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emsemotional · 3 years ago

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out of line

Okay so this is a little baby one shot based on my mental health advocate!mickey headcanon that I posted a little while back. I used to write a lot for various fandoms back in high school, but it’s been a while since I’ve written anything, and even longer since I’ve shared anything I’ve written with anyone other than @lewslew, so please be nice- I definitely have some room to grow with characterization and timing.

This is taking place post-finale, so I’ve taken some liberties regarding what everyone ends up doing after the series. In my mind, Mickey and Ian buy the Gallagher house themselves, because they’re Southside boys at heart and they need a backyard for their dog (duh). But they’re waiting on their Westside lease to end, so Lip, Tami and Liam are staying in the house while Lip and Debbie fix it up and renovate a little (you can find my whole hc on what everyone’s up to post-series here). I was talking to @iansfreckles a while back about a possible Gallagher/Tamietti family dinner- I’m so interested in how this would go and how the families’ dynamics would interact. SO, this takes place at said Gallagher/Tamietti family cookout, right as Lip and Tami are moving out of the house, and Ian and Mickey are moving in. Cami and Brad’s kids are with Aunt Oopie, I dunno I didn’t want to write them haha.

Content warning: ignorant/rude comments about individuals with mental illnesses and language akin to that of the show

Tami had almost said no when Cory asked to bring her new boyfriend to the Gallagher house. Between the Gallagher and Tamietti families, there were going to be plenty of big personalities under one roof, as is. But Cory had actually asked this time, and she had just babysat Fred during a last minute highlight appointment. Tami had reluctantly agreed and her sister had seemed so happy that she almost forgot her hesitation.

Looking back, Tami’s decision was questionable. Lip had been able to prepare his family for the rest of the Tamietti’s, explaining the family dynamics and topics to avoid. Chad was a wildcard.

He had burst through the front door laughing loudly beside Brad and Cami, who didn’t seem to think the joke was as funny as Chad did. Cory and Bob followed them in, annoyance clear on Bob’s face. Tami and Lip moved to the door to greet their visitors, Tami depositing Fred in Carl’s lap, where he was sitting on the couch. Carl immediately grabbed the toddler under his arms, grinning at him and lifting him up above his head, making propellor noises on his way down.

This, this is what Tami had wanted her family to see. The Tamiettis had made it clear that while they tolerated Lip, they thought Tami could do better. They thought he was ill equipped to help raise a family, constantly doubting his ability to provide, and his dedication to his family. Tami had tried to explain Lip’s role in his own family- the patriarch of the Gallagher home, a man who had been taking care of people for his entire life. Perhaps the only way for the other Tamiettis to see the value in the Gallagher side of Fred’s family, was to observe it first hand.

Lip made it to the Tamiettis first, shaking Bob’s hand and taking the handful of bags and jackets that were thrust into his arms.

“No show Brad!” Tami cheered, hugging her sisters, “You made it!”

Brad rolled his eyes, lightly clapping Tami on the shoulder, “Yeah, yeah, I’m here.”

Cory turned towards her sister, a wide smile on her face, “Tam, this is Chad, the guy I was telling you about?”

Tami turned to shake his hand, finally giving him a good look. Truth be told, he looked like every other guy Cory had seriously dated- some tall, brunette, conventionally attractive, straight laced kind of guy. He didn’t seem any different from the other business majors, fraternity boys and bar bouncers that Cory had intruded her to.

“Tami right? So great to meet you, thanks for inviting me!”

“Of course, nice to meet you too! Come on in, you guys!”

The Tamiettis settled into the living room, Cami choosing the seat next to Carl, cooing down to Fred, “There’s my favorite nephew! How are you sweet boy?”

She ran a gentle hand across Fred’s head before introducing herself to Carl, “I’m Cami, Tami’s sister.” Carl swallowed a smirk at the rhyming names, nodding, “Carl, Lip’s brother.”

“Ah, the one buying the house?”

“Nah, that’s Ian and Mickey, they’re upstairs somewhere. I’m the cop,” Carl stated proudly.

“Fuck the police!” Mickey’s voice called into the living room in response, as a flash of red and black hair came tumbling down the stairs. All the Tamiettis turned to watch Mickey jog through the living room with Franny on his shoulders, Ian chasing after them.

“Get him Uncle Mickey!” Franny squealed, “He’s gonna catch us!”

“I’m a little busy running, kid. Hit ‘em or somethin’,” Mickey grunted, scrambling to hand his niece a rubber ball previously balanced on the back of the couch.

Franny wound up her arm, tossing the ball at Ian’s head with all her six year old might, “Take that, Uncle Ian! You’re dead!”

Ian groaned dramatically, clutching his face and sliding onto the ground. He let out a theatrical sign and closed his eyes, finally defeated.

Franny cheered as Mickey lifted her off his shoulders, “We did it! We killed him!” Franny dropped down to the ground to check that Ian had accepted his defeat, poking him in the back with the toe of her shoe.

Mickey gave her a crinkly grin, the kind he reserved for Franny and Ian alone- unguarded and childlike. “Sure did! Pretty badass if you ask me.”

Ian got to his feet, tickling Franny’s stomach as he addressed the room, “Hey, sorry we were in the middle of… a game.”

“Liquor store robbery!” Franny cheerfully announced.

Franny began introducing herself to the unfamiliar faces, sharing that she was in the first grade, enjoyed playing with guns, and wanted to be a welder like her mommy when she grew up. As Liam and Debbie descended the stairs, and the rest of the Gallaghers and Tamiettis introduced themselves, Tami marveled at how smoothly things seemed to be going. No one was yelling, or aggressively drunk, or making a thinly veiled classist comment- yet.

The two families quickly settled into a comfortable chatter of introductions and the conversation, surprisingly, continued to flow without a hitch. They soon made their way outside, where Debbie and Bob chatted while manning the grill. The other family members scattered across the yard- Liam sat in a lawn chair typing on a laptop, occasionally asking Lip for grammar advice. Ian, in the middle of telling some wild story from his EMT days, was fully emerged in conversation with the rest of the Tamietti family while Mickey and Carl considered how many crimes Carl could theoretically arrest him for, arguing over how many years Mickey would have to serve.

Everything was great- until Chad decided to open his mouth. They had finished dinner and were crammed into the living room, escaping the Chicago windchill. Chad was sharing one of his own work stories from the construction site he worked on, describing a man who had wandered onto the site and started yelling at Chad and some of his coworkers that week.

“Totally off his rocker,” Chad commented, “He kept telling us about how we were tearing down his house, and that he didn’t give us permission to do this. Just screaming at us, swearing, and he wouldn’t listen when we kept telling him that he trespassing, y’know? Just super crazy- needed a fucking Xanax or something.”

Ian tensed, fiddling with the ring on his left hand while the other Gallaghers exchanged pointed glances. Tami began to interrupt, clearly in attempt to change the subject, but Chad continued.

“The next day,” he explained, “the very next day, he came up to us and was asking to bum a smoke, like he didn’t fucking flip his crazy ass on us yesterday, I swear he must’ve been like bipolar or something, acting like we were old pals. Must’ve gotten carted off or killed or something, haven’t seen him since.”

While the Tamiettis offered a polite chuckle, the Gallaghers remained silent.

Mickey, who had been sitting on the couch next to Ian, looked up from his folded hands. “So you got something against bipolar people? It’s a fucking mental illness man.”

Chad smiled, backtracking, “Hey, nah, calm down. He’s just some crazy homeless dude, who cares?”

“He’s not just some crazy guy, he’s a person with a disease, the fuck’s wrong with you?” Mickey asked.

Ian placed a hand on his husband’s shoulder shaking his head. “Mick, it’s fine. It doesn’t matter.”

Eyebrows raised comically high, Mickey stood and crossed his arms. “Um, fuck that, it does matter! You’re not a fucking punchline Ian. This is our house, yours and mine, and no one’s going to be talking like that in my house. Obviously no one else is going to say something, and you shouldn’t have to, so I will. I won’t stand for that shit.”

The Tamiettis exchanged horrified looks as the Gallaghers mostly just looked at the floor. Finally Lip spoke up from where he was standing by the TV, “Mental health is uh… a sensitive subject around here. We just… we take it seriously, y’know? First hand experiences and shit.”

Cory opened her mouth to speak but she quickly stopped when she saw Tami swiftly shake her head in her direction, suggesting she stay out of it.

Mickey lightly rubbed his eyebrow, “Yo, douchebag, apologize or get the hell out of my house.”

Chad raised his hands in surrender, “I didn’t realize it was such a big deal man, sorry.”

Mickey rolled his eyes with a huff, turning on his heel to walk towards the back of the house. Wordlessly, Ian followed him out the back door, leaving the living room in a heavy silence.

After a moment, Chad breaks the silence, “Look, I really didn’t mean to start something, I was just telling a story. Should I go out and apologize again, try to talk about it?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Liam replied, “You should give Mickey some time to cool off.”

“Yeah,” Lip agreed, “I wouldn’t follow them out. Mickey… he gets protective? Always has been, of Ian. Our mom was bipolar, and so’s Ian. He’s stable, doing great, but he’s, uh, he’s been through a lot. It’s just not good joke material around here.”

Chad nodded, silence overtaking the room again. Franny looked up from her coloring book, clearly bored with the turn the night had taken.

“I’m gonna go play with Uncle Mickey and cheer him up!”

Debbie chuckled from her seat across the room, “Yeah, go bring them some beers Franny.”

“Okay!” Franny chirped, hopping to her feet and skipping into the kitchen. Debbie gave a soft smile as she watched her daughter, on the way to hang out with her favorite uncles.

From his seat on the back stairs, Ian watched Mickey pace through the yard, grumbling about “Fucking Northside yuppies… and their ignorant bigoted asses… what the fuck is wrong with people?” He glanced over at Ian, his expression softening when he noticed the defeated look on Ian’s face. Mickey paused his pacing, coming to sit next to Ian on the steps.

“I’m sorry, I know I prolly embarrassed you. Was I out of line man? I just got so fucking mad,” Mickey quietly mumbled, looking down at his hands in his lap.

Ian gently shook his head, “Don’t apologize. You weren’t out of line… I think I’m just disappointed, y’know? That comments like that still get to me? I should be over it by now, every reminder that I’m sick or different shouldn’t still sting like that. And why do I have to be the one that the conflict and the drama revolves around? Why not fucking Carl or Liam or god… anyone else just for once?

Mickey’s expression softened even further. He nudged his knee into Ian’s leg, “What’s that shit you told me when Terry died? Trauma doesn’t always make fucking sense and recovery isn’t… oh shit, what’s the word? Linear! Recovery isn’t linear. Doesn’t make you fucking weak, just means you’ve been through some shit.”

“Yeah. I guess it was easier to tell you that than it is to tell myself.”

Mickey hummed in agreement and the two sat in silence for a moment before the back door creaked open. A tiny red head shoved her way through the doorway, arms wrapped tightly around two bottles, frosty with condensation. Franny sat down on the steps between them, silently handing her uncles their beers. Ian accepted his with a dry chuckle, thanking her. Mickey ruffled her hair, offering a small smile. The voices from inside had faded and the night was relatively calm, other than the occasional siren or dog barking.

Franny, not looking particularly concerned, looked up at them to ask, “Uncle Mickey, why’d you get mad at that guy?”

Mickey rubbed at his eyebrow and let out a sigh. He looked towards Ian, a silent request for him to take the lead on this conversation. He was confident in his ability to discuss the stupidity of princesses or the importance of wearing gloves during a legitimate liquor store robbery with his niece. He knew how to play, and joke, and how to be there when she woke up from a bad dream, stumbling down the stairs with bedhead and snotty tears. Mickey had grown into his role as an uncle, but he still doubted his ability to talk about the tough stuff with anyone other than Ian.

Ian cleared his throat, taking a second before asking, “Franny, do you know what it means to make a joke at someone else’s expense?”

Franny’s eyebrows scrunched together and she shook her head.

“It’s when you make a joke to kind of make fun of someone else. Like to tease them. Y’know how we make cop jokes around Uncle Carl because he’s a cop?”

She nodded, and Ian continued, “That guy… Aunt Tami’s sister’s boyfriend, was making a joke and it ended up being at my expense. That’s what made Uncle Mickey mad. He didn’t mean to make fun of me, but he kind of did. That’s all. Uncle Mickey was just sticking up for me.”

Franny sat for a moment, deep in thought. “I didn’t know he was talking about you.”

“No, he wasn’t. Not directly. He was telling a story about someone else. But he made a comment about him being bipolar. D’you remember when we talked about that? That I have bipolar disorder?”

Franny nodded, “That’s why you take your special medicine.”

Ian continued, “A lot of people don’t really understand what that means, and sometimes they make jokes about it that aren’t really funny. They’re just kind of… mean. So that’s why we got upset.”

Franny considered this for a minute and asked, “Do you want me to go tell mommy? She says I should tell her if someone’s being mean. She can fix it.”

Ian smiled a little, patting her little back and shaking his head, “Nah, mommy already knows, she heard. And I think Uncle Mickey did a pretty good job telling him that what he said was wrong.”

Mickey let out a sarcastic laugh, “And I got more to say to that piece of shit if I ever see his Northside yuppy fucking face again.”

“I think he got the point Mick,” Ian sighed, “Don’t waste your time.”

Franny shrugged “Mommy and Uncle Lip and Aunt Tami were all still talking in there when I left. Mommy told me it was a good idea for me to come out here.”

Mickey grabbed Ian’s hand, bumping their shoulders together. “Whatcha wanna do, man? We can head back to the apartment, go to the Alibi and get tanked, I don’t care, it’s up to you.”

“Don’t know, I’m tired of running from things. And you were right Mick, it’s our fucking house. Could we just sit out here for a little while?” Mickey ran a thumb across Ian’s hand and mumbles so quietly, in that voice he only uses with Ian- “‘Course we can”

Having completed her task of delivering beers, Franny stood up and put her hands on her hips, “I’m going to go inside, I won’t let anyone be mean to you Uncle Ian.”

Ian looked up to lock eyes with his niece, “I appreciate it Fran, thanks.”

She stood up and gave Ian a kiss on the top of his head, no doubt a gesture she’d picked up from some other family member, likely Mickey or Fiona. Ian smiled as she turned away to walk back into the kitchen.

After a few minutes Ian jerked his head towards the door, “Y’ready?”

Mickey hummed in agreement, standing and offering back his hand to help Ian up. They walked over the threshold of the kitchen into a conversation clearly about Mickey’s exchange with Chad. The Tamiettis were all sitting down in the living room, with the Gallaghers mostly standing, leaning against the various remaining surfaces. Lip’s hands were in his hair, a plain indication of his frustration and exhaustion. Tami abruptly stopped talking, in the middle of what seemed like an impassioned rant. She seemed unsure of how to continue now that Ian and Mickey had reentered the house. Debbie, sat on the couch with Franny in her lap, was scowling, while Liam absently stared at the wall, clearly wishing he were anywhere else. Carl quickly walked into the kitchen from where he had been leaning up against the living room door frame, clapping Ian on the shoulder.

“Hey, why don’t you guys go take a walk or something for a sec- I think Lip and Tami have it handled.”

Lip spoke up from the living room, “Yeah, it’s okay.”

Mickey tensed, bracing himself. “No, it’s not fucking okay Phillip-“

Lip grumbled something about that not being what he meant, shaking his head, while Ian quietly interrupted his husband, forcing him to make eye contact.

“No, it’s not, but I don’t want to just keep going over it, Mick. I’m not in the mood to educate him. I’m not saying it’s okay, but I want to move on. Lip can handle it.”

Carl nodded and repeated himself, “Go take a walk, come back in ten. Lip and Tami got it.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a joint and pressing it into Ian’s palm with a smirk.

“Rolled this for later, you guys take it.”

Ian raised an eyebrow at Mickey, who let out a sigh with a slouch, “Fine. Be back in ten.”

The two of them return to the backyard, Tami’s yelling resumed, her voice carrying all the way outside.

“M’sorry, I know I keep talkin’ when you just want it to be over with,” Mickey mumbled, looking down at the dead grass in the vacant lot beside the house.

Ian grabbed him by the back of his neck, fingers brushing through Mickey’s short hair, “Hey, no. I… I appreciate you sticking up for me- seriously. I’m just tired… tonight’s not supposed to be about me y’know? It’s supposed to be about Lip and Tami, and Fred, not me. I just wanted to be Lip’s brother tonight, not the crazy brother, the sick brother. I just don’t wanna be the one that causes the issues anymore.”

“You didn’t cause this Ian. You being bipolar didn’t fucking cause this- that asshole, opening his mouth and not knowing when to shut it- that’s what caused it. I get that you just wanna let it go, and I will, but if he say’s something else-“

“If he says something else you can beat the shit out of him.”

Mickey grinned, looking up to meet Ian’s gaze. “Fucking fantastic. You wanna smoke this bitch?”

He grabbed the joint out of Ian’s hand and pulled a lighter from his flannel’s front pocket.

Ian finally cracked a smile, one that actually reaches his eyes, “Free weed? Fuck yeah.”

Mickey tossed the lighter to Ian, who caught it and lit the joint with a practiced flick. He took a couple hits and closed his eyes, smiling again as he exhaled the smoke. He handed the lit joint over to Mickey, along with his lighter and jerked his head in the direction of the van in the backyard, “Wanna go sit?”

Mickey nodded and breathed in a sharp inhale, heading in the direction of the passenger seat door.

Ian climbed up into the drivers seat, letting out a deep sigh, “Feel like I’m in high school again- sneaking around with you, trying to find somewhere to be alone.” Mickey chuckled and passed the joint back over.

They smoked in silence for a while, Ian nudging Mickey with his elbow as the ember approaches the filter, “You want the last hit?”

“Nah man, that’s yours,” Mickey shakes his head.

Ian took it, stubbing out the butt on the van’s dashboard and tossing it onto the floor.

“Still wanna kick his ass?” He asked, lazily turning his head towards Mickey with a grin.

Mickey rolled his eyes, “I think I can contain myself.”

“Yeah?” Ian breathed, inching his face closer to his husband’s. The moon, freshly risen, highlighted Ian’s face, illuminating the dash of freckles across his nose.

Mickey didn’t answer, opting to close the distance between them, pressing a soft kiss to Ian’s lips. Ian’s hand came up to cradle Mickey’s face, thumb gently brushing his cheek.

And if they didn’t make it back inside for a while, so be it.

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iampikachuhearmeroar · 3 years ago

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sometime in this last week, or this week coming, my blog has turned/turns 10. god. a decade old. a whole ass chunk of my life i’ve spent on this hellsite. when i began on here, i was a kid. a lost, lonely, depressed and anxious 15/16 year old kid. a kid scared of her future. a kid confused about her future. what to do for uni. to change schools or not??? to do drama/acting at uni or english/philosophy or to move 8hrs away to another regional uni to “escape” her “washed up, dead end hometown” that was so typical of all the pop-punk music that she was listening to at the time.

she was a tad overdramatic, loud, “funny” (as described by her school friends) and terribly forgetful in regards to homework and school assignments. she was angry at the world, most especially the catholic school she was fucking sick and tired of attending. but she was convinced that since she was the so-called “funny girl”, that she simply couldn’t be depressed or anxious. she believed herself unloveable because she didn’t look like a weird mixture of hayley williams and emo-pop queen lights. but now, i no longer believe that i have to look like the women that i looked up to in the ~emo scene~. fuck beauty standards. i am loveable.

in the years since joining tumblr, i’ve managed to get through business college, my undergrad degree and, well, failed out of postgrad due to obvious burnout and health issues amongst other things. although i’ve lost many friends irl and many followers/mutuals online on here. for those who’ve stuck around to see me get through all of this, thank you. to all the friends/casual mutuals that have since deactivated or only followed me for a short time then unfollowed; thank you.

like obviously i was never/have never been a massive popular blog on here, like thebootydiaries or vampireapologist (who has since deactivated a couple of months ago) with tens of thousands of followers. my follower count is still close to the 8,000 range at 7,892. obviously that’s still a lot of people (and of course, porn bots lmao and many, many non-active blogs), enough like one super old post from like 2012 tumblr pointed out, enough for a small to medium sized city or town, or something like that. i don’t know how many people i’ve really reached. i really don’t know how i actually amassed this small army of people.

i am aware though, that on other platforms like snapchat (lmao does anyone even use it anymore in 2021???)/instagram/youtube/tiktok etc, i’d PROBABLY be considered as some type of ~micro influencer (🤮🤮)~. hell, i actually had a bot slide into my notes about being one on here on this hellsite back in 2019. i don’t know if i’ve ever actually ~influenced~ anyone on here with my shitposts (when i started making some) or my personal posts. i don’t know my reach. even though, now, i do occasionally get featured on buzzfeed listicles (although pay me buzzfeed along with the OPs of those original embedded posts), i still don’t know how many people i’ve reached… and even with my very occasional checks of google analytics lmao. on top of this, grappling with the loss of followers at times is much, much easier than it was when i began on here and the first few years following that. i know that my follower count doesn’t determine my worth and stuff.

but over these 10 years, i have grown. i turn 26 this year. back in 2011, 15/16yo me never thought she’d be here. she was partially down the suicidal thoughts hole, with things about ~picturing her funeral and wondering who’d bother to turn up. if only she could pretend to be dead for a day to see who’d give a fuck~ and 16-18yo me was defs down it with her HSC hellscape thoughts in 2012/2013. that 3rd floor tafe/tech women’s bathroom window drop and the thought of scarring her class for life (and that cool dude from catholic school that she crushed on who ended up at tafe with her) with jumping out of it onto the concrete below. instead, she just posted on fb about ~being a failure~ etc which ultimately did lose her a bunch of facebook friends lmao. it was practically the same thing. her mental breakdown after the end of her hsc, where she let her earrings go green and get infected in her ears because “fuck self care, bc what the fuck is it??? i’ll never get better! let me fucking wallow in my self loathing bc it’s the only thing that i’m fucking good at!!!” so i no longer have my ears pierced. oh! it was just all too fucking much!!

i am happier today. i no longer have those semi-suicidal thoughts. hell, i almost died in 2020 from a fucking bowel aneurysm, after my stomach tumour excision surgery. that forced me to put things into perspective. i appreciate the little things . i appreciate the very few friends that i actually have. yes. i’m still depressed and anxious. some days are still shitty and hard. but nowhere as hard and shitty as they were back when i began on here 10 years ago.

how the fuck last 10 years have gone past, with my ass on here; clearing out my blog and caring more about doing that than my uni work (lmao whoops); having made some lifelong friends both internationally (from the US) and long distance domestically in australia, it’s been a long ride; i honestly have no fucking idea. obviously over these past 10 years, i’ve debated with myself over and over and over again whether i should delete/deactivate this account or not. would it make me healthier??? more than likely. but then when i have meltdowns or just inner ramblings i have to get out somewhere, where else to post??? on fb?? obvs not. it’s ��attention seeking” or the like on there. no one will read them. no one will resonate. but on here??? even if i got/get one “like” in the notes or one “yo i feel this” response in the tags or replies, it feels like i’ve reached someone??? okay yeah. i know this place IS NOT therapy and i’m not using my followers as amateur (or probs even actual professional) armchair psychologists…. which is a thing i think people need to stop doing internet-wide: but that’s a whole other post that i reblogged a few days ago lmao. i really need to get another therapist, actually lmao.

but it’s the community i’ve found hard to leave. i have what feel like friends, when i’ve never been employed (still as of yet); and when all of my irl friends/acquaintances are working and doing the whole ~adulting~ and ~grown up life~ thing right. it’s also the frenzied rabidness of spite with hating staff’s godawful ideas. the memes. oh the memes. and also the RaWrInG 20s XD emo scene reemergence on here that’s kept me here. the messy petty drama from time to time of big blogs fighting it out.

this place really is bizarre and fun sometimes. and also the fact that i can still hide behind the ridiculous “roaring pikachu” URL that i made all those years ago. i am anonymous. it’s freeing. but on fb it’s all like “WHY WONT YOU ADD A BANNER IMAGE AND TELL US 20 FUN FACTS ABOUT YOU!!!!!???? LET PEOPLE WHO HAVENT SPOKEN TO YOU IN 10 YEARS KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU BECAUSE WE’RE ALL FRIENDS HERE!!!” and the same goes for Corporate Hellscape Facebook™️ (linkedin) but in the professional sense instead. y’all know fuck all about me really. besides my posts. and i love that and live for that. okay yeah. y’all know more about my mental health than my fb feed obvs… which is probably a terribly unfortunate thing. but still.

over the last 10 years then, my superiority complex for being ~so original and intelligent~ or whatever the fuck i had in high school, has all but ebbed away. i’m not that smart just because i went to uni. hell, i literally did NONE of my in-class work and none of my philosophy readings in uni….. so i have fuck all idea of how i got through undergrad like that lmao. i’m not original when so many people can articulate the same thoughts that i have, but like, sometimes better, on a post (even though sometimes/most of the time the Tumblr User Hot Takes Tuesday™️ takes on here are fucking awful lmao). but still. originality is not something i really have anymore. or really had in the first place lmao.

so will i deactivate after these 10 years, like i’ve been saying for so, so long??? i honestly have no idea. but just know. thanks guise. have a nice gpoy selfie day XD. grab your wands. your tardises. grab your war paint. grab your whatever the fuck other fandom specific stuff that was one that hella cringe post from 2011 til 2015 random tumblr. that relic is as old as time itself. just as this mysterious roaring pikachu is for someone whose too loyal to leave this W E B B E D H E L L S I T E that’s just as much of a train wreck as she is. lmao.

