#anxiety attack fan fiction

[shiorimakibawrites]

Image Credits: kissthemgoodbye.net / Greta Punch (Unsplash) / Stephanie Harvey (Unsplash)

A Tale of Two Men (Part 1 of Cozy Corners)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader Word Count: 6,595 Summary: One week after you open your cafe, you meet two handsome men - defense attorney Matt Murdock and the vigilante Daredevil. Warning(s): Canon-typical violence, description of anxiety and panic attacks, referenced oral sex (f receiving), referenced p in v sex, referenced masturbation, dirty thoughts, female gaze Cozy Corners Masterlist Shiori's Masterlist A03 link Tag List: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer , @danzer8705 Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

A Tale of Two Men

You couldn’t stop smiling. Owning your own cafe had been the dream of you and your best friend Dora Morales since high school. And now, after years of hard work, it had finally happened. One week ago, you had opened your doors for the first time. You looked around. You and Dora had done everything you could, within the limitations of your lease and budget, to make Cozy Corners to live up to its name. Warm, comfortable, and inviting.

You were especially pleased with the little nook, tucked away from the main bustle of the cafe where people could read and study in relative quiet. You had found some nice chairs in a secondhand store, their brown leather the color of chocolate and butter soft. The little library of reference books and fiction was small but you hoped that over time it would grow. Yes, people were more likely to use the internet to look things up these days but you liked having analog back-ups. Just in case something got broken. Or the city was invaded by aliens. Again.

You found having back-up plans helped calm your nerves, made the anxiety gremlin in your head less loud. You were a big fan of keeping that gremlin quiet. You didn’t like it when the gremlin got loud. It was mean.

Hearing the bell on the front door chime, you looked up to greet your new customer. And immediately felt your stomach fill with butterflies. Because one of the most beautiful men you had ever laid eyes on had just walked into your cafe. Dark brown – no, dark auburn, you could see the glint of red in the sunlight – hair that looked like it would be very enjoyable to run your fingers through, excellent bone structure, and a mouth practically begging to be kissed. Round sunglasses with dark red lenses hide his eyes from view. Which was unfortunate. Especially if they were just as pretty as the rest of him.

The brown suit he worn, by contrast, did very little to disguise how well-built he was. Which was very, if the strain on buttons of his dress shirt was any indication. He moved an enviable grace as he walked toward the counter, his long white cane sweeping in front of him.

“Good morning, sir,” you said. “What can I do for you?”

“Good morning,” he replied. His voice was pretty too, nice and deep. The kind you could easily imagine whispering everything from sweet nothings to dirty promises in your ear. The thought made your cheeks warm and your heart beat at little faster.

His lips twitched into something like a smirk before he asked, “Do you have a menu in braille?”

You sighed, then said, “Sort of.”

“Sort of?” he repeated, tilting his head to one side.

“I have something in braille. The printing service claims that it’s my menu.”

“I take it that you disagree?”

“I don’t sell a cinematic rainbow muffler.”

“What?”

The sheer disbelief and confusion put into that single ‘what’ had you biting your lip to not laugh. You didn’t want him to think you were joking or making fun of him.

“Cinematic rainbow muffler,” you repeated. “Not something we sell here at Cozy Corners.”

His lips twitched. “I don’t think anyone does. What was it supposed to be?”

“Cinnamon raisin muffin.”

His brow furrowed. “That . . . doesn’t even have the same amount of letters. How did they manage get that?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” you said, shaking your head. “The whole thing is like that.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” you said, pulling out the copy you had left under the counter in case you needed a laugh. Which was about the only thing it was good for. You sat it down in front of him. “It’s at your twelve o’clock if you want to see for yourself.”

Mr. Handsome took you up on that offer. While he read – or rather attempted to read since you knew sections were completely unintelligible – you idly wondered if the dark facial hair dusting his face was the start of a beard or if he just didn’t feel like shaving this morning . . . you had the feeling he would look good either way . . .

Case in point, all that look of utter befuddlement like he didn’t whether to laugh or to be irritated by what he was reading did was make him look adorable. You needed to be careful. This guy was dangerously pretty.

“What is 78554.051?” He asked, looking like he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“What?”

“It’s listed as one of the drinks. I think. I assume you don’t serve dribbles.”

“No, sir,” you said, thinking. “My best guess is that someone put the number sign where it didn’t belong.”

Mr. Handsome hummed thoughtfully, re-running his fingers over one section of the menu of nonsense. “Green tea.”

“Now that I do have,” you said. “Speaking of which, would you like to order a drink?”

“I don’t know . . . ,” he said with a teasing grin. “Drinking a coffin sounds dangerous.”

“It does,” you agreed, ignoring the continued presence of the butterflies to go along with the banter. “Does coffee sound better?”

“Infinitely.”

You gave him a quick rundown of the coffee options. He ordered a red eye for himself, which always sounded like a lot of caffeine to you but you didn’t know this man’s life. While he didn’t look tired, maybe he had been working a lot of hours lately and needed the extra oomph. Apparently he didn’t think his coworkers needed extra caffeine as they got a cappuccino and a dirty chai.

“What’s the name?” you asked. Mr. Handsome might be the only customer right now but that could change any minute. It was only a little after nine. Plenty of people might still be heading toward school or work, people who might decide to grab a coffee (and maybe some food) on their way.

“Matt.”

“Matt,” you repeated, both to make sure that you had heard him correctly and because you wanted to say it. If for no other reason so you wouldn’t accidentally call him Mr. Handsome outloud. He nodded in confirmation. “Just coffee this morning?”

He made another thoughtful hum. “I probably shouldn’t have just coffee for breakfast. What’s on offer?”

“We have bagels, muffins, croissants, turnovers, doughnuts, frittatas, and breakfast sandwiches.”

“Hmmm, those all sound great,” he said.

“Take your time,” you said, “Think about it while I make your drinks?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You turned to start making the coffee. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him flinch a little when the machine started grinding the beans. Which you couldn’t really blame him for. It wasn’t a nice sound. Easily one of your least favorite. But Dora, who was a coffee aficionado, might actually kill you if you even thought about using anything other than freshly ground coffee for espresso.

She had explained why it mattered. And demonstrated how changing how fine the grind was effected the drink. But that didn’t make the noise any less unpleasant. Which was probably why she hadn’t been able to talk you into freshly grinding your coffee at home. Not yet anyway. You were getting worn down on the issue. Agreeing would at least mean she would stop giving you that look of actual pain everytime she saw your can of already-ground coffee.

Pulling the shot part of the espresso was a lot more pleasant on the ears. With the added bonus of putting out that nice fresh coffee smell. You poured the shot into the waiting to-go cup of the house brew. You knew some places poured the hot coffee into the espresso but Dora thought that method disturbed the crèma too much.

You were pouring in the frothed milk with the chai concentrate into the double-shot of espresso for his coworkers’ dirty chai when Matt spoke again.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did but you can ask another one,” you said, feeling a little bold from his earlier friendliness, as you put the finished drink into the carrier alongside it’s companions.

He chuckled. “Left myself wide open for that one . . . Are you the owner?”

“Co-owner with my best friend, Dora,” you answered, tapping the used grounds into the knock box.

“Dora and who?” Matt asked with a charming smile. You felt your heart sped up. Something about smiling transformed his already handsome face into something breathtakingly beautiful. You had no resistant to something like that. You told him your name.

“That’s a pretty name.”

“And that was a line,” you said. One that you had heard numerous times. Through never from someone this good looking.

“It can be,” he acknowledged before subtly shifting his posture. He hadn’t been slouching before but there had been a relaxed air to the way he carried himself. Now he was standing there, straight-backed and shoulders square, his hands resting on the white cane held upright between his feet like it was some medieval courtiers’ staff of office. He had a presence. One that you suddenly realized had been there all along. It was just front and center now.

When he spoke again, there had also been a subtle shift to his voice. Easy self-assurance had been replaced with rock-solid confidence and conviction. Not thundering like an angry priest, just the calm, even voice of someone who knows they are correct, that the facts were on their side.

“Does that phrase being used as a pick-up line mean that a name cannot be pretty?”

“No,” you said. “A name can still be pretty.”

“Generally speaking, is your name one of the pretty ones?”

“Yes?” you said slowly. Why did you feel like you had just walked into a trap? Maybe it was that little edge of sharpness to his smile? . . . .

“Well, if names can be pretty and your name is one of those pretty names, then you have a pretty name.”

“I suppose,” you conceded. It was hard to argue with that logic. Especially when you didn’t actually want to argue that your name was ugly. You liked your name. And it was nice to hear something about you called pretty. Even if it was just your name.

“A pretty name for a beautiful girl.”

Warmth spread across your cheeks. That smile should be illegal. As for the words . . . he probably didn’t mean them. He was obviously something of a flirt. Regardless . . . it was still nice to hear. Still made your heart flutter.

“And that was absolutely a line,” you said, fidgeting with the ties on your apron. “Flattery is not going get you a free muffin.”

“It’s not flattery if it is true,” he said. Which did nothing to lessen the warmth in your face. “And since muffins are off the table, what about the doughnuts? Or the turnovers?”

You laughed. “Sorry. As much as I would like to give out free coffee and food, unfortunately there are all these places that expect me to pay them with money.”

“Instead of an excellent pie, like a sensible person?”

“Exactly,” you said, once again finding yourself drawn into the banter in spite of your nerves. You knew one thing for certain about Matt – he was definitely charming.

He nodded solemnly, like this was a serious conversation. “I’ve encountered the same problem with my small business.”

“You did?” you said. Then, feeling genuinely curious, you asked him, “What do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer.”

“A lawyer who wants to get paid in pie?” you said, feeling a little skeptical. Didn’t lawyers usually work in big offices that paid them big money? Granted your experience with lawyers was largely limited to baby-faced ones who were grabbing coffee for the office or law students who looked like they had forgotten what sleep was . . .

“I like pie,” he said mildly. “But, as you said, since so many people want money instead of pie, my partner insists that’s what we charge for our services.”

“That’s a shame,” you said.

“It is,” Matt agreed solemnly. He leaned forward and lowered his voice, “What to know a secret? If you ever need to bribe Foggy, try bagels. He can resist pie but never a good bagel.”

“Duly noted,” you said. “I assume Foggy is your partner?”

“Yep,” he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “Nelson & Murdock, Attorneys at Law.”

“Nelson?” you repeated. “Any relation to Nelson’s Meats?”

You expected the answer to be no. This was New York City, after all, not a small town. But, to your surprise, Matt nodded and said, “Yes, it’s his family’s butcher shop. How do you know Nelson’s?”

“We buy the meat for the cafe from them,” you explained as you placed the to-go carrier by the cash register. “Did you ever reach a verdict on breakfast?”

He chuckled. “Jury is still out, I’m afraid. It all smells so good. Can you give me a recommendation?”

Your heart gave another excited flutter at the compliment as you thought about it. Then, with a little hesitation, said, “Maybe bagels? That way, if I need to bribe your partner, he knows what he’s getting out of the deal?”

“Good idea,” Matt said with a smile. “What favors do you have?”

After being given his options, he opted for a plain for himself and an everything for Foggy. After some further consideration an apple turnover for Karen, the third person at his office. He thought the sweetness of the turnover would compliment the spices of her dirty chai better than a bagel.

Soon the rest of his order was bagged up and paid for. Before he left, he tapped the menu of nonsense with his finger. “Can I have a copy of this? Otherwise I’m pretty sure Foggy will think I’m making it up.”

“Go ahead,” you said. “I’ve got other copies.”

He smiled, then tucked the menu into the bag with the food. He feed his arm through the handles of the bag, then picked up the drinks carrier. Considering his left hand was occupied with his cane . . .

“Would you like me to open the door for you?”

“Please.”

On the downside, Cozy Corners wasn’t very big so that particular journey didn’t take very long. But on the upside, you got to watch him walk down the street, discovering that he had a perfect ass. Because of course he did. You sighed. Why was everything about this man so attractive . . .

“I saw that.”

You jumped with a small shriek and whirled around. Standing in the doorway to the kitchen was Dora. How long had she been standing there?

“Saw what?” you demanded, walking back over to the counter.

“So many things,” she said with a knowing grin. “You flirting with Mr. Matthew Murdock, Esquire? Undressing him with your eyes? Checking out his ass? I saw it all.”

Warmth flooded your face. “I wasn’t undressing him with my eyes!”

“Yes, you were,” Dora said with the utter confidence of someone who had known you since you were ten and therefore knew all of your tells.

“Maybe I was,” you muttered as you tidied up the work station. It needed to be done but also gave you an excuse not to see that knowing grin. Which you knew, without even looking, had just gotten bigger.

“And now you are thinking about how loudly he could make you scream.”

“Dora!” You exclaimed, your head whipping around to make sure the cafe was still as empty as it was the last time you looked. It was. “Is this really the time for that? We’re at work!”

“That wasn’t a denial,” she pointed out in a sing-song voice. “I’m betting on very loud.”

“What makes you say that?” you asked, suspicion in your voice. “Did you sleep with him?”

The very thought sparked a little flame of jealousy inside you. Which you hated. You didn’t want feel jealous of your best friend . . .

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “But I know someone who did. She said Murdock loves eating pussy. That he fucked her better with his tongue than any man ever had with their dick.”

“Dora!” You whined. Because now you were thinking about it. Now you were trying to imagine that handsome face buried between your thighs. It was an appealing image. Very appealing. But one you would rather not have when you could do nothing to quench the heat growing between your legs. “Why are you telling me this?!”

“You’ve been under way too much stress lately. Orgasms are wonderful stress relief.”

“Matt Murdock isn’t a requirement for me to have an orgasm,” you said mulishly. You had hands. And a vibrator. Both had served you well in that department. Often better than men had.

“Perhaps not,” she said, nodding in acknowledgment before flashing you a wicked smile. “But that’s who you are going to imagine fucking you senseless while you flick the bean, isn’t it?”

You were spared from having to answer that question by the arrival of new customers.

&&&

You managed to avoid any further conversation about Matt Murdock and what he could do with his tongue. Or other body parts. You put that down to two things. First, there had been a steady stream of customers to keep you both busy. Most had been simply curious about the new business in the neighborhood or tourists needing a quick break. The latter made you a little nostalgic, remembering your first days in the city and how overwhelmed you had felt. But some of the customers were repeats from earlier visits. Something that you hoped would continue.

Second, while you were still working on hiring, you did have some staff. Staff that had come in around lunch time and were there until final clean-up. It was one thing for Dora to speak so frankly about your sex life (or the lack thereof) when it was just the two of you but in front of others? Others who were your employees? Who likely would be very uncomfortable with that conversation? That was an entirely different kettle of fish. Not one that Dora or you had any desire to partake in.

By the time you were locking up the cafe and setting the alarm, Dora had seemingly forgotten all about Matt Murdock and how you had – allegedly – been undressing him with your eyes. It might only be temporary reprieve. Assuming he didn’t hate the coffee and food, Matt would be back. Despite the certainty of teasing from your best friend, you hoped that he came back.

Not because you thought had any chance with him. You weren’t delusional. Men that good-looking didn’t go for people like you . . . but if he was a regular, you could at least look at him. You’d get to talk to him. Though seeing him with girlfriends was going to suck . . .

“Are you sure that you don’t want me and Steve to walk you home?” Dora asked, looking worried.

“Yes,” you said, looking over at your best friend and her steady boyfriend. He had come to pick her up as usual. “I’m in the opposite direction of you guys.”

“I don’t mind,” Steve said. You knew that he didn’t. He made similar offers since he and Dora had started dating. And never complained or acted annoyed when you accepted the offer. But your apartment was much closer to Cozy Corners than their place, which weren’t even in the Kitchen. The only time you had accepted the offer since the cafe opened was the day before and only because you were dropping off the deposit at the bank. Then, carrying your opening week’s worth of cash, you felt like you had needed some extra security. Steve was a very sweet guy but he was also a tall man with large muscles. Not exactly the easy target that most criminals are looking for.

“I’ll be fine,” you said. “It’s not that late and my place isn’t far.”

“Okay,” Dora said. “If you are sure?”

“I am.”

Mollified by your conviction, Steve and Dora left. You watched them go around the corner before heading off yourself. You walked swiftly. Because rain had been predicted tonight and it was starting to get chilly at night. It wasn’t quite cold yet but brisk enough that you needed a jacket and didn’t fancy getting soaked. You couldn’t afford to get sick right now. Your business was too new . . . and Lady Who Sneezes A Lot wasn’t exactly the second impression you wanted to give Matt.

You might have very few hopes of attracting his interest but that didn’t mean you wanted to completely tank what little chance you had . . . You shook your head. You needed to stop the daydreaming. This wasn’t the time for it. Daredevil was back from wherever he had disappeared to but the vigilante only made things safer, not safe . . .

There was no warning. You were walking, almost home. Then you were grabbed from behind. You screamed as you were dragged toward the gap between two buildings. You dropped the sack holding your dinner and tried to struggle, to resist, but your attacker was too strong for you. You were pulled into the shadows and slammed into the side of a building. It knocked the wind of you.

Heart pounding, you desperately tried to suck in air. To get your breath back. You needed to scream again. Scream in the Kitchen and the Devil came. That was the story. That was the hope. But was one scream enough? You didn’t know. So you had to scream. Scream and pray all those stories were true . . .

You started to scream . . . then agony exploded on the left side of your face, transforming that scream into a cry of pain. Everything from your cheek down to your jaw immediately began to throb. It hurt. Worse than the time your sister Alex had accidentally given you a black eye with a softball. The bruising grip on your shoulder that kept you pinned against the wall barely even registered.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” the man ordered in a low hiss. “Make another sound and I’ll slit your throat.”

Tears were blurring your vision but you could see the knife he was brandishing. It wasn’t a small pocket knife. It was a chef’s knife. Like the one you had at home and at the cafe. And it was stained with something. You bit down hard on your bottom lip to stop a terrified whimper. It was too dark for you to tell with what but you feared that it was blood.

Apparently satisfied that you were too frightened to be anything but compliant, the man released your shoulder.

“Purse,” the man demanded. “Watch. Jewelry.”

Trembling, you removed your crossbody bag and held it out. It was taken and slung onto his shoulder. You ignore the watch directive since you weren’t wearing one. It was when you tried to remove your jewelry that things went wrong. The only piece of jewelry that you were wearing, a necklace, had a very delicate chain with a tiny clasp. Your hands were shaking too much for you to get a good grip on the lobster clasp, let alone open it and slip out the ring. The chain wasn’t big enough to pull the whole necklace over your head. Every time, the clasp slipped out of your fingers, your panic grew. Which only made the trembling worse.

It didn’t take long for the mugger to lose patience. His hand darted out and grabbed the necklace. He yanked hard, snapping the chain. More tears filled your eyes. It was bad enough that he was stealing your favorite necklace. Did he have to break it too? Then, to your horror, he raised the knife. You screamed, instinctively throwing up your arms to try to protect yourself. Your eyes squeezed shut, bracing yourself for the pain that you knew was coming.

Except it never came.

What came was a growl, low and furious. It was accompanied by the sound of something flying through the air. You heard a pained yelp and something metal clattering to the ground. You cautiously opened your eyes just in time to see someone put himself between you and the mugger.

Someone dressed entirely in black, save for the thick white ropes tied around his forearms and hands. Someone wearing a mask. Daredevil, you realized with a dizzying sense of relief. It might not be the more distinctive red outfit and its horned helmet but you were sure it was him . . . the stories were true. Scream in Hell’s Kitchen and the Devil will come to save you.

“You made a big mistake,” Daredevil snarled at the mugger, each word dripping with fury and utter contempt. “By not fleeing when you had the chance.”

Then he threw himself at the man.

Your legs turned to liquid. You fell back against the wall and slide down. You didn’t care the street was getting your pants dirty. You had to sit. While your legs were uninterested in supporting your weight, you could pull them up and wrap your arms around them. So you did. It was almost like a hug and you could use one right now.

You couldn’t stop shaking. The sound of breaking bones, meaty thwacks, and a man’s screams were oddly distant. Like you were listening to something through a well instead something happening just a few feet away. Scent, however, was viscerally and intensely present. Acrid car exhaust, rotting garbage, coopery blood, sweet peaches, and sour sweat filled your nose. You gagged, then tried to breathe through your mouth to lessen the nauseating combination. But you couldn’t get your throat to work . . . you couldn’t get enough air . . . your vision darkened . . . . you couldn’t breathe . . .

You weren’t sure which penetrated past the panic first – the hands massaging your shoulders or the deep voice speaking. But once it did, you were suddenly aware of both. You almost couldn’t believe your own eyes and ears. Was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen really kneeling in front of your huddled body? Were those gloved hands gently gripped your shoulders, really the same ones that had just literally beaten a man bloody?

“You’re safe, it’s okay . . .”

The soft, quiet voice was completely at odds with his grim reputation. It also sounded a little familiar but you were too exhausted to try remembering where you had heard it. It had been a long day and panic attacks always took a lot out of you.

You weren’t so tired that you missed that the Devil was a good-looking man. And not just in the face. Those grainy surveillance photos in the newspaper hadn’t conveyed just how tight his clothing was. Which was very tight. His shirt, for example, was practically painted on. You could see his muscles. His many, many muscles. He had clearly hit the muscle store during a clearance sale . . .

The thought made you giggle. It sounded more like a wheeze and more than a little hysterical but still a giggle. But you needed a laugh. You were alive. You had been sure that you were about to die. That you were going to be stabbed to death in a robbery gone bad . . . you started to tremble again, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the weather . . . you could have died . . . your bottom lip quivered . . .

Hands squeezed your shoulders, “Hey, hey, look at me.”

That didn’t sound too hard. Only half of his face was visible but what you could see was mighty fine.

A deep chuckle. “Thanks for the compliment.”

‘Note to self – abject terror followed by panic attack completely dissolves your brain-to-mouth filter. Shut up before you ask if it is actually possible to bounce a quarter off of his abs.’

Another deep chuckle alerted you that you might have also said that outloud. A theory confirmed by his statement, “I’ve never tried. Can you do something for me?”

Warmth filled your cheeks as you nodded. He smiled at you. It was a nice smile. “Follow my lead? Deep breathe in . . .”

You mimicked the inhale, the short hold, then slow release out.

“Good! Now again . . .”

It seemed like forever but eventually you felt calm. Or at least not like you were about to have another panic attack. That was good. Panicking was exhausting. Daredevil seemed to agree with your self-assessment as he had stopped instructing you to take deep breathes. After one more reassuring squeeze, his hands slid off of your shoulders. He sat back on his heels.

“Feeling better now?” he asked, his voice returning to what you assumed was his Daredevil speaking voice – low, deep, with a growling rasp. It was possible he sounded like this all the time. It wasn’t like you had ever meet him outside the mask. Well, as far you knew. You supposed that you could have but how would you know . . .

“Yes,” you said, when you remembered that you had been asked a question. “I’m fine.”

It wasn’t a lie. Not from a certain point of view. You were feeling better now that you were no longer teetering on the edge of a second panic attack in a short space of time. You knew this calm, almost numb, feeling was fragile. It would shatter instantly if pressed too hard. But that was the best you could hope for right now. Feeling any better than this would require things that weren’t here – like your most comfortable clothes and your pets – along with time.

Daredevil frowned, tilting his head slightly to one side. It was hard to interpret the expression on his face since you couldn’t see most of it. But it seemed like he was staring at you (through how he saw anything through that mask was a mystery) as if you were a puzzle he was trying to figure out. Or maybe he was simply skeptical. That was possible. You had seen how you looked after panic attacks. In his shoes, you wouldn’t believe you about being fine either.

“I’m as fine as I’m going to get tonight,” you amended.

That answer, at least, was deemed plausible to him. He nodded, then pulled something about the little pouch attached to his belt. A cellphone. Who was he calling? Since you had no energy for guessing games, you simply asked.

“The police,” he said.

Well that was your cue to get out of here. You couldn’t think of something you would rather deal with less right now. Your usual post-panic attack headache was already growing – no need to kick it into migraine territory with sirens and flashing lights. You shifted onto your knees so you could get to your feet.

“What are you doing?” Daredevil asked.

“Going home.”

“Home? Shouldn’t you be going to the hospital?”

Amazing, he had found something worse than the police. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” you said. “I don’t wanna.”

His lips twitched. “You don’t wanna?”

“What are you, a parrot?” you demanded, feeling your temper flare. If you had been less tired or not in pain, that question would have playful. But you were tired and hurting so that question was grouchy. So was the rest of your statement. “Yes, I don’t wanna. No, I don’t care that is whinny. I’ve had a shitty night! I’ll whine if I want to!”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, spitfire. No hospital.”

As the anger drained, you felt a swell of guilt for yelling at him after he just saved your life. This was why you did your best to avoid people when your social batteries were running too low to manage basic human interaction. It seemed like you always ended up biting someone’s head off for no good reason.

“I’m sorry,” you said, shifting back onto your bottom. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead against your knees. You didn’t care that your pants were dirty. You needed to hide. “I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just too tired to be peopling right now.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I understand.”

You cracked up an eye and turned your face to peer at him with that one eye. Again, it was almost impossible to get a read on his expression but he didn’t seem bothered. And vigilante like him probably did know a thing or too about having a temper. Suddenly feeling curious, you asked, “How good does it feel to punch crime in the face?”

A wolfish smirk spread across his face before he answered, “Sometimes very good. Why?”

You shrugged, “Don’t know. Maybe I’m looking for a career change. Punching bad guys sounds more fun than getting punched by bad guys.”

You got the impression he was giving you a very stern look from behind that mask. That mouth pressed together in a thin line was all disapproval. “How about you leave the punching bad guys to me and I’ll leave the baking to you?”

“How did you know I’m a baker?” you asked. Then felt a little stupid for asking. You were still wearing your chef’s jacket and an apron. It was pretty obvious that you worked with food . . .

