#PTSD Reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gryfflepuffinthetardis · 1 year ago

Text

Sweet Jane Part One — Campbell Bain x Reader

Summary: Y/n was admitted to Saint Jude's hospital in Glasglow soon after her eighteenth birthday when she developed a case of psychogenic/traumatic mutism; there she meets a talkative, optimistic, idealistic, hyperactive nineteen-year-old boy with Manic depression who dreams of becoming a DJ, follow them through their story and learn what happened to Y/n.

Series Warnings: Past Toxic Relationship, Manipulative Ex, Mentions of Past Rape, Mental Health, Discrimination against the Mentally Ill/Neroudivergent, Traumatized Reader, Abusive Parents, Mentions of deceased family members, Stalking, Suicide, Reader doesn't handle men touching her well, Mentions of Sex, Bad Caretakers, Implied Non-Scottish Reader, Implied Short Reader, Campbell Bain's Dad is Terrible

Chapter Warnings: Reader refuses to speak; Loving Campbell Bain, Traumatized Reader, Selectively Mute Reader, PTSD Reader, Psychogenic Mute Reader, Traumatic Mute Reader, Manic Depressant Campbell Bain, Bipolar Campbell Bain, Schizophrenic Furgus, OCD Rosalie, Reader Developed Selective Mutism as a Coping Mechanism, Reader may have an intense type of anxiety caused by trauma, Reader is implied to not be Scottish or at least from Scotland (I am American but just add where you're from), Reader is implied to be shorter than the six-foot Campbell Bain

“You are a mystery to me, yet so familiar. Like a song I’ve never heard before, and a tune I’ve known my entire life.”

youtube

Y/N hadn't spoken a word since she was eighteen and long before that something had changed. Her parents finally decided enough was enough and sent her to Saint Jude's hospital in Glasgow.

Campbell had literally crashed into the new girl during his excitement at hearing that the Saint Jude's radio station would be reopened.

The girl screamed as he collided with her and she started screaming and kicking due to his body weight on her.

"Sorry. Sorry. Sorry." He said, hurriedly, getting off of her and holding a hand out to help her up but she just stared at him, terrified, "I'm sorry. Uh..." He realized he didn't recognize her, as far as he knew he was the youngest patient at Saint Jude's and this girl was around his age. This was exciting! "Are you new? I'm Campbell Bain, I'll be the bane of your life until one of us is discharged." He chortled at his own joke before he realized she was still of the floor, "Oh, let me help you up." He crouched down and took her hand, helped her up.

She stared at him with a confused look on her face but she didn't pull her hand away yet more out of shock than anything. Campbell offered her a smile before she ripped her hand out of his grip and ran off, leaving Campbell very confused.

He asked the nurses about the girl but none would give him proper answers, until he got to Stuart the orderlie, who should've been a patient instead but... you know, life.

"She's a looney." He said, blankly.

"Ai, yes. Yes. Yes. I know that much but what's her name? What's her deal?" Campbell prodded.

"Y/N." Was all he said.

A few days later, Eddie McKenna arrived to be the DJ for Saint Jude's, with assumption that he'd be able to tell the difference between the staff and the patients.

He had an interaction with Stuart and assumed he was a patient but found out that he was a nursing assistant. Well, that couldn't be good.

Then he met Campbell, who seemed perfectly friendly and nice before realizing he was a patient himself.

Campbell and Y/N were on better terms, now that she had stopped bolting on the other direction when he tried to talk to her. And they listened to Eddie's show as Y/N read Narnia.

Soon after the show, Eddie heard Campbell playing and singing, Summertime Blues on his guitar which was only slightly out of tune, which Eddie had played on his show. He saw Y/N correcting Campbell's finger placement on the guitar as he whined that it hurt his hand.

Campbell enthusiastically praised Eddie and explained on his poor timing and the patient’s dependence of television.

Y/N caught sight of something moving outside the window and she threw a guitar pick at Campbell, making him pout in her direction before seeing her pointing and they ran to window as he said, “Hang on, you’re not boring me or that, but I’ve just seen a friend of mine flying past the window.”

Y/N and Campbell leaned out the window to see the hospital’s Schizophrenic who despite the schtick his disorder stereotyped him as he was just the most gentle soul you’d ever meet, if a little eccentric, grappling down the side of the building.

“Fergus! What’re you doing!?” Campbell shouted after him as Eddie joined them, “you’re gonna hurt yourself!”

“Shall I get a nurse?” Eddie asked and Y/N shook her head.

“Fergus! You’re gonna miss your cocoa, you know!”

“I know.” Fergus told him.

“Can Y/N and I have it, then?” He asked.

“Help yourselves.” He told them.

“He’s escaping.” Eddie said, surprised how calm both of them were being so calm about this

“He’ll be knocking on the door in an hour or so. He always does.” Campbell reassured Eddie, “annoys the hell out of the staff but makes this one smile.” He nodded at Y/N as she sat on Campbell’s bed with his guitar, the look of fascination in Campbell's eyes was not lost on Eddie.

Campbell returned to his enthusiastic and impulsive idea-planning, the first being to bring up a story when a student nurse accidently gave everyone in the ward a laxative, making Eddie and Y/N look at him oddly and the only problem he saw with it was where he’d get that many laxatives.

“What about a request show?” He asked Eddie.

“I already thought of that. I haven’t enough records.” Eddie shot down that idea… well, he’s never disagreed with Campbell Bain before.

“So?”

“So? When folk request something, they usually like to be able to play it.”

“We just make them keep requesting until they hit something we actually have.” Campbell said, “‘if you can guess a record that we actually have in our library, then we will play it for you with a special dedication’.” He did a playful punch in the air, “who could resist?”

“It’ll never work.”

Y/N who had been playing with Campbell’s guitar, then played a jingly tune.

“You’re right, Y/N!” He declared, enthusiastically with an enthusiastic pointed finger at her and then he ran his hand through his light auburn-brown floppy hair, “We’ll need some jingles.” Y/N looked up when Campbell sang a jingle, “Hospital radio, Saint Juuuuude’s.” He smiled at Eddie, “that sort of thing.”

“You need singers to record jingles.”

Campbell picked up his guitar from Y/N and sat next to her, “and what exactly is sitting here before you?”

“A lunatic!” Eddie declared, making Y/N softly giggle.

“Aye, a singing lunatic!” Campbell agreed, enthusiastically. “We could record them in the station, aye?”

“Aye…” Eddie submitted.

“Brilliant!” Campbell exclaimed, going back to Eddie, “Now give me the key.” He held out his hand.

“What key?” Eddie asked.

“To the station.” Campbell said and ran to the door, looking out, “look, I’ve gotta start. Writing the jingles, rehearsing the singers, cataloging the albums.”

Eddie looked at Y/N as she looked back down and realized he hadn’t gotten her name, having been distracted Campbell’s… Campbell-ness and Fergus escaping. “Uh, ma’am… what’s your name again?” Eddie asked, making Y/N look up from a piece of paper she was now writing on, she gave him with a blank deadpan look at being called “ma’am”. She was only eighteen.

“That’s Y/N.” Campbell said.

“What’s your favorite album?” Nothing. She just looked at him, “can you sing?” She blinked twice and he turned back to Campbell, “what’s wrong with her?”

“Oh, she doesn’t speak. She hasn’t said a word since she got here.” Campbell said, “and there’s nothing wrong with her, she’s just looney like me!”

Eddie walked closer to him and asked as gently as he could, “Campbell, how exactly are you here?”

Campbell paused in which he faltered, knowing how his own father felt about his disorder before smiling, “Can you not guess? I’m manic.” Y/N looked up and smiled at him, making his eyes dart to her and a more genuine smile appeared on his lips before he reassured Eddie, “but don’t worry. The drugs I take make me completely stable. Except for headaches, of course.” He blinked in pain as he focused back on the painful headaches and he squeezed his eyes shut before blindly grabbing onto Eddie’s shirt who could sense a scene coming up as could Y/N who looked up to be amused by Campbell, “I get these headaches. I just comes over me and I cannae…” He flopped on his bed, next to Y/N and shouted out in pain, “ah, the bells! The bells!”

Y/N reached over and went to place her hand on Campbell’s back before stopping, hesitating to do so, not sure if they were close enough or if she wanted to admit that they were close enough and then suddenly Campbell’s mood shifted back to near manic and he shot himself up to look at Eddie, making Y/N pull her hand away, blinking briefly in surprise, “And I want my own show, by the way.”

“What?” Eddie asked.

“Well, after all this work, I think it’s only fair, don’t you?” He questioned.

“Campbell, I cannae just give you your own show.” Eddie protested, “you need training on the equipment.”

“So? Train me!” Campbell pleaded, eagerly. “I’ll take Friday nights.”

“Will that not clash with Brookside?” Eddie questioned.

Y/N looked at the window where they had gone to to shout after Fergus.

—

The next day, Campbell and Eddie were in the common room with Eddie standing shyly while Campbell did the opposite and shouted through a party megaphone while Y/N sat with Fergus, writing down something for him to read. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have an important announcement to make!” He spotted Fergus and Y/N and narrowed his eyes, “Fergus, stop flirting with Y/N.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and went to the couch rather bored now and put her headphones on.

Campbell and Eddie had announced the request show, while admitting that they had limited records. Eddie went to talk to Nana while Campbell stared at Y/N, feeling nervous to approach her since he worried she hated him with how scared she got when he interacted with her.

Then Fergus clapped him on the back, making him stumble and look at him, unamused before approaching the silent H/C-haired girl.

"Hey, Y/N," Campbell said, kindly, walking up to the silent girl but she didn't seem to hear him as she was listening to her Walkman. He tapped her shoulder, making her jump and stare at him with wide eyes just as she had when they first met. He gestured to her headphones, silently asking if he could take them off and she slowly nodded and he gently slid them off and could vaguely hear Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover by Sophie B. Hawkins.

youtube

"Hey, we're doing a request show. You have any requests?"

She looked at him for a good while before getting up and leaving. Campbell frowned and his spirits were diminished before leaning forward and face planting his face into the couch cushion, groaning.

—

Campbell showed Eddie the radio station now cleaned and useable thanks to him, Y/N, and Rosalie and as he left Eddie questioned Campbell about Nana and Campbell answered in his own hyperactive way before Eddie questioned him about his obvious crush on Y/N.

“The silent girl, uh… M/Y/N.” (Mispronunciation of Your Name)

“Y/N.” Campbell corrected, automatically in a slightly defensive tone.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

Campbell’s cheeks burned as they reddened and his heartrate quickened, “No. No. No. She’s new actually. Been here about a week. She… she’s a mystery.” He gave out a dreamy smile, “One I’d like to solve but…” He shrugged like, what can you do? —

Campbell was snoring when he was awoken by a friendly smack in the head. He woke up, groaning with confusion before turning on his light, illuminating Y/N who smile sweetly at him as she held something behind her back.

"Jesus, Y/N." He groaned, "what you do that for?" She just looked at him and he nodded, remembering who je was talking to, "right. Uh, what is it?"

Y/N brought a custom record sleeve out from behind her back and he slowly began to realize what she was trying tell him.

"Oh, you want me to play one of these songs during the show tomorrow, er… today?" He asked.

She nodded and sat on the edge of his bed, making him kick around spazzily and awkwardly before sitting up, trying to make room for her as his heart pounded and he looked down at her, feeling her body heat up against his but forced himself not to think about that as it was a bit of a creepy thought to have at two in the morning as she showed him the songs on the back of the vinyl which was also handmade, she pointed at the first song: a cover of The Velvet Underground's Sweet Jane by Cowboy Junkies.

"Is that your favorite song?" He asked and she nodded. "Wait, these are all from different bands, how'd you get this?"

She pointed to herself, "you made it?" He gathered, "Who made the record?" She pointed to herself again and he just smiled at her impressed and enamored by her. "You are one mystery, Y/N L/N. You may be my favorite mystery.”

She smiled, telling him that she liked the idea of being a mystery to him and kissed his cheek, near the corner of his lip, nearly making him melt with a loud dreamy sigh before running off. He looked after he with a starstruck look of awe on his face before flopping back on his pillow, groaning.

—

The next day, Y/N shared a smile with Fergus before listening in on the radio to the show, standing and watching Campbell through the window.

“Good evening! This is Ready Eddie.” Eddie introduced, “and on my left is my right-hand man…”

“Campbell Bain.” Campbell introduced, not seeing Y/N watching him and the smile on her lips.

“And you’re listening to the first ever Ready Eddie Radio Request Road Show.” He gave Campbell a thumbs up and the nineteen-year-old pushed a button, making a jingle play.

“Ready Eddie’s road show. Ready, Eddie, go.”

“That’s right. This is the premiere. This is the first. And you can tell everyone that you were there. You heard it! You saw it!” Campbell said, enthusiastically before joking, “And they’ll tell you, it’s all part of your illness.”

