chorus of “We just stocked up”,”All good momma bird.” and other sayings coming from the overly hyper boys.”Did you hear that,or need me to repeat?” She hesitantly says, making sure I’m still listening ”Gotcha,I'm headed your way now,see you there” I say quickly hanging up without giving her time to respond.

I hop on my bike and drive towards…...the opposite of the chateau,instead deciding to go to the Camerons.I drive,stuck in thought of what ill do when i get there,not quite sure why i decided to come.I had been so lost in thought I didn’t realise I was suddenly at the Cameron residence. I park my bike and began walking up to the door,but before I can knock,Rafe walks up behind me.

“Y/n?” I swiftly turn around being scared for a minute before realizing who it was.”Oh!uhm. yeah...hey” I ‘smoothly’ say”what are you doing here?” he asks..The whole conversation was a blur and before I knew it I was walking up to his room to hang out.I sit on the bed laying back asking about what he wants to do.”I don't know,you came here,what'd you have in mind?” He asked curiously.”I'm not sure.” I snorted at my inability to maintain a conversation.

I dig into my bag as he starts up about how he broke his bed frame the other day, because he put too many boxes on the bed while getting rid of some old things. I finally found what I was looking for,the baggy of white powder.I lifted it up smiling widely.”Can I do this here or no?”I question,feeling my body begin to sweat at the thought of getting to snort the white powder.

“Uh,I mean.. yea sure,didn't know you did that kind of thing.. but I mean go ahead.” He rambles. He stares into space as I do a few lines, my eyes opening wide at the sensation of sudden adrenaline;I look over to see him trying not to stare.”Oh my bad,You want some?” I ask holding up the dollar folded into a cylinder shape , gesturing to the lines of coke spread on the dresser.

---

Hours go by,giggling,cracking jokes with rafe as well as doing oxy and maybe overdoing it with the coke seeing as the bag was almost gone.Rafe hasn't done much.I on the other hand was feeling VERY shaky and everything was just so hilarious..until it wasnt.My high started to get bad and overall scary.I must've did too much in such a limited amount of time.I look at my phone .

17 missed calls from Bubbs<3

8 missed calls from John B:)

9 missed calls from Popey boi

11 missed calls from JJ

Incoming call from Bubbs<3

“He-h-hello ,hi,hey.”

“DON'T ‘HI’ ME!” Kie instantly began screaming into the phone making me move my face away from it as Rafe looked at me with a worried expression on his face.

“Y/n,Where have you been! I’ve been so worried! I’ve-” I Blanked out again not in the mood to be yelled at.”Yeah,hey I nee-need,will-can youcomeandpickme up” I say jumbling all my words together. “Are you okay?Why are you talking like that?''She ask worried about my state of mind.

“Yeah am- I fine,Yes” I say yet again struggling to sound normal. I guess I was on speaker because JJ immediately began yelling into the phone asking about where I was.”Rafes house” Rafe sat silently waiting for them to break out into hysterics about me being with him.The phone went silent for a moment before the call ended.”So does that mean they not-....Vodka” was all i said before heading downstairs Rafe was sober enough to be able to notice what i was doing.I quickly went downstair searching through the freezer.

“Yessss.”I exclaimed before chugging the vodka.”Rafe continuously asking me to give him the bottle.I chugg at least half the pint bottle before having to give it up because Sarah comes down the stairs.”Y/n what're you doing here?” She asks excitedly until she saw me tripping over my own feet walking towards her,”Woah!” she caught me just before I hit the floor.

She turned to the door hearing someone pull up.Kie.”Rafe what did you do to her?” Sarah asked, holding me up scared of how out of it I was.”SHE BROUGHT COKE HERE,i did a bit with her, but she did A LOT. I legit did nothing this time I swear on everything!”He trailed back up the stairs not caring about the situation now that Sarah was there to take care of you. 

I began to sweat, tears running down my face. scared of what's happening to me.John b and Kie rush through the front doors asking where I am.”IN HERE GUYS!” Sarah screamed for them to hear her.My eyes rolling to the back of my head as I went in and out of consciousness.

“BABYYYY!!!” i exclaimed making grabby hands at Kie as i started crying harder

Sarah helped me stand up shakingly as I tried to walk to my girlfriend,She came running towards me with a concerned look on her face. She grabs my face pecking my lips,”Bub. I need you to listen to me, okay?” I nodd in awe of the gorgeous girl in front of me.”John B is gonna take you to the van,we need you to tell us everything you took to get in this state, okay?” I drowsily  nodded,growing tired.

Just as she said,the tall boy picked me up bridal style carrying me out to the twinkie.

I take notice to seating arrangement so i can close my eyes and know whos talking ,JJ being in the passenger seat,Pope watching From the bench behind the driver's seat.Kie stepped up into the van sitting on the floor of the vehicle waiting for John B to place me down beside her.As he did I sat up enough to lean my back against her chest.

JJ was surprisingly silent.Too silent.Pope looked so worried at my sweating body and dripping wet hair from  sweat,tears,and vodka mixture.”Okay,Y/n,What did you take?” my girlfriend sits grabbing my face turning me to face her, my legs straddling her thighs on the floor as I nuzzle my head into the crook of her neck,but she pushes my head up making me pout but not being able to maintain due to the dizziness. “I took a few oxy,uhm when I -then i did a few lines of coke,and…..i chugged half a pint of vodka..” i said tears filling my eyes trying to not look into anyone's eyes,

Silent JJ was no more .”Are you fucking kidding me.Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n.You’re not supposed to take oxy and drink alcohol together.much less do oxy or coke at all.ARE YOU DUMB!” JJ began turning around. A Quiet ‘im sorry’ came from my mouth.John B finally pulled into the chateau.

Kie carried me while my face stayed nuzzled in her neck still crying due to my,still,VERY high state.she sat me down on the couch out on the porch as everyone except her,went to get a few things.Pope came back with water and a wet rag to place on my head.JJ brought a blanket,John B came back empty handed because he only went inside to pee.

“Kie?” I whispered scared she was mad.”Yes baby?” 

“Are you mad at me?” I questioned hiding my face in her shoulder due to the amount of dizziness being insured. She leaned her head on mine with an unknown amount of emotions,not quite sure of how to fully answer. “No I- I just don’t know what you were thinking I just- Well I figured you wouldn’t ever do anything like this considering what we talked about-and -and what you went through with your parents..” 

“I know-I wanted to feel better tho..I just feel like i have no one-”

Shortly realising the guys were still in on the conversation as Pope cut in.

“Y/n, you have,and always will have us..” I lift my head from the girls shoulder  before slowly looking at Pope in his sad worried eyes.

“I guess, I like-I dont know guys what you want me to say..Im trying to be better for myself for everybody,but nothing was working and i ran into barry one day and we talked and he offered a way to help,of course i was hesitant but its really not that bad...Im actually fine!” I said standing up as John b followed me.

“y/n, you were just saying you need help,so what the fuck are we supposed to do ,one minute you need help and having to be ushered here so you dont die! And-and-the next thing you’re yelling at us about how your fine,you’re not fine and you know it!” I stopped as I watched the long haired boy fight back tears trying to explain how all of them feel.

“Fuck you guys honestly,Im not a child i know how i feel,this is all just bullshit!” I yelled at them all, I ran to the spare bedroom covered in sweat,tears,and vodka; I slowly sink into the bed as tears fall down my face crying myself to sleep,what i didn’t know was that my bestfriend’s and girlfriend were all huddled up outside the door awaiting me to fall asleep so that they could come in and cuddle me to make me feel better.Sometimes things get better, but i dont think this is one of those times atleast for now anyway..

#outerbanks x reader #pogues x reader #pogues imagine #kie x reader #kie imagines #depression #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank imagine #jj maybanks smut #john b x reader #john b routledge #sarah cameron x reader #pope x reader #madison bailey #madison bailey x reader #rudy pancow x reader

[writseo]

Messed Up | Pansy Parkinson X Reader

Messed Up By Chloe Adams & Once Monsters

Trigger Warnings: Abusive Relationships

I know my heads not right. 

    You were met with confusion as you somehow always found yourself wanting to be near Pansy. You switched all of your routes just to be able to pass by her, even if it was for one second. She never tried to pick on you, but you were sure that she knew who you were. In fact, you would always find her staring at you in the middle of class. And despite how she went against every single belief you had, you couldn’t help but feel nothing but admiration for her when would start to boss everyone around to fit her needs. 

I think too much overnight. 

   The confusion began to grow when you couldn’t find yourself not thinking about her as the night grew darker. You’d be wake past 2 AM but never past 4. Pansy would appear in your dreams but when you woke up, you would feel disappointed that nothing was true. That she didn’t actually speak to you nor did she hug you tightly as it was all just in your head. You would hardly get any sleep as days would pass by. Soon after, you were convinced that she deliberately put herself in your head. After the first night, Pansy began to smile at you as you passed down the halls, leaving you confused and even a bit scared. Pansy was an A-grade student. If anyone knew how to go inside someone else’s dreams, it might as well be her. 

But in you, I see a light, let’s be more than strangers. 

   As your friends would complain for how often Pansy would pick on them while calling her horrid names, you found yourself growing more irritated. Of course, they were worried. Is she under a spell? Did Pansy hurt you? Thoughts would rummage through their minds as they tried to piece together why you suddenly had a change of heart towards the girl. However, your closest friend had a thought that was the most accurate to the truth but of course, they pushed it away. Does she actually like Pansy? 

     But in every action she took, you saw a reason. When she spat back at a second year after they would try to ask her politely to move out of the way, you saw the need for control. After every push she gave to Hermione, you saw jealousy. After every chase she gave for Draco, you saw the need for acceptance. But after every glance and smile she would give you down the halls, you couldn’t quite make out what her reason for that would be. 

     It wasn’t until you were paired for Potions that you two would actually talk for the first time. Terrified that you were going to screw up and get a bad grade, you were shocked to see her act differently towards you. You felt special as you watched her make her contributions while giving small talk, when you have observed her slacking off with her friends and ordering her partner to just do the work for her so many times. She treated you differently and you loved that. 

You say you’re scared, I’ll take you there 

    As time went on, she grew more inviting to you in the hallways. You were scared, shy at first to speak to her. Draco and Blaise would be around, snickering at your stutter but Pansy would quickly snap at them to shut it down. You could say that you were scared because of her bossy, sassy attitude. But deep down, you knew that the fear was from something more. Something more internal and rooted into you. 

If you were my god, I’d believe

   She always invited you to everything. Pansy would take you out on trips, even head to the muggle world and explore a small bit. You began to grow more confident, not just with her but in general. Pansy always pushed you to greater extents. You quickly learned that if you ever had fear left in you, she'd be there to hold your hand as you’d try to pass through.

So turn the light's off-

As you stood on the London Bridge, looking at the water underneath as it slowly streamed passed the two of you, you decided to take your courage to a new level.

- and get closer to me

High off of the sudden adrenaline going through your veins, you kissed her. And she did the same.

I want to overdose on the air you breathe.

    You two officially became inseparable.  Everywhere you went, she was there. Everywhere she went, you were there as well. You loved when Pansy would try to show you off. She loved when you would get flustered i as you would try to be modest while she bragged about you. You brought a side in her that made her more empathetic, happier as she would stop herself from picking on the younger children, knowing how upset you would be if you saw her that way. Especially when her nasty habit would cause a fight where you’d start to consider to leave and she would try to give in herself. 

Some days I need to break down. 