“You smell like flour, yeast, butter, sugar, and spices which all says baker to me,” he said. “Through you also smell like peaches. The fruit, not the flowers.”

You blinked. That wasn’t the answer you were expecting. You also hadn’t realized that the scent of your peach beauty products were that strong. They smelled pretty light to you. But before you could think of a response to that, Daredevil rose to his feet. Which gave you a nice look at his legs which like his torso and arms was muscles for days barely contained by tight clothes. The black trousers weren’t quite as painted on as the shirt but they were snug enough. The naughtier parts of your mind wondered what it would be like to ride him, feeling those powerful thighs under you as he thrust up . . .

“Spitfire?”

Embarrassed warmth flood your face. While you were distracted, Daredevil had held out his hands and obviously asked if you wanted help standing. More than once if that amused smirk was any indication. You put your hands into his before you could embarrass yourself any further. A goal immediately challenged by watching the muscles in his arms flex as he helped pull you up onto your feet without a hint of strain. Because damn if that wasn’t hot . . .

Thankfully this time you managed not to become so distracted by the sexy vigilante that you just stood like there drooling like an idiot. You slide your hands out of his and then, to prevent yourself from staring at all those muscles (again), started looking for your crossbody bag. You hoped that the mugger had dropped it during the fight with Daredevil. Because as much as you wanted and needed your things back, you also would rather not get any closer to that man than you had to.

It didn’t matter that mugger was (probably) unconscious and (very probably) too beaten up to be a threat anymore. Not to anxiety brain. Anxiety brain was seldom appeased by such frivolities as fact and logic. So when you spied the large, still shape on the ground, your heart started racing again.

“Don’t worry about him.”

You looked over at Daredevil. He wasn’t even looking in the same direction that you were but still seemed to know what you were looking at. Almost like he read your mind . . . could he read your minds? God, you hoped not . . .

“I promise he’s not going anywhere soon,” Daredevil continued, his earlier rage coloring his voice a little. Part of you wanted to know what the mugger had done to make him so angry but most of you decided that you were better off not knowing. Your brain did not need help coming up with nightmares.

Feeling reassured by Daredevil’s confidence (and the knowledge that he was still between you and the mugger), you looked for your bag again . . . there it was. It was closer than you expected. You started to move closer but your foot encountered something. Something metal judging by the sound against the concrete. You looked, hoping it wasn’t the knife.

It wasn’t . . . too small . . . you knelt down and discovered your necklace. You picked it up, glad that you wouldn’t have to try to find something so small in such poor lighting or run the risk of it being gone by morning. Which it probably would have been. Aside from the broken chain, you hoped the rest of it was undamaged. You ran your thumb across the surface . . . it didn’t feel like any of stones had gotten chipped or cracked . . . the engraving could still be read . . .

“What are you doing?”

You jumped a little at the voice before remembering Daredevil. You were surprised he was still here. Weren’t there other damsels in distress he needed to be rescuing?

“Not at the moment.”

Either you were still saying things outloud without realizing it or Daredevil could absolutely read minds. You decided to believe the former because the latter was too mortifying to contemplate.

“Checking my favorite necklace,” you said as you darted forward and grabbed your bag. “Doesn’t feel like anything but the chain got broken.”

He nodded. “Ice those bruises when you get home – ten minutes on, twenty off. And try to keep your head elevated. After two days, you can use a heat compress.”

“Ice and prop up tonight, heat in a couple days,” you repeated. At his confirming nod, you asked, “Are you a doctor or something?”

“Just familiar with bruises” he said. “Trust me, spitfire, the bad guys often hit back when you’re punching them.”

You nodded, then realized that any further delay was just stalling. But as much as part of you wanted to keep talking – how often did you get a chance to talk to one of the city’s heroes? – the rest of you was still tired, still feeling jittery-numb from the panic attacks, and still hurting. And you had work tomorrow. It was time to call it a night.

“I guess this is good night,” you said, taking one last look at the vigilante. Odds were, the only time you’d see him again was in the newspaper.

“Good night, spitfire,” Daredevil said. Maybe it was projection but his smile looked a little sad. Like he also knew this was probably the first and only time you would ever see each other.

You paused when you reached the street to pick up your bag of food. It was probably a mess but you were definitely weren’t going to cook when you got home. As you walked away, you faintly heard the low rumble of Daredevil’s voice, presumably talking to the police on that phone.

Notes:

A Tale of Two Men is a reference to A Tale of Two Cities, an 1859 novel by Charles Dickens. I’m thinking about making all of the titles for this series reference book titles.

It occurred to me recently that my Reader characters in the series all are some level of anxious. Probably because I have anxiety and that colors how I perceive the world. Hence the Reader with anxiety.

The alien invasion is a reference to the events of Avengers I. Fair warning that some of the larger events of the MCU will not be depicted same as they were in canon. Accept that this is an alternate universe and move on.

I know Charlie Cox has brown hair but in some lighting for Matt Murdock, his hair does have reddish tint . . . and Matt in the comics is (generally speaking) a redhead so I’ve compromised by making Matt Murdock have dark auburn hair, the kind that looks brown unless the light hits it right and brings out the red.

Reader is sighted but knows how to read braille. The story behind this will be revealed later.

This knowledge is only reason Reader considers the misprinted menu of nonsense to be funny. She would have not find it funny if she found out about the misspellings and such after handing it to customers.

From my understanding, using the hands of a clock is the best way to tell a blind person where something is relative to their position. The menu of nonsense was right in front of Matt so at his 12 o’clock. Directly behind would have been his 6 o’clock, etc.

In braille, the symbols for numbers 1 – 9 and the letters A – I are the same along with J and 0. The number sign is written before tells you those symbols are meant to be read as numbers instead of letters. So 123 instead of ABC. If I have the information right, a second number sign is used to indict the end of the numbers and return to letters.

But all of my knowledge of braille is self-taught so don’t take my words as gospel here.

A red eye is a 12 oz (340 g) cup of drip coffee topped with a single or double shot of espresso.

A cappuccino is a coffee drink with a double shot of espresso topped with a very frothy milk. It is slightly stronger than a latte because it has less milk.

A dirty chai latte is a coffee drink with a double shot of espresso, then a chai concentrate is poured into the milk which is frothed. Finally the milk and espresso are combined.

Crèma is a dense layer of foam that forms the top of an espresso shot and is a unique characteristic to the brewing method (forcing very hot water under pressure through finely ground compacted coffee).

At least in this fic, Matt Murdock is a proud member of The Pie Appreciation Society. The Society ranks include its long serving president Dean Winchester.

How much a lawyer makes a year depends on where they work and what kind of law they practice. People who work in public sector offices like a public defender or a state prosecutor generally make a comfortable living but they are never going to get wealthy doing that job. There are some lawyers who charge six figures or more per billable hour but those seem to be litigators and they aren’t as common as the associates who charge something less crazy (through probably still an eye-watering amount of money to some).

It’s Nelson & Murdock because (1) this takes place not too longer after the 3rd Season so they are still working out of the back of Nelson’s Meats and (2) New York law prohibits the formation of the Law Firm of Nelson, Murdock, and Page unless all three are attorneys. So if Karen wants her name on the sign, she has a law degree to earn and a bar exam to pass. Which she just might do in this universe.

The white cane is held in one’s dominant hand. I picked the left hand for Matt as another nod to his comic book counterpart who is (again usually) left-handed.

Esquire is an honorific title that is only used in the United States for lawyers for . . . reasons. No one seems to know why.

‘Flick the bean’ is a euphemism for female masturbation.

A chef's knife is a knife about 8 inches (20 cm) long used for chopping, slicing, and dicing meat and vegetables. Unless you have something like a meat cleaver, it is probably the biggest knife in your kitchen.

The favorite necklace is part of some story elements so this is not a generic favorite necklace but a specific favorite necklace. But if you want to mentally change the specific elements of its later description to better suit yourself, go right ahead.

A lobster clasp is the one that looks a like a lobster claw.

Matt is in the Black Suit since he has yet to replace the Red Suit – the old one being too damaged by the Midland Circle and only other one in existence was worn by the impostor who murdered people. A version of the Red Suit will eventually appear (since as hot as the black suit is, the guy without a healing factor needs body armor) but I’m still working out how.

The description of the panic attack (shortness of breath, sensory overload, etc) along with its aftereffects (exhaustion, mood swings, etc) are based on my experiences.

Spitfire is nickname for someone with a temper, possibly referencing the WW2 plane.

The treatment for bruises comes from internet so grains of salt are advised.

A chef's jacket is a double-breasted jacket with mandarin collar commonly worn by chefs and bakers, traditionally made from thick, white cotton cloth but can be made in different colors these days. The thickness of the jacket is meant to help protect the chef or baker from heat, steam, and splashing liquids in a busy kitchen. Frequently the jacket has long sleeves to help protect arms while reaching into the ovens.

[writingismetal]

Skwisgaar comforts you through a panic attack:

Request for my lovely friend! 🩷 So sorry it’s a bit shorter than I wanted, I will write more imagined after I’m better. I’m so sick rn.

Here you go!

Tonight wasn’t too different than usual. You were sitting alone on Skwisgaar’s bed, waiting for him to finish showering. The two of you were close friends, maybe a bit more, but no one needed to know that, at least not yet. As you waited, wrapped in his favorite fur blanket, you began to feel anxious. The feeling arose almost out of nowhere, but it wasn’t going away no matter how many deep breaths you took. Skwisgaar knew of your anxiety and frequent panic attacks and was surprisingly good at calming you down. He’d mentioned many times before that he had years of experience under his belt due to helping Toki through his panic attacks.

As you sat alone, your heart pounding in your ears and hands trembling, you heard the bathroom door open. Skwisgaar emerged freshly showered and smelling of expensive cologne and shampoo. He was only in his underwear, but for once it wasn’t sexual, he was just that comfortable around you. He smiled slightly when seeing you, towel drying his hair.

“Dids you misses me?” He teased, setting the towel aside. When no response came, he frowned, his usual sour expression taking place on his features.

“Dids I uh…does something wrongs?” Skwisgaar was always preoccupied with the fear he wasn’t good enough for you; he’d never been had much stability with his hook ups, but you were different, you weren’t just a one night stand. The ‘not relationship’ or whatever you guys had going on, meant far more to him than he’d ever admit.

You merely shook your head, trying to force some type of communication, but there was nothing.

The guitarist stood there in his underwear, arms crossed, skeptical. He was truly so beautiful and you were briefly frustrated that his first thought was that he’d disappointed you anytime something went awry.

“No-“ you finally managed, trying to take a deep breath but it was extremely difficult. “You did nothing wrong, babe.” You assured him, and he visibly looked relieved, tense muscles going from stiff to relaxed in seconds.

“Thens if I ams…eugh…nots de problems, then what?” He sat beside you awkwardly, unsure where to put his hands or how to approach the situation; he never wanted to make the wrong move or do anything to make you dislike him (which wasn’t possible).

“I…I think I’m having a panic attack- I…Fuck. I can’t breathe….”

Skwisgaar’s hardened features instantly softened, his eyes displaying pure empathy that most people thought he wasn’t capable of. You loved that about him, and already felt somewhat calmer, at least mentally.

Skwisgaar scooped you up in his arms, engulfing you in a warm embrace. As much as he always insisted he wasn’t a touchy person, he took every opportunity to express physical affection to you. Physical touch was his love language and it always made you feel better when he held you.

“Comes here…I gots you, ja? No needs to worries…”

Once in his arms, you broke down into his chest, tears of guilt soaking the blanket he’d wrapped you in. You never wanted to burden him, you knew he wasn’t upset with you, but each time you always apologized.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…I wanted to have a nice night with you and I ruined it…” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, anxiety getting the better of you, it always did lately.

Skwisgaar shushed you, kissing your cheek.

“It’s okej, min kärlek. It’s okej. You didn’t ruins anything, I promises.” He kissed you again, soft and sweet, holding you in his arms. He wasn’t the strongest guy around, but you always felt so safe in his arms. So protected.

“Are you sure?” You sniffed, glancing up with watery eyes, your make up smudged and running down your cheeks.

Skwisgaar pursed his lips, looking at you pitifully as he used his thumb to wipe away your tears.

“I ams more sures than I evers will be.”

Your heart was still racing and you still couldn’t slow your breathing, but you nodded, nuzzling your face against his bare chest. Everything was so fuzzy and you felt so shaky, even your teeth were chattering slightly, but you were so thankful for Skwisgaar helping you through this.

Skwisgaar held you tightly, smoothing down your messy hair. You eventually relaxed against him, yawning. Listening to beat of his heart was helping take focus off your ow. He seemed to notice the change in your demeanor, smiling at you fondly.

“What?” You asked, wiping the remains of your tears from your eyes.

“You ams so beautiful. You knows that?”

“My make up is ruined and I can’t breathe outta my nose from snot build up. But thank you.” You laughed, picking the pieces of dried mascara from your eye lashes. Your tears had cleared up and you began to feel a bit better, but you remained in Skwisgaar’s arms.

“Pfft. Doesn’t looks bads.”

“Then what’s it look like?”

“Heugh…uhhhh ahhh…coulds looks like you maybes just hads passionates sex?”

You scoffed at him, but you both laughed at his stupid joke like it was the best one you’d heard.

“Of course, that’s where your mind goes.” You teased him, not missing the smirk he tried to hide.

“Just says-ing it likes I sees it.”

~

The next hour passed with the two of you cuddling together and sharing a blanket, which Skwisgaar kept hogging to himself because he was cold but wouldn’t put any pajamas on. He was too stubborn for his own good sometimes. But so were you, and he had to physically force you to take your make up off before bed when you began to fall asleep in it.

“It’s fine, I’ll take it off tomorrow. I’m too tired.”

Had been your excuse. And when you wouldn’t budge or obey Skwisgaar’s commands, he huffed and got up. He returned from his bathroom with make up wipes and facial moisturizer.

“This ams ridiskulous! And you wonders why’s you eyes gets itchy. Does I has to does this every nights?!”

You let him clean you up and could only smile brightly as he used his talented fingers to scrub away at the eyeliner you refused to take off. He was huffing and scolding you in a loving way, like a concerned mother, and it was the sweetest thing. He was so gentle with you, even with his attitude. After he finished wiping your face, he squirted some of the moisturizer into his hands and began to lather it on your face, massaging it into your skin until it was soft and smooth.

“Woah. This stuff smells so good- and my face feels so nice!” You exclaimed once he’d finished completely.

He merely rolled his eyes at you, snuggling up behind you to spoon you.

“Almost likes I knows what I’s talking abouts, ja?”

“Oh whatever.” You laughed, closing your eyes when he turned off his lamp.

Skwisgaar nuzzled his chin against your neck, resting it on your shoulder lazily.

“Godnatt, lilla ett…” He whispered, pecking a kiss to your cheek.

You ended up passing out on his chest, legs tangled with his, his arms wrapped around you. You had fallen asleep first, panic attacks were draining and you always felt so exhausted afterwards. Skwisgaar didn’t mind, he was usually the last to fall asleep at night anyway. He stroked your cheek lightly as not to wake you, his chest felt tight from how much he adored you. Maybe some day he’d even tell you that he loves you. Skwisgaar hadn’t ever felt this way before and he didn’t want to lose you. Ever.

Hope you enjoyed!🖤🩷

[spnfanficpond]

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Castiel & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer & Sam Winchester Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Bobby Singer, Gabriel (Supernatural) Additional Tags: Suicidal Sam Winchester, Depressed Sam Winchester, Anxious Sam Winchester, Depression, Anxiety, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempts, Recovery, Panic Attacks, mild Self-harm, Sam Winchester Has Mental Health Issues, Sam Winchester Has Panic Attacks, Sam Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Tries, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Parental Bobby Singer, Protective Bobby Singer, Family, Family Feels, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Guilty Sam Winchester, Guilty Dean Winchester, Guilty Castiel (Supernatural), Everyone tries, Everyone Feels Bad, Dean Winchester Loves Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Loves Dean Winchester, Gabriel Watches Distantly, The Ultimate Helicopter Parent, Mental Health Issues, Mental Breakdown, Hiding Mental Illness, But Then Dean Finds Out, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Sam Winchester Whump, Real Depression, No Hollywood Crap, Kinda Dark, Not Really Dark Just Heavy, Intense, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Hugs, Castiel (Supernatural) Needs a Hug, Healthy Relationships Summary:

Sam has been struggling with depression since Stanford. Well, not really struggling. Excelling. He's been excelling at depression since Stanford, and it's only gotten worse since he started hunting again. Unfortunately, the relapses from John's death and Dean's trip to Hell were bad, but they had nothing on the downward spiral triggered by Sam starting the Apocalypse.

But Sam has never come clean before, and he isn't about to start. He's self-medicating, he's suppressing, and he's handling things in the Trademark Winchester Way. He can do this. He can totally do this.

Spoiler: No, he can't.

Admin Michelle here with another SPNFanFicPond Fic Highlight!

(Yes, that is the gratuitous shirtless gif intended to get your attention. Do you like it? I do!)

Before I go any further with this, I’m gonna say, right up front, HEED THE WARNINGS. Although the subject matter is handled awesomely, if anything in the warnings is a trigger for you, PLEASE protect yourself above reading something just because we say it’s awesome!

This fic was brought to us by @the-slythering-raven​, so if you like it, you can send them your thanks!!

The subject matter is a serious one, and it’s handled seriously. Sam’s depressed. More depressed than in canon, but it’s really not that far off from what we could imagine Sam dealing with in the early seasons. His family deals with it about well as you would expect in the beginning. You get an inside look at what Sam’s thinking vs. what Sam’s saying and doing and it’s SO REAL.

As it all just gets worse and worse, though, the story turns away from canon and does what the show could never do: it let the characters see what was wrong and work to fix it. And it’s so cathartic to read!! The entire second half brings back all the light that the first half takes away. 

It’s 42k thousand words, so it’s not short, but nothing shorter could do the subject justice. Give it a read and let us know what you think!

[starlight-torment]

Valiant Souls: A New Perspective - A World Without You

"Sorry Lily, I'm on a mission right now, we'll go hiking later. I won't be out for so long, so behave!"

That was the last thing she heard from Charles before he went to get the spaceship with a man she didn't recognize. She trusted him, but she also was worried for him, of course, she would be worried! The Toppats have now a station in orbit, making it easy for them to steal and the government can't do anything with the risk they destroy the earth.

When she heard the news that the Toppat Station has been destroyed, happiness couldn't describe what she felt, but that emotion quickly vanished when General Galeforce told her that Henry Stickmin – the man who she saw Charles with, and also the man who helped to take down the Toppat's Airship in the past, along with their leader and his Right Hand Man – brought the news that Charles has died when the station exploded due to him saving Henry from a random Toppat who pushed him outside the escape pod but at the cost of his safety and life.

She was devastated. She didn't know what to do. She wanted to cry at the sky, begging to have him back or take revenge on the remaining Toppats who have escaped the explosion, but that wouldn't bring Charles back, so she just had a breakdown right in front of the General.

He hugged her and stayed there, soothing her and calming her down, "Shh, I'm here, it's okay, he's in a better place." She was quite sure that she heard him cry a bit, but she wasn't mentally okay to notice anything around her.

General Galeforce told her to go rest once she finally calmed down, and she was halfway to her tent when something clicked in her mind. "That guy, Henry Stickmin, he's still here, right?", she thought. Right before she left General Galeforce's tent, she had asked him if the guy was staying there tonight, and he said yes.

She didn't know where his tent was, so she just ran past tents, in the hope she would recognize the man with Charles when they left. Right before the camp parking center, she bumped with an albino guy with red eyes, a jacket with a cool golden wing pin, brown pants, and shoes. She instantly recognized him as the person who was with Charles – "His name is Henry, dummy. Remember that!", she scolded herself.

"Ah, I'm sorry sir, I didn't see you." She apologized to him.

"It's fine, don't say sorry, I didn't see you coming too." She noticed that the man was quite in an urge to leave, but she had a couple of questions she wanted to ask before he left.

"Uh, are you, perhaps, Henry Stickmin? That guy who helped us take down the Toppat Leader and his Right Hand Man?" She asked him with caution, fearing that he may not like the question, given that the General kidnapped him to help them take down the Toppats.

The albino guy seemed quite shocked to hear that. Apparently, he didn't expect some soldiers still remember that, "…Yeah? And who are you?"

"My name is Lydia Leronheit. I was Charles' partner in many missions he was designed to. I heard about what happened and I…" she struggled to get the rest of the sentence out, but once she hold her light blue scarf, she found the strength to finish the sentence, "…I wanted to ask…how were his last moments?"

The silence between them both was so heavy that it could be cut with a knife. Lydia was about to say to Henry that he didn't need to talk about that if he didn't want to, but she was shocked when he started talking about Charles' last moments with great difficulty without crying.

She PATIENTly heard him tell her about his last moments, and the whole time she kept holding the light blue scarf dearly, so she wouldn't cry too.

"…and then, the station exploded." Henry ended the story while looking at the ground and tugging his jacket. Lydia didn't know how close Charles and Henry were, given that Charlie didn't tell anything about Henry except he helped the government arrest Reginald Copperbottom and his Right Hand Man, but she somewhat knew that he held Charles as dearly in his heart as she did.

Lydia stayed quiet for some time, processing everything she heard, and a sad laugh escaped her lips, "That's definitely what Charles would do, that little shit always cared about others' safety first and then his own."

She approached him and gave a pat on his left shoulder, "Hey, by the way you sound, I'm assuming you blame yourself for what happened. Don't blame yourself, okay? You couldn't predict what would happen, and even if you did, you know that he had a very strong will and it's almost impossible to make him change his mind when he has an idea." She gave him a warm smile and hoped her KINDNESS could get through him, "If you need anything, come to my tent. It's easier to move on when you share your pain with others, isn't it? If you can't find where it is, ask one of the soldiers, literally almost everyone here knows me, so they'll know where to find me."

After she said that, she finally left and walked her way to her tent, leaving Henry behind at the camp's exit. She was pretty sure she heard him leave and someone coming after him, but she didn't pay attention. When she arrived at her tent, something made her heart feel heavy while she was entering the tent. She looked around it, seeing her bed, some equipment she had, like some guns, a walkie-talkie, armor and a parachute in case of emergency, and an improvised nightstand with a portrait.

She approached the nightstand and picked up the portrait, it was a picture of her and Charles on their first mission together. That mission was quite fun, the mission was to arrest some Toppats in a place they had info where they would commit a heist, and Charles had the amazing plan of crashing the helicopter into them. It came on their salary, of course, and miraculously they got out alive with only light injuries but it was the best day she ever had in her life, she didn't remember laughing that much before when he crashed the helicopter with her and him inside it and the plan worked out.

After that, they went on more missions together, and she always supported his greatest plan when the chance of damaging the helicopter was low. Inspired by him, she created a catchphrase and a situation where she used it. Normally, she used it when she was about to shoot a group of criminals with perfect aim and, to top it off, she still did some pirouettes in the air before getting back on the helicopter.

"Man, I miss him", she thought. She never admitted it to Charles, but she always thought of him as her older brother. Her parents were already old when they had her, and she never had any siblings, so she always got jealous of the kids in her school because most of them had siblings and she didn't have any. So, when she met Charles, she grew so fond of him and his KINDNESS that she started to think of him as the brother she never had.

Lydia lay on her bed while hugging the portrait and thinking of all the missions she and Charles had gone together. Tears were streaming down her face while she cried as loudly as she can, not caring if anyone was hearing her.

"Charlie…Charlie, please, come back…come back, big bro…" She curled up in a ball and started shaking. Her vision was becoming blurred, it was becoming hard to breathe and her ears started to ring.

She didn't believed this. She didn't want to believe Charles has died. She couldn't live without him.

She couldn't live in a world without him.

And then she passed out.

______________________________________________________________

It was a bright sunny day, birds were singing, flowers were blooming, a perfect day to be out with friends. That was her wish, of course, but she still had to work, that was the only thing ruining her day.

Oh well, they could still go out on the weekends, so that didn't bother her. After all, everyone had their things to do, Rupert and Victoria were practicing their aim, the Bukowski twins were preparing to go out on a mission, Quentin was scolding Drake Camper and Josh Taylor again for not taking their jobs seriously and Norm was doing his tech things.

What she was doing? Just hanging around Charles' helicopter after another successful mission. They were going on missions more often than before due to the Toppat Clan being successful in launching their station in space, and it was giving everyone in the government a headache, not just the higher-ups.

They were being way harder to catch than before, because now they were in space, of course, and they had a machine that made them go down to the earth and up in their station in an blink of an eye.

She was biting her scarf while thinking of that. Apparently, arresting their leader AND Right Hand Man wasn't enough to stop the Toppats, they had someone else to take care of their plans in case something went wrong with their leader. "That little shits", she thought, she was barely getting enough sleep and stopping at home due to them. Next time she was going to shoot at their faces without hesitat-

"Lydia! I was calling you for a while, didn't you hear me?"

A sharp pain came in the back of her neck, she hissed while rubbing the place and turned to see who had hit her. A man with brown hair, green eyes, and chestnut color skin was standing behind her and staring at her. She sighed while motioning for him to sit beside her.

"Sorry Charles, I was thinking about the Toppat Clan and the trouble they have been causing us. Why were you calling me though?" She asked, looking at him with confusion.

"I was calling you because I was suggesting we go hiking the mountain tomorrow if we have free time." He said while sitting beside her. "You said you've been wanting to explore the mountain for a while, so I thought "Well if neither I nor she has any missions tomorrow, we can go explore the mountain if she wants."

"Of course! It would be nice to go hiking to take the Toppats off of our minds for a second."

They stared at the sky, looking at the clouds that came and go in many shapes and at the birds that sometimes would pass by. After the raid went wrong and the Toppats have been successful in their plan, Lydia has been constantly thinking that it would be nice to be a bird – she could fly so far away from them and live in peace in some nest in a forest or under the earth, like a bird she has studied in school that lived under the earth.

