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ddarker-dreams · 2 years ago

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Idée Fixe.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Warnings: Some not SFW elements, yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, emotional manipulation, depictions of general & social anxiety disorder, depictions of a panic attack, mentions of anxiety medication, Chrollo administers medications to Reader without her consent, and mentions of religion. Also Chrollo just really, really sucks. Word count: 12.3k.

You met a strange man at the arboretum today.

Perhaps you aren’t in a position to describe others as ‘strange’, considering your latest proclivity for expressing earnest thanks to any honey bees you happen across for their service. After much contemplation, however, it’s ultimately the word you arrive at. ‘Strange’ not in a disconcerting sense that inspires fear, but just being out of the ordinary enough to exude an undeniable allure. A raised panel on the floor you stumble over yet suffer no serious injury from.

Well-kept gardens might be the closest imitation to heaven on earth. That’s what brought you to this little oasis hidden in the desert that is urban life. It’s the type of day romanticists wax poetic about: baby blue skies, puffy clouds, and moderate temperatures with a light, forgiving breeze.

You situated yourself strategically, so you’d be beneath the shade of a magnolia tree whose pink petals kept fluttering down as if in greeting, and near a patch of daffodils that matched the shade of your gingham dress. Blades of grass tickle your legs, but not unpleasantly so, they scratch an itch found only in nature’s loving reprieve. There’s no thought of upcoming assignments, what to eat for dinner, or if buying that purse you thought was a steal at 30% off was a good idea or not.

It’s just you and your book.

Until it isn’t.

Every woman is connected in the experience that is trepidation whenever a man randomly approaches. There’s no telling his intentions, if he has any. You��re left to smile awkwardly and temporarily realign yourself with religion by praying to a higher deity for his hasty departure. You map out potential escape routes and recall the pepper spray situated in your impulse-bought purse. He gently calls out “Miss”, confirming that he hopes to speak with you.

At least he has the propriety to stop a few paces from where you sit, electing not to intrude on your personal space. This causes your shoulders to relax. In the few seconds you’ve been made aware of his existence, you recognize his appealing features. He has loose, dark hair, along with wide and seemingly unassuming eyes. His outfit of a dark gray turtleneck accompanied by a black jacket and pants somewhat strikes you as odd, considering spring is in full bloom. Two other details steal your attention away from this; those being the beige wrapping around his forehead and his spherical, turquoise-colored earrings. It’s like he was caught undecided between wanting and not wanting to attract attention.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he begins. You try not to think about how pleasant his voice sounds. “I’ve been trying to make sense of the directory, but I’ve never been the best with directions. Do you by any chance know how to get to the Starling House?”

You nod. It’s a quaint, centuries-old mansion, maintained by the non-profit that oversees the flora here. Getting over the initial apprehension from his approach, you try verbalizing the most efficient path to get there. This proves more difficult than you expected since the arboretum is vast and has few waypoints that can be used for reference. Still, throughout your explanation whose unhelpfulness you grow painfully aware of, he patiently nods and makes no attempts to rush you through.

This willingness to put up with your scattered description wins over your sympathy, pushing you past your sheepishness.

“I guess I’m not good at giving directions. I could just show you the way, if you’d like.”

“I’d hate to disturb your reading, but… if it isn’t a bother, I’d certainly appreciate it.”

You’re already setting your bookmark into place. “It’s no bother. This is my second time reading it, anyway. So don’t worry. I’m not being left off on a cliffhanger or anything.”

He smiles at that. When you’re preparing to stand, he extends his hand, a gesture that gives you a momentary pause. Well, you are wearing a dress. You suppose it’s the polite thing for him to do. You accept his unspoken offer and he hoists you up without the least bit of exertion on his part. His hand is warm and bigger than yours, slightly coarse too, surprisingly. His immaculate presentation gave you the impression of a trust fund kid or something in that vein. He’s tasteful in ensuring his touch doesn’t overstay its welcome.

Your heart pounds in your chest.

You catch a hint of his cologne. Sandalwood, amber, and leather blend together to form a delightfully woody fragrance. As amazing as he smells, you create a little distance, walking ahead motioning for him to follow. His longer legs have no trouble catching up, yet he never creeps too close.

The short journey that you expect to only be accompanied by the sounds of cardinals chirping and house finches singing is interrupted by the man speaking up again. Oddly enough, you don’t mind.

“Do you find your thoughts on Prince Myshkin’s initially endearing simple heartedness changed, knowing how the book ends?”

You pause, taking a moment to realize he must be familiar with the work. This revelation fills you with a tentative giddiness. It isn’t often you have a chance to delve into your literary thoughts to a willing audience. There’s plenty more you could say on the subject, but you try to exercise restraint nonetheless.

“I thought I might, but I found myself more critical of the other characters instead.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

He appears genuinely interested, otherwise, you would’ve kept it at that.

“Ah, well, maybe it’s that they serve as proof that innocence is never meant to last. Or if it does, it’ll inevitably be punished. There are moments where I feel frustrated with the Prince’s naivety… but then I stop and wonder why it’s so bad to want to see the best in people. Does that speak to a flaw in his character, or to a flaw in the character of others? Maybe it’s both. I can’t help but feel the Prince’s case is more sympathetic.”

His eyes never leave yours while you give your answer. Heat rises to your cheeks and you internally groan over the prospect of making a stranger listen to your ramblings. He was probably just looking to make casual conversation, not everyone wants an existential crisis on a Saturday afternoon.

“You must be someone who wants to see the best in people as well,” he surmises. There’s no hint of mockery in his tone — he’s oddly sincere. He says it with a hint of bittersweet nostalgia.

Before you can hazard a response, you come across a sign displaying information for an event at the Starling House. The building itself lies in waiting atop a hill less than a quarter of a mile ahead. He stops to read it, as do you, operating under the assumption he came here for the event. It seems that they’re displaying historic artifacts from around the area. You suppose this will be where you part ways. You’re about to wish him well when he sighs, the miffed noise stopping you.

“I got the time wrong,” he frowns, staring at his wristwatch.

The sign says the event begins at 6:00 p.m. and a quick tap of your phone reveals it’s 4:00.

“If you’re looking for a way to burn time, there’s a nice garden behind the House that’s always open to the public,” you explain. This piques his curiosity. “If the sage is in bloom, you might get lucky and see some hummingbirds.”

“That does sound lovely,” he says. Then, his lips quirk up, promising the start of a smile. “Would you care to join me, Miss…?”

You give him your name and he nods, as if deciding it fits you.

“[First]. I understand if my tour guide wants to get back to her reading, though.”

Bashfulness creeps up your back and threatens to sink its fangs into your neck. Your heart’s rhythm takes an erratic cadence. He’s posing the proposition in such a lighthearted way, offering an easy out if you want to take it. You internally weigh your options on a scale that’s worn from overuse. He’s being friendly, you tell yourself. That’s all it is.

“Well, I guess I’d be a shabby tour guide if I didn’t show you where the gardens are.”

On the brief walk to the gardens, the man introduces himself as Chrollo. You both situate yourselves on the same stone bench. You sit on the right, he sits on the left. Once again, he leaves you plenty of space, never testing boundaries. The scent of nascent sage wafts in the air. While you scan your surroundings for hummingbirds, he tells you that his work often necessitates travel, hence his unfamiliarity with the area.

“Does it ever get lonely?” You ask, not thinking much of it. He gives you a look you can’t quite place, so you elaborate. “Traveling all the time, I mean.”

He tilts his head, more inquisitive than offended. “What makes you think it’d be lonely?”

“I just think I’d get homesick after a while, always being in an unfamiliar place. I’d miss my family and friends.”

When he continues staring at you in silence with those unreadable eyes, you swear you want to slam your head repeatedly against a wall. Not everyone has a good relationship with their family or people to call their friends. The weight of your potential insensitivity comes crashing down on you like a tsunami.

You move your hands around wildly, rushing to correct your discourtesy. “Uh, I mean, that isn’t to say you need those things!”

“You don’t think I have any friends?”

Your face must be radiating more heat than a furnace. Still, the embarrassment doesn’t reach a point where you’re unable to notice his omission of the word family. “I didn’t—”

Contrary to the reaction you were expecting, Chrollo laughs. Not a little chuckle, but a genuine laugh, hearty in a way that stands in stark contrast to his otherwise reserved demeanor. The smile it imprints on his face somehow feels different than what he’s displayed before. Those were always so well timed, lasting as long as necessary and never a second more. It hits you then just how handsome this man is. Alabaster skin, soft and glossy hair, lips as rosy as the blush on his cheeks from his outburst of laughter.

It doesn’t last long, he’s quick to school himself. The speed he does so is almost unnatural. “I apologize, I’m only teasing. You’re very expressive, [First].”

You let out something between a huff and a sigh. “God, I felt so awful…”

“I can tell,” he puts his hands up in mock surrender when you send him a non-threatening glare. “To answer your question… I’ve never thought about it much. I suppose it is lonely at times.”

This revelation pours a bucket of ice-cold water over the embers of your indignation. Your face softens and a stinging pain shoots throughout your body. You can’t bring yourself to remain miffed when you’re the one who dredged this topic up. People use humor as a means to cope, that may be what Chrollo does.

“Enough about me, though. I’m far more interested in you.”

You shift in your seat. Did it always feel so warm out?

“Here, let me guess. You’re certainly a student. Hm… of the humanities, perhaps?”

“You got the student part right,” you agree. “I’m majoring in criminal psychology.”

There’s something like a twinkle in his eyes. “Oh? Is that so? You want to catch criminals, then?”

“Er… not exactly. It’s more that I want to help them.”

He blinks. “Help them?”

“Not, like, as an accomplice,” you earnestly reassure, to which he smiles, “How do I explain it… take the city around us, right? It’s considered one of the most dangerous in the United States of Saherta.”

As if on cue, a cacophony of police sirens begins blaring in the distance.

“In the 80s and 90s, there was a surge of incarceration, yet crime as a whole set higher records each year. The policy at the time was ‘build more prisons, give longer sentences’. Obviously, that didn’t work out very well for anyone… except for private prisons maybe… that’s a whole different beast. Anyway, you reap what you sow. Crime rate is going down, but communities were gutted by these policies. There’s still a lot of work to be done. I want to understand ‘deviant’ behavior so I can see what safety nets would benefit them the most.”

Chrollo is such an excellent listener that unlike before, you no longer feel the pressure to remain succinct and have little qualms completely delving into your passion. His body language suggests total engagement.

“Ah, so you view crime as a result of societal shortcomings.”

“It’s more nuanced than that,” you shake your head. “Hell, even when there were only four people on earth according to the Bible, Cain went ahead and committed murder anyway. That’s like… killing 25% of the population… how messed up. Wait. If there were only four people on earth, who did Cain go on to marry? How does that work…? Asexual reproduction…?”

“The Quran says Cain and Abel both had twin sisters,” Chrollo offers.

“Alright, that makes more sense than asexual reproduction. Okay! Enough about theology! Back to crime. There’s no totally eradicating it, but there is circumventing it. That’s what I want to help do.”

You’ve been so preoccupied with verbalizing your thoughts, you failed to notice he’s scooted slightly closer to you. There’s enough room for decorum yet you can’t help feeling slightly flustered. Why this cute guy is still hanging around despite the fact you casually mentioned asexual reproduction not once, but twice, is a phenomenon that transcends human reason.

This is so going to be one of those interactions that haunts you periodically at three in the morning for the rest of your life.

“It’s a noble pursuit,” Chrollo comments. Then, he places a hand to his chin. “Forgive me if this comes off as pessimistic, but… what if you put in all that work, only for nothing significant to change?”

You shrug. “I’ve considered that plenty, trust me. It’s fine if I don’t kickstart a utopia. So long as I can say I helped one person, that’s good enough for me.”

“One person, huh?”

It seems more like a rhetorical musing on his part, so you allow yourself to be momentarily distracted. In your peripherals, there’s a flash of colors, shades of green and red bleeding together. A low buzz accompanies the sporadic sight. The blur moves erratically, high to low, then low to high.

You cover your mouth to stifle a gasp, then whisper to your companion, “Chrollo! Look! A hummingbird!”

The thrum of nature is a wonder you’ll never tire of. It inspires awe that reflects in your eyes like a mirror, enchants without needing to cast a spell. You wrongly assume that Chrollo must be partaking in the same miracle that has stolen your attention. He’s fixated, yes, but not on the right subject matter. He’s still staring at you. This disruption of your expectations can only be explained away by the possibility he hasn’t spotted the creature yet. To remedy this, you slowly point in the hummingbird’s direction. Finally, he breaks his gaze from your form, acknowledging what it is you find so fascinating.

By then, it’s too late. Your newly made acquaintance departs as swiftly as it arrived.

“Aw, that’s a shame,” you lament. The disappointment you’d feel if you were in his shoes would be immeasurable. “You didn’t get to see it for very long.”

You have no concrete proof, but you swear every smile he wears is different than the one before it.

“It’s alright. I saw something far better.”

Curious, you glance to your right, searching for whatever it is. You must’ve misinterpreted whatever he was looking at before. “Something better than a hummingbird?”

“You could say that.”

The remainder of the time you spend together is relatively uneventful. Chrollo asks you a great deal about yourself, ranging from your hobbies to book recommendations. You try to return the favor — as is only polite, in your opinion — yet the conversation never lingers on him long before circling back to you. It isn’t until you say you feel vain talking about yourself so much that he offers some morsels of knowledge. Aside from traveling for his occupation, he’s something of an antiquarian, hence his interest in the Starling House’s event. He also reveals he has colleagues coming into town soon, the aforementioned ‘friends’ you questioned the existence of. The way he teases is so devoid of malice, you can’t bring yourself to be upset.

The hour flies by. Good looks aside, he’s a remarkable conversationalist. There’s never an awkward silence or social misstep. One could even call him perfection incarnate. His steady cadence, command of language, meticulously formed ideas… they’re reminiscent of cogs in an automaton turning together in complete harmony. Paradoxically, this immaculate image speaks to some underlying defect in his character he mustn’t want anyone to see. There is such a thing as being too perfect.

For whatever reason, this draws you in closer rather than repelling you.

Chrollo’s disappointment is palpable when he glances at his watch. It’s then you’re reminded that all good things must come to an end.

“I—”

“It—”

You both start and stop talking at the same time. When it’s made obvious you intend to stay silent until he speaks his piece, he motions to you with his hands, insisting you go first.

“It was very nice meeting you, Chrollo,” you say, your voice softening. It’s amazing how you can feel your previously discarded sheepishness returning in real-time. Amazing and annoying. “I, uh, hope you enjoy the event.”

“Please, I should be the one thanking you,” he insists. Then, for such a well-spoken man, he goes uncharacteristically quiet. Deliberating on some issue you’ll never be privy to. “You’ve already helped me a lot, but could I possibly ask for one more thing?”

You give a nod.

“May I have your phone number?”

You stare at him.

He stares at you.

You continue staring at him.

He continues staring at you.

His request echoes through your head like it was spoken in a vast cavern. Phone number… phone number... you have one of those. He is asking for it. He wants to remain in touch. Indeed, that is what the statement normally means. Ah, it must be in a platonic sense! It’s nice to have someone to talk to, especially since you both share many interests. Not many of your friends are chomping at the bit to discuss if obtaining the philosopher’s stone was a literal practice or meant to be interpreted metaphorically.

Whoops, you left the poor guy waiting for a response.

“S-Sure!”

He hands you his phone without delay. You put in your contact info, then hold it up for him to take. His fingers brush over yours when he picks it back up and you shiver.

Well, that was certainly nice. You’re forming a blossoming friendship. You love making new friends. The word repeats in your head as if it were a broken record. Friends, friends, friends. Don’t look too into this. Put your magnifying glass down, brain. The stupid three pounds of gray matter delight in tormenting you with outrageous ideas and conclusions. There’s nothing flirtatious happening here.

“Also, I hope you don’t mind my saying so…” he trails off, weaving a web you willingly allow yourself to get trapped in, “But you are very beautiful, [First].”

…

Ohhhh, he’s been flirting with you this entire time, hasn’t he?

Going on a date is a harrowing experience.

For some unknown reason, your traitorous amygdala regards going to a café at noon with the same severity it would if a lion were actively chasing you down. Your flight or fight response raises the banners of war. The army it amasses digs its trenches, readies the cannons, its matches lit to fire off the artillery on standby. Who is the dreaded opponent, one may ask? No one. Absolutely no one. Incredibly enough, you can actively recognize this fact, and still, your physiological response claims it knows better.

Social anxiety is so stupid. You thought you and your body were supposed to be on the same team. Whatever inspired this mutiny, whether it be serotonin deficiency or some other science-y term you can’t pronounce, you most certainly don’t appreciate it.

To be fair, your parent’s reaction didn’t inspire much confidence. Your dad was asking for information on Chrollo you’re 90% sure could be used to conduct a background check, whereas your mom posited the idea he’s a human trafficker. You felt like a lawyer trying to plead your case for why it’s okay that an adult such as yourself may go on a date (sacrilegious, you know, premeditated murder would be more excusable). With some solid arguments and a few instances of stretching the truth (this sounds far nicer than the word lying), the tempest was dissipated. If Chrollo ever were to meet your parents, you’ll have to tell him he’s actually a sensitive, poetic soul that donates to orphanages and saves kittens from burning down buildings. He’s also celibate. More important than any of those things, though, he’s a political centrist.

Suddenly everything in your closet either felt prudish enough to befit a woman entering the convent, or raunchy enough you’d need to wear a trench coat to leave the house unobstructed. In the end, you find a skirt that’d pass your middle school fingertip test and a cute blouse that shouldn’t land you in purgatory.

Your hands are shaking when you go to do the winged eyeliner on your left eye. Then you sneeze while applying mascara, granting a raccoon appearance you could’ve done without. You feel wound up so tight there a mere poke could shatter you into millions of pieces. This is great. Millions of years of evolution led up to this. That selfish, inconsiderate fish should’ve never grown legs and stepped on land. Everything’s gone wrong since then. Fuck that fish.

Ultimately, you succumb and take one of your ‘stage fright’ medications. If it’s doing anything to help, you can’t tell yet.

You have to beg your dad to stop staring out the window with a pair of binoculars.

Eventually, a sleek black car pulls in front of your house.

Following the theme of the day, you almost trip over yourself walking out the front door. Your phone buzzes — no doubt it’s Chrollo telling you he’s here — but you decide to just go to the car rather than text him back. He must’ve spotted you, for he exits and gives you a wave. You’re grateful he did that while a considerable distance away. There was a time a guy waved at you and you thought he wanted a high five. Needless to say, that was a traumatic incident no amount of therapy could help alleviate.

