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neonacity · 3 years

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LUCID | NCT DREAM ‘00 LINE X READER | CH.6

LUCID DREAMS - A TYPE OF DREAM WHEREIN THE PERSON IS AWARE THAT THEY ARE CAUGHT IN A DREAM WORLD.

Summary: It was supposed to be a harmless, professional transaction. You were to tutor a group of boys, get your pay at the end of the day, and go home to your loving fiance. Kids aren’t supposed to be dangerous, right? So why, then, are you caught up in a web of madness that slowly makes you feel like you’re in a living nightmare?

NOTE:This is a yandere plot featuring NCT Dream ‘00 line which means there will be mature themes in the story as well as obsessive, toxic behavior. If you’re a minor, please refrain from interacting. If this isn’t your thing, then just scroll and skip. In no way am I condoning anything written here— this is not love, this is obsession—nor do I think that any of the people mentioned here will act any way like in this story. This is purely a work of fiction.

Genre: yandere, horror, suspense

TW: abuse, obsessive behavior, toxic relationships, suggestive scenes, stalking, possible kidnapping, mental health. Age gap–though nothing dramatic. Everyone is of legal age, drugs, slight smut for this chapter but nothing graphic, questionable consent (?) I guess? Creepy, creepy, creepy! This will be updated as the story goes along.

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

“EVERYONE HAS A DARKER NATURE. EVERYONE. GOOD MEN FEAR IT, AND EVIL MEN EMBRACE IT.” - JAMES ISLINGTON

The silent hum of the air conditioning filled the space like a foreboding chant. Nothing else but the sound of the hospital machinery and random noises outside pierced the stillness of the room as you stared, unseeing, at the green and orange numbers that blinked on the monitor above the bed.

You barely have any recollection of how you managed to find yourself in the hospital, but you do remember brief memories of Taeyong picking you up from the floor you found yourself crumpled on after you got the call. You remember seeing Jaehyun's parents at a brightly lit corridor and his mother pulling you into a hug as she broke down and his father telling you how his son hasn't woken up since he was brought to the emergency room.

You remember your heart breaking in shock, mind too numb from the godforsaken pills you have been taking and your own injury. So many times you wondered to yourself if you were still caught in one of your nightmares, but every time you tried to break free from it, you're slapped back with the reality of how all of this is real.

Your fingers gently tightened on Jaehyun's hands now as your gaze landed on his face. He looked so peaceful, like he's just sleeping, that you almost wanted to bend over and try to kiss him awake. You don't even have any idea what time and day it is already, but you have barely left his side since you were brought to him. The nightmares and sleeplessness? They're barely a problem for you anymore because right now, you're entirely not resting at all unless your body forces you to crash from physical exhaustion. Even then, you usually only sleep for about two to three hours at best to make sure that you never miss a moment with your fiance.

"Severe traumatic head injury. He was lucky enough that the airbag shielded him from the worst of the impact."

The words of his attending doctor echoed in your head again like a faraway voice. You could only remember bits and pieces of what he said to his parents back then as he reported his findings, but you caught enough context for you to draw a picture of the situation. You remember Jaehyun's mother asking the chances of her son waking up again, her voice barely holding up from her emotions.

"I cannot promise anything, Ma'm. I'd say he has a 60 percent chance. He's fighting."

And he is. You know Jaehyun inside out. He might be unconscious now, but there is no way he is giving up. Not from something like this.

"Keep fighting baby…" you whispered in the stillness of the room as you lifted his hand gently to your lips to kiss. "I'll wait for you. We still have a wedding to do."

The slight creaking of the door barely made you look away from his sleeping face. You only did at the gentle sound of a throat clearing, your eyes slightly widening as you recognized the man who just walked inside the room. Taeil had the same mildly shocked look on him as he stopped on the other side of the bed across from you.

"You…"

"Are you a relative of the patient?" He asked now as he tucked his clipboard under his arm. You simply nodded, watching him quickly glance at the numbers on the monitor before his eyes settled on you again.

"I'm his fiancee."

That made him raise his brows slightly. He pulled a pen now from the pocket of his coat to quickly write something on his file. "What a coincidence. Not a good one obviously. I'm sorry to hear about him. Mr. Jung, right?"

You swallowed. You didn't want to acknowledge anything that he just said so you tried to divert the conversation instead.

"You're not his doctor. Why are you…"

"Oh. He was turned over to me today. I am one of the resident neurologists here but he had to be moved to me because his first doctor has too much in his plate already. Don't worry, I was briefed properly about his case."

Your gaze followed Taeil as he bent over to check Jaehyun's oxygen level as well as the other wires attached to him. You don't know what to feel about him taking over, but at least you already know him previously.

"Are there any changes? Positive ones?" You asked in a frail voice that Taeil definitely didn't miss. You told yourself to not act silly and ask questions that probably do not have answers yet, but you couldn't help yourself now. The man seemed to think over his words first, noticing your state, before calmly giving his reply.

"No particular ones, but the fact that there are no negative developments is… something. I will have to request for some tests to be done on him again tomorrow so we can see if there are positive changes in his brain."

Neutral. Not good, but at least it's not bad either.

"How are you? I was about to check on you again. Is your head okay?"

You were still thinking over his words that you barely caught his question. Looking up, you tried to scramble for an answer to give. To be honest, you haven't given proper attention to your own injury since this happened. You would even only remember to take your medications on your clearest, less anxious moments, which, honestly, isn’t a lot.

"I'm uh… the wound has closed. But the headaches. They're still there."

He simply nodded. "Any other side effects?"

You didn't immediately answer. You didn't want to sound whiny, but it's not like you're going to lose anything by telling him the uglier parts of your recovery. You swallowed to try and dislodge the slight blockage in your throat.

"Nightmares…" you said now, voice soft. You briefly remembered the last one you had back in the manor before you woke up to the bad news and you felt your stomach turn again. "Lots of them. Hallucinations sometimes…"

The doctor watched you carefully and you know he is trying to compute things in his mind despite his face remaining calm.

"Have you been keeping to your schedule with your medications? Are you taking too much?"

You firmly shook your head no to his last question.

"No, I haven't been overdosing. But… I've been skipping my pills the last few days because of...because of this."

"How have you been feeling since you started missing your dosages then? Do you remember?"

That made you actually stop and think about it for a moment. Now that you are paying attention, you did notice how the nightmares have calmed down slightly. Even the hallucinations are almost gone. You frowned slightly to yourself.

"A bit… better actually."

Taeil took his time to observe you a bit more before writing something on a new page of his clipboard.

"You must have had severe reactions to the mixture of pills I gave you. I'm going to prescribe you new ones and ask the nurses to pick them up and bring them to you here. Can you promise that you'll try and take them though? You really need them to fully heal."

You nodded and gave him a slightly sheepish look.

"I will, thank you very much."

Taeil dug his hands into the pockets of his coat and gave you a gentle smile.

"Well, that's it for today. I'll come back tomorrow to give you updates about Mr. Jung." He had already turned and started walking away when he suddenly stopped to look at you again.

"Oh, and another thing. Please try and get some sleep. Recover… and then focus on helping your fiance."

******* You didn't really know what woke you up. Stirring from your sleep, the first thing that registered to you was the sound of distant traffic mixed with the gentle chirping of the morning birds from outside the window. A warm feeling radiated on your cheek and made the back of your eyelids glow red.

You flickered your eyes open and immediately rolled away to escape the ray of sunshine that slipped from the open curtains and shone directly at your face. You easily evaded it as you moved over to the other side of the bed which was empty and cold from the night before.

That was when you finally remembered that you were back in your home, in the same bedroom you share with Jaehyun. The day before, his mother offered to take the responsibility of watching over him so there was a sudden change of plans that finally gave you the reason to check back into your apartment after so long. If it were you, you would have preferred not leaving your boyfriend’s side until he wakes up, but you also knew that your future mother-in-law wanted to spend time with him so you relented.

Of course you weren't thrilled to be home alone, especially with Jaehyun not being there, but the comfort that a real mattress provided—over the small couch you used to sleep in back at the hospital—is definitely a welcome change for your body. You even tried to take your medicine properly, the new ones that Taeil had provided, in the hopes of getting knocked down fast. Your adrenaline and anxiety had been fueling you in the past days, but you know from the way your heart thumped and your hands shook that you need a solid rest.

And you got it. You still feel a little groggy now but your body is definitely lighter and your head clearer. The nightmares didn't even come, and while they were replaced by total darkness or dreams in white that still made you anxious, you are willing to take those anytime over the graphic ones that you used to have.

You gently sat back against the headrest of the bed now and reached out for your phone to check the time. It's barely 7AM but as expected, Jaehyun's mom has already provided you with updates from the hospital. He’ll have some tests taken today as Taeil advised and then they’ll hear more about his progress. From the looks of it, she seems still set on watching over her son, which means you still have at least today free to yourself.

You quickly typed a reply to her and sighed. You’re thankful that even though you weren’t related by blood, his parents have always treated you as if you were their own. Having a family is not something you’ve really experienced in your childhood, so that’s something you’ve always appreciated about them. That is also the reason why you wish for the best out of this situation, because you also couldn’t bear seeing your fiance’s mother and father heartbroken. He’s their only son, after all.

A quick look around your room left you feeling empty. The last week has been so hard that it felt longer and now you’re struggling to find your normal pace again. In an effort to bring yourself to focus, you decided to pick up your phone once more and started flipping through your calendar to check your schedule. It didn’t take long for you to frown when you realized the upcoming dates there. You’ve plotted important academic schedules in advance and one quick look at it told you how much you’ve obviously missed in the past week. You’ve been so lost in the mess of everything that has happened that you’ve entirely forgotten about your job at the manor. You realized that they didn’t even call you once to ask about your absence, probably because they also know about the situation, but even that is not enough excuse for you to entirely fall off the radar.

Biting your lip, you quickly scrolled through your contacts now to look for the number you need. Your thumb hovered over the call button momentarily, but you eventually pressed it anyway. Your eyes wandered towards the clock on the wall, hoping silently to yourself that it wasn’t too early for you to call.

“Rosewood Manor, how can I help you?”

You straightened on your seat.

“Hey, Taeyong. It’s me. Sorry if I called so early.”

The other boy seemed to have been taken slightly by surprise by the way he fell silent at the other end of the line. You tapped your finger against your knee, waiting for him to speak again.

“Hi. No, it’s fine. Work started for me about an hour ago. Are you okay? How’s things on your end?”

You nibbled guiltily on your lower lip and finally got off your bed to walk over to the window. You pushed the curtains open and stared at the slight snowfall that had started falling on the ground. You’ve missed so many days of reporting to them but the first thing he does is to check if you’re fine.

“I um—things are still the same. My boyfriend’s still at the hospital.”

“Oh… I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Look, I want to apologize. I haven’t really reported to work and I didn’t even call about it. It’s just that—things have been so crazy lately, but still that isn’t an excuse for me to just not show up.”

Taeyong, however, was understanding as always. You were about to go off for another round of apologies when he gently cut you off.

“Hey, it’s fine. We know you’ve been dealing with a lot lately so we also weren't expecting anything. Don’t worry too much about it.”

“But, the boys’ examinations and portfolio review is happening in three days and I haven’t really checked in with them. How are they doing now?”

“Oh...that. Well, we actually tried looking for a temporary tutor to help out but I...uh… I think he isn't really cutting it. Maybe because he isn’t the one who started the program with them. But he’s a big help still.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry about that. I should have at least—look, I can drop by today and just try to fix things.”

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to. Don’t you need to be at the hospital?”

You started going around your room now, trying to gather the scattered papers and files that you’ll need. It’s a good thing you woke up early so you still have time to prepare for work. “My boyfriend’s mother is the one watching over him today so I have the day off.”

“And your injury? How is it?”

Your eyes landed on the new bottles of medicine sitting on your bedside table.

“Better. I’m feeling so much better.”

You heard Taeyong sigh in relief over the phone. “Thank god. We were so worried about that. Well, you really don’t need to go, but if you have time, I guess doing it today won’t hurt. It will help us a lot.”

A small smile tugged at your lips now and you switched the phone over to your other ear as you started arranging your bag. “Thank you so much for being understanding. I need a distraction anyway. I’d rather work than stay home alone… Thanks for not firing me.”

That made him laugh a little. “I’ll tell the boys that you’re coming over. Oh, and be careful on your drive here. The roads are a little bit slippery today because of the snow.”

“I will, thank you. I’ll be there by 9.”

******* “Noona!”

You have barely finished arranging your materials on your desk when the door to the room burst open and ushered an anxious-looking Jisung inside. You looked up quickly at him, only barely catching Chenle wobbling with his crutch before your vision of the entrance was blocked by Jisung’s tall frame. His hair looked swept up as if he ran and there was a slight flush staining his cheeks. He stopped right in front of you, stopping just in time for him not to topple you over.

“Hey, Jisung how are—” You tried to give him a smile but he was quick enough to grab your hands between his.

“Are you back? Are you really back for real?” He pressed now, eyes wide as he tried to bend over to look closely at you. He looked like a puppy, the only missing thing being a wagging tail to complete the look. You couldn’t help the brief laugh that passed over you as you tried to calm him down.

“I am. For the day, yes. Sorry I missed so many of your sessions.”

“We thought you left us,” Jisung continued, his lower lip protruding just a bit. Just then, Chenle had finally reached the two of you, a slightly embarrassed look on his face. This is actually the first time you saw him again since the day the two of you had your accident and you’re glad to see him healthy despite his broken leg.

“Hi, Chenle. How are you?”

The boy scratched the back of his head and looked away slightly. “Fine… I’m sorry, noona. I wasn’t able to visit you when you stayed with us. I’m really really sorry about what happened in the forest.”

You tried to give him a reassuring smile and freed one of your hands from Jisung’s hold to ruffle his hair. The action seemed to have calmed him down a little because he finally looked at you again, a small apologetic smile on his own lips.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault. But be careful next time, okay?”

“Are you going to be our tutor again, noona?” Jisung pressed once more and you turned your attention back to him. To be honest, you’re still not sure how your schedule will turn out after this, but you couldn’t really bear to break the poor boy’s heart at the moment.

“Yes… I’m here to teach your big brothers today for their tests though. We’ll have to schedule you and Chenle’s lessons again. Is that alright?”

A brief look of disappointment flashed on his face but he was quick enough to pick it up. Jisung smiled and gave your hand a squeeze.

“Okay. We can wait. It’s good you are back, Jaemin-hyung was so—”

“Yah, don’t hog her by yourself. You’ll scare her away.”

A new voice made the three of you look back to the doorway. Haechan smiled at your little group as he strolled casually into the room followed by Jeno and Jaemin. The three of them joined your crowd and you felt Jisung finally let go of your hand as he stepped away to go over to his brothers’ side.

“Hi. Sorry, I only returned now. Taeyong told me that you—”

You weren’t able to finish what you wanted to say as Haechan gently stopped you mid-sentence. He leaned his head to the side, eyes briefly scanning you from head to toe. Unlike Jisung, he looked calm and only barely excited.

“It’s fine. We knew you’ll come back. How are you?”

“Oh… I’m good. My head is better. I haven’t had the chance to thank all of you for taking care of me when I was here.”

“How about your boyfriend?” It was Jeno who asked this time and you quickly turned to him to address his question. Your eyes briefly slipped to Jaemin who was standing behind him before you could even speak though, and for a moment you had the impression that Jeno was shielding him—or blocking him from you. You blinked a little bit in confusion, wondering if it was just your imagination that was making you think that way.

“He’s still… still unconscious,” your smile dropped a little but you tried your best to keep your voice casual. “We’re getting more tests for him. His doctor said that he isn’t showing bad signs at least.”

“I’m so sorry to hear about him,” Haechan said with compassion and you gave him a grateful look. Your gaze settled on Jaemin again, however, who for some reason had barely looked at you since he came into the room. You know that he can be quiet and reserved at times, but there is something in the air around him that makes you slightly worried. He’s so still, but the way he carries himself makes it seem like he’s so strung up at the same time. It also doesn’t help that Jeno seems to be almost pushing him back from view.

“Hi Jaemin… How are you?” You tried to gently ask him to make sure that he is okay. He didn’t look at you at first, but when he finally did, you felt yourself freeze a little. His eyes looked dark and almost emotionless when he met yours and there were shadows under them as if he hadn't slept properly for days. He didn’t even answer and just simply stared, his gaze blank and accusing at the same time.

Haechan casually glanced over his brother and chuckled. “Our Jaeminie here has been sick for the past couple of days so he’s a little out of it. But he’s going to be fine now,” he put a hand over the other’s shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze as if to calm him down. “Right, Jaemin? We’ll try our best to go to class today since noona is finally back, hmm?”

Jaemin, however, didn’t even seem to hear him. He continued staring at you the same way that kept you pinned on your spot.

“Are you leaving again?” he finally asked and you almost felt goosebumps rise on your skin. It didn’t sound like a question… but more of a threat. You swallowed.

“I’m going to have to arrange my schedule till things get better…” you answered carefully, as if you’re navigating dark waters. That didn’t seem to cut it for him, unfortunately.

“So you’re not leaving. Forever?”

You blinked. To be honest, you’ve been thinking of quitting and just finishing the rest of the month if things didn’t improve, but you don’t think that’s the right answer to give at the moment.

“No… not for now,” you finally managed to say. You watched as Jaemin seemed to visibly relax, his stiff shoulders loosening under Haechan’s grip. He didn’t say anything after that, but he at least looked away, seemingly more satisfied with your words.

“Great. I think we should get to work,” Haechan broke the silence and looked around the room as if the tension you were feeling was just something only you could feel. He nodded towards Chenle and Jisung then. “You guys go back to your own classes. You’ll have your share of noona once it’s your turn.” He then glanced at you, smile still in place. “Should we start then?”

You nodded. “Is Renjun still not back?”

“Not yet. He’s going to be here tomorrow though,” Jeno answered as he took his seat on one of the desks.

“I see…”

Haechan also found his spot, but not before you’ve noticed him urging Jaemin to do the same. Playfully, he took the pencil you’ve arranged on the desk and started tapping it against the wood of the table.

“Don’t worry. We’ll tell him you’re back. I’m sure he can’t wait to have his lessons again~”

******* You looked over the window for the third time in the last fifteen minutes and sighed. The day had been busy with you trying to catch up on the boys’ lessons that you barely even noticed the state of the weather outside. When you finally did, it took you by surprise when you saw how much of the ground was covered by snow—one look at it told you that it is at least a feet deep by now. Your first instinct was to try and maneuver your car out of the lot before your tires get entirely buried in it, but then you remembered that you promised to wait for Taeyong to come back before leaving the manor. The butler requested for you to temporarily watch over the manor while he tries to do some last minute errands back in the city, but it’s been two hours since he originally promised to come back. You eyes glanced at your watch now, then back at the quickly darkening view outside.

“...severe snowstorm has blocked some of the main roads in the city at the moment. Expect heavy traffic and don’t forget to drive safely.”

You turned to the television now to catch the last of the rambling dialogue of the reporter about the weather. You’ve been debating on whether to call Taeyong or not to check on him, but you didn’t want to seem impatient to go home when you only really wanted to make sure if he’s safe. From the looks of it, he’s stuck somewhere because of the hale, too.

You were on your way to get your phone from your bag to at least try to shoot him a message when you suddenly heard it ring. Getting it just in time, you almost sighed in relief when you saw his number there. You quickly took it and went over to the window to answer it to make sure you get some proper signal.

“Hello? Taeyong?”

“Hey. Finally. I’ve been trying to call you for the last hour, thank god it finally connected.”

“Oh, sorry, my phone’s in my bag. I think the signal’s getting bad because of the snowstorm. Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, about that, I’m still stuck in town. The traffic’s so bad here because a section of the main road is blocked. Road maintenance is supposed to come thirty minutes ago but I think there’s a delay because there are other roads they are working on.”

Your gaze drifted back to the television where scenes of the same blocked avenues were being flashed. “Yeah… the news says the same. Are you safe though?”

“I am. I’m really sorry for making you wait. I’d tell you to drive back and not wait for me anymore but I don’t think you’ll also make it home in time with all this traffic going on. I don’t think it’s going to be safe. Do you mind waiting for a little bit more? I’ll tell you once the roads are better.”

You thought it over quickly, a frown settling on your face. You really want to go home, but he’s right. There’s no point in trying to drive back if you’ll only find yourself stuck in the roads for hours. Not being a big fan of night driving yourself, you can already imagine the stress waiting for you if you add a snowstorm to the mix. As much as you wanted to leave, you’re left with no choice, at least for the moment.

“I can… I’ll just wait for you, I guess. Do you want me to do anything here while you’re gone? Dinner for the boys?”

“Oh no, no, you don’t need to do that, that’s not part of your job,” Taeyong sounded abashed when he said that. You stepped away from the window then and took a seat by the fireplace that Jeno started earlier. Half of your concentration was on the news which has now shifted to a different set of reports also caused by the snowstorm. “They’ll know when to go down and eat. Don’t worry about them. Where are they right now?”

“Ah, I think they went back to their rooms? I did tell them earlier that I’ll try to wait for you.”

“I see. Yes, I think that’s better. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you updated. If things don’t get better, I think I’ll have no other choice but find a hostel here and wait for the weather to calm down. You can stay there and just ask for help from any of them. You can stay in the same room just in case.”

You didn’t quickly react to the offer. Instead, your eyes flickered to the doorway of the room before refocusing your attention back to the conversation. It’s not like you have anything against spending the night again at the manor—you’ve done it before, after all—but it’s honestly not really something you’re comfortable to do again. Maybe it’s because you’ve never really been okay with overstaying at strangers’ houses but your gut feel is also telling you right now that it shouldn’t be your top option regardless of the situation you are in.

Still, you didn’t want to come off rude to Taeyong, not when he is only being kind to offer you temporary shelter while being stuck in the middle of nowhere himself. So instead, you went against your initial doubts and offered him your thanks in return. It’s just Plan B that he’s proposing after all.

“I will. Keep me updated though if you need anything you think I can help with.”

“Thank you and I will. I have to go now though. Please make yourself at home. I’ll try to call again after an hour.”

“Okay. Take care.”

You put your phone down now with a worried frown as you heard the line drop. You couldn’t believe this is happening the first day you got back to work but it’s not like you can really blame anyone for it. The only good thing is that you’re sure Jaehyun is being taken care of right now so that is at least one thing off your shoulders. You didn’t really need to rush anywhere, not especially to a vacant home. Leaning back against your seat, you tried your best to relax as your gaze travelled around the room once again. You deliberated on sending a text to your mother-in-law to tell her about your situation but decided against it, not wanting to worry her more. You sighed. For now, you guess you didn’t have any other choice but to wait.