Lydia turned to Charles, she wanted to ask something to him that has been in her mind for a while, "Hey, Charles."

"Hm?" He said while readjusting his headset and shifting his gaze to her.

"You know that life in the government can be dangerous sometimes, correct?" She said, looking firmly at his eyes. "So, what would you do if today was your last day on earth?"

They stared at each other for a while, Lydia waiting for his answer and Charles deeply thinking about how he should answer her.

Finally, he came up with an answer, "Well, IF today was my last day on earth, I think I would want to spend time with my friends like I am doing with you right now!" He told her with a big smile on his face.

"Awn, stop it, you're making me blush." She said while giving him a fake punch on his arm and smiling through it.

"What? I am just stating facts, you're a great friend, Lily." Charles said while rubbing his arm and looking at her DETERMINED and with KINDNESS.

She paused for a bit, looking at him, and then giving him the best of her smiles, "Heh, thanks, Charlie, you're a great friend too."

Suddenly, the space around her seemed to shift. Lydia got startled by the sudden change of scenario and got up quickly while looking at her surroundings.

She seemed to be in front of many escape pods, and while she was looking around, she noticed that many parts of wherever she was were destroyed and had fallen on the ground or above someone, and there was an alarm sounding all over the place.

Before she could figure out what was happening, her body moved towards the escape pod 3 3 and she pressed the button beside it. When it didn't work, she looked to her right side and saw no one else other than Charles looking at her.

At this point, a whirlwind of questions was running through her head, the main ones were "What is going on?", "Where am I?" and "Why is Charles here?". Before she could ask him anything, her body moved again towards the button – Charles also did that – and she pressed the button again two times before punching it and successfully opening the escape pod.

Charles and Lydia exchanged happy looks – "Why am I smiling? I need to know first what the heck is going on before assuming if this is a good thing or not!" - and they entered the escape pod.

Charles sat in the chair on the opposite side of the chair Lydia sat while the escape pod door closed. "Ahh, well that was intense. Can't wait to go ho-"

Suddenly, the escape pod door opened and Lydia was pushed out of the escape pod by a random Toppat. Everything happened so quickly that she only noticed what happened when she was back in the escape pod: Charles had tackled the random Toppat and thrown her back to the escape pod, but that Toppat quickly recovered and tackled Charles.

She was going to help Charles to get rid of the Toppat when the escape pod door closed shut. Lydia quickly got up and tried to open the door at the same time Charles pushed the Toppat against the door, "Don't worry about me." He said that while looking to both sides, "Ow-I'll find another way!"

With that, the escape pod was launched into space, leaving Charles behind at the station. Lydia was paralyzed in shock, what just happened? Before she could answer that, she heard Charles' voice coming from an earpiece that fell to the ground.

She bent down, picked it up, and put it into her ear just in time to hear what Charles had to say, "H-Henry, you there?"

"What? Henry? My name isn't Henry, it's Lydia, you dummy, did your hit your head or something?." Lydia said, but her voice wasn't coming out of her mouth, instead, another voice answered for her.

"Yeah Charles, I'm here." A familiar voice answered in her place, and with that, Lydia started to slowly understand what was happening.

"Wait… this situation seems familiar, didn't Henry say- Oh. Oh no." Lydia finally understood what was happening – she was dreaming about what happened today, but in Henry's vision. Henry told her that Charles saved him from dying in that station, but Charles stayed behind because a Toppat tackled him. If what Henry said is true, she knew what was about to happen, and she was starting to panic.

"Man…that roughed me up. Got him though. Gotta be another escape pod around here somewhere." Even though Lydia wasn't controlling her body's actions, she still put an invisible hand in her mouth. She saw an escape pod behind the debris of the station, but there was no way Charles could make it to that escape pod before the station exploded.

"We did it though. We got 'em. Pretty good plan. You could say it was the greatest-"

The station exploded before Charles could finish his line. Lydia was shocked. She slammed the escape pod's glass window, but it was no use, and she screamed.

______________________________________________________________

"NO, CHARLES!" Lydia woke up screaming. She sat up and took deep breaths, looking carefully at her surroundings. She was at her tent, not at the space station nor in Charles' helicopter. She also noticed that she was sweating and that she slept in her uniform while hugging the portrait.

She slowly got up from her bed and got a peek outside of her tent. It was around a bit past midnight, 1:00 AM, she would risk saying. "Why did I dream Henry's memory?" she thought, as if she were hoping some kind of answer would come to that question, she looked at the portrait, illuminated under the moonlight.

She stared at the picture for a while and put the portrait on her nightstand, she changed her uniform to her pj's and lied in her bed again, and tried to sleep again. Lydia made a decision that she would tell General the next day, it wasn't that urgent, so it could wait. For now, it's better if she goes to sleep. It was a busy day for her, no, not just for her, but for everyone who knew Charles.

______________________________________________________________

Notes:

Hello everyone! My name is starlight-torment, but you can call me Arty, and this fanfic is an inspiration from the fanfic Valiant Souls, from @knightmareaceblue, go check them out!

A bit of this story is going to be interwined with her own chapters, with many lines being the same, but there are also going to be original lines, so don't miss out!

Also, I'm still practicing my art style, so be patient with me.

[justthatjhin]

Darkness - Omen (Valorant) Angst

Trigger Warning: Self Harm, Character Death, Heavy Gore

Where was all this darkness coming from?

It felt like it was just leaking out of Omens eyes, covering his vision, dwelling from deep inside. It felt like barbed wire strapping tightly around his wrists, pulling them to the ground, as if bound to lead weights.

His throat felt pierced, blocked, like an arrow had been shot right through it. His form was shaking, threatening to fall apart, rip, tear, through the bandages that had held him together so reliably ever since he became this way.

Omen’s maw parted, trying to let out a desperate scream, any kind of noise, helplessly. Only pressed air left his throat, and his claws caught in the little loops inside the carpet on the floor.

Desperately, he dragged them across it, feeling the heat the friction caused, but that pain was nothing, compared to what his body felt like. He repeated the motion, until he was sure his bones were exposed on the tips of his fingers.

The air felt heavy, the smoke felt like it was trying to suffocate him. An incredible weight pressed down on his shoulders, threatening to break his spine, sending shivers of exhaustion down into his arms.

He didn't know why he still struggled, why he still held himself up. Omen wanted to fall, be swallowed by this unbreakable darkness, never to be worried about again.

He was miserable, he felt miserable, at least.

Everything that he hated about himself was things he had been complimented for. All his flaws to be abused for power, even if it ripped him to shreds from inside. Suddenly, his elbow gave in to the side, and his face hit the ground without resistance.

The sharp taste of metal filled his throat, and he wanted to scoff. He was a ghost, a wraith, a nothing. Still, he could bleed. Bleed out, that's what he should.

Die, die, Omen, like you did so many times before.

Shakily, he lifted himself off the floor, still blinded, but no longer lost. With self destructive violence, he slammed his face into the floor, not being able to suppress a pain filled grunt.

More blood, he simply spat it onto the carpet. The light gray fabric must have been tainted with crimson by now. A joyless chuckle left his lips, as he felt a chip on one of his fangs with the tip of his tongue.

More, he wanted, he thought he needed, but before he could destroy himself more, he suddenly felt arms grabbing his throat, arms and shoulders. In a panic, he threw himself from side to side, trying to escape those grasps, unsuccessfully.

No, they should all stay away!

With a wild lash, he finally freed one of his arms, slashing his claws across his attacker, unsure where he had hit, though sure he did, as he heard a scream of agony.

The remaining hands quickly ripped him backwards, and Omen struggled, slashing, hacking and biting again, and again, until no restraints remained on his aching body. He was breathing heavily, shaking, as his vision slowly cleared.

The first thing he saw was crimson, red, blood, everywhere. The floor, the walls, the bodies. The rush soon ended, and Omen could feel his self-inflicted wounds pounding. But that wasn’t what pained him the most.

The most agony he had ever felt crashed down on him, as he realized whose bodies lay there on the floor in front of him.

Cypher.

Desperately, Omen crawled forward, grabbing the Moroccan’s head, staring in disbelief of the deep claw marks across his throat. His white coat splattered in beautiful red, yet a horrifying image to him. His head shot around, staring at the other bodies.

Sova.

Decapitated, slashes across his eyes, his arms. His neck had been ripped apart by jaws stronger than any shark. Omen felt bile rise up in his throat. The bitter taste overpowered the smell and taste of blood, as he threw up blood and flesh, mixed with stomach acid all over the scenery.

Coughing, feeling even sicker than before, he slowly moved his gaze to the last body.

Brimstone.

So many slashes, his arms unnaturally twisted. Shivering, Omen crawled over to him too, too scared to lay his hands on him, scared his talons might hurt him even more. Dead, dead, all of them were dead, Omen didn’t want to believe it.

What had he done.

[winter-literature]

Le Chat Et Le Serpent - Chapter 50

The Mirage Known as Fashion Week

“You do this for all your employees, Mr. Agreste?” Luka’s dry tone was particularly nasally.

Adrien held Luka’s fingers flat against his palm. Jolts of electricity surged through both of them, their cheeks simultaneously reddening. Both pretended not to notice.

Disclaimer:

Please note that the entirety of this story is a ****TRIGGER WARNING***** - mentions of child abuse, graphic violence, alcohol use, mental health, suicide, suicidal ideation, self-harm - basically a constant blow of pain towards the characters - as well as some "steamy" moments.

Chapter Summary:

Before Luka leaves to search for answers, he must fulfil his contractual obligation of fashion week. Putting on a fake smile is a lot harder when the love of your life is within feet of you and you can't touch them, you can't hug away their pain...

The buzz of people blurred past Luka's vision. Slight nods of assent or the restringing of an instrument blended into the mirage known as Fashion Week.

"Doesn't she, Luka?" Rose's eyes vibrated as she waited for him to answer. Luka hadn't realised she'd been speaking.

"Huh?" Luka half sparked to consciousness, not fully aware that he was in the process of working on the strings of a dress.

"Doesn't Juleka look gorgeous?" Rose nosed in closer to Luka's face, trying to analyse his emotional state.

"Oh, uh, of course." Luka agreed, knowing no matter what his sister would be draped with pride and beauty.

"Is he awake now?" Juleka chuckled, shaking the strings in Luka's fingers as she did.

Sighing, Luka continued his work. He didn't know how he missed the fact that he was working on Juleka's dress.

"We might have woke him up too soon." Rose whispered. After years, Rose had still not learned that whispering was ineffectual around Luka. His ear was too trained from living with Juleka to not understand hushed voices.

Adrien was making one of his routine visits, ensuring everything was in order. From a standing position, he was pushing his palms against the table, reviewing a document with Marinette. His perfectly golden hair had grown out, the sides were shaven, but the hair on the top was spun into a bun that slightly bounced as he spoke.

The violin string snapped as Luka saw what Rose was talking about. Jade eyes shot in his direction, reacting to the sharp noise.

Luka grimaced under the gaze of Adrien, well aware of the light red mark on his face from the pressure of the string.

"You alright, Luka?" Adrien politely inquired.

"Fine!" Luka dug in the pocket of his bag for his arsenal of back-up strings, hoping Adrien's glance would drop by the time he pulled out an a-string.

The serious watch continued as Luka's fingers trembled while spinning the peg. He realised he should have taken out the broken string first. His shakes increased as Adrien left his post, stepping towards them.

"Take five, Couffaine." Adrien ordered as he took over the removal of the snapped string from the violin.

Clenching his jaw, Luka passed the string to Rose before storming out.

"Fashion week is crazy!" Adrien beamed as he put his hands in the air, still riding off the high of his second Paris fashion week.

"Oh yeah? It can't be any crazier than an Akuma battle." Luka brushed his lips against Adrien's neck.

"You would be surprised. At least you have an idea of what to expect in an attack. Plus, any mistakes you make are fixed by magical insects." Adrien giggled at the comparison. "Everything is so intense! Time goes by so fast and it feels like people never stop yelling. The first Fashion Week I headed after my father, I thought I was going to die."

"Mmm... we can't have that, now can we?" Luka pulled Adrien in closer, adoring the light twinkling in his eyes. Most of the business bored Adrien, but the hectic moments of bustle seemed to energise him.

"I'm so happy you're going to be there for the next one. It will be way better with you there." Adrien kissed the tip of Luka's nose. 

"I can't wait." Luka ran his fingers through Adrien's hair as the sweet taste of euphoria caressed his tongue.

Luka stormed out the propped door to join the other disgruntled staff inhaling the brisk autumn air with a crisp backing of nicotine. Shoving the soft filter in his mouth, he watched the flame suck into the tip of his smoke.

"My boy! When did you pick up this nasty habit?" A familiar voice beckoned to Luka across the smoke pit.

Of course you're here. Why did I not assume that you would be added on to the crap pile I already have to deal with?

Pulling the smoke out of his mouth, he rested his hand on his jeans. "Seemed like a better vice than opioids."

Their relationship had been getting progressively better, but today was not the day to test Luka's luck.

"Ouch," Jagged Stone held his hand that carried his smoke over his heart as he walked to Luka. "I've been clean for years now, Luka. Trust me, this," Jagged waved his smoke, "is nearly just as bad. You're too young to throw your life away."

Snarling, Luka spit towards the ground. "Little late for advice, don't you think?"

Jagged's shoulders relaxed as he reevaluated his approach. "Luka, your mum and I are really worried about you. She says you've taken the break-up really badly."

Taking another drag, Luka shook his head. "Don't voice my shit here. It's no one's business," he inhaled again, "not even yours."

Defeated, Jagged nodded his head. "I get it, Kid. Just know that I'm here for you if you need. Oh- by the way, I love the new do!"

Jagged held his middle and index fingers on both hands together as he motioned towards Luka's hair. He was still sporting a similar hairstyle to their last night in front of the mirror, the night where Adrien stood iced on the dock of The Liberty. Maybe it was his form of the classic break-up chop, or the fact that it was time for a change. He didn't think the shag worked the same without shots of colour. Now, the sides had a fade shaved into them, the hair on the top of his head was longer and pushed back. The look was maintained partially by gel and partially by a nervous smoothing back of his hair in a constant need to control something. There were always some hairs that would jet forward, but he wouldn't feel like himself if there wasn't at least some disarray. Though seemingly contradictory, it was a form of controlled chaos.

Finishing up his smoke, he returned to the mad house.

"Take five, Couffaine." The words felt cold as they left Adrien's lips, but it was how he would approach any other employee that was clearly on edge.

"You know how to string one of these?" Juleka mocked as Adrien pushed the edge of the string through the peg.

"Juleka," Adrien once again leaned towards a formal dialect, "I've spent almost every day for nearly the past three years with your brother. Do you really think I wouldn't have learned to string a violin by now?"

He wove the string with a steady hand and expert capability, silencing Juleka's teasing.

Not wanting to make his model uncomfortable, Adrien continued speaking. "You're leaving for another international shoot soon, right? Are you excited?"

"I'm scared to leave Luka." Juleka admitted, her brother was making a rapid downward spiral.

"Yeah, but he's going to be going on tour, so there's not much you could do anyway. I wouldn't worry too much, things are looking up in his life." He tightened the peg, finishing the task. "Plus, I heard he finally shed off his drama queen of a boyfriend."

Juleka chuckled, effectively soothed by Adrien's self-deprecating humour. "Yeah, I don't know how Luka could handle such extensive hair care seminars!"

"Hey, obviously it worked! He's going to have to be batting away all the men and women now that he's looking so sharp." Adrien briefly smiled at his own comment.

"I think he needs a slut phase." Juleka stated confidently.

Adrien was scanning her dress for any imperfections as he responded. "Ew, too far Jules, too far."

Rose smiled sheepishly at their back and forth, it was comforting to see their friendship shining through the post-break-up tension.

Adrien repositioned a few strands of hair before resting his hands on both of Juleka's arms. "You're good to go! See you in half."

"Adrien?" Marinette called. "Can you grab me a coffee?"

Confused as Adrien stepped away, Rose peeked towards Marinette. "Don't you guys have people specifically for that?"

"Yeah, but I like it better when Adrien gets it." Marinette nonchalantly replied as she called the next model in.

"Oh, I would have gotten you a coffee too if I knew you needed one." Luka furrowed his brow at Adrien standing in line.

"Next!" The clerk called.

"May I have a large chai tea latte with coconut milk, please?" Adrien ordered before turning his attention to Luka. "It's fine, I wasn't expecting to grab one."

"That's not your regular order." Luka chose to drop the second half of his line, 'you would normally say it has way too much sugar and not enough caffeine.'

"Yeah, I already have one going. This one's for Marinette." Adrien tapped his card before walking to stand by Luka.

The lid popped off Luka's drink, sending nearly an ounce of hot liquid down his fingers. "Ow - fuck!" He rushed to the counter to pull out napkins. As he tried to wipe himself and the cup, Adrien was tilting over the counter's edge.

Why does she have to do this shit? Luka screamed internally. This whole fucking show she keeps demeaning him with trivial requests. 'Adrien, take this to the garbage', 'Adrien, get me some 4-ply toilet paper', 'Adrien, can you bend over so I can show off the seams on your butt'. How is no one else calling her out on this shit? It's not a good look to have the CEO fucking bending over for a cackle of ogling models.

His infuriated line of thought was broken by Adrien's touch. Wordlessly, he took the paper towel wetted with cold water against Luka's skin.

"It's okay, I like taking care of you." Luka reassured his Prettyboy while he ran a damp towel over his face.

Adrien groaned. "I feel like a damn damsel in distress when you dote on me like this."

"You'll always be my damsel in distress," Luka teased. "Plus, you have a weird way of always missing some. You'd think after this long you'd know how to wash your face."

Giant emerald eyes glared at him in feigned irritation.

"Like I said," Luka smirked at Adrien's childish grimace, "I love taking care of you."

Adrien's face blushed as he got lost in Luka's smile. 

"You do this for all your employees, Mr. Agreste?" Luka's dry tone was particularly nasally.

Adrien held Luka's fingers flat against his palm. Jolts of electricity surged through both of them, their cheeks simultaneously reddening. Both pretended not to notice.

"It doesn't look like you suffered any significant burns. Your skin might be a bit sensitive, but nothing requiring additional attention." Adrien lowered his hand, signalling Luka to hold the weight of his own fingers. "It's a good thing your drinks are overflowing with sugar or it might have been worse."

"Large chai latte with coconut milk!" The barista set the cup on the counter.

Lifting the cup to Luka, Adrien bid adieu. "I'll see you back in there, Couffaine."

Luka swore he used his last name on purpose. Twisting the knife already lodged in his stomach.

When Luka reentered their area, Adrien was in the process of finishing an imitation of Chat's moonwalk.

Well, this can't be anything good. Luka controlled the urge to squeeze his cup, not wanting to invite the same fate as two minutes ago.

"That was so good, Adrien!" Marinette clapped.

"Whatever brings the mood up, right?" Adrien beamed. "All I have left to check is the piano piece, are you okay to confirm that one, Marinette?"

"Absolutely!" Marinette hopped up, genuinely thrilled.

As Adrien walked towards the door, his face dropped. Luka watched as Adrien's jaw clenched and his eyes grew jaded. He paced by Luka with such speed it lifted the stray hairs off Luka's forehead.

Setting down his coffee, Luka looked towards Marinette, who was happily humming as she verified each hem. He scanned to see if there would be anything instrumental that required his attention. Deciding he should be clear, he spun to follow Adrien. He could tell when the man was attempting to manage a panic attack.

Dropping his head to the ground, Luka checked to see if there were any other feet besides Adrien's in the stalls. Confident that they were the only two in there, he dead bolted the door behind him.

"Who's there?" Adrien's back straightened, still with one hand on the toilet bowl. He heard the locking of the door and was understandably on edge.

"Thought you might want the extra privacy." Luka leaned against the blue painted stall.

Adrien scoffed as he rested his head on his forearm. He wanted to sound strong, to seem resilient. This was extremely hard to convey when struggling to breath and crying non-stop between spouts of puking. "Thought you would give me privacy by locking yourself in with me, because that makes sense."

"I know you don't want anyone seeing you like this." Luka flatly responded, nuzzling his head against the door.

"How did you know I w-was-," Adrien's breath hitched, devolving into sobs.

Adrien was gasping and twitching as a nightmare overcame him. Luka tried to calmly talk him through it, to let him know that he was there.

Luka felt helpless as Adrien ran to the bathroom. Part of Luka wanted to believe it was only this bad because of Gabriel's memorial that day, but Plagg's expertise in care demonstrated otherwise.

Adrien didn't want Luka seeing him like this, he didn't want Luka to know how broken he was. But Luka was there to stay.

Luka's palm was lifted by the seizing of Adrien's back, but his touch seemed to provide soothing relief. He kept rubbing his back and whispering that he was there.

Adrien used the back of his hand to wipe the bile from his lips. He rested his face on his forearm against the toilet seat, wanting to fade away completely.

Instead of fading away, warm hands circled his waist. The pain melted as Adrien allowed himself to fall back into Luka's hold. Tears still trickled, but the intense emotion had changed. As Luka rested his nose in Adrien's hair, Adrien stopped caring about his sweat, his clammy skin, or his drooping posture.

Plagg welcomed Luka to 'la maison Agreste' as he dropped off a bottle of water.

As Adrien gulped the water, Luka ran his nose in the crook of Adrien's neck. He could feel Adrien's pulse stabilising.

He wanted to say it then, he was ready for it, but he knew the moment wasn't right. But he was certain, he loved Adrien.

Setting the bottle down beside him, Adrien backed further into the blue haired man behind him. Even the man's breath was calming. It made his existence tangible. 

Adrien had no idea what he had done to deserve this man, but he thanked the universe for bringing them together. He brought his hand up to push Luka's face harder into his temple. 'This,' he thought to himself, 'must be what love feels like.'

"I've known you for a long time, Adrien. I can tell when you're trying to subdue a panic attack." Luka's hand pressed against the stall door.

"I- I don't understand what's happening." Adrien's sobs fell harder, encouraging another fit of vomit.

"You've got this, Adrien. You've been to hell and back. This is nothing but a hiccup." Luka tried to reassure him.

"No! This is hell!" Adrien's back arched as he pushed his forehead into his arm, desperately wanting his torture to stop.

"Adrien~," Luka elongated his name.

"WHY ARE YOU HERE, LUKA?" Adrien shouted in fury.

"I... I just wanted to help." Luka bit his trembling lip.

"Don't lie to me." Adrien allowed his body to limp around the porcelain. "You made it pretty clear you have no interest in me anymore."

Luka's palm against the door turned to a fist as tears fell against his restraint.

Thumbing his own tears, Adrien fired one last shot. "I'm sure Zoe, or whoever else you're fancying nowadays, needs your attention more than I do."

Not wanting to leave, Luka counted down from ten. Once he reached one, he would force himself to leave.

Trembling, Adrien listened to each of Luka's receding steps.

-

I'm caught in a hurricane I'm leaving here dead or alive And I know that I'd be willing to feel the pain If it got me to the other side 'Cause it only hurts, hurricane Yeah, I can feel it hurt, hurricane

Hurricane by Theory of a Dead Man

Author's Notes:

Going back through this story has been a journey of itself. I think this is my favourite chapter in this entire series. Trying to get better, but everything is getting worse.

Originally this was wrote with "Hate Me" by Blue October in mind - but it just didn't end up being the right quote, and it broke my heart 😭

Here's a line for you anyway, "An ounce of peace is all I want for you; will you never call again?"

The only flashback that is a direct retelling of a scene from the story is the last one. The first time that Luka sees Adrien's bad panic attacks in action. The one where Plagg thinks this kid's not half bad.

Disclaimer * The characters and original plot were written and created by Thomas Astruc. This writing is merely an interpretation in a sad gay type of way.

[bowlerhatwearer]

Phantoms in the Base

Based on "Roadkillerz" which belongs to @ghostypeppers and can be found at @ghostys-originals.