    And as time went, Pansy couldn’t hold in all the annoyance and resentment she had as she felt like she was on a leash, as if you were her controller. 

    “Where are you going? I am not finished talking!” 

   She would explode with every single ounce of irritation she had from you and would begin to yell when you would try to stop her from hurting another poor first year. By that point, the headache that was always hidden but there whenever you were near her, would begin to grow from a small ball of tension to a metal clad that would bang it’s way through your skull. You would try to defuse the situation and walk away but she never quit.

Some days, you’re just like me. 

      Pansy was always too stubborn, but so were you. The both of you would be near tears for a couple of days, breaking down at the thought of each other. You two wanted nothing more than to just ignore what had happened. But neither of you wanted to prove that you were wrong, even though you both weren’t  innocent at all.

But you’re like my medicine 

      By the end of the week, you would still be together. Pansy would instantly try to make you feel better as she would offer you small massages and small treats. She would try her best to make sure that you were in a better mood as you would just stay the whole night, cuddling her in her bed. It didn’t matter if you were in different houses. You always managed to sneak into her dorm and sleep right next to her as she would lay her head on yours.

From good, good to bad, bad to worse, back to good but it works.  

      That was your cycle. You never cared that it had happened so often up until the very end, when you realized how awful she left you. One minute you two would be smiling, holding each other’s hand as you walked around the grounds, searching for something fun to do. Then you would be slightly annoyed as she would make snide comments about the passing students. And she would be uncomfortable and feel offended as you would try to oppose her comments. In less than an hour, you would be screaming at each other, once she even pushed you as it began a whole fight. By the end of the day, you would be kissing on the couch, trying to savour every moment as you were fueled by your anger for each other. 

Our messed up kind of love

       Though as that one fight began, so did a whole other bunch of instances. Your eyes began to gain even darker bags under them, your headaches became constant, and you gave up on even using mascara anymore, knowing that it would do nothing but just run down your face by the end of the day. You knew how much endurance your relationship required from the both of you. You knew how awful of toll it took on your mental and physical health. But you knew even more about how much you felt like you needed her. How just by being with her each minute of the day was the only thing that made you feel whole and better again. That was all you could have ever wanted from her. You knew what it was like to be without her but you also knew that it was worse than being with her. At least you thought it was. Pansy was our queen and your enemy, all at once. Your love wasn’t at all like it would be in Disney movies, it was the kind you saw in a Criminal Mind episode before a murder would go down. Then, you would get the fake happy ending that would relax the both of you for the whole day until the night would come, dampening your mood as you would scream and sometimes even throw things at each other. If an outsider saw the way everything went down, they would tell you to leave and run from the toxic relationship that you had brewed with Pansy. But you two would say otherwise. After all, it wasn’t a Disney kind of love. It was a messed up kind of love. 

#harry potter #pansy parkinson #harry potter pansy #pansy #parkinson #bisexual #lesbian #lesbian couple #messed up #chloe adams and once monsters #pansy parkinson imagine #pansy parkinson song drabble #song drabble #song prompt

[pparkerpoetry]

Face Reality (Part 18)

Title: The Stories All End (but this time, it ends well)

Summary: Ranboo's story comes to a close, because after seeing his family, he's realized that not only is he safe, but he his happy.

Chapter One

Masterlist

Ranboo laughed as he chased Tommy across the countryside. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, and they were out of the house, on their way to visit Eret’s castle and all of the people that lived near there.

He overtook Tommy because his legs were so long, which caused Tommy to squawk indignantly. “Oh, that’s it, bitch boy,” Tommy trilled, leaping into the air and flapping his wings to gain speed.

“That’s not fair!” Ranboo called ahead, still sprinting, though his side was starting to hurt.

It didn’t take long for Tommy to get tired too, so they both slowed down to walk the rest of the way. Before long, the colorful building came into view and two figures walked towards them.

“Tommy, Ranboo!” Fundy shouted. “You came!”

“Of course we did, big man!” Tommy yelled back, and Ranboo smiled. It was nice here. It felt safe.

Eret was behind Fundy, and he showed them the castle. They didn’t need a tour, since it had been built forever, but they oohed and ahhed at the restoration. There were flags everywhere, the stone was smooth, and it looked so welcoming.

Fundy was hovering around them constantly, making all sorts of little snuffles and barks.

Eventually, Ranboo asked about it.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Eret said. “It’s just that visiting you guys yesterday triggered his thin day, so he’s been pretty playful. We played fetch this morning.”

Fundy scowled, but his face lifted. “Puffy and Niki are here, I can hear them coming.”

It was true, the footsteps of the two ladies echoing through the halls a little later. They were smiling too, and Ranboo hadn’t felt this at ease since before Phil and Techno had visited.

Greetings were exchanged, and so began the day of relaxing. It was like a vacation, and Ranboo could tell that it was doing wonders for Tommy.

The morning flew by too fast, and during lunch, Fundy couldn’t sit still. He was anxious and twitchy and everyone tried their best to just let it be, since he couldn’t help it, but Tommy just wanted to eat his sandwich in peace.

“Fundy,” he asked, “do you want to go outside?” No one could tell if he was joking, least of all the fox.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Fundy grumbled. “You’re a jerk.”

Tommy made a face. “I’m not making fun of you. Do you want to go outside? I bet I could toss the ball pretty fucking far with my strong arms.”

No one missed the way that Fundy’s eyes lit up. “You’re sure you’re not messing with me?”

“No,” Tommy smiled, “I just want to spend time with my nephew.”

“I’m still older than you,” Fundy teased, but his eyes were still filled with tears from the genuine love from Tommy.

As it turns out, the strong arms weren’t so strong, but Tommy fixed that by flying up before throwing the ball, which resulted in Fundy running some pretty long distances. Neither seemed to mind, because they stayed outside for a good few hours, leaving the others inside to talk.

“So, what made you guys visit today?” Eret asked, adjusting their crown.

Ranboo winced. “Well, Tommy had a bit of an issue with Phil and got pretty upset, so I figured this would be a good break.”

“What happened?” Niki asked, concerned.

His mind went back to the look of pure fear that had been on Tommy’s face. “From what I can gather, Phil asked to preen his wings as a sort of bonding experience, but instead of feeling nice, the preening hurt? Neither one of them are taking it well. Technoblade told me this morning before we left that Philza had been crying.”

Puffy snorted lightly. “Sounds like he’s realizing how messed up his actions were.”

Niki nodded, but looked doubtful. “Has Technoblade made up for everything yet? Because if it were me, I wouldn’t forgive him. Not in a million years.”

Ranboo paused. “I mean, he did a lot of research for me and figured out why I had more than two thin days. Sam told you about that, right?”

“But has he apologised,” Niki stressed. “I want the best for you, Boo. Has he actually apologized and made things better?”

“I think…” he trailed off, thinking about everything that had happened. All the late night running into each other for snacks, the tense smiles in the library… “I think he’s trying, but he’s figuring out everything on the way, because he’s never had to actually apologise for something before.”

Eret hummed, “Well, if he’s genuinely trying, I guess we can’t ask for much more. What about Phil, though? I can’t excuse his actions just because he cried. We’ve all cried over things we’ve done before, he’s not special.”

“I think he will try,” Ranboo spoke honestly. “He’s lived for so long he’s become desensitised to emotion, but I think that now he’s coming back down to earth, he’ll try to make up for everything.”

Niki sighed. “I guess I can give him another chance if he’s going to actually try to be better, now. We’re not perfect either, but he needs to put in some effort to make up for everything, like we have.”

“He will,” Ranboo promised. “I’ll make sure he will.”

“We trust you,” Puffy smiled, before looking over to where the other two were playing. “Oh, it looks like they’re done. I’ll bet they’re tired- I’ll go make some lemonade.”

Puffy left as Tommy and Fundy came running up, and their joy was contagious.

“You’re done?” Eret asked.

Tommy nodded. “We lost the ball somewhere in the forest, and we couldn’t find it. But we’re also tired. What can we do now?”

“Watch a movie?” Ranboo and Niki suggested at the same time, causing everyone else to laugh.

They ended up watching a movie while sipping Puffy’s lemonade, but Fundy hadn’t even finished his before he was fidgeting again.

He snuffled. “Can I make a burrow? Like a fort, or something?”

Eret smiled softly. “Sure, bud. Let me go grab some blankets, I’ll be right back.”

They came back with a giant pile of cloth, so they paused the movie and let Fundy go wild. It didn’t take long, since he seemed to know exactly what he wanted, so before long everyone was in a fort with Fundy curled up in the middle. It was really just a floor of blankets, with walls built up, but he seemed content.

Ranboo was towards the back, with Tommy sprawled across his lap and wings covering whoever he could. Niki leaned on Ranboo’s shoulder and Puffy was pressed into her side with her feet over Eret’s legs. Fundy somehow was in the middle of it all, making happy noises and radiating warmth.

It didn’t take long for the entire group to fall asleep.

The next morning, Ranboo was the first one up. He hadn’t gotten any nightmares, which was always a plus.

“Ranboo?” Tommy’s voice was groggy.

“Yup. How you doing?”

“I am so poggers.” Tommy yawned before stretching, his wing nudging Fundy and waking up the fox.

Fundy groaned. “I hate waking up after a thin day. I’m all curled up and shit. It’s the worst, my muscles hurt.”

Ranboo laughed, and by a few minutes later, everyone was up. Niki and Puffy had somewhere to be, so he and Tommy left, too. They promised Eret and Fundy that they’d be back, though.

The walk back to their home was uneventful, which was good, because when they got home, it was chaos.

“Why didn’t you sleep?” Purpled was demanding. “I was up all night and you have the audacity to just go ‘sorry?’ You didn’t sleep yesterday and Tubbo didn’t the night before and I am fucking tired.”

Sam tried to console the boy. “I’m sorry, Purpled. I forget that you can’t fall asleep if one of us is awake. I’ll sleep tonight, okay? I promise.”

“I still have to get through all of today!” Purpled snarled, eyes glowing a little brighter and suddenly pale skin highlighting the bags underneath his eyes that seemed more prominent, now. “I’ve got a fucking headache and my wings are all sensitive and none of you seem to care, because you just stay up all night as if it doesn’t affect anyone else. News flash, pal, the world doesn’t revolve around you!” He stormed off, wings folded tightly around his body.

Sam just stood there.

“Well, hello,” Tommy said, breaking the silence. “Wonderful welcome.”

“He’s been pissy all day,” Tubbo shrugged. “I mean, he hasn’t slept in at least three days, so I’d be, too.”

Ranboo frowned, then remembered Fundy. “Is he having a thin day? It seems to be running in the family right now, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Sam considered it for a second. “That- that is actually a very good hypothesis, Ranboo. I’m going to go call Punz. Behave, boys.”

Once Sam had left the room, Tubbo mumbled, “Anyone in the mood for arson?”

“Nah,” Ranboo shrugged. “I’m gonna go talk with Purpled, but you guys can do whatever.”

Tommy went over to the couch and flopped on top of Tubbo. “Okay. Bye, Ranboo.”

Purpled was in the bedroom, all the lights shut off, curled up in the corner.

“What are you?” Ranboo mused, “A vampire?”

Purpled just scowled. “I might as well be. Leave, or I’ll suck your blood.”

Ranboo shrugged and went over to the bed. “Nah, I don’t think I will. You’re going through your first thin day, you shouldn’t be alone.”

“My first thin day? Why’s that such a big deal?”

“Because it’s your hybrid side growing stronger,” Ranboo said, “It’s probably one of the worst thin days to have, to be honest, since you aren’t used to it and still need to adjust to how it feels.”