#life #about me #shut up ilona #tumblr is legit my fucking life now #motivate me to deactivate this blog to leave the hellsite forever 2021 #trigger warning: suicide mention #tw: suicide mention

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cassiopeiassky · 5 years ago

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When Everything’s Made to be Broken (I Just Want You to Know Who I Am) Part 54

Hey look at me go, it hasn’t even been a month since my last update (yes, my bar is that low)! Hey I hope you are all doing alright. These are scary times, remember to do your best to take care of you, I know it isn’t easy. Be as kind as you can to yourself - you deserve it.

So this part is dedicated to @iwillbeinmynest - happy late birthday, my darling Kate! I hope it’s worth the wait <3

This part is also dedicated to the great Stan Lee. The world he created gave me a safe place to escape to when my own world was too dark to survive. I owe him so much, and this chapter is so unworthy but it’s all I’ve got. I can only hope that he’d get a kick out of his cameo.

Plot: When you inadvertently become a witness to a murder and are suddenly a target for death, it takes a specially skilled soldier and his team to keep you and your family safe.

This will eventually be a is a reader x Bucky fic. The reader, by the way, is a civilian. No super powers, no fighting skills, and by no means perfect.

Word count: 4891

Warnings:

For the entire work: Language (I have a potty mouth), violence, and angst. This will probably get pretty dark later on, and there will be smut. If that’s not your thing, you may want to avoid this story.

Additional warnings specific to this part: Feels and emotions. Therapy, mentions of trauma. They’re dealing with the aftermath now, so there are parts that are kinda heavy.

***I do not own any of the lyrics/music in this story, so please don’t sue me for using them***

Tags moved to the end.

WEMtbB Masterlist

Previously on WEMtbB:

“Look, I think it’s safe to say that we all know you can take care of yourself. You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to.” The covers slide down, showing his torso as he sits up to face you. “That said, I’d like to remind you about a certain conversation we had at home about us taking care of each other. I know I didn’t specifically include my team at the time, but they’re your team now, too. They’re your family. You know this. It’s okay to let us take care of you – shit, Sweetheart, you take care of us all the time.”

“Okay, but cooking dinner for everyone isn’t the same thing as a credit card.”

“Doll, you don’t want to eat Stark’s cooking. Please, I beg you, let him reciprocate with American Express. You can’t get food poisoning that way.” The look in his blue eyes would be comical if he didn’t seem quite so serious.

You’re still uneasy about having access to someone else’s money, but you reluctantly concede. They are family – Thanksgiving and Christmas should have already proven that to you, even before they did what they did to save you. Still…pride, independence, and your improved but still deeply embedded insecurities are trying to make their insidious whispers into roars. “It’s weird,” you finally mutter as you fiddle with one of your stuffie’s satin lined ears.

He snorts and nods. “I got a metal arm and Stevie and I both have three digits to our age, Banner goes from mild mannered doctor to a big green rage monster when necessary, Stark flies around the world in glorified soda can, and I haven’t even introduced you to the witch, the god, the floating red guy, and the…I don’t know, whatever the hell Loki is. Trust me, Stark giving you a credit card so you have a little bit of freedom while you’re here is the least weird thing about this situation.”

Well, when he puts it that way…

“Why is it so loud?” Bucky watches as you pace in front of the expansive bedroom window, phone at your ear. The ringing is practically echoing, it’s distracting and –

“Breathe for me, Sweetheart.” Steady hands grip your shoulders, interrupt your restless movement, and kinda sorta help to ground you.

Shit. Your heart is hammering almost as loud as –

“Hello?” Familiar. Hopeful. Safe. You should reply, tell her that it’s you, but you’re too busy hanging on to the sound of her voice. “Hello? Hello?!” Annoyed. Indignant. Already ready to hang up.

Your lips finally allow a smile at the sound. Seriously, your mom has the patience of a 2-year-old on a sugar high. It’s good to know at least this hasn’t changed.

Right then and there, you promise yourself to never again take her phone calls for granted. “Hi, Mom.”

Silence. Then tears, followed by questions, answers, questions, answers. You weren’t sure you’d ever hear her voice again, so she has to occasionally repeat things because you were so focused on the sound of her talking – you had to repeat several times too, and you’re sure for the same reason. Yes, you’re safe. Yes, you’re sure. Yes, the boys are doing well, and they miss you like crazy. Yes, your mom followed the instructions of the team and kept things quiet. No, she wasn’t happy about it. Yes, Wanda and Vision are still there – they are going to help your mom with the transition of your return and letting the rest of the family know what happened. Yes, the boys finally settled into a routine and their sleep schedule is back to somewhat normal. Yes, you were shot in the leg but you’re healing well. Yes, you should be home soon. Yes, you’ll give her the details later. Yes, you really are safe. Really.

Loud giggles and doors slamming break through the stream of conversation and your heart moves back up to your throat. It feels life forever since their voices graced your ears and you can’t wait to see what they have to say. But you’re not ready. What if -

Tears and a smile are in your mom’s voice. “Grandpa and the boys just got back from the coffee shop – he was showing them off to the other old hens again. Do you want to talk to them?”

Mouth suddenly dry, you nod, but that doesn’t do any good. She can’t see you because you’d decided to call rather than use video chat; although much better than it was, your skin is still healing and you don’t have any make up yet to hide the fading bruises.

“Honey?”

“Yeah, Mom. Put them on, please.” Bucky leads you to sit at the edge of the bed before climbing up behind you to rub your shoulders.

“Breathe, Sweetheart.” Bucky’s steady presence is a lifeline. The gentle admonition brings you back – breathe in, breathe out. Almost giggle when you hear your mom swear and fumble with putting the phone on speakerphone; there’s a good possibility the boys have learned some new language.

“MommaMommaMomma!!”

As quietly as you can, you choke down the sob that is steadily working its way out. God you’d missed Jimmy’s voice.

“Hi, baby. I love you so much.” It’s all you can manage just now.

“I love you, Momma! I miss you. Come home now!” in your mind’s eye you can see his dimples, how he’s trying to cradle the phone to his ear because he doesn’t quite get the idea of speakerphone, how he’s probably jumping up and down. His words are clearer than they were when you left…how much has he grown? How much did you miss?

“Have you been having fun with Grandma and Grandpa?”

“Yep! We went with Grandpa. We got donuts! And uncle Jerry was there! He gave us a toy. Come home now, Momma. I want to show you something!”

Every bit of your focus goes to listening to your son, to his words and trying to decipher just how much he’s changed in the weeks you’ve been apart. He clearly had an explosion in his language development and it kills you that you missed it. “I’m working on it, baby. I’ll be home soon.”

“Bucky? Bucky, too?”

That brings a smile to your face – you should have known. “Yes, Bucky, too.”

Your mom breaks in, sounding more than a little concerned. “Are you sure you’re really safe?”

“Yeah, I am. I promise.” You’ll tell her a million times if you need to.

“So then why is he coming home with you? Why do you still need the protection?”

Oh, shit. Right. She doesn’t know. This conversation should probably happen in person. “Um…I’ll explain later. But I promise, everything is fine. Hey, can you put Artie on the phone?”

“Honey, he, um,” in the background you can just barely make out the sound of your dad trying to convince Artie to come out of the bathroom, “he’s –“ an ungodly screech pierces the air, “he’s just –“

“He’s mad. He doesn’t want to talk to me.” Damn. It hurts just as much as you thought it would. “It’s okay, Mom.” It’s not. Not at all. “I’ll try again later.” That’s the truth, at least.

“He just needs a little time. He took it really hard when you had to go. Well, they both did, but Artie especially. I couldn’t convince him that you were trying to come back.” She knows what happened, at least the broad outline of it; there’s no judgement in her voice. “He, uh, he thought –“

Might as well just say it and spare your mom the discomfort. “That I left just like his daddy.”

There’s a long pause before she finally answers. “Yeah.”

What can you even say to that? You certainly don’t blame him – you’d had that very thought yourself.

Jimmy’s earnest little voice breaks in, “Momma, Artie loves you. He’s bein’ a butt right now. But he loves you.” He’s a perceptive little man; it’s good to know that’s still the same. A sob and a chuckle mix ungracefully, but that’s okay. And since when did Jimmy start calling people ‘butts?’

“Thank you, baby. Um, Mom?”

Her sheepish voice comes across just a second later. “Sorry, honey. He probably got that from me.”

A laugh, small but genuine, comes out. “That’s okay. I learned all my best phrases from you, so I guess we’ll just call it the family legacy.” Deep breath in. Out. “Hey, I should get going. I need to get my leg checked out before I meet with the person coordinating my mental health recovery care.”

“I – okay, honey. I love you so much, and I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“I love you, too, Mom. Jimmy?”

“I love you, Momma! I don’t want you to go. Come back. Please?” His cheerful excitement is replaced with an almost palpable desperation, and just like that, your heart breaks all over again.

“Yes, baby, I’m coming home soon. I’ll call you later today, okay?”

“Promise?” He sounds suspicious but hopeful.

“Yes, I promise.”

“Okay.” Jimmy sounds resigned, and you can hear your mom prompting him in the background. “Love you, Momma.”

“I love you, too, Jimmy. So much.”

“Later today? Before bed? You will call?”

“Yes, Jimmy. I promise.”

“Okay bye!”

There’s just a bit of silence before your mom’s voice comes back. “He’s going to be okay, honey. They both will.”

You can only hope. Swallowing hard, you continue, “Hey, can you please put the phone by wherever Artie can hear me?”

“Yes…here you go.”

“Artie? Baby?” There’s no response, but you knew there wouldn’t be. “Artie, I love you so much. I’m so sorry that I had to leave, but I promise I’m coming back. Okay? I love you so, so much. It’s okay that you’re mad. I understand. I will call later today, and if you feel like talking, I’ll be here to listen, okay?” Still no answer. You will never know how you managed to keep the devastation out of your voice. “Okay. It’s okay. I love you, baby.”

Footsteps, and then, “He loves you, too. He does.”

You nod, even though she can’t see you. “I know, Mom.”

“It’s just going to take some time.”

“I know.” You hope, anyway.

“You’ll call later?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Alright honey, you take care of yourself and get better, okay? We all miss you.”

“I know. I miss you, too. I miss you so much.” You stop to clear the thickness out of your throat, “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

It’s too hard to say goodbye, so instead you just end the call and put the phone down. Time to get ready for the rest of the day.

* * *

“Do not hold your breath, dear one. Breathe through the movement,” Galina coaches gently as she guides you through some strength exercises.

You’ve already been at this for 45 minutes, and you still can’t get over the fact that your leg doesn’t hurt like you think it should. There’s a deep, almost bone shaking ache to it now that you’ve been pushing yourself a bit, but it certainly isn’t what you would have expected from a recovering bullet wound.

“Good,” she watches with an eagle eye as you correct your breathing, “very good.”

“This is weird. I’m not complaining, but my brain just seems to not want to accept that my leg is better than it thinks it should be.”

She laughs a little as she taps some notes into her tablet. “I suppose it makes sense that there is a bit of dissonance between your brain and body; most patients with this type of injury would still be recovering in the surgical ward. You are very lucky to have received Dr. Cho’s patch. I have seen injuries like yours that have resulted in a lifelong limp, and that was with good care and a qualified physical therapist.”

It hurts your heart to think of the things she’s seen – legs with a permanent limp seem like the least of the potential horrors. You finish your reps, then rise to stand next to her. “Thank you for taking care of me, Galina. I really do appreciate it.”

Her hand reaches to cup your cheek, “Dear one, it is my pleasure. Thank you for allowing me. It cannot be easy given everything you have been through.”

It baffles you how she can be so concerned about you – she’s lost everyone she loved most, and it makes you wonder how she can keep going, how she can even smile. Throwing any sense of formality to the wayside, you pull Galina into an impromptu hug. It’s easy to see she doesn’t mind. You’re far from the only person in this building that is in the process of healing.

When she pulls away, you’d swear there are tears in her eyes but you don’t get the opportunity to ask before she starts speaking. “Would you like to join me for some coffee? Or do you need some rest before you meet with Dr. Lee?”

“I’d actually love some company – and the caffeine is a bonus. Bucky said he’d probably be at least 2 hours with his therapist, and I’m trying not to sleep during the day so I can get back to a normal sleep schedule.”

“Mmm,” Galina nods drily, “Jetlag is a heartless bitch, yes?”

You burst out laughing at her comment. It feels good. “It is. It really is.”

* * *

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous, Buck. It isn’t like I’ve never seen a therapist before.” The two of you are standing outside the room serving as an office for Dr. Lee, and there’s a heavy dread hanging over you at the prospect of walking through that door. “I mean, for fuck’s sake, I want to be one. What is my problem?”

Bucky rubs your back as he holds you close. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

The deep breath you take fills your lungs with his comforting smell, grounding you. “Mmm,” your voice is muffled from having your face smushed into his shirt, “that’s actually really tempting.” The breath is released in a somewhat defeated sigh, “But I need to do this on my own. I, um, I also don’t want you to have to relive my experience.” You can feel that he’s about to protest, so you quickly continue, “I know you’d go – and I thank you for it – but I don’t know that I can be completely open and honest with my therapist if you were there because I’d want to protect you from hearing it.” Shrugging as you take a step back, you meet his troubled eyes, “I know you know what happened. But that doesn’t mean I want you to hear me say it. And yes,” you cut him off before he can interrupt, “we will talk about it. In time. It’s not that I’m trying to keep anything from you because I’m not. I just –“

“It’s different when you’re talking to a therapist.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, relieved that he understands. “It’s different.”

A hug and a kiss and five minutes later find you sitting across from an older gentleman with thick 70s style glasses. His kindly smile flashes beneath a thick, grey mustache as he rolls up the sleeves of his sweater.

You feel like you need to say something to fill the silence. “Um, thank you for meeting with me, Dr. Lee.”

“Oh,” his smile is meant to put you at ease, and it does, somewhat. “No need to be formal. Please, call me Stan.”

Nodding, you swallow hard.

He begins with explaining how this will work – he’s having this meeting with you in order to pair you with a suitable therapist from his team, who then will fly in later today to begin working with you tomorrow. Stan and his partner will remain onsite with you and Bucky as long as you are in New York, and will then do remote sessions for as long as needed. He’s happy to work with you if for whatever reason your therapist doesn’t work out, although he prefers under normal circumstances not to work with both halves of a couple. This doesn’t faze you – it’s pretty standard practice.

Next are the inventories – of course you score astronomically high on the anxiety inventory and moderately high on the PTSD inventory, but surprisingly low on the depression inventory. By the time you’re finished discussing them and your one month, three month, and six month goals, you’re fairly comfortable with Stan. He’s nice and gives off a sort of wise, grandfatherly type vibe. You can see why Bucky thinks so highly of him.

Then it gets ugly, but you knew it would. In broad strokes you begin telling him of your experience. Every now and then he asks for more details or clarification, but for the most part he just listens and makes occasional notes.

Starting at the beginning brings some happy memories, once you get past the whole watching someone die and then having someone shoot at you part. Yeah, saying goodbye to your mom was hard, but you still had hope that you’d see her again someday. Then there was getting to know Bucky and the team. Did you expect to find a best friend and fall in love with him? Did you expect that this group of extraordinary individuals – people that you found intimidating and at first wrongly assumed you’d have absolutely nothing in common with – would become family? God, no. But you did, and they did. There was fear and uncertainty, but there was also joy, acceptance, and love. At the safehouse, in the most unexpected way, you found healing and a deep peace you’d never known before.

But then you recount falling sick from Metzger’s poison and the indescribable pain of leaving your kids…and Bucky. As you describe Anatoliy and Nikolai Krakken – their threats, their causal cruelty, their laughter – you break into a cold sweat. Nausea comes in waves with mentioning Grigory and Alric Metzger, and you’re almost drowning again in helpless desperation when you remember how they read Bucky’s second set of trigger words and the things they made him do. You mostly stay away from the complicated confusion regarding Bucky’s part in your rescue; at this point you know you love him and that you harbor no resentment – you meant it when you said there was nothing to forgive – so the rest of the feelings that you can’t quite figure out can wait.

You tell Stan of being locked in that godawful room for days on end under endless threats of harm, and the waiting. God, the waiting – waiting to see what they would make Bucky do next, waiting to see if he did it, waiting to see when they would finally follow through with their terrible implications. Then of course there were the little ways they would humiliate you, the dehumanizing way they refused to let anyone use your name, the misery of the formal dinners they forced you to attend…and…and the…the uh…

Mikhail.

Stan keeps telling you that you’re okay, that you’re safe. You know this is true on some level, but you sure as hell can’t feel it without –

“Bucky,” you finally gasp, and Stan acquiesces immediately.

Bucky must have been just down the hall, because his arms are around you within a minute of Stan’s call. It’s strange, you think, that the tighter he squeezes the easier it is for you to breathe.

When the room finally feels like it has enough air for the three of you, you continue, “I’m sorry, Stan. I didn’t expect to be quite this fragile.”

Even though you’re looking down into your lap, you can feel two sets of eyes boring into your skull.

Stan clears his throat. “You said you were going to school? You want to be a therapist?”

You nod first, then answer almost absentmindedly, “Uh huh.”

“Mmm. Would you expect one of your clients to apologize for their emotional reaction while describing their trauma?” As pointed as his question is, Stan’s voice is gentle.

He’s not going to let you not reply, so you give him the obvious answer. “No. Of course not.”

“So do you think it’s reasonable for you to expect yourself to not be, as you put it, fragile?”

“Um…” You can practically feel Bucky daring you to deflect. “No.”

When you finally look up, Stan is nodding. “Right. Cut yourself some slack. Don’t hold yourself to expectations that you wouldn’t expect others to meet.”

He’s right. You know he’s right. “Easier said than done.”

“But not impossible,” he winks. “You and Bucky are remarkably similar in this aspect. With you, you’ve got extremely high expectations for yourself. With him, it’s –“ Stan looks to Bucky, “May I discuss your progress a bit?”

“I already said you could,” Bucky smiles, then takes out his phone when it buzzes. His features twist into something unfamiliar, but only for a second. Turning to you, he apologetically shows you the screen. “Nat’s here.” His voice is tight; he tries to hide it but you know him too well. “She got impatient and wants to take you shopping this afternoon. What would you like me to tell her?”

“If I may,” Stan looks to you both, “I would recommend that you go shopping. Today.” His face is stern as he looks to Bucky. “With Nat. And only Nat.”

Bucky manages to look both nauseous and sheepish as you glance between the two.

His phone buzzes again as you bite your lip. “Um, I’ll go.” You can’t say that you feel great about it; in fact, the idea of being separated from Bucky is mildly terrifying, but that’s kind of Stan’s point.

“Good. Bucky, go ahead and meet Nat while I finish up here. Have lunch together, and when they go shopping, you come here for your next session.”

Bucky nods but looks to you before moving.

“I’ll be okay, Buck.” Surprisingly, this feels like the truth. “Go ahead, I’ll join you when I’m done.”

“Alright.” Bucky hesitantly gets up, but stoops to press a kiss against your forehead. “I’ll see you soon.” He clearly doesn’t want to go, but his respect for you eventually wins.

It’s quiet while he exits, but then Stan allows himself an almost satisfied smile. “You know, Bucky doesn’t give himself enough credit. I’m not sure if it’s the serum – if it also helps strengthen the mind as well as the body – but when he allows himself to be, he’s one of the most mentally and emotionally healthy people I’ve ever met, and I don’t just mean in spite of his trauma. He knows what to do, he knows how to communicate, which is especially important. The problem is, he sometimes gets in his own way. Kind of like you and your unrealistically high expectations for yourself. I think for a long time it was a way to punish himself, almost a self-sabotage. He’d learned to deal with the trauma but not so much the guilt. He felt guilty not only about what he’d done while under HYDRA control, but also for falling victim to the torture in the first place – something he recognized no one else could have survived much less ignored, but he still wouldn’t even consider forgiveness for himself. He felt guilty because he thought he should have been strong enough to withstand it. Normally the guilt and trauma would go hand in hand, and dealing with one would deal with the other, but not in Bucky’s case. He’d managed to separate them and not allowing himself to deal with the guilt was holding him back.” Stan picks up a pen and starts tapping it against his chin, “He always wanted to get better, to be better. He just couldn’t always convince himself that he deserved it. You, though, you were – and are – his motivation to stop punishing himself and let go of the guilt. Seeing and working with him today,” Stan shakes his head, “in spite of his new trauma, the improvement I see in him is incredible. He wants to get better, but more importantly, he’s allowing himself to get better. He’s stepping out of his way.” Stan narrows his eyes at you, “Just like you need to do. And that’s only going to happen if you cut yourself some slack. Perfection is an illusion and it has no place in healing.”