“You look absolutely lovely,” he compliments. Your Broca’s area temporarily malfunctions at this bold declaration. Fortunately, you gather yourself fast enough to stop yourself from saying “you too”.

“Thank you,” the phrase comes out as smooth as butter. You silently congratulate yourself for your immaculate delivery of two words. “Wow… you have such a nice car. And here I thought you were a fellow member of the middle class. Am I allowed to touch this?”

Chrollo chuckles, having gotten used to the peculiar way you word things after all your electronic communication. No matter how you expressed yourself, he still texted you back, so you figured he must be okay with whatever it is you’re doing. He would’ve blocked you by now otherwise.

His reply comes as he holds the passenger side door open. “Ah, don’t worry. There was a bit of a mixup at the car rental place. I wasn’t expecting something of this quality either.”

You tuck this piece of knowledge away for later, should any sugar daddy-esque allegations be thrown your way. One can never be too prepared.

Sinking into the leather seat is a luxurious experience, although it's cold against the exposed area of your thighs. Chrollo slides into the driver’s seat not long after and sets the car into drive. You silently wonder if your neighbors think you’ve gotten into an Uber.

The short trip to the café soothes your electrically fried nerves. You’re once again reminded of how good he is at making you forget your anxiety, he could put SSRIs out of business. Or maybe the propranolol is finally working. Whichever it may be, by the time you both order your drinks, you feel more giddy than nervous. Is it a good idea to drink a caffeinated beverage when anxiety threatens to drag you into limbo at any second? Probably not. Does that mean you’re going to wisely choose a different beverage? Nope.

The sunlight is harsher in the afternoon, but you find this is offset by an occasional breeze. No one else is present in the outdoor dining area except for you and Chrollo. You choose the seat facing a row of bushes so you can observe the house finches and house sparrows fluttering about. One little fella is helping itself to a dirt bath in the freshly spread-out mulch. You coo at the adorable display, pointing it out to Chrollo who admits it is a precious sight. You’ve made it your raison d'être to convince him that every bird is equally fascinating, whether it be a rainbow lorikeet or a common pigeon.

He takes the first sip of the drink you recommended.

“Well? What do you think?”

“It’s good,” he decides with a smile. “I can see why you get it so often.”

“Right? I’ve thought about conducting an Ocean’s Eleven type heist to get the ingredients they use to make it.”

“Oh? Do you grant a moral exception to thievery?”

Despite how lightheartedly he phrases this, his eyes have a certain intensity to them. You mull over the question for this reason.

“Hm… it depends, I guess? Some people need to steal to survive. I probably wouldn’t care if a rich person or mega-corporation got stolen from either,” you say. He quirks an eyebrow at your last statement and you hastily add, “A-As long as no one gets hurt, of course.”

He doesn’t bother trying to hide his amusement. “Your reasoning is very cute.”

You groan and shrink back into the garden chair. “I know, I know, that probably came off as terribly naive and self-contradictory… the issue is complex. Giving a one-size-fits-all type of consensus feels impossible. How about you? What do you think?”

“Coveting is mankind’s original sin,” Chrollo begins. He’s using a tone that tells you to prepare for an in-depth explanation. “It’s a theme that’s recurrent throughout history. David and Bathsheba, Hades and Persephone, Heathcliff and Catherine… we always want what we cannot have. This dilemma never leaves us entirely. We either ignore it, despair in it, or succumb to it. The desire to steal is as involuntary as the diaphragm contracting for us to breathe or the electric signals that cause our heart to beat.”

A house finch begins its soulful serenade in the background.

“Wouldn’t you say that calling it involuntary implies we can’t control it, though?” You query.

“The only way to exercise total control over it is to kill it.”

“Some parts of us are better off dead,” you decide. “Getting what you want doesn’t guarantee satisfaction. The examples you listed… maybe they were happy for a time, but ultimately, their transgressions caught up to them.”

“Is a moment of bliss not worth a lifetime of anguish?”

“Maybe, if I was a sensualist.”

He rests his chin on his fist, the skin beneath his eyes crinkling with mirth. “Is that what you’re saying I am, darling?”

Your eyes widen and you almost choke on your drink at the unexpected pet name. Warmth floods your cheeks and you take a long second to recompose yourself. Your blatant display of embarrassment further fuels his amusement, he actually chuckles. You consider kicking him under the table, but decide that isn’t very ladylike. Then you remember it's the twenty-first century, and to honor your feminist ancestors, you scrunch up a napkin into a ball and fling it at him. Although the aerodynamics of your makeshift projectile are questionable, it almost hits him. Until he catches it with admittedly impressive reflexes.

“You have a good throwing arm.”

“And you should consider retiring from your white-collar job to join a baseball team,” you take a sip of your delicious drink. This is definitely the most memorable date you’ve been on. “But no, I don’t think you’re a sensualist. I honestly don’t know how I’d classify you. You’re jaded… almost misanthropic. You acknowledge the world for what it is, but it’s like you once thought it could be better. You don’t care to be proven right or wrong about it anymore, you want something else.”

“Ah… when put that way, I must seem pathetic,” he muses, his casual air hardly matching the severity of the words spoken.

“Not at all!” Your passionate outcry appears to momentarily take him aback. “If you’re still looking for something, that means deep down, you have hope you might eventually find it. To me, that’s admirable.”

He regards you for a few moments, before closing his eyes, his countenance strangely content. “You’re a very interesting woman, [First].”

“Pfft, not really.”

“I’m afraid this a point I’ll have to insist on,” or so he says, but you both know he secretly relishes his contrarian ways. “I have to wonder, though. How is it you came to gather any of this about me?”

“Your opinion on books.”

He blinks. “Pardon?”

“We interpret media through a lens that’s formed by our experiences, so… I dunno. You can just infer a lot from what a person gets caught up with in a story.”

In Chrollo’s case, what he doesn’t pay attention to is equally telling, although it took you a while to notice his unique display of apathy. He’d brush on certain themes while giving a rather surface-level commentary. Playing it safe, almost. He still had such an excellent way of weaving his words, that telling it came from another person's loom was difficult. It wasn’t until you hit on a subject he truly cared for that you could tell the difference. He’d give insights so particular to him that they must contain the true essence of his character.

Even if it is a mere glimmer.

He speaks your name.

“Hm?”

“About what I’m searching for…” he unwraps the napkin you unceremoniously threw his way earlier, smooths out the wrinkles, then returns it. “I think I may have found it.”

Everything has a way of escalating faster than you anticipated.

You’re about thirty minutes into the movie Perfect Blue. For some time now, you’ve been praising its merits to Chrollo, who recently said you should watch it together. This begged the question of where. In the months since you’ve begun dating, while your parents have taken a liking to him, you didn’t think the subject matter of the movie should be proudly displayed in your living room.

To remedy this, Chrollo suggested watching it in his hotel room.

You couldn’t fully explain your initial apprehension if you tried. You felt comfortable around him and have been alone together plenty. Yet for some reason, being alone with a man in a hotel room produced this mental image you weren’t sure you were ready for. He never pushed you or asked why you seemed hesitant to take things further than kissing and some light petting. His lack of questioning had the unintended side effect of birthing different doubts.

Does he not want anything else? Is he only acting like it doesn’t bother him? Will a day come when he tires of your squeamishness and simply moves on?

It’s this taunting mantra that haunted you in the lobby, the elevator, then the long, impersonal hallway to his room.

Your chest feels heavy enough that you wonder if lead has filled your lungs.

When he sat next to you on the couch, you barely registered his presence, much less his question if the temperature in the room felt agreeable. At some point, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. Then his hand began to meander, although his attention never left the screen. He played with your hair. Gently stroked your forearm. His hand wandered down, down, down, to the hem of your skirt. He straightens the lightly bunched fabric out. Your heart pounds.

Chrollo’s fingers stay there, seemingly placated.

During the scene where Mima sees her reflection as her idol persona, his hand creeps onto the exposed skin of your thighs. He gives it a gentle, tentative squeeze. A soft gasp leaves you and your attention turns to him. Immediately, your eyes meet his in the dark. The side of his face is lightly illuminated by an array of cool tones. He uses his free hand to cup your chin, the pad of his thumb rubbing your lower lip.

“Can I kiss you?”

He speaks the question with such rapture, low and quiet.

Your heart violently hits your ribcage like it’s trying to burst free.

Silently, you nod. He tilts his head to the side and slots his lips against yours. There’s a pleasant buzz that tries so hard to overpower the frantic adrenaline pumping through your veins. Your body is at war with itself; indulgence or indignance. It’s a conflict that’ll never have a winner. You want to enjoy it — and you are, you think — so why does your biological makeup hold you as a prisoner without ransom? He tastes nice, feels nice. He did everything right. You don’t want to tremble at what’s a normal aspect of a relationship as if it were death itself hanging over your head.

It’s this mounting frustration at your condition that spurs you into action.

While maintaining the languid kiss, you situate yourself on his lap, a gesture that causes him to inhale sharply. He may be as surprised at your boldness as you are. You snake your arms around his neck and intensify the kiss. Humming, he reciprocates your ardor. His tongue runs along the seam of your lips and you grant him entry. He tastes of dark chocolate and mint, a combination you wish you could get drunk on, if only to put your tense body at ease.

One hand squeezes and massages your thigh, the other cups your feverish face. In this position, you’re afforded no modesty. You can feel your skirt hiking up, exposing more of you. His fingers explore the new territory. They venture dangerously close to your panties, though he doesn’t go beyond there, as if respecting an invisible barrier. The cocktail of emotions this invokes is impossible to properly sort through.

Can he feel the heat emanating from your body? Your pulse which finds new highs every minute? You want to lose yourself, but you can’t, your anxiety always drags you back kicking and screaming. It is an unforgiving warden that thinks you’d be better off in a cell.

Chrollo admires you when you pull back, in desperate need of air. You’re starting to feel dizzy and you don’t know if it’s the right kind. There’s something hard forming beneath where you sit. His lust for you is apparent, and you want to please, want to be normal. It should be fun. Your friends regale you with stories of taking strangers home and never feeling more than butterflies in their stomach. That’s what you want. Not this contortion of the aforementioned organ that makes you think your insides are slowly liquifying.

You still haven’t fully caught your breath, each one growing more shallow, more panicked. He finds other ways to entertain himself, namely, by lavishing your clammy skin with kisses. Your jawline, neck, then collarbone. He’s so calm you think you might be envious. Finally, he works his way back up, teasing your earlobe with his teeth, his breath warm as it fans against you.

Thump, thump, thump.

“[First],” his voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater. Garbled, distant. “Should we take this to the bedroom?”

You break into too many shards to fix.

You get up. Straighten your skirt. You think you mutter something about needing a moment. Your legs don’t feel right. They move anyway. The bathroom’s door knob is like ice. You grab a hand towel. Turn on the faucet. Soak the towel until it drips water down the sink basin. Sit on the floor. The tiles are almost as cold enough to help. You place the towel around your neck. Your ears are ringing and you wish they’d stop. You hug your legs to your chest. What is it you’re supposed to do? Breathe?

It’ll pass, it’ll pass, it’ll pass.

It always does.

Just hold on a bit longer.

Feeling comes back in your hands first. It spreads throughout your body, though the antidote is far too late. Exhaustion is the next thing you register. The kind that seeps into your cells, makes your limbs feel like dead weight. Cognition returns as well. You remember where you are, who you’re with, what you’ve done.

It’s been a while since you’ve experienced one of these. Somehow, it’s worse than you remember. Infinitely worse.

A shiver runs down your spine. Has it always been so cold? You wonder what temperature your body was running at for you not to have noticed sooner.

How nice it is that your homeostasis decided to return. Is your sympathetic nervous system giving itself a pat on the back? Celebrating and popping champagne bottles at yet another job well done? We’ve done it successfully again, folks, you imagine it cheering. We’ve stopped her from doing something completely normal and harmless!

You’d laugh, but this time, you can’t bring yourself to.

As tempting as it is to stay here and pray for the tile floor to swallow you whole, you sincerely doubt that’ll happen, so you’re left with the far less appealing option of being an adult and facing the predicament you’re in. Getting back up, you’re treated to a glimpse of your reflection.

The change in your complexion would make any onlooker think you’ve seen a ghost.

Abruptly, you’re fourteen again, trying to get your mom’s attention so you can beg her to take you home because the social gathering of ten or so people is just too much. Next, you’re fifteen, talked into some weekend youth getaway because saying ‘no’ makes you feel guilty and the car ride has another two hours remaining. You feel sick, terribly sick, but you don’t want to get sick, because then your peers would think you’re strange, so you sit there and endure. Then you’re sixteen, locked in the stall of your high school bathroom, trying not to pass out because you think it’d be an inconvenience to anyone that happened upon you.

You thought you were over this. You’ve done the therapy, read the self-help books, and taken your medication every day like clockwork.

What’s left for you to do?

Why does it always come back?

Chrollo asks if everything’s alright when you walk back over to the couch. You say yes. He then asks if he can get you anything. A glass of water, please, is your reply.

You can tell he’s examining you when he hands the glass over. Your face warms — not in a fun way. The television screen is dark and yet you’re fixated on it like it’s the most intriguing thing in the world. Going from feeling as if you’re a stranger in your own body to being hyper-aware of everything never fails to give you whiplash. You can hear the low thrum of the air conditioning, footsteps coming from the hallway, the steady drip of the sink he filled your glass from. You think to rub your eyes then stop yourself; that’d smudge your mascara. It’d be nice if he could at least think you’re pretty as you struggle to hold yourself together.

“Was it something I did?” Chrollo questions. He almost sounds… curious, a concept you furiously scrub from your head. You’re exhausted and your brain is waving the white flag. Attributing false interpretations to his words is not going to help.

“N-No, not at all, I, um,” you have the words, you just don’t want to say them, so you opt for taking another drink instead. The glass runs out of water, your safe haven disappearing with it. “Just… a panic attack. It happens… sometimes.”

“Entirely unprompted?”

You gnaw on your lower lip. “Kind of…? It— nothing about it is exactly logical. I can know I’m fine, believe it too, and still, that doesn’t matter. It’ll happen anyway. I guess I have some reservations about that level of physical intimacy, but what my body decides to do is completely overkill.”

“You always minimize the role your anxiety plays in your life,” Chrollo points out. You’re grasping the glass tight enough that your knuckles hurt. “You can’t mention it to me without making light of it in some way. Is there a reason for that?”

Well, he’s got you there.

You’re about to joke and ask if he’s the one studying the behavioral sciences, when you realize that’d just be proving his point.

So uncharacteristic acrimony bubbles to the surface instead.

“A reason? I can give you more than one. It’s stupid, it’s annoying. The most simple things become like a fucking life or death experience for me and I can’t stand it,” you feel tears gather at your lower lashline but you’re too far gone to care. It’s a good thing your mascara is waterproof. “And then I… I think sex sounds nice, but when it actually gets to the moment, I feel so guilty and anxious and wrong that I leave my partner frustrated or thinking they’re some sort of monster.”

Usually, Chrollo's countenance is difficult to read, but there’s this raw emotion that makes itself known. Understanding? Relief? You don’t know for certain. It disappears without a trace, leaving you no way to confirm or deny your intuition. It’s probably too fried to be reliable, anyway.

“Hm… you must think all this would put me off, then. Make me want to move on to someone else.”

A knife stabbing you in the gut and twisting its blade until your viscera turned to mush would hurt less.

“Sweetheart, I was already aware that it was worse than what you let on,” his voice sounds so kind and near, you marvel at it, the gravitational pull drawing you in. You barely realize he’s brought you into an embrace. Your cheek is against his chest, right above his heart. His has a calm, steady rhythm, whereas yours is picking back up once more. “Your avoidance of talking on the phone, how soft your voice gets when interacting with strangers, the way you act like you’re an inconvenience by asking for the slightest assistance.”

The tears you tried holding in break free, soaking into the fabric of his shirt.

“I find these qualities of yours very endearing. You can go from passionately speaking about your interests over dinner to going shy the second the waiter walks over. You care so much, feel so much… it’s a wonder to me. You experience this life in the exact opposite manner I do.”

With the hand he isn’t using to keep you secure against him, he rubs your back up and down.

“Ah, my poor, sweet girl. What a tender heart you have,” he whispers. His grip on you tightens. That’s when you hear it — the undeniable sound of his heart beating a bit faster than it did before. “I wouldn’t give it up for anything. Not after all the effort I put into stealing it for myself. No, I’m almost hurt you entertained the thought. Have I ever treated you with anything less than the utmost care? Hm?”

Chrollo starts to pull you away from him, yet you refuse, clinging adamantly to his torso in an attempt to hide your face. He ignores the way you shake your head and by exerting the slightest force, achieves his original goal. His fingers find purchase on your chin, which he tilts upward, allowing himself an unobscured view of your puffy eyes and runny makeup. He smiles, wiping away your tears with such gentleness, he must think you’re made of porcelain.

Sniffling, you remember he asked you a question, and attempt cobbling together a coherent response. Such is the polite thing to do. “I guess not.”

“And why do you think that is?”

“... The once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to conduct an in-depth case study for your future dissertation on GAD and SAD?”

His visage lands somewhere between mild bemusement and exacerbation. “I know you’re smarter than that. Try again.”

“My winning personality, once you wade through all the mental illness?”

“That certainly plays a role.”

“I know I’m cute, too. I suppose that helps. Otherwise, I’d be completely and utterly fucked.”

“Yes, yes — you are terribly cute.”

Sensing your hesitancy to land on a definitive answer, he decides to spell it out himself. “I’m fond of you, to a degree I previously thought myself incapable of. I have a… callous disposition, for lack of a better word. Yet for whatever reason, this doesn’t seem to bother you. I’ve never cared for subjective terms like ‘good’ or ‘evil’, but… if there is goodness in this world, it’d be found in you.”

Chrollo’s knuckles brush against your cheekbone as he speaks, seemingly bewitched by the glittering stream your tears left behind. Tangible proof of your emotions that tumult like a tempest, whereas his often remains an unmoving body of water.

You take his cheeks in your hands and glare at him. This time, when your lower lip trembles, it’s with righteous anger, not sorrow. “Why do you always talk about yourself like you’re the world’s biggest villain?”

His eyes slightly widen — you’ve never used a tone like this with him before, or anyone else, for that matter — though his composure doesn’t wane for long.