Bruno Capello belongs to @ghostypeppers

Special thanks to @northerngrail

TW: Mention of Abuse, TW: Panic attack, TW: Anxiety attack

~~~~

This was a bad idea.

A major part of his mind revolved at this one thought.

Honestly, he couldn’t agree on it more.

Bruno Capello, was certainly, that all would turn from bad to worse, in a matter of seconds.

Yet, if he would not do it, face the danger, no one else would.

For he was basically the only one who believed it.

Well, he was also the only one who saw the signs…and got a glimpse on them.

The “Phantom of the Roadkillerz base” as the jackalope had named this...entity.

Of course, when he showed his peers and colleagues his proof, many gave him a look of disbelieve or laughed, only a few thinking it was true.

Cupid, his best friend for example did, searching right now in another part of the base for the phantom.

Something in his guts told him, that today, they would be here again.

Maybe it was that he has always noticed them, on every Wednesday now.

Five times have they appeared now…this…being, with its blue glowing eyes, wandering around the halls and doing…something…searching through the base and different rooms, deep into the night when everyone else was asleep, or at least should be.

But the phantom never left a single trace behind, that they were ever here, not even on the surveillance cameras.

Bruno nervously scratched on his arm.

This was really a bad idea.

He couldn’t imagine what he would encounter.

Maybe it was a robot…or an alien…. or perhaps a vengeful ghost!

Only the worst and most frightening scenarios appeared in the young Roadkillerz members mind, but no, he had to face them, at this hour, today, right now, here in the middle of the night.

Cupid promised him he would give him a signal if he found the phantom first.

And of course, the very moment he thought of his good friend, he couldn’t help but worry.

Who knew what could happen, if one of them would confront them.

Maybe the phantom would send them in some sort of eldritch dimension.

Turn them into post stamps.

Or worst of all, make every food they eat, taste like onions for the rest of their lives!

Swallowing some dry air, Bruno had to distract himself as sweat of fear was already forming on his forehead.

The sudden sound, of someone walking, made him at first freeze in place, before quickly turning around the corner of the hallway he was walking right now.

The jackalope really wished that it was just another Roadkillerz member, having woken up to get a glass of water.

But his hopes remained unfulfilled, and what he saw just caused his knees to shake even more in fear.

There was a silhouette, walking around, on the other side of the hallway. slowly, yet also not afraid to make any sounds, for the clacking of their walking could be heard clearly by Bruno’s ears.

“This part of the intel I have gathered, should be…sufficient…now to the…archives.”

Intel? Was this entity perhaps…stealing classified information?!

And they were literally about to take more, was that what they had done since the first day?

Bruno could not help but wonder, and even if he was still afraid of this being, he was not going to allow it to snoop around any longer, he would confront them, and then get Cupid.

No wait, he should get Cupid first and then face the phantom.

But if he did not approach them now, they could already be gone, who knew how fast they really were!

The more he thought how to solve this, the more the phantoms footsteps faded away, until Bruno barely noticed them anymore.

Now or never, taking a few more breaths he stepped out of the corner.

“S-stop right where you are, you, you.... whatever you are!”

Having shouted louder than intended and full of anxiety, slowly Bruno opened his eyes, seeing that the phantom had come to a halt.

For a moment, they remained frozen in place, before they began to shake.

Bruno could hear, muffled chuckling that turned into laughter.

“Of all the people, this self-declared freedom fighter org has to offer-“

Their damped masculine voice echoed a bit trough the hallway as the phantom approached the shaking jackalope.

“- it is of course you, Bruno Capello.”

By all means, he knew he should be afraid of this stranger who knew his name, but the way they said it so…mockingly, angered him, he could feel how his eyes turned to slits. And although his voice continued to be shaky, he spoke directly to the entity.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that, no one will ever believe you that I am standing here and-“

Coming to and halt, the jackalope could see how their raised, what he believed to be one of their arms, pointing at him.

“- I think, you should forget that I was ever here, jackalope.”

They were not taking him seriously, not at all.

“J-just you wait and see, as soon as I get Cupid here, your…stealing is over phantom!”

Tilting their head, they appeared unimpressed, or so Bruno assumed, given that it was too dark to see much of them.

“Stealing? I am merely…copying some information and don’t bother with your little friend, he won’t come to help you.”

Both worry and anger spread through his whole body, and for a moment Bruno wondered if he was going to whistle like a tea kettle, blurting out his words.

“What have you done to him?!”

“Me…nothing…poor guy, he was so tired looking for me…one tactical placed chair was all that it needed, for him to fall asleep the moment he sat on it, dozing off into the land of dreams.”

Cursing himself for having not allowed his friend to sleep two hours longer, Bruno gritted his teeth while the phantom continued mocking him with their chuckling.

“It d-doesn’t matter, I will deal with you myself and then everyone in the base will see that you are real!”

The hand that had previously pointed at him, it sounded as if it was whirring before the phantom retracted it close to what Bruno assumed was their body.

“No, I don’t think you will.”

The sudden illumination of two sources of bright blue light, startled the jackalope for a moment, dazzling him before he was able to cover his eyes with his arms.

The phantoms eyes as he had seen them before, but not as clear as today.

Concentrating on them, Bruno nearly neglected to hear the other sound, something akin to powering up, looking under his arm to be shielded a bit from the light, his own eyes went big.

Despite how dark it was, he could clearly see that whatever they held, looked absolutely like a gun, one that the phantom held close to their chest.

Before he could say or do anything, the sound grew louder and the stranger moved the gun away, pointing it at the floor between Bruno and them.

The crackling sound of the rays and flashes that appeared startled him and he wished he could look away, yet like the icy blue colour that surrounded the floor where the laser hit, he was frozen.

Without noticing when exactly it was over, instead of the phantom, Bruno was suddenly facing a wall of solid ice, still glowing a bit and steaming.

He could feel the cold that originated from the blockage, that was now an obstacle in his self-declared mission to get the phantom.

Not knowing what to do at the moment, he could not help himself but to shout in anger, as the magic of the ice wall was over, and he was alone.

Yet, despite that and the thickness of the wall, he was still able to hear the chuckling from behind it.

“Now…that should stop him, time to visit the archives.”

About to start kicking at the icy wall in frustration, an idea came into his mind, one so good, that he wished a lightbulb would appear over his head.

It wasn’t perfect but, if he would crawl through the vents, he could outreach the phantom, before he could do any more harm by stealing what they pleased to take. If he got close enough, he could kick that ray gun out of their strange sounding hands and then when he would present the defeated phantom to the others, he would finally get the recogni-

Shaking his head, the jackalope found himself again, first, he had to get to the phantom, looking for the nearest vent entrance on the floor, Bruno removed the cover and crawled in.

Eugh, he knew why he preferred not to do it, but it was all to catch the intruder and stop him, who knew what he might do with the information.

Maybe he was someone working for the Wrath?

Gulping down some air and a few specs of dust, Bruno Capello decided to crawl faster.

He didn’t like the tight environment of the vents, but in emergencies it was always good to know their layout.

More automatic than with thoughts, he navigated trough the metallic shafts, being occupied in trying to figure out how exactly to stop the phantom, maybe a sneak attack could do the trick.

Grunting he had to crawl through a steep elevation, ignoring of how dusty he must be looking right now, letting out a sharp breath, he had reached his destination.

Just in time, for he could clearly see through the slits that the strange intruder had just reached the door of the archive as well, about to enter.

Now or never, with a gracious kick he kicked the lights out of the phantom, dragging him to his superior and getting praised for his good work.

Or so, Bruno loved to imagine it went.

Instead, the jackalope lost his footing and fell out of the vent, falling directly onto the intruder, both grunting on the floor.

“You-you …nobody- “

Flinching at the anger and frustration in the words of the phantom, Bruno tried to collect himself as quickly as possible, however his opponent was quicker, for the first time the jackalope noticed the Russian accent they spoke with.

“-the only thing you are good at, is cooking mediocre spaghetti and sauce!”

Wait how did they- Fieriness was suddenly rising into his head when he connected the dots, he knew exactly why they said that.

“You! You were the one who stole my lunches from the fridge in the break room!”

Having found new energy Bruno faced the stranger, noticing, how he was only one or two inches taller than him, taking away a bit of their intimidating factor.

“Man does not live from granola bars and cheap soda alone!”

“…what?”

But before Bruno could question the weird sentence any further, they had already their gun ready in their hand, charging up, but this time, into his face, he could feel how his eyes were shrinking in anxiety.

“Time to turn you into a jackalope popsicle!”

More out of reflex than intention he grabbed the stranger’s arm, startling Bruno for it felt cold and metallic, before pushing it above his head, causing the gun, to fire at the ceiling were suddenly a few icicles appeared.

“Proklyatiye!”

Unable to react, Bruno could feel how they shoved him rudely away, opening the door to the Roadkillerz archive and vanishing into it, with the jackalope running after them.

However, when they were into the room, one that looked larger and taller on the inside, than the casual looking door would imply, they did not see the Phantom, despite the fact, they were gone only for a split second. Pushing the light switch, the room, illuminating it by the artificial white light of neon tubes.

“Show yourself, there is only one door so you can’t hide forever!”

“Pah- who needs hiding, certainly not me, not-“

For the first time, Bruno Capello got a better look in who he was fighting against, however, it did not bring more clarity as he had hoped.

Their face was wrapped trough and trough with white bandages, disguising it completely, and the eyes hidden behind blue tinted safety glasses, they wore a white laboratory coat, and the light was reflected from their black lacquered shoes they had on their feet.

“-doctor Nikolai Akdow!”

Before he could evade him, Bruno could feel how this strange guy, was running into him with the elbow, of one of their metallic two arms, that were as black as their shoes, causing him to breath out. Nikolai had hidden himself, behind one of the shelves, so the jackalope concluded.

Taking the opportunity, the stranger ran, but not through the door, rather running through the narrow corridors of the archived inventory.

“-somewhere…somewhere, there must be something about quantum mecha-“

“-STOP IT Stop right where you are!”

“I am not taking orders from someone, who looks like a teenagers first internet OC!”

“You take that back!”

He had enough from this Akdow and his insults, biting on his lip he decided to take a swing, and to his own surprise landed a hit against the individual, the jackalope was now sure, was no real phantom.

Letting out a wheeze before coughing, his opponent held on his stomach were the jackalope landed the hit, breathing in Bruno heard something, that sounded similar to a snarl.

“You…you will not put harm to this body, you rebenok!”

How strange, as Bruno was blinking, is looked like as if the intruder’s blue tinted googles were red, but then they were back to their former selves, it was probably nothing.

What wasn’t nothing, however, was how Nikolai Akdow once again took his ray gun and was ready to shoot, having no chance to deliver another punch, Bruno Capello believed it was the best to run, hoping that maybe, the stranger would be out of breath soon so he could confront his opponent again.

Akdow on the other hand, started to shoot, missing Bruno by far and hitting one of the shelves that was shaking, and ice started to quickly form on the metal. Followed by another shot, causing icicles to form close to Bruno, but causing no harm or posing the risk they could impale him.

Noticing how the clacking grew louder and more frequent, together with the fact that the rays hit now more randomly than with precision, it was easy for Bruno to conclude, that Nikolai was trying to catch up on him and despite his attempts to loose or confuse Nikolai, it did not help, the stranger was still behind him.

Before he could think about something else, a blue flash just narrowly missed him, startling the jackalope as it hit the shelve close to him, making it wobble like the others, and causing archived objects to fall down, fortunately it were only small shoe boxes and not one hit him, but it was enough for him to loose his momentum, exhaustion began to drain his energy reserves.

However, he was not the only one gasping for air.

Akdow stood there, the gun still stretched into the jackalopes direction, the invader was observing him, but he was not shooting, it looked as if blue smoke was, pouring out of the gun, was it perhaps overheated?

“This is…only a…minor setback….you…do you really believe you are better-“

He was staring at Bruno, as his free hand turned into a fist.

“-pollution, conflicts, global warming, corruption…suspicions…how wrong I was to think this place would be any different.”

For Bruno, it looked as if Nikolai allowed himself to wander around with his thoughts and vision, looking left to right as he continued talking, when he suddenly must have seen something that interested him, for he bowed down to pick something up from one of the boxes.

The jackalopes eyes widened, but it was not only for it appeared that the intruder was about to throw the object at Bruno, but also because of what exactly he held into his hand.

“This good to nothing world will be nuke-“

“STOP! DON’T! NOT THE FEAR SEED!”

Closing his eyes, Bruno Capello expected to be hit by the item into the face, which is why he put his arms in front to protect it. However, nothing happened, opening them again slowly, it was, as if Nikolai Akdow was frozen in place before retracting his arm that was about to have done the deed.

Tilting his head, his opponent looked at him, questioning, or so Bruno at least assumed.

“A what?”

“T-the fear seed, it’s very fragile…and dangerous…or so I have been told.”

Avoiding eye contact, he didn’t like to think what this object, that looked like a heavy ornamented easter egg, could cause in the wrong or improper hands.

While the jackalope, the longer nothing bad happened got calmer, the intruder appeared to be more nervous.

“…C….Ok…ok…so what do I do now with that thing?”

Caught off guard by Akdow’s sudden consideration, he wasn’t sure himself, but there was no harm done it putting it back into the box, right?

“Just, just give it back where you got it from.

Very carefully the stranger put his gun back, knelt down and picked up the cardboard gently, as he was about to put the seed back into the box without any promptness. So far so good.

*Crack*

Witnessing how without any warning, cracks started to appear all over the seed, Brunos eyes snapped open, about to scream in horror, Nikolai breathed out sharply upon seeing what was happening.

“Uh-oh.”

Violet smoke poured out of the egg-shaped object before a sudden flash blinded and startled the jackalope.

For a moment, everything appeared to be calm, he had knelt down with one of his legs more by reflex than intentional and that Akdow guy was lying on the floor, slowly looking up. Maybe, it was just a false alarm Bruno had in his thoughts, as he slowly opened his eyes, noticing how Nikolais widened under his glasses and before the jackalope could ask what was wrong, he too observed what was happening.

A large shadow began to appear under him, he could see the silhouette, one that made him shiver trough his spine, for the awful realization, of it looking familiar, crept trough his mind. Something…. someone was standing behind him, someone that made all his alarm bells go off at once, that told him to run immediately, just as he did once in the past. But before he could do it, a thunderous voice was already echoing through the archive.

“BRUNO! WHAT DID YOU DO THIS TIME!?”

The whole body didn’t want to move to the source of the voice, yet it still did, turning his head around, Bruno could feel, how all the energy wanted to vanish from one second to another. It felt as if his blood froze in his veins and his heart stopped beating, his eyes got smaller and he wanted to run, but his legs remained still.

“I WILL TEACH YOU SOME MANNERS AND RESPECT!!!””

His father, his very own, how he imagined…how he feared him, stood before him, tall, arms like logs of wood, ready to smash the young jackalope into pieces any second now and eyes flashing, that stared into Bruno’s very soul, declaring their disappointment of him in absolute silence unlike the non-existing mouth that continued to shout.

Bruno did not notice, or cared, how Akdow stood up, looking at bewilderment at the gigantic entity that had two large horns on his head.

“What…. who is that thing?”

However, the jackalope couldn’t give him an answer, staring at what he knew his own father was, with shrunken eyes, unable to say a world, unlike someone else whose voice was raised.

“~Oh Nikolai, there you are, I have missed you my dear, finally we get to see us again.~”

From the corner of his eyes, Bruno could see something, what he assumed was the source of this, sickly sweet voice that he already started to ignore again, but whatever it was, it managed to make Nikolai shake and his usually confident or at least strong sounding voice gone hoarse.

“No…. that’s, impossible you…you are…”

Before he continued to say anything, the intruder turned around and ran, vanishing into one of the rows of the archives.

However, Bruno didn’t realize, or care, too deep sat the shock in his body, for having to see his father, who he thought he would be having to never see again.

“I WILL MAKE YOU RESPECT ME BOY!”

Swinging his two mighty arms, his father hit the floor with all the power he had, making the whole room shake as if it was exposed to an earthquake, all the shelves were shaking dangerously, with the jackalope fearing that at any moment they would collapse and bury him with all the items and boxes that would fall down on him.

Covering his ears, the jackalope tried to focus on the way before he as well had finally found enough energy to make a run for it.

“YOU CAN’T GET AWAY FROM ME!”

But he didn’t listen, too strong was his flight response to get away from the danger his father posed, he just wanted him to be gone…he just wanted to hide.

Just as he did for so many years.

Squinting his eyes, he really hoped that there would be no tears in them, because he needed to find something to get away from him, whose shaking steps he could hear and feel.

While his legs carried him, he did notice how his energy was dwindling fast, looking left to right to search for…just anything where he could hide from his dad, his prayers got answered.

He found a rack that was not, as well illuminated by the white neon light than the others, and had the two lower shelves removed, giving him enough room to desperately crawl under it, with each passing moment a part of his body was still exposed and vulnerable, Bruno anxiously worried that his father would grab him any second now, but luck was on his side, and he was able to slip under it, hidden away, still hearing the grumbling and vibrations away from him.

How, how was this possible?

Feeling, a bit more safer than out in the open of the archives, fright, questions and panic started to overtake Brunos mind.

He thought that by joining the Roadkillerz, he finally would be away from his father, yet here he was, how the young jackalope always saw and feared him.

Crouching his body together by putting his legs closer to the rest of it, Bruno himself noticed how his heart was racing together with his heavy breathing and shaking.

No, no, no! This was not fair! He finally had found a place where he thought he was safe and now his dad had found him!

What was he supposed to do now?!

Leave the Roadkillerz?

Perhaps even leave the whole country if not the continent behind?

How the young jackalope wished right now for this to be a dream…a nightmare he would wake up from soon.

A part of him just wanted to shout in frustration, burying his own head deeper in his body, he really wanted to, but knew that this would bring the risk of his father discovering his hiding place.

Bruno could feel how, together with the anxiety, his vision turned blurry and he felt sick, questions together with an mind that was in overload and a dry mouth, made him feel as if he was about to puke.

The image of the angry face of his father, he saw too many times, burned into his mind, his echoing voice going trough his head again and again, just like a broken record.

If only he could think about something else.

Something that is around him?

Another object or person.

Maybe even a face that is not his fathers.

Perhaps even a different-

“-voice- “

Snapping his eyes open in surprise, he was suddenly met by the bandaged face of Nikolai Akdow.

For a quick moment the jackalope startled in surprise, before reminding himself that his father could hear him.

“-Mr.Cap- Bruno listen to my voice…focus on me, and take a few breaths…”

It was difficult, when his mind was occupied trying to remind him of who he dreaded so much, but the more he looked at the Akdow guy, the intruder, who, right now he saw less of a danger than his father, the more it felt like as if his blurry vision started to fade and his breathing turned more regular.

“Good, now, just-“

Before Bruno could say anything, Nikolai was already squeezing himself into the same gap as he did, trying to sit as far away from the jackalope, as that was possible, maybe to avoid him…or perhaps to give him space.

The intruder breathed heavy himself, and even if the jackalope didn’t like him, it was a welcome distraction from what was going on.

“L-listen, I admit that this situation we are in, is partly may fault, but listen-“

Taking one last breath, Akdow’s eyes, hidden behind his safety glasses focused on him.

“-they are not real; I mean they are physical manifestations of our inner fears.”

Revealing his left metal arm, Bruno could see a few scratch marks he was certain, were not there before.

But the jackalope couldn’t help but doubt the opponent’s words, looking up from his huddled position his eyes looked at the “phantom” with disbelief.

“Uhu, how can you be so sure about that?”

Continuing to squint at the stranger, Akdow let out a sigh, looking at the floor before raising his focus on Bruno again, moving a few inches forward. For a moment it looked for the jackalope as if Nikolai was about to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, but it never came, instead the intruder retracted his arm back to himself.

“I understand, but, if there is nothing else you trust me about, than just this one, they can’t be real, because the one thing I saw and called after me…her…I know one thing for sure-“

Opening his eyes, Bruno could see how the stranger ones met his, full of assurance and honesty.

“-she is death and can’t be here.”

He was not sure what to say after that, only a nearly silent “oh” escaped his mouth.

The sudden quaking of the ground startled them both, making Nikolai look once again at Bruno.

“We need to stop them before they destroy the room or worse-“

Of course, he knew that was well, but the pain and fear over his own father…or rather this manifestation of him was fresh, and he couldn’t help but shake his head.

“How? You have seen him; he will mop the floor with me- “

Stopping himself, Bruno decided to finish the following part of the sentence in his thoughts.

“-as he did so often-”

“…and you too fled from her, so what do you think we can do?”

This thing may not be his real father, but Bruno knew he would hurt him just as much his real one did.

If the jackalope wouldn’t have looked on the floor, trying to avoid the gaze of Akdow, he might have seen the intruders short-lived worried expression in his eyes before he raised his voice again.

“Perhaps…an alternative then…I will fight him for you…can you face her for me?”

He really wasn’t, or felt like it, but there were not really, any other options, were there? It was deep in the night, they were basically trapped with those two, manifestations here and with how the floor was shaking, who knew how long it would take, until Akdow’s worries, would turn into reality.

As much as he didn’t like it, they had to do something against them

Bruno had to admit, even if he was suspicious about this Nikolai guy, he appreciated the alternative offered to him.

Giving him a silent nod, he spoke to his opponent again.

“…Ok….I think I can do it…just, give me a moment.”

Taking a few more breaths, Bruno moved closer to the gap and Nikolai crouched to it as well, giving him another glance.

“So…stalemate?”

The strangers voice himself sounded unsure, but Bruno knew, even in this stressful situation, that right now it was genuine. Giving him a, shakily, but more confident expression than before.

“Stalemate.”

Akdow stepped out, listening to the room, another shake happened, followed what Bruno could clearly hear, was once again a shout from his “father”, listening closely, the intruder and now ally took out his ray gun once again, before running towards, were Nikolai assumed was the source of the voice.

For a moment the jackalope could hear how the stomping got closer before it suddenly stopped.

“I WILL GET YOU BRUNO! HIDING WON’T HEL-“

“Hey pridurok! Go get someone your size and be quiet!”

The short silence that followed, was soon taken by what Bruno could describe as a feral roar and then the sound of the Akdow using his gun once again.

He decided it was the best to get away from their fighting, wondering if his newfound ally would be able to deal with his “father” and that it was time for him to search for “her”.

Running into the opposite direction he looked at the shelves, some of them appeared to have claw marks, that reminded him on those he saw on Nikolai’s metal arm, wondering if he was on the right track.

Sudden sounds made him stop and caused his fur to bristle Brunos ears raised to full attention, listening closely.

There was first creaking, followed by laughing, not cheerful, neither malicious, but rather hollow.

“~Are you perhaps a friend of my Nikolai, it matters not, I will make him perfect, no matter what you try.~”

Turning around, he saw “her”, as she had patiently waited, like a spider in a web she was sitting on one of the shelves of one of the metal racks.

She looked like a shadow, only the silhouette of a person was all that he could see, she appeared to have long hair, and a taller appearance than Nikolai, she was completely, shrouded in darkness, like the one in a night of a new moon. Only her teeth, shining unnatural white, he was able to see clearly, and how they formed a grin, he couldn’t see any eyes. It was only an assumption on his side, but it looks like as if she was wearing a lab coat…strangely with belts attached to it.

The feminine voice of hers sounded soft, yet the jackalope was able make out the poison in which they were soaked in.

Bruno swallowed, even, if he had to admit that he didn’t feel comfortable with the confrontation of “her”, his mind told himself, that it was still better than having to face the manifestation of his father, and facing her, whoever she was.

“You are not going to harm me, others, the base or that Akdow guy!”

Having squinted his eyes, he opened them again, she was still sitting on the rack, however her smile, slowly turned into a frown, before she hopped down were she sat, standing her ground.

“What courage you have …but it matters not…you will submit and do as I say, just like my Nikolai will-“

The sudden deeper chuckling startled him, with his first thoughts shouting at him to run, but not enough to make him do so yet.

On each one of her arms, two additional revealed themselves, making them six, with the fingers of her hands, turning, despite how shadow like she was, Bruno still could see how they shaped into razor-sharp claws.

“~I am his mother! And Nikolai will be made perfect! No matter what you do!”~

As she started to approach him, the jackalope knew, now was really the time to run again, part of his mind wanted to hide as he did before, but another told him he had to fight Nikolai’s “parent”.

He didn’t know where to go exactly, but he had to think about a way in stopping her fast.

Running past one of the many rackets, he could hear, and quickly see how one of her arms shot forwards, despite her being a few meters behind him, and clenching around the metal, which started to creak in protest, making it shake slightly for a moment, then more violently as she shot forwards, nearly reaching and ready to get him.

Shouting with anxiety and filled with surprise, he took a quick turn continuing to run.

Bruno’s thoughts continued to run like a typewriter, thinking about anything to stop her, or at least slow her down.

Searching through the Roadkillerz archive for some useful item, was out of option.

“Come on, you are supposed to be the smart one, think Bruno think!”

It felt for him, as if he was running in circles, or at least, around the same block of shelves, for the narrow passage looked the same, as the ones he saw before.

Then it hit him, something clicked in his mind that made him realise, that he had an idea.

Perhaps not a perfect plan, but the best one he could think about, even if it was risky.

Looking around, he remained still at the small corridor opening, he stopped running facing her.

Nikolai’s “mother” of course smiled, as if she was thinking he was a fool to face her, and in full over-confidence, used four of her arms, to shoot forward.

“~All imperfections will be made perfect, even you!~”

As she moved forward to get him, Bruno ran into the narrow passage, not looking back he could hear the metal creak, as it hit against her arms, as she continued to move towards him, her speed had decreased, yet despite of that she was very close to him.

He could hear her chuckling together with the sound of her four arms going through the shelves, with the archived objects all making different noises, and some even falling on the ground.

Increasing his running again, he could see the opening on the other end, and as he did, so did hers, with her arms reaching more violently for him, without her noticing, how her arms entangled themselves more and more, with each passing shelve.

“~When I have you, I will with all the love I can give…. claw your FACE!”

Running between the narrow way by now as fast as he could, Bruno Capello could not help but wonder for a short moment, just what happened to Nikolai Akdow in the past.

The thought got overtaken by his flight response as he continued to escape her grip, the jackalope feared would soon catch him if he wouldn’t-

-escape!

With a short and quick jump, he was out, going a few steps backwards, and hoping, perhaps even praying a bit, his plan would work, if not, he didn’t know what else to do, except trying to fight her.

“Got you now!”

What Bruno assumed was her hair, looked suddenly unkempt, impatient, the sugary sweet poison replaced by one that was full of impatience, and ready to rip him to shreds if she would reach him, gulping down, he feared for the worst as she leaped towards him.

But it never came.

Once again, the creaking of metal could be heard, and when the jackalope opened his eyes, Nikolai’s “mother” has not moved an inch from her current position.

Because she couldn’t

As he had planned.

Letting out a sigh of relieve, he could see how she appeared to look herself in confusion of the situation.

Four of her arms, had been embroiled in the rows of shelves and she was unable to retract them at this point, all she could do, was to pull on them futile.

Taking a few breaths, the question remained now for Bruno, what he should do with her, this, manifestation of Nikolai’s mother, however, before he had a solid thought, he could already hear groaning metal again.

Not holding back, the manifestation of Nikolai’s mother, tried to pull herself free, but it was to no avail, yet, she continued trying to do so, no matter how the shelves resisted, as they started to vibrate and shake more and more.

Bruno, could already see the calamity happening, when again, items started to fall down, and even when he protested and told her to stop, she did not, snarling in frustration at him, as she once again tried to push trough.

Like slow motion he saw it happening in front of his eyes, as the shelves started to resign themselves to her aggressiveness, getting unhinged from the floor where they had been fixated, first steadily, as if gently they wanted to fall, and then, with the increasing laws of physics coming into effect, going down abruptly.

Collapsing directly on her.

There was one last shout of protest, as this shadow of a person, realized what was happening.

Before everything else, was drowned by the sounds of falling objects and crashing metal.

No dust was raised by the sudden events, and when Bruno Capello opened his eyes, he could see her, half buried under the heavy racks that had fallen on her, was he, supposed to help her, what could he really do in that situation, given that she was not real.

For a moment, it appeared as if she did not notice the jackalope, more desperately trying to free herself, but with every passing moment, her movement getting weaker, before it stopped, and looked up, her eyeless face directly into Bruno’s, just her teeth, giving him a weak but confident grin.

“~A part of me…always…. remains….~”

Before the young jackalope could ask what, she meant by that, he could already see her body dissolving into the same violet smoke that had brought her into this world and when it stopped, there being no sign left that she ever existed.

The jackalope was honestly not sure what to think about that, neither her words or that she was gone, but despite how much energy it had costed him and feeling how exhaustion started to spread over his body, there was relief, that it was finally over.

For a short moment Bruno breathed out relaxed before his eyes snapped open.

Having forgotten about his father, during the running, he had no time to think about him, but now it all came back to him.

Bruno hadn’t seen or heard anything about Nikolai Akdow, did that mean that he had failed taking care of his father.

Would that mean, HE had to deal with him?

Yet, before his worries could overtake his mind again, he could hear a strong and animalistic sounding roar before everything turned to silence again.

Was this a good or bad sign, in the jackalope’s mind it was the latter, as his feet, who preferred to run into the opposite direction did ran towards were the sound had come from.

At this point, his feet hurt, and all he wanted to do was go back to bed and sleep for at least a whole week before waking up again, however, despite not liking the situation, he had to make sure his “father” was dealt with.

When Bruno arrived at the source of the wild sound, he found a site of chaos, which, in his opinion looked much worse that the mess he was involved with.

Objects laid strewn together everywhere, surprising the jackalope that not one of them, caused a fire or something, many of the rackets had dents in them, or got smashed to unrecognition, some even appeared as if they were thrown, or as if they were about to break apart.

Nikolai Akdow, sat before on one of the shelves, that had fallen, leaning against it, breathing exhausted and using his one metallic arm, that although showing since of wear and tear, was not as much dented as their other ones to bring something to Bruno’s attention.

Just in time, did the jackalope see how the last remains of violet smoke, dissolved into nothingness, what was once the manifestation of his father as Akdow put away his ray gun.

“D-Don’t ask me how I did it…if I would know that myself.”

The in-…stranger looked completely depleted from all energy, with their clothing and bandages covered in dust and dirt and the jackalope had to admit, he didn’t look better.

Neither did he felt any different than his opponent.

Unable to ignore his own lack of vigor any longer, he couldn’t help himself and Bruno sat down as well, he hoped that he would soon find enough power, to stand up and find someone, notifying about what had happened.

Speaking of the question of course remained, what to do with the stranger?

At least, he had to give up the Intel he took, that was something Bruno was certain, who knew what they are going to do with it.

However, before he had reclaimed his strength, Nikolai Akdow was already back on his legs, It was clear, that he had not recovered yet, which did not stop him to move into the direction of were the exit would be.

“W-wait you can’t…”

Bruno’s tired eyes looked at him, and Nikolai returned that look, no matter how hard the stranger tried to look professional, he was as sleepy as he was.

“I did my part, and so did you…I see, no reason to stay here…”

Holding his stomach with his dented arm, Akdow slowly dragged away, unable to raise them even an inch above the ground, despite his own exhaustion he continued, for a few meters, coming to a halt to take a few more breaths he supported himself on one of the racks that had not fallen.

A fatal mistake.

Bruno heard it, and so did Nikolai, the undistinguishable sound of metal creaking, as the two had heard it tonight often enough, causing them to look up, and their eyes to shrink in unison.

The shelves gave up and an avalanche of old folders and books started to fall down, with the exhausted stranger being their target.

A short shout was all that he could express before Nikolai Akdow got buried under them.

<;…>

Sasha du Rand took another pull on her quellazaire, the silver cigarette holder she had now for years, despite the strict no-smoking policy in the Roadkillerz base, she could not care less at the moment, later she would probably regret it for not being a good role model for the younger recruits, but given what had transpired tonight, and all the administrative work she would have to do, she ignored it for the moment.

The poodle with her champagne pink fur let out a sigh, before extinguishing the last remains of her smoke and returning to the room where she was before.

Although this was not officially an infirmary and looked like the room of a school nurse who the government cheated on their funding, it was usually just used to treat smaller injuries.

As it right now was for Bruno Capello and their “guest”.

“Ouch- I said it’s fine I- ouch!...And again I dealt with the problem didn’t I?”

Pushing the hand away of the person holding the cotton ball that was drenched in hydrogen peroxide, Bruno noticed who had entered the room again, flinching for a short moment.

Sasha wondered for a second if she should take another cigarette.

“Dealt with Mr.Capello? What I see is having at least three-quarters of our archive getting damaged to several degrees and wondering, why YOU, did not get any help or notified us of the intruder or about the incident that followed?”

Grumbling, the young jackalope did not say anything directly to the Roadkillerz senior-member and administrator, as he once again pushed the approaching hand away, mumbling how he tried to, but how nearly no one believed him.

Exhaling sharply, even the poodle had to admit, that this was true.

“This, is a factor I will bear in mind when writing the report, however there will be a penalty, which I still have to think about.”

Letting out a resigned sigh, the Roadkillerz administrator turned her attention, to the person who was pouring more sanitizer on another ball of cotton.

“And you, are you sure, that the ID is a forgery, Owens?”

Blaise Owens put away the cotton ball and disinfectant, before placing another sticking plaster at Bruno Capello’s arm, one that had dinosaurs on it.

By no means should the old war journalist be here, but in a strange twist of fate they were working on an article and were present when the news reached the upper management of the Roadkillerz, and given that today they were short-staffed, Blaise offered to patch the two injured up, an offer, that right now Sasha appreciated, as she was not interested to deal with the fuss the two injured made for long.

Turning around, the old cat went to a table and grabbed the aforementioned ID, a card, that looked like any other governmental issued identification card, at least, on the first glance.

“Indeed, upon closer inspection, there are a few spelling errors, AND the affiliation symbol of “Neutral” he has in his, looks different to the one compared to my card. Also it’s printed on cheap paper which you can see when I-“

Holding the card in both of their hands, they slightly bend it, which caused the paper to rip and Blaise expressing an embarrassed smiled.

“-which was not my intention but shows what I mean.”

Looking at the damaged remains, Sasha gave a closer inspection to the name.

“…do you believe it’s real?”

“I have no doubt, given how proudly he proclaimed it according to Mr.Capello’s account I-“

“And I will do it again if I have to, release me at once!”

Turning their heads, they saw Nikolai Akdow, who had been placed on a bed, trying futilely to free his arm, that had been handcuffed to a nearby radiator, making the poodle exhale once again and roll her eyes.

“Looks like someone has found the strength again to complain.”

“I have a PHD-“

“Yeah yeah, who doesn’t.”

Approaching him alone, Sasha had showed no qualms, in pushing the raised Akdow, back to the bed, to make her point clear, who stared daggers into the poodle.

“Listen and listen well, the fact that you used a security flaw, to gain access to our base is one thing…that you stole intel is another-“

Her eyes stared at his, still under the safety googles, when they tried to remove them or his bandages, he resisted greatly, cursing and throwing threats around as if there would be no tomorrow.

“-I don’t know how things are dealt with, where you are from, but your actions…will have consequences, starting now-“

The intruder did not look afraid, however the poodle wondered if he would explode soon, but for now he allowed her to continue speaking.

“-until your debt is repaid for the destruction you have caused, you will remain here, work for us, and do as I, or other people here in the position, say-“

“You can’t be serious, that goes-“

“-alternatively, I will hand you over to the authorities.”

That made him go quiet for once, with Shasha noticing, how he realised that not only he was put in a corner, but also had no way to escape, although she could not see it, the poodle was certain he was gritting his teeth.

“Glad that we come to an agreement then, Mr.Capello…will be ever so often, your…overseer for the time you will be here with us.”

Having not bothered to listen, hearing his last name being spoken and what the administrator had said afterwards made his ears twitch in attention with a shocked expression on his face.

“What? Hey, that’s completely un-“

“-fair, now take your time to recover, I will see that your prosthetics get maintained.”

As she turned around, she could hear a few more protests coming from Bruno, and how Blaise Owens was approaching now their guest to continue patching him up, but she did not care, the poodle had said, what needed to be said.

Opening the door, she put another cigarette on her holder, about to leave, there was one last thing she wanted to say to their new, guest and recruit.

“Welcome to the Roadkillerz Dr.Akdow, enjoy your stay.”