“I know,” you exhale heavily.

“Do you?”

“Yeah,” you admit, “I do.” Your being hard on yourself isn’t exactly a secret, even to you.

“So what would you tell me if our positions were switched?”

You sort of hate the way he’s going about this, but at the same time you have to admit it’s effective. “I’d tell you that all of your reactions are perfectly normal and that your emotions are valid. I’d tell you to remember that progress isn’t linear, and that having a bad day, week, or even month doesn’t mean progress isn’t being made. I’d let you know that being with a therapist is a very specific type of vulnerability, and that it’s okay to feel and express those emotions.”

“And?”

“It’s okay to need help. And other people.”

Stan leans back in his chair, seemingly satisfied. Smug bastard. “Good. Well, I think I’ve got a good grasp on your particular needs, so I’ll have one of my colleagues, Dr. Patrice Cortez, fly in tonight. I think she’ll be a great match for you – we graduated in the same class and have been working together ever since, but she specializes in women’s trauma. I will still be available to you, of course, but as long as you are comfortable with her when you meet her tomorrow, she’ll be your primary therapist.”

“Okay.” Genuinely grateful, you smile. “Thank you very much.” Suddenly exhausted, it takes a monumental effort to begin to rise.

“One more thing.” He waits until you sit back into the couch. “And this is something I’ve addressed with Bucky, but since you’re here I’d like to mention it to you, too.”

“Okay.”

Stan looks up at the ceiling like he’s physically searching for the right words, “Your relationship is nothing short of extraordinary.”

Oh boy, here it comes. You know it’s coming from your mom, but you didn’t quite expect it here. Well, maybe you did. A little. “Are you going to tell me that it’s superficial and based on stressful circumstances, and that it won’t last in the real world?” You’d bristle if you had the energy, but as it is it just comes out flat.

“What? No, God no,” he speaks quickly, “Although that does happen. And I’d say that a majority of bonds that are formed under such stress don’t survive because they’re based on necessity, and once the necessity is gone, so is the bond. I don’t think that’s the case with you and Bucky, though. It’s fairly obvious that you were friends first, and that your relationship is built on that. Unusual circumstances threw you together, but the friendship grew organically, if quickly.”

You relax, just a bit. It’s been on your mind; not that you doubt your feelings – or Bucky’s – but you do know how it looks. And just like the first night the team found out, your relationship with Bucky is something you’re prepared to defend.

“The thing I wanted to mention is the danger of co-dependency.”

Ah. That makes sense.

“You two have been through a lot. A lot. And it’s good and important that you can lean on one another, inspire and encourage each other, and grow together. But it’s also important that you grow on your own. You are two individuals sharing a life. If you can’t thrive separately, then in trying to thrive together you will choke each other out.”

You nod – he’s not wrong.

“Did Bucky mention that he is having a difficult time with the idea of you going shopping with Nat?”

You think for a moment. “No, but I guess I assumed it wouldn’t even happen until tomorrow, so we really haven’t talked about it at all.”

“He is. He’s struggling with the idea of you being without his protection, even though you are certainly more than safe with Nat. Bucky is almost paralyzed with fear that he will lose you. And I can see that the idea bothers you as well.”

“Yeah,” you admit. “Even though everyone seems to agree that the threat is over, it’s still scary.”

“It is. It absolutely is. But is it healthy for either of you to live in that fear?”

Exhaling deeply, you answer honestly. “No. It isn’t.”

“Right. Although it is certainly understandable, it isn’t healthy. Now, I’m not suggesting that you two separate. Quite the contrary, actually. It’s just something to be cognizant of, something to keep in mind as you start the healing process. Push your boundaries early and often, and I think you’ll surprise yourself. You are both incredibly resilient people.”

“I, um, I do worry that I’ll get too needy, if I’m not already. And then sometimes I worry that I’ll push him away.”

“And he worries that he’ll suffocate you with his desire to see you safe. It’s why he asked me today to make sure I have a session planned with him when you go out, although I think he also expected it would be tomorrow.”

Another deep exhale.

“The therapy program we’re putting together for you two is pretty intense. But for what it’s worth, I think you’re both on the right track. Just make sure you allow yourself to feel what you’re feeling – but be careful of focusing too much on the bad because your anxiety can and will manipulate your perceptions. Remember that it’s okay to feel contradicting emotions, and trust yourself. Rest in each other and support each other, but don’t depend on each other for healing. That’s something you need to do on your own. Perhaps together in parallel fashion, but still individually.”

“Hearing this is oddly comforting,” you admit.

“Based on what I’ve seen, I think it’s because it’s stuff you already know. I also suspect that it was perhaps how you two operated before you were taken, but after what you went through you just need to feel like you have permission to put it back into practice.”

Why does everything make so much sense when Stan says it? “You know, I think you’re right. I – I don’t think I’ve ever worked with a therapist like you, either through school or personally. You’re very effective.”

He smiles broadly, “Well, being on the team serving the Avengers is fairly unconventional, and sometimes we have to modify programs in unusual ways to fit our clients’ unique needs. Which is what any good practitioner should do, really.” He shrugs, “But rest assured that our methods are grounded in evidence-based practice, and that my entire team is held to the strictest standards regarding ethics and client outcomes.” Stan leans forward, eyes sparkling, “And we have very good outcomes. It’s going to take some work, but you, my dear, are going to be just fine. And so is Bucky.”

You find yourself nodding. You believe him.

@hellomissmabel @howdoesoneadult @nykitass @danimuhle @iwillbeinmynest @shifutheshihtzu @passiononfire @learisa @widowvinter @kaaatniss @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @denialanderror @k-nighttt @givemethatgold @manders2487 @afangirlrambles @polkadottedpillowcase @bluebrrn @saysay125 @aikibriarrose @saharzek @mmauricee @imhereforbvcky @whenallsaidanddone @supernatural508 @scarlettsoldier @natalie-nightcourt @im-beautifully-sewn @lovemarvelousfics @feistytravel @tbetz0341 @nearly-whitches @jamie-leah @shliic @dessinemoiunehistoire @lucywinchester2000 @solarbarnes @a-proper-chicken @movingonto-betterthings @seekingkairos @part-time-patronus @natashasnight @fairislesheets @beccaanne814 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @scottish-pepper

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #my work #when everything's made to be broken (i just want you to know who i am)#part 54 #wemtbb

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princepestilence · 4 years ago

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2020′s “worth it” things.

I think it’s pretty safe to say that 2020 was a uniquely bad year for everyone. There’s a lot of things that made this year even harder, though, not least of all the fact it was coming off the back of 2019, which was a deeply difficult year for me in many ways. I went into 2020 with high hopes for getting back on track with my life after being sick for so long, and things... did not go as anticipated.

All this said, as I started compiling this list, I realised that despite everything else this year had going on, an incredible amount of really good, life-changing things happened for me too, and I want to celebrate that, so here it is: 2020 was Surprisingly Good, and Here’s Why.

In no particular order:

health! I had surgery earlier this year and it fixed basically everything: the pain and nausea I was living with every day is gone now, and I feel so, so much better. I’ve been able to start getting back into a more normal kind of life throughout this year and hopefully, this won’t ever be a problem again. I’ll be able to live pretty normally going forward (apart from check-up tests now and then). I can’t ever take up kickboxing again, which is kind of disappointing, but in the scheme of things, that’s okay. This is a load-bearing change and because of it, so much else has been/will be possible for me, and I am so glad.

holiday in Melbourne! Clair and I went on our first proper holiday together, before the plague. It was so much fun and it’s hard to believe that happened this year: the past is really feeling like a different country right now. But hopefully we’ll be able to do something like this again before too long, because I absolutely loved it. We saw a gallery, the aquarium, went to the theatre and night markets, swam in a pool by ourselves some fourteen stories above the city with a thunderstorm swirling outside the glass walls, and I’d love to do it all again.

editing work. The project I’ve been working on has been finished and sent off for publishing, and I’ve been given a new contract and a new project, which is very nice. It feels great to be building up my resume--and it’s a huge compliment to be rehired so many times over. I’ve also been doing some editing work on the side, for various ttrpgs, etc. and I’m keen to do more of that too.

summer session teaching. I taught a summer session at the beginning of this year (back when the fires were happening), and now I’m teaching a different summer session again now. I really didn’t think I would ever teach again, after the collapse of academia this year, so it’s been delightful to have this chance. I’m hoping next year I’ll be able to do more, somehow.

written over 70k+ words. I didn’t expect to be able to write nearly as much as I have this year, but I’m thrilled. It’s so nice to do and I’m looking forward to doing more of the same next year as well.

got an apartment!! Finally! It only took about two deeply exhausting, stressful months where neither of us could support hobbies or mental health or general well-being because we were too busy trying to keep afloat while trying to find somewhere to live. But the important thing is that it’s done now. We get the keys in four days. I can’t wait.

reconnected with a great friend. Last year I really struggled to maintain a lot of friendships. Being sick took most of my energy and attention, and sapped a lot of the cheerfulness and enthusiasm I wanted to have in relationships. This year, I’ve done a lot better, and I’ve been able to reconnect with a friend I’ve missed in a really positive, excellent way that brings me joy daily.

joined a writing group! Connected to above, I’m now part of a regular weekly writing group of cool, talented people, and I’m hyped. It’s so fun and it feels so healthy to have this regular contact and conversation. It’s very much what I was missing and looking for, and I hope post-plague I’ll be able to find something similar in person too, so that I can have a local and international writing circle to bounce ideas and workshop with.

ran a Dread game! It went so well and I had a ton of fun. I overprepared by a lot, but it was a terrific learning experience, and I’m itching to do it again soon. I’ve also got my hands on Monster of the Week (and am apparently getting Blades in the Dark as a late Christmas present from my little brother), and I’m very keen to get more into GMing, because I think this is where my passion lies.

played D&D! And I’m loving it. I got hugely pulled into Dimension 20 this year and also finally played at the table properly for a campaign. I’m still very baby but it’s something I can definitely see myself getting into, and I hope we’re able to resume weekly games in the new year. I was very nervous before starting, but I’m getting my confidence more and more as we play.

didn’t reconnect with some people from the past. At the beginning of 2019, I ended things with some friends I used to have, and it was hard to get to that year anniversary. Throughout the year there were some major temptations to reach out again, but I didn’t and I’m proud of that. They weren’t good relationships to be in, and I’m in a healthier, happier place without them.

saw Six the Musical! And it was so great. I really wish I could have seen it again before the plague struck. I’m hoping it’ll come around again in the next few years, because once really wasn’t enough.

I got a triple helix piercing! I’ve wanted this for years but this year I actually went and got it. I really love it. I’ve still got the plain titanium posts in while it heals 100% but I’m going to get hoops and fun ones soon and start switching them in and out for the thrill of it.

backed some super exciting stuff on kickstarter! Kind of a weird entry but I’m so excited for it. There’s a gorgeous tarot deck coming from an artist whose work I’ve been following since I started on tumblr, and then Wanderhome is coming out about midway next year and I am very hyped to try it. We’re going to live that Beatrix Potter fantasy.

saw my family. Earlier in the year I caught up with some cousins I haven’t seen since we were like twelve, and then for Christmas I saw the other side of my family, who I haven’t seen since Christmas 2018. It was really nice and I’m hoping we can keep in contact more, especially because my nieces and nephews are growing up so fast now.

great year for games. Not really anything to do with me, but something I’m very grateful for. I’ve had such a good time with the titles that have come out this year: Hades, Monster Camp, Spiritfarer, Animal Crossing, Pokemon Sword, Megaquarium DLC, etc. Truly kept me sane (enough) at certain points. My switch also got fixed and returned to me recently, which is also very cool and good.

started the program. Probably the single biggest, most impactful change this year, apart from surgery. It takes up a lot of my time and brainspace and energy, but it’s a lot better than the alternative, which did the same but in an evil way. I’ll be returning to it officially in exactly two weeks, and mostly how I feel about that is optimistic and happy. I’m excited to be well, which is an interesting feeling and mindset. I want to be doing better and I’m proud of myself for everything I’ve done this year to work towards that, because at no point so far has any of it been easy or fun.

roller skating! I went roller skating (with Clair) for the first time in about ten years, and I didn’t stack it even once. There were a few close calls but it was a great time and I’m keen to go back and get good at it again. I’ve missed it all these years, and I think it’s going to be a super fun date night going forward.

#2020 resolutions

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sirfrogsworth · 5 years ago

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The Great Depression Purge of 2020

I’ve really been struggling with my health for the past month. The comfortable balance that I had achieved stopped being so comfortable. I basically slept for the last 2 weeks straight. Now I’m awake a tad more, but I can barely move. My muscles are much weaker than normal. I often can’t concentrate. I just feel physically miserable way more than usual. And it’s been happening long enough for me to think it is more than a slump or a wave or something that will just pass with enough time.

I kept looking for a physical cause for my physical symptoms but now I’m starting to think it’s mental--as depression and anxiety can manifest in very physical ways.

I think I’m depressed and anxious in part because the world has become a verse of We Didn’t Start the Fire. (Though perhaps it should be called We Didn’t Start the Fire But Our Inaction Made Sure It Sucked As Much As Possible).

Australia caught on fire and all the animals died and people were still like, “I don’t know about this Climate Change business.” And President Crimes won't stop criming. And he may have killed a guy to distract from his criming. Which almost started a war. It still might. There is an impeachment trial that Republicans don’t seem to care about. Turkey wants to have girls under 18 marry their rapists. There is too much infighting on the left when we need to be on the same page. I’m worried if Trump gets elected again my benefits will go away and I’ll just... die, I guess. His administration is talking about "tightening eligibility" for disability. I literally need that to live and stuff and I don’t know what “tightening” means. Apparently they are also checking disabled folks’ social media to try and catch them faking. So I worry maybe I should post a picture every week from bed and be like, “Boy, I sure feel super disabled still.”

But my personal world feels like it is on fire sometimes too. My parents are struggling with their health. My mom is in constant pain. My dad is always one bad test result away from being in the hospital. And poor Nibbles. I can’t imagine how Chris is feeling right now. My brother still won’t speak to us or let us be a part of his life. And if you knew the reason you’d probably be like, “That makes NO sense. That’s some straight up bullshit.” I still haven’t met my niece. I saw a picture on a phone for 3 seconds. I wouldn’t recognize her unless someone said, “Hey, this is your niece.” Otis got excited about something and wasn’t paying attention and accidentally fell down the last few steps, and while he is fine now, he’s afraid to go down them again. And since I don’t feel good, I have a hard time going up to see him. I miss him. My two bestest friends are struggling and they are just so far away. I’m really worried about them and I miss them and it has been way too long since I got to hug either of them. I’m just so lonely all the time. The loneliness is like this mental stomach ache that never goes away. And most of the time I can focus on my writing or watch movies to distract myself, but when I get super tired it is much harder to keep it from leaking in. It’s not like I don’t want to think about it. It’s important to acknowledge that stuff and process it. But it’s also not healthy when I can’t control how much I think about it and when I think about.

I have just been feeling so helpless.

I can’t help my parents. I can’t help my friends. I can’t help my dog.

I can’t help myself.

Last night I broke into tears in front of my mom and kept repeating “I can’t help anyone. I can’t help anyone. I just want to help.”

I felt this profound desperation wash over me. It’s like I can feel the entire world is in pain and it is weighing down my heart so much that I cannot physically stand anymore.

I’ve always felt compelled to try and make things better. To try and make people a bit happier. Try to inspire. Try to motivate. Try to teach. Try to fascinate. Try to give a glimmer of hope. Try to leave this world better than how I found it. It is this purpose that flows through me and is as inherent as the blood in my veins. It is me. But my health has always been an obstacle. One that I have often found creative ways to navigate around. But when I feel like this. When I physically have no energy and can’t seem to even make a dent... I just feel wrong. At this point, I’d settle for the tiniest of dents right now. A microscopic dent. A nano dent.

Beyond that, I am unable to feel productive which has always been a huge trigger. I can’t finish writing. I can’t finish cleaning. I can’t finish all of the projects I started.

I started reorganizing my basement and upgrading/enhancing my bedroom. It is my command center. It is the hub through which I connect with everyone and everything. And since I can’t leave this space I thought I’d try to make it as nice as possible. But I lost energy halfway through and it looks like a disaster zone. Now boxes of stuff create an obstacle course everywhere I walk. My room has wires going everywhere because I couldn’t finish cable management. My computer has its guts exposed because I can’t find the energy to put it in the new case I got.

And then there is my home theater system.

I budgeted, saved, and even sold hard-to-let-go-of photography gear. I avoided eating out and bought more bulk frozen food. We got rid of our cable television package. I was very determined and after a year of eating mostly chicken nuggets... I was just barely able to get a (kinda) fancy new TV for Christmas. And it’s fantastic and I love it. But all of my other stuff that connects to the TV is old and it there have been... issues.

(Warning: Technical rant starts here.)

My video card has HDMI 1.4 and doesn’t like 4K60. Which is frustrating, but I can just use Plex and stream to the TV. Acceptable workaround. It’s fine. But then my sound system won’t work right because my audio receiver is 11 years old. It missed having HDMI ARC by one year. And for some reason, my streaming apps don’t like optical cables and Disney and Hulu can’t figure out why. So everything is in stereo. And I did not spend a decade slowly building up a surround sound system to listen to the Avengers in frickin’ stereo. So now I have to save up all over again for a new receiver. But do I get a cheap one for right now? Or do I listen to things in stereo for a year and save up for a nicer one that has all the features I want and could last me another 11 (or more) years? Because sometimes when you are poor, saving up for the longer lasting, nicer thing is actually a better financial choice because you don’t have to buy two things. But I guess I don’t have to figure that out right away because I can’t afford either until I eat a bunch more nuggets.

And then my fancy photography monitor from 2012 started having... issues. It has always had amazing, accurate colors and allowed me to edit pretty much every cool photo I’ve ever taken. I love this thing. One of the best purchases I ever put myself in debt over. It is where I talk to my friends, where I write, where I create funny photoshops. It was way ahead of its time and still has similar specs to a lot of the newer models you could buy today. But in the last few months I’ve noticed the top is now darker than the bottom. Not only that, but there is a yellow color cast developing. If it was uniform, I might be able to compensate with calibration. But it follows the same gradient as the dark top and light bottom. So the yellow is more intense at the top and faint at the bottom. When I want to do color accurate work, I now have to move the top of my images to the bottom of the screen. Which works, but is annoying as heck.

Part of me wonders if this had happened before I got the new TV, maybe I would have gotten a new monitor first and then saved up a little longer. But I guess that is pointless to fret about (even though I still will) because I don’t have a time machine.

(end of techno rant)

I just wanted to create a little movie theater in my room because I missed going to a proper cinema. I just wanted a cool command center that would help me do my work and keep in touch with my friends and the world. I just wanted a comfortable, clean, organized, uncluttered space that I wouldn’t mind never being able to leave. And instead of achieving that goal I feel like I am surrounded by chaos and I don’t have the energy or money to fix it at the moment. And since I have been working on this Froggie HQ Update project for like 6 months, the stress of non-completion has been snowballing.

But then I feel guilty because so many people don’t have what I have. Because I don’t have a car or phone and live with my parents, I was able to save up for a new TV. Other disabled folks are lucky to save up for rent or food. And so there is this voice in my brain like, “Boohoo, I don’t have surround sound and my screen is a bit yellow. Here is a tiny violin” My grandma would problematically remind me there are starving kids in Africa. And I’ll say “Just say ‘starving kids’ Grandma.” And she’ll give me a confused look. Look, she’s 91 and I convinced her Obama isn’t a Kenyan--there’s only so much I can do.

These are such minor problems in the grand scheme. And the fact that they stress me out so much seems ridiculous. And my logical brain tries to tell my anxiety brain that when I am all alone and cannot leave this room, having a comfortable and functional space full of distraction is vital to not going mad. So maybe it isn’t ridiculous to be stressed out so much about outdated HDMI standards. I honestly don’t know which brain is right. Meanwhile the rest of my brain is just sad and anxious and guilty and confused.

Maybe I should just blame Disney. They’re somewhat villainous at times and it seems to help other people.

Project Failure #2... I’ve given up on my Patreon reboot for now. After my dad got sick I hit the pause button and now I can’t seem to get the energy back to resume that project. I was sooo close too. I put so much work into that. But sometimes momentum is vital to completing a goal and when you lose it, getting it back can be a Sisyphean task. I really hope I can get my health back to where it was and finish that.

For now I will just be doing the one comic per month as usual. It’s just... I was so creatively excited for everything I had planned. I was hoping it would fill the hole left by having to give up photography. I don’t know if there is such a thing as creative trauma, but not being able to take photos anymore sure feels... significant. Like a part of me is missing. I really wanted these new comics I had planned to be special. And now it feels like yet another thing my illness has taken from me.

And then there is this.

This number keeps growing. I have so many things that are 70-95% done in there. Things I put a lot of effort into. Things I am proud of. Things I really want people to read. But I want them to be finished. I want them to match what I have in my head. I want them to not have silly grammar misteaks.

Like, there is a rebuttal post about nuclear energy where people said I didn’t research enough and were “disappointed in me” but I don’t think they understood I was talking about the United States only and within the timeframe of 12 years to cut our emissions. I would love to start building some of them salty Thorium reactors but they haven’t even been prototyped in the States. Which is a significant part of the approval process that could take 12 years on its own. And unless Congress changes the regulations and people stop being scared of having a reactor in their neighborhood, we are stuck with the ancient reactors we have. There just isn’t a realistic 12 year nuclear solution for the US.

Okay?

Is that researched enough?

474 drafts!

What was I saying?

Oh, right. I can’t seem to finish all of these essays and it just adds to the “Things That Make Me Sad” list.

And as that number keeps growing all of the writing seems to congeal into this singular giant monolithic pile. A fatberg of essays. And it’s so big that my brain doesn’t know where to even begin. So I kinda just shove it all into a mental closet and work on newer shinier ideas instead. But then I don’t finish those new ones. And they get shoved into the closet as well.

My life is full of feedback loops. Problems that keep feeding themselves. And I’m not really sure how to break the loops.

The only thing I can think of is to unplug.

Not completely, because that never works. But I think I am going to avoid the news. Actually... avoid “staying informed” might be a better description. Which is awful considering what is happening right now. But I don’t think I have a choice. I need a break from something and that is the easiest thing to try avoiding.