You did try to distract yourself by watching the news for a few more minutes before finally giving up on it. With resignation, you picked yourself up from your seat again and turned the television off. For a moment you simply stood in the middle of the room, trying to figure out what to do with your time when your gaze settled on the door again. Everyone retreated to their own rooms after they finished with their lessons so it means the house is pretty much yours for exploring if you wanted to. You toyed with the idea for a little bit, before finally resigning yourself to it. It’s not like there really is anything else left for you to do, and Taeyong did say you can make yourself feel at home if you wanted to. With a sigh, you finally turned on your heels to leave the room and peered silently into the hallway. It was deserted as expected, but still your eyes travelled left and right to check if there’s anyone out and about at this hour. It was only after you made sure that you were alone when you finally allowed yourself to step into the corridor.

Of course, you have a plan. You’re pretty much sure that checking out the rooms on the first floor is acceptable since it’s where you’ve been rotating your classes so you’re going to stick to those areas. You remember finding a library there once and you focused on finding your way to it to maybe check out some of the books in the collection.

It did take you about five minutes to finally find the place you were looking for. For some reason, the sections in the manor always confuse you no matter how many times you try to memorize each one, probably because of how big and similar-looking they are on the outside. You’ve already tried four doors when you were finally welcomed by the familiar-looking bookshelves at the fifth one. You sighed and gave one quick look around the room before slipping yourself inside after making sure that you’re alone.

There will probably never be a time when you won’t find yourself fascinated by anything in this grand home. If the architecture of the mansion is not enough to convince anyone how rich the family is, their book collection is enough to assure that at the very least. You’ve only ever taken a quick glimpse of it once during one of your lessons with the boys, but one look of the titles in their shelves is enough to make any literature major excited. You looked at the floor to ceiling collection now, your fingers gently running over the spines of the books you could reach with a small smile on your face.

You were about to check out the rest of the collection on the other side of the wall when something in the middle of the room caught your attention. You didn’t really catch it at first because of the shadows that concealed it when you first came in, but you could pretty much discern the outline of a blanket covered standee now from where you stood. You frowned. Taking careful steps, you closed the distance towards it to try and figure out what exactly it is that you’re seeing.

A closer look revealed it to be an easel covered with white cloth. You could see the outline of the canvas where the blanket falls over it while shadows of colors peeked out into the thin fabric from the surface it was covering. How odd… you knew that Renjun had a different art room for his paintings so to see this now here in the middle of the library seems uncanny.

You didn’t know how long you remained standing in front of it, too. You know you should have walked away—after all, the white cloth hiding it away from plain view means whatever is on that canvas is not meant for everyone’s eyes to see, but you simply couldn’t tear yourself away from it. It’s as if there was a silent force asking you to pull that cloth to reveal what’s underneath, the inclination so strong that you could almost hear its voice breathing down next to your ear, unrelenting until you do what it says.

The next thing you know, you had your hand attached to one end of the fabric. You stared at it now, wondering last minute if you should go ahead or not. You swallowed and glanced around one last time around the room. If you’re alone… it wouldn’t hurt if you could take a peek, right? Nobody will know. You just have to see, then cover it back again. Before you could even think about it too much, your arm was finally moving on its own as it gently tugged at the covering. You watched as it fell gently on the floor, like a bodiless ghost melting into the shadows on the ground.

Your eyes couldn’t make out what you were seeing at first. The dim lighting of the room wasn’t helping at all, but you were sure that it was a woman’s silhouette that was staring back at you from the canvas. Colors swirled around her, like some unknown mass trying to drag her back into unknown depths. Shapes and tones jumped from the picture, but her form stood out from the rest, gracefully twisted as if she was in the middle of trying to fight and succumb to it at the same time. You frowned. Taking a step closer towards it, you tried to study its details under what little illumination the lamps above afforded you.

That’s when it all happened simultaneously. Your heart stopped beating the same time your eyes widened as they finally focused on what’s in front of them. It’s as if the ground suddenly vanished from underneath your feet and you were falling, falling, deep into the abyss despite your body being frozen in fear and shock.

You know this painting. You’ve seen it before. It was the same one by Renjun, the one that you saw on your first day working in the manor.

But it was different now. Instead of the unfinished state that caught your attention before, everything about the picture now is in sharp focus. The lines on the woman’s nude body, the hands—which you thought were simply dark swirls dragging her back—and her face twisted beautifully in pleasure and madness stared back at you like a nightmare.

But it was not those which truly shook you to your core. It’s the realization that it was your own face in the portrait that was staring back at you, silently screaming for you to run away.

You stumbled back in shock. Your chest felt tight as you tried to grasp for air while your hands fumbled to find something to hold on to keep you from crashing on the ground. Before you could even take another step, however, something hard hit your back and you felt strong arms wrap around your waist like a vice. You have barely realized what was happening when you felt someone lean over your shoulder, lips pressing against the shell of your ear.

“Isn’t it beautiful? You’re the perfect muse, don’t you think?” Renjun asked softly as he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple.

******* You didn’t know how long you stayed frozen in his embrace. For a brief moment you thought you were dreaming again until you felt his arms slowly tighten around your waist. As if a jolt of electricity shocked you, you immediately turned to push him away as you scrambled to put some distance between the two of you.

Renjun didn’t seem the least bothered when your eyes finally focused on him. He remained on his spot, his gaze on you unwavering. You, meanwhile, were shaking from head to toe, the vision of the painting still branded vividly in your head.

“Renjun—what’s this?” you managed to stutter as you pointed at the artwork in the middle of the room. You couldn’t even spare to look at it again while he merely gave it a casual glance.

“It’s you. I’ve been working on it for a long time. I was about to show it to you but it seems like you couldn’t wait for it yourself.”

You felt nauseous. A part of your rational mind was slowly losing it as you tried to process his answer. Something's not right. Something is so terribly wrong.

“Why—why did you do this?”

Renjun simply stared at you and leaned his head a little bit to the side as if he was only mildly curious of your reaction. Your stomach turned even before hearing his answer.

“You said it’s beautiful.”

“This is not right—!”

“I came home because they said you were leaving for good,” he continued speaking softly, effectively cutting you from what you were about to say. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and you took another step back as you watched him get close to his artwork. You watched in horror as his thin fingers lovingly ran over the corners of the canvas. “Jaemin almost lost it… It’s a good thing I got here on time.”

And just like that, everything seemed to have clicked into place. The glances, the touches, the words that seemed to have a different undercurrent under them… they weren’t just fragments of your imagination. Every little thing that has gnawed at you from the inside came into crystal clear focus and you felt your knees go weak from the weight of it all. It took every fiber of your being to try and keep yourself steady now, your legs moving on their own as they took small backward steps away from the boy staring at you now with dead eyes. You couldn’t breathe, but it was the last words he told you that finally snapped you to run.

“I don’t think you’ve realized it yet. But no, you cannot leave. Ever.”

You didn’t know where you got the energy for it but in seconds you were flying out of that room and running blindly down the darkened corridors. Your blood pumped noisily in your ears and your chest felt like it was going to split from the sudden exertion you put on it, but you didn’t stop, not even looking back as you tried to put as much distance between you and the library. You didn’t even know where you were going. All you’re focused on is to find the exit and leave the house as soon as possible.

A loud bang that sounded off to your right startled you and you screamed, the force of your shock making you whip around and almost lose your balance. Before you could even hit the floor, however, a pair of hands caught you and you immediately turned, grasping at the chest of your rescuer.

You froze. Haechan smiled down at you as he tried to steady you on your feet.

“Haechan,” you gasped as you took fistfuls of his shirt and tried to shake him in your panic. “Renjun—he’s—please, help me. He’s after me—” you gasped out, almost out of your wits. You’re on the verge of a total breakdown that it almost escaped you, the way he simply smiled down on your shaking form. It was only when you felt one of his hands gently caress the top of your head that reality slapped you in the face again. You suddenly stopped struggling in his hold, pupils shaking as you watched him study your features lovingly.

“Shh… it’s fine. I got you,” he whispered and you could swear ice pricked you from the inside. A slight movement to the right made you turn your head and you saw Jaemin lean casually against the banister of the stairs, his face serene. He gave you one quick look before a gentle smile finally lit up his features.

“Has it started?” he asked and you felt Haechan’s hold on you tighten.

“It has.”

You didn’t struggle. It was as if any trace of fight you had left you in that moment and you let your hands fall limply on your sides. Haechan also loosened his grip on you and you stared at the two boys blankly, your chest heaving as if fighting for air. They didn’t move from their spots and simply followed you with their eyes as if relishing the fear and realization flashing in your face.

Trapped.

You’re trapped.

You’ve always been.

You didn’t even realize that your legs had started moving again on their own as the pieces of the puzzle started to fall together in your mind. You were only shaken from it when your back finally hit the front door, the cold metal of the knob pressing against your spine. Jaemin and Haechan remained on their spots still, even as you blindly reached out for it from behind.

You were expecting it to be locked, so you were a little bit surprised when you felt it give way under your hand when you tried to turn it open. Just before you could even entertain the idea of escaping, however, any trace of hope you had quickly died as you turned and came face to face with Jeno standing right in front of the entrance. He didn’t look the least surprised seeing you there, as if he was waiting for you in the first place.

You eyes took in his calm countenance before slowly moving to stare downwards at what he was holding by his side. Your gaze locked on it in fear, and that’s when the flight response in you flared up again.

Jeno’s hunting rifle shone dully in the light of the entryway, his pale fingers wrapped on its handle.

“There’s really only one place you can run, noona, but I won’t advise it,” he said evenly and you felt your blood freeze in your veins.

“After all, no matter where you hide, I’ll still find you in that forest.”

It happened all at once. You broke into a run, your body screaming at you to go faster as you heard gunshots pierce the air.

---

CHAPTER 7

A/N: Good lord, I wasn’t expecting I’d finish this today but I got one large iced coffee and well... things happened. Anyway, enjoy! Let’s hope the format won’t mess up this time. T.T Finally, all hell broke loose~ <3

Tag list!

@negincho, @jhornytrash, @jaeminhyuckiii, @jungwoosswhore, @jsturkey, @aj-7, @pukupukupawpau, @tomiesgirlfren, @vsszn, @those-winternights, @xsnelly, @lihyuck, @laheyspizza, @miyeux27, @haoshitt, @mindofthescattered, @huangberryyy, @d1nne, @choppedupcactus, @neokat, @yutasnabi

#nct dream yandere au #nct dream yandere #nct dream yandere fic #jaemin x reader #jeno x reader #renjun x reader #haechan x reader #nct dream 00 line fic #nct dream 00 line x reader #nct horror au #nct dream yandere imagines #jaehyun x reader #yandere!nct dream #yandere!jaemin #yandere!jeno #yandere!renjun #yandere!haechan #nct-writers #yandere!nct dream 00 line

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onthecrosslook · 3 years

Text

Reverse, esreveR

Tw: S*ic*de Attempt, Dr*g Abuse

Sherlock Holmes was an arsehole. He knew that he was, he felt it- deep inside, a sort of gut emotion that clenched and twisted and made him feel all the more wretched. He really couldn’t control it at this point. It was a habit that had formed from years of keeping every awful thing that had happened to him pent up in his mind. So many years of abuse, so many bruises and scars, and so, so much hurt that left no marks on anywhere but the mind. He knew it was wrong to take it out on those he loved- and even those he didn’t- but it kept resurfacing in the forms of snide comments and manic volatility.

It started one quiet night at Baker Street. It was nothing much, a snappish comment too far, perhaps? Whatever it was, it was the last straw for a livid John Watson, who stood up and kicked over the coffee table in fury. Words bounced off of Sherlock, who heard without listening. Eyes closed, chest feeling empty, Sherlock felt John’s innate rage. Until he didn’t.

When Sherlock opened a single eye, he saw John holding a small box that had been concealed under the table. Sherlock heard a roar in his ears, he could hardly breathe, he was crushed by an overwhelming feeling of guilt- it all just hurt.

John’s steady fingers brushed over the syringe that the box contained. The flat was silent, except for the pounding of Sherlock’s heart- or was he the only one who could hear that?

Glass shattered at his feet. John was yelling, now. Sherlock was pretending to listen.

Sociopath. Liar. Machine.

John was saying those words as if they held no value to Sherlock. Of course, that had been the impression Sherlock had made, so why wouldn’t he say those things?

Sherlock was used to feeling hopeless, but this? This was it. This was all he could take and more. And worst of all? It was cowardly, and Sherlock couldn’t even have the decency to properly listen to John.

Possibly in the middle of John’s sentence, he stood up and mumbled some sort of excuse- that he had to use the loo, maybe? He wasn’t sure.

Dazed, Sherlock walked to the loo and left John alone in the living room. Thoughts were rushing through his head. He couldn’t take this. Not anymore.

He clicked the lock and slid down the door onto the cold, hard tile floor. His hands were shaking, his vision blurry with held-back tears. He didn’t want to do this. Yes, he did. No, he didn’t. Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he?

Trembling fingers pulled open the medicine cabinet. They pulled out a bottle of painkillers. They opened the cap. They poured precisely ten in Sherlock’s other hand.

Ten, because Sherlock had measured the dosage during a particularly bad night. He knew that each pill had 500mg of acetaminophen in them. Over 5000 in one go would certainly kill a man. It had to.

Shaking, crying- although he didn’t realise it, and he never would have admitted it otherwise- Sherlock popped a pill into his mouth one at a time. It was hard to swallow. His throat was rejecting it, so each pill took longer to take. He was shaking his head, not wanting to finish, but knowing he had already taken at least six.

After number ten, Sherlock broke. The tears came freely, now. He mumbled a shattered apology to his mum and dad, to Mycroft, even, and most definitely to John, whom he didn’t want to leave.

With each whispered name, Sherlock popped another pill between his lips. Now he had taken…what, fourteen? Fifteen? He didn’t really care, even though he did. A small part of him was screaming for someone to care, to stop him, to save him- but to no avail.

After a few choked-out sobs, Sherlock regained some of his composure. He wiped his eyes, which were shamefully red, and stood up. He was going to go about this bravely. The toxic shock wouldn’t kick in for at least a few hours, and by then, he would be asleep. A peaceful death. An easy one.

Sherlock unlocked the door and walked back out to the living room, where John was pacing furiously. He looked pale and frightened.

John must have asked something along the lines of “what did you take?” in a worried tone of voice, but Sherlock shook his head. He probably told him that he took nothing. John still looked concerned. He asked him again. Still, Sherlock shook his head. He felt guilty for lying to John.

John relaxed. He nodded, he sat down. He offered Sherlock dinner, but Sherlock politely refused.

Sherlock lied about something or other and said he had a stomachache, that he wanted to go to bed. John reluctantly allowed him to.

At approximately nine o’clock, Sherlock laid down in bed and wrote a short note in his pocketbook. It told whom he wanted his things left to, even though he knew it wasn’t entirely legal. He trusted Mycroft to sort all that out.

His stomach was already starting to ache. He needed to fall asleep.

And so he did, praying that he would never wake up.

Unfortunately, life was decidedly quite cruel.

By the time the clock read midnight, Sherlock realised he had made a terrible mistake. He woke up gasping for breath as his stomach burned. His face felt hot, and his head was pounding. It was as though his insides were tearing themselves apart.

Dazed, he tried to move, but instead fell out of his bed and hit the floor with a groan. Sherlock was so weak that he could not find the strength to move. He threw up, even though he didn’t want to. It meant that the drugs might not work. Mind racing, chest heaving in mild panic, Sherlock wondered if this was how he would die- suffocating on his own vomit and in horrible agony.

Spirits broken, Sherlock whispered John’s name. It hurt too much. He needed John to save him, or else he was going to die.

Sherlock kept whispering it- his lungs wouldn’t allow him to speak up. But John was already upstairs. He couldn’t hear him. Maybe Sherlock didn’t want him to.

He choked out something along the lines of “I don’t want to die”, but slowly, agonisingly, his eyes closed and he faded into unconsciousness.

You could imagine his surprise when he woke up the next morning, every inch of his body aching. His chest burned, and he kept needing to throw up every few minutes, but he was unmistakably alive.

And in some of the worst pain of his life.

He staggered to his feet and made his way to the loo. He threw up again.

For a brief moment, he felt better. He dreaded another racking dry heave that would take hold of his body.

No dice.

After typing a few things onto his laptop- perhaps updating his website with a few unintelligible entries about the side effects of acetaminophen overdose- he went back to the loo and threw up. He hadn’t eaten anything, so it was just stomach acid that burned his oesophagus and made him nauseous. The pain was growing steadily worse, and John wasn’t even awake yet.

For the next hour, Sherlock allowed the poison to simmer in his body, silently attacking his liver and slowly killing him.

John eventually woke up. Of course he did.

When he saw Sherlock’s pale face, he said nothing. When Sherlock nearly tripped down the steps in delirium, John was concerned, but said nothing.

When Sherlock’s knees buckled beneath him, he said something.

What did you take?

Sherlock slurred a half-hearted response, his head aching and his stomach twisting itself inside out. He felt like he was dying. It was probably because his organs were failing.

He clung onto the banister of the staircase as John desperately shook his shoulders. He couldn’t breathe. His brain was shutting down but his eyes and ears still worked. Everything hurt.

Sherlock saw John pull out his mobile and dial Mrs. Hudson’s number before swearing and pulling him outside.

Sherlock faded in and out of consciousness.

He was in a car.

Then a waiting room.

Then an urgent care.

Disappointed, disapproving, and endlessly pitying. Nobody would stop staring.

A nurse said he would be out of their care the same day.

His liver began to fail.

And then he was in an ambulance. He made a hazily rude comment to the EMT.

They stuck a needle in his arm. They did it wrong. It hurt like hell.

I’m clean, he wanted to tell them. Saying he didn’t do drugs anymore would be a flat-out lie.

They put him in a hospital.

His liver reached critical condition. The levels of acetaminophen in his bloodstream were lethal, yet he was somehow still alive. (It would be a case study for months and months to come.)

Sherlock was in the worst pain of his life.

They gave him morphine.

John sat by his bed during the entire ordeal.

He didn’t say a thing.

He didn’t know what to say.

Sherlock almost died.

John looked like he’d aged many years.

Sherlock felt regret.

John held his hand.

Sherlock wished he could turn back time.

John did, too.

༺═──────────────═༻

(Author’s Note: Based on a true story, sad enough to say. It’s sort of my way of giving past experiences a bit of closure. Imbuing writing with pain and anguish is rather cathartic. To tell you the truth, the fact that I’m alive now puzzles doctors and professionals alike. A case study was written on me. I am one of only eleven cases to have ever survived several doses of acetaminophen- enough to kill multiple grown men- at the age of twelve. I’m an anomaly and the fact that I’m here today writing this only proves how strange I am. I can’t say I’m better now. But I’ve learned my lesson. I’m sorry if it was so intense. If you or a loved one are having suicidal thoughts, please tell someone. Don’t make my mistake. And please, for the love of God, if you’re considering it, don’t kill yourself. It would be the biggest and final mistake of your life. People care about you so much. Much love, - AE.)

#sherlock #bbc #sherlock holmes #john watson #johnlock #benedict cumberbatch #post reichenbach #angst #sad ending #ambiguous ending #angsty #based on a true story #jalexandria #writing #fics #fanfiction #tw suicide i guess?#drug addiction #writing angst to make people suffer

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wickedsingularity · 4 years

Text

Can’t Sleep Without You [One-shot]

Fandom: Star Trek Pairings/characters: Jim Kirk x reader (but not really), Leonard McCoy, mention of Spock Words: 2359 Warnings: Use of medication, use of possible addictive medication, insomnia, nightmares, almost graphic description of a disturbing dream

Note: A somewhat self-indulgent story that I posted a little while ago, but had panic about after a few hours and then deleted. It felt too personal, too self-indulgent, amongst other things. I planned on giving it some time, and then rewrite it so it was less personal. I did give it time, but I haven't rewritten it, just edited. And now I'm giving it another go, hoping that I don't panic this time around and telling myself so fucking what if it's self-indulgent. And hopefully people enjoy it because I do like this story.

Summary: Having suffered from insomnia for a long time, Jim is the only thing that manages to calm me enough to function when it gets bad. But Jim is off on a mission...

"You look like something the cat dragged in, Commander."

"Thanks a lot, Doctor." I glared up at Leonard McCoy as he towered over me. Even if I couldn't stand the stuff, I was now on my third cup of coffee of the day. But I was also on my fourth day of barely any sleep, and I was desperate for something to keep me alert.

"Have you had trouble sleeping again?"

I downed the last of the coffee, cringing as the bitter liquid made its way down and sat the cup down on my empty lunch tray. I closed my eyes for a moment and grit my teeth, trying not to snap at the obvious question. "Looks that way."

The doctor sat down at the other side of the table and looked at me with worry, not even phased by my annoyance. "I've seen you getting worse the last few days, Commander. Why haven't you come to see me?"

"What you gave me three days ago made me wake up after four hours with a nightmare from hell. I'm still seeing ghosts in broad daylight."

He pursed his lips. "Please stop by the medbay at 2200 hours. We'll try something else."

I sighed, knowing that there was only one thing that would help, and it was not something our Chief Medical Officer could provide no matter how good he was. But I nodded. "Yes, doc." Then I pulled myself to my feet, grabbed the tray and went to put it back in the replicator for recycling.

For as long as I could remember, I'd had some form of insomnia. It hadn't been a problem when I was younger, I had been more energetic, more durable, not to mention more careless. But as I got older it got worse. Most of the time I managed to keep it under control, but sometimes it took on a life of its own. And when it did that, there was no medication, meditation or treatment that worked better than the captain of the ship, my boyfriend.

There was just something about Jim that calmed my mind like nothing else.

Funnily enough, insomnia was what brought us together. I had been wandering around the ship one night, after several nights of little sleep. Finding myself in the briefing room, I had sat down in the chair reserved for the captain, put my feet up on the table and gazed out at the streaking stars. After a few minutes of silence, the door had slid open and Captain Kirk had walked in. We were already on friendly terms, so I hadn't bothered taking my feet off the table or giving him the chair, even when he made a joke about it being his.

He'd been having trouble sleeping too, claiming his mind was running at warp 5 after an exhausting meeting in that very briefing room earlier in the day. He'd chosen to go back there in the hopes that it would clear his head.

We sat next to each other, him in the First Officer's chair and I kept occupying his, and chatted for a while. All the while we both seemed to gravitate more and more towards each other and I got sleepier at the same time, until I fell asleep with my head on his shoulder. He had gathered me up in his arms and ordered a site to site transport, dropped me off on my bed and pulled a blanket over me, before going back to his quarters, falling asleep as well. After that, our friendship had shifted and things escalated quickly from there.