Purpled thought about how his day had gone. He’d been up all night, and the previous night, and the one before that, so he couldn’t remember when today had started, but he figured it was probably before the time he’d gone to the bathroom and noticed how pale he was, and how awful his under-eye bags looked.

Yeah, sometime around there, because he’d noticed his wings feeling sensitive a little after that- which was why he’d abandoned blankets, since the fabric had felt all wrong. That had been the wrong choice, since he’d started shaking from the cold.

The day had only gone downhill, too, since he’d stepped one foot outside and immediately gotten a headache from the sunlight.

“Yeah,” Purpled conceded. “This might be a thin day, but it still sucks.”

“No doubt,” Ranboo agreed, moving to sit near Purpled instead of on the bed. “Is the floor comfortable?”

“No, but the walls feel nice on my wings. I dunno why.”

They sat in silence, because they didn’t need to talk. The silence spoke louder than any words that either could have said out loud.

A while later, the door creaked open.

Punz peeked through. “Purpled? You alright? I heard you were having a thin day. They stink.”

“I’m okay.” Purpled said, his voice quieter than he would’ve liked. “I feel bad for snapping at Sam, though.”

“Aw, that’s not your fault, kid.” Punz frowned, moving into the room. “He doesn’t hold it against you.”

“I still feel bad, though. If it didn’t hurt to be in anything but darkness, I’d apologize.”

Ranboo slipped out of the room to let Punz help his brother adapt to the new concept of having thin days, and was surprised to see Phil and Tommy talking.

“I’m sorry,” Phil was saying, and he seemed to be genuine. “I haven’t been the most human recently, and I’m sorry that you had to go through everything just so that I could realize that everything I did was fucked up,” He laughed wetly, tears welling in his eyes. “I wish I could go back and do all of it differently, because in a way I lost all of my sons. I don’t hold it against you, choosing Sam I mean, because in the end, I was a fucking awful father. I’m glad you found someone who could care for you properly, I really am.”

Tommy smiled weakly. “I wish I could say it’s okay. I really want to, Phil, but the things you put me through, Ranboo through, everyone else through… I can’t just put it in the past, but as long as you’re willing to change, I’ll let you have some time, okay?”

“Thank you,” Phil said earnestly. “Tell me to go at any point, and I will. I cross any boundaries, tell me. If Techno does anything you don’t like, tell me. I can’t change what I did and I don’t expect you to forget it, but you even giving me a chance to change is more than I deserve. Thank you, Tommy. You will always mean something to me, even if you don’t consider yourself my son, and from now on, I’ll try harder to stay human, okay?”

“Okay.” Tommy said, voice thick with tears. “As long as you know you fucked up and want to make up for it, I can stand you around, old man.”

Phil laughed, but his laughter died out when Ranboo entered the room. “Oh! Just who I needed to talk to! I, uh, I apologised to Tommy, but I need to talk with you, too.”

Tommy stayed, even as Ranboo sat down and motioned for Phil to continue.

“As I was saying, during the past few years, I slid down a slope that led to me not really being connected with the more human side of things, and recently I’ve realized it. I’ve managed to acknowledge that everything I did was more than fucked, and I’ve hurt an insane amount of people, not to mention I’ve ruined relationships I may never get back. I deserve all of it, of course, but I need to apologize and get it off of my chest, even if you tell me to go to hell and hate me until the day you die.”

Ranboo nodded, but stayed quiet. He didn’t trust his voice.

Phil went on, “I hurt you and nearly made you- well, through my actions, I almost made you kill yourself, is the reality of it, and I know that just saying sorry will never be enough, because a few measly words is in no way enough to make up for the pain and trauma I put you through, not to mention everything with- with L’manburg. But, I think that apologizing is a good place to start, and I can work from there. So, Ranboo Underscore,” Phil took a breath and willed the tears to not fall, “I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done and everything I’ve put you through. I should have understood much sooner what I did, and the fact that I didn’t will haunt me forever. I completely get if you want me to leave and never return, and won’t hold it against you in the slightest, but if you feel that you can let me make up for what I’ve done while still maintaining good mental health, I would like the chance to.”

Ranboo hesitated, and Phil spoke again.

“Please don’t feel pressured to. You can absolutely tell me to fuck off, I deserve worse. Do whatever you feel is best for you, and I will comply.”

Ranboo felt comforted by that, but… “I can change my mind at any point?”

“Of course,” Phil agreed.

“Then yeah,” Ranboo started. “I can let you try to make up for what you did. This is a good start, but you have a long way to go.”

“Don’t I know it,” Phil nodded. “Thank you, Ranboo, I really mean it.”

“I know you do,” Ranboo said, and he really did. Something told him that Phil really was genuine, and he was inclined to believe it. And, a feeling settled through him, content to stay until the end of time- and it was happiness. He was happy, truly happy, and he wanted it to stay like that.

Phil left Sam’s house, and from a distance, Death watched. She was proud of Phil for apologising and meaning it, and she didn’t doubt that he’d actually try to change. There’d be bigger consequences if he didn’t, she decided, but she knew it’d never come to that.

The whole server had faced reality and came out victorious, so they’d all be family until the day that she came for the last of them.

_______

there will be more one-shots in this universe. this isnt the true ending :)

#ranboo #awesamdude #tommyinnit #tubbo #eret #captain puffy #niki nihachu #fundy #purpled #philza #technoblade #dream #dreamsmp #fluff #the end #im gonna cry

[pinktintedmonocle]

Dedicated Followers of Fashion - A Cobra Kai Lawrusso Fanfic - Chapter 2

“I found that shirt”, Daniel said, feigning casualness.

“What shirt?” asked Johnny, plonking himself down in his own chair.

“The pink one”, Daniel replied.  He stood up slowly, bracing himself against the desk as the room threatened to start spinning.  “The one you said – that you said – ah – from the photo album.”

When a look through an old photo album leads to Daniel unearthing a certain pink shirt, things heat up between him and Johnny when they both get drunk at the dojo.

Trigger warning: some description of one of the characters having issues accepting their sexuality.

May 1985

“So I’ve gotta go into the office this morning, just for an hour or two, but I’ll be back by lunch so we can go to the mall, get you some new clothes.”

Daniel made a noise of protest around his mouthful of eggs.  He swallowed and took a gulp of orange juice.

“But I’ve got plans, Ma! I was gonna go round to Mr Miyagi’s, learn some new moves, feed the fish.  And the clothes I got are fine, honest.”

“Your clothes are not fine, Daniel; all of your pants are about an inch too short in the leg, and look at that shirt!” said Lucille, gesturing to Daniel’s red checked plaid, “Those cuffs are supposed to come down to your wrists, not your elbows!”

Daniel slumped back in his chair, clamped a hand to his heart dramatically and groaned.

“But I don’t wanna go shopping, Ma!”                                          

“Then quit growing”, said Lucille with a grin.  “Come on, it’ll be fun.  I’ll treat you to a burger and a milkshake from that place you like.  Hey, why don’t you invite Ali?  I haven’t seen her around in a while.  Everything OK with you two?”

“Oh yeah, we’re just peachy. But she’s – er – she’s got family stuff on this weekend”, Daniel lied.

“Alright, well it’ll just be the two of us then.  It’ll be nice to have a bit of mother-son bonding time, you can fill me in on everything that’s been going on with you lately.”

“There’s nothing going on with me”, Daniel said shortly, a slight flush on his cheeks.  He pushed back his chair and stood up.  “Look, I better go tell Mr Miyagi I can’t make it this afternoon.  I’ll see you later, Ma.”  He barrelled out of the door, leaving it open.

Lucille shouted after him, exasperated.  “Alright, but we’ll meet back here at 12.  And don’t be late!”

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

“Alright, so you need some new pants and shirts.  And what about underwear, do you need new underwear?”

“Ma-”

“Well do you?”

Daniel shrugged, looking down at his feet and scuffing the floor with his shoe.  “Yeah, I guess”, he muttered.

Lucille pulled his head up by the chin, looking at him with concern.  “Are you OK, Daniel?  You’ve been in a mood all day, didn’t even finish your milkshake.  Those Cobra Kai boys aren’t giving you a hard time at school again, are they?”

“No, Ma.  They’re not even in Cobra Kai anymore-”

“Then what is it, huh?”

“What it is is that my mother is stood in the middle of a store with people all around tryin’ to talk to talk to me about underwear.”

Lucille dropped his chin and rolled her eyes.  “Alright, smartass, I’ll shut up.  Come on, quicker this is over with quicker we can go home and not worry about shopping again until you hit another growth spurt.”

They walked through the store, picking out a new wardrobe.  (Daniel had tried to fill the basket with nothing but camo pants and plaid shirts, but Lucille had laughed and put most of them back.  “How about we try and get you a few clothes that you can wear together that actually match?” she had suggested.  “Matching, matching, who cares about matching?” Daniel had protested, but had still allowed his mom to pick out a few pairs of jeans and a couple of plain shirts.)

“OK, I think that’s nearly everything we need – oh, look at that!”, exclaimed Lucille, smiling brightly as her eyes caught on something over Daniel’s shoulder.  “That shirt would look so nice on you.”

She walked past Daniel and he turned to see her picking out a rose pink shirt and peering at the label. “And it’s your size too, perfect! Alright, let’s find the cashier’s desk and then get outta here-”

Daniel reached into the basket and plucked out the shirt.  “I’m not wearing that, Ma.  Aren’t there any other colours, like, um, blue or something?”

Lucille looked at him, brow furrowed.  “Well yeah, there might be – but look, what’s wrong with this colour?  It brings out your eyes-”

“But it’s pink ma, and I’m – I’m not – look, I can choose my own clothes, OK!” yelled Daniel, hands curling into fists.

Several people in the store turned to stare.

Lucille took a step back, shock etched onto her features.  “Hey, hey, don’t you talk to me like that, young man!” she shouted back, voice steely.  “I don’t know what’s got into you lately but I don’t like it, you hear me?”

Daniel suddenly deflated, fists uncurling, shoulders dropping, and for a second he looked as if he was about to cry.

“It’s nothing”, he said, swiping at his eyes fiercely with the back of one hand.  “I’m sorry Ma, really I am.”  He put the shirt back in the basket.  “It’s just a shirt, it’s fine, it’ll be fine.  Oh hey, I think the cashier’s desk is this way-”

He lolloped off on his long legs and Lucille had to almost run to catch up with him.

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

They loaded up the car with their purchases and drove home in silence, Daniel fidgeting with a loose thread on his shirt and staring out of the window.  When they were nearly home, Lucille spoke.

“I wish you’d tell me what’s going on, Daniel”, she said softly.  “You know you can tell me anything.”

I can’t, Daniel thought, I can’t tell you this.  He looked at his mom and smiled tightly.  “Yeah, I know mom, but it’s nothing.  Really.”

“OK”, said Lucille. “OK”.

Daniel could see that she didn’t believe him, but mercifully she didn’t ask him any more questions.

 May 2019

“Oh, you’re so tiny!” laughed Carmen, taking a sip of wine as she giggled.  “And that outfit!  That’s certainly something…”

Amanda grinned. “Yeah, thankfully he outgrew his plaid and camo phase before we met.  Not sure we would’ve got past the first date if he had shown up wearing that.”

“Hey, it was a look!” Daniel protested.  “I’ll have you know I got plenty of dates in that outfit back in Jersey!”

The two women laughed, leaning against each other as they continued to study the photo album, while Johnny smirked.  Daniel rolled his eyes and took another sip of wine.