I am always reading and researching and collecting ideas for things to write about. I’ve been arguing in comment sections and on Twitter. I’ve been going to right wing sites, climate denier sites, anti-SJW sites... all to find ways to dismantle their arguments. (Which is why I laugh when people accuse me of being in an “echo chamber.”) But I’ve been spending too much time in these toxic spaces with toxic people. And while I strongly believe in the work and activism I’m doing, it’s starting to take a toll and I probably need to step away for a bit.

So I’m not going to pressure myself to write for a while. Low pressure musings only. I’ve already got this month’s comic worked out. I’m just going to do social internetting (a.k.a. talking to my friends and looking at corgis) and watching brainless stuff. I’ve got a bunch of TV shows and movies that have been piling up. I haven’t been watching them because I’ve been trying to put the flames out on the world. I probably set my goals a bit too grand there.

I’ll still be around. I’m not going anywhere. I’m just not going to know what the hell is happening. Katrina can tell me anything super important that I need to know. And I can always watch the impeachment streams after my head is in a better place.

OH... there is one post about Trump’s lawyer that is like 99% done. If I find a smidge of energy to finish, I might post that. Actually, there might be another essay that is 100% done and I forgot about. I’ll look that over and see if I can post that too.

But beyond those two things, I’ll probably just talk about whatever I’m watching or whatever weirdness occurs in my brain naturally.

Hopefully all of that made sense. Sorry if that was long and meandering. I needed to get that out of my brain.

I’m gonna go be a vegetable and watch all the Terminator movies in wonderful, acceptable, totally fine... stereo sound. I’ll just pretend all those other speakers I spent years saving up for are decorations.

I don’t know how to end this.

Ummmmmmmm...

How about a random image from my “maybe I can do something with this” folder?

delicious-chocolatey-chair-I-would-probably-try-to-eat.jpg

#trigger warning #depression #rape mention #long post

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some-jw-things · 4 years ago

Note

I’ve been away from the meetings for almost a year now, I went to visit my mother earlier this week (she doesn’t know I’m yet) and since it was a long trip I stayed the night.Unfortunately for me that night was her meeting night,I was forced to connect as well and she kept checking I was paying attention like she used to to when I was a child (I’m30 now)I never realized how much better I had been doing till then meeting triggered a panic attack,I have been having them everyday How should I deal?

You need professional mental help for panic attacks. I’m not qualified to give advice like that, but you can probably find info pages on dealing with panic attacks online (just make sure the source is legitimate), and there also a lot of pages floating around that are meant to help you access free therapy by region/state but I don’t know if those actually work

If you’ve been having panic attacks every day, you might need meds, and that’s something you’d talk about with a doctor. There’s also a bunch of calming/coping techniques people are supposed to use before it gets to that point— my last therapist taught me a deep breathing technique to prevent panic attacks and there’s probably a bunch of similar things you could do to calm yourself down

I’d also make sure you avoided the trigger as much as possible. Remember it’s okay to be rude and put yourself first when it comes to your wellbeing. If you’ve been functionally out for over a year, then depending on how stable your situation is, you might consider making a formal break from the Org. If you don’t think that’s a good idea, then I’d just lay low and pretend to be super busy if any Witness asks. You can dodge any contact/preaching until it dies down, and you aren’t under any obligation to interact with people who are only trying to guilt trip you back in. It is okay to be firm about your boundaries. You don’t have to listen to preaching or Witness talk at the cost of your mental health, especially when you’re already out. Anyone who won’t respect that doesn’t have your best interests at heart, and it’s okay if you cut contact with them

#ask #ex jw #ex cult #apostate #ex jehovah’s witness #exjw #christianity #religion

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anotherkpopvictim · 5 years ago

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What A Relief - An OT7 Littlespace Drabble

(gif source - tearuntold)

A/N: So...long time no see.

My mental health usually goes out the window around this time of year, when fall turns to winter, so I apologize for not posting anything, but I haven’t been inspired. I’ve worked on a few things and felt like they were forced. I’ll probably go back and rewrite them in the future because they were good ideas.

I also got a couple requests in the last week and I plan to write and post those as soon as I can, so please bear with me.

Anyways, BTS’ performance at the MMAs was one of the most epic things I have ever witnessed. (Edit: I just watched the MAMAs and our boys won all the prizes) I am so proud of them and seeing them live again kind of gave me the inspiration to write this <3 And over the last few weeks, my love for Jin has grown even more (if that’s possible, because I already love him a lot) so this was perfect to post for his birthday.

So, happy birthday Mr. Worldwide Handsome, and thank you for being you <3

Relationship: Little!Seokjin X BTS

Rating: G

Words: 2816

Fluff, hurt/comfort (just a tiny bit)

NOTE: Seokjin will refer to everyone as “hyung” while he is in littlespace, except Namjoon and Yoongi, who he will call “daddy” and “appa”.

Also, in this fic OT7 is an established romantic relationship though it’s not really specified in the writing.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Almost as soon as the door to the dressing room closed behind Jin - signaling that they were all finally finished being “BTS” for the night - the oldest member felt the last of the hype and energy of the award show leave him.

It was something they all had to deal with - the post-concert (or in this case, award show) drop. It was inevitable, going from tens of thousands of people with all of their attention on you to the quiet of their dressing room. They all experienced their drops differently, but they’d been around each other for so long that it wasn’t a surprise to any of them when the oldest suddenly looked weak in the knees.

Namjoon was at Seokjin’s side in a moment, his long arms wrapping around his waist and helping him hold up his weight. The leader maneuvered his hyung until he was held against his chest closely, Jin’s arms instinctively twisting around Namjoon’s neck.

“I’ve got you, love,” the blond-haired leader whispered, “How are you feeling?”

Jin knew what the younger was asking him and replied, “L-Little.”

Namjoon hummed knowingly, “Slip, hyung. I’m right here. So is everyone else.”

And really, that was all it took for Seokjin to let himself go. It had been months since he’d last been able to relax in his headspace, and they’d all agreed earlier in the day that it was about time he did once more.

Before he really knew it, Jin’s eyes were a little wider, a little brighter, and his shoulders slumped completely.

Perhaps it was slightly easier to slip with Namjoon than the others as the leader had been the first person Jin had ever told about his liking for littlespace. Namjoon had been surprised at the admission, but not at all disgusted as the little had feared. Namjoon spent that entire night scouring the internet and learning as much as he could on the subject.

So, yeah, maybe it was the fact that Jin was with his first boyfriend that made it easy to slip.

Hoseok, who had finished changing into his comfortable clothes (track pants and a blue long-sleeved shirt) and removing his makeup, approached the two still standing at the door with his heart-shaped smile. “Let me take him,” he said to Namjoon, who carefully transferred the little into his fellow ninety-four liner’s arms.

The leader left to go change himself with a quick kiss to Jin’s forehead.

Hoseok nuzzled the little’s cheek, earning himself a quiet but happy giggle from him. He helped Jin over to the grey couch and laid him down just as Taehyung and Jimin appeared behind him, clutching Jin’s spare little supplies in their hands. The two ninety-fivers were dressed similarly in grey sweatpants and a t-shirt, except Taehyung’s shirt was black while Jimin’s was white, and Taehyung’s dark locks were covered by a black beanie.

“Should we get you changed, baby?” Hoseok asked Jin, pinching fondly at the little’s cheek.

Jin nodded, his lips pursing out in a cute pout that had smiles on all three of the others’ faces.

As Hoseok and Jimin began unbuttoning Jin’s shirt and pants and slipping them off of the little, Taehyung appeared in his vision upside down, making silly faces that Jin couldn’t help but laugh at, poking at his boyfriend’s puffed-out cheek.

With Taehyung’s distraction, the two dancers didn’t have any problem at all fastening a diaper around Jin’s hips and then slipping him into his favorite RJ pajamas.

“Oh, Jinnie!” Jungkook sang, popping out from behind the couch with a familiar purple object in his hands. The maknae grinned his bunny smile, “Want your paci, baby?”

The little’s eyes widened significantly and he nodded, reached out for it with impatient hands.

“No, Jinnie,” Jimin scolded Jin softly, “That’s not how we ask for things, is it?”

Seokjin had always been the kind of little that was super quiet, especially when he slipped into a littler headspace than usual. None of them could tell yet how far he’d slipped, but checking his understanding and if he was willing to talk typically gave them a good idea.

The little looked up with apologetic eyes, “S-Sorry. C-Can Jinnie please have paci, Kookie-hyungie?”

The four members surrounding him burst into fond smiles.

Jungkook cooed and lifted the pacifier to Jin’s lips, who eagerly took the object into his mouth and began suckling on it. “Good boy,” he praised.

The little’s cheeks turned an adorable pink and their hearts were so full of love it was a bit ridiculous.

“God, he’s so cute, it’s unfair,” Jimin pouted from his spot on the floor, leaning his elbow against the coffee table and his head in his hand.

Hoseok ruffled his hair and replied, “You’re cute too, Minnie, don’t you worry.”

Jimin’s smile turned smug.

Jungkook and Taehyung were busy playing peek-a-boo with Jin when Namjoon returned, this time with Yoongi by his side. Namjoon was dressed comfortably in some dark blue track pants and a sweater, while Yoongi was wearing all black - from his sweater to his sweatpants.

The eldest rapper immediately hip-checked Taehyung out of the way and took over his spot. “Hey!” the second youngest whined before moving to stand next to the maknae behind the couch.

Yoongi ignored him and grinned down at Jin, his long fingers slipping into the little’s soft, brunet hair. “Hi, little one, I’ve missed you,” he all but cooed, his deep voice sending a shiver down the little’s spine.

After Namjoon, Yoongi was the second person Jin had told about being a little. The eldest rapper had taken to caregiving like a fish to water as he was naturally very protective and - though he may not admit it outright - he loved to cuddle.

“Appa!” Jin exclaimed, relaxing into the rapper’s hands.

Namjoon’s phone beeped in his pocket at that moment and he quickly fished it out. “Sejin-hyung says that the car is here for us. It’s ready just outside the back door and no fans are around so it’s safe to bring Jin.”

BTS’ manager, Sejin, had found out that some of the members were littles by accident a few years earlier, and thankfully he had taken it pretty well. The man had been their manager since the beginning, and he was somewhat of a second father figure in all of their lives. Sejin agreed to help them hide the fact that most of the members were littles and made accommodations whenever he could when it came to events and schedules.

Jungkook moved in front of the couch and tapped Jin’s arm softly. “You want a piggyback ride, baby?” he asked.

The little nodded furiously and moved to cling to the maknae’s back, his arms curling around Jungkook’s shoulders and holding on tightly.

As Namjoon and Hoseok led the seven of them out of the dressing room, Jungkook bounced the little up and down just to hear the cute little squeals he let out. Jimin, Taehyung, and Yoongi all held extra sweaters and blankets in their hands, just in case they were seen by anyone and needed to quickly cover their oldest hyung up.

While they all hated the fact that they needed to hide the littles, they understood too. If something like that were ever to get out to the public, they would lose a lot of supporters and garner a lot of horrible comments. It was unanimously decided between the seven of them that though it killed them to hide it, it was in their best interest to.

It was an easy walk to the back door and out into the garage area where their car was waiting for them, thankfully. Sejin was in the driver’s seat and Jimin immediately claimed shotgun. Jungkook and Yoongi settled in the very back with Jin in between them while the other three were in the middle seats.

Their manager eyed the oldest member through the rearview mirror with a smile. “How is he?” he asked.

Most of the time, Sejin was kept on a need-to-know basis regarding their littles, but he checked in from time to time to make sure everything was going alright.

“He’s good,” Jimin replied, “It’s been a while so we thought he needed to have a relaxing day.”

Sejin nodded and left it at that, instead diverting his attention to driving them through the city back to their shared apartment.

The ride back was fairly quiet, as little Jinnie was nodding off against Yoongi’s shoulder in the back and cuddling with the sweater Taehyung had been holding. The pacifier was still in his mouth and he let out a sigh of content at the comfort surrounding him from all sides.

Yoongi allowed the little to snuggle into his side and ran his hand up and down his opposite arm soothingly.

Jungkook - on his other side - helped to keep him sitting in a safe position.

When they arrived back at the dorms, it was Namjoon who picked up the sleepy little and hefted him into his arms. Jin wrapped his arms and legs around the leader’s front and allowed him to carry him up to their apartment.

Jin napped for probably an hour, and when his eyes fluttered open again, he found himself in Taehyung’s room, with both the second youngest and Namjoon curled around him on each side.

The little couldn’t help but giggle when Namjoon let out a loud snore, which caused Taehyung to wake up with a quiet groan. “Baby?” he said, his voice low and raspy with sleep.

Jin squirmed around in the arms surrounding him until he was facing Taehyung properly. “TaeTae-hyungie!” he exclaimed.

Taehyung grinned his boxy smile and shushed the little with a finger to his lips. “We have to be quiet,” he explained in a whisper, “We don’t want to wake your daddy, now do we? I think he deserves a bit more sleep after tonight.”

Though Jin was in littlespace, he still understood the implications of the statement. Namjoon worked harder than any of them, especially when it came to public appearances. As their leader, he kept them in line and tended to do most of the talking.

It was because of Taehyung’s comment that Jin got thinking. He thought about every member and how they each played an important role.

Well, every member except him.

It was something the oldest member struggled with a lot; his place in BTS. Many a time had he fallen into his dark thoughts and needed to be pulled out by one of his members.

What did he bring to the table for the group?

His vocals? They were sub-par at best.

His dancing? Never in a million years.

His visuals? Though he joked about being “Worldwide Handsome”, he knew the others were just as good looking if not better looking than he was. Taehyung had won the title of Most Handsome Man In The World for crying out loud.

“Hey,” a gentle tap to his forehead caused the little to blink and return to his surroundings. Taehyung was looking at him with a furrowed brow, “Are you feeling insecure again, love?”

Well, didn’t Taehyung hit that one right on the nose?

Jin let out a whine and shoved his face into the second youngest’s chest. “J-Jinnie sorry, hyungie.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, baby,” Taehyung replied softly. One of his big hands moved to rub at the small of the little’s back while his other began carding through Jin’s hair. “I know you can’t help it, Jinnie. None of us can help it when we feel down, but we have each other to bring us back up, yeah?”

Jin nodded, his face still hidden in Taehyung’s shirt. The oldest Bangtan member could feel himself slipping out of his headspace, straddling a line between big and little.

“We love you so much, baby. Every single one of us,” Taehyung continued, seemingly understanding the older’s state of mind. “We’re all so proud of you, Jinnie. You joined BigHit because you wanted to be an actor, and before you knew it, you were thrown into an idol group.”

Taehyung gently guided Jin’s head away from his chest so he could look him in the eye directly and know he was telling the truth. “Your dream changed, and you changed with it in the best way possible. You couldn’t sing at first, remember? But you dedicated so much time and effort that you became your vocal teacher’s best student. You weren’t much of a dancer, just like Namjoon, but you keep up with Hoseok-hyung, Jiminie, and Jungkookie really well.”

The oldest’s eyes were rimmed with tears and he sniffled quietly. “Yeah?” he asked in a trembling voice.

“Yeah,” Taehyung confirmed. He moved the hand that was rubbing at his back to cup Jin’s cheek, looking at him with what could only be pure love and adoration.

“He’s right,” Namjoon’s voice suddenly sounded from behind him, causing the little to startle a bit and turn to look at him. The leader was gazing at him with the same look Taehyung was giving him, a dimpled smile on his face. “Could you imagine the Best Moment In Life series without your incredible acting? No one would have taken us seriously. And I think your voice is amazing, baby, even though I know you have your doubts.”

“Oh no!” the three curled up together on the bed all turned their heads simultaneously at the sound of Hoseok’s voice coming from the doorway. The dance leader walked into the room with a solemn expression on his face. “Is Jinnie feeling down again?”

Both Taehyung and Namjoon hummed in confirmation.

Hoseok walked over to the bed and grabbed one of Jin’s hands in his own. “I’m sure these two have already told you how talented you are, but there’s something else, too.” Hoseok kissed the back of the oldest’s hand softly, “Jinnie, you’re the oldest member and I know sometimes that feels like a burden to you, but we’re all just so happy that you love us and take care of us. It’s a joke, I know, that you’re like our mom, but it’s kind of true. You always cook us our favorite meals when we’re not feeling good, and nurse us through sickness. And we love to take care of you in return, baby. We always will.”

Jin glanced around at the other two to see that they both seemed to agree with what Hoseok said as well. That caused the tears to start spilling from his eyes.

“T-Thank you guys,” he managed out, “I love you so much.”

Namjoon tightened his grip on his waist, “We all love you too, Jinnie.”

“Now, how about we go have some chicken nuggets for dinner and put on a movie, huh?” Hoseok suggested.

And just like that, Jin was fully submerged in his headspace once more, his eyes lighting up, “J-Jinnie loves chicken nuggets!”

Taehyung chuckled and kissed his forehead before beginning to untangle himself from him. “We know you do, love.”

“What movie should we watch?” Namjoon asked as he carried Jin out of the room and to the living room.

The others could be heard in the kitchen, but the living room was set up with tons of blankets and pillows, much to Jin’s delight.

“Can we watch Moana?” the little asked hopefully.

“Sure, love,” Hoseok replied, booping Jin on the nose before grabbing the television remote to start up the movie.

It was only a few minutes later that Yoongi, Jimin, and Jungkook entered the room with a large tray of chicken nuggets, some paper plates, and a few different dipping sauces.

Yoongi and Jimin claimed the seats on the sofa on either side of Jin, while Jungkook settled on the floor right next to his legs. Taehyung, Hoseok, and Namjoon cuddled up together on the other couch, watching the other four fondly.

As the movie started, the opening song beginning, Jimin and Jungkook alternated feeding Jin, who enjoyed all the attention he was getting. Yoongi held a napkin in his hand and wiped at the little’s mouth whenever he got crumbs and sauce everywhere (which was a lot).

About halfway through the movie, when their bellies were full and they were all focused on the plot, Jin took a moment to look around at everyone.

His heart fluttered with the love he felt for each of his members. He couldn’t help but be thankful to them for always being there for him and keeping away the dark thoughts that crept around in the back of his mind.

It was at that moment that he remembered something Yoongi had said to them once, something that they all thought of dearly and proved to be true time and time again.

What a relief that we have seven members. What a relief that we have each other.

What a relief indeed.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

A/N: Kudos and comments do wonders for my self-esteem, so it would mean a lot if you left one if you enjoyed this fic <3

I purple you guys and hope that you’re having a good December so far!

62 notes · View notes

go-gently-please · 6 years ago

Text

cherry ~ vampire!au (part 3)

~ pairing: human!BTS x vampire!OC

~ genre: vampire!au, smut, angst, sprinkles of fluff

~ summary: life with the seven boys proves to be more complicated than you thought, and you struggle to combat your selfish desires along with their advances.

~ warnings for this chapter: profanity, blood, subby Jimin, fellatio, dirty talk, mentions of BDSM

~ a/n: i’m not super happy with this chapter, but i really hope you like it. please tell me what you think, i would love to see how i could improve :)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 (coming soon)

links in masterlist!

You’d decided that it’d be best to take a break from Jimin. It wouldn’t be difficult, considering that there were six other perfectly good men to choose from, but it was clear early on that Jimin wasn’t about to make things easy for you.

You weren’t sure if it was on purpose, but he had started wearing more revealing clothes, ones that accented his collarbones and showed off his muscular arms. The elegant dips of his neck and chest were always fully on display for you.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew something was bothering you. Ever since you ran out of his room, leaving him sitting there looking like a kicked puppy, his mind had been plagued with dark thoughts of doubt and self-deprecation. These thoughts only multiplied when you continued to ignore him.

You’d gone three whole weeks without feeding on him, which was unusual since your sweet tooth made Jimin one of your most popular choices. Out of the seven of them, you fed on Jimin, Hoseok, and Jungkook the most.

Jimin immediately assumed that he was the problem. He must’ve done something wrong, must’ve upset you somehow. Was it his blood? Did it not taste good anymore?

The thought of his blood disgusting you made Jimin’s stomach lurch.

He tried confronting you, but every time he asked you simply brushed it off, claiming that you just “weren’t hungry anymore.”

He knew that was bullshit. Your pupils had been so dilated that your eyes were almost black. You’d looked like a panther ready to pounce.

You felt bad for ignoring him, especially because it was Jimin. He was the most needy for praise out of all of them. That was one of the reasons why you had a soft spot for him.

After feeding, you would always shower him with pets and compliments, telling him how good he tasted, how sweet he was. Jimin’s face would turn that pretty mochi pink, his head ducking away shyly like a turtle in its shell.

You loved the way you could make him crumble. Jimin’s flirtatious nature made him come across as confident, maybe even cocky, but once you praised him, he would melt into a gooey mess of blushing and giggling.

So, naturally, ignoring him was one of the worst things you could ever do. But it had to be done...right?

“Charlie?” A soft, tinkling voice made you look up from the cutting board.

Jimin stood on the other side of the kitchen counter, looking casual and slightly sleepy in a grey cap and sweater. He was barefaced, letting you see the faint spots and freckles on his glowing skin, his eyes free of any makeup.

You wanted to squish his cheeks and tell him to skip class that day to stay here and cuddle with you instead.

“What?” You forced your voice to come out harsh, slicing through the air and creating an immediate, palpable tension. Yoongi, who was sitting at the bar with a cup of coffee, looked between the two of you like he was about to witness a cat fight.

“I was just wondering if you were free later this afternoon?” He sounded so hopeful, speaking in a low tone as if he was afraid you’d snap at him.

It wasn’t an unusual occurrence for you and the boys to hang out one-on-one. You would often go out for coffee, peruse around a bookshop, or sometimes they would tag along while you ran errands. Nevertheless, the question made you snap your head up to stare at him.

“What?” You said sharply.

Jimin visibly gulped.

“I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go to that new cafe during your lunch break. I know you wanted to check it out.” He said.

You were endearingly surprised that he remembered. Looking back down at your cutting board and continuing to chop spinach, you pretended to sound disinterested.

“I’m probably going to end up skipping lunch today. It’s been really busy at work lately. Maybe next time.” You mentally cringed at how blunt you sounded.

Jimin’s shoulders sagged.

God, I am being such a bitch.

“Okay…” He said sadly, turning to leave you alone.

Yoongi eyed you up and down as you started to arrange the spinach and eggs on a plate.

“Did Jimin do something to you?” He asked.

You glanced at him very briefly.

“No, why would you think that?”

“Because he’s sulking and you’re avoiding him.”

“I’m not avoiding him! I’ve just been busy, that’s all.” You pushed the plate towards him and crossed your arms.

“Can you eat the whole thing for me?” You said, gaze softening with the question.

Yoongi raised an annoyed eyebrow.