Now though, he and Spock and several admirals were trying to work out a peace treaty between the Federation and the Klingon Empire. We had dropped them off on a colony near the Neutral Zone and had then gone off to survey a newborn nebula a couple of systems over. We weren't scheduled to go back for them for another two or three days, the trip itself took a whole day. And my body was kind enough to refuse to sleep properly without Jim now, no matter how much in control of the insomnia I was.

I made it through the day somehow, with at least two more disgusting cups of coffee. Thankfully, there was more than enough to do in Engineering that I decided to not leave once my shift was over, it was better to keep working than sitting in my quarters and feeling like I had been in the middle of a warp core breach. As soon as Jim and Spock came back, Starfleet wanted us to check out an uninhabited planet that a passing cargo ship had detected held large deposits of deuterium and our long-range sensors had detected too much atmospheric disturbance for transporting, so we had to adjust the shielding on several shuttlepods. I was barely conscious when I stumbled into the medbay at 2200 hours.

"Not looking any better, I see." Bones appeared out of nowhere and would have scared the daylights out of me if I hadn't been so sluggish.

"Your bedside manners are always so lovely."

He ushered me over to a biobed and pulled a tricorder from one of his pockets.

"There's no need to scan me. We both know what's wrong. Just give me what you think I need and I'll be off." I looked at the tricorder with annoyance.

He didn't answer but started scanning me anyway, so I sat there patiently, closing my tired eyes and listening to the whirring of the device. "It's a wonder they haven't found a cure for this yet, after 200 years of research," he muttered to himself.

I looked up at him and saw him analysing the results. "You've found a cure for some pretty serious viruses on your career, why don't you find the cure for this?" I argued.

"This isn't a virus, sweetheart."

"Still, I'm sure you're brilliant enough to find a solution." Bones always said that flattery would get you nowhere with him, but I found that more often than not, he enjoyed having his ego stroked. He was that good too.

He just huffed and went over to a cabinet. I saw him pull out a vial and fill up a hypospray. "I know you have tried this before and it didn't work so well. But that was a few years ago, it might work better for you now." I nodded and obediently bared my neck to him. One touch of the cold metal to my skin and it was done. "I want you to go straight to bed now. It should work quickly and you have to be in bed when it does."

"Yes, sir."

It did not work. Or, I did sleep through the night, but the dreams had me waking up more exhausted than if I hadn't slept at all. It had been worse than last time, the irrational, weird and disgusting dreams had just come at me, one after the other. I would honestly prefer good old-fashioned nightmares over this. I called Bones as soon as I had showered away the night and he was at my door by the time I had dressed.

"Sit down," he barked, the tricorder out and a deep furrow between his brows. "What happened?"

I told him all about the night, even gave him some snippets of the nasty dreams for emphasis, each one of them still crystal clear and disturbing in my mind. The way he cringed at some of it, told me just how disturbing they had been. It wasn't normal to dream that you're pooping out severed arms, after all. *

"This is very strange," he said after he was done scanning. "Barely any light or deep sleep at all. Dream sleep almost all night. I've heard about a few phenomena that cause a person to not have any dream sleep at all, but not nothing but dream sleep. You're not getting any more of this medication, and I'm making a note in your medical file."

I sighed, trying to think about what I could do to help myself that night. But Bones had suddenly gone very quiet. I looked up at him and there was a deep furrow between his brows, his eyes gazing down at the tricorder, but it looked like he was mentally lightyears away. "What's wrong, doc?"

He didn't react right away, but then he blinked and looked down at me. "There is something we can try, but it can be highly addictive if the dosage is off by even a fraction. Call Scotty and tell him you'll be a bit late. I need to take some blood for analysing."

All through that day, I felt a bit apprehensive about what Bones was planning on giving me later. And I missed Jim so much it ached. This was the worst it had been without him and it was also the longest we had gone without each other since we got together. I missed him because of his absence, of course. But in my sleep-deprived state, it felt a million times worse. It felt like there was a gaping, bleeding hole inside me where he should be. I needed him to calm my mind, to kiss me and tell me it's okay if I can't sleep, that I'll sleep when I'm ready and he would be there with me all the while. I needed him to breathe with me. I needed to feel him. He was able to relax me enough that I could function.

After working well past my shift again and forcing down too many cups of coffee, I forced back tears of exhaustion and desperation and went to the medbay, got the mysterious hypospray and went straight to bed.

Apart from the fact that I woke up every ten to fifteen minutes, this one worked a lot better. In the morning, I felt less like I had been hit with a meteor shower and more like I had just tumbled through a thick atmosphere without a spacesuit. Bones came to check up on me in engineering after lunch and I asked if I could get a higher dosage, hoping that maybe that would finally be what helped me sleep through the night. But he refused, he had given me as much as my body could handle without becoming addicted or suffering other nasty side effects. In defeat, I told him if I couldn't have a higher dosage, I didn't want it at all. Then I started counting the hours until Jim came home, and drank all the coffee I could stomach so I wouldn't feel like a zombie.

I was just starting to doze off. It was probably just an hour or so until my alarm, but I let sleep take me. I would take anything I could get. What felt like just a minute later though, the computer spoke to me.

"The time is 0630 hours. The time is 0630 hours."

"No no no," I moaned in annoyance, screwing my eyes shut to the illumination in the room becoming stronger. But then a pair of lips landed on my cheek.

"Forgot to turn that off," someone said.

I didn't process this right away, but in the back of my head I knew that voice and knew it was important, so I forced myself to open my eyes to the way too bright room. Jim was there next to me and judging by his one barely open eye, he had just woken up too. "Hi..."

My heart was beating wildly in my chest, the room seemed to be spinning a little, my vision getting blurry, but then he smiled with his eyes closed and started to clumsily kiss my cheek and jaw and everything cleared up.

"When did you come home?" I whispered.

Jim didn't answer but kept trying to kiss me, but he was struggling, he too seemed exhausted, not able to aim. "A while. Laid down minutes ago. Tired. Want lips."

I made a happy sound and rolled around to face him. He opened his eyes a fraction, revealing the brilliant blue I loved so much. His lips landed on my nose, then my cheek before finally finding my lips. The gaping aching hole inside me seemed to vanish. I moved closer, pressing my lips and my body to his and everything inside me seemed to settle down, mind was quiet, all tension washed away. When I needed air, I pulled back just enough so I could stare into his eyes and see every little shade of blue in them. "You're home."

"The time is 0635 hours. The time is 0635 hours."

"Home and tired." His breath washed over me when he spoke and I wanted to breathe nothing but him for the rest of my life.

"Ditto. Haven't slept since you left."

"I know, Bones told me. I'm so sorry, Supernova."

"'s okay. Just missed you." My voice broke, and all the frustrations from the past week made a few tears fall. Jim snuck one of his arms around my waist and I moved even closer, burying my face into his neck, breathing in the smell of stars and nebulas and galaxies. "How were the peace talks?" I asked between lazy kisses to the soft skin on the side of his neck.

Jim didn't reply right away. Instead, he kissed my hair, breathing it in for a moment. "Exhausting. I'll tell you all about it later."

"The time is 0640 hours. The time is 0640 hours."

"Have to get up," I mumbled against his skin, but my entire body felt like lead in Jim's arms.

"Computer, turn off the alarm." A gentle beep confirmed it was now turned off. Then Jim pulled back just enough to look into my eyes. "Bones told me to tell you that he has declared you not fit for duty today and that he has ordered bed rest, and if you disobey his orders, he will not hesitate to have you strapped to a biobed with a force field."

I blinked. "But..."

"And your Captain concurs. He recommends you spend the day with him in bed and sleep." He was grinning at me. "He's been flying fancy admirals in a shuttle all night and is in need of some tender loving care from the love of his life."

I knew there were things I had to do in Engineering. It would take time and almost all the Engineering staff to get the shuttlepods ready in time for exploring the deuterium planet. But as I looked into Jim's eyes, I felt exhaustion all the way to my bone marrow, and there was no point arguing with that, or the Captain and the Chief Medical Officer. I teared up with relief and buried my face in Jim's neck again.

Jim settled down on his back and pulled me halfway on top of him. I swallowed down my emotions and rested my head on his shoulder, tangled my legs with his, and laid my arm across his stomach. Peace filled me and I barely had time to mumble love you before I was fast asleep.

Note: * Yes, I have actually dreamed that as a side effect of taking melatonin.

#jim kirk x reader #chris pine x reader #jim kirk imagine #chris pine imagine #star trek imagine #jim kirk #jim kirk x oc #jim kirk x you #jim kirk fanfiction #jim kirk angst #jim kirk fluff #chris pine #chris pine x oc #chris pine x you #chris pine fanfiction #chris pine angst #chris pine fluff #star trek fanfiction

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 4 years

Text

Logan's Flawless Plan to Getting Out of Being Sick

Ao3

Summary: Logan was sick. He was well-aware of this fact. He was also well-aware that he had better things to be doing than lying about and ‘resting.’ His husband disagrees Content: Sickfic, fever + coughing are the only mentioned symptoms, brief unsafe binding, one alcohol mention, taking more medicine than the dosage amount, the consequences of that (gaps in time/memory, minor hallucinations, senses going fuzzy), half-collapsing, swearing, transmale!logan, transmale!remy, lots of sappy losleep Pairing: Romantic losleep Notes: Three of them: -Based on this post -You’ll notice Logan doesn’t try to keep Remy from getting sick. This is bc they both know Remy’s already doomed to get sick, given he and Logan live together. This was important to me to say bfchsdf -This story’s in Logan’s POV. And Logan is very loopy. Keep this in mind.

Logan was sick

“You’re not going to work today.”

Terribly, horribly sick.

“Yes I am.”

But that wasn’t going to stop him from doing his job, damnit.

Logan heard his husband sigh as he tried to properly tie his tie for the fifth time. The normally easy, effortless action had become difficult, his fingers slow and fumbling as he tried to pull the loop together. He dropped the fabric with a huff after another attempt failed.

Hands that weren’t his own entered his field of vision, tugging the tie off his neck. “You shouldn’t be wearing this anyways.” Remy murmured, likely tossing it to the side. “You’re already coughing enough without it.”

“I’m not coug-” Logan broke off halfway through his sentence, taking a moment to cough into his arm and think about the irony of the moment, “-coughing that much.”

“Mm-hmm. I call bullshit, darling.” Remy said, brushing some of Logan’s hair behind his ear before resting his hand against Logan’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re sick, is what you are.”

“No, I just-” Logan once more paused to cough, Remy guiding him to sit back down on the bed when a few seconds passed and he was still coughing.

“You want to finish that sentence?” Remy asked, tone slightly mocking but mostly concerned.

“Alright, fine. I’m sick.” Logan admitted before continuing on petulantly, “But I’m still going to work.”

“No, you’re not. You’ll just make yourself worse, and you’ll get all your students sick while you’re at it.”

“They have better immune systems, and I‘ll keep plenty of distance between myself and them.” Logan reasoned. “I’m going to work.”

Remy shook his head. “You have a minor death wish, babe. What’s so wrong with staying home and resting and being doted on by your wonderful boyfriend?”

“Husband, Remy, we’re married.”

Remy’s eyes widened in both surprise and recollection, and Logan let out a little content sigh, leaning his head against Remy’s shoulder. “We are, aren’t we?” Remy said, voice joyfully awed.

“We are.” Logan confirmed. “I got you a very pretty ring for it and we exchanged some very cheesy vows and everything.”

“I know. Just forgot for a moment.” Remy said, raising Logan’s left hand so he could press a kiss both to the back of his hand and over his wedding ring. Logan knew he should tell him not to, warn him of germs and the like, but he found it doubtful Remy would listen to him anyways. “Now. What’s so wrong with staying home and resting and being doted on by your wonderful husband?”

“I have important lessons to teach. And it’s unfair to just abandon my students with no warning.” Logan answered. “They at least need a warning that I’m not going to be there tomorrow.”

Remy rubbed circles into the back of Logan’s hand. “You really want to go in, huh.”

“Yes. But only for today, I promise- I’ll stay home tomorrow.”

“I’m not sure you can make it through the day, babe.” Remy said, concern once more leaking into his voice. “Your temp’s real high, and you haven’t even been up for an hour yet.”

“One class then. I can leave a note for the rest of the classes. Please, Rem.” Logan begged. “Just one class.”

Remy pulled his head back a bit, still allowing Logan’s head to remain on his shoulder while also letting him look at Logan’s face. “Why do you want to go in so badly, hun?”

“I promised my students I wouldn’t flake out on them if they didn’t flake out on me. I have to keep that promise.”

“I hardly count being too sick to work ‘flaking out.’”

“Please, Remy, please?” Was Logan’s only response, using his new advantage of Remy being able to see his face by pouting. Remy always folded when he pouted. “One class. Just so I can leave notes for the students. Please.”

Remy’s resolve against his pouting husband lasted for five seconds. “You know I hate it when you do it.” He huffed, though he didn’t sound very annoyed as he moved to card his fingers through Logan’s hair. “One class. That’s all.”

Logan let out a sigh of relief and slumped further against Remy. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Remy said. “But I’m coming with you to make sure you don’t try to stay longer. And you’re staying home tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. And you’re going to get changed into your comfy clothes. You don’t need to be in your polo and slacks right now.”

“Fine.” Logan said neutrally, still just thankful he had managed to convince Remy to let him go at all. Hopefully, going through the motions of the first class would make him feel better, thereby making him less sick, thereby letting him further convince Remy he was fine enough to work the whole day. A foolproof plan. Probably. “Can I at least leave my binder on?”

Remy went stiff next to him, which Logan thought was rude, considering Remy’s shoulder was much nicer to lay against when the muscles in it weren’t so tense. “Hun, please tell me you’re joking.”

“About what?”

“Having your binder on while you’re having coughing fits, that’s what!” Remy said, sounding slightly frantic. “Love, you know I’d give you anything I could, but you need to take that off. Now.”

Logan whined against Remy’s shoulder, not particularly inclined to feel childish for doing so. “I like it on.”

“I know you do, starshine, and normally I do too, but right now I’d really, really like it if it was off of you, okay?” Remy said, still sounding frantic though his voice was very gentle. Ah. That meant he was really worried. Maybe Logan should take the binder off.

“...Alright.” Logan mumbled, trying to not feel too put out. He was sure there was a good reason Remy wanted him to take his binder off. Granted, at the moment, he couldn’t remember it, but he tried not to worry about that. He didn’t need to remember all the important stuff. Remy would remind him. Remy was good like that. Remy was so, so good.

“Alright. That’s good.” Remy said, sounding calmer. He pressed a kiss to Logan’s forehead before getting up, making sure Logan wouldn’t fall over without him supporting Logan’s head before stepping away. “I’mma grab you your sweater, okay? The nice, big lumpy one. And some other comfy clothes. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Logan nodded as he started to tug his shirt off, aware that his polo didn’t count as comfy clothes. Remy nodded with him before turning and wandering out of the room. Logan wasn’t sure where he was going- to be frank, Logan wasn’t completely sure where the door he had gone through led to, but he was sure that wherever Remy was going, it was the right place to be going.

Though it took a fair amount of fumbling, Logan managed to shed his shirt and binder, having moved on to fighting his belt buckle by the time Remy returned.

“Here, let me help you with that.” Remy said, dropping a pile of clothes next to Logan as he easily undid the belt, pulling it free of its loops before helping Logan to pull his pants off as well. “There we go.”

“I took off my binder.” Logan said, a bit abruptly. He knew that Remy could see that the binder was off and next to him, but he felt he had to say it too, just in case, to make sure Remy wouldn’t start sounding frantic and worried again. Logan didn’t like when Remy sounded like that. Remy shouldn’t have to be frantic and worried.

“I know, love, I saw.” Remy said, reaching up to cup Logan’s cheek. “And I’m so proud of you for doing that. You did very good, yeah?”

Logan nodded. “Yeah.”

Remy smiled at him. “Let’s get you into these nice comfy clothes now, okay? Then we can go and make sure you’re not late for class while also being very cozy and very lumpy. And I’ll be lumpy too so we can both suffer the world binder-less together, because I’m pretty sure that’s what true love is.”

“True love is you.” Logan said, and while he wasn’t quite sure where the words came from, or exactly what they meant, he was sure he meant them.

Remy chuckled. “You’re cute when you’re loopy.” He said, picking up the first article of clothing on the pile- a pair of dark sweatpants. “Now come on. Let’s get you dressed.”

It took ten minutes for Logan to get dressed, mostly because he insisted on trying to put on each article of clothing himself, only to be forced to accept Remy’s help when he proved unable to fully pull anything over his head. He did, however, manage to get the pants on by himself, and he decided that was the greatest achievement of his life.

Remy got himself dressed while Logan put on his shoes and prepared his ‘secret weapon’, only taking three minutes to get on an outfit nearly identical to Logan’s, which Logan considered to be unfair. He looked good, too, even in his bigger jacket and with his tousled hair. Logan felt and looked like a lump. A hot, frustrated lump. Though maybe that was the minor fever.

Logan took a swig of his secret weapon and tried not to choke on the taste. Hopefully the fever would be taken care of soon enough. And he could deal with being a lump if it made Remy happy.

At Logan’s grimace after his sip, Remy, who was waiting for his coffee to finish brewing, raised an eyebrow. “Forgot to add the sugar to your tea?”

Logan shook his head. “Not tea.”

“...What is it?”

“My secret weapon.”

Remy frowned. “Logan, honey, I can’t let you drink vodka while you’re sick. Or whiskey. Or whatever alcohol you have in there. And I definitely can’t let you bring it to school-”

“It’s not alcohol!” Logan defended, just managing to bite back on a ‘mostly.’ That wasn’t going to help him or his mission.

Remy’s eyes widened. “Rat poison is worse.”

“Why do you- it’s not rat poison either, I promise.” Logan said, taking Remy’s hand and squeezing it. “It’s just some tea. My throat’s raw, that’s all.”

“...I thought it wasn’t tea?”

“Did I say that?” Logan asked, because he really wasn’t sure. Everything felt fuzzy, memory included. He hoped that meant the secret weapon was kicking in and not that his fever was getting worse. He had things to do.

Remy was still watching him a bit too closely and Logan realized he hadn’t given a very good answer. “We should be going.” He said, hoping that would distract Remy. He knew pushing the point that he was only drinking tea would result in Remy wanting to taste said tea to be sure he wasn’t lying and Logan knew that wasn’t going to work.

Luckily for him, Remy let it slide.

“Yeah, we should.” He agreed, reaching over to grab his coffee before wrapping his free arm around Logan’s waist, pulling him close as they started to head for the door. “I already got the keys in my pocket.”

“I can walk perfectly well on my own, you know.” Logan pointed out, even as he leaned into Remy’s grasp. Just because he didn’t need to be coddled didn’t mean he didn’t like to be near to his husband.

Remy chuckled. “I know, babe, but I also know that you keep wobbling with every other step. I don’t need you adding a bad fall to your list of problems.” He teased. When he got to the door, however, he stopped before opening it, glancing at Logan with light concern. “Are you sure you want to go to work? I know you want to warn your students you’ll be gone, but the more rest you get, the quicker you’ll be better-”

Logan silenced Remy by leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. “I’ll be just fine, dear.” Logan said as smoothly as he could. “But your worry is appreciated.”

Remy didn’t seem wholly convinced, but he still nodded, pressing a quick return kiss to the top of Logan’s head. “Alright. I believe you.” He said before he moved to open the door, somehow managing the feat despite still holding his coffee cup. Leaning slightly more into his touch, Logan allowed Remy to lead him out to the car.

The ride to the university Logan worked at was unimpressive, mostly due to the fact that Logan barely remembered a minute of it. He felt as if all his senses were going fuzzy at the edges, what little focus he had left becoming untrustworthy as he could’ve sworn he saw green stars dancing across the windshield at some point during the drive. The lack of feeling was, however, sufficiently numbing the pain of his fever, so Logan was taking that as a plus.

He only realized they were at the university when Remy was shaking his arm, looking at him funny as Logan partially snapped out of the daze he had been in.

“Are you sure you’re okay, sugar?” Remy asked, sounding once more worried. Logan frowned. He didn’t want Remy to sound worried. “We can go home if you need to…”

Logan shook his head instinctively when he heard home. He couldn’t go home. The whole point of this was to be at work and get into his schedule and pretend everything was fine until it was and feel better so that Remy didn’t have to be worried.

“If you’re sure.” Remy said, though he certainly didn’t sound very sure. Logan frowned more as Remy helped him get out of the car, leaning against him without comment this time. Remy made a very good support. Especially when the entire world was jumping up and down. Repeatedly.

The walk from the parking lot to his classroom was not one Logan remembered, but Logan tried not to let that bother him. He must have drunk more of his secret weapon, though, because the world was starting to become easier to focus on again. The world was also filled with purple and yellow scars that seemed to be tearing apart the fabric of reality, but Logan was fairly certain those were always there.

A blink took him from outside his classroom to inside, where he found his class already waiting for him, all eyes on him and Remy as soon as they entered. Good. They were there, and he could see them clearly. Double win.

“Professor…?” One of the students (send Logan home if he knew which one) said hesitantly. Probably confused by why Remy was there.

Logan patted Remy’s shoulder, hoping that would signal to him that Logan didn’t need his support anymore. Remy promptly let go of him, albeit slowly, watching Logan carefully to make sure he didn’t fall over the moment he stood on his own. Did Logan wobble? No, not at all.

...Maybe a little.

Logan rubbed at the new bruise he had on his hip that may or may not have come from him stumbling into a desk, hard. Okay, maybe a lot. But it was fine, he was fine- he hadn’t fallen over, yet, and that was what really mattered.

By the time he had made it to his desk, set in the center of the front of the room for a reason Logan was sure was very logical, all eyes were on him, including the eyes that were normally still on their phones or closed in faux rest. Another point in his favor. No need to call the class’s attention when he already had it.

Of course, now he needed something to start the lesson with. What was the lesson anyways? Actually, while he was wondering, what class did he teach? How was Logan going to start a class he knew nothing about?

Logan’s gaze flickered to the corner of the classroom, ignoring the sea of concerned looks from his students to focus on the concerned look from Remy, who had even taken his sunglasses off just so Logan could see it. If he had ever had them on. Had he? Didn’t matter. Unimportant. What was important was that Logan had an idea: if he didn’t know how to start class, he would simply steal Remy’s style.

That thought (and no others) in mind, Logan slammed his thermos on top of his desk.