It was two weeks until the tournament, and Daniel and Amanda had invited Johnny and the students round to their house for a meal to blow off a little steam after months of intense training.  Amanda had also invited Carmen (“I need another person here who isn’t a teenager or a man-child, otherwise the evening will end with me throwing someone through a window, never mind Kreese), and they had all sat outside, enjoying the late evening sun and eating and laughing.

Eventually the kids had sloped off to Daniel’s home dojo to admire Hawk’s new hair colour (purple), and discuss teen drama (Daniel had gathered from the conversation over dinner that Demetri was in a relationship with a blonde girl called Yasmine despite the fact that they apparently hated each other and spent most of their time denying they had anything to do with each other.  He had caught Johnny’s eye while Demetri told his story and Johnny had held his gaze for just a moment before they both quickly looked away).

The adults had then retreated to the kitchen to polish off a bottle of wine or two (or beer, in Johnny’s case), and after a while Daniel’s childhood photo albums had somehow materialised.  After laughing themselves silly over the plaid/camo combo, Amanda and Carmen had continued to make their way through the album, getting to prom (“Look at that suit!” cackled Amanda), and then to Daniel’s trip to Okinawa.

“I thought the village I grew up in in Ecuador was rural, but this is something else”, said Carmen, flicking through the photos.  She paused at a picture of Daniel and Mr Miyagi, standing outside Yukie’s house. “I like your shirt here, Daniel. Definitely an improvement on the plaid”.

“Oh yeah, pink is definitely your colour, LaRusso”, said Johnny, and Carmen nudged him.

“Don’t be mean, Johnny”, she said.

“I wasn’t!” protested Johnny.  “I meant it!”

“Really?” Daniel asked lightly, taking another sip of wine, tone casual even though his heart was hammering in his chest.  “Not like you to compliment me, Johnny.”

Johnny’s face flushed. “No, I just – I just meant it’s not completely awful.  Not like most of the clothes you wore back then.  Or now, to be honest.”

“How about we talk about something that isn’t my fashion sense”, said Daniel, picking up the album and closing it firmly.

“I think you mean ‘lack of fashion sense’”, said Amanda teasingly, leaning in to kiss him on the check. She stretched her neck and grimaced. “Why don’t we go and sit somewhere more comfortable?”

“Good idea!” Daniel said brightly.  “You all go into the living room and I’ll grab some more drinks.”

As soon as the others were out of sight the smile slid off Daniel’s face and he leant heavily against the kitchen counter.

“But it’s pink ma, and I’m – I’m not -”

“Oh yeah, pink is definitely your colour, LaRusso”

It had been over a month since the almost-kiss and he and Johnny hadn’t talked about it.  There had been a few times when Daniel had thought Johnny was on the verge of mentioning it, but he had always just opened and closed his mouth a few times before clearing his throat and starting to talk about something else entirely.  Daniel, for his part, had no idea how to even approach the subject.  Hey Johnny, remember when you put on that ridiculous jacket that made your arms look amazing and then rubbed up against me and spun me round and then freaked out when I leant in to kiss you?  You wanna talk about that?

“Hey babe”, said Amanda, and Daniel started as he looked up to see her in the doorway.  “Just thought I’d come and give you a hand with the drinks.”

He looked at his wife, the woman who had stuck by him through thick and thin for the last twenty years, and felt a surge of guilt.  He pushed it away and clapped his hands together.  “Right, what do you and Carmen want?  Another bottle of the Cabernet Sauvignon?”

���Yes please”, said Amanda, picking up the glasses while Daniel fetched the bottle.  “And grab another Coors from the refrigerator for Johnny.”

Daniel took out the beer and followed Amanda into the living room, plastering on a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

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

A few days later Daniel told Amanda over breakfast that he wasn’t feeling so good.  Amanda had taken his temperature with the back of her hand and frowned.  

“Well, it doesn’t feel like you’ve got a fever, babe, but maybe you should take a day off from the dealership.

“Thanks”, he said, smiling weakly.  “I’m sure it’s nothing, probably just a twenty-four hour bug or something.”

“OK, well, just take it easy, yeah?”

“I will.  I’ll just go back to bed, try and get some sleep.”

Daniel had lain in bed until he heard Amanda leave for work and the kids leave for school before he jumped up and made his way to the storage room at the back of the house. It was packed full since he had moved everything out of the dojo and into this one room, and he spent a good half hour clambering over old chairs, kids’ toys and pool noodles before he found the two cardboard boxes he was looking for, tucked away in a dusty corner.

Both boxes had ‘1985’ scrawled on the side in black sharpie, and Daniel picked them up in turn before pushing the lighter box back into its corner.  He knew what he’d find there – a white gi with a faded black snake on the back and blood stains on the sleeves – and he wasn’t quite ready to deal with that one yet.  He would have to, one day, but currently there were more pressing demons he had to face.

He opened the heavier box and started to pull out piles of clothes.  He had kept almost every bit of clothing from his first trip to Okinawa, folded up neatly and all stored away together, every piece infused with a memory he never wanted to forget.  He smiled fondly as he took out the jeans, red shirt and black vest that he wore down at the docks with Mr Miyagi when they practised the drum technique, followed by his red silk kimono with the black and yellow embroidered bonsai trees, thinking of the O-ben festival and the fight with Chozen.  Eventually he found the rose pink shirt and held it up, shaking it out.

It was paler than when he’d first worn it, bleached by the sun.  There were a few loose threads but overall it still in fairly good shape. He stared at it as the memories came flooding back.  There were the good ones; mooching through Tomi village with Mr Miyagi and waving to Kumiko as the little girls giggled shrilly, and then there were the bad; the department store, the feeling of panic that had welled up in his chest when his mom had picked it out, the irrational fear that somehow she knew the secret he had tried so hard to conceal.  After a minute Daniel placed it down on the floor, then re-folded all of the other clothes and packed them away until only the pink shirt remained.  He knew the sensible thing to do would’ve been to pack it up as well, push the feelings back down, but instead he left it out and put the box back into its corner without it.  Then he washed, dried and ironed it and placed it in his gym bag.

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

The week before the tournament Daniel and Johnny stayed late at the dojo, sitting on the deck and sorting out some last minute details while munching on burgers.  (“I get to pick the food tonight”, Johnny had said, “and I don’t want any green stuff.”  “You’ve got a pickle in that burger”, Daniel had pointed out.  Johnny had removed the pickle and thrown it at him).

After eating they did a final assessment of the strengths and weaknesses of their students (Miguel had eventually convinced Johnny to let him fight with the blessing of Carmen, and he and Sam were placed in joint first in their rankings, with Hawk coming in a close second.  “I think Demetri could stand a good chance” Daniel had said and Johnny had rolled his eyes. “A good chance at what, getting his arm broken again?  I think Bert’s got a shot though; he may be small but that kid can kick”.  “Oh yeah?” Daniel had grinned.  “Remind you of anyone?”  “No”, said Johnny), and after an hour of furious scribbling (on Daniel’s part), Johnny had stood up and stretched, his t-shirt riding up a little to expose a strip of taut stomach (Daniel had turned his head, pretending to be very interested in a rock).

“I need a drink”, Johnny declared, walking towards the house.

Daniel thought of the pink shirt in his bag.  “I’ll have one too”, he called after Johnny.

A minute later Johnny emerged with two stubby brown bottles clutched in his hands.  He sat back down on the deck and handed one to Daniel.

“Thought my taste in beer was beneath you, LaRusso”, said Johnny as Daniel twisted off the cap and took a gulp.

Daniel grimaced, nose wrinkling in distaste.  “Yeah well, you’ve worn me down.  It is disgusting though; I don’t know how you drink this stuff.”

Johnny barked a laugh. “It’s an acquired taste.”

“Acquired through what?”

“Through drinking nothing else for thirty years”, Johnny replied with a shrug, uncapping his own bottle and flipping the lid behind him.  It landed in a bush.

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “I hope you’re going to pick that up later, Johnny.”

“What?  No, its fine, I’m sure it’s recyclable or some shit.”

“You mean degradable and no, it’s not.”

Johnny just shrugged and took a long pull at his Banquet.

Daniel side-eyed Johnny as they both drank their beers, watching as Johnny swiped a strand of tousled blond hair out of his too-blue eyes before his gaze tracked lower, noting the way Johnny’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, then lower still to take in the broad shoulders, muscular arms and firm chest visible under a tightly fitted t-shirt.  He looked away, feeling his cheeks redden.  

They spent another hour or so grading students and discussing tactics, during which Daniel managed to drink another three beers (those tiny bottles don’t last long) and it was almost dark in the garden when Johnny drained his own beer and rubbed his eyes.

“I should go”, Johnny said, although he didn’t move.  

“You’re not driving”, Daniel said firmly, lips pursed.

“I’m barely drunk!”, Johnny protested.  “I’ve only had six beers!”  He waggled a finger under Daniel’s nose.  “And don’t talk to me about drunk driving, LaRusso, you’ve gotten into a car with me when I’ve had way more than this.  I don’t know why you suddenly care so much.”

“I care because we’ve got the tournament in a week from now, and if you end up dead and the kids are too grief stricken too fight and Kreese takes over the valley it’ll be all your fault.”

“Whatever”, said Johnny, “you can just say you’d miss me, LaRusso.”

“In your dreams, Johnny”, Daniel answered, rolling his eyes.

I do miss you, I’ve always missed you.  I missed you thirty-five years ago, and I’m missing you now, even though you’re right here.

Daniel felt something brush his hand and he looked down to see Johnny’s own hand resting next to his on the deck, pinky fingers touching.  He glanced up and they stared at each other for a beat before they both pulled back at the same time.

“I’ll call us both a cab”, said Daniel, clearing his throat.  “You can leave your car here and I’ll pick you up tomorrow before training.” He half expected Johnny to protest, but instead the blonde just nodded.  

“Right.  Well, we should go inside”, Daniel continued. “It’s getting cold out here.”

Johnny got up and Daniel followed suit, but he had only taken two steps before his feet seemed to stop working and he nearly fell off the decking.  Johnny caught him, strong arms encircling his waist, chest pressed flush to Daniel’s back, and Daniel was reminded of the night a month ago; the way the denim scratched over his skin, the warmth of Johnny’s body.

“Easy, LaRusso”, Johnny murmured in his ear and Daniel shivered slightly at the sensation of Johnny’s breath on his neck.  “Banquet will do that to you when you’re not used to it.”

“I’m fine”, Daniel insisted, head spinning, suddenly aware of how drunk he was, “You can let go of me.”

“You sure?”, Johnny asked, and Daniel briefly considered feigning another dizzy spell to stay in Johnny’s embrace for a little longer, before firmly shaking his head and pushing Johnny’s hands away.

“I’m good, really”, Daniel said, vaguely aware that his speech was a little slurred.

Johnny moved away and Daniel just about stayed upright, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Jesus, Johnny, how do you drink that stuff every day and still have a functioning liver?”

“You’ll get used to it, LaRusso”, said Johnny, walking into the house.

“I seriously hope I don’t”, Daniel muttered, following Johnny inside.

Johnny headed for the bathroom while Daniel stumbled over to his desk and sat down heavily.  He fished his phone out of his pocket, squinting against the glare of the screen, and pulled up the number for a taxi company. Then Johnny walked back into the room and Daniel found himself placing the phone face down on the desk without making the call.

“I found that shirt”, he said, feigning casualness.

“What shirt?” asked Johnny, plonking himself down in his own chair.