“So what if you don’t think everything is sunshine and rainbows? You aren’t heartless; you just know the dangers of putting your heart on display for everyone else to see. I can’t blame you for that, from what you’ve told me.”

He’s never been particularly forthcoming about sharing details from his past. What you do know is that he grew up in extreme poverty, without parents or a guardian, scraping by with some other children in a similar situation. You never pushed to learn more. There was this quiet melancholy that possessed him in the rare moments he shared glimpses of his childhood. The specters that haunted him could almost be felt lingering in the atmosphere, turning the air heavy and thick.

“You lost a precious friend in such a cruel way. That loss of innocence, it’s unforgivable, it’s completely unfair…!”

This time, your tears aren’t for you, they’re for a little boy you’ll never know and a girl that you couldn’t if you tried. “I don’t get why you’re so harsh on yourself. You act like you’ve done something unforgivable.”

He parts and closes his lips. Whatever he intended to say, he must’ve decided against it. Instead, he pulls you back against him, almost greedily. He presses kisses atop your head then murmurs a few words you can’t quite catch. Your body is deprived of energy, having flickered through almost every major emotion a human being can experience. If your parents wouldn’t have fussed over the act, you could’ve fallen asleep on him for the night.

The person who inadvertently caused your blistering anxiety is also the best balm for it.

It’s unexplainable, teetering on the edge of delusion, this sentiment that he could shield you from all harm. He’s always so sure of himself when you remain plagued by indecisiveness. He can talk you out of any irrational thought, anchor you when a stressful situation is beginning to be too much, and understand you almost eerily well. He’s able to piece together your chaotic thought processes with next to no context. He listens to you, remembers everything you say (and you mean everything), and genuinely values your input, even if he disagrees with your opinions.

This level of an intimate connection is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

“No one’s ever cried for my sake before,” he thinks aloud. He’s stroking your back again, almost mindlessly. You swear there’s something magical about his touch.

“Do you think I’m weird?”

“There are a lot of words I’d use to describe you,” he decides. As always, he’s clever at avoiding questions he doesn’t wish to answer. “Currently, the one that stands out to me the most would be…”

You feel his lips curl into a smile against you.

“Warm.”

The arboretum is far different in autumn. Green leaves have transitioned into rich auburn and golden shades, hesitant buds nowhere to be seen. The grass beneath your feet is crunchier, the foliage dry and scattered, almost as if it were trying to form a protective sheath for the earth. No longer can you hear the melody of grasshoppers and buzzing from busy bees. The wind whistles when it blows, the underlying frostiness biting at your cheeks and ears.

“Ah, would you look at that, it’s a junco,” Chrollo points out. You cover your mouth to muffle a gasp. Thanks in part to your guidance, he’s gotten better at identifying different types of birds. While you’d like to think it’s because he appreciates them too, you’re convinced he finds your excited reaction far more interesting.

The little blob of black and white hops to and fro, using its feet to rummage for anything edible. You silently lament your lack of birdseed. You’ll have to settle for cheering the tiny friend on from afar.

Hand in hand, you both traverse the area of your original meeting. Sweet nostalgia swirls in your chest. You’ve always found it befuddling how a single chance encounter can permanently change the trajectory of your life. In the moment, you have no idea how your actions will go on to form ripples that influence the future. Whether this is chaos theory or some other fancy metaphysical-sounding concept, you haven’t the slightest clue.

What you do know is that meeting Chrollo was a catalyst for something greater.

A wave of chills cascades over you.

“Are you cold?” He inquires, his tone having this ‘I told you so’ quality to it that you don’t appreciate. You’re wearing a light beige, plaid fitted blazer, that while chic, doesn’t have much insulation. You waved off his initial concern by saying you’ll warm up once you both get to walking around. So much for that.

“Cold is a mindset,” the chattering of your teeth doesn’t do much to help your cause. He raises an eyebrow. “Mind over matter… mind over matter…”

Chrollo shrugs his coat off and drapes it over you. “I wouldn’t want you to get sick, dear.”

“You sound like my grandma.”

“The one who tried taking my head wrappings off, or the one who kicked me?”

“A combination of the two that coalesces their tendency to fuss over me.”

“You’re very easy to fuss over,” Chrollo chuckles at the face you make at him. “You’re absolutely precious. It’s a mystery to me how you make the smallest acts endearing.”

At this, you strike a dumb pose, winking at him all the while. “Aha, it’s no mystery. You have my irresistible charm to thank for that.”

He sighs wistfully. “Indeed I do.”

Although the sage gardens behind the Starling House are no longer in bloom, you decide to swing by anyway. The plans for the remainder of your day follow a similarly simple yet pleasant precedent. You’re going to go window shopping in a quaint commercial district, grab something to eat at a pub, then end the night off with a movie. Chrollo’s trying to convince you to watch some indie flick that’s in black and white and uses a 1.19:1 ratio. You want to watch Alien, a classic he’s never seen like the weirdo he is.

The walk isn’t long or monotonous. It’s so idyllic that you could believe you’re the only two people in the world.

However, that isn’t the case. Upon entering the garden, you’re quick to note the presence of another.

A young woman is kneeling down, murmuring under her breath. She’s acting as if she’s lost something and can’t find it. Frowning, you detach yourself from Chrollo, approaching her with the intent to offer your assistance. She doesn’t lift her head upon hearing the obvious sounds of your footfall. She just continues blindly grasping at the ground.

“Miss?” You ask, to which her entire body freezes. “Did you drop something? I could help you look for it.”

She mutters another incomprehensible jumble of words.

“Hm? What was that?”

You lean over in an attempt to hear her better.

Then, much to your confusion, she enunciates your full-given name. Even while doing this, she doesn’t spare you a single glance.

“Have to… have to…” she’s back to being difficult to make sense of, “I have to…”

A strange sensation possesses you.

Have you met this woman somewhere before? You do a quick mental scan of her disheveled appearance and come up with nothing definitive. Her hair is matted, her complexion sallow and her cheeks sunken in. Her disoriented state stirs concern within you. It’s a good sign that she’s still conscious and exhibiting motor functions, but the longer you examine her, the more you can tell she isn’t in a proper state of mind. You don’t want to leave her out here alone in such a vulnerable state. You try to push aside the uncanny feeling that came from her apparently recognizing you when you’re certain you’ve never met.

Chrollo speaks your name. Turning around, you face him just in time to catch a surreal expression forming on his countenance. His eyes widen slightly, his lips part, then he’s reaching out for you.

The passage of time grinds temporarily to a halt.

And then there is a visceral burst of energy.

It’s as if a blizzard manifests from the direction the woman is hunched over in. There’s this thick, harrowing tension that causes your legs to buckle at the knees. Swirls of negative emotions wrap around you in shadowy tendrils. Grief. Hysteria. Rage. Bitterness. Most notable, however, is the sickening yearning to inflict harm. How can a human being produce and project such raw feelings? It’s like hatred itself has been given a palpable form, submerging you in a swamp of mire.

You don’t understand what’s happening to you, but you do have this primal foreboding that the longer you’re exposed to it, the more endangered you’ll be.

In the millisecond it takes for you to blink, Chrollo is no longer in your line of sight.

It’s strange, you think. There are no knives, guns, explosives; or anything that could hurt you in the traditional sense. In a way you could understand and reliably assess the threat level of.

And still, despite this uncertainty, you have this unshakable premonition that death isn’t far away.

You wake up in a bed that is not your own.

Your body is drenched in sweat, your muscles sore, and your head feels as if it’s being clamped in a vice-like grip. Trying to get up proves to be a poor decision. Nausea and dizziness force you to lie back down. You take shallow, frantic breaths, wincing at yet another wave of throbbing coming from your temples. Your senses aren’t reliable either. The first few times you open your eyes, dark spots dot your vision. Then there’s your hearing, or lack of. There’s this distant ringing that while slowly fading, isn’t replaced by anything better. Your hearing grows so muffled you almost think earplugs have been jammed in your ear canal.

Groaning, you manage to lift yourself off the mattress with trembling arms. The dark spots fade away enough for you to make out your surroundings.

You’re in Chrollo’s hotel room, lying on his bed.

It’s nighttime. The digital clock sitting on the bedside table reads 3:40 a.m.

The next thing you do is feel around for your phone. It should be in the back pocket of your jeans, but it isn’t there.

The brisk air takes your breath away when you tug the comforter off. Your body groans with protest at all the movement, yet you ignore its request to lay back down, the situation at hand far too perplexing. Your outfit is the same as the one you put on this morning, aside from your boots, which sit together near the wall. You then assess your body for any physical injuries, finding nothing visible to explain your current malaise. Are you hungover? Frowning, you dismiss the idea. You know your tolerance well and never try pushing it.

Taking small steps and using the wall as leverage, you make your way over to the adjoined bathroom. You fill a dental cup with water and down it instantly. After satiating your thirst, you call out for Chrollo, your voice gravelly with sleep.

No response.

Sighing, you slink over to the closed bedroom door. Your equilibrium steadies itself enough that you only need to grab onto something every few steps. The handle doesn’t budge. You try again, exerting more force — still nothing. The subsequent attempts end in the same manner. There’s no denying it, it’s been locked. That begs the question of why. Safety, maybe? It’s possible Chrollo stepped out for whatever reason and wanted to ensure no one could get to you. Then again, that’s what the deadbolt on the door leading to the hotel hallway is for.

You don’t want to start rattling the door and making a scene when you’re certain there’s a solid explanation for this. He has to come back eventually, his stuff is still here. Although, you can’t help noticing how sparse his personal belongings are. The book he was reading no longer sits on the bedside table, the framed picture of the two of you gifted by your parents isn’t on the wardrobe either. Next, you check the closet, finding it in a similarly desolate state. You once pillaged a shirt of his when you grew tired of wearing a dress, so you know its usual presentation. The hangers remain on the rack yet everything else is gone.

Chrollo told you his job had placed him in this city indefinitely. Is he planning to move to another hotel?

Not knowing what else to do, you sit on the edge of the bed. The former pounding in your head has soothed into a far less egregious dull ache. You must’ve been asleep for a decent chunk of time, this initial grogginess is what you experience upon first waking up in the morning. You hope you weren’t unconscious for too long. It's an unsettling thought, being in that vulnerable state, totally shut off from the world.

A few minutes of absentmindedly admiring the twinkling lights that make up the city skyline’s pass.

Then you hear the door handle jingle.

Chrollo silently examines you. It’s almost as if he’s gauging your entire being, anticipating what is to come. His mouth is set in a straight line and he’s standing unnervingly still. There’s this intensity to him that has you breaking off eye contact. Your mouth goes dry and you temporarily forget how to form words. You had so many burning questions in his absence, why is it that they've been wiped clean from your head now that he’s here?

When you find the courage to look up at him again, there’s not a vestige of his former expression. The grave lines have smoothened out and you no longer believe you’re face to face with a stranger.

“How are you feeling?” He’s quick to close the distance. The mattress dips, adjusting to his presence by your side.

“Oh, uh, not the best, but… I don’t think it’s anything serious,” you say. Silvery moonlight shines into the room, illuminating him in an otherworldly veil. Goosebumps line your skin when he takes the side of your face into his hand. He’s cold. “I’m mostly just confused. Is— is everything okay? Why am I here?”

“How much do you remember?”

Remember, remember… that’s right, you hadn’t given that much thought. You pick through your hazy memories aloud. “Well, we were at the arboretum, just walking around. I remember heading to the gardens behind the Starling House. Then… um…”

You squint and furrow your eyebrows together. It’s as if your recollection was a film reel that had been trimmed after that point. You try piecing together a mental image of the garden. Hummingbirds? Sage? No, that isn’t right, you’re thinking of its spring appearance. The colors would be more muted, there’d be less shrubbery. The image grows sharper.

Then there’s a shadow.

Vaguely human-shaped, situated right in the middle of the mosaic you’re trying to form. Their outline isn’t solid, it’s splotchy, like water paint left to run on a canvas.

Finally, something clicks.

“That woman!” You exclaim. The corner of his lips twitch downward. “That’s right! Is she okay? She seemed so out of it.”

“I’m not sure.”

“How is that possible? You were—”

“Let’s focus on you for now,” he cuts you off. There’s a finality in his voice you can’t bring yourself to challenge. “Can you tell me what symptoms you’re experiencing?”

“Um, some disorientation and a headache.”

“I see. I’ll get you some painkillers, then.”

You grab his wrist to stop him when he starts getting up. “I’d really prefer you told me what happened first.”

When he doesn’t immediately acquiesce to your request, you quietly add, “Please.”

His eyes soften at your gentle, uncertain timbre. He intertwines his fingers with yours and gives your hand an encouraging squeeze.

“Earlier, when we arrived at the garden, you grew lightheaded and fainted.”

You take a moment to process the information. It seems plausible enough, yet the more you mull over it, the more little details start to catch your attention.

“Okay…” you trail off, pursing your lips. A vengeful throb from your head causes you to wince. He notices — frowns — then places a featherlight kiss against your forehead. The thoughtful gesture doesn’t invoke any pleasant warm fuzzy sensations. “So I fell unconscious for over ten hours and you didn’t… call an ambulance…?”

“That is correct.”

You shuffle in your seat, momentarily taken aback at how easygoing he’s acting about the entire ordeal. “Why?”

“I’ve been monitoring your vitals,” he reassures. Sensing your growing apprehension, he adds, “I can promise that you were never in serious danger. I would’ve acted accordingly if you were.”

The phrase ‘acted accordingly’ doesn’t tell you much either. What does he mean by that? Is there some threshold you needed to enter for him to have taken you to the hospital? Your various volunteer experiences with the city’s vulnerable communities taught you that if a person is unresponsive for over a minute, an ambulance should be called, just to be on the safe side. Besides, isn’t that just common sense? Chrollo is an intelligent man. You can’t fathom any line of reasoning that’d justify not erring on the side of caution.

You glance at the clock again. 4:03 a.m. glows in the dim light of the room. It’s late. You wonder what your parents—

Holy shit.

“Do my mom and dad know?” You glance around as if expecting to find them. There’s no way they wouldn’t have insisted on calling emergency services if you were unconscious for that long.

“I didn’t inform them, no.”

“What?” You make no attempts to tone down your incredulity. “Then— they must be out of their minds with worry! My phone, where’s my phone? I need to tell them I’m okay!”

You shoot up off the bed too fast and your body doesn’t take kindly to the rushed movement. Debilitating lightheadedness causes you to lose your balance. Chrollo steadies your swaying form and helps sit you back down. You scoot away from him as far as you can, your thoughts an absolute mess. Nothing here is making sense. It’s not even a puzzle that’s missing a few pieces, there’s almost nothing to work with at all.

He’s staring at you in that strange, anticipatory manner again. It makes your stomach churn.

“My phone, Chrollo,” you hold your hand out. “There’s no way you don’t have it.”

“I’m afraid I can’t give it to you,” he sounds apologetic too, which makes your subsequent temper flare up even worse.

“What is wrong with you?” You hiss, exasperation winning out. You were trying to be reasonable, but that is over and done with. “You’re acting like— like there’s nothing weird happening! Can you please take this seriously? You’re really starting to freak me out.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me. I knew this wouldn’t be easy for you, so I wanted to remain calm for your sake.”

Your tongue couldn’t properly form words if your life depended on it. Sure, remaining calm in a crisis is helpful, but he isn’t acting like this is a crisis. He’s treating it as if he was burdened with sitting you down to relay bad news that no one else had the heart to share.

You’re starting to think you don’t know the person you’re talking to.

“For my sake,” you repeat in a wry deadpan. “If that’s true, then tell me what’s actually going on, Chrollo. Because I know you’re bullshitting me.”

Not calling the ambulance or informing your parents, withholding your phone… then there’s the matter of how he got you here in the first place. Did he carry you through the lobby? No good samaritans thought it was unusual to see a man carrying an unconscious woman up to his room? Hotel staff these days are trained to have a vigilant eye for these situations too. Not one person thought it might be a good idea to ring up law enforcement over such a blatantly suspicious act?

Nothing is adding up.

“I’m being more forthcoming than you think,” Chrollo says, as if he’s doing you a favor. He tries reaching out for your hand again, only this time, you don’t allow him. “Everything I’ve said and intend to say is the truth, even if you don’t particularly like it.”

That’s a hell of a creative way of putting it!

“Who was that woman earlier? What did she do to me?”

“I have someone ironing out the details, but from what I’ve gathered, she was sent with the intention of killing you. I don’t believe she was aware of the fact herself until you entered her vicinity, triggering the necessary condition for the true culprit’s ability to activate. Otherwise, I certainly wouldn’t have allowed you to get so close.”

Someone was sent to kill you? You? A run-of-the-mill college student who has no enemies to speak of? It’s not like you’re a part of the fucking mob. That can’t be right, not to mention the bizarre jargon he’s using. There’d be no plausible motive. If he says she was sent, and you choose to believe he isn’t making this all up, that implies it was premeditated. Not a spur-of-the-moment decision. That’d almost make more sense.

That is, unless…

You stare at him, eyebrows knitting together.

“If you’re telling the truth — and right now, that’s a big fucking if — does this have something to do with you?”

“That’s my clever girl,” he praises, entirely devoid of condescension. The pure fondness in his voice makes you sick. It’s almost as if he’s delighting in watching you piece this nightmare together. “Yes, you haven’t deliberately done anything to earn the wrath of the wrong people. They simply know getting to me is near impossible, hence their decision to go for the next best thing instead. That’d be you, dear.”

“Oh my god,” you bury your head in your hands. “Why… why am I not freaking out more? I should be hysterical, or, or— I don’t know…”

“Beta blockers,” he reveals. You look at him like he’s speaking another language. “In anticipation of how… touchy this conversation was going to be, I thought it might be best for you to be in a good headspace while receiving this information for the first time.”

“You drugged me?”

“If that’s how you want to look at it.”

“Because that’s how it is!”

A lump forms in your throat and lodges itself there. Are you stuck in a hellacious dream? Or hallucinating, perhaps? Visual hallucinations aren’t supposed to be this cohesive or clear. There has to be another explanation. Something you’re missing that’d make this all go away. The beta blocker admission certainly holds weight. Your heart rate, while slightly elevated, isn’t anywhere near as chaotic as it should be. It’d explain the general malaise, fatigue, and lightheadedness too. That, and you doubt you’d be able to think this clearly if there wasn’t something heavy pumping through your system.

Your eyes hesitantly settle on Chrollo, who sits there perfectly still and almost relaxed. He’s observing you like a hawk.