~~~~

I hope you enjoyed reading the story

Yours sincerely

Bowler

[fagrackham]

being weird to my ex bc i want to hook up w them again but i care more abt respecting their current relationship and also not seeming clingy to either of them :(

[blondie-4404]

I've had so much anxiety over the past few days and its crazy. I've been trying to distract myself from it and now I've completed a week's worth of school in two days?? Like shit, what am I supposed to do now?

[spacelazarwolf]

apparently a bunch of ppl on social media are trying to call for a boycott of rick riordan because of this statement in a blog post:

Becky and I are just back from a busy weekend with events at the Boston Book Festival and New York Comic-Con.

Before I get into that, however, some words to acknowledge the ongoing horrors in Israel and Gaza. As many of you may know, I am no longer on social media. My accounts post only updates on my books and related projects. I do not read posts, reply to posts, or share my thoughts about world events on those forums. That doesn’t mean I don’t have strong feelings and reactions. It means I am offline as completely as possible, except for the occasional blog post like this one.

I will say this: Over the last eighteen years, I have received many fan letters from young readers, both Israeli and Palestinian, who often told me that my books helped them escape the fear, grief and anxiety they were dealing with at the time. Some had lost family members to violence. Some were writing while in the distance they could hear explosions, gunfire, and the launching of rockets. They used my books as a way to escape into another world, where the monsters were fictional, and where demigods usually saved the day. While I am always glad that my books can help young readers find joy during difficult times, my heart breaks every time I hear about the things they have to deal with. I am grief-stricken by the horrific events now unfolding, especially because I know that they are part of a long historic pattern that has been robbing too many children of their childhood and perpetuating hatred for far too long.

I am also quite aware that when anyone, myself included, tries to speak about this issue, the reader is waiting to pounce, thinking, “Yes, but whose side are you on?” That is exactly the wrong question. If there are two sides to this issue, those sides are not Palestinian/Israeli or Muslim/Jewish. The two sides are humanitarian and dehumanizing. Dehumanizing has a long evil history. It is appealing and easy to buy into, because humans are tribal animals. We are hardwired to think in terms of ‘us’ versus ‘them.’ We are the real humans, the good guys, the ones with God on our side. Those other people are evil monsters who don’t deserve empathy. Hate mongers have thrived on dehumanizing for as long as there have been humans. It provides them with a purpose, a way to rally support, power, and scapegoats. It is easy to point to atrocities committed by our enemies, while justifying or minimizing the atrocities committed by ourselves or our allies.

Humanitarianism is a much harder sell. It requires us to empathize, to see other groups of people as equally deserving of dignity and quality of life. It requires not always putting ourselves and our needs first. But in the long run, humanitarianism is our only hope. If violence could end violence, if we could put an end to “those other people” once and for all, human history would read very differently than it does.

So yes, I am appalled by the Hamas attacks on Israeli civilians. I am appalled by the suffering of Palestinian civilians in Gaza. Both things can be true. Both things must be true. My thoughts are with all the people who have died, who have lost loved ones, who have had their worlds and their lives shattered, especially the children. More death and violence will not break this cycle, which has been going on for generations. There is no military solution. Even since I first wrote the post, only twenty-four hours ago, the Israeli government’s brutal retaliation against the entire population of Gaza has reached genocidal proportions. This is not only an atrocity. It is folly. Answering misery with misery only creates more fertile ground for extremism, dehumanizing the “other side,” letting hate mongers thrive, stay in power, and reduce us all to our most monstrous impulses. The only real solution is treating each other like equally worthy human beings, and negotiating a peace that allows all parties a chance to live in security and dignity, with hopes for a future that does not include bombs and rockets and gunfire. This means security and support for Israel, yes. It also means a secure Palestine which is allowed to get the international aid and recognition it needs to build a viable state.

Do I think that will happen? Unfortunately, no. Humans are simply too selfish, too ready to blame “the other” for all their problems, too ready to dehumanize, though I also believe, perhaps paradoxically, that most people just want to live their lives in peace and have a chance for their children to have a brighter future. The problem is when we don’t allow other people to have those same hopes and dreams — when it becomes a false choice of us versus them.

What can I do? I will continue to write books that I hope will give young readers some joy. I will resist the urge to demonize entire groups of people. I will call for less violence, not more violence. And when asked whose side I am on, I will tell you I am on the side of humanitarianism.

So with that said, I return to the world of books . . .

honestly, if you have a problem with this statement, it’s probably because he’s talking about you. this is exactly what legitimate activists (as in not just random westerners who share social media posts but on-the-ground activists who are doing real work) have been saying for decades. and i think all this really speaks to just how disconnected a lot of westerners who claim to be pro palestinian are from those activists.

if you can’t read a statement that says “i am on the side of humanitarianism and less violence” without immediately jumping to cancel them, you are the problem being discussed in the above statement.

[lazyjellyfish300]

DD

Fem Reader x Miguel O'Hara who is your Uber Driver

Commissioned art by @ejpuki on Instagram, same as the one above, this is just a link to the original post. Please support the artist 🖤

Synopsis- in an AU where fem reader drinks too much and the bartender calls a random Uber for her which happens to be Miguel O'Hara himself. Her friends suck and ditch her. There's a lot of tension on the ride home...with a twist on the og Miguel O'Hara comic. Word Count 4.5k

Pt 2, Pt 3 1, Pt 3 2 , Pt 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8 , Part 9

T/W: 18+ only, minors DNI, alcohol, drunkeness, mature language, implied masturbation, some sexual content/fantasizing, some self-deprecating language (reader is insecure), age gap (reader 26, Miguel 34)

This is my first EVER fan fiction piece! If you have a crush on Miguel O'Hara from Across the Spider Verse, this is for you...

---

"Next song is for all the bad bitches in here tonight, let's make some noise." As soon as the song starts you recognize that it's Agora Hills and a switch goes off in your brain as you yank your friend, Hailey by the arm to the dance floor while she struggles to get the last sip of tequila sunrise down the hatch as the ice cubes attack her face.

It was a Saturday night, now very early Sunday morning in mid-November. You and your two friends are in a slightly seedy club in Brooklyn. Right now, all three of you are trying to escape the first-world problems of modern day society, and common issues that would plague late-twenty year old adults like stagnant jobs, anxiety-inducing texts from distant family members about plans for the holidays, and a casual fling that started to sour about 3 days ago.

Right now, all you want to do is dance to this song. And go home for some relief because the tequila is making you horny and your situationship hasn't texted you back for going on 16 hours now.

You and Hailey giggle as you both throw your heads back in bliss to the music, holding each other's pinkies as you try and awkwardly spin on the dance floor.

"Wait!" Hailey calls out and stutters as she lets go of you and tries to squeeze through a sea of musk, 5- Gum, and Bath and Body Works perfume back towards your other friend, Brin, who's still at the bar.

"Fuckkk. Whatever girl." You drunkenly roll your eyes and close them again, throwing your arms in the air, moving to the beat. The song is making you feel even more electrified than before. You toss your head back and move your hands from your shoulders, to your chest, down to your thighs. It's one of those moments where you feel dangerous.

God I love being a woman! You picture going home with a stranger. A tall man's lips crashing down on yours in your dark bedroom in drunken passion, falling backwards onto your bed. You picture yourself pulling your clothes off slowly while his hungry eyes scan your curves…

Your fantasy is interrupted when you feel a clammy hand touch your hip, just below where your see-through top ends. Your eyes shoot what you hope is an annoyed look at the offender. A brown haired guy in a white t-shirt with a flannel who looks like his name is Tanner, smirks at you as he moves past you, but not before letting his eyes dart to your cleavage line under your black bralette. You groan and move the other direction and realize Hailey and Brin are nowhere to be found. Your drunkeness wears off for one second as you slowly jerk around, trying to make your way towards the bar.

A tall brunette with a half sleeve tattoo, glasses, and her straight brown hair in a claw clip is counting her drawer.

"H-have you seen my friends?" you ask her stupidly. The tall brunette looks at you, her small sticker name tag on her baseball tee shirt reads "Reagan."

"I can't hear you, hunny." Reagan has seen this a million times. "Last call just ended. Do you have a ride home? I said, do you have a ride HOME?"

Reagan leans over the bar, holding onto your wrist. Her breath smells good at least.

"Okay look, can you hand me your phone please? Let me help you order an Uber." You blow air out of your lips like a horse and sloppily hand her your phone. "Enter your passcode, please."

You type in your passcode and watch the glint from your phone reflect on her glasses as she orders an Uber for you. Luckily, your address is already saved to the app. "Okay, sweetheart, wait here with me. Miguel is coming for you in 4 minutes." She hands you back your phone and credit card. "Sign here please."

Fuck, did I transfer that 200 from my savings before I got here? You think as you sign the receipt she hands you. The total is $58.75. You scrape the tiny excuse for a pocket inside your skirt and hand Reagan a crumpled up 20 as a tip. Reagan takes it, eyes widen a little bit at the sight of the 20.

Did she mean to give me this much?... Fuck it. She gives you a small, concerned grin.

"Thanks... let me get you some water."

You nod and slump your head forward on the sticky bar.

Suddenly Reagan is shaking your shoulder.

"Hey! Your ride's here!"

You realize you might have fallen asleep temporarily. The room is still moving like you're trying to balance on a waterbed. She places a styrofoam to-go cup in your hand filled with ice water as she grips your left arm.

"Here, just take off your shoes, hunny." She bends over and pulls off your clunky heels and holds them in her free hand. You feel like you're 4 years old. You feel tears well up at the sudden kindness.

"Okay hunny it's okay, come on now." She pulls you outside and to the curb where a black Audi is waiting. The cold air assaults your bare legs and your teeth start to chatter. The driver recognizes his passenger is quite inebriated and gets out, walking towards the struggling pair.

You feel your bedroom eyes creep up when you see him. Oh no, he's hotttt!

You curse in your head silently for not checking your reflection before he got there. You're sure you're a hot mess though.

He's tall, huge, even. Definitely way over six feet. Dark tousled hair with dreamy brown eyes underneath sculpted brows are locked on you as he gets closer. You instinctually run a hand through your hair, trying to make it look more voluminous. Probably a lost cause at this point.

He's wearing black joggers with some worn Nikes. His black hoodie is baggy but you have a very good imagination. It covers a set of broad, wide shoulders and what you're sure are bold chest muscles underneath that lead to a delicious pair of V lines and an endearing happy trail of hair running down his belly button that lead directly to his-

"Can I carry something for you?" His rich voice pulls you out of your indecent thoughts for one second then sends you right back there again.

"Um, yes can you get her shoes please?" You hear Reagan's voice go up an octave.

Girlll me too. You think to yourself.

Miguel takes your heels in a pair of strong, large hands. As he does, he tugs his sleeve and checks a black Apple watch, veins running up a thick forearm. Called it. This guy was jacked. Probably a gym bro. Definitely has a girlfriend. You feel yourself get sucked back into reality. You were probably a 7/10 at best. And right now, probably a strong 4 after your shenanigans tonight.

Miguel opens the back door, allowing Reagan to tuck you in.

"Get home safe hunny," she says.

"Thank youuuu," you slur back to her as you sit, disheveled with your sippy cup of ice water in the backseat opposite of the driver's in front. Miguel gets in the driver's seat, the scent of Old Spice seeps in.

He smells good too?! You feel yourself wanting to sin. He sits in the front seat for a few moments in silence, fiddling with his phone.

"2949 Ocean Parkway?" he asks in his mesmerizing voice.

"Yeah, that's right." You feel yourself perk up. You're starting to sober up slightly but you still have enough liquid courage left to start asking him a lot more questions than you normally would.

"Your name's Miguel?"

"Yes," he answers. "Did you have a good night tonight?"

"I did! It was supposed to be girl's night, I'm not sure what happened to them, though."

"Your friends left you?" His dark eyes glance in the rearview mirror at you.

Sighhh "Yeah, I guess they did."

"You need better friends." One of his hands comes up and grips the shoulder of the passenger seat as he sits up and looks over his shoulder, his eyes meet yours for just a moment, then focus on the back window as he pulls out of the parallel parking spot. You can't help but stare at his chiseled jawline and his neck, imagining yourself planting a line of kisses on it while he groans and grits his teeth...

"You know what sounds amazing right now?" You ask in a flirty tone, interrupting your own dirty thoughts.

He cracked a small smile. "What's that?"

"Taco bellllll." You rest your cheek on the shoulder passengers seat, looking at him.

He glances at you, then keeps looking ahead as he drives.

"Well, if you want to update the route I'd be happy to stop anywhere you want."

You laugh.

"I don't know how to do thattt." The car comes up to a red light.

"Here, want help?" Miguel looks over at you as you hand him your phone which has the app still opened, courtesy of Reagan helping you from before. Miguel quickly types, his eyes going from the traffic light to your phone as he tries to enter the new address for the closest Taco Bell.

"Got it," he hands you back your phone, another whiff of his cologne coming off the fabric of his hoodie as he moves his arm back to rest on the center console while he drives with his left hand.

You glance down at your phone and then back at him, still leaning forward with your cheek pressed against the back of the passenger seat.

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel was curious about his new passenger, probably the last ride he'll do tonight. He didn't get a good look at you when the bartender was putting you in his car. He glanced over at you again when he thought you weren't looking, but quickly moved his eyes back to the road when he saw you were staring at him already with your cheek pressed against the passenger seat.

"You tired?"

"Kind of," you fake a small yawn while still holding your position.

Miguel laughed. He thought that was kind of amusing, how you were clearly faking being tired and shamelessly staring at him while he drove. He knew he was a good looking guy. Once you got into his car, he felt like he needed to take care of you and make sure you got home safe since your shitty friends wouldn't.

Your eyes wander to the space between his chest and the steering wheel, trying to imagine yourself in it, his strong arms wrapped around you as your hot, frantic, breaths fogged the windows as your bodies pressed together...

"So, y/n , right?" He asks.

Fuuuuck he said my name...

"Yeah..how did you know?! Oh right, the app, the app..."

Miguel smiles.

"So, Miguel, how is it being an Uber driver?" you ask. Feeling brave, you touch his elbow resting on the center console. Miguel's fist clenches tighter around the steering wheel at your touch.

"It's...not bad. It's been pretty busy tonight, actually. I went to the gym earlier then just have been taking a few folks like yourself around town who were going out as well. "

"That's nice. You know, we're gonna be best friends by the end of this drive," you grin, taking another sip of ice water.

"Really?" Miguel smirks. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Your heart flutters at this question. Why is he asking me that?!

"Uhm, no.. I was talking to a guy but I think he ghosted me."

"Heh, I'm sorry to hear that." Miguel replied, not sorry at all.

"Do girls ghost you? Or-uh, I mean- do you, do you have a girlfriend?" you manage to spit out.

Miguel smiles at your stutters.

"Nah, I'm single. I do have a daughter though."

Your smile disappears for a moment. A daughter? "Awhhh, what's her name? How old is she?"

"Her name's Gabriella. She's 6."

"That's sweet...." Miguel's handsomeness mixed with the liquor is enough to cause all rational thinking to exit your brain. I could be a step-mom, easy! I love kids, what the hell?

"So, how old are you?" You ask.

Miguel chuckles. "Isn't it rude to ask a stranger's age?" He glances over at you and the corner of his mouth raises at your slightly mortified expression. "I'm just messing with you- I'm 34."

"Dang, I'm 26," you answer as you look out the window.

"You're still pretty young," Miguel remarks as he turns down a new street.

"I definitely don't feel that way," you answer as you slump in your seat. You decide to check your email. Once you open it, a message that you don't want to see is at the very top. It's a random Yahoo email address you don't recognize which means only one thing: your asshole, estranged dad. You click on it quickly to clear the bold lettering indicating it's unread, and catch a quick glimpse of its contents which is a novel with no spacing. You quickly delete it with a loud sigh.

"Everything okay?" Miguel asks.

"Just my dad. Somehow he made another email address and tried to contact me again. It's a long story though we don't have to get into it..." your voice cracks slightly.

The skin around Miguel's eyes softens when you mention your tense relationship with your father. He himself knew that pain as well. His father, George O'Hara, wasn't a model parent, either.

"I'm sorry you're going through that," Miguel says emphatically. "I don't have the best relationship with my dad, either."

Once you hear this, the last bit of liquid courage in your system inspires you to spill the tea.

"He and my mom are divorced, and, well he's just a narcissist, right? Growing up, I didn't see it, but his whole family is full of them. My grandma never wanted him to marry my mom and so ever since their wedding day, she treated her like shit and when I came along, it was no different. I used to wonder why at Christmases she got bigger presents for the other grandkids and ask why she didn't show up for my birthday parties. My dad never did anything about it and always took their side. I finally realized it when I was about 16 when they divorced, and that's when I said fuck it. If you're not gonna stick up for my mom or me, I don't really want anything to do with you or your family."

Miguel nodded, just listening to you speak, glancing at you in the rearview mirror so you knew he was paying attention.

"Wow, I must say, that sounds horrible. Good on you for sticking up for yourself and your mother. As a parent myself, I can't ever imagine treating my own child or their family that way..."

You sigh.

"Yeah, shit's fucked. But there's nothing I can do about it, you know? I just don't have the strength to talk to him right now. But he never fails to try to reach out about this time every year. Since it's the holidays."

The car arrives at another red light. This time, Miguel turns around to face you while you're stopped, his eyes directly looking into yours.