“The pink one”, Daniel replied.  He stood up slowly, bracing himself against the desk as the room threatened to start spinning.  “The one you said – that you said – ah – from the photo album.”

Johnny frowned.  “The one from the 80’s?”

Daniel licked his lips. “Yeah.”

Johnny scoffed.  “Oh yeah?  You gave me shit for having my old clothes and you’re still hoarding all of yours?”

“For sentimental reasons only, Johnny.  I don’t wear them on a regular basis.”

Johnny pointed a finger at him.  “Hey, my clothes are timeless.  Did it fit?”

“Did what fit?”

“The shirt”, Johnny said, swinging his legs up onto his desk and leaning back, hands behind his head.  “It probably does, you’re still as much of a shrimp as you were back then.”

“I don’t know, I didn’t try it on”, Daniel replied, and he knew he should go, call a cab and get out of there, but the cheap beer was making his tongue loose.  “But I could do.”

Johnny fixed him with ice blue eyes.  “You got it here?”

“Yeah.  Yeah, I do.”

Johnny was silent for a moment as his tongue darted out to wet his lips.  There was an expression on his face that Daniel struggled to read in his hazy state, half fear and half something else, as if he was trying to decide whether to run away from something or towards it.

“Go get it then”, Johnny said eventually, and Daniel just nodded and walked unsteadily into the next room to fetch it, making a detour to the bathroom on the way.  He half expected Johnny to be gone by the time he got back, but the blonde was still there.  Daniel stood awkwardly in the middle of the room and waved the shirt around lamely in one hand.  

“You gonna put it on?” Johnny asked.

“I will if you take your dirty shoes off my desk”, Daniel shot back.

“It’s my desk!”

“Yeah, but I bought it.”

Johnny grumbled but removed his feet, and Daniel unzipped his tracksuit jacket and pulled on the shirt over his workout top.  He stretched out his arms, waggling his fingers and feeling a little smug in spite of himself.  “Still fits!”

“Yeah, but can you button it?” asked Johnny.

“Yeah, I think so.  It might be a little snug with this top on underneath-”

“Then take it off”, Johnny instructed, and his voice was so direct, so commanding, that Daniel obeyed without thinking, tugging off both the shirt and his top.

I wonder if that’s a trick he learned from Kreese, Daniel mused, before he suddenly realised that he was topless in front of Johnny Lawrence who was staring at him, eyes wide.  He quickly pulled the pink shirt back on and hurriedly buttoned it up.  It was loose when he got it and it still mostly fitted, but he was also a beanpole with an almost concave stomach when he was sixteen, and he’s definitely filled out a little since then.

Johnny just looked at him for moment and Daniel fidgeted with the hem of the shirt, not quite able to meet Johnny’s eyes.  He heard the scrape of a chair being pushed back and when he glanced up Johnny was standing, that fight or flight look on his face again.  He moved forwards and Daniel followed suit, closing the gap between them until Johnny was close enough to reach out and touch Daniel’s chest, dragging his fingers down to where the buttons were a little snug around Daniel’s waist.

“It’s nice”, Johnny murmured.  “It’s soft.”                                              

“Yeah”, Daniel whispered, leaning into Johnny’s touch.  He swayed dangerously as he did so and gripped Johnny’s arm to steady himself.

“It’s different, for you”, Johnny breathed.  “Not blue.”

“That”, Daniel said, prodding a finger into Johnny’s chest with his free hand, “is your fault.”

“What is?”

“The blue.”

“How can a colour be my fault, LaRusso?”

But Daniel didn’t answer; he just made a noise in the back of this throat and pressed their foreheads together, feeling Johnny’s hot breath on his face as he moved just a little closer, lips almost touching-

Daniel’s phone rang shrilly, and he and Johnny sprang apart.  Daniel threw himself across the room to his desk and grabbed it, breath hitching as he saw the name on the screen.

“It’s Amanda”, he said hoarsely, and glanced up at Johnny.

Johnny looked nauseous. “You should get it.”

Daniel answered the call.

“Hey babe”, said Amanda, and Daniel tried to respond but his throat was suddenly tight and he couldn’t quite form the words.

“Daniel?” asked Amanda, and there was a hint of panic in her voice.  He cleared his throat and forced the words out.

“Hey.  Everything OK?”

“I was just about to ask you the same thing.  It’s pretty late; I was starting to get worried, thought Kreese might’ve decided to pay you a visit.”

“God, no, I’m fine, really. Just – just had a few beers with Johnny, lost track of time.  I was just about to get us both a cab.”

“OK, well, see you soon. Love you.”

“Yeah”, said Daniel, turning away from Johnny.  “Love you too.”

He hung up and immediately ordered two taxis.  He walked over to the refrigerator, pulled out a bottle of water and took a long drink from it, trying to clear the alcohol induced fuzz from his mind.

Johnny was stood against the wall opposite Daniel, pressing himself into it as if he hoped it would magically open and swallow him up.  Silence hung between them, heavy and oppressive, and Daniel knew that if he didn’t say anything Johnny wouldn’t either.  But he also knew that if they didn’t deal with this soon the next time they were alone with a few drinks in their system would likely end with either him or Johnny just pinning the other to the floor, and not in a way that had anything to do with karate.

“We need to talk about this”, he said softly, and Johnny’s eyes met his.

“The cabs will be here in a minute-”

“Not now”, Daniel replied.  “But soon.  After the tournament.”  He half expected Johnny to deny there was anything to talk about, but instead the blonde just nodded.

“Yeah.  After the tournament.”

Daniel looked down and realised with a jolt that he was still wearing the pink shirt.  He turned away, quickly taking it off and pulling his workout clothes back on.

He had just finished changing when the glare of headlights shone through the doors.  He and Johnny made their way outside and got into the two cars, exchanging a brief lingering glance before they went their separate ways.

Daniel slumped down in his seat as the car wound its way out of the driveway.  He stared out of the window as the city lights flashed by and found himself thinking about that day at the mall with his mom all those years ago and a similarly awkward car ride home, looking out at the same streets and trying and failing to not think about the same thing, of blue eyes and blonde hair and strong arms that would pick him up and pull him in and never let him go.

#cobra kai #Daniel LaRusso #Johnny Lawrence #lawrusso #cobrakaifanfic #cobrakaifanfiction

[et-lesailes]

haunted

 pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

word count: 2087

summary: a traumatic incident from your past seems to haunt you every now and then, and you finally open up to your boyfriend about it.

themes/warnings: fluff, angst, mention of rape- please do not read if you are uncomfortable

taglist: @evanstush​, @tanyam93​, @bval-1​, @wonderwinchester​, @patzammit​, @rohaintahquil​, @deidrashouseofpain​, @sammyslonglostshoe​, @jadedhillon​, @bohemian-barbie​, @whysparker​, @sebastian-i-stan​, @sebabestianstan101​, @lille-kattunge​, @teller258316​, @peach-acid​, @allsortsofinterests​, @xoxabs88xox​, @heyiamthatbitch​, @cptn-sgrogers​, @heyyouwiththeassbutt​, @bangtan-serendipity​, @troublermalik​, @beardburnsupersoldiers​, @hannie-stark, @bookish-shristi​, @kind-sober-fullydressed​, @whores4thor, @gingerninjaprincess16​, @straightforwardly​,  @denisemarieangelina​,  @frencchfries​, @xlanawriter​, @littlemoistcarrot​, @pottxrwolff​, @arianatheangelworld​, @ifuseekamyevans​, @southerngracela​​, @nsfwsebbie​​, @rororo06​​, @savemesteeb​, @raveviolet​, @inactivewhore​, @fckdeusername​

notes: i was feeling a little down about something that happened and i decided to write about it. this is super duper personal to me but it honestly felt good to get it out there and i just want to let it be known that if anyone is going through something similar or even just traumatic or upsetting at all, i am always here to talk! as usual, graphic creds go to @thewritingdoll​!

There’s a rather vacant expression on your face as your eyes stare at the blank document on your screen, the room dark besides for the bright glow of the laptop. You had told yourself you were going to make yourself write your essays for your graduate program, but here you are unable to even get up to turn the freaking light switch on. You feel a weight on your shoulders for no reason, your mind is going through some type of mental block, and you feel an odd sense of sadness and despair settle in. 

These moods always have a way of creeping up on you. You can be perfectly fine, cheerful, outgoing, and the life of the party one second, and the next you’re suddenly having an existential crisis. It doesn’t happen frequently, but unfortunately, it’s happening tonight-- and once you start to feel bad, more bad thoughts start rolling in. It’s as though you become a different person and you aren’t even quite certain what triggered it, if anything at all. It’s not the same as thinking about an embarrassing moment in your past like falling in the middle school cafeteria during the busiest lunch hour possible. It’s much more intense, and as certain memories start flooding into your mind ready to haunt you, you can feel your head hurting and your eyes stinging with tears.

You hear the front door open downstairs and you quickly wipe your face with your hands. “Babe?” the naturally charismatic voice of your boyfriend calls, and you do your best to sound nonchalant. “Up here, Ransom.” Now, you spring up from bed. You’re just going to look like a freak sitting here in the dark, and this is enough motivation for you to at least turn the light on. 

It’s not like you don’t trust him or can’t open up to him. The two of you are incredibly close. You’re one of the few people who understands him, and vice versa. Sometimes, though, you just feel it would only burden him to be so glum and depressing around him, especially when it seems to come out of nowhere. You get so frustrated with yourself sometimes, you wouldn’t even blame Ransom for feeling the same way.

“Hey there, beautiful.” He steps into the room wearing his signature smirk, taking off his tan coat and tossing it onto the chair. “What are you up to?” You roll your eyes fondly as you pick up the coat, heading for the closet and casually shutting your laptop on the way- he doesn’t need to see that you’ve gotten absolutely no work done. “Oh, I was just working on some essays for school.” Sitting in front of the computer and somewhat thinking about them counts, right? “How was guys night? Did you have a good time?” He watches you in amusement as you hang his coat up, sitting down on the bed. “Yeah, it was alright, but I missed my favorite girl.” When you come back, he grabs your hand and playfully pulls you onto his lap. “In fact, I was thinking about you, like, 99% of the time.” You can’t help but giggle as you fall onto his lap, now straddling him comfortably, though something in the back of your mind is pestering you. Screaming at you, begging you, but for what, you’re not sure. 

You feel like a mess.

The smile remains on your face, though, a facade you’re used to displaying. “I missed you too, babe.” It’s the truth, honestly. You love Ransom, you really do. You just feel overwhelmed, you wish you could understand what it is that’s making you feel so goddamn awful even when your boyfriend is being so goddamn sweet. “Yeah?” he murmurs, tilting your face closer towards his. “How much?”

He kisses you with a natural intensity, his hand moving to hold the back of your neck in his typical dominant fashion. You kiss him back, holding his face gently between your hands- maybe this will help. Maybe you just need a little intimacy, a little loving. 

Still, though, your mind is screaming. Perhaps even crying.

He pushes you on your back, hand already moving down to massage your thighs, fingers brushing against your clothed entrance in the process and just barely applying pressure to tease. You whimper softly, arching your back, trying hard to remember how good this usually feels- what the hell is happening? Why do you feel so damn numb?