“Listen,” you try using a mellower voice. He raises an eyebrow at your drastically different approach. “You had ample opportunity to hurt me and you didn’t. That must mean you have my best intentions at heart, right? Why don’t we try to work something out, because this isn’t sustainable. My absence isn’t going to go unnoticed.”

Chrollo sighs, heavy if not unsurprised. “Sweetheart, I’m not suffering a break from reality, although I’m sure you’d prefer to rationalize it that way. I assure you I’m lucid and everything I’ve done is intentional. You’ll come to accept it eventually.”

It isn’t going to help, yet you feel your remaining grains of patience slip through your fingers.

“What’s this talk about a ‘condition’ and ‘ability’, then?” You challenge.

“Ah, I was wondering when you’d mention that,” he doesn’t sound like you landed on a reason that’d prove him wrong. “How to explain it… you once told me you think there are phenomena in this world that can’t be explained by empirical evidence. Consider this an example of that. I’m sure you must’ve felt it before you fainted. An intense, concentrated sensation that awoke your primordial fear. Bloodlust.”

You want to argue until you run out of breath, but this description does strike a chord. Reality itself feels as if it’s drifting further and further away. In an awfully cruel twist, Chrollo and his collected disposition is the most grounding factor you have to latch onto.

“I’m sure it’s a lot to take in,” he finally replaces that matter-of-fact tone with something resembling compassion, “But know this: you’re not in any danger. Neither are those you care about, so long as you act sensible.”

Shivering, you hug your arms around your chest. “How can you say that to me so easily? I thought… I thought you…”

He’s enveloping you from behind. You didn’t even see him move. Weakly, you struggle against his hold, but you’re not in any condition to put up a fight. In the event you were, it’s doubtful it’d make much of a difference. He’s strong. It goes beyond physical strength, into some esoteric realm you’ve become forcibly acquainted with. He’s exerting this slight pressure that makes your heart skip a beat, despite the medication. It isn’t comparable to what you experienced in the garden — there’s no malice — it feels more like a warning.

“You’re surprisingly sensitive to Nen,” he murmurs, humming contentedly when you go limp against him. His chin rests atop your head and his arms ensnare your midriff. “How interesting. No matter. Whatever your fascinating brain concocted is still true. You may think me merciless, but if you knew me, you’d find this to be my greatest act of mercy yet.”

“I thought I did know you,” is your weak reply. You don’t recognize the sound of your voice.

“The parts of me I wanted to show you, yes,” he moves your hair aside so he can press a kiss to the nape of your neck. “And a few glimpses you gleaned in your own way. Really, you are such a sweet girl. Willing to overlook discrepancies to see the ‘good’ in me.”

Heat rises and ignites on your cheeks. “I-I could scream, you know.”

“You could.”

That’s not the reaction you were expecting.

“You’re… not going to try and stop me?”

“No,” he responds. “I’ve always found experience to be the best teacher.”

“You really,” you heave a humorless laugh, uncertain of what else to do, “You really don’t see anything wrong with this?”

He nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, marveling at how your pulse remains steady, thanks to his intervention.

“‘So long as I can say I helped one person, that’s good enough for me.’”

“What?”

“It’s what you said the first day I met you,” Chrollo explains, nostalgia evident. “I’ve thought about those words often. Your effulgence, your desire to do right by others. It made me wonder if there could ever be anyone more perfect for me than you. You, whose pretty neck I could snap before you’d ever realize what happened, stirred up a sentimentality in me I thought myself incapable of.”

Sandalwood, amber, and leather. His scent is the same as that day.

Are his intentions?

Is this a prophecy he himself ordained and always intended to see fulfilled?

“You stole my heart, and as recompense, I will steal you. Think whatever you want about me, dear. Just don’t think I’m selfless enough to ever change my mind.”

#chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #chrollo lucilfer #yandere hxh x reader #not sfw #my stuff

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cottoncandybitchfuck · 7 months ago

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Adaine Abernant, a divination wizard from a rich family from fallinel. She wasn't cared for very much and she had undiagnosed and treated anxiety. She had to kill someone on her first day. She saved a werewolf and got him a job. She got new clothes so she wasn't in school uniform all the time. She got her sister arrested after she tried to kill her and her friends. She found out she's the Oracle. “Having panic attacks is not a character flaw. You're not a coward, you have a goddamn medical condition.” The werewolf saved her back. She refuses the Oracle title. She goes to school, her house is gone and so are her parents. She moved in with the werewolf, her friends and her friends mom (who is dating the werewolf.) She goes on an adventure and uses her divination to save people. She met a half-phoe ix who's her principal's daughter. She becomes best friends with her. She is captured by her parents and tortured. She saves her sister from her parents. She gets her sister's memories back and gets out of Fallinel. She gets a spell from her new friend. She takes a pinky bone to save her friend Kristen if they can. She faced her fear of being the last one of her friends alive. She killed her dad with a punch with her new spell. She makes her friend a spell to understand subtext. She gets adopted by the werewolf. “You're real easy to love, and anyone who couldn't figure that out is a real bozo.” She forgives her sister and lets her move in. She gets a job to afford classes before telling anyone she needed help. She tried to save her friends goddess. She becomes a party legend. She convinced the council of stars to pay her, using her friend's dance to battle for it. She gets him appointed the Oracle of Dance. She got possessed in her friends suitcase. She's willing to do anything for her friends. She helps her friend pass barbarian classes, she divines that her friend will be a good paladin and helps her smite. She stayed sitting down in the last stand and never got hit, but was a big reason they passed. She made a simulacrum of Kristen. She was ready to fight for Kristen. She killed a dragon with a punch. “You’re my sister.” To her friend mourning for the loss of her simulacrum. She doesn't have to be afraid of being alone anymore, her sister wants to eat ice cream and do magic forever (together). They're going to kill their mom. She's a good kid, she's the Oracle.

I spent... So long on this one. It is 12:42 and I am tired. I looked up the transcripts of the episode.

#dimension 20 #dox.jpeg #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fantasy high spoilers #fhjy spoilers #adaine abernant #d20 fantasy high #fantasy high junior year spoilers

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sassycheesecake · 7 months ago

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Hii I love ur blog and I was wondering if you could do hc's of salusa kiyoomi, komori motoya, atsumu miya, and hoshiumis type of s/o? Thanksss❤️‼️

Hello little cake! Of course I can! I hope it is to your liking ❤️

Kiyoomi Sakusa

I am 95% sure Kiyoomi would have a s/o who is more on the quiet side yet still confident

Since he is dealing with loud teammates on a daily basis timeskip, he prefers it if it’s more quiet

Obviously his s/o can have their silly moments but they should know their boundaries

Kiyoomi would definitely look for a s/o who can take care of themselves, physically and mentally

His s/o would also have to bring great patience and understanding into the beginning of the relationship

It takes some time for the Outside Hitter to warm up to someone

But once his s/o has broken down his walls and melted off the ice-cold facade, Kiyoomi is the most attentive boyfriend

He cleans, he has impeccable hygiene and incredibly smart

He 1000% has a routine for how to do things at his home or how he spends his day, his s/o has to accept his busy schedule and adjust to it

THE BEST LISTENER!

Kiyoomi may not be the best advice giver but if you need to vent, man‘s gonna listen without interruption

Invites you to all his games and you need to wear his jersey

I headcannon Kiyoomi is a very jealous person fight me

Please no nicknames for him (his partner would get the famous scowl)

I can see Kiyoomi dating someone who does not have a lot of contact with other people in their work life, so probably IT or a writer for example

Tolerates medical field workers😂

Motoya Komori

Motoya is on the tier list of golden retriever boyfriends

He’s so understanding, so cute and very romantic

I think it doesn’t really matter to Motoya what his s/o looks like or if his s/o is more quiet or more loud

Motoya grew up with Mr. anxiety himself, so he knows exactly what to do if you have panic attacks or suffer under panic disorders

But with every professional athlete, Motoya needs someone who understands his busy schedule and shouldn’t get mad about him going away for quite a while on away games or longer training days

Trust is everything to Motoya!

His s/o shouldn’t be a sarcastic person, Motoya would get annoyed by it eventually

Lowkey needs Sakusa‘s approval

Motoya has a high social battery, so his s/o should be able to handle lots of meet ups and social outings

His partner should be able to get along with his family, especially Sakusa since he is very close with him

Communication is also very important to Motoya, his s/o NEEDS to tell him if something is bothering them

Atsumu Miya

Cheeky asshole (my bae)

I can see Atsumu going for either a confident person like himself or someone submissive

Either would work but it would be more compatible if his s/o would be more submissive (even in the bedroom)

His s/o would also have to be tolerant of his direct behavior and shouldn’t take everything he says directly to heart (Atsumu can be mean at times and if he’s mad or moody, his s/o shouldn’t be too sensitive about it)

Atsumu needs a s/o who is smaller than him, he is a big teaser and loves to be teased back

S/o shouldn’t be afraid of physical affection, Atsumu is BIG on pda (kissing in public, occasional butt squeezes)

His partner shouldn’t be too clingy, Atsumu is very dedicated to his sport!

If Atsumu loses a game, his partner should be respectful about him wanting alone time or comfort

His partner can be athletic or in not so top shape, yet he would probably prefer one that can somewhat keep up with his stamina and go on runs with him or even train with him

His s/o HAS to get along with his twin brother, if they don’t like each other, it’s an absolute NO-GO for Atsumu (he may never admit it out loud but Osamu is Atsumu‘s whole world besides volleyball)

Kōrai Hoshiumi

Seagull boi

Would need a s/o who doesn’t mind his loud mouth

His s/o should be his number one fan and be quite feisty and a proud character

His partner should definitely be around his height or taller than him

Kōrai is a very competitive person, he would love to have a partner he can have bets with or fight against (like gaming, playing sports etc)

Kōrai doesn’t care what body shape his partner has, he will love them regardless

The bigger nerd his partner is, the better

Would have to be a big fan of animals, since his best friend is a vet and Kōrai occasionally has pets staying with him

Probably will adopt like 2 dogs with his s/o

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amazinglyegg · 1 year ago

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a bit of an angsty ask-- could you do companions react to sole having a panic attack?

Of course! Angsty prompts are my favorite <3

Companions react: Sole having a panic attack

Includes: Cait, Curie, Codsworth, Danse, Deacon, Gage, Hancock, Maccready, Maxson, Nick, Piper, Preston, and X6

Cait:

As long as she’s known Sole for more than a few days she’ll be pretty decent at comfort

She gets it. Panic attacks suck. All she can do is try to make it less-sucky.

Won’t get all sappy or dramatic but will just sit with Sole somewhere and remind them that they’re alright

She also won’t let it overstay it’s welcome either, if that makes sense.

Once the panic attack is over and Sole’s willing to continue Cait will just get up and go along with her day, not bringing extra attention to what happened or trying to talk about it or anything

Curie:

Catch her re-reading (or even writing) notes while Sole’s panicking

Obviously Sole’s comfort is top priority but Curie doesn’t remember everything she’s supposed to do! She’s gotta read up on it!

“Think about something nice… like a field of flowers, or a puppy!”

She's very empathetic so she might end up crying a bit alongside Sole, and will probably tell Sole to just ignore her and focus on themself

Great at talking through emotions with! She'll never judge Sole for what they're feeling, even if it's "irrational" or "dramatic". Emotions are confusing, she gets it!

Codsworth:

Codsworth will do whatever he can to make up for his lack of ability to give physical comfort

Blankets, drinks, distractions via books or games, more blankets…

A lot of verbal comfort as well, but he might gear towards gentle jokes or stories rather than traditional comfort

He will mother-hen Sole for a while, even after the panic attack is over. Acts of service is his love language and he really wants Sole to know how much he loves them!

Might stress-clean afterwards, he’s just really worried about Sole and has a bit of abandonment issues he's gotta work through

Danse:

Surprisingly he’s not terrible at helping!

Gets Sole away from the situation, gives them some water, asks simple yes/no questions, etc. etc.

You can kind of tell he has a mental checklist going on and once he exhausts it he just kinda sits there and waits for the panic attack to end

Other than that he has no real clue what to say, so don't expect much more than a "there, there" and an awkward shoulder pat

He's definitely open for Sole if they need to vent or whatever but he's terrible at letting them know that, so Sole will probably have to be the one to initiate any further conversations about it

Catch him reading some medical book written in the 1900's for advice and going up to Sole like "Have you tried cocaine?"

Deacon:

Uhh. Panic.

Deacon is NOT good with these things! Lots of awkward laughter and (gentle) jokes and tense body language that kinda makes Sole a little more stressed

He’ll get better with time (and practice) though, although he may still need Sole to tell him what they need from him from time to time

He IS good at reading body language and such, so it won't take long for him to pick up details like whether they want to be touched or not

Definitely mentally noting down what triggers Sole’s anxiety so he can help them avoid it in the future

Gage:

Will straight up admit he has no clue what to do.

Doesn’t want to make things worse and doesn’t want to accidentally piss off Sole so he’ll probably just give them space and leave a beer next to them

The best Sole will get out of him is a pat on the back

Does defend Sole from any onlookers and will gently guide them somewhere more private if there are people around when they have the panic attack

To him, he'd be mortified if anyone saw him panicking like that! Catch him telling Sole embarrassing stories about himself so they feel better about being that vulnerable around him (even if they don't mind at all)

Hancock:

I think he’ll be good at recognizing the signs of a panic attack and comforting Sole even if they aren’t super close yet

He’s just the type of guy to get along with strangers, and that goes with comforting them too

He’ll rub Sole’s back and talk them through it quietly without drawing too much attention to it

He’s willing to just continue the conversation or act like nothing’s happening if it’ll help Sole - sometimes ignoring it will make it go away faster!

Generally just lets Sole take the lead and picks up on what they want/need from him

Nick Valentine

Okay we all know he'd be AMAZING at this

He'd notice Sole's anxiety, potentially before they even have the panic attack, and will lead them away somewhere calmer to de-stress

He's great at reassuring them of whatever they need to hear ("It's going to be okay, you're safe, I'm here...) and he'll stay calm and composed in the process

Honestly wouldn't be surprised if he kept like, a stuffed animal or something in his giant coat of his for this reason

Might be hesitant on physical touch, or even eye contact - he's self conscious and afraid he'll freak them out with his eyes or metal hand

WILL let them wear his coat like a blanket though... if they can excuse the smell of cigarettes

Maccready:

He doesn’t know what to do but he can’t just leave them, so he’ll try anything really

Talking them through breathing exercises, keeping them away from crowds/busy areas, patting their shoulder awkwardly, hell he’ll even give them a hug if they ask

Tries to just be there for them, even if he doesn’t really know what to say or do

Might just resort to “keeping watch” by sitting a few feet away from them with a gun, both so they can have their space and so they know they’re safe and he’s still within earshot.

Maxson:

Definitely a “just calm down” / “just breathe” type of guy

Either that or he’ll straight up panic and send Sole to the med bay thinking they're having a heart attack

He’s never really had anyone to role model good responses to these kinds of situations before! He’s trying his hardest but he has no clue what to do

He WANTS to know what to say though, so if Sole explains it to him after the fact he’ll pay attention and use their advice for any future panic attacks

Canonically he views mental health as just as important as physical health, so he will definitely take Sole seriously and do whatever it takes to keep them happy and healthy

Piper:

“Haha what’s wrong Sole?? 😀 … oh shit what’s wrong 😥” type of reaction

Basically it might take her a bit to realize Sole’s having a panic attack, but she’ll do what she can to help once she notices it

Takes “rest and digest” literally - will give Sole food and tuck them into bed if she can

Might try to throw every coping strategy she knows at Sole all at once in hopes one of them will work well

Uhh BREATHING and FOOD and and PET DOGMEAT do you want to go on a walk?? How about some hot chocolate???

Might be a good idea for Sole to make a checklist for her to go down one by one...

Preston:

Great at speaking gently and keeping Sole from panicking more

Slow movements, low voice, maybe holding their hand or rubbing their back comfortingly

He doesn’t always know exactly what to say so he’ll focus on self-soothing for himself to help Sole calm down as well

Things like taking deep breaths so Sole can follow along or going on a walk with them

He's also very respectful of their space and privacy, and will immediately give them space if they ask for it (even though he's almost worried sick about them)

Will reassure them that he doesn't think any differently of them or their ability to lead the Minutemen!

X6:

I think X6 would actually be pretty good at comforting Sole, all things considered

The last thing you need while having a panic attack is other people panicking as well, right?

And X6 will definitely stay calm, that’s for certain.

He might also end up overloading Sole with facts about panic attacks though

Sole will be like “I think I’m having a heart attack” and X6 will respond by giving a list of every single symptom of both to compare and contrast as proof it's a panic attack

You can definitely catch him silently panicking the first time Sole has a panic attack though

He’s not good with emotions man he’s trying his hardest

#fallout 4 #companions react #cw panic attack #cait #curie #codsworth #paladin danse #deacon #porter gage #john hancock #nick valentine #maccready #elder maxson #piper wright #preston garvey #x6 88

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yandereunsolved · 9 months ago

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You're My Cult Leader - ,, yandere Kai Anderson

tw(s): yandere themes, Kai fuckery, graphic gore, suggestive themes, Kai threatening to cross your boundaries, descriptive depictions of anxiety and panic attacks, self harm, (Kai) glorification of self harm, talks of mental hospitals & mental illness, demonization of medication & mental health (influenced by Kai), baby trapping

ꨄ︎ He found you by pure accident. He was scrolling through Reddit on r/AITA when he found your account. You were asking if breaking up with your partner after they had a mental breakdown and pushed you down the stairs made you a bad person or not. Interest sparked in his mind. If you were this insecure that you had to get validation from others when your ex was clearly in the wrong, you must be easy to manipulate. He wanted to see more of who and what you were, so he hacked your accounts. He didn't do anything more than scroll through him and store your information and passwords marked 'Serpent' on a file put on a hard drive he keeps of all his cult members. He keeps it just in case they try to betray him. They wouldn't dare go against him if they knew he had all of their skeletons locked in his closet.

ꨄ︎ He marks all of his files with the names of mythical animals. All cult members go under one large file named 'Serpent'. In his inner circle, he has another file named 'Sphinx'. As he learns more about you, he compiles an entirely separate file just for you. He names it 'Phoenix'—an immortal bird that cyclically regenerates, obtaining new life by rising from the ashes of its predecessor. He even begins referring to himself as Phoenix when around his other members. Of course you don't know him; you two haven't even had a conversation yet, but you are already part of his cult. It was just a matter of putting a few more things in place to have the perfect meeting.