The entire class, Remy included, startled at the noise, all thrown off by it. The only reason it didn’t startle Logan was because he didn’t hear it. At the newly bewildered expressions of everyone in front of him, he cleared his throat, still channeling Remy as he began,

“There’s more pressure in my sinuses right now then there is at the bottom of the sea.” A lie- the real problem Logan was dealing with at the moment was the fever he couldn’t feel but could taste (it tasted peppery, which was appropriate, Logan decided). That and the fact that Logan didn’t think it was humanly possible for his sinuses to be more pressurized than the bottom of the sea. Maybe it was. He should test that.

But not now. Now the class was clearly waiting for him to continue, and continue he would, because he had planned an entire paragraph of this and he was going to say all of it so long as he had vocal cords.

“This,” Logan paused. The container in his hand had a name. Too bad he couldn’t remember it. Logan clicked his tongue, deciding a substitution would have to do before he started again, “This thing’s full of NyQuil.”

That sparked a reaction- gasps from multiple students, and one person he was fairly certain was his husband yelling, “That thing’s full of WHAT!?” Logan nodded to himself. Good. Reactions were good. They meant that his class was following along.

“I’m going to drink it while I teach,” Logan went on, ignoring the continued gasps of shock and possible horror, “and when your heads are replaced by swirling rainbows, I will cancel the rest of class.”

That, of course, was a ridiculous timeline to set. The students’ heads would never become rainbows, swirling or otherwise, which mean Logan wouldn’t have to cancel class, which meant he could teach the full class, which would certainly go over as well in reality as it had in his head, and when Remy saw how well he was doing he’d let him teach for the whole day through. It was a foolproof plan. He truly was a genius.

“Professor… is that safe?”

Logan was pulled from his thoughts and mental back patting by one of the students in the front row. He wasn’t quite sure who they were, probably because their face was blurring into the student’s next to him. He took a swig of the NyQuil. Hopefully that would fix things.

“It’s perfectly safe, as long as I don’t die while doing it.” Logan answered, which was true. Another true thing was that Logan… didn’t know if this was safe. But NyQuil was medicine, so it couldn’t be too bad to take extra of it, right? Right. Right right right right right right-

“Sir, maybe you should go home.” Another student spoke up, sounding concerned. A chorus of agreeing murmurs rose at the suggestion.

“That’s what I told him to do!” Remy added from his spot leaning against the back wall. “But he said he had an obligation to not ‘flake out’ on all y’all lovelies.”

“That’s a great sentiment, prof, but uh… really unneeded.” A student who Logan could see right through said. “We’ll be fine without you for a bit… you should get your rest.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Logan said dismissively, taking another sip from his thing of NyQuil. He no longer cringed at the taste, mostly due in part to the fact he could no longer feel his tongue- therefore meaning he could no longer taste much of anything. “I’m perfectly fine to teach. There’s no need for me to rest.”

“Bullshit.” Remy said, pushing off of the wall and walking towards the stairs, though he didn’t go down them just yet. “I love you hun, but that’s bullshit. Do you even know what you’re teaching today?”

Logan frowned. “Of course I know. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Then teach us.” A student near the back said, which Logan considered rude, because he was fairly certain that student was ganging up with his husband to… something. They were certainly doing something. Something trap-y probably. Normally Logan was very good at avoiding traps. But he had to see them coming to do so.

“I will.” Logan told them flatly, doing his best to look as put-together as he could as he turned down to look at his desk. Surely, his lesson plan was somewhere there. That would have all the answers he currently couldn’t remember.

Luckily for him, his lesson plan was right in the middle of the desk, easy to see and grab. Perfect. Now, if the words on it would just stop dancing, Logan would have everything he needed to convince his husband and class he was perfectly fine.

Logan drank more of his no-longer-a-secret secret weapon as he lifted the paper up to his face, hoping that by decreasing the distance between his face and the paper he would also decrease the dancing of the letters. He was fairly certain it would work because ‘distance’ ‘decrease’ and ‘dance’ all started with the letter ‘d.’

Sadly, his perfect theory was somehow proven wrong- the letters got closer together when he raised the paper, but they didn’t stop dancing, now waving and wiggling in place, as if to spite Logan and his attempts to read them.

“Love?” Logan jerked as he turned towards the source of the word, surprised to find Remy only a few feet away from him. When had he gotten so close? “What are you doing?”

Logan waved his lesson plan at Remy. Wasn’t it obvious? “Checking the lesson plan.” He answered as he took another sip from his thing, ignoring Remy’s frown when he did so.

“I know I’m not a professor, hun, but I think that’s an attendance sheet.”

Now Logan frowned as he moved the paper back in front of his face, squinting at it. It seemed the letters were now willing to still, albeit only a little, just so that Logan could see it was, in fact, a list of student names followed by boxes that, when marked, could indicate a wide variety of things. None of the boxes could, however, tell Logan what his lesson was.

“So it is.” Logan commented neutrally, flipping the paper over to see if perhaps the lesson plan was hiding there. “So it is.”

“Yeah… sweetheart, I’m starting to think it was a bad idea letting you come here.” Remy said, prompting Logan to look up from his search for the lesson plan to focus on Remy instead. That proved hard to do, however, given his face was blurring into a swirl. Logan frowned, feeling distressed. Remy’s face wasn’t supposed to look like that. It was supposed to be pretty and have a chin and brilliant eyes and other features Logan was sure he also loved.

“Your face is wrong.” Maybe if Remy knew his face was wrong, he’d fix it, and it would look right and Logan wouldn’t have to feel distressed and upset and very unable to focus on mundane things such as teaching.

“And you’re proving my point.” Remy responded, though he didn’t seem to be trying to fix his face, which was very unhelpful of him. Though maybe Remy couldn’t see that his face was wrong. Maybe only Logan could because of his stupid fever. Of course it was still messing with him. Nothing another sip of NyQuil couldn’t fix-

“Yeah, we’re not having any more of that.” The thing was taken from Logan’s hands before he could actually get any of the drink into his mouth. He looked at Remy in betrayal as his husband opened the lid and glanced into the container. “How much of this stuff have you drunk, anyways?”

“Not enough.” Logan said, reaching out to take it back. Remy just stepped away, holding the NyQuil out of reach. “Remy.”

Remy just shook his head. “Nope. No more of this for you.”

Logan huffed and stepped towards Remy, reaching out to try and make a grab for the thing. “Let me-”

Remy grabbed the hand that Logan had put out, stopping his attempt and his sentence. “I said nope, sugar.”

Logan’s focus had fallen away from retrieving his NyQuil, however. He was now looking concentratedly at their linked hands, slightly wiggling his fingers in Remy’s grasp- experimentally, not attempting to escape his hold.

“...You good there, hun?”

“Warm.” Was Logan’s only response. Remy tilted his head to the side, confused, before his expression became one of understanding. Still holding Logan’s hand, Remy bent over and placed the thing on the ground before standing back up and moving closer to Logan, taking his other hand in his newly free one.

“Is that nice?” Remy asked, gently, which Logan vaguely registered meant he was trying to lower Logan’s guard and that that was Bad. It was, however, working, as Logan was now fairly certain anything outside of holding Remy’s hands was completely and utterly unimportant.

“Very good.” He said, very eloquently in his opinion. “You’re very good.”

“I know I am.” Remy responded, squeezing Logan’s hands. “I’m so good, in fact, I’m going to take you home now, because I should never have let you leave the house. A mistake, I note, was yours since you used your pout on me knowing full well I would not stand against it.”

“But my classes-”

“Would really prefer you stay home and rest.” A voice that was not Remy’s said. Logan was fairly certain that meant it was one of his students, but he didn’t look to check. He was extremely busy looking at Remy. “You look like you’re going to collapse, prof- just take the day off.”

“I’m fine.” Logan said automatically.

“None of us believe that lie, love.” Remy said as he released one of Logan’s hands. Logan whined at that, and Remy softly shushed him as he moved to rest a hand on Logan’s forehead. “I think the NyQuil’s made your fever worse-”

Remy probably continued speaking after that, but Logan stopped listening, instead choosing to lean into the warmth that was now against his already too-warm forehead. The motion of leaning in was slight, barely a shift at all, but it was also apparently too much, and Logan’s hard fought for balance completely failed him. He tipped forwards, not bothering to try and slow his descent as he began mentally writing his will.

Arms, warm arms, arms that were warm, wrapped around his midsection, stopping Logan from falling all the way over. “And look at that! You’re actually collapsing now. We’re going home, Lo.”

“Mhmmm.” Was all Logan managed. Remy was warm. Remy was really warm. And nice. So nice. Had Logan been trying to work? That seemed silly. Work wasn’t Remy.

Speaking of Remy, he was shifting Logan, pulling him up a bit and resting his head against Remy’s shoulder, arms wrapping more solidly around Logan, all of which were actions Logan was immensely favorable to. He was even warmer, now, and even closer to Remy, and Logan considered these to be very good things.

“I love you.” Logan murmured into Remy’s shoulder, because he decided right then it was very important Remy know that. “You’re very warm. And nice. And warm. And pretty. Very pretty. Too pretty.”

Remy chuckled. “Don’t mind him.” Remy spoke, though Logan got the impression he wasn’t talking to Logan. “He gets sappy when he’s loopy.”

Logan glared at nothing. He wasn’t saying he loved Remy because he was loopy. He was saying that because he loved Remy a lot. More than he loved… planets. And pencils. And peaches.

“You’re not making any sense, starshine.” Remy told him, and Logan realized he had been speaking out loud. Remy pressed a kiss to the top of Logan’s forehead, and he melted even further into his grasp. “But I love you too.”

Logan smiled into Remy’s shoulder, ignoring the background noise of ‘awww’s he was sure was coming from his class. Remy scoffed at them.

“Can we go home now?” Logan asked, because home had bed and bed meant lying down and most of the time lying down meant lying down with Remy and that sounded very nice to Logan right then.

“Of course, honey. Can you walk?”

Logan considered the question for a moment. He probably could walk, if he put his mind to it, given he had mostly walked here and he had been walking earlier. But, if he was going to be Logan (and not Frank, why would he be Frank if he was telling the truth-), he didn’t particularly want to put his mind to it. So he shook his head.

“I think you’re lying.” Remy said, but he still shifted so he could pick Logan up- a move he had perfected back in their courting days as soon as he learned it was a near guarantee to fluster Logan. Instinctively, Logan’s arms wrapped around the back of Remy’s neck and he once more tucked his head into Remy’s shoulder.

“Do you guys, uh… know what to do from here?” Remy asked, the question clearly directed at Logan’s class. “Because I don’t think you’ll be seeing your teach for a good week.”

“You said two days.” Logan mumbled into Remy’s shoulder, though not very aggressively.

“Yes I did.” Remy agreed as he started moving, assumedly towards the door. “That was before you drank half a bottle of NyQuil in an hour and collapsed.”

Logan nodded into Remy’s shoulder. That made sense. Remy was good at sense. Remy was good at a lot of things.

“If anyone asks, we’ll say the professor was here for the full period before leaving.” A student assured Remy.

“And I’ll hold onto his thermos until he gets back!” Another chimed in. “Since you probably want to keep the NyQuil as far away from him as possible for now.”

The class laughed and Remy did too. “Yeah, no, I’m tossing out whatever NyQuil’s left at home. If you get a chance, I highly suggest you dump out the contents of the thermos too.”

“Will do!”

Logan felt Remy nod his head. “Great. So… that was easier to settle than I expected. Though I guess you’re all getting a free class period now.”

“We’ll use it responsibly, Mr. Professor’s Husband.”

“You don’t need to lie to me, kid, I skipped every class I could get away with.” Remy said before he pressed another kiss to Logan’s head. Logan, who was more or less completely asleep, made a little happy noise. “And then I married a teacher. Life’s funny.”

Remy let out a happy little sigh and Logan smiled at his happiness. “That’s enough from me. You kids have a nice day.”

And there was a good chance that something else was said or done after that, but it truly was very cozy pressed against Remy’s chest, and Logan saw no reason to bother keeping awake when Remy was taking care of everything so well. So he didn’t.

Logan wasn’t sure when he woke back up, but he didn’t mind that much. He did know that he was at home and in bed and that was nice. Logan also knew that the NyQuil was at least partially out of his system because his fever was back and it was back with a vengeance. He groaned, turning over and pressing his face into the nearest pillow.

Next to him, he heard Remy laugh, and a hand soon settled in Logan’s hair to card fingers through it. “Hey there, darling.”

“I feel like shit.”

“That’s what happens when you’re sick but you still try to go to work.” Remy softly teased. “And when you drink way too much NyQuil.”

“It was my secret weapon.” Logan protested. Remy laughed again.

“Maybe stick to the more conventional methods of healing next time?” Remy suggested.

“Cuddles?”

“I was thinking more homemade chicken soup and watching old game show reruns, but I suppose cuddles might work too.” Remy said. “Why? Is there a particular reason you mention cuddles?”

Logan huffed as he flopped over, glaring at a very amused looking Remy as he grabbed at his shirt, tugging as well as he could on it to try and pull Remy down. “Don’t be obtuse.”

“Oh you’re so weak- oh, babe, this is sad-” Remy laughed at Logan’s poor attempts to force him to cuddle, gently taking Logan’s hands and holding them in his own. Remy smiled at him. “You’re cute.”

“I’m sick.” Logan responded. “Cuddle me.”

“And why should I do that, now?”

“Because you love me.” Logan told him, shuffling over a bit so that he was closer to Remy, making the pout he then put on more effective. “And I love you.”

“I can’t believe you’re using the pout again.” Remy chided.

Logan pouted harder.

Remy sighed, but he still pulled up the edge of the blankets and sheets, sliding in next to Logan. “One of these days I’m going to find a way to say no to you, you know.”

Logan wrapped his arms around Remy’s chest, pulling him closer and turning his chest into a pillow. “But will you want to?” He mumble asked, not as concerned with the answer as he was with falling back asleep and trapping Remy on the bed with him.

Remy chuckled as he wrapped his arms around Logan as well, seemingly completely alright with becoming trapped as he dropped a kiss on Logan’s forehead. “Never. Because while you may have proven today that you can be wrong of many things, you did get one thing very, very right.”

“Oh?” Logan hummed, only half-interested in knowing what he had gotten right.

“Even if you do stupid things like go to work sick and bind while sick and try to drink NyQuil like it’s water, I still love you.” Remy said sweetly, once more running his fingers through Logan’s hair to help further lull him back asleep. “And as such I will always want to say yes to you.”

Logan let out a small laugh. “You’re a sap.”

“You should’ve heard yourself earlier, hun.” Remy said, chuckling when Logan’s only response was a hum and snuggling closer to Remy. “I’ll tell you about it later. Go to bed, starshine. I’ve got nowhere else to be and nothing better to do than love you.”

Deciding he’d mock Remy’s accidental rhyme later, Logan happily did as his husband said, putting aside the burn of his fever to focus on Remy’s comfortable, loving warmth, quickly falling into a sleep as gentle as Remy’s embrace.

#losleep #ts logan #ts sleep #ts remy #the cryptid speaks #fanfic #fanfiction #ts sides #sanders sides #sickfic #this is v self-indulgent i hope y'all know shbdjfs #also i dislke the ending but eh endings always suck abfhsjdf #bls enjoy my chaotic stupid logan and his loving husband #also i've never taken too much nyquil so idk if logan's experience is accurate #bls for the love of goodness do not test this #don't be chaotic stupid that's logan's job

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punksarahreese · 4 years

Note

I haven't had another episode, except last night was touch and go + Mr Crockett

Episode | Crockett Marcel

Excerpt from a psych!AU I’ll never write; Crockett is an inpatient in the psych ward and he has therapy with his favourite Psychiatrist

Prompt: “I haven’t had another episode, except last night was touch and go.”

Word count: 1797

CW: Psych ward, talks of depressive episodes, brief mention of dermatillomania, schizoaffective disorder, child death

***

“Mr. Marcel?” the voice at his door made Crockett groan, recognizing the voice as the nurse who always disturbed him at ridiculous hours. He wanted to have a talk with whoever decided pill time would be at six in the morning, how was he supposed to “heal” if they never let him get any sleep?

“Maggie, can’t you let me sleep for another hour,” he rolled over and sighed when she shook her head. Medication and vitals were a morning routine, every day before the sun even thought about rising completely. Routine was good, they told him, a routine would help with figuring out what was reality and what was his mind playing tricks. He didn’t think so, nothing would stop the fact that he saw his daughter clear as day despite the 5th anniversary of her death steadily approaching.

“Up and at ‘em, mister,” the nurse mused as she marched over with his tray and the cart carrying the monitors. He obliged because he had no choice but to do so, even though he hated the way the pills made him feel. Antipsychotics were something Crockett hated, ever since his diagnosis back when he was just twenty-one. They made him feel incorrect, as if he was floating through life with blinders on. He knew they were supposed to help, to show him what was really there, but he couldn’t help but think it made him more miserable.

“You have one-on-one therapy today,” she reminded him as she watched Crockett take his pills and then checked under his tongue to ensure he wasn’t hiding them. He had tried that a couple times and sometimes it worked on the younger nurses, but not Maggie. She knew all, especially these kinds of tricks, and Crockett wasn’t about to risk mandatory IV medications for another month just for one day without the drugs.

“Oh lovely,” he muttered, “Not that Charles guy again, right? He’s insufferable.”

Maggie laughed, “Oh please, Daniel is just fine.”

“Insufferable,” he restated with an eye-roll, still complying when she held out the pulse oximeter to clip it to his fingertip. Maggie just hummed, watching the machine for a moment before speaking.

“I’ll pretend you didn’t say that. If it makes it any better, though, you’ll be seeing Doctor Reese today.”

That brought a smile to his face, though it was one that never quite reached his eyes. Maggie wasn’t sure if she had ever seen a genuine smile from Crockett, certainly not since Harper’s death and the worsening of his illness. Still, if one thing made his days more bearable it was sessions with Doctor Reese, who Crockett had started to consider more of a friend than a physician by that point.

“Our Sarah,” he hummed as she took the device off his hand, “She’s lovely.”

“She is,” the nurse agreed, “Now go get ready for the day, Crockett. You’ll be expected in the dining hall by 7:00 and I certainly won't have you slumming around in your pyjamas all day; you know the drill.”

***

By noon, Crockett was ready to go back to bed. Breakfast had been as dull as always, with his friend Ava in solitary for the next two days he didn’t have many people to speak to. Well, Natalie liked to talk to him but, if he was being honest, she could be a little much. She was just excited, Maggie insisted, but she tried to get Crockett to talk about his hallucinations far too often for him to be comfortable.

Jimmy sat with him that day, though. He didn’t talk much, or ever really, but he was decent company. They played cards together sometimes and always partnered for the team-building exercises in group therapy. Crockett didn’t press for verbal communication and Jimmy never judged him for his episodes; it was a friendship built on silent respect and they were both pleased with that arrangement. Still, Crockett often preferred to be alone, and that day was no different, so he retreated to his bedroom the second they allowed him to.

When nurse April arrived at his door with her tablet in hand, Crockett had been staring blankly at the TV. It wasn’t on, never was, but he watched it as if the most riveting program was playing. He wasn’t focusing on a delusion, though, and he promised April that when she asked if he was okay. The meds got rid of most of his visual symptoms, though the auditory ones were still a frequent occurrence with or without the drugs. He just liked to look at the TV, letting his mind wander to a time where he could actually enjoy television. It had been about five years by then, the last movie he remembered watching being the Princess and the Frog. Harper had loved that movie and talked excitedly of visiting New Orleans to see where her papa and Princess Tiana were both from. She never got there, unfortunately; the cancer taking her before her dad had the time to buy plane tickets.

“Come now, Crockett. Sarah is waiting in the conference room for you.”

He let the nurse lead him down the hall, silent because his head was still miles away. He was alert and lucid, that wasn’t the problem. Today it wasn’t delusions that plagued Crockett, instead it was the memories that had started to hurt him the most. Sarah would ask about that, especially once she saw the semi-lunar marks along the inside of his wrists, turning to scratches that curled up towards his biceps. Maggie hadn’t seen them because of his long sleeve shirt that morning but Sarah would check, she always did. It’s not as though Crockett did it on purpose, but when he couldn’t sleep at night and his skin was crawling all he could do was dig his nails in and pray for it to stop. The bugs weren’t there, Sarah always said they weren’t real, but his skin felt wrong and nothing would stop it. He had to scratch, he would tell her; it was the only way to make it stop.

“Crockett,” she greeted him cheerfully the second he stepped into the room, “Have a seat.”

“Hello, Sarah,” he replied as kindly as he could, though he was a bit distracted. His mood had been pretty low all morning, which was probably evident in his posture and demeanour.

“How have you been doing?

Crockett just shrugged, occupying himself with studying Sarah’s name badge. She had gotten a new one, the piece of plastic now boasting “psychiatry fellow”. She had been his secondary therapist since she was just in her second year of residency, so it was nice to see her climbing the ranks. It was well deserved, of course; Sarah had been the one constant in his most recent stay that kept Crockett relatively sane.

“Crockett?”

“Fine, I guess,” he muttered, “I haven’t had another episode… except last night was touch and go.”

“How so?” She was always so patient, not pushing too much, but she did need answers. If he was still having episodes on his antipsychotics, they may need to adjust the dosage again. He hoped she wouldn’t, though, because he hated the constant brain fog that came along with high dosing.

“A low, again.” he was fidgeting with his sleeve, not able to make eye contact at that point. His depression was a topic he never liked to discuss, since it was an aspect of his disorder he hadn’t been aware of until after Harper. Before it was just schizophrenia, a diagnosis that came about after a paranoia episode landed him in handcuffs in the security office at his university. However, when he hit a major low after Harper’s leukaemia was found, his primary psychiatrist noted that his diagnosis may be more than they expected. Schizoaffective disorder with the depression variant, he was told, and that was probably a factor in why he didn’t respond to the medications in the beginning.

“I see,” Sarah typed something onto his chart before looking up at him with gentle eyes, “Do you want to share how you felt?”

“I miss her,” he admitted softly, “It’s hard.”

“I know, I’m genuinely sorry, Crockett. Harper must have been so loved, I’m sure she misses you.”

“The meds…” Crockett huffed, “I can’t see her anymore.”

“Crockett, she’s not there,” Sarah’s words were gentle but still firm, as if he needed a reminder that his only daughter was dead before she even got to live a proper life. That reality was something that never left his mind, a nagging feeling that haunted him every single day. Meds or not, it was hard, but without seeing Harper daily, Crockett began to feel like he would forget her.

“Sarah, I need to see her.”

“I can’t do that, you know how unsafe it can be to take you off such a high dosage. I know you are upset but we can talk through this, okay?”