“First of all, I hate spinach. Second of all, would you stop pestering me, please.”

“I’m sorry! It’s just...you’re so skinny.” You said as you squeezed one of his bony arms.

You felt like an old witch preparing a child for the boiling pot, fattening them up with sweets and sugary words. Here, little boy. Eat up so you can become nice and tender. Would you like to be served with butter or gravy?

You were just worried about his health! Every time you fed on him there was always the concern that he might faint in the middle of it.

“Trust me, Charlie, I eat plenty.” Yoongi insisted.

“Yeah, but how much of that is pure garbage?” You said.

He didn’t have an answer for that.

“Why are you so hell-bent on this?” He whined.

“Because I don’t want to have to worry about you collapsing every time I suck you!”

He quirked an eyebrow.

That came out wrong.

“Every time I suck your blood.” You corrected.

The sound of the clock chime broke you out of your thoughts, which may or may not have turned inappropriate at the mention of sucking. You sighed in relief, glad to have an excuse out of this conversation.

“Gotta go.” You grabbed your bag and hurried to the door.

“Finish that!” You called back over your shoulder, pointing at his breakfast.

“I’ll think about it!”

~~~

You weren’t really busy at work. That was a lie. Actually, you kept the place running rather smoothly. You were good at your job, you had to be as the person in charge. As editor in chief of GENIUS magazine, you held the highest position in the editorial department.

Today was a particularly slow day. Your afternoon meeting had been canceled, which opened up the bulk of your schedule. You were absentmindedly wondering what you’d have for lunch when your phone buzzed.

12:54 — Hobi: hey :)

An instant smile crossed your face.

12:55 — You: hi sunshine

The three tiny dots appeared and disappeared several times. You smirked, picturing him blushing at your nickname and fumbling for the right words to say.

12:57 — Hobi: you free for lunch?

12:58 — You: you just read my mind. Where do you wanna go?

12:58 — Hobi: that new cafe that you were talking about?

Wow. How do they all remember these things about you?

12:59 — You: sounds good. Meet you there in fifteen minutes.

You killed time by scanning over some of the articles for the next issue. After glancing at the clock, you gathered up your coat and bag, walking through the glass doors of your office.

“I’m going out to lunch with a colleague. I’ll be back in an hour to talk with the associate publisher.” You announced as you passed Melody’s desk.

“Okay, boss.” She replied.

“You know, you don’t have to call me boss.” You said with a crooked grin.

“I know. I just do it to tease you.”

The corner of your mouth quirked as your eyes ran over her. She was wearing a cute little pencil skirt that accentuated her petite frame. Not that she was super skinny, her build was medium, but she was a tiny person. She had short legs and was barely five feet tall.

Melody was very sweet and gentle, always right by your side, ready to do anything in her power to help you. She had an innocence about her that was almost childlike.

You were very fond of her.

The walk to the cafe was short. It was only five minutes away, that was why you’d been so eager to check it out. Hoseok was already there waiting for you when you arrived. He was sitting at a table by the window, wearing an oversized sweatshirt with his black face mask pulled down to his chin.

At the sound of your heels, he looked up from his phone. His face broke out into that beaming heart-shaped smile, making your lips immediately curl up in return.

“Hi, Noona.” He said cheerfully.

“Hey, Hobi. How's your day going?”

“Good! Even better now that I get to have lunch with my favorite vampire.”

“I'm pretty sure I'm the only vampire you know.”

“Mmm irrelevant.”

The waiter came, and Hobi ordered a sandwich while you ordered a coffee and a slice of strawberry cake.

“Skipping right to dessert, I see.” He said as you picked up your fork, licking your lips.

“Of course. My main course is still eating his lunch.”

A blush flowered on the plump apples of his cheeks. Yet, he still managed to flash you a sly grin.

“I guess I better hurry up then. Wouldn't want to keep my favorite vampire waiting when she so clearly needs me.”

Hobi smirked.

Something about the way he said it, the way he claimed that you “so clearly needed him,” made something in your stomach jump. He was suggesting that you needed something from him? Cocky little bastard.

Hoseok was...interesting. He was a little bundle of energy, that was true, a total ball of sunshine, but he challenged you in a way that none of the other boys did. He wasn’t afraid to poke and prod and push your buttons. It was almost like he was trying to see how much he could get away with, how much authority he could get you to give up.

You saw the way he treated the other boys, too. He was one of the older ones, so he had a natural air of dominance, especially over the maknae line. It wasn’t uncommon to see him ordering them around, jokingly manhandling or threatening them to get them to submit to his little games.

He was definitely different, you thought as you sipped your coffee, leaving behind a stamp of red lipstick on the rim.

“Nom nom nom.” You said around a mouthful of food, closing your eyes in bliss.

Hoseok chuckled, making you divert your attention away from your plate.

“What?” You asked with your cheeks stuffed.

“I can’t get over how you put off a badass vibe when you’re actually goofy and adorable as fuck.” He said in amusement.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Excuse you, I am a badass.” Your voice was sarcastic as you puffed your cheeks out even further, trying to give yourself a cute appearance.

Hobi laughed.

“You’re still a badass, of course. You’re just adorable as fuck while being one.”

Despite your efforts to suppress it, you blushed. When was the last time a boy made me blush?

Looking satisfied by your reaction, Hobi returned his attention to his food.

You bristled, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically small in his presence.

“Wipe that smirk off your face.” You said in a voice that would’ve made Jimin and Jungkook shiver and comply immediately, but only made Hobi smile wider.

“Oh, did I strike a nerve?” He teased you.

You pursed your lips together, trying to fight another rush of heat to your cheeks.

“Your face is heating up. Was it something I said?” Hobi quirked an eyebrow.

Leaning back in your chair, you exhaled as you stared him down.

“You better watch yourself, boy. Do I have to remind you who’s in charge?” You tilted your head to the side in mock confusion.

“Boy?” He said, challenging the title you’d just given him.

“I am hundreds of years older than you.”

“I don’t believe that, you don’t have the personality of a century-old great great great grandmother.” He said with a playful smile.

“Of course I don’t. We adapt to the times. It’s how we stay hidden. Don’t you think it’d be a dead giveaway if I still spoke like a character in a fucking Shakespeare play?”

He scoffed.

“Please, you weren’t alive at the same time as Shakespeare.”

“Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t.” You said as you nonchalantly sipped your coffee.

“How old are you anyway?” He asked, genuinely curious.

You gasped, putting your hand over your heart in exaggerated shock.

“Villain! I am sick when I do look on thee. Don’t you know to never ask a lady her age?”

Hobi rolled his eyes.

“Thou crusty batch of nature! The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes!”

“Alright, you’re being dramatic.”

“Zounds! You rogue! You rascal!”

“Now you’re just quoting Othello.”

“Away you three inch fool! More of your conversation would infect my brain.”

Hobi sighed deeply, giving up.

“Finish your cake.” He said.

You smiled in victory, popping a strawberry in your mouth.

~~~

You slid another square of chocolate past your lips as your eyes scanned over the outline board. This was your second bar; it sat there on your desk with the gold wrapper peeled back, curling around the edges. You just couldn’t seem to satisfy your craving for something sweet.

Sighing, you picked up your phone to try to distract yourself.

2:42 — You: hey yoongles.

2:44 — Yoongi: afternoon, charles.

2:45 — You: whatcha doin?

2:47 — Yoongi: editing. You? Working hard, I presume.

2:48 — You: ugh. Trying to. This one copy editor is pissing me off.

2:49 — Yoongi: describe them, exactly.

2:50 — You: bitch. Grade A bitch. You’d hate her.

2:51 — Nice. I love hating people.

You chuckled to yourself. Yoongi always managed to make you feel at ease.

2:53 — You: I made you lunch and left it in the fridge. Did you eat it?

2:55 — Yoongi: it had spinach in it.

2:56 — You: Yoongi!

2:57 — Yoongi: yessss?

2:58 — You: EAT LUNCH.

2:59 — Yoongi: I DID.

3:01 — You: CRACKERS AND ALCOHOL DOESN’T COUNT.

The three dots appeared and disappeared.

3:05 — Yoongi: I don’t like spinach.

3:07 — You: you don’t like anything.

3:08 — Yoongi: I like sleep and you.

A big goofy smile crossed your face. Coming from him, it meant a lot. He even put you in the same category as sleep, which he valued almost more than air.

With a newfound fuzzy feeling in your tummy, you set your phone down and tried to get back to work.

Pacing back and forth in front of the editorial board, tapping a pen on your chin, your analytical mind churned and ticked like a whirring machine on full power.

A soft knock came at your office door.

“Yes?” You called.

Melody shyly stuck her head in.

“Darling, I’m in the middle of being fantastic, can it wait until later?” You said.

“A package came for you.” She said, blushing a bit at your nickname.

You averted your eyes back to the board, waving your hand dismissively.

“Just leave it on my desk.”

You didn’t see as Melody responded with a curt nod, disappearing back into the hall to return a few moments later with her arms full.

Instead of cardboard on wood, you heard the crinkling of wax paper. Puzzled, you turned your head. Instead of a box, a big, beautiful bouquet of bright red tulips sat on the tabletop.

You looked at Melody with confused eyes, but she only smiled knowingly and ducked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Approaching the vibrant bundle, you picked up the card tucked between two of the buds.

Have a nice day, Charlie. Hopefully I was able to make it a bit better.

— Jimin

You read it over three times. Staring unbelievably at the vibrance of the flowers, you stroked the petals, plush and soft against your fingertip. This must be what his lips feel like.

You immediately shook the thought from your head.

He is such a sweetheart! He went through all this trouble for me? And here I’ve been ignoring him for the past three weeks.

A surge of vicious guilt stabbed you in the gut. You cursed at yourself for believing that distancing yourself and turning into a frigid bitch would solve anything. The only thing it did was hurt Jimin and leave you hungry.

Suddenly rigid with determination, you hurried to gather your things.

“Should I block off the rest of your day, then?” Melody asked as you stormed out of your office, your face masked with the purposeful expression she knew so well.

“Yes, please.” You said as you adjusted your jacket. “I’ve gotta get some shit done.”

“Okay, I’ve penciled you in for one day of excess drinking and general ass kick-ery.”

You smiled at her.

“What would I do without you?”

~~~

The front door slammed. A dozen different shopping bags hung from your arms, most of them filled with groceries.

Jungkook was sitting on the couch, controller in his hand, eyes glued to the TV. When he heard you come in, he looked up and smiled, showing his adorable front teeth.

“Hey Charlie.” He greeted.

“Hey bunny.” You set the load on the kitchen counter.

“What's for dinner?” He asked, popping up from his seat to inspect the contents of the bags.

“Beef and veggie stir fry.”

It was Jimin's favorite.

“Jimin's not here, right?” You asked.

You wanted it to be a surprise. After being so mean, you were determined to make it up to him. You’d planned something special, and after he’d had his dinner, you would have yours.

Just the thought of it made you lick your lips.

“No, he's got a class tonight.”

You nodded, excitement bubbling as you set to work chopping vegetables.

Just as you were finishing up, you heard the front door. Jimin came into the apartment, hair damp with sweat, workout clothes rumpled. He dropped his dance bag by the door and inhaled deeply.

“Stir fry?” He called out after identifying the scent.

“Hi Chim!” You said cheerfully as he stepped into the kitchen.

He blinked. You'd barely even acknowledged him in the past few weeks, let alone called him by his nickname, and he was a bit taken aback.

“H-Hi Charlie.” He said as his cheeks flushed. You flashed him a pearly smile, outlined in freshly-applied red lipstick.

“Hungry?” You were in the dining room now, setting the table.

“Ye-Yeah, just let me shower first.”

Once he was gone, you grinned to yourself.

Perfect. You’d snuck up to his bedroom right before he got home and placed one of the shopping bags (a Chanel bag, to be precise) on his bed.

You were just about to set the last bowl on the table after tidying up when you heard footsteps pattering down the stairs.

Jimin was fresh out of the shower, fluffy hair hanging in front of his eyes. He was wearing a soft white sweater; the symbol on his right lapel was two overlapping, back-to-back red C’s. Even with the designer piece of clothing, Jimin’s smile was by far the prettiest thing he was wearing.

You remembered every word of the note you’d written him, you could picture it nestled in the folds of the tissue paper.

Jimin, I’m sorry for being so cold to you lately. It wasn’t your fault. Thank you for the flowers. You always make my day better.

— Charlie ♡

Heart fluttering at the memory, you busied yourself with distributing the silverware. After everyone was seated around the table, you started to pass around the rice.

“So, Charlie, tell us about the eighteenth century.” Hoseok said with a teasing look in your direction.

“Is this your attempt at making dinner-appropriate conversation?” You replied, swirling your tongue over a cherry-flavored lollipop.

Jimin was watching your every move with hawk-like intensity. You were perfectly aware of how he gulped and clenched his jaw every time your lips wrapped around the red orb, and you were deriving a great amount of pleasure from it.

“What were you doing in the eighteenth century?” Namjoon asked, genuinely curious.

“Hell if I know. I spent half of that century in an opium den. And the other half saying “what the fuck is happening?” When you've been alive for as long as I have, the years start to jumble together. Like, one time back in 1904...or was it 1914, wait what year is it now?”

Everyone rolled their eyes and gave up on trying to get any coherent information out of you.

Once everyone was finished eating, everyone but you, obviously, the table was cleared. You were about to load all the plates into the sink when Jin stopped you.

“Don't worry, we got it.” He said with a wide smile.

You glanced into the kitchen to see Namjoon, Taehyung, and Yoongi starting on the dishes.

“Are you sure? I can do them if you—”

“Come on, Charlie. You cook almost every meal. Let us do this for you.” Jin said, putting a warm hand on your shoulder.

The small gesture sent your whole body tingling with heat.

You and Jin got along very well. He was tidy, something you appreciated, and you both valued hard work and organization. You would think that the two of you would get along partly because he was the oldest, but Jin was one of the most childish out of the group, along with Taehyung.

Not to mention he was devastatingly handsome. It was very distracting.

“Alright, thank you.” You said, proud of yourself for keeping your voice steady.

He nodded, flashing another radiant smile, and patted you on the back.

You turned towards the living room, eyes searching for one specific person.

“Jimin.” You called, causing the boy to snap his head up to look at you.

“Yes?”

You beckoned him towards you with one finger, and led him to the screen doors that opened out to the balcony. He eagerly followed behind you as the two of you stepped outside, night air sweeping past your faces. The light filtering through the windows plus the twinkling stars illuminated the wide space. You walked past the fire pit up to the patio table against the railing.

The building towered over the city, overlooking the skyline, glittering against the sea of lights. The view only added to the value of your top-floor apartment.

“Did you like your gift?” You asked.

He nodded vigorously, smiling so big his eyes turned into two thin crescents.

“Thank you.” He said.

“Don't thank me yet, there's more.”

Coming up behind him, you placed one hand over his face.

“Close your eyes.” You whispered, your mouth right by his ear, close enough to kiss.

You felt his lashes flutter against your palm as he obeyed, smiling to yourself as you felt a shiver run through his body.

Jimin felt the cool touch of metal against his skin. Once you'd permitted him to open his eyes, he saw that you had fastened a silver YSL necklace around his neck.

His mouth fell open. First Chanel, now Saint Laurent?

“Like it?” You asked.

“Y-You really didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to, Chim. It’ll make up for the way I’ve been acting lately.”

His gaze was locked on you as you stepped closer. You and Jimin were the same height, so your eyes were perfectly level. Even so, your commanding energy often made you seem and feel taller, especially if you were wearing heels.

“Now that you’ve had your dinner,” You began, reaching up to stroke the smooth slope of his neck.

“Can I have mine?”

You were expecting Jimin to blush, to shrink under your piercing stare, but to your surprise, his mouth twisted in a smirk, looking at you through hooded lids. Instead of those big brown puppy eyes you were so used to, he regarded you with a sultry, sexy expression.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for you to ask me that question.” He said, his voice low and resonant.

You smiled.

“Come here.” You said.

Jimin obeyed. Taking his hand, you pulled him over to one of the patio chairs and pushed him down. You climbed into his lap, straddling him.

“You have no idea how hard it was to stay away from you.” You muttered, barely loud enough for him to hear, staring at the bulging veins in his neck.

“Then why did you?” Jimin asked. You could hear the slight hurt in his voice, making your throat contract with guilt. Your gaze lowered, avoiding his eyes, as you swallowed hard.

“I...I didn’t want you to think this was turning into something it isn’t.”

He stared at you, then looked down with disappointment clouding in his eyes.

You gently held his chin, tilting his head up to look at you. Fingers tracing the line of his jaw, you ran your thumb over his plump bottom lip. His mouth felt just as you predicted, soft as rose petals. You sat there playing with his lips, rubbing, brushing, feather-light, tugging them between your fingers.

There was that blush you were looking for. Jimin’s gaze was focused solely on your face, looking at you like you were the only other thing in the universe.

“If this isn’t what I think it is,” He said. “Then why are you doing that?”

With your breath quickening, you abandoned his mouth to slide your hand down his neck.

“Because I’m selfish.” You muttered.

“No you’re not. You’re the most giving person I know.” He replied immediately.

You just smiled weakly, shaking your head.

“If I was smart, I wouldn’t be doing this.”

But you didn’t stop. You ran your hands over his shoulders, pulling the sweater aside to reveal more skin.

Jimin paused, studying you.

“Who says you always have to be smart about everything?” He said.

That made you look up.

“When was the last time you did something because you wanted to?”

He was looking at you hopefully again, the puppy eyes were back. Jimin had such a sweet face, you wanted to smother it in kisses until he was completely covered with your lipstick.

After a moment of consideration, you made up your mind.

You leaned forward in your position on his lap, hands drifting down to glide over his back. You dragged your long red nails up and down, making him shudder.

“If I did, what would you want me to do to you?” You asked.

Jimin’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

“I would want you to kiss me.”

You quirked an eyebrow.

“Is that all?”

“Anything more is up to you.”

He was right. Jimin wasn’t going to push you. You were the one who cut him off, if things were to go further it had to be your decision.

Your hands grazed down his spine, arms sinking low to cradle his body closer. Anticipation gripped Jimin’s limbs as he hung onto your every move. Slowly, teasingly, you angled your body over his, and moved to close the gap between your mouths.

He could still taste the lingering sweetness of the lollipop on your tongue.

All the tension corded in his muscles seemed to release as you melted into him, like sugar dissolving in water. He finally moved, as if he’d been waiting for permission, and kissed you back eagerly, gripping your waist and digging your hips into his.

The kiss was sweet, gentle, and hot all at the same time.

The pressure you exerted on him was light, barely enough to keep your lips connected. You wanted to tease him a bit, see how much it took to get him desperate.

Jimin chased your lips with his own, seeking friction, seeking you, but you denied him. Drawing back, you disconnected your mouths with a loud, wet sound that was more melodious in your ears than music.

You ran your tongue along his bottom lip.

Immediately, obediently, he opened up, granting you access. But you just continued to tease.

You traced the outline of his big, beautiful lips, sucking on the upper, taking the lower between your teeth and tugging until eventually letting go and allowing it to snap back into place.

Jimin sat there, motionless except for his heaving chest, eyes closed, with his mouth hanging open as you explored its every nook and cranny. The dip of his cupids bow, the sensitive corners, every swell and seam.

“You taste like fucking candy.” You sighed, brushing the lightest of touches along his jaw, then his cheek, then coming back to his mouth to seal it with a kiss, firmer this time.

This kiss was a mess of heat and desperation, all wet and sloppy.

Jimin’s hands slid up to creep under your shirt, drawing you closer by the small of your back. He was gasping now, fighting for breath while still refusing to break away from you. He moaned against your mouth when you rolled your hips on his growing bulge.

Your hands were tangled in his hair, tugging on it like you knew he liked, drawing out more strangled noises of pleasure.

At the sound of a particularly wanton moan, you pulled back, making him whimper at the loss of contact.

“Don’t stop.” He whined, eyes still closed as he leaned forward, trying to find you.

You placed a hand on his chest to keep him at bay. He finally looked at you, a confused expression on his flushed face.

“Are you sure you want this?” You asked. “Once we start, I might not be able to stop.”

The last thing you wanted to do was to scare him. It was no secret that vampires were natural predators, and that ravenous energy often translated into more...intimate aspects of their life. In all your years, you’d only met a few vampires that took on the role of submissive, and you didn’t consider yourself to be one of them. Of course, you liked to be dominated occasionally, but it took a very special person to be able to handle that position.

Jimin was gazing up at you with those wide, docile eyes. He licked his lips.

“I’m sure. I want this. I want you.”

You smiled.

The panther and the prey. The lion and the lamb.

Something inside you snapped. Snaking your hand between his legs, you palmed him through his jeans.

Jimin tensed, screwing his eyes shut as his head fell back.

“You’re already this hard just from a kiss? Dirty boy…” You teased, rubbing him with more friction.

Jimin bit his lip to try to keep in any noise.

“Is this all for me, hm? You get this worked up just for me?” Your voice was high and lilting.

Jimin could only manage a nod.

You chuckled to yourself, grabbing a handful of him and squeezing lightly.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you.” You whispered, looking down at your hand as you continued to play with him.

“T-Touch me,” Jimin breathed out. “Skin to skin.”

You made quick work of his zipper, sliding the waistband down low enough to reveal most of his underwear.

“Can I take these off? I want to see those gorgeous thighs.”

Jimin nodded.

You slid off his lap, dragging his pants down with you until they pooled at his ankles. Settling on your knees, you leaned forward to place a soft kiss on his clothed dick. You ran your hands over his muscular, god-like thighs, and his skin immediately broke out in goosebumps.

“You want my mouth?” You asked.

He nodded frantically.

“Speak up, sweetheart. I want to hear you loud and clear.”

“Yes! Yes, I want your mouth. Please...please, Charlie.” He whimpered. Oh God, just the sound of his desperate voice was making you wet.

You hooked two fingers in the elastic of his underwear and yanked them all the way down. They joined his pants on the floor. Grabbing each knee, you spread his legs wide.

Jimin wasn’t super long, but he was thick, and you licked your lips as you wrapped your hand around his cock.

He let out a hiss of relief.

“I like you begging.” You said, pumping him up and down. “Do it again.”

Jimin sucked in a breath of air through his teeth, jaw clenched. He was panting like a dog on a hot day.

“P-Please...please, Charlie. I’ve waited so long…”

“Have you now?” You purred.

“Ever since we first moved in.”

He was being far more submissive than you expected. Jimin was a tease, you’d known that for a long time, you were expecting a little more brattiness. Maybe he was holding back, giving you what you wanted. He was a sucker for praise, after all.

“You’re being so good for me.” You said, fondling his balls.

The small, shy smile that crossed his face made your heart flutter.

“Are you getting off knowing that anybody could walk by right now? That anybody could see you like this, all spread out and helpless.” You teased his slit to emphasize your point.

A choked groan caught in Jimin’s throat as he threw his head back.

“You’re such a needy boy. It must’ve been torture for you. Sorry I made you wait so long.” You said in an overly sweet voice, jerking him off at a faster pace.

Scooting closer, you leaned forward to lick a slow strip up the underside of his shaft.

Jimin let out a long, breathy “ooohhh.”

You wrapped your lips around his tip and started to suck him like one of your lollipops.

He was squirming now, clenching his fists at his sides, trying to control himself, trying to keep quiet. You were right when you said that anybody could walk by and see you.

Jimin moaned pathetically through pursed lips.

You released him with a pop, only to wet your lips and dive back down, taking his entire length. You bobbed up and down a few times, and then you heard something.

There was movement at the sliding door.

Moving faster than Jimin’s eyes could follow, you yanked his pants back up and shot to your feet.

Jimin blinked, disoriented, as Taehyung opened the sliding door and stuck his head outside.

“Charlie, Jin has challenged you to a game of Mario Kart.” He said.

“I'm a little busy, Tae.” You said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Taehyung just sighed.

“Great, now I owe Jin ten bucks.” He said.

“What?” You replied, interest peaked.

“Well, Jin bet me that you would chicken out, so now I have to—”

“Where is the cocky bastard?” You snapped suddenly, stomping towards the door.

“He's on crack. The headass can't even beat Rainbow Road.” You mumbled.

Taehyung smirked in victory as you slipped past him, even Jimin was laughing at the situation.

Taehyung moved to follow you, but the obvious bulge in Jimin's pants did not go unnoticed by him.