He’s kissing you, his tongue is prodding its way into your mouth, his hands are roaming everywhere, you feel your shirt lifting up-- it’s too much, it’s all happening too fast. You suddenly find yourself pressing your hands onto his chest, pushing him off. You didn’t even realize the tears rolling down your cheeks until right now. “Ransom, I- I can’t,” your voice breaks, nothing more than a tiny whimper as you sit up, sniffing as your shoulders start to shake, your eyes wide with both fear, confusion, and sadness all at once. He blinks in surprise, looking at you dumbfounded for a few moments- he’s never been good with emotions, let alone crying, but he’ll sure as hell try to be for you. “Babe. What the hell’s going on?” he murmurs, scooting back closer to you and wrapping his arms around you. “Why… Why are you crying?”

You know the reason now. You know this has been haunting you ever since it happened, but you would never admit it. You’re such a good liar that you had managed to even lie to yourself- you’ve always been in denial up until this very moment, and for some reason, it’s all catching up with you right now. You suppose traumas like this don’t ever tend to make sense when it comes to their after effects.

“Can I tell you something?” you finally speak, pulling back from his warm embrace but staring down at the bed, your shoulders still trembling. You’ve never spoken to anyone about this before. You don’t particularly want to, but you feel as though you have to. It seems like the right thing to do. He arches an eyebrow as if it’s obvious, placing a hand on your thigh in his way of being comforting. “Yeah. Tell me what’s going on, Y/N.”

“Something… bad happened to me when I was 18. My freshman year of college.” You begin with a deep breath, trying not to cry even more. “I was at a Halloween party at a frat house, and, well, I’ve told you that I used to drink and party a lot. I got really drunk that night, and it felt fine and everything because I was really close with the people at the party, including the brothers of that frat.” You bite your lip, the memories of the night coming back to you despite having happened so long ago. “I blacked out, of course, which wasn’t really unusual for me back then. But… I woke up to… I woke up to one of the brothers, on top of me, just…” you trail off. You can’t even say it out loud, which is actually quite unlike you. The reason you and Ransom Drysdale get along so well is because you both know how to be blunt and know not to take offense by it.

But how the hell can you just voice the words “I woke up to him raping me” out loud?

Ransom knows what you’re getting at. It’s obvious, after all. He stares down at you in shock, his eyebrows furrowing together in anger, protectiveness, empathy-- he’s never felt this type of emotional connection with anyone before, but with you, everything is different. It’s a new world for him, but it’s one he’s willing to be a part of. 

He wraps you in another hug. “Fuck.” He mutters deeply, his teeth slightly grit. “Tell me his name, sweetheart, I’ll send someone after him-- you know what, no, I’ll fucking find him myself and kill the man with my bare fucking hands.” He’s practically shaking from being so angry and you’re unsure what to say- you’re not in the mood to be calming him down right now, you’re not even sure if you need any response from him at all. You just… needed to say it. To get it off your chest. To finally begin processing what happened to you.

He suddenly pulls back and looks down at you. “Why are you telling me this now?” he asks, studying you carefully. “What made you think about that? Do you feel like I’m forcing sex on you or something?” he questions bluntly, and you quickly shake your head. “No, no-- I don’t know, Ransom, I think this has always been eating at me and I just… I didn’t even realize it, you know?” You take a somewhat shaky breath, looking down at your lap. “And now it’s finally making itself known, I don’t know what triggered it, but I promise, I’ve never felt that way with you. I think… I think maybe it’s because I wasn’t really in the mood tonight, but I was forcing myself because I just wanted to be happy again and not bring you down, and then it reminded me of… another time I didn’t want it…”

He looks at you for a few moments, uncharacteristically quiet. You’re a little anxious. Does he think you’re accusing him of rape? Does he feel angry? Guilty? Ashamed? Paranoid? You’re about to reassure him again that he did nothing wrong, but he slowly reaches out and takes your hand.

“Look, baby.” He mutters seriously, “You know I used to be a complete jackass. In fact, I still am. We both know that. But I was worse, and while you’re the one who brought me out of that, I still… I’ve still done some really shitty things.” He pauses, looking into your eyes to see if you’re following just what exactly he’s saying, and you’re pretty sure you are. “I was awful to girls.” He continues, his voice surprisingly clear and steady, apparently having no issue in taking self responsibility. “Not… not that awful, but I was a dick. And now… now that I think of how upset I am that you went through something like that, and I think of the things I’ve done in my own past…” he sighs, and he looks visibly stressed- a sight you aren’t used to. Ransom Drysdale has nothing to be stressed about. He’s rich, carefree, has nothing to worry about besides where to jet off to next with his wealthy friends-- now, however, his jawline is tense and his blue eyes dark. 

“You still accepted me after everything. You made me a better person. You turned me around. You-- God, you love me, for some fucking reason.” He barely chuckles, though it sounds a bit sad. He gently holds your face, another surprise-- Ransom is a rough and controlling person, he doesn’t usually understand the concept of “gentle”. “So if you can help someone like me, then baby, I’m going to help you move on from this too. However long it takes. I-- I don’t know how to do this kind of thing, I’m telling you that right now, but all I know is that I fucking hate seeing you go through this and I want to make this right.” He caresses your cheek, mumbling, “Even if it involves murder…”

You barely smile, though you know he’s actually probably serious. “No murder.” You murmur firmly, but lean in and peck his lips gently. “But thank you, Ransom. I’m so lucky to have you.” You look up into his eyes, sniffing- though this time, it’s from feeling touched. “It… it might be a process, and I don’t even know what to expect here, but I think I can get over this. I just need you to be patient with me.” Ransom immediately nods, suddenly lying down and pulling you down with him to hold you close to his side. “Well, baby girl, you know patience isn’t really my thing, but for you? I can attempt.” 

You laugh softly along with him, snuggling close as you sniff again, wiping at your eyes. “Go to sleep, Y/N.” Ransom mumbles, running his fingers through your hair with a little sigh. “Meanwhile, I’ll try not to think of the millions of ways I want to kill this fucker.” You barely smile, rubbing his chest gently. “I love you, Hugh Ransom Drysdale.”

“I love you too, angel.”

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale fluff #tw: mention of rape

[heartate-aa]

but yeah no on a serious note. since i feel like my hand has been forced, i’m going to be more open about myself regarding like my mental health. i usually don’t like to put it out there, not anymore since the majority of us have moved past the “tell the entire internet all of your mental health problems and list them where we can all see or else you’re lying” but. i struggle with bipolar disorder, depression, anxiety, paranoia, and adhd. if you know anything about these things, you’re going to know how difficult it is to deal with them, especially their combined effects together. bipolar + adhd together literally feels like they are holding hands and skipping and singing songs together while holding me at gunpoint to conspire against me and ruin my life and it’s difficult like. the adhd executive dysfunction on top of the lethargy and mood drops that come with depression + my severe depressive episodes make it almost impossible to function sometimes and it’s why i disappear out of nowhere and i shut down and i don’t talk to anyone.

like that incident in may 2018 where i was literally so suicidal that i really did try to like my mental health was so bad and it’s disgusting that my 4-5 days of silence are being painted as me suicide baiting and also “making them think i was dead” like i understand how shitty it comes across. the way it must have felt to worry about me. but perhaps for a moment, could you understand how awful my mental health had to be that i deleted my existence from the internet for a week and said nothing, even to my own boyfriend who was trying to check on me? the fact that i couldn’t even tell them that hey, i am fine now, i’m recovering, i’m doing better, speaks volumes to HOW i was struggling and how low i felt because my bipolar disorder takes me to the extremes and sometimes things feel life or death and world ending and it’s dramatic and it’s awful and it’s not fun. i didn’t do it on purpose. it seems cold because yeah at the end of the week, when i was starting to feel better, i was playing aram games on the PBE because i was trying to find some semblance of normality and do something i enjoyed to make myself feel better after being in such a horrible pit. am i proud of that? no, because if i was starting to feel better, i could have messaged raphael first. that’s true. but i was still not in a place where i felt like i was ready to talk to anyone. i wasn’t. i was spoonless, upset, depressed, recovering from trying to die, and i still wasn’t ready to talk to them and it’s unfair to twist this situation and paint it as me being evil and malicious when i was simply struggling. it’s not fair. i understand the way that it hurt raphael. the desperation and worry and anxiety that they went through in trying to make sure i was ok because they thought i was dead. i cannot even begin to imagine what they were feeling, but i can try to because they scared me several times. i don’t think they were suicide baiting me and i will not say that it was because that’s shitty and it’s NOT what it was but, they scared me a lot and i thought a lot of times things were very dangerous. i won’t speak up on the incidents themselves bc it’s not my story to tell and i will not break the privacy of these situations, but i was scared a lot that raphael was going to hurt themself and i was panicked and upset and i can understand, in part, the similar feelings they must have felt. anyway i will discuss all of this at a later date.

the point of this post was. i am mentally ill. severely so. i’m not in a position where i can seek professional help but i do things every single day to try to cope and better myself and grow as a person so that i don’t let my issues negatively affect the people around me. i still slip up, i know that, i make mistakes, but i am trying my best to be a better person. i am trying to be more conscientious of the things i say and do because with my adhd + bipolar comes a lot of impulsivity and that gets me into a lot of trouble. but like, it’s disingenuous to try to accuse me of taking the time to make malicious schemes but in the same beat note that i’m ... impulsive and it’s because of my impulsivity that i fuck up? pick a story. please. my brain is not wired that way. i couldn’t scheme even if i wanted to like it’s just. malicious to say that?? my bipolar gets triggered easily sometimes. sometimes it’s not so easy. sometimes i don’t even see an episode coming, i’m just suddenly in a pit of irritability and depression and i don’t know how i got there and i’m in my extremes of everything sucks the world around me is coming to an end. but sometimes i’m manic and happy and excited but at the same time i’m still just as irritable. anyways i’m saying all of this because. my mental illnesses aren’t excuses. i’ve never tried to use them as a crutch or make excuses. every time i bring them up, i’m trying to provide a reason and explanation from how/why i got from point a to point b. i never tried to use them as a crutch. i just wanted to be understood. i just wanted people like raphael to understand my reasoning, my mindset, and my point of view. it was never meant as a “im using this as a shield and that’s why you can’t yell at me.” it was a “hey this happened because i came to this conclusion due to my anxiety/paranoia and i acted impulsively.” i never used anything to justify my actions. me being mentally ill doesn’t put me in the right. i have NEVER used it to excuse myself. i just wanted to be heard, for raphael to see from MY point of view and try to understand HOW i came to a certain conclusion, even if it was wrong. i never tried to say i was right. i just wanted them to understand HOW and WHY i got to that place, even if my judgment + actions were in the wrong.

#im trying to be open about my mental health in light of all this #since people want to take it out of context and demonize me for it #ooc. #tbd. #suicide mention - #ask to tag

[iceeckos12]

Hi! I hope Im not bothering you, but Im absolutely IN LOVE w/ jgvtw! Do you ever think you would write Gerrys perspective on Jon telling him hes ace? Also will we ever learn about what Mary had Gerry do while he was under her thrall/hypnotized? Im so excited for part 3 of the AU and have been rereading all the snippets from part 3 you posted + all the other content you have for it! I can’t wait for part 3! Do you know how long the fic will be? I’m planning on binging it as soon as it comes out,

Hi anon, im so sorry i took so long to answer - it’s been a crazy couple of weeks!! So, to answer a few of your questions - im not planning on getting into what mary had gerry do while he was under her control, mostly because i dont actually know. much like how it is for gerry and jon, im just going to let yall imagine what could’ve happened.

right now part three is sitting at around 7 chapters! i have the outline planned out and everything. the chapters will probably be pretty long though, so im guessing it’ll be around 50k total? but that’s just a guess.

and finally.....really wanted to write the ace thing from gerry’s perspective so. here’s a lil treat:

Gerry loved Jon.