"Don't feel guilty for doing what's best for you. No matter how hard it is. I know that most people think that family is everything, but, truth is sometimes they can hurt you the most." Miguel then turns back to the wheel.

You feel a flutter in your stomach as though an invisible spark appeared. You were strongly physically attracted to your handsome Uber driver, no doubt about it, but after hearing him speak, you realize there's more behind his captivating features. You feel the very beginning of a connection starting to form and suddenly you wish you had all night to talk to him. Miguel felt the same way, too. In fact, he was going 5 miles under the speed limit and riding the slow lane to try and prolong the encounter. Luckily, you were still too tipsy to notice.

"Well, this should cheer you up..." Miguel pulls the car into the Taco Bell parking lot. You groan internally when you realize you're going to have to go inside. You step out of the car, the cold air assaulting your bare skin again. Miguel notices you shivering.

"Here." Without hesitation, he peels off his hoodie and hands it to you. You want to die as soon as you put it on, and once you see him standing there without it on. He's even more toned than you realize. He's wearing a grey athletic shirt that hugs his broad shoulders just right, his defined chest and ab muscles tapering off into a narrow waist. His hoodie is still warm and smells intoxicating. You feel your hormones going crazy when you bring the collar of the hoodie to your mouth and nose, shamelessly getting drunk on the scent he left behind...

You do a mini sprint to catch up to him as he's already making his way towards the restaurant.

Miguel looks at you from the corner of his eye and his heart skips a beat. He adores the way his oversized clothes drown you. The hoodie is big enough to be a dress on you. He imagines this would be how you two would look together getting a bite to eat, only after making you scream his name 30 minutes before....

You and Miguel enter the Taco Bell and he gives an awkward grin as he holds the door open for you.

"Why don't you sit down or use the restroom if you need, let me order for you," Miguel says.

Your heart melts, but you decide you better seem modest with your order.

"Umm just a gordita crunch, small Baja blast, and a 2 pack of Cinnabon delights please."

Miguel smiles. "You got it." Suddenly, he feels close to you. You trusting him to order food for you and take you home after a rough night out while letting you wear his clothes.

While you go into the bathroom, he approaches the counter.

"Hello, I need two gordita crunches, a large Baja Blast, and a 12 pack of Cinnabon delights, please" He takes out his card and pays for the food without a second thought.

Meanwhile, you come out of the bathroom after cleaning up a bit, still wrapped in his warm hug of a hoodie and wait near the door. Miguel strolls over with your food and grins at you.

"Are you ready to go?" You nod and grin back and you two make your way back to his car. Suddenly, you realize.

"Do you have Venmo? Let me know how much I owe you."

"Absolutely not." Miguel answers firmly. "Here, why don't you sit up front this time?" He opens the passenger door for you. You beam at him.

Is this real? Is this guy really doing all this for me and I just met him? You've never had a man treat you this well. Not even your last relationship could be bothered to hold a door open for you or pull out a chair. You get in and Miguel hands you your bag of food, the delicious aroma making your stomach growl. Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion when you realize there's a lot more food in the bag than you told him to order originally. Miguel gets in the car and starts to drive again.

"Did, did you order extra food for me?" You laugh as you turn to him. Miguel gives you a small half smile but says nothing. You take a bite of the gordita crunch and let out a loud, "Mmmmmmm!" Just what you've been craving all night.

"Thank you, thank you so much you have no idea..." Your sentence tapers off as you stuff one of the piping hot Cinnabons into your mouth.

"You're very welcome." Miguel answers as you arrive at another red light. You realize Miguel didn't get himself anything.

"Do you want a Cinnabon bite?" You hold the box and give it a little shake.

Miguel offers a polite smile. "No thanks, those are all for you."

"Whaat, you can't turn down one of these. Have you even had these before?" You say playfully.

He chuckles at your playful tone. "I haven't, actually. But I trust your judgement."

"Come onnn...it's the LEAST I can do after everything you've done for me tonight. You're seriously gonna make me feel SO bad if you don't take at LEAST one." You give the box a couple shakes as if it's going to entice him more.

Miguel sighs. "Alright, you got me. I'll try one."

You smile wide as he takes one of the Cinnabon bites from the box you're holding in an outstretched hand. Your smile almost breaks your face as you see his reaction to his first bite.

"Jesus.." he mutters as his brows furrow in disbelief. He looks down at the remaining bite in his fingers as though he can't comprehend its existence. "That's spectacular, actually."

"Have another one!" You beam.

"Don't mind if I do." Miguel pops another one in his mouth and he brakes again at another red light.

He glances over at you and notices a little bit of taco sauce on the corner of your lip. "You got something..."

Suddenly, your heart stops as he raises his hand to your face, cupping your cheek between his thumb and pointer finger, while his middle finger cradles your chin. His lips part in concentration as he gently presses his thumb against the corner of your mouth, retrieving the smudge of taco sauce. Your mouth falls open a little bit too. He gives you a little smile as he brings his thumb to his own mouth, cleaning the sauce from his finger.

That might have been the hottest thing you've ever seen in your life. At this point, all you want to do is grab his face and make out with it. Traffic be damned, your runny mascara be damned, your deflated hair be damned, you don't care anymore about any of that. He could ask you to do anything and you'd give it to him without hesitation.

Miguel is thinking the same thing. He did that on purpose. If it wasn't anymore obvious he wanted you right now then he wasn't sure what was. His gaze falls back to your lips. He suddenly realizes you've begun to lean in closer to him. Your noses are inches away from each other. God, he wanted you. To lick passionately into your mouth with his tongue. Being able to hold you and grip your ass as though he was a starved man who couldn't get closer to you even if he tried. Watching your brow furrow with pleasure, hearing your voice and watching your breath fog his windows and the heat rising in his body knowing he was the cause...

Reality busts in like the Kool-Aid man.

She was drinking tonight. You just met her. She's your passenger. Technically, you're still working right now...No, it's not right...

Miguel pulls away suddenly, and, as if the universe has his back, the traffic light turns green and he presses the gas, driving once more. Your breath catches in your throat and your heart starts to pound again.

Doesn't he like me? What happened....? What did I do....? Did I misread the signs? I wanna hide in my room for the rest of my fucking life now.

You clear your throat and take a long sip of Baja Blast. The uncomfortable silence and tension becomes a thick fog. You recognize your apartment building coming into view and your heart sinks.

"Home sweet home..." Miguel pulls into the parking lot. "Is here a good place to drop you off?"

"Yeah..." You try to make your tone sound like it's back to business. Miguel nods and grips the steering wheel with both fists in the 12 o' clock position as he watches you gather your things.

Ask for her number, you fucking pussy... Truth is, when it came to matters of the heart, Miguel's heart was glass.

"Thank you for the ride and the food, and, and just everything..." you step out of his car, defeated. You really didn't want to be the one to make the first move. If he really wanted to he would...

Miguel looks back at you with a neutral expression.

"Of course. You have a safe night, now." He starts to pull away.

"Miguel!" You realize you're still wearing his hoodie and you go to take it off.

He looks at you through the rolled down window, still driving away and shoots you a gorgeous smile and shakes his head at you in refusal, giving you one last wink that nearly knocks you over.

You sigh with frustration and watch his car disappear into the night, trying to memorize his license plate but your brain is hazy and the numbers on it escape your mind as soon as they enter. Your heart leaps in your chest when you realize you might be able to contact him through the Uber app...

No no, you let him talk to you first. Did your last situationship teach you nothing, you dumb hoe?! Don't be that desperate girl...

You wrap the droopy arms of his hoodie around yourself as you walk up the stairs and take a deep sniff...burying yourself in his scent so you never ever forget it. Even if he didn't want to spend the night holding you, you could go to bed with a huge smile on your face knowing you walked away with a piece of his clothing, the essence of what he left behind wrapped around your body all night long. An intangible connection that bound you two together...

Miguel sighed as he drove away. He just didn't have the bravery tonight. He didn't want to come across as creepy. The reality is, you were a slightly intoxicated stranger, a vulnerable woman younger than him, and he didn't want to abuse his power over you in that way. He looked at the empty passenger seat next to him and laid one of his hands on it, feeling the warmth you left behind. Trying to remember the way your thighs pillowed on it...the way your soft lips opened in shock when he wiped the sauce from your mouth, the small line of saliva from you that he caught on his thumb and licked into his own mouth..

He inhaled deeply, his jaw tensing and speed on the road increasing as he felt his body getting hot... He tried to lock your perfume in his nose for as long as he could, imagining himself inhaling it directly from your soft neck... holding onto the remainder of your presence, just...just until he could get home and relieve himself of his dire wants...

You, the perfect stranger who found herself in the passenger seat of his car tonight, and unknowingly wound up in the back of his mind for good...

-----

Hope you liked it! Thank you SO much for reading. ❤️ Part 2 is coming soon!

Pt 2

[vanteguccir]

Hey guys! I actually spent long minutes staring at these reblogs and debating whether it was worth responding and talking about or not. But as I'm not the type to take hate and keep quiet, I decided to talk about it.

First of all, Reia, you really seem like a person who doesn't read many fanfics for the way you put it in your text, so I'll explain the meaning of the word. Fanfic, short for "fan fiction", is a story written by a fan based on characters, universes, or real people (like the triplets). Fans create their own narratives, expanding or reimagining everything, creating their own version, which in real life does not exist OR, as writers, we often draw inspiration from real-life events too.

And yes, you and Evangeline are trying to be "fanfic police" and even "sturniolo police", if you scroll through the thousands of Sturniolo Triplets fanfics, you will come across A LOT where Matt, Nick or Chris go through situations of anxiety attack, panic attack, OR where the "reader" herself goes through this, sometimes even involving situations way worse than that. Furthermore, there's thousands of fanfics describing explicit sex scenes with them, the famous smuts, does that bother you too? Because in the world of someone who writes a FANFIC in here, it doesn't.

And yes, I was indeed writing about the meet and greet situation, and this was nothing new to ANYONE in the fandom WHO READS THE FANFICS HERE. I even made a post the day before ASKING who would like to read the idea, and you want to know the news? All 200 people who voted wanted it.

I understand that you feel this story is disrespectful FOR YOU, especially because it touches on a real-life situation that may be sensitive or painful for some people. I want to assure you that it was never my intention to cause harm or disrespect anyone involved in that situation.

I myself am diagnosed with chronic anxiety, and even so, I didn't feel affected by the way I wrote. In fact, I described how I feel during MY anxiety attacks.

In no way did I make fun of the situation Matt went through, in fact, my intention in writing this story was to explore Matt's complexity and show how he deals with real problems, such as anxiety. It was a way to give more depth to his situation during the tour and highlight the importance of the emotional support he receives from "Y/N". It was not my intention to mock him, but rather to explore his humanity and the challenges he faced, and I know with all the certainty in the world that I did not mock him, much less affect the people who read the story.

Please, I ask you to reevaluate the need to throw hate at a person who has nothing to do with your outside the box opinions of what WRITERS ON THE STURNIOLO'S TUMBLR should or shouldn't write about.

There are thousands of posts on Instagram and TikTok from "fans" really mocking Matt and throwing hate at him about "their bad experiences" during one of the shows, these are the people you should be giving a piece of your mind to, not me. 🩷

[lizthewriter]

Hi! I love your fan fictions! I was wondering (First time requesting ever) if you could do a FIC for Mattheo or Theodore based on exile and the readers dealing with self hate,anxiety, autsim, adhd, Depression, and they feel so alone and push him away because the readers scared to accept her feelings and afraid she’ll get left, and no one loves or cares about her?

AUTHOR'S NOTE Oh my God, thank you so much for sending in a request! This is actually the first request I have ever received, so this is a first for us both! By exile, I'm assuming you mean the song exile by Taylor Swift. Here's a little blurb just for you anon! And thank you for the compliment, I'm glad you love my fanfics! Sending love and good vibes your way

Honestly, I tried my best with this. I've gone through depression and self-hate, and I am currently dealing with anxiety and ADHD. I don't know too much about autism, but I really tried my hardest to convey what you've requested. I hope this is satisfactory!

exile / mattheo riddle

PAIRING Mattheo Riddle x fem!Reader

SUMMARY Everything in your life feels like it's going wrong and there's nothing you can do to change it. What once brought you joy only leaves you numb. What once excited you now only bored you. What you loved only saw you as a friend.

Taking shelter in an empty classroom during a panic attack, Mattheo Riddle finds you a sobbing mess on the stone floors. You find out that he likes you more than you think he does.

TAGS Mattheo Riddle x fem!Reader, angst, hurt/comfort, self-hate, depression, anxiety, stress, ADHD, autism, exams, panic attack, suicidal thoughts, self-harm, fluff, happy ending, kissing

"All this time, / we always walked a very thin line, / you didn't even hear me out," - exile, Taylor Swift feat. Bon Iver

WORD COUNT 2.0K

WRITTEN 23.08.2023

pt. 2 here, karma

You sat in Transfiguration, leg bouncing nervously as you stared down at the test questions. You have always been a terrible test-taker - all the pressure of having to get good marks in such a limited time period and all this weight on your shoulders with the upcoming NEWT's made you more than nervous. Your brows were furrowed in both concentration and confusion. As you were gnawing on the end of your quill, McGonagall announced that it was time for you to place your quills down and pack your things. You let out a shaky sigh, placing down your quill. How could you not answer a simple question? Everyone else seemed to be finding the material easy, why couldn't you? You sat there, beating yourself up as you quickly packed your things away and left class.

You left Transfiguration by yourself and headed back to your dorm. Not only were you doing poorly in your classes, you also happened to be insanely in love with someone in your year. And, of course, you had to fall in love with the most unavailable person. Not only was he not interested in girls, he would never be interested in someone like you. I mean, why would he? What made you so special? And he has referred to you as a mate on so many occasions that if you had a nickel for every one, you'd surely be drowning in an ocean of them. Oh, and not only that, but you didn't really have friends. Most of the people you knew were dating and had at least one best friend. But you? No, you may know a variety of people but you couldn't call any of them a good friend, even. You didn't understand what you were doing wrong. Why was everyone else living happy, productive lives while you were stuck being miserable, alone, and depressed?

I mean, you lost all interest in everything. You couldn't find the joy in reading or taking walks about the grounds anymore. Your schoolwork was taking a turn for worse and you found yourself and bored and tired of your classes. Your grades were slipping, you had no friends, no partner, no nothing. Everything just felt wrong, wrong, wrong. And all you could do was sit there and blame yourself.

You knew you wouldn't be able to make it to your dorm to find the privacy to cry- you quickly ducked into the nearest room, curled up into the corner, and burst into sobs. It was all just too much and too little at the same time. You just felt like you couldn't deal with all this anymore. If you didn't deserve to be happy, than maybe you didn't deserve to be at all. Your hands bunched up into fists, lightly hitting your head at your temples. You hated your thoughts, the way your brain worked. You hated how you could think about everything all at once. You just wanted it all to stop, all to end.

You didn't hear the sounds of footsteps passing the classroom - Mattheo had only been walking by, skipping out on Potions, when he heard you. When he glanced into the classroom and saw you crying there, he couldn't help himself.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

You froze, sniffling, your chest heaving for air. You hadn't heard him and was caught off guard. Quickly, you wiped your face with the edge of your sleeve, collecting your bag from the ground and hiking it up your shoulder. "Nothing - nothing's wrong."

He ducked his head, his lips set into a thin-line as he observed you. "I'm not stupid. I can see that you're crying."

Great. Now you had offended the only person, perhaps, that even cared to talk to you for more than five minutes. He must hate you right now. Depise you. Think you to be cruel. "I didn't mean to say you were stupid." It was hard to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill over the threshold. You wiped your eyes with the end of your sleeve again. Why should he care about you? He must be pitying you now, surely he would have no other reason to act so concerned. Even if he did, he would one day realize that you were never as good as he thought you.

His gaze softened, the edges of his lips curling up slightly. He approached you, raising his hand to wipe away a tear that had collected in the inner corner of your eye. "'S all right, darling. Don't cry. Just talk with me about it, hm?"

Your chest heaved as you took in a shaky breath. "W-why do you care? I'm sure you have better things to do." You let out a weak laugh, backing away from his touch. "I mean, come on, don't you have Potions right now?"

"Why do I - I care about you. Do you need a reason why?"

"Yes, I do, actually," you responded, cringing at how snarky you sounded.

Mattheo let out a sigh. "I care about you because you're beautiful, inside and out. I care about you because you make me laugh. And you make me feel better when I've had a shit day. I care about you because no one makes my heart flutter like you do." His voice got smaller as he took a step towards you, and gradually raised his hands to cup your cheeks. He drew your gaze to his eyes, those beautiful brown eyes. His expression was rather serious, as though he were trying to affirm his words. "I care about you cause you're the only person who's ever really cared about me."

You trembled beneath the soft caress of his knuckcles, meeting his eyes for a short moment before shoving him away. A brief moment of hurt echoed through his eyes as you shook your head, backing away from him. "No, no you don't. I don't. And even if you did . . . " You found your voice trailing off. You hiked the strap of your bag up your shoulder again, having slipped down your arm. "I should go. I have History of Magic soon and I don't want to be late."

Mattheo glanced at you and then down at the floor, his jaw clenched. "Fine. I won't stand in your way then."

-

You spent the majority of your time avoiding Mattheo, but you knew there'd be a day when you would run into him and you couldn't do anything about it. Today was that day, almost two weeks after the aforementioned incident.

You were curled up in the Astronomy Tower, late at night, lying on top of a blanket as you glanced up at the stars. It was perhaps the only moment of peace you had found in a while - maybe it was the whistle of wind or the glittering of the stars.

You should've known he'd be up here. He's always sneaking off places late at night, the highest points of the castle. You heard your name being called and turned around to see a surprised Mattheo. He stood but a few feet from yourself. You weren't exactly sure what to do - in your panic, you did nothing.

"Erm - may I sit down?"

You didn't say anything for a moment, drawing your legs into your chest and resting your head upon your knees. You nodded ever so slightly, glancing away from him as he plopped down next to you. His shoulder brushed up against yours and he leaned forward to try and catch your eyes, mimicking your seated position.

"Hey, I'm sorry about the other day. I should've stayed there with you . . ." His voice trailed off. He let out a sigh as he leaned back on both palms, now spraying out his legs across the blanket. He stared put at the stars, his expression neither upset nor particularly happy. "I don't think you really meant it when you said you didn't care about me. I know you do. I just want to know why you're trying to convince yourself that you don't." He paused, hesitating. "Is it because you think I don't feel the same way about you? 'Cause you can erase that thought from your mind. I like you - really, really like you. And I don't know why exactly you keep pushing me away, but I want you to know that I'm here to listen."

He bathed in your silence, not necessarily perturbed by it. He finally decided to test the waters, raising his hand to gently touch yours. He seemed fascinated with you as he ran his fingernail gently across your skin.

You didn't know whether you wanted to tell him or not. You didn't know if you could trust him. If he wouldn't just laugh in your face, call you a fool, and leave you a pitiful mess. But Salazar, did you want to spill your heart out to him. And in the mental state you were in now, coupled with your fatigue, you didn't even care anymore.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't have any friends. I'm not particularly close with my family. And everytime I did start to make a friend or - or something more, they'd just leave." You wrapped your arms tighter around your legs. "I always wondered, what's wrong with me? Do I say the wrong things? Act the wrong way? Am I really so despisable that people actively go out of their way to ignore me?" You scoffed. "Guess I must be some kind of horrible person then."

"That's not true," Mattheo said immediately, surging forward in anger. "You're an amazing person. Whoever has just left you or treated you like that, they're arseholes. I won't do that to you. Never. I don't care how many times I have to say it 'til it gets through that pretty little head of yours, I like you, I care about you, I want to make you happy . . . and if leaving you alone and pretending like I never admitted that to you makes you happy, then that's what I'll do." He waited for your response, painfully hoping for a verbal one. However, you remained silent. Mattheo felt his heart sink. "Right then. Well."

He began to push himself off the floor to get up, but you quickly grabbed his hand. "Wait!" you exclaimed in alarm, finally meeting his eyes. "I - I lied before. I do care about you. Please don't go. Please."

Mattheo sat back down with an easy-going grin, like he knew he had you right where he wanted you.

"You really like me?" You asked, both breathless and doubtful all at once.

"Do you need me to prove it to you?" His grin grew smug.

"Yes, actually."

"All right then." Mattheo raised his hand to rest under your chin, tilting your head slightly to the side so you were facing him directly. Your eyes widened as he drew closer, his eyes glancing between your eyes and your lips. Breath growing shallow, you tensed as you could feel his humid breath on your lips. "I can prove it to you right now, if you let me."

You wasted no time in smashing your lips against his, hands coming up to cup both of his cheeks. Your eyes were shut tight as you relished in the feeling of his buttery smooth lips running against yours. He was a bit more passionate tha you had expected, but he had been waiting for years to do this. And whatever his imagination could try to conjure, it was nothing compared to the real thing.

Mattheo was the one to pull away but he was soon back to give you a quick peck, sming against your lips. "You're amazing - I don't think I'll ever be leaving you after a kiss like that."

You finally grinned, a true grin, gor the first time in a long time, and brought his face back down to yours to kiss under the stars.

Thank you all for reading! Be sure to like, reblog, and comment! I really appreciate it ^^. If you have any requests, by inbox is open but make sure to check the list of characters I write for here. If you want to be tagged in any upcoming fics/headcanons of mine, let me know. If you want to see more from me, go ahead and check out my masterlist here!

[eetherealgoddess]

helloo, I just want to tell you I've been your fan since I downloaded tumblr. I can't, your fanfics are to die for. 😭 I'm sorry, I've been the one liking your stories from the start, I hope it doesn't bother you and I'm sorry if it does.

can I request a really really dark supernatural au smut bonten x fem reader? I can't explain how much I love your supernatural au fanfics😭

Although idk who you are specifically, I appreciate all your likes and the request so you don’t have to be sorry!! I embrace all feedback!! Unfortunately, I don’t think I made this dark enough, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!! ♡︎♡︎♡︎

Y’all it’s wild cuz blood actually makes me queasy and uncomfortable. Especially gore and yet I write and read it even though I gotta pause to breathe from time to time lmao. This one is FULL of blood and gore. So be mindful!! ꨄꨄꨄ

ꨄBlood Thirstyꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Bonten Djinn Au

❦Your blood is enticing to Bonten❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

The male leads are Djinn, based off of the show Supernatural, though I’ve created my own version for the story. I’ve never watched the show but I searched up supernatural monsters and found Djinn.

In this story, they’re tattooed beings who drink blood and eat flesh. They trap their victims by luring them with their glowing eyes that cause a hypnotic trance. Their tattoos will glow the same color as their eyes. They can only be killed with a silver knife laced with an antidote created by Djinn slayers.

Djinn are not mine nor is this the original type of creature. There’s also another definition that has nothing to do with the show so you should research that if you want to find out because I don’t have enough info on that to be able to explain it.

Not fully proofread

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Blood Thirsty

You were quiet, hand covering your own mouth as your eyelids flutter closed. You lean your back against the shelf of books, hiding in an aisle of the abandoned library as you sit with your knees to your chest. You contain your vomit as you listen to the sounds of your friend's flesh ripping apart, the blood splattering against the floors as the putrid smell of death reaches your nose. Your other hand is placed against your pounding heart as your body tenses, hair sticking up as you prevent yourself from having an anxiety attack.

Earlier, you and your friends had gone to a local nightclub just to get out and have fun. Because the night club is owned by Djinn yakuza members, it was a sacrificial night, the full moon being the reason for this massacre. A ritual that was made into an agreement between humans and Djinn. Djinn can survive off of animal prey, which is what they eat until the night it’s time to feed. You had no idea the building was owned by not only a criminal organization but Djinn creatures at that. Not until one of your friends said, “Who knew Djinn could give us such a great time?”

Apparently your other three friends didn’t know either, eyebrows furrowing when they heard the news. It was already dangerous to be out late at night since that’s when they prowl on a full moon, but to also attend a Djinn club is just asking to be somebody’s meal. You smacked her shoulder and asked, “Why did you bring us here knowing that it’s feeding night?”

“They’re hot!” She responds, “If they’re gonna be active tonight then I know I can score at least one in exchange for my blood!” The creatures are known to be attractive, adding to the hype of the tattooed beings. Unfortunately, your friend is so boy crazy that she’ll put everyone at risk just for a chance with a murderous creature.

You all escaped and ran as fast as you could when all hell broke loose, ending in this dark dusty library, choosing your spots to hide in. You knew you couldn’t stay in the same spot for long. You knew you were going to have to move before they stopped feeding. The blood curdling screams of your friends begin to quiet down as you look over to the original friend who put you all in this predicament. She sat at the aisle across from you, eyes wide as well as her own hand covering her mouth as her body trembled. You both eyed each other in terror before you motioned for the door opposite of the sound. It was a few aisles down. You both have the potential to make it as they continue to eat.

You nod at her before standing on your feet, crouching as you peeked behind your aisle, instantly regretting it as you turned back away from the gruesome scene. Holding your stomach you ease your way to the other side of the aisle in front of you, hands trembling as you hold your breath once pausing, listening for any movement towards you. When all you heard was the usual ripping and bone cracking you turned to look at your friend who's following behind on her own side. You both move again and again until you finally make it out of the door, sprinting down the hall until you make it outside.

Your original plan was to keep running until you didn’t hear your friend behind you, turning around you noticed her standing in place, staring to the side.

“F/n! F/n! Come on!” You call out to her, confused as to why she stopped.

“But he’s so pretty.” She says breathlessly, her eyes beginning to glow purple.

You follow her sight, startled when you notice the shirtless man with a large tattoo on the left side of his torso, as well as a symbol on his neck. His purple mullet flowing in the wind as he stands across from her, eyes and tattoos glowing purple. Blood stained his mouth as well as his chest, his hands dripping with the substance as he licked some of the liquid off his fingers. You turn away as you grab her face, turning her to face you.