~~~

You came to regret fooling around with Jimin after your head was clear. It must’ve been the guilt of ignoring him, or maybe the fact that you hadn’t been fucked in a while, whatever it was, it wasn’t right.

This realization only filled you with even more guilt. It wasn’t fair to Jimin, your inability to control yourself was only giving him false hope. You needed to come to a decision and stick to it. Either vow to be responsible and only treat him as a friend, or go with your gut and follow your desires.

Of course, you couldn’t make yourself come to a decision right away, so you decided to spend some time alone.

You were lounging in one of the oversized armchairs in your bedroom, fresh out the shower, sipping coffee, when your highly-tuned ears heard the doorbell ring from downstairs. Still in your bathrobe, towel wrapped around your head, you hurried down the stairs.

“I’ll get it, I’ll get it, I’ll get it.” You chanted as you ran towards the front door.

When you re-entered the apartment, your arms were full of pizza boxes. You set them down on the kitchen counter, all of them except one, and then skipped back up the stairs. Now that the boys’ dinner was taken care of, you had the rest of the evening to yourself.

You shed your robe, snuggled into your top-quality silk sheets, and opened your favorite show on your laptop.

You had to order a whole different pizza for yourself because the boys hated your favorite flavor: pesto and white sauce with spinach and mushrooms. Eh, guess you couldn’t blame them.

“Nom nom nom.” You mumbled to yourself as you ate practically half a slice in one bite.

The next few hours were pure bliss, just you, food, a glass of wine, and some mindless TV. You hadn’t done this in a while, since before the boys moved in.

Back when you lived alone, you didn’t have to worry about anyone walking in on you lying naked in bed (you liked the way the expensive silk felt on your bare skin), but now you had to make sure everyone was sufficiently occupied before you tried to go around without any clothes.

You were just about to top off your third glass when a knock came at your door.

“Hang on,” You called, slipping back into your robe.

Taehyung stood there holding a loaded laundry basket. He flashed you a boxy smile.

“Special delivery.” He said.

You chuckled, opening the door wider for him to come in.

“Just set it in the closet.”

He was slightly taken aback. You were very private about your bedroom, and none of the boys had ever seen the inside of it.

You ran a hand through your still-damp hair, turning towards the bed to wipe off the crumbs.

Seeing that you were serious, Taehyung hesitantly took a few steps inside, looking around in awe.

Since it was the master bedroom, it was twice the size of any of the guest rooms. A beautiful king size bed was pushed up against the center of the wall, the frame decorated with swirling gold designs and a mountain of pillows. One wall was entirely dedicated to a large set of shelves, stuffed full of books, leather-bound journals, and what looked like hundreds of vinyl records, all frayed and worn at the edges.

There was a desk crowded with papers and magazines and dirty coffee cups, a heart-shaped ashtray sitting on top of the clutter.

But the thing that immediately stole his attention was the wall unobstructed by any furniture.

It's entire surface was covered in photographs, not a speck of white was visible. Old Polaroids, faded prints, pictures that looked like they were taken decades ago, torn and yellowed with age.

Some of them had you in it, but they were mostly of other people, family members and friends and their children and grandchildren, they were all displayed proudly on your wall.

He saw pictures of weddings and funerals, reunions and holidays. There were a few recurring figures in the photographs, alternating between younger and older versions of the same face, but you always looked the same. No matter how far back the pictures went, you always looked the same.

Taehyung snapped out of it, tearing his gaze away from the hoard of memorabilia to take care of the laundry.

While your back was turned, you didn’t see Taehyung approach the closed door next to the desk, thinking it was the closet. You heard the wood creak, then the sound of the laundry basket hitting the floor.

Turning in confusion, you were about to ask what the matter was, but a gasp of pure horror instantly replaced whatever words you were planning to say.

The door Taehyung had opened wasn’t the closet. Yes, there were shelves and drawers and hooks, but they weren’t for storing clothes.

Taehyung stood there with his eyes blown wide, jaw dropped. He stared at the contents of the small room in pure shock.

Hanging on various hooks on the inside of the door were bundles of different colored rope, varying in texture and material. Underneath that was a rack of nothing but cuffs, leather, metal, fur-lined. There was a large set of drawers, transparent so you could see everything inside, that contained a wide assortment of vibrators, plugs, beads, rings, dildos, and every other toy you could think of. Hanging on the wall behind that was whips, paddles, leashes.

Taehyung could hardly believe his eyes.

Gags, blindfolds, harnesses. Everything he had ever fantasized about was right here.

“I-I...it’s not-I mean, y-you weren’t…” You could barely stutter out the words. You were mortified.

None of them were ever supposed to see that. None of them were ever supposed to know about all your kinky tendencies.

It felt like a nightmare come to life. This would ruin everything. Now every time he looked at you he would remember the mini sex dungeon you had in your bedroom.

Your face felt white hot. The silence rang in your ears. Every muscle in your body was stiff as a board as you waited for Taehyung’s reaction.

His face was unreadable as he reached out to touch one of the collars, the tag hanging from the leather strap detailed with the word Pet in pretty cursive letters.

“Have you used any of these on Jimin?” He asked suddenly.

Your eyes widened.

“I-what?” You watched with anticipation as he ran his fingertip along one of the leashes, a peculiar look in his eyes.

“I saw you with Jimin the other night. Have you used any of this on him yet?” His voice was surprisingly clear and calm.

Your eyes darted back and forth along the floor, desperately trying to string together a coherent sentence.

“We haven’t...we never…” You sighed. “No, I haven’t used anything on him. No one knows about this but you.”

You didn’t know, but Taehyung felt a swell of pride at that. He was pleased that he was the only one who knew about this side of you.

His eyes raked over your form, still in your bathrobe, making you fidget.

“Does it bother you?” He asked. “That I know this about you?”

“Well...it doesn’t exactly make things easier.”

He tilted his head to the side like a confused puppy, something he knew drove you crazy.

“What do you mean?” He knew exactly what you meant.

“How am I supposed to act normally around you now?” You replied.

He was staring you down with those dangerous eyes of his.

“I don’t want things to be normal between us.” He said.

Shit. There it is.

You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, Taehyung. No more games.” You commanded as you crossed your arms.

You saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard.

“Seeing you and Jimin together…” He began. “Made me think about all the feelings I’ve been having towards you, and it made me realize something.”

You shifted your weight to one hip, urging him to continue.

“I want you too.” He said.

Your heart jumped in your chest.

“I don’t care if you’re fooling around with Jimin, just as long as I can have you too.”

A heavy silence stretched between you, the only sound being the pound of Taehyung’s rushing blood in your ears.

You had to come to a decision now. Either reject him and establish your relationship as strictly platonic, or give in to the desires you’d been entertaining ever since you laid eyes on him.

It didn’t take long for one side of the argument to prevail.

Taking a few slow steps towards him, you let your hands fall back at your sides, your eyes slinking seductively.

You couldn’t wait to see how that collar would look on him.

“Well then, I guess I just added one more toy to my collection.”

~~~

a/n: thank you so much for reading! please tell me what you think and what i can improve on! next chapter will be focused on taehyung, hoseok, and jimin ;)

if you want to be tagged just let me know!

@rainbow-pandacorn @boononx @vannilacake @i-am-always-famished @oxymirror @bangttaeng @baekthecupcake @sleepysavya @kclaerhout @lilacbaby11 @ceciann

#bts #bts vampire au #bts ot7 #bts fanfction #park jimin #jeon jungkook #bts hosoek #jung hoseok #BTS jin #min yoongi #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #sub!bts #dom!bts #bts x oc #bts smut

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sanders-sanctuary-au · 5 years ago

Text

Hey y’all I’ve been OBSESSED with this AU and wanted to put out a ficlet for it. I need to say though, this is going to deal with super heavy themes so PLEASE heed the warnings before you read this.

(My SS blog is @falseh0od!)

Summary: On a trip to the underground Tiny fighting rings, Deacon rescues a former champion whose time as a fighter has severely impacted his health in more ways than one.

Warnings: Depression, suicidal thoughts and actions, technically attempted suicide (?), using (small) humans for profits, swearing, treating small humans as less than equal. I apologize if I miss anything!

———————————————————————

There was a Borrower named Garrett.

Garrett had been born in the wild, and spent 20 years fending for himself. He was happy, traveling as much as he could as he fended for himself, and often made connections wherever he went with other Borrowers. He would help those who needed it most, keeping extra food, water, and clothing on him at all times.

Garrett was especially good at keeping himself out of harm’s way, having taught himself early how to put up a good fight. Not that he ever needed to use those skills very often, but they were good skills nonetheless.

Until one day, Garrett’s world was turned upside down.

While borrowing in the city, Garrett accidentally happened upon an underground Tiny fighting ring, and despite his best efforts to get out unseen, he was captured by a human just starting out in the industry.

And his life as a fighter began.

Garrett knew what happened to borrowers who didn’t fight well or disobeyed the humans, so despite his desperation for freedom, he put everything he had into his fights.

To everyone’s surprise, however, Garrett turned out to be an ridiculously good fighter and made a name for himself and the human who owned him very quickly. He was a champion, who never lost.

Despite his bloodthirsty stage persona, Garrett remained a kindhearted spirit, always checking up on his opponents after battles and giving kind words of encouragement to them that things would get better.

Garrett remained in the fighting ring for 6 years, with the same human the whole time. The human himself was bloodthirsty through and through, having gotten a taste of victory and was now addicted to it.

Garrett, however, got very low in spirits very quickly. Day after day, fight after fight, his spirits dropped lower and lower.

Then, he heard about the Shadow Man.

A man who came to fights and took the ‘broken’ borrowers off the hands of their humans and supposedly got rid of them, never to be seen again.

Two weeks later, Garrett hit his lowest.

And he started to lose.

———————————————————————

Deacon walked into the building the fighting ring was in and looked around. It was another routine mission; get in, save the at-risk Borrowers, get out. Dee glanced around at his surroundings, keeping an eye out for frustrated humans with Tiny captives.

A series of loud groans sounded from over by the arena. Dee looked over to see disappointed, irritated faces; obviously, there had just been a hard loss.

He walked over silently, looking over into the arena. A badly beaten Tiny was being taken out of the arena, while the other looked like he had just won the lottery.

The injured Borrower was handed to a furious-looking man, who started screaming at the smaller man like it was no one’s business. The smaller man in his hands looked like he was exhausted, staring at the man with a dull look in his eyes.

And Dee became very, very confused once he realized he recognized the tiny, as a widely-revered, unbeaten Champion.

Who had just lost.

Dee quickly made his way over to the pair, and the screaming became more clear as he got closer.

“WHY WON’T YOU JUST WIN?” the man was yelling. “YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE THE BEST OF THE BEST, NOT A FUCKING PUSHOVER! YOU’RE A PIECE OF SHIT!”

Dee flinched at the harsh language, growing slightly pissed off.

And then the man saw him. He quieted, and a smile grew on his face.

“You know what?” the man announced. “I don’t have the time nor the money for you anymore. You’re a worthless piece of shit. You’re going to the Shadow Man.”

Dee approached the man, shoving his anger down his throat. “May I help you?”

The man then promptly dumped the Borrower into Deacon’s hands. “Yeah. Take this little fucker. I have no use for him anymore.”

He then walked away without another word, leaving Dee fuming. He looked down to the smaller man in his hands, who looked back up at him.

Tired, dull eyes stared back up at him, the Tiny’s face sullen and pale. He looked neglected, as if the man who “owned” him had not been properly caring for him the past couple weeks. And yet, he had no fear in his expression whatsoever.

Dee pulled out the fold-up cage beneath his cloak, and carefully set the tiny inside. Roman had come down with a nasty cold, and despite his insistings, Dee had gone alone today.

The Borrower didn’t move from where Dee placed him, just laid down and curled into a ball. Concern coursed through his veins.

Something was wrong.

Dee walked around for about an hour after that, periodically checking on the Borrower in his cage. He didn’t move. The ring was also slow today, and he wasn’t able to rescue any other Tinies.

Dee let out a deep sigh as he walked out of the building, cage in hand. He peered inside real quick as he approached his car. The Borrower was still not moving, but Dee noticed that his eyes remained open.

The car door opened with a creak and Dee carefully set the cage in the passenger seat.

“Alright, little dude, let’s get you home,” Dee sighed. At that there was finally a response from the smaller man, who sat up and looked up at him.

“So. When are you gonna kill me?”

The tone of the Borrower’s voice took Dee by surprise. It was flat, but horrifyingly enough, Dee caught almost a bit of hope in there.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Dee responded gently.

The Borrower looked genuinely shocked. “What? Why not?”

Dee was taken aback at the sincerely disappointed tone to his voice. “Because I’m here to rescue you.”

The Tiny stared at him. “Rescue?” he repeated slowly. “Listen, I really would prefer it if you skipped the ‘make the Tiny feel safe before you brutually murder it’ act. I know you don’t actually care about me. Just skip the sentiment and kill me, that’s why I wanted my human to give me away anyway.”

Dee didn’t quite know what to say.

He had to pull the car over to the side of the road, not trusting himself to drive at the moment. “What?”

“I’m sick of the fights. I’m sick of beating people up day after day. I’m sick of life in general, of being exploited for human benefit.” The words explained the lifeless look in the Borrower’s eyes. “I truly just want to die. So I started purposely losing in battles so that asshole of a human would want to give me away. So that you could just take me out of my misery.”

Dee was truly horrified. He knew it was bad for Tinies in the ring, but he never would’ve imagined it would’ve come to this- a Borrower having lost all purpose in life to the point of becoming depressed.

To the point of suicide.

Dee looked down at the Borrower. “What’s your name?”

“What does it mean to you?” The Borrower scoffed. “Garrett.”

“Garrett.” Dee managed to get down to the Borrower’s eye level. “Please understand, I am not a Tiny murderer. I work for a Borrower Sanctuary. You will be safe there, no more fighting, no more being forced to beat people up.” Dee’s eyes were soft.

“We hope you can be happy there.”

Garrett looked at him for a long second, then merely shook his head. “I don’t think I could ever be happy anymore.”

Dee swallowed. He hated this so much. “Listen, Garrett,” Dee said softly. “One of the other borrowers at the Sanctuary, who’s name is Emile, is a wanna-be therapist. I think it might do you some good to talk to him.”

“Why? For him to tell me my life means something?” A scoff.

“Maybe. Or maybe just to talk.” Dee started the car up again; they were almost home.

The Borrower didn’t respond, and was silent for the rest of the trip. Dee kept a watchful eye on him, worried he might do something reckless.

As he parked and got him and Garrett out of the car, Thomas came out to meet him.

“How’d it go?” Thomas asked softly.

Deacon pressed his lips into a thin line. “I only was able to rescue one, but I’m worried about him. There’s no blunt way to put this- he-he’s suicidal.”

Thomas’s eyes widened. “Let’s get him inside.”

They moved quickly, Dee cradling the cage with his hands carefully.

Patton and Logan were waiting for them. “So?” Patton called.

“Only one, but he’s not in a good place mentally,” Dee explained carefully as he set the carrier down in front of the other two Borrowers. “Can you take him to Emile?”

Patton climbed into the carrier as are unzipped it, sitting next to Garrett. “Hello,” Patton pressed softly. “I’m Patton. We’re glad to have you here.”

Garrett looked up to him wordlessly and remained silent. Logan moved to grab a wheelchair.

Patton offered out a hand. “Wanna come out?”

Garrett didn’t move for a few long seconds, but then slowly moved to take Patton’s hand. Patton carefully helped him stand up, putting the other’s arm around his shoulder.

Dee gave him a grateful look as Patton helped him out, and Patton responded back with a grim smile.

Logan returned moments later with a wheelchair, and he and Patton helped Garrett into it.

Garrett finally spoke. “Don’t know why you’re helping me, not like I’m worth the effort,” he muttered under his breath. Patton and Dee shared a look.

“I think you’re more than worth the effort,” Patton chimed in softly. “Everyone is important.”

“Whatever.”

Patton sighed softly and looked up at Dee and Thomas. “We’ve got it from here.”

“Thanks Patton,” Dee nodded. “And uh, please keep me updated.”

Patton just nodded, and he and Logan rolled Garrett off in the direction of Emile’s room.

Thomas put a hand on Dee’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Dee nodded stifly. “Yeah. He just... he seemed so ready to die.”

Thomas swallowed. “God, I hate humans sometimes,” he muttered.

“Me too, Thomas. Me too.”

———————————————————————

T: Awwww, poor Garrett! and poor Dee, you could tell how worried he was and how upset he was when Garrett started talking to him. I hope Emile can get through to him, he deserves to be happy again!

#tw depression #tw suicidal thoughts and actions #tw suicide attempt #?#tw swearing #infinitesimal!sides #submission #your ocs #fanfic

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caps-lockdown · 5 years ago

Text

Poll Winner...Hotel Horrors!

Hotel Horrors

Hey everyone so so sorry that this took forever and a day to get out. The short version is I quit my new job because it was leading me down a dark path of anxiety and depression so I’ve been struggling with all of that nonsense and quite frankly lost the motivation to write anything at all. I want everyone to know that your mental health matters and no job (no matter the money or benefits) is worth putting that at risk.

Anyway, here’s the winner of my 200 follower poll! I do plan on writing the other choices eventually, but again I’ve been struggling HARD with writer’s block.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Words: 5,586

Warnings: Mentions of booze, a few swear words. A crude joke. Pretty much all fluff with some panicked!Steve and switching of names.

Summary: Steve Rogers lost something extremely important at your hotel during an undercover mission. What will you do when you find out your celebrity crush was staying under your roof?!

It’s in Y/N Y/L/N format, and I own no characters save for the reader and her coworkers/family. No beta, so mistakes are mine, ALL MINE I tell you!

ENJOY!

“Y/N my happy little orange blossom!”

You looked up from your mug, hot tea sloshing in your mouth until you could force it down. It was eight-thirty am on a brisk Monday in New York City, the hustle and bustle of morning traffic mixed with the grogginess of another too short weekend over. The hotel lobby had been quiet a whole half hour before your uncle had made his presence known. The Wilson hotel, named after your grandfather’s first dog had been in your family for just shy of sixty years, your father and uncle taking over when your grandfather decided to retire five years ago. It was a quaint but lovely little building, boasting just fifty six rooms and four luxury suites. Your grandfather had bought the building on a splurge, wanting to create his own income and become his own boss, much to the encouragement of your grandmother. It was an instant success, the small homely atmosphere mixed with the most affordable prices in the city kept you busy as a receptionist.

Things had slowed down just a touch now that the new year was here and the holidays were gone, people not traveling as much to make up for the money they had spent on presents for whatever they were celebrating. You were usually never caught dead at work on Mondays, never one to really enjoy the swarms of grumpy travelers in the early hours. Sundays and Mondays, until this week unfortunately, were your prized days off. That all changed the minute Mandy the other receptionist who usually worked days where you worked nights decided to bring her third hell spawn into the world a week early. A New Year’s baby. How lovely. Now because of the aptly named “Kia”, you were forced to pull double duty until her replacement started next week. So much for your Christmas wish of working less. You took it in stride though, after all Mandy was your soon to be cousin, your cousin Brent popping the question Christmas morning surrounded by all of your family. The very same family who was quick to point out that you were now the last of six children to be engaged. Or the last of six to have children. Or the last of six to be in a remotely serious relationship. And no, your crush on Captain America most certainly did not count. The only one who hadn’t spoken a word against you was Uncle Todd. He had always been your favorite, and you his. He never married, nor had kids of his own, so he was always quick to jump down your family’s throats. After all, he owned sixty percent of the Wilson and he turned out just fine thank you very much.

His only downfall was that he was simply too happy in the mornings.

His deep chuckle brought you back to the present, an annoyed expression passing over you as he lovingly patted you on the top of your head. He’d been doing it since you were a child. You had hated it since you were a child too. “Oh come now Y/N, surely you aren’t that hung over from the New Year’s celebration? It was a week ago after all. Put some spring in your step!”

“First of all, it’s too early for you. Now I know why I don’t work mornings.” You muttered the last bit into your oversized mug before draining the rest of your English breakfast tea. “Secondly,” you cleared your throat, picking up your electric kettle that sat at your desk and started on brewing your second cup, “You know damn well I don’t get hangovers Uncle. Fortunately I have your alcohol tolerance instead of my hopeless father’s.” The tea bag fell into your now full mug with an uninterested plop. “And thirdly, I’m only here because Mandy is out and Rachel doesn’t start for another week. Last I checked you don’t pay me enough to care about “peppiness” this early on a Monday.”

The shaking of his head normally would have you fearing for a spiel about being more carefree and positive, but the grin he was sporting brought a small one to your features. “We’ll make a morning person out of you yet Y/N. Carson here yet?”

“Nope, I’d wager dad’s stuck in traffic,” you pulled a face before adding “Again”.

“I swear that man will be late to his own funeral. I expect we’ll get a phone call any moment now, be sure to rip him a new one for me eh? Oh my new year’s resolution is to leave the house earlier so I can be on time my left foot.” You giggled, stirring honey into your beverage as he continued to rant and rave all the way to his office, the loud creak of his large chair announcing his defeat on the subject of your father’s constantly late arrivals.

As if on cue the main lobby’s terribly outdated phone rang loudly, a surprised yelp leaving your lips as you set the cup down and picked up the receiver.

“Good morning and thank you for calling the Wilson,” Your customer service voice was a common shock to your family and friends, the usual snark and sarcasm replaced with a sweet and patient tone. You quickly added, “Dad if this is you calling to say you’re running late, it’s been like this for five years. You don’t need to give us a heads up. We know you’ll show up, but you should know uncle Todd prefers it be before the next turn of the century.”

“Well Mandy your uncle seems like a reasonable man although I can assure you I’m extremely punctual.” The voice was certainly not your father’s, and for second you were extremely embarrassed and looking for quick way to end it. It wasn’t normal to get phone calls this early. But before you could do anything rash the person on the other line let out a short laugh. “I needed that laugh today, thank you. It’s been a stressful morning.”

“I’m sorry about that! I’m afraid Mandy is out, my name is Y/N.”Your face burned with the intensity of the sun as you quickly moved on, “How can I help you today mister….”

“Rogers. I’m sorry I assumed you were Mandy.”

“It’s alright mister Rogers.”

“Great.” He continued, taking a breath “Mandy alright?”

“Yep the baby just came early and she went into labor during our charity event last week.”

“How beautiful. I recall her saying something about contractions now that you mention it. Listen Y/N I was wondering if you could help me out on something urgent?”

“Sure mister Rogers, anything for my favorite neighbor.” You blurted out and then inwardly cringed at your own terrible joke, but again it was met by the stranger’s rough laughter. It almost sounded familiar. Like maybe you had heard it in person. Or on the television.

“Cute. I’m sure he…I mean I’ve never heard that one before.” The man recovered and you raised an eyebrow although he couldn’t see it. “So the long story short is that a friend and I checked in last week for your New Year’s charity Gala. It was stunning, had a wonderful time.”

“We had Pepper Potts as a consultant for the event, she’s incredible with event planning. Tony Stark donated some of the art work we auctioned off that night if you recall. Many were saddened to hear he wasn’t able to attend, but miss Potts looked lovely and did a great job.”

“That she did, and I’m sure he was there…in spirit I suppose.” The man got out hastily before recomposing himself. “Anyway I’m afraid my colleague and I were so partied out when we checked out the next day I realized I forgot a very important flash drive somewhere in my suite.”

“Not a problem mister Rogers, our suites are extremely private and we haven’t had any guests in them since last week so I have no problem calling housekeeping and seeing if they found anything. Just a thumb drive you said?”

“Yes a small black thumb drive. I’m super boring and predictable. And please, call me Tony.”

“Alright mister-“You stopped yourself, “Tony. What suite were you in? And we can check your friend’s suite too if you want to give me his name.”

“Oh of course suite number two. He was staying under the name Steve Stark.”

You held in a laugh. It was normal for high-caliber people and celebrities to check in under false names, sometimes even using the names of other celebrities. Kim Kardashian-West checked in as Princess Jasmine once somewhere.

“And you’re Tony Rogers. Funny, I’m sure Mandy didn’t catch that one. She isn’t the brightest crayon in the box I’m afraid.”

“I can agree with you there. “ The man laughed again, and you realized you were finding yourself in a good mood talking to this man. Why was that?

“Well I’ll do some digging and see what I can find. Is this a good number to reach you at Tony?”

“Yes this number is the right one to snag me at.”

“Perfect, I’ll get housekeeping on it right away as no one has been in there since your stay. I’ll call you in a couple days with our results. Hopefully we find it for you. Have a great day!”

“You too Y/N, talk to you soon.”

You hung up the phone and promptly dropped your head on the desk. Where did you know that voice from?

~~Earlier at the Tower~~

“For the last time Steve I haven’t seen your thumb drive!” Sam waved Steve away from blocking the game on the television in the common area. “Now you make a better mountain sized door instead of a window.” Steve huffed angrily out of the room.

“Haven’t seen it Cap, might I suggest checking your shoes?” Tony got out in between bites of his cereal, Bucky laughing with him at the Captain’s deadpanned expression. “What? Worth a shot.”

He stomped out of that room too.

Even Nat had jumped on the skeptical side, narrowing her eyes as he dug through his luggage again for the seventh time in the past two days, “Are you sure you didn’t pack it?”

This was it. This was how Steve Rogers was going to lose his mind. The sleep deprived and stress-ridden super solider pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to take deep breaths. It proved fruitless and he smashed his phone into the wall a day later at the suggestion from Tony to just call the Wilson. The same hotel Tony and him had stayed at the previous week for an undercover mission.

The team had accepted the circumstances, Strange and Nat running communications while Tony and Steve underwent massive amounts of makeup to change their appearance. Tony of course went the craziest. Bald cap, clean shaved face and a suit that made him look even more buff than he already was. Nat kept calling him “Daddy Warbucks”. Steve however had kept it simple. Changed his hair color, grew his beard out a little longer, contacts, and wore a slightly ill fitting suit.

Truth be told he didn’t understand why they needed to be there at first. “Catching art thieves” wasn’t something that usually required action from The Avengers. NYPD were more than capable most of the time, so it came as a shock when one of the owners of the Wilson reached out to them via email. The message didn’t say too much, other than a time, date, and small description of the group of men needing apprehended. Todd and his partner didn’t want these men getting to the very expensive masterpieces they were auctioning off for charity, and just wanted some extra security. Apparently the thieves had been snatching works of art for nearly a decade and hadn’t been caught. Tony loved a challenge and accepted. Todd suggested setting a trap and sending a couple of them undercover so as to not draw unwanted attention. As an added bonus Tony donated some of the art to be auctioned off at the Gala held in his hotel on New Year’s Eve. He even offered to put them up in two of their nicer suites for no charge.

Tony was in the minute he mentioned undercover. He even took to making some secret compartments in their attire, you know just in case.

“You too Y/N, talk to you soon.”

Speaking of the billionaire, he was now putting his phone back in his pocket, a smug expression on his face.

“Y/N the receptionist said she’d look into it and call back in a couple days. Now will you calm down?”

“I can’t calm down Tony, that thumb drive had all the evidence to put the art thieves away.”

“Wet Bandits” Tony corrected, Steve rolling his eyes. “The trial isn’t for another week and worrying is only going to force you into an earlier grave. So cool it.”

The blonde man ran a hand through his hair. He truly hated it when his friend was right. Though he’d never tell him of course, his ego was big enough as is. He let out a sigh, “Fine.”

“Great. Now make a list of places you were in the hotel during the Gala, we can go retrace your steps if they don’t find anything. I think your ancient brain is finally catching up to you Cap.”

Steve slammed the door to his room with that remark, seething with embarrassment and anger. It’s not like he had meant to lose it. He’d never lost intel like this before. Actually now that he thought about it he couldn’t think of a time he had ever lost something this important. Falling into his desk chair with an ungraceful thud, he began writing the places he had been during New Year’s Eve.

~~Flashback, Night of the Gala~~

“We’ll get right back to the Auction after the ball drops!” A jolly looking man, who the team learned to be Todd interrupted the evening, encouraging everyone to mingle and enjoy themselves. Tony didn’t need to be told a second time, making his way to the open bar while Strange noted his obvious distaste in their ear pieces.

People nearly trampled Steve as he got up from his seat, emptying out of the large conference room and into the beautifully decorated grand ballroom just outside. He couldn’t say he blamed anyone, being squished like sardines for the last two hours was starting to even get on his nerves. And he lived in a compound of superheroes with no real sense of boundaries. He was enjoying his solitude, no one recognizing him for the first time in years. It felt liberating, only having a select few know his true identity. He almost didn’t miss it.

He felt a slight shove into his shoulder, turning his body to glance down at the elegant figure draped in simple green velvet, your wide eyes burning into his in embarrassment.

“I’m…I’m such a klutz my apologies!” You stuttered out, giving him the smallest hint of a shy smile.

“No harm no foul. Tony.” He stuck out a hand, giving himself points for not messing up his alias.

You placed your small hand in his and immediately Steve was struck by how soft your hand felt. But before you could give your name your heads swiveled at the shouting coming from the far side of the room. He noted how your eyes shown slight disappointment as you broke from the greeting.

“Forgive me. My relatives and booze never makes for a good outcome.” With a defeated sigh you turned on your heel, clicking away towards Todd, muttering to yourself. “Way to go Y/L/N, always running into gorgeous people and then running away.”

Ok, he missed it a little. You were the sort of someone he would have liked to ask to dance. If under different circumstances of course. Maybe. But silver lining, at least he had been able to catch your last name. He watched you run off with a dreamy look on his face.

“Heads up lover boy, we got company.” Nat jolted Steve from his thoughts, four men entering the large room and nonchalantly casing the place. How these men had gotten away with stealing art for close to a decade was beyond him. Hiding within plain sight he moved to a vantage point high up on a stairwell.

“Tony you got them?”

“You mean Steve. I’m Steve, you’re Tony. Geesh that dime wasn’t in your orbit for more than two minutes and you’re this scrambled?” Tony teased, Steve groaning into his ear piece and earning a smirk in response. “Yea I got them, shall I go ahead and set the plan in motion?” He caught Steve’s nod and reaffirmed it with his own, making his way towards the group. “Then the game is afoot!”

Steve made a mental note to ask Thor for some meade after all of this was over.

The rest of the night went easy enough. The “Wet Bandits” fell for the trap, they were caught red handed and arrested on the spot. Steve managed to swipe a USB drive from the ring leader of the group before the police carted off the criminals, the crowd clapping and cheering for them. They looked like normal, non-super people, just doing the right thing at the right time. It gave the team a sense of pride, knowing even without their suits or names they still got the job done.

“Where should I put this?” He fiddled with the small storage device. Nat had mentioned it would most likely have very incriminating evidence on it. She also put extra emphasis on keeping it safe.

“I don’t know, somewhere close to your soul?”

“That makes no sense Tony.”Steve muttered from the punch bowl, watching his partner walk towards him, empty glass in tow. Typical.

Tony joined him while everyone began to count down the minutes til the new year, gloating about how he couldn’t wait to kiss Pepper.

“That’s rich considering you look like mister clean right now. Think of the headlines.” Strange muttered into the comms and Tony laughed, forgetting temporarily what he looked like in his present state. “Hey there’s that girl you were making eyes at Rogers.”

The contacts he wore were starting to itch from dryness, and Steve found himself exceptionally happy that the night would soon be ending. He couldn’t help but gravitate toward you, your smile and light laughter ringing over the small group of people around you.

“Hello again.” Steve tried to think of what Tony would do in this situation, and then decided the cocky approach probably wouldn’t go over well. Your eyes twinkled in the glow of the gentle lighting, the room dimming as it got closer to a new year.

“Hi again.” Sixty seconds to go.

“I didn’t get to tell you earlier but you look stunning.” You were happy your blush was hidden in the near darkness of the room. The people were getting louder in their chanting of the time, Steve swallowing hard as your smile grew wider with the passing second. As so did his confidence.

“Thank you, that suit is an…interesting color.” Steve remembered his current attire and internally grimaced. What a claude you must think him, showing up in an ill fitting suit, beard barely groomed, his slightly red eyes. Of course he gets the gumption to make small talk and introduce himself and what happens? He looks like a homeless vacuum salesman.

“Ten…Nine…Eight…” He watched as you looked around the room, loudly calling out the numbers, unaware of how smitten he must have been looking at you. You seemed so genuine in your happiness, your smile beaming and lighting up the whole room.

“Five….Four..” He had no idea what was making him inch closer to you, but he couldn’t stop himself. It was like he needed to be near that sort of energy. He hadn’t met anyone that put him so much at ease so quickly before. Why was that?

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!” The crowd erupted in cheers and shouts, guests pulling on party popper strings and Todd and Carson popping bottles of champagne open with sabers. He laughed at you while you shook your head at your obvious relatives. Of course it had to be sabers. Perhaps it was the atmosphere. Maybe it was the loud music. He blamed a large portion of it on the alcohol, although it did nothing for him. Whatever it was spread throughout his entire nervous system and pushed him to place a small kiss on your blush tapped cheek.

“Happy New Year.” He managed to get out, taken aback by his own actions. You didn’t seem to mind, only beamed a smile that seemingly blinded him. Which wasn’t difficult to accomplish thanks to the stupid contacts.

“Yappy Hew Near.” Your alarmed expression at your jumbled words caused Steve to let out a deep laugh, you joining in shortly after. The night concluded with the art being bought back by Tony, not truly wanting to see them go in the first place. He could already hear the argument he and Pepper would be having later. If the look she gave him was any indication, he fully expected Stark to be in sofa city for the better part of the new year. He headed back to his suite with a bounce in his step, happy with the overall outcome.

Steve’s happiness was gone the minute they got back to the Tower and he noticed the flash drive was nowhere in sight.

~~Present~~

Which lead him to this moment of staring at Sam while he went over his paper. There weren’t that many places on it which made for a short list. The lobby, ballroom, conference room, and of course his suite were the only places he went after swiping the drive. Sam took note of all of the sighs leaving the tall man’s lips as he perused the list, growing slightly annoyed.

“Steve, man you gotta get laid. Or go fishing. Somethin’. Anything that will make you less mopey.” His friend grinned, it sinking into a frown when Steve gave him murderous side eye.

“Sam I appreciate you inserting yourself into my personal life again but I still haven’t found that drive. It means everything to the trial and without it –“

”The Wet Bandits won’t be convicted and you will have failed this city…yadda yadda…” Bucky finished, putting his hands on his hips as he stood alongside Sam. “Seriously pal, we know. But worrying about it ain’t gonna make it appear out of thin air. Stop making it worse.”

“Easy for you to say Buck,” Steve scoffed. “You weren’t the one that lost it.”

“Well Cap, I guarantee it will be in the last place you left it!” Tony said, smiling cheerfully at him while he snatched the list from Sam, nodding once he had finished going over it. “We’ll find it, stop getting your old man undies in a bunch and go do something productive.”

Steve went running for three hours, the entire time thinking of ways to get away with murder.