“No!” he was getting frustrated, even though he hated to yell at Sarah. She didn’t understand how important this was. He didn’t care if she was dead and she claimed the delusions weren’t real, he just wanted his daughter back. Even if it wasn’t the proper reality, maybe Crockett didn’t want to live in one without Harper. He told Sarah that much, upset that she would claim that she isn’t there anymore. She is always there; sitting on his bed and playing with her stuffed bunny, singing songs from those Disney shows she adored so much. Crockett saw her, held her close when the bad feelings returned and he felt like he was drowning. His baby would never leave him, she couldn't; Harper was all he had left.

“Hey,” Sarah spoke quickly when she recognized his agitation, “I’m sorry. Tell Harper I didn’t mean any harm, next time she’s around, okay? Can we start over, please?”

He frowned, knowing what she was doing, but nodded all the same. He didn’t want to fight with Sarah, she was one of the only staff members around here that he properly trusted. She didn’t want to upset him and she didn’t want to take his daughter away, it was just hard to recognize that sometimes. She wanted to help, to understand his mind, and maybe it was time for Crockett to let someone in again. It had been far too long.

“Start from the beginning,” she prompted as he slowly relaxed again, “How long ago did this low start?”

#q #I wrote this in record time after having a whole mental break down today <3 #can you tell I’m not okay #goodbye friends i am gone #crockett marcel #harper marcel #sarah reese #maggie lockwood #april sexton #asks #anon #userglow #fractured reality #psych!au #my aus #cj add this to your fic masterpost

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solarianvoidthearoace · 3 years

Text

Excerpt#4 from my JonGerry AU WiP

CN/TW: brief discussion of psychiatric medication, amiable/loving insults and banter

Gerry swallowed, putting his phone down on the table and grabbing their mug.

„Okay, what now?“, Jon shifted his elbow on the table, leaning closer. Gerry just sighed, handing over his phone, the messages with Gertrude still open. Jon raised a brow,

„So Michael gossiped“, he shrugged,

„I don’t see why you’re suddenly this tense.“ Gerry cleared their throat, taking his phone back and looking at Jon,

„Yes, well, I know my last art show was months ago, back when we were still feeling this out. Us. But actually, I do want to invite you to my art show“, they slowly smiled.

„Jon, would you like to come with to this art show? It’s primarily my work getting displayed but the rest of the gallery is open for the event as well. And while I know tickets and all sounds like it’s this scary exclusive high class thing, it’s more of a formality“, they made a placating gesture, expression a bit awkward,

„So they know who is associated with the organisation and to keep track of who is actually there to buy something.“ He shrugged, looking at Jon with an expression he thought wasn’t too hopeful. Jon just leaned even closer, pressing a kiss to their cheek,

„I’d love to come with.“ Cupping Jon’s face, Gerry turned their head, kissing him properly.

„Martin is also invited of course, I’ll send you the calendar entry so you can ask him about it when you’re out today.“

It was a Friday, the next day. Jon only worked a half the day, due to his half-year check-in with his psychiatrist. It somehow had happened to fall into the same week as Martin’s endocrinologist appointment. He was home rather soon because of that, allowing himself to sneak up on Gerry. Obviously he didn’t want to intrude on his partner’s workspace, but if they happened to be anywhere else in the loft? Jon wasn’t afraid to admit he was somewhat of a cuddle-kraken.

Where he found Gerry was in the bathroom, but the door was open so Jon poked his head in. Bend over the sink, Gerry was picking at strands of his hair, applying dye. They did spot Jon via the mirror, though.

„You’re home early“, slowly setting the strand aside so it wouldn’t smack him in the face.

„And you’re trying to do a full touch-up of your dye job on your own“, Jon sighed. Before Gerry could answer, Jon chucked off his sweater and went looking for their package of disposable gloves.

„Thank you“, their grin was a bit lopsided. Jon just rolled his eyes,

„Yea, yea, twerp. Just the roots?“ Snapping on the gloves, he took the brush Gerry held out.

„It’s black, doll. Not like it will get blotchy if there’s too much. Just needs to cover everything properly.“ Jon sighed, giving a gentle push so Gerry would tilt their head as he needed to part the hair. Before he actually started anything, though, he handed the brush back and went over to the shower to get the shower stool. Not doing the dye job himself, Gerry didn’t exactly need to stand to look into the mirror. Gerry held the bowl for him, ducking their head this way and that, so Jon could reach every area that was left. They remained in comfortable silence for some time.

„Why do you even still dye your hair yourself?“, Jon finally asked, using the pointed handle of the applicator brush to shift some strands.

„I just got used to it“, Gerry shrugged,

„Also I did step up my game. I started using proper salon-grade hair colour some years back.“ Jon snorted,

„Yea, I got curious and looked up the conditioner you use, once“, he shook his head. As good as they could, Gerry shot him a glare through the mirror. Jon actually blew him a kiss in reiteration, before he grinned.

„My appointment went well, by the way.“ Gerry raised a brow, he hadn’t been about to ask.

„Apparently my newly changed living situation benefits my mental health, as far as my psychiatrist was willing to dip into psychologist territory“, Jon continued, shrugging,

„I mean, obviously my anxiety dropped. Within the range that’s somewhat usual for general anxiety disorder, so there’s that. But unless I notice anything specific, eh. This positive change in my life isn’t a reason to change my medication or dosage. I’m honestly fine with that decision.“ Gerry hummed in understanding. Reaching up his hand that wasn’t holding the colour bowl, they gave Jon’s hand a squeeze,

„Understandable. Changing medication is a pain in the ass.“ Jon nodded empathetically,

„Oh, that does remind me“. He paused while he looked through the sections he had made of Gerry’s hair. Nodding to himself, he grabbed the disposable shower cap from the sink. Twisting Gerry’s hair up to get it all into the cap, he smiled when they helped fixating the loose tangle for a moment.

„Where was I? Oh, yes. So, when I was out with Martin yesterday, he said he had to pick up his hormones. We stopped by here real quick and I took your prescription with to the apothecary. Restock is in the mirror cabinet.“ He pointed over to the part of the long mirror cabinet where they kept their medication,

„I know you keep them in the bedroom but since it didn’t seem urgent, I figured I would just put them there.“ Checking one last time the cap sat properly, Jon finally pulled off his gloves.

As soon as Gerry had disposed of the colour bowl as well as his own gloves, they turned and took Jon’s hands in his.

„Thank you. Was I asleep while you snuck around here?“ He raised a brow, expression teasing. Jon rolled his eyes,

„Either that or holed up downstairs. It’s not like I checked, dipshit.“ Gerry hummed, tilting their head and giving Jon a scrutinising look. Leaning back against the sink to stabilise themself, Gerry pulled Jon in, gently moving him around until he sat across his lap. Hugging him, he pressed a kiss to Jon’s neck.

„I really appreciate you taking care of me, doll.“ Jon huffed, rolling his eyes,

„It’s not like it was lengths to go to or anything. Sure, Martin did give me a look about it.“ He shrugged. At that, Gerry looked up, giving him a quizzical look, Jon waved it away.

„He knows my brand of antidepressants by now, not like it changed. But the packet-size is rather universal anyway, so I honestly didn’t feel the need to explain this to him. It’s your business. It is easy enough to figure out if he actually caught what type of medication it is but I don’t really think so…?“, Jon scratched at his neck. Gerry grinned, before putting on a mock-scandalised expression,

„Are you keeping things from your boyfriend, on my behalf?“ That just earned him an elbow to the stomach, thanks to Jon’s position.

„Oh shut up, twerp.“ The accompanying huff was unmistakably on the fond side of exasperation. They just grinned again,

„Hm, no. But maybe I will let myself get convinced to put my mouth to better use than running it.“

With how involved Gerry had managed to get Jon, a bit of the hair colour paste had smudged onto Jon’s shoulder, discolouring the strap of his undershirt. Besides that, it had been a nice and quiet weekend for the two of them. And also the last one before Gerry got wrapped up in the acute preparations of the art show. The next couple of weeks turned out rather busy. Working with Gertrude’s team to set up in the gallery meant he had to switch their daily routine, as far as it existed, to that of someone working eight-to-five. Lining it up with Jon’s nine-to-five if it hadn’t been for the librarian-slash-archivist’s overtime.

It was getting a bit hectic, though. Meaning, they did reduce their shifts at the bar for the time being. Gerry, first off, had to work actual day-time hours to be involved in the organisation. On top of adhering to Gertrude’s instructions to them as the artist. Which basically summed up to the equivalent of working over-time as well. So his work schedule almost lined up with Jon’s after all. It was nice, to get home around the same time as their partner, or only having just arrived when the front door clicked.

Gertrude was strict but she also knew not to overwork them, meaning she cut Gerry some slack in lieu of being helpful with the event organisation. Not that they got payed for the administrative help or basically doing the same job as Michael for the time being.

But at least she didn’t push any commissions at him until the art show and follow-up around the sales would be done. In those weeks, he actually was off work when he got home. This, of course, also entailed there wasn’t much time Gerry was working when Jon brought Martin with him. Meaning, they were about anywhere in the loft except for the atelier.

“Uhm, what is the dress code for the event?”, Martin spoke up at some point during an evening at the loft. Jon paused,

“Actually I haven’t thought about that. He didn’t exactly mention anything, so I figured something around business casual?”, he didn’t look all that sure. Humming, Jon got up from the couch,

“They should be upstairs so I’ll just go ask.” Martin nodded, suddenly sitting a bit stiffer than he did before, making Jon smile,

“You can come along, you know?”

On the upper floor of the loft, the bedroom door was leant, a thin gap visible. Still, Jon thought it better to check,

“Gerry, are you decent in there?” From the inside came a snort, followed by a chuckled reply,

“Morally? Never! I’m wearing pants, though, if that was the root of your concern.” Rolling his eyes, Jon turned to Martin so someone would see his long-suffering expression.

“Since we pretty much corrupted each other in our youth, of course I meant the pants, dipshit!”, he snarled back,

“Martin’s with me and I don’t want any of us to have a weird situation here.” Some clattering and rustling came from behind the door,

“Come on in, then. No need to keep talking through the door, four-eyes.” With that, Jon pushed the door open and walked in, allowing Martin to enter after him. Gerry sat on their bed, still in their black jeans from when he had been to the gallery. But they had changed the button shirt Gertrude had forced upon him in favour of his pastel hoodie. Sitting cross legged near the foot-end, he was still in the process of tying his hair back.

“So, what’s up?”

“Ah, well…”, Martin’s voice came out even more meek than usual, probably from the nervousness of standing in someone else’s bedroom,

“I was wondering about the event you invited us to. First, thanks again, of course. I’m really excited about seeing your work, properly displayed even. Secondly, while I know the appointed time and everything, I was wondering whether there will be a dress-code.” At that, Gerry blinked, before humming.

“Well… for me, I have to stick to whatever Trudie will force me to wear that night, since I’m posing as her assistant again. But the general event dress-code is somewhere between smart casual and business casual, I think.” They turned and stretched to grab his phone from the bedside table,

“I’ll ask Sasha.”

While they waited on the reply, Jon’s brow creased,

“So you’re forced into… what? Business attire? I really can’t picture that.” Gerry rolled his eyes,

“More like cocktail attire. Not exactly a distinction to business dress but Gertrude is giving us all some leeway, as long as we look official enough. Last time Sasha wore a floaty silk blouse over high-waisted slacks”, they shrugged,

“Along those lines, I guess. I always try matching her in terms of formal dress, it’s at least more coherent than whatever Michael has got going on at any time.”

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mymoodwriting · 4 years

Text

Perfect Love

Bang Chan/Jisung, Bang Chan/Felix, Felix/Jisung

Genre: Yandere AU

Warning: Drugs, Voyeurism, Handjobs, Fluff

Words: 2.9K

Chapters:

Prompt: When Jisung started dating Chan it was a lot of fun, but that’s all it was and he wanted more. It was a mutual break up, or at least he thought it was. He had no idea what Chan was capable of, that is until he finally went to his house, carried into it actually. A second chance at love is entirely out of his control, and he might not have been the first of Chan’s lovers to be in this position.

Chan woke up when his alarm went off at seven am, just like every other day. He rolled over in bed and kissed Felix. The sunlight was peeking in through the window, the usual morning annoyance that helped him get out of bed. He didn’t worry about Felix waking up, he always gave him a proper dosage that would keep him out until at least at nine. Jisung was a bit different.

He pulled up the blanket so Felix kept sleeping comfortably, going to brush his teeth and then heading down to the basement. The only sound he heard was heavy breathing, with one minor yell of discomfort. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he made his way over to the table. Jisung wasn’t fully conscious, his eyes more or less rolled back in his head, he twitched every few seconds.

He turned off the machine and removed the electrodes. When he gently touched his temples the boy flinched. He untied him and carried him in his arms to his room, laying him down on the mattress. The boy was still shaking, clearly stuck in his own mind, in his own nightmares. Chan was curious as to what the boy was dreaming about, he knew what haunted Felix, but he wanted to know what haunted his newest ward.

Jisung was wrapped up in a blanket, he seemed to gain a bit of consciousness, grabbing Chan. His grasp was very weak, but desperate. Chan pulled him close, caressing the back of his head, he could feel all the boys little quakes. It was rather adorable, he kissed his head and decided to take the chance to further comfort the boy.

“I’m here Jisung, I’ve got you. Chan’s gonna take care of you, keep you safe.”

The boy didn’t respond verbally to his whispered words, instead his grasp getting a little bit tighter, the shaking starting to settle down. Chan hummed, rocking the boy, he wasn’t going to wake up for a while longer but he would be letting him get some sleep now. He laid him down, despite his adorable attempts to maintain his hold on the older boy.

Jisung was tucked in, he squirmed around for a bit but Chan hushed him and he calmed down, sleeping peacefully. Chan went upstairs to the kitchen, he was still a bit tired from cleaning but he had promised pancakes again and he was going to deliver. He really enjoyed the quiet of the early mornings just as much as he loved the sounds Jisung and Felix made around the house. He set the table along with some cookies and donuts from yesterday.

Felix sleepily made his way to the kitchen later, he came up behind Chan and hugged him, nuzzling his back. Chan laughed and managed to turn himself around, wrapping his arms around Felix. He kissed his head, rocking him to the side, he was still a little sleepy.

“Surprise to see you up already, I usually go wake you.”

“I know… but I wanted to see Sungie.”

“He’s not up yet, but he will be soon. Are you gonna help me take care of him today?”

“Hm… it’s one of those days.”

“Yes.”

“Should I go-”

“No Lix, I’ll go get him, can you finish setting up?”

“Sure.”

“Alright, and wake up.”

He kissed Felix’s cheek then went downstairs to get Jisung. He was more relaxed, and very tired, it probably wasn’t gonna be easy to wake him. He waited a moment watching Jisung sleep before shaking him, the boy whined.

“Sungie, wake up.” He sat the boy up. “It’s morning, rise and shine, I promised you pancakes again.”

Jisung smiled a bit at the mention of pancakes, holding his hands out so he could be picked up. Chan smiled a bit when he realized Jisung wasn’t all there and helped him up. The boy leaned heavily on him as they went upstairs, waving at Felix when he saw him. He sat down, looking up at Chan, eyes glued to him.

“Who wants pancakes?”

“Me!” Felix laughed. “Smells just as good as yesterday.”

“Alright, medicine first.”

Felix took his pill like always, Jisung happily opening his mouth this time around. Chan sat down next to Jisung, cutting up his food and feeding him. He was very happy, leaning against the other and snuggling up to him.

“Considering what we did yesterday, why don’t you two help me in the garden and then we can have a lazy day.”

“Oh, Netflix and Chill?”

Chan laughed. “That’d hardly be fair for Sungie right now, but we can find something to binge on Netflix though, anything you want.”

“Awesome.”

Jisung was very giggly, happy to be fed like a child, ignoring the conversation the other two were having. After breakfast he was sat on the countertop as Felix did the dishes, waiting patiently. When they headed to the garden he turned his face to the sun and shut his eyes. Chan watched him, giving him a little kiss, making the other blush.

“You really like the morning huh?”

“I like the sunlight… it feels warm… and I have you…”

“Yeah you do.” He ruffled his hair. “Come on, I’ll show you how to harvest some herbs and veggies.”

Jisung couldn’t really help, physical functions mostly numbed out, but he watched, doing his best to learn, Felix also explaining somethings too. They ended up staying outside for a while, laying in the yard under some shade, Jisung laying on Chan’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, dozing off again.

Chan got up when he felt his phone vibrate, seeing that he had some messages from Changbin. Felix also seemed somewhat asleep, so he quietly got up and went inside. It was nothing serious, just asking for details to their meeting later in the week. He stared out at the other two sleeping, smile growing on his face, then he went to wake them.

“Get up you lazy boys, before you get a sunburn.”

“No…” Felix pouted.

“No?”

“Carry me.”

Felix held his arms out. Chan giggled but he caved and picked Felix up, carrying him inside, telling him to pick something to watch. He then went out to grab Jisung, he didn’t fully wake up, but held on as tight as he could. The TV was already playing when he settled on the couch, nudging Jisung to wake up, he paid as much attention as he could.

Chan eventually left the two watching TV so he could make dinner, calling them over when he was done. Felix helped the other boy, who was still pretty drowsy, clearly in and out of sleep, to the table. Jisung was happily fed like before and since it was a lazy day they had ice cream for dessert. They agreed to watch another movie although Felix was quick to doze off, leaning against Chan, Jisung comfy in the older’s lap.

“Messy.”

Chan scolded in a fond tone, leaning in to kiss Jisung’s lips that had been covered in ice cream. His eyes never left Jisung, enjoying how peaceful the boy looked in his arms. Jisung looked so small like this, all curled up in the pajamas from last night that swallowed him.

Chan stroked over Jisung’s hair, petting the blissed out boy that was cuddled up to him. He was making small noises of content as Chan continued to run his fingers through his hair. Jisung nuzzled into the crook of Chan’s neck, squirming into a more comfortable position. The older chuckled at how sweet the boy was being.

Jisung squirmed some more, winding up in a position where Chan’s thigh was nudged up between his legs. He mindlessly shifted his weight, starting to rut against Chan, a pretty sigh falling from his lips. He didn’t really care about anything apart from how nice it felt.

“Sweetheart, you’re too out of it for that.” Chan tutted at Jisung, running his hand through the boy’s hair.

Jisung was blissfully unaware to most of their surroundings. It was easy to tell the boy was having a hard time concentrating. A long drawn out whine left Jisung as Chan tried to still his hips. He knew it had been ages since the boy had last gotten off, but he didn’t want to touch him like this, no matter how pretty he sounded begging for Chan’s touch.

Any other time Chan would be thrilled to make the younger feel good, but not when the boy was so high that he wouldn’t even be able to truly feel the pleasure properly; Or fully comprehend where it was coming from. Chan wanted Jisung to be fully aware that Chan was the one who was making him feel good, wanted to see the boy react to him. In Jisung’s current state that wouldn’t be the situation.

“That’s not fair.” Jisung whined, words slightly slurred.

He looked up at Chan tearfully with a pout as if that would change his mind. It was cute. Jisung began to struggle against Chan’s grip when he realized the man wasn’t going to give him what he craved.

“Do you not want to touch me?” Jisung asked, sounding miserable enough that it made Chan’s heart clench.

“Of course I do, Sungie, but we can’t do that right now.” Jisung let out a sad sigh, his body sagging against Chan’s in defeat. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

Jisung didn’t say anything, allowing Chan to carry him to the bathroom. The bubbles and bath bomb Chan had pulled out caught his eye but he ignored it, still pouting.

“Arms up.” Chan said, pulling up the hem of Jisung’s shirt.

He let his fingers tickle over the younger’s exposed stomach, happy at the squeal he pulled from the younger. Jisung’s cock was still hard, leaking precome by the time Chan had pulled the boy’s boxer briefs down.

“Hurts.” Jisung pouted with a soft mewl.

It made Chan wonder if this was the longest that Jisung had went without an orgasm.

“That’s not good, angel. Maybe a bath will help, huh? You can fix it in the bath.”

Jisung bit his lip nervously, shifting from foot to foot.

“Will you bathe with me?” Jisung asked timidly.

“Promise to be good?”

Jisung nodded softly. “The best.”

He smiled sinking into the bubbles waiting for Chan. He was glad that the bath was big enough for them both.

“No, no, let’s get you clean first.” Chan said, stopping Jisung’s hand from bringing himself pleasure.

Jisung huffed in impatience but let out another desperate sound when Chan started to massage body wash onto his skin. Jisung scooped up some of the bubbles, putting them on top of Chan’s head with a small laugh.

“You’re so silly.” Chan murmured, letting his hands trail over Jisung’s skin as he rinsed off the floral citrus scented wash before he moved on to washing the boy’s hair.

After he had thoroughly rinsed Jisung’s hair of shampoo and conditioner he let his hands travel back down the boy’s skin, amused at the small shiver that ran through Jisung from his touch. Jisung began to squirm even more.

“Can I touch now?” He begged, waiting for Chan’s permission.

“Since you’ve been so good you can. Go ahead, baby.”

Jisung sighed happily, sinking down into the water some, peeking up at Chan who was in front of him on the opposite end of the tub. He slowly took himself in his grasp, relishing in how nice it felt to finally touch his aching member. The pace he started out with was slow, gasping as his thumb teased over the head of his cock when he stroked upwards. It was different having someone watch him while he touched himself and it left him feeling more desperate as he watched Chan’s darkened gaze that never left him.

“You sound so pretty, baby. Does it feel good?” Jisung nodded softly, bucking up into his own fist with a loud whine. “Faster, sweetheart, you’ve teased yourself enough.”

Jisung didn’t hesitate to quicken his pace, not even realizing how easily he followed Chan’s command. Crying out at how overwhelming it felt after not having been touched in so long.

“Good boy.” Jisung trembled at the praise, looking back up at Chan desperately.

“Can’t hold it anymore.” Jisung whined and Chan scoffed in mock offense.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you? Good boys wait until they have permission.”

Jisung was panting, his hand reaching out for Chan’s as he fought the urge to come before Chan wanted him to.

“Please?” he begged, squeezing on to Chan’s hand tighter.

“Come for me, angel.” Chan ordered, biting his lip as he watched Jisung writhe in pleasure.

The boy’s hips jerking up as he came. Jisung was panting heavily, a blush adorning his cheeks causing Chan to coo at him. He sank back into the water, his limbs feeling heavy.

“You did so good.” He praised, leaning in to kiss Jisung on the cheek before moving to kiss him on the lips.