“Wake up! Wake up now! We’re gonna be killed!” You shake her face as her mouth hangs open, slobber dripping as you shift your gaze back to the male who stood still. You know you should leave her, but you can’t. You know it’s her fault, as well as yours for even being out in the first place on a night like this. Tears fall down your eyes as you contemplate whether or not to leave her to die. The only way she can be pulled out of the trance is by the Djinn releasing her or death.

You could be a savior and offer yourself up, but fear overtook your senses. You couldn’t possibly save her, so you decide to make a run for it while you still can, releasing her face. Before you could run, claws wrap around your wrist, yanking you back as you fall on the grass, bottom making contact with the ground as another tattooed being crouches over you. You noticed the yellow glow against the tiger symbol on his neck as well as the symbol that matches with the purple eyed Djinn on the right side of his chest.

His smile was as cold as his golden gaze, eyes refrained from glowing as he stared down at your fearful face. Blood covered his torso as well as his hands. You could see that his teeth were also stained with red as his smile widened.

“Where do ya think you’re going?”

You could only stare back at his face before you looked over to your friend, your hand reaching out in reflex as you called out to her when she walked over to the male. A hand on your chin forces you to turn your attention back to the brunette with blonde strands hanging over his face.

“Hey! Pay attention to me. I asked you a question.” He eyes you with an irritated gaze, causing you to yelp when he squeezes your chin tightly, claws poking your skin.

“Playing with your food, Kazu?” Another shirtless man walks toward the two of you from inside the building, fresh blood covering his mouth as well as his whole torso while the large tattoo on the right side of his body as well as the one on his neck glows purple.

He stops next to you both, sniffing the air as he eyes you and your friend with a lazy smile.

“Are you radiating that sweet scent, darling?”

“N-no! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” You say as you pull back from the man’s grip.

The purple eyed man’s fingers met his chin. “Hm. Of course you don’t. You smell it?” He faces the crouching man.

“Yeah. That’s what brought me over here. Never smelled blood like that before.” The tiger symboled man pushes himself from the ground, standing over you as their intense gazes study you like you’re a new specimen.

Your eyebrows furrow as you notice their eyes becoming dim, faces turning red as they hold dazed looks on their faces.

“Man, your smell is intoxicating.” Kazutora breathes out, chest rising as he drags a large sniff of the air.

“Maybe we should preserve this one, yeah?” The short haired man suggests.

“You think boss’ll allow it?” Kazutora questions.

“Allow what?” A pink haired man entered the scene, walking until he reached the two men standing above you. His hair covered in blood as well as his face, hands, and chest, as if he rubbed himself against the liquid while feeding. You eye the blue glow of his wrist, the symbol matching the iciness of his piercing eyes. He sniffed the air, facing you as he observed your figure. Bending over, he grabs your arm, pulling you up on your feet and smelling the limb.

His face instantly warms, eyes dazed as he continues to sniff the sweet aroma, using a hand at the back of your neck to pull you closer as he nuzzles your neck. You put your hands on his chest as you pushed yourself away, his hand preventing you from moving as you struggled in his grasp.

“What is that?” He pulls back, turning to the others as he releases your neck only to keep a hold of your arm.

Kazutora shrugged. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

You hear the sound of flesh ripping along with a familiar scream of pain. Turning your head, you eye the gruesome sight. The man has your friend’s detached arm in his hand. A big gash is left where her arm used to be as her legs tremble, her eyes staying wide as they continue to glow purple. Blood drips from the wound as he bites into the flesh of the arm, more blood staining his mouth as he moans while satisfying his hunger.

Your hands shake as you eye the display in horror, tears streaming down your face as you watch your last friend become a beast’s meal. Instincts going haywire, you wanted to run away, but if you did, you knew you’d be easily captured by the Djinn considering their abilities. They have the upper hand against the human species. You’ve always wondered why they didn’t just take over. You could only stand there amongst the men, feeling helpless, weak, and vulnerable. It disgusted you to be so human in this predicament. You were going to die and you had no choice but to accept it.

“Awe, she’s crying. I think you’re hurting her arm, Sanzu.” Kazutora jokes, pointing at your tears. You ignored him as you turned your head away from your friend who’s shoulder just got bitten off, using both of your hands to cover your ears, the sound driving you crazy.

Sanzu releases you just in time for you to lean over and vomit. Bile burning your throat as you gag and dry heave.

“Disgusting.” Sanzu hissed as he walked towards the purple mullet. Kazutora leaned over with his hands on his knees.

“It’s amazing how you still smell sweet. There’s no way boss won’t take you home with us.” He beams.

“He does have a thing for sweet things.” Ran states with a cigar in his mouth, sparking it before shoving the lighter in his pants pocket.

A short man walks out of the building, the men immediately turning their attention to him. The atmosphere darkens almost as much as the voids you’d call his eyes. He gave you an icy glare, causing a rapid chill to run up your spine as well as sending alerts to your instincts. Your body tenses as he comes closer. You hear him sniffing, eyeing the blood on his mouth as well as on his chest, bloody claws by his sides. He stops in front of you, gazing into your soul as you shift in discomfort.

His gaze slightly softens as the familiar red hue forms on his face, panting softly as he drags more of your fumes through his nostrils. You eye the blood staining his platinum hair, the stench of flesh and blood surrounding you. His palm rests on the side of your neck for a moment before he uses a claw to nick the skin, slicing a small cut in between your neck and shoulder causing you to flinch. He leans in, warm breath grazing your neck before his tongue slithers against your wound. His sunken eyes widen as his hands grab your shoulders, pulling you in as you place your hands on his chest in an attempt to push him away before you yelp from the fangs piercing through your skin.

He gulps your blood down, moaning against you as you fall backwards. He lands on top of you, a hand sliding behind your neck while the other balances next to your head. Your hands grip his shoulders as your eyes shut tightly in pain. You hiss and whimper under him as the others, including Sanzu and Rin, watch as if they’re in their own trance. He finally pulls his teeth out of your neck before he grips the back of your neck tightly as he nuzzles against the wound. Your blood rubs along his face as he engulfs himself. He breathes your scent in deeply before pulling back.

He pants as he sits on top of you with intense eyes. You avoid eye contact by looking at your own blood covering the hand that felt the moisture from your neck. Your hand trembles as you look at the men who stood around you. He stands up and walks away from you. He flicks his head, motioning for them to grab you. When you see this, your fight or flight kicks in causing you to hop up and run. The only place you could go was the forest but if you stayed hidden there until the sun rose, they would have to let you go in order to not break the treaty.

“So she wants a chase?” Rin questions with a smirk as all the executives stand and watch you run.

“Bind her and bring her to the car when you’re done.” Mikey says before he hops into the car.

With a wide grin that shows their sharp stained teeth, the four men began to sprint after you, Ran dropping the cigar in the process.

You run as fast as you can, grunting and breathing hard as your heart pounds. Your chest tightens as the pain in your legs form fast from running at a speed you’ve never had to run. You hop off of mini hills as well as passing many trees. The only light allowing you to see in the moonlight shining through the leaves. You just had to find a hiding spot to survive the night. You wouldn’t have run into the forest if they weren’t blocking your way. You knew you couldn’t pass them.

You groan as the pain becomes almost unbearable, the tightening of your body making it harder to breathe. You knew you’d have to stop soon but your adrenaline is pumping and you refuse to let them catch you. At least not easily. You thank the heavens that you hadn’t worn heels, the platforms of your shoes smacking against the grassy terrain, attempting to not fall on loose twigs or branches. As you run, you also gaze around for any mud to prevent yourself from sliding on it.

You pant, mouth wide open as you peek behind you. Seeing nothing there you continue to run as you look for the perfect hiding place. If you were being honest with yourself, there’s a low chance of surviving without being caught. They probably know exactly where you are and just allow you to run because they like to play with their prey. You’re not dumb. You were just scared. You had to try. Before you could plant your feet into the ground, you run into a figure in front of you, slamming into them.

Your friend's blood stains your clothes, mixing in with your own as the man wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in as he leans over to smell your blood.

“I don’t think we’ve properly met.” A hand covers your mouth, blocking your scream. You’re forced to turn the other way, your back against his chest as he holds you in place. The other men stood in front of you in a curve, staring you down with glowing eyes.

“I don’t think I want to put her in a trance. I like it when they fight.”

“I want a taste. Mikey made you look so good.”

Suddenly, fingers connect with your chin, moving your head to the side as the person in front of you sniffs before leaning into the spot Mikey focused on.

A long tongue glides against your neck, the short haired man moaning softly before his teeth sinks in. You yelp in pain as another bite comes from behind, the man’s younger brother getting his own taste from the other side of your neck. The arm around your waist tightens you in place. You smack Ran’s shoulder as you try to push him away, tears rolling out of your eyes at the pain.

“You guys are hogging her all to yourself.” Kazutora states before snatching one of your arms. He bites into your forearm, eyes widening when the blood hits his taste buds, eagerly draining you. Sanzu does the same to the other arm, shutting his eyes as he drinks from you. You could only cry out in agony as they drain from you. Your body weakens as well as you becoming light headed. This goes on until you begin to see stars, your vision blurring. They pull away from you just in time before you faint, your body weak against the man behind you as you lean back.

Suddenly, your bottom met the ground as the man sitswith his back leaned against the tree. You begin to feel kisses littering all over your neck, lips hitting the blood that continues to ooze out.

“You taste so fucking good.” He whispers as he licks the liquid. Your eyelids are heavy as you sit barely awake. It feels like your black out drunk, going in and out of consciousness from whatever was spiked in it.

You look into the eyes in front of you, the person kneeling before you as two palms hold your cheeks, lips meeting yours as you’re forced to kiss the man. You couldn’t even flinch when he nipped your lip, blood drawing from you as you sat weakly.

“Let me go.” You whisper against his lips, not having enough strength to say much in a louder tone. He pulls back as he smirks.

“Go where? You can’t even walk.” Sanzu says as he crouches beside you, eyeing the wound on your neck and using his fingers to force you to turn towards him.

The red hue is still stuck on all of their faces, dazed eyes as if they’re intoxicated by your scent.

“I wonder what your thighs taste like.” The golden eyed man states before kneeling and pulling your leg open. He leans over and begins licking and sucking your thigh before sinking his teeth in. Another grunt leaves out of your mouth from the pain.

“I wonder how you taste down here.” A hand coming from behind slips into your pants as you try to wiggle out of his grip.

“Stop! Don’t touch me!” You cry out angrily. The hand dips into your panties, slowly rubbing up your slit before landing on your clit.

“I bet your cum is as sweet as your blood, huh?” The man behind you chuckles as he rolls his finger against your clit.

“I think we should find out.” His brother adds on, smiling as they nod at each other. Kazutora moves away from your thigh as he wipes his mouth, licking the blood he wiped from the back of his hand.

Rin pulls his hand out of your pants before reaching under your thighs and pulling them as far back as he could. Ran uses a claw to cut a slit from the zipper of your pants down to your ass. He tears a hole into the pants, stretching them to get a good view of your panties.

“No! Stop right now! Please!” Your head falls back on Rin’s shoulder weakly as you use your hands to cover yourself. Sanzu grabs them, securing your wrists above your head.

Ran leans over as he slices through the middle of your panties. He closes in and takes a big whiff of your vagina. Using two fingers, he gently spreads your lips apart with one hand while the thumb on his other hand pulls the hood of your clit back, revealing the bud.

“What a pretty pussy.” You twitch slightly as you feel a blow of air on your clit.

Your face warms up when you feel his lips grazing your clit, leaving a soft kiss on the bud. He does it once more and then again as he looks at you with intense eyes. You bite your lip, sucking your teeth as you turn away, only for Sanzu to use one hand to force you to look up at him. Leaning over with one hand still gripping your wrists, his lips meet yours. Rin keeps your legs pulled back, piercing his claws into your skin to draw some blood, watching as you flinch in pain, all the while Ran licks up your clit before he gives a few more kitten licks. Finally, he closes his mouth around the bud, sucking and flicking his tongue as he dives in.

Kazutora, who's still kneeling on the ground, licks up the blood dripping from your thighs. You whimper against Sanzu’s mouth.

“I think we should put the bind in between her breasts.” Rin says as you jolt from Ran’s tongue. Sanzu pulls back.

“We should put it on her face, that way everyone knows who she belongs to.”

Kazutora pulls back. “But she has such a pretty face, I don’t want to mark it.”

Ran continues to suck your clit as he lowers his head to lick some of your slick from the hole itself, his long tongue pushing inside as he uses a finger to rub your clit. He doesn’t pay much attention to the conversation, too obsessed with drinking your juices as your pussy contracts. Your head falls back with your eyes shut tight.

“Fine. Take her arms.” Kazutora grabs your arms as he stands up, Sanzu kneeling to tear the middle of your top open, revealing the lack of bra.

“Wow, you were already ready.” Kazu beams.

Sanzu sticks out a claw as his eyes glow, along with his tattoo. The beam reaches his hand as the claw meets with your skin, Rin holding you tighter as you scream in pain. The claw penetrates your skin as it drags into the shape of their Bonten symbol, blood dripping down as you struggle in his grip.

“Stop! Stop! It fucking hurts!” You cry out, your own nails digging into the skin of your palms. Kazutora forces you to turn to him with one hand, trapping your screams with an open mouthed kiss.

The contrast of pain between your chest and pleasure from your pussy shamefully causes you to near your orgasm as Ran tongue fucks you and rolls a finger around your bud. Your pussy drips with juice as your body convulses, just in time for the bind to complete as it glows a blue color that swirls into all of their signature colors before it resembles a normal tattoo. You yell out as you finally reach your limit, creaming on his face as he laps up the juice. Not long after, you finally pass out from all the overwhelming sensations.

[joels-shitty-puns]

The Key To Your Heart - Track 9

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Panic/Anxiety attack. Alluding to sexual scenarios. Kissing. Fat shaming, name calling. Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 2.7K

Series List: Here!

Miss Chapter 8? Here!

Hi everyone!! I really don't feel great about this chapter, I'm sorry if it sucks. I kinda just want to get it out there though because I don't see my brain thinking up anything better. A lot of writer's block surrounding this scene. Anywho, hopefully next chapter will be better, but I still hope you like it. Although we allude to a little bit of sexual situations now that they are together, I likely will avoid explicit smut being that Pedro is a real human and I am a guilty, guilty human for writing any smut at all. I don't want to offend Pedro (not that he'd ever see it anyway, I am delusional), but I also know people find real person fiction uncomfy as a whole. That being said, I think this story may be coming to a close pretty soon. I plan to have maybe one more full storyline chapter, and at least one little side bonus chapter :) Please let me know what you think in the comments, or DM me if you wanna chat! I love hearing all your thoughts. Thank you for reading and hanging in here with me.

Before the screen even had a chance to load, you canceled the request. Nervously looking at Pedro, he held your hand under the table. “What is it?” he asked gently.

“I just realized,” you replied. “What if they ask about us? About those pictures? What should I say?”

Pedro answered with a gentle stroke of his thumb on your cheek. “Whatever you feel comfortable with. I'm sure I'll be fine with whatever you say, baby. I know your privacy is important to you, and I trust you. I'm all in with you.”

“Okay.” You took a deep breath and once again began the stream.

“Live in 3…”

“2…”

“1…”

The fans began to file in, and before you knew it, you had thousands of viewers. Opting to start with your screen covered, you wanted to give an intro first before the big reveal. 

It wasn't long before the comments flowed across the screen. 

You took a deep breath, squeezing Pedro’s hand, and jumping in. “Hi everyone! It's me… a lot has been happening lately and I decided it might be time to show a little more of myself.”

-“First!”

-“Did she mean to start a live video ??"

-"Hiii! I'm a big fan"

-“Is she there??”

-“Do you guys see anything?”

“So… Here's me.” You turned on your camera, waving at the screen, your stomach twisting in deeper knots.

-“No fucking way.”

-“!?!!!!!”

-“SCREAMING”

“Hi… Some of you might know me, some might be surprised. But this is me. This is the girl behind the music.”

The comments flooded in, entirely too fast for you to read.

“I want to thank all of you for being fans and listening to my songs. It really means a lot and I hope you liked the album. Your support blows me away, especially with what little information about myself I've given.”

More comments.

“Well, I uh… guess I should read some of these comments and answer some questions. I'm sure there’s a lot you all are wondering about,” you stated nervously, starting to read.

-“Why did you hide your identity?”

“Why did I hide my identity… I hid my identity mostly based on poor self image. I never expected my music to gain popularity, never expected celebrities to know it. Never expected any of it, and it certainly brought its share of criticism. I was scared to be in the spotlight and I didn't feel like I looked good enough to be someone famous. You know? I'm not skinny, I have flaws, and that doesn't always sit well with the Internet. I guess I was mainly scared of how I would be perceived. I'm just a normal girl who had her whole life flipped upside down when I wrote my feelings down,” you laughed anxiously.

Choosing to ignore the storm brewing in the comments below, you addressed the earlier comment. “Thank you for your kind words. I'm glad I can make you feel more accepted by seeing more plus-sized people in the entertainment business. Everyone should feel seen and have a place at the table, no matter what you look like, or who you are.”

-“I think it's nice to have more celebrities that look kinda like me.”

-“You're so humble!!”

-“You should've stayed hidden lmao”

-“Shut up, asshole. Why are you here if you're going to be rude?”

-“I'm sure you're a real supermodel behind that keyboard bravery.. smh”

You weren't expecting someone to actually feel like you were representing them and making them feel seen. You didn't think you had enough of an impact for that. You certainly weren't treated that way when you weren't famous. Nobody really even noticed you before.

You could feel Pedro’s eyes on your face, his thumb swirling circles and hearts over the space of skin on the top of your hand, below your thumb. The place where his bullseye resides on his own. Does he trace that tattoo when he's nervous, the same way he is with me? Perhaps his tracing of your hand is calming himself as much as it is for you.

Desperately, you wanted to look over at him and be comforted by his deep brown eyes, but doing so would cause people to wonder who you made eye contact with and smiled at. So instead, you gave a gentle squeeze and a smile towards the screen, hoping he would understand. 

-“Hi, I'm a big fan of yours. Can I ask… is what you said on your album true? You've never been kissed before? I haven't either and I was starting to feel like I'm just a freak.”

“Oh, honey, you aren't a freak. Everyone has things happen at different times in their life. But yes, everything I wrote in my album at the time I wrote it was true. And don't worry, I have felt the same way. Seeing others be kissed, falling in love… having the things I wasn't, it really hurts. But it'll be okay.. nothing is wrong with you. You're deserving of love.”

You hoped they wouldn't pick up on your usage of past-tense wording. Pedro, still holding your hand, rubbed his other hand over your arm gently.

-“Wait… at the time you wrote it? What about now?”

The comments were going wild.

Welp…

Your hands shook, and you used your opposite hand to place on top of Pedro’s that gripped yours. He squeezed gently, feeling the nervous tremors pass through your body, continuing to rub gentle strokes over your arm with his opposite hand.

“Uhm…” your cheeks heated and your stomach sank.

“I've changed a lot since this album was first written. Experienced new things. But I'm still the same person.”

Shit.

-“Who did you kiss?! Is it the guy in your song?”

-“Will you tell us who the song is about?”

-“Wait a second… you're that girl aren't you!?!!!! The one in the pictures with Pedro Pascal!!!!”

-“OMG IT IS”

-“!!!!!!!”

-“IS HE THE GUY!?!”

-“ARE YOU DATING!?!”

The nervous tremors continued, now threatening to cause your teeth to chatter. A full panic attack was brewing. Pedro squeezed your hand again, touching your knee and trying to do his best to ground you without speaking up on your live video. Skipper could feel the waves of anxiousness pooling off of you as well and crawled forward to settle his body across your feet. You took a few calming breaths, but when you went to speak, your voice still betrayed you.

“I..” your voice cracked, shakiness evident as you could feel tears starting to edge their way towards your vision.

I can't do this. I can't do this. I need to shut it off.

You shut your eyes, taking deep breaths, trying to ease your nausea and stress. 

Keeping your eyes closed, you spoke. “Yes.”

You took another deep breath. “Yes it was me, yes the song was about him. Yes.”

You opened your eyes to read the comments, tears pooling down your cheeks as you couldn't hold back your emotion anymore.

This is so embarrassing. The first time I show my face I'm crying and having an anxiety attack in front of the whole world.

You swallowed, choking back the full sobs that your body wanted to let loose. Wiping your face with the back of your hand, you began to read the comments, expecting laughter, criticism, and bullying. Instead, you were met with kindness.

Coming back to your senses, you gave a shaky smile. “Thank you guys. I'm sorry for my emotions.” You sniffled. Pedro was still rubbing your hands and arms, comforting you, having never stopped. His eyes still bore into the side of your head, and you knew he was struggling to not speak up or grab you fully. 

-“Oh my God, are you okay?”

-“I didn't mean to make you cry I'm so sorry”

-“You and Pedro make a cute couple”

-“Oh no, please don't cry”

-“Idk if you guys are dating but you seem cute”

-“I'm so glad you guys are spending time together when he's the guy in your song”

-“It'll be okay, please don't be upset”

-“You're amazing, we love you”

“Yes, Pedro and I have been spending a lot of time talking after he publicly commented on my song a few months ago. The party was the first time we met in person and we're still figuring things out,” you let go of your worries and broke eye contact with the camera, looking to your side to meet Pedro’s gaze. “But… we're happy.” You smiled at him. He smiled back gently, squeezing your hand, worry and sadness plaguing his face over your well-being. Breaking eye contact, you looked back at the screen.

You giggled before answering “well, I think that's all we have time for today. Thank you all for joining me!” You silently clicked off the stream, closing the browser, turning off the computer, and turning to Pedro. He grabbed your other hand in his, now holding both. “Are you okay?” He asked, concern etched in his face.

-“AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!”

-“IS HE THERE WITH YOU!?!”

-“whaaaaat”

-“SCREAMING”

-“Shut. Up. This is insane.”

-“YOU GUYS ARE SO CUTE I CAN'T TAKE IT”

“I think so,” you nodded.

“Seeing you panic and not being able to do anything without potentially making it worse… It killed me. I'm so sorry. I just wanted to pull you into my arms and end that video myself. I hated seeing you so upset.” He stared down at your intertwined hands, rubbing his thumb over them again. 

“I appreciate you being here for me,” you let go of his hand to stroke his cheek. “I couldn't have done that without you.” You met his eyes, leaning forward to rest against his forehead. He let out a shaky breath. “I love you. I'm so proud of you.”

“I love you too,” you replied with a smile. “Let's move to the couch, huh?” You asked, pulling him up from the chair. He stood, just as your phone rang, a call from Rose. You quickly answered.

“I saw the live stream. You did wonderful! Don't worry about any of the negative comments you saw or any stories that come out of this. I'll handle it all.”

“Thanks, Rose.”

“Anytime. Take care.” She hung up.

You updated Pedro as the two of you walked towards the couch. “Do you want breakfast?” He asked.

“Maybe in a minute. Can I just hold onto you for a few minutes?”

“I would love nothing more.”

He sat on the couch, you sitting next to him, before he gave you a look. “What?” you laughed. He patted his leg.

“Let me hold you.”

“I'm too heavy for that Pedro, don't be ridiculous,” you shook your head.

“You're the one being ridiculous.” He reached over, pulling you into his lap. “I'm too heavy! You're going to hurt yourself,” you whined.

“You're not too heavy. You're the perfect size, baby. Come here,” he pulled you forward, your body sliding down his thighs as he wrapped his arms around you. You straddled his lap, knees on either side of his hips while he rubbed your back gently. You placed your arms around him, nuzzling into his neck and closing your eyes. You both sighed, and he grabbed a blanket next to him to pull over your bodies. “I could stay like this for hours, wrapped in your arms” you sighed comfortably. 

“Why don't you?” He turned his head to kiss your lips. You lifted your face up, taking your head off his shoulder to kiss him deeper. The kisses were lazy and comfortable, holding each other and enjoying the warmth of being in each other's arms.

Finally the two of you broke the kiss, settling back on his shoulder, him tilting his head to lean against yours. His hands sprawled over your back, pulling you forward a bit to adjust in his lap. You let out a soft whimper at the contact, fully aware of the location your bodies connected at the moment. “Feel how much you mean to me?” He asked, his breath ghosting your ear as he pulled your hips forward again. You whined. “Yes..” you answered breathlessly. The temptation to keep doing that was overwhelming. But he once again wrapped his arms around you, rubbing your back as the two of you comfortably dozed off, finally relaxed after so much stress of the morning.

Hours later, you stirred, feeling Pedro still underneath you. At the feel of you moving, he stretched a bit before settling with his arms around you again. “Morning, baby” he hummed. “Guess we fell asleep,” you smiled.

“Some of the best sleep I've had in a while, here with you.”

“Same here.” You blinked your eyes open, kissing him on the lips with a peck. “What time is it?”

He turned his head to look at the clock on your TV. “5 o’clock” he laughed. “Guess we both needed some rest.” 

“Mmmm, I guess so,” you hummed, settling into him more.

“Good thing I brought nonperishables. Are you hungry?”

You pondered. “Yeah, I am,” you looked into his deep brown eyes. “Breakfast for dinner?” You smiled at him.

“Sounds perfect.” He pecked your lips before you slid off his lap, the two of you standing to stretch. It wasn't long that you two stood apart before you leapt forward again to give him a hug. He laughed, hugging you back. “I'll never get tired of being in your arms,” you smiled into his chest, breathing in his scent.

“I'll never get tired of holding you in mine,” he pulled his face back to look at you.

“Now let's eat! I'm starved,” you scampered towards the kitchen, him giving a gentle pat to your butt before hugging you from behind as you grabbed the breakfast foods. You giggled, setting food on plates as he kissed your neck, still wrapped around you from behind. “I'm starving too,” he replied back to your earlier statement with a growl, biting your ear.