~~~Meanwhile at the Wilson~~~

“I’m telling you Uncle I have torn these rooms apart and I haven’t found anything!!!”

You were laying on the floor of the suite Tony Rogers, or whatever his real name was had stayed in the week prior, your uncle staring down at you from the doorway that lead out into the hall.

“I can see that.” You uncle stated matter of fact, astonished at the sight. “Orange blossom it’s been two days and you haven’t found anything, I think you should give the nice man a call.”

“Ughmnpf” Was your response, your voice muffled from your face in the carpet. Housecleaning hadn’t found anything when they had cleaned both rooms, and you had spent the better part of forty eight hours digging through everything. Todd had rounded up a crew to search the rooms the Gala had been at just in case, and had turned up nothing. Well they did find your uncle’s most prized bottle opener that was shaped like a large great white shark he had gotten from the Caribbean three years ago, but that wasn’t doing anyone any favors. “He’s gonna be so upset Todd. I don’t know if I can to talk to him again.” You complained weakly, rolling onto your back to stare at the ceiling.

“Nonsense, if I remember him well enough I know he’d be very impressed with how you managed to tear these rooms apart looking for something he lost in the first place. Give yourself more credit.”

You dragged yourself off the plush floor and made your way to the phone located in the room, taking out a small slip of paper out from the pocket of your dark gray slacks and punching it into the phone. It rang four times before you were sent to voicemail.

“Hey you’ve reached the personal voicemail of Tony Stark, obviously I’m too wrapped up right now to take your call, so leave a message and I’ll call back when I feel like it.”

You stared into the phone in shock, the loud tone making you jump and sputter into the receiver.

“Ssss…sorry to call this number, I was told I could reach Tony Rogers here. This is Y/N from the Wilson, if you’re free to stop by at three this afternoon I’d greatly appreciate it. Thh..thank you.” You hung up the phone. Now you were certain you had been played. What was this mystery man playing at? First he gives you an obviously fake name and then gives you the phone number of THE Tony Stark?

“What’s wrong Y/N? You look like you just discovered spit in your cheerios. Which might I add hasn’t happened in years.”

“Um, who stayed in this suite Uncle? Tell me the truth.” You narrowed your eyes, attempting to look menacing in your bright mustard sweater and messy bun.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, but it sounds like you’ll meet him soon enough. Which lucky for me, I’ll be here to record it.” Your face paled as your heart started to race.