Jisung eyes were heavy, almost completely shut. He was too tired to pay much more attention to what was going on. Chan had wrapped him in a fluffy towel, carrying him back to his room to get the boy dressed. After he was in fresh pajamas Chan went down to grab a sleeping Felix from the couch, gently waking him and taking him upstairs.

“Is Jisung sleeping with us?” Felix sleepily asked when he saw the other laying in bed.

“Since you were both good today, and it was fun, it’s only fair to end the day on a good note.”

“Sungie!”

Felix made grabby hands for the other as he was put in bed. Chan giggled, happy that the two got along so well. He grabbed the pouch of syringes from the dresser, setting it down and then taking Felix to give him a quick bath. Afterwards he helped him into comfy pajamas, giving both boys their medicine and tucking them in.

He made his way downstairs, turning the TV off and cleaning up, he never liked leaving things to be done later. As he was putting away the dishes his eyes lingered on the medicine cabinet. He was tempted to check Jisung’s phone, but ultimately decided against it. When he was done he went up to sleep, gently sliding Felix away from Jisung and plopping down between them. It wasn’t long before the little ones were snuggling against him for the night.

♥♥♥♥♥

“Jeongin, I need a favor.”

Chan had his little gang over around lunchtime later that week, a platter of sandwiches set in the middle of the table. The other two boys were over in the living room playing some games. Jisung was more awake that day, but just as well behaved as before.

“What’s up?”

“I want you to look up any and all records you can on Han Jisung.”

“Stalkery don’t you think.”

“You didn’t question when I asked you to do that for Felix.”

“That was a different situation.” Changbin mentioned.

“Well let’s find out how different.”

“Don’t fight ladies.” Jeongin teased. “Let me see what I can find.”

Jeongin put his full focus on his laptop, typing away, keeping quiet. The other two discussed upcoming festivities and possible profits they could make, as well as refills clients needed. Chan made most things, the recipes were all his after all, but Changbin had the luxury of knowing as well and helping in the process of making and selling.

“Interesting…” Jeongin mumbled.

“What?”

“He’s got no criminal record.”

“No shit.” Chan scoffed. “Boy couldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Not in the state you keep him.” Changbin commented.

“Did you find anything?”

“Nothing really interesting, he was a good school boy, good credit score too.”

“Jeongin.”

“Sorry, the only thing of note is his medical record. Besides keeping up with his vaccines and checkups, there’s a record of a time he was rushed into the ER, comes with a police report.”

“Let me see.”

Chan pulled the laptop over, looking at the report. He reread it a few times.

“His record seems much cleaner than Felix’s.” Changbin said. “Is that what you were looking for?”

“Yes actually, it’s exactly what I needed.”

“Cool, so when are you throwing another party?”

“Excuse me?”

“What? A lot of my people have been asking, your parties are some of the best.”

“I know but… not until I can trust Jisung to behave in that environment. I don’t want to lock him up all night.”

“Fair. What about you, Jeongin?”

“Me? I don’t throw parties.”

“I meant what’s new with you, heard you found a roommate. Seungmin, right? Does he know what you do part-time?”

“Does he know I manage your finances in the drug dealing business? Yes, well vaguely, didn’t give him too many details.”

“And the other stuff?”

“That I can make all his legal documents say he’s a girl if he rubs me the wrong way? Yes. That threat goes for all of you too if you decide to fuck me over some day.”

“We’d never do that.” Chan finished emailing himself the documents then handed over the laptop. “You’re a very valuable member of this team.”

“I better be, I’d hate to lose this friendship.”

“You mean Chan’s stuff.” Changbin teased.

“That’s part of the friendship, so sure.”

They broke out laughing, finishing up their little meeting. When they did Felix stole away Changbin for some games. Jeongin on the other hand had to get going, work calling, although he took some party favors before leaving, promising to introduce Seungmin to them when Chan had a party. Chan felt everything was going well, but he was getting a little too comfortable a little too soon.

#stray kids #bang chan #felix #han #changbin #jeongin #christopher bang #lee felix #han jisgun #seo changbin #yang jeongin #stray kids au #stray kids scenarios

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healinghurtssometimes · 4 years

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The Cycle (Pt. 1)

I’m not really sure where to start, so I’m going to opt for my current situation and how I got here. This blog isn’t meant for attention, but rather a way for me to get my experiences out in the open. Maybe some people will find this, relate, and somehow become my tribe. Let me tell you, I need good people. If you stick around long enough, I’m certain you’ll quickly start to see that. With that being said, I’m going to start with a very rough outline of the past 14-15 months.

For just a brief back story, I got offered the best paying job I’d ever had in January of 2017. A lot of stuff had happened (which I’ll cover another time) and I would have been stupid not to take the job when it was given to me. After 2 years, I got my Real Estate License since the company required it for all Property Managers, and I got promoted. The problem was that we were used to running our office with 3 Admins - one had been taken to fit a different role months earlier and still hadn’t been replaced, and I was the second one to be moved while the company STILL did not make an attempt to refill those roles until AFTER my promotion was finalized. I got stuck doing my job as an Admin AND my new job as a Property Manager with all training put on hold until those roles were filled, while also being expected to heavily assist in training the new Admins they hired since I had been there longer than the last Admin standing and was damn good at my job.

I then spent months filling multiple roles, being asked to train people coming into the new roles (including another Property Manager when I STILL wasn’t trained), and being asked regularly to go out of my way to do things face-to-face with/for my residents that was not being asked of my peers (many of which took up a substantial amount of time, like delivering portable AC units and having to walk through someone’s whole house with our Field Manager for maintenance complaints that I had no authority over). I BEGGED for help getting the new Admin team to fulfill the tasks I was trying to delegate to them, begged for training, begged for clarity on expectations that were never laid out. I begged for help for 6 months, and was consistently met with “we don’t have the resources,” “we aren’t properly staffed,” “there isn’t time,” etc. I was buried up to my nose from the day I took the position, and not one person agreed to help me dig myself out of the dirt. Instead, they buried me and then fired me for not being able to fulfill the role to their expectations (while the other two Property Managers weren’t expected to do ANY of the extra stuff they’d put on me to deal with). That was early September 2019. I filed for unemployment, and my now-former supervisor dug up information from my role as an Admin that had been approved by the District Manager at the time until they both got in trouble for letting me slightly stagger my schedule to make sure I could take care of my kids and be able to pay my rent after a HUGE change in the custody and child support of my children (a situation I’ll cover at another time). I didn’t get the notice letter for the unemployment appeal meeting until after it had taken place, about a week before Christmas, at which point I was VERY depressed, stressed, and couldn’t begin to fathom taking on a multi-million dollar company on my own. I now owe the state almost $900 in “overpaid unemployment benefits” that I have yet to be able to pay back.

I spent the next few months trying to find another job. Hoping to find something still in the world of Property Management, even if it wasn’t the same role or anywhere near the same pay or if it didn’t come with the same benefits. The company I worked for is well-known and very disliked by the ENTIRE property management community in the area I lived in at the time. They’re a very young company that is buying up houses left and right and helping make rent prices SOAR for those that aren’t able to buy a house (or just like renting instead of owning the home they live in for whatever reason) - they make it their goal year over year to increase renewal rates as much as they can get away with, knowing many people won’t do the research, question their numbers, or walk away from their house...they’ll just pay the rent increase and keep moving through their complaints of how high their rent is for the lack of improvements the company makes and their poor excuse of a maintenance department that’s directed to penny-and-dime every vendor and look for any reason the resident could possibly be held responsible for higher priced maintenance items. They’re in 20 different states and their maintenance department for their entire operation runs out of ONE state with a local “liaison” at each office that’s function is only for vacant homes. Hopefully they’ve changed some of this in the past year, but I don’t have any reason to believe they would have made things better for anything outside of their own bottom line. I won’t use their name because I don’t want to get sued, but if you know, you know.

I had to take the name of the company off of my resume, replaced with the word “Confidential,” in order to start getting call backs for interviews with other property management companies...all of which ended up being for apartment complexes where I was used to single-family and the two worlds are vastly different from one another. I had ONE company that actually offered me a job sometime around October/November 2019, and it turned out to be an absolutely awful situation to be in. They lied about what they offered for health insurance in my interview, treated their residents like garbage, their property manager played favorites and treated other staff like they were incompetent toddlers, leasing staff and maintenance weren’t allowed to communicate with each other outside of breaks and absolute emergencies, and operated with a LOT of drama. One situation got brought into our leasing office (while open to the public) where their outsourced IT guy and management proceeded to yell at each other in the lobby, calling each other things like “fucking liars” and just generally making a big scene, which made me incredibly uncomfortable to be around. I was already dealing with not having my much-needed anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medications, and the way this company was operated was making my already spiraling mental health WORSE. So after a few weeks, I left knowing that they were not a good fit for me nor I for what they apparently needed. I applied for literally hundreds of jobs, got a few interviews, and never got offered another position.

All this time, I’m just trying to figure out how I’m going to pay my rent (my now ex-boyfriend’s parents were paying our $1500 monthly rent and all of our utilities at this point so we wouldn’t get evicted with my kids), how I’m going to pay my phone bill or my car payment, dealing with being uninsured and ashamed of the situation I was in, debt piling up all around me with no way out of it, no health insurance, battling withdrawal from my heavy dosage of SSRI drugs. I know I haven’t talked much about them here, but all of this was really starting to affect my children - who were only 5 & 7 at the time - which was really making the entire situation SO MUCH WORSE to deal with. I was self medicating with marijuana and was high 98% of the time, or in the process of getting high. While weed by itself is not an addictive drug, I developed a dependency on it like I had come to depend on my mental health medications, because it was numbing the reality of the situation I was in and helping keep me somewhat functional and kept me from falling deeper into the darkness as my world crumbled around me.

At the end of January, I finally decided that I couldn’t justify staying in the place I’d lived my whole life anymore. I had lost my job, all of my income, my health insurance...I was on the brink of losing my car, my relationship was failing due to financial strain (though I was also done with the relationship beforehand and started cheating on him before I lost my job anyway and was really only with him at that point for convenience...not a moment I’m proud of by any means), I wasn’t able to support myself or my kids and was no longer able to hide the situation from them for what it was. The only thing I was able to protect them from was KNOWING I was always high, which I’m sure from my own experience with my parents, they’ll end up figuring out when they’re older and weed is legal across the board. So I started thinking “what’s next, how do I change this situation?”

By January 2020, I’d been back in contact with an old high school boyfriend for a number of months. Not only was he an old boyfriend, but he was also one of my best friends in the whole world. I trusted him with every fiber of my being, he is the only soul that knows me the way he does, and he has stuck by my side through all of the mud trudging I’ve gone through since I was 15 other than our own disastrously messy breakup. He was roughly 400 miles away from my hometown, and was the only viable option for me to ask for help in the form of a roof to look for work and try to get myself back up on my feet. So I took my kids to their dad (who is a very petty and ugly human) because he is/was at least financially stable, packed a few things, and went looking for work 400 miles away. 3 days in, I was offered a menial serving job...but hey, working on 6 months of no consistent job or income, it was better than what I was working with back home. I started that job the end of February. For anyone that’s been alive this year, you know what’s coming next...4 weeks later, the restaurant was shut down for COVID lockdowns, and I immediately started looking for another job to take on once those shutdowns were lifted. So now, I’m 400 miles away from my kids and my family, and I’m also unemployed.

I thought I found one doing leasing with an apartment complex. I got the job offer, the offer letter, was working on finalizing a start date even though some of their requirements were ridiculous (like not being able to how any semblance of a tattoo or piercing not in your ear and only being able to wear black and white on the job). Then I asked what they were doing to protect their employees, residents, and potential residents from COVID. I lost that opportunity for asking questions, because they were the ONLY complex locally that was not observing any pandemic-related precautions, and had referred to a colleague as a “titty baby” for simply asking them to step up their game by providing hand sanitizer and a thermometer for their offices. I opted not to go back to serving over precautions for COVID so I could still go home and see my kids again at my dad’s house, as my step-mom was dealing the return of her Breast Cancer after nearly 2 years in remission and no way of getting treatment until the doctors decided it was safe again for her to be in a hospital or cancer treatment center.

Realizing now that I’ve only gotten to sometime around April/May, I’m going to leave this post for now and come back for a Part 2. If you’re still reading this and are planning on returning for the next installment, thank you for taking this journey with me as I lay my life out one piece at a time in the hopes of healing.

#depression #depressionawareness #anxiety #self healing #mental health #mental health awareness #unemployment #unemployment through COVID #healing

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inanawesomewave · 5 years

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AND HOW DOES THAT MAKE YOU FEEL?

It’s been a very long time since I posted and for that I can only apologise, I’m extremely, abnormally, infinitely pregnant (okay, I’m 39 weeks) and I’ve spent this past few months hibernating, and recovering from a bipolar depression that, thankyou alexithymia, I didn’t notice I was having until it went away and I no longer had any thoughts of ending my life. But, I’m back now, happily alive and happy to be alive, and as I’m in these final days of pregnancy, I’m thinking about oxytocin. When you’re ridiculously pregnant you think of all the ways you can induce labour (hint: none of them work). I’ve tried it all, castor oil, clary sage, red raspberry leaf tea, evening primrose, sex, long walks, whatever. And I started thinking today about how the only thing that is proven to work, is oxytocin, and how when it is released, it can make your body think you are breastfeeding and you begin to have contractions now that the baby knows it’s okay to come out and get fed. That’s because oxytocin is a hormone that promotes love, bonding, sociability, friendship. They call it the hormone of love, lust and labour. And I realised, as I was looking up all the ways I could release oxytocin myself at home, that I don’t have a good relationship to it. At all.

I first realised maybe there was something a little off with my oxytocin during my last pregnancy, and in the first few months of breastfeeding my son. I would pump milk or my son would latch on, and within seconds I felt horrendously depressed and anxious, as if the release of oxytocin triggered a panic response in me. They playfully call this “Sad Nipple Syndrome”, many people confuse it for a repressed memory of sexual abuse, but really, it’s related to a phenomenon known as Depressive Milk Ejection Reflex and is believed to be because of a rapid, brief reduction of dopamine immediately before milk let-down, but I wonder if for me it has more to do with oxytocin.

Now I’m not trying to martyr myself when I say this, because largely, I find breastfeeding very rewarding, not to mention practical, and money-saving, and it’s my favourite time of the evening -- when my son is cuddling me, watching his bedtime shows, and nursing. And I’m not battling through some horrendous feeling in order to do that, and really, I’d mostly got used to it. But just recently, near the end of the pregnancy I’m having now, I’m experiencing that familiar sense of dread, anxiety, depression and need to escape when he latches on, and I felt it the other night when I was expressing, and I felt it recently after (hehe) an orgasm. I mean, when it comes to dopamine, I’m fucked. I’m bipolar and I take, to be exact about the dosage, a metric ton of quetiapine (Seroquel) every day just to keep on an even keel, which is an antipsychotic which means its sole purpose is to tell my dopamine to shut the fuck up for five seconds. I’m used to having my dopamine function in swells and droughts. But oxytocin, fucking hell. I have antisocial personality disorder. It makes sense that something about the bonding hormone makes me feel uneasy, or even unwell, like I need to escape the situation. I’ve always said, something about myself and my disorder that I kind of despise, is how I have this bizarre drive to fight my way out of any and all groups I find myself in. Groups of friends, colleagues, schoolmates, peers of any kind, I will try with all my might to be part of the group, then when I realise how cynical I am about that, I will try to at least appear to be part of the group for Machiavellian reasons, and then when I begin hating myself because the pretence is too exhausting, I will find myself subconsciously picking the group apart. My lack of empathy becomes hostile, and if anything, the most toxic trait I exhibit in these situations is to break the group up entirely. If I can’t have it, nobody can. It was worse when I was younger: at school, I’d lie about things one friend said about the other and watch arguments happen, delighting in the collapse of that friendship circle. I’d tell one the other stole from them, I’d tell the other that everyone is saying she spread a harmful rumour. I’ve even gone so far as to frame a person for theft just to watch the fallout. I did that when I was about 8, I did it again when I was 10. I did it a third time in my teens. It was kind of my MO. I’m not proud of that spiteful need to isolate people from loving interaction just because I was so afraid of it. Okay, I’m a little proud of pulling it off. The ease with which you could snap apart even close bonds confirmed everything I loved and hated about how I saw the world: sociability is a lie and empathy is a cool trick to use against people. Even as an adult, whilst not maliciously and actively trying to hurt people any more, I have found reasons to leave groups under a black cloud. I was a poet once, and I hated all my contemporaries except for a few. I used the people I hated the most, got where I wanted to be, and fucked off forever because the game got boring. I did the same when I was a musician. When I was a student. When I was doing both my undergraduate degrees. My God, my need to be antisocial is so strong, it’s ruining my careers.

Now, we all know that research on ASPD is quite scant. They don’t really want to know much about us except for the fact we prefer bitter tasting things, or that people want to fuck us, or that we dig easily accessible rap music. What is out there about us is mostly inconclusive, or the conclusions drawn are highly subjective -- I featured one on this blog a long time ago for example that said we are more likely to use expressive, emotive and loaded language when talking about our life experiences, and the researchers used their personal judgements to conclude that this was further evidence of our heartlessness, which was fucking hilarious. Heaven forfend we might be seen as humans for five seconds. Anyway, today when searching around to see if there’s any chemical link to ASPD and oxytocin, I found this. If you don’t have access to it, that’s fine, it was a study from last year that looked into this very relationship, to see if oxytocin treatment could improve outcomes for antisocial people both with and without diagnosis. The research itself was more an inquiry into an aggregate of 36 previously done studies (because to actually do new research would cost money that needs to be spent on finding out if we ever yawn or if our eyes look weird or if we give a shit if someone jumps up behind us dead scary like and says “boo” or some shit). Results again were inconclusive, but something interested was noted: oxytocin was largely associated with a reduction in criminal/amoral/antisocial behaviour, but in some, had an opposite effect - that is to say, antisocials sometimes respond to oxytocin with hostility toward their loved ones.

So why is that? Well, there aren’t any answers right now and “further high quality, large sample-size studies are required” (so, let’s not all hold our breath at once), but do I have a theory? You bet I do!

We know that personality disorders, especially cluster-b, come from neglect and trauma. We can theorise that antisocials have a lack of empathy because we weren’t taught it, or maybe we had emotionally manipulative parents that would prey upon our empathy and later use it to harm us so we learned to be cynical of it, maybe we had to learn how to fake empathy toward our abusive parents so they’d stop beating the shit out of us for five seconds, maybe we learned the language of violence and aggression because it was the language we were taught at home, and maybe we fought our way out of social groups because we were taught not to have friends, or our parents only really loved us when we reflected their own hateful, selfish and volatile traits back to them, so we learned not only that love was pointless, but actively rejecting it was favourable. There are lots of reasons why a person might develop antisocial personality disorder. So surely it makes sense, that if we learn these antisocial behaviours, we also learn to be antisocial to a chemical process in our bodies that is imploring us to be the exact opposite? Doesn’t it make sense that if we feel love, bonding, connection, our instinct is to panic and fight it? To feel sad, to want to cry? And if we don’t know how to cry or connect to that part of ourselves because we never learned emotional intelligence, doesn’t it make sense we’d then convert that feeling into something else, something immediate and easy? Like anger? Like rage? Antisocial people experience everything in primaries: blue, red, yellow. Generic bad, rage, and generic good. When we need to access a secondary or tertiary emotion (something orange like homesickness? Or something even magenta like... fucking... humiliation?), we have to channel it back into one of those primary colours, something we can understand. So, generic good, generic bad, and red red rage are all we have. Oxytocin? Bonding? Who knows where that belongs. Could be any of the three. And let’s be honest, this isn’t restricted purely to antisocial personality disorder. Narcissists respond to love and bonding with a push-back, so do borderlines and histrionics. It all comes out different, but it all comes from the same place: don’t you fucking dare love me. The only person in my life I feel that immediate, unwavering bond with, is my son. Maybe that’s why I’ve been able to breastfeed him despite the sadness and panic of it all, because the initial reaction to the oxytocin is the hurdle and not the reward, and after that I can get to it properly, to look at him and feel intense love, empathy and joy. Maybe it’s evolutionary, the truth of it is when it comes to my children, I don’t care what the mechanism is that makes me love them the way I do or how it ties into my disorder. But how I feel about friends, lovers, and other family members is up for scrutiny, my own scrutiny at that.

So as I sit here wondering why it’s hard for me to experience oxytocin, I wonder how the rest of you feel. Do you have a good relationship to it? What does it do for your empathy? When you perform a good deed, do you feel warm and fuzzy, or is it a logical step for you? How do you access love? Is it a decision, or a gut instinct? And for christ’s sake, when you have sex, are you doing it to grab hold of the oxytocin, or fight it off?

#antisocial personality disorder #antisocial #actually aspd #actually npd #actually bpd #antisocial feels #antisocial tag #cluster b #cluster b feels #trauma #abuse #neglect #sociopath #sociopathy #psychopath #psychopathy #oxytocin #love

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mizumi-kahago-writing · 5 years

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Arc 5 Part 3: «Chronos» (MYSMESS FANFIC; Demon AU)

Arc 5

Part 3

The courtroom was truly something else. Despite the fancy attire and the red satin curtains everywhere, it was cold, harsh and cruel. Never before had she seen such an ambivalent room. The cage in which she was still sitting in dangled above it all, and she could take in the entire view of the chamber beneath her.

She hoped for the best, as the real challenge began now:

“The culprit is guilty until proven otherwise. Demon K006 is accused of interfering with the human world in a way which disrupts the space-time, as well as abducting a human child against their will, despite our laws and contracts prohibiting such behavior.” Perfectly summing up why any of them were here.

Now was the time to prove himself, as he was already called to the witness stand to defend himself. “Your honor, I plead not guilty.” Starting off with his demand immediately. That was way too early without any explanation and another dosage of electricity was released into his body.

Shaking as he tried to collect himself to withstand the doubled amount of volt, becoming even more difficult than the first time.

Meanwhile, Satan was just twirling her hair between her fingers. “Why?” was the monotone question back.

The man down in the room was slowly calming down and recovering from his punishment. “Let me explain, your honor.” Taking a deep breath as he was collecting himself. “You see, I just happened to be in the human world as I saw her passing by.”

Slowly looking up to explain his story, while the great leader also focused on him. On the other hand, the blonde woman seemed uneasy and was jolting forwards, held back by her girlfriend who was indeed curious about what the man had to say.

“So, I followed her that afternoon to the forest. I knew it was a dangerous place and my only reason was to protect her from any approaching wildlife or–” Before he could even finish his sentence, the next shock followed, and he was fried again.