ꨄ︎ What he didn't expect was to actually begin to form an attraction to you when he had his little 'excursions' with you, stalking you wherever you went. He resents this. You aren't worth his time and attention. He is the divine ruler, a being of divinity. You are just another lamb to be slaughtered within the confines of his cult. Yet he notices how wide your hips are, how good your medical history is, and how motherly you are. He stores it away in his mind. You'd be a good possible womb to store his messiah baby in. He does need the best genetics. It doesn't matter if you are afab or amab; you are having his baby.

ꨄ︎ He introduces himself to you after you had a shitty day at work. He invites you out to your favorite cafe. Huh, how did he know? He knows everything about you. Including what you do in the privacy of your bedroom when you think no one is looking. He speaks to you like an old friend or a lover. You two really seem to have a genuine connection. He's a smart guy, 135 IQ; he toured in Iraq; and he graduated with a double degree. Not to mention, when he stood up and stretched, you could see his muscular physique underneath his gray sweatshirt and joggers. Now you want to know more about him, see him more, and get the validation you crave because you have been starved by others. Just as he planned.

ꨄ︎ It's so strange that after that, the people you hated most started disappearing. It was all over the news. People started seeing you as bad luck. Some people thought you were just a serial killer who hadn't been caught yet. Others thought it was because of some twisted secret admirer of yours. They would both have reasons to think that. The bodies came up in parts. Each on the bed in their bedroom. They were cut into chunks and placed to make little hearts. First, there was nothing else. Then the killer got bolder with the weird smiley face drawn in blood. Eventually, the killer or killers had another collective sign off: 'From F.I.T.— your divine ruler.'

Not even the police would touch you. No one would. Only Kai was there for you in those trying times. He drove you deeper into his grasp. Not suffocating at first just so you wouldn't see it until it's too late—like a boa constrictor constricting around its sleeping prey.

ꨄ︎ He offered you a place to stay and promised to protect you from the evils of the world. He makes you as scared of the outside as possible. Think of all the horrors out there. Can you not see the killings all over the news? Can you not realize that the country is being flooded with dangerous people? Are you so unaware that someone could slit your throat if you so much as stepped outside the door? Kai is there to stoke your fears, like feeding an ever-growing flame by placing more wood in the pile. He makes you so paranoid that you aren't even sure if being around him is safe. He assures you being around him is the only safe place. He subtly threatens to take his protection away if you disobey him.

ꨄ︎ You don't interact with Winter. You actually aren't allowed to. Kai expressly forbids it because he's afraid his sister might make you queer. Sure, you are allowed to look at her and maybe make small talk if she is around you and Kai, but she isn't allowed alone with you—ever. Kai just can't risk it. He knows how tempting women can be, and he can't let his precious little lamb be tempted by his sister.

ꨄ︎ He begins integrating you into F.I.T. even though you are unaware. You don't exactly know what it's called, but everyone seems to treat you kindly. Not too kindly, though; Kai doesn't want your affections to be given to one of his ungrateful, pathetic followers. This is really the first touch of human interaction you have had in months, other than Kai, of course. It's like a new breath of fresh air. You may refuse to leave the house and Kai's side, but at least you have more people to talk to. It's like torture when Kai leaves you all alone. No one else is allowed around you, not that you know that. You only know that they seem to distance themselves almost purposefully, even methodically. It's like Kai is ripping your very heart out of your chest and taking it with him when he leaves.

ꨄ︎ Sometimes it's even worse when his 'friends' are around. He acts all aloof and distant with you. He calls you slut, whore, little one, and worst of all—sweetheart. Whenever he calls you sweetheart, you know you have messed up around the others. During their meetings, you are forced to sit in his lap. Most of the time, he forces you to straddle his waist. If you speak or even squeak, he'll scold you in front of everyone. You always end up having hickeys on you the day after. You always have some sort of hickey or bruise on you. He'll occasionally kiss you on the neck during these meetings. At first, you were uncomfortable. You tried to confront him about it, and he brushed you off.

"You like it, don't lie. You like all of the attention on you. You are my little slut after all."

You wanted to argue, but he had a way of making you speechless, so flustered that you became light-headed. After that, you didn't argue much on the subject.

He doesn't actually allow you to listen, either. He makes you wear these stupid ear plugs that make you feel so idiotic. You only know he scolds you because that's when he takes the earplugs out. He calls these meetings his 'private business'. You don't press him on it because he's already done so much for you. Someone out there is stalking you. Kai is keeping you safe. It's the least you can do to stay out of business; he doesn't want you in.

ꨄ︎ If you are good during these meetings, he rewards you with an outing. You have to stay by him the entire time. That is one of the unspoken rules of being with him. However, that's not really a problem for either of you. That's pretty much the only time that you are outside. He doesn't outright say it's a 'date', but that's what it is to him. You may not know it, but you two are practically married in his eyes. He just has to train you some more. You need to be entirely dependent on him—submissive, feminine, and motherly. That's all he wants. He has given you so much. He just needs to take a little from you. It isn't that big of a deal.

ꨄ︎ You first witnessed Kai's true cruelty when he stapled that poor man to death. You pinkie promised him that you would stay by his side. You pinkie promised that you wouldn't run. So you stood there and watched, and everyone took turns stapling him in the head. The blood gently dribbled down his face, almost peaceful—in complete contrast with the monstrous act being committed.

He made you kneel before him. He swiped a strip of the oozing blood off of the man's face. He stuck his finger in your mouth and made you lick it off. He asked if you were truly devoted to him as he planted the last staple in the back of the guy's neck. He asked again, his voice more alluring than any song a siren could sing.

"Are you completely and utterly devoted to me?"

You said yes. Why wouldn't you?

"Prove it."

He stood above you with the staple gun discarded on the floor. That night was a lot different than all the other times you 'proved' yourself to Kai. It was much more passionate and tender. You were unable to even move from your spot. It was like nothing else existed except you and Kai. It was addicting. You needed more of him, even more than before.

It was like that night he had cast a spell on you that stripped away any personality or ideals you had from your previous life. He had broken every part of you. You were now repurposed clay. You were made into a brand new clump for him to mold with his skilled and nimble fingers. You will be his greatest creation yet, for you are completely and utterly his—forever.

ꨄ︎ However, while molding, he's careful not to be too harsh with you. In a way, it's the gentlest and most honest part of Kai you will ever see. You see the moments when he has flashbacks to those times. You get to see when his shoulders heave due to the overwhelming anxiety he feels. You see the few tears that slip from his face. Part of him feels that you have earned this part of him. Another part wants to push those feelings so deep down into the darkness of his soul that they never have a chance of getting out.

ꨄ︎ You'll only see it in subtle ways. At night, he won't force you to snuggle with him, but he'll urge you to. He'll wrap his arms around you and gently whisper about how he'll protect you from all the bad things in this world. It's true on some level. All of this is truly for you. He just can't show his love like a normal man. One thing is for sure—he promises to never be a man like his father. He shakes when he thinks about him, his muscles tightening and his breath shortening. It makes him want to hold you in his embrace forever. To kiss you like it's the last thing he'll ever know. That small and hidden part of him craves your loving touch. That part just wants to be coddled and told he's a good boy. Just telling him you're proud of him is enough for him to drag you off to the bedroom.

ꨄ︎ He makes you pinkie promise. Naturally, you have to tell him everything first—your fears, your fantasies, and how much you love him. He finally speaks a bit of his past. It's the first time you see him breakdown. The first time he has a genuine emotional response. The mask slips only for a moment, but you're hesitant. You know, sometimes he manipulates you—maybe. That's what one of the others told you before they were killed. Still, it seems real, and it feels real. You can't imagine him telling anyone else such private things. He pulls you into a hug and rocks you back and forth. He sticks his face in the crook of your neck greedily. He treats you like you'll disappear with one blink of his eyes.

"You aren't ever allowed to leave me, darling."

He's gritting his teeth, and suddenly the Kai you know all too well is back. From time to time, you can't help but wonder: How much of old Kai influenced new Kai to be so helplessly entranced by your very presence?

ꨄ︎ No part of you is hidden from him. No part of your body is left unseen or explored. There is no part of your personality that he hasn't memorized. There isn't any memory that he hasn't plucked from your head already. If you remember anything, even the most mundane, you are under strict orders to allow the words to fall from your lips—no matter what you were doing before. There are no 'boundaries', in most cases. Kai is an asshole, but he isn't that much of an asshole. If you've been a good little lamb, then there's no need to bring up painful memories. He wouldn't want his obedient servant to be plagued with fear of others in their heart. However, act bratty, and he has no qualms of making himself a new set of memories for you to gain PTSD from.

ꨄ︎ The first time his hold on you loosened a bit is something you won't ever forget. You were looking for him when you heard moaning. Meadow had gone missing earlier, and you were worried. You found her partially tied up, and your heart broke in two. Kai looked back at you with no emotion in his eyes. He simply dismissed you with a 'get out'.

You were so horrified that you quickly packed up and ran from the house. You snatched a stack of emergency bills that Kai always kept under his mattress. You slept in some shitty motel for a few nights. You planned on escaping to another state and starting anew. If you could just get a phone, you could call someone. Yet your heart was torn in two. Those tendrils of fear were wrapped so tightly around your mind that you were paralyzed with indecision. You love him, but he was cheating on you. He was supposed to protect you from the world! You forgot the most important lesson—to protect yourself from him.

You had multiple panic attacks each day while hiding in that motel. You feared stepping out of the door. You just couldn't do it. The 'what if' was too much. You knew that, rationally, no one was going to jump out and kill you. Right? Right...? RIGHT? You couldn't even open the door. Your hand reached the knob, and yet you couldn't open it. You just sank to the floor and continuously sobbed. You couldn't stop the feeling of dread and weakness.

What was he going to do when he found you? That thought had your head spinning. Your legs just gave out then and there. It was the one question that ran through your mind like a never-ending track carrying the train of your anxious thoughts.

You had to get breakfast delivered to your room. You had to wear your clothes for multiple days. You didn't have any toiletries except the ones provided by the hotel. You were too paranoid to even take a shower. You needed Kai. You still needed him. You couldn't even breathe correctly without him!

ꨄ︎ You finally broke down. It was like he knew you would. You went to that campaign of his. You were barely able to step outside, but the promise of seeing him made you more than eager to leave. Once you spotted him, all your fears seemed to melt away. Then you saw Meadow shoot him. Your heart broke again—she fucks him, and then she shoots him? Who the hell does this woman think she is?

You saw her turning the gun on herself, but you beat her to it. Another woman was screaming at the both of you. She took the gun. You just kept hitting Meadow. You don't know what came over you. All the bitter jealousy and hatred from that night just came up. You let it all out on her. Eventually, you heard a snap. That same woman was screaming at you and pointing the gun at your head. You killed Meadow. You snapped her neck. You felt good, in control. A part of you even liked it.

You didn't get to mull over it because the cops arrested that woman and led you away. You rushed up to Kai, who was on a stretcher. The emergency medical responders tried to push you away. Kai grabbed your hand and pulled you down onto him. With his other arm, he dug his nails into the side of your head. He sloppily made out with you until you were pulled away.

"It was all for you, baby. Come and ride in the ambulance with me. You've been bad—and you'll atone for your sins once I get better."

Those are the words he whispered in your ear. Your mixed emotions led you to feel so much, but how could you refuse? A moth is always drawn to a flame, just like you are always drawn to Kai. Hopefully, you won't get burned again by his lies and deceit.

ꨄ︎ Once he is home from the hospital and recovering, he chastises you. He screams, pushes things, and threatens you. He can feel actual tears filling his eyes at the fact that you tried to leave him. How dare you.

"Can't you see you worthless slut!? This has all been for you. I had to get Meadow out of the way for you and for us. Yet you run off to some shitty motel and hide there? You are pathetic."

Wait, he knew about the motel? Of course he did. He just wanted to allow you to make your own choice. Sure, he was going to drag you back to him anyway, but you coming back somewhat willingly just proves the control he has over you. It feels so good to have you twisted around his finger.

ꨄ︎ He makes you cut yourself because of this. It's a punishment that he often uses. He wants you to feel what he feels when you disobey him. Sometimes he cuts you himself. He teases the burning wounds and touches them. He kisses each one of them and licks the oozing blood leaving your veins.

He sees it as just another way for him to claim you. He feels that possessive urge inside of him cool when he sees the scars you have given yourself because of him. He enjoys cutting extra deep into your skin to hear those pained whimpers escape your sweet lips. He gets even happier when you get self-conscious about them. 'No, baby, you are so beautiful with those scars.' It's just another way to control you. You have to live off that praise from him, affirming your self-harming behaviors.

ꨄ︎ It evolves into a ritual. When he gets really pent-up, he cuts you up and drinks your blood. He tells you that's the most divine thing he's ever tasted. He kisses you and makes you taste yourself. He'll swirl your own blood around in your mouth with his tongue. He'll barely allow you to breathe. It's like it restarts his mind. He's calm after. He feels like a blank slate.

He once did it in front of his cult. You were sitting in his lap. You could feel him growing more livid and tense. He pulled out a pocket knife and gently knicked the side of your neck. He licked and kissed the blood away. He promised to give some of your blood to his inner circle if they all proved themselves to him. No, they aren't going to be allowed to touch your skin. They may drink from a vial. You are dreading the day that it becomes a normal practice within the cult.

ꨄ︎ That isn't the only punishment you'll get if you severely misbehave. He isn't against locking you in the basement and chaining you up. He'll deprive you of food and water and will only give his body to you as sustenance. Later on, he builds a metal cage in the basement. He uses it both for torture and to shove you in there if you are disobeying him. The cage is much worse than being chained to a wall. If you get chained to the wall, at least he'll let you near him. If you get caged, then some random follower of his just comes down and throws whatever shitty rations in between the bars. Most of the time the food isn't even edible—mold and other infectious diseases are tainting it. The little bit of water you get is wasted when they throw it on you.

By the time you are let out, you are malnourished and touch starved. Kai always makes sure to give the most heavenly aftercare. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear and tells you that this didn't have to happen; all you had to do was behave. He gives you a bath with rose petals, and he gets out the fancy lotions, oils, and shit that he can't even pronounce. He makes sure that you have a fresh pair of clothes and the best meal one can dine on. He even took it slow with you that night. He is passionate and loving.

It's a side of him you rarely get to see...

ꨄ︎ Sometimes you want to act bratty just to see if you can get brown-haired Kai to come out and play again. It's a treacherous game. One wrong behavior, and you may end up kneeling before him, cutting yourself up for his entertainment once again. You can just do little things to manipulate him just a tiny bit. You are his well-trained bitch that occasionally loosens their collar and nips at their owner playfully. You have learned how to manipulate from the best, after all. Most of the time, Kai understands your angle, but rarely can he be tricked into misunderstanding your true intentions.

ꨄ︎ Accidentally getting hurt can be one way to possibly soften him up. Although you do have a half chance of just being called a clumsy bitch by him. If it is someone else, accidentally or not, hurting you, not even the deities from the highest of heavens can save that person. He'll either beat them to death in the moment or plan their slow torture and subsequent death in the cage downstairs. After taking care of the filth, you may see a little bit of brown-haired Kai. He'll take care of any cuts or bruises and kiss your temple. You may or may not have paid that asshole five bucks so they could push you on the pavement and threaten you. You were scared to death that Kai would realize what you were doing, but it was more than worth it.

That's just one way that you can manipulate him into letting brown-haired Kai come out and play.

ꨄ︎ Another one is if you cook for him. If you make him a good manwich, dressed up all pretty with an apron on, he is melting inside. He has this starstruck and dopey expression on his features. It's quickly replaced by indifference, but he is elated internally. If you bake, then all bets are off for cult leader Kai. He's oddly sweet when tasting your sweets because it allows him to regress back to a state of almost childlike innocence. It reminds him of when his mom would bake things with him and teach him to bond with him. His father always thought it was making Kai soft and a sissy, but he refrained from making those comments most of the time.

When you bake those sweets, it's like a positive trigger for him. He'll take a bite and wrap you up in his arms. He'll gently pepper kisses on your face and compliment your skills. A little bit more of brown-haired Kai comes out. He almost seems shy, nervous, and unconfident. Kai doesn't even realize he is acting like this. He just feels safe, like he is home.

ꨄ︎ He puts tracking chips in all of your things after your first attempt to leave him. Anything and everything has some sort of chip in it. He secretly enjoys hand-sowing the chips into all of your clothes and undergarments. It feels so oddly intimate to him. It's just another way to claim you as his. It makes him feel all giddy inside. All the chips are waterproof and extremely durable. He has access codes to all of them and can connect to them through any device he has. If you try to escape one too many times, he will chip you on your inner thigh. That way, he can casually rub his hand over your plush thigh and press his thumb right over where he implanted the tracking chip. It's his favorite way of reminding you that you have no way out—no possible escape from his binding grasp.

ꨄ︎ It doesn't stop there, no. He puts cameras everywhere. Some are in hidden places; others are not. He enjoys just flipping through the cameras on his phone while listening to some idiotic citizen complain about something miniscule for the thousandth time. You were wearing his clothing, just sitting in your shared bed and watching your comfort show. You were enjoying yourself with that innocently lewd expression adorning your now placid features. You just seemed like such a cute house spouse. He may have to excuse himself and go take care of a problem. What? You're just being so good for him. It makes him swell with pride.

ꨄ︎ If you are good enough, then he may allow you the privilege of having internet access. Of course, he is monitoring it. When he is in a good mood, he will act like he is your sugar daddy. Which he technically is, because he pays for everything and you are physically incapable of stopping him. Your wishlist is his. He keeps a list in your file about the types of gifts you like.

You may just occasionally be surprised with the same exact thing that you had favorited awhile ago. You know it's always Kai doing it because he always buys some lacy or risqué for you to wear. He gifts you; you gift him with your body. Lingerie is just human wrapping paper, after all. He enjoys the present under the wrapping the best.

He also scrolls through the media you watch. Any political content has a parental lock on it. It has to be approved by him before he allows you to watch it. If there is something intriguing that you decided to watch when you thought you had privacy, Kai may just barge in and ask if you'd like to recreate it.

ꨄ︎ If you get a period... Kai will track it. He will always make sure you have the right period products, foods, and medication. No, nuh uh—he swears he isn't doing it because he just genuinely cares and doesn't want to see you in pain he didn't cause. He's doing it because he can't have the future parent of his messiah baby harming their womb. It wouldn't be responsible if the divine ruler didn't treat your fertility with the respect it deserves.