Who the hell was coming to the hotel?!

~~~Three p.m~~~

“I don’t know about this Tony,” Steve muttered into his new phone, trudging up the slightly slick steps of the hotel. It was snowing, wet globs falling from the sky and sticking to the warm pavement creating a walking hazard for most people. He wasn’t most people though. “You called her. You should be here.”

“And you lost the drive, so you have retrieve it. Now get that stick out of your ass and maybe after ask her out afterwards. ” Steve rolled his eyes, the sass evident in the brunette’s tone. Everyone had gotten fed up with him over the last few days, although he was certain that was a massive understatement. “Let me know how it goes, I’ve got a meeting so I’ll talk to you afterwards.” Steve ended the call with a firm click, taking extra care at putting his phone into his pocket upon entering the lobby. Would hate to have to purchase a second phone within a week.

He was delighted to see you behind the counter, recognizing you from the gala. Granted your eyes were as big as dinner plates and you were choking on whatever was in your mug but you still managed to look lovely. He had it bad and he didn’t have the faintest idea why or how. But he did know that your smile had plagued his nights and swept through his days the entire time he had been looking for this drive. He would definitely be asking you out today.

“Hello I’m looking for Y/N?” Steve said politely, knowing good and well he was staring at her. He noticed Todd off to the side, clearly recording the whole ordeal on his phone. He had mentioned at the Gala that Y/N had harbored an intense school girl crush on the captain most of her life, and had been slightly looking forward to meeting him. Granted this was technically the third time they had met, but she didn’t know that yet.

“She’s right here!” Todd said brightly, your brain attempting to pick itself off the floor and reinsert itself back into your skull. You shook your head out of your shock and smiled, trying hard to calm your nerves. You could probably beat a hummingbird with how fast your heart was racing.

“He’s right I’m Y/N. You must be mister Rogers.” You mentally smacked yourself. Of course he was. His small grin at your expense made the humiliation twenty times worse.

“That I am. Any luck finding my drive?” He was trying to be direct. Right. He had no business here otherwise. You lowered your head, both out of disappointment and guilt.

“I’m afraid not. I personally searched both suites myself for hours and couldn’t find a single black flash drive. I’m so sorry but I was hoping maybe if you revisited the room that it would jog your memory?”

“Good luck with that,” Todd chimed in, your gaze ripping from Steve’s blue eyes to look at your uncle sharply, “It looks like a bomb went off up there.”

“I think it’s a decent idea, sure.” Steve admonished, finding himself at wits end over the matter.

You nodded and lead the way to the elevators, your uncle electing to stay behind much to your behest. Perhaps you would have a heart attack on the way up and that would be the end of it. No, that was being too optimistic. You took the space closest to the far wall, keeping your distance and blush ridden skin as far away from the super solider as possible.

“Ya know this isn’t the first time we’ve met.” Steve said simply, giving you a heartbreaking smile. “You quite literally bumped into me during the gala. And I was with you during the countdown later on that night.”

“I surely would have remembered running into you mister Rogers.” You retorted back just as simply, attempting to study the buttons on the elevator in great detail.

“Not if I was undercover. I had a long beard, terribly fitting suit. Black hair. I’m afraid the contacts made my eyes a little red from the dryness. You were looking absolutely breathtaking, wearing a beautiful green velvet dress. I’ll admit I was pulled to you from the very first moment I laid eyes on you. What were your exact words at midnight?” Your breath caught in your throat when you met his eyes, the recognition hitting you like a freight truck.

“Yappy Hew Near.” You both said it in union, your face going from tinted pink to full on tomato red when you realized Captain America had kissed you on the cheek that night.

“I am SUCH an idiot I am so sorry!” You stammered out, hoping for the first time in your life that the elevator would NOT break down with you stuck in it with Steve Rogers.

“Hey doll it’s alright, really. I wouldn’t have done what I did if I didn’t want to. Your smile is something else.” That caused you to blush harder, if that was possible. “Now let’s go see about that suite huh?”

You really hated how cool he was about the whole thing.

Deciding it would be in your best interest to get this over with as soon as possible you practically tore down the suite door, the inside looking like a tornado went through it. After a band of criminals ransacked it. You tensed up when you heard Steve let out a slow and low whistle.

“You’ve uh…you’ve been busy.” He tried, not easing your nerves and surveying the area. “I believe you when you say you didn’t find anything.”

A nervous chuckle escaped you, “Can you walk me through what happened when you got back here? It might help talking through it.” Steve nodded at you although he wasn’t looking in your direction, his tall stature breezing around the large room with ease.

“I went to the bathroom after taking off my jacket,” He looked in the closet. Nothing. “I took out the awful contacts and shaved.” You giggled as he mimed running a razor over his face in the bathroom. He placed the invisible facial tool down on the counter and walked back out, looking slightly behind you at the nightstand. “I placed my watch there and went to take off my sh…”

The sentence died in his throat, you becoming slightly concerned as he proceeded to stand ramrod still. “Steve? Did you remember something?”

He took off his right shoe, staring into it with a slack jaw.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“Steve? You’re making me nervous, talking into your shoe and all.” You had begun to back away when a slightly hysterical laugh escaped the man’s throat, the timber wavering as he ripped the insole out of the piece of footwear. You were starting to rethink being alone in a hotel room with him.

It was only when he took out the small thumb drive from a hidden compartment in his sole that you began laughing too. But yours was partially due to extreme anger.

“It…was in…your…shoe….the WHOLE time…?” You managed to get out, heaving breaths and attempting to catch them while the good Captain continued to lean onto the nightstand for support, his own breath ragged.

“Tony….made a joke…about putting it…close to…my soul.” He stood up straight, slowly regaining composure which you were not finding helpful. “I must have been so tired that I thought putting it in there was a good idea.”

“Well clearly it was a good place, you couldn’t even find it. But who uses a shoe? Honestly.”

Steve had the good sense to look embarrassed, running a hand through his hair and offering an apologetic smile. “I am so embarrassed. You tore this hotel apart looking for this and I had it the whole time. The team will never let me live it down once they find out.”

“Who says they have to know?” Came your reply, already heading to the suite door and pulling it open with a bit of effort. “I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our secret.”

“What’s the catch doll?” He held the door for you and you gave a mumbled thanks.

“Drinks. Right now.” You said confidently, looking into his eyes, his real blue eyes with ease.

“Can’t I’m afraid.” Steve grinned at your sad expression. “We have dinner plans first.”

“Pizza?”

“You read my mind Y/N.”

You couldn’t stop yourself, beaming another mega-watt smile.

“Maybe we’re SOLE-mates mister Rogers. Shall we?”

You both laughed the entire way to the restaurant down the street.

The end.

Tags: @kaytizzle @pies-wands-and-more @cuffski @giggleberts

#steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #avengers #avengers fanfiction

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purplesurveys · 5 years ago

Text

688

Have you today?

Looked in a mirror? Not on purpose. We just have several mirrors in the house that I unavoidably pass by and look at.

Watered a plant? Not today, but my dad has asked me to do it a couple of times in the last week.

Worn denim? I haven’t worn outside clothes in almost a monthhhhh. And that includes denim.

Washed your hair? Technically yes. I took a shower at around 1 AM? before heading to bed.

Been in pain? Kind of. My left eye has been irritating me almost every night/morning since the year started; sometimes it gets incredibly swollen, sometimes it just feels like something is stuck in my eyelid. Either way it’s always uncomfortable and painful.

Had a nap? Haha, not yet. But since the lockdown started I’ve been having an afternoon siesta everyday. Brushed your teeth? Yeah, it came along with the ^ above 1 AM shower. Kissed someone? I haven’t been able to kiss my girlfriend in almost three weeks now and I’m miiiiiserable. Used a cheese grater? Nah, I haven’t used one in a while.

Eaten something sweet? Not yet. I might eat a few pieces of chocnut later though. Spoken to a stranger? Not today, but we did have a village guard knock on our door earlier to give my dad a quarantine pass – it’s to confirm that he’ll be the only one in the family allowed to leave the house in case we need to go to the groceries or something. I peeked by the front door to listen to the interaction, but I didn’t speak with the guard myself. Dropped something? Sure. My bottle of eye drops. Felt upset in some way? You can say that. There’s a new trend on Facebook where groups are created so certain universities can just trashtalk one another as a joke. It was funny at first but there are some posts that have gone too far, personal, or both, and it obviously hasn’t been good for my mental health lol. Drank coffee? Not yet today. I usually have it in the evening. Walked for more than thirty minutes? I also haven’t walked much in three weeks. That’s kinda what’s supposed to happen when your entire city is put on lockdown. Signed up for something? No. I’ve logged in to certain sites, though. Travelled in a car? I also haven’t been in a car in the last couple of weeks. I was able to ride with my dad the night before they imposed the lockdown – we were visiting my grandpa in the columbary because it would’ve been his 80th birthday that day. Opened a can? Nope. Thought about doing something crazy? At the back of my head I always think of driving up to see Gab because I miss her a lot, but it just remains a crazy thought in my head. Listened to a new song? Yeah. I have a couple of saved playlists and I don’t know like 94% of the songs in both of them, so I’m always listening to a new song everyday. Written in a notebook? I haven’t. I’ve written on a piece of paper, though. Fed an animal? Yup, my dog needs his breakfast. Checked your emails? LOL NOPE, and I don’t plan to check them any time soon. Told someone you love them? Yeah, before we both turned in at like 3 AM lol. Made a phone call? Yeah I also called my girlfriend earlier.

Have you in the last week?

Update: I skipped this survey the whole day and now it’s 10:30 in the evening, and I’ve already done a bunch of stuff I said no ^ to earlier lmao but am too lazy to change. Let’s gooooooo

Travelled on a bus? Nah. The bus personally isn’t my main mode of transpo and I only get to ride them when I’m in a group and there’s no choice but to ride a bus, like for field trips or for group itineraries during vacations.

Washed your face? Yeah. I did this today because my face was feeling annoyingly oily. Put a face mask on for the first time in a long time.

Used a blender? No. I don’t think we even have a blender at home, cos no one ever makes stuff that needs to be blended.

Received a phone call? Sure. Gab and I called several times in the last week, and my grandma has also called from time to time to check up on us because the lockdown has kept us from seeing her regularly.

Talked to someone you dislike? I...don’t think so. If I did I’d definitely talk to Gabie about it, and I haven’t done that with her haha.

Consumed alcohol? Ugh, bleck. Yeah. I wanted to get buzzed last week and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s is the only thing we have in the house so I had a small sip and just... disgusting. Whiskey is just not my thing, so never again.

Eaten pasta? Spot on. We had spaghetti for dinner tonight.

Planned for an event? There is no event to plan, and it’ll stay like this for the next 3-4 months probs.

Asked someone for a favour? Sure, I asked Gab to be the one to write the write-up that’s going to be on my college yearbook.

Watched something funny? I’ve been watching tons of these to fight off boredom during the break.

Trimmed your nails? Yep, they were getting long and uncomfortable so I got rid of them.

Browsed Reddit? Also yep. School kept me busy for a couple of months and I wasn’t able to use Reddit then because I’d usually pass out by evening. But right now I have more than enough time to browse it, so I’ve been doing some catching up.

Talked to yourself? I guess? Not as much as before the lockdown though, because I’ve already been usually by myself throughout this break, and don’t feel the ~need to talk to myself.

Purchased tickets for something? Nah. They cancelled almost all future events up until May or June...there’s no tickets to be bought at all to begin with.

Felt like you were annoying someone? Meh, it happens every now and then.

Cleaned a toilet? I’ve never done this at all.

Reminisced about the past? LMAO yeah. Someone created a Facebook group that lets alumni from my high school just shit-talk the school and bring back (and reveal) old drama, scandals, and controversies. It’s hilarious, it hasn’t pissed me off, and past students exposing teachers who turned out to be trash and/or perverts is so satisfying.

Used headphones? I haven’t had headphones in a while.

Laughed with a friend? Yeah, but just virtually. I haven’t heard most of my friends’ voices in a while.

Cooked dinner and then didn't feel hungry? Nah. I HAVE helped my dad make dinner a few times this week, which is like huge baby steps for me in learning how to cook haha.

Written a list? I don’t think I have in the last week.

Played an instrument? Nope. Felt jealous or envious? It happens. Ignored a text message on purpose? Lol yeah I guess. There were times I got fed up with Gab being such a slow replier that when she replies, I stopped wanting to open my inbox. Congratulated someone? I just did! UP’s med school results were released a few hours ago and I congratulated my friend Michelle for passing. Her decision was super clutch – she initially passed med school as early as high school but she declined it so she can take journalism instead, because it’s what she thought she liked at the time. Four years into the course and she realizes she hated it, so she made the really clutch decision to review for med school exams and she ended up passing every single one she took, UP being the icing on the cake. Honestly I wish I had balls like her.

Have you in the last month?

Made a piece of art? I don’t think so.

Rewatched one of your favourite tv shows or movies? I rewatch Friends at least once or twice a month, so ya got me there.

Called a plumber? We haven’t needed to do this.

Been to a see a doctor? Yup, an optometrist. Something’s been going on with my left eye for a while, so I went in to have a checkup a couple of weeks ago.

Finished a book? I did :o I had to read an entire book to make an essay for my business news class. It’s an investigative piece on the fast food industry, which I honestly dig, so I didn’t have a hard time reading and finishing it.

Had a crush on someone? Sure.

Travelled on a train? Definitely haven’t done this at all, except for that one time three years ago when I had to do it with Jum to go to the House of Representatives in Manila.

Worn heels? I don’t think I did, no. Been to a friend's house? Yeah, I was at Gabie’s a couple times before the lockdown started. Shared a bed with someone? ^ Just her. Been to see a movie at the cinema? Haven’t been to since Knives Out last December. Paid attention to celebrity drama? Nah. High school drama though, I’ve been all over that the last couple of days lmao. Felt anxious? I feel it at least once a day. Taken an elevator? Sure. Given someone the cold shoulder? Only when I don’t reply to Gab because she takes too long to reply, lol yeah. It doesn’t last too long though; it’s just a playful tantrum thing. Purchased a new book/game/movie? Nah, I think I find most of my content on YouTube/Netflix anyway. Applied for a job? Hahahahahahahahahahhaha not yet don’t rush me. Used a printer? I don’t think so. Had lunch in a park? But do we have parks at all? Lmaooooooooo Gotten a manicure or pedicure? Definitely not into those. Made an appointment? Ish? If the one with the optometrist counts. Had a blood test done? Not since 2010. Suffered from a major bruise? Lol dude I haven’t moved a lot in the last few weeks, there’s absolutely no reason for me to get a bruise. Researched a topic in-depth? Yes. I am in school, after all.

Have you in the last year?

Been to the beach? Yep, but it’s been a literal year and not less than, and I am haaaaaardcore missing the beach. No idea when I’ll be coming back.

Visited someone in the hospital? No and I hope I won’t have to for now, given what’s been going on.

Played pinball? Ooh I just did earlier this month! Gab and I went to BGC for a whole night of partying, and when everyone went home we stayed so we can go bar-hopping, and there’s a place called Barcade that’s...well, you get the name. ANYWAY they had sooo many vintage arcade games and a couple of pinball machines, and we didn’t waste time playing each of them. It was sooooo fun.

Travelled on a plane? A couple of times.

Worn a costume? I was Dora for Halloween, so yup.

Been thrift shopping? I don’t...think so?

Thought about getting pregnant or got pregnant? Hell no.

Made a big life decision? Not really. Hasn’t everyone’s lives been put on hold because of this stupid virus?

Changed a lightbulb? Never had at all, really.

Framed something and put it on your wall? Nah. I’m not really that kind of person.

Been stargazing? I’ve been doing this a lot recently cos I’ve been staying at the rooftop at night more often. And with everyone at home, the light pollution has been clearing up and the stars have been so much easier to see.

Made a new friend? If the new applicants for our org count, then yes.

Added to a collection? I don’t have any.

Been to the dentist? Oh yeah. I had a really bad toothache throughout December but the dentist took it all away ahhdkjfhdjsfhsf I’m so grateful lmao.

Broken up with someone? Nope.

Held a baby? That’s a bigger nope.

Created a budget? Nah lmao I would never be able to follow it.

Confessed feelings for someone? Already did.

Had surgery of any kind? Nope and I hope I’ll never need one.

Quit a job? Never had a job,

Been in a car accident? NO thank god hahahahahahaha Purchased something worth over a grand? Yep, one of my Christmas gifts for Gabie was well around two grand. Pesos though, so that’s like roughly $40. Been on vacation at least 500km/300mi from home? Yeah, we always do at least one of these when my dad’s home. Applied for an academic course? Does enrolling count? I’m still in college lmao. Had your photo taken by a professional? I had my grad shoot taken last January.

#survey #surveys

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scroll-of-thought · 5 years ago

Note

PLEASE DON'T TAKE THIS THE WRONG WAY. But please remember to take your meds if you have any! Seeing shadow people might be a hallucinations might be a sign of psychosis. It might also be a sign of gas poisoning so check your stove and check for leaks. I'm not trying to offend you. I just want to make sure you're okay.

I’ve actually gotten a surprising amount of these since making the shadow person post, so I’ll take a second to reply to this.

Firstly, thanks everyone who’s sent these making sure I’m ok. Mental health is a super important topic, and especially in the witch community there’s a lot of anti-meds rhetoric that does nothing but harm. So cool shit guys, keep up the good work and I’m glad to see people reaching out to remind people.

That being said, aside from the depression that comes with being 30 and barely surviving while living with my in-laws, I’m mentally sound. I’ve got no history of mental illness, nor family history, I’m on no meds, I don’t do any drugs, and I can’t even metabolize alcohol due to an allergy.

We’ve got an electric stove and oil heating, nothing’s even hooked up to a gas main. And the CO and CO2 testers are working, we just replaced the batteries not too long ago because they were due this last summer.

Update on the shadow person Further more, I’m not the only one seeing things lately. My partner told me she kept seeing shadows out of the corner of her eye, and she dismissed it as lack of sleep because of how busy we’ve been recently. That was until she saw it just kind of peeking over her head while she was working, turned and it was a little slower to vanish and she saw a good bit of black before it dissipated a second later.

And the in-laws have been hearing weird bangs, thuds, and foot steps. They asked us the other night if we were walking around the house at 4am, and we definitely weren’t, and my Mother-in-law could have sworn one of us was in her room last night, near the bathroom door. The upstairs bathroom is between their bedroom and leads out into the hall/stairs where I saw it. At the time that she saw it, the dog woke her up to go out, and she assumed that was either me or my partner standing there and the dog must have woken us up first. Nope, we were asleep. So, pretty sure things are just haunted. I mean, I’m a witch, my partner is a spirit worker, so haunted isn’t surprising really. We do a lot of magick in this house, and it’s still due it’s Fall cleansing and warding, which I was planning on doing at the beginning of the month, but plans have changed and we’ve been too busy. I’m thinking I’m going to have to do it this week though, because Silver’s grandparents are moving in by next Monday (assuming the hospital discharges them by then) and having rogue spirits living around old people in so-so health, probably not the best idea.

#shadow people

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mikauzoran · 5 years ago

Text

Adrienette Drabble Twenty-One: Price

Nino’s ears were a little sore where he’d gotten his cartilage pierced earlier that day. He’d been wanting to do it for a while, and the events of the previous week had given him more than enough reason to finally put a set of holes in his ears.

He sighed as he gripped Marinette’s earrings tightly in his palm for a third time that week, on the lookout for black butterflies as Marinette lay curled up on the couch beside him, trembling and choking on sobs, her head resting on Nino’s thigh.

When Nino’s phone rang for the second time in five minutes, he sighed and pulled it out, expecting his mother or Alya.

He had two missed calls and one text from Adrien.

Internally, Nino cursed.

Adrien’s text seemed innocuous enough…but then why the second call?

“Sorry,” Nino muttered to Marinette. “It’s Alya. Let me just text her to tell her I’m busy. Hopefully it’s not important.”

Marinette made a little noise of acknowledgement through her hiccups.

Nino texted Adrien back, asking if he needed anything. Nino prayed that he didn’t because Nino could NOT deal with both of them at the same time.

Fortunately, Adrien did not seem to be in crisis. Unfortunately, Adrien was the best actor that Nino had ever seen, and text was not a good medium through which to determine emotional state.

Nino posted a mental sticky-note on the fridge in his mind palace reminding him to call Adrien back as soon as Marinette was stable.

It was several minutes later that Marinette began to sniffle as she rode out the worst of her meltdown.

“Starting to feel better?” Nino inquired softly.

Marinette nodded, rubbing away the remnants of tears.

“Do you think you’re okay to take your earrings back?” he wondered.

Marinette shook her head. Her voice trembled as she confessed, “I don’t really want to deal with her right now. Keep her a little longer for me? Please?”

Nino nodded, chewing at the inside of his cheek. “You two still not talking?”

Marinette closed her eyes and sighed. “Not a lot. She’s unapologetic, and I’m mad at her. I mean, I get that she’s thousands of years old and that my one, measly human love life isn’t much in the grand scheme of things. I get that she’s looking at the bigger picture and trying to do what’s best for all of humanity…but would it really have killed her three years ago to say, ‘You know, Marinette, you really need to cool your jets with Adrien and maybe think about giving Chat Noir a chance. Wink. Wink.’? Would it really have been the end of the world if she had taken me aside after I talked with you about dating Chat Noir and told me why I couldn’t date Chat Noir? Did she have to let things get so screwed up? Did she have to let me emotionally torture Adrien for four and a half years?”

Nino didn’t respond, letting Marinette vent without passing judgment one way or the other.

Marinette groaned, rolling over onto her back. “I know I’m being unfair. I know I’m just passing the buck and not taking responsibility for my own actions, but…maybe things would have ended better if I’d had a little better guidance…or maybe not. Maybe I would have screwed things up on my own just as bad…. I just…I suck.”

Nino pulled out Marinette’s ponytail holder and began running his fingers through her hair. “No, you don’t.”

“I feel like I suck,” Marinette muttered. “This whole time…” She choked on an unexpected sob and burst back into tears.

Nino kept petting her hair soothingly.

She got ahold of herself once more a minute or two later and coughed, “S-Sorry. Nino, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you have to do this. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you being there for me lately. I swear I’m going to find some way to make this up to you.”

“Hey, no,” he insisted. “Shh. Like, don’t even. It’s…” He shook his head as he stared resolutely down at her. “Cupcakes, you have been there for Paris unfailingly for almost five years now. You’ve earned the right to ask someone to step up for you, and I am honored that you trust me to have your back. Am I exhausted and mega stressed? Yes. Of course I am, but let me assure you that there is nowhere I would rather be right now than sitting on this sofa having your back. Okay?”

She grinned up at him broadly, wiping away her tears once more. “You rock, Nino. You know that? I’m making you an MVP ribbon or something because you seriously rock.”

“I could live with that,” Nino chuckled until a thought hit him. “…Though…we probably shouldn’t let the cat see it. He might get his feelings hurt.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Nino winced at his mistake.

Marinette curled back up on her side, and Nino could feel fresh tears seeping into his jeans.

“Sorry,” Nino whispered.

“It’s okay. You’re right.” Her voice was shaking and barely audible.

“Wanna talk about something else for a bit?” Nino suggested. “How was your day? …Or is that a bad question to ask? I mean…I guess something upset you or pushed you over the edge, and that’s why I’m here, right? Sorry.”

She shook her head. “Today was…I don’t know. I was at work most of the day.”

“How’s that going?” Nino prompted.

“I don’t know,” Marinette chuckled bitterly. “There are times when I think I’m doing a really good job and times when I’m worried that I’m making a mess of everything…. I think Gabriel Agreste is punishing me for what I did to Adrien. He gave the other interns one or two tasks apiece today ranging from simple to moderately difficult, but he gave me four really involved assignments…but then…when we all checked in at the end of the day, I reported to him and he smiled. He smiled and told me what a good job I’d done…like he was happy that I had succeeded or something. Like I keep saying, I don’t know. I was super stressed today, and then Adrien showed up at the shoot, and—”

“—What?!” Nino choked. “What the hell was he doing there?”

Marinette shrugged. “Apparently, Adrien and Elise are friends now, and they were meeting up for coffee after the shoot…only Elise told him the wrong time, so he ended up there early, and she dragged him over to say hi to me, not knowing that we’re currently on the outs.”

Nino swore under his breath. “What happened?”

“Nothing, actually,” Marinette responded with a touch of residual surprise. “She dragged him over, and we said hi to each other, and…he did mention that his father was impressed by my work, so that was nice, but…” She rolled over onto her back once more and threw an arm over her face. “He asked me if I wanted to get Chinese and watch anime tonight.”

“And you told him no and he looked crushed and you felt like The Grinch Who Stole Christmas,” Nino surmised, taking off his hat to tug at his close-cropped hair. He cursed softly.

“Mm,” Marinette confirmed. “And when I said no, he asked if maybe next week we could hang out…. I can’t freaking hang out with him right now, Nino,” she growled in frustration. “I’m in no shape to spend time with him because you know what I’m going to do the minute I’m alone with him? I’m going to kiss him. I’m going to rip his clothes off and have sex with him because the guy I’ve been crazy about for years now is madly in love with me, and I want him. I want him, but I can’t have him because we’re both freaking wrecks, and I have to be the mature one in this relationship because—through no fault of his own—he can’t.”

She smacked her hand down against the sofa with another growl.

“God, the look on his face today, Nino. He’s desperate. Chat has always been desperate, but at least before he had a little more self-respect. He’d get upset or mad at me. Nowadays, Adrien is just so…it’s like I can do no wrong. And that’s scary. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been hurting him senselessly for years; all that is forgiven, and that’s not right, Nino. He can’t just let me get away with it. This isn’t…healthy. This isn’t what a healthy relationship looks like, and I don’t want…I don’t want us to hurt one another, so…I can’t say yes before we’re both ready and have it blow up in our faces and then not even be able to be friends afterwards. So I can’t be with him right now…. I can’t be around him…right?”

She lowered her arm and gazed up searchingly at her friend, as if asking for permission to give in and be with Adrien anyway.

Nino looked at her pityingly. “Yeah. I honestly think you two are bad for each other right now. If he’s making you feel this unstable, you need a break. I can say for certain that you are toxic to him at the moment, so it’s probably a good idea to leave him alone and let him heal.”

Marinette studied Nino for a minute before closing her eyes with a sigh. “I miss him.”

“I know,” Nino muttered.

“I miss him so much,” Marinette laughed. “We’re supposed to be cuddling and finishing up Ouran High School Host Club right now. I’m supposed to be with him.”

She lowered her arm just enough to peek up at Nino. “Can I change my mind? Can I say I’m sorry and take it all back and tell him I want to be together?”

“No,” Nino snapped with all the severity of a wolf protecting her cubs. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, you leave him the eff alone. Don’t you dare keep jerking him around. You’ve made your decision, and now you’re stuck with it, okay? No waffling. Now, I love you, Cupcakes, and I’m not mad at you. I’m not blaming you, but the truth is that you’ve wrecked him—whether you meant to do that or not. He is a wreck, and he needs you to stay the heck away from him while he picks himself back up, okay?”

She slipped her arm back up over her eyes and nodded soundlessly.

“What he needs is to learn to be okay without you—without anyone. What he doesn’t need is you to come back in and coddle him so that he thinks it’s okay to stop working on his mental health since he got what he wanted. The last thing we need is him using you as a crutch instead of actually getting emotionally healthy. We’re done with that, so you stay on your side of the line and work on coming to terms with all the Chat-Adrien-Marinette-Ladybug stuff, and I’ll try to keep him on his side of the line so he can work on…” Nino blew out a slow stream of air. “…all his crap.”

“…I wish I could be there for him,” Marinette muttered. “Some partner I am.”

“You are there for him,” Nino insisted. “From a distance because that’s where you have to be right now, just one week after the apocalypse, for your own mental health—which, may I remind you, is not that great. He knows you care about him, Marinette.”

“Does he? I told him I was disappointed that he was Chat.” Marinette winced. “He’s probably got ‘I can’t love you’ drilled into his head just like I have ‘She’s just a friend’ stuck in mine. We’re both real pieces of work.”

Nino gave Marinette’s hair a tussle. “Stop thinking about it. Time to think happy thoughts.”

Marinette snorted. “…Wanna watch Code Lyoko?”

“Sure thing, ma pote,” Nino chuckled.

“…And can we maybe order Chinese?” she asked in a small, embarrassed voice.

Nino decided to be indulgent. “Yeah. We can do that.”

“And can you order shrimp lo mein and let me pick the shrimp out in exchange for my bamboo shoots?” Marinette pressed her luck.

Nino raised an eyebrow. “You two are weird. Why…?” Nino cut himself off, pursing his lips.

Marinette shrugged. “Well, you know how Adrien doesn’t really care for meat or seafood or poultry much? He actually doesn’t mind shrimp, but he only eats, like, half the shrimp they give him, so I pick out the other half. I don’t dislike bamboo shoots, but I don’t really like them that much either. Adrien really likes them, though, so…it just kind of works out.” She smiled sheepishly.

Nino nodded.

“And for fortune cookies, I get the cookie; he gets the fortune. He has a collection,” Marinette chuckled, a real smile finally coming to her face.

Nino smiled softly. His heart really went out to his friends.

“Don’t worry,” he wanted to assure them. “We’ll get you two back together soon.”

#Adrienette #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Nino Lahiffe #Adrien Agreste #Mikau's Writings #There's a Daisy

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