Painful screams and groans filled the room, making it clear that he was lying. His father just shook his head in disappointment while crossing his arms. After a few more heavy pants, he started anew:

“Fine, fine. I have watched her for around about two weeks, since I felt a strange connection to her after seeing her silver hair sparkling in the moonlight that first night.” Envy was already on to push down the lever, but this time he was speaking the truth.

Lust finally spoke up again: “So, you admit that you stalked her and purposely followed her?” That in itself was no crime, but it seemed like that woman up there wanted to make it one. Why did she want him to be guilty so much?

Once more, the angelic demon was held back by her partner, hissing over to her: “Let him finish.” Visibly displeased about that, but she could not speak against the highest power of all devils and demons. She knew her place and stepped back. “Continue.”

Everyone was focused on him now. “That feeling, it never vanished. So, after a while, I kept on following her every step. Watching her sleep, watching her walk, watching her work. And so on.” Honestly, she was a bit shocked that he was so obsessed with her, but more so that she never noticed him doing so.

Surprised, she clapped her hands in front of her mouth to suppress a gasp, but he was already confessing more. “She eventually went into the forest, so, of course, I followed her. As I already said, it was to protect her from any harm.”

Now the voltage was almost unbearable for him. How many times had he been electrocuted now? And each time the voltage doubled. Slowly but surely, it was becoming harder for him to recover properly in such a short amount of time.

Shaking where he stood, the tips of his hair were already crispy. A let out a few coughs as he leaned over the railing, holding himself up. “Alright, I get it. I was curious, so I followed her. I thought that the feeling I had was because she’d be my next soul to devour.”

Her eyes sprung open in surprise. Had he changed his ways by now? Probably. But, when did it happen? Maybe throughout the entire first few weeks they had known each other he had seen her as nothing else but his dinner?

That thought made her shiver and she tried to shake off the unsettling feeling. No, that can’t be.

“As I saw her there naked, I felt that wolves were nearby. So, I might have mistaken that she was not my food, but theirs.” He was already continuing. Once more, the high ruler herself spoke up. “Did you know those creatures were approaching? Judging by your power to attract canines?”

Again, so monotone and with no interest in the entire thing. “No.” His quick answer was followed by another electric shock. This time, he was sinking down to his knees, only the shackles on his wrists were holding him up. “I mean, yes. Yes!”

He gasped between gritted teeth. Another electrocution he probably wouldn’t be able to stand. “My powers attracted them to her, and they attacked her. But I jumped in and saved her.”

That wasn’t a lie, so he was spared the pain for now. He rose up slowly, trying to balance himself. “And then? Did the human girl comply without any restrains?” the devil next to Satan asked, protesting again.

For a few brief moments, the entire courtroom went silent, everyone looking at the male standing there in shackles, barely holding up by now. “She came with me, as a volunteer.” Lying one last time, and that was his death sentence.

Now the dosage reached its maximum as probably millions of volts rushed through his body, grilling him entirely. A loud ‘Fuck’ was yelled through the room, and the girl in the cage couldn’t take it any longer.

Breaking into tears, she yelled into the room. “Yes, I came with him because I wanted it! Please, spare him!” Everyone’s gaze shifted upwards to the girl, interrupting the session as the older demon was still being tortured with electricity through his veins.

“Silence her,” was the order from the highest-ranked creature in the room. None other than the Raven followed that order and put a magical anti-sound barrier around the cage. Of course, the girl was so displeased with that.

She began banging her fists against the barrier, trying to shatter it. Yelling, crying, raging in her cage, and all she could do was watch her partner probably being killed down there. Why did he have to lie so much? He knew what was coming to him.

Only the dog which was with her could calm her down now, poking his snout against her tummy and shoving her away from the edge of the barrier as much as it could. It was simply no use. Eventually, the girl just broke down, hugged the dog close and buried her teary face in its fur.

Satan rolled her eyes and commented: “I seriously have no time for such nonsense.” Clearly, she was pissed off about all of this. Her girlfriend started to comfort her, while further down the stairs the father confronted his son.

By now, they had stopped the torture, but the smaller demon reached his own limits. Sitting on the floor, totally out of breath, as his father grabbed his chin, making him look up with his last energy resources.

“Why are you doing this son?” No answer. “Why are you making this situation so difficult for yourself? You should know better. Not only you suffer.” He pointed at the girl who hung up there in the birdcage. “You also make her suffer.”

Well, that was a statement, but it was true. “I expected more from you. Better from you. You are part of our family, and all you bring is embarrassment.” Scolding him, he then shoved him away forcefully.

However, the younger demon could not protest; he simply did not have the energy for it. “You and I both know how this trial will end. Don’t you?” Snappy as ever. The small demon scoffed and gave his father a death glare.

“I know. Both, you and I have used our future sight ability to foresee the end of this.”

“Splendid. Now, finally, tell the truth and don’t keep us waiting any longer.”

“Fine.”

Gathering his last pieces of strength, the male rose himself up, holding tightly on the railing and speaking up loud and clearly. “Your honor. I promise to tell nothing but the truth.” He started again.

That, however, only rose suspicion in the higher-ups as all of them rose their eyebrows and looked at him with curious, wide eyes. “She came with me because I caused her a life-threatening situation. At that time, I was unaware that she was going to become my Astéri.”

“I invited her to my lair, and she accepted. Afterwards, I wanted to devour her soul for a quick lunch, then I felt that there was something more and I offered her a Desmós.” Shifting his face to make eye contact with every single person present in this room. Lastly, his bonded one.

Further explaining how they fucked and ending his speech on a high note: “… I asked her if she wanted to bond with me. She said ‘yes’ again. However, I am aware she only said so because she feared me.” Swallowing thickly and lowering his gaze.

“I am now aware of all the mistakes I’ve made and how much I have changed since then. So, I plead: Not guilty.” A whistle accompanied by a slow clap from above, quickly silenced by Satan herself.

“So, is that so?” Exchanging another long gaze with the accused one down there, she swung herself up and stepped forwards. “The judge decides...” Silence and tension all across the room, waiting for the final judgment: “… Not Guilty!”

Raising her arms as a round of relieved sighs came from everyone. The two powerful women, stepping down from their pedestal, while the taller one flipped her long silvery hair back. “What a waste of time.” The other one followed her like a lap dog.

“But, your majesty.” Protesting about her judgment, as she was already looking forward to the spectacle of the male demon’s execution. “Enough. Let the girl down and let’s get going. I hate this place.” That order was loud and clear.

Lowering the cage and opening the door, as well as the barrier, the little girl was set free, as was her partner from the shackles. Still a bit wonky on his feet, he was trying to regenerate himself.

A heartfelt reunion had to wait a few more moments. While the girl was scooting out, she caught another glimpse of the dark-skinned woman with the tall horns. Seeing Satan so close made her shiver and gasp for a moment.

That was a true beauty of a woman. But that face—it was so familiar to her. Where had she seen it before? Blinking a few times, the moments of admiration were over, and the girl fell into the arms of her mentor.

________________________________________________________________

«« Summary | « Arc 5 Part 2 | Arc 5 Part 3 (Second Half) »

________________________________________________________________

Author Notes:

I have a confession to make: I am falling out of the fandom.

Which results in the lack of motivation to continue this fanfiction.

However, I will not leave my readers hanging completely.

Though out the upcoming weeks I’ll upload summaries of the rest of the Arc’s, that you guys know how the story concludes.

It’s the least I can do tbh.

No hard feelings, I hope everyone understands.

Thank you for your attention and support of my writing.

Fanart can still be drawn of course and is highly appreciated.

Maybe we’ll read each other again in a future work of mine.

#mystic #messenger #saeran #choi #mc #saeran x oc #saeran x custom mc #fanfic #mystic messenger #saeran choi #demon AU #demon #fantasy #AU #fantasy AU

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gerbiloftriumph · 5 years

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Captive Crown

(also on ao3)

Someone wanted the newly crowned King of Daventry and all his friends dead. Someone got close, once.

(warnings for the whole thing: kidnapping, bruising, starvation, nightmares, healthy dosage of angsty musing, sicfic, story-coherent vehicle for all my favorite ch2 headcanons)

~*~*~

5/7

(1: to steal)(2: to hide)(3: to seek)(4: to find)(5: to break)(6: to mend)(7: to heal, and to end)

~*~*~

For the first time in his career, Royal Guard Number Two found himself surrounded by people who wanted to be near him because of his smell, not in spite of it. His ears burned with pleasure as he beamed in the privacy of his helmet. No fuss about syrup today!

To be fair, the other guards grouped close around him since the reek of syrup was better than (and somehow more overpowering than) the reek of a week and a half of imprisonment in a goblin dungeon. Graham even smelled faintly and inexplicably of chunderblossom, just to top off all the rest of it. Still. No2 took his victories where he could find them: he just might not mention His Majesty’s Smell when he wrote all this down in his daily diary.

No3 took a deep breath of syrupy air and pushed off from the group. “Please, Your Highness, we’re warming a bath upstairs. Won’t you follow us?”

Graham looked bewildered, and he kept rubbing his eyes with the palms of his filthy hands. “No, I can’t. I’ve got to make sure everyone is okay.”

“Sire, we’ve been over this. Everyone’s been seen to. As they were last time you checked. I promise, they’re all safe, in the guest rooms, with baths and dinner prepared. No need to check on them again.” She turned away as discreetly as possible (not that Graham was in much state to notice) for another deep breath of fresh syrup.

“You’re sure?” His eyes were bloodshot—from rubbing, from exhaustion. He looked near collapsing. “I should ch-check…” His voice, scratchy and sick sounding, was losing volume fast and they had to lean in to hear. Not ideal.

“Sire, you’ve already looked in on everyone. Twice.” No3’s voice was getting desperate and strained. “Come upstairs with us. The fire’s set, and the bath should be ready. Please.”

“But, B-Bramble’s pregnant.” A tremble started in his shoulders, and he hugged his arms close to stop it.

“We know. You’ve said.” There was a pause, then, “Sire,” she added.

“Did I check on everyone? Did they all eat? There’s enough. Right? D-did I give out everything?”

“Sire, please, if you don’t go upstairs now, I’m going to carry you, and that’s something we’ll both regret.”

He blinked, rubbed his eyes again, then finally started moving. Some ingrained habit made him walk like a royal knight on parade, a swinging stroll that hid his wavering balance—unless you knew him well enough to notice his tells. The guards followed a little distance behind, clustered around No2. They did know Graham well enough by now, and more than one wondered if they would have to catch the king if he fell—and if you could scrub that Smell out of leather. Crimson Colada was such an expensive fabric that it would be a shame to have to throw away the uniform if you couldn’t get that funk out of it.

Several guards had hauled the copper tub up to the royal rooms shortly after the captive party’s arrival. It was extra work, but after some hasty deliberation, No1 had decided it would be better for Graham to be in the comfort of his own bedroom until he’d recovered. Any other option didn’t seem appropriate for a king. Graham himself hadn’t been part of that conversation, too busy trying to stop the Hobblepots from demolishing the kitchen in one go. The tub was now filled with steamy, sudsy water, with fresh water heating over nearly every fireplace available in the castle, just in case.

They ushered Graham in, herding him toward the bath without touching him. No3 broke off at this point, claiming she was going to order tea for Graham, but probably running to one of the nearby balconies to purge her lungs. After a moment, the guards generally and silently agreed on who would be most helpful here. They shoved No2 toward Graham to help him peel off his cloak and boots. Then, apparently in the name of privacy, they too fled for the nearest window.

“No, I can take care of it,” Graham insisted when No2 reached out to help. “I’m fine. Really.”

“Are you sure?” No2 watched Graham sway. Somehow, in the firelight, he looked worse. The shadows moved across his face in a sunken sort of way, and whatever well of strength he’d been drawing from in the hall seemed to be evaporating quickly.

Graham crumpled into the rocking chair so hard that the wood creaked in protest. They froze, expecting it to break. Nothing happened. They exhaled together in relief, but Graham’s sigh carried him further: he looked like he was deflating into sleep. He choked back a cough, which seemed to rouse him, and he reached for his boot laces. “I’m f-fine. Just…give me a minute.”

No2 turned away, clicking his heels on the wood floor, and stared fixedly at the closed door. Why had they picked him for this? It wasn’t as though he could smell his own syrup smell, being mostly used to it. Which meant the other Smell was properly overpowering.

After a very long series of busy minutes, in which the king made all kinds of exhausted noises, there was a gentle series of splashes as Graham eased himself into the water. Another wet sound as he fumbled for soap. And one more thump as he accidentally dropped the soap over the edge.

A silent eternity passed before No2 cautiously said, “Do you need help now, Sire?” He couldn’t hear anything but the crackle of the fire. He wheeled around. “Um. Your Majesty? Graham? Are you okay?” Graham’s head was slumped on his chest. “Graham!” He gingerly touched Graham’s shoulder.

The king snored loudly. With no responsibilities or goals to keep him pushing forward, it seemed he’d just surrendered to the soft bubbles and the warmth and the safety. At a rather inopportune time.

“Oh. Um. I suppose you’re okay, then.” There was a long, long pause, and then a very reluctant sigh as No2 peeled off his gauntlets and dropped them on the floor, reaching for the soap and the scrubbing brush.

~*~*~

Royal Guards Numbers 1, 2, and 4 scrubbed and rinsed and toweled him off, changing the water three times. The first, because the water turned a horrible sludgy brown within a few minutes and they felt like washing dirt with dirt was kind of pointless. The second, to scrub at the caked-on muck that had been beneath the topsoil layer. The third, a shallow bath (because they were getting impatient), to sluice off any remaining slime. It took a long time to replace the musty, sour smell of damp caves with the lavender-scented soap, but they kept at it, trying to keep His Majesty’s face above water while washing it at the same time. After the third rinse, one gently supported his head while another fluffed his hair with a towel, damp curls springing up in every direction.

When they had started, they’d debated quietly for a moment if they should try to wake him: washing deadweight was difficult, and embarrasing, and not at all how anyone wanted to spend an evening. But his eyes had looked so haunted and horrible when he’d been awake that they didn’t have the heart to rouse him. And they could hardly put him to bed in this disgusting state. So, gently, they lathered and rinsed in silence, and he stubbornly slept through it all.

He did twitch under their hands if they accidentally pulled or scraped, especially when they were cleaning the shallow cuts that littered his hands (from tripping in the dark and catching himself, they guessed) or the bizarre rainbow of variously aged bruises on his lower legs (no guesses whatsoever). He mumbled half-words and fragments, but never anything sensible, and if he ever did fully wake, even for brief instances, they didn’t notice.

They fished him out of the tub and wrapped him up tight in a fresh towel while they paused for a well-needed break. They must have gone through reams of towels of every size, which were now discarded in soppy piles around the room, loosely organized from most horrible to less horrible. Most of them smelled like wet Triumph. This last towel was truly the last; between Graham and everyone else, the soap and towel supply had been demolished. The laundresses were going to murder someone.

They looked at Graham, who was slumped carelessly at the foot of the bed, a few errant curls still dripping water, and they looked at his usual nightshirt and trousers, folded neatly on the bedside table.

“No. I’m done. I’m not forcing His Highness into pants. What are you gonna do, hold them open and drop him in? There’s a limit to both his dignity and mine, and I hit mine at least an hour ago.”

“He can’t just wear a towel to bed.”

“I hear Whisper does all the time.”

“Yes, but you should know: no one cares.”

“There’s a long nightshirt in here somewhere,” No1 mused. “King Edward’s. Remember? He used to moon around the balconies in it at night, like something out of a play.”

“Yes, but he was very sick then. It was just after the queen…”

“Oh, that’s right. I’d forgotten all about it.”

“Graham’s not been king very long. Barely had time to put his own dent in the mattress. I bet that nightshirt’s still here somewhere.”

“It’ll be huge on him.”

“It’ll stay on better than a towel. Go on, go look in those chests over there.”

The nightshirt was dutifully found and dragged over his head—and, as predicted, it rather enveloped him. But it was simple, and it was perfect for their patience levels. All three guards were sweaty, hands pruned with water, and achy with the stress of the evening, but they picked up their king once more (“Last time tonight, Sire, promise!”) to put him to bed properly. All three looked at him, and then at each other with nervous smiles of relief.

If he was a little banged and bruised and scuffed up, well, that was fine: he was back safely in their protection, and the physical marks would heal. If his skin was a little hotter than expected, well, that was fine too: it was probably just the warm water and the air by the fireplace. And if he was starting to look a little more gaunt as they gently wrapped him in his sheets in his bed, it wasn’t anything to worry about: it was just a trick of the fire and candlelight.

After all, he was back and safe. Everything would be fine. What more could possibly happen?

Though, when he woke half the castle so early in the morning that it was still night, screaming in pain and terror, they knew that things weren’t quite so fine.

#King's Quest #kings quest #king graham #we've got some bubblesome developments but surely nothing to worry about #fic'ing #ch2 #this post is protected by the royal guards

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megalony · 6 years

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Love and affection- Part 2

Here is the second instalment of my new roger x reader x ben series.

@rogertaylorsbitontheside

Enjoy.

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How the fuck is he still asleep?" Roger muttered, an air of annoyance in his tone as he glanced to his boyfriend sitting in the middle seat on his left. They were finally coming to the end of the flight and Roger had managed less than an hour of sleep all in all and he was livid. His mind had to shut down as he was running on last preserves and when that finally happened did some small child decide now was the time to cry and throw a fit. The drummer had nothing against children until he heard this child that made him want to scream at it to shut the hell up. He had been so close to getting up and walking over to tell it to stop until (Y/N)'s palm pressed against his chest, eyes not even looking up from the book resting on her lap as she leaned over to stop him. Her thoughts seemingly linked with his own as she knew exactly what he was going to do. Fair to say that child had now put the drummer in the foulest of moods and Roger was far from calm. He wanted off the plane now and he wanted to go home to bed.

Glancing her eyes from her almost finished book (Y/N) looked to Ben sitting next to her on her right. As soon as they boarded the plane the actor had slumped down in his allocated seat, leant his head on Roger's shoulder and fell fast asleep. They had only just made it to the airport on time with Ben hardly willing to move at all, his mind clouded with sleep though he couldn't sleep in the car ride down to the airport. He was walking sluggish and dragging his cases behind him though he had expressed he was happy to go home he just couldn't find the will to move. It was getting slightly worrying the amount of sleep he was getting and how tired he had become over the past few months and being told it was normal wasn't doing much. The sooner he was put on some medication for his symptoms, aches and pains the better. There had only been a few times during the flight Ben had actually been awake. He'd glanced at a magazine from (Y/N)'s carry on bag, gone to the bathroom a few times and gotten something to eat in between his slumber. They both guessed it was better this way than sitting bored out of his mind or getting anxious. "How are you still surprised?" (Y/N) retorted as she looked at Ben, a sympathetic look in her eyes as Roger simply rolled his eyes, the look hidden behind the dark round glasses perched on his nose as he turned his head to look out of the window instead. The actor had moved around a lot in his sleep, thus causing his legs to become entangled with (Y/N)'s and his head had gone back to resting on Roger's shoulder at an odd sort of angle. The back of his head resting on the drummer's shoulder causing his head to tip back and Roger swore he would get neck ache if he stayed asleep any longer. Ben's eyes finally managed to crack open when the pilot's voice came over the intercom stating seatbelts needed to be worn now. His arms stretching and cracking above his head before he sat back properly in his head, all three of them buckling their belts. A comfortable silence enveloping them all. "Why you so grumpy?" Ben mumbled, glancing to Roger who was staring out of the window like he was in some kind of sappy movie. "That little shit back there threw a fit just when I was going to sleep." He mumbled back in response, not bothering to turn his head as Ben simply nodded, mumbling an 'oh' as (Y/N) shook her head silently telling him not to bother. Roger was in a mood and he tended to sulk when he was like that so they may as well leave him to stew for a while. Reaching over silently Ben slipped his hand into Roger's, rubbing his thumb soothingly over the back of his hand causing the drummer to smile lightly. Feeling Ben's hand suddenly tighten around his own Roger turned his head wondering if his boyfriend wanted something. His eyes narrowing when he looked to see Ben pressing his head back into the seat, eyes snapped closed. There was only a bit of turbulence rocking the plane, it never usually upset or made Ben anxious before like he seemed to be panicking now. Turning so he was facing him a little bit better Roger tugged on his hand trying to prompt him to open his eyes and talk. "Ben... babe are you okay?" (Y/N) questioned gently, resting her hand on his arm as a frown made its way onto her features. He looked like he was in some kind of pain. Her other hand tightened around the arm of the chair when a wave of turbulence rocked them, sending a shockwave effect rushing through her veins making her shudder for a second before her attention was thrown back to Ben. Fear setting into her bones as she noticed he looked like he was about to cry, eyes snapped together too tightly to be opened. "It hurts." He whimpered quietly, pain and worry evident in his tone as his words set both his partners on edge. The pair looking to one another hoping the other had an idea of what was wrong only to be met with an equally confused expression looking back at them. Moving his free hand Ben pressed it to his chest as he let out a ragged breath that clearly sounded forced, his lower lip trembling like it was debating falling and letting out the sobs he was trying hard to hide. Roger tried to let go of his hand with the intention of cupping his face so he could try and talk to him better but as soon as their hands parted Ben's hand came flying up and grabbed his own with such force Roger froze completely. "Babe talk to us, what's hurting?" Roger stated, trying not to raise his voice as he didn't want to make a spectacle of them all. His free hand cupping Ben's face and tilting his head, thumb brushing just beneath his eye to try and coax him to look at them both. Taking the initiative (Y/N) gently moved her hand from his arm to the side of his neck, fingers pressing to his artery to feel his pulse. Eyes closed as she tried to concentrate on counting the beats for what she assumed was a minute to the best she could. Hand retracting slowly as if she had hurt him when a groan left his lips, head snapping forward as both his partners saw he was trying not to panic. When something felt wrong or he was in pain Ben's best method was to curl up and try and breathe through whatever was wrong. He didn't want to cause a scene and right now there was nothing that they could do for him until the plane landed safely. "The doctor said you may have an abnormal heart rate sooner or later... the turbulence must have set it off." Ben's condition meant that there was a high chance that the electric impulses his heart relied on to tell it when to beat may be made too slowly leading to his heart constricting and even possibly missing a beat due to the lapse in impulse. Leaning over Ben rested his forehead on (Y/N)'s knee wondering if somehow curling up like this would help to get rid of his pain. Running a hand through his curls to try and calm him down (Y/N) pressed a kiss to the base of his neck, her other hand rubbing up and down his back. Her teeth clamping down on her lip when she felt his tears soaking through the fabric of her jeans on her knee. They all knew his condition was something that they would have to adjust to but none of them thought that things would change or progress this quickly. They needed to get him to the doctor as soon as they landed and needed to get him started on some medication that would help to dull down his pains and problems. Reaching down at their feet Roger wrapped his fingers around the handle of (Y/N)'s carry on bag, pulling it up to rest on his knees before unzipping it and rummaging around. Trying to find something that would help, (Y/N)'s bag was always like a medicine cabinet, surely there was something in it that would be of use to Ben's situation. Whenever they were going away she carried travel sickness tablets, paracetamol, tablets for migraines which Roger tended to suffer from a lot and other things that they may or may not need especially with the boys being drama queens a lot of the time. "Inhaler?" Roger questioned, holding up the light blue inhaler wondering if that would be of use right now. "His heart is the problem Rog, not his lungs." The drummer narrowed his eyes at his girlfriend who looked at him like he was mad or stupid, possibly both. How could he think that Ben taking steroids that weren't set to a dosage he would need would help him? "He's not breathing very well though is he?" Roger snapped back, sometimes people needed inhalers for panic attacks granted they may have asthma too but he was only trying to help. "It only opens the airways and his airways are fine." (Y/N) swiftly ended the conversation, close to telling him to give the inhaler to her for her personal use after the brief argument that took the wind from her lungs. It was specifically dosed with steroids that would help her body, giving that to Ben didn't sound like the best idea. His airways weren't a problem and dosing him up on steroids wouldn't do anything for his heart that was in turmoil. She briefly wondered how Roger hadn't thought of that, he was a biology student he should have looked at asthma or in the least something to do with the lungs. With a huff the drummer threw the item back into the small back bag on his lap, hand going back to fumbling around for something else that may be of use to them. "Are there any aspirin in there?" "Uhh... here." Roger held out the packet of requested tablets as if they were a trophy that he had earned, fumbling around to grab his bottle of water he knew he had set down somewhere. His mind clicking into why she had asked for these if his heart was going a bit too slow the least they could do was give him blood thinners so that his arteries or veins weren't going to buckle under too much pressure or have a blockage. "Baby, sit up please." Ben only just managed to lift his head from (Y/N)'s lap, tears staining his now reddened cheeks as he held his hand out weakly, feeling the tablets dropping into the palm of his hand and the water bottle being placed into the other. Reaching over (Y/N) gently wrapped her hand around his own when he brought the bottle to his lips, seeing how he was shaking and prone to spilling the water if not careful. "Alright let's get you up." Roger stated quietly when the plane came to a stand still. Hands reaching over and wrapping around Ben as (Y/N) did the same, both hoisting him to his feet between them. Reaching his hand over Roger pulled the black hood of his hoodie which Ben was weating over his head in an attempt to hide him from the onlookers they were already facing and would face when they entered the airport. "Think you can walk it?" Roger questioned, lips pressing to the shell of Ben's ear when the actor nodded, his body trembling as he tried to control his breathing. Walking into the isle (Y/N) turned and entwined her hand with Ben's, her other hand holding onto his arm as Roger held his waist and free hand, both of them guiding him out of the seats. Clinging to him tightly between them to make sure that he didn't fall or collapse as they walked slowly as not to overwhelm him. "It's alright sweetheart." (Y/N) whispered, lips pressing to his shoulder as she rubbed his arm soothingly. Glancing at his boyfriend a little wearily Roger took notice that ben seemed a little better in the sense that he wasn't folding in on himself like a piece of paper due to his heart meaning either the pain was wearing off or he was managing to ignore it. Although Ben had paled significantly to the point he was becoming see through. The underneaths of his eyes red raw as his cheeks were blotched with red dots, head bowed to try and stop people from recognising him but it was hard for them not to draw attention to themselves. Roger and (Y/N) were practically dragging him off the plane, looking around frantically for somewhere they could just sit him down and find a doctor or some paramedic. There must be people on standby to help in situations like these, surely. (Y/N)'s steps suddenly faltered when a weight came crashing down onto her side. Her legs caving when Ben's head fell in the crook of her neck and his body seemed to fold like paper and rest against her own allowing her to take his weight without her prior knowledge. A strangled string of curse words escaping her parted lips as she let go of his hand to try and support his weight that was too much for her. Lurching to the swide Roger wrapped his arms around Ben's torso, trying to pull his boyfriend upright again as he seemed to have turned to jelly. Quickly pressing one hand to Ben's head before collapsing down on the polished floor on his knees, easing Ben down with him as (Y/N) had already stumbled backwards and landed on her backside on the floor. Her body scrambling to sit upright, taking Ben's face in her hands gently and cradling his features, seeing he was spark out. Reaching out Roger stopped the shaking in his hand by grasping Ben's limp one in his own, eyes glancing round to see people gasping and being quick to take pictures of them like they were performing some kind of play for them. "For fuck's sake, someone get help!" He hollered, voice raw with emotion as he wondered how they could all simply stand and gawk at them like this. It didn't matter who they were, what mattered was their boyfriend had collapsed and he clearly needed medical attention which no one was bothering to get for them.