-0-

The thing was, growing up, affection was always a transaction or a battle. Gerry would have to claw and fight for each scrap of approval, for each modicum of his mother’s regard. And even when he did get it, it was never easy, or kind, or long-lasting. He would hand his mother a Leitner, and she might smile at him for one exultant moment, before her interest slid unerringly away again.

And the cycle would repeat again.

He never understood why there were so many songs and books and TV shows about love. Why were people so eager to write about something that took and took and took and never gave anything in return? That tied one to another in the cruelest of ways?

Gerry wanted nothing to do with love.

-0-

Being friends with Jon didn’t come naturally to Gerry.

Jon was everything Mary wasn’t; sensitive to changing moods, innocently inquisitive, attentive to direction. But more than that, more than anything, he cared. He cared so intensely that it scared Gerry sometimes.

Gerry had never cared about anything the way Jon seemed to about nothing and everything all at once. In all his years working as Mary’s glorified errand boy, it’d never occurred to him to try and soften the sharp, dangerous edges of the supernatural world for others. But Jon, endearingly earnest, painfully awkward, worried about the victims, worried about protecting them. (The very antithesis of Mary.)

It made Gerry want to do better. It made Gerry want to be better.

-0-

Gerry loved Jon.

This was no surprise; Gerry wasn’t sure when it’d first happened, but when he’d realized, all he’d been able to think was, ah. Because Jon had shown Gerry that affection could be gentle instead of sharp, that it didn’t have to be won like the prize of a gruesome struggle. Falling in love with Jon felt like the foregone conclusion, the period one placed at the end of a sentence.

Being around Jon, being with Jon, made him feel like everything was going to be okay, like everything was okay. The supernatural world felt a little less awful, a little less inescapably evil, because Jon existed in it.

“Delinquent!” Gerry howled, then dissolved into laughter, the way he never thought he could.

“To be fair,” Jon said, rolling over and draping himself over Gerry’s chest. Gerry tried very hard not smile like an idiot at the warm weight of his partner, at the sheer joy he felt at the way Jon’s eyes crinkled at the edges. “I  am  wearing a fussy little sweater vest, and you have eyeliner on.”

(He Knows that if Jon keeps smiling like that, in ten years the crinkles at Jon’s eyes will turn into laugh lines. They will be overwhelmingly charming and Gerry will love them just as he loves the rest of Jon.)

He doesn’t say that, though. Instead he wraps his arms around Jon’s shoulders and tugs him close, pressing their lips firmly together. Jon smiled, and their teeth clacked together awkwardly, but Gerry was weak to that smile, so it was okay.

He tucked Jon’s hair behind his ear, smiling at the dazed look in his eyes. “I like seeing you like this,” he commented idly.

“Like what?”

Gerry laughed, then carefully cupped the back of Jon’s head and flipped them over so their positions were reversed. Jon stared up at Gerry, rich brown eyes wide, lips parted.

Gorgeous, Gerry thought, then pressed a kiss to Jon’s mouth, then his jaw, then the underside of his chin. “I like seeing you lose control,” he whispered into the junction between neck and shoulder.

“G-Gerry,” Jon gasped out, and Gerry smiled at the sound of his name on Jon’s lips. But then a cold, clammy hand wrapped around his wrist, and he froze, suddenly realizing that something was wrong. “Stop.”

Gerry immediately pulled away, frowning in confusion. Cold dread pooled in his stomach at the sheer terror on Jon’s face, the wide-eyed fear. “Jon?”

Jon pulled away, putting space between them, pushing anxiously at his hair.

Did I do something wrong? It took everything Gerry had to keep outwardly calm. He ran over the past few minutes in his head, trying to figure out what he’d done, why it’d gone wrong so quickly. They’d - Gerry had never kissed Jon’s neck before, maybe he’d accidentally triggered a bad memory - ?

Then Jon extended his arms, a quietly pleading gesture, and Gerry was so relieved that he was almost dizzy at the relief of it. He let out a shaky sigh and folded himself into Jon’s space, slotting them neatly together.

“I’m sorry,” Jon whispered.

“Don’t apologize,” Gerry responded immediately. Whatever it was that’d caused such a negative reaction, Jon should never apologize for it. Gerry had enough of his own issues to reproach Jon for his.

“No, Gerry,” Jon scrubbed his hand over his face. “I need to—talk to you about something, I should’ve said something earlier.”

Gerry didn’t really understand the ensuing conversation; what he did understand was that he loved Jon, had loved Jon for a long time, and sex had never factored into it.

So, yes.

Gerry loved Jon, and that was all there was to it.

#tma #my writing #jongerry #jongerry vs the world #iceeckos12 writes #ask #anonymous

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Night Oliver Branch Died

CW: Drowning, threats with a gun, discussed/referenced noncon of a minor, discussed pet whump/dehumanization, oliver branch is gross but hey he dies in this one so, related note: character death

Tagging Chris’s crew just because I feel like you’ll all appreciate this:  @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @stxckfxck , @slaintetowhump

READERS: Tell me if you guessed it before reading this!

TIMELINE: Takes place in the future of Chris’s timeline, when he has been free for years and has enrolled in college.

The night Oliver Branch died was absolutely ordinary.

He spent some time going over the notes for the trial, sitting in his nicely appointed but perfectly modest three-bedroom home, scanning his handwritten planned remarks for the press while he ate a light dinner of soup and salad. The cook left for the night, and Oliver was the only one in the house.

Well, or so he thought.

It used to bother him, but honestly he didn’t mind the solitude any longer. Years spent with a full staff, worries he had to constantly consider at all hours of the day and night, natural disasters and economic downturns and everything else. It was nice just to take a deep breath, smell the candle burning in the center of the table, a soft sweet magnolia smell that reminded him of his childhood home.

After the trial, perhaps he would move back home. He’d lived in this state for twenty-four years, was its governor for eight of them, but he felt… a bit tired of it all. He wanted to go back to a place where people moved more slowly, wandered the streets after church in pale linen suits in the summer with the ocean air a constant truth of everyday life.

They would know, of course, about his disgrace. But they would be polite about it, keep it to themselves. He had the sense that while the scandal would follow him, it would be easier to ignore in a place where people keep their secrets safely behind closed, locked doors.

Oliver had done the same, once upon a time, only to have the secret simply walk away when someone else opened the door. 

He sighed, sitting back, looking at his half-finished soup with a wistful sort of sadness. 

Honestly, he couldn’t complain. He was just grateful to be out of prison, living in his own house with his own cook and the cleaning woman who comes by twice per week. Almost back to normal. Once this trial was over, of course, he’d sell the house and move back home, and it would all be just fine.

He took a deep breath and picked up his notes, handwritten in a series of different ink colors to differentiate which part of the speech he was in. It helped him to memorize if he thought of the colors. The only one he didn’t like, but used, anyway, was a deep teal ink in the paragraph where he admitted to what he did to his beautiful boy.

His beautiful boy, who had ruined himself with freedom, just as Oliver had always known he would. Some people were meant to be kept, they could not be trusted to keep themselves. His Baldur had been one of those, he had known the moment he’d been shown the intake photo, of the pretty boy curled up in a corner of a plain white room, hands up over his face in some attempt to protect himself.

We believe this will suit your specifications, the email from Ms. Renfod had stated in flat, clean prose that could never have encompassed the perfect leap in Oliver’s heart at the sight, the excitement that ran through him from scalp to toes at the fear and tears in big green eyes. We have recently acquired this individual as a result of a deal involving a family member. No inconvenient missing persons report, Mr. Branch. Perfect confidentiality, no complications. We believe he will require three and one-half months of training, plus two weeks extra for final preparations. I have attached a price list for added fees.

God, what a sight, the pretty thing before they’d taken him from himself, before he’d been delivered smiling and silent and still in the dead of night to Oliver’s door.

Honestly, what a loss that he was roaming around like some wild animal now.

Some people needed a keeper, and every time he had seen his beautiful boy since his liberation it had only emphasized to Oliver how badly Baldur needed the right sort of keeper. This new one, the tall young man with his threats and curses, clearly wasn’t doing a very good job.

Well. That was fine. Not his problem any longer, and soon enough Oliver would stand up at a podium before the press, looking at all their little recorders, and he would tell everyone exactly who Christopher Stanton was and what he had been. Oliver’s disgrace would be total, but if he played this right, Baldur would never go anywhere again without no longer being able to hide behind his earrings and awful hair and the patch of scarred skin where his barcode once had been.

Baldur might have gotten away from him, all those years ago, but Oliver intended to ensure he could not get away from what he had been made to do, to be. One did not stop being a pet, once they were made into a thing to be used for pleasure, there was nothing else for them to be.

Baldur might have delusions otherwise, but Oliver could ruin those, for him, just like his boy had ruined himself.

Kicked out of his fancy little college for his fake identity, maybe even charged with it. All his new little friends would know who he was. It was the last bit of pettiness Oliver intended to allow himself to indulge in before he returned back to his hometown and let Baldur’s fragile new life come down around his ears.

Oliver smiled, trailing fingertips over the teal ink, the exact shade of Baldur’s hideous dye job. He still had a PI on retainer, taking pictures of his pretty boy out living his life. Oliver liked to keep tabs on his old flames, just to ensure they were keeping quiet, keeping to themselves, living nice respectable lives. 

Lately, with his reduced income, he’d had to cut that down to tracking Baldur alone.

Christopher Stanton. Oliver snorted. Awful name. Hardly did any justice to the perfect line of his cheekbones, the still-gentle curve of his jaw, the nicely full lips that would no doubt still part just so with a press of the right fingertips-

“Daydreamin’, are we?” A strange male voice asked, and Oliver looked up to stare down the barrel of a gun. 

His heart stopped, eyes caught by that circle of infinite black surrounded by unfeeling metal, and then he raised his eyes to see a man he had never seen before. He wasn’t very tall, draped in heavy clothing that disguised his body type, though he seemed a bit on the muscular side. Perfectly average face, difficult to describe to any law enforcement, blondish-red hair cut in a flattop, narrowed eyes, smattering of freckles. Too far to see the eye color.

Robbers, really? Tonight, of all nights?

Oliver put both palms carefully down on the table as his heart began to pound. “Can I help you?”

His voice was admirably steady, and he was more than a bit proud of himself for that. He did not visibly tremble or shake, but he was deeply, deeply aware of that gun. He could see the safety was off, the man’s finger resting lightly around the trigger.

“You can,” The man said, with a hint of amusement in the blocky lines of his face. It came out more like ye can, an accent Oliver couldn’t quite place. Irish, maybe? “Hearing some rumors, about someone planning to testify next week. I was hoping’ you’d be able to disabuse me of such a disturbin’ notion.”

Oliver blinked, caught off-guard by the man’s friendly, personable tone even as the gun never faltered but it’s position held pointed directly at him. “If you work for WRU-”

“Oh, I don’t. No, as heartbreaking as it is, lad, Rossi’s group got the WRU rejects pipeline all sewn up, don’t he? Clever fuck. And I am a good many things, but I’m not a man stupid enough to cross Giovanni Rossi. You don’t put that man in a bad mood and walk out alive, do you?” Once again, the word slipped into ye, and Oliver was sure now that the accent was Irish. Faded, with the local accent flattening the vowels and roughing up the consonants, but the Irish was there nonetheless.

It occurred to him that it didn’t really matter if he identified his accent, because he almost certainly wasn’t going to walk out of this alive if the man was so easily dropping names.