You're probably a lot luckier if you are able to get a period. He's a lot more lenient with you. He'll allow you to have mood swings and crying fits. He'll let you eat all the chocolate and sweets you want, as long as you eat the balanced meals he provides. He'll treat you like a god(dess) during that time. When no one is around of course. He completely focuses on your happiness and pleasure during that time.

ꨄ︎ When he gets arrested, you have another panic attack. You had finally settled into a comfortable routine with him. You had succumbed to Stolkhome syndrome. You were just content with it. Your anxiety and fears were still higher than ever, but Kai protected you from all the bad things. Now, the bad men want to take him away from you? You get interviewed many times. You refuse to speak. They call you a victim of his manipulation. They see your scars, and after a doctor gives you a physical examination, they conclude that Kai is an absolute monster. They had to give you anesthesia for the physical examination. It was the only time you talked with any of the police or detectives. It was more like shouting than talking. You thrashed, twisted, and turned to escape them.

In this way, it just proved that Kai was right. They said you were brainwashed by him. No, you weren't. Kai saw the truth in the corrupt institutions. They violated your boundaries for no good reason. Kai violated your boundaries, but for good reasons. You deserved it when he crossed them.

ꨄ︎ They declared you mentally unwell and put you in a mental hospital. You went willingly only because you wanted to be away from the scary people. You only got newer and scarier people. They made you strip, and you had to be constantly watched. It made you yearn for Kai's safety and control.

You lied to get out of it. You said that you were scared to cooperate at first. You weren't brainwashed by him. You were only acting like it because you feared him. They believed you, and within a month, you were out of there. They put you on anxiety and anti-depressants. They urged you to also get a therapist to work through your trauma.

ꨄ︎ You disregarded them. You didn't need therapy! You didn't need some bullshit medication! That's what Kai always said. The medication and psychologists were just there to warp your mind. They aren't there to help you. They are there to make you conform into what society believes is 'mentally well'. You just have a little problem. It's all just fake. Kai would tell you if you had problems. He helps you out. He keeps you safe. He'll tell you what to do.

ꨄ︎ You helped him escape prison. Naturally, it was hard to get in to visit him because some of the guards had heard whispers of what Kai had done to you. With a little bribe, you managed to secure a monitored conversation with him. He threatened the guard, and suddenly your conversation wasn't monitored anymore. Kai was so unbelievably proud of you. He was so proud of how loyal you are. He rewarded you for such a good job. He remarked you with hickeys and bruises, so people know who you belong to once again. He possessively rubbed circles into your inner thigh over your tracking chip. You wouldn't let the bad men take it out, and because of a lot of red tape, they legally couldn't do it without your consent. It just made him ready for another round. How did he get so lucky to have a person like you who loves him so dearly? A lot of abuse, manipulation, and Stockholm syndrome.

ꨄ︎ As you sit on his lap in one of the visitation rooms, he formulates a plan with you. Soon enough, you are dressed in a guard's uniform and stressed out of your mind. You were barely able to help him escape. Your hands were shaking the entire time. You must have taken over half of the bottle of that stupid anxiety medication just to get through it. You were a little out of it and threw most of the pills up after.

Kai had to punish you for taking medication you weren't allowed to. He just worries about you, okay? They almost got his little lamb. He couldn't have your personality numbed by any 'medication'.

ꨄ︎ It all climaxes when he confronts Ally while she is running for senator. It was all such a blur. One moment they were arguing, and the next Beverly tried to kill Kai. You managed to tackle her and wrestle the gun out of her hands before she shot him. You got shot instead, in the gut. The next few months are extremely hazy for you. You kept going in and out of a coma. When you awoke, a lot had changed in Kai's world, but you remained ever-present.

ꨄ︎ You learned that Winter was gone. You didn't feel much. You didn't get to learn the details of it. It could have been way before you were even aware. Kai always kept you out of the loop about those things. He said it was to protect your pretty little head. You listened to him. You'd always listen to your divine ruler. Kai managed to slander Ally and turn everyone's opinion around. Suddenly, Ally was the one who had abused you and fed you all these lies about Kai. She was arrested and sentenced to death. Beverly met a worse fate. She was brutally mutilated in the same way that your, you forget, you had a stalker once—didn't you? You can't exactly remember.

You know Kai had a hand in it. He always has a hand in everything.

You learned that he truly was a cult leader. Your memories were so repressed and damaged that you were unable to connect the dots. You were overjoyed that Kai won the senatorial seat. He was heading towards the presidential seat next. With that, he had you married. A ring on your finger, forever. A divine ruler did need his spouse. It is crucial.

ꨄ︎ He made sure that you recovered and were right by his side while campaigning. He had a book ghost written for you about how evil Ally Mayfair-Richards was and how a vile feminist cult twisted your mind. Most of it was just sugar-coated lies. Kai's abuses were in there, but they were all said to just be minute things that Ally spun into a defaming web of lies.

He campaigned with you and made sure that all of your clothing was appropriate. He only let you show your scars when it would win him polling points. He still wanted the cutting to be just a you and him thing. He didn't need the press to see the fresher scars and cuts and run a slander campaign against him.

His possessiveness did occasionally overpower his need to dominate the world. He would always keep a hand on your waist, have at least one eye on you, and scare anyone off that tried to get too close to you.

ꨄ︎ It climaxed when he realized he needed to push family values. So he announced your pregnancy during an interview on some right-wing news platforms. You were understandably confused. You aren't pregnant. Kai plans on fixing that. All day and night, he is trying to fill your womb. He is so desperately making it so you will have his heir. Part of it is just publicity. Another wants his messiah baby really badly. He needs to baby trap you so you don't ever leave him. He needs to ultimately mark you as his. What better way than a child? The miniscule brown-haired part of him just wants to be a better father than his own. He just wants to be a better husband for you than his father ever was. He wants to make his mama proud, wherever she is in the afterlife. You wouldn't deny him this, would you? You've already given him so much. Just a little more, and he'll be satisfied. To think this all started with your silly little Reddit post.

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

⟿ taglist: @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @cxndiedvi0lets @doll3tt33 @lacucarachapisser @etheral-moon @fear-is-truth @slutforgarlogan @newwavesylviaplath @fuckedbykai @violet1737 @marchsfreakshow

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

#american horror story #yandere #ahs #ahs cult #kai anderson #kai anderson x you #yandere kai anderson #kai anderson x reader #yandere kai anderson x reader #yandere american horror story #yandere american horror story x reader #ahs headcanons #yandere headcanons #ahs yandere headcanons #headcanon #my headcanons #ahs fanfiction

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stawbeemilk · 8 months ago

Text

⤷ their s/o has anxiety – hq

✩ characters: various

✩ warnings: mentions of panic attacks

✩ a/n: i know anxiety is different for everyone but this is just based on my own personal experience ◡̈

⭑ kenma is very observant and can always sense when you're feeling overwhelmed in public places— it isn't long before he's asking if you want to leave, and if you say you feel guilty for cutting your day out together short he'll tell you it's fine because he prefers being at home with you anyway.

⭑ hinata isn't afraid to deliberately embarrass himself in front of others whenever you do the same, he knows you hate being the centre of attention and so he hopes that he can draw everyone’s eyes away from you and onto him instead.

⭑ yaku is so good at reassuring you when you have a panic attack, he’ll stay with you the entire time and hold your hand, refusing to leave your side as he tells you that everything will be okay and that you'll get through it just like you always do.

⭑ akaashi is always happy to listen if you ever need to vent to someone about your struggles, he can empathise with how you feel since he experiences a lot of the same things you do and is therefore very understanding of what you're going through.

⭑ sugawara has no problem with being the one who talks to the cashier when the two of you are at a checkout, and while he does try to encourage you to face things that make you anxious, he appreciates that it's not always easy for you and is happy to help you out when you need it.

⭑ kuroo likes to remind you to take your medication on time, especially if you're someone who is prone to forgetting— he even buys you one of those pill organisers and will leave various post-it notes around the house to help you remember.

⭑ yamaguchi does his best to learn all of your triggers so that he knows when you might be likely to have a panic attack, and whenever he notices that you're feeling anxious he'll walk you through breathing exercises to try and help you ground yourself.

⭑ bokuto will always order your food for you if you ask him to, he does it for you so often that he practically has all of your go-to orders for different restaurants fully memorised— he never judges you for not being able to do it yourself, but any time you do find the courage to order without his help he'll be so proud of you.

⤷ please do not repost my works on any other sites!

#★彡 elle’s writings .ᐟ #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #various x reader #haikyuu various x reader #kenma x reader #hinata x reader #yaku x reader #akaashi x reader #sugawara x reader #kuroo x reader #yamaguchi x reader #bokuto x reader

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 10 months ago

Note

Mimi ❤️!! Congratulations on hitting 450 followers 🥳!!

If you'd like, could I suggest Commander Wolffe and the prompts: 18 and/or 35?

😘

Awww @ulchabhangorm thank you, love!

I realized on my previous post, I didn't put a warning. Oops. Anyway, I'll include a warning this time.

Enjoy.

Just Breathe

Warnings: anxiety, slight panic attack, mentions of death, broken finger, surgeries, medical procedure, kissing.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

You took a deep breath, needing to calm down your mind. There’d been just too many injuries, too many bloody soldiers, too many you couldn’t save. It was just all too much. You just needed peace and quiet. Needed to remember you were more than just someone who stood by and watched soldiers die.

Wolffe was looking for you, he knew in battles like this, you always suffered the most. You always made sure everyone else took the time to recoup, while you ploughed through the difficult carnage. He smiled when he saw you standing outside of the camp looking up to the stars, he loved the way the moonlight illuminated your face, your bright eyes that were full of sadness pulled on his heart strings.

“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”

It was the only reprimand he would give you on a day like this, he walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you in close to his chest.

“I know. I just … I just needed to breathe.”

He rested his lips on the side of your head, pressing a gentle kiss, “Hmmm, and did you?”

You swallowed the anxiety, fighting back the tears, “I think so…”

“Doesn’t sound like it”

A shuddering breath escaped your lips; you hated how much Wolffe really knew you, how much you tried to be strong. You turned in his arms and held him close, burying your face in the crook of his arm and shoulder, wanting to escape from the reality that was this world.

“It’s okay, cyar’ika. I got you.”

You simply nodded, letting your tears escape, and finally finding the comfort you had been so longing for, as you felt Wolffe bury his face in your hair, his breath on your neck, and his hand rubbing your back up and down.

You shifted when you realized he kept his left hand elevated and away from you. You wiped your tears as you looked into his warm eyes that would always be your home.

“Wolffe, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head, ignoring the pain in his hand. He looked at his cyar’ika’s face which told him you didn’t believe him. He let out a sigh, he didn’t want you to be worried about him, “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it, cyar’ika.”

“Now, I know there’s something wrong,” you pulled back and looked at him, holding out your hand for him, “Show me.”

“Cyar’ika, let’s worry about you. I can wait.”

“I’ll keep standing here, and not saying anything until you show me your hand.”

“Well, I can play that game too, cyar’ika.”

You nodded, and stood in front of him, hand raised, keeping your eyes locked on his, with an unimpressed face. You stood there staring at each other for a good ten minutes before finally he caved, “Alright, alright. Here.” He placed his left hand in yours, his glove was off, his middle finger bent at an odd angle.

“Wolffe, your finger is broken!”

“Like I said, not a big deal.”

“I swear…” you started mumbling under your breath as you looked at his finger, “you need to thank the force, you didn’t have a pinched nerve or something. Otherwise, we would’ve had to amputate this, you do realize that!”

“As I previously stated, not a big deal” he smirked as he looked at you. He knew how much it drove you crazy, when he downgraded an injury, simply because he wanted to see how angry you got. Plus, it had the added benefit of making you stop thinking about your anxiety.

“Come with me,” you took his other hand in yours, interweaving your fingers. Shaking your head as you walked back to the med tent. Forcing him to sit down, as you tried so hard not to laugh at his best, ‘What did I do?’ face. You grabbed your supplies, pulling over a cargo crate so you could sit on it.

“Just so you know, this is going to hurt, okay?"

“You always say that, but how can it hurt when I’m looking at the most beautiful face in the galaxy.”

You smirked as he tried to distract you, “Keep it up.” You challenged him, as you looked in his eyes and held on to his finger.

“What, you think, you can make me cry?”

“I don’t think. I know.”

“Not possible, my most beautiful cyar’ika. Your eyes are … AHHH! Son of a nerf herder!”

You laughed as you straightened out his finger and braced it, wrapping the splint around his finger. “You’ll have to keep this on for three to four weeks, and no strenuous activity for two weeks after.”

“Doesn’t really work on a battlefield, cyar’ika.”

“Hence the splint.” You smiled as you leaned forward pressing a kiss to his lips, “Better?”

“Mmm, I think I need a little more” he threaded his good fingers through your hair and pressed your lips to his again.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

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thehypnone · 4 months ago

Text

Symbol on the Surface Chapter 3

WC: 2,8k

Relationship: SwissAlps

Tags: Transmasc Swiss, Pregnancy, Mentions of Vomiting, Medical Quintessence, Panic Attack, Nausea, Food Repulsion, Gender Dysphoria, Very Brief Abortion Talk, Hurt/Comfort

“Does that fit what you were thinking?” “I’m…actually pregnant?”

Notes: Tysm to @jimothybarnes for beta reading :3

Chapter 1 here or on AO3.

Read chapter 3 under the cut or on AO3.

Swiss all but runs to the infirmary, wanting to get there before he changes his mind.

He feels stupid for even considering it.

Hoping?

Either way, something is really wrong with him and he has to get himself checked out.

The way he stumbles into Omega’s office makes the older ghoul jump behind his desk and furrow his brows; instinctively looking for injuries on Swiss “Are you okay, what’s on fire? Or who’s on fire?”

“No, no fire–or no, fire’s in my fucking guts and it’s driving me crazy,” the multi ghoul pants, slumped against the door frame. The trip shouldn’t have tired him as much as it did, “like–you know how you’re hungover and want to puke, but–that’s just nausea, but I’m rarely nauseous and lately it’s been just, oh my lord below, you know, it’s like–”

“Swiss…”

“No, no, I know, I know I sound crazy, but–my skin feels weird, my insides feel weird and my everything is so messed up,” he continues his ramble, “and I feel like absolute shit, you know when it’s like a train ran you over? Yeah, so I usually don’t care, but now I’m losing my mind ‘cause I’m low-key scared and now–now I’m here and Mountain’s asleep ‘cause I think I left a lung in the fucking toilet so–”

“Swiss!” Omega’s raised voice finally snaps the multi ghoul out of it. “Calm down and tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m sorry, can you just–check me out for…everything?”

“Everything?” Omega questions. “Why won’t you just tell me what your concerns are?”

“Because even though I doubt it’s possible my brain decided to fixate on it and I don't want to make even a bigger fool out of myself, so just please, scan me over with your quintessence, or something, and just tell me what you see.”

The quintessence ghoul is currently more concerned with the other’s mental state, rather than his physical one, but he will do what Swiss is asking of him. After all he’s there to help, whatever the issue may be and however he has to discover it. Omega stands up and points at an empty gurney on the other side of his office. “Why don’t you sit down, try to relax a little.”

Swiss obeys, although it’s not so easy to just relax. He tries his best, taking a few deep breaths as Omega puts on his glasses and walks up to him.

“I’ll put one hand on your shoulder and the other one on your chest, is that okay?” Swiss nods. “Alright, then, let’s see…”

Omega’s quintessence flows into him and makes his entire body tingle as it travels through his veins and along his nerves and penetrates layer after layer of skin.

Swiss becomes uncomfortably aware of every single piece of his mortal vessel and tries to take a deep calming breath; it only makes him strangely aware of his lungs, too.

It’s the longest five seconds in the multi ghoul’s life, he thinks, as he feels the other inspect him whole, looking for–

Omega tries to stay professional and not make his internal shock external.

Surely not, it can’t be.

He grits his teeth and goes to double check.

How…?

“Oh…” he finally mutters, pulling back.

“‘Oh’ what!?”

“Do you, uh…” Swiss doesn’t like Omega’s confused and frankly scared expression at all, “do you want to see what I see?”

“Uhm, I guess…” He shrugs, chuckling nervously and trying his very fucking best to keep his composure. Omega steps forward and puts his hands on either side of Swiss’ head, fingers pressing lightly into his temples.

“Okay, let me in.” Swiss does—it’s easy; the anxiety is making his walls lower and thinner. He closes his eyes to focus on the image the quintessence ghoul is showing him. “So this is how I normally see a ghoul, the light is their energy, their essence. Not a soul, just…energy.”

It’s like a vague human-like shape in a darkness, in a void. The edges of the form are fuzzy and it’s filled with a faint colorful light, but what stands out is a blindingly bright orb of pure light in the middle of the shape’s chest.

“Okay. What’s wrong with mine?”

“Nothing. But this is how I’m seeing you now.” The image shifts and…three more lights, so much duller and smaller than the first one, show up in the area of Swiss’ lower abdomen.

“Oh…”

“Yeah,” Omega sighs, “does that fit what you were thinking?”

“I’m…actually pregnant?” Swiss chokes out. The words nearly get stuck in his throat, because…how can it be real? “With three kits?”

“You are,” the quintessence ghoul confirms and the ringing in Swiss’ ears gets deafening.

“H–how is that even possible?” he hears himself asking, but he can’t feel his mouth moving.

“Good question. I have no idea, I guess the best answer is that you’re a walking miracle all over and Lucifer decided to grant one more. Or rather three.”

“Can you, uhm…” his voice cracks; this is getting way too much too quickly, “can you get Mountain for me?”

“Of course. Baby daddy?”

“Yeah, I–I suppose…he’s the only one who–who gets in there,” Swiss admits, making Omega chuckle despite everything. He’s trying to stay composed, but this is a first one for him, too. He’s not as scared as the multi ghoul—obviously—but it’s…tense.

Swiss is absolutely freaking out.

“Holy–holy shit, what the fuck, oh my–oh Lucifer, what the fuck!?” he mutters under his breath. Or maybe it’s just in his head?

He doesn’t know how much time passes before they hear the door to the infirmary slam open.

“What happened? What’s wrong, my heart, are you alright?” Mountain barges in demanding answers; a strong smell of worry reaching Swiss and Omega before the earth ghoul himself does. He’s completely disheveled; it’s clear he jumped straight out of bed to come for his mate.

Swiss just stares at him, though, with glassy eyes and mouth slightly agape.