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #ben hardy #roger x ben x reader #ben hardy imagine

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catte-bard · 6 years

Text

Questions

Previous: Nice Night for a Sleep Walk Next: Safe and Sound

The crackling fire was such a comforting sound as Bellona lay curled up in bed. She had practically swaddled herself with the blankets given to her. Pressing herself against the warmth of the mattress.

The trip to Ishgard was a bit of a blur. Details were hard to recall. It was like her mind was full of a haze that grew thicker the harder she tried to conentrate. But apparently Nathaniel and his nephew wasted no time in alerting someone to the situation of the adventurer they picked up on the side of the road. They didn’t have to do much pleading, as one the knights they had spoken to had recognized Bellona. And aide was quickly dispatched to get her to one of the chirurgeons before her condition worsened.

Her ear perked at the sound of the door opening and someone walking in. Probably one of the healers come to check on her. The woman tried to keep a groan to herself. Usually, when someone came, they meant to coax her out of the warm safety of her covers so they could check up on her condition.

It had only been...a bell? Perhaps not even that long. Her mind felt so foggy that it had probably only been a few minutes. But the first moments within her arrival had been filled with healers and chirurgeons buzzing about her. Checking her temperature, checking her for frostbite, checking her for any other injuries she might have. Eventually, they let her rest for awhile, giving her warm clothing and advising her to stay in bed.

Any other time, the woman would have protested to being bedridden. However, Bellona was too cold to be stubborn. And the room was so invitingly warm.

“Mistress Marcellus?” The voice of one of the healers. “Sit up, we can’t have you falling asleep yet. You need something warm in you first.”

Sighing, Bellona reluctantly sat up, but made sure to remain huddled within the blankets. The young Elezen man smiled at her and offered a bowl of steaming broth. Cautioning her to take it carefully as the contents piping, he looked her over again for signs of frostbite.

“Ah, Bellona! I heard you were here and came immediately.”

“Aym...Ser Aymeric.” The Miqo’te looked up in surprise, she hadn’t even heard the man come in. Too preoccupied with the healer’s badgering.

The young healer stepped aside, bowing his head in respect.

The man’s face was strained with concern as he moved over to her bedside. “Are you alright?"

“I’m fine.” She told him. She felt cold and exhausted...but at least she was alive.

“What happened to you, my friend?” The Elezen asked. “I hear...they brought you in from the blizzard? Your condition prompted you to be rushed to the infirmary.”

Bellona could only unhelpfully shrug. “I just remember waking up in the snow.” She proceeded to recount the short story how she ended up in Ishgard on this cold night.

Aymeric scowled. “You mean you don’t remember anything else?” The woman shook her head. “Nothing at all? Nothing that could have led to you being in the middle of the Central Highlands?”

Once more, Bellona could only shake her head.

“The cold can be a dangerous thing.” The healer suddenly chimed in. He tapped at his head. “If one is exposed to it for too long, the memory can be affected.”

She didn’t like that answer. Anything could have happened to her out there. Anyone could have done anything to her. And she couldn’t even remember it.

A hand on her shoulder. “And you are absolutely certain you remember nothing?” Aymeric asked again. “Any small detail might help, my friend.”

Bellona sighed. “You and everyone else here can ask that question as many times as you’d like. I still won’t be able to recall anything.” She chewed on her lip. “Maybe it’ll all come back to me later?”

The answer seemed to satisfy him, but it of course didn’t make him any less concerned. “Perhaps the Scions will know something? If they’ve taken notice of your disappearence they are no doubt worried sick.” He smiled. “If something’s happened, they should be the first we try to contact.”

"The Scions!” Bellona suddenly exclaimed, standing up suddenly. Gods, they hadn’t crossed her mind once since she’d been here. They were probably were driving themselves made trying to figure out where she went. But also, what if something had happened to them as well? What if...

“Calm down. It’s alright.” Aymeric hand’s were at her shoulders, gently, guiding her back down to the bed. “I’m sure they’re fine, otherwise we would have heard something. Right?” He gave her a reassuring smile and that seemed to be enough to get the adventurer to settle down.

“I will contact them as soon I leave here.” He told her. “Perhaps they might be able to fill the gaps in your memory. I’ll also ask the knights that had been in the area at the time if they had seen anything unusual.”

“Meanwhile,” The man continued, “you are to avoid making a pest of yourself for the chirurgeons. Stay warm and rest until the morning. By then, hopefully we’ll have some answers.”

Bellona chewed her lip. Then after a moment, she slowly nodded.

Aymeric nodded as well. “I have much to take care of right now. But later, I can come back to visit again if you’d like.”

“No.” Bellona quickly said, earning a surprised look from him. Aymeric was a busy man, and had more important things to worry about. He didn’t need to waste time sitting at the bedside of some fool who walked herself into a blizzard.

“I mean...it’s fine. I’ll be fine. Asides, I’m tired and all I’ll probably want to do later is sleep.” She said and managed a weak smile. “I imagine it would be very boring for you just sit and listen to me snore.”

And the Lord Commander chuckled. “Very well. I will see you in the morning then.”

“Aymeric.” She called as he was turning to leave. He paused, looking back at her, expectantly. “If you see Nathaniel and his nephew again. Can you tell them I said thank you? They saved me.” Even a simple thank you didn’t feel like enough for their deed. She felt like it deserved so much more than that. Perhaps when she had fully recovered, Bellona could find a way to properly repay them?

“Of course, I will be sure pass your gratitude on. As well as my own.”

He then left with the healer, the two of them stepping out into the hall to speak. Bellona could hear their voices drifting through the cracked door, it was hard to make out what was being said. For it sounded as if they were speaking in whispers. However, whatever the conversation was, it was brief.

Moments later, the young healer came back into the room, beaming at her. He moved over to the table at her bedside, scouring over a few glass bottles and containers that had been set there. “Alright.” He said after seeming to find what he was looking for. “I do believe we should try giving you some medicine as well.”

And Bellona groaned. Of course...

It was none of her business really. But... “What did Ser Aymeric want outside?” She asked, partly curious and partly wanting to stall whatever bitter concoction she was going to be forced to take.

“Hm? Oh, nothing really.” He said, scowling and he pondered the dosage he needed to give his charge. “The man was probably worried some brigand had attacked you. Asked if we found any signs of trauma. Or if the men who brought you in made any mention of anything that might have hinted at a struggle.”

“And?” Bellona asked when the man didn’t continue.

He blinked at her in surprise. “Well I told him you were fine and -- you are feeling alright?” Bellona nodded. “-- And we found no injuries. No cuts or bruises. The only thing to be concerned about was getting your body temperature back up.”

She was quiet as she processed this information. So what then? Did she just decide to walk out into a blizzard? What could have made Bellona willing waltz out into the cold wearing nothing but her sleepwear? How could she have walked for malms through snow and ice, without anyone noticing her?

...

The healers eventually left her be. After constantly badgering her and checking her temperature, they decided it was safe to leave her alone. Leaving her with a small mug of hot chocolate, the Miqo’te was finally allowed to rest after a long night.

Bellona wasn’t sure how long she had been out, but she felt rather groggy when a noise woke her up. The room was darker, the flames of the fireplace having died down to a subdued glow. Outside the window, she could hear the wind howl.

She frowned, sleepily squinting in the dark. That sounded like the door; had someone come in here? “Aymeric?” The adventurer called timidly. Or one of the chirurgeons peeking in to check on her? “Is someone there?”

Silence was the only reply she got.

In the weak light, she noticed that the door to her room was open. Someone had been in here. One of the absent-minded infirmary staff probably forgot to close it. Sleep called to her, urging her to fall back into the warm comfort of the bed. But...a strong curiosity to investigate instead drew her out of the warm nest of blankets.

She shivered. An unpleasant draft was drifting in from outside the door. Before she went to close it, the woman peeked out into the hall curiously. It was dark, though she could spot some light shining out from a cracked door down the hall. Soft murmurs of conversation could be heard as well. The room for the healers and chirurgeons. A few of them would probably be up late to tend to patients.

“Hello?” She called again, meekly. No answer.

Yawning, Bellona was about to duck back into her room when movement caught her attention at end of the hall. Someone walking away. Ser Aymeric? Or perhaps even Edmont or one of the Scions? But upon seeing her asleep, they decided to leave her be until morning?

Sleep urged her to return to bed, but curiosity beckoned for her to come out into the hall. She cast a look at chirurgeons’ quarters, the door sat at the end of the hall, right in the direction the adventurer wanted to go. Bellona crept out into the corridor. She moved as quietly as she could past the door, keeping to the far side of hall so as not to be caught.

“Is someone there?” This time, she called a bit more loudly than she probably should have. Wincing, she glanced back at the chirurgeons’ room. When the door didn’t swing open, she continued down the hall.

There were stairs on this end of the hall, and Bellona had caught sight of someone about to descend them. However, they stopped, hearing her pursuit. And Bellona ventured forward to confront them but stopped short. The hall was dark but the light shining out front cracked door of the chirurgeons’ room was enough for her so see a face.

But who she saw made her take a sudden step back...

“Now what do you think you’re doing up?”

The sudden voice from behind practically made the Miqo’te leap ten fulms in the air. She whirled around to meet the glowering expression of someone. An elderly woman dressed in a chirurgeon’s uniform stood there, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently at the floor.

“I...I thought I heard someone outside...” She babbled for an excuse but Bellona let her reply trail off. She looked back to the steps and saw there was no one there. Gone without the slightest sound.

“You alright, dear?” The elder cocked a brow at her. “It’s late, not many people are up to visit around this time. And even then, we don’t allow anyone in here at this late bell.”

The Miqo’te blinked a few times as if coming out of daze. “I...” She frowned. “Never mind. I’m sorry, I... I’m tired...I probably just dreamed it.”

“Up sleep-walking then?” The chirurgeon scowled and shook her head. “Come, you shouldn’t be up and out of bed so soon.” The woman took her by the wrist and began leading her back to her room.

Bellona gave no protest and followed. You’re just tired. Today has been a long and stressful day. She told herself. Her body had been weak and exhausted from her time out in the cold, perhaps he mind was as well.

A conversation she recalled hearing among the healers came to her. The cold could mess with someone’s head just as badly as the heat. Leave people without memory of anything. And...leave them confused; perhaps even enough to imagine things there that actually aren’t. Such as dear friends that were long gone...

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #ff14 #ffxiv rp #miqo'te #writing #i'm going to try a weekly update with this #emphasis on try #I'm just trying to get myself into the habit of writing more #and to stop being lazy and actually start working on things

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cannibalisticshadows · 6 years

Text

Dear Evil Heaven (Chapter 1/2)

Wow look at that I actually made and finished a two-shot for once.

Ao3 Link | FF Link

Fandom: Megamind Relationship: Megamind/Roxanne Rating: T Warnings: brief antisemitic slur

“…And you look like a skank!”

“That’s big talk coming from a bobble head!”

“At least I cover myself!”

“You could walk into an BDSM club and no one would bat an eye!”

“Gah!” The blue supervillain threw his hands up, frustrated with the woman. Seriously, how hard was it to act a little bit scared? They had an audience! Well, soon, anyway. Metro Man was taking his sweet-ass time today, and hadn’t even made his expected appearance at the Park’s reopening yet! Megamind huffed, leaning back into his chair with all his villainous allure. He bet Waaayne was still primping his hair. Fwah!

And to make matters more difficult, his number one kidnappee was being an absolute brat!

“Is that anyway a lady should talk, Miss Ritchi? I’m sure it makes you a ton of free-ends!”

“More friends than you’ll ever make, blueberry!”

Oh, that was low even for her.

Megamind bolted upright, causing his chair to squeak on its wheels as it was pushed backwards most roughly. “Call me that again and I’ll really make you scream!”

“Oh I’m so scared,” Roxanne’s voice dripped with sarcasm as she rolled her eyes, “what in heavens will I do?”

“Yes! Beg for mercy! I’ll show you to never underestimate me again!” He shouted, and actually slammed his fist onto the control panels, causing one of his torture devises to spur into action. Roxanne, clearly thinking she had been in control, actually jolted with surprise as the razor-sharp blade came spinning and whirling down from the ceiling.

He hadn’t intended to let one of his inventions out, but yelped and grappled for the appropriate control to stop the blades—they were so close to her—!

It stopped, finally, after much fuss on his part. He turned, a little bit frightened to find what might be of Miss Ritchi… And thank goodness she was okay.

But apparently it cut a few hairs off her head. Oops.

Minion, who was standing idly by in the background, stared with his jaw open. The razor had been very close to actually touching their hostage.

“Oh my god,” she gasped, looking concerned. For once. “Goodness, Megamind, if I knew that calling you names would rile you up so bad I’d hold back a bit.”

He sniffed. He didn’t want her to know that by calling him blueberry would poke a tender spot. It was a favorite name the kids at school liked to call him.

“No! No, I’m perfectly fine! This is normal me!” Megamind insisted, ignoring Minion’s look of worry. “But you’re better than calling me names shool-yard brats use!”

Her blue eyes had been actuall anxious, before, but once he finished speaking Roxanne shot him a look of—what? Surprise?

“Shul?”

“That’s what I said, damn it!” He threw himself down onto his chair. Great, now she was making fun of his mispronunciation problem. This was turning out to be a disaster before it even begun! He turned to Minion to order him to get the knock-out gas out and cancel today’s evil plot, when—

“I thought I was the only one here—I mean, sure there are others, but—Megamind, I had no idea! Where do—or did—you go?.

One of his brows curled upward. Was she actually surprised he went to school? Wow. Sure, he only went for a few months, but still… “I went to shool like everyone else, Miss Ritchi! And I’m looking right through your nosy reporter skills, so don’t—“

“It’s just I didn’t expect you of all people to be Jewish.”

A look of confusion fell over his face. He spun around in his chair to face her properly.

“Say what now?”

She was looking in her lap with a look of thoughtfulness, an expression he only saw on her when she was reporting a case particularly interesting, with her brows drawn up and her lips curled into a funny little smile. “Did you have a bar mitzvah? What was your parsha?”

“What?”

She laughed, somewhat nervously. This was… unlike her. “Sorry, haha! I’m just—really surprised! I mean, you’re—an alien, right? You’ve never really confirmed that. As a kid I went to an orthodox shul—Sephardic. But after my father passed away, a little bit after my bat mitzvah, my family became more reformed… Megamind?”

She was looking at him, like she expected him to say something—Oh, had he hit his head on something? He wasn’t understanding a word she was saying. Panicking, he shifted his eyes to Minion, who shrugged, clueless as him. What was she talking about?

“Megamind?” She asked again.

“What—what language are you—“ If she had somehow changed languages, he had no clue. That frightened him, because he knew just about every language!

With his words, the report’s shoulders, previously up and attentive, slowly drooped down along with her expression. Her blue eyes became shifty. Worried, almost. “Shul… You know, synagogue? Temple?”

“I—“ Of course he knew was a synagogue was, he wasn’t stupid. But—how did Ritchi get the assumption he was apart of one of this planet’s religious groups? Megamind wasn’t religious himself; he was a man of science. Yet, as a child, he and Minion liked the idea of Heaven—a place where souls go to after a person dies. It comforted him to think his parents still watched out for him, even in death. He hadn’t been around long enough on his home planet to know of its religious aspects, but he was not one to completely dismiss the theological belief of a being greater than man. After all, he believed in Destiny to the point of worship. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miss Ritchi. But confusing me will get you nowhere! Minion!” Said henchfish jumped in place. “Plans are canceled! Take Miss Ritchi home!”

Roxanne opened her mouth to speak, looking almost frightened for a moment (wow she was hitting a lot of damsel-worthy expressions today) before Minion brought out the knock-out spray and gave her a reasonable dosage.

They watched the reporter slump in her chair, unconscious. He blinked owlishly and looked to his fishy friend. It seemed they had some research to do on this theology his favorite kidnappee associated herself with.

~.~.~.~

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Roxanne groaned as she came to, vision blurry and unfocused.

She’d slipped up big time today, and in front of Megamind of all people! Oh, this could be her downfall. If the station found out—Shit, she was fucked.

Slowly, she rose up from her red couch and stretched, angrily rubbing her eyes. Megamind was always looking for a weakness in her, and today he just found it.

Roxanne remembers her childhood well—Shabbat dinner, making Challah with Mom, the candles, kissing the mezuzah, preparing herself for her bat mizvah—yet that was in the past, when her father was still alive and well, laughing with her and her brother at the table, walking to shul. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Yet her father died, leaving her mother and her brother and herself alone, to a community, though it meant well, couldn’t keep their damn mouths shut with gossip. One little rumor and—oh, poor mama. Roxanne shook her head. Religion, in her eyes, could be good and well, but people—people could just make it shitty.

Still a widow, her mom’s “friends” let one little rumor get to them and—well, they moved away, when the stares and whispers became too much, to a smaller community. It was better, and they made new friends and the rabbi was much more understanding—that actually let to her mom getting remarried, but—Roxanne and her brother David went down two very different paths. He went to yeshiva and studied, while she—well, still bitter from the horrible way their community in New Bergville treated them, she moved away to college and got her first real taste of the outside world and became attached. Roxanne’s love for journalism grew and she learned, graduated, and—

Drifted. Of course she still spoke to her mom and brother—and her step-dad—but her visits home lessened until she could barely remember the morning prayers anymore. She didn’t even have mezuzahs up.

And if—if her boss found out—

”Jews! Filthy, money-greedy rats—never trust one!” Her boss had said, himself, before her and several people. Fuck, she’d so loose her job if he found out—

Vivian, who happened to be Hindu, and a good friend of hers, was “let go” after Joe found out she wasn’t “normal”. Joe had a serious intolerance for religion in general.

And now Megamind knew because she messed up and misheard him.

Fuck.

#megamind #avi writes stuff #megarox #jewish roxanne because why not #gag idea from megamind saying shool

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