Y/N giggled at his antics before realizing this and she zipped her leather jacket up over her shirt with the sarcastic quote on it.

“We’re playing requests from Ward Eleven this evening. This one is for Francine. I hope you’re listening, Francine.”

Campbell then teased, “I hope anyone’s listening.” He then saw Y/N watching him and let out an audible smile that melted his insides.

“Is anybody listening?” Eddie asked, “Is anybody out there?”

Then Help! By the Beatles started to play and soon the patients came out and Campbell ran out of the station to dance with some patients before more came out, including Fergus. He gave Y/N a smile and thumbs up as he flashed the part of the television he had removed.

youtube

Campbell ran back to Eddie and pulled his earphone off so he could talk to him, “the television’s broken, Eddie! There is a God!”

Eddie nodded in the direction of Y/N and Campbell’s face lit up and he ran to Y/N and taking her hands, trying to ease her into dancing. She shook her head before starting to shuffle awkwardly to the music before Campbell took her hands and pulled her against him so she danced with him to the beat of the music. She then giggled up against him and he smiled, triumphally.

He was about to comment on how beautiful her laugh when there was a BANG! And the music stopped, making them all exclaim in disappointment before Campbell and Y/N ran back to the station to see what was wrong.

“What’s wrong?”

“The mixing desk.” Eddie said, trying to fix it with his limited knowledge.

“Do something!” Campbell exclaimed.

“What can I do? I can’t even turn on the bathroom light without shocking myself.” Eddie remarked.

“Well, check the plug. Maybe it’s the fuse.” Campbell suggested as Y/N looked up at Fergus and gestured for him to come.

“It’s not the fuse.” Eddie sighed.

Campbell ran his hand through his floppy hair, “I cannae believe this. I’ve just had the world’s shortest career as a disk jockey.”

Fergus took out a screwdriver and headed inside to help and started to unscrew the screws of the mixing desk.

“Fergus, what are you doing?” Campbell asked.

“I’ll just have a look.” Fergus reassure him.

“No, don’t!” Eddie shouted, “don’t have a look there.”

Y/N helped Fergus lift the plate of the mixing desk as Eddie continued to try and stop Fergus and Y/N, “Fergus, Y/N, I’m asking you. Please, leave it alone”

“He’s gonna blow it up.” A patient said.

“He’s not!” Campbell protested.

“I think I know what the problem is.” Fergus told Eddie.

“He’s blowing it up.” Another patient said and the others started to chant Fergus’ name.

“Fergus, don’t, okay!? Just leave it alone. It’s all we’ve got.” Eddie pleaded and Y/N smacked Eddie’s shoulder when Stuart literally pushed her out of the way, making her squeak and stumble before Campbell caught her and glared at Stuart.

“Oi, watch where you’re going!” He shouted.

Stuart aggressively grabbed Fergus holding him in a near chokehold and Y/N tried to go forth to help but Campbell held her back, knowing she’d just be pushed away again, if not sedated.

“He’s not causing trouble, is he?” He asked Eddie and Y/N shook her head, frantically at Eddie.

“No, he’s just helping me, get the mixing desk going again.” Eddie muttered.

“Him? He couldn’t get his brain going again.” Stuart spat and Y/N scoffed, implying that she felt that better described Stuart than Fergus.

“Leave it, Stuart.” Isabella, the more kind nurse said, “it’s all over.”

Stuart let Fergus go and sulked out of the room, clearly upset that he didn’t get to hurt someone as Y/N gave him the middle finger.

Fergus closed the plate of the mixing desk and Y/N flipped the switch, making the light come back on.

“You two are geniuses.” Campbell gasped.

Y/N shook her head and pointed at Fergus like, no, he’s the genius.

“YOU’RE GENIUSES!” Campbell shouted and he slammed the door shut and got back to the microphone, “Sorry about the technical problems, folks. We’re now back on the air and we hope to keep it that way. Our next request is for Y/N and dedicated to her by me.” He chortled as he looked at her and clicked his tongue as he winked.

The cover of Sweet Jane played, making Y/N smile as Eddie looked at Fergus, giving him an apologetic and thankful smile as Fergus perpetually scowled before his lips curved into a gentle smile.

Later, Y/N helped Campbell clean up the hallways before they bumped into each other.

“Uh… so how did you know how to help Fergus?” He asked.

She took out her wad of paper and wrote: Learned. Taught.

He nodded, taking what he could get, “I always knew you were smart.” He said, honestly and he hesitated before leaning towards her to kiss her cheek like she had done the night, she shifted, conflicted as she could see the pure gentless in Campbell's personality, in his actions, in his eyes, and she could feel it in his cheek kiss. He had hesitated, not wanting to overstep boundaries and he was still nervous about his decision but before she could react Eddie ran out of the room, making them break apart and move out of the way before he rammed into them.

*This is a series from my Wattpad, so I'm moving in to Tumblr and Archive of my Own. There is an entire subplot later on of stalking and the cause of the reader's muteness or mutism (which ever is the correct term). Am I the only one who feels like Campbell Bain might also have ADHD or is it just because of his Bipolar/Manic Depression. I'm usually good at this but I'm having a hard time differentiating the two or maybe it's just David Tennant.

92 notes · View notes

aheckinmess · 1 year ago

Text

(One-shot series 2/3 chapters posted - posts regularly on Saturdays. If anyone knows who to credit for the Hizashi fanart, please let me know!)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Graphic violence, Hizashi Yamada x OC, Present Mic, Present Mic saves the day, Hizashi Yamada is a ray of sunshine, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, pro hero to the rescue, fast friends, hibachi date, time for therapy

Word Count: 4,612 words

Summary: Breaking free of Kigai’s control grants Ichijiku the freedom she’s always dreamed of, but recovering from it isn’t easy. With Hizashi’s help, Ichijiku is able to make more progress towards a normal life, and maybe even a normal relationship.

Author's Note: I haven't posted fanfiction in years, but after a two-year obsession with My Hero Academia, I have more than enough content to share. This first series is pretty dark, but there's some comfort and sweetness along the way. Enjoy.

TW: Implied/Referenced Sexual, Physical, and Emotional Abuse, PTSD Flashbacks

Chapter 2: Nightmares & New Horizons

Ichijiku (Tigress)

Sometimes lullabies keep the nightmares away and sometimes Kigai sings them to me in my dreams. Life hasn’t been the same since he’s been locked up. It’s a far cry better, but an adjustment. Still, it feels good to stretch my legs and breathe again.

As days stretch into weeks, I find Hizashi again. He’s sitting on a bench outside the arcade with that huge smile stretched wide, hands behind his head, and head bopping to the beat of his headphones. When I tap him and he opens his eyes, he lights up.

“Ichijiku! Wow, hey!” He immediately gets up and makes like he’s going to hug me, then seems to think better of it and puts his hands in his pockets. “How’ve you been?”

I still find myself glancing around in public to keep a periphery watch out for Kigai, and I can’t stop myself now. The feeling of dread he imparted on me hasn’t left, it’s merely fading into the background. “I’ve been…it’s been a lot of work, you know, trying to move on. But, I think I’m doing okay.” I want to be optimistic about the whole endeavor. My therapist says that’s what’s helped me survive this long: the hope of a better horizon. I want to keep that part of me alive and prove Kigai was wrong about everything.

I want to prove that to myself too.

“How are you?”

“Well, I…I’ve actually been thinking a lot about you.” He admits sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “See, a lot of times we can’t get solid evidence on people like…your ex.” He’s very careful not to say his name. I can’t tell whether I’m grateful for it or not yet. I don’t want to be afraid of him anymore. Wounds take time to heal, Little One. “So they frequently get back out because of how well they hide the damage they’ve dealt.” It’s the first time his smile hasn’t fully reached his eyes as he looks at me, but it’s back in place soon enough. “But I’m glad to see that you’re still on your own and thriving! I mean, look at that outfit! Those curly locks and those sparkling eyes! You’ve made a lot of progress since I last saw you.”

“That means a lot, Hizashi.” A real smile graces my lips. How different he is from Kigai. If it weren’t for people like him…I’d still be stuck in hell. “Hey, why don’t I grab your number? I can keep you updated on things. And I’ll need a friend for certain assignments given to me by my therapist. I don’t really have anyone to keep me accountable for the hard tasks.” Worry and guilt suddenly swirl in my stomach and I stop pulling out my phone midway. “I-I mean. That’s a lot to burden you with, I’m sorry. I should have asked and not offered–”

“Hey, no sweat!” Hizashi looks like Christmas came early. He pulls out his phone, presses the new contact button and taps it against my phone peeking out of my pocket. “I imagine finding new friends…learning what feels like a whole new way of life…that has to be difficult. I’ll gladly help you out when times are rough!”

“Thanks.” I sigh in relief as I look at the contact number and picture now synced to my phone. I snort. “What is this picture?”

“That’s my best friend’s cat, Cloud! He…got a little too enthusiastic about hogging the camera while I was taking a profile pic.” He laughs.

“It’s adorable!” A notification pops up and I start walking away, giving him a wave. “Oh! Got an appointment, gotta run!”

“I’ll see you later!”

. . . . .

Hey, Zashi, Kigai isn’t staring at me from the hallway, is he? I take a picture of the ghost in my hall, frozen with fear as tears glisten on my cheeks. “I’m sorry, Kigai, please go away.”

His eyes bore into mine. You know the consequences for disobeying me, bitch. You weren’t supposed to tell anyone! I can smell the eucalyptus on his shirt and the minty tang of his gum. “Please, Kigai, I’m sorry…” I whimper, scooting around while feeling for the door to my bedroom. He’s going to hit me. He’s going to punish me so bad! Get away from him, Cub. Get a door between the two of you and lock it.

My phone rings and I bolt. I slam my door behind me and lock it. I search for the first thing I can to put between me and Kigai and start heaving my dresser in front of the door. Then I rush into the adjoining bathroom, lock the door, and hop in the tub, pulling the shower curtain.

I finally answer the phone. “Zashi?” I choke out. “Zashi, he’s here. I need help.”

“Hey, Ichan, hey. I saw the picture. Kigai’s not there.” Hizashi’s voice swirls in the background. “Take a few deep breaths.”

My body jolts as I hear his voice screaming through the door. You know better than to run from me, whore! “Zashi, he’s trying to get through! He keeps yelling at me, please help…” I sob, clutching my phone close to my ear and clenching my eyes shut tight. “Stop, stop, stop…please, stop, I’m sorry…” I pant, peeking out from the shower curtain and feeling grateful Kigai hasn’t made it through the barriers I’ve set between us.

“Ichan, you’re having a flashback.” Hizashi coos through the receiver. “I need you to take a few good deep breaths for me. Tell me what you see.”

I try to listen. I really do. I suck in a heavy breath through my lips and grip the lip of the bathtub so hard my knuckles turn white. My chest aches on the exhale and I shove my free palm into my eye so hard I see spots.

“What do you see, Ichan?”

I swallow and pull back, opening my eyes as my body trembles.

“Th-There’s,” You better open this goddamn door, brat! “Th-There’s my shower curtain…and…” Who the hell are you talking to?!

“What’s on the shower curtain?”

“Zashi, if he finds out I’m talking to you, he’ll hurt you.” I whimper. I’m scared to hang up the phone and face punishment. I’m scared to keep talking and watch Kigai hunt Hizashi down.

“Ichijiku, what’s on the shower curtain?”

“There’s seashells.” After all I’ve fucking done for you.

“What kind of seashells? What colors?”

“There’s a light pink…and lavender…blue…” I once again peek out the curtain.

And I promptly let out a shriek and throw my phone across the bathroom. What the fuck are you doing in the bathtub hiding from me?! “I’m sorry!” I cry, curling up against the porcelain and covering my head. Rough fingers grip my arm and I hear his voice growling in my ear. You know who you belong to, don’t you? Why the fuck are you letting those nobodies look at you like that?! Pain bleeds through my back as I try to placate him. “Please, Kigai, they didn’t mean it. Please stop.” I’ll stop when you know no one else’s body but mine. His hands grip my thighs and dread settles in my bones.

I don’t know how long he spends growling obscenities in my ear and raking his fingers over every surface of skin he can touch. But I know I hear the door open and my whole body clenches. No. If someone comes in here Kigai’s going to kill them!

“Ichijiku?” Hizashi’s voice echoes in the bathroom. “It’s me. It’s Hizashi.”

You know this sleaze just wants to take advantage of you while you’re vulnerable, yeah? You belong to me! I whimper and try to draw air in my lungs. “Zashi, run!” I beg.

“Ichan, take a deep breath.” He says on the other side of the curtain. “Take a big, deep breath. You’re safe. Kigai’s not here.” You fucking whore!