Mountain gets even more worried—it’s rare his mate is speechless. He turns to the other ghoul in the room, “Omega, what’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing’s wrong, he’s just…a little overwhelmed,” Omega replies. Mountain gets to them and immediately takes Swiss into his arms. “Swiss, do you want to tell him yourself or do you want me to?”

The multi ghoul tries to come back to earth, get himself together to consider the question that he’s just been asked.

“I–I can, uh…” he stutters and pauses to take a big breath, “I’m–I’m…pregnant. We’re…we’re having kits, big guy.”

Mountain’s jaw drops. “Wh–this…what? Are you–you’re not joking, right? That would be really cruel, please, my heart, tell me it’s not a joke, I need–we’re gonna have kits?”

His immediate excitement changes the air in the room and gives Swiss something…something positive to cling to. Physically he is clinging to Mountain already, but he finds breathing a little easier now.

“We’re gonna have kits,” Swiss confirms. His mate’s heart is pounding and he looks between the multi ghoul and Omega with his mouth agape.

“You’re both in shock right now, and understandably so,” the quintessence ghoul says, “so I’ll let you go and just text Mountain some information. I’d like to see and talk with you both about some important things to consider as soon as you feel up to it, okay? Now off you go, I’m prescribing a good meal and long sleep for both of you.”

Swiss doesn’t really register leaving the infirmary, walking through the Abbey’s corridors and getting back to the Den. Mountain all but carries him all the way, chewing on his own lip; he’s an absolute wreck inside, but has to stay strong for Swiss right now. He’ll give himself to all the emotions later, when his mate is taken care of.

They get to the ghoul’s kitchen and the smell of food makes Swiss realize where he is. It makes another wave of nausea hit him, though, and he only takes a few sips of water Mountain poured him.

“I can’t eat now,” he mumbles, “I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay, I understand,” Mountain sighs, rubbing his back as he drinks, “it’s, uh…very stressful right now.”

Swiss nods and empties the glass. He only speaks again when they’re in their bedroom.

“How do we…what about the pack? They’ll notice, how can we–we can’t not tell them.”

“Not now, darling, try not to think so much, let’s try to get some sleep.”

He’d like that—he’s exhausted—but there’s so many things flailing around in his brain; it’s impossible not to think. Swiss doesn’t even notice he starts getting hotter and breathing heavier, but Mountain does; unfortunately familiar with his mate’s panic attacks.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” he grabs him with care to get his attention. “I’m scared, too, look at me, darling.”

It’s a little while before the multi ghoul can make eye contact, but once he does the fresh-grass-green of Mountain’s eyes makes him grow calmer and calmer by the second.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters before falling face first into his mate’s chest. He feels so stupid for all of this.

“No, my heart, don’t be,” the earth ghoul reassures. “I told you: I’m scared, too, but we’ll be alright.”

The embrace of Mountain’s strong arms makes Swiss’ exhaustion finally take over and he feels his eyes closing. The earth ghoul manhandles him into a cuddling position and holds him close.

A feeling akin to disgust creeps up on Swiss before he manages to fall asleep, though. It’s that strange sense of dread and wrongness he knows very well. It’s telling him this is all wrong.

Men don’t get pregnant, so it must mean he’s just—still—a girl in a pathetic disguise.

Swiss swallows against the bile rising in his throat, focuses on his mate's heartbeat under his ear and wills himself to fall asleep.

He wakes up calm. He doesn’t have the urge to throw all his guts up—at least at the moment, he doesn’t want to jinx it. He stretches a little and snuggles further into Mountain and–

Oh. It’s not morning and–

That happened.

The multi ghoul tenses up and his hands instinctively clench to grab at his mate. He’s awake and kicks up a purr in an attempt to soothe Swiss a little, “Hey, darling, it’s okay, don’t stress.”

Swiss doesn’t reply, he just takes a deep breath of Mountain’s fresh scent—the smell of the first days of summer. It’s okay.

“Ready to talk?” the earth ghoul asks after a while, when Swiss is fully awake again. He nods, sitting up.

“First of all, uh…I got that text from Omega when you were asleep and he said it’s not too late to…you know,” Swiss’ stomach turns a little at the unsaid part. He appreciates having the choice, but he can’t. “You don’t have to keep them.”

“I want to, I can’t get rid of them! I love them already, they’re our babies,” he admits and the earth ghoul’s chest warms up at the words. “And you got so excited!”

“I, uh…well, yes, I did,” he chuckles nervously. “I've always wanted to have kits and I want nothing more than to have them with you, but you have to be ready. You can't make this decision because of how I feel, it's your body.”

“No, I know, but…” Swiss sighs and drags a hand down his face. He’s so tired. “I want them, I really do.”

“Okay. Well, then, we’ll do our best to keep you safe and comfortable so that their growing spot is all cozy and when they’re here we will be the best parents that they could ever have. Right?”

“Right.” The multi ghoul nods and…that’s it. Their talk is done, their decision is made. Swiss gets a thought, though, “But what if–”

Mountain doesn’t let him finish, cutting him off with a smile on his face. “We’ll worry about ‘what if’s if any show up. Let’s go try to get some food in you now, alright?”

“Okay…” Swiss agrees, even smiling slightly himself. They climb out of bed and put on some presentable clothes to head down to the kitchen. Swiss really doesn’t want to see anyone, so they quickly grab something and all but run back to their room to hide again.

“Do you want to see Omega again today so all the inevitable stress is packed into one day and then you can relax when that’s done?” the earth ghoul asks once the food is gone. Swiss didn’t eat much—his appetite nonexistent the last few days—only nibbled at stuff here and there, but it’s better than nothing.

“Yeah, I think so,” he agrees, so Mountain texts the quintessence ghoul. He asks him to come down to the Den, to have the talk in the comfort of their own space, for Swiss’ sake. Omega, of course, doesn’t mind and is happy to do it like this.

The earth ghoul gets a chair by the bed for him and once settled in it, Omega begins his lecture. “Ghoul pregnancies are really short, only seven months. The kits come out tiny, but they grow rapidly for the next while and at around six months old they slow down and carry on like a one year old human baby would. It makes it more comfortable for a ghoul pregnant with a litter to carry on in the Pits, not be slowed down much and weaker.

However, this can look very differently Topside. This has never happened before and even though I know all about pregnant ghouls and kits in Hell and all about pregnant humans on Earth, I have no idea what to do with you.

What I know for sure is that you need a lot of rest, no weed, alcohol or caffeine. We’ll be meeting once a week to check on both you and your kits. Their elements will be a mystery until they’re born, but it seems like there’s a lot of water to them. I just hope for your sake they won’t take much earth or quintessence, at least not now.”

“Why?” Swiss asks with a frown. He doesn’t want to think about all the other things Omega has just said, it’s all so…scary and so much.

“Because it would be very dangerous for all parties involved if they got as big as a typical earth or quintessence kit,” he explains. The multi ghoul can feel his hand being squeezed by his mate. “At this point we have to be mentally prepared for anything. It’s a miracle and a mystery, anything can happen.”

Swiss and Mountain are quiet, waiting for even more scary information, but the quintessence ghoul stands up and walks to the door. “That’s, uh–I think that’s it. We should make a little group chat for the three of us and keep in contact at all times. Remember my emergency twenty-four seven number, too.”

Omega stops before he crosses the threshold and turns with a slight grimace. “One more thing…as I said, it’s a miracle. I would…wait a bit before announcing it, at least outside of the pack. As hard as it is for me to say, there’s a big chance they won’t live.”

The face Swiss makes at the words is easily the saddest thing both Omega and Mountain had ever seen. The latter brings his mate closer

“I’ll do everything in my power to help you two. Well, all five of you. I want to see those kits born and healthy in your arms,” Omega promises before leaving. The silence that surrounds Mountain and Swiss once the door is shut behind the quintessence ghoul is deafening.

“I asked the pack to give us a few days to process,” Mountain says to break it. “I didn’t say what, but you know them, nobody’s prying. They respect our need for space.”

Swiss nods and turns to bury his face in his mate’s neck.

“How about we go to the cabin for a few days?” the earth ghoul offers. “A nice week off just for us to think and relax, hm?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” Swiss admits and even musters up a soft little smile. Mountain can’t see it but he knows exactly how a smile against his neck feels with his mate’s stubble.

“We’ll be alright, my heart,” he whispers into his ear, “all five of us, we’ll have a little family. Everything will be okay, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Swiss mumbles and shuts his eyes. His hand instinctively goes to his stomach—he’s been feeling the urge to protect it for the last few weeks, but it makes sense only now.

Mountain looks at Swiss’ hand splaying over his little bump and smiles; it’s all terribly scary, but he’s so excited and happy and proud at the same time. He puts his own hand over his mate’s and nuzzles his face into his hair.

They’ll be alright.

Taglist: @arkeusruin @skele-bunny @everybodyshusband @ratsummer @jazz-bazz @mac-and-thefox @karmicbias @wine-irytatus

#hypnone writes #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #swissalps #symbol on the surface #cw pregnancy

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twilightt-fantasy · 10 months ago

Text

fight or flight [aro volturi]

request: Can I request #3 and #13 with Aro Volturi and a human?

prompts: "take a deep breath" // "you're okay, i promise"

requested by: anon

warnings: panic attack

thank you for requesting!!

it had been building all day.

the familiar sensation of a panic attack had been on the brink of her mind all day, just waiting to spill out at the perfect time. she was hyperaware of everything, her fingers fidgeting, her knee bouncing, her breathing increased.

she couldn't tell what was causing it, but then again, she never could. anxiety was something she had struggled with for years, something she could never pinpoint a cause of, and something she still couldn't get under control.

no medication helped, or meditation, or therapy.

it made her feel utterly isolated.

the longer she was left alone with her thoughts, the worse she felt. she had spent most of her day exploring the castle with her guard, simply trying to keep the inevitable attack at bay. her mate, aro, was busy that day with trials and one thing she refused to do was call him away from his work - not for something as silly as this.

but now, she curled up in their shared bed, no longer able to bring herself to communicate with others. her thoughts were too occupied with her panic, her conversations stilted and drawn out because she couldn't focus long enough to pay attention to the topics being talked about.

she could feel her breathing grower faster, her heart beat picked up in her chest, and she sat up in bed, suddenly unable to sit still. her chest felt too tight as she swung her legs over the bed and stood quickly, needing to move instead of sit still. her vision was going dark, small black dots clouding her sight. hot tears slid down her cheeks, the wetness not helping with her fading vision.

the girl flinched when cold hands settled on her shoulders, unable to hear the words aro was speaking to her in her state of mind. she felt him lead her to the bed and push on her shoulders, forcing her to sit. "tesoro, tesoro, please listen to me."

his words broke through her thoughts and she drew in a harsh, wheezing breath. "i-i can't."

"you can, my darling. take a deep breath."

she drew in another breath, but it was still shallow and stuttered. a whine escaped with the exhale and she reached up, clutching her hair with her fingers. aro's hands moved to cover hers, this time pushing her head between her knees. he unwound one of her hands from her hair to place on his chest. "breathe with me, darling."

aro's chest began to rise and fall under her hand and she stilled for a moment, trying her best to sync her breathing to his own. his was slightly uneven, likely due to the fact that he didn't feel the need to breathe regularly. as her hand rose and fell with her mate's chest, she managed to break through the panic in her mind and focus more on him. he sat close to her, one hand still on top of her head while the other rested on his chest.

"you're okay, i promise." aro whispered, leaning forward to press a kiss to the back of her head. "you're doing great."

"i don't know what happened." her voice was still shaky and eyes were still wet.

aro's hand left her hair as she lifted her head and he instead moved to wipe her tears from her face. his lips were tilted into a kind smile, his eyes gentle and touch soft as he cared for his mate. "it's over now, my love. we know it's something that happens."

"i hate it." she sniffled, reaching up to catch another tear as it fell. "makes me feel so weak."

"none of that." the raven-haired king lifted her chin in order to meet her eyes, this time his expression stern. "you're not weak - you're very strong to be able to overcome your panic like that. resilient."

she looked doubtfully at aro, who only leaned forward to kiss her in order to silence any protest. "my strong mate." he murmured against her lips. "i'm proud of you for being able to overcome it. you should be too."

she didn't respond, instead leaning into his kiss again and closing her eyes. while she had a long way to go in order to overcome her anxiety and panic attacks, she was grateful to have such an attentive mate to help her through them every time.

#twilight #twilight imagine #twilight imagines #twilight x reader #twilight oneshot #volturi #aro volturi #aro volturi oneshot #aro volturi x reader #aro volturi imagine #aro volturi imagines

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stefanmikaleson1864 · 1 year ago

Text

Secrets

Jim Street X Reader

Street helps the writer through a panic attack.

A/N: I hope you all like this drabble !!!

Y/N’s POV

Swat was a amazing job and you were so greatful that you got to be apart of it. Being one of the elites and fiding a family was something that you were beyond greatful for.

But being apart of the elite meant that you had to be on top of everything and leaving no room to have anything wrong.

You knew about your anxiety diagnosis sense you were little it was something that you manged and took medications for. The only problem was that you kept it out of your medical history.

You were afraid they wouldn't think you were quailifed enough and that your dreams would be over before it would start. So you kept it hidden and any time you had a flare up you would say you would try and hide it.

It was nothing personal you just knew you had to keep it to yourself. It wasn't like it was going to affect them. You all were super close but they didn't have to know everything about you.

Usually you were fine you would take your medications and practice your excersies you had. Like breathing techniques and even journaling to help you.

Being on the job for a couple of years know you quickly learned how to take the moments for yourself. To slip away and take the self care you needed.

But it was hard though always wondering if someone was gonna find out. Or wondering you were going to have a panic attack on the scene holding a weapon or fighting with the suspect.

It always just felt like a big ticking bomb that was being held over your head.

Was you making the best descion for you? And was it the best one for your teamates and society. Was this anxiety a big deal or not at all ?

Everytime you thought about it you had a panic attack just thinking about it.

Today was a different day. Today was a hard one it was just call after call and you were high paced all day long.

You could feel your anxiety setting in strong and the panic attacks felt like they were gonna happen.

You couldn't do any of the normal thing you usually did during the day to help.

Your hands were shaking and your leg was bouncing. Thankfully everyone was sitting around and doing their own thing.

You were sitting in the lounge room watching tv with Street and Tan. they were making you watch some show that you weren’t paying attention to.

You were so wrapped in your thoughts. You were thinking about everything and anything at all once.

It just felt like your mind was spinning and you were trying to claw your way out of a hole but couldn’t get out. Street looked over at you and he gave you a concerned look on his face.

But you didn’t even notice. You began to feel you breathing getting labored and you were getting lightheaded. So you got up and ran out of the room. You didn’t know where you were going but you just knew you had to get out of there

You just kept walking and ended walking outside. The warm sunlight was hitting you all over and it did feel nice.

You walked over to the nearest bench and your legs were shaking and you felt like it was taking forever to get there. Each step it just felt like you were getting further and further away.

Suddenly you felt these hands on the back of you trying to give you some support.

You were worried when you realized when someone was behind you. Worrying if it was all going to come out.

But then when you felt the familar warm touch you always craved you knew who it was instanly.

“Hey it’s okay I got you” Street said

You sat on the bench and then he got in front of you an kneeled down. You bent over your hands were cradling your face.

Jim took your hands and removed them from your face. You looked a total mess your face was red and your face was all wet from crying.

He was making you look at him. He had a look of concern written all over his face. Then he took his free hand he had and started rubbing your back which made you feel better and helped you calm down.

“Hey talk to me, okay and breathe just breathe it’s gonna be okay” Street said in a soft voice.

“It’s nothing okay I’m fine” You said breaking eye contact with him.

“It’s not nothing what happened I mean i know it’s been a long day just had a moment” You said not looking at him.

“Is it anxiety or something” Jim asked.

You didn’t really say anything to him just started down at the bottom of your feet.

“Hey don’t do that don’t shut me out i’m just worried about you” Jim said.

You lifted yourself up and sat up straight. Taking your hands and wiping your face.

You started taking deep breaths trying to get yourself back in order. You were struggling on what to answer because you were worried Street would go and tell Hondo or someone because he was worried about you.

You knew he only had pure intentions but you still didn’t want the whole team to know. But the way he was looking at you wanted to just spill your heart out to him.

Looking at him in the eyes you decided to take the gamble and tell him.

“ I have pretty bad anxiety and panic attacks i take medications for” You said.

Jim got up and you started worrying again thinking where the hell was he off to. He sat down next to you. He then took you and pushed you close to him. So you were leaning up against his body.

“I’m not gonna tell anyone. If that’s what your worried about” JIm said.

You felt like a giant weight had been lifted off your chest once he said that.

“Thank you really I mean it’s nothing bad It’s just some stuff I want to be personal” You said.

“No i get that were all together all the time it’s hard to keep some kind of boundary” Jim said.

“So what about you i need a big secret so incase you tell mine i’ll tell yours” You said.

“Now why would I tell you something major then” Jim said laughing.

“Because i know most of your shit so you got something and i need leverage you won’t tell then you got nothing to worry about” You said laughing.

“Fine okay here goes I have a crush on someone from work” Street said.

You got up and looked at him with a surprised face. Not knowing this so this was huge news.

“Well who is it do I know her” You asked.

Street looked at you and smiled. He had this big goofy look on his face.

“Yeah you know her and nope that’s all the information you get’ Street said smiling.

“Wait come on this isn’t fair you gotta tell me something I’ll die if I don’t know” You said pleading with him.

Suddenly the bells went off and that meant you all had to roll.

“This isn’t over Street” You said getting up

You both started jogging over to Black Betty.

“Now we both have secrets” Street said winking at you and getting in the back of the car.

Damn you never regretted something more in your life then you did right now

#swat imagine #swat #jim street #street x reader #jim street x reader #jim street imagine #jim street one shot #swat x reader #swat one shot

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babygirl-riley · 1 year ago

Note

Reader always wears long clothing even during the summer due to eczema and ghost gets suspicious?

Desert Heat

Ghost has been your LT for couple of months now. It made since to him why you wore long sleeves during the cold season. Now that it is hot, it made him worry, especially when you freaked out when someone tried to pull them up.

A/N: Omgggggg I love soft simon or ghost! I could only imagine that he is very understanding and kind about insecurities.

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of anxiety attacks, mentions of self harm, soft!ghost, swearing

Taglist

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst

Ghost always kept a close eye on you. Anytime there was a mission he would make sure to be near you or with you. Soap would tease you about it, saying that the moment you stepped foot into the team Ghost was your shadow. You never truly believed Soap until the summer came along.