“I wouldn’t know. If you’re not with WRU, I don’t see why there’s-... there needs to be a problem,” Oliver said, without moving, barely even letting his lips form the wounds. His heart still pounded in his chest. His dreams of moving back home by the coast, to Charleston’s beauty and grandeur and age, were rapidly feeling like scraps of tissue paper dissolving in water.

“You’re not just testifyin’ about the company, now, are you?” The man sighed, pulling a chair out on the other end of the table, sitting down without lowering the gun, keeping it trained on Oliver, just shifting it slightly to aim directly into his chest.

Oliver had taken a few courses in self-defense, back in the day. Aim for the center mass, the easiest thing to hit. People in movies can nail an arm or a leg with accuracy but in real life it’s rarely so easy. Aim for something lethal.

“The trial is about the company,” Oliver said, voice shaking, his own genteel accent thickening the more the fear settled in.

“It is, at that,” The man said, nodding. “But it’s not only about that, either, is it?” He snapped the fingers on his other hand, and Oliver jumped nearly a foot in the air as he realized there were two other men standing behind him he hadn’t even noticed. They appeared on either side of him, one of them picking up the papers on the table and moving them over to the man, who gave a soft, polite thanks and looked them over.

Suddenly, Oliver’s different ink colors for different aspects of his speech seemed… superfluous. He was never going to give that speech.

“What else is it about?” Oliver asked, breathy. He was going to die, and he’d always hoped for one more chance to visit his parents’ graves. Spit on them once or twice, leave flowers, and go. He’d always hoped…

Something occurred to him.

“Is this about my Baldur?”

The man’s face twisted in an expression of utter, absolute disgust.

“Is that it? Did his new keeper send you to-”

“No. Oh no, fucknuts, no.” The man laughed, looking over the papers, flipping through them idly with one hand as his associate stepped back, one of them lurking on either side of Oliver, hands pressing steadily into his shoulders to keep him right where he was. “No, no. I’ve nothin’ to do with that young lib boy. Know of ‘im, though. We keep an eye out, on our own. It’s been a long, long time, but… I owe a debt.”

“A… A debt?” Oliver’s voice caught in his throat. 

“Indeed.” The man set the papers down, and for a moment, Oliver could have sworn there were tears in his eyes, emotions that played openly across the man’s utterly nondescript face. Grief, anger, sadness all warred there. 

The hands on his shoulders tightened. 

“Long time ago now, but I don’t forget, do I? Ah, look, here ‘tis.” The man tapped his finger in the teal paragraph so carefully written on the third page of the speech. “Here’s our lad. Tristan.”

“Tristan-... are you talking about Baldur?”

The man snarled, and Oliver flinched back against the back of his chair, waiting for the burst of sound and the bullet and his own death. Nothing came, and after a moment he opened his eyes. The man had settled his expression, but it was with effort - the anger was still clearly visible. “I’m not talkin’ about your bullshite pet name in the slightest, you sack of shit. No, I’m talkin’ about my friend’s boy Tristan.”

Oliver swallowed, and offered, “I believe… I believe he goes by Christopher now. I could give you his address-”

“We know where he lives, gobshite.”

“Then why are you here-”

“I told you, my debt. You’re an awful thick, aren’t you? We’re not the type to abduct a wean, although that never gave your like a pause, did it?” The man tapped his gun on the table, the first time it had truly lowered since Oliver had first realized he was here. Oliver let out a breath of relief.

“What is your debt, exactly?” His voice was still airy, but he tried to sound calm, in control. Never moved his hands. “I still have some funds the courts are not aware of, perhaps we could work out a deal-.. I have a safe upstairs-”

“Not that kind of debt. I had to stand by when my mucker and his wife got his face shot in by our own boss, no less, but I’m the boss, now. Took a while, took too long. I’ve had to wait and wait and wait, but me and my lads here, we’ve all owed Paul Higgs a debt since, Lord, has it been nearly a decade now? And I intend to pay it tonight.”

The man smiled, briefly, at Oliver.

“Couldn’t stop Paul’s boy from the sufferin’ already inflicted, but I can ensure you don’t say a word about him ever again, can’t I? Ah, no, we can’t have that. He’s got a good life now. Nice boy, all grown up. Hair’s a bit bollocked but who are we to judge, hm? He’s got himself a nice life goin’ and I intend to ensure he does his da proud, just like he would’ve if he weren’t forced to fuck you, you depraved bit of dogshit on my shoe. Fucking a child. A boy. What’ve you got to say for yourself?”

Oliver didn’t even bother to open his mouth. He understood that any attempt at self-defense wasn’t needed or even wanted. He understood that probably there was absolutely nothing he needed to say, ever again. He closed his eyes, lips moving in some dim form of prayer.

“Ah. A man of God, then?” Oliver looked to see the man pull a rosary from underneath his shirt. “That’s a fuckin’ laugh, considering what you’ve done. But, hey, He’s forgiven worse, I imagine. Tristan might even forgive you, too, he was always too good a boy for it all. Too bad for you that I don’t forgive shite.”

“If you’re going to shoot me,” Oliver said, barely able to get his voice above a whisper, “then do it.”

“We’re not going to shoot you, idjit.” The man rolled his eyes, giving his companions an exasperated can you believe this? look. One of the men, the one on Oliver’s right, laughed. “They’d trace it, we’d have to deal with the law, and honestly I am just not in the mood to pay any cops off this week. I’ve already paid Rossi off to keep him from gettin’ pissed at me, although he’s a man who understands the value of family, I think he’d have let us anyway. Still, never hurts to grease a palm, does it? What we’re going to do, Mr. Branch, is drown you. Your bathtub’s chock full of river water.”

“What?” Oliver swallowed, jerking forward as if to push himself up, but the hands on his shoulders pushed him back down. “H-how-... why-”

“When we dump you in the Trelawney,” The man said, calm and easy, “your lungs’ll already be chock full of its water. Nothing unusual about that, hm? Just another child molester dumped in that chemical swamp where he belongs. My mucker’s boy-... I couldn’t help him. I’ve owed Paul for that, we all have. This is my organization, now, and I will ensure Paul’s boy’s name never leaves your lips again.” The man snapped his fingers and Oliver shouted as he was dragged to his feet by the other two, kicking out, knocking his chair over with a clatter.

Just beyond the window were a hundred other houses, lights on in some, families laughing in front of their televisions. Utterly unknowing as their neighbor was dragged upstairs to his own master bathroom, to a custom-made clawfoot tub absolutely full of disgusting, muddy river water dredged up and brought here and Oliver had never even known they were in the house. 

They held his head over the water as he screamed for help.

The leader leaned back against the sink, lit a cigarette, took a long drag and let the smoke float over his face. His eyes were green, Oliver realized with a kind of hysterical panicked giggle. His eyes were green. 

Like Baldur’s.

“W-wait-, wait-... one question, just one, one question-”

The leader held up his hand. They kept Oliver’s head a few inches above the brackish water in the tub. 

“Paul Higgs-... Baldur’s-... the boy’s father.” Oliver could barely breathe, barely get out the words. He was going to die, why was this question so important? Still, he couldn’t stop himself from asking it. “The boy’s-... just a friend?”

The leader snorted, flicked his cigarette onto the bedroom carpet through the bathroom door. A trail of thin smoke began to rise. “Paul was my best friend, yes,” He said flatly. “His da and mine were cousins. The looks run in the family, don’t they?”

“Why… why now? Why not before? When he was-... why only now?”

The man’s lip pulled to the side in a sneer. “Had to wait ‘til the company couldn’t protect you, didn’t I? You’re not a client now, Mr. Branch. Just a bit of blood on Karen Renford’s shoes. Loose thread. You’re not the only one keeps tabs on runaways, you know.”

“What?” Oliver’s eyes widened, the muddy water giving him a strange, distorted, half-transparent view of his own reflection. “What, what are y-you-”

“Ah, it’s not worth explaining this shite to him, is it?” The man rolled his eyes. “Renford knew where he was. She knows where all the runners are. She’s not going to let you fuck the company just to get your fifteen minutes, gobshite. I hate that insufferable bitch and she’s the one who made Paul’s boy into a pet, but I know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth even if the one given’ it should probably be shot herself.”

“Wh-why-”

“Shut your feckin’ hole. We may not have the pleasure of a regular contract, but I was happy to accept this little job free of charge. Everyone gets what they want, don’t they? Paul’s boy gets his nice little life for keeping, Renford gets the blood out, and I get to make up to Paul what I couldn’t do back then. Ah, Tristan was a sweet boy. Bit of a wild thing, but…” The man sighed mournfully. “Well. We all lose people, in this business, Mr. Branch. I’m sorry to’ve lost him but I’d never think to take him from what he’s got. I’m no monster.”

Laughter bubbled in Oliver’s throat, and he barely held it back. No monster, but you’ll kill me, will you?

“Tonight, everyone gets what they want.”

“I wanted Charleston,” Oliver said, staring into the brownish silt-soaked water, thinking of the blue of the ocean, the waves battering the shore, white-capped on rougher days, the salt-smell of the sea. His mother’s hands holding him, sitting on his father’s shoulders, before it had all changed. “I, I wanted Charleston.”

The words were more plaintive than he intended them to be.

“Sad for you,” The leader said without sympathy. “The heart bleeds. Perhaps you should’ve kept your wee dick in your pants and not touched our friend’s boy, then, hm? Bit late for that, though. Hope the Good Lord’s feelin’ His mercy today, pervy fuck, ‘cause you’ll see none from us.”

He snapped his calloused fingers, and Oliver’s head went under the water. He’d jerked in a final breath just before, and as he held it - lungs burning, time running out - Oliver had only a single remaining defiance. His last thought, before he had to pull water into his lungs, before the thrashing and the choking and the final blackness that pulled him under, wasn’t of Baldur at all.

He was found in the Trelawney River, the water in his lungs a perfect match for the water around him. His bathtub had been recently cleaned, but that wasn’t suspicious, as his cleaner had been there only the day before and Oliver rarely took baths. His dinner table was clean of any sign of his final meal. 

There were no papers on the table, or anywhere in the house, detailing his intended speech to the press. Those papers were burned and the ashes spread on the graves of Paul and Veronica Higgs, along with a fresh spray of daisies, Ronnie’s favorite flower. 

Oliver Branch’s testimony could no longer be given, due to his untimely death.

The suggestion that he had killed himself because of the shame of his own actions made the rounds in the press, followed by certainty in certain spaces that he had been murdered to protect WRU on Karen’s orders. 

Perhaps a handler had done it, the rumors went, sent by the strange emotionless Karen Renford, who sat on the stand and spoke with perfect diction and a total lack of feeling on the particulars of her job, and who had never once set off a lie detector in her life. Perhaps a pet liberation member had finally snapped - there had been an incident years ago with someone who had beaten Oliver nearly to unconsciousness, maybe that person had hunted him down again.

Maybe Karen had killed him herself.

The rumors went in circles, but no one ever guessed the truth. 

Oliver’s final defiance was known only to him, and went with him to the grave he was eventually buried in. His final thought was simply of the crash of a white-capped wave against the shore. 

Oliver Branch died thinking not of his crimes, but with the ocean behind his eyes. 

#death of a villain #original fiction #drowning tw #gun tw #threats with gun tw #chris the strawberry blond romantic #oliver branch is gross #but also very dead now #so that's nice #whump #character death tw #creepy whumper #villain death #did anyone guess 'paul's mob friends'? #karen renford #wru #box boy #box boy universe #box boy multiverse