I choke on the oxygen I’m trying to take in but dammit I breathe. I inhale and I exhale. Kigai’s hands tilt back and forth between feeling ghostly and real. I inhale and I exhale. “Zashi, you have to run…” I whimper.

“You’re safe, Ichan.” The warmth in his voice starts wrapping around me again. “Kigai’s not here. You’re safe.”

I inhale and I exhale. I slowly uncurl from my ball when I no longer feel Kigai’s hands roaming my body. I inhale and I exhale. The smell of eucalyptus and mint fades into the rusty smell of the tub. The sound of my air freshener spraying out apple cinnamon seems to emphasize the dismissal of his scent all around me. I inhale and I exhale.

I slowly rise in the tub and ease the shower curtain back.

Sitting against the bathroom wall, Hizashi looks at me with glistening, patient eyes. My phone still sits on the floor right beside him. When he notices I’m looking, he makes a big show of taking a deep breath in, and a deep breath out.

I inhale and I exhale as I sluggishly crawl out of the tub.

“Zashi?” I breathe, looking warily around the bathroom. I creep towards the door, open it, and then hop back out of view. I look in the mirror to see if anyone’s in my room, but it’s empty. “Is he gone?”

“You’re safe, Ichan.” Hizashi says, looking up at me. “Kigai’s not here.”

“You’re sure he’s gone?” I whimper, creeping to the doorframe and eyeing every crack and crevice that might be out of place. Nothing has moved except the dresser. “Did you move the dresser?” I ask frantically.

“Take a deep breath, Ichan.” He tells me, and I inhale and I exhale. I listen, and he starts slowly standing up, grabbing my phone along the way. “I picked the lock when I heard you scream. I had to shove the dresser back with the door to get in. I wanted to make sure you were safe, and you are. You’re safe, Ichan. Kigai’s not here.”

Security blankets me and as my pulse evens out, a heavy wave of exhaustion washes over me. My eyelids are harder to hold open and my shoulders sag. He’s not here. He never was. It was a flashback, just like he said. You’re strong, Little Cub. We made it through another flashback. It’s going to be okay. We’re safe now.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” Hizashi asks. “Give you a hug? I don’t want to frighten you.”

I survey my emotions and analyze how I’m feeling. When I’ve taken a few more deep breaths and feel more confident, I nod.

Two, strong arms pull me into a warm chest. I hear the steady beating of Hizashi’s heart and close my eyes, drinking in the security that just being near him brings. I breathe in time with that strong beat of his heart.

“You’re safe.” He whispers, and I squeeze him a little tighter. Please don’t leave.

“I’m sorry.” A few of my tears decorate his shirt. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” He croons, rubbing up and down my back. “Flashbacks can be vivid. I’m just glad I was able to help. You don’t have to worry about him anymore, though. I’m here.”

. . . . .

For the next few weeks, my therapist asks me to write down detailed accounts of my flashbacks so we can analyze my triggers and try to minimize them. It sucks, but writing them down helps us figure out that eucalyptus is in the Stress Relief pillow mist I use and causes most of my flashbacks at night. We also learn that I’m more sensitive to auditory triggers, like songs he used to play in the car or abrupt loud sounds.

It doesn’t happen every time, thankfully, which is good considering Hizashi’s been trying to help me acclimate to a normal life. He’s been taking me out to different places in the hopes of showing me the finer points of life. We’ve been to the arcade, had a picnic in the park, and he’s even taken me to a music store and serenaded me while playing the piano. I’ve also met a few of his friends: Nemuri, Shouta, and Oboro.

Both myself and my therapist are impressed with the amount of help he’s offered to my situation. We’re both cautiously optimistic, though.

Kigai started out all sunshine and rainbows, too, after all.

Which table are you at? I text Hizashi as I step into the hibachi restaurant. The heat of the room feels good as the impending winter sets in. I love cold weather. I look around for a pair of familiar orange sunglasses.

Hey! The table in the far back. You won’t be able to see me from the front.

I start heading that way, and smile when his yellow eyes meet mine. I’ve never been more grateful to hear blissful silence accompanying a tender gaze.

“Hey, glad to see you found the place okay.” He hops up the second he sees me and pulls the chair out for me to have a seat. It’s been a while since I’ve been pampered by an actual gentleman. “This place has a great atmosphere, and the food is amazing!”

“Yeah, it’s really warm and vibrant.” I agree as I get situated in the chair and he pushes me in. I twirl a piece of hair around my finger nervously as I look around at the crowd of people at other tables. What if they’re watching me? Kigai will– He’s not here, Dear One.

“Look at me.” Hizashi says, staring across the table and drawing me in with his essence. “There you go. No need to worry. I’m here.”

“Thanks.” I chuckle nervously, still twirling my hair as a comfort. “What would you recommend from here?”

“You’ve got to try the freckled lemonade. Unless you’re allergic to strawberries. Then, don’t.” Hizashi laughs, opening his menu. “But aside from that, the shrimp hibachi is killer! I’m salivating just thinking about it.”

I’ll grab the shrimp hibachi then, as it’s probably the simplest and one of the cheaper menu items. I wasn’t exactly left with a lot in my bank account to compensate for what Kigai took from me. I think with some financial anxiety.

Once we’ve made our decisions and the waiter has taken our orders, there’s a group of girls that walk by laughing. One of them gives me some side-eye and I instantly start fussing with my outfit. I pull up the shoulders of my burnt orange blouse and adjust my cardigan. Fatass. You know if you ate less I might have fewer men looking at your thick curves.

“You look gorgeous.” Hizashi says, and I snap my head up with worry. He flushes and holds up his hands, waggling them nervously. “I-I mean, you seemed worried about those girls and I just wanted you to know that you didn’t have to fix up anything. They were probably just jealous that you look so good…I-I mean! Well…oh man…” He rubs his shoulder as he fumbles over his words.

“It’s okay, Zashi.” I also flush, but only because I don’t think I’m worthy of his flustered manner. “I’m probably just overreacting anyway. I can’t…seem to turn off my anxieties.”

“It’s to be expected. You’re doing great based on what you’ve gone through.” He reaches across the table and squeezes my hand, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive skin there. “You don’t have to be afraid around me.”

“I know.” I breathe, looking at our hands and feeling a strange combination of terror and warmth. Am I afraid of how good he makes me feel? You’re afraid of getting close and getting hurt again. I don’t want to be afraid of Hizashi.

“I’m sorry.” Hizashi pulls his hand back and gives me a smile. “I forget that touch is still hard for you. As I’m sure you know now, I’m a dramatic and expressive person. If I ever make you feel uncomfortable, please let me know.”

“You don’t.” I promise, looking up at him and instantly regretting the absence of his touch. “I’m…just scared.” I look down. “I’m scared of getting too close to you. I enjoy your company, but I’m afraid you’re too good to be true. I’m afraid you’ll either end up like Kigai or I’ll do something wrong and you’ll leave.” My eyes start watering.

The silence between us stretches on as we eat our food and Hizashi looks thoughtful over his next words. When he swallows a bite of rice, he opens his mouth to speak again.

“I can’t make you trust that I’m not like Kigai. That’s something I know will come with time. But I can do my best to reassure you that even if you do something to upset me, I’m willing to communicate with you and not just leave you.” He opens and closes his mouth a few more times before sighing. “I care about you too much as a friend to leave you without trying to save the relationship first.”

When the words as a friend cut to my heart, I understand why I’m so scared. I take a deep breath. I’m falling in love with him, and I’m scared. You’ve been hurt. You’re allowed to be afraid…but you’re also allowed to love again. I don’t know if I’m ready to love again. And that’s okay. You can take your time. But I don’t want to lose him, either. I don’t know if I’m ready to watch him find love with someone else, but I don’t know if I’m ready to claim him as my own. I’m too scared. Then tell him that. In those words. I can’t…

I fix my face into a smile. “Thank you, Zashi.”

For the rest of dinner, I stew over my thoughts while I laugh at Hizashi’s jokes and stories. Between the ambient atmosphere and his glowing presence, I feel full of optimism as he walks me home.

It’s while I’m digging for my keys at the door that he throws me for a loop.

“Hey, um, Ichijiku?” His voice shakes, which is unusual for him.

“Yes, Hizashi?” I turn, pulling my key ring from my purse.

He takes a step forward until he’s close enough I can smell his cologne.

“I know that you’re going through a lot right now, and I want you to know that I’m proud of you for pushing through.” At first, he seems ready to leave it at that, but he opens his mouth again and looks at me with pink cheeks. “So, I have no right to ask this given what you’ve already gone through, but is it okay if I kiss you?”

I hold my breath. My chest gets tight and my muscles seize. You belong to me, got it? “Hizashi…”

“If the answer is no, that’s okay.” He says quickly. “I’m not trying to force you into anything and I certainly don't want to bring up any unhappy memories for you. I just…couldn’t go any longer without seeing where you stood. I was scared if I waited too long, I might lose the opportunity.”

Why does that sound exactly like what I was thinking in the restaurant? How do I tell him that I love him but I’m not ready? Say exactly that. Once the ground beneath me stops swaying and the beat of my heart returns to normal, I look up at him.

“Zashi, the answer is no…but not because I don’t have feelings for you.” I watch as his eyes dim and light up again. “I don’t know if I’m ready to make that kind of commitment. I want to be. I wish I could tell you yes, but I can’t.” I reach up and caress his cheek. His hand wraps around mine as he leans into my hold, his expression akin to that of an adoring puppy. “And it’s not fair of me to want you this much and ask you to wait for me.” My voice gets tight. I want you to hold me and keep me close, but I’m afraid if I let you, you’ll choke me. And I’m not worth the wait. I’m not worth the work and the effort so I know you’ll walk away and I’m sorry. “So, you don’t have to wait for me. But if it’s any consolation, I think I have it in me to do this.” I lean up on my tiptoes, and place a tearful kiss on his cheek.

“I love you, Hizashi, even if you’re not meant to be mine.” I swallow thickly and turn away to unlock my door before disappearing inside.

. . . . .

Hey, Ichi, can we talk?

Ichan, are you there?

I’m going to grab frozen yogurt later, want to join?

I’m starting to worry about you. Can you at least tell me if you’re okay?

Ever since the night we’ve had dinner, Hizashi has still checked in on me regularly. I’ve been trying to distance myself in the hopes that by doing so, he’ll stop trying to reach out and move on with his life.

He proves to be rather stubborn.

I’m sorry if I’ve worried you. I’m fine. I finally send, not wanting him to think I’m in any sort of trouble.

I’m glad to hear it! The response comes in seconds. Are you free?

That’s where I stop. I can’t entertain this. I’ve already told him that he’d have to wait for me, and I’m not worth the time. Shouldn’t he get to decide what’s worth his time?

I hug my knees to my chest on the couch and stare out the window overlooking the city. Everything is colder now that winter’s hit. Frost paints the windowpane and people walk down the streets blowing smoke from their lips. The cold would be much more enjoyable if I had Hizashi’s warmth to complement it.

My jaw clenches as frustration mounts. I don’t want to push him away but… Then why are you? Isn’t this how it’s supposed to be? Shouldn’t I be proud of myself for communicating my needs clearly? My therapist is certainly proud I’ve set boundaries and worked on coping skills. With all of this handled, we’ve been able to work on how to respond to my flashback triggers and implement strategies to work through them.

But even she thinks I’ve been a little extreme cutting all communication with Hizashi.

Yeah, I’m free. I send the text before I can talk myself out of it and then pull my blanket around myself to hide from whatever might follow.

A knock sounds at my door. I peek out from under my blanket as my breath catches.

“Who is it?” I call.

“The one! The only! Hizashi Yamadaaaaaaaa!”

One voice. One voice and spring blossoms in my veins amidst the cold winter storm.

When I open the door my body moves on instinct. There is no thought in my mind when my arms reach out and pull him in. There is no question or hesitation when tender arms meet my back and squeeze tight. There is only Hizashi.

“You never let me answer that night.” He breathes in my ear, before pulling back and tilting my chin up. His expression is inescapable. “I love you, too, Ichan. You’re worth waiting for.”

“I’m so sorry.” My chest quivers. “Hizashi, I’m so sorry. I was afraid.”

“I know.”

“I thought you’d want a better life without me.”

“That life doesn’t exist for me. Not if you’re out of the picture.”

“I’m not worth the wait.”

“You’re worth the world, lovebug.”

I hug him for the next three minutes, thanking God for His mercy and kindness, and I thank God for Hizashi. He feels so good. I don’t ever want to leave. Why don’t you start there then? The idea comes to me quite by surprise, and I look up at Hizashi with newfound hope burning in my chest.

“Hey, Hizashi?”

“Yes?” His thumb strokes my cheek.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for a kiss…but would you settle with cuddles on the couch?”

The corners of his lips turn up into that heartstopping grin. “I’d love that.”

. . . . .

We start small. For the first few weeks, we’re barely close enough for it to be considered cuddles. I mainly sit by him and rest my head on his shoulder. Gradually, however, we start making some headway. Leaning on his shoulder turns into sitting in his lap and curling under his chin, which turns into laying beside him, which turns into fully wrapping myself around him and taking well-earned naps.

It’s a little scary at first, being so close to him. I imagine it a little like being too close to the sun, always on the lookout for getting burned. But he’s attentive, gentle, and patient. When a small miscalculated move makes me flinch or freak out or freeze, he’s apologetic and understanding.

And thus, we manage to move into those bigger steps together. Doubts and fears of Kigai become less pervasive the more Hizashi shows me he’s not going to hurt me. With each passing week as he proves it, I find myself more and more open to his touch. I find myself more expectant of it. But most of all, I find myself more eager for it.

“Ichi, where’d you get this beanie? I need one!” Hizashi turns the blue and orange striped beanie in his hand.

“That? I made it. You can have it if you want.” I chuckle, wrapping my arms around his middle and sighing into his back. “It was meant to be a craft experiment. But it turned out sort of ick yucky.”

“Ick yucky? It’s magical!” He uses my token phrase as he pulls the beanie on and poses. “What do you think? Am I runway ready yet?”

I reach my fingers under the beanie and give his hair a good ruffle, effectively messing up his hair and sending the beanie to the floor. “Now you are.”

“Wa–heeeeeyyyyyy!” He pouts and bends down to look at me with sad puppy eyes. “How am I supposed to look like a model now?”

One moment I’m giggling at his antics and the next my lips press against his. My fingers wind up his chest and around his neck and I’m hanging onto him like he’s my last chance at oxygen. When his hands move to my hips, I’m violently yanked back into reality and I pull back hard, gasping.

“I’m sorry. Should I have stopped you?” Hizashi reaches out for me, but doesn’t close the distance. “Do I need to give you some space?”

“Was that your first kiss?” I blurt, before hiding my face as Hizashi’s face wavers between his and Kigai’s. I take a few, steadying breaths and Hizashi is himself again. “I’m sorry. I should have warned you. I don’t…know what came over me.”

There’s a sad smile on his face. I don’t like it. His features don’t model sadness very well. It doesn’t fit him.

“It’s okay. No, it wasn’t my first kiss, I regret to say.” He looks sheepish before his eyes sparkle. “But it was definitely the best kiss.”

A few moments pass. I did it. I wasn’t thinking about it, but I did it. And it didn’t trigger anything. Maybe…I could try again…I think I want to.

“If I move slowly…do you think we could try that again?” I ask.

“Please.”

So we do. I taste him again and spring blossoms into summer. Sunshine sinks into my veins and hope blossoms in my chest. Light brightens the dark fear in my mind and joy sings through my heart.

And Hizashi doesn’t let me go.

Continue Reading -> Ch. 3

7 notes · View notes

ficmeouttahere · 9 months ago

Text

THE MIDDLEMIST RED/ TRAUMA STUDY FIC I READ ON AO3 LAST WEEK BIG FIC BIG REC

Garden of Secrets - Masterlist

Summary: Life is the flower for which love is the honey.

Tropes: Opposites attract, hidden heart of gold, sarcastic pessimist meets sunshine optimist, courtship, Regency era.

Continuar lendo

#benedict bridgerton x reader #fave fave fave #multichapter #slow burn #he fell first she fell off a cliff #ptsd reader #patient wonderful benedict #fake marriage #annoyances (one sided) to lovers #wife guy benedict #loml benedict actually

4K notes · View notes

lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom · 4 months ago

Text

Nightmare

KANG DAE-HO X READER

Summary- Dae-ho wakes up from a nightmare, with you being the only one by his side to calm him down.

Warnings- Mentions of PTSD, Nightmare, ECT.

A/N- Thank you, @tomgregtruther101 @errruvande @momoko-world @thethreeeyed-raven for encouraging me to write this!

Word Count- 1,223

A low mumble awoke you from your slumber. Typically you were a heavy sleeper, but when it came to Dae-ho it was different. You could have slept through a firework show. Though, the second your beloved got up to use the bathroom- you're up with him.

It bothered the sweet man at first, he hated waking you up. After some reassurance that you didn't mind, he warmed up to the idea. This night, however, was not like many.

It was not uncommon for Dae-Ho to wake up frazzled. He would get something warm to drink from the kitchen, and lay back down. (Praying he didn't wake you). On the much more common occurrence, you would awake with him. In turn, you'd be the one making him something warm to drink, possibly something sweet to snack on. Then the two of you would cuddle until he was fast asleep.

It was honestly comforting for you as well, being able to be his anchor was flattering. He trusted you like no other.

Dae-ho was not Frazzled though, and he didn't wake up to get a beverage.

He was thrashing, hard. His legs slightly kicking, arms jumping up every few seconds. With an impossibly scrunched face, he mumbled again.

"Dae?" You whispered out. The only response you received was a hit to the side, a stray flaring hand had got you.

The mumbling quickly turned louder, now sounding like a cry or groan. It worried you beyond recognition.

"Dae-ho." You pressed a gentle hand to his shoulder. His body jerked away from it. Very uncharacteristic.

A disfigured 'no' left his lips, a struggled sob escaped. He had managed to kick the comforter off of himself, and the bed.

You were now sat on your knees, looming over him. "Dae-ho!" You firmly grabbed both of his shoulders, shaking him.

A loud gasp erupted from both of you as his eyes shot open, you had no time to make a comment. His legs pushed and kicked, separating himself from you. At that singular moment, in his fear struck mind, he didn't seem to recognize you.

He had already found himself against the headboard of the bed, his hands pressing tight against his ears. You had barely blinked in all his movement.

With gaping eyes, a pounding chest, and heavy breathing he looked at you. Almost as if you were the one who hurt him.

"It just me, Dae-ho, its just me..." You spoke as soft and low as you could. You didn't approach any closer, but put your hands up to appear less intimidating.

His eyes just darted across the room in response, body curling further. His lip quivered, face and body drenched in sweat.

"You're okay, you're safe. Dae, you're safe. It's just me... It was just a nightmare, everything is okay..."

He swallowed thick, slowly nodding his head. His gaze now stuck on yours. His scared and nerve wrecked appearance crushed you. It was opposite of the man he appears to show to everyone, only you knew of his nightmares.

"I'm going to come closer, I promise I'm here, I'm real, you're at home. Safe in bed..." You shuffled over on your knees, hands starting at his forearm.

He slightly flinched at your touch, but made no attempt to move away. Your hand caressed across his arm, going to his own hand. You tenderly unravel his tight grip on his head, tangling your fingers in his.

A large sigh left him, his head falling back in frustration. He was now back to reality, though still beat and weary. Water glossed over his eyes. He bit his lip hard, trying to fight away any tears. He thought it would make him seem less of a man to cry in front of you. You couldn't disagree more.

"I'm so sor-" His voice cracked as he tried to speak, a couple tears has managed to escape. You didn't let him finish, his face was pressed deeply into your chest within seconds. He truly didn't know what he was apologizing for, for waking you? For having a nightmare? For his frequent PTSD attacks?

You had quickly taken his frame into your arms. He would have admitted that your knees pressing into his thighs was uncomfortable, but he didn't care right now. You were with him, holding him, and loving him. That's all he cared about.

"Don't you dare apologize, you've done nothing wrong." You cradled his head tight, pressing kisses to the top of his crown.

You managed to twist the two of you around, your back now against the headboard with him in your lap. He was quiet for awhile, you simply rocked him back and forth for a little bit.

His arms found themselves wrapped around your waist. He held onto you for dear life... Almost as if you'd fade away if he let go. You heard his breathing shake every few breaths, but he was calming down.

Continuing to rock, you reached your hands up to his hair. It was half up, half down. The hair tie pulled out of his hair easily enough. You were able to considerably comb through his hair with your fingers. A simple action you knew he loved.

While one hand worked at his soft black hair, another rubbed circles on his back. "Feeling better?"

He sniffled, leaning up to look at you. He couldn't meet your eyes, almost embarrassed. His meek, "Thank you." was accompanied by a nod.

You brushed through his hair, even with him sat up. "Want to talk about it?" You never wanted to pressure him into anything he wasn't comfortable with.

"Just the typical... but you were there, you were who I was shooting... It was like you were the enemy... I just- I can't describe it.. It made no sense-." His voice shook again, so you interrupted him.

"Exactly, baby. It was a nightmare that will never happen... Because I know you would never hurt me, that you would do anything to protect me?" Your tone implied a question.

He nodded furiously, now making direct eye contact. There wasn't a phrase he agreed more with. He looked at you like a loyal puppy.

"See? It was your sweet little mind playing mean tricks on you..." You rested a flat palm to his cheek. Taking in how handsome he looked in the moonlight.

He puffed, now more light hearted, and fell back onto your chest.

"I promise I will keep you safe from all the nightmares and mind games." He was frustrated at your words.

"But that's supposed to be my job..." He said, face conveniently still upon your breast.

You smiled warmly, "Yes, it is. And you fulfill it perfectly. I couldn't be happier. But, you must let me take care of you as well..."

He didn't respond, his internal monologue had a million points to argue back. But he didn't. He embasked in the moment, squeezing you tight again.

You took the silent request, resuming your back rubbing and head scratching.

From experience, you knew he would not fall asleep any time soon. That you'd probably fall asleep before him, no matter how hard you tried to stay up. All you could do for now was whisper how much you love him, play with his hair, and hum silly melodies.

And he was content with that.

A/N- Okay, so erm. I feel like it was rushed (it was), but I also feel that way about all my works. So... Please let me know how I can improve. Also this is my first time writing something like this, so I hope it wasn't terrible. XOXOXOX LOVE YALL

3K notes · View notes

josephquinnswhore · 5 months ago

Text

replicate failure to protect - joel miller x female reader

summary: Joel cannot bare to lose you, not the same way he lost Sarah. Through his own self declared failure to protect.

word count: 1.8k

content warnings: ptsd episode, panic attack, mention of past attempted suicide, reader gets fucked up ig, blood, murder, guns, violence, age gap- unspecified. Established relationship.

It feels euphoric, the numbness that spreads from your side up your arms, parts of your body are fizzing with a lightheaded tingle as the blood seeps out of your body. Past the point of pain, the searing sensation of a dull arrowhead being pulled forward, taut at the hands of a single raider camouflaging into the surrounding bush—whistled silently through the air. The metal savagely tears through your flesh and stops right below your bottom rib on the left side.

As you lie on the ground, you’re unable to make sense of the blurred shapes and colours of the overgrown foliage on the slanted buildings, the sound of explosive gunfire is muffled by the ringing in your ears—you feel something. A tugging sensation, one that vibrates through the arrowhead and emits a protestful rumble from your lungs.

All you can make out is muffled ringing in your ears and some incoherent mumbling, watching the blurred outline of his lips move.

You can barely make him out, as he kneels above you, having snapped off the end of the arrow and tossed it behind him, knowing better than to take his eyes off of you for one moment. He’d looked away once, when he’d apprehensively watched you drop to the ground once the arrow had hit. In a moment of necessity to eliminate the enemy.

All you can make out is muffled ringing in your ears and some incoherent mumbling, watching the blurred outline of his lips move.

He knew tearing his gaze off of you a second time was a death sentence.

It had happened once before—the split microsecond that his deep brown teary eyes had sought reassurance from his younger brother in a moment of pure desperation. Pleading for any kind of comfort his brother could promise that she would survive, but she’d slipped away in his arms. The life in her eyes had faded the moment he looked away. Missing the last moments of light in her eyes that solitudes life.

This could not happen to you.

His aching fingers tear off a segment off his flannel below the last button, bending down to manoeuvre your body to slide the fabric under your back, wrapping it around the arrow to keep it stable.

The crimson blood had begun to seep through the flannel before he had finished tying a knot in the shredded fabric, even the loose strands of twine were stained.

But the blood.. your blood covers his hands, the colour burns the back of his eyelids. A burning sensation rises up his throat at the recognition. As he leans over you, the blood makes contact with his flannel, smearing a messy, damp pattern onto his clothes. He was reliving hell all over again two decades later.

But he broke his own rule, tearing his focus gaze away from your face to finish this task, it had been mere seconds of the process. He looked away a second time.

Speaking to you absentmindedly, his gaze returns to your face, dread filling his chest when he sees that your lips are slightly parted. The stress line in your forehead has ceased as your head is lulled to the side, the supple skin of your cheeks is grazed on the surface of the dirt on the ground.

Those beautiful, teary orbs that had just been staring at him with an unfocused gaze were now clamped shut.

A part of Joel wants to give up, reliving the traumatic event that had torn apart his will to live two decades ago, and left him with physical and psychological scars.

“No.. no, no no!” The shout is primal, a clear denial of acceptance that this was your fate.

The sight of you sends a jostle of dread through his veins. All he could see was himself re-living through the devastation of losing Sarah. On the account that he had failed once again to protect someone he loves.

Gathering his thoughts and thinking fast, he intertwined his hands and placed them in the centre of your chest, ignoring the ache in his knees against the crackled rubble of the concrete ground. He positions himself above you, bringing a inhuman-like strength into pounding his hands against your chest as he begins his compressions.

“Not you, not you baby.” He utters desperately, voice thick with emotion.

Unaware of his little brother’s presence—Joel’s eyes darken, black in colour and exerting a burning gaze through your eyelids, prompting you to open them.

To look at him. To prove he hadn’t failed you too.

An exhausted, broken cry rolls between his lips into the stale air between you, spit flying from his mouth as his actions become less precise and more desperate and harmful. Ignoring the fact that he had heard a substantial crack vibrate through his palms.

The burning sensation is all over, his shoulders, arms, wrists, knees. His heart.

“You’re not doin’ this, y’hear me? You have’ta stay.. you stay f’me baby.”

All the while your body is unmoving, limbs shaking with each downward thrust of his hands. “Just open ‘em for me, just look at me.”

Tommy watches the horrific scene, unaware of what your state was like—but he had seen Joel live through this once before.

“I ain’t mad at’cha baby. Jus’ open ‘em for me.”

Joel is begging you—if you can hear him, he can’t will himself to bring his fingers to your neck or wrist to feel your pulse point, petrified of feeling nothing.

His resolve crumbles when he sees Tommy, unable to stop.

“Joel.. Joel stop. Let me check, alright?” His voice hadn’t been this soft and insistent since he had pried his niece's cold body from Joel’s arms to bury her.

Joel falls backward onto the ground out of exhaustion, the ache in his chest is pressing upward into his throat, squeezing the life out of his oesophagus making him feel dizzy.

“She’s alive.” Tommy murmurs, turning to look at his older brother.

FOLLOWING MORNING

“You look like shit, Joel. Have you moved since we’ve been back?” He hears Tommy’s scornful voice, but he can’t bear to tear his eyes off of you. Watching the subtle rise and fall of the blanket that covers your chest.

“I ain’t movin’.”

Not an inch, not once did he allow his gaze to tear away from your chest, the proof that you were still alive. Some semblance of hope he was clinging onto that you would make it.

“You see her chest movin’?” He utters to his younger brother, seeking reassurance.

Without so much as a wink of sleep, he had begun wondering if he was hallucinating the faint movement from sleep deprivation.

“Course I do. You’re just tired.” Tommy reassured, holding out a mug of warm, black coffee.

Joel’s movements are piloted, automatic. Stiff as his arm lifts the mug to his lips, swallowing coffee with a bitter aftertaste of anxiety. The same heavy feeling builds in his chest for the second time he’d returned with you.

The pressure of his anxiety escalates, unable to focus his vision of you, or Tommy’s concerns he speaks, lungs stuttering and struggling to inhale as his hand begins to tremble.

Just shy of his fifties, Joel Miller was having a fucking panic attack. Again.

“Joel,” the weight of his younger brother’s hand digging into his shoulder with a firm grasp, withdraws him from his dissociative state, lying on his bed.

Tommy was staring down at Joel with a knowing expression. “She’s wakin’ up.” He repeats a second time.

Tommy and the coffee are long forgotten, set aside as Joel rises to his feet, looming over you in heavyset silence of anticipation and exigency.

His hands grasp onto your cheeks, cradling them as he lets out a long exhale of relief, staring into the familiar colour of your irises.

“Baby I thought you’d left me..” he utters shakily between the two of you, thick tears fall from his wet eyes down his face.

He watches as your dry lips part, a hoarse croak rolls off of your tongue in an attempt to speak.

“Don’t say nothin’, save your strength.”

His hands tighten around the small mug, tucking his thumb into the handle instead of four of his fingers, for the reason that his hands were too large to navigate the small curated gap.

Thoughtfully, he’d filled it only halfway with water and left it by your shared bed the previous evening, in the expectation of you regaining consciousness.

“Here,” he murmurs, with his free hand he urges you to tilt your head backwards. “There you go.”

Bringing the rim of his mug to your lips, he slowly tilts it upward until a small amount of water has seeped into your lips, allowing a small relief for the uncomfortably dry surface of your mouth.

The second time he encourages a little more, brushing the single few strands of hair from your face as you begin to sip on the water with a loud slurp.

When he’s satisfied you’ve had enough, he pulls the mug away and sets it back on the bedside table.

Your lips are tugged upward in a small smirk, the smallest huff of a laugh vibrates through your nose, and he raises an eyebrow.

“Straight back to annoyin’ me huh? Seems like my girl is feelin’ more like herself already.”

The coo sends your heart through an extra murmur, pulse erratically causing the flesh in your neck to pulsate.

“Know.. you..” your voice is strained, and hoarse from lack of water. “Love it.”

A hum reverberated through his throat in agreeance. Placing his hand on top of your own, clasping his fingers in between your own.

“I do love you.”

For a first confession, the words linger heavily in the air between you. An intense gaze is shared before you could process the weight behind them.

“I love.. you.” Taking a wheezing breath, you continue, the attempt to squeeze his fingers albeit weak—conveys the message. “Even if you.. cracked my ribs.”

His golden complexion reinforces a bright pink hue across his cheeks and ears. “Y’heard that, huh? I’m real sorry ‘bout it.”

Blinking lazily, you nod once, waving off his apology. “That an’ everything else.”

Continuing on from a brief pause, you place your second hand on top of his, grounding him, offering him a sense of security and reassurance he didn’t often receive as self appointed protector.

“You saved me.”

The look in your eye expresses deep gratitude and understanding, promising him that you wouldn’t end up like Sarah, that he would never have to endure pain like that ever again.

Not as long as you lived.

“No, baby. You saved me.”

There are many things you’ve saved Joel from, but he leaves them unspoken, because you know, whether or not he’s mentioned it—you know.

“Get some sleep Joel..”

He obeys, sliding under the thick duvet beside you in the bed you shared, unwilling to break the hold of your hands.

#joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel fucking miller #joelmiller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller ptsd #joel miller angst #joel miller hurt/comfort #hbo joel miller #Pedro pascal Joel miller

1K notes · View notes

callsignpxnguin · 17 days ago

Text

Simon Riley and Sleeping

Simon had always been an insomniac.

Going through nights having not slept in days, tinkering around with his guns and knives, bloodying up his knuckles at the gym just to drown out his restless mind.

Safe to say, the habit was so deeply ingrained in his mind that it didn’t change even when you came into the picture.

But though the overall lack of sleep never went away, he did have to make some adjustments to his routine — because now every night he had you tucked up against his chest and breathing quietly, out cold. Your head nestled against his warm chest, eyelashes fluttering with sleep. A nightly treasure that he had once been certain he would never experience in his lifetime.

And as gorgeous as this you were, he had learnt the hard way that the moment he tried to move to go to the bathroom or otherwise, you were immediate blinking up at him with bleary and confused eyes, an adorable concerned frown pulling your eyebrows downwards.

Moving whilst you were asleep on him — an action which took up a surprisingly large part of most days — became out of the question. So, his nights became… calmer. Less full of panic and throbbing migraines, and more of a peaceful serenity as he listened to your soft breathing, smoothing the hair on your forehead with his big hand as he did so. Just being.

It calmed his racing thoughts. Slowed the painful beating of his heart when he got too worked up, and dulled any unpleasant thoughts, to the point where sometimes — just sometimes — he nodded off right next to you, almost instantly, even after a lifetime of turmoil.

#call of duty #cod fic #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #ptsd #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost #simon ghost x you #simon riley #cod #ghost call of duty

588 notes · View notes

upsidedownmvnson · 5 months ago

Text

“she said she’ll be here at midnight,” eddie whispers, closing his eyes tightly. “she said midnight, it’s not midnight yet so there’s no reason to panic”

he repeats this like a mantra. like a prayer.

there is nothing to fear. he can be alone, in the dark, and be brave. he’s allowed to be brave. but its 11:45, and every minute feels like more pressure is added to the clawing feeling in his chest.

he’s laying on his back, hair messy, sheets tangled, and every minute you take to return home from your shift, the devil adds an invisible ten pound weight to his chest. he doesnt stir, afraid that too much movement will topple to tower over, and surround him.

wayne was working late, so were you. and eddie was ready to try being alone for a few hours at a time. his injuries mostly healed, so you’d gone back to work, but stayed at eddies every night, each of you clinging to the other. eddie had been fine until he tried to go to bed. the silence was taunting him, the night sky threatening.

he’s frozen when he hears tires outside, and frozen when a car door closes, and his fists clench when he hears the screen door to the trailer creak.

“eddie?” you asked, voice quiet and comforting.

and suddenly he can breathe again. he takes a big breath in and sighs it out and the devil is gone, his weights with him. his fists unclench, his muscles relax, his eyes flutter closed like nothing ever happened.

he doesnt answer you, he’s too busy enjoying the feeling of his chest rising and falling without restraint.

you peek into the room, and see him. sheets tangled clumsily around his legs, bare chest on display, but mostly you notice how much of the bed he’s taking up. you shake your head, smiling and tiptoeing into the room, trying to crawl under the sheets with him.

but he startles you, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into him quickly, pushing his chest up against your back, holding your body securly against him while pressing his nose into the curve of your neck, breathing you in and sighing.

“missed you,” he mumbles, snuggling in impossibly closer, tangling your legs together and threading your fingers in with his.

“missed you too,” you say, wiggling back into him making him groan softly, you chuckle and stop, letting him pull all the comfort from you that he needs. “i love you.”

“i love you,” he says, voice already mumbled with sleep pulling at him. “love you so much.”

“goodnight love, see you in the morning.” you close your eyes, soft smile on your lips as his warmth washes over you, lulling into sleep & comfort of your own.

“and every morning after?”

“and every morning after.”

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson blurb #ptsd!eddiemunson #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #eddie munson x you #stranger things blurb

711 notes · View notes

halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

Note

Hello, Congratulations on the 5k follows!!

I discovered this fandom a few months ago and have been living for your writing ever since.

I was thinking as a drabble of the taskforce gentlemen coming home at the crack of dawn from a long mission and seeing their spouse's hand, limp on the ground peeking out from the side of the couch. All the panic and worry going thru their heads, so much bubbling up, horrible scenarios. They rush over and find you sleeping on the floor. The power had gone out last night and the hardwood floor was the coolest place to be (you didn't want to open the window because you know how they worry), so you were watching stuff on your phone and drifted off. Crisis averted!

Thank you for your time 💜

—Wide-Eyed Panic

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Why were you behind the couch?] ❞

I’ll start by saying all of them would be concerned and immediately go into panic mode—why were you behind the couch? Why was your hand sticking out? Why, in God's name, were you not moving? Cue the horrible thoughts and flashes of what went on in their work lives.

John Price ➺

John entered the house with a sigh, slipping off his boots as the door was closed and deftly locked behind him. Grunting under his breath, the man rubs over his face, the lights off as he calls out with a tired grumble to his voice.

“I’m back,” his voice echoes, the tone moving through the darkness far louder than it should have. There’s no answer. “Love…?” Pausing, John blinks slowly at the wall, ear twitching to the utter silence of the home. No water in the pipes. No buzzing of electricity. No you. Eyes rising, they dart around quickly as his finger moves out to the light switch. A small push elicits nothing, just as he thought. The power was out.

Dread slowly creeps into John’s chest.

Hand reaching behind his back, the man’s fingers inch over the smooth metal of a pistol, grasping the weapon before he begins walking forward. He keeps silent, feet moving to where he knows the wood won't creak.

His mind runs.

Why was the power off? Where were you? Why didn’t you respond—were you hurt? John’s mind goes to blood and bullets, his jaw clenching tightly as the pistol comes out to rest in front of him; hands shifting the grip as he takes a soothing breath. Panicking wouldn’t help anyone, but it would be pointless to lie about how his heart hammers.

“Fuck,” he growls, eyes going tight.

That’s when he sees it. Blue eyes widen sharply.

“Love!” John shouts, all other concerns about intruders meaningless to him. Your hand was sticking out from behind the couch, a dark shadow in the low light. He rushes over as you jerk, yelling in alarm as he rushes to grab you, pulling you up into his arms and pulling you away into the closet across the room.

“John!” You blink rapidly as you’re set back against the wall.

“Shush now,” he grunts, eyes panicked. “Keep awake, let me look.” A hand moves all over your body, searching and pulling at clothes to touch the skin for any wounds. “Tell me where it hurts, then. Quickly. We have to move—”

“John, what the hell,” you push at him, moving him back. Your eyes try to adjust to being so rudely awakened at such an hour. “What are you doing?!”

You weren’t hurt.

The Captain’s face pulls in with confusion, back against the closet door and now in more darkness than ever before. He can barely make out your face before you sigh and put your hands against his arms.

Things begin to calm down as his hand rests at your hip, nearly tight enough to bruise. In his other is the gun just before you put your hand to it and softly peel the item away from him—putting it on the shelf that you know is to your left.

Hands find John’s cheeks as he pants.

“John,” you say his name again. “...what happened.”

“Why were you on the ground?” He forces out firmly, voice a low grunt. “Why were the lights not—”

“The power went out for everyone, okay?” You speak slowly, rubbing your thumbs over his beard. “It was on the news. I didn’t open a window because I knew you would worry about that—the floor was cool and it was getting too hot in here.”

Your mind tells you to explain quickly and fluently. You move forward and press your forehead into John’s as he sags with a great exhalation of breath—his arms circling you tightly until your spine might crack.

He doesn’t speak for a long while, just holding you.

“Scared me,” he mutters, missing you deeply on the forehead, speaking into your skin. “Fuck, you scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

He keeps you to his chest, eyes fluttering shut and his spine hunching over you, fingers splayed over your back. You run your hands through his hair and calm the swelling of your heart.

You can feel his pulse mirroring your own.

Simon Riley ➺

When he sees your hand, he freezes.

Simon wasn’t a stranger to the lights being off in the home—you opted for lamps and low light more often than not; this wasn’t new. He had only quirked a brow when he came home to the pitch-blackness, off from his recent deployment and eager for a warm bed to fall into. He admits he’d let himself calm down on the car ride home—your home was where he could relax and release tension until it became as unimportant as an ant on the pavement.

But when he’d closed the door silently behind him and walked the few steps it would take to enter the living room, where he was sure you were still up either reading or watching something on your phone under a blanket, his body had stiffened immediately.

Your hand sticking out from behind the couch. Limp.

Lifeless.

He’d been staring at it for only a few seconds before the memories came back—the ones of gore splattered to the walls and ceiling of an old flat back in Manchester.

Simon’s thoughts had hit him like a bullet.

Not again.

Rushing forward like a bear, the man slips along the hardwood as his knees go down, shaking the home at the force at which he grabs at your body and flips you from your side to your back.

You gasp awake and instinctually throw out a fist, connecting with a stone chest as you hiss and blink in panic.

Fingers ruthlessly dig into your shoulders, wide brown eyes open, and…and afraid.

“Simon?” You mutter softly, all fear in your heart is squished in an instant.

The man breathes through wheezes, balaclava fabric moving from the force of his breaths. His fingers are shaking, blinking as his head jerks to look your lying form up and down swiftly.

You hesitantly put a hand on his cheek and he flinches before nuzzling into it.

“Don’t…” he takes a quivering breath into his lungs, and after, loosens his grip on your skin. Simon’s hands go to your waist, dragging you up and stapling you to his chest. “Don’t do that again.”

His voice is low. Vulnerable.

You blink, hands holding him back on the floor.

“...The power went out,” you try to explain only half of it softly, muffled by his neck.

He only holds you harder, eyes open and blankly staring at the floor a foot away.

Johnny MacTavish ➺

Johnny hums a song under his breath, hanging his keys on the hook near the door.

“Dearie!” He calls to you loudly, itching at the side of his head and chuckling. “Don’t run too fast to me now, I’m all yours for two w—”

The light switch is moved by his finger, but no light illuminates his path to the living room. Pausing in the entrance, the man’s brows furrow tightly, speech cutting off like scissors to paper.

“...eeks?” Johnny ends his sentence, turning back around to look at the switch in confusion. “The hell’s going on with that?” He mutters to himself, a frown growing on his face before he refocuses on his mission to find you—now with the added task of figuring out why the power was out in the house.

“Swear,” the man grumbles, huffing while he runs a hand over his face, “if those kids down the street did something I’ll be livid. Little devils, I swear.”

Johnny steps farther into the living room, glancing around.

“Dearie?” He pauses, listening before calling out your name. “Where’s she off to?”

He sighs softly, wanting to hold you now that he’s home to do so—squeeze you in his arms and take in your scent again; he’d missed you immensely while he was away.

Johnny came across your hand sticking out from behind the couch by accident, moving to make his way into your bedroom thinking that you were sleeping. He sees an odd shape in the blackness and pauses, feet slowing to a stop.

When he notices that it’s a hand—your hand, he doesn’t even realize that he’s completely gripped the side of the couch and wrenched it back until the scratch of the wood floors screams in his ears.

You wake up to hands on your cheeks, sharp yelling, and your head being shaken up and down until you’re conscious.

“Dearie, hey! What the fuck,” the last sentence is growled on fast lips. “What the fuck.”

Your hands slap to Johnny’s wrists, nails digging in.

He breathes out quickly, looking into your eyes to look for dilation as the darkness forces him closer. “There we are, tell me where you’re hurting, now, yeah? Did you hit your head? Let me take a look. It’s okay, I’ll get you all fixed up, there’s no need to worry.”

“Hey!” Your hands push at his, trying to shove the brick wall away from you. “Quit it! Johnny! I’m fine! ”

The man pauses at your animated movements, blinking rapidly before his grip loosens.

When it’s obvious that you’re perfectly fine, he moves back and groans, thumb and forefinger digging into his nose bridge.

“Hell’s bells, Hen.” You glare, panting on the floor before you push yourself up.

“‘Hell’s bells’, me?” Johnny’s head plops to your shoulder. “You just shook me like a fucking rabbit!”

“Scared the shite out of me, you terror.” The man huffs. “Need to put a heart monitor on you.”

“Piss off,” you sigh, putting a hand to your chest to feel the pace of your pulse and the blood that runs furiously.

Johnny, moments later as he’s still resting on your shoulder, starts…laughing. Low at first, then gaining noise the more it goes unchecked—a deep rumble into chest-jerking amusement. You look down at him, the couch tilted and long scratches over the floor. Pausing, you blink at his shaking shadow before your lungs start quivering. The two of you bend over one another with shared, house-shaking laughter.

“What the fuck were you doin’ behind the damn couch?” Johnny grabs you close, kissing along your neck as he picks you up, dragging you to your feet.

“The power went out!” You giggle, chest hurting from the fast gasps of breath as more kisses are spread over your skin. “It was colder down there and I didn’t want to open one of the windows because I knew you’d throw a pouting match about it.”

“Christ, Dearie.” Lips meet your own. “I had half the mind to think you had a heart attack. Nearly gave me one.”

Kyle Garrick ➺

Kyle sighs as he rubs at his jaw, itching the skin and slipping out of his jacket.

“I’m home, Love!” He says, his voice echoing over the flat. “Want me to start on supper or have you eaten yet?” The man smiles, taking off his cap and putting it on the coat rack, sighing softly.

It was good to be back.

Bending down to unlace his boots, he pulls at them until they’re loose enough to slip out of, thumping to their sides on the rug until he reaches out and fixes them.

“What’s that, then?” He calls into the darkness, not hearing your answer as he quickly checks the time on his phone. “Fuck, it’s late,” Kyle utters to himself.

Walking into the kitchen, he touches the light switch only to be met with nothing. Pausing, the man’s face pulls in—fingers twitching at his sides as he glances at the window and the moonlight that seeps in to glare along the floor.

A deep frown takes hold of him, and he looks around once more before backing up.

“...Love?” Kyle wasn’t too concerned—the building wasn’t always the best, and power outages weren’t unheard of. But, damn, if the high of getting off of a deployment didn’t put him in a negative head-space when it came to a change in routine involving you.

Why weren’t you answering him?

Walking slightly faster into the living room, his hand nearly reaches into his pocket to call your phone if you didn’t end up in any of the rooms—pulse beginning to be infected with a steady injection of adrenaline.

Brown eyes find your hand behind the couch when they’re about to shift to the open door of your bedroom. A sharp gasp is inhaled instantaneously.

Kyle races over, grappling to it and pressing his fingers to your neck for a pulse. You softly breathe, none the wiser as you lightly shift and sigh in your sleep; a delicate hum moving out as familiar fingers dig into you.

It’s through his panic that a thought quickly cuts through the man’s mind. You’d mentioned this before.

Kyle pauses, just about to loudly wake you.

‘It gets hot when the power goes out, Kyle, I swear one of these days I’m going to just fall asleep on the floor. At least it’s cool down there.’

Well, the power was out, and, it seemed, you really had fallen asleep on the floor. Now that he thought about it, the flat was running hot—and he also knew that you knew he had gotten nervous of late when you left the windows open at night.

“Bloody hell,” the man releases a long breath, free hand moving to grip the back of his head. A few seconds later, Kyle chuckles to himself, shaking his head with a small smile. “You are losing it, Mate. Losing it.”

Without another word, he grips you, and with a grunt, picks you up and takes you to bed, setting you down on the pillows and making sure to leave the sheets off of you so you don’t grow uncomfortable.

A kiss is pressed to your forehead, and you hum in slumber, smiling unconsciously.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Love.”

He leaves to go make a quick supper of cereal and milk.

4K notes · View notes

vvenus-child · 3 months ago

Text

Okay so I had a bf that used to have real bad PTSD nightmares and sleepwalking, so hear me out

Simon never sleeps with you. He knows he can control his emotions when awake, but sleeping is a whole another demon to deal.

The night he finally let's himself go and ends up sleeping by your side he wakes you on top of you, hands around your thumbs that are preventing him from strangling your slender neck. He jerks away from your body, heart pounding, breathing rapidly.

The apologies want to pour out of his mouth, but are struck inside his throat. He wants to fucking run and never touch you again. He was the monster after all. In a few seconds you are gonna be screaming, chancing him out of the house. Simon knows that. So he silently starts to back away from the door, out the room, out of your life.

To his surprise, the only from you answer to his most dread nightmare was

"if you don't get back to this bed and let me sleep I'll be the one strangling in you, I'm too tired to run after you"

At that moment Simon didn't know if he was more in love with you or scared.

#this actually happened word by word with me lmao #funny thing is #his PTSD wasnt from military it was from HIS FATHER #text post #simon Riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader

392 notes · View notes

huffelpuff210 · 3 months ago

Text

mob stucky x child reader

Summary: you are only seven years old but always run away from your home because of your brother what happens when you catch the attention of your brothers rival mob,

You ran passing people, you were only seven but your brother was a mob leader but he was terrible, he had no morals or honor, if he didn’t like someone’s answer or the way they spoke her would shoot them dead,

You were constantly his target, abusing you, not feeding you, locking you in a room for days,

You always ran away when you got a chance, always on the streets, most of the locals know you, his henchmen on your heels, you quickly look around in a panic, you see three men looking at you suspiciously as you looked around in a panic you see a nice looking car, you run towards it rolling under the car just in time when you hear the men out of breath,

“can I help you?” You hear

“This is our turf.” Another voice

“Tell Damian if we catch any of his men here again we’ll have no choice but show him how serious we are,” a voice says

“Y-yes sir,” one says running off

You roll out from underneath the car and started running, you had to keep going if your brother catches you again you knew you couldn’t afford being caught again ever since your parents died mysteriously your brother took over the business,

No one wants to business with him most of the businesses cut their ties with him,

Bucky, Steve were standing outside their office building discussing business with Tony when this small girl in a hoodie that went past her knees and a pair of grey leggings some old worn out shoes she looked around in a panic as she skidded on the stones, her dark hair was whipping around as she looked around without hesitation she ran to Tony’s car rolling under it all three men found this odd but when they seen who was chasing her it made a bit more sense a bit,

“can I help you?” Bucky says

“This is our turf.” Tony says

“Tell Damian if we catch any of his men here again we’ll have no choice but show him how serious we are,” Steve said with malicious to his voice

After the men ran they see the girl was gone when they checked under the car,

But what they were all curious about is why they were after such a small kid, she didn’t look older than three, then have seen you a few times but didn’t really bother you but now they have a feeling something was going on,

with just a look Bucky understood what Steve was signaling and he left,

It was past noon when you finally stopped for a break it was a bunch of food trucks and fruit stands, you were peeking from behind a motorbike looking at the food,

“Grab what you need..” you mumbled

You hated stealing but it was why your brother kept you around, sneaking into small places only you could fit, stealing and gathering what he needed, and gone without a trace,

You took a deep breath bumping into the plumb stand on purpose but,making it look like an accident,

The fruit falls to the ground,

“I’m so sorry,” you say picking them up and pocketing a few

“That’s quite alright dear,” the old lady says with a smile

You hated stealing but you had to, In order to survive,

Little did you know Bucky was watching you and how skilled you were with pocketing the fruit, this made him smirk,

as you quickly rushed out of the area and into a alleyway you took a bite of the plumb relishing in the taste you cannot remember what your last meal was,

After finishing the food you were leaving only for someone to grasp your bicep, you swung your foot into their shin only to hear a grunt,

You look up seeing a man with dark hair and icy blue eyes

You stomp on his foot as hard as you could, he grunted loosening his grip you quickly yank your arm out of his grip running as fast as you can,

Bucky watched as you ran seeing your dark hair sway from under the hood of the hoodie,

He smirked,

“I’ve got you in my sights now little fox.” He smirked

86 notes · View notes

floppnopikka · 4 months ago

Text

〔ㅤㅤㅤKang Dae-ho X Reader ㅤㅤㅤ〕

Kang Dae-ho is seen as a bright person, the other players immediately warmed up to him because of his approachable and happy nature. A proud ex-marine who boasts his bravery to those who dare disrespect him. You, of course, developed an admiration towards the bubbly man, even when his corny jokes make you laugh, finding them funny to be completely honest.

As the game went by and people were shrinking to a number, you couldn't help but notice the way Dae-ho was.. scared. You observed that he was hiding his fear very well but you noticed the way he would flinch at the gunshots, the way he looks at the dead body with fear, and his dazed expression after the pink soldiers carry the dead body or after the gunshots.

Seong Gi-hun and the others decided to stop the game once and for all as they planned to raid the control room and let everyone be free in this hellhole. Gunshots, screams, and thuds can be heard from above as some of us players can only sit and imagine what was happening from above. Suddenly, Dae-ho came back, almost out of breath, trembling with fear, and he seemed to be muttering something about bullets as he tried to pull out the magazines from the dead pink guards on the floor.

Everyone glanced at him, wondering why he was in such a hurry to grab the ammo from the pink guards. Park Yong-sik/player 007 slowly approached him as he also wonders what was happening.

"Dae-ho, what's going on? Why are you here on your own?" Yong-sik asked as he worriedly glanced and slowly approached Dae-ho, who was trembling from head to toe.

"Our magazines ran out, it's in their pockets. I need you to help me, okay? Quickly!" Dae-ho said as he stammered his way of speaking and almost out of breath, it was obvious how scared he is based on his tone.

Once you heard that he needed help gathering the ammo from the pink guards, you immediately started looking for it and so did Yong-sik who was obviously scared of the fact that he didn't know what was happening above and can only do what Dae-ho requested to help the others.

A few minutes have gone by, we gathered every ammo we can find to Dae-ho, you glanced at Yong-sik and his mother as they nodded to each other for support.

"That's it. We searched for everyone." Yong-sik confirmed to Dae-ho as he also contributed what he found as he nodded to us, perhaps a way for him of showing gratitude, picking it up with the jacket full of magazines he immediately wrapped it around and placed it on his chest tightly and securely as he made his way out in the room.

Once Dae-ho got out of the room, you secretly followed him even when Yong-sik's mother tried to stop you from going but abruptly stopped walking as we all heard the gunshots again as you quickly checked for Dae-ho. There he was, paralyzed in fear as he heard the gunshots, flinching and seemingly backing up from fear.

"Dae-ho!" You called out his name but it seems like he was in deep thought to notice my voice.

You slowly approach him and it was clear as the daylight that his breathing was uneven, his body trembling and his face shown in a daze... He's having a panic attack.

"Dae-ho—" you couldn't even finish the sentence as he immediately ran away inside as you followed him, Yong-sik and his mother, even the other players in the room glanced at him as he made his way on one of the bed as he dropped the magazines beside him.

You caught up to Dae-ho only to see him trembling in fear as he positioned himself like a ball, hands on his ears, whimpering and seemingly crying.

You and Jang Geum-ja/player 149 glanced at each other, understanding the situation he is in right now.

You carefully try to approach Dae-ho without scaring him and call out his name softly but no budge at all, his hands covered his ears. Suddenly, Cho Hyun-ju/player 120 came running inside looking around and yelling his name for Dae-ho if he is here.

"Dae-ho! Dae-ho! Dae-ho, where are you? Has anyone seen Dae..." Hyun-ju slowly lowered her voice as she gets the signal when Yong-sik pointed where Dae-ho is hiding.

You moved away for Hyun-ju to see Dae-ho, Hyun-ju called out his name and wondered what was going on, Dae-ho looked up and flinched back to see Hyun-ju.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" Dae-ho apologized knowing he backed down even when his comrades was fighting for their life. Hyun-ju leaned in as she asked where's the magazines but Dae-ho felt like he was useless and kept muttering apologies as he pointed where the magazines are.

The pink guards suddenly came to a view inside the room with their guns on hand as Hyun-ju was getting ready to load her gun to fight off the guards. You turned your gaze to Dae-ho who was still shaking like a leaf and his lips quivering, his hands still covering his ears, it was a pitiful sight honestly. A person who's full of life and shines like the sun, pressured and have to witness such brutality and trauma.

You lean yourself to Dae-ho for him to see you but he flinched back and looked away, perhaps because of guilt? Shame? Who knows perhaps both, perhaps for other reasons.

"Dae-ho.." you pat his shoulder lightly but it seems it didn't work on him so you try it again but nothing. He was still deep inside his memories, a PTSD episode...

You took a deep breath as you looked at Dae-ho with soft and easy eyes, you called out his name much more clear for him to clear as his trembling form and widened eyes finally gazes up to yours.

"Hey.. I'm here..." You told him, rubbing circles on his knee to calm him down.

"I-I don't want to be here anymore... I wanna go home..." He sobs and whimpers louder, like a child looking for his mother or maybe his father, perhaps one of his 4 sisters? Or all of them? Who knows and all you can do is to calm him down and bring back to his senses.

"Hey, hey.. we're going home, just a bit more longer and we'll all get out of here... I promise you that.." and you were sure as hell you'll be keeping that promise, not to him but also to yourself. You had enough of this madness and chaos, Dae-ho calmed down slightly as he grabbed your hand tightly that made you surprised.

"Please stay... I can't take this anymore, I wanna go home, home with sisters.. I don't wanna die here..." He lets out a loud sob as I immediately calmed him down and not wanting to attract the pink guards some suspicions in this area.

" I'm here, I'm not going anywhere, we'll get out of here soon, m'kay? Just a bit longer and I want you to be strong, strong for yourself, for us... for me.." I looked at him straight in the eyes to see if he understands, to see if I can trust him enough to be strong for himself.

He hesitantly nodded as his breathing calmed down and no longer ragged, you looked around and to see Yong-sik and his mother at each other's arms to hold, Hyun-ju still on guard with her gun, and everyone else in this room is terrified, horrified of what will happen next.. and so were you.

Unbeknownst, you and Dae-ho were still holding hands, too tightly, to feel each other's warmth, security, and.. to know that you both are still alive.

You hope that you're newfound friends, who you now consider a family, get out of this hellhole alive and in one piece. Eat samgyeopsal together, pay off all your debts, cheers to the victory you all achieved, and perhaps.. find love along the way. Who knows, maybe it's already the one who you felt your hands with but unfortunately grasped away from the touch of your hands as he fell asleep from exhaustion.

A/N: Hello everyone! I am very sorry for not updating for months! Writer's block got the best of me and the Christmas season happened, same goes to new year's, also, Happy New Year everyone! I hope you all enjoy the story!

#squid game #x reader #kang dae ho #player 388 #ptsd tw #slight angst #fluff #squid game x reader #squid game x y/n

416 notes · View notes

thewritetofreespeech · 1 month ago

Note

Hello, can you do butterflies with Jason Todd and reader girlfriend?

nsfw prompt list - butterflies. our muses doing something new in bed.

-------------------------🦇----------------------------

Jason was sick in the head.

He knew that for a long time about himself. Maybe even before the Pit, but especially after. He’d come back wrong. Or at least not quite right in the head after what happened.

Why else would a man who died burning, then brought back by being submerged in boiling supernatural goo, ask to be burned?

“Ah fuck!” Jason hissed as the wax splattered on his skin. He twisted and writhed while hissing through his teeth, but then settled as his grimace turned into a wild, wide grin. “Not so close babe….”

“Why? Do you think it would hurt?” His girlfriend teased. Holding the candle and it’s flame way too close to his dick.

She knew he wanted it to hurt. Something was wrong with him now where the only time he could truly feel pleasure was with pain. Maybe it was because all he seemed to feel in his life was pain. Maybe something went wrong with his wires getting crossed when he came back. Maybe he should see a shrink.

Don’t get him wrong. Jason loved having regular sex with his girlfriend. It was amazing. She was amazing. But still there was a part of him that craved this from her. This being hurt.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to do it.” She assured him as she moved the candle back from his cock. Jason could literally feel the temperature change around it. “If for nothing else, I need it later.” Jason grinned. A smart remark on his tongue about how she needed him, how she wanted him, but it was snuffed out as she dribbled new wax across his chest. “You’re a sick man Jason Todd.”

“Ah! I know!” His hands gripped the bars of their headboard. He might not be Superman, but he could certainly bend them fair enough even with his mortal man strength. “Fuck me up baby.”

“Fuck you up or fuck you?” Her grin made Jason groan. Even with how foggy his mind was right now, he had the sense to know she was being mean to him.

“Mmmm…both….” Jason lifted his hips up where she was straddling him to rub his hard cock against her inner thigh. “Come on baby. Fuck me up.”

234 notes · View notes

theesterianempire · 2 months ago

Text

The Intruder - Spencer Reid x Y/N

When theres an intruder in Quanitco, Y/N feels helpless as she follows instructions to hide and wait it out.

Trigger Warnings: Intruder, break in, blood, guns, trauma, PTSD

Word Count: 1380

Y/N Y/L/N.

The youngest member of the BAU.

Stretched way to thin between home and work.

"Hey Y/N! I’m heading out now!” Derek said happily as he started to pack up for the day. He glanced around the room, “Looks like you’ll be the last one here.”

“I guess so!” You smiled back, while continuing to fill in reports.

"Thank you again for covering for me. Savannah would hate it if I miss another date night," Replied Derek,

"It’s really no problem. I know how it is. I'll see you tomorrow." You smiled as he made his way for the lift.

"Bye Y/N! Thanks again!" Derek called as the door to the lift closed.

You sighed as you signed off another report, placing it on the pile to the left of you. You sighed as you looked at the stack of paper work, yet to be completed.

It was no more than an hour later when alarms began screeching pulling the whole building to a halt. Everyone stopped, no one knew quite why but they knew they had to.

You was alone in the bull pen when the alarms started blaring. You looked around, startled and confused, you considered going down offices to see what was going on but instead you felt the crushing urge to stay put. It was then your phone rang… Well vibrated. It was on silent. You glanced at the screen to see Spencer’s name flashing across it.

"Hello?" You asked,

“Y/N! Listen to me very carefully," Spencer's stern voice concerned you deeply, "Do as I say but do not say anything in return."

Suddenly the alarm came to an end but you had a feeling it was far from over.

"Stay extremely quiet, turn off all of the lights and make your way into office, pull the blinds and lock the door.”

You wanted to ask questions but the urgency in Spencer’s voice made you follow his instructions, no questions asked.

Once Spencer heard the click of the lock he spoke again. "Okay now, get under the desk. Garcia is about to remotely cut the security feed to the office and various other rooms". You were about to ask why when Spencer answered the question.

“A group have broken into Quantico. A lot of people got out. It’s just you and a few other people in there from what we know. No matter who you hear outside, how familiar their voices are and how much they plead you DO NOT unlock that door or let them in."

Once again it was like Spencer read your mind. You were going to ask why you couldn’t just use your gun and make your way out when Spencer began talking again.

“The men have guns and are using some kind of gas to knock people out. They had security passes so they got in unnoticed,” He explained, “We also can’t track them using cameras if we want to keep our people safe so you just have to stay put. I’m so sorry Y/N.” Spencer spoke quietly, “I have to go, Hotch is calling.” Then he hung up, now you were truly alone.

You went through the motions in his head. You managed to keep yourself calm and collected. You were thinking over everything and trying to think of an escape route when you heard fast footsteps. Someone was running down the corridor outside Hotch’s office.

Then they stopped… from the sounds of it they were just outside the door.

“Y/L/N…. Y/L/N… I know you're in there" Whispered a familiar voice.

You tried to ignore him but he started again.

"Please.... It's me Laurence..... Let me in...." Laurence pleaded.

You got up from under the desk and move towards the door. Laurence had always been so nice to you. Laurence was a guy from admin. You’d spoken to him a few times during your elevator rides and now and again when you needed a hand with certain documents. You’d even spent the odd lunch break together now and again. Laurence was one of the first people you’d met at the BAU.

You considered opening the door, letting him just quickly slip in but Spencer’s words rang through your head. You faltered just next to the door. Unable to bring yourself to open it.

“Y/N please...." Cried Laurence as footsteps started travelling down the hall. "He's coming..." Laurence yelled.

Laurence started banging on the door and yelling “Y/N!"..... "LET ME IN!".... "PLEASE!..... HE'S COMING!"

“Y/N..... Y/N!”

You closed your eyes and put your hands over your ears. You let yourself slowly sink down the wall.

“Y/N!.... PLEASE!..... LET ME IN!...." Laurence called again.

The footsteps got louder. The louder they got the tighter you covered your ears.

Then all that could be heard was the deafening sound of Laurence screaming. Then… there was silence.

It was at this point your mind shut off to the world. Your ears were covered and your mind was completely blank. You was completely unaware when the shouting started. You was completely unaware when the sound of gun shots echoed through the bull pen. You was completely unaware when people started calling your name, trying to get you to unlock the door.

In the end they had to wait for Hotch to get his key. When he got there they unlocked and opened the door to find you curled up in a shaking ball with your ears covered directly in front of the door. You wouldn't move.

You didn’t even notice when Spencer crouched down besides you

“Y/N?" Spencer called lightly, placing a hand over your yours and gently prying it away from your ears.

You looked up at him, blinking slowly.

"S...Spencer..." You whispered, uncurling yourself slightly.

"Hey....." Replied Spencer gently,

Spencer slowly helped you sit up. You were still clearly shaken up.

"Come on NY/… Let’s get you out of here..." Spencer said as he helped you up and started to support you as you made your way to the exit.

However, just as they got out of the office you saw all of the blood and as hard as Spencer tried to get you to keep going, you stopped and looked for the source of the blood.

When you saw the sight your knees buckled and you fell to the floor, only just being caught by Spencer.

You kept muttering, "Laurence, oh my god, all of this is my fault…”

The sight of his friend's body still and bloody broke you in more ways than one.

You were full blown crying and shouting at Laurence to wake up, to move, to say something and the sight broke Spencer’s heart.

In the end Spencer had to lift you into his arms and carry you out even though you protested deeply. Shaking and struggling to get out of his grasp.

As they walked through the building people stopped and gave looks of sadness towards you but Spencer didn't stop. He knew he needed to get you out of that situation and away from Quanitco.

As he walked you continued to cry. When Spencer looked down he saw that you had both of your hands wrapped up in Spencer's shirt, holding it tight almost as if, if you let go you would never get back.

Spencer carried you to Dereks car where he was waiting quietly. When he saw you, he opened the back door allowing Spencer to place you inside but as Spencer tried to put you down he found that you wouldn’t let go of his shirt.

“Y/N.... it's okay but you need to let go so I can get in the car also. I promise I'm not going anywhere..." Spencer said gently, and although he really didn't want to let you let.

You sat down and Spencer slid in after you. Once Spencer sat down he looked over to you to make sure you had your eat belt clipped in and he saw that you were sitting hunched over curling his fingers together tightly.

"Where'd you want to go?" Asked Derek quietly,

“Back to mine please." Whispered Spencer quietly, trying not to disturb you. “I don’t want her to be alone tonight.”

#criminal minds #fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid x reader #yn fanfic #ptsd #fanfiction #matthew gray gubler #bau team #spencer reid x yn #x yn #spencer reid x y/n #x y/n #y/n #hurt/comfort #comfort

237 notes · View notes

amiaclone · 4 months ago

Note

hiii can u pretty pretty pretty please make something about reader comforting daeho after his panic attack (fluff) 😣😣😣🙏🙏🙏

YES IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS!

I’ll base this off how i handle my panic attacks incase I’m disrespectful 😭

“Daeho? “Daeho?!” *You noticed him giving the aminos to Hyun ju* “Im sorry i…can’t do it.”

*He was leaning behind the beds*

*It all clicked to you the shaky voice shaky heartbeat and ran over immediately*

*There was the boy who you’ve loved for awhile shook in terror you aren’t a therapist but even you know stuff like this*

“Daeho..”

*He turned and seemed shameful and guilty*

“Im sorry…”

*You kneeled down to him placing a hand on his forehead rubbing it soothly*

“It’s alright….Im here….”

*It only calmed him down a tiny bit he still seemed shook however you knew how to handle situations like this*

“Count to seven…” *He nodded barely* “One…” “Two….” “T-Three…”

*As he counted to seven he seemed to get calmer by seven he seemed tense but a lot calmer which relieved you.*

“Thank you….for everything.”

*He leaned on your shoulder while your fingers strolled through his hair*

“You don’t need to…”

“No i mean…..you’re always so kind to me….im lucky to have you in my life…”

*Your heart warmed at that*

“You’re welcome then….how long has it been since we knew each other….seven years?”

*He nodded* “Im glad i met you that day…..you dont deserve to be in a game like this..”

*You smiled*

“Neither do you…”

*After a while it seemed he went to sleep you turned to him and whispered softly “I love you..”

*Unknowist to you he heard that*

Hope you liked iittt it was originally gonna be written different but it restarted 💀

#x reader #character #fanfiction #squid game #squid game x reader #squid game season 2 #squid game season 2 x reader #squid game daeho #squid game kang daeho #squid game daeho x reader #squid game kang daeho x reader #kang daeho x reader #daeho x reader #y/n #ptsd #panic attack

297 notes · View notes

cherry-pop-elf · 5 months ago

Text

Night terrors

Anya x Reader

Can be read as platonic because we all want to take care of her like we wish someone would for us

AN: As a victim of sexual assault I feel it is important to have a realistic fluff story about the aftermath of it. How it affects the person after it’s been done and how the trauma lingers. How it’s so very important for the person to have a support network. YOU will be her support network. Thank you

Also not to get political but god women in the USA are experiencing a massive increase of assaults so call this projection, or call this training for the inevitable

SUM: Despite surviving that Tulpar adventure, despite all the good karma thrown back at you all, there are just too many many scars to truly recover from

Warnings: Past sexual assault, nightmares, PTSD, whump, abortion, paranoia, it’s gonna be a stressful read, there will be fluff don’t worry, paranoia, inspired/based on my own experiences

“STOP-!”

Anya was screaming in her sleep again.

Woke you up pretty quickly, as you were sharing a bed with her. She was rather scared to sleep alone. Afraid that someone will just break in and take advantage of her. That somehow Jimmy, who long since was dead, will break in again.

“Anya-! Anya wake up! It’s me! Anya-!” You would shake her and try to get her to wake up. To get her out of that terrifying cloud of memories. Her poor face was pale and full of sweat, and she was scared awake by you shaking her. For a fleeting moment she thought it was Jimmy.

As she gave another cry, you reached over and turned on the bedside tables lamp.

She saw your face, and finally took a breathe.

You two weren’t on the Tulpar anymore. Jimmy wasn’t going to hurt either of you ever again. Swansea was home with his wife. Daisuke was home with his mother and father. And she was here with you.

She was alive.

“I….Im sorry-“ Anya sniffled, as you just pulled her into your arms. Gentle with combing your fingers through her hair. Just gentle reminders to not be sorry. To not be sorry for being justified with her fear.

“He won’t ever get you again. I promise.” You would remind her, but she would still tremble.

“Can we check the locks again?” She would ask you, and you would nod. Often times this was the case. No matter how many times she would ask you that question you never got annoyed. It’s good to check the locks anyway. Gotta stay safe after all.

You would both climb out of bed, put on your robes, and go walking around the home. One of your hands was left to be held by Anya’s, as the other would be used to check the locks on everything. From the multiple at front door, from each window, to that of the back door. Each one checked, as Anya would hug at you close.

Was a very nice home, you had to admit. After having rescue finally called, and being saved, the media went nuts. Especially on the fact Curly was still alive. Gave Anya the much needed support to show she was very worthy of a position as a proper doctor. That also meant she got herself quite the hefty salary. Also helps that she now had partial royalties to the book she helped write about the adventure on the ship.

“Every lock is secure.” You explained, as she gave still an anxious look.

“Let’s check each room, and closet. Yeah?” That made her quickly nod.

Now you two were roaming the entire house now. Checking under furniture, in closets, all the nine yards. No stone was left un-turned. You would do it a million times for her. She deserved to have some kind of relief from it all.

“There we go. No Jimmy.” You would give her a hug, and she hugged you back. Still shaken, but at least she was breathing more steady.

The two of you would return to the bedroom, where she did her routine. Checking under her pillow for her sheathed knife, the bedside for her baseball bat, the drawer for her gun, and to take an extra pill to help with the anxiety burst she was having. Her routine.

She would try and lay down, only to dart her head towards the bedroom door. Eyes wide with raw and pure fear.

“I swear I heard him at the door. I swear I did. He said my name he said my name-“ She whimpered, as you would get up. You opened the door, looked around the hallway, and returned.

“Don’t worry Anya. I didn’t hear a single thing.” You reassured, as you would lock the bedroom door for her. Along with putting a chair under the door handle. Even went as far as to double check the bedroom windows, and closed the curtains.

“I’m so sorry-“ She would begin again, as her eyes watered. She felt like such a burden. To have all this fear and paranoia. To the point she couldn’t feel safe when left alone. You couldn’t blame her though. The wounds were still so horribly fresh. Not to mention sometimes PTSD can kick in so many years later. You’ll take the morbid comfort in having it kick in now where you all can handle it now and prepare for the future than suddenly out of nowhere in God knows how long.

It is what it is.

She wasn’t the only one traumatized after all, and she shouldn’t need to apologize for justified fear.

You would pull her back into your arms, and you both laid down. You would turn on the white noise machine for her, to help block the paranoid sounds of voices and scratches from the doors, and would just talk with her. Talk until her medication kicked in to help her sleep.

Didn’t matter what it was. It was just noise to keep her mind distracted.

You wondered how the rest of the crew was doing. How they were dealing with it.

They all had family, so maybe they were doing well. Really should meet up again soon. Can’t be blamed life is so busy.

Curly was back living with his parents and siblings, which they welcomed with open arms. Even his friends before the crew were willing to all share a space to help.

Swansea had his wife and even his kids. Sure he says he’s too old to be traumatized but he keeps checking on his kids way more often now. That’s for sure.

God knows when poor Daisuke’s PTSD will kick in. He may be acting fine now but it’s gonna be a ticking time bomb. It’ll come at him sooner or later. For now his parents were feeling like monsters for pressuring him into that intern ship. He never blamed them, of course. He is even still working under a mentorship with Swansea even. Guess not everything was negative.

Then there was you and Anya. She was the most traumatized of all. There was even the trauma of an abortion. There’s still so many emotions with that as well, but you held her hand through it. Even as far as to move in with her to help. You two had always been very close. Even before joining the crew. You two were always tagged together. Even nicked named her assistant to a point.

You’ll stick with her through the ends of the earth.

“Wanna go visit Curly in the morning? It’ll be Saturday. Maybe we can even invite Swansea and Daisuke.” You offered. Just something positive to look forward to. Something worth waiting for.

“That would be nice.” She muttered, as her own paranoias exhaustion was kicking in. Too tired to even be afraid. Often times how it ends. She gets herself so worked up it ends up being the very same thing that makes her fall back asleep.

“Yeah. We can check out his new prosthetics. Daisuke said he even bought stickers specifically for them.” That had Anya smile. That sweet smile that was hard to come by right now. One that was filled with comfort. Comfort of such an innocent and sweet thought.

“Swansea says he’s also going to attach his own upgrades to it. Not sure how that will work, or what the hell he’s planning, but not gonna lie I need to see if he gives him rocket boosters.”

That got a little laugh from her. The both of you imagining poor Captain Curly flying around in the sky, as Daisuke runs around with some trampoline to try and catch him on.

Just something silly to cut through it all.

Seemed to work, as you could feel her breathing easier now. Her breath not so intense. Was far more steady, and you could tell she fell back asleep. You were thankful for it. Not because she was annoying you. No. Never. But because she needed her rest. She deserves it. She already is working long hours at the hospital, which you bet is because she is trying to avoid being isolated and alone at all cost maybe even reduce sleeping to, so she needed proper sleep more than ever.

And you’ll do your best for her. To help her with it all. You were her little assistant. You’ll do what an assistant does best. Make sure your boss is able to tackle projects easier.

And this project was healing. A project that won’t ever end, will have ups and downs, and be taxing. Over time out the ass and no vacations.

And you know what you say to that?

Bring it.

Thank you so much for reading. This was a more vulnerable piece because Anya really reminded me so much of myself. How I’m suppose to take care of everyone else, while my traumatic abuse is just swept under the rug.

Since you read all the way to the end, maybe take a look at this

National Sexual Assault Hotline:

1-800-656-4673

National Domestic Violence Hotline:

800-799-7233

RAINN (Rape Abuse Incest National Network)

1-800-656-4673

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

1-800-273-8255

You deserve love and support. What happened wasn’t your fault in the slightest. Not even for a single second. You deserve happiness, hope, and to live a long and healthy life. Everything will be ok again. Doesn’t seem like it now, but it will. I promise

345 notes · View notes