“Pedro!” You giggled, smacking his arm gently. He chuckled, pulling away and grabbing his plate as you both headed to the table.

The two of you ate, filling the space with light conversation, both of you occasionally sneaking Skipper some bites under the table. He could get used to having two humans spoiling him.

The chatter came to a natural pause, eating in silence and smiling at each other across the table. Pedro stopped eating, wiping his hands and continuing to stare at you. You laughed, asking him what was up. Suddenly, he looked nervous.

“I, uh…” he rubbed his neck. “I was going to wait until after we had at least a first date to say this, but…” he trailed off, and your mind spiraled. Is he breaking up with me? Is he not interested anymore? What's wrong?

“I was wondering if… you'd be my girlfriend? Exclusively?” His cheeks flushed.

You stammered, dropping your fork on the plate. “You… you want… me to be your girlfriend?” You smiled.

He nodded. “If… you'll have me.”

“You want to be my boyfriend?” He nodded again, looking down at the table.

“Yes. Yes, are you kidding? Please! I'd love nothing more.” You grinned, jumping out of your chair to move to him.

He stood, pulling you into a hug. “Really?” He smiled at you.

“Really,” you nodded. “Now kiss me,” you held his face.

“Gladly,” he pulled you closer, kissing you deeply, his tongue asking for entrance to your mouth. You squealed, surprised, but letting him in. You'd never experienced this sensation before. But it was… incredible.

He licked your lips, the two of you exploring the inside of each other's mouths, tongues dancing together. The kiss was heated and deeper than ever before, both of you finally pulling away for air, him coming back in to peck your lips a few times, sucking your lip between his own. You sighed shakily. “Wow.”

“I love kissing you,” he smiled against your lips.

“I love kissing you. You're a good kisser,” you smiled back.

“So are you,” he smirked. “My beautiful girlfriend.” He gave a kiss. “How about that date tomorrow?” He pulled away to look at you, letting his hand rub across your lower back, just above your butt.

“I'd love to,” you stroked his face. “My handsome boyfriend.” You wrapped your arms around him again, blissfully.

“Tomorrow,” you two sighed in unison.

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibley84 @faithfullyyours2000 @brilliantopposite187 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon @winchestergypsy90 @red-red-rogue @theendwhereibegin @lottieellz101 @oliversaurus @kyga01 @milly-louise @titabel @taz-97 @stefanibear003 @marantha @fandomoniumflurry @ilovemybrown-eyedbabygirl @leiadjarin @hmneighbors

Thank you for reading!!! Let me know what you think ❤️

Taglist: (Want in? Let me know!)

[winter-literature]

Le Chat Et Le Serpent - Chapter 54

Please note that the entirety of this story is a ****TRIGGER WARNING***** - mentions of child abuse, graphic violence, alcohol use, mental health, suicide, suicidal ideation, self-harm - basically a constant blow of pain towards the characters - as well as some "steamier" moments.

This is an additional trigger warning - this chapter goes over Luka's past which includes self-harm, overdose, suicide attempts/ideation, and additional mental illness facets.

Chapter Summary:

Our boys are starting to fall apart.

The chapter song is Nightmares by All Time Low (included in body)

Digging up old memories

Always used to be the one to let it go

Got my fears in a suitcase

I locked them away

In a place they wouldn't find

They still haunt me

Nightmares by All Time Low

-

Siren’s reflected off Luka’s glasses as he watched the sparking of his lighter. It kept spitting thin lines of fire, refusing to flame against the tip of his cigarette. 

“Here,” Jagged cupped his hand around his lighter as he brought it to Luka’s smoke. 

Inhaling, Luka stared into the bright light that offered him solace.

The fire didn’t feel hot as it crackled before his eyes. He set his hand out, inches from it, the fire was erasing what had happened. Never again would he be strangled in his sleep from the memories of his blood stained sheets. 

Screams were distant in the background. 

What if he went into the fire? Would it take the rest of it away? 

They sounded like they were yelling his name, but he couldn’t tell for certain. 

Anarka’s screams surrounded Luka as she picked the boy off the ground. 

Even within her embrace, she still felt distant.

-

Luka rubbed his temple as he backed away from the flame, taking a deep inhale. 

“I���m sorry, Luka. I really am.” Jagged stared at his own smoke in his hand. He hated that the boy was following in his steps. He had such a light in him, and Jagged knew he helped to ruin it. 

“Whatever. Just don’t tell the Captain.” Luka bit his nicotine stained thumb, the irony not lost on him. 

-

“Dad?” Luka didn’t like this house. Everyone was falling and the music was too loud. “Jagged Stone?” 

He continued to push through the crowd. 

“Hey, Little Man!” A strange woman kneeled in front of Luka. “What are you doing here?” 

“My dad brought me.” Little Luka rubbed his arm as he stared down to his feet. The floor was sticky with liquor and ash. 

“Oh shit, you’re Jagged’s kid, aren’t you?” Her lilac lips grinned at him.

“Y-yeah. Have you seen him?” His baby blue eyes were watering.

“How old are you?” She scanned the party. A group was around a table sharing a bag of coke, at least three different women wore nothing but a thong, and the room was thick with smoke.

“Almost seven.” His voice croaked. 

“ALMOST SEVEN! Oh, you’re nearly a man! We need to find your dad, Little man.” She grabbed his hand. She’d known Jagged for a bit now, but she never thought he could do something like this. Why the fuck did he bring his kid here? “YO! ANYONE KNOW WHERE JAGGED IS?” 

The only thing the room could agree on was that no one knew. 

“Is your sister here, too?” The woman turned towards him, worried there could be another seven year old running around in this cesspool. 

“No, she’s sick.” Luka tightened his grip around her hand. 

“Thank god.” She mumbled as she scribbled along a piece of paper. “Let’s get out of here, Little Man. Are you hungry?” 

-

Luka’s face was covered in chocolate ice cream as he snored along the booth. But when morning came, she had to leave; she had her own emergencies to attend to. Gazing back towards the sleeping boy, she prayed that Jagged saw her note. The boy would be so heartbroken if he woke up all alone. 

His stomach hurt as he woke up, the unfamiliar girl was gone. He sat there with no idea what to do, so he waited. The waitstaff kept bringing him little activities and snacks, but he stayed nearly completely still. He stared out the window and watched people pass. 

“Luka, my boy!” The restaurant clamoured around the rock idol. 

Luka watched as he gave every guest more individual attention than he’d ever received from his father. Finally, Jagged made it to his table, gaining a temporary girlfriend. 

“Who’s the kid?” She asked as she bit at his neck.

“That’s my kid!” Jagged smiled in pride as Luka stared out the window. 

“What’s wrong with him?” She grimaced at the kid with dark hair and oversized cerulean eyes. 

His teeth clenched at his mention, but he watched as a woman in a peacoat walked past the diner. It was easier to do that than to acknowledge he was coherent to the fact that the fan girl was sliding under the table. 

Jagged was terrible at saying no. 

The whole ride home, Luka kept his head straight. He never wanted to say anything to his father again. 

“Listen, I know I messed up. How can I make it up to you?” 

The boy’s face didn’t even flinch. 

“Please, we can do anything! The sky’s the limit!” 

The silence grew thicker between them. 

“Why don’t I take you and Juleka for a week to LA? They have the best amusement parks and you guys can go to bed whenever you want!” 

“I don’t want you ever near me again.” Luka finally spoke. 

“Luka, I know I’m lame, but-,” 

Flame burst from the boy’s steeled eyes as he screamed. “NO. YOU CARE MORE ABOUT SEX AND DRUGS THAN MY LIFE. DON'T EVER SPEAK TO ME AGAIN!” 

“Wh-what about Juleka? What about your mom?” Jagged stuttered, the fear of completely losing his family palatable. 

Luka resumed his cold stare. 

“Please, Luka. Please don’t tell the Captain.” 

He never did. 

Jagged never reached out to him again.

Anarka started to realise something was seriously awry with Luka when he started asking who his Dad was. His father had never been a large presence in their life, but this was the first time she saw the broken look in his eyes. 

When she took him back home from the hospital after he set the fire around his eleventh birthday, she stood outside his door, listening to him play. It was a joyous and upbeat tune. He had an elated energy. Over his playing, she could hear Luka laughing. The psychiatrists said he’d been talking about strange dreams. 

“Can you believe I had a dream that our dad was Jagged Stone?” Luka’s laugh was sweet, but the reality that Anarka had tried to ignore was devastating. 

-

Jagged lowered his head at the comment. He was certainly no longer the boy he’d lost at a party. 

“Did they give you anything in there?” Jagged asked, not realising that his sentiment of concern wasn’t going to be taken that way. 

“What? Jagged Stone can’t get his own shit?” Luka snorted before taking another drag.

“That’s not what I meant! For your head, kid!” Jagged aggressively tapped at his own head. 

“Our ride’s here.” Luka pointed towards the blacked out vehicle driving towards them. 

“Listen,” Jagged stomped out his smoke before seizing the collar of Luka’s leather jacket, “I know I fucked up as a parent. Royally fucked up. And I had no fucking idea how bad you were struggling. I wasn’t there. But we were getting better. You were getting better. You had a better head on your shoulders than anyone your age when fucking Butterfly Demon guy brought you back to me. We were talking. If I set up the same therapy session we had back home, will you come? I hate seeing you like this. You might not believe it, but I love you Luka. We’ve come so far in the past seven years and it fucking kills me to see you killing yourself like this.” 

“Fucking Gabriel.” Luka shook his head as he opened the door to the car, still sliding over for Jagged. 

“You know, you might not remember it, but I did still try to be there! I,” Jagged reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet, “I always kept every birthday photo from you two. I made sure you guys got into the good schools. I was on the phone with Anarka every time you tried to kill yourself, Luka. I didn’t know what to fucking do. The moment you asked me if I was your dad, my whole life changed. It meant I finally got to actually be here for your hard moments! I love you Luka. Please. Don’t follow my shitty lead.” 

Against what his angry heart wanted to do, Luka shifted his eyes towards the pictures. He’d forgotten how much Juleka loved her red hair. He tried to remember why she ever switched to purple, but the memory was just out of reach. 

-

Everything felt light. He knew he was dreaming. Juleka was crying as she was tying a dishcloth over his wrist. Didn’t she know it was only a dream? It was amazing, how the blood so elegantly spiralled down his finger.

He lifted his arm, watching the material around the knot seep scarlet. 

“Jules,” Luka smiled towards her, “it matches your hair.” 

Juleka’s face faded to white as Luka held it next to her head. 

“Luka, come on.” Juleka tried to tug at his unmarred arm while balancing bile and terror. 

“Don’t worry Juleka, I’ll wake up soon.

-

“What is your lead? I’m here because I fucking need to be. You didn’t have to leave us. You wrote about how awesome it is to be without your family. I write about how much I miss him.” Luka pulled another smoke out of his pack and pushed down the mini ashtray between him and Jagged. 

“Luka, you’ve always loved with your whole heart. You took after your mom in that way. I remember her calling me when that fucking older guy broke your heart. I wanted to break his goddamn legs.” Jagged lit Luka’s smoke once again. “Do I need to break Adrien’s legs?” 

The trouble, with no one knowing the whole story, is that Luka was merely a boy who had his heart broken, and was running around the world to forget him. It infuriated him. That people would tell him that ‘whoever broke his heart must be an idiot’. He would shrug it off. Jagged, however, was not just anyone. 

Adrenaline surged as Luka’s fist collided into Jagged’s face. “NO - I AM FUCKING DOING EVERYTHING I CAN TO KEEP HIM ALIVE!” 

His fist barely hurt as he recoiled it, even though the flesh around his knuckles were raw. He’d left a sickeningly dark purple mark that already started to crawl up Jagged’s cheek. 

“Jesus! You have a hell of a right hook m’boy!” Jagged rubbed the point where his jaw and skull met, trying to make sure it was still intact. 

Jagged looked back towards Luka, seeing his own reflection both in the glasses and the seething boy behind them. “How is overdosing keeping him alive, Luka? Do you die and then he gets to live? Made a deal with the devil?” 

-

“What do you say?” He ran a pill across his lips. 

The man aptly called the pill ‘the brick’, both because of its ashy red shade and the way it nearly knocked you out. Luka hadn't quite listened to the explanation, he didn’t fully understand the strength of the drug that was running against the man’s lips. Besides prescriptions, Luka had always managed to steer clear of narcotics; he knew from his dad how much they could tear lives apart. But he didn’t hear the warnings, he couldn’t think of his dad, all he could think of was the fact that there was something that could take his pain away rubbing against thin pink lips in front of him. 

Luka ran his hands through the man’s thin bleached hair. His eyes were a forest green as they glimmered to Luka, waiting for his answer. Instead of vocalising it, Luka brought his lips to his. They were dry, but at least something sweet came from them. Relaxation. 

Falling onto the bed, Luka pulled him closer. “Adrien,” he whispered towards the man. 

“Oh, um,” Luka pressed his lips against the fake Adrien’s so that he wouldn’t have to hear him correct his namesake. 

Stretching back, it was still too clear. His eyes were too dark. Luka swung his hand off the side of the bed, reaching for the neck of his Jamesons bottle. “Give me another one.” 

“Luka, you need to be careful oh well, you’re just really going for it aren’t you?” Fake Adrien watched as Luka slid three more pills past his lips. Maybe if Fake Adrien had said it was ‘oxycodone’, or if Luka had asked, he would have been more cautious. 

Instead of words, Fake Adrien opened his mouth to ask for more. Luka passed back the ziplock bag housing the discontinued pills, waiting for the pain to stop. He’d taken entire bottles of pills and still came out the other side before… surely a few red pills could not do more. 

Nathalie had requested Sass’s presence on her current mission, leaving him completely alone. He thought that he’d be fine. But all he could think about was Adrien, about seeing him again. He’d done everything he was supposed to, so whenever he finally got his chance to go back, Adrien was going to hate him. What made it worse, is that Luka didn’t have a cure for him. He was going to see the rage and hurt in Adrien’s eyes, and then it will all be over. 

The lines of reality continued to blur, but it didn’t feel any stronger than anything Luka had experienced from his own neurodivergent rollercoaster. 

With an inebriated smile, Nearly Adrien passed back the baggie. Luka bent over the edge of the bed, seemingly putting his bottle down, while he grabbed another two pills. Just a couple more and maybe he could truly believe this was Adrien. 

His body started to warm as his face went numb. He looked over at the blonde boy. A surge of contentment pulsed through his body. 

“You okay, baby?” Fake Adrien ran his hands along Luka’s face. 

Tears trickled against Luka’s cheeks as he nodded, “Now that you’re here.” He kissed the man’s wrist before holding it back against his own face. “I missed you.” 

Luka pulled the man against his chest and ran his fingers through his hair. 

-

“I didn’t fucking mean to.” Luka just wanted to feel like Adrien was back. That everything was going to be okay. How did he end up being the damn Bella Swan out of the two of them? 

“Luka, don’t take fucking pills you know nothing about! And I thought this,” Jagged waved his smoke in the air, “was the vice you took over opioids, isn’t that what you said?” 

“I KNOW! I KNOW!” Luka took off his glasses as he pulled himself into a ball. “I just, I couldn’t stop myself. I don’t know why. I don’t understand. It just never stops.” 

“Hey,” Jagged took the smoke that was quivering from Luka’s hand and, along with his own, put it out. He soothed his hand on Luka’s back. “I’ve been there. Don’t let it ruin you like it ruined me. Please.” 

-

I gotta say it’s hard to be brave

When you’re alone in the dark

I told myself that I wouldn’t be scared

But I’m still having nightmares 

(I’m wide awake, I’m wide awake)

Nightmares by All Time Low

-

The buzzer of the intercom rang through the apartment. Adrien hated it. He hated that she forced him to reinstall it. He wanted that noise to stop. Every time the buzzer went off he was at the hospital. Every time the buzzer went off, Luka left him all over again. 

It can’t be her. Adrien thought. If it was her, I wouldn’t be able to control myself from letting her in. 

“Who do you think it is?” Plagg asked from his perch on Adrien’s shoulder. 

“I don’t know. But I want that noise to stop.” Adrien’s chest heaved as he stared at the intercom. “Plagg, what the fuck magic is this?” Adrien grit his teeth watching the Kwami out of the corner of his eye.

“Are - are you sure it’s not just a little bit of trauma from the hospital? Maybe seeing your parents rings triggered something?” Plagg hated lying like this to the boy, but he was worried what a fight against Marinette would look like with only him. It seems no matter what it would end in damnation, in the form of death or servitude. 

Infuriated, Adrien walked to the medicine cabinet and stuffed one of the small circular pills in his mouth. He may not believe that they were the proper medication for him, but at least they numbed the torture of constantly living under Marinette’s control. 

The buzzer kept going. Over and over. Adrien tore a mug from the cabinet and whipped it against the wall. 

Plagg turned to the intercom and pressed it himself. He couldn’t ask who was there, but he could let them in. 

When the elevator dinged, Adrien was clasping to the counter. If he didn’t have to let them in, would it work as a loophole? 

Alya came out of the elevator, slowly treading through the doors Plagg had propped open for her. She gasped at the state of the house before turning to Adrien. It appeared as if a tornado ran through it. If anything was breakable, it was littered over Adrien’s floor. However, the most horrific was the blood stains that had been left to crust along the walls.

“What’s up, Alya?” The friendly phrase was raspy. 

She slowly stepped forward, her hormones making the fight to not break down into tears considerably more challenging. She wanted to brush Adrien’s face, but the degree that his cheeks had sunken was too terrifying to touch. His face was a powder white with imperial purple bags under his eyes. 

Forcing herself to stay strong, she pushed out the words she’d been looking for. “I came… I came to ask you for help.” 

“What do you need?” His movements were languid as he rested his elbows on the counter to help support his weight. 

“I.. Um… I want to talk to Felix for the Ladyblog, but they’re only letting family see him. Will you come with me?” 

Before agreeing, Adrien stepped forward, testing to see if there was anything preventing him from this excursion. “Yeah, let’s go.” Adrien immediately started walking towards the door, scared that if Marinette found out before he went, he wouldn’t be able to go. 

“Right now? Oh, okay!” Alya scampered after him, trying her best to ignore the haunting state of his house. 

-

Adrien pressed his head against the window as he longingly watched as cars drove past. He wanted that back, that feeling of freedom he felt the first time when he got out of the hospital and drove his Mini. 

“Are you nervous?” Alya watched him out of the corner of her eye. She didn’t know what she was allowed to say.

“Something like that.” Adrien tousled his hair. He hated its current state. Marinette suggested that he get the same one from high school, and of course, he couldn’t resist. It was a far messier version, especially since the sides were still about half an inch shorter than the hair on the top. 

As Adrien fidgeted, Alya could see the various shades of pink along his palm. 

“What happened to your hand, Adrien?” Alya debated slowing down even more, just to make their trip a little longer. 

Adrien gripped his fist shut. Some scars were from his nails, some were from whatever thing he broke in his hand while he tried to resist whatever order Marinette gave him. 

“The speed’s 110, Alya.” Adrien ignored her question, getting irritated at how slowly she drove. He always drove fast. 

“Does Marinette live with you now?” Alya couldn’t imagine how bad it would be for him if she lived there all the time. 

“She comes over twice a week.” Adrien’s bit his lip in frustration that she came over at all. 

Sensing Adrien’s unease, Alya decided to divert topics. “So, do you think Lila ever actually watched Felix Akumatize someone?” 

His face was so ashen it somehow looked dirty as he laughed. “It is hard to believe! Felix had a rough patch for sure, but she was there ! I don’t know how she’s so much worse!” 

“I mean, you’d think since she can basically piss anyone off that she’d be the perfect replacement!” Alya snorted as they turned into the prison parking lot. 

“I think it’s because we need traits that match with our Kwamis to actually be strong. Being able to understand and influence emotions, besides solely anger, is something I don’t think Lila has.” Adrien theorised as they made their way to the entry.

-

Felix and Adrien had never perfectly mirrored each other so much in their life. They were both dishevelled and exhausted beyond comprehension. 

Felix’s eyes glimmered as he saw his guests, immediately bringing a bounce to his step.

“Ugh, this is gonna be rough.” Adrien dropped his forehead in his hands. “It’s never good when he has that look.” 

Felix dropped to the table in front of them as his grin grew. “You look gorgeous , Adrien. Bet you’re regretting not taking my deal now.” He tapped his fingers along the table between them. 

“That’s not what we’re here to talk about.” Adrien leaned back in his chair, unsettled by Felix’s joy. 

“It’s what she’s here to talk about.” Felix’s eyes turned to Alya and lowly whispered, “I won’t tell you shit about the rings unless he’s not at the table.” 

The hairs on the back of Alya’s neck prickled. She wasn’t sure what she had been anticipating, but it definitely wasn’t hearing those words. 

“Adrien,” Alya turned towards him, “can you give us a minute?” 

Scoffing, Adrien stood from the table. “It’s fine, I needed to go to the bathroom anyway.” 

“Pretty ballsy still letting him hold that Miraculous. Before you know it, we’ll have an entirely new super villain duo.” Felix raised an eyebrow to Alya, as if inviting her to play a game. 

-

“Kid, are you okay?” Plagg hovered by Adrien’s face as he clung onto the edges of the sink. 

“Do I look okay, Plagg? I must be fine, I’ve been taking my meds haven’t I? That’s the magical solution to all my made up , insane fucking problems.” Adrien seethed as his arms started to buckle under his rage. 

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m sure that we can work stuff out. You know, maybe you could ask Alya to take you back to the hospital?” Plagg thought at least he wouldn’t have to follow her orders there.

“One evil for another. Either way I’m being controlled, away from the people I love, a fucking living breathing ghost.” 

“I love you, Adrien.” Plagg smoothed some of the hair out of Adrien’s face; his attempts did not stay considering he was working against gravity.

“There will always be someone ready to destroy themselves. I’m sure you’ll find a new holder without a damn problem.” Adrien’s knuckles whitened as his anger flowed through his fingers onto the ceramic. 

“Not one like you.” Plagg nuzzled into the crook of Adrien’s neck. Snake Boy better come back soon. 

“Thanks, Plagg.” Adrien forced himself to say as tears fell to the sink. “Why- why doesn’t it ever stop?” 

Still clinging to the edge, Adrien squatted to the ground, heaving through sobs.

-

Adrien had barely sat down before the buzzer acknowledging the end of visitor time went off. 

Fucking god damn buzzers. Go to hell.

“Sorry we didn’t get a chance to chat, cousin . I really do wish you the best.” Felix clicked his tongue as he was lifted from his seat. As one final piece of discomfort, Felix winked towards Alya as he said, “Give me a call if you ever get tired of your Turtle.” 

Alya’s blood chilled, Adrien’s brother had done his homework. She had a feeling, this wouldn’t be the last they saw of Felix, especially with the Miraculous still missing. 

“What did you two talk about?” Adrien dragged his feet as they walked towards the exit, not wanting to go back ‘home’.

“Oh, pretty much just said everything we already thought. He went on about how you guys would have been an amazing power wielding duo.” A truth hidden within a lie. Both her and Felix agreed until Alya was told otherwise, it was best to follow Bunnyx’s ruling. Until Luka came back, they wouldn’t risk trying to get Adrien to sneak off his own ring; if he erred in any way it could quickly lead to his death. 

Author's Notes:

This chapter literally meant so much to me. Out of all the chapter's this is the one that speaks the most from the heart. I have written Luka as experiencing BPD the way that I experience BPD. It may be important to note that there are some crossovers within myself (such as possible schizotypal). No one's experience with any mental illness will be the same. Through Luka, though, I get to show how this stuff feels and looks to me.

-

If we were to pull out the DSM-5 and determine why Luka has BPD...

Borderline personality is often associated with abandonment at a young age. There are a lot of other factors and disorders that derive from childhood trauma, but BPD is often associated with abandonment.

It is something that will never be fully “cured” but you can continue to treat it to make it manageable. Ex. Sass is the “stress case”, but the calmest, because he had to learn it.

BPD can include blurring of reality and disassociation/depersonalization; impulsive and risky behaviour; lack of self regard; depersonalization; the need to be loved while siamotainously, neverendingly, working to fuck up your life.

The opioids were an important one to mention because it’s not that Luka suddenly decides, “heroin sounds like a great idea.” It’s the not fully considering or understanding the weight of your actions. Myself, and other people close to me, have dealt with similar situations of impulse control. When you come out of that current swing you’re looking at yourself like, “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

This kind of works as an awareness to others and to the actions of characters. We are always responsible for the havoc we cause, but understanding why is important.

Also - trauma blocking is pretty common for all humans (to my understanding). I don’t think it would be quite the level of forgetting your dad was related to you, but it is a defence mechanism your brain will pop up to help you get through shit.

I did a lot of research to make sure I found a red pill. Just happened to be ‘lucky’ that it was oxycodone. Luka did take a lethal amount, and the pills were (according to the website I was on, anyway) discontinued. It is important to also understand that, in regards to opioids, Luka is showing abuse instead of addiction. The addiction is taking form in alcohol.

-

And Adrien continues to fall further. His weight? When Adrien gets overly stressed he has problems eating. Since he’s freaking the eff out, he’s really not doing well in every form of health.

- We also see the dramatic irony from the last chapter come into play, we know that the ring came off Gabriel’s finger … buuuuut…. ‘Twas Felix grabbing his own ring.

-

What did you guys think? Luka’s was a newer addition, but the prison visit has been there since the initial storyboard. Im interested to hear what this walk down “everybody is fucking falling apart” lane has been life for everyone!

-

Oh - random little point. Fake Adrien gives Luka a pill in his mouth. Luka refuses to give a pill directly to him, but will only pass the bag. Just a little, very deliberate, tid bit there.

-

Another fun little piece- I did want to find a red pill for Luka, because the pills Adrien takes different red pills Adrien takes are also red. Very different , but both red.

Hope everyone is doing well! Thank you for reading!!!