In the summer your skin will flare up with your eczema. Even though it’s easier to hide during the winter the summer makes it more irritated and flares up. You had certain medications and only one type of lotion to help it keep it at bay. You never liked it, always making you feel self conscious of how it looks.

So when you didn’t change your long sleeves it was normal for you. Didn’t think anyone would mind or pay attention enough. Oh how you were dead wrong. The heat of the day was little over 100, it was nice out, and due to you used to having the sleeves on it didn’t bother you.

Oh but how it worried Ghost, when training recruits he noticed you looked flushed. Tired. His thoughts ran wild of how it could be the start of dehydration. Or heat exhaustion. You smiled as you watched the recruits reaching the full potential of your training until Ghost came up.

“Fuck,” You whispered, you thought total different reasons on why he was approaching you. You fucked up a drill that is what you could only think of. “Yes sir?” You asked as he approached.

“Ya know it’s 100 out here yeah?” He asked looking at your clothing more closely now.

Confused you nodded. “Of course I do LT.”

“Ya wearing some long sleeves that ‘M sure that is not comfortable.” He commented again, you looked at his eyes, covered worry behind them.

You shrugged. “I’m not too hot but thank you sir.” Before he could say anything a recruit called out for you. “Anything else?”

He shook his head and nodded towards the recruit. Nonverbal indication to go handle it. That didn’t stop Ghost from watching more throughout the summer. He saw that you had different military graded long sleeves. Never once he saw you in any tank, t-shirt, hell even a bra. Always a sweatshirt at night and long sleeve in the day.

It had his mind wonder into different things. One thing that made his stomach turn, could you be harming. That is the one thing that he couldn’t shake off. He has seen it before in other soldiers but never his own let alone…someone he cared for in this type of field. Ghost offered a hand to hand just you and him, practice on close combat.

You were good but long distance was your strong category. It was a long but interesting hand to hand training, you would get the best of him at times but be quickly put on your ass. You would laugh when you would miss foot or kick hard enough on his side to have a huff get out of him.

“Come on Lt, that’s not the best you can do?” You teased, you and him had that ‘married couple’ banter. Both of you were the only ones that could do that to each other. Yeah Soap would give you shit but not like Ghost.

Ghost chuckled. “Just tiring you out doll.” He said feeling sweat gather on his back.

After a couple of hits he got you pinned on the floor. At first it was going to be an easy get away that was until your sleeve was sliding up. Panic coursed through your veins, as you watched through the corner of your eye. Ghost noticed and looked over, that’s when you yelled uncle and pushed as hard as you could.

Ghost snapped from the trance of seeing your skin. He grunted as you quickly stood up. “Thank you sir,” You said breathily. “See you in the briefing.”

And that was that. Before he could even speak a word you were gone. Ghost affirmed to himself that you were harming yourself. So no, you wouldn’t see him at the briefing. You saw him an hour later.

With the knock at your private quarters, you were shocked to see Ghost. “Sir…”

“Don’ sir me,” He started to walk on shutting the door behind him. “I tryin’ to not invade ya space however,” He looked at your sleeves. “I am worried.”

You gave him a confused look then chuckled. “You don’t need to be worried Ghost.”

Ghost still wasn’t looking at you, after a couple of minutes it hit you. “Why do you wear the long sleeves? It’s hot in the summer here and I can tell when you get over heated.” He explained as he looked up at you.

You bit your lower lip as you turned away from him. “Just like them is all.”

Ghost noticed the change in your demeanor nice but standoffish. For a SAS they are trained to see these things, anything that changes can help them through a stand off or interrogation. You knew of it and tried so hard to act it off. But your anxiety said different.

“Don’ bullshit me y/l/n,” Ghost said gently grabbing your wrist having you slowly turn to him. You saw the concern in his eyes. “I-Are-Are you hurtin’…”

Your eyes went wide. “No,” You said ripping your wrist away. “Sorry no…it’s just…it’s not pretty still. My skin isn’t pretty.” You looked away wrapping yourself softly with your arms.

Ghost now was confused, scars maybe? Burns? He understood that, he had them underneath his clothing. He walked closer to you. “I highly doubt that,” You snapped your head up as he grabbed your hand. “You are a-you are beautiful I don’ think scars are gonna…”

You chuckled, not because of his answer but because of everything else it could be he goes to the worst. “No Ghost it’s just,” You sighed pulling one of your sleeves up. Showing the eczema, the way it was bright red, traveling up your arm more. Ghost looked at you then your arm. “My skin just gets irritated and it just makes me feel not beautiful. People used to tell me I was a walking plague in high school because of it. So…”

Ghost scoffed. “Them bastards are idiots to think that,” He looked at you, you can tell he started to smile. “It doesn’ hurt?”

“Not usually, sometimes it feels like it burns if it’s super irritated but nothing crazy.” You said smiling but getting more shocked at the softness that Ghost was displaying.

Ghost sighed and nodded. “Maybe we can find somethin’ more light ya know? Not get too hot,” He stepped back for a moment. “Maybe a tattoo sleeve cover.”

You chuckled shaking your head. “Jesus Ghost.”

He stood there for another moment. “That should do yeah,” He looked up at you. “Debriefing is soon we better go.”

Ghost turned around as you walked with him. “Should have recorded you saying that I was beautiful.” You teased.

“Don’t test it Sargent.” Ghost mumbled feeling his face heat up. He was fucking happy that he had that mask on. Cause he felt like a school boy all over again.

However, you had to hide your face as it turned red. Knowing that your lieutenant thought you were beautiful.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty modern warfare #simon ‘ghost’ riley #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley fluff

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maximumkillshot · 1 year ago

Text

I Can't Lose You-Part 2

Warnings: Ok...Cursing, pain,(IF YOU WANT IT TO BE KEPT A SURPRISE QUICK SHIELD YOUR EYES!!),medical emergency, Emergency medical procedures, mentions of blood, anger outburts, a lot of pain, DID I MENTION PAIN?!, mentions of panic attacks I believe.

Pairing: BangchanxReader

Characters: All of the Stray Kids, Reader

A/N: Stay family y'all came in droves, I've had so much fun writing for SKZ so far and whatever you guys want to see, send it in an ask and I'll see when I can get to it, if the muses allow. There will be a Stray Kids Masterlist soon. I would always appreciate any feedback! And if you like Supernatural as well here's my masterlist!

Overall Masterlist- Click Here

I Can't Lose You Masterlist-Click Here

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE.

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

Where we left off:

“Bin” Chan tried to say something but Changbin cut him off.

“NO! YOU DON’T GET A SAY HERE, CHRIS! YOU FUCKED UP ROYALLY AND NOW YOU DESTROYED YOUR FAMILY!” Bin was visibly shaking with rage as he walked up to Chan. Tears were starting to form in his eyes.

LeeKnow looked visibly confused as he looked to Bin, “What are you talking about?”

Bin threw the content of the card at Chan’s feet.

Chan looked at what the card had in it, it was unmistakable.

Bin sounded broken as he responded, “Y/N is pregnant.”.

NOW:

Changbin's blood was boiling and yet he felt like collapsing. His lip twitched as he yelled, “You promised you’d protect her! That you’d do NOTHING to hurt her!”

Felix stared at Changbin. He has never seen him like this. He could see the conflict. Stuck between the need to comfort and protect you and the want and need to beat the pulp out of Chris.

He continued, his voice cracking,his brow knitted and lips twitching as he said, “ I told you that I love her, that you better take care of her. And you said that you’d NEVER hurt her.” His anger was winning as he shouted, “You didn’t just hurt her, you DESTROYED HER and ALL CHANCES of that child having a life where their mom & dad are still together!”

He couldn’t decide whether to say it gently or smack him with the truth as he saw the honest ramifications of his friend’s actions. He chose the latter, “And let’s be honest, Chan. That’s if the baby makes it through this! With the amount of pain that Y/N/N feels right now. Not to mention that she put in months upon months of work planning YOUR anniversary celebration only to be stood up. Only to come home to see HER HUSBAND & HER BEST FRIEND in the bed that she sleeps in every night, having sex & talking about how INADEQUATE she is!”

Chan picked up the sonogram and said “I’ve got to fix this.”

Bin huffed, “There’s no fixing this Chris. She doesn’t tolerate assholes like you. You cheated and threw everything away! Now, I am going to take her to a hospital to check on the baby, YOU are going to stay the FUCK away from her! Is that clear?!”

While Bin was chewing Chris out, Han was packing everything he could think of. He had a feeling but he couldn’t put a name to it. Being the youngest in his family, he never really knew what being protective felt like. For some reason, from the second you came stumbling out of that room, he only had one objective, keep you safe. The drive to protect you so instinctual it wasn’t even a thought in his brain as much as it was an impulse.

Maybe it was that you both think so similarly. You had met the boys because of a photoshoot in New York. You were a photographer that was hired to do some promotional shots of them in the bustling Times Square.

Han had a panic attack due to the massive amount of people and you took him aside and grounded him, got him to calm down and breathe. He didn’t know at the time but you yourself have extreme social anxiety and anxiety overall. That was when you and Han exchanged numbers. “Rain or shine, I’m here for you always,” you told him after the shoot was done.

That was when Han told Chris why he was even able to complete the shoot and Chris really liked your shots, so he got your number as well. That eventually led to the boys begging you to become their personal photographer full time. Then you moved to South Korea to work with them, because taking a plane every few weeks was just too much.

Han was wondering how such a beautiful beginning ended up like this. How something so horrible could happen to someone so rare, talented, and sweet. When he was done packing, he ran to the car with 3 overnight bags, yours, Han’s, and Bin’s. He knows that they aren’t coming back for a while, knowing that you’ll need support more than anything.

Not to mention Han can’t even look at Chan right now. Too many questions race through his head, but one look at you and all of it disappears, his Noona needs him. His niece or nephew needs him. That’s what matters.

Han told Innah to go back inside and tell Bin that you’re ready to go.

Bin shoved Chan out of the way and left the house. He was expecting you to be in the front seat but you were actually in the back with Hannie. You were crying on his shoulder as he tried to talk you through your deep breathing exercises. When you finally made it to the hospital, you were terrified.

You had tried to stay as calm as possible for the baby but seeing what you saw, realizing what he did & what you gave up for him. Then the reality of him doing this… and saying those things about you, it was all too much.

Now that you were registered, Han and Bin had time to register the heartbreak they felt for you. They were completely in the dark about all of it. Probably because they would’ve beaten the crap out of Chan for even contemplating doing that to you, let alone following through with it. You are so sweet, kind, beautiful, and intelligent, all the members admired you so much. So, to see Chris doing this. It’s no wonder why they were seeing red right now.

But they needed to put that anger aside and check on the baby and yourself. The wait was nerve-racking, especially at almost 2 hours staring at a clock and waiting.

Bin only had time to think, and think he did. He couldn’t stop thinking about how unfair it was for you, how he would’ve never dreamed of cheating on you. He would’ve spoiled you and made love to you every single day. He would’ve cried and spun you around seeing that positive pregnancy test. It made his heart hurt at the fact that you didn’t experience that.

His anger was quickly replaced with regret. He regretted not telling you his feelings. He regretted letting Chan anywhere near you. He also regretted the pang of hope in his heart at the possibility of having a chance with you. Thinking momentarily that it was wrong to even hope that you don’t reconcile, afterall you’re married, why put such negative thoughts into the universe, let alone feel hope at that thought? It was something he couldn’t help.

If anything, in his mind, he’d love to raise this baby with you and that truly scared him. Even more than the possibility of Chan fixing things. That meant that he was ready to sacrifice everything for you. And if he were to be honest with himself, he would’ve recognized that’s always been the case.

Meanwhile, Chan had been blowing up Han and Bin’s phones non-stop, wanting updates, if his wife and child were okay. Are there any signs of stress? It got to a point that Bin excused himself just to personally tell him to fuck off.

“What do you want?” Bin snapped.

“I want to know how my wife and child are.” Chan sounded terrified, but Bin couldn't care less, after all, it was his fault any of this happened. As a matter of fact, it only made his anger worse. Hearing him say, my wife and child. Like you were something to be owned.

“You lost the privilege of calling her that, Chris.”

“I made a mistake, Bin. A mistake that I want to take back so please tell me where she is.” Bin could feel the anger rolling off of himself. This isn’t a mistake. A mistake is leaving the oven on, or forgetting your wallet at home.

There are so many steps before having sex, the courting, taking every layer of clothing off. At the very least when going out 5 pieces of clothing need to come off. That’s just on him, not to mention she still has to undress. Then there’s getting into the bed,the foreplay, the kissing, the teasing, prepping her, then you have to get over her. All of this is before penetration is even in the mix.

All of these chances to stop, look at a photo of his gorgeous wife and realize that everything Chris could possibly want, he already has. All of this is racing in Bin’s head as his blood continues to boil.

“We are still trying to calm her down and you think that I am going to let you anywhere near her? You’re out of your fucking mind.” Bin spat at him. “Every time you call, she starts to sob, you know why? Because she knows that the person she trusted, that she loved, that very same person is the same one that degraded, disrespected, and destroyed not only her but her child’s life. He also won’t get the FUCKING HINT that she needs to focus on HERSELF and HER CHILD! You are only making it worse.”

Bin’s voice was so loud that every time the doors separating himself from you were even slightly ajar, you could hear Bin chewing Chan out.

“Bin, you have every right to be angry…” It was then that Bin could hear the phone being snatched and Minho was on the other end.

“We told him NOT TO CALL AND TO LEAVE HER ALONE! Two simple instructions Chan! You’re only going to stress her out more! You’ve done enough! Hey Changbin-ah, sorry. I’m going to call you on my phone and I’m taking his phone away now.”

“Thank you,” it was all he could say. At least he was getting some form of reprimand, given Bin would’ve loved to beat the crap out of him. But his thought was that Chris being verbally chewed out would have to do for now.

A few seconds later Bin’s phone rang, “Hey”.

“Hey, how’re you doing?” Minho asked, “And Hannie?”

Bin’s face fell as he looked back at the equivalent of his younger brother being so strong for you.

“We are holding on. It’s hard not to cry with her, hyung.” Bin exhaled as he paced.

“Chan shut the fuck up! You’re the whole reason why she’s in this mess so shut it and sit down!” he heard Minho barking at Chan.

At that point, Bin heard a blood-chilling scream, and he shouted your name. When he busted through the doors he found you gripping your stomach. Your gray sweatpants now taking a bright red hue.

“Bin? Changbin-ah!” he heard Minho but he couldn’t answer. His body was on autopilot as he ran to you.

You screamed for him, “Binnie..no no!” He handed the phone to Han as he started to yell for help.

You held onto his hand as if he was your lifeline. It felt like something was ripping apart your insides, worse than any period that you have ever had.

Han put his ear to the phone once he registered that Minho was screaming on the other end of the line, “Minho.” Han was near tears. He knew exactly what this meant.

“Hannie what’s happening?” the alert in Minho’s voice was haunting. Somewhere in his mind he was hoping to hear “False alarm, everything’s fine!” What he actually heard gave him goosebumps as his heart dropped.

“I’ve gotta go.” That was all Han said as he hung up and went to you.

“Hannie! No, no the baby Hannie.” She clutched onto him, praying, begging. Meanwhile, Bin tried to get help. She kept staring at her lap and Han tilted her head up.

“Focus on me, Y/N look at me, okay, keep breathing.” Han kept his voice even as he took his jacket off and put it on your lap, to block your view. “You just need to look at me and breathe.”

You clutched your stomach harder as you heard Bin arguing with the staff and the only thing Han heard was “Please wait.”

Han is not confrontational, but seeing you like this, he screamed “We can’t wait, she's bleeding and pregnant!” Han checked under the jacket, what was a patch of red was now dominating the gray… something was wrong. He looked at your face to find the color draining. He screamed to Bin, “Bin she’s bleeding out!”

Changbin ran to you and looked. He immediately asked you if you could walk. The minute you shook your head he gave Han the jacket and scooped you up. Now that he picked you up he noticed that you lost all rigidity in your body, you couldn’t even wrap your arms around his neck. When he looked down at you, your eyelids were fluttering as your free arm dangled.

Before this, he thought he knew what fear was… the sense of dread that filled him as he held you, that was fear. It felt as if he was the only person in the world who knew that the world was going to end. His world was going to end if you…

“Han get the door,” Bin ordered as he walked to the door that led to the patient beds, nurses, and doctors. As soon as the door opened Bin went through.

Bin shouted as loud as he could, “I have a pregnant woman that’s bleeding out. Can we get some help here?!”

Immediately 3 nurses rushed to Bin and led him to a bed. “Y/N stay awake c’mon stay up,” He kept trying to keep you up the entire way to the gurney.

He didn’t notice it but blood was being trailed behind him. The only one who seemingly noticed was Han.

As soon as Bin laid you on the gurney the nurses immediately started cutting off your pants while a doctor asked for a summation of what happened, your name, and anything else Han or Bin may have known.

Bin immediately gave the doctor any information that he could find useful. You held onto Han and Bin with whatever strength you had. The nurses asked Han to move so they could get an IV in and he repositioned himself at your head to pet your hair back. The doctor draped a privacy sheet over your legs so that you could feel a little more comfortable.

A few seconds into the exam the doctor yelled “Get anesthesia down here now! We need an epidural.” He looked at one of the nurses and said, “Prep for a D&C”. Then he said, “Get a vial for blood type testing and rush it, a transfusion set ready, IV open wide,” to everyone else in the room, the nurses rushed around them and the doctor said, “Ok Y/N can you hear me?”

You nodded, then screamed as your body involuntarily bore down.

Both Han and Bin tried to comfort you as much as they could.

The doctor said, “There is going to be a lot going on here in a few minutes okay? You’re going to get a nerve block because what’s going to happen is going to be uncomfortable.”

You looked at Bin and Han and begged them to stay. Both of them looked at the doctor and said that whatever was happening, they weren't leaving. The doctor could see that you really needed them and as long as they were not in the way, it didn’t matter whether they were here or not.

After the nerve block and the procedure, the doctor cleaned you up and draped a warm blanket over you, while the nurses hooked up a transfusion and closely monitored you. The doctor asked for Bin in the hall while Han went right back to your hand without the IV in it, so he could hold it properly.

Bin tried to ignore it during the procedure but the look that the doctor had on his face when he was doing the preliminary exam was haunting. Whatever he was called out here for… it wasn’